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In other news, the joint chiefs of the Bazidanese Star League has declared interstellar emergency as the StarLance continu-
Slug changed the channel.
Cantharan vice admirals Mek'dom and Mek'fresh have readied their fleets in response to the news of the StarLan-
Slug changed the channel again.
The security commision of Bood remains in closed session today in reaction to recent StarLance terrorist actio-
Annoyed, Slug changed the HyperVision channel once again.
The time of our annihilation is at hand! Join the order of Doz before it is too late to save yourse-
Slug turned off the HyperVision unit and punched the intercomm. "Any report on sightings of this... StarLance ship?"
"The Free Worlds of Obain has been suffering heavy losses. The border worlds have been reduced to ash."
Slug sighed.
<Somewhere in deep space>
Forty Ishiman carriers reverted to realspace and drifted into formation. Nearby a tiny star surrounded by 3 miniature planets, a fleet was stationed. Hundreds upon hundreds of ships had been thrown at this endeavor, and the most incredible part about it was the incredible secrecy that surrounded this. It was the largest Black Op in the history of the universe. Scores of cantharan carriers sat in parking orbits around the star. Hundreds of Ishiman Gunships flew maneuvers. The newest addition was an additional forty Ishimian carriers, which pulled up to the Ishimian section, adding to the already large amount of ships. Fighters flew in endless swarms. Bazindanese warships floated, silent and ominous, their numbers smaller than most, but still intimidating. Eleejeetian cruisers, destroyers and converted liner-carriers drifted about. And in the middle of all this, sat a tiny planetoid, the command center for this massive fleet.
"Any word from the obish?" said captain El Spamo, now turned temporary fleet admiral.
"No sir. The reports we've gotten from them are short and sketchy. Apparently the Gaitori have allied themselves with the Starlance."
"Cowards. Don't they know that Darvonsal will destroy them once he's done using them?"
"Apparently not sir"
Spamo grinned in mild amusement. "Unfortunate. What about the Salrillians.?"
"A message arrived not too long ago. They've apparently think they have thier own situation under control, and told us that they don't think it's neccessary to join our fleet".
"Hrpmh. At least they're preparing. Auds? Phylydians? Ninjiyas?"
"The Phylydians and Ninjiyas are as unresponsive as the Sals. They've got their own fleets. The auds are still saying what they've always said. Which is nothing."
Not exactly nothing. The one reply from the auds was "We are watching. We might assist". Spamo therefore decided that he'd better not rely on any help from them.
"Have we contacted Sol?"
"Yes sir. But they've been bogged down in buereaucratic discussion. I doubt we'll see more than token assistance from them."
"Very good. What's the latest reports on the Starlance?"
"Ravanging the outerworlds of the Obiards. They're making for Obain. ETA of that in approxamatly one week."
"Will we be ready to strike by then?"
"Yes sir."
El Spamo smiled and turned his chair to look out the window. The sky was filled with ships of all species, all united against one common enemy. Spamo gazed at it's beauty for a long long time.
------------------ Ne Cede Malis Sed Contra Audientor Ito
We are watching. We may come. The Audemedon core rumbled as it processed that command over and over again. Several remote, undetectable probes had been set up tracking the StarLance. And underneath it's programmed shield, the core did intend to attend the battle.
The core rumbled again as it reverted to it's origional mindset: Carrier 2576 to proceed to markpoint forty-seven. Cruiser 90243 to proceed to jumpgate nine. Fleet 19 to proceed to Hatares Outpost. Error
Confused, the core reloaded the command: Fleet 19 to proceed to Hatares Outpost. Error Receiving transmission
The core looked over the report to find nothing but coding. Login: Oracular Net Terminal: Error Junction search: Error
This didn't matter to the core. It had already forgotten. It began humming again. We are watching. We may come... hic The program hiccuped. Something was wrong. It checked it's function pathway and tried again. We are... hic. We may come. Every time the core figured out something was wrong and what was wrong, it promptly forgot and started the loop over. We are... hic We may come. We... hic We may come. We...hic may come. Error
The virus looped in expanding circles as it destroyed centuries of data and knowledge. The core completely forgot it's program. hic And reverted to it's origional mindset as the virus found new functions to attack. Carrier 2576 to... hic to markpoint forty-seven. Error Cruiser 90243 to... hic Error Fleet 19 to proceed to Hatares Outpost. Command Successful
-----
Meanwhile onboard the StarLance, Darvonsal stood proud and grinning. "That should keep them from the fight, as well as give this 'Slug' something to do."
Mag was in the bar, having a drink, when an Ishiman walked over to him.
"Are you Mag Steelglass?"
"Yeah."
"I am Admiral Toris, of the Ishiman Stellar Navy."
"Why are you here?"
"I was wondering if I could hire you to help in the assault on the Starlance."
"How much will you pay me?"
"100,000 credits, if you survive."
"I'll do it," said Mag, trying but failing to hide his eagerness at the large sum of money.
"Very well. We're creating a special heavy cruiser squadron, with our best pilots. You will be squadron leader."
"Very well. What's the squadron's name?"
"Spitfire Squadron."
"Sounds good."
"Our fleet is amassing at the following coordinates," said Admiral Torris as he handed Mag a computer disk.
"When should I get there?"
"As soon as possible. I'll have one of our gateships remain in the system until you're on your way."
"Okay. I'll leave right away."
------------------ "You can get much further with kind words and a loaded gun than you can with kind words alone." - Al Capone
Gentlemen, the time to take our stand is (url="http://"http://www.AmbrosiaSW.com/webboard/Forum11/HTML/000117.html")now(/url).
I believe one of your hewman leaders, Winston Churchill, once said something along the lines of Let us go forward, together
"Unac-****ing-ceptable. Look at this!!"
The Chief engineer tossed a handful of wires onto the floor.
"Look! it's over here, too! There's not a foot of shielded electronics on this ship!"
He walked over to another console, pried an acess panel off with his screwdriver, reached in and tore out another handful of wires
Captain Pharris just stared while his chief engineer walked through engineering, tearing out acess panels.
"ok, fine, What do you want me to do about it?"
"I'm going to have to run all the wireing, too. a single EMP pulse would fry this thing! Captain, this is ridiculous. I'm gonna need to turn this ship inside out before it'll be anywhere near where the Barbarrossa was."
"You have three days, that's when we leave to join the fleet to destroy the Starlance."
"Three Days!?! Are you insane!?! You want to go up against that beast in this fresh-off-the-shelf ship!?!"
"It meets Nijayais spec, doesn't it?"
"Maybe, but it doesn't meet our spec! If you try pushing this thing like the Barbarossa, it'll come apart at the seams!"
"Do what you have to, chief, Just make sure we can fly in seventy two hours." Captain Pharris turned and walked out of engineering. His chief yelled after him:
"You're off your head skipper! I need more time! We'll be ripped to pieces if we try anyth-" He was cut off as the door swished closed. Pharris had to be careful walking down the hallway, lest he hit one of the dozens of crew who were pulling open acess panels and cutting into cable conduits, inspecting, repairing or modifying their new ship. He still didn't like it. It wasn't home. Everything seemed foreign. Even after hours spent scouring the layout, he still wasn't used to it. The stylings, the decor, the design, everything seemed so alien. However physically close the Nijayais were to humans, their designs and stylings were totally foreign, and they were almost creepy to Pharris. He knew that the chief was right. The Barbarossa was almost thirty years old, though almost none of it was original. So much had been refitted, repaired or replaced that it was almost nothing like the ship it had started out as. It would take years to bring this ship up to the same level of the Barbarossa, and it would probably never be accepted by its Captain. But it didn't matter. Obain had already been reduced to ash. They needed to stop the Starlance now, while there was still anyone alive to fight it.
------------------
BOOM! Another explosion rocked the city, and Officer Trent spun his bike to scream towards it, cursing under his breath. Huge explosions were taking place everywhere, fires were burning, rubble was dropping from the sky all around. The lawman dodged a wrecked car and pulled up in time to see a pair of cloaked figures disappearing into an alley.
"STOP! POLICE!" he bellowed, pulling his pistol and racing after them into the alley. Dark smoke obscured his vision, causing him to cough as he charged down the narrow gap between two damaged buildings, firing off shots.
Bursting out of the alleyway, he looked around for the suspects. But they were nowhere to be found. After scanning the area again with IR goggles and nearly blinding himself, Officer Trent sighed. They had got away.
"Trent, would you come over here a second?"
"Sure, what's up?" The tired policeman rose from the report he'd been filling out on his computer and walked to the Commander's desk.
"You're working on four of the bombings, right?"
"Yes sir. I've even seen figures running from the attacks."
"You know how many there've been?"
"I was told one hundred and seventy three sir."
"In Los Angeles alone, that is. However, that's not what I'm interested in. I think we've found who's behind these attacks."
"Who?"
"Take a look for yourself." The Commander swivelled the screen to face Officer Trent. A map of the city was on the screen, attack sites jumping out in vivid red. The numerous pinpricks of red spelt out a message...
"The Order of the Golden Dawn has awoken"
*The Azurewrath made it to Earth without further incident. Readings of bombings and chaos were arriving in over the comm, enough that Avatara switched it off to save his hearing. The ship landed cloaked in the middle of the Sahara Desert, and Avatara and three of his best men walked outside, one of which was carrying a laser-drill.
The four men walked a couple kilometers away from the ship, their footsteps vanishing in the blowing sand. They eventually reached a tiny "valley" in between six ordinary dunes. Stopping in the center, and strapping his tinted goggles on, the man carrying the drill put it down, and quickly began drilling a very deep hole into the Earth's crust.
After two hours of drilling, the hole already starting to squeeze together, a depth of 4 kilometers was reached. Avatara motioned for him to stop, and the man removed the drill. Avatara, knowing that the deep end of the hole was already closing, attached a single minature repulsor onto a small box, which contained the orb inside, and let it fall at great speed. The repulsor served to keep it from careening against the sides, and it slowed down the box as it reached the bottom. A foot from the bottom, the repulsor melted, the heat getting to it, and the pouch (outfitted with special "properties" from Sundered Angel) was sealed inside, resisting the pressure around it easily...as it would continue to do for the next 1,000 years. The sand quickly started pouring in, and soon, there was no trace that the orb had been buried deep in the earth's crust. The orb however, was still safe.
His work done, Avatara and his men hiked back to the ship, where they were picked up. The ship leaves the system and heads for the bar, unaware of the StarLance catastrophacy plauging the galaxy...*
Lights blink on the station as Avatara's vessel arrives back. The navigational computers chirped softly as they linked up, guiding it to a smooth docking. Inside the station, however, all was quiet. Most of the lights were out, and the bar itself was empty of people, save one. Sundered Angel sat at a table, alone, a single glowing yellow light before him. His shadow stretched across the bar, merging with the darkness beyond the light of the lamp. Blue eyes sparkle in the soft yellow light as he looks up at Avatara.
"It is done?"
------------------ Sundered Angel , The One and Only Ares Webboard Moderator, and all-around Nice Guy
INCOMING TRANSMISSION Source: Slug Network has detected pirate signal. View profile of Slug?
Yes
Slug Convicted Pirate Admiral and traitor to the homeworld. -Further Information classified View transmision?
yes
Message as follows: This is Admiral Slug of the Renegade Armada of Salril. We have engaged the StarLance and are taking heavy *spurrous error Continue?
Message jammed. Decorruption protocol?
Darvonsal Alpha Tango
Success. Message follows: Ah. I see you have decoded my corruption. You Salrilians have always peaked my interest, you being cloaked in mystery and stigma. You will be the last race we have the pleasure of exerminating after destroying your ambusing fle- spurrous error
INCOMING TRANSMISSION Source: Audemedon Network Core Unit 749962
Mesage follows: V100 UT they they they 100101101011010101000101001 000001 0061 6263 6465 6667 Core unit 749962 000002 6869 6A6B 6C6D 6E6F VIRUS DETECTED 000003 7071 7273 7475 7677 SYSTEM SHUTTING DOWN 000004 7879 7A00 0000 0000 WE CANNOT COME -(conf)_587_gHjHpHj 200 message corrupt Decorruption protocol?
none
(url="http://"http://www.AmbrosiaSW.com/webboard/Forum11/HTML/000119.html")INCOMING BATTLE COORDINATES(/url) Source: Slug
Skip protocols
Message attatched: Help us....
------------------ Those who make up the rules, do not play the game. We, however, do. -Imperial Captain Alexi Darvonsal StarLance
Sundered Angel cuts Avatara off with a wave of his hand.
"It doesn't matter. I can tell you've buried it. Here- 30 000 in Iridium Bars. I hope that covers your expenses."
He rises, and motions to a message on the sole screen alive in the silent bar.
"They're in trouble. If you value free speech, democracy, and racial equality," he gives a wry grin, "or just don't feel like having the galaxy wiped out, I'd suggest you join in. The choice, of course, is yours."
The stack of Iridium bars glitters softly on the table.
(seeing as how I missed it...)
Avatara grabs the bars and shakes his head.
"No, I'll have to pass on that. I don't think my ship could be of any use there. Besides, I have a pressing matter to attend to."
"Very well, I may have something for you to do in the future."
*Avatara briefly turns to look out the viewport and when he turns back, Sundered Angel is gone. Sighing, Avatara stands up and walks to the Azurewrath. Inside, he powers up the engines and blasts away from the bar, soon jumping into hyperspace.
En route to his base of operations, Avatara sits back and sifts through the galactic news, thinking of what to do. He comes across a report detailing the StarLance and its Gaitori fleet, and their next destination. Avatara smiles as he reads it, most of the Gaitori fleet would be with the StarLance, leaving their back door open to pirate raids...*
The small, battered fleet is taken, by flight or by tow, slowly back to the base on Tetrik V. Commander 8 Lightnings, appalled at the loss of his escorts, and the cost of the repairs he is going to have to pay if he wants half of his fleet to fly again, decides to spend some of his limited budget. He climbs into the Endurance and sets a course for Cicion's bar.
"Anything that can be achieved using magic can be achieved using technology." -Salrillian Illegal Publicist ekt-Herna in his last message to the Salrillian public.
Scene: Dominus Plaza. Over a dozen thousand metal cylinders cover the ground, and a large color guard of Taeskor Commandos and Pure Taeskors stands, silent. Over a million people are either present or watching on the tri-dee. Nerec does the Phylydion salute, and the soldiers follow, as well as most of the people in the crowd. "Today, we celebrate the full, rich lives of the many brave men and women who died in the service of the Phylydion Imperium, and the Galaxy as a whole. Without these soldiers, the day would have been lost, as it would have without any one of the many militaries that pitched in with the fight. They died with honor for all of us. Also, the noble Salrilian renegade known only as "Slug". He dealt the final blow to the Starlance that pushed it back into its own forsaken dimension. We honor him as well, and I now honorarily present to him the Octagonal Sun, the highest honor the Phylydion Imperium can bestow. In Slug's memory, and in these warriors' memory..." he breathed "Fire" into his comm unit, and the Phylydia, flying high overhead, heard it. Cicion was aboard. "Sir, signal has been given." "Gunnery, fire." The Phylydia's forward compression cannons fired into the atmosphere at a very shallow angle, so that they flared up with the heat and then skipped out into space. The crowd saw it with crystal clarity. "To end on a lighter note: The flagships of the Imperium and the DGA fought side by side near the end of the battle, and it was their teamwork that allowed Slug to make his final run. We believe that this marks a new era of peace between our people and theirs. We are opening up commerce and trade of all types, and we hope that it will continue. Thank you."
Darkk returned to Nijayias Prime.
"Ah, (sarcasm)my lord Taeskor(/sarcasm), I would like to know why you summoned me."
"Darkk, you can't leave your job like that!"
"Oh, I didn't know we could use first names, Vivion."
"I do not; Darkk is your LAST name. I'm noting that in my report."
"Heh. You demonstrate your inexperience on the subject of Nijayias too often. I was born a member of the peasant class. Nijayias peasants HAVE no last names. Just A name."
"I was never informed of that."
"You mean you never tried to learn it."
"Darkk, being insubordinate like that..."
"I report directly to the Octicon."
"I'm a PURE TAESKOR! I deserve respect! I AM A MEMBER OF THE NOBILITY! I WILL HAVE YOU REMOVED!"
"Be calm. I needed to blow off some frustration from not being able to prevent Slug's death."
"You ARE an emotional species. OK. For now, I will tolerate your behavior, as the Octicon wishes. But I'm conviced you're hiding something, and I will inform the Octicon of any further irregularites."
"Very well. I will try to be more ... cooperative."
(Don't have the Phylydians get worried, Cicion. Nobody should be worried yet. So far, it's just an overzealous beauracrat, and can be easaly discounted. Sorry I couldn't come up with a better name.)
------------------ Me: You ******* IDIOTS!! That planet was INHABITED!!! Them: Ooops Me: Let's resume this disscussion near airlock 13. (immediatly following the first disrupter missle test)
The Endurance flies down to a pad near the bar. 8 Lightnings steps out. He enters the bar and says, "Give me some'a the strongest stuff you've got. I lost 10 good men yesterday..." He then drops into a chair and considers how he could ever pay for the repairs for his fleet. And how he could prevent something like this from happening again...
"mmm-mmm good. Banana-Beefsteak Milkshake. Who the **** comes up with this ****?"
Pharris shook up the can and shoved it into the holder on his belt, twisting it till it clicked. He took a sip from the straw in his helmet. He nearly gagged.
"Holy Christ that's vile!"
He ripped the can out of its holder.
"Chief! I want the Galley pressurised in twenty minutes! We're not eating this **** all the way back home!!"
The chief engineer floated out of the crawlway, into the passage.
"Well, I found the broken seal, unfortunately she's leaking pretty bad. Looks like Storage rooms 9-15 are not gonna be presssurized for long. I'm going to try and get life support to salvage whatever air it can before it all vents."
Chief bent over one of the terminals and began typeing, but in zero gravity, he hung at a ridiculous angle, and he kept on pushing himself off of the keyboard. Pharris threw the can of emergency rations at him. it bounced off of his helmet, spinning off down the hallway. He turned around and looked at the Captain.
"What?"
"I don't care about the damn storage rooms, everything is in containers anyway. I want my gravity back!"
"Aww, come on skipper, this is much more fun, don't you think?"
The Engineer performed a neat summersault. In mid air.
"Yeah yeah, whatever. Forget the leaks. the crew's all on the Rescue vessel, leaks can wait. Get us off of emergency power. Then we can patch the leaks and start fixing this pile of crap. Oh yeah, gimme a working comlink, long range, preferably."
"Here, take mine. It should still be charged"
The comlink floated gently over to Pharris
"Thanks a lot chief. If you need me, I'm on the bridge."
Pharris hit the button on the door, but it flashed red.
"Uh.. skip... that's all pressureised, you gotta go that way. Just clip on the the safety line and you'll be fine."
Pharris looked at the massive, charred hole in the side of his ship. A thick yellow cable was loosely tied to a bent, mangled pipe. He tugged on it to test it, pulling the pipe clean off.
"uhh... chief...."
"oh, the cable! Just tie it around any old thing. It should be ok."
Pharris couldn't help but feel silly pulling himself hand over hand across the outside of his ship to reach the bridge. He saw the space tug and the UNS rescue vessel carrying his crew and his crippled ship towards the newly arrived Human gateship. At their current slow pace it would take at least another ten hours, but he didn't want to take any risks with his damaged ship. The Ishinian gateship was recalling in hundreds of relief vessels from all over the Galaxy, while the Human Gateship had formed a static jumpgate with the Proxima Centauri Shipyards, and was sending the wounded for treatment, and damaged ships for repair. The massive donation of relief supplies was UNS's attempt to compensate for their minimal contribution during the battle. Apparantly, they had suspended their hostilities towards their once rivals, even going so far as to lift the price off of his head.
Finally, Pharris pulled himself through a hole in the bridge windows.
"X, what the hell did you do to my ship!? I leave you in charge for a few hours and... well look at it!!"
"It's not my fault you took us out here in this "Nijayais Spec" hardwear. This thing is like a dixy cup compared to the Barbarossa. Shows you for trusting military shipyards
"Whatever you say, punk. You can start turning down free ships whenever you like. All I know is that the only reason the Barbarossa was so hot was because it spent years getting torn to shreds and being rebuilt. This'll be a nice warm up job for the Engineers, once we get back to a shipyard."
"I know. Its just she isn't the same, skip. She fights differently, she flies differenty, and her hull can't stop missiles worth a damn. She needs some work."
Pharris grabbed the corner of the Helm console to pull himself back to the rear doors. As he did, a large piece of it came off in his hand. He looked around the bridge, seeing the scorchmarks everywhere, then back at the neatly punched hole in the window.
"You're damn right she needs work..."
"I can explain, skipper it-"
"I don't even want to know... Wake me up when we get to the gateship so we can get aboard the rescue ship with the rest of the crew. Where's the airlock?"
"Back there, the door with the sticker on it."
Pharris opened the radio room that was now serving as a temporary airlock. He pressureised the room, and pulled himself through the second door. He took off his helmet and took a deep breath. For the first time in seven hours, he was out of his cocoon. He took off his tanks, and attatched them to a chargeing station. He floated gently to his cabin. He popped the door, pulled off the pressure suit, leaving it floating in a messy clump while he fought to get comfortable strapped onto his bed, not that he fought for long, he was so tired he was asleep in a minute.
StormBreaker entered the system.
"Pharris, there's a call for you." the XO said.
"Ϩǰ, why'd you interupt my sleep like that!" Pharris shouted back.
"It's Darkk. He offered full repairs if you'd just talk to them for a bit. Darkk must have lost it..."
"Really."
"He said something about 'wanting to apologize' and your guess is as good as mine."
(Um, the Humans don't have a Gateship. They use jumpgates)
(Perhaps the new President of the UNS ordered one built. (hence the parts shortage) Jumpgates and Gateships can work in conjunction with eachother. The gateship can act like a mobile jumpgate, so you can send ships to it from any jumpgate that it decides to connect to.)
The Stormbreaker pulled the battered ship into the docking bay, setting it down gently on the floor. Pharris, his XO and the engineering team climbed out through various hull breaches, lining up behind Pharris as he greeted Darkk.
"it's good to see you again, Admiral. Too bad you missed the battle, You should have seen it, it was quite a show."
Darkk walked up to the ship, he could hardly believe his eyes. He put his hand against the side of the ship, running his fingers over the now brittle armor.
"What did you do to this thing?..."
"that's a long story Darkk..."