EV/EVO Chronicles: Rastavan Story Parts 4+5

Part 4

Preparing to enter hyper-jump, Gilvan was nearly knocked out of his seat as a message arrived to his screen. Someone had managed to overcome his ships communications protection and force the message directly to his eyes. The accompanying sound interface was what had the real effect. The highly distorted siren nearly popped Gilvan’s eardrums. This was a reply from the Council.

The message read: “Gilvan Rastavan, you are called immediately to Council Station for conference on matter of importance. Any possible harm done to you will not be attributed to the Council or any entities that have received contributions in the form of currency from, directly or indirectly, the Council or its affiliates. Denial of Council hearing will result in Council demand for retribution, enforced by the Council’s underlings, namely the three groups of the Strand. End Transmission.”

“Guess I gotta go to Council Station,” Gilvan muttered to himself.

Gilvan proceeded slowly to his meeting with the council. He meandered peacefully through the systems, trying to enjoy himself. When he ran out of fuel, he would request assistance from some poor merchant, and, just as the fuel transfer was about to be finished, Gilvan would use his afterburners, depleting a bit of his fuel, and still not having enough for one jump, continue the transfer. The merchant would eventually get angry, complain, get disabled, and lose his fuel. Otherwise, the trip was completely uneventful.

As he reached Council Station, sending a request for landing, a unique port opened and his ship was sucked from the black abyss of space...

Gilvan had never been on Council Station, but he had heard the stories. Supposedly, much of the station was impossible to get to, and merchants were confined to a minuscule corner, leaving which was impossible. Muttering to himself, and prepared for attack, Gilvan entered the tan hallway and followed a mechanized escort droid. Walking through winding hallways, entering ancient wooden doors, never able to keep track of where he had been, Gilvan finally rested before a sheer wall. His guide entered a small opening in the side of the hall, which grew into a wall behind it. Turning around, Gilvan realized that a new wall, identical to the one opposite him, blocked his way. Frantic with fear, yet keeping a calm visage, Gilvan tried to touch the wall. His fingers slipped against the frictionless surface, and glided across it. There was an incredibly loud hissing sound, and all the walls opened, leaving Gilvan in complete darkness, devoid of any sound.

The sudden ambient light pounded into Gilvan’s head as he materialized in the center of a circular amphitheater, surrounded by a myriad of young, perfectly sculpted people behind desks. The idealness of their features and physical stature overwhelmed Gilvan, who was unkempt and unshaven, dirty and ragged. One of the young men stood up and spoke:

“Gilvan Rastavan, do not heed these bodies, see only the minds,” his voice was aged, nearly a whisper, cackling and brooding. “We are the Council. Our disdain of this world led us to pursue careers of leadership thousands of years ago. After years we realized that we could not change the horrendous reality of this Universe. We began to shun the world, assuming this station, and with our power, generating fear and thus the isolation we were seeking. We have managed to lengthen our lives by thousands of years and sculpt perfect bodies for ourselves, yet as you can see, our minds continue to grow old, and by now, we constantly flirt with death. We have seen your denouncement of this Universe and invite you to join our ranks and help us in our exploration of the infinite space for sentient life not obsessed with money or hatred or war.” His pale blue eyes twinkled with a depressing joy, as if the tiny lingering of hope was all that ran this man’s world.

Gilvan scratched his stubble, and lingered on the thought of the infinite exploration of completely unique worlds.

“Okay,” he said .

And with these revelations, the world was thrust in a new position. In infinity there is everything, everything possible and everything definite, somewhere. What followed was a bizarre and twisted creation, for there was no way of knowing what was behind the next bend in the road .

Part 5

The newly modified Crescent Warship slid away from Council Station. All expendable weaponry had been removed, and much of the massive cargo space had been filled with the teleporter drive, capable of placing the ship anywhere in the Universe within mere minutes. The turrets were modified to contain a combination of neutron and pulse technology, which could be switched at will to target shields or armor. The rest of the interior of the ship was filled with enough Hydrogen to allow for use of the fusion generator powering the drive. Powerful, yet stealthy and graceful.

Just as Gilvan’s ship left the radius of the station, 2 Igazra class warships hailed it.

“Gilvan Rastavan, on behalf of the Igadzra government and interstellar law, you are charged with piracy and high treason punishable by death. Prepare to be destroyed, or surrender immediately!” the commander shouted fervently.

The ships immediately flew toward Gilvan’s ship, their Pulse turrets surfacing and preparing to deploy. Salvoes of Seek and Eliminate modules glistened through the near vacuum of space, their light pulsing slowly from bright yellow to a deep crimson. The projectiles nimbly dodged asteroids and flew directly for the Crescent Warship. Suddenly, an Adzgari Warship entered the system. Within seconds, it had deployed the six ships it held in its hold. The Azdaras zoomed towards Gilvan, overcoming the guided missiles and nearing the ship at every second.

Inside, warnings were flashing on all the bridge monitors. Gilvan had armed the immense turrets and was preparing for the imminent collisions of matter. He slid his ship carefully behind an asteroid, following its motion to hide from the encroaching modules. The six speeding vessels swarmed around the rock and descended on his ship. Two were immediately hit and destroyed by the combination of neutron and pulse turrets. Their debris harmlessly bounced from the shielded hull. One of the fighters had positioned itself under the belly of the huge ship, where only one of the turrets could reach. Gilvan hit the maneuvering jets harshly, and with a powerful collision which shook the bridge, sent the unprepared ship to explode against a flying asteroid. The Crescent Warship remained nearly untouched as the unintelligible curses of the pilot filled the communication frequency.

The Azdaras regrouped and flew in triangle formation toward the glimmering ship. Just as they were coming into range, the Asteroid trailing Gilvan’s ship exploded. Millions of razor-sharp minute sized rocks flew in all directions as an orange cloud of flickering light enclosed the area. Without air, the explosion was invisible, but the shockwave and the flying bits tore the remaining Azdaras to bits and severely reduced Gilvan’s shields. The 3 massive warships entered the visible space and slowly moved toward the ship, the Igazras still glowing from use of their particle beams. A deafening silence ensued on Gilvan’s bridge. Alarms were going off and silenced simultaneously by the onboard computer, whose artificial intelligence allowed for the ability to understand the pain the loud klaxons would cause the captain. The swirling red lights made for an almost festive scene, reminiscent of nightclubs of ages past.

With shields at 50 percent, Gilvan told the computer to begin preparations for use of the teleportation drive to a random galaxy. The countdown began; in ten minutes the ship would hurl to completely unmapped space, at least by the known races. Ten minutes to kill, ten minutes to survive.

Gilvan engaged the Azdgari Warship immediately. It could barely respond to his powerful turrets, and the halo of its shields flickered and held for less than a minute. Its wings were the first to separate, ridding the ship of its ability to turn. It lost all energy as its turrets went down, and chunks of the ship bombarded the open space. Finally, Gilvan’s turrets opened a hole in the ship’s exterior, and, unable to hold its oxygen any longer, the ship collapsed on itself, compressing until all air was gone and only a ball was left, then separating and letting debris and bits of flesh sail the infinite emptiness. Shields at 10 percent

The SAE modules kept bombarding Gilvan’s ship. Their force was dampened by the layers of metal and material, yet even in the bridge, Gilvan felt the walls shuddering around him. The gravity chair was all that kept Gilvan from flying around the room.

“Our sensors show that your shields are down to 1 percent. Surrender now, or be destroyed,” the enemy captain coolly stated.

Gilvan smiled once more. They thought he was about to die. They didn’t comprehend that his ship was reinforced with triple layers of Voinian Bronev plating, provided by the Council for extra security. With his armor, Gilvan’s ship was nearly invincible against the Pulse weapons of his enemies. The combination of high shields and armor made for one of the most powerful ships in the galaxy, capable of taking immense punishment.

Gilvan sent a reply: “I would gladly comply, if only you would take that huge log out of your ass. Thank You.”

The ships engaged. Throngs of purple and yellow flew everywhere. Red splotches fizzled on the ships’ sides as the shields drove to accommodate the damage. Explosions drove the ships side to side, rocking them and rotating them. From a distance, only a mass of swirling colors could be seen. Majestically, one of the warships exploded, its brightly colored shell glowing red from the heat and shattering, sending the slowly cooling bits in all directions, flying towards the farthest reaches of the galaxy.

Gilvan’s armor was slowly fading away, even with the matter generators as full throttle. His computer analyzed that with conditions remaining as they were he would defeat his opponent and still remain with 10 percent armor.

The enemy pilot was also aware of this. His shields were draining rapidly as he flailed for something to do. With barely a minute remaining, he initiated his particle beam. Although he would have no fuel remaining, at least he would destroy this pestering fiend

Gilvan glanced at his computer panel. There were only 30 seconds remaining to teleportation. His ship would surely hold out

A merchant Arada jumped into the system. The captain was delivering a shipment of food to Council station, and was continually peering at his monitors. Sensors showed two massive ships dueling in the distance. He looked through a porthole and saw an amazing sight: A Igazra Warship was beginning to glow and pulsate with raw energy, and was being bombarded by a particularly large Crescent Warship. Moments after a beam flew from its nose, the orange ship exploded violently, throwing the Crescent Warship away rapidly. The beam reached the remaining warship, surrounded it like a glove, and slowly began crushing it. Just as the ship was about to implode, there was a flash of green light, and it disappeared. The captain scratched his nose in disbelief, muttered something about food poisoning, and continued on his flight

wow, that's excellent!

run dos run!

Very nice -- I like the tounge-in-cheek-style.



This is the only Chronicles story I've seen without the 'edited by moderator' thing at the end...

" There's no time to discriminate. Hate every mother****er that's in your way. " - Rev. Marilyn Manson

Thanks, everyone. I hope to finish the next parts soon...

About the moderator thing.
I have no clue.

And although I don't like Marilyn Manson one bit, here's a good quote:
"Is Adult Entertainment killing our children, or is killing our children entertaining adults?"


(This message has been edited by tyrex57 (edited 05-01-2001).)


Originally posted by tyrex57:
About the moderator thing.
I have no clue.

Neither do I. But... there's no moderator holding Jude's (former) position as editor of the EV/EVO Chronicles, and the Pending Chronicles forum has been password-protected. Maybe these two things have something to do with it.

" There's no time to discriminate. Hate every mother****er that's in your way. " - Rev. Marilyn Manson