Beyond Alpha Centauri :::

[Sprayber]

Drum Beats

[Outside the Firaxis System

Kessel stood on the ramp of the small scout hip as it slowly opened to reveal the large hanger bay of the Command Carrier. He had expected to be standing on Firaxis by now but events had conspired to deny him of that for the time being. The taskforce had gathered just outside Firaxian Space so that Kessel could utilize the Command Carrier to asses the recent turn of events. The first person Kessel sighted was Admiral Koto, who even when dressed in his simple uniform stood out among other officers. Koto saluted and handed a data pad as Kessel walked down the ramp.

“Colonel Kessel, welcome aboard the Pentagon. We have received communications from Central Command and Fleet Carib along the Hive March. Here is a brief report as to the situation. Major Lera at Central Command has forwarded a message of state and it awaits your attention.”

Kessel briefly scans the report and motions towards the door.

“Very well, prepare the taskforce for redeployment. Leave a small detachment here and proceed to the Cadre’s system”

Koto looked at Kessel with a measured glance.

‘We are to enter the Cadre system, Colonel?”

“Affirmative admiral. Your taskforce will enter the Cadre system per the request of the Cadre government.”

Koto and Kessel entered a lift at the end of a short hall. Koto pushed the button for the command deck.

“What will be our objective while we are there sir, if I may ask.”

With a small smile Kessel looked at the aging admiral.

“Well if these reports are true, you will be preparing for war admiral. Along with nearly everyone else in the Human Sphere.”

The lift stopped abruptly and the two officers walked out into the command center of the ship. Kessel spotted the small office where the comm systems were operated from and turned back to Admiral Koto.

“Have General Thomas and General Green report here in twenty minutes. I want the Marine groups under their command to be primed when they get to the Cadre system. It looks like Marine Group Saxon and Goth will be adding another campaign ribbon to their collection”

Koto acknowledge the command and Kessel turned to walk to the comm center. Koto turned and went to summon the two marine generals. As he walked over to his aides he felt something that had been absent for a long time. Finally there might be war with the Hive. Finally after all the years of waiting, his ships would be able to perform the task that they were built for. A smile appeared on the old admirals face at that thought. He had missed the Terran war but that was ok because everyone knew that the only war worth fighting was the war against the Hive.


To : General Menelaus, Laekdaemon Cadre
From: Marcus Kessel, Colonel of the Militia

As I speak a Spartan Naval Taskforce is being readied for departure for your system. Along with the taskforce, two Marine Groups will be deployed in the system. That taskforce will take up position throughout your system to locate and destroy any outside faction seeking to supply arms or assistance to the rebels on your planet. Sparta will keep its word.




TO: President Kirsty Adams of the Free Drone Republic
From: Colonel Marcus Kessel

President Adams, as you may or may not know there has been trouble in the independent system of Laekdaemon. As it stands now, there are reasons to believe that the Hive has interfered in the affairs that do not concern them. If this is true then it will be for the last time. The Hive has been a cancer on humanity ever since the early days of Chiron. If it is found that they are behind this trouble then it will become the mission of the Spartan Federation to eradicate the Hive from the Human Sphere. I ask that your forces remain vigilant for possible Hive offensives along the frontier or for possible Bree incursions. I am still of the opinion that the Hive has aided and abided the Bree in the past and that it is possible that a joint attack could be made. Either way, if the Hive is responsible then their remaining time as a power are numbered.

On a different matter. Within Spartan territory, a possible alien structure has been found. I am aware of recent attempts by your scientist to solve the riddle of a possibly similar structure within the Drone Republic. I would discuss this further but I am simply pressed for time. There are certain complications that are associated with our alien structure that the Spartan government would rather keep under control. If your scientist are interested I could arrange for their travel to the location.

Respectively Marcus Kessel. Colonel Of The Militia.

[History Guy]

Call of the Wild

Guthrie’s Rock, Exploration Day Four

“These trees here must be, oh, I’d say nearly seven-hundred years old, perhaps they popped up as long ago as the year 2000 AD. Very old plants. The diameter is, as you can see, incredibly wide, and we haven’t yet had time to measure it. The roots, though, must be huge, like the ice below the surface on an iceberg. They must branch out and run down through the soil deep into the earth, stretching out hundreds of yards away. Indeed, some of these trees might even be conjoined by their roots…” The Xenobiologist, Farrel, spoke, pointing to one huge, ancient looking tree. The tree was so high up into the dark of the canopy that it was impossible to see where the top of the plant was at all, it was so hidden from view. Whatever the height and width, the thing was huge.

Captain Guthrie wasn’t quite paying attention to what the scientist had to say. He was busy speaking, as it was, to Officer Weiss. “Anything from home? Is there any news from home, that is?”

“Well, Captain, the Spartan delegation, Kessel included, have just now arrived on Firaxis. The CEO’s party is scheduled to arrive within the hour. Tomorrow is when everything begins, if you will. Not much from Cyrus itself, though. A bad weather pattern is moving across the whole of the capital district there, unfortunately, really upsetting transmissions for now. Oh, and your wife also sent a message, it wasn’t much, she just wanted to know how you were, etc. She sent some holos of your son back,” responded Weiss, softly. She wasn’t quite up to hiking through this thick, steamy jungle herself. She’d stayed back in temporary command of the ship. She had contacted the Captain via watchvid to speak with him, and deliver messages.

“He’s a great kid, Raymond. He’s growing up so quickly these days, I wish I were there more often. He looks like Laura. And now he’s learning to talk, you know. He’s smarter than I was. Probably smarter than I am now, come to think of it. He didn’t try to talk until he could speak whole sentences, there was no ‘Ga-ga’ from Raymond. He came out and started saying things that were perfectly understandable. Funny that.”

“My nephew was the same way. Look, you’d better get back to your expedition before McColloch gets stuck in a tree, or something to that effect!”

“Quite right. Thanks.” The vision of the Officer faded away, replaced by the digital watch face once again. “My word,” said the Captain, “those are beautiful falls over there. They remind me of Blackwater back home.” Where he stood, the Captain could see the river that flowed through the heart of the jungle. Hidden in the darkness of the forest, the huge waterfall that towered over the river was nearly invisible, though the sound of the pouring water was very audible. Of course, the whole jungle seemed to have a peculiar noise in it’s own. It was a blending of the water crashing against the rocks, the air moving through the canopies, the birds flying overhead, the native animals squawking and etc. The air was good here too. There wasn’t even any need to wear a protective suit. The place was perfect for colonization, it seemed. A temperate breathable atmosphere, many natural resources…it was just as if it was made to become home to exiled humans such as were found in the Morganites.

“Yes, sir, let’s go down towards there. It’d be a marker for where in heaven’s name we are in this God-forsaken jungle. Our initial probes didn’t record those falls, but I suppose they were too damned deep into the forest to be seen by the bloody robot. Stupid things, robots. They never do what they are intended to do…always talks a man,” said McColloch, who started out loud and clear and fell into mumbling.

“McColloch,” said the Xenobiologist quietly, “Shut up.”

The first man to reach the waterfall was the quickly moving Captain. It was a good thing, he thought, that he’d kept in shape, otherwise he’d have been waddling through the plants and sliding in the mud (generally having a downright miserable time) like everyone else. Up close, the falls were positively breathtaking. Gallons upon gallons of water seem to pour over the edge of the rocks every second, slamming with an audible crash into the water and the rocks below. This was an on-going occurrence, every second for as long as these falls had been here, he realized, they’d never stopped.

The Captain moved on forward, towards the cliffs themselves that overlooked the falls. He stood there for several minutes as everyone did their bests to catch up, and thought to himself have beautiful the whole damn thing was. Yes, he thought, this will have to be the place to colonize. There should be no other. How could there be? As he thought this, he heard a low growl in the distance, and then he heard the low noises of large feet moving away into the distance, from the other side of the great, fast-moving river.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Morganite Patrolship Daisy, Pollux System

Suddenly, the hatch popped open, and the invaders charged in. They quickly jumped against the wall opposite, away from the long walkway, and readied their large, deadly looking rifles. They were, the most of them anyway, clothed in a thin battle-armor, perhaps primitive plasma steel. Despite the apparent haste in clothing, these men appeared to be ready for anything. 2nd Lieutenant H.O. Marschall slowly made his way to the walkway, and made his way down it, keeping in the shadows against the wall. He knew that in these smaller vessels, the command-bridge wasn’t far at all from the docking hatch, which he’d just come through. It was, after all, a patrolship, and nearly identical to the one that he himself served as second-in-command of.

After making it as far to the middle of the walkway, he motioned his hand slightly in the direction of the now open hatch-door. In a stealthy, yet noiseless fashion, half a dozen of his men, all armed and armored as he was, trudged down the way and towards him, taking their places in the shadows beside him.

“First thing to note,” whispered Marschall, “the walkway lights are out, for whatever reason. The regulations tell us never to put them out while the ship is on active duty, as this one is now. This is for safety reasons mainly, but also so that invaders can be quickly identified. It is a stupid thing to have them off, indeed. Come on.”

Marschall then quickly ran up, throwing himself noiselessly against the wall opposite the bridge door. With this done, he motioned to his comrades to quickly come and join him. “Now,” he whispered, “You see the heat sensors? They are off, as are the probe records on the wall. Now, I’m going to shoot the mechanism lock-in, I’m afraid. The doors are locked from the inside, which means one of two things…One: that the intruders or the original officers have sealed themselves up in here…or…” Marschall quickly blew a huge hole in the door locking mechanism. The door slid open sluggishly, the smell of burned plastic was becoming very noticable.

Marschall hopped into the bridge, “So, it was Two: an algorithm locked the doors after the ship had been abandoned. There’s no one here.” The rest of Marschall’s team snuck in, and saw everything around them. The bridge looked like any other Morganite patrolship bridge. The room was circular; the far end revealing the expanse of space beyond, and in this case, Pollux E, appearing as a huge red dot on a black background. There was no damage to the thing, nor were their any traces of life. Everything was sterile, everything was dead. But it was dead metal…not dead men.

“This place,” said one of the team, a woman, “reeks of Pirates.”

“Damn it, Tanya, let’s hope that’s all it is. If it’s anything else, there will be hell to pay. Hell, there will be hell to pay even if it is Pirates. A whole crew of slightly under two dozen Morganite policemen are abducted on the beat, and perhaps even killed, and the patrolship itself is left to float around in space. There were no sightings of any ships, but you know how advanced these cloaking devices get these days.”

“Well, let’s hope it’s not the Terrans, otherwise, that conference ain’t never going to end, and neither is this war. Those Earthers sure know how to screw things up, don’t they?”

“They do that. All right. I’m calling the captain.”

Marschall turned on his watchvid, and set the frequency to the patrolship. “Captain?…Sir, we are on the patrolship Daisy…The place is abandoned…The only signs of struggle are that the lights, the heat sensors, and the vids are out in the walkway…Totally empty…OK…Waiting for you, sir…”

Marschall turned off the watchvid. “Great. Just what I needed to start the day.”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

[Mr. President]

Anatomy of a Peace Conference

Parliament House, Orchard Valley, Firaxis Prime
Two weeks before Marcus Kessel’s arrival at the World of Trees

The heart of the most robust democracy in the Borderlands.

The birthplace of Green Capitalism.

The building where Commissioner Lal had called Firaxis "the last honest broker".

But to locals, it was the Parliament House, first erected during the colonial period more than four hundred years ago. Whenever the door opened, passers-by could almost smell the history. Here was the site of the Great Debates on free trade. Here the treaty had been signed that amalgamated the former United Nations, Spartan, and Pacific Space Agency colonies and gave birth to the State of Firaxis. Here the stalwart Prime Minister Collins delivered his famous address that, according to reputable sociologists, gave his people a last gasp of emotional strength to withstand the Bree onslaught. Though now it was served by magstrips rather than dirt roads, it would always be the place most associated with Firaxian nationhood.

The debate was vigorous, as always. Labour frontbenchers had followed through on their threat to challenge Michael Hsiang’s agreement to host a peace conference between Morgania and Terra. Over more than an hour, their best speakers hammered every imaginable argument against the talks. We are a neutral state and have no interest in their wars, some said. The influx of foreign media and hangers-on will upset our Green Capitalist equilibrium, others exhorted. But they saved the heavy artillery for last. Labour’s leader, the even-voiced, grey-haired Natalie James, had placed her hands on the security requests placed by the delegations.

“Colonel Kessel will arrive with seven of his dread Warlock vessels?” she asked. “Admiral Kerensky is bringing four Terran battlecruisers? Does CEO Morgan always travel in the midst of a thousand marines? If the name of the conference is peace, my fellow Firaxians, why have the delegates come surrounded by weapons of war?”

It was a low blow, and a tough one to recover from. But Hsiang had to try. Straightening his tie, he made his way to the podium as the Leader of the Opposition returned to her seat.

“My fellow Firaxians,” Hsiang began, “I fear that the Opposition has been misleading you.” He gestured at the Labour Party’s section of the house. “Though they seem to have their hearts in the right place when it comes to protecting Firaxis, their priorities are wrong on this issue. The Leader of the Opposition would have you believe that the delegates come to prosecute further their war, or even to attack the World of Trees. This is, frankly, laughable. When leaders as prominent as CEO Morgan travel abroad, they must be prepared for any contingency. There are people in this galaxy who are actively hostile to him, and wish nothing more than to see him dead and the Orion Arm in chaos. It is in the interests of all nations to prevent terrorism. We should be welcoming his guards, not flinching from them!”

Many Pacific Party MPs applauded. As the Speaker of the House rapped his gavel on the desk and called for order, Hsiang continued, “This war has consumed billions of dollars, billions of energy credits in property damaged. Thousands of lives have been lost. If it is not stopped now, the galaxy will be ruined and the Opposition’s isolationism will have been for naught.”

Long the debate continued, while the trees swayed in the wind and the orange sun smiled on Firaxis.

The Hall of Mirrors, Orchard Valley, Firaxis Prime
One and a half weeks before Marcus Kessel’s arrival at the World of Trees

“Higher . . . lift the left side a little bit . . . my left, sorry, that’s your right . . . perfect!”

The director of hospitality stood in the midst of a storm. Around her ears dozens of workers were buzzing, polishing the famous mirrors and dragging furniture into place. The banner she had been adjusting now proclaimed in ten-inch letters, “Welcome to the World of Trees!” The setting could make or break the conference. The Hall of Mirrors was the conference room. Huge, bright, and spacious, it provided for easy reading of notes and the examination of fellow attendants’ faces. The ceiling was even painted a color thought to promote brain activity. Occupants who gazed into the infinite reflections of the mirror panels, though, risked becoming hypnotized.

An intercom beeped. Sidestepping a glass refreshment table, the director opened the link. She barely heard the Prime Minister’s voice on the other end. “How’s it coming down there?”

“Not bad,” she shouted above the noise. “It’s starting to take shape. I just hope you can bring the food in on time!”

Hsiang’s tinny laugh came through the intercom. “Don’t worry, everything’s on schedule. Do we have enough balloons?”

“I have five hundred here and five hundred coming in at three.”

“Perfect! I’ll come down later and take a look.”

The director laughed. “Watch your step, it’s a madhouse down here.” She looked around and laughed as an assistant with ten chairs balanced on his arms edged through the door. “And if you could bring down a couple of chairs, that would be a great help.”

Matheson Special Forces Base, outside Pine Gap, Firaxis Prime
One week before Marcus Kessel’s arrival at the World of Trees

Few people were aware that the Firaxian military enforced a no-fly zone in the air and space above a twenty-square-kilometer area south of Pine Gap. Almost no-one knew of the Matheson Base. It was the most secret installation in the Firaxian defense establishment, where the paramilitary police units that fought terrorism, organized crime, and poaching were trained, the intelligence service’s above-top-secret “shadow men” practiced the arts of infiltration and sabotage, and the Air Force flew experimental combat aircraft. And it was the home of the Crimson Sunrise.

Formed during the Bree War to fight the alien menace, the special forces regiment made its name during the piracy crisis of the South Seas by attacking several heavily defended strongholds, liquidating twelve pirate leaders in under a month. Now they were practicing for a different type of warfare. On one corner of the base a model town had been built to resemble the type of streets, alleys, and buildings of a typical Firaxian city. Crimson Sunrise soldiers alternately charged and slinked through the streets as live ammunition exploded around them.

The Joint Chiefs of Staff observed the troops’ progress courtesy of twenty cameras situated at crucial points which broadcasted to a panel just outside the training area. All the military commanders had agreed that the training was prudent. Some, though, disagreed on how likely it was to be needed.

“If anything goes wrong,” Admiral Haslam had said, “our streets are going to be a war zone. Not that I don’t have confidence in our boys, but it’s not the most common scenario these days.”

“Why should anything go wrong?” General Ameti retorted. “We’re hosting a peace conference, for Pete’s sake!”

“A peace conference that will be attended by an army of Spartan soldiers, a thousand Morgan marines, and a Terran squadron larger than the entire Barnard fleet,” the typically soft-spoken Interstellar Admiral McAllister replied.

Now the Joint Chiefs were focused on a monitor showing a close-up of Crimson Sunrise troops storming a house. Two slithered up to take positions on either side of the door. Two more hurried to the ground-floor windows and tossed concussion grenades inside. The image shook as they went off. Kicking the door down, the soldiers hurried inside, firing in all directions. From receiving fire to shattering the door, the entire scene took less than a minute.

“I think we’ll be just fine,” Admiral Haslam said.

O'Reilly International Spaceport, Firaxis Prime
Three hours before Marcus Kessel's arrival at the World of Trees

Contrary to popular opinion, some politicians did drink soda. The Prime Minister did, mostly when he was nervous. He was drinking some now.

"Any word from the Spartan delegation?" he asked.

"They'll reach the system perimeter in three hours, Mr. Prime Minister," the station master said. "We've got a bit of a wait yet."

Someone in the Firaxian delegation suggested that they move to the observation lounge. "It's near the gate so we shouldn't have any trouble getting back."

Hsiang tossed his empty drink can in the wastebasket and sat next to his deputy in front of a large glass window. Outside a ship was moving into atmospheric flight, grav boosters glowing ferociously. "Is it right to be nervous?"

The Prime Minister turned, surprised. "Even though we're the government?" his deputy continued. "I mean, if we don't have full confidence in ourselves, how can we expect the public to have confidence in us?"

Hsiang cut him off. "Matias," he said, "I'm so scared I could vomit."

That got a laugh out of Matias, and also anyone else in earshot. "Just," he continued, "think about something else. Think about last night's soccer game, or the last movie you saw, or what color shoes your wife was wearing this morning."

"Will that help?"

Hsiang smiled, and pushed the images of burning ships and ruined cities from his mind. "It couldn't hurt."

[GeneralTacticus]

Laekdaemon Central

A few moments later Lichtenstein received the signal that all preparations were complete, and smiled. The estimated travel time by air from here to Dienkes base was around three hours - three hours, and then the traitor Lysander and his cohorts would pay dearly...

* * *

Airborne, 10 kilmoetres from Dienkes Base

Lichtenstein was watching the strategic map and the position of his force on it like a hawk as they neared their target. So far they had encountered very little resistance, apart from a couple of rebel jets which were shot down without difficulty. Now, however, would be the most dangerous time for the strike force: Once they had landed, they could fight to defend themselves, but up here, they would have to rely solely on the air force and their transport choppers to protect them. He just hoped Lysander hadn't brought in enough air power to threaten them. He read the letters flashing just above the icon representing his strike force for the nth time:
ETA: 5 minutes
4:59
4:58

"Colonel?" a crisp voice distracted him.

"What is it?" he asked, turning around. The speaker was Major Fabius, Cadre Chief of Air Transport.

"Colonel, I need not inform you that the transport choppers you are using here are my responsibility. As such, anything that will place them in unnecessary danger must be cleared with me first."

Lichtenstein felt anger rising in him. Fabius, despite his military rank, was a beaurocrat, nothing more than a glorified pen-pusher. He was here because, as he said, these craft were his responsibility, but he knew what the man's definition of 'unnecessary danger' was likely to be.

"Very well, Major," he growled, "now what is the problem?"

"Colonel, the landing site you have chosen is uncomfortably close to enemy positions and places these transports in full view of rebel heavy weapons positions. I must therefore demand that you change your plans so that we will land at a safe distance."

"Major, with all due respect, you have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. This landing ground is perfect - our troops will be unloading even before the ships stop moving, and the amount of firepower they lay down will be so thick the rebels won't even be able to see through it, much less shoot back. By the time they realize what's hit them, their forward positions will be be already overrun."

Fabius' face hardened. "I don't give a **** about your plans for the attack. What I'm worried about are my transports. You are placing them directly in the firing line, and it will be my responsibility if-"

Lichtenstein cut him off.

"Guards." He spat, his single word dripping with menace.

"Wha-" Fabius began, as two armoured and masked Cadre troops stepped up beside him. Lichtenstein ignored him and continued.

"Place this man under arrest for gross negligence, dereliction of duty and supsicion of treason. I have no more time for this."

Fabius' protests went unheard as the two soldiers grabbed hold of him, one placing his hands around his neck while the other placed restraints around him before they carried him off to the secure compartments behind the control room.

* * *

A few minutes later, the Cadre transports swept down over the cleared ground in front of Dienkes base and swung to a stop, their doors hissing open and Cadre assault troops pouring out. There was a very one-way exchange of fire as the poorly manned rebel defenses were reduced to vapour by Chaos and Impact rifles backed up with Needlejet mounted Fusion Lasers. The way into the base itself was open and there was nothing to stop the Cadre troops from swarming in to exact revenge for Lysander's act of treachery. This they did.

* * *

Lichtenstein watched all this from the control room aboard his chopper. He smiled as he saw how easily the first rebel line had fallen, and hoped that the rest would be as swift. 'We might even end this war before it really begins.' he mused, not really believing it. He turned to the communication console and sent a brief message to Laekdaemon Central.

TO: General Menelaus
FROM: Colonel Lichtenstein.

The attack on Dienkes Base has begun and the initial resistance has been brushed aside. I will report to you when we have acheived success. By the way, I have had Major Fabius arrested for attempting to interfere in the conduct of this operation. I believe that he is either a rebel spy or an exceedingly stupid bearucrat.

*END MESSAGE*

* * *

Menelaus was sitting in his private office when he received Lichtenstein's message. He relaxed slightly as he read it and reviewed the attatched camera records from the control room, detailing the Colonel's altercation with Fabius and the success of the intial assault. He Sat in though for a moment, then hit a few keys and accessed the current camera feeds from Lichtenstein's chopper. All indications were that the assault was still going even better than planned. Menelaus just hoped Lysander hadn't got a hidden ace up his sleeve. If he didn't, his rebellion wouldn't have even lasted 24 hours.

Menelaus then opened up another window on his computer screen and began typing out a message.

Encrypted Diplomatic Transmission

TO: Marcus Kessel, Colonel of the Militia

FROM: General Menelaus, LAekdaemon Cadre

Colonel Kessel, I thank you and the entire Spartan Federation for your promise of assistance. We will need it if Lysander calls in any major Hive assistance. In any case, I am pleased to inform you that we have been able to launch a counter offensive against Lysander's HQ at Dienkes Base. Initial resistance has been crushed and our troops are making steady progress. We expect to have eliminated Lysander and most of his Hive troops shortly.

*END TRANSMISSION*

[Silence]

Super-Dreadnought Mighty Fortress

The Heavenly Host had came a long way since the days of the first laser equipped men and women on Chiron. For many of the men and women in the room, this was the first time they been on such a monster of a star-ship. It was the largest mobile Believer construct ever built, armed with a blistering array of the latest fusion lasers and plasma missiles. It could bring a devastating amount of firepower on a target in a very short amount of time.
It was perfect for the new operation that the seventh. tenth, and eleventh fleets would be running.

“Marshall on deck!” yelled the NCO guard standing by the door of which Marshal Dexter Matthews came striding in. He was wearing the full dress uniform of the office and all of his medals which glittered in the light. Those officers that had been sitting rocketed up into an correct postion.

“At ease everyone” Dexter said, he looked at the room, it was a long narrow room with several floating holo-plots that displayed various figures, pictures, maps, and stars. There was many of the senior officers of the two fleets in the room. It occurred to Dexter that if one of them had been a HOG agent, he or she could of done incredible damage to the war effort by homicide bomb themselves and take out an large portion of the brass for the
Host.

Dexter realized they were all looking at him to begin, he walked up to the podium at the head of the table and hit the button to begin the presentation for Operation Hammer. As he loaded the program into the computer system, low power AI’s where now tracking his
speech and would change the background on the massive flat screens monitor that made up the wall behind the podium according. It was one of the new AI systems bought from Morgan.

“You know why we are here ladies and gentlemen, and so do the HOG’s. At the battle of LV 120, one of our hunks got a good hit in a engine room of an enemy command ship and screwed up their power systems. The missile radiation killed off most of the crew before they could data dump their computer cores. So know we have the location of the HOG base.”

With that said the AI tracking the speech turned on the flat screens and it showed a dark and forbidding planet, with a large amount of lights scattered across it. It was a rouge planet, and it was only a day away from New Israel, 2 days away from New Eden and less then 8 hours away from LV 120. In short a perfect place for a raiding force to call home.

“Since we found this base, which we discovered that the rebels call Godwinson’s Hope, we have launch several fly overs with quick spy drones. This is the footage from the one that we last sent in.”

The screen shifted and it showed several dozen spy drones moving at high speeds orbiting the planet, and trying to evade a massive wall of fire that kept on targeting them. With in 30 seconds most of the drones had died, and the others were all damaged when they went back into FTL and towards their masters.

“Intelligence from that foray and the others that we have sent suggests an incredible amount of defenses. The weapons platforms that we seen is simply amazing. We suspect that with this amount of their energy put into defenses and the size of the fleets they keep on fielding against us, that they have no civilian economy to worry about. We also suspect that they had some help with building the defenses. If we decided to attack that planet
with conventional tactics, we were looking at 80 percent losses.”

The AI switched the screen in showing various projected attacks and the aftermath of such an attempt. The faces of the officers where grim, they had known getting into the military would be dangerous thing, especially with the apparently never-ending war with the HOG’s, but 80% was higher then what they had ever been dealt with before.

“So therefor, I have decided not to go with a conventional route of attack. Computer bring up plans to everybody’s desk for Operation Hammer” Dexter said, the lights in the
room turned up a bit to allow the members to read the operations plan and while several of the officers had heard bits of pieces of the proposed final battle, they where surprised when they saw what the Marshal had decided.

:After waiting a couple of minutes, Dexter got up to the podium again and said, “Any questions?”

Admiral Joyce Harper got up and said, “Sir we really can build such a thing?”

“Yes the size of the FTL drives will be costly, but we have 4 of them ready to go by next week, only thing we have to is to equip them to asteroids large enough in the New Israel system.”

“But isn’t this against the rules of combat?” Harper asked.

“The Hammer of God is an unofficial organization, that commits terrorist acts, there is no civilian damage to what we are going to be doing. In the HOG organization there are no such things as civilians.”

“But we will be killing women and children that don’t have any thing to do with the fighting.”

“They are enemy combatants. The matter is out of your hands anyway, the order comes from the Speaker himself.” Dexter said coldy glaring at the admiral.

“I know sir, but it just seems to me slamming that planet with asteroids is a really cheap way of winning a war.” Harper said and sat down. Dexter shrugged and gave a calm reply, “Better a cheap win, then a costly lost.”

[Mr. President]

Walk Among The Stars

1195 Ring Road, Silverbird Park, Merak

“This wind farm,” said Lady Deirdre Skye, “will enhance the power capacity of Silverbird Park by more than seventy percent. It’s a step long overdue for the capital of our nation and its fastest growing city.”

Accepting a large pair of scissors from an aide, Deirdre cut the ribbon strung across the complex’s gate. The implement was incredibly blunt, more for show than for anything else, and it took several tries before the red band fluttered to the ground. A small audience applauded. Beyond the fence windmills were already rotating slowly.

As usual, Deirdre’s entourage was flocked by reporters, their chattering questions drifting into her ears. “Lady, what is the state of . . .” “What is your opinion on . . .”

“Please, stand aside,” said a public relations officer. “The press conference was before the ceremony, people. Thank you.”

Lady Deirdre was about to leave, when the sun reflected brightly off something amid the throng of reporters. She turned and looked at it. Attached to a lapel pin was, surprisingly, a Cult of Planet insignia. Deirdre held up her hand to bring her people to a stop.

“You there,” she called, motioning for the pin’s owner to come forward. It was a young woman from the local television station. Thinking she had been chosen for an interview opportunity, the reporter began to say something, but Deirdre cut her off.

“Where did you get that pin?”

The reporter was more surprised than anything else. “This, Lady? It’s just a family heirloom. Why -”

The pin was crafted painstakingly from Chiron’s gold and planetpearl, with a charm in the secret language of the Cultist priestly caste written on the long stem. “You’re a Cultist?”

“My ancestors were, Lady.” The reporter looked around nervously; other people were staring at them.

Deirdre looked away distantly for a moment. “Thank you,” she said at last, and walked back to her waiting transport.

* * *

It was almost too long ago to remember.

Planet was plagued by warfare on its surface and in the space above. Driven on by these threats and the memory of Earth’s fall, the rival colonies were scattering into space, most never to return.

When the Cult of Planet, with its financial sector devastated by mismanagement and corruption and reeling from a series of crushing military defeats to the Free Drone Republic, had appealed to Deirdre’s government for a confederation agreement, she had been concerned. The biotechnology-based Gaian economy was rich, but she felt it would be burdened by the poverty-stricken Cultist cities. But the Senate forced her hand, and soon enough Cha Dawn became an employee of the Gaian Confederation, governing just over half its territories in Deirdre’s name.

Things became worse. In Project Firebrand, the Drones found a way to devastate the planet without ever setting foot on it; the United Nations was multiplying its collection of planet busters daily. Deirdre’s most secret and urgent initiative was code-named Determined Path, and it almost broke the bank to acquire Morganic transport spaceships under the table. And the long – and controversial – hunt for a new world began.

In a bunker beneath Gaia’s Landing, Cha Dawn’s eyes flashed in the stale and penetrating light.

“I have devoted my entire life to this world,” he said. “You cannot ask me to leave now.”

“We will live to fight another day.” Deirdre’s tone was almost imploring.

Quivering with frustration, Dawn retorted, “You are the leader and if you order me to go I will. But my heart – and Planet’s heart – are telling me to stay and fight to the end to save this world. If we leave now it will be destroyed.”

“If we stay it may be destroyed anyway.”

“If we leave there will be no government to protest the destruction of Planet’s ecosystems, to argue her case at the Council, to shed blood in her defense.”

Many of her aides had been disgusted at the way Dawn’s words invariably led back to fighting, but Deirdre knew that he had always done things that way. He saw the world in simple terms, all problems as simple problems with simple solutions.

She gave her citizens the choice whether or not to walk the Determined Path. Many refused, but in the end eighty percent of Gaians and a little under one out of every three of Dawn’s followers had followed her to the stars. The Prophet himself had remained behind, and the last she ever saw of him was his face on the orbit-to-shore commlink, wishing her Planet’s blessings for the long journey.

In time, the Cult of Planet became little more than a name in the history books and an insignia on family heirlooms. The anticipated apocalypse never came, and Planet fell under the sole sovereignty of the United Nations, the Cult passing out of sight. How could an entire nation disappear? At Deirdre’s left hand was a printed history of the Anasazi, the American Indians who were there one day and not there the next. But they had been felled by disruption to the food supply; it seemed unlikely that Dawn and his followers had likewise succumbed.

Activating her message bank, Deirdre hit the Compose button.

“Commissioner,” she began, “I trust this day finds you in good health. I remain Lady Deirdre Skye, of the Star Children of Gaia. Some questions have come up, which I hope you may be able to answer . . .”

[Mr. President]

Looking Emperor Yang in the Eye

Aboard the frigate DRS Levar
The buffer zone, near the Hive region

In the deep space several dozen light-years from Avalon, communications had a lag of several minutes. The matter was further complicated by the fact that military transmissions used enormous bandwidth, as clarity of picture and sound was considered important. It was still impressive to hear from the head of military intelligence, even if his face flickered and jumped and Captain Irwin had to stare at him blankly while his words travelled to Vega.

“Make no mistake, this is a risky mission,” Nazarbayev was saying. “The Senate is saying history is accelerating. They’re a bunch of pompous half-wits, but they have a point. Something is brewing, and we’re sure Emperor Yang is involved.”

“Acknowledged, sir,” Irwin replied. “The probe rafts will be deployed within the hour, and we’ll have data within two.”

After more minutes of lag, Nazarbayev smiled. “Good job, Captain,” he said. “And good luck to you! Nazarbayev out.”

Irwin left his office and headed for the bridge. In almost a thousand years of history, only a handful had spied on the Hive and lived to tell about it. Nonetheless, he felt exhilirated, as he and his crew were in the thick of the action, the middle of the chessboard. All the intrigue and the machination, the development of pieces, as it were, was coming to a head. The middle game was upon them.

Entering the lift to the bridge, Irwin scanned his identity card and waited, hand folded behind his back. He remembered his days at the Interstellar Naval Academy, when the legendary Foreman Domai himself had given a guest lecture for the basic economics class. He had spoken of the need for military officers to understand political and social trends. Then someone asked a difficult question: Who was Domai’s most difficult adversary during his days in command?

It had taken the former leader of the Drones only a few moments to reply. “Sheng-Ji Yang,” he said at last. “He was the only leader I could never reach with my words. Things that made other diplomats break down in tears rolled off his back.” The Foreman’s Australian drawl lowered. “You can’t let your guard down for a second.”

Irwin marched purposefully onto the bridge. “Report,” he ordered.

The first officer answered, “Sir, there are no ships within scanner range. ETA to the drop point is thirty-three minutes.”

“Go to yellow alert,” the captain said. Taking the command position, he said, “Proceed with caution.”

The rest of the way was spent in silence on the bridge. Irwin looked around at the faces of his young crew, somewhere between excitement and fear. Truth be told, he saw much to fear. They were dangerously close to Hiverian space, almost close enough to look Emperor Yang in the eye, and uncomfortably far from backup. What they needed was reassurance from their captain.

A minute or so from the drop point, Irwin activated the announcement system. “Attention crew,” he said. “We are approaching our mission even as I speak. Stay alert; we’ll need it in this part of space. Just remember – we’re doing this for our country. Think of your families, and be brave.” He paused for a moment. “And know that I am very proud to be your captain.”

“We are at the drop point, sir,” helm reported.

“All stop,” Irwin said. Speaking into the intercom, he asked, “Rafts, how are you down there?”

The voice of an intelligence officer travelled up to him. “All ready, Captain Irwin.”

“Release the probe rafts. Ten-second countdown.”

Ten seconds later the rafts moved slowly out into space. Propelled by minature Kalciate-powered graviton boosters, they were each large enough to hold two people, and were crammed with long-range sensors and listening devices.

Typing some commands into his computer, the captain brought up a schematic diagram of the rafts’ position and that of his own ship. “Sensors show no ships within range, Captain.”

“Excellent. How are you doing, rafts?”

“Just fine, captain. Activating sensors now,” the intelligence officer’s voice came through.

“We are receiving data from the rafts’ sensors, Captain,” the science officer said. “Transferring now.”

A new window appeared on Irwin’s monitor, and those of the other bridge crew. By painstaking increments of a quarter of a light-year, a map of the corner of Hive space near them began to appear. Already several large stars were marked.

“Orders, Captain?” inquired the first officer.

“Now,” said Irwin, “we wait.”

[Kassiopeia]

Two men - One gun

Kerensky groaned in the darkness.

The marines (at least that's what he thought they had been) that had whisked him in had given him quite a battering - his lower lip was bleeding somewhat, he was certain that he had lost a tooth or two, and his limbs vailed in agony, probably covered in nasty bruises.

But he's mind was crystal clear. He had perfect recollection of what had happened - the deceit of his First Officer, the battle, the malfunction in the weapons systems, the boarding vessels detaching themselves to the flagship's sides, the shattering of the hull's integrity, the fierce combat inside the corridors and hallways, the blinding pain that had rendered him unconscious.

He shifted his hands and noticed that they were uncuffed. It hurt like hell, but he turned over from his somewhat awkward position on the floor and laid down on his back, staring at the blackness above him. There was a ceiling up there, somewhere, he decided, for the air was still and a bit damp.

A ring of light, out of nowhere, appeared, illuminating his injured yet somehow graceful form. He lifted his arm to cover his eyes from the sudden brightness and let out a subtle moan.

"Ugh."

Feeling a drop of adrenaline entering his veins, he added, with a flat, somehow threatening tone: "If you intend to intimidate me with your theatrical tricks, you've got the wrong man."

He heard a chuckle from somewhere around him. The quiet mirth echoed in the walls of the room and returned him for a few times. He winced.

A short whirr accompanied a new lightspot - this one a good ten metres away from him. Kerensky turned his eyes - one of them surrounded in a violet ring - and, though he felt very startled, a voice in the back of his head told him: "I knew it."

"Wakazashi", Kerensky groaned. "I should've known. Only your grunts are that rude towards guests."

Wakazashi grimaced and replied: "They were insurgents - your former men, Admiral."

Kerensky quavered slightly. "My men? Betrayed me?" He asked in his mind. So far he had only thought that his First Officer and maybe some other high ranking power-greedy people had been a part of the conspiracy.

"Oh, don't worry", Wakazashi said coldly, correctly guessing the Admiral's train of thought. "Not all of your men decided to switch sides, oh no. The Coalition Marines had quite a workload to take care of all those silly men and women in arms, woving loyalty to their fallen figurehead."

"Bastard", Kerensky muttered.

"True, yes", Wakazashi agreed and smiled faintly. "But - is that the best you can do?" he added. After a moment's silence, the Supreme Commander shrugged and took out the patch covering his left eye. The implant had not yet settled in perfectly, and around the exposed white was a pulsating mass of flesh and stitches.

"Well", Kerensky said at the sight, "I thought it never would be possible, but indeed, you're even less human then the last time we met."

"I guess the Terran Naval School doesn't cover ad hominems in it's training", Wakazashi murmured. "Oh well. I'm running out of time - there's a revolution, no, that's not the right word - a shift in power to take care of out there." He put his hand in under his arm and from the holster within, produced a nine millimetre pistol, and aimed.

Kerensky lifted an eyebrow. "Never thought you'd have a thing for antique weapons too."

"I always find them more reliable, myself."

"Agreed", Kerensky complied before realizing the complete absurdity of the dialogue. Then he said: "You are going to shoot an unarmed, injured man, lying the ground, just like that?"

Wakazashi lowered the gun, gazed at Kerensky as if pondering something, then trained the barrel at him again and said: "Yes."

[Lonestar]

North American Directorate Capitol, New Orleans, Earth.

"The President is dead, long live the President. " Raphael Meneses murmered into his drink as he watched the news. He was sitting in a restruant favored by various North American Lawmakers right across the street from the sprawling capitol building.

Meneses chuckled. He was part of the "Old 100" (actually, 108), the last remaining original colonists of the Endeavor. Because of his special skills, he had been called up every now and again by the Lord Protector for duty. He could never say no, though he didn't know why.

Didn't manner. Lots of things had changed on Earth in the many hundreds of years since he left. But the North Americans had still retained a slight paranoia over being ruled by anyone besides a North American. The news of the alliance with the GHE was slowly leaking out, and as expected, there was great indignation amongst some that Earth would even be dealing with a Barbarian like Chan. The rest chalked it up to realpolitik.

Well, these miserable little Terrens were about to get a big fat reminder that Earth was no more secure than Beta Hydri, or Morgan Intersteller.

Meneses stood up, thanked the waitress(they used live ones here) and walked out. It had been fairly easy constructing a weapon that would resemble the GHE's ordanence, especially after CEO Morgan was kind enoguh to send archival information to the Lord Protector. Meneses fought the urge to look at his watch. Any second now.....

There was a roaring explosion that ripped through the Historic city. Turning and making a great show off panicking, he stared at the fireball that had engulfed the building. Meneses turned and ran (like most on the street), before reaching the spaceport. There a waiting freighter took him to the Protectorate Starship Agrippa, which remained parked between the Earth and Martian Orbit. Once on board, he smiled.

As usual, he timed everything to the exact moment, right down to how long it would take the Earth Coalition to shutdown the New Orleans-Mobile Spaceport.

Hopefully, it would give the EC pause before the furthered relations with the GHE.

[Mr. President]

Rewind

Temple Project Information Processing Center, Caledon, Vega Prime

Derek Sorensen was flicking through archives on the Berrik research in the far-off University Commonwealth when the call came. It turned out researchers there had encountered some similar phenomena to those he was studying: inexplicable energy signatures, unidentifiable materials and construction techniques, and alien symbology. That did not prove a connection, only that the galaxy was still full of mysteries, which still came as a surprise to some. So engrossed was Sorensen that he did not even notice the commlink’s insistent beeping for a few moments.

He pressed the answer button and heard Gary’s voice coming through. “Derek, are you there?”

“Yes Gary,” he replied. “What is it?”

“We’ve done it.”

Sorensen blinked. “You did it? You mean . . . the starmap?”

“Come down here, you’ll want to see this.”

He hurried out of his office and down the stairs. In a large room on the ground floor Gary and his team of Thinkers had been working for almost three weeks to uncover the secret of the Temple’s starmap. Sorensen had been around Thinkers his entire life, as there were many millions in the Drone Republic and other places he had travelled to, but he had never seen one working at maximum capacity until the map project. Gary and the others had sat around a large table, food and drink at arm’s length, eyes darting forward and back, fingers sporadically flexing, sometimes making hand movements as if tracing lines of text or shapes. The real world and the virtual world met and blended in the head of the cyborg.

Gary waved to Derek as he came through the door. “Over here!” the Thinker exclaimed. “You wouldn’t believe what’s been going on in here.”

Sorensen raised his eyebrows. Another Thinker, a petite red-haired woman, took up the account. “We were having no joy matching the views and magnitudes,” she said. “Until we realized that we were using a modern map of the Galaxy. The Temple was dormant for a very long time, and the stars have changed since then.”

“So we had to estimate the Temple’s age,” said Gary, “We gave the solar emission graph we downloaded the other time to the Faculty of Astronomy at the University. Based on the strength of the lines that it would have been taken about three million years ago. That’s based on the way stars change over time, and the types of chemicals in them are different as they expend more of their ‘fuel’.

“So,” he continued, “I loaded up Starry Night and rewound the galactic map three million years. After that it was simple. It turns out the reference system is nearer to us than we expected.”

“Nearer?” Sorensen raised his eyebrows.

Gary led him to the far wall, where several computers and display boards had been set up amid a tangle of wires. He typed some rapid commands into one of the systems and a large starmap appeared. “This is what the galaxy looked like three million years ago from the home system. Now I’ll show you what it looks like now.” The stars shifted and changed rapidly. “Do you recognize this constellation here?” Gary said, pointing at a hexagonal arrangement of stars.

“It looks like the Wheel,” Sorensen said. “When I went to the Physics Symposium in Spira, someone showed it to me after the opening dinner so I’d know how to find Vega. Which means . . .”

Gary nodded. “Whoever made this map used Spira as their starting point.”

Sorensen’s head was spinning. “Berrik . . .” he whispered.

[Frankychan]

The Academician and the Emperor

Drone Mound
Private Dining Chamber

The holo-image of Emperor Yang stood before the assembled group with a broad smile on his face. The University delegates remained in stunned silence, except for the head delegate, Robert Adams. Adams stared directly at the Emperor.

Nodding in satisfaction, Adams began the negotiations.

"Your Excellency, I am honored by your prescence. I thought that the University Commonwealth would not get a chance to begin our talks for alliance."

Yang nodded and circled the table. From somewhere off the holo-field, a chair slid into projection and Sheng-ji sat down, directly in front of Robert Adams.

"Delegate Adams, I am aware of your concerns. Therefore I will make this short.

I am willing to open my border's to the University. I have a few planets that are capable of hosting your embassies. I also have created preliminary plans for trade between our two empires."

The University members all nodded in agreement, smiling at one another. Adams remained motionless.

First you give...

Yang continued, "In return, I would like to establish my own embassies in University-controlled space. That, and maybe obtaining some aspects of the famed University technology that dominated the field of science on Chiron."

...then, you take

Adams smiled in consent. Sheng-ji waited for a few moments to let what he proposed sink in...then brought up his primary concern.

"Lastly, representatives of the University, I have a proposal. I would very much like to meet Academician Randius Zakharov personally. If you would give him this persoanl invitation, I would be most grateful."

One of the Hive security guards along the walls stepped forward to approach Adams. In the guards hand was a datapad. Adams took it and examined it critically.

The edges were carved with two dragons clawing along the sides, almost intertwined with one another. One dragon was white and black, the other blue and black...the colors of the Hive.

"That is to be given to Randius himself. No one else should access it."

The holo of Emperor Yang grinned.

"Ok then,"he began, "let's celebrate the beginnings of a bold new alliance between the University Commonwealth and the Hive Empire......A toast!"

Yang reached off the holo-field and brought back a glass. The assembled men present summarily lifted their own.

"To new found friends and......."Yang suddenly broke off.

The University delegate Robert Adams noticed that the Emperor seemed to stare off into the distance, as if his attention was suddenly directed elsewhere.

Sheng-ji snapped back to attention and concluded his toast.

"You will excuse me, important matters have just come to my attention. Governor Kabu, plase finish our toast for our guests." Yang's image abruptly flickered off.

The governor, almost forgotten, flashed a smile and hoisted his glass.

"To our newly established alliance. May the universe itself tremble before our collective might."

* * *
Encrypted Message
To: Academician Randius Zakharov
From: Emperor Sheng-ji Yang

I must be brief. I have given your delegates on planet Drone Mound a datapad. The contents will be revealed once you personally open it. To open it, you will need this code:

Wang-Di-Alpha-7-X-2

Consider the contents a gift.
* * *

[Frankychan]

Information and Repercussions

Hive Prime

Emperor Yang placed his glass he was holding back on the table he stood next to. Facing him was a messenger who remained bowing before his Emperor.

"Get up." Yang snarled. The messenger immediately stood at attention.

"What is it? This had better be important."

The messenger swallowed, "Your Excellency, I bear news from our ambassador within the Sol System as well as news from other regions of space."

Emperor Yang turned around and began walking toward a wall display. "Continue".

"Ambassador Sillk reports that there has been a coup on Earth. It appears that the Earth Coalition has broken from the Terran Alliance. There have been several assassinations in the upper levels of the government."

"Good. Continue." Sheng-ji smled.

"Secondly, our Morganite contact whom we received the Morganite military intelligence on Samnos and Naxos has been located."

An eyebrow raised, "I had forgotten about that. Where is the contact?"

"Your Excellency, he was apparently picked up in the Sol System, en route to Earth. He was travelling, " The aide stopped to look at a data display "with what appears to be two to three passengers. The names of these individuals have been recorded as a 'Greg' and a 'Filkins'."

"Excellent. Where do we have him going?"

"Great Collective, your Majesty."

"Anything else?" Yang exhuded satisfaction with his agents.

The messenger winced while he finished his report.

"It seems that there is an escalation in the Cadre System. We have reports that Drone as well as Spartan military vessel's are being sent there to stop Major Lysander's coup. Additionally, there has been an increase in Drone activity near the edge of our borders. They seem to be gathering intelligence on us."

Kessel and Adams have both upped the ante it seems....no matter, Yang thought.

"Our fleet sent to the Cadre system won't be a problem. They aren't distinguishable as being of Hive origin so they wont' be a problem. They should arrive in a couple of days anyway...Hopefully our ships will arrive before the Spartan or Drone do and crush Lysnader's opponents." Sheng-ji crinkled his chin.

"As for the Drone Probe ships, send a couple of our patrol ships out there and stop them. Theyare authorized to use excessive force if need be. Dismissed."

The messenger turned to exit and headed toward the door.

Things are getting very interesting indeed. Kessel and Adams. Randius and I. Where will the Terrans side?

[GeneralTacticus]

Governor’s Compound, Dienkes Base

Lieutenant Zimmer winced as another brief burst of rebel gunfire whistled past the pile of rubble he was hiding behind, rubble that had once been the wall of the base Governor’s small private garden. It was a charred ruin now, heavy weapons fire having scoured it for the past thirty minutes or more. He stuck his head up briefly and sprayed the smoke-filled garden with a burst of his own, before dropping back down. He heard the end of a choking gasp, and then silence.

Cautiously, Zimmer and the trooper lying next to him stuck their heads up. There was no firing; as the heat of the explosions faded, their infrared scanners recorded nothing. This small section of the base was now secure.

Around him the other members of his unit were standing up, cautiously looking around before moving slowly toward the other side of the garden, fingers tightly gripping their weapons. There was a brief scare as one the troopers snapped his weapon around and let off a burst into the darkness, but there was nothing there but crumbling rubble.

As they continued to move across what had once been green and pleasant, one of the few luxuries afforded to anyone within the Cadre, their collective nerves wound more tightly than a spring, Zimmer was suddenly struck by the senselessness of it all. Here they were, fighting over the charred ruins of a garden, a damn garden for crying out loud, against enemies that had until today been their own people, and for what reason? Because one junior officer couldn’t let go of the past. He shook his head. There was no time for philosophy here.

Moments later the Cadre soldiers stepped out into a hallway that led directly to the former Governor’s main office. There was no doubt that it was now Lysander’s headquarters; all of the command & control communications to the base defence forces originated here, and it fit with what was known of Lysander. It was his nature to want to rule from his enemy’s own palace.

There was no resistance as they walked swiftly down the corridor. There were a number of tears in the walls and several bodies lay near one, virtually shredded by shrapnel. There was nothing else to suggest that this passage had been the object of violence; there were no bullet holes, no spent shell casings or power packs. And there was no way to distinguish visually whether the dead had been loyalists or rebels.

When they actually reached the office they found, it unsurprisingly, empty. They had expected Lysander to run before they got there, and he hadn’t disappointed them. Well, at least they had now captured the main command centre for the local rebels. Zimmer sent a report by commlink to Colonel Lichtenstein that this area was now secure, then plugged a small module into the office computer systems. The programs within it would break the security codes on the systems and transmit whatever information they could recover to Laekdaemon Central. It wouldn’t be that hard; they already knew all the master codes in any case. Having secured this objective, they left two troopers behind to guard it and prepared to move on to the next target: Dienkes Base Aerospace Complex.

As the troops moved on, there was an urgency about them that hadn’t been there before. They knew that the complex was completely useless with loyalist interceptors combing the skies, yet they still felt a deep apprehension that quickened their steps and made them clench their fingers around their weapons. They would soon find that fear to have been justified.

* * *

The journey to the Aerospace Complex would have been only a few minutes in length, the original base planners having placed all of the critical structures as close together as possible, but loyalist bombs had blocked on of the corridors, delaying the troops by a precious few minutes. Upon such whims of chance rest the fate of leaders and worlds. Zimmer’s squad burst through the doors leading our onto the main runways just in time to see a single transport plane escorted by a swarm of interceptors lift off into the sky, their engines screaming defiance at their pursuers.

Zimmer wanted to scream with rage as he realized that the chance to end this war here and now was gone forever, but he couldn’t allow himself to do that. In the same instant he saw a pair of loyalist interceptors sweep in and let fly with a volley of missiles, but in vain. One of the rebel escorts turn, running directly into the path of the missiles and sacrificing itself for its charge. Instants later, both of the loyalists were blasted out of the sky by the return volley.

As Lysander’s transport plane and its fighter escorts vanished swiftly into the distance, Lieutenant Leos Zimmer had only one though on his mind.

'I will destroy you, Lysander, if it’s the last thing I do.'

[Lonestar]

Beta Hydri 3

There was a crack in the darkness, then the shadows receded fully. Dr. Matthew Bucher, a man older than most Biblical figures strode into the huge room. He turned on a lamp he was carrying.

"Let there be light," he murmered.

The room was now completely lit, and Bucher looked around. Huge statues of Egyptian Gods were abound. Egyltian Hieroglyphs completely covered the walls. After 600 years of trying to break into this Temple, he now knew it was worth it.

A voice shouted down from behind the door he'd finally opened.

"Professor Bucher, do you see anything?"

"Oh yes....wonderful things!"
---------------


The Palace, Nuevo San Antonio.

Lord Protector Ian looked up from the flimsy and gave the yound grad student an odd look.

"You want to run me by that again, Mister...."

"O'Neill, M'lord." The Twentysomething college student stood stiffly, clearly terrified at speaking to one of the most powerful Humans in the Galaxy. He swallowed and spoke.

"As you know, M'Lord, there is and old...Temple of some sort in the Black Sand Mountains here on beta Hydri 4. Far in the North...it consists of Stones arranged not unlike that of Stonehenge on Earth and a large Ring-shape portal in the center."

"The Stargate." Ian clarified.

"Yes M'Lord. There is also a advance computer there....that we've never been able to use. It's a coordinate locator. We never had the coordinates for other planets in this language. Now we do."

Ian stared at the young person.

"You sure, Mr. O'Neill? Is Dr. Bucher sure?"

"Yes Sir."

"Could these...Bulkmatter transmitters be on other planets in the Local area?"

"Yes...In fact, Professor Bucher believes that at least one is located in UCS space."

"Damnit!" Ian stood and walked toward the window. "Thank you O'Neill, that is all."

Ian waited until the Young Grad student walked out before turning to Dr. Pym.

"Well?"

"If there is a Stargate within Zahkarov's territory, then he most certainly has a knowledge of what it does, if not actually knowing how it works. We should beef up security around the Stargate here on BH4."

Ian nodded, and without a word one of his Gaurdsmen moved to make the appropriate call.

Pym spoke quietly.

"Have we recovered our expidition that the UCS captured yet?"

"No. Baron Fel assures me that he will soon, though."

"If the UCS gets their hands on Hferhin technology, they won't be our only problem."

A Nod. "I've already informed the Dosi Ambassador. A Dosi Starcrusier is on it's way."

[Sprayber]

Arrival

The trip through the Firaxis System had been uneventful for Kessel and the rest of the crew of the small scout ship. The Nor battle cruiser and three corvettes had remained outside the system so that Kessel could complete the journey in the unimposing scout. Advisors urged Kessel to use the occasion to demonstrate the might of Sparta but Kessel knew that such a show would not impress anyone and would most likely only leave a bad impression in the mind of the independent systems. The wise knew the might of the Spartan Federation and those that did not would soon find out the hard way. Besides all available fleets were being sent to the Cadre system in preparation for what all thought was the beginning of a new larger war. If things went well the next few days the current war would be wrapped up. If things didn’t go well then Kessel had prepared his generals to proceed with the prosecution of the war with a new sense of brutality. A minor annoyance had quickly become a serious liability and Kessel was no longer in the mood for half measures.

Thoughts of the coming carnage floated through Kessel’s mind as the small scout with fighter escort passed the Firaxian inner ring of system defense. Kessel noted to himself that the Firaxian defense screen was impressive for a small government. As the ship passed the last point, Kessel triggered his MMI to file the details in the appropriate memory file. He knew of course that none of the information would be particularly important but further analysis might prove inspiring at the Defense Review coming up in the next few months. He returned his attention to the now approaching view of the Firaxis. It was truly a stunning sight as the ship lined up for the final approach. The Firaxian space fighters slowed as the final clearances were obtained for the Spartan Scout. Kessel glanced up at the ships internal time that displayed the local Firaxian time. If nothing happened, the ship would land exactly when it was scheduled too. As the ship received the final clearances to proceed the ships commander gave the command to enter the Firaxian atmosphere. A few minutes later the ship had entered the atmosphere and was being escorted towards the landing site. Kessel gazed out of one of the ship’s windows at the terrain below. As the ship passed over the thick forests below Kessel thought to himself that the name world of trees was an apt description. A few more seconds of study was broken by the ship’s commanders announcement that landing was imminent. Kessel glanced at the ship’s clock and noticed that they were right on time.

Kessel made his way to the cargo hold where the exit ramp was located. His security detail consisting of three large Marine guards wearing their green duty uniforms formed up behind him. Kessel’s aide fell in on Kessel’s right with her light brown duty uniform. Kessel had chosen his regular duty uniform similar to the one his aide, Captain Carver, was wearing. To the casual observer, Kessel may not have stood out like other leaders would. He dressed in the simple uniform of Central Command. The only adornments worn on the uniform were the Spartan Combat Patch above his name badge, the unit patch of Central Command on his right shoulder, and rank on both of his collars. Both he and his aide wore no hat with their uniforms. The three Marine guards wore the green and black garrison cap common for duty officers. Each had a sidearm secured in their holster along with a short baton secured to their utility belt. Since a contingent of security was already present at the space port, Kessel was not overly concerned about security. He knew the officers from the Spartan Embassy that were assigned to the detail so he felt all things were in hand. The Marine Guard would be adequate for this occasion, otherwise the crowd would have been treated to the infamous Spartan Guard. But Kessel thought it unnecessary to parade around with a large force for protection, at least not yet.

As Kessel stepped clear of the ramp he triggered his MMI and it began transferring information about the Firaxians there to meet him. For the next few days the Prime Minister of this small but strategic world would walk with some of the giants of the human sphere. Kessel did not envy the man’s task at all. Even though an agreement would most likely be reached, it was not sure if it would stand for more than a year ore even a month. As the Prime Minister walked up to extend his hand Kessel thought that Prime Minister Hsiang may be the only trustworthy person at the entire conference. And if he knew it or not, Hsiang may have more to loose then anyone here because if a wider war erupted. Firaxis and other independent systems would most probably be swallowed up by carnage. Kessel switched off the MMI as he clasped the out stretched hand of the Prime Minister.
The Days activities had been executed as planned down to the minute. Kessel had made a small speech at the request of the Prime Minister. It had been short and to the point as is usual for the Colonel. After the speech Kessel departed the space port on a transport provided by the Firaxan military. It took only ten minutes for the transport to reach the Spartan Embassy located near the west of the capital. There inside the large compound Kessel begin to sift through encrypted messages that awaited his attention. As he read the latest reports on the apparent coup on Earth, Kessel merely shook his head. Although Kessel had secretly wanted some kind of EC disturbance to the rising importance of the Terran Alliance this was not exactly what he had in mind. Kessel, like most Spartan leaders, was a conservative at heart when it came to political change. He knew all too well what followed when those such as the new leaders on Earth took power. In order to deflect attention from themselves they would have to embark on foreign adventures. In the back of Kessel’s mind he couldn’t help but think that all of this trouble with the conference might be a waste of time. Kessel keyed a message for Central Command to refine the plans for an invasion of Terran space. Sparta would not be caught off guard. Not with something as important as this.

As he finished the message he leaned back in his chair and allowed himself to relax. As he did, he began to feel a presence in his mind. It was so subtle at first that he could have passed it off as possible feedback from his MMI but experience told him better. He took the presence and studied it from a distance and a smile crossed his face. “She is getting better” he said aloud to himself as he got up to go to the door. He pushed the button to open the door and there she stood eyes closed as if asleep. She slowly opened her eyes as the realization came to her that Kessel was staring into her face. A look of disappointment appeared on her face. Kessel was the first to break the silence.

“Your getting better Major Ferris. Your presence in my mind was barely detectable. If you hadn’t tried to probe too deeply, I may not have noticed you this time.”

The disappointment on the Major’s face disappeared and was replaced by small but discernable smile. The sight was always slightly unsettling to Kessel. To see such a gentle smile on the face that bore such a strong resemblance to Santiago had always seemed not right to him. Kessel quickly buried the thought deep in his mind as he had so often around Major Ferris. Kessel was aware that she knew of her true origins and that she must keep them secret even from her sister. But Ferris did not know all and for know that is how it must remain. Kessel motioned for Ferris to sit down in front his desk and she obeyed without a word.

“The reason I have called you away from your duty elsewhere Major is because I require your talents here with me at the conference.”

Ferris looked at the Colonel with a passive expression. “How shall I be of service sir?”

“You will be a member of my staff at the conference. Now, we know that most of the governments have some sort of psi program and we know that talents have been used in the past when heads of state were present. You will act as my screen if necessary and you will also conduct passive probes into the minds of the other delegates. Nothing intrusive as if extracting information, but just enough to let me know if they are negotiating in good faith.”

Ferris straightened up in her chair. “Shall I probe CEO Morgan or any of the Morganite diplomats?”

Kessel hesitated for a second and walked over to his chair and sat down. “Morgan may have a talent of some kind there with him as well. For now the only thing about Morgan you should do is to determine if a talent has accompanied him. If not, then perhaps I may require the same of him. But you must be warned that Morgan is a shrewd man. He may have the same amount of awareness of mind probes as I do. So for now all I want you to do is to determine if there anymore talents in the room and to provide me with an impression of where the Terran diplomats are coming from.”

Major Ferris nodded in acknowledgment to the instructions laid out by Kessel. She seemed to hesitate with a question.

“You seem to have a question Major. Speak freely.”

Urged on Ferris gathered her thoughts. “You mention that Morgan may be as prepared as you Colonel. I still find it difficult to understand how a person such as yourself with no psi talent can sense even subtle probes by myself and other talents.”

Kessel leaned forward in his chair and put his arms in front of him. “Back on Chiron the fungus dominates the landscape. It was a necessity that those of us who fought the many battles there, also learn to deal with the ever constant presence of the fungus. Many times we would be in the middle of a battle and out of no where one would be assaulted by the nearby fungus fields. In many cases the very battle we fought would cause the fungus to spread at incredible rates. It was always there in the back of your mind. You have only seen specimens of fungus separated from the fields. Their power is merely a fraction of what you experience next to a field extending hundreds of kilometers or worse yet, a fungal tower.”

Ferris’s eyes stared intently at the Colonel as he spoke. She unconsciously leaned forward as if he were merely whispering.

“I remember once when we lured a Hive patrol into the fungus. The horror that we experienced as they savagely killed each other is beyond description. Two of my men killed themselves because they could not stand the images. From then on our psi training was pushed more vigorously by those in command. I spent a very long time in the field. After awhile you either develop a way to block it out and control it or you are driven insane. The current psi training a Spartan soldier receives pales in comparison to what we got by simply being there next to the fungus. “ Kessel hesitated for a second. “When things return to relatively normal, you too will go to Chiron and see what I mean. Until then, you will simply have to be aware that some people have learned to defend their minds even though they may not be able to project as you do. Never forget that for those of us that have lived long lives, defending your mind is just as important as defending our physical bodies. Do not succumb to the arrogance that many of the talents both in Sparta and abroad have fallen into. Now get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day for everyone and I need your mind sharp and alert.

Major Ferris stood up and nodded to Kessel before she turned and walked out the door. As the door closed behind her, Kessel felt her presence brush up against his mind yet again. He knew she was merely preparing for tomorrow. For her mission to succeed, she would have to have some access to his mind. After a long absence for him she was reestablishing links to make communication easier. Kessel sat back down in is chair. Tomorrow would be exhausting he knew. He triggered his MMI to power down so he could get some rest and thought back to a time when things were more simple. He turned around to look out the window in his office. It was still daylight out and he could see the distant mountains. What a beautiful planet this was, almost as much as Sparta Prime. It would be a shame if Firaxis were caught up between the major powers, a shame indeed.