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Beyond Alpha Centauri :::

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  • Intermission


    Today, you are the waves of the Pacific, pushing ever eastward. You are the sequoias rising from the Sierra Nevada, defiant and enduring.

    Comment


    • The UA counter-invasion was over, and much of Earth was in utter chaos. conflict would rage between the local Guard units, University forces, and Believer remnants for years to come.

      It was under this backdrop that Protectorate intrigues were exposed, and the enigmatic "Mr. Stone" would prove his worth once again.


      -Arnold Zule, Tears of The Earth, 2823

      =============

      Stone hiked over the rise and stopped. He could now see the dry lakebed below in the Southwestern Desert. He felt the warm breeze on his face.

      It had been hundreds of years ago that Texas, of all states, formed a fragile confederacy in the Southwest as the United States Disintigrated. Dring that time, Stone had only been here once, leading the Lonestar Republic's Special Forces in a raid against the base, still held by the Federalists. What they had discovered had shocked them. Bizarre artifacts from a thousand worlds that matched the large Ring Structure discovered under NORAD at Cheyenne mountain. Stone never found out what had happened to the base or the artifiacts after he left on the Endeavor, and had assumed they'd been lost ing the mists of time.

      But now he could see the University Gunships flying overhead and the Mechas walking bye. It seemed that the UA had a similiar infantry AI program, like the Protectorate's. His eyes tracked and recorded everything.

      His eyes...a marvel of engineering. Before he left Home for Earth he had had massive surgery. Although his body was now filled with the most advanced electronics imaginable, they wouldn't show up on any scan. The Nanites in his body allowed him to think quicker, see farther, and memorized easier, all while resembling cells.

      A large UA transport landed. After awhile, a ramp extended and what looked to be a General officer and several scientists exited the ship. Stone nodded. He'd seen enough, he should return to his camp and transmit.

      He turned and began trudging back. The was a roar, and a utility hopper flew in front of him. Several UA Marines hopped out and aimed their blasters at him.

      "Freeze! Identify yourself!" one barked.

      Stone sighed and raised his hands over his head. Damn it.
      Today, you are the waves of the Pacific, pushing ever eastward. You are the sequoias rising from the Sierra Nevada, defiant and enduring.

      Comment


      • Nuevo San Antonio

        "Ian, you look like Hell."

        Lord Protector Ian McDiarmid gave a wan smile and continued to stare out onto the Palace grounds. He moved a little, like an old man. He'd moved like an old man since the attack and "recovery".

        Everyone in the Upper Tier of government knew it was a sham. Ian was dying, and the doctors, amazingly, couldn't fix it. He was the only one excepting the impending death gracefully.

        Ian spoke in a raspy old man voice.

        "How's the family?"

        Hank was not surprised by the question, Ian had grown prone to going on about affairs not of state.

        "Fine...The Grandkids are fine..."

        "Jessica and I never had kids..." Ian said wistfully, although Hank knew it full well. "Maybe if Tarwater hadn't, well..." he loooked down at the snow.

        "I've been a bad person, haven't I? I don't know how God can forgive me... "

        "That's his buisness Ian. You've built a strong Nation for Humanity."

        "Yes...yes that always was my goal. Even if we don't end the Bree war favorably my job is done."

        Hank felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. What was he talking about?

        Ian gave another thin smile. "The war will certainly give us the experience for the next big thing..."

        "What next big thing?"

        "I saw it 600 years ago..." Ian cackled. Then started coughing. He fell down on the ground. Hank ran forward. "Ian! Oh, sh*t! Guards! Get a doctor!"
        Today, you are the waves of the Pacific, pushing ever eastward. You are the sequoias rising from the Sierra Nevada, defiant and enduring.

        Comment


        • Majulah Singapura

          Jalan Besar, Singapore
          South-East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere


          It was almost time for the Consul to leave Singapore, the city-state caressed by both the Pacific and the Indian Oceans. He felt like he was dreaming. His tenure there had outlasted the Ambassador's in Geneva; the mayor had given him the key to the city.

          Not that anybody in Singapore was using many keys right now. The Earth government, or what was left of it, had given up calling for calm in the face of the double invasion. It was, especially in the areas far from the central bureaucracy, every man for himself. Singapore's once-impressive skyline was battered and bruised. Several towers had toppled outright, causing thousands of deaths, and most that had not were burning, stricken by arson.

          The streets were calm now. The Consul suspected it was merely a grace period between riots. All the electronics and food items had already been looted. Clothes might be next, or perhaps cookware. He strolled at a leisurely pace incongruous with the destruction around him. A broken water main gushed insistently. Broken glass crunched under his feet. He looked to one side, and saw an "Islamic Republic of Johor" poster. A corner had been torn away, and with it most of the photograph of an angry young man in an embroidered hat. Without guns, the Islamic Republic of Johor would soon be destroyed by whatever government arose.

          The Consul stopped outside the consulate compound. It stood tall, like the rock of Gibraltar with the angry seas raging around it. The cars that had been parked outside last night were gone with their owners. The Consul had offered to evacuate Firaxian expatriates, and to obtain visas for as many Singaporeans as he could. Some had agreed, but many had refused.

          Space Marines hustled the Consul and his luggage onto a lifter waiting in the consulate's yard. Singapore, the people told him last night, has survived race riots, respiratory plagues, and the nuclear twilight of the 21st century. It will survive this, they asserted.

          The Consul hoped they were right. Just as his ancestors of old escaped the persecution of the Middle Kingdom for the British Straits Settlements and the growing Lion City, and then the ruined Pacific Rim for the World of Trees, he was again fleeing, fleeing his second home, a journey of no return. Below him Singapore smouldered; the lifter flew over the Causeway and over the State of Johor. Flashes far below him showed where artillery shots were still being exchanged between Malaysian soldiers and Jemaah Islamiah militiamen. They were no danger to his aircraft, which had been granted flyover rights by the local military.

          One hour ahead lay Kuala Lumpur, the centuries-old economic hub of South-East Asia, and a dropship waiting to carry Firaxian diplomats and citizens across the void, to a world where the sun was soft and orange and the breeze did not smell of smoke.

          The Consul looked down at the rainforest passing rapidly by.

          "I shall return," he whispered.
          Last edited by Mr. President; June 19, 2003, 04:02.
          Everything changes, but nothing is truly lost.

          Comment


          • Jewel in the Sky

            Near Berrik, University Alliance

            It hung like a jewel in space, a bright blue dot in a universe of unending darkness. And that was just the Immigration post. Derek Sorensen and Gary had a good view of it from the front waiting room of the Freyalise. She was an older ship, which had clearly been refitted several times: silvery modern attachments and wires jostled for space with older ones, barely able to be connected together. Plas-tape had been applied liberally. Clearly funds were short at the Temple Research Project.

            The Drone scientists sat in silence, intimidated, perhaps, by the omnipresent University security. Having insisted that the four passengers move into the front waiting room while the ship made the final approach to the station, they then moved through the room systematically and searched every single one of them, all the while asking questions in a clipped accent.

            Gary's wireless modem had picked up the unmistakable signals of an AI, and his suspicion was confirmed when he saw one of the guards conversing with a panel in the rear wall. Thinkers blended man and machine, but Gary had never before encountered a University AI; he had read about the fractal programs that grew, like a human mind, beyond their physical boundaries, and had on occasion developed the ability to imagine, to dream. He looked forward to learning more - time permitting.

            The immigration procedure was surprisingly easy. The space tunnel locked on, the doors opened, the passengers walked through, answered "Yes" when a heavily-accented man asked them to confirm that they had a scientific visa, passports were scanned, details encrypted, and they didn't even notice the guards with the rail guns until they were heading towards the station's interior.

            "Isn't that your name?" said Gary.

            "Mr. Sorensen?" said a man in a grey suit. "I'm from the Berrik Scientific Co-Ordination Committee. Follow me, please . . ."
            Last edited by Mr. President; September 16, 2003, 19:53.
            Everything changes, but nothing is truly lost.

            Comment


            • Ian McDiarmid was the Leader of the Protectorate for hundreds of years, he was the Protectorate, in fact if not name. His guiding hand propelled this isolated branch of Homo Sapiens Sapiens to a power in the Orion on. His Alliances and programs created a robust culture and economy, dispite the isolation from the general human galactic economies. Billions lived and died under his rule. He was looked upon with respect bordering on leader-worship, and justifiably so. To this day rumors persist that he was something more than Human.

              But nothing good lasts forever
              “The Rise of the the Tyrant” by Grand Historian L’Neer, circa 3362



              Gyongos, Sluis Van

              Staff Sergeant Channels walked into the "E" club and sat down at the bar with all the other groundhogs. Over in the corner some CapTroopers, the men who dropped from the sky in power armor, were being loud and obnoxious, as usual.

              His counterpart from "Garm" Platoon walked over and sat down next to him.

              "Christ Ben, I thought this ****ing storm would never end." To most Hydrins that would have meant rain or snow. Here, it was dust. Lots and lots of dust.

              Channels nodded at Pound. Both men were from the same small town on the Redwood Pennisula on New Oceana. " Been pretty quiet lately...." In fact, it had been downright cryptlike. The Bree had a reputation for fierce fighters during a straight up fight, but there had been almost no gueriella attacks. The Great resistance never came. In the "Shamed ones" quarter of major cities, Protectorate Marines and Captroopers were met with cheering crowds. Channels couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen...

              A Woman in a back room screamed. Damn near everyone in the bar jumped to their feet, thinking the worst. Channels, Pound, and the CapTroopers were the first in. They were surprised to see the woman by herself, watching the vidscreen with tears running down her cheeks.

              "What is it?"


              "The Lord Protector...he His dead! his Excellancy is dead!"

              Channels looked up at the wellrespected newscaster who was visibly having difficultly holding back tears. He could feel an unpleasent sensation welling up inside of him.

              He hadn't cried since he was in Kindergarden. He did now.
              ===========================

              To: University Alliance, Dosi Federation, Greater Hive Empire, Morgan Intersteller, Drone Republic, UN Mission to Chiron, Spartan Federation, Believers, et al.

              Subject: Memorial Service


              Sirs and Ladies, it is with great regret I must pass on the Lord Protector Ian McDiarmid passed on last night after a nearly 600 year rule. He had been ill for some time after the assasaination attempt, and left a request that any memorial service be attended by the Chiefs of State and/or a representative of the Major Human powers and our clutch-brothers the Dosi. The Service will be held in 6 days. Given the brevity of the invitation, and the isolation of Beta Hydri, it will be understood that no offense was meant if any are unable to attend.

              His Excellancy left the following words. " Whatever our Ideological differences we may have had, we are all children of the Universe. From Beta Hydri to Barraka to Earth, we're a community of nations and societies who were endowered by our Creator with the Duty to make things right. Humanity and our clutch-brothers should continue to forge forward towards our common goal of peace."

              A response is expected as soon as possible. The Appointment ceremony of Dr. Henry Pym to the Post of Lord Protector will occur two days after the Memorial service and it is his express wish that you remain in attendance. Again, no offense will be taken if you are unable to attend.

              Very Respectfully,
              O. H. Grant
              Foreign Ministry, Nuevo San Antonio

              =============
              Somewhere else

              Ian woke up, lying in tall grass. He stood, and brushed the dirt and plantlife off of him. He was suddenly struck by where he was, It was the Hill Country of Texas, where he had grown up. He heard a *clomp, clomp* that he'd belatedly identified as a horse. Turning, he saw Tony Stark riding up.

              "Took you long enough, Ian. Jennifer's been waiting damn near forever."

              "Is this....? I don't deserve this. I was a bad man. I don't derserve forgiveness."

              Tony grinned. "I think that's really for
              He to decide, isn't it? C'mon."

              Ian turned, and could see the pecan Orchard that had surround his house. Jen was running out to him. He was home.
              Today, you are the waves of the Pacific, pushing ever eastward. You are the sequoias rising from the Sierra Nevada, defiant and enduring.

              Comment


              • Nuevo San Antonio

                The crowd had traveled in and out of the Old Capitol for the past week. Tens of Thousands of citizens had come to view the Body of Lord Protector Ian McDiarmid. Now hundreds of Thousands lined Sam Houston Ave, the broad street that led to the Endeavor National Cemetary, where the original Colonists were interned. Hank Pym sighed. Christ, he was a dinosaur. And now he ran the Protectorate.

                A riderless horse led the parade, followed by 8 Ross Volunteers who were pallbearers for the coffin. The Protectorate Band played Amazing Grace as they marched the slow march. Then Hank and other Foreign dignitaries. Only the Dosi, Drones, and Morgan Intersteller sned Heads of State. The Peacekeepers had sent their Foreign Minister, a dour man named Grewal. At the end of the first rank were the Deputy Foreign Ministers of the Believers and the UA, trying to be civil to each other. Emperor Yan had declined to send a representitve in a messgae of barely contained glee.

                "Hey! UA! Believers!" Christ, a Heckler? At The Funeral procession? He resolved to ignore it, but then Emperor Harresh let out a reptillian hiss and his protective shield went up. Hank turned his head. The Heckler was wearing an overcoat (not uncommon in the dreary weather of Beta Hydri 4)...and charging the Believer and UA reps.

                "Free Terra!!" The man screamed. He opened his Overcoat, revealing a belt of what Hank recognized (after some fuzzy memories) as C-4. Police Officers began running out to stop him. Pim yelled "look out!" and pushed President Adams over. The man exploded.
                Today, you are the waves of the Pacific, pushing ever eastward. You are the sequoias rising from the Sierra Nevada, defiant and enduring.

                Comment


                • The prestige and value of Sol rose sharply after the 24th century, as the people of Sol rebuilt after the devastating wars of the 21st and 22nd centuries. By the 27th century, Sol was well on its way to becoming a super-power rivalling the Chironian factions. Sol had a very strong economy, rivaling even Morgan Insterstellar, in addition to a population of billions, rivaling the Hive and the University Alliance's populations.

                  Sol was the crown jewel of the Human Sector, and was an irresistible prize. The Believers thought they could conquer Sol to bolster their slow economy, but it backfired. The Believers didn't count on the University Alliance's extensive spying network, which warned the University of the threat to Sol.

                  Hence, the University sent armadas to check the Believers advance on Sol. The University failed, since the Believers arrived at Sol before the University. However, the naval battles at Mars and Earth, as well as the ground fighting in the Americas, Europe, China, and southern areas of Africa finally gave the University the ground to completely stall the Believers offensive.

                  After several months of fighting, the stalemate was finally broken when a force led by a rising hero, Captain Sean Donnell, managed to destroy several Believers supply depots near Libya, causing morale loss and general retreat of Believing forces to Italy and the Arabia area.

                  In a despersate move, the Believers launched a daring raid aganist the University's naval forces. The Believer fleet at Luna surprised the University fleet holding position over the Americas and China. In the ensuing battle, the UAS Solaris was seriously damaged as a dozen Believer Heavy Cruisers made kamikaze runs at it.

                  Another stalemate ensued. A month passed before both sides decided to settle down for peace talks, after realizing the toll the war was taking on both sides, as well as Terra itself.

                  During the peace talks, Devlin Yezprach shocked the Believers by offering two unexpected relics.

                  The Holy Grail and the Ark of the Convent.

                  Apparently, when the University took over the Area 51 complex, Sean Donnell discovered hundreds of relics, technological treasures, a couple of functioning Stargates, some engimatic Fraal glyphs and tomes, and dozens upon dozens of other treasures.

                  The Holy Grail was discovered in 1962, in a highly secret and classified expedition to the Crescent Moon Gorge. The expedition followed the journal of Indiana Jones the renowned archaelogist. Both the journal and the Holy Grail were sequestered away in Area 51. The Ark of the Convent was sequestered as well, but at an earlier date, moved from a secret warehouse where the Ark was originally stored upon its retrieval by Indiana Jones in the 1930's.

                  After the peace talks were concluded, with the Believers giving up claim to the Sol system, for their holiest relics, the Holy Grail and the Ark of the Convent, the University set about the rebuilding of the Sol system.

                  Boston became the new capital of Terra, with Los Angeles replacing New York City as Terra's new financial center.

                  The victory in the Sol system paved the way for the UA's first warfare based expansion.

                  Chapter 18, "Lex Univeralis", third edition, circa 3400 A.D.
                  Geniuses are ordinary people bestowed with the gift to see beyond common everyday perceptions.

                  Comment


                  • Interlude

                    Somewhere in OrionComNet

                    [TheFreeDrone] What can you tell me about Mars?

                    [Exile] I don't know.

                    [Exile] I haven't been to Mars for a long time.

                    [Exile] You konw the government used to kick out people they don't like

                    [Exile] Damn communists

                    [TheFreeDrone] Yes.

                    [TheFreeDrone] Nothing at all? Are you sure?

                    [Exile] Sorry

                    [TheFreeDrone] What's the major immigration station?

                    [Exile] Used to be Deimos I guess

                    [TheFreeDrone] What's the security like there?

                    [Exile] There's lots

                    [Exile] There's marines with rail guns all over the place

                    [Exile] Why?

                    [Exile] You planning to blow the place up?

                    [TheFreeDrone] No, just wondering.

                    [TheFreeDrone] I'm a police officer so it's interesting to hear about these things

                    [TheFreeDrone] Can you send me a map of Mariner Valley?

                    [Exile] Why?

                    [TheFreeDrone] I'm gonna take my next vacation there

                    [Exile] No-one goes to Mariner Valley

                    [Exile] People like the Pink Sea resorts

                    [Exile] But there's nothing in the Mariner Valley

                    [TheFreeDrone] Do you have a map that shows where the embassies and everything are?

                    [Exile]What's with all the questions, man?

                    [TheFreeDrone] Nothing

                    [TheFreeDrone] Nothing's with the questions

                    [Exile] what are you a narc?

                    TheFreeDrone has logged off

                    [Exile] ...

                    [Exile] hmm
                    Everything changes, but nothing is truly lost.

                    Comment


                    • Sluis Van

                      It had been the largest Protectorate force in one place Fleet Admiral Fel had ever seen. For a man who had seen the galaxy throughout his career, it was still astonishing. 4 complete Fleet Groups were assembled at Sluis Van, leaving only 3 to Defend the Protectorate if something went Awry.

                      He was in the briefing room of his new Flagship, the Battlecrusier Alcarondas. It was sleek and graceful, it's hull black with a Gold trim as befitting it's namesake. The only thing more beautiful, he thought, would have to be his wife. Who, incidently, was sitting amoungst the flag officers assembled, her own 2nd Flotilla having been assigned to this event.

                      Soontir Fel looked at the Fleet Commanders. Admiral Gomez, the short angry man who'd been his roommate at the Acadamy. He was a competant if not particularly brillant tactician. He commanded the 1st Fleet Group.

                      Admiral Craig "Ando" Andersen, the Commander of 2nd Fleet Group. He was a tall bald man who was fighting a loosing battle againest weight gain, but no one could doubt the skill of the invasion of Sluis Van he pulled off.

                      Admiral Sierra Christensen, a woman who was married to her career. Her 4th Fleet Group had smashed a Bree counterattack at Eoforwic.

                      General William Chiu, leader of Army Group One, he'd been promoted after AG1's commander had been killed during the Sluis Van Landing.

                      General Andrew Dubois, whose AG4 had successfully taken the Sluis Van capitol of Gyongos a mere two weeks after the the ground campaign started.

                      and General Rachele Rojas, Whose AG9 had just arrived from Roving.

                      Over a 1.5 million troops, all told. Hundreds of ships. And that didn't include the Lesser Flotilla, Corps, and Logistical commanders.


                      " Thanks for being here today," Fel began. " The General Staff has come to a decision. As it stands, the war is unwinnable."

                      There was some murmering the room, but the highest ranking Flag officers watched him, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

                      "Ubiqtorate has recieved word that our Gorn co-belligerants launched a 4-prong offensive 2 weeks ago. Seven Bree Fleet groups have been pulled away to deal with the Threat. That leaves only 6 Fleet Groups in the area to deal with us. Spread out over a dozen systems. This has given us an opportunity to expidte the End of the war. While it likely won't mean the Protectorate will win big, it'll be enough to see the Gorn running roughshod over the Bree.

                      Fel clicked a button, and a astronomical display appeared over the Briefing table.

                      "This is Sab Abar. As you know, the Bree use a Material called 'hypermatter' to fuel there ships. It has a enerfy-to-fuel ratio 4 times higher than that of anti-matter. Only Sin drives are more efficient and effective. Hypermatter is extracted from Neutron stars, Quasers, and Pulsars. Sab Abar is the only inhabitable system near the Hawking Cluster, a cluster of over 200 oif these unusual stars. Because of the high radiation background, Sab Abar has extensive infastructure around the system to allow the operation of the massive Hypermatter refinement plants.

                      Fel clicked his tongue.

                      "Ubiqtorate estimates that no less than 48% of The Bree's Hypermatter flows from this location. Our goal is to seize it and put the squeeze on them. The Ranger ship Wooden Whale is on station, and has kept us up to date with Bree disposition of forces. There are only two Fleet groups there. Including auxilaries.

                      "Ladies and Gentlemen, obviously our goal is to begin one of the biggest offensive in Human history. If we win, The Protectorate's Place in the Human Sphere is assured. If we lose, I'll be honest, we're f--ked.

                      There was some laughter at that. Fel was glad to see that. As long as you can laugh, you aren't defeated his father had told him. He began to lay out the specifics of the plan...
                      Today, you are the waves of the Pacific, pushing ever eastward. You are the sequoias rising from the Sierra Nevada, defiant and enduring.

                      Comment


                      • Darkest Hour

                        The Hiverian Fringe

                        Commodore Franco had argued against the current mission. When he was merely a Captain long ago, the Drone space fleet strategy had been to maintain fighting capabilities on three fronts: the Hiverian Fringe, the Bree Fringe, and the United Nations Peacekeepers border. As he stood in the battle room of the Liberty Bell, his computer terminal blinking lights at him, he knew that there were five battle groups on the Bree Fringe as always. But he was now leading eight more right down Emperor Yang's throat, in what the civilian newspapers would call a suicide mission if they ever heard about it.

                        He sighed, and glanced over the registry of the ships under his command. He recognized most of the names, for he had authorized their deployment to Morgan space just a few short months earlier, to counter the advance of the Terran Alliance Fleet. This mission meant drawing down the numbers facing United Nations Peacekeepers space.

                        They had tried to explain this to the civilian administrators in the Defense Department. Unfortunately, the new secretary had an MBA from Rigel University. Lord only knew how he got into the military command. Politics. Franco shook his head.

                        He would have expected even such a man to understand terms like "spreading forces too thin" or "surprise attack". But no. The Senate was furious about the loss of the ships, and it wanted to punish Emperor Yang.

                        How exactly this was supposed to punish him, Franco didn't know. If Yang's forces fired on his ships, the Drone Republic would have an excuse to go to war. The problem was that, in spite of civilian bravado, no-one knew for sure how such a war would pan out.

                        Not to mention the fact that if the Hiverian fleet was to fire the first shot here, in a surprising manner, in no-man's-land, on the Empire's doorstep, it could take out eight battle groups and leave the Republic's home space wide open.

                        "Sir, we have reached the last known co-ordinates of the Levar."

                        "Good," Franco replied. "Order all ships to hold position, defensive formation. Begin broadcasting the message."

                        The communications officer's hands flashed across his keyboard. Within a minute, the message was being beamed into the unknown space of Hiverian territory. It had both audio and video components recorded by President Adams several days before.

                        She sat at a solid wood desk, in front of a large Free Drone flag, speaking in her sternest tone of voice.

                        "People of the Greater Hive Empire. Your Emperor and your government have deceived and betrayed you. Sheng-ji Yang is responsible for the deaths of millions of people and for sowing fear throughout the Human Sphere.

                        "His guilt tarnishes every Hiverian citizen. But the Free Drone Republic is giving the people of the Hive a chance to redeem themselves.

                        "All you must do is turn Sheng-ji Yang over to us. If he is not surrendered within seventy-two hours, we will be forced to take action."


                        It would broadcast on a continuous loop, until Franco gave the order to deactivate it. Since he had no idea where the nearest sensor relay was, there was nothing to do until he made contact or until 72 hours from now . . .

                        . . . at which time Franco's orders were to cross the border.
                        Everything changes, but nothing is truly lost.

                        Comment


                        • Fire in the Hole!

                          DRS Gerrard
                          Near Epsilon Eridani


                          "I've found it, Captain."

                          The words from the sensor station caught Captain Senna's attention. Glancing up from the report on the recent weapons upgrades, he replied, "Excellent. Where is it?"

                          "It" was, in this situation, a Terran Alliance battlecruiser. With much of the Alliance's fleet destroyed by the University and Believers, and the rest either in the Alpha Centauri system or rumored to have been seized by the Protectorate, this was likely the last of its kind still at large. The Morganites and Drone Republic had been scouring human space for it, thinking it a valuable prize. The weapons and computer systems it carried would be of major interest to the R&D department. Capturing it would also be a major political coup, and serve as the last handful of dirt on the grave of the Terran Alliance.

                          "It is heading for the Epsilon Eridani system. My readings suggest speed of three stellar travel units, sir."

                          "Battle stations," Senna ordered. "Radio the rest of the task force. Helm - move to intercept the target."

                          Senna's orders were to take the ship intact if possible, and destroy it if necessary. Though the Drone ships were allowed to be in this sector by their bilateral agreement with the Cybernetic Consciousness, the Terran ship would be out of their reach if it should succeed in entering a Consciousness solar system.

                          Suddenly the Terran ship loomed on the main viewer. Even in its current state of disrepair and neglect, it made for an impressive sight. Like a great two-kilometer-long needle it dashed through space, heading for Epsilon Eridani's Oort radius. The electromagnetic sensor function of Senna's MMI picked up unusually high emissions from the battlecruiser's engines. He recognized the signature of overheating and overuse. His tactical readout showed two Space Marine assault ships closing on the Terran from behind. He smiled.

                          "Open fire, no plasma shards. Aim for non-essential areas. We want that ship intact."

                          Most Drone destroyers would not have dared to approach a Terran battlecruiser without considerably more backup. The Gerrard was the most advanced model of the Drones' attack ships, but even so, Senna was glad the battlecruiser was undermanned, unsupplied, and unrepaired.

                          The Gerrard swooped past the battlecruiser, forward rail guns blazing. The high rate of fire punched through the hull in several places, sending debris flying. One innocuous-looking particle set off a large green explosion, which sent the ship listing on its flank. "Direct hit to main power conduit, sir," the sensor operator reported. "Their engine emissions are falling."

                          "Excellent. Signal the Marines to move in."

                          It was over very quickly. The Space Marine vessels clamped pressurized bore-tunnels onto the battlecruiser's hull. Several waves of commandos fought their way onto the ship, moving to secure key areas. Less than ten minutes later, they reported reaching the bridge.

                          "So much," said Senna, "for the invincible Terran Alliance." He smirked.

                          "Sic semper tyrannis," the helmsman volunteered.

                          Senna's smile broadened. "Quite," he said. "Radio the Morgan Space Lane Authority. Message . . . we got 'em." All that was left was to wait for the salvage ships.
                          Last edited by Mr. President; March 1, 2007, 05:32.
                          Everything changes, but nothing is truly lost.

                          Comment


                          • Spira
                            Tropical island town of Kilika

                            A hydrogen fuel cell powered pleasure yacht approached a long wooden dock extending out from Kilika's harbor. Three dock workers scurried over to secure the pleasure yacht, for safety reasons, since the wooden dock was pratically jammed with dozens of sailboats and several small yachts.

                            The wooden planks creaked as the pitter-patter of feet as the dock workers went about their job securing the pleasure yacht, and swayed as the waves slapped at the dock's support struts.

                            A man, unremarkable in appearance, with a flat jawline, rounded nose, hazel eyes, and brownish hair emerged from the yacht.

                            One of the dock workers glanced up and caught the man's eyes.

                            "How was the trip to Besaid village, bruddha?"

                            "It was nice."

                            "How is Besaid these days?"

                            "Still a laid back village with lazy people, Silas."

                            "Some things never change, huh, Kamis?"

                            Kamis shrugged his broad shoulders, while the dock workers and Silas finished securing the yacht to the dock.

                            Kamis shouted down towards the inside of the yacht.

                            "Hey, the docking is done! Lets go into town."

                            A smooth voice responded, albeit in a slightly playful tone.

                            "I know! I could tell from the whamp sound! Why is it always a whampping sound, not a clunk, boom, bang, or click?"

                            "I don't know and don't care."

                            "Sheesh! Why are you so uptight today Kamis? You really need to learn how to loosen up. Remember when we were children? We were always playing around, 28 hours a day!"

                            "Kalista, thats ancient history. All I'm worried is about the here and now. Does playing help me nowadays? No. Lets go into town."

                            "Pffft!"

                            Kalista emerged as Kamis made his way across to the dock. Silas was tying the last knot as he looked up. He couldn't help but stare at Kalista.

                            As Kalista smiled at Silas. she threw back her long brown-yellow hair out back from her oval face.

                            Silas grinned back, and tried to stand up to help Kalista over to the dock. He tugged at the rope and felt his hands tug as well. He looked down to figure the fuss.

                            "Oh, hell."

                            His hands were somewhat tangled in the knot that he was supposed to finish. Silas spent a few minutes untangling his hands while his cheeks became somewhat red.

                            Kalista jumped across the gap between the boat and the dock and patted Silas on the shoulder.

                            "Don't worry about it."

                            "Your brother already left for town."

                            "Thanks. See you later, bruddha."

                            "Take care."

                            As Kalista walked down the gently swaying dock towards the town, her emerald green eyes took in the sight.

                            Where the dock ended, paradise began.

                            A wooden walkway running perpendicular to the dock extended into a tropical forest. A small canal-like waterway ran through the forest, with wooden walkways on both sides. The ground in the southern part of the forest, next to the harbor dock, was submerged, creating a gentle tropical sea-marsh. However, being a sea-marsh, there were no problems associated with a standard fresh-water marsh, such as bugs, noxious smells, or stangant water. A couple hundred of huts rested on or alongside the 100 meter tall trees, with several wooden walkways running high between the trees and on the ground below. Stores, bazaars, cafes, kiddie parks, and even an outdoors school lined the mini-canal on both sea-level and tree-level.

                            A more modern section of Kilkia, built with the aid of the University Alliance's engineers, rests deeper inside the forest. It has more modern amenities, such as a few skycrapers built around the trees which were even taller in the deeper parts of the forest. There were glass walkways, an extension of the famous Kilika Walk-Canal, several modern streets, and a train station, connecting Kilika to the mainland via the Uela-2X express trains. The Uela-2X trains were electric, and were capable of reaching in excess of 650 kilometers per hour.

                            Locals called the forest sector "Old Kilika" or "Classical Kilika".

                            Kalista made her way up to "Old Kilika" and stopped at a food bazaar along the way. She looked over several exotic fruits and decided on a keka, a fruit only naturally found on Kilika Island and Besaid Island. A keka resembles a pineapple shaped and sized like an apple, with a taste that seems to be a blend of a banana and orange flavor.

                            "Mmmm... sweet, yet sharp as always!"

                            "Did you hear?"

                            "What?"

                            "The Academician loves these kekas so much he has declared that the kekas will be raised in special hydro-domes so that kekas will be available to everyone throughout the empire."

                            "Really? But what about Kilika and Besaid? They're famous for their keka rum and fruits?"

                            "The Academician has created a company based here that will control all keka production. The keka hydro-domes on other planets will hire common workers, but the leadership and the executives will only come from Besaid and Kilika."

                            "Wow. Thats pretty thoughtful of the Academician to try and preserve the Besaid and Kilika's reputation and fame."

                            "Yeah. He's much more mindful of people and their common desires than Spira's old leaders, the Maesters."

                            "Thanks once again for the fruit, Jania. I'll buy another batch later on!"

                            "Sounds good. Catch you later!"

                            Kalista made her way to her home, one of the huts on the highest branches of the forest. She turned on her liquid crystal television to catch the day's news.

                            She watched several news stories, then suddenly, the television blanked then just as suddenly, another image appeared on the channel.

                            University Omni News
                            May 22, 2703


                            Ultra-Priority Breaking News

                            Kalista stared at the screen and time slowed down as she started thinking.

                            "There were just three Ultra-Priority breaking news in my lifetime. The first time was when the University first came to us on Spira. The second was when the terrorist attacked Chronopolis and the subsquent speeches from the Academician, and the last one was during the liberation of Earth from the Believers. What could this one be about?"

                            Time resumed its normal pace as Kalista blinked her eyes as she began watching the television screen again.

                            A reporter appeared, with a barely suppressed face of shock.

                            "This just in.

                            All the members of the Terran Alliance in the Sol, Wolf, and Ross systems have signed a declaration, with all their support. The Academician himself has reviewed the declaration and signed it as well.

                            Upon recieving the declaration, several hundred Terran refugee ships and several dozen of the famed Terran Battlecruisers are now making their way back to Sol, Wolf, and Ross.

                            The declaration states that the Terran Alliance wishes to join the University Alliance as a territory, with all the rights, privilieges, and benefits that comes with it.

                            Henceforth, the Sol, Wolf, and Ross systems are now fully part of the University Alliance."
                            Geniuses are ordinary people bestowed with the gift to see beyond common everyday perceptions.

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                            • Sol
                              One week later


                              A lone silvery and sleek transport shuttle passed Jupiter, on its way to Terra. Only four people in existence at that particular point of time knew the true importance of the shuttle.

                              A tall and young looking major, with hints of Swedish descent and a goatee sat in one corner of the mess hall in the shuttle. He watched the other officers, who were arguing about a new sport that originated from Spira and has taken the UA by storm, with a sense of amusement.

                              "The Chronopolis Paladins deserved that victory! They had an excellent defense, but that refree made a really bad call!"

                              "Really? That move by the Zanarkand Abes was completely legit!"

                              "Oh really? Passing a ball between the same two players for 5 minutes straight, while the Abe's defense decided to guard these 2 ball throwers?"

                              "They didn't have a chance to score. The Paladin's defense was too great at the goal diamond."

                              "Bull****! They did that just to preserve their score! The Abes were 1 point ahead of the Paladins, and didn't want to lose that game. If the Abes had lost, they would have been eliminated from the Water Cup."

                              "How dare you insinuate such a thing!"

                              "The Paladins defense was actually attacking the Abes, aiding the offense in trying to get the ball away from the two cheating players. So don't tell me the Paladins defense was huddled at the goal diamond!"

                              "Nope. The Abes used tactical strategy to preserve their lead!"

                              "Tactical strategy, my ass! Thats called cheating, and I swear that the refree was bribed by the Zanarkand Abes' filthy rich manager to not call the Abes on that lousy, no good cheating move! Any half assed blitzball fan would tell you right away that it's illegal for a player to hold the ball for more than one minute!"

                              "Oh shut up! The Abes played well this season. The Paladins? They're just there by luck and beating really easy teams."

                              "Forget you!"

                              Both officers stalked away in opposite directions, fuming.

                              The major chuckled. He turned to a friend, a medium built man with a buzz haircut, sitting at a table across from him.

                              "Well, Rube, blitzball sure beats soccer and football."

                              "Its a lot more interesting to watch, Sean."

                              Major Sean Donnell nodded.

                              "You know, Rube, blitzball does resemble soccer. But the whole playing field is underwater, in a spherical shape. You can throw, kick, or pass the ball with any body part. Heads, hands, arms, elbows, feet, legs, you name it.

                              The objective is to get the ball through the goal diamond suspended at either end of the underwater sphere, usually located at the north and south ends. A goalie guards the diamond, much like hockey or soccer.

                              I guess Blitzball could be said to be a blend of hockey, basketball, and soccer. But the playing field is much more interesting, and you can go in any 3-dimensional direction, rather than back-forward-left-right in traditional soccer or hockey arenas."

                              Rube gave Sean a knowing look, then chuckled.

                              "You sure you aren't a Blitzball fanatic?"

                              Both men chuckled. They started a lively discussion and comparison of Spira's sports to Terran sports.

                              Meanwhile, a bland looking captain sitting next to a window was watching two sergeants play a mathematical game.

                              "Arrgh! Your damn sphere beat my coins again!"

                              "Heh. Heh. Keep praticing, then you'll make combos in no time."

                              "Man, this makes me wish for good old poker. But, somehow this game keeps me coming back and back."

                              The captain became curious and walked over to the two sergeants. Both sergeants looked up and saluted.

                              "Sir! Sergeant Kramisky reporting!"

                              "Sir! Sergeant Durant reporting!"

                              "At ease gentlemen."

                              "What brings you here, captain?"

                              "Kramisky, what is that game you two are playing?"

                              "Oh this? It's called Sphere Break. It's a mathemtical game that originated from Spira."

                              Durant spoke up.

                              "Spira sure has some excellent sports and people. I've been there once. Extremely friendly and fun loving people!"

                              "Sure takes your mind off these rough times, with the recent, albeit brief war with the Believers, and before that, the tension between us and the Protectorate."

                              "Kramisky, this reminds me of the United States and Russia more than 700 years ago."

                              "Durant, you mean the cold war?"

                              "Yeah. However, its a whole new style of cold war. We are no longer limited to just one planet, so we can't be easily wiped out or become extinct. On the other hand, there are aliens that may pounce on us if and when we rip ourselves to shreds in a human 'galaxy war'. I hope like hell it won't come to that."

                              The captain took all this in.

                              "Both of you, it won't come to that. There's always hope and dreams, even in the most difficult of times. Look at Earth. It survived through the utter chaos of the 21st century, and thrived. Aliens won't kill us off. We're simply too tough to just stamp out. We're not some kind of ant or bug to be squashed. We will endure."

                              The two sergeants stopped debating and nodded slowly.

                              "You're right, sir. I hadn't thought about that."

                              "I second Durant's assertion."

                              "Durant and Kramisky, lets put aside the gloom. Lets concentrate on making the best out of life. Enjoy all the happy and fun moments of life, since these memories will sustain us through even the darkest hours. What exactly is this Sphere Break game, and how do I play it?"

                              Durant explained the rules and the specifics of Sphere Break.

                              "To win this game, you have to combine the numbers on the coins to make multiples of the core number. What does it mean by that? You will need entry and border coins to create a multiple of the number displayed in the core sphere. The core sphere is the blue sphere I have right here. When I activate the sphere, a number between 1 and 9 will appear on it. That number is called the 'core number'.

                              Entry coins come in two varieties. First variety is the solid and tangible coins that we collect and trade. Most of those types of coins exist on Spira, and most Sphere Break games on Spira use these tangible coins. For us who don't live on Spira, and don't possess any tangible coins, we use 'memory chips'. They store our holographic entry coins, allowing any one to play Sphere Break, anywhere.

                              As for the game, we place 4 of the entry coins around the sphere. They will have any number between 1 and 9. They will never disappear. Some coins may have bonuses, such as double score, double bet, double timer, and so forth.

                              Border coins are holographic coins generated at random by the core sphere. They have numbers from 1 to 9 as well. However, some coins may disappear after a set period of time, such as 30 seconds or 1 minute. Coins with the number 1 tend to stay the longest, upwards of 3 or 4 minutes. Number 9 coins tend to disappear after the next 'interval' of time, whether it be 30, 45, or 60 seconds.

                              Basically your task is to combine the number values on the coins to equal the multiple of the core number. For example, the core number says '7'. You need to achieve a sum of either 7, 14, 21, 28, and so forth, using the entry and border coins. Again, for example, you'd need to use a coin with values of 3, 5, and 6. They will add up to 14, and you get a 'Sphere Break' and points.

                              Points increase on the number of coins you use in a combo to get a 'Sphere Break'. We set a limit of points to reach, and once a player hits that limit first, he/she wins.

                              The bonuses some entry coins have can double the timer on the sphere, extending the time allowed to make combos. Other bonuses include doubling all the coin number values, double points gained, increase the value of the coin, and so forth.

                              When the game is over, you insert your memory chip into the core sphere, and it will write down information and stats on the chip. It will write down if your entry coins increase or decrease in value, your total victories so far, etc."

                              "Thanks Durant. I'd like to give it a try, but unfortunately, I don't have any 'memory chips' or anything like that."

                              "Captain, be thankful that you don't. Kramisky here keeps ripping me to shreds in this game."

                              "Hey!"

                              "I must take my leave of you two, but it was pleasant getting acquainted with the both of you. I'll have to give this Sphere Break a try later. Also remember, keep your chins up, and keep hope alive. Good memories and hope will keep you company through the darkest times.

                              Live well."

                              "Live well, sir!"

                              "Live well, sir!"

                              The captain made his way out of the mess hall, towards his sleeping chamber. He sat down on the bunk and watched the pristine jewel of Earth approach.

                              He watched a ultra-massive structure angle into view between Earth and the ship. The structure's true purpose was well known to the captain. After all, the captain was the designer of the structure. A couple of 2 kilometer long Einstein class battleships hovered nearby. However, the two ships were dwarfed by the structure as more of it entered the captain's field of vision.

                              The structure showed extensive construction, with millions of girders, sparkling welding lights, countless drone cargo haulers bringing materials to the construction zones, several newly built nano-factories churning out materials, and thousands of hull plates being assembled over the girders on the structure.

                              The words "Bastion class Orbital BattleStation #1" could be made out on a rather large swatch of already assembled hull plating.

                              The captain shimmered, to reveal the true person undereath the disguise.

                              The Academician smiled.
                              Last edited by Sovereign; January 7, 2004, 19:49.
                              Geniuses are ordinary people bestowed with the gift to see beyond common everyday perceptions.

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                              • Krith Dendo, Administrative Center
                                Sab Abar


                                Krith Shimarra, Supreme Governor of the Sab Abar System, was annoyed when the door to his chambers chimed. He grounded and rolled out of the bedding, irritated that he'd been interrupted while coupling with one of his Harem. The door slid open, and a yound UnderOfficer stood there.

                                "My apologies Exalted One, but a Protectorate Force has just entered realspace and is making a dead run for Refinary cluster # 4."

                                Krith Shimarra uttered a chortled of annoyance. Protectorate raids had reached far enough into Bree space, but never Sab Abar. Still, a raid was expected.

                                "Deal with it! I'm bus..."

                                "Exalted One, a force is heading towards cluster 4, another Three are heading....here. Another Force is in the Oort Cloud, waiting with what is clearly several hundred large troop transports."

                                "Several Hundred?"


                                "600 800m or larger, a thousand smaller transports. The other forces rate 300 capital ships or more each."

                                "Inform central command, immediately!"

                                "Communications have been jammed, and the infidels have deployed gravity wells around the system, we're trapped..."

                                Shimmarra snarled, revealing several rows of teeth.

                                "Well, alert our forces! Stop them!"
                                ============================
                                Alcarondas

                                The Ranging ship Wooden Whale had captured a Bree Hypermatter tanker early in the battle. At least, they had thought it was. But the corpses lying in the medical bay gave lie to that belief.

                                Human, and Bulwark, to the man.

                                It was a GHE merchant ship. In case it was all amazingly coincidence, evidence had been snatched from the ship, evidence ranging from little shrines to Yang, to the cargo manifest (which was referred to as "Biological cargo"...it had turned out Bree enjoyed a taste for human flesh. The Humans were Hiverian, Morganite and Spartan citizens).

                                Fel took a deep breath and turned to the CO of the Wooden Whale.

                                "Take the evidence back the Beta Hydri as fast as you can. His Excellancy must see this with his own eyes."

                                Dispite the images of the "cargo", Fel had a tiny smile tug at his face. If there was anything that would completely isolate the GHE, selling humans for food would do it.
                                Today, you are the waves of the Pacific, pushing ever eastward. You are the sequoias rising from the Sierra Nevada, defiant and enduring.

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