Beyond Alpha Centauri :::

[GeneralTacticus]

Hive Battlecruiser ‘People’s Endeavour’, Laekdaemon System

Colonel Trevor Shaixu was still standing in his quarters going over what information he had about the situation on Laekdaemon when there was a chime at the door.

“Enter.” He said without moving. The door hissed open and an orderly stepped in.

“Sir, we are about to enter the Laekdaemon system.” He announced.

“Thank you. Dismissed.”

Shaixu turned and followed the orderly out the door to the bridge, as the People’s Endeavour and the rest of the Hive fleet shut off their FTL drives and the Laekdaemon system came into view. The planet that was their destination was the fourth out from the young, bright star in the centre of the system; the inner three were far too inhospitable for any human inhabitation as yet.

“Open me a communication channel to Major Lysander.” Shaixu ordered. The bridge communications officer complied and Shaixu sent his brief message.

“Major Lysander, this is Clan Leader Maibok, reinforcing you as per your request. We will expect payment at the termination of our contract.”

“Now what?” asked the ship’s captain.

“We head on for our destination, and we wait for an acknowledgement.”

The captain nodded, and went back to his station. Shaixu turned and headed back for his quarters. It would be hours before anything happened.

As he did so, the computers finished their calculations of the optimum path and the disguised Hive fleet angled into a path that would carry them to Laekdaemon with a minimum of effort. They would arrive in orbit over Laekdaemon in approximately five hours.

[Cybergod]

Making plans

Titan Royal Briefing Room

"So Minister Petrov, your political analysis of the situation is that our sovereignity will be under threat?" Maria asked her Minister of Foreign Affairs. She was in no mood for chit-chat - the EC's desires to unify Sol under one banner have made her think of the plans she and only the most trusted of her subordinates knew about. She would have to inform Nicholas soon.

"Yes our Queen. I do not need to remind you that we have only relativelly recently obtained independence. However, many heads on Earth are raging and have sour feelings. Especially after the political incidents, I can see that we need to seek different strategies," and the man leaned back. He made a notion which would have seemed inappropriate at another time - he raised his right eyebrow, gesturing to Maria that he was considering "the plan" aswell. Doctor Tanaka, who was sitting at the wooden table with the two of them, nervously tapped his fingers. The room consisted of four white walls, a navy carpet and some wooden furniture around the central table. Royal emblems decorated the walls. In the few moments of silence that followed, the hum of the ventilation system would be barely heard. Maria started with a sigh:

"I suppose that this room is secure enoug to discuss Algorithm B," she paused, "Doctor Tanaka, have you recently updated the list of future colonists?"

"Of course our Queen. But they are from our territories only. I suppose we could benefit more, and get a bigger gene pool, if our list of colonists included people all over Sol..."

"And this would increase out initial population and econo-industrial capacity," interupted Petrov, confirming the rule that every minister should regulary excercise realpolitik. "I suppose that we could increase our colonisation capacity and include..." he was interupted by a blinking red light of a tiny box which was situated near Maria's right hand. With a motion of her hand, the room fell silent and she spoke.

"Yes Mister Popullos, please enter," and after exactly three seconds, a seemingly wooden door pulled itself in and Nicholas entered the room. His face wasn't nearly as gloomy as that of everyone else, perhaps because of joys of parenthood.

"I salute you our Queen," he bowed his head slightly.

"Please take a seat here Mister Popullos," she pointed to one of the empty chairs. "So, how is little Constantin?" she said as he sat, forcing the gloomy expression off her face.

"He's a very healthy child and we are having no problems whatsoever," he responded. "Now, as I entered and saw from the gloomy covers on your faces, we are not here to discuss the niceties of life, are we?"

"Well put," Tanaka muttered under his voice.

"Let me be frank Mister Popullos, this is the situation," she took a deep breath, "Our sovereignity is threatened. The Earth Coalition is bent to push Sol under its thumb, and we are the prime target. After the uproars on Earth, we are no longer sure of our stable existence. Fortunatelly, myself and other heads of department - such as Mister Petrov and Doctor Tanaka here, have predicted this among other outcomes and have long since drawn up the so called 'plan' or 'Algorithm B'. We have selected most of the able, intelligent, skilled, stable - emotionally and physically, and genetically diverse individuals within our territory. The total number stands near half a billion so of course we won't be able to transfer all at once." Nicholas looked at her with a puzzled expression on his face.

"How should I put this... Remember those long range scans we took - and probed - of sector UT-193?" Maria asked him.

"Yes, they were reasonably close to University territory. As far as I know, our relatios with them have been unofficial and good-natured."

"That's right. There is a little known star system within the scanned area which is suitable for large-scale human colonisation. Thee are rumours going round the high diplomatic circles, which our infiltrators penetrated, that the system contains, erm, extra-terrestrial ruins, which are turning out not to be uncommon in that sector of space. But, that asside, another planet is perfect for the transfer."

"What exactly are you suggesting our Queen?!"

"I am telling you that in a close future we will be establishing a new nation there. A nation free of old Earther prejudices and dogmas. A nation whose influence, once its strenght is established, shall reach deep in the lives of all humanity throughout the galaxy. A place where freedom, justice and prosperity reign supreme and where everyone, be they Homo Sapiens, Scions and even artificial intelligences can live alongside in peace. That is our plan Nicholas Popullos, and I thrust the rule of that new nation in your able hands."

"Excuse me... our Queen?" he stuttered nervously.

"Who do you think will take care of the billions here? I am a symbol of war and battle in many heads. - I cannot lead a new nation and shape a philosophy of peace and democracy. Also, these people need someone to take care of them and fight alongside them until the last drop of resistance. our calculations indicate that the Saturnian Kingdom should persist here on the Saturnian territories until we are either crushed by the Earth Coalition or corruption grows to a critical level for anarchy to step in and then to be closelly followed by neo-despotism. I am sure you have heard about the latest media crazes among the high officials..." she rolled her eyes.

"So when does this... this 'plan' commence?"

"Steps have begun to be undertaken. We have sent two special envoys. One to the University Commonwealth of States, who appear willing to help in our troubles, and another to the infamous Dark Planet."

"Scion technologies would greatly benefit us, both in construction of colony ships and future developments," Tanaka stepped in. "Our advances in the Advanced Energies field have been significant, ever since our tech-trade with Morgan Interstellar. We can exchange our knowledge and try to bargain for bio-metal technology," his eyes lit up at the last couple of words. It seemed like his research teams haven't been successful in that field, and his hunger for knowledge made his pupils dilate.

"Fellow Belters, Venusians, Martians, rebel Earthers and Jovians would be eager to join us at a later date," Mister Petrov added. "As our colonies develop, we will fret the tales of a great new pillar of democracy, and the free world shall turn to us as an ally against oppressive tyranical powers, of the likes of our benevolent Earth Coalition and the 'Greater' Hive Empire."

"But for now we must keep the plan within close sircles. Nicholas, do not tell a soul until we are ready," Maria raised her eyebrow, "that is, until we can pull off the plan with minimal interference."

"Yes out Queen," Nicholas said in acceptance. For the rest of the day, he daydreamed about some Bible stories he was told as a child. Those about Moses and the Exodus. It would make a brilliant political speech.

***

Proximity of the Dark Planet

"Captain, we are here," the young astrogator cried exitedly.

"Very well Miss Vossilli. Comm-crew, stand by to transmit!"

Diplomatic Envoy Tyana Fletcher shifted uneasily in a chair beside the captain. After the comm-crew gave their aproval of transmittion, she opened her mouth to speak:

"Captain, why are you so sure that we will get a reply?"

"We have a common enemy that threatens our existences. I believe our interests will coincide."

"And what if they don't?"

"Then this was one big waste of fuel..." he mumbled under his breath.

[Silence]

Godwinson’s Hope
Super-Dreadnought Mighty Fortress

The flagship shuddered as it took another hit from an missile launched by the survivors of a Hammer of God destroyer squadron that had tried to bust open the defenses to allow the remainder of the HOG’s battleline
to exploit. Marshal Dexter S tasted blood in his mouth
has bit his tongue from the unexpected movement. He and the rest of his command staff was on the flag bridge in the middle of the Super-Dreadnought. There with the most advance command and control systems that the Conclave could come up with he was running this battle. Glancing at the plot that showed how many of his ships were still in existence he concluded that so far that the Conclave for once was winning without to much difficulty.

The Hammer forces had formed a wall of ships relative to where the Conclave fleet had come out of and thus was fighting a battle where both sides were just staying near their respective fleets and not getting closer to each other, except for probing attacks and suicide runs by the HOGS.

“Marshal, Commodore Wesley is announcing that the Purifier will be coming out of FTL in 15 minutes.” said the signal officer from behind him. Dexter looked at the plot and thought, Yes everything is going to plan, with us suckering the HOG fleet into facing us, the Purifier will be able to slam into the planet without any problems from their fleet . Right as he thought that, a large barrage of weapons from the planets surfaced went off and 30 seconds later a battleship and its cruiser escort was skewered by the large burst of energy. The Marshal at first tried to see how effective long range missiles strikes would be against those battries that had more range then what the Intelligence at thought possible, but the amount of closer range and point defense weapons near those guns had proved to be ineffective.

“Marshall the HOG fleet has moved towards the planet. Dear lord, ships are launching from the planet, they appear to be transports!”

Dexter swore, the Conclave fleet had enough firepower
to go in and destroy those transports before they powered up their FTL drive and got out the system, but that firepower would be greatly reduce after the operation due to the fact that they would be fighting not only the HOG fleet but the HOG ground defenses as well.

“Send in the 7th fleet” Dexter said quietly, hopping for the best.

Destroyer Blasé Pascal
The small warship fired its foreword fusion lasers at the transport that was trying to slide past it. Below the two ships was the remnants of the HOG fleet, and the 7th fleet dukeing it out in close range combat, while the HOG planet proceeded to blast apart a Conclave ship every 2 minutes. It was wild to say the least. The transport that had been hit by the destroyer collapsed on itself before blowing in an eye tearing explosions on the screens
(that had been program not to allow the brightness to get that bright).

“Skipper, we got an wounded Piggy carrier trying to limp out of the battle. A fighter/bomber squadron is asking for help in taking it down.” said Joan de Macizes who was doubling as both the XO and the communications officer since a freak shot from a HOG fighter had punctured the hull and killed the former coms officer while he was doing
DC work in the communications systems in the aft of the destroyer.

“Roger, helm do we have a clear shot?” Commander Robert Kustowa asked, helm looked at his plot and said, “Yea we can do it,”

“Set course then.” after giving the order, he looked at
the holo-plot that was displaying the battle and saw a flash of white light and then the Asteroid Purifier, with it
a phalanx of the Home Fleet ships guarding it as it came tumbling out of FTL and right on a path to the planet. Right away the HOG ships turned and rushed towards
the oncoming bringer of death, but it was an effort in
vain for the large rock was moving to fast for an intercept to take it out before it could hit the planet. And the defenses on that side while firing and blowing large chunks out of the surface that was facing the HOG guns, they didn’t have enough time or firepower to stop it from hitting the planet.

The death of the rouge planet was a horrible thing to watch to the officers of the Conclave Host, but the Hammer of God had finally been taking out of action. With the realization that they no longer had any people left to protect and fight for, with the death of the planet and all of the civilian and military transports. The Hammer of God fleet turned and charged into the 7th fleet who was moving to meet up with the rest of the Conclave forces. The 7th and the ships from the rest of the Conclave naval forces in the region managed to entrap the Hammer of God ships who where in a frenzy and destroyed them.
However in response the 7th had taken 70% casualties, with most of the surviving ships mission killed. The war had been ended but at a dire cost.

New Israel
Island of Samson
Speaker’s Palace

Brother Keenes smiled as he read the report that his good friend had sent him again for what had to been the millionth time. The long war with the dark side of the Believers soul had finally been one with a purification of a sorts. He laughed and his eyes blazed as he took it as a sign of God that the Conclave had passed its long test and was now ready to spread the Good Word to the rest of the galaxy, or perhaps be purified along with the
Hammer of God. He started to laugh as he understood all the meanings that had confused him for the past year now.

City of Mosses
Northern Province
New Israel
Office of Ben Halsy

Ben looked at out his windows with hands behind his back, the current celebration in the streets had been going on for a day now and it didn’t look like it was going to be stopping anytime soon. Though Ben was personally worried what the other leaders of the civilized universe was going to say when they read that Conclave forces destroyed all life on a planet with a bloody asteroid.

“Do you know what this means tomorrow when Brother Keenes gets up to Conclave and speaks? I will have to support him and agree that his policies were a success. Instead of the flukes that they are.” Halsy said, turning and facing his political allies (more really thralls to Ben’s Opposition party which now had an offical name, the Wise Party as opposed to Keenes’s Faithful party).

“Well, we could say you were sick and not feeling well and gave it to one of your deputy whips?” said the fat one of the men. Ben frowned and thought about while he had managed to get his party more seats in the Conclave the last two victories (the first one the eve before the elections had caused Keenes’s party to remain in control.)

“No that would look like I was crying over sour grapes, which I won’t do. However it appears that I will be forced to do the dirty deed. I will have my PR manager get a memo out to the various media outlets and get them spinning on this, perhaps we could make it appear that the Brother is going to me instead of vice-versa.”

They just both stared at him with a blank expression on their face, Ben face tightened and said, “Get out of here, go enjoy the victory celebration, because mark my words Keenes has to much involved in a military actives as the center of our government actions to allow for peace to continue for much longer.”

[Kassiopeia]

The world had started, slowly but surely, to stead itself around him. The edges and details were still a bit blurry, his brain was a heap of recycled biomass at best, but out of the chaos rose one, simple, single clear thought.

He extrapolated on this thought and started to regain control over his limbs. His memory remained as an entangled fuss, but the emptied bottle of pain killers next to him hinted that he was indeed lying on the floor, recovering from... something. He faintly recalled waking up with a nearly similar pain before. He had tried to fix it with the aforementioned drugs, but apparently to no effect - the agony had just been replaced.

"Dehydration", a thunderously loud noise echoed in the cramped room. He lifted his hands to cover his ears and tried to shake his head, only to found out that it hurt even more.

"I can't believe this."

"Please", came a quiet moan, "don't be so loud..."

"Oh pull yourself together. You already had one hangover yesterday. Are you going to succumb to this overt punishment? Whatever it was you threw down your gullet that night, it sure wasn't the same poison I had. I always thought I was the one with lower tolerance. Never have I heard of a double hangover, for Pete's sake. Here, have some good old water."

Greg allowed his left eye to open just a bit, but saw nothing.

"I shut the blinds. Wouldn't want to pile up your aching any more. Be strong, open your eyes."

Greg obeyed meekly and lashed open his eyelids. The room was indeed dark, except for a dim light shining from the neighbouring room, and a few beams escaping some gaps in the shutters.

"Aye, waking up is right now the best course of action. I've got some news for you. There's been lots going out outside while you were busy suffering a delirium tremens."

Greg just harumphed, downed another glass of water and pulled the sheets over himself. "What exactly?"

"Well, first, there was this news that the Sun was about to explode."

"I'm listening to you, no need for that crap."

"I'm not testing the length of your attention span. For some hours, I was already thinking of hauling our cumulative asses to evacuate."

"Good god", Greg managed to say.

"Oh, but that's not all of it, not by a mile. You see, the government instated emergency controls to the Supreme Commander, Wakazashi. And since President Tremaine hadn't been replaced yet -"

"Tremaine? Replaced? Why?"

"Christ, Gregory! Tremaine is dead. His transplane went down to the English canal ages ago."

"I'm not sure if I'd remember my wife's name", Greg said, as the immediate past in terms of interplanetary politics started to unravel to him. "My wife. She'll be so pissed. My father -"

"Scratch your father for now. No offence intended to the old man, of course. My point is, the Terran Alliance doesn't exist any longer. Nobody knows where Kerensky is. The Terran Council has been effectively disbanded. Coalition ships are moving in on Alliance member states, declaring a system wide martial law. A big mess. "

"Not as big as my brain are right now", Greg opined. "What about sun exploding then?"

"Probably just a spoof to get things going. Now Wakazashi and Drecaille pretty much control everything in Sol... It gets more interesting. The Alliance was, or well, is, attending peace negotiations with the Morganites. They don't probably know yet. When they do, and the Chironians find out... well, there's an anachronism I know. 'Crap will hit the fan'."

[Kassiopeia]

"Bugger you, you're behaving like my nephew when he got a new hologame for a birthday present. The only way we could get him out was with a sledgehammer and a chisel, and a healthy dose of the aforementioned directed at his player system."

"I don't want to get out. Just leave me be."

"Your headache can best be cured by a healthy dose of fresh air." Filkins new that on Mars the wording was a bit off but he ignored it.

Greg couldn't help but to mutter a few objections, but it was too late.

"You know, you really don't deserve this. But I have to look after you, otherwise you would kill yourself with a mattress or something. And I hate that sort of things."

Greg dismissed asking how on earth even he would manage to take his own life with a mattress, and let Filkins drag him to the elevator.

"Where'd we get this room anyhow?"

"I haven't the foggiest, actually", Filkins said and suddenly noticed that the building was... quiet. He hadn't even checked what city on Mars they were in since he had to attend to Greg, you know, to watch after the mattress and all. The windows didn't offer a view since exactly next to it was another wall - only a glimpse of sunlight through some gaps managed to crawl their way to the room.

The landed on the - empty - bottom floor.

"Looks like we're inside a dome", Filkins observed, looking at the doorway which had no airlock or a suit locker beside. The street, through the windows, seemed empty.

"Hm. Could be this place was evacuated because of the nova warning and they'ven't returned yet", Filkins pondered out loud. Greg just wheezed of the stress of having to walk such a long distance while under such agony.

Then Filkins noticed a piece of paper on the floor. It had been ripped from a newspaper, it seemed - even several hundreds of years of electronical communication hadn't been able to replace the comfort of having breakfast with the morning paper - and was indeed the first page. Filkins released Greg, who quietly slumped down on the dusty floor, and grabbed the piece.

December 9th, 2586, the dating read.

[Kassiopeia]

Suddenly Filkins got a feeling.

The distinct feeling that you are inside a bad scifi story written by an equally bad writer, and that the strange turn of events that has just been thrown at you is just something the author thought would be a nifty plot twist.

Shrugging off the thought quickly before contemplating it any futher - and therefore risking his mental health which was already in shambles -, he rubbed his eyes and stared at the piece of plastic paper again. The numbers 09-12-2586 remained.

"More then one hundred and ten years ago", he muttered.

"I'll be damned", exclaimed Greg from the comfort of the floor, finally a surface he felt he could not fall from. "There's a blue-haired girl without clothes standing outside", he remarked, looking through the plexiglass twin door.

Filkins furrowed his brow. The drugs weren't supposed to be hallucinatory - then again, they themselves weren't supposed to be in some strange time capsule of a building. He stepped to Greg and turned to follow his gaze, and, much to his surprise, found himself staring at a blue-haired girl without clothes, standing outside.

She was a bizarre sight. Her crimson eyes betrayed no emotion, and if her chest - which clearly was that of a teenager - hadn't moved in a steady rhythm back and forth, Filkins would've thought she was a statue or dead. She had no hair on her body, except the somewhat unkempt short blue hair.
Now, Greg and Filkins are products of the 27th century, and an enlightened society. Nudity is something rather natural and normal, not a freak occurrence or something that should be overly covered or be embarrassed of. Clothes were not considered as means to cover something shameful, they were more considered a statement from the wearer, if not worn for a purely practical purpose, like warding off low temperatures. Most people wore them because their parent had.
But regardless, Filkins was rather dumbfound of the sight, but not much more then if he had seen the girl in clothing.

"I wonder if she's cold", Greg said, apparently a bit unaware of the entire implication of the situation, or alternatively fully aware of it but not touched by it.

Filkins grabbed the sheet Greg had wrapped around himself when leaving the apartment and headed towards the door. As he stepped through them, the girl shifted herself only slightly so that she could look at Filkins. She didn't let out a single sound, only kept staring at him, a hint of curiousness in her eyes.

"Hello there", Filkins said. She estimated that the girl was maybe 13, maybe 16 years old. Only God knew surely in this day of genetic engineering, he reminded himself, taking some careful steps to get closer.

"Hello", the girl replied almost automatically, as if programmed to do so, her mouth moving only as much as necessary, rest of her remaining stationary.

"Mmm." What do you say to a teenaged girl you've just met who is standing stark naked in the middle of an apparently deserted Martian city, Filkins thought.

Noting his bewilderment, the girl said: "Is there a problem?"

"Well... why are you here? Why are you naked?"

The girl lowered her gaze to the ground, not in shame, but in deep thought. A moment passed, until she raised her head again and said: "I do not know."

"Are you cold?"

She pondered again. "I believe my body temperature is a few degrees below recommended standards, yes."

Filkins approached her and carefully wrapped the blanket around her, looking at her form as stealthily as possible. Her skin was pale, almost white, and because of that from a distance it had been impossible to pick out the bandages covering her hips, right arm and left leg.

Calmly, without hesitation, he lead the girl inside.

"What is your name?" Filkins casually asked.

"I am called Rei Ayanami", she replied instinctively.

At least she's not completely clueless, Filkins thought as they stepped through the pair of doors. But her choice of wording bothered him. "My body temperature is below recommended standards". "I am called".

[History Guy]

Private Magtube Shuttle VIP-114, en route to the City of Firaxis, Firaxis Prime

CEO Nwabudike Morgan was always abnormally good at crossword puzzles, especially crossword puzzles with references to himself or his company, as one with full mental faculties might expect. He always thought it was due to the fact that he was quite the tactician, especially in the markets, but in war, or in crosswords as well. Actually, it was probably due to his fondness for words of every sort. As a young man, he’d made a point of reading an English dictionary, from A to Z (it’s not something which he’d suggest anyone do, however), and memorizing as many of the words as he thought humanly possible. And as well as being quite the tactician, he was reckoned to be quite the elephant. His memory was anything but short.

“My God,” said Morgan, in a slightly exasperated voice, to Imran Siddiqui, who was sitting on a nearby chair, looking over the conference proceedings, his bearded chin buried in his palm, “there are, in this little Firaxian crossword, seven references to myself or my company, and two to our latest annexations in Capella. I say, the crosswords in this sector of the universe must be exceedingly dull for all faction leaders, so much so that there is really little point in doing them. How Firaxis became the conference center for all of these fellows is beyond my limited thought range. One begins to wonder whether Henry Tremaine, so terribly depressed over the lack of a decent crossword, simply blew himself to pieces, without even giving these Earthers half the chance to do the job for them…”

“I must confess that there are many deep mysteries in life, CEO, and you have struck upon one, there,” responded the always-quiet Siddiqui, who was contemplating the conference sheets (and stuffing some roasted poultry into his mouth with his little silver fork). With that, he said nothing, and continued to wear out his ancient eyes on these sheets.

“Yes, I suppose so. Still, the tedium of waiting for these shuttles to get a move on is rather laborious upon my mental faculties, I must admit, causing me to seek solace in lambasting these bloody awfully crosswords…alack!” said Morgan, in his deep voice. Behind him, the doors to the compartment slid open, revealing a loudly dressed Foreign Minister. Cornelius Walker was decked out in a red suit that looked a bit ridiculous on the fellow, but he was never known for good taste. One good thing in his favor, however, was firmly clenched between his teeth, and it took the form of a large, black cigar. A blood cloud hung around the minister’s head, producing a smell that attracted any self-respecting multi-trillionaire (or, in Morgan’s case, google-naire). “Salve, Cornelius, how goes it!” cried Morgan.

“Nwabudike, before you burst out in insane paroxysms of laughter, know that wearing this suit today was not my own decision…and please, do not ask…” began Walker.

“Yes, alright, I hear you,” responded Morgan with a deep chuckle, turning Walker’s pink cheeks to a definite shade of red. “So, then, what’s the news? I’ve learnt nothing from these Firaxian newspapers other than that the crossword definitely wasn’t written with me in mind, and that I might just be arriving at the capital today, after all!”

“Well, we’ve received an update on this Daisy business. It’s a small event, surely, but a very strange one. The preliminary reports, posted last night, tell us that the ship had been abandoned, but escape pods had not been activated, that there is no sign of struggle, but an algorithm had sealed the bridge off, and that this bug was from an outside source, yet no other presence had been recorded nearby, leaving us to suspect that it could be pirates, possibly Novans, seeking some sort of vendetta against us…”

“They would be suspect, of course, after their treacherous acts where the Terran invasion was concerned. We’ll soon have the settlement, however, and that shall be behind us, though I trust we shall fare the better for it.”

“Oh, yes, of course, before I forget…the papers you requested, Nwabudike.” From his coat, Walker revealed a small, brown folder, in which were placed two or three small sheets of paper.

“Ah, yes, thank you, Walker. Here, then, is the gambit. The Terrans would be quite surprised to see these, of course. It’ll work in our favor. We’ll see their imperialist bombast vanish in a rather short time, and we’ll see that they have, as suspected, had their mouth in motion, brain not in gear…”

“What do you think will happen because of it, CEO?” asked Siddiqui, looking up from his papers.

“Nothing of real importance to us, unless we’d like to sneak in and take back the Corporate Sector... It’ll mean simply the collapse of the Terran Alliance.” Suddenly, the shuttle gave a little jolt, and Morgan hurriedly sat down, for fear of falling and bashing his skull in. “Ah, so now we move, eh? Finally. The prospects of getting a move on are…”

CEO Morgan arrived at the conference center shortly thereafter, at which time everyone was bored out of their wits, and Morgan had worn himself out by moving his jaws in an endless rhythmic motion.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

[Mr. President]

The Way You Use It

On board starship Omega Glory, near the Sparta-Drone Republic border

Officially, the Omega Glory was not even there. Officially, Captain Itamar did not exist, and was certainly not on the payroll of the Free Drone military. Officially, there was not a flurry of twilight missions desperately tracking Novan brigands across half the galaxy and a massive purge of people responsible for the shocking lapse in trade route security of three months ago.

Unofficially, of course, the situation was different.

The lighting was poor and erratic, but Itamar was used to it. Over the last twenty years, the Omega Glory had become his home. Born in the failed Westwood settlement on Ophelia, acidic soil and rising seas had brought his family to the bright lights of Avalon almost before he could walk. Filthy inner-city streets were his classroom, the brass knuckles his teacher. At age nine he lost his father to the punishment sphere. At age twelve he was stealing cars. At age sixteen he was in a maximum-security prison, and at age nineteen he was piloting a fighter for sectoral pirates.

That was not enough for Itamar. He won the Omega Glory in a knife fight and used it to transport illegal drugs through the Borderlands, thereby lining his pockets with the coin of the realm. When the Drone Republic began cracking down on Nautilus-affiliated groups, Itamar followed the money. He managed an ironic smile at the thought that the man most responsible for putting drugs on the streets was now defending the values of the Free Drone Republic.

Itamar nodded to his guards as they saluted his entry to the brig. He acknowledged the supervisor. "Collins," he said. "Where is the prisoner?"

"This way, sir." Collins led the captain to a room with a clear plex window. Inside a large tattooed man was strapped to a chair. On a ship that did not officially exist, the military's clients could safely engage in practices that were anathema to the Free Drone constitution. The unfortunate Nautilus within had been caught when Itamar's crew raided an asteroidal outpost along the Thermopylae trade route. He had admitted immediately to hijacking the Argonaut. Itamar's men had been working him over for the last four days.

"This man," said Collins, "is Devin Lamarche, and he was the XO on one of the ships that the Spartans killed three months ago. He told us that most of the droids went with Nova to Earth. He also had this with him." And he handed Itamar a nanodisk.

"What is it?"

"It's part of the Novan ship registry, Captain. It contains data on forty of their vessels, including commanding officers and, in some cases, assignments. There are some references to heists that have gone down, and a couple to some that haven't happened yet."

Itamar nodded, an idea beginning to tick over in his mind. "Naval Intelligence is going to love this," he ruminated. "Tell you what. Let's hold this for a few more days, until I can find out how much Nova's enemies will give us for this." Why follow the flag, Itamar always said, it doesn't carry cash. "Until then, see what else you can find out from mister Lamarche."

He did not need to glance at Collins' neuronic whip as he left the brig. Itamar's second-in-command was a capable, if somewhat sadistic, officer. Thankfully, a pirate who hunted pirates was worth a mountain of Ophelian diamonds to an army that would decimate its own ranks for a minute of stability. And the blood of many who could have replaced him covered Itamar's hands.

[Sprayber]

The day had been uneventful so far for Colonel Kessel. It would be another two days until the conference would begin with the last of the participants arriving. Up until now Kessel had been busy reading intelligence reports that his aide had brought to him. Reports on everything from the situation on Epona to what was going on in the Terran System. The deepening situation in the Cadre system still weighed on Kessel’s mind. There wouldn’t be much more information until the Spartan Taskforce entered the system and took charge. Until then Kessel would just have to wait.

Early in the morning, Kessel’s aide had passed on a request from a Firaxian media company for an interview before the conference. At first Kessel was going to brush it off, but upon a little reflection decided to grant the interview. Kessel had dealt with foreign media before and wasn’t too concerned about the upcoming sit down. It may even prove insightful as to the mind of the Firaxian population as to how well Sparta was thought of. This Kessel thought, was worth possible annoyance a reporter may bring.

Kessel sat at his desk reading the report prepared on Ahia Oto of the Pacific News Network. As he read the contents of the report, Kessel was reassured the reporter had no apparent bias either for or against Sparta. From her appearance Oto must have been descended from Earth’s old Polynesian Islanders. Kessel was familiar with the culture from books but very few had made it into the Spartan ranks. As he sat and read up on her background he received a message from the front desk announcing her arrival. Oto walked in escorted by Kessel’s aide. Kessel dismissed her and sat down at his desk.

[Oto] “I guess the first question Colonel would be what do you think of our planet? This is your first visit to Firaxis isn’t it Colonel.”

[Kessel] “Yes it is Miss Oto. I was fortunate to get a tour of the planet by air on my way to our embassy. I now understand why your people call it the Planet of Trees. The view from the air is most impressive. On Sparta Prime we have similar old growth forests but nowhere near as expansive as here on Firaxis. I can understand why your people are so concerned about preserving the forests here”

[Oto] “What about the recent events involving the Spartan Embassy Colonel? Has this affected the image of Firaxis in the Spartan Federation?”

[Kessel] “Not in the least. Sparta understand that your government is working to discover the identities of those responsible. And if your government wishes, Sparta is here to offer assistance in those investigations but I suspect it would be better for Firixan authorities to conduct any investigation”

[Oto] “So there is no chance that Sparta will not take action against any group?”

[Kessel] “We are confident of the Firaxian response, so no response is necessary.”

[Oto] “Moving on to more inter-system issues, the representatives of different governments are here but the notable absence of the Greater Hive Empire has lead many people to believe that Sparta and her allies are perhaps sending a signal that the GHE is not welcome in the Human Sphere. What would be your response to that assertion?”

[Kessel] “I would tell them that they are right. Yang and his followers are not apart of the human sphere any longer. The Hive stopped being human centuries ago. As long as they stay in their own territory I don’t care what they do, but once they set foot in the affairs of Sparta and her allies they will run directly into our path.”

[Oto] “So their involvement in the recent war has already set them into a collision course with Sparta and her allies?”

[Kessel] “I will just say that their involvement has been noted and an appropriate response has been determined. There must be consequences for aggression and the Hive will soon learn.”

[Oto] “That would mean going to war with a human power twice in the same year Colonel.”

[Kessel] “Sparta does not consider the Hive as a human power. They have been influenced by alien forces far too much to be treated as human. They lost their humanity ages ago. What you in Firaxis and many other governments fail to realize is that we know the Hive far better than you. To you, they are a long lost legend only recently come to light. We in Sparta are far too familiar with the Hive to go on some promise of good behavior. More importantly, I know Yang.”

[Oto] “This sounds personal to both Sparta and you Colonel. Is this the case?”

Kessel smiles and thinks for a moment while looking at Oto.

[Kessel] “I suppose it is. You see miss Oto, I don’t care what people do in Sol or Firaxis or Concordia. I do care what is happening in the Hive however. I care because I know how Yang operates and I have seen his handiwork first hand. We in Sparta do not want war, but if it takes war to remove the blight that the Hive represents, then that is what we shall endure. We stood against the Bree for years and the Hive will present no greater of a challenge”

[Oto] “I see that there is a resolve in Sparta but how about your allies Colonel? Will the Drones and Morgan Interstellar feel the same way about the Hive especially after a costly war with Sol?”

[Kessel] “The Morganite and Drone governments both know the costs of appeasing Yang. If need be Sparta will fight alone, but I believe our allies will be there. The Drones stood with us during the long years of the Bree wars and Morgan helped as well.”

[Oto] “What would the consequences be for the independent worlds in a war with the Hive Colonel?”

[Kessel] “The Hive already sends it’s agents to many worlds in order to find some weakness in their society. They will exploit every flaw they can in order to manipulate other worlds into doing what they want. You can expect the Hive to try everything it can to convince people that they mean no harm when in fact they seek domination of your world. If propaganda does not work, you can then expect violence against key elements of your society. The Hive knows that where they send their space forces, Sparta will crush them so they will work under the surface. Just remember that as long as you keep your government and people under the spotlight then the Hive agents will be scurry away to the darkness much like the Terran cockroach does when confronted by light. On a side note, I believe Firaxis would be especially susceptible to Hive attention given its special location and function for the Human Sphere.”

[Oto] “What would be Sparta’s response to Hive aggression towards Firaxis?”

[Kessel] “It is well known the guarantees Sparta has placed on Firxian Independence. Any attacker against Firaxis will very soon face the combined power of the Spartan military. We in Sparta view the independence of Firaxis as essential to the current order. Anyone that threatens that order will be dealt with extreme prejudice.”

[Oto] “There is a mystique about the Spartan military that most of the people of the Human Sphere share. Here on Firaxis, people are split on wither Sparta should be considered a friend or a potential threat. Most knowledgeable citizens acknowledge Sparta’s role in taking the brunt of the Bree attacks, but some feel that perhaps you go too far in your quest to defend against both alien and human threats. How would you respond to that sir?”

[Kessel] “You must understand that the Bree war is probably the defining event in Spartan history. Entire divisions died defending Spartan worlds. Many of those soldier died on planets that you have never heard of and most will never know. The Bree war forced us into the preemptive mindset that up till then we never would have adopted. We learned who our allies were during those times and we learned which or our allies we could trust the most with our lives and our technology. The Bree war marked the first time that we even considered transferring technology to another power, but we would not ignore the fact that the Drones were dying along side Spartan soldiers. In some cases protecting Spartan civilians. That does not mean that we agree one hundred percent of the time. Our government structures are not alike at all but to us that does not matter. What matters is that we are in this struggle together. When I see foreign reporters and civilians talk about their famous Bree encounters I cannot help but remember the nearly seventy years of constant fighting with the Bree. It is Sparta and the Free Drone Republic that stood between humanity and the Bree for all these years. I ask that leaders of the other human powers remember one thing when they deal with Sparta and the Drones. Most of our Marine Legions, Army Groups, and Naval Taskforces are made up of men and women that were there when the Bree swept in from their outposts on the fringe. They fought against the alien legions and fought them to a standstill while mostly being out numbered and less tech. They were there on the numerous asteroids and dead planets that none of you will ever be able to remember. All that translates to one thing for myself and the Drone leaders. We will not allow that to happen again. We will not be caught off guard. And if a human power is seen to be cooperating with the Bree or Progenitors, we will not allow that civilization continue in its present form. It doesn’t matter if people like Sparta or not, but you will respect our sacrifice and our commitment to never being on the receiving end of an invasion either by aliens or human powers. All must know, that when you get fight the Spartan Federation, it is a fight that we intend to finish in the most extreme way possible as to make sure it never happens again. There is so much talk about the Spartan Terran war. There was no Spartan Terran war. The Terrans have yet to feel what a war really means with Sparta. And up until now the Hive has been playing around. I am here to tell you that playtime is over.

The interview went on for another thirty minutes. Kessel ended the interview by inviting Oto to Sparta to see what the life of a Spartan entails. After a few minutes of talking, Oto left the Spartan Embassy with a lot of footage to prepare for the evening news vids. Kessel returned to his office in the embassy to catch up on the events of the last few days. So much was still going on in all corners of the human sphere.

[Sprayber]

Just outside the 8th planet of the Cadre System a small ship came to a relative stop and opened up it’s cargo bay doors. From the top of the vessel a cylinder 3 meters long deployed itself until it was twenty meters from the Spartan vessel. A minute passed by and the bolts holding the metal casing together all blew at the same time. As the metal shell casings drifted away the Nav buoy inside began to power up. Twenty seconds later the buoy began transmitting information of the system that it occupied. Thirty minutes after the buoy became operational, distant objects began to appear in the surrounding space. The small scout remained stationary as all around it ships of the Spartan Federation Taskforce B filled the surrounding space. Soon the Spartan Taskforce formed up in a defensive formation and set course for the inner Cadre System.

Admiral Koto sat in the central chair on the bridge of the Spartan Command Carrier Kremlin. The ship was not Sparta’s largest vessel by any means. While the other governments put their commanders in their largest vessel, the Spartans chose to build the Command Carriers for speed and communication abilities not for size. The fighter carriers directly to the rear of the Command Carriers were the behemoths of the fleet not the Command Carriers. As Koto sat in his command chair, he activated his MMI to receive the information coming from the central computer directly to his brain. Inside Koto’s eye an image of the system appeared noting the unknown contacts that now orbited the Cadre home world. As the fleet moved closer, more information poured into the Admiral mind. Behind him Major Weston monitored the feed into the Admiral’s MMI to ensure no problems came up. His command staff all switched on their MMIs to join in on the tactical display that up until now only the Admiral saw. All over the fleet Captains and first officers were activating their own MMIs, soon the entire fleet was linked to each other as the Taskforce moved closer to the Cadre planet.

As the fleet moved towards the planet more information was pouring into the central computer. The forward ships began transmitting the first images of the opposing fleet. As the Koto received the images he began to realize that a straight forward mission was becoming more complicated. He turned to the operation officer that manned the main systems board.

“Commander, report on the opposing fleet.”

“Sir. opposing fleet consists of seven capital ships and twelve supporting vessels. They are differing designs ranging from old PK armed transports to old Terran designs. Six vessels are known pirate types.”

Koto turned to his staff members who were busy analyzing incoming data. With just a hint of skepticism the admiral spoke to his staff.

“This is too easy.” Koto switched his MMI to transmit. “Fleet Captain Keller, take your detachment and take up a position beyond the far side of the planet. Keep an eye out for any other ships in the system. Find the small Cadre fleet and report its location. Inform them of our arrival and our intentions of taking the opposing fleet.”

Aboard the Kendra class battle cruiser, Fleet Captain Keller acknowledge his orders and informed his detachment of their mission. Soon twenty vessels broke out of the main formation and proceeded to their assigned location. The main formation continued on its way to the Cadre planet. Koto looked at the view screen as the imagine of the opposing fleet began to grow bigger. “Commander, open audio comm.”

The Spartan commander obeyed and switched communications on so that Koto could address the opposing fleet.

“Unknown feet. You are in violation of Laekdaemon territorial space. As allies of the Laekdaemon Cadre we are here to enforce their rights. You will stand down your ships and prepare to be boarded by Spartan Marines. There will be no terms, but complete surrender.”

Koto was waiting for a response when the operations officer broke the silence. “Sir, troop transports are exiting some of the ships and we have fighters being launched. Appears to be Pirate raider fighters. J class.”

Koto spun around in his chair as his MMI switched to transmit. “Admiral Hox, deploy your hammerheads to intercept and destroy enemy fighters. Deploy breaching pods to follow in behind the cruisers. I want Spartan Marines on one of those ships.” Koto turned to glance at the opposing fleet once again. “Attack wings Alpha and Beta, deploy in attack formations. Disable those ships that you can. We need vessels to be boarded.”

The operations officer once again interrupted Koto’s study of the enemy fleet. “Sir we have an incoming message from the enemy fleet. Text only. Never take us alive but we will take some of you with us. End of message sir.”

Koto returned his gaze to the fleet of various ships as they began to scatter. Some of the ships were making a run for the oncoming Spartan attack ships and some were heading away from the planet. Koto sent a message for a third Spartan Attack Wing to engage the fleeing ships.

The main Spartan formation had stopped several thousand kilometers from the scene of the action while the three attack wings sped off in their assigned directions. The hammerhead fighters met up with the enemy fighters ahead of the oncoming Warlocks and Gladiators. As the fighter battle proceeded the Warlocks and Gladiators moved past the melee on their intercept course with the oncoming enemy warships. The enemy warships opened fire way beyond their effective range with no damage whatsoever to the Spartan Battleships. Once the Warlocks and Gladiators got within firing range they let loose with a devastating barrage of fire on the lead vessel and it was torn apart in a matter of seconds. The remaining vessels broke their formation and started to scatter. The Attack vessels were assigned targets by their commander and began to attack them eagerly.

The third group of Spartan vessels were taking longer to get to the fleeing ships. When they finally got into range of the group they, like their counterparts, targeted the lead vessel and began to fire. The ship held out for a few seconds but soon it’s bulkheads buckled and the ship exploded. The remaining vessels did not scatter like the other group of enemy ships however. They instead locked on to the lead Spartan Warlock and began their own barrage. The armed transports in the center of the formation changed course while the warships switched fire against the oncoming Spartan ships. If the ships had been more modern then perhaps they may have succeeded in taking out two or three Spartan ships, but eventually all the tactics in the world could not overcome the simple fact that the Spartan ships were more powerful and faster. Soon the enemy warships were nothing more than a cloud of vapor and the Spartan ships had moved on to the transports. The four transports were about to be overtaken by the pursuing Spartan Attack ships when one by one they exploded in a brilliant display of light. The lead Warlock received significant damage as it plowed through the remains of two of the transports. As the battle wound down, it was forced to limp back to the main formation under half power with an escort by its sister ships.
The other Spartan Attack wing had been more successful in it’s attempts in disabling instead of destroying. As the resistance ended, two enemy vessels lay dead in space waiting to be boarded.

On the far side of the system the detached fleet had made contact with the Cadre ships and had advised them of the situation. The Cadre fleet was now en route to talk with Admiral Koto in person. The Cadre commander had insisted on a personal meeting. As the detached Spartan vessels under Fleet Captain Keller maintained their position the operations officer noticed a small spatial distortion for a fraction of a second. She reported the distortion to Fleet Captain Keller who logged it but thought no more about it.

Back on board the Spartan Command Carrier, Admiral Koto turned in his chair to face General Zim of the Marine Group that was attached to the taskforce.

“General. Take your marines and secure the Cadre moon. After your sweep of the surface we will position the bulk of the fleet in orbit around the moon until we ascertain the situation on the surface of the Cadre planet. You should prepare your troops for possible ground action in the event we are ordered there by Central Command or the Cadre ask for further assistance. What ever the outcome, we have orders to send up a limited blockade of the system and await more orders. As soon as we hear from Central Command, you will be informed.”

The general nodded assent and went off to arrange the details of the sweep of the moon’s surface. Koto turned to the operation officer.

“Any words on the prisoners that were taken during the boarding operations”

“The prisoners that were taken appear to be mercenaries Sir. So far they have only reveled who they are and that they are not privy to who has hired them. Interrogation is continuing.”

Koto nodded and looked at the view of the Cadre planet on the view screen. Debris could still be seen as one of the damaged enemy vessels was being towed to position away from the fleet. The over all battle had only taken a brief thirty minutes, but Koto did not feel good about the outcome. To himself, Koto wondered who those people had been and why one group had appeared to be very disciplined soldiers while the second group made it appear as if they were incompetent armatures. These questions weighed on his mind as his operations officer broke his thoughts for the hundred time today.

“Sir, energy levels have moved to critical levels on the damaged enemy ship” But before Koto or anyone could order the towing vessel to disengage the view screen was filled with a brilliant light. The screen dimmed to compensate for the increased light as Koto watched as pieces of the ships were propelled in all directions. Under his breath Koto cursed in Spartan Standard as rescue ships hurried to the scene.

[Frankychan]

No peeking, Drones.

Hive Patrol Task Force: Alpha 1
Assigned ships: Darkdance, Immolator, Blacklight

On the bridge of patrolship: Darkdance

The Hive patrolships sped toward their destination.....the captain of the Darkdance couldn't belive the recent turn of events for her ship and crew. After finding debris of a Hive cargo vessel, she sped off toward the nearest Hive outpost, only to find out her ship was reassigned for interception duty. Unable to report her find, the cargo ship debris and the supposed Spartan cause were left on the wayside to be forgotten.

Flicking off her frustration on reassignement, the captain directed her attention toward the navigator.

"How long until we get there?" The Xiero captain questioned.

The navigator didn't turn around. "10 standard minutes, Captain."

Good news. Her Taskforce would get there ahead of the estimated time. Hive command would be pleased.
--------------------

"Captain, we are almost at the designated target."

Nodding, the Xiero began issuing orders...

"Go to red alert. I want our rail guns ready to fire as soon as we reach our target destination. Have the Blacklight engage its cloaking device...they'll be our surprise if the enemy decides to engage with the Emperor's ships."

A chorus of acknowledgements greeted her ears as the bridge bustled with activity. Orders were sent through various comm-channels and techs moved from station to station.

The navigator's voice suddenly rose above the noise, "Captain, we are approaching target."

The three Hive patrol ships broke into real space, surrounded by stars. The Blacklight shimmered and immediately disappeared from view.

The three Hive patrolships cruised along the Hive border, skirting along the edge next to Drone space....right next to a sparcely inhabited Hive system.

"The captain of the Blacklight reports his vessel has engaged cloak. Both the Blacklight and Immolator are awaiting orders, Captain."

The Xiero leaned forward to observe the viewscreen. Far off in the distance, a ship waited.

"Magnify and enhance."

The viewscreen zoomed in on the ship and a few gasps of surprise echoed on the bridge.

"That is our target. Intercept course, tell other ships to do the same."

The three patrol craft sped off toward the unknown vessel, engines blazing. As the distance between the taskforce and the unknown ship closed, the image clarified.

"Drones! Send message to Hive command. Drones have violated sovereign Hive space. Repeat: The Free Drone Republic has violated Imperial Hive space."

The comm-officer acknowledged as the captain gazed at the Drone ship and the distant smaller Drone surveillance pods....

"Open comm to Drone vessel."

"Channel open, captain."

Drone vessel. You are in violation of Imperial Hive space. Cease all activity. Repeat: Cease all activity and surrender your vessel or you will be destroyed.

The captain montioned to cease the transmission. When it was cut, she began her final orders.

"Loop message and continue to broadcast. Have weapons ready to fire." The captain spoke under her breath...

"Lets see how well-trained these 'Free Drones' really are."

[History Guy]

U.N. Commissioner’s Gardens, Commissioner’s Villa, U.N. Headquarters

Two men trod together, side by side, along the narrow pathway that cut through the serenity of the Commissioner’s Gardens Japanese Garden section. Along the pathway, the tiny stones that surrounded had been heavily raked, forming patterns that resembled ripples in the ocean. The late Commissioner Parfat had never been one for these gardens; he was always the man of action. It would never occur to him to tramp his way idly over the pathway, past the rock waves, over the bridge, and onto the island beyond, to sit under the shade of the large weeping cherry tree that stood in the center. It was too calm for him, too peaceful. He might have, after all, somehow found himself enjoying it a bit too much, and Parfat was never a man who could sit back and enjoy much of anything. He was, in a way, the ultimate man of his breed, the ultimate Peacekeeper. He could not understand that there were things to be enjoyed. He knew that he had to strive to achieve goals, but he’d become, like so many other ultra-Peacekeepers, a pedant with some very imposing tools. He’d never been much liked, but all the same, it was a tragedy when he was shot.

The two men who stood together talking over the future of the United Nations did enjoy their time, however. Frederick Keer, the late Commissioner’s Chief Advisor, felt a certain kinship to anyone who could have produced such a garden. He was the son of a Japanese mother, after all, and he had a degree in Chinese history and philosophy, and so those two cultures had always weighed heavily on his mind. He’d always wished in a way that he could believe in something like religion (something which most Peacekeepers shunned, or if not, accepted each religion as equal, though with some disdain), especially that of Taoism. It just seemed perfectly splendid to him. Parfat had always disliked that about Keer. It was one of his few “bad” qualities. He wasn’t wholly Peacekeeper, then.

The man whom Keer walked with, however, was much more of a Peacekeeping mindset, though he too enjoyed the gardens. Liang Chu Sung, the Secretary of the United Nations Council, second only to the Council Leader in that area, was always the perfect pupil for a Peacekeeper teacher. He believed all of it very deeply. All men are equal, though certain men are better equipped to lead them, for not all men have the ability or the competence as a leader. All religions should be recognized, but looked down upon. Everything should be correct politically, though all should be allowed to voice their opinion, on most matters at any rate. He had memorized all of these principals, like all other young administrators, by rote.

“The fact is,” Keer was saying to Liang, “the new Commissioner has not fully recovered from his malady.” The advisor spoke of Pei-Lin, Parfat’s Vice-Commissioner, and the new Commissioner. Parfat had, in his last months, regarded Pei-Lin as something of an embarrassment. The man had just come over a very serious brain disease, one which had, so it seemed, caused a slight chemical imbalance. It could be rectified, but the trouble was, it had only gotten worse. The public did not know this, but Pei-Lin was slowly going insane, so much so that the General-in-Chief of Peacekeeping Operators, Othneil Simpson, the Vice-Commissioner, was forced to make the most important decisions for the mentally unstable Commissioner.

“In the last weeks of treatment, things have only gotten worse, the imbalance has increased, not decreased. Though he will be cured eventually, the process could take months, or years. Whatever happens, we have Simpson making our decisions until he’s back in his right mind, and frankly, I do not trust the man. Only the smallest of investigations has been made into the late Commissioner’s assassination, and frankly, I’m distressed. The reason I mention this is because, this morning, a letter was placed on my desk informing me that all five men who found and recovered the body of the assassin died today in the small car crash while in barracks. They rode straight into the perimeter defense, and were in effect fried. It just doesn’t seem natural at all.”

“This is all too worrisome,” replied Liang. “All of the cards of power have been, in effect, placed squarely into the General’s hands. He is now the ruler of the U.N., he has all the powers of the Commissioner, and he is using them to do nothing other than to increase military strength in disputed territories. It is troublesome. I cannot be blamed for saying that an observer, if he was not in a position of power in these territories, might think of this administration as corrupt, and might come under the impression that General Simpson is an assassin and a usurper. I know that this is not the case, but it might seem so to uneducated persons observing these events from afar.”

“Of course, Liang. I know this. Simpson is a bit too powerful, I think, and his hands are too wide reaching. He has plenty of power, yet no official investigation commissioned by Pei-Lin has done much work at all into solving the riddle of the late Commissioner’s murder. This bothers me, as well it might. It could possibly be the single most damaging factor to our reputation in the eyes of foreign powers.”

The most troubling aspect of these events was the build-up of the Peacekeeping military by Simpson, something which he, as both General-in-Chief and Vice-Commissioner had virtually total control over. As of late, larger contingents of troops had been built up in the city itself, around the U.N. Headquarters complex and other important spots. However, there was also now a huge contingent of troops in the vicinity of the Spartan borders. It was quite bothersome. A small accident on these borders could produce a terrible international incident. This incident, if severe enough, could provoke, unfortunately, a war, or as Parfat would have put it, a “Peacekeeping operation”. This war could be potentially worse than the Spartan War that had revolved around Coventry. In fact, there would be little doubt that it would be. Nothing would compare with it.

“The matter is clear. Pei-Lin should be declared too ill for his duties, and a replacement must be found, but somehow we must be sure that it is not General Othneil Simpson. He is too dangerous, and far too aggressive for his own good. The man simply doesn’t live up to the standards of a Peacekeeper. Were it not for his hatred of that whole race, I would imagine him better suited to be a Spartan,” commented Keer. Simpson did hate the Spartans. It was in a skirmish with Sparta near Coventry that his father and uncle had been killed as a result of a Spartan boarding party. The bodies had all been burned, a testament, he thought, to Spartan chivalry. The fact that rebellious Pirate mercenaries committed the act mattered not. Sparta was to blame for this. In revenge, he’d gone into battle at the head of a brigade, scoring one of the few major Peacekeeper land victories of the war, despite a severe wound in the head that had left him in a coma for months, and had taken away the use of his left eye’s cornea, which was reconstructed by Peacekeeper medics years later, until it was practically better than his original. All this had strengthened his resolve for revenge, though he tried to keep his feelings buried, like most Peacekeepers of the higher echelons of power.

“Ribannah King is not suited to power, however,” said Liang, “and I am out of the question. You, even, would be a poor choice, I think, despite your obvious talents.”

Keer responded with a smile, “I’m not sure if that was a compliment or an insult.”

Liang did not respond to this. “I can only make suggestions based on the United Nation’s past. I see few who are capable of this task, and I do not see how in heaven’s name we could remove Simpson from office without some conflict, either. We must tread carefully, Mr. Keer.”

“Agreed,” he responded.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Executive Villa, the Moon ‘Belisaurus’

The man relaxed in his red, silk bathrobe, and sat back in his large, oaken chair, reading a small volume on something or other that had been sent to him by someone or other. It wasn’t very good at all, indeed, it was tremendously boring, and so the man finally put the thing down for good, and grabbed something off his large shelf marked Religion/Philosophy. It was on a character from the country where he’d been raised. He read on about how the monk Bodhidharma had, according to tradition, removed his eyelids, turning them into the first tealeaves. All very interesting.

The man was old, and wearied. He had a small, white beard, with only a few strands of gray left, although the beard had once been flowing with nothing but ebony black strands. As he read, he played with some of his strands with his long, bony fingers. His hands were old and cracked. Indeed, they were ancient. He was an ancient man. He had a face that inspired a certain calm, though. His face was very kind, but, like his hands, old, cracked, and lined. His eyes were large and brown, and his forehead was lined with deep wrinkles. His hair, which, like his beard, had once been black and flowing, was now sparse, and stubbly. He was indeed an ancient man. He was a man who had seen too much, and had lived far too long.

In some ways, the man wished that he would die. He had lived longer than he’d ever wanted to live, and he’d lost nearly everyone who had meant anything to him. His wife, of course, had died long ago. He had watched, many times over, as his best friends died around him, but he just kept on living, and he had to. It was not that he had no choice in the matter. Whenever he wished, he could inform his servants to cut off the supply of longevity vaccines that came in sufficient quantity ever two years. Perhaps there could have been a time when he could have cut them off for good, and ended everything then. Perhaps he could have done this during the Spartan War, when the icy space around Coventry became a graveyard for thousands of Peacekeeper and Spartan ships. Then, perhaps, he could have done it. To do this now, however, would be disastrous for the people’s morale, especially now after the murder of Parfat.

“Sir,” spoke one of the servants, entering with a knock, “a post from Mr. Keer, of the U.N. Council.”

“Yes, thank you,” replied the man, reclining in his chair, reaching out to grab the sheets of paper the servant held in his paws.

The man read quickly over the message. In short, Keer requested that he come down to U.N. Headquarters for a discussion of the current affairs, and a proposal for his reinstitution into government affairs. The reader was slightly disappointed by this. Once again, he was needed. It was as if these people were children, once he’d left them to themselves, they crawled back to him, begging him to return and held them out of a bad spot. It was what got him mixed up in the Spartan War. He hated to do it again, but he knew it was his duty.

Putting down the message, Pravin Lal sighed.

[Mr. President]

No-One Can Hear You Scream

Aboard the frigate DRS Levar
Too close to the Hive region

Blip. Blip. Blip. Scree. Blip. Blip.

“Captain!”

Irwin’s head snapped upright, as he cursed himself for nodding off. Bridge sounds had become like a lullaby to him over his years of command, and he felt something was missing when he was on a civilian cruiser at home in Altair. But a lapse of concentration in a designated combat zone, even a “cold” one, shoehorned him into a tango with disaster.

“You can’t let your guard down for a second.” The words from Foreman Domai’s lecture drifted back into Irwin’s mind. He swore again and acknowledged the communications officer.

“I have two ships, unknown configuration, closing fast,” the young woman blurted out. “Intercept bearing, sir. They came from within the Hive zone.”

“Can you play back the sensor readings?” Irwin asked. The officer did so. The captain watched the scan of the Hive border on his monitor. Nothing . . . nothing . . . nothing . . . there. Two dots, black for enemy, appeared almost dead on the nominal border of Hive space. He had seen enough.

“Good Lord,” he muttered, “they were in our blind spot.” He snatched at the intercom connection to the probe rafts. “Rafts,” Irwin shouted, “Mission aborted. Repeat, mission aborted.” He pressed the general intercom. “All hands to battle stations. Enemy vessels within sensor range. Repeat, battle stations. Enemy vessels within sensor range.” At his gesture, the helmsman activated the Red Alert siren. Shrill and piercing, it whipped the crew into to their combat positions.

Irwin performed some mental gymnastics. Hive ships resisted scanning. At this range, there was no way to tell what was coming at him. Two Hive Battleships would vaporize the lightly armed frigate before its weapons were online. He might be able to make a fight against any pair of ships smaller than a destroyer, but doubted the Levar would avoid fatal damage in such a combat.

“How fast are they going?” he asked.

“Astrometry suggests top speed of four stellar travel units, sir.”

The captain cursed again. The Levar could do three in a pinch, if it was running directly to a base where the engines could be deactivated and flooded with coolants. “Set a course,” he said, “for MI-120. Communications, send a distress message to the base and tell them we need help in this direction, fast.” The Aquilonia and Emerita carrier groups were based at the desolate Fringe system to guard against Bree assaults, and the destroyers Windgrace and Gerrard, the pinnacle of the Viking-class design, were refuelling there before continuing their respective patrol routes.

But MI-120 was forty light-years away, and the Hive patrol ships were entering Irwin’s close combat zone . . .

The Hiverian transmission cut through the bridge activity. "Drone vessel. You are in violation of Imperial Hive space. Cease all activity. Repeat: Cease all activity and surrender your vessel or you will be destroyed."

Irwin stared grimly at his monitor. Finally he spoke, in a voice of steel. "Arm," he said, "all weapons and prepare for battle."

He looked at the Hive ships as they waited, hanging just in sight like shadows of despair. Bring it on, Emperor Yang, he said to himself, the faintest hint of a smile appearing on his lips.

[Sprayber]

Plucking A Thorn

System SD-133 (Spartan-Drone Border)

Admiral Hollis stood on the bridge of the Kendra Class Battleship while he surveyed the final plans of the operation. His command would enter the system straight up the middle as close to the asteroid field as possible. With the element of surprise, he hoped to destroy most of the Pirate vessels while they were docked to their orbital stations. For those that would inevitably escape, the Drone Fleet entering from the far side of the system would intercept and destroy. The plan had been unfolding for months. Small pieces of intelligence slowly came together to give a picture of where some of the Pirate bases were. Some had argued that the plan should be put on hold until more information and more bases could be located. But the realization that eliminating the Pirates altogether was probably impossible with the current level of resources being funneled into the problem. There were just too many other areas that the Spartan Military had to patrol and that the Pirate problem would have to be dealt with one at instance at a time until larger issues were resolved. That meant that the strongholds that were known would be hit and hit hard. It was hoped that this would be enough to break the Pirates for a time. A similar stronghold was being bit by another Spartan-Drone taskforce inside Drone territory. In that operation the Spartan fleet preformed in the supporting role since it was in Drone territory. Hollis looked at the display of the system on his tactical monitor. This area of space was notorious for dangerous spatial anomalies that often pulled vessels out of their paths into what scientist called dark space. Hollis thought that the name dark space was silly since all space was dark. But since the scientist knew virtually nothing of the phenomenon , dark space had seemed the most accurate description available. This particular system contained a large rocky debris field that covered large areas of the inner system. Speculation was that some kind of catastrophe of monumental proportions had destroyed at least two of the inner planets. Today however, that was of no concern to the soldiers in the taskforce. They are about to do a fair about of destroying in a few moments.

Hollis looked at the clock, and spoke over his MMI link to the other commanders. It was time to move. Hollis wanted to just jump in and start blasting, but knew better than to jump into a system such as this without having some kind of current intel of the area. So the first ships to enter the system were the ever present Spartan scout ships. As the ships jumped into the system they performed a quick scan of the system and issued the all clear for the fleet. In what was at first an empty star field, soon became filled with Spartan attack ships. The Admiral watched the view screen fill up with the view of the asteroid field and issued a reminder to his commanders.

“Remember commanders, don’t let your ships be drawn off of the main fleet. Only pursuits by two. And remember also, if at all possible we want intelligence, so the central facility is to be boarded my marines.

Hollis shifted frequencies and send a message to the Drone Admiral to get ready for action. The first group of Pirate ships were obliterated while still docked on the docking rings that were positioned above the main bases. The concentrated fire of three Warlocks sent another docking ring crashing into the surface of a nearby asteroid. There were four asteroid basses that had been identified. Each base consisted of a docking ring for ships high above the surface. Hollis was impressed at the level of organization that the Pirates must posses to maintain a complicated network that was necessary in a base such as this. He knew from personal experience of the defensive stations located in the Spartan Home System, that bases in an asteroid field required constant attention to avoid disaster. Hollis look at the nearest base and noticed an old corvette style cruiser escape the docking ring and head out with two Spartan corvettes in pursuit. Hollis watched in amazement as the Pirate ship dived near the surface of a large asteroid. The Spartan corvettes however refused to take the bait and the pirate ship was forced into a maneuver that the ship was not designed for. The ship broke a part as it passed too close to the zone where the gravity fields of the asteroids came into close proximity. It had gambled that the Spartans would pursue at any costs and lost. Over his MMI, Hollis was informed that that marine assault ships had been launched. Soon the marines would be entering the base, in an attempt to take prisoners. If successful, more intelligence would be gained into the Pirate organization.

Two hours later the final report came through Hollis’ MMI. The assault had been somewhat successful. Some prisoners had been taken but from first glance they appeared to be low level crewman and a few base crew. They would be taken to a Drone Military station for further interrogation and perhaps something useful would be gained. The most important report for Hollis filtered in through is MMI. The causality report was light but Hollis winced at some of the details. Thirty of his Marines had been killed due to traps set by the Pirates. He had lost two of his ships due to them getting too close to asteroids. Thankfully none of his line ships and been damaged. All in all they had just pulled off an extremely difficult assault in the middle of an asteroid field with minimal loss. Not a bad day at all. Hollis sat back in his chair and looked at the ruined base of the Pirate bases. Soon after they had been thoroughly searched, the bases would be nuked and the asteroids destroyed to prevent them from being used again. Hundreds of years of work had would be reduced to debris. This would no doubt bring some protest by the Pirate faction still on Chiron and maybe even the Pks would take exception but they were of no concern to Hollis. That would be for Colonel Kessel and the Drone President to worry about. His only task now was to take care of his wounded and turn over intel. As Hollis thought about the destruction, the Drone Admiral messaged that they had incurred no casualties and had been able to board and capture hundreds of Pirates. Hollis smiled at this. Perhaps some High Ranking Pirates were in custody.

[Mr. President]

On the Road Again

Temple Project Information Processing Center
Caledon, Vega Prime

Derek Sorensen, his assistant Gary, and Young Derek of the computer section had almost reached the bottom of the third pile of printouts when the call came. With a mental gesture, Gary activated his MMI’s phone function.

In the network component of the Thinker’s brain, a woman’s face appeared. “Hello,” she said. Not all operators were actually women, but a recent survey by the videophone company had found that female avatars elicited the best reactions (particularly in the group of customers who were male and between the ages of eighteen and forty). “I have a call from the University Commonwealth consulate for Professor Sorensen.”

“Just a minute,” Gary sent back. Looking up, he said, “Derek, it’s for you. It’s from the consulate.”

“Oh, the consulate,” Sorensen muttered as he hurried to the communications screen. With a couple of commands, Gary transferred the call through the office computer he was currently interfacing with, through the modem, and into the communications terminal.

“Derek Sorensen here.”

“What did they do before they had Thinkers?” asked Young Derek.

“I hear they did everything by hand,” said Gary. “The operator would have pushed a bunch of buttons and connected wires to send the call here. Not the job for me. Even with MMI it’s no treat. Can you imagine the stress levels you’d get from being logged on to StellarNet for six consecutive hours?”

“Hmm. Hey, what did he just say?”

Gary strained to hear. “I don’t know.”

Sorensen hung up and came bounding back to the desk. Had there not been a field of office furniture, wires, and papers in his way, he would have turned a cartwheel. “Yes, yes, yes! Score!” he shouted, pumping his arms in the air.

“What is it?”

The professor clapped his hands together. “That was the consulate. Our visas have been approved. We’re going to Berrik.”

Young Derek stood up slowly. Gary simply stared, ignoring the error message that appeared on the office computer. “You must be joking,” the Thinker said.

“I gotta go pack!” Young Derek raced out of the room.

The other two laughed. “The visas expire in three months. We really do have to start packing,” Sorensen said.

“I’ll file the paperwork,” offered Gary. “I’m already logged on.”

“No problem,” said Sorensen. “I’ll go talk to Marion.” And he left.

Gary accessed MailForm and sent the news on to all the Temple Project’s offices, and a request for transport bookings to the travel office. He could scarcely believe it. A chance to see the Berrik complex, and work with the greatest explorers and researchers in the Orion Arm. The government could not now think of shutting the project down. Gary felt that the best part was yet to come.