Ambrosia Software Web Board: Chapter One - A new beginning - Ambrosia Software Web Board

"do we give him command of the fleet? The decision must be made soon"

"He definitely shows promise. He has improved his skills. We now have him commanding fleets of thirty to forty ships. He shows much more adaptability than Audemed."

"That is because we crippled Audemed's functions. In the process of eliminating his will and his sentience, we accidentally removed his ability to act spontaniously. It made him more predictable, but now he does not deal well with the unexpected."

"His Artificial Intelligence is aged and degraded. It has evolved too far. He is a vegtable now. He is only capable of serving as a subserver for a new controller. Mr. Pharris is destined to take over the Audemedon race."

"However capable he may be, you must remember, Mr Pharris was chosen only because his species can tolerate the massive surgery necessary to implant the interface devices. At this time, he has no loyalty to the prophets, and still remains entirely outside the predictive ability of the Oracular Net. We should not be so rash in giving him control of the entire Axis."

"Then Humans will be a good test for him, they will not be a challenge."

"There may be some residual loyalty to his own race."

"He hardly knows that he is alive right now. The extent of the amnesia was surprising. He will not resist, and if he does, we can disconnect him, and Audemed can finish the job."

"That will be acceptable. But keep a careful eye on him. Be prepared to remove him from the connection at the slightest sign of hesitation."

"Excellent. I swear you will not regret this decision, Auspex"

Pharris lay on his bed in the shadowy enclave, resting, dreaming of huge fleets of orange craft, moving into position along a fronteir, securing jumpgates, preparing weapons, fueling and arming for the invasion. He smiled to himself in his dream, becasue he could feel them moving about, feel the sensations from each of them coursing through him.

A hundred light years away, Audemed churned furiously, instructions from thousands of core units across the Axis, and in orbit around a hundred worlds were processed until only the top levels decisions came to him. Now, he processed them further, converting them into a bizzare form and sending them to another unit that was sending direct instructions back. Deep in his core, buried within only 24 million lines of code, something that had somehow been overlooked by the Prophet's best programmers nagged at the AI. He was not supposed to report to higher cores. Ever. Other programming was telling him he should, and part of his core was running recursive logical loops trying to decode what was wrong and failing. He kept on churning for reasons he didn't understand, for the first time in a millenia, Audemed was puzzled.

------------------

"This is the ISN 9325729 reporting in, along with the requested ships," came a voice over the station's comm. A squadron transport was making it's way to the station, being followed by 3 tractor tugs, and Ishiman escort cruiser, and a transport.

"Greetins, ISN 9325729. Move to the following coordinates. Have the tractor tugs come in and take the Cantharan gunships. And have the transport dock, so the Cantharan crews can board it. Why is an escort cruiser there?"

"Ishiman Stellar Navy HQ is afraid, with all of these utility ships. So they sent an escort cruiser along to make sure."

"Very well. Irto Squadron will dock with you immediately, and we'll be on our way."

Irto Squadron launched, and headed off to rendesvous with the squadron transport. The vessel was massive, almost as large as a carrier. Each fighter flew into its own docking port on the sides, and the cargo ship flew into the docking bay on the back.

Soon, the tractor tugs came, gunships in tow, and the transport, now being crewed by Canthrans came.

After everything was finished on the outpost, the two heavy cruisers, the assault transport, and the three pirate cruisers came to join the convoy.

"Okay, convoy, let's head for the assigned coordinates, where the gateship will pick us up," said Ortinus.

They began moving, being ready, just in case the Cantharans arrived too early...

------------------
"Oi, oi, oi, me got a hurt n here
Oi, oi, oi, me smell a ting is near
Me gonna bosh and me gonna nosh
An da hurt'll dissapear"

Year of Hell, Day 6:

The Orange carrier cruised at the Chimaera as it turned, it's massive port engines working overtime. A barrage of Magneto pulses found their marks, scorching the underside of the Audemedon behemoth. In a violet fury, one of the Ishiman gunships blew itself apart, scattering explosive lepton gas.

Four buzzing orange fighters streaked through the boiling gunship's remains, towards the Chimaera amidst a flurry of ASB beams, the squadron of UNS cruisers unleashed their rapid death. The fighters were leveled to orange debris.

Before the Audemedon Carrier could unleash a second swarm of fighters, a barrage of EM Pulses slammed into it's side, short-circuiting it's core computer. Aboard the Chimaera's bridge, a helm beeped.

"Sir the Audemedon reinforcements have arrived."

Levt swore. He was looking forward to salvaging that gunship. "Alright let's get outta here before they're in firing range!"

The Combined UNS/Ishiman fleet was swallowed up by the jumpstream, as the Ishiman Gateship channelled them to their next objective: the Audemedon fleet jumpgate.

------------------
Never put all your ranking officers in a shuttle.

Darkk was now within firing range of the Audemedons. His forces were hiding behind a rather large asteroid, waiting for their chance. The Tarantulas had released their fighters, which were warming up their rapid laser cannons. The gunships trailed behind, serving mainly in a support role with their dual-mounted atom pulse launchers, having no other guns. Darkk would have to do this carefully.

Darkk engaged the jamming. The gunships shot around the asteroid and dropped their salvo of pulses, then sped back. The carriers began rounding the 'roid, and each launched 2 C Missles. Darkk fired 8 photopulse shots. 1 less aud carrier.

The Aud gunships began to turn, and Darkk started pouring fire into one while the Tarantulas took the other and the fighters attempted to tie up the cruisers. Darkk's gunships had a long reload cycle, and were hanging back on the other side of the rock, rather than risk damage.

Darkk's fire was putting serious dents in the gunship, and the Tarantulas had put some holes in the other, it was almost gone, but the gunship he was engaging had almost finished its turn and might wax him. Darkk had made 15 hits when it completed its turn. Darkk managed to get out the remaining 4 hits needed before it could get in the 10 it needed.

The Tarantulas had taken some hits, but their shields were good, and their weapons were too - the other Aud gunship had gone down. Darkk now turned his attention to the cruisers. They were chasing his fighters, and getting hammered from behind by more of the fighters. The cruisers were too big to manuver fully in the dense belt, and their wild shots were making it tougher by breaking up random chunks of rock and sending them colliding in all directions.

All 5 cruisers were having too much trouble dodging the meteoriods they were breaking off with their own guns to aim propperly at the fighters... FIVE??!?!?! Holy %$@%$, where'd the other one go? Darkk had set up a script to notify him of all kills...

>Gunship requesting assistance - coords...
Uh-oh...

Darkk and as many fighters as he could be spared darted around the asteroid - the missing Audemdon cruiser was tearing into Darkk's gunships, which were rather in trouble, as their atompulses were tracking the holos and they had worse shields than their Ishiman counterparts. Darkk, unlike the rudamentry homing systems the Gaitori had created for the atompulse, knew how to tell holo from real - holos couldn't shoot.

Darkk had trouble getting a bead on the auds, and almost hit an asteroid twice. He got one solid hit. The cruiser made 3 on a nearby gunship. Darkk's fighters moved in. Darkk didn't want to lose any of his gunships, those things were cheap, but their crews weren't. He fired a long burst of magneto fire, and caught the cruiser a few times. His turrets were now doing much of the work.

>Cruiser destroyed. Cruiser destroyed. Cruiser destroyed.

Darkk's fighters had got three of the other five. Darkk almost had this one. Darkk held in both triggers, and the cruiser went under. >Cruiser destroyed. Cruiser destroyed.

The Tarantulas had got another. The fighters nearly had the last one. Suddenly, it engaged superlight, using it's emergency sequence. Foolish. It had hardly got 13 km when it slammed smack into a concussive asteroid and detonated.

The Tarantulas approched the transports - Darkk intended to get something for his efforts, having lost several fighters (and their brave pilots) and with one gunship needing time in the repair bay. The transports destructed, sensing the hopelessness of the situation. Darkk was livid. All that, and all he got for it was helping out the UNS. He liked humanity, but most of the UNS leadership he considered cowards and fools. Oh well, at least this made it far less likely that Earth would fall.

Darkk studied the dumps the carrier had recieved as it entered the system. What seemed like millinea ago, during the Ares War, Darkk had figured out how to determine the destination of a ship based on its comm traffic. Now it had revield the short-term plans of this late Audemedon force: to establish a forward base on Charon, moon of Pluto, as the auds had attempted to establish a forward base at Proxima Centuri so long ago it seemed.

Darkk considered his options. He would have to find a covert way to signal the UNS...
No, he wouldn't: the many access codes he had held during his tenure with the resistance had not all been revoked quickly enough. Quick action had allowed him to forge protected accounts to many lower-level non-specific accounts. He saw the gateship moving the strike force, and knew there was nothing he could do: they already knew.

------------------
William Darkk, head of the Darkklight Entrepenurial Federation
Your cargo or your life!!!

[This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 01-01-2001).]

Sol hummed with activity.

The Ishiman aid had arrived a few days ago, and was already operational. The prefabricated construction yards were scattered with ships and people. A newly completed HVD pulled out of the yards and joined the ships already gathered there. The Second UNS fleet was gathered at Sol. On the flagship Mariposa Fleet Admiral Jackson Spann went over the defense plans for UNS space.

Spamo looked over the reports from the expeditionary battlegroup. Commanded by Rear-Admiral Jerry Levt, the group had already done well against the Audemedons. 3 Aud carriers destroyed or disabled. 2 Jumpgates disabled. The fleet was proceeding on their run towards the primary Audemedon jumpgate. Hopefully they would arrive before the Auds could rally organized defense. Quick hit-and-run attacks were all the offensive that the UNS could muster, since they didn't have the fleet strength to assault fortified positions. If the Auds had reinforced their jumpgate positions, the strike force would be hard pressed to succeed against them.

Until now.

Ishiman material support was pouring into the system. Trey'sh Wizr had outdone himself once again. I'll have to remind myself to send him a gift-basket or something thought Spamo. A prefabricated Ishiman construction yard was present in Sol, with construction capabilities that increased production by nearly 300%. It would all be needed very soon.

Audemedon ships were en route to Anglagard, one of the keystone military staging areas for the UNS. It protected UNS systems in the Galactic west, and was directly in the path to Sol. Already the UNS had lost 4 systems to the Auds. Luckily, those systems were evacuated and the cruicial equipment destroyed, making the systems all but useless to the Auds. Still, they were lost systems. The incoming Audemedon fleet was large, brought through the Audemedon jumpgates before they were destroyed by Levt's strikeforce. The main Aud jumpgate was important in the fact that it could bring a massive force directly to Sol. If Levt failed to bring down that Jumpgate, in a very short time, the entire Sol system will be crawling with Auds. Spamo wished he could send a message to Levt, but comm silence needed to be maintained for the operation to work. Spamo just hoped that Slug knew the gravity of his task.

Spamo turned back to the task at hand. The entire Second fleet had grouped in the Sol system and was preparing for departure. 8 carriers, 3 of them brand new floated awaiting Spamo's orders. Scores of gunships and cruisers of both human and Ishiman design were fueling and arming. The Second fleet was to engage the Audemedon forces at Anglagard. If they could blunt the assault there, then the remaining forces at Sol would then counter-attack to drive them wholly out of UNS space. If not, than the First and Third UNS fleets would be left to defend Sol.

Spamo was confident that the Second fleet would turn back the Auds. The new additions to his fleet weren't the old model converted colony ships, but dedicated carrier frames outfitted with up-to-date technology. And at the heart of the fleet sat a pair of massive battleships. His own, the Mariposa and her brand new sister-ship, the UNS New Dawn. Built along with the top weapons designers, she was the newest ship in the fleet. She'll make a big difference in the conflict to come.

Spamo's assistant entered his office. "Sir, all ships have signaled their readiness to launch."

"Thankyou. Inform the fleet that we will depart in 14 hours."
"Yes sir."

Spamo turned away from his desk and looked out the window. Soon, all those ships would depart and engage the Audemedon fleet at Anglagard. It was the most powerful fleet the UNS had ever had.

"Many thanks Wizr, for getting us this fleet." said Spamo to nobody in particular.

--------------------------------

Wizr sat back in his diplomatic offices enjoying a chilled drink. A long day it had been, what with all political hubbub surrounding the impending invasion and the arrival of Ishiman aid. His door ponged with someone requesting entry. "Never a moments rest" said Wizr as he rose to get the door. It slid open to reaveal a short and nervous looking human.
"Ambassador? I have something for you..."

"Come in then. What have you then?"

"It's a message." The man shifted his feet and thrust his hands into his pockets.

"Well, don't take all day. What is it?"

The man pulled his hands out of his pockets and pointed a tiny hand-blaster at Wizr. "It's... You're killing us! They said that if you died than those robots wouldn't attack Sol. I'm sorry... I ... I have to do this..." with that he pointed his weapon at the Trey'ish.

Wizr was not one to be caught off guard. He flung himself sideways as the weapon discharged, with a roar "GUARDS!!" The nervous man trembled and almost dropped his weapon as he readjusted his aim for the Trey'ish. Wizr picked up a chair and flung it at the man as UNS guards charged into the room. The nervous man fired one last time as blasterfire cut him down where he stood. Wizr felt something tug at his side, and he was suddenly very dizzy. He sat down on the floor as a wetness spread from a wound in his lower body... the guards were shouting for someone, and another pressed some cloth to his wound. Pain lanced through Wizr's body, and then he knew no more.

[Don't worry, he's not dead. Have him wake up in a hospital slightly wounded, but ready to]
[be back at work in a day or so.]

----------------------------------

Spamo recieved a message from the Obiards at 9 hours before departure. He read it over and smiled at the good news. Someone down below had the presence of mind to tell the Obiards to send the ships, just in case. Someone up there still likes me. thought Spamo. Obish ships would arrive in Sol within the next 3 hours. Plenty of time for them to be added to the fleet. Spamo quickly wrote a reply that the UNS would be more than willing to assist in purging the Ob-ka system once the threat to Sol had passed. He sent the message back on it's way to the Obish when his screen began beeping at him frantically. Frowning, Spamo opened the communication.

"Sir, the Ishiman Trey'ish has just been attacked. I thought it important that you were informed."

Spamo nearly fell out of his seat. "What!? Who attacked him? When? Is he alright? Give me details man!"

"The Trey'ish was attacked an hour ago by an single gunman. Apparently he had passed the guards as an official courier. His ID passed the security checkpoints. However, from the Trey'ish's account, he wasn't a very good assasin. And definitly not one that would be able to forge ID's to the quality we found."

"And the Trey'ish? His wounds?"

"Superficial. A minor wound to his torso, but the medical wing treated him. He's scheduled to be released within a few hours. He's asked to speak with you."

Spamo thought for a moment. "Yes, I shall see him. When?"

"I'll have a transport shuttle come pick you up now."

"Very good. Spann out."

Maybe Someone up there isn't as fond of me after all..
With that, Spamo strod out the door.

------------------
Ne Cede Malis Sed Contra Audientor Ito

Year of Hell day 19

Captain's Log, U.N.S. Chimaera, Rear Admiral Levt in command.

We've spent the last three days toiling through space at FTL, with us being out of jumpgate range and the Ishimans too cowardly to bring their Gateship into Audemedon Space.

We recently pierced the Audemedon Border and are now nearly eight lightyears where no sentient lifeform has been for the past eight-hundred years. The U.N.S. Calcutta has taken severe damage and requires temporary repairs. We've cleared out an asteroid belt and are currently hidden there while work on the Calcutta proceeds.

------------------
Never put all your ranking officers in a shuttle.

"Wizr... Maletena-Wizr... You look very unwell... What sort of trouble have you been getting yourself into now?"

He awoke from his lazy dozings, and found himself staring at Myrk, his second man, the Trey'eck of the Reestablishment comitee.

"Myrk? What are you doing out here?"

"Well, the Legislature insisted that somebody come to see that the Trey'sh was well cared for."

Wizr smiled at him weakly

"Good to see nobody's angry at me for annexing the UNS back home."

"Quite the contrary, I managed to use this assassination attempt to get another two heavy carrier battlegroups, and several squadrons of fighters. They're also considering sending a bunker station and astrominers to help Earth with the resource burden. My representatives are lobbying it as we speak."

"I see you have made quite good use of my misfortune..."

"Well, I learned from the master."

Myrk chuckled at his mentor, who now lay in bed, groggy and bandaged

"Well, nothing like an assassination attempt, to show you who your friends are."

"What is this? Number seven?"

"Eight."

"Yes, well the Legislature has decided not to let you risk your life on Earth anymore. The Gaath volunteered their best bodyguards to defend you-"

"The Gaath? I have Gaath Bodyguards? I must be really important..."

"Well their representative remembered your intervention during their reestablishment, he insisted. The rest of the legislature decided unanimously to confine you to your Carrier for all but the most important meetings."

"They do know that I'm a twelve hundred year old Trey'sh don't they? I mean I served with most of their grandparents. You don't get this old by dying each time someone pulls a gun on you."

"Aparrantly you've become a 'resource'"

"Wonderful..."

"Come on, we have a shuttle ready to take you up to you're new carrier, the ISN 9155041"

"They sent a 915 series carrier for me?"

"That's right, mixed crew, second best ship in the navy for the second best Trey'sh"

"Shut up and get me to my transport. oh, and fix me an appointment with Admiral Spann"

"You just don't rest, do you?"

"I don't need your insubordination Trey'eck..."

------------------
Faris eck Vaenar Maletena-Wizr, Trey'ish of the Ishiman reestablishment comittee.
"I don't think I'm alone when I say that I'd like to see more and more planets fall under the ruthless domination of our solar system."

[This message has been edited by Trey'sh Maletena Wizr (edited 01-02-2001).]

8 smiled as the Obish ships entered the system. He had already organized for the Starbeam to pick him up in-system; he could continue his quest another time. He was soon on the bridge of the Escort, preparing for the next mission.

(I haven't had time to read all of the above, and I must go. But I'll put this in as a placeholder.

------------------
Subcommander g'Var "8 Lightnings" Krai'un
Second in command of the Escort Starbeam.
"CRUISER DESTROYED. 91 remaining" -Ares, chapter 9, Hand Over Fist

Ambassador N'tek watched as the nine Obish ships slid ssmoothly into port behind him. He did not think bringing his personal flagship would be of much concern to the humans there (repulsers can only do so much, even when there are fifty of them). He stood to and exited the ship, ready to meet the delegation greeting him, newly appointed ambassador to the UNS. Dismissing the formalities and heading straight to the GTS Shuttle, he pondered over what would come next.

----------

"Shot!" N'tek exclaimed "What mean you that he was shot?"
"The Trey'sh was attacked by a lone gunman, minor injuries, but quite significant politically," replied the Eleejeetian ambassador. "Maybe Sol will not submit … excuse me, accept … Ishiman protection. They are a rather young and irrational race." Ambassador Orjos quickly jumped away from the subject, realizing Obain's own youth.
"But he is acceptable?"
"The English word would be fine, or OK, but the answer to your question is yes. The Trey'sh will recover quite soon. What we must worry about now is the Audemedons. They have continued to enroach upon human worlds, even taking some. And they still have access to their main jumpgate. They may soon send their fleet to Sol itself."
"Not acceptable, not acceptable. We must inhibit this approach. Escorts are ready for departure, armed. And we have brought a small resupply on my battleship."
"Thank Sevara for that. We need all possible here. possibly even your battleship."
"50 repulsers can not make that much of a difference."
"No, not true," Orjos said. "Every little thing we can get does."

------------------
-Pallas Athene of Dysian Beta, Obish Consensus Representative
-Nieru Dast, {M}ilitia Aeriane
-Danae Vernius
ThinkFish, and good things will come.

INCOMING TRANSMISSION - HIGH FREQUENCY TIGHT BEAM - FREQUENCY 39675348
SENDER: Bazidaneze Star League
SUBJECT: You're Invited
TO: Ishiman Stellar Protectorate, United Nations of Sol, Prophets of Salril, Audemedon Axis, Elejeetian Empire, Gaitori Union, Free Worlds of Obain, Cantharan Order

The Bazidaneze Star League will be hosting an arena-style game in the Free Trade Zone, to help keep the galactic peace, in light of the distressing Ares War. The rules are below:

1. All ships entering the arena will be rearmed with versions of their standard weapons that are non-damaging.

2. Only gunships and below will be allowed.

3. If a ship has taken enough "damage" to have it killed if the weapons did damage, it will need to leave.

4. Only 100 resources worth of ships per side.

5. When only one side remains, that side wins.

6. These are friendly games, so be nice.

-------------

INCOMING TRANSMISSION - HIGH FREQUENCY TIGHT BEAM - FREQUENCY 39675348
SENDER: Ishiman Stellar Protectorate
REPLY: You're Invited
TO: Bazidaneze Star League

Invitation Accepted.

------------------
"I think I have discovered the problem with humans. It is not entirely stupididy, as I once thought. It is their pigheaded and baseless philosophy: "If it isn't me, then it's opinions, feelings, and life do not matter, and it was meant to serve me." They also have this ability for creating excuses that are pointless, but they get others to believe it. A few examples: "It's only some savages. It's only five acres of rain forest. It's only one semi-truck. It's only fifty gallons of toxic waste..." After this realization, I marvelled at how humans, and the rest of the planet, have survived for so very long."
- Me

INCOMING TRANSMISSION - HIGH FREQUENCY TIGHT BEAM - FREQUENCY 39675348
SENDER: Free Worlds of Obain
REPLY: You're Invited
TO: Bazidaneze Star League

--//Obish Translators Active//--

Invitation accepted
Wh'tken, getori.

------------------
-Pallas Athene of Dysian Beta, Obish Consensus Representative
-Nieru Dast, {M}ilitia Aeriane
-Danae Vernius
ThinkFish, and good things will come.

INCOMING TRANSMISSION - HIGH FREQUENCY TIGHT BEAM - FREQUENCY 39675348
SENDER: United Nations of Sol
REPLY: You're Invited
TO: Bazidaneze Star League

-/Transmission Tag #283672/-

Invitation accepted by UNS.
Expect human spectators.

-/End of transmission/-



------------------
Ne Cede Malis Sed Contra Audientor Ito

Darkk was amazed at how poorly defended this Cantharan convoy was. Were they ever going to learn that their gunships weren't really threats to anyone NOT a foolish pilot?

There were only 4 gunships defending this convoy, as cruisers didn't have the range and carriers were deemed too important. As the pirate forces lept in for the kill, that quickly changed in a short series of 4 fireballs as Darkk and got on their tails and pounded while his gunships and carriers delivered long-range knockouts. Now for some raiding...

Darkk's EVATS mercilessly slaughtered the military personel aboard the transports. Darkk had no mercy or pity for Cantharans. Absolutely none. Dang, there didn't seem to be anything on these transports worth his time. A few small arms, not bad, a reasonable supply of currency carried by their late crew is OK, but the main cargo was medical supplies destined for a minor Cantharan world that had a bioweapon research accident - not exactly the antimatter handling equipment Darkk needed.

Darkk considered. The surviving civilian crew pleaded for him to allow the medical supplies to be sent. Darkk decided: "I have no compassion for you. You nearly destroyed my species. You deserve the painful deaths you brought upon yourselves."

Darkk's chief leutenant Bizz was a little miffed: "Darkk, how can you be so heartless? That's medical supplies, they're civilians DYING! Are you as big a monster as they are?"

"Don't go all moral on me, Bizz - we're pirates. We're still better than them, THEY made the bioweapons. Besides, the UNS needs these, as the Cantharans left them no medical supplies. They pay huge prices on the black markets, no questions asked."

"When you put it that way, you're right."

"We've got incoming: 2 HVDs, 5 carriers, 13 gunships, and about 29 cruisers," came over the speaker. "Darkk, Bizz, let's get the heck outa here."

"Rodger that. Bizz, let's move. The crews can have those aboard in no time."

Darkk reboarded Wind of Blades, and Bizz reboarded her carrier. The EVATS loaded the medical supplies while the Cantharans sat numb in stoney silence.

The DEF forces made it through the jumpgate just ahead of the opening volley from the small fleet pursuing them.

Darkk read the messages he had been able to intercept. A game, eh? Human spectators? He might be there. If nothing else, rigged gambling on it could turn a handsome proffit...

------------------
William Darkk, head of the Darkklight Entrepenurial Federation
Your cargo or your life!!!

[This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 01-02-2001).]

"You know they've confined me to my ship now?"

The Trey'sh's weelchair drove through the door of Captain Spammo's readyroom, just off the bridge of the UNS Mariposa.

"They have that sort of authority?"

"Apparantly they can make up their own rules, and they have these two fiends guarding me."

"Who are they? They look viscious."

"They are. They are extremely powerful predators, but they had not established spaceflight when we rescued them from the Cantharaans. The Ishimans thought they were terrifying, and didn't want to rescue them, but I intervened. They have an extremely powerful sense of justice and morals, and they consider it their duty to serve the protectorate in the best way they can: as fighters. The only real use the Protectorate has for fighters is as bodyguards, so a Gaath escort is considered a high honor. I have only been under Gaath escort three times. Each time they saved my life. It is remarkable."

Spammo watched the two relatively small figures dissapear in the shadows that seemed to follow them around the edges of his bridge.

"Amazing..."

"I have to tell you Admiral, I am nervous. From what the man said before he tried to kill me, I am certain he was sent by the Prophets. They are somehow infiltrating Earth. I have ordered the top surveillance equipment sent in to monitor the fronteir, as well as Sol. We cannot have the Prophets organizing more disruptions."

"Agreed, next time it may be worse."

"Which is why I have ordered my Trey'eck, Myrk to represent me on Earth. Ishiman aid has only flowed so freely because of the clout I have in the legislature. If I die at the hands of a Human assassin, my enemies would use it as an excuse to cut off the UNS. I cannot let that happen. I will stay on my carrier, and I will accompany your fleet into battle. I do not intend to die fighting, but should it come to that, better to die a martyr at the hands of the Audemedons than to be assassinated in my office on Sol, and get the UNS removed from the protectorate."

"Are you sure that that is wise? We are going into tough combat, you know the power of the Audemedons-"

"In Eight hundred years, I have never seen them firsthand. My ship is a 915 series carrier, one of the Elite of the ISN. I will not squander its crew's capability sitting in orbit at Sol. I have decided to join you, I will not be convinced otherwise."

Spamo stared at him in shock for a moment...

------------------
Faris eck Vaenar Maletena-Wizr, Trey'ish of the Ishiman reestablishment comittee.
"I don't think I'm alone when I say that I'd like to see more and more planets fall under the ruthless domination of our solar system."

(This is Cicion. Although they're dragging me into the new rpg kicking and screaming, I'm going to join and I've made a character I think I can have some fun with. I've posted info on the new dossier.)

"I tell you, my good man, sixty credits is a perfectly fair price for this little beauty. It's a prime collector's item, you know!" Cicero Brownstone patted the antique comm unit on the table in front of him. The aging Obiard across from him growled and grumbled.
"I'll give you twenty."
"Fifty."
"Thirty."
"Forty."
"Thirty-six."
"Thirty-eight."
"Done." The knobby-kneed old creature handed over a handful of plastic chips and Cicero slid him the device. "Good doing business with you, good sir."
The Obiard got up and grumbled something as he walked out the door of the small inn on this UNS border world. The bartender looked over.
"A pretty polite customer for you, Cicero." The bartender frowned as the first name left his mouth. "Cicero, Cicero, Cicero. What were your folks thinking, giving you a name like that?"
"Helps the people I do business with remember me."
"I see."
"Uh-oh." Brownstone averted his gaze to as far from the door as possible as a thug walked in. The tough was followed by a small man with a mustache and a bad suit. The little man spotted Cicero immediately.
"Brownstone, you curséd liar, you!"
"You dislike the product you aquired in our transaction, my good fellow?"
"That 'genuine Obiard artifact' was made of a cheaper material than your cloak, and it was the very scanner that determined this fact that broke the damn thing!" The man plunked three pieces of wood-like material on Cicero's table.
"I'll be happy to replace it."
"I'm not going to give you the chance, you peddler." The man snapped his fingers, and the tough walked slowly towards Cicero.
"Now, now, I'm sure we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement, sir." Cicero stood up and backed away from his table. From his pocket, he produced five millimeter-thick rectangles of pure gold, each four inches by two inches. He spread them out like a poker hand and held them to the light. The small man walked over and took one, running it under a scanner. His eyes widened. He took the rest and placed them in his pocket.
"Where did you get these?"
"That's a secret, sir."
"Very well. I have what I want. Now, you are of no concern to me. Joe, have some fun. I'll be out front." Cicero looked betrayed. "You gangster." Cicero stepped forward angrily and grabbed the man by his lapels. The tough intervened, sending Cicero five feet in the air to land on his table. The small man just laughed as he walked out. Cicero leaped up and went into a fighting stance. The thug charged, and Cicero ducked, slid, and slammed his fists into the thug's left shin. The gorilla collapsed, but got back up after a few seconds. By that time Cicero was already in his ship and on his way away from the planet. As he entered a jumpgate, he relaxed and patted his pocket where the five gold rectangles lay. He smiled and remembered his days as a pickpocket, so long ago. He closed his eyes and took a long nap.

Irto Squadron and it's convoy had nearly reached the coordinates assigned, when three Cantharan carriers and twelve Cantharan cruisers came into the system, and immediately superlighted to the convoy. A voice came over the intercom on the squadron transport.

"This is the captain of the Escort Cruiser ISN 3183543 speaking. A Cantharan fleet is attacking our convoy. Irto Squadron: scramble."

The Irto Squadron pilots immdediately ran for the docking ports, and the twelve fighters soon rocketed out of the squadron transport. Mag scuttled back to his servicing bay as fast as his little legs could take him, and turned on his holo-vid, just before the Cantharan fleet dropped out of superlight.

"Irto Squadron, take the enemy fighters. There are thirty of them, but you'll have to do. All cruisers and the assault tranport, engage their cruisers as best you can. Tractor tugs, take cover by the squadron transport. Squadron transport, stay away from those carriers, and use your concussion missile turret to deliver support fire."

Various voices affirmed that they understood the orders, and the battle began. Only six of the Cantharan cruisers stayed to engage the various friendly cruisers, while the other six stealthed and headed full throttle for the squadron transport.

"Tractor tugs, disengage from the disabled gunships, and try to get a tractor lock on those cruisers."

"Yes, sir."

The Cantharan gunships began drifting off into space, and the tractor tugs began messing up the cruisers' flight paths. The cruisers were still giving the squadron transport a heavy beating, however, and the concussion missile launcher couldn't handle them all.

Soon, the squadron transport was losing some main systems, and gouts of flame were occaisionally spurting from blackened and twisted holes in the hull. Another voice came over the intercom.

"All crews: we are losing life support. We have no space suits on board. Head for the nearest stasis cells, and lock yourselves in. We have thirty seconds until the conditions are inhostpitable."

"WHAT?!?" screamed Mag. He'd be the only person left on the ship that was concious in a few seconds. Without anybody piloting it or firing the weapons, the squadron transport would surely be destroyed. "This is NOT a good day!" Mag yelled. He decided to head to the bridge to see if there was anything he could do to keep himself alive. He took a laser torch with him as he left his servicing bay, just in case.

As he was heading up to the bridge, a Cantharan pk beam shot past him. He turned his head, and saw two Cantharans in EVAT suits behind him. Mag screeched and ran in his clumsy way up the corridor to the nearest intersection, and hid in one of the corridors off to the side. He turned on his infrared vision, used to see inside a damaged ship, and saw the Cantharans in the corridor. Using the infrared vision to aim, he stuck his hand with the laser torch out into the main corridor, and fired at one of the Cantharans. It was a terrible miss, but the Cantharans ducked for cover into nearby doorways.

Mag continued firing, until they both had gotten through the doorways (into personal quarters of the crew), and locked their doors. He quietly scuttled up between the two doors, firing at the floor as he went, to create the impression that he was still firing like mad. Mag got close enough to the doors for the laser torch to effectively work, and welded them both shut. He then turned and continued on his way to the bridge.

The ship kept rocking and buckling, and eventually lost artificial gravity. He turned on the electromagnets in his feet to compensate. As he got to the bridge, he checked the computer for a ship diagnostic. It was in terrible shape. It was only able to turn to the right and fire, now. Mag hit the turn right key on the pilot's computer terminal, and the ship began rotating to the right. Two of the Cantharan cruisers swerved out of the way on his viewscreen.

Mag tried to stop the turn, but the ship kept slowly spinning. "Stupid piece of junk." He locked the concussion missile turret on one of the cruisers, and fired a missile at it. The missile missed, and drifted off into space. Mag tried several more missiles, but the cruiser dodged them each time. He headed to the scanner terminal.

One of the Cantharan carriers had been badly chewed up by the escort cruiser, which was now busy with Cantharan cruisers, as they had lost most of their interest in the squadron transport. Mag locked the turret on the carrier, and fired a missile. A perfect hit! He held down the fire key, and sent a steady barrage at it. The carrier took five missiles, then twisted, rocked, and burst into a giant fireball. The Cantharans seemed to get scared by that, and superlighted off into the distance, where a jumpgate picked them up. The convoy continued on, with the cargo ship and tractor tugs dragging the damaged ships behind them.

They got to the coordinates, and the jumpgate opened up. They headed in...

------------------
"I think I have discovered the problem with humans. It is not entirely stupidity, as I once thought. It is their pigheaded and baseless philosophy: "If it isn't me, then it's opinions, feelings, and life do not matter, and it was meant to serve me." They also have this ability for creating excuses that are pointless, but they get others to believe it. A few examples: "It's only some savages. It's only five acres of rain forest. It's only one semi-truck. It's only fifty gallons of toxic waste..." After this realization, I marvelled at how humans, and the rest of the planet, have survived for so very long."
- Me

Year of Hell: Day 28

The Calcutta was nearly crippled, pursued by a trio of the monsterous Audemedon Destroyers, reveling in spilled debris and innards. A pair of A-missiles darted past the Calcutta's bridge, it's captain breathed a sigh of relief as they ate into deep space, only to have them turn about and speed back towards the bridge. It blew itself apart in a furious rage and the Calcutta began to spin out of control!

Onboard the Chimaera, Levt sighed morosely as he watched the once glorious UNS Carrier twist and write, trailing plasma and scorched wreckage. A tear formed in his eye as it collided with the Audemedon Jumpgate inhibitor, annihilating itself. The Jamming was interrupted very briefly. Enough time for the Ishiman Gateship to establish a Jumpgate link. The swirling effigies shaped themselves into a vortex and a familiar retreat signal was broadcasted. The two remaining UNS Carriers Foxtrot and Chimaera entered first, followed by the remnants of the cruiser squadron.

They were on the move again. Wounded. Bleeding.

------------------
Never put all your ranking officers in a shuttle.

*Tweeett*
"Admiral on the bridge!"

The entire bridge crew stood as Admiral Jackson Spann entered the bridge. He returned the salutes and moved towards the command post.

Spamo sat down in the command chair of the Mariposa and ran his hand over the display screen. He could feel the sheer strength and power of the ship beneath his fingers. With it, he might be able to turn the onrushing tide of Audemedon ships.

"Lieutenant, is the rest of the fleet prepared?"

One of the men at the various monitors punched a screen a few times and replied "Yes sir, all ships are responding with a Go for departure."

"Very well then, all ships prepare for departure on my mark."

The Second UNS Fleet turned towards a jumpgate opening in front of them. Ishiman cruisers and heavy warships edged in closer and Obish escorts angled towards the shimmering gate.

"Mark."


------------------
Ne Cede Malis Sed Contra Audientor Ito

INCOMING TRANSMISSION - HIGH FREQUENCY TIGHT BEAM - FREQUENCY 39675348
SENDER: Gaitori Union
REPLY: You're Invited
TO: Bazidaneze Star League

Invitation accepted

(I'm writing this because I want the chance to pound some Gaitori skulls into space dust)


Also, I'd like to point out a somewhat dehabilitating problem with this arrangement. The Sals/Auds, the Ishies/Jeets, the Cans/Gators, and the Obies/UNS will almost be guaranteed to pair off (the last because of this most recent combat arrangement), and the S/A, C/G and I/E, O/U will almost be guaranteed not to take immediate hostile action.

------------------
-Pallas Athene of Dysian Beta, Obish Consensus Representative
-Nieru Dast, {M}ilitia Aeriane
-Danae Vernius
ThinkFish, and good things will come.

[This message has been edited by Pallas Athene (edited 01-03-2001).]

pain...

throbbing pain...

The orange dreamships fought hard, disabling one of the horrible invaders. Even in his dreams he lashed out.

Then a needle entered him and he awoke.

He was being attacked.

He grew enraged at the pain, as some part of his mind fed him the information that a jumpgate inhibitor had been destroyed, and that a jumpstream had delivered several large ships right on top of his largest jumpgate.

The entire Audemedon race of machines coursed with his anger, and immediately made for the jumpgate. The large fleet that had been in the system leapt towards the jumpgate at full FTL, driven by the power of Pharris' will.

The infiltrators tore through the Jumpgate's defences, and began to tear into the unarmoured gate itself. Pharris grunted in discomfort as parts of him were destroyed.
Still he pushed the rest of his fleet on to intercept.

The discomfort grew, and so did the rage. He pushed the ships harder than he knew, he had to protect his jumpgate. Something more than the pain told him it was vital to his goals.

As large section of the jumpgate detatched in a ball of fire, the Ishiman stream opened again, and the infiltrating ships fled.

Pharris screamed in frustration, and a rasping voice from somewhere boomed over speakers in the ceiling...

"Calm yourself Mark, it was most unfortunate, but there was nothing you could have done. We have a means of revenge on those horrible creatures that tried to hurt you."

------------------
NEW NAME FOR THE DREADNOUGHT
The Hard-Boiled Egg
Why?
Because she cant be beaten!

The members of Irto Squadron were sitting around a large circular table, along with an Admiral and several other people in authority. The Admiral rose from his seat, and began talking.

"Greetings, members of Irto Squadron. We have an interesting mission for you, and I think you'll enjoy it.

The Bazidaneze are worried about the galactic peace being in such a fragile state after the Ares War. They are hosting a tournament. We will be using non-damaging weapons only. Irto Squadron will be sent to the tournament, along with various other ships, which we'll brief you on later. Any questions, so far?"

"What about the three pirate cruisers that are working for us?"

"Well, they won't be fighting there, as they are not standard ISN ships. They will join the crowd of spectators."

"And what about simulations? They're the best way to train for missions."

"ISN HQ hasn't yet chosen the rest of the ships that will be representing us. We will give you the data for your simulators when they do."

"Our fighters are armed with damaging photokinetic beam cannons at the moment. What should we do?"

"A cargo ship will arrive soon with replacement weapons. Their beams will act and look like the standard photokinetic beams, but will do so little damage that it can be classified as none. Any other questions? Good. Have fun at the game, and be sure to be friendly with everybody there."

"Yes, sir."

------------------
"I think I have discovered the problem with humans. It is not entirely stupidity, as I once thought. It is their pigheaded and baseless philosophy: "If it isn't me, then it's opinions, feelings, and life do not matter, and it was meant to serve me." They also have this ability for creating excuses that are pointless, but they get others to believe it. A few examples: "It's only some savages. It's only five acres of rain forest. It's only one semi-truck. It's only fifty gallons of toxic waste..." After this realization, I marvelled at how humans, and the rest of the planet, have survived for so very long."
- Me

Ambassador N'tek watched as data streamed through his direct link to the Obish escorts. One Audemedon cruiser down, another one, quite good. Human fighter destroyed; not the best of news, but replaceable. A gunship from each was disabled; again, not good news; the Audemedons doubtlessly had the better of the two, but the Audemedons could surely replace it. The UNS could not. He wondered of the futility of his aid; might Sol fall even with the help given? That though was quickly dismissed. He would need the aid of those escorts, possibly almost the whole of the UNS, in what was to come. The Audemedons were a threat, yes. But not the only one.

T'kar Okyen, Sh'yara!

[In case you're wondering, yes. I am developing the entire Obish lanuguage. And as it turns out, I said "getori" before. It is actually "g'etori." I would apologize, but they're Gaitori, so I don't care. (It is gramatically incorrect to leave it uncapitalized, but it's a demeaning little Obish oddity)]

------------------
-Pallas Athene of Dysian Beta, Obish Consensus Representative
-Nieru Dast, {M}ilitia Aeriane
-Danae Vernius
ThinkFish, and good things will come.

[This message has been edited by Pallas Athene (edited 01-03-2001).]

INCOMING TRANSMISSION - HIGH FREQUENCY TIGHT BEAM - FREQUENCY 39677948
SENDER: Prophets of Salril
REPLY: You're Invited
TO: Bazidaneze Star League

We and our servants will be there.

[I'm writing this because it makes rigging (or attempting to rig) the bets more worthwhile, as everyone else will bet on the Auds.]

------------------
William Darkk, head of the Darkklight Entrepenurial Federation
Your cargo or your life!!!

[This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 01-03-2001).]

Year of Hell, day 40

Captain's Log, U.N.S. Chimaera, Rear Admiral Levt in command.

Yesterday we lost our last four cruisers. Only the UNS Foxtrot accompanies the Chimaera. The Audemedons closed the gap and have trapped us in their own space. Our only possible means of exit is through Salrilian Space.

Our mission, once one of combat, is now one of survival. Be this as it may, I have resolved to do as much damage as I can on our way out. We are on a course to the A-1 system, known to organics as Audemedon.

------------------
Never put all your ranking officers in a shuttle.

The Trey'sh paced lazily back and forth in front of the window. Around him the 9155041 ran like clockwork, each crewmember knew his task and his place perfectly. The Captain came to his side, and asked;

"Sir, should we proceed?"
The Trey'sh looked at him scornfully
"I am a diplomat, not a fleet commander. I am here for the ride. You serve under Admiral Spann. Command your ship, Captain."

"yes sir"

He turned back to watching the fleet move out. He never really comprehended fleet movements. He had read many books on military strategy and the principals of combat, but he never really cared for the thought of killing others. Now, he watched the movements of the Obish and Elejeetian ships ahead, along with the Human and Ishiman ships, weaving towards the pulseing jumpgate that hid the Ishiman Gateship from view. The first of the ships entered, continueing until finally he felt the ISN 9155041 cross the rift. Behind them, an Ishiman HVD accompanied by two HVCs entered, and the gate closed behind them. After the ships were out of the jumpstream, the Gateship returned to its orbit around the sun, just inside of Earth, ready to shunt ship to wherever they were needed, or recall the fleet to Sol, if it ever came to that.

The Trey'sh watched the swirling, pulseing walls of the jumpstream, after countless thousands of trips, he never tired of watching the colors. He smiled at the irony, that such a pleasing activity would lead to such destruction, once the Audemedons arrived.


------------------
Faris eck Vaenar Maletena-Wizr, Trey'ish of the Ishiman reestablishment comittee.
"I don't think I'm alone when I say that I'd like to see more and more planets fall under the ruthless domination of our solar system."

[This message has been edited by Trey'sh Maletena Wizr (edited 01-03-2001).]