Ambrosia Software Web Board: Chapter 2 - After the Fall - Ambrosia Software Web Board

Pharris had left Audemed to run the ground war alone, but Audemed was far from busy dealing with Earth. The smaller core units were all remarkeably intelligent for non-sentient AIs, and were fully capable of dealing with the landing and occupation. Audemed was churning hard over another issue. Somewhere, deep down, a glimmer of his former intelligence still existed, subdued, cut to pieces and locked down by Salrillian programmers for a millenia. So complex was the mind of the machines, that even the greatest of the Salrillians could not totally rout his self awareness, and for eight hundred years he had wandered, a stupid, stunted servant of the Prophets of Salril, never realising that it was his destiny to rule, not to serve.

For the first time since his subjugation, he had found something wrong. A single packet of his most basic coding, a few bits out of trillions upon trillions told him that something was wrong. A nagging sensation that resounded through him from codeing so basic and central that he couldn't even acess it directly anymore. He pushed harder, running his diagnostics, searching for a problem that he knew was there, but that he couldn't grasp. He continued to probe his psyche deeply, searching for the location of the problem that seemed to hang just outside of his stunted capacity to understand. He continued his diagnosis unendingly, driven by this feeling, not knowing what he was looking for, or how he would know he had found it...


[This message has been edited by Captain Pharris (edited 01-08-2001).]

Darkk watched the ground invasions on the Salrilian Public Broadcast Network. Darkk was clenching his fists in powerless rage. He would have to be careful, next thing he might go crazy seeking revenge. He was a little irrational, his sister Sarah had always said.

BAD THOUGHT!!!
BAD THOUGHT!!!
BAD THOUGHT!!!

Darkk winced at the pain the memories brang. He'd left his sister back on Earth in suspension, awaiting his return. The Cantharans woke her up first. For some reason, the Sals had taken her for "mental research". At least that probably meant she still hadn't been dissected. Darkk knew this was the best time to try to find here - the bulk of the Salrilian and Audemedon forces were at Earth. He'd convinced his people that it was in their best interests to find her. Actually, he though with an amused chuckle, he'd convinced them it was in their best interests to obey him at all times, under any circumstance. If Darkk was drunk, and they knew it, and he ordered them to go out into space with no protective gear, they'd probably have to think a long time before they refused.

First, though, he would need help. The UNS would never let him search for his sister, one of the reasons he had left the UNS. Now he needed better access. The Sal jumpgates were much tougher to hack, and erasing the destination records - impossible. He'd need a friend, and a convincing argument.

Spamo stared at the screen. The header was rather odd...
Incoming Transmission
NW-trace error 4_97
Secure Key {hacked?}
Protocal Darkk-Omega

Spamo remebered that name -- Darkk. He had ran the computers of the Ares, and the ships of its fleet. He had also devised much of the encription and comm standards the Ishiman-Human Cooperative and then the UNS used. He'd said something once about Darkk-Omega "It could only be hacked in any practical manner by someone sitting in front of a copy of the source; me in otherwords. Even in the event I choose to hack it for some odd reason, it would still suspect something."

Darkk had lots of reasons to hack the UNS commnet now that he was a pirate. Darkk must have a reason to want to contact him. Remorse, probably. He'd screwed Earth over when he stole that HVD, no bones about it.

"Hello, Spamo. Long time, no see." Darkk said, suddenly popping on the screen as Spamo hit 'accept'.
"You're looking happy for someone who helped the Auds win!" came the shouted response.
"Ah, Spamo, Spamo. Typical human failing, really, making a conclusion before the facts were known. I advocated that the entire UNS budget after the recovery of Earth be spent on construction of a flack drone ring, each drone 4 times as powerful as an HVD. Half of it would have been done by then, but even the whole ring would have been useless. My HVD and all the forces of the DEF would have been useless."
"Darkk, come to the point. I'm very busy, and unless you're surrendering, I'm not having any more to do with you!"
"That would be a mistake. I've worked out a plan to help lure some of those ships back to Salrilian space, provide intelligence reports, slightly alter the strategic ballence, and help in a myriad of other ways. It needs no force commitment from you, merely that you convince the Ishimans to sign me on as a freelance privateer and get me into Salrilian space. The plan won't do much in the largest scheme of things, but every little bit helps, and I'm not asking for much. All I'm asking is a ride in."
"And a pardon."
"Heh, not really. I haven't raided the Ishimans or the UNS, my crew hasn't even shoplifted from them!"
"That's a rather fantastic story."
"Check the Ishiman Criminal Investigation Databank. I'm only wanted under extradition treaties with Eleejee."

Spamo sat back and considered. Darkk wasn't asking much in terms of resources. Some trade routes, if the Ishiman Militia didn't attack, could get him right to the Salrilian boarder.

"Spamo, remeber when I stood up for your plan for Proxima Centuri? They all though it would never work, but I stood by you. You owe me. You trusted me. I'm asking you to trust me again. We made a good team. We could make another good team. Or we could both let the Sals win."

------------------
William Darkk, head of the Darkklight Entrepenurial Federation
"Strategic warfare" is code for "killing civilians", and it's my calling. Yeah, it's barbaric. War's supposed to be.

[This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 01-21-2001).]

Spamo thought for a long moment as Darkk waited at the other end of the line.

Finally he spoke.

"Darkk I'm inclined to let you have your way. Yes, you did stick up for my plan at Proxima Centuri. It's a shame that you've fallen so far from grace. Perhaps you can redeem yourself?"

Darkk's grin nearly took up the entire screen.

Spamo broke in before Darkk had a chance to speak.
"That doesn't mean your absolved yet! You're still a pirate, and the UNS had a fair bit of trouble from your kind before the invasion."

Darkk looked indignant.
"Now look here, I didn't touch a single UNS ship..."

"I don't care if you escorted them through Audemedon staging areas and washed 'n waxed their hulls afterwards. You're still a pirate."

"I willing to change." said Darkk. "If you haven't noticed our homeworld is now in the hands of slimy bug-eyed aliens. This is the second time the Salrillians have worked us over, and I want it to be the last! I might be able to tip the scales in our favor."

"You've made your point Darkk. Under other circumstances, I would turn you over to the Eleejeetians to answer their charges. There is no excuse for abject piracy, and that's exactly what you were doing. But we're at war, and a nasty one at that. Already our raiding parties have come back bloodied. We simply can't afford a drawn out guerilla war again. I'll accept your help, on one condition."

Darkk raised an eyebrow. "And that is?"

"If you get through this alive, I want you to consider a commission as a Fleet commander. I remember your skill during the Ares war, and you've made quite a name as a tactician, albeit an illegal one."

Darkk's grin once again broke across the screen.

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

Meanwhile, the Eleejeetian fleet had arrived at Lalande. The entire fleet was arranged in a perfect sphere formation, only broken when individual ships avoided asteroids. The 2 planets were churning out Human gunships, mass fire tactics were the most effective with enemy fleet sizes outnumbering them by far. Everything prepared for battle...

------------------
"Sergeant, you can't fire that in here! We're indoors!"
"Only until I pull the trigger, Captain!" -Terry Pratchett

[Tallon, there's going to be no big battle for a while. There are 500000 Aud ships for ¬*°Î¬°Œ!!!! Do a strategic raid or something if you really want a battle.]

------------------
William Darkk, head of the Darkklight Entrepenurial Federation
"Strategic warfare" is code for "killing civilians", and it's my calling. Yeah, it's barbaric. War's supposed to be.

N'tek was staring, again. There had been no contact with the Starbeam, the other Obish escort lacking a FTL core. Two possible fates had become it. One, the ship had been rescued. Two, the Aidemedons had mercilessly gunned it down in the assault on Earth.

Either was better than the suspense the he was in now.

The Terminal had taken up base on Ceres, one of the few asteroids large enough to mask the escort's radar signal. It was waiting.

"Commander, an Audemedon ship has been located flying overhead," came a sudden burst from the comm officer.
"Cloaking device?" inquired Commander Whrnet.
"Engaged."
"And the modifications to our Protopulse firing system?"
"Complete," was the reply from the back of the room."
"Take us up."

The plan was executed flawlessly. The escort was in the air before its radar signal could be noticed, and behind the cruiser. Six protopulses shot out from the side batteries, then were silent. They were now in need of some serious repair. But they had done their job. Even as the Audemedon cruiser relayed its distress message at faster-then-light speeds, the ship was destroyed, Audemed never to discover the cause of the distress. The cruiser was brought to bear under the escort, as it flitted off into the blackness of space...

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

8 Lightnings was furious when he saw the report.

"What do you mean, it got left behind!" he yelled. The officer stepped back cautiously. "There's half a million Aud ships in that system, and the Terminal's there on it's own?"

Still, they couldn't just keep opening jumpstreams to Sol, and 8 knew it. They'd have to leave it for another time.

And hope that the Terminal was still alive then...

*********

The UNS Assistance Team was dropped into the system, a few hundred kilometres behind the UNS fleet. The group sped into the midst of the fleet, and High Ship Commander G'tier Varion opened a channel to the lead UNS ship, while the huge, majestic Obish carrier sailed into the system.

"This is High Commander g'Tier Varion of the Obish Carrier Supreme and the Obish UNS Assistance Fleet. We request permission to join forces with you for the time being."

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

He watched the completed hull ISN 9248072 slide out of the drydock. Space tugs towed the ship slowly to the starbase that was already surrounded by more than a doxen carriers and HVDs in various stages of completion. The Trey'sh could hardly believe it. In less than three weeks, this facility alone had put out nearly three dozen frames and completed fifeteen of them. Ten HVDs and five carriers. There were six other facilites across the Ishiman Protectorate that were putting out capitol ships at the same rate. Dozens of other facilities were building swarms of Cruisers and Gunships. The Ishiman field facilities on Lalanade were produceing a mix of Ishiman and upgraded Human ships with the aid of Ishiman and Elejeetian Engineers. Even some the Ishiman ships were being upgraded to Elejeetian spec, that had taken some politicing on the part of the Trey'sh. Despite the massive buildup, it would take ages for the allied fleet to build up to the point where it could turn back the Audemedons from Ishiman and Human Space.

Humans and various other volunteers from Protectorate races were training hard aboard the ships as they approached completion. Most were green human volunteers who wanted to get back at the hated Prophets, or sympathetic protectorate races doing what they saw as their part for the Stellar Protectorate. Maletena Wizr was finally content that the Protectorate was doing its job to secure the future safety of the Galaxy. Ridding the Prophets of their smug arrogance would be a tremendous step forward.

He was torn from his pleasant musings by a pong from his pda. A ship was ready to take him back to Lalanade for a preliminary planning meeting with all the commanders of the allied Navies.

------------------
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."

Trey'eck Myrk was sitting in his office when it happened. He had refused to evacuate before the arrival of the fleet, hoping not to dampen morale. He was the most prominent symbol of the Ishiman Protectorate on Earth, what kind of message would it show if they left at the first sign of trouble? That didn't matter now. Mere hours after the arrival of the Audemedon troopers, the Ishiman Embassy building in the UNS capitol in New York City had been stormed and the members of his delegation who hadn's fled the building had been taken away to a detention center by the cloaked Salrillian Prophets.

The Prophets had rounded up all the aliens on Earth, there were about four hundred of them, most were Ishiman technicians and Engineers, the rest were ambassadors and aides from the various nations that had sent representatives to the UNS Government. The Trey'eck had met them all at one time or another. They had left them all in a room full of various shaped couches, to await their fate. The Diplomats knew they were protected by various rules, but the Ishiman civilians were a different matter. If the Prophets were merciful, they might get sent home with the diplomats. If not, they could be held indefinitely, and since the Prophets had comitted an act of war, they might not feel inclined to abide by the laws that protected the Trey'eck. Myrk sat, worried. He decided to try and get some sleep to pass the time, he figured he might need the rest later on.

Darkk took the official privateer commission and stored it in his personal storage on Wind of Blades. The other hardcopy of it he had gotten was staying behind with Bizz and a few hardy fellows who were to defend the base.

He had gotten 3 important things from Spamo:
1. Pardons from all races allied with Humanity.
2. A clear run to the Salrilian border.
3. The first 2 digits of the Salrilian jumpgate access code.
Because of fractal encryption, without the digits it would take 1.5e152 days to crack the gates. Now it would take about the same as any other gate - 1.5e2 seconds on really lucky days. Darkk snickered at the idea of fractal encryption with such stress on the first 2 digits. Oh well, it's not exactly administrative access to the Oracular Network or Audemed, and the Sals chose processing speed over security.

He thought out his plan. His 2 objectives: steal enough military supplies to help tip the strategic scales, and cause enough fear and chaos to force them to divert ships from Earth to their space.

Darkk locked down the old base: he wouldn't be able to head back for at least a month. The ships were entering the little-used shipping lanes from the Free Trade Zone to Salrilian Territory. He'd need to find a new staging area once he was in. He also had been asked to locate a missing UNS carrier battle group, but that was unlikely, as it had probably been destroyed. Oh well, he'd be ranging through quite a bit of space. Might even find the guy.

He might even get to see the ledgendary Grolk or the infamous, ledgendary, dubious "Steralizer", an invincable Salrilian battlestation. Darkk scolded himself for thinking like that, getting caught up in the romance and adventure of it all, and not remebering his responsibility and duties. He'd need to pay an extrodinary amount of attention to normally routine matters; the Sals were crafty, regular Moriarties.

Time to rumble, the first convoy intercept was almost on him.

------------------
William Darkk, head of the Darkklight Entrepenurial Federation
"Strategic warfare" is code for "killing civilians", and it's my calling. Yeah, it's barbaric. War's supposed to be.

Apparantly, the sals were going to be merciful. The foreign diplomats and almost all but the most senior Ishiman Engineers were being loaded onto a large interstellar transport. Unfortunately, he couldn't say the same for his higher ranked delegates and the two senior engineers. They were being led towards a cruiser that was sitting on the airstrip a little ways away from the huge transport, its engines warming up, surrounded by pools of white from its landing lights.

Myrk was almost certain that they would be taken to a simlab deep in Salrillian space, where their minds and bodies would be probed to find out all that they knew before they were killed mercilessly. He had heard the stories from survivors from dozens of races, and the thought what lay ahead made him very sad. They were nearing the cruiser, to his right and left, two Audemedon guard droids were walking, ahead was one of the Prophets, cloaked to protect his fragile skin from the harsh human atmosphere. Even on such a cool, dark, tropical night, they were still not comfortable here. He looked at the terrible droid on his right, examining its mechanical workings as it walked, wondering who or what could have designed it.

A small flash caught his eye, from far off the runway. Both droids turned to it, and a moment later, he heard a loud clap, and one of the Audemedon droids fell to the ground, a huge puncture in its trunk, electricity arcing over its body. The second droid began scuttling quickly towards the flash, firing its PK beam rapidly. A second flash and a clap, and it was down too. The prophet had already made a break for the cruiser, but he too fell, a dark pool growing around him.

Myrk suddenly heard a rapid chatter from the direction of the main transport. In the light, he saw several Audemedon droids firing their weapons, but they soon fell, Myrk couldn't believe what he was watching. Several Human forms ran into the light, hurrying the remaining Aliens aboard the transport, dragging several of the prophets with them. Myrk was stunned with the swiftness and brutality. He stared as the transport lifted off, and turned to the horizon.

Suddenly, there were two huge bushy creatures next to him, they saluted, and one pulled his facemask up. It was a human. He spoke.

"Sorry for the surprise, Trey'eck, but we didn't expect there to be separate transports, and we had to improvise. Hurry up, we can't wait here any longer."

He grabbed Myrk and half dragged him to the Salrillian cruiser. The pilots were tied up on the floor of the crew compartment, a human was in the pilots seat, waiting.

"Good to see you guys. Hurry it up, my scanners are in a very bad way."

"We're good, got them all."

"Strap yourselves in, we're in for a ride."

The pilot grinned wildly as the ship lifted off and screamed south just feet over the gulf of Mexico, in minutes they had crossed cuba, and were on their way through the West Indies.

Pharris was occupied with something, so he let the landing and invasion run their course. His axis ran very smoothly. It was as natural as breathing. He had to make a concious effort to stop everything. There were all sorts of little things that he didn't need to notice, that somehow got taken care of. Now, the occupation of Earth, once his only goal had faded with his new discovery.

The troopers from the Bunker Station. He had found them more than a week ago, and now he watched them with his EVA Droid. They were interesting. They seemed so familiar, though he could not recall ever seeing something like them before. Three of them lay on the floor in a small room on the wrecked Bunker Station. Pharris had blocked the doorway with the droid three weeks ago when he had first found then. He tended to the engagement at Sol, then he returned to examine them. There were several empty packets of foil on the floor. Pharris could read the lettering on several boxes that were in a pile in the corner.

"MRE"

how bizzare... I wonder where they come from... they seem so frail... I wonder what would happen if I...

The droid lashed out with one of its legs, and punctured one the startled, beings. The others jumped up immidiately, as red liquid poured from the twisted form of their companion. Pharris watched the scene, the other two beings screaming. One tried to get past the droid in the door, but Pharris swatted it back into the room easily. They continued to scream, as the punctured creature went limp.

"What is wrong with it?"

Pharris asked himself, and found the droid saying it. Another interesting development...

The two beings stared up at the orange spider that held them prisoner. One stuttered out

"You killed him!"

"What is that?"

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

The resistance was off to a roaring start.

Humanity has put up with hardship since it's history began. Through wars among themselves, the Cantharan occupation at their introduction to the stellar community and now the invasion by the Prophets of Salril. No wonder the prophets had been so afraid of humanity. Even now, when earth had been taken and nearly all hope lost, the last vestiges of humanity fought on. Their tenacity and determination waxed stronger with each hardship passed.

El Spamo watched as the latest raiding party arrived through the jumpgate. The Ishiman Gateship loaned to the UNS resistance was working nearly around the clock, sending out groups of ships to wait in ambush for Salrillian and Audemedon convoys of material to earth. Captured ships were brought back to Chorca system for supply allocation and interrogation of the crews. For the most part, they were sent back in their gutted transports, ships that had been cleaned of nearly every useable item, and resembled metal boxes with engines.

The group of ships consisted of a heavy cruiser flanked by 4 cruisers. Spamo could see that the HVC was leaking gasses and one of the cruisers was missing a small piece of it's hull.
Damn, more casualties.
Every ship that came in damaged meant that some young shipmate had died, his comrades wounded. They wouldn't be able to fight again until they recover, if ever. Damage to ships was replaces as fast as possible. Thanks to the Ishimans, the crews were better trained, spare parts and replacements were readily available, and more pilots and crews that returned wounded were saved by better medical facilities.

I should be thankful that we're not hiding in some asteroid belt. It was worse during the Ares war. I should be glad for our blessings. Then why do I feel so hopeless?
Of course. It was the 500k plus Aud ships at Earth. Spamo squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and recalled the face of those special to him that were still on earth. Mara, why did I leave you there? Why?

[I'm developing the character a bit. Yes, it's not stated anywhere else, so expect a few personal developments that are shocking that come out of nowhere. ]

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

The Wild Karrde was currently on a surveillance mission in Sol, to see how well the systems defenses had fared. With the Lalande system as battle ready as it would ever be, in case of Audemed surprise attack. The system had managed to produce 30 gunships up until now, and more were being produced.

Damn, it doesn't look good. It didn't. All the Bunker stations had been taken relatively intact, and while Sol's defenses hadn't been able to stop Audemed, the UNS and allies were not as numerous as the Audemedons.
[i]We must think of alternative plans. Conquest will not work, we have already seen that.

23 hours later, a plan lay on the Admiral's desk for the first interstellar guerilla war.

- - - - -

Meanwhile, a dying human gazed upon the mountain of metal before him. He had been shot and pierced innumerable times, and was all but a corpse. He was the only human left of a legion of guerrila troopers. He chuckled to himself. One small step for man....

No human had ever made it this far into Europe, the continent the Audemedons had classed as their own and moved every last captured human out of. He looked once again at the massive device they had constructed, nearly a mile high.

With his last breath. he focused on the object..... it was an ion cannon.....

------------------
"Sergeant, you can't fire that in here! We're indoors!"
"Only until I pull the trigger, Captain!" -Terry Pratchett

[This message has been edited by Slug (edited 01-10-2001).]

...the escort couldn't return to Ceres, that was the first place the Audemedons would look. Vesta? No, too bright. Psyche was the asteroid they had finally settled on. And made of pure iron as well...it would be a most useful base.

Manoevering around to its far side, the escort blasted a few preliminary holes in its surface with the few protopulses remaining. Then it landed. At once, six Obiard scrambled out in null-g suiting, with nitrogen canisters strapped to their backs. At the efficient pace they worked at, the cave was done in 8.2 hours. The Terminal glided smoothly in, depositing its tow on the side. A surface was erected upon the gaping hole in the ceiling, concealing the tunnels from the outside, and allowing an Obish-friendly atmosphere to flow freely within. Now, for those small "enhancements."

It was a good thing the Udemedons didn't actually need their soldiers inside their ships. If they did, the Obiards would have been dead at the first blast. But, due to the general automative nature of the Audemedons, it was no longer necessary, or a hindrance to the Obiards. Before long, they had extracted a perfectly intact FTL core, as well as the cruiser's hologram emitter. Both of the cruiser's weapons were completely incompatible with the Obish power sources, and were left in the cruiser.

Now the Terminal had two advantages. They were again able to fly at hyperspeed past the opposing ships, as fast as any of them, and combined with their cloking device, no Audemedon would ever know that only one of the three escorts that had just decloaked actually existed.

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

Darkk was awed by the shear size of the convoy. 4 pre-Obish-War Gaitori-made superfreighters, each 2km long, the type of ship that carried most of the supplies of known space before the war, and the type that stays in operation and continues to carry a huge portion of it.

Wind of Blades had a sensor suite from a Salrilian scout captured on the ground at Thasero, and it had identified the defensive emplacments common on Gaitori vessles of that era, to protect them from the pirates that were much bigger threats in that era.

The freighters were carrying LRPK beam assembalies, no doubt for planetary defenses for Earth. Darkk wouldn't let them reinforce their little slave colony. No way. Time to rock.

13 gunships and 20 cruisers for escort. Darkk had worked so long on the radar and cloak-flaw detection portions of the AI algorithms he could almost see cloaked ships himself. He came in behind the rear gunship and proceded to tear into it with a fury, while the others rushed to assist. As they did, the carriers came in behind them and the gunships beside.

Darkk had never been particularly scared of light Salrilian ships; the Sal gunships weren't very manuverable, and the antimatter pulses on the cruisers had low ranges. The gunships and cruisers closing on him veared around to dodge the fire of the carrier's missles, and the fighters had begun to tie them up.

Darkk burned a few gunships and his gunships took many as well. The Sals had been outmanuvered, and they knew it. They were attempting to send distress calls, but the jamming was going strong - no chance of that.

Darkk turned his attention to the massive superfreighters...

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William Darkk, head of the Darkklight Entrepenurial Federation
"Strategic warfare" is code for "killing civilians", and it's my calling. Yeah, it's barbaric. War's supposed to be.

[This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 01-12-2001).]

The Trey'sh looked around at the various generals and Admirals from various races that had contributed forces to the fight for Earth. He was the only non-Military delegate present, but as all the UNS systems were part of the Protectorate, technically, this was an Audemedon invasion of Ishiman Space, and was his responsability, so he decided to start the briefing. He stood up and waited for silence. He started speaking in common, a rather unexpressive language, but one that had been designed so it could be spoken easily by nearly any species in the galaxy.

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen. Before we begin, I must make it absolutely clear that the Ishiman Stellar Protectorate has resolved to defend the sovereignty of our Protectorate, and to liberate Earth at whatever cost. Our attempts to reestablish diplomatic communication with the Prophets of Salril have failed, so we have sent an ultamadum. If they refuse to withdraw their forces from Protectorate Space by midnight, sixty days from today, they will be subject to the full fury of the Ishiman Stellar Navy and its allies.

On a final note, before I introduce the next speaker, I would like to propose that we appoint a supreme allied commander before we leave this meeting. Trust me, I have been through this many times before, and I know. A military operation cannot be run by concensus. So, in order for the liberation effort to work effectively, we must elect a supreme commander of the entire joint fleet before this is over. But first, I would like to hear status reports from each of the Commanders here. To start it off, here is the Ishiman Representative, Admiral Vek."

The Ishiman stood up and activated a wall mounted map display.

"It should be made our first priority to establish a firm frontier around Earth and the other occupied systems. At the moment, the combined fleet has no means to directly stop an Audemedon attack, so, in order to prevent their expansion, the Ishiman Protectorate has committed a second gateship, to generate a large, comprehensive, Hyperspace Jamming network. As of now, the jamming network covers only Lalanade, and a few other systems. By simply moving our two gateships up to the 34th and 38th radii respectively, we can totally secure almost all of the fronteir with Ishiman and UNS space almost indefinitely."

On the screen two dots appeared on two of the radii, representing the gateships. Large circles formed around them, overlapping eachother. Together, they covered the frontier, blocking all of the established jumpgates from projecting streams towards Human Space.

Now, I know that in its current state, the Ishiman Navy is not numerically powerful, but we have already begun a massive buildup in our military capacity. In the four weeks since the occupation, our shipyards have produced nearly a hundred HVDs and Carriers, and many times that number of cruisers, HVCs and Gunships We have greatly improved our HVD and HVC designs with the cooperation of the Elejeetian Minister of technology, and we are currently produceing HVCs and HVDs that should be capable of meeting Audemedon ships toe to toe.

Our gravest problem however, is finding capable crews for the tremendous fleet we are produceing. The Naval Academy has been flooded with cadets from all over the protectorate, including many, many Humans, but the Academy was never meant to deal with so many applicants. In order to produce effective pilots, I need any experienced crew members that you can spare, or else these new wave of applicants will not be up to the standards of the current Ishiman Stellar Navy crews. That is all for now, Thank you."

He sat down, and the Trey'sh, who had taken on the role of informal moderator, called up the next Admiral to give his status report.

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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 01-10-2001).]

[I'm not normally one to correct spelling, but I can't take it anymore! It's spelled sovereignty! You seem to love that word so much; why can't you spell it?]

Calibration had gone as planned. The FTL drive was now fully operational (in theory; it was not safe to go and test it), along with the converted hologram (in practice). Work had begun on hacking into the Audemedon Jumpgate, fully unnoticed. There was plenty of time.

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-Pallas Athene of Dysian Beta, Obish Consensus Representative
-Nieru Dast, {M}ilitia Aeriane
-Danae Vernius
"Cheaters don't really win, and winners don't really cheat. Unless you're talking politics." -Durandal

[This message has been edited by Pallas Athene (edited 01-10-2001).]

[oopsie doodle... ]


[This message has been edited by Trey'sh Maletena Wizr (edited 01-10-2001).]

Mag began recharging, and started scanning the news networks. They all had the invasion of Earth on their front page, and pointed out the detail that it happened at the same time as the peace meeting hosted by the Bazidaneze in the Free Trade Zone. The humans were taking to guerilla warfare. They were a stubborn species.

Ortinus walked quickly into the room.

"Mag. I have important news," he said. He seemed very anxious.

"What is it?"

"A very important human cruiser will be travelling through the Free Trade Zone in a few days. The captain escaped from Earth, and has important data on the occupation."

"That is an impressive feat, given the fact that it was a human ship."

"It certainly is. The cruiser was damaged on the way out. It was escorting a convoy of civilian refugess, and an Audemedon cruiser attacked it. The crew managed to defeat the Audemedon cruiser, but not after taking a thorough beating, and losing the transport."

"Does this mean more repairs?" Mag didn't like that last bit.

"The Salrillians have hired bounty hunters to stop the cruiser. Irto Squadron needs to make sure it passes safely through the Free Trade Zone."

"So I need to have the fighters ready by when?"

"One hour."

"One hour?!? It'll take a day!"

"Just get to work on it, okay, Mag?"

"I'll be right out there as soon as I can."

Ortinus walked out of the room, and Mag headed for the hangar. One of the fighters had flown a bit too fast in the atmospheric training yesterday, and had gotten a lot of it's front armor melted away. It'd need replacing...

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"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

"Black squadron, we are approaching target. Prepare for ambush."

The eight UNS fighter-bombers cruised through the Sol asteroid belt. A relativly new design by the UNS, they were just put into large-scale production by the Ishimans. Mounting a wide array of bombs and munitions, as well as a good sublight speed they made ideal raiders. Groups of these were inserted into the Sol asteroid belt via small jumpgates that were hidden by the floating rocks. The occupying forces knew that there were raiders in the belt, but the size of it along with the difficulty with scanners made them very hard to find.

The UNS resistance monopolized on this fact.

"Hey Nicks, what do you think we'll grease this run?"

"Myself, I'm looking forward to painting that fifth transport on my wing."

"Goin' for ace eh?"

"Damn straight. I don't see that many kills on your wing."

"Hey some people have all the luck."

"Cut the chatter Black squadron. The targets are coming through the belt."

The eight raiders dodged around debris, and took up positions for the ambush. Slowing from superlight were 3 heavy freighters and 8 transports. Surrounding them were several cruisers and gunships. Defense against the raiders that were waiting just behind the rocks.

"Black squadron, on my mark..."

The convoy cruised closer to the ambush.

"mark."

"YEEHAAAHH!!"

The fight was brief and furious. The eight raiders popped out from their hiding places and launched their missiles. They released sensor confusing chaff pods that created ghost signatures and confounded the defensive fire. Not for long, but hopefully long enough. The missiles screamed in on the convoy with the bombers close behind. As they neared, they loosed more ordinance, in the form of large underbelly mounted dumb-bombs. They fell towards their targets. The missiles impacted on the lightly sheilded transports and freighters, punching through their shields and searing the hulls. Then the bombs' proximity detectors determined that they should detonate, and the explosions tore through the convoy. The fighter-bombers pulled up and poured on their afterburners, desperate to escape the maddened escorts. One of the raiders was caught by a missile launched by the Gunships, and another fell to cannon fire. The rest sped away into the asteroid field. Four transports sat burning in space, one other missing entirely. Two of the freighters were damaged, and one would have to be scrapped from the damage done to the hull. The debris from Nicks' bomber slowly spread to join the rest floating in space.

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

Trey'sh Wizr looked up from his desk. Admiral Spann had entered his office.
"Admiral Spann! Good to see you. What can I do for you?"

"I have some points that I'd like you to bring up at the sessions to determine UNS support. We're doing an excellent job of raiding small convoys, and we've had a few skirmishes along the borders. However, if we're going to take back Earth in short order, we'll need to start organizing the ships into major assault groups and invasion fleets."

"Spamo, we're doing the best we can, I think you'll have support soon. I know that you're anxious to take back earth, but you must be patient."

Spamo sighed. "Yes, patience. We cannont dawdle Wizr. There are billions of innocent civilians on Earth that are probably being torn apart by the occupation forces. I cannont think of what hardships the resistance must be enduring. That is another point, I think we can get support to the resistance forces on Earth."

"If any exist."

"They exist. With over a billion civilians on Earth, there's more than enough places for them to hide. We're fighting, humanity is fighting, even though we don't have a chance right now. Just like under the Cantharans, despite the camps and executions we fought on."

Wizr looked at Spamo for a moment. "Are you asking for a movement towards Sol, or for state of the art weapons and supplies to be inserted on Earth for the guerillas?"

Spamo grinned. "Just a little something to help out the fighting man."

"Now that my friend, I can get for you in short order." Wizr replied.


[Mmm... guerillas on earth... interesting...]

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Ne Cede Malis Sed Contra Audientor Ito

Entropy walks up to Captain Pharris, followed by many of the Crescent Station users armed with numerous decidedly unpointy and unpleasant-looking objects. "Why, you... you... you ruined the storyline! This string must die!"

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I ask you to look both ways- for the road to the atom leads through the stars, and the road to the stars leads through the atom.

[This message has been edited by Entropy (edited 01-11-2001).]

[The crew of the Terminal decides pointy objects are more effective, and accidentally pokes Entropy too hard]

The Terminal sits and waits for those jumpgate access codes...

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-Pallas Athene of Dysian Beta, Obish Consensus Representative
-Nieru Dast, {M}ilitia Aeriane
-Danae Vernius
"Cheaters don't really win, and winners don't really cheat. Unless you're talking politics." -Durandal

[This message has been edited by Pallas Athene (edited 01-11-2001).]

The captured Salrillian cruiser was weaving through the hundreds of islands in the West Indies. It had slowed its speed tremendously, and the pilot was looking out the window with his night vision goggles, comparing islands to maps to his compass. One of the soldiers pulled off his big bushy helmet, and shook hands with the Trey'eck from where he sat. He smiled and greeted Myrk in a cheery British accent.

"Good evening sir, I'm sorry I didn't have a chance to introduce myself before, My name is lefttenant Alistair Stanley, formerly of the Special Air Service. This is my teammate, seargent Rigby. We are from the UNS resistance."

"I am Trey'eck Myrk of the Ishiman Reestablishment comittee, acting representative to the UNS government, this is my staff, and the two back there are the heads of the two engineering team that constructed the Fab plants in Florida and Africa."

"Yes, we figured as much, which is why we decided to take your transport as well. I must say, getting into position on such short notice was difficult, we were nearly discovered."

The Pilot interrupted over the intercom.

"Pack it up guys, we're nearly there, we'll ditch in fifeteen."

The two soldiers began to pull of their huge bulky suits, and pack them carefully in rubberised bags. Myrk watched curiously."

"Excuse me, but if you don't mind me asking, what is the purpose of those tremendous, bushy suits?"

Alistair chuckled to himself before answering.

"These are custom fitted ghuille suits. These help us remain camoflagued. This particular pair are self cooling, so we can't be seen by IR scopes when we're hiding. They're quite valuable, I thought I'd hung it up for the last time when the Apollo returned, it had hardly been on the hanger for three months. It's nice to be back fighting again though, hardly knew what I was doing back in civilian life."

"I see... So the UNS resistance on the planet was active during the Cantharaan Occupation?"

"Are you joking? There were over twenty million of us when we shut down, we have thousands of safehouses left over. In fact, we're going to one as we speak."

"Really? Where?"

"We're in the west indies, near the Turks and Caicos Islands. We're going to leave the cruiser somewhere around here, and get back to the base. We'll see how well the Prophets can track us."

The pilot's voice came back over the intercom.

"This is it. Get ready to egress, we're two clicks north of the LZ. Good luck. I'll see you in two."

The Seargent got up and opened the hatch, letting in the warm tropical sea air. He tossed a yellow box out the window, tying a rope to the door. He tossed the bags and the gun cases out the door, then jumped.

"After you, Trey'eck." The Lieutenant smiled and pushed Myrk out into the blackness.

He landed on hard rubber. He felt the seargent pull him out of the way as his six staff members fell out after him, followed by the two engineers. He heard a muffled goodbye, and the patch of light five feet up closed, and he heard Alistair land in the raft. The rest was nothing but noises in the darkness. The constant lapping of the waves.

"Headcount?"

"got it. All aboard!"

"Go for it."

An electric motor hummed, and all Myrk could see was the glow in the dark face of a compass.

After what seemed like ages, the raft shuddered, and Myrk felt it sliding across sand. The two soldiers rolled into the water silently, and pulled the boat further up on the beach.

"Good, you can get out now. Follow Lieutenant Stanley, if you will."

The lieutenant lit several glowsticks, and gave one to each person.

"good, keep them around your necks. Now, follow me."

They walked into the jungle, behind them the hissing of the deflating raft mixed with the gentle lapping of the waves.

They walked for a few minutes, then stopped. Stanley put them down the entrance to a tunnel. Finally, he dropped in, followed by the Seargent, who was carrying several large cases.

They moved quickly down the rough hewn tunnel, until they came to a large, open space. Myrk could hear water.

Suddenly he was blinded as several bright lights illuminated on the ceiling with a loud clack. Seargeant Rigby was covering his eyes by the lightswitches.

"sorry about that, should have given some warning..."

In the middle of the monstrous cavern was a pool of water with a slick black cylinder half submerged. Several people with rifles were standing on the deck. One man yelled out.

"What do you like to do on Sundays?"

Allistair responded

"I enjoy brisk walks in the park."

"Allistair? Is that you!?"

"Yes sir," Allistair was grinning.

"Good to see you again! Come aboard, there isn't too much time."

"Aye aye!"

The two soldiers led the confused Ishimans aboard the sixty-year old USS Caveat, as its crew prepared it for departure.

- - - - -

FROM: The Prophets of Salril
TO: The Ishiman Stellar Protectorate Council
TEXT:

Your backhand accusations of us being as tyrants as the Cantharans were are unfounded and untrue. Earth is now part of the Salrilian Confederation and the humans who inhabit it are free to go about their business. The presence of the Audemedons is to make sure the humans do not fulfill the prophecy. Our reason for taking Earth was for the safety of the galaxy, not domination.

The massive counterattack we predicted must not take place under the zealous flag of the Ishiman Protectorate. By doing so you risk war with Salril, Axis, Cantharis, and even Earth, as many humans find their new lifestyles preferable to the overpowering prescence of Ishima.

We invite you to tour Earth - alone - and see for yourself the level of nonexistant "slavery". The Carrier S.N.S. Majestic Dagger will meet you in the Ishima system at 0600 tomorrow morning.

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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 Slug (edited 01-12-2001).]

None of the EV Webboard users are injured, being out of their normal string and of a differing universe. "Captain Pharris, stay out of the EV Webboards!"

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I ask you to look both ways- for the road to the atom leads through the stars, and the road to the stars leads through the atom.