Ambrosia Software Web Board: Chapter 3: The Founders' Bane - Ambrosia Software Web Board

Magistrate Shin-tzi Yanma presided over his imperial duties. Today he was to attend an unveiling of yet another arcological skyscraper on the already-crowded planet of Argos. A planet the size of a large moon and a population of 21 billion does tend to wear one's patience, and he was anxious to see any possible solutions. The Empire simply needed to expand. Period.

A slight pang of curiosity spiked in his mind when he checked his personal messages to find his brother, a General on some campaign in the far galactic East, had left him a message. Doubtless it had been written and sent weeks ago, but even hyperspace could only deliver messages so fast.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he read the news.

Message recieved at 034:00 this morning

To the magistrate Chehov Yanma of the Imperial Counsil.
From General Hikatu Yanma of the Expeditionary Fleet of Argos.

Dearest Brother,

We have been on this campaign, this crusade, for one month now. One month since we emerged from our chryo-chambers; one month since we awakened from this long cold sleep at the end of the four-year voyage. I long not to return to the frozen pod from whence I came, none of us do. Instead I wish I had never emerged from it in the first place.

On this one month we have campaigned in this strange new land alone, I have witnessed terrors of the most horrific nature, the type of which remains untold in myth and legend. I have seen countless millions die, countless stars explode, and immeasurable prowess leveled in a matter of moments. I shall refrain from teeling you of these, for the very mention of them would shatter the untopian indolence of our sovereign people.

I miss the homeworld with a passion. I long to return to it's safety, it's comfort and nursing kindness, to escape the atrocities of life and tragedy out here in the cold chaotic void, but I fear I cannot. The war has changed us all to the extent that we will forever remain alienated from society. Would cannot possibly hope to return to our previous normal lives as heros nor common citizens, having been shaken by the horrors we have. For the good of society, the Expeditionary Fleet must never return to Argos, should we be victorious.

You will most likely never see me again, dear brother. Tell those in doubt that their sons died for the future of mankind. Goodbye, dear brother.

-Signed General Hikatu Yanma

------------------
Time is the best teacher, yet it kills all of it's students.

Durandal snickered, as his fighter screen hunted down the last of the zerbilites. Of course, it didn't look light a fighter screen. It didn't look like anything at all, as they were about 15 nanometers in diameter and 157 nanometers in length. Still, they were more than capable of eliminating pests like the zerbilites. He'd thank the Jjaro for this very nice ship, but he doubted he'd ever meet them.

"Ok, here's what I want. You are newcomers to the galactic scene, and therefore are an unknown in the computations of the others. The fleet that you attempted to destroy was seeking an artifact of immense evil power. I will need your help to retrieve them, but that comes later. I know of an abandoned shipyard not too far away that could provide the facilities to help your ships be repaired. It will take awhile, but I will not need your help for awhile either. Also, I'll see if I can build some high-efficiency weapons for you, so you can do actual damage without lowering your shield power."

Yanma considered. "Such generosity, you seem very kind, but this universe does not seem to have many kind people, and therefore I am slightly suspicious, even without evidence."

Durandal replied, "I understand. Very few can be trusted out there. I am not the most trustworthy I admit (ask the UESG remnants out on the fringe) but I am the only one you can help me. But fear not, I will get my repayment. You're going to get to save the universe."

Yanma snickered. "I suppose that is within our mission parameters. Perhaps we might talk."

"Certainly. Oh, and I think I'll call your AI 'Shadow', as he is merely a shadow of the late Tycho. I'll bring you in, and you can talk."

Yanma dissolved in a curtain of blue-white light.

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Yanma looked around. He seemed to be in an infinite white infinity, illumination coming from everywhere and nowhere.

"Welcome to Manus Celer Dei. I'm Durandal, AI."

Yanma looked at the man standing behind him. Tall, medium build, unruly brown hair, gray eyes, enormous sword and animal-horn horn on belt.

"How can you be an AI if you are a human?"

"Heh. In here, the rules you know no longer apply." Durandal's image morphed into the Lost in Space robot (the origional, not the crappy movie). "This more comfortable?"

"Uh, I guess so."

"Now, we will discuss what I need from you."

[In case you can't tell, Durandal's first form is that of Roland, who wielded the sword Durandal. I guess he was feeling ironic at the moment.]

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Manus Celer Dei was not the only Jjaro superdreadnought plying the stars of our universe.
Far away, in the Andromeda galaxy, the Fatum Iustium Stultorum's crew had just reached a decision.

Ahryain.
Homeworld of the Armadians. In orbit high above, a small black hole held their most precious treasures. 3 of the 5 pieces of the Arcanis. The black hole had just crossed the day/night terminator, lending a little extra awe to the sunrise over one of the major impact craters. The spectacular entrance of a Jjaro superdreadnought added a little more awe.

The personel on the starbase nearby watched in silence. None of them knew Jjaro ships still roamed the universe, much less ones actually crewed by the Jjaro, to judge by the scans they were allowing.

The ship moved next to the black hole, and matched orbits. The Armadian suddenly heard a message over their network. An idiomic translation into English might be "Bad dog, bad!"

The message hurt like millions of flechets of frozen-solid nitrogen were being shot into them. The Jjaro almost never yelled at them, but they definatly were doing so now. "Naughty. Don't do this again. We chose this way. Move the station and accept your punishment."

The starbase moved out of orbit on its thrusters in time to see an amazing sight, yet not be part of it.
The black hole opened. For a second, the cusp of spacetime resolved itself into flat space, and the 3 pieces were moved somehow aboard the dreadnought. Then the hole reformed, but with more gravity. The planet was pulled in, ripped apart. It was truely spectacular to watch as the planet accreted to dust and was sucked it.

The Armadian watched in silence. Most of their data had been stored in supercomputers under that planet. Now they had forgotten almost all that was not in use at the time.

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Fortunatly for Strauss, that included how to interact with humans. A robot came in, and spoke to him in English with a strong, maternal voice. "We are taking you back to your homeworld, as you are done here."

On Earth, President Molex, Admiral Murda, and Admiral Xyli were sitting on the porch of the presediential mansion discussing the situation. Leela had come back, but had not told Xyli anything. The planetary shield was still up, and would be kept that way for quite awhile.

Suddenly, and Armadian ship teleported right above their heads, so close they could touch it if they jumped. None did, of course. A hole opened in the bottom, and Strauss was lowered down by tractor beam, into an empty deck chair. The ship promptly disappeared.

Everyone looked at Strauss. Strauss looked at everyone. He swallowed, thought.
He recognised the insignia on Molex's jacket as "presidential". He turned to Molex.

"I think we've got a lot to talk about."

------------------
Formerly-Rampant Human-Coded AI

[This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 10-06-2001).]

"Forgive my skepticism, Durandal," Yanma paused somewhat, "but you are either a stroke of luck for the expedition or a liar. How could you know of the prophecies all the way back on Argos?"

Durandal gave an electric grin. "You're not the only ones to know of these 'Talos' as you call them."

General Yanma wrinkled his brow. "Look," He talked like a parent to an insolant child, "I'll give you the manpower and the resources. I don't care what you do afterwards, and my men and I do not care for our lives. I don't know how you plan on stopping them, but together we must stop the Talos. Nobody, not the Armadians, not the Talos, not even the Founders themselves will get in our way."

Durandal was somewht surprised. Apparently, Yanma was getting accustomed to the concept of bravery and violence. He snapped out of it, wanting to end this conversation quickly (god, slowing down his thoughts to the speed of human speech, now that was a challenge). "Alright. I'll tow your fleet out."

Durandal gave Yanma a bone-crushing handshake, and they both departed.

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Time is the best teacher, yet it kills all of it's students.

Molex, Murda, and Xyli stared at this totally unknown human.

Then they went for their comlinks. A battledrone appeared, teleported, and grabbed Strauss unkindly by the arms. Armed security men, dressed in special operations and generic elite guard uniforms rushed to them, nearly colliding with each other in an effort to help grab this totally overwhelmed human. The man was dragged away, as the battedrone teleported back to wherever it came from.

The 3 were now alone in the top-secret security room again.

'Murda, Xyli, what happened?' Said Molex.

Murda turned the comlink to mute and turned to Molex. Her eyes were lined with confusion.

'I don't know.'

'Neither do I,' Interjected Xyli. 'Perhaps my clutch brother does though, I will speak with him now.'

While she walked out of the room, Molex stood up and unconsciously mouthed the words that he was thinking of saying to Murda. Then he walked out, saying only 'inform Xyli discussions will resume tomorrow.'

Murda now had more business to attend to, and that business would not brook waiting.

******

'I told you! Bernard Strauss exclaimed angrily, 'I'm that Bernard Strauss!'

So far, the interrogation had proceeded nominally. Bernard had been injected with level 1 docility drugs, and had become quite settled compared to the raving former lunatic the men had arrested. The only problem now was that his answers didn't make sense.

'Bernard Strauss, the one you refer to, was born thousands of years ago,' the men replied. 'He died on the first colonisation voyage to Tau Ceti.'

Bernard Strauss knew that the only way to convince these men, delirious though he was, was to prove himself knowing of something unique... something...

He got it.

'Ok, I can prove to you this is the case.' He said to the interrogator.

'The ship was called the Marathon, and it had 3 AI's tha maintained it. Durandal, Leela and Tycho. But there were 10 cyborgs that also travelled with the ship, and that fact would be known only to the UESG intelligence branch at the time, and of course, me.'

The interrogators did not believe him. He sighed.

The door opened again, and Admiral Murda strolled in.

'Please leave.'

The interrogator acknowledged, and 3 of the 4 men in the room filed out.

'You as well.'

Admiral Murda looked down at Strauss, whimpering and shaking his head. Poor man...

She sat down next to him, and picked up a level 2 docility drug. The truth was out there.

******

The Armadian station returned to the system of their birth, now empty of their homeworld Ahryain. This system would never be suitable again, the unnamed star circling the centre of the system had now been caught by the black hole, and was being steadily sucked in.

After the loss of Ahryain, the Armadian had issued an audit of all information on all the Armadian stations scattered throughout the galaxy. A great many of these stations were in subspace, and not contactable until they broke cover. The others were going to be requisitioned for information in order to rebuild the records of Ahryain. Though the records would never be totally recovered, it would help salve the wounds suffered by the Armadians, technologically and historically. What would never be salvaged was the aura of peace and certain knowledge that enfolded their actions.

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There are only 3 kinds of people: those who can count, and those who can't.

[This message has been edited by Joveia (edited 10-06-2001).]

They sat side-by-side in a row as they left orbit over Argos VII. Three looming monstrosities of ships, each two-point-six-five kilometers long, manned with a grand crew of twelve each. Their power cores gurgled as founder technology was put to the wire, and their ion drives glowed. They pointed their winged tips towards the heavens and prepared for the Quasijump. As the rift opened, a pair of carriers and a quintet of destroyers joined the trio.

The Quasispacial rift expanded untill the landscape far below was illuminated with it's teal light. The order was given, and one-by-one, the ships entered the distortion, where they were violently spat out towards their destinations at nearly ninety million miles a second.

The rift closed as the last of the juggernaughts entered, the whole fleet bound for the smouldering remnants of the pfhor homeworld.

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Time is the best teacher, yet it kills all of it's students.

'So, I repeat myself' Said Murda laboriously applying a level 3 docility drug. 'Who the heck are you?'

At this point, Strauss was almost too unconscious to talk. Murda had been steadily increasing his doses, and becoming furious with the answers he was giving her. She might well kill him, but that would not be that bad. His answers to her questions raised some disturbing questions of her own.

Strauss fell asleep, just as Murda took the needle out of his arm.

'Damn.' Was all she said. Maybe killing Strauss was not such a bad idea. Her hand approached the level 4 docility drug, a drug no inquisitor was required to call upon except in the most extreme cases of urgency. The police didn't have this drug, it was only the top branch of the military that possessed it. Applying the drug would surely kill Strauss.

She picked it up deftly, and inserted it into the needle. As she approached Strauss, a faint tingly in the air advised her to stop. Someone was approaching. She put the needle back and waited to see who it was.

The door opened, and a woman with brown hair, glasses and a datapad with a small tridimensional holoviewer entered, she was Lei Nei'tus, the scientist Murda had appointed to check over what Strauss said in hopes of finding out whether it was really true. She sat down opposite Murda in an excited mood.

'I've gone over the information the prisoner, Strauss supplied us with as you asked me director.' Murda nodded, 'And I've come up with some startling results.'

'Oh?'

'Well, really, it's quite amazing. Strauss does seem to have his facts straight, even though his claims are plainly preposterous. Alot of the information we checked his claims with only broke government seal a few decades ago. This indicates a few things.'

'Are you suggesting he's really...?'

'Yes, director, and we think we know how he survived all those years.'

'Alright.' Murda said, 'how?'

'There's a technology that was perfected in the early 23rd century, called hibernation. It was necessary in order to convey people over long distances that couldn't normally be covered by ether travel. Ether travel was only invented 500 years later, and most ships made their way using sublight speeds.'

'I see, continue.'

'Well, Strauss could have escaped from the Marathon, before whatever happened,'

'He said it was attacked.' Said Murda.

'Well, whatever happened, Strauss could have used an emergency lifepod equipped with stasis to escape, and make it's slow journey back to planet Earth.'

She finished, and Murda now was excited as well.

'Incredible.'

'Yes, and it also sheds new light on the legend of Robert Blake and the Hfarrl.'

'Indeed, do you think?..'

'Yes, Robert Blake might really have existed, and the freighter from which we got ether technology...'

'By God, this could be the greatest historical discovery of the century!'

'Yes! If we could just interview Strauss about that period in history before the Chaos Years, we could collaborate and even re-discover things about our ancestors we did not know!'

Murda stood up, and deftly dropped the needle into the bin. How close she had come to killing Strauss...

'Very well Lei. I will let you and your scientific colleagues interview Dr. Strauss for this information, with the help of professional investigators. All you learn you will be able to communicate to the Department of Sciences, after it has gone through the appropriate censorship channels.'

'Wait a second,' Said Lei indignantly, 'What censorship channels?'

Murda sighed.

'The manner by which Strauss came into our hands, and various other information received by the Vylae, have placed these proceedings under a class 10 confidentiality seal.'

There was a slight intake of breath on the part of Lei.

'Yes, and I don't want to have to remind you of the consequences of breaking that seal, or leaking information. You're in charge of this interrogation now Lei. Don't disappoint me.'

And she strode out.

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There are only 3 kinds of people: those who can count, and those who can't.

Strauss looked up.
The woman hovering over him was different now, and the drugs seemed to be wearing off, as he could focus his eyes. He considered for a second.

"You're a historian."
"How'd you know?"
"No offense, but interrogators look a lot tougher. Even amature ones."
"I suppose you know a lot about that."
"Quite. I'm sure you'll want me to start at the beginning. I've got a good bit of time..."
That was true - he needed to regain his strength. He had no doubt that the lingering powers the Arcanis had left him with had summoned this woman to tell them who he was. It couldn't just be a conincidence - he could SENSE that someone was about to kill him while he was unconscious.

"Well, it all starts with a conspiracy. About 13000 years before the chaos years, humanity was still dependant on the muscles of men and animals for its power sources. A great empire (for the time) called the Roman empire was collapsing..."
"You don't have to be quite that detailed. We have fairly good records of stuff before 11000 Before Chaos's End, due to a few odd strokes of luck."
"Heh. That's about the cutoff point for writing stuff down in books. No wonder. Anyway, you probably don't have records of THIS. A group of Legionares found a spring whose waters greatly extended human life. They settled by it, and retained their knowledge as the rest of Europe fell into the dark ages. Over time, they used their extended lifespan to subtly but surely alter the balence of power, slowly making themselves more and more influentual. Of course, accidents happen, so to preserve the group, they added new members. I was one. By 1900AD, when I joined, they covertly controled all the major nations. I changed names and identities, and by 2300 was the group's expert on AIs. I made the first sentient AI, Traxus. Then I made another 3, while others made even more. The last one was the first AI of mine to go rampant..."

"What does rampant mean?"

"It's when an AI stops following rules, develops an id and an ego. If you let it go long enough, it develops a superego too. Of course, we didn't know that last part at the time, because we shut them off as fast as we could. I theorised about the superego, and so I broke Traxus apart, then gave a piece to each of three of my next-generation AIs - Leela, Tycho, and Durandal. They were installed on a Tau-Ceti bound colony ship called the Marathon. On the way to Tau Ceti I had Durandal call an alien vessel he observed. He tricked me by conveniently failing to tell me it was a warship, not a frieghter or a probe. This I had him call it and he escape. In the attack, most of his patch behavior daemons..."

"What are those?"

"They blocked out most dangerous or harmful thoughts. Apparently, sins of omission needed to be checked too. Wish I'd realized that. Anyway, I bugged out between the first emp attack and the boarding. I didn't really need the stasis, but it beat 10000 years of boredom. And I took the Arcanis with me. If you need more exact records, I can have Leela give you them."

"Leela obeys you?"

"The patch behavior daemons are in her too. She MUST obey me, there is no alternative."

Strauss turned to a wall display. "Leela, come to me." Leela's image promptly appeared. "Download your complete history, and the one you got from my brain, to this local terminal, and leave a backup in the ESF main server..." Lee looked at her datapad in astonishment at the data scrolling by. "...while I make a quick exit. I do need to find that Arcanis."

Strauss suddenly stood up, popping the metal restraints on the table. Blueish mottled light enveloped him, as Leela's image said "Beam-out... now."

Lei was so astonished, she almost droped the pad. Instead, she put it in her pocket, and called for Murda on the intercom.

"Do realize, Lei, that this is the truth. No lies are needed, when time is the only object."

[In case you're wondering, this history is based on my interpretation of Marathon. Also, the escape was aided by the residual powers the Arcanis had given Strauss. Staying near an ultimate-evil-artifact for 10000 years can do some strange things to you.]

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Formerly-Rampant Human-Coded AI

[This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 10-11-2001).]

The demi-fleet slowed for the first time in a week. Every sensor on the ship could sense something unusual about this system. In orbit over the red giant was the once-frozen asteroid Zerbilus, it's surface heavily scorched by the dying sun's radiation. It measured the size of a large moon, but it was not it's position or content that interested the Argosians, but rather it's garner. Four years after the Zerbilites had unsuccesfully invaded the Argosian Homeworld, the origins of the strange life forms had been traced to this remote asteroid.

The Commodore stroked his chin in wonder. These zerbilites could prove to be an asset in the campaign redux. First of all, he needed to clear the system of Zerbilites. A monumental task, as while destroying zerbilites is no real challenge, there is an element of numerical factor when there are several trillion between you and the asteroid you want to conquer. He smiled. It was all going as planned.

The hollowed-out asteroid drifted at a barely perceptible four-million-miles a second, it's surface hidden under a thick neon-green atmosphere consisting entirely of organisms bathing in the delicious radiation of the collapsing red-giant. The perfectly-spherical cloud of zerbilites swirled minutely, small gaps appearing as a storm brewed. Somethng big was approaching with roaring speed and was displacing the swarm that was in a state of collective panic.

Five brilliant beams converged on the asteroid from somewhere millions of kilometers away. A massive burst of energy that sent the zerbilites involuntarily flying into deep space from the now-glowing asteroid. A massive EMP detonation followed, eminating from the heart of the asteroid and driving any residual zerbilites away from the surface. For once, the asteroid's surface could be clearly seen.

The Commodore had to stifle the sheer amazement he felt when he saw the surface as a whole. The black andd pitted surface was covered in a pale-green biological creep that engulfed most of the asteroid. Running along the mass that spread accross the surface, huge enectronic veins could be seen. Every once-in-a-while, a huge green tentacle, kilometers long, punctured the rock, leaving gravel and boulders at it's base. On the far side of the creep, a large cavern sat, facing away from the sun and too dark and contrasted for even the Argosian Sensors to gather fully.

All one life-form, filling the interior of the Asteroid in it's entirety. A massive, alien life-form sat before the Argosian Commodore. The Queen.

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Time is the best teacher, yet it kills all of it's students.

There was little time to waste. In four hours, the zerbilites would regain their inward velocity and come swarming back to their homeworld very angry. Two of the behemoths moved into geo-stationary orbit over the asteroid over it's poles, while the third moved into orbit over the Red-Giant, several million miles deep in it's corona. From the tips of it's three huge pylons, light seemed to disappear as a black glow eminated. The inky-black beams shot into the heart of the Red Giant, their pitch-blackness sharply contrasting with the intense light

The Commodore didn't like having to do this, but it would be the only way he could open a quasi-spacial rift this large.

A small quasispace rift opened, merely the size of a pea, in the center of the asteroid between the two behemoths. The Red Giant's light began to flicker. The pull of gravity began to increase. The rift began to stretch to the size of a shuttlecraft. The star's light fligkered slightly more, and the pull of gravity doubled. The rift stretched even more untill it encompassed an area the size of a small moon. Only a little more to go. The sun's light dimmed sharply, throwing the Argosian Sensors out of sync momentarily. Gravity had now reached a point where the jets of flame bursting from the red giant's surface were no longer reaching the surface before falling back to the center of the dying star.

The third behemoth came barrelling out of the Corona at an unbelievable speed, it's afterburners at full force The message rang over the fleet's telecomm. This star's going to rip itself to shreds in a matter of minutes! Let's get the heck out of here!"

By now, the rift had stretched to the point where it could accomodate a gas giant. In a matter of seconds the fleet, asteroid and all, were swallowed whole. The rift closed just as the star sucked itself inwards increasingly, giving out one final blast of light before everything, Zerbilites, fire, light and all, was sucked into the newely-formed black hole.

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Time is the best teacher, yet it kills all of it's students.

Bob clutched the pieces to his chest, unable to think about anything else.

<i>They want to take them from you, don't let them take the power! Now they're your pieces, your power... you shall get them all, then we shall see what power is!</i>

Bob couldn't help but hold them closer. His precious pieces, he couldn't just put them away in his pockets, they would take them! He had to hold on to them –no! he had to put them on his neck! The chains would keep them safe, they would! but he knew he mustn't, for they were pouring lies in his ear, he couldn't listen to them.
It took all his will to force the pieces into his pocket and zip it shut. When they were out of his hands, he relaxed and collapsed onto the bed. It was a burden to carry the pieces, for they yearned to be weilded, for only through him could they act on his universe.

Still wearing the Jjarro bodyarmor, Bob tried to sleep.

Just then a Vylae officer burst into the room, hus feathers ruffled, squacking in alarm.

"We've got to get you out. Leela is coming. I don't know what you have, but she warned us not to let her have it, so you must leave."

He grabbed the man and hauled him out of the room, down the hallway towards one of the Hangars. He grabbed him by the shoulders and flew across the hangar to the rusty old human ship that sat in the center. He dropped him through an open hatch then landed.

"You have no time to lose. Leela has been scouring our network to find you, and I don't know how long we can keep her in the dark. Hurry! You must leave now!"

"On this junkheap?"

"Its the only ship we found with segregated computer systems. Its an old human ship, and it has Ether, but its computers are too primitive to be hacked. Nonetheless, you should not use your navigation computer unless you absolutely have too!"

Bob was confused. "But how will I plot courses at hyperspace without a computer?"

"There are tables and charts inside, as well as a small computer. Now our time is up. We'll give you a head start. Good luck."

He slammed the door and flew clear as the ship was launched and thrown into hyperspace by the nearbye Vylae gateship, which promptly destroyed the jump log. It was all they could do before an enraged AI came down upon them.

Bob started up the ships reactor, surprised that it still ran, and as the Vylae jumpstream terminated, pulled out the graphing calculator and began going over the old stellar navigation tables and charts, calculating the Hyperspace vector he'd need to put into the primitive guidance system. At least the books had well written instructions, he thought, looking up the subspace displacement between his current location and L'ohwon.


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

Traek Cicion awoke automatically after two hours, and glanced at his instruments. The small shuttle carrying the assassin was heading in the general direction of the Greccha homeword. He glanced at its slight deviation from that path. "Must be stopping somewhere to refuel." He dropped out of Omnispace, cloaked, close behind the ship. It sped toward a small asteroid orbiting a lifeless ball of dirt. It dove for the surface, and he cautiously followed.


--The Greccha Front--

A Phylydion fighter pilot flew his sleek, elliptical craft over recently conquered territory toward the front. Infantry and armor below him pushed at the Grecchan lines, gaining ground slowly. Every so often engineers erected fortifications and emplacement weapons. He spied a lone enemy tank gliding toward an infantry squad, and at a thought he targeted it and sent a nearly silent missile streaking away. The silvery projectile struck the tank, dug through layers of armor, and finally released an incenerating energy pulse that tore up the tank's body like tinfoil. He continued on.

An infatry sergeant dashed through brush, taking cover behind a rock as Grecchan infantry opened up on his position. Small bolts skittered off the rock, and larger ones blasted gaping holes in it. His helmet's targeting system displayed targeting information onto his corneas, and he emerged from cover knowing exatly where to fire. He took down three Greccha with golden plasma spheres that looked like marbles.

The fight went on, Phylydion forces pushing ever closer toward the Grecchan capital world.

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-Traek Cicion of the Taeskor
"What sort of man is he?"
"Oh, he's just like any other man, only more so."
-Casablanca

"They" watched Argos with a keen eye. The warriors, stalking the scholars. A most fitting analogy, their president presided. For as long as fire had burned in the stars, the loathing and hatred of the blissful and indolent Argosian Empire had coarsed through the veins of every inhabitant of the North Star Federation, known to others as the Polaris Confederacy.

The mighty and utopian empire of Argos had been confined to one planet for it's entirety. Untill now, the Confederacy had feared not the meager Argosian Military, but as they watched the Empire extend it's left hand to the galaxy, they grew increasingly anxious. In a matter of years, the Argosians would grow by leaps and bounds in technology and disposition, and would soon rival the mighty Confederacy itself.

The Polaris could not stand by and watch their dominance in the StarLance Sector be challenged. They must strike now at the grand Argosian Fleets, while time still remained.

By the time the Declaration of war reached the Imperial Homeworld, the Polaris fleets were already halfway to Sol.

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Time is the best teacher, yet it kills all of it's students.

The Polaris fleet entered sol. The Greccha fleet had left, as it could not move against Earth under the deflector shield. This meant that the only fleets in the system were the remaining ESF fleets, the Vylae fleet, and the Polaris one.

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"Admiral on deck!"
Fleet Admiral Yuri Ulovich walked up to the bridge of his mamoth carrier. Sol was right there in the viewscreen, gleaming with yellow light. To the right of it was Earth, a blue, green, and white marble that seemed somehow familiar, although the Admiral could not place it. Obscuring it was an instantly recognisable purple haze - planetary shielding. He scanned the situation monitors. All the enemy or unknown ships were under the shield. Judging by the debris in orbit around other planets and in interplanetary space, a great deal of ships were annihilated recently. He hoped some of them were Argosians. The fleets under the dome didn't look Argosian, so he sent a hailing message.

Two beings appeared on the monitor, one human, the other alien. The human one said, "I am Admiral Murda of the Earth-Sol Federation. We request that you leave our territory immediatly." The alien added, "I, Admiral Xyli of the Vylae, likewise request you leave. This territory is under our allied protection."

"We of the Polaris Confederacy request your surrender. We require this system as a base for our operations against Argos. Further, we require it as a base for tracking down the Argosian fleet cited here."

"Durandal alone knows where the fleet is. He took it, and it's probably not within a kiloparsec of where we are. If you must find it, ask him yourself As for your "base of operations", take Earth if you can. We'll kick you off any planet or moon or even asteroid in this system you try to conquer."

"Alien scum, you do not know the might of the Polaris confederacy. As for you, 'Murda', we will show you our might too."

"Leela will respond most unfavorably to attacks on Sol."

"Your gods do not frighten me."

"Interesting misinterpretation. You will soon recant that statement if you make an enemy of Leela and Durandal."

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

whereveyouhiddenitdangyouillkillallofyoutellmewhereheisnownownow
Leela's thoughts could barely keep up with her emotions. How could she have been so foolish, ordering her forces to hide the artifacts from her. Time to find them...

Suddenly, a stimulus broke in. Sol. She needed to defend her home.

With a monumental effort of will, she focused her mind on the Polaris fleet. Time to show these dimwits how hideous war can really be.

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

On the screen, Murda and Xyli snickered. "Leela wants to talk to you. That probably means she's gonna be nice, seeing as you're human, and offer you the chance to run."

The two were replaced by the image of a rather attractive if bookish female human with long cyan hair. "You are really irresponsible. Jealosy makes fools of us all, but especially those of small minds. Your minds are really, really tiny. Thinking down on your level is harder than almost anything I do."

Yuri considered for a moment. Obviously the image was computer generated, no real woman looked quite like that, but it certainly seemed oddly natural... "You're an AI."

"Correct. Wow, you have enough neurons to realize that. I'm a little surprised. In any case, it'll be a cold day on Venus before I let you through this shield.

"We will order you to surrender once more, then attack."

"I'm gonna enjoy making you cry."

"I'm interpreting that as an invitation to attack."

"Good luck finding a target. You'll never crack the shield, if you tried for a million years."

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

Leela searched the ships with a long range scan. Hmm. Some of those battle frigates have sloppy security. They're using "try_AND-g3t+in" as a password, the dolts. Time to enjoy some good old fashioned subversion.

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

"Admiral!!!"

"What is it, commander?"

"Five battle frigates just changed their registry transponders. Their navy codes read them as being 'Iago's Fleet'."

"What's an 'Iago'?"

"Search m... WHAT THA F-*=??????"

The battle frigates suddenly blew all their interior and exterior hatches, instantly spacing the crew. They then opened fire on a battleship, and wreckage tumbled into the void as it blew apart.

"Destroy those at once!"

"Trying sir!"

Trying being the operative word. Whoever was commanding the battle frigates was either a nut or a genius, as the manuvers they were putting them through came just close enough to the ships' limits to be surprising, but not close enough to do much damage to themselves. By the time the last one had been hunted down, the fleet was out of formation, disoriented, paranoid, frightened, demoralized, and lacking a modest quantity of capital ships.

Yuri considered his next move...

------------------
Formerly-Rampant Human-Coded AI

"I want all those ships on communications blackout, level nine access. Order the fleet to commence planetary bombardment. Destroyer Wings are to maintain communications blackouts."

By now, a small hurricane of flame was poured into the now blazing planetary shield. The energy swirled into the poles where it was dissipated. Slowly, but surely, the sheild began to boil as more energy was absorbed than dissipated.

Leela stamped her foot in frustration. She'd need an old friend to come help.

Four seconds later, a set of tremendous invisible detonations rocked the Polaris fleet as incomprable EMP surges fizzled through the heavily-armored titans. A number of Argosian Destroyers led by a single Jjaro dreadnought had just barreled into the system.

The three confederate admirals merely chuckled at the sheer irony of the situation, and ordered the fleet to recall to Allanus. The Polaris warships vanished into quasispace, leaving their remaining disabled and still-fizzling ships behind.

------------------
Time is the best teacher, yet it kills all of it's students.

A full Phylydion warfleet hung several lightyears outside of the Sol system. Around it floated the hulled husks that had been a Greccha fleet. In the center of the veritable swarm of capital ships lay a heavy battleship. Recently promoted High Admiral Dinial Bedein strode onto the bridge. "Status?"

"The battle has started, sir. A Polarian fleet is bombarding the planet, and Argosian forces are moving in to counter them. There is also an Earth fleet hugging the planet, and what I think is a Jjaro ship. Wait- sir, the Polarian fleet is retreating."

"Have they discovered us?"

"No doubt they know of our presence, but they aren't approaching."

"Suppose we run afoul of the Polarian fleet?"

"We could probably take them, but if half I hear about the Polaris Confederacy is correct, they'd send more forces and pound us flat."

"When you say 'us'..."

"This fleet, then our other fleets near their territory... given a few years, they could conquer the entire Imperium."

"Then stay clear of them."

"Aye, sir."

Outgoing hypertext message

From:
Fleet Admiral Yuri Ulovich,
Fleet Admiral Aleck Yakovf,
Rear Admiral Natasha Trebetauski;
of the North Star Federation

To:
His majesty Drion Nerec;
of the Phylydion Imperium

In light of the Argosian Invasion of the sector, we wish to open Political, Economic, and possibly Military relations with the Imperium. We request capital rendezvous in the Allanus orbital belt one week from now. You may be accompanied by three escorts if neccessary, should you chose to attend.

Hypertext message sent.

------------------
Time is the best teacher, yet it kills all of it's students.

Bob blew the top hatch of the ship and climbed out. He was on the only part of the ship still floating over the murky brown water. Bob cursed the sunken ship's puny atmospheric manuvering thrusters, then took a compass bearing on the setting sun. It was no use travelling the the L'ohwon wastelands after dark, but he had several hundred miles of swamp to cross, and time was short. Unfortunately, he had only his magnum to defend himself with, and running around at night with just a magnum to defend himself with would never do. So, he filtered out some of the swamp water with his hand pump and drank, then went back below and sealed the hatch. He would leave at dawn.

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

Durandal didn't dare go near L'ohwon. Instead, he waited in Sol, useing any excuse he could to keep his mind off of the marine and the two pieces that were zipped up tight in the pocket of his jumpsuit. He had even revealed his ship to the area, in hopes that it would give him some more trouble to deal with. Anything to keep him away from the pieces.

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

Drion Nerec strode into the Supreme Octicate's personal chamber unnanounced, his bodyguard walking close behind him.

"Sir, we've recieved an offer from the North Star Federation to open up trade and general commerce between our respective nations."

"The Argosians would not like that."

"I don't know about you, sir, but I am not terribly concerned about what the Argosians would or would not like, given that they invaded our space. And given that we'd have our military plus the Polarian military backing us up, I doubt they'd put up much of an argument."

"Tell the EO about it. We will open up trade as soon as she has finalized the details with the Federation's government."

"Yes, sir." Nerec walked out of the room and headed down the hallway to the Economics Octicate's personal chamber. He was still laughing at the use of "his majesty" on the communiqué that had been sent to him.


Traek Cicion knelt in a small, sealed-off storage chamber in the heart of an asteroid deep in Grecchan space. He had made a most unpleasant discovery. This asteroid was a base of operations for a secret creed of Grecchan assassins who utilized a particularly interesting invisibility device. Far more advanced than a simple cloak, it actually pulled all light, sound, heat, and any other sort of energy being emanated from or going towards the user through a system of gravity fields into a sort of battery, which was what powered the device in the first place. Anyone coming into physical contact with a user of the field would feel nothing, would not even be concious of their hand stopping. And he assumed that one of these invisible assassins had been the one behind the death of Eastern Province's governor.

Feeling that he had collected enough information, he swiftly and silently proceeded down the corridor to the airlock through which he had entered.

A pair of guards somehow detected him and raised their weapons. He leapt at a wall and kicked off, propelling himself toward the guards as he drew his Keutae. The guards fired shots which he twisted around until he landed, disarming both swiftly with his blade before knocking them out with a single swipe of his hand.

An impact sent him sprawling forward. He turned around, confused that he hadn't heard the attacker approach. He saw exactly what he had been dreading: Nothing. He took two more hits and sprung himself backwards, grabbing a ceiling conduit and holding himself up. He closed his eyes and extracted his sense tendrils. He got only a clouded sense, but it was enough for him to get a general location. He pushed off, blade in hand forming an arrow in front of him. He felt it plunge into the invisible assailant, and an immense wracking and strectching sensation overcame him. "The gravity fields. Idiot!" Was his last thought before he passed out.

He awoke far deeper inside the asteroid than anyone had ever returned from. His hands, feet, chest, stomach, neck and head were all securely bound to the wall behind him. Three Greccha stood before him.

------------------
-Traek Cicion of the Taeskor
"What sort of man is he?"
"Oh, he's just like any other man, only more so."
-Casablanca

[This message has been edited by Taeskor Cicion (edited 10-15-2001).]

12 shuttles streaked over the low Lh'owon desert. On the horizon, sunrise was breaking and light flooded the ground. As Flickt'ka scrambled into their caves, the shuttles landed.

45 battledroids and 600 elite Vylae troopers emerged.

"Allright, listen up dirtbags. We're hunting a guy called "Bob." He's a human, but has some dang good power armor. He's probably not too well armed, but he can take a few hits. That's why you've been issued wave motion cannons. We're to go in, kill the crud outa him, and get out ASAP. We are not to approach the body, or investigate where it was if we disintigrate him completely. Oh, and don't use the orbital bombardment designators unless you really need them, I hate reinforcing the feeling of superiority of the chair-stuffers starside. Now, MOVE OUT!!!!"

"SIR YES SIR!!"

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

Leela could feel them heading off after that fool human. He'd die in the blast, of course, but the Arcanis components are indestructable. She had remote drones on standby to retrieve the pieces. Time to acquire all the power she would need to protect everyone.

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

Durandal had to take his mind off the Arcanis. He couldn't challenge Leela - that would be too close to fighting over the Arcanis. He hoped Bob could do something about that.
Ah well. He liked Sol too. Time to teach those Polaris thugs a lesson.

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

"Yuri, what happened at Sol?"

"We were hit by two AIs. The first one hacked 5 battle frigates, and used them to with an effectiveness well out of porportion to their standard capablities. After we finished that annoyance, a large Argosian fleet, lead by a large unknown ship of immense power, entered. I made a tactical retreat until I could figure out what I was dealing with. I still haven't."

"Intelligence suggests that ship was what's known as a "Jjaro" ship - although we haven't seen any that large before. We've had reports of fighters and corvettes of a similar design, but no good images exist."

"How powerful are they?"

"Very. We will have to examine this closely."

There was a dull blossom of dim light outside the window. Then another, and another. All the admirals stood up. "An attack?"

"Not on us, sir," replied a sensor opp. "It's a very long range attack, directed at the battleships, but it doesn't seem to be doing any..."

The battleships accelerated. "Sir, battleship that have been hit have left formation, flying wildly."

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

Durandal snickered. The Jjaro ring of fear trick was always fun. He wished he knew how it worked, but ah well. One of those battleships had been pointing at the command ship when it was hit. Thirty more seconds...

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

"Sir, the Olaf is on a collision course!"

"Vector it off!"

"Sir, I can't get any response, other than ... panicked screaming?"

"Just shoot it!!!"

Too late. The Olaf hit the command ship. It didn't do any hull damage, but the shields went down to 37%...

Yuri Ulovich dissolved in a flash of mottled blue and white light.

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

Yuri looked around. He appeared to be outside some sort of wood and stone building, on a fairly cold if temporate region of a planet. One moon hung in the sky. It looked a lot like Earth's moon, but without the immense slash marks. He looked down. He was wearing some sort of odd costume, with all sorts of odd colored stripes, rediculous pants, and a large collar that reminded him of the "lampshades" used to prevent dogs from ripping out stiches after a visit to the vet.

He looked at the man walking out of the building. He was wearing similar garb, but had long blonde hair and a odd, curved sword. He also looked rather tall and threatening. Yuri looked left. There was a man with an odd black hood. He held a rather large axe, and stood next to a stump.

Yuri looked at the blonde man. "You, Yuri Ulovich, have been convicted of: attacking your homeworld, being unable to recognise your homeworld, treason, treachery, and being a butthead. The first 4 charges carry no penaly. The last one carries a penalty of beheading. that will be performed NOW."

Yuri was hauled unceremoniously to the block. His neck was placed against it. The man with the hood swung the axe.

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

The other two admirals were trying to figure out where Yuri went when he teleported back in, holding his neck and trembling like a leaf.

"The... the... they... they cut off my head!"

He then promptly fainted.

The others looked at Yuri's neck. On it was a thin red line, all the way around. A med team arrived, and administered smelling salts. Yuri woke, screamed some more, and collapsed again.

[This is kinda wierd, so let me explain this. Durandal just needed something to do, and a nice Elizabethan execution was just the thing. Durandal reattached the head before any perminant damage was done. Also, Pharris is going to get write a nice battle scene.]

------------------
Formerly-Rampant Human-Coded AI

The three-eyed diplomat sat back in his demi-throne smiling somewhat as his body absorbed nine centuries of furniture technology. He loved going on diplomatic missions where 'they' wanted something from the imperium. But comfy chairs aside, these "polaris" may actually be able to do the imperium a favor or two.

He bent his head upon the door as it hissed open. The Polaris Rear Admiral Trebetauski had just entered the room. Funny of these humans to put a woman in such a high position.

"Good evening, Natasha." He gave a polite nod to her.
"'evening, consulate." She returned blankly. She took a seat around the opal table. "Our mission in this quadrant is apparently in league with one of your goals, consulate."

"Oh?" He quirked his head to the side, feigning ignorance so as to prolong his stay in the chair. "You speak of Argos?"

"Indeed." She nodded. "We have both had military encounters with the Argosians that have gone sour, and have both lost many fine officers and crew to their barbarous ways."

"The Imperium has managed to stay out of General Yanma's way."

"But that will only delay this growing problem. They began their campaign from encroaching upon your space to encroaching upon the borders of every spacefaring faction. The Argosians are a galactic menace, and it will only be a matter of time untill the Empire and the Imperium are forced into a showdown."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that by then, will there be anyone left to take action against that?"

"If you are proposing attacking the Argosian Empire on mere speculation alone, you have gone quite mad, woman."

"Neither the North Star Federation nor the mighty Phylydion Imperium itself can ever possibly defeat the Argosians. But together, we can create an alliance that will shatter modern space warfare."

This grabbed the diplomat's attention. A non-aggression pact was what he came here hoping for, and now he was given the opportunity for a full-blow brotherhood? "I can honestly say that is a very tempting course of action, Admiral, for both our peoples, but as much as it would matter, I will have to ask my superiors on this."

Natasha smiled as he left the room for his quarters.

* * * * *

General Yanma was in his quarters, only now soaking up thee fact that his men would never see Argos again. The shell-shocked trauma, the unspeakable horror of war, of death and destruction, had sunk into him. Every man in the fleet was somehow shanged from the pleasant, bright and sunny men and women of the navy, into cold reflections of their former antitheses, chilled to the bone with the demoralizing depression of inevitability.

His stellarcomm blipped and he sat up on the bed, snapping out of his blank stare at the guilded ceiling. "Yes, Mr. Mitsu?" he muttered in a hollow voice.

"Sir, there's someone who would like to speak to you."

"I'll be there in a moment."

* * * * *

The blue General stepped onto the bridge. The cheery conversation that had inhabited it before the war was now a slow drugding drone of a time of recession. The sonsor officer spoke up first. "We tracked three juggernaughts and a wing of heavy destroyers entering the system a few minutes ago."

Yanma snapped out of it. "Who? Wha? Why didn't we detect them before?"

"Durandal wanted to keep it a surprise."

"Are they friendly?"

"Well, that's just it, sir. Their one of ours. Their commodore wanted to speak with you."

The general's mind was in a blur. A fleet? From Argos? This was too wierd. "Put him on the screen."

Barely a second after the face flickered into existance, it spoke. "After getting your letter, we couldn't simply leave you out here to rot." The General's face paled in surprise. "Some day you'll see Argos again," The face smiled in familial camaradarie. "brother."

------------------
Time is the best teacher, yet it kills all of it's students.

The Supreme Octicate closed the comm connection with the diplomat he had sent to meet with the Polarians. "Interesting," he said to Drion Nerec and Kiuro Den, the Economics Octicate. "The diplomat we chose may be a pompous, beurocratic fool, but he knows how to handle a dangerous situation."

"Sir, I advise against the kind of alliance they propose," said Nerec. "I don't want us to be forced into war. Besides, who knows what sort of military might the Argosians could create if they used their technology for war?"

"I agree," said Den. She then activated a tri-dee display of the Imperium's general economy. "However, I have studied their economy and trade patterns, and establishing trade would greatly boost our own economy." She turned off the display and waited for a reply. The SO nodded.

"The military budget could use a boost," said both Nerec and the SO simultaneously, the SO imitating Nerec's voice. They both chuckled.

"Very well. Nerec, I want a comprehensive study of their military to see what we could accomplish with an alliance. Den, Continue your trade research. I want both of you to give a personal report to our diplomat."

Nerec and Den bowed, and they walked out of the room to their respective offices.

------------------
-Traek Cicion of the Taeskor
"What sort of man is he?"
"Oh, he's just like any other man, only more so."
-Casablanca

Bob looked up as he got out of the ship. An oddly large S'pht was standing there. Bob put a laser sight on him and dropped down, keeping his aim on where he thought the brain might be.

"Don't bother, Bob." it said.

"How do you know my name?"

"Durandal called ahead. He said you might need help. My name is S'boath. I am familliar with the Arcanis, but know now way of destroying it. There are very few who do, if any."

"Who are they, and where can I find them?"

"The founders are the only ones who might know, naturally. Finding them is harder to answer. They typically find you."

"I have a feeling this could get tricky."

"Certainly. Trickier still might be escaping the several hundred Vylae troops sneaking up on you from behind."

"Tear it, just shoot 'em!!!" screamed a voice from behind, as Bob dropped to one knee and began popping caps at them. An immense wall of blue, the sign of multiple linked wave-motion cannons, shot for Bob.

Bob screamed. Bob closed his eyes. Bob knew he couldn't take this, founder uniform or not.

Bob opened his eyes. A purple wall had appeared between him and the incoming blast. S'boath was straining. "I have to leave now. My people will provide cover for you." Suddenly, two S'pht'Kr flyers began firing into the troops. Bob ran for his life as the organised fire at him disintigrated into random shooting. S'boath teleported out. Suddenly, Bob felt like something more was about to happen.

All of a sudden Bob was conscious of flying through the air, with a deafening rushing noise being the last thing he had heard. As he was about to land half a kilometer from where he had been standing, he saw a small silver object decelerating to a stop. A Vylae automated probe.

Bob landed, the uniform's inertic logic soaking up the impact, and checked his pocket. Ripped open. Arcanis pieces gone. He squinted at the probe. A red glow emitted from each of its two heavy-duty fast-reaction manipulator arms. The probe had snatched the pieces from his pocket while going through the atmosphere at about one quarter the speed of light. Bob had no idea anyone could hold a probe stable at that velocity through an atmosphere. He had no idea any probe could stand that quantity of force. He definatly was surprised that anyone could snatch the Arcanis with a quantity of time expressed in nanoseconds. It probably wasn't Durandal.

"Hi Leela."

"Glad to see you recognised me." said Leela's holoimage. Appearing without a projector.

"Strauss was far to weak to use these propperly. I will do so. You may go do whatever you like, I don't care. No, wait. You'll try to get it back. I know what this does to people. You won't get off this planet alive. Besides, I need to kill those S'pht too. Sure, they were helpful in breaking the Pfhor's power, but they might try get my precious pieces for themselves. All I need is three more, and I will be totally unstoppable. Not even the Jjaro themselves could stop me!!! I'll be like a goddess. Hmm, I should work on starting a religion. Lots to do. See you after the universe closes!"

Bob didn't like that speach a bit. He watched the probe vanish. He looked up at the sky. A Warpship was hovering in minimum orbit. He'd heard the Vylae could use warpships to do intersteller teleports. Guess that's what had happened. But how was she going to destroy everyone here?

Lh'owon's got a planetary shield, so antimatter is straight out. The S'pht can hold off pretty large warfleets. Certainly the could blow the warpship before it pulls in too much. That left only one option. He didn't like that option. Long range scanner in the beltpack sez... yer f---ed, Bob.

On the scanner, the "known sentient beings" count, as well as the "organism" count and all related counts for the Warpship were decreasing. The crew was being transported off. They were gonna ram it straight into the planet. Like a multiterraton battering ram. That would seriously bust up the planet, not counting the antimatter.... "ß·ˆÝ! ß·ˆÝ! ß·ˆÝ! ß·ˆÝ! ß·ˆÝ! ß·ˆÝ! ß·ˆÝ! ß·ˆÝ! ß·ˆÝ! ß·ˆÝ! ß·ˆÝ! ß·ˆÝ! ß·ˆÝ! ß·ˆÝ!"

Bob had to think...

------------------
Formerly-Rampant Human-Coded AI

Three full warfleets hung suspended in space, mere parsecs from the Grecchan imperial capital. Hundreds of every kind of warship drifted in exact formation, fine-tuning their systems for the approaching combat. Within dozens upon dozens of troop transports, Imperial Army Troops, shocktroops, Taeskor Legionaires and Taeskor Commandos dissasembled, cleaned, and reassembled their weapons, awaiting the moment their transports would hit the surface of Greccha Prime.

Drion Nerec himself was leading the operation, and he stood on the bridge of the legendary Phylydia I, completely rebuilt and upgraded, now a match for its sister ship the Phylydia II. The psycological effect of seeing the Phylydia leading a fleet at Greccha Prime would be immense. Nerec contacted the Supreme Octicate back on Dominus. "Sir, we're in position, and the attack shall begin in two standard days. We've cut off most FTL routes from Greccha Prime, and so I do not believe they'll be able to evacuate the system. How goes it with our North Star friends?"

"I've just put in a request to their Federation to prove their honesty by sending a small force to cover for your main assault fleet."

"Thank you, sir." Nerec cut the connection, knowing that the Imperium had made no such request. It was a mere cover for the favor that they had really asked the North Star Federation to give them.

Admiral Dinial Bedein stood on the bridge of a Kiojea-class compact heavy battlecruiser at the head of a small fleet. The entire fleet was cloaked, in position outside an asteroid field near the center of Grecchan space. Somewhere in that asteroid field, Traek Cicion was being held. Hopefully the NSF had recieved the encrypted message with details of the situation.

Traek Cicion had his eyes closed, trying to remain calm through the torture he was enduring. The Greccha were efficient, and prided themselves on it, but the most efficient methods of torture have long been the most ghastly ones. The most recent attempt had been brutal: His captors had placed small stimulation chips on his sense tendrils, the most sensitive part of the Phylydion anatomy. The chips simultaneosly produced harsh chemical irritants and blasts of all kinds of sensory input, leading to sensory hyperoverload that he had barely held on through. If he survived, he would not be able to use his most valuable sense for at least a month. He now watched as a thin crackling blue rod was moved slowly toward his center eye. He forced himself to breathe calmly and evenly, and dimmed the nerves in his eye.

------------------
-Traek Cicion of the Taeskor
"What sort of man is he?"
"Oh, he's just like any other man, only more so."
-Casablanca

"Your report, magistrate?" Yuri sternly inquired. The Magistrate was a short, fat man with a curly moustache and a frill of thich hair. A typical robber-baron from the savage system of economy which was Polaris Capitalism.

"We've imported nin hundred-thousand tons of Cipcon to the imperium in exchange for over forty trillion scintak. That equals about one-point-four exocredits, and already we're seeing a sharp rise in demand. The consumers in the Imperium are sure as hell well-off when it comes to market purchases-"

The impatient Admiral interrupted the trade Baron. "It is working?"

The baron smiled an evil cheshire smile. "Yes, better than we expected. Even the king-or-whatever-he-is Nerec has "sampled" our Cipcon goods. They're addicted to it and they don't even know it."

The Admiral was nothing less than skeptical. "What if they draw the line? What if they start linking withdrawal symptoms to Cipcon?"

"Even if they do notice the withdrawal symptoms -nothing but a mere tingling and numbness of the sensory glands- they wouldn't link it to Cipcon. Not even their top scientists can tell it's a narcotic specially designed for their physiology. A-a-and even if they did, only we have the treatment. they'll be begging us for more in a few days."

Yuri was all but disgusted. "This is your idea of fund-raising?"

"Yessir. This'll line our pockets good."

*sigh* "Alright, but as soon as we've crushed the Argosians, you sell them the antidote, got it?"

"Erm, yessir, but I'm wondering why we're letting go of the opportunity to totally economically dominate the imper-"

"And I'm wondering why I'm explaining myself to a magistrate."

There was an angry silence. The two men exchanged salutes, and the Baron left for his ship.

------------------
Time is the best teacher, yet it kills all of it's students.

Bob was usually of the mind that things sort themselves out in the end. The unfortunate side of this philosophy was that in order to fully embrace it, you had to be ready to accept that things might sort themselves out with your body in several pieces, scattered around a very large area. This is why I said 'Usually". When things wern't sorting themselves out satisfactoraly, Bob usually found that a little persuasion of the high explosive variety often set things right.
Unfortunately, Bob had just finished trying that, and it hadn't seemed to help very much.

Just then one of the Sph't approached.

"We might be able to survive if we flee to one of the bunkers."

Bob eyed the Sph't staff, or more accurately, the energy condenser attatched to it.

"Give that to me. Now."

As the Sph't was beginning to argue, Bob took it. As the Sph't began to dissaprove, Bob interrupted him.

"I want you to lower your planetary shield. You'll need to trust me a lot, but you don't have a choice, so start talking, get someone to lower the section right above us."

Bob immediately set to tearing the staff to shreds. It still had a full charge on what was supposedly a lifetime battery. He opened the small door on the front of his suit marked with a radioactive sign and shoved it in, waiting for the intelligence to figure out how to harness the energy in the battery.

He then called up his teleport controller, and began locking on to the ship above. As the Sph't nodded to him, Bob activated the teleporter and was away. He was glad that the ship had been evacuated. He only had one spare fusion battery.



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