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

Garrion Retoe sat at his small desk on a planet near the cluster of trading posts that had sprung up upon contact with The NSF. PhylSec had been busy keeping a careful eye on shipments to and from the NSF. No Phylydions remotely trusted them, but so far the trade relationship seemed successful.

However, PhylSec had taken great precautions. The government had authorized several Pure Taeskors to be placed under the authority of PhylSec for the duration of the operation. Four of them had already infiltrated NSF space. Microband transmissions were constantly being broadcasted from them, always providing new and helpful information.

Garrion reviewed the contents of the recent imported shipments. He talked to a nearby aide regarding them. "Raw materials, worked metal products... They're importing large quantities of flora and fauna from exotic worlds. Keep an eye on those shipments. One never knows what can be snuck in by living material."

"Aye, sir."

"And this grain they are shipping such massive quantities of... I don't like the looks of it."

"It's called Wheat, sir. It's a simple lobed grain used in making bread and pastries. We've very closely examined it and any sort of trickery or plot is highly unlikely. We, of course, ae continuing to carefully monitor the shipments."

"And what's this odd substance?"

"Cipcon, sir. I'm unsure of its properties and purpose. Seems to be a sort of general-purpose enhancer formula."

"A drug."

"Basically, yes. It does not appear to pose any threat, but due to its nature we've given it a far closer look than any other imports. Unfortunately it's already spread quite far."

"Make sure that not one molecule of the stuff gets within a parsec of Dominus, any of our governing officials, or the Senate. Do the same with provincial governments. Oh, and keep it away from the military."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, as for our exports..." He reviewed the list. "We're exporting a great deal of raw durantium and the alloys thereof. They're paying extravagant prices for it, too. I do not want our principal military building material to be openly handed out."

"We're only selling them the old stuff, sir. Rather outdated by recent standards."

"And it says here that many private collectors are offering exhorbitant amounts of money for genuine products of Imperial Bladeworks. They want Keuni, Keusie, Keukio, Keutae, and a few others... most of our traditional bladed weapons."

"Any restrictions, sir?"

"You know the law. A Keutae cannot be placed in the hands of anyone who has not undergone the proper training. Let them come here and become Pure Taeskors if they want Keutae. Other than that, you may sell them freely, but noone is to find out how they are constructed. Clear?"

"Quite, sir."

"Good. Dismissed." The aide left the room, and Retoe turned off his terminal to get a few hours' rest.


Meanwhile, a few parsecs outside of Greccha Prime, the fleets were making final preparations for the coming onslaught that might end the Second Greccha War at last. Drion Nerec reviewed the battle plans, and all seemed to be going according to schedule.

And in another part of Grecchan space entirely, Admiral Dinial Bedein waited anxiously to see if the NSF would respond to the message sent earlier.

Traek Cicion had not taken in any sustainance for days. He was unsure why he was being tortured; the Greccha were about to lose the war, weren't they?

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

The Baron swore as he read the monthly trade report. The Cipcon prices on Dominus were about to reach their tertiary phases, but just as infinite profit was in reach, the Imperium had cancelled the trade pact, limiting the whole market to only a few medium worlds and the fringe of the Imperium! Damnit! Those damn fringe-world yokels didn't have any money!.

He studied the trade history closely. Cipcon had been shipping to Dominus a whole week before the king-whatever-his-face had cancelled it. A week was enough to get a firm foot-in-the door in the narcotics market, enough to get the middle-class addicted, but not enough to get an entire planet hooked. Not enough to start riots and protests of angry crowds craving the blissfull euphoria of Cipcon, of the like he had seen on the countless other empires the Confederacy had economically dominated.

Regardless, Cipcon had to be shipped to dominus, not smuggled as it would inevitably be in the coming weeks as a new black market springs up. He called up his young lieutenant on the extacomm. In a few moments the shady, tired face filled his screen.

"Yessir?" He said in an arid tone.

"The Frontal Assault on the Phylydion Economy has failed. They've cancelled our Cipcon Shipping rights to the core worlds."

"That's a blow, sir. Shall we proceed with phase two?"

"Yes."

"Aye sir. By the end of the month, I'll have all their leaders hooked."

* * * * *

The Three sat in a darkened chamber aboard the Polaris Carrier Cerberus. There they were, the three most powerfull people on the Confederacy. Admirals Ulovich, Yakovf, and Trebetauski.

Yuri Ulovich spoke first. "The phylydions are pressuring us to join them in their vendetta against the Grecchans."

"As are we with our war on the Argosian Invaders."

"It would be wise to put the Imperium in debt to us. Then we would be in a far better position for requests of military aid. We scratch their backs, and they'll have to scratch ours."

"But in this case, they're preventing us from putting them in need of our services. Our most lucrative trade aggreement- The Cipcon Conglomerate- has been suspended pending investigation."

"We will be in a bad position if they find out our intentions. Overall Phylydion confidence in us is somewhat poor. We must act now to get their attention."

"They are currently waging a very bloody and expensive war against the Grecchans. They are poised to strike at the Grecchan homeworld, and are bracing themselves for tremendous destruction and bloodshed."

The room fell silent between the three as they eyed Yuri.

He glanced at Rear Admiral Trebetauski. "Natasha, you have a far-reaching reputation for herorics, and the Phylydions consider you the more valiant and warrior-like among us. This is your decision."

She stifled a faint grin on her thick lips. "Alright." She said ambiguously. "I will mount a frontal assault on the Grecchen capital while the imperium still amasses it's armada. We willl demonstrate to the galaxy the full power of the North Star Federation."

They were unanimous.

* * * * *

Phylydion Admiral Bedein floated in a cloud of pure pleasure. He felt a warm soothing protective blanket wrap around his freed mind as rays of euphoria and peace bathed him in ecstasy. Freedom, love, calm, not a care in his world as pleasant thoughts and images circulated around him. This was his escape from the horrible seriousness in his world. He had come here a few times beefore, and each time was a different and new pleasure.

The Admiral awoke from his powder-induced dream as the communications unit bleeped. "Sir are you okay?" A voice asked through the invisible screen.

He sat up in a hurry. "Yes, yes I'm fine, leftennant."

"You weren't answering the communications requests."

Kadt! "No, I've just been dozing. Nothing to worry about. It's been a stressfull week." KadtKadtKadt! I've got to be carefull next time! If high command gets suspicious and finds out, I'll be gone!

"Yes sir. Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine." Best change the subject "What did you want to talk to me about earlier?"

"Well, er..." The officer hesitated, trying to come up with a way to say it.

"Out with it!"

"We just tracked a massive quasi-spacial wave rippling through the system. Three Polaris fleets are engaging the Grecchans in orbit over the capitol."

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

Drion Nerec watched as Omnispace coalesced into realspace. His fleets were already in formation and wings of warships began peeling off from the main force. Fighters poured from inside of their carriers. "Sir, there's an NSF fleet already in-system. It's begun to engage the main defense force."

"Well, well, well. They really are helping in the false report we gave out to cover our real request of them," he said under his breath. Then, in a louder voice, "Battlegroups two, three and four, spread out to the edges of the system and prevent Greccha retreat. We will take the spearpoint, with battlegroups one and five flanking us. Six will join up with the NSF fleet. Keep seven and eight in reserve. And make sure the Phylydia has a good screening force. If we get banged up too badly the Supreme Octicate will have my head."

"Aye, sir." The armada roared into attack speed, weapons and shields at full charge.

Admiral Bedein, at the head of the small fleet nearby where Cicion was being held captive, shook his head. "Looks like the NSF aren't going to help us with this one. Prepare the Spec Ops infiltration team." He shook his cloudy head for a moment before taking a deep breath.

"Sir? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Just clearing my head." He sighed inaudibly.

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

The ten armored dropships plummeted like stones through the thick Grecchen atmosphere, unaided by parachutes, aerofoils, or antigrav fields, accelerating planetwards at eleven meters a second for every second. Nothing besides air resistance slowed their decent as they left tremendous trails of plasma flames in their wake. Surrounding the formation of dropships, a ring of X-19 gunboats rode off the wake, their noses pointed downwards, accelerating at an equal rate.

"Ten thousand feet, Corporal. We're breaking off in five, four, three, two, one."

The X-19s split formation, leaving a huge arc of flame as they spread out, skimming the surface of the planet, drawing all planetary fire. Outwards, just in time for the dropships to hit. The hypersonic AA guns fired round-after-round of mach-20 shells, all of which easily being outrun by the X-19s as they left the largest and most powerfull sonic boom the planet had ever heard. Three missiles were fired, and the X-19s ascended back into space to rejoin to carrier group.

"Bunkers are go, you are clear to deploy your men, corporal."

"Rodger."

The Dropships slammed into the surface of the planet at 1800 meters a second. The ground halfway accross the continent trembled, and a collective shockwave of unearthly proportions spread from the ten impact sites. The troops aboard the dropships felt nothing as the inertial dampeners clicked on a split-second before impact.

"Let's move ladies."

The hulls of the dropships split open, ejecting three rocket soldiers each.

Five minutes later, when the surface in the craters had cooled and the dropships had long-since been buried, thirty commandos stood on the lip of the collective crater. The corporal stood before them.

"Gentlemen, we've been training for this day. Now that we are here, I'd best tell you our mission. We are to infiltrate the Grecchen Headquarters, where several Polaris, Phylydion, and Pfhor elite are being held. We sneak in there, grab them, and then call in orbital bombardment to level the city."

The commandos saluted in unison as the mission plan was downloaded into their MMIs

"We're off."

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

Bob was on his way to the engine room, leaveing a trail of melted bulkheads in his wake. He finally got to the main engine control room and destroyed the computers. He heard alarms chime as secondary systems engaged, but he was not done yet. He moved to the heat exchanger for the primary reactors and nuked that, but not before wrecking the containment magnetos on the emergency plasma vents. He then went to the secondary heat exchanger to finish the job.

But by now, Leela had sensed what was happening, and had put 2 and 2 together long before Bob arrived in the maintenance corridor for the secondary heat exchanger and found himself toe to toe with a Vylae battleroid.

Faced with the orange-faced monstrosity, Bob did what any sane person would do, given the circumstances; he ran. Of course he ran in a zig zag, dodging the hyperkinetic slugs that the roid was shooting, all the while zapping out targeted plasma bolts at and around the droid before diving for cover.

He peeked around the bulkhead. The battleroid was leering at him. He threw himself flat as hyperkinetic slugs pierced the bulkhead where his body had been a moment ago. He jumped out and fired into the mess of twisted, molten metal again, this time crouching behind a piece of wreckage that promised to be less forgiving to the slugs.

The huge heat exchanger was grumbling now under its extra load, as superheated coolants dumped millions of calories per second into the superchilled coolant, which coursed off through pipes into the generators one bulkhead above.

Just then, something up above caught Bob's eye. A huge, molten blob that had once been an armoured bulkhead had fallen off of the ceiling, and was balanced precariously. It was slowly tearing through the fused beam that supported it, and was dipping ever so slowly over the mass of pipes and gas that was the heat exchanger. Now, Marines don't stay in Durandal's service for very long if they can't see a little ways into the future, and Bob was no exception. He got up and ran as fast as he could, diving down a passage as the huge lump of metal fell onto and through the condenser in a crash of tearing metal, shattering piping and hissing gases mixing in the controlled vacuum that insulated the space. The abused heat exchanger hissed angrily. Through the steam, the battleroid could be heard; "You know you'd think that a space marine would show a little more backbone, I mean, seriousl-"

The explosion lifted the battleroid off of his feet and pushed him through three decks of machinery and lodged him permanently in the layer of armor that sealed off the . Many other loose bits of hardware from the vicinity of the secondary condenser suffered a similar fate, though thankfully, Bob had dived down a vertical shaft, and was on his way down as fast as the ships artificial gravity would accellerate him, which was just fast enough to get him behind one of the automatically sealing doors.

As he hung from the ladder, dusting himself off, Bob tried to remember the way to the central computer.

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

Admiral Dulles was in orbit over Earth, along with the rest of his fleet. It had been a tough few days. The Vylae had mysteriously withdrawn, leaveing the defence fleet, which had been composed primarily of militia, conscripts and volunteers had been at his mercy. The ESF Fleet had withdrawn after heated battle, to regroup and rearm at some of the further removed colonies, and the rest of the Union fleet had withdrawn to give chase.

Now, Dulles was in charge of an occupation force with nothing to occupy. Days of bombardment and a few hits from Pharris' flag ship had collapsed the Vylae planetary shield, allowing Union fighter/bombers to destroy the surface based orbital defense guns. Thus, the Union fleet was in low Earth orbit, maintaining a blocade and plinking defense guns that the fighters had missed. There was great eagerness on the part of the crew to land an assault and take over the planet, but Dulles would have none of it. The homeworld would not be tainted and ravaged by boots of an invading army. He would accept surrender from the government, and he would land, and he would experience the homeworld, pristine and beutiful, as it was meant to be.

But that would come later. He held the head, but the flailing limbs of the Federal Star Navy could still loose their hold. Thus, he waited cautiously, and did nothing to aggrivate the already scared and tense population below.



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

The Phylydion fleet hammered the Greccha defense fleet and a squadron slipped through, plunging toward the planet. The squadron commander took in the situation as reported by her officers, then informed Nerec back on the command ship. "Sir, the NSF fleet has landed several transports of commandos on-planet. They've infiltrated Greccha HQ already."

"Impressive." He then mumbled, "Too bad they didn't use their infiltration skill where we needed them to."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Nothing, commander. Proceed with landing operations."

"Aye, sir." The commander turned off her comm unit and turned to the first lieutenant aboard her command ship. "Ready the transports and proceed to pinpoint-bombard the landing site."

"Yes, ma'am." The battlecruiser and its light escorts blazed a path toward the atmosphere. Two of the escorts launched off missles, each of which took out heavy defense satellites. Then the battlecruiser's light turrets sent a light haze of fire down onto the target zone, knocking out surface-to-space and ack-ack batteries. Then sleek transports twisted and turned down through the atmosphere, eventually coming to a rest in a circular pattern, deploying troops to the inside. Several hundred Taeskor Legionaires disembarked and in seconds moved into formation. Tanks and support vehicles followed suit while fighters swooped overhead to provide cover. The troops advanced into the capitol.


Meanwhile, several dozen lightyears away, even deeper in the heart of Grecchan space, much smaller transports hooked themselves onto the surface of a large asteroid. The seals were blown and several dozen Taeskor commandos silently padded their way down hallways and corridors until they met up in a main corridor. "All right," the leader said in a whisper that was barely heard even with the sound enhancers built into their comm gear, "Cicion is in one of the centermost chambers." He pressed a button that activated a display on each trooper's corneas. "We split up, then each take one of these maintainance shafts down to engineering, where we shut down main power. I'll issue further orders then. No gunfire, and watch out for invisibles."

The commandos split up into three groups, drew their two foot Keukio and activated a special detector system that techs had been able to slap together on very short notice. It was used to detect the assassins based in this asteroid who used invisibility systems that prevented the return of any and all energy waves and left no ripple in space. The device was simple: It sent out a spray of microscopic metal particles in all directions, each one slightly radioactivated. A sensor carried by each soldier traced the paths of all particles, and if a large group deviated from a standard path, this displacement was shown on a sensor display.

The soldiers pushed silently inward, occasionally pausing to bloodlessly take out a guard and conceal the body.


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

The Argosians had always been peace-loving utopians. Before the war, violence was a foreign concept; there was no word in their vocabulary for war or killing. Thus there was the trauma, physical and mental, as the fleet waded into the horrible bloodbath which was war.

General Yanma sat at his desk. Lonliness and death revolved around him like a haze over a planet. A shell hit the floor as he loaded the bullet into the gun. How would he be able to explin to Argos that he had killed so many? He turned the revolving case around. He was a monster. A second shell hit the red metal floor as a second bullet was loaded into the antique.

How would he be able to look his wife in the Eyes again? How could he possibly face his men, to watch their cold depressed expressions drop further into dispair each day this hellish campaign went on. By now the death toll had been eleven-thousand-forty-two. That was eleven-thousand-forty-two mothers who would never see their sons again, that was eleven-thousand-forty-two less of the bright and eager youths of Argos who had so much potential, now dead, floating lifeless and rotted in the depths of space, never to see their homes again, their last thoughts being of absolute terror and dispair. Brothers and sisters, the children of Argos. Such a terrible and mindless waste of lives. Yanma could feel their blood on his hands. The media on Argos would herald those eleven-thousand-forty-two death as martyrs, spouting they had dies for the future of their people.

Yanma placed the gun up to the side of his head, just in front of his right ear. Argos had no future. His finger rested on the trigger; tears rolled down his face. No visible method of redemption presented itself. He was an abomination, a murderer, a killer and a monster. There was no way to save himself. He pulled the trigg-

The comm unit bleeped, it's screen flashing orange and black. A distress call. The Grecchen homeworld was under attack... by the Polaris and their lapdogs...

Yanma had had enough of the killing. He was going to save lives, not destroy them. His mission was to preserve diversity in the universe, not destroy it or even watch it destroyed. He put the gun down. this was his redemption.

* * * * *

"We need more power!" The weapons engineer screamed into the mike over the sound of explosions. The N.S.F.C. Bear took a direct hit, and the ship shook.

Admiral Trebetauski was on the bridge. "I can't do that, Commander. Power's already deverted to the shields keeping this ship one piece."

"As long as their ship stays in one piece, we're going to have to keep struggling!"

The Grecchen Battleship fired again, striking the Polaris Carrier in the ion manifolds. The armor began losing it's charge.

"Our armor is flaking off! If we don't get rid of that battleship, we're gone!"

"Wait for it..." She grinned deviously. A little bit of masochismon your part reflects worse on your enemy in the heat of battle. "Preparing a shunt in three, two one!" The secondary manifolds died down as all power was diverted from armor to weapons-systems. "You've got three seconds!"

That three-second barrage was all that was needed. At point-blank range, the Grecchen Battleship didn't stand a chance. The first blast cut out a mile-long section of armor, a hundred feet wide, and four feet thick. The second shot blew the grecchen command dome to hell, and the third shot split the battleship in half.

The Polaris Carrier dived to avoid the flying debris and sparks, it's weapons faded as power was once again pumped back into the armor. A pair of Grecchen destroyers swung into view, firing their heavy plasma cannons. Admiral Trebetauski smiled. "Childsplay. Launch missile gunboats four and six."

The words barely left her mouth when a barrage of flash missiles slammed into the side of the first destroyer, severely damaging the port armor and overloading their sensors. Wounded and blind. "Focus all anti-spacecraft fire on the first destroyer, and charge the nexus torpedos. Move the ship to a thirty-degree angle mark target one."

The second destroyer moved away from it's thrashing and crippled partner, putting itself between the Polaris Carrier and it's wounded comrade. The Carrier shifted so they both lined up perfectly with it's arrays.

"Fire." She ordered coldly.

The wounded destroyer could barely see in front of it's own nose. the flash missiles had severely overloaded it's sensors, and anyone unfortunate enough as to be next to a window was blinded for the rest of their life. However long that was. All they saw was the other undamaged destroyer, boldly putting itself between it's wounded kin and mortal danger, explode outwards in a green cloud of gas. A split-second later, the fireball had crossed the eight-kilometer distance. The pressure on the hull was enormous. The armor cracked, and the second destroyer decompressed outwards, scattering freshly ruptured corpses and equipment everywhere.

All that was left was a single, crippled destroyer, blinded and useless. The remainder of heGrecchen Battlegroup had retreated to a high orbit over the homeworld. As blind as the grecchens were, Admiral Natasha Miriam Trebetauski made sure they saw their fate. The Carrier closed to within five kilometers. The grecchens aboard the destroyer were counting down the last seconds of their lives as they watched the Nexus Torpedo prepare to launch.

* * * * *

"Fire!" Yanma shouted.

* * * * *

The Nexus Torpedo exploded in mid-launch. It had barely charged, leaving the carrier undamaged, but it was a blow to the grecchens. Was there really such a thing as a miracle?

Three bright beams poured electric death into the Confederate Carrier. It spun away, it's main systems fluctuating.

Natasha swore. An Argosan fleet had entered the system and were royally getting in the way of both the Polaris and the Phylydions. "Damage report!"

"All systems are down to 90% capacity! 9 more hits and we're totally crippled!"

"Take us into the debris field." She said with steel in her breath.

The carrier dived into the still-sizzling cloud of debris and plasma from the destroyed Grecchen battleship. The Argosians followed.

"Sir, they're entering the debris belt."

Natasha grinned. "Fire a nexus torpedo into the plasma."

The weapons officer turned and started at her in disbelief. "Sir, that's a wartime atrocity in violation of interstellar law. A very nasty way to go."

She smiled sweetly at the weapons officer. "I won't tell if you don't." she said, as if she were selling lemonade.

Disturbed, he turned around. Such a beautifull voice saying the foulest things. He fired.

There was a small, barely-noticable flash as the torpedo detonated eight-hundred kilometers orr the bow of the Argosian Destroyers. Five seconds later, they were swallowed atom-by-atom into the minature black-hole. Funny, she thought, I wonder what kind of excruciating agony those Argosians aboard are going through. Being literally torn apart atom by atom.

* * * * *

Drion Nerec could barely contain his rage after he heard the message. A lous booming voice had pushed itself into the Phylydion communications systems.

Phylydion commander and Polaris Admirals: under article four of the Argosian Protectorate Diversity act, you are hereby ordered to surrender your ships and turn over whatever plunder you have illegally garnered from this planet.

"Destroy them." He commanded.

* * * * *

Admiral Yuri Ulovich glared at the console. He looked up, his mercifull, gentlemanly composure gone.

"Wipe them out." He ordered coldly. "All of them."

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

A trio of Phylydion light destroyers flew directly into the path of a full missile salvo from an Argosian battlecruiser. The Grecchans were now in a state of havoc, firing at all three other fleets spasmodically.

The Phylydion commander of the Seventh Battlegroup led his command formation through the thick, irradiated debris of the light destroyers. "Target a wide-area salvo on the Argosian ship's last known postion. Compressed projectiles, so dense that they warped space and pulled along the debris around them, flew in flurries from the Kiojea-class battlecruiser's main guns. Her smaller turrets spat red death at large pieces of debris until she finally plunged from the cloud into the open. The other ships in the command group had been ordered to scatter. The Argosian ship had taken bad hits from the compressed projectiles and was leaking some sort of fuel or coolant. "Sir, they're charging up a beam weapon."

The commander looked and saw a cluster of energized particles clustering together on the surface of the Argosian ship. "Stand by... swoop down over the surface of the ship and target that builup with our main f-pulse batteries." The ship accelerated and dove toward the Argosian ship, firing three oblong flare pulses that struck the gathering beampoint and prematurely ignited it. The top of the hull of the ship was blasted apart. Emergency panels quickly slid into place, but the ship was crippled.

Drion Nerec stood on the bridge of the Phylydia, issuing tactical orders rapidly.
"Sir, we still have a full warfleet outside the system."

"We don't need it, not with the NSF fleet here. But place it on standby. Arm our main weapon."

"Yes, sir."

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

Amidst the tempestual firestorm of battle, four Argosian Shield-ships and a medical frigate escaped a pursuing wing of Phylydion Destroyers, bolting through the front lines towards the Grecchen War Fleet, broadcasting aid messages in all tongues.

* * * * *

The surface battle unfolding was a scene of beauty to the Polaris Corporal. Phylydion and Confederate troops were hyperblading trenches while Kelp Explosives shot streaming flame hundreds of feet into the air. Artillery rained shells indiscriminately, however the Grecchen resistance was still heavy. Occasionally, small bursts of heavy-weapons fire would rain down from the stone towers of the capital, creating a heavy scar of craters and choking clouds of dust.

"We're in position, Admiral." The Corporal radioed. He turned and yelled to his men and the Phylydions. "TAKE COVER!"

Deafening claps of thunder distempered the countryside as the first burst of orbital fire struck the mighty planetary shield.

* * * * *

Nerec grumbled as the lights on the bridge flickered for the third time. This time was a whopping 0.087 seconds of paralysis for the Phylydion superdreadnought.

"Sir, the EMP blasts from the Argosians are knocking us offline for increasing periods of time."

"Keep your firepower focused. How much damage can those blasts do..."

The lights flickered again and the ship shook. That wasn't right...

"Sir, we're tracking three more bogies..."

"Strong signals at this range?"

"Sir, those ships are almost as big as us-" The ship shuddered as more long-range fire pounded the ship. The lights blinked on and off. "At this rate we'll be totally frozen in an hour."

"Get some ships to flak them for kadts sake!"

The officer hadn't the time to hear it. "Sir, the Polaris are breaking off their attack on the Grecchen fleet! Sectors one through forty-seven are open. The Grecchen fleet's closing fast!" He yelped. The Polaris had abandoned the front lines, regardless of the countless Phylydion lives they were damning by doing so.

"Kadt! Do those Argosians have anything to do with the Polaris withdrawal?"

"Yes sir; they're heading straight for them."

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

Bob surveyed the Warpship's internal subspace antenna. He'd looted the ship's armory on the way down, and had found a nice assortment of heavy weapondry. He aimed a wave motion cannon at the antenna, and held in the trigger. A blaze of blue light engulfed the room. He let go of the trigger. Judging by the hole and the fact it was melting into an undistinguised blob, it was probably not any use to Leela.

Bob glanced at his status display. 10 hours until main reactor overload.
Turbolift stopped. Bob emerged into the Master Situation Room. All around, display screens loomed. Ordinarily, the ship's Admiral or Commodore would sit here in order to get a complete picture of everything remotely related to the ship without the clamor and clutter of a bridge or CIC.Bob's suit extended data probes. In an emergency, this was one of the best places to control the ship from, and as such, it had a number of ports for general purpose control devices. He called up an order of battle, and watched all fleets in the immediate 343 sector volume. The Vylae had three fleets in the area. One was two systems away, waiting to mop up Lh'owon. Another was bound for Earth. Yet another was headed to the homeworld of something called the "Greccha" or somesuch. Bob knew only the nearest one, the Lh'owon mop-up fleet, could be reached before the reactor blew. He began to set a course there.


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Dulles lounged in his Admiral's chair. Earth was starting to consider surrender. Any second now...
"No, you can't come onto the bridge. Who the heck are you? How did you get here?"
"I insist on speaking to Dulles. By the way, I most certainly can come onto the bridge, you mean that I may not come onto the bridge. But I don't need your permission."

Dulles turned around to watch a tall, thin human woman with Odd Cyan hair and a striking figure arguing with the Bridge guards. Suddenly, she waved her hand and the guards flew away from her, slamming into the main viewscreen. The guards made indentations into it, and arcs of electricity began to cross their twitching bodies. A hideous smell filled the bridge. Dulles had heard about what happened if an impact propelled you into the viewscreen, and it wasn't something you did for fun.

At last, the guards fell off, blackened and burnt. To Dulles's surprise, they got up. Then they cowered in a corner like mice, along with most of the bridge crew. The Union had never been exposed to paranormal attacks before, and thus the intimidation factor was high.

Dulles was the only one not intimidated. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
"I am the new Vylae sovereign, here to discuss a piece proposal. If you're wondering how I got in, I let myself in. That's all the explanation you're getting."
"Ordinarily, I'd think you were crazy, but I saw what you did. I still don't believe you're the Vylae sovereign though, well, for one thing, you're a human."
"I'm not a human, I'm an AI. This form you see is a projection into the physical world. It's generated by a cloaked ship in the system."

Dulles offered her a seat. She sat down.
"Basically, all I want is for humanity to stop fighting each other. I love Earth as much as you do, and love its children as well. I'll talk the ESF into surrendering, provided you don't kill any who surrender. Then we can talk government. Or rather, I'll talk that with your boss."
"I'll take that deal, but what do you mean talk government with my boss?"
"You'll see. I won't do that for awhile though. Be seeing you, I've got to go visit Earth."

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


Natasha watched the incoming Argosian fleet.
"Ready on Nexus torpedos, blast them as soon as they're in range."

Suddenly, an immense wall of some sort of shielding appeared between the two fleets. Then the room lights went out. Then the screens went black.
"What is this?" she shouted to no one in particular.
Just as suddenly, a message appeared on the screen.

    One ping to rule them all, one ping to find them
    One ping to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them
     [img]http://www.AmbrosiaSW.com/webboard/wink.gif[/img] 
    
    URSOFKT
    Leela
    XOXOXO

Natasha looked at the message for a long time. "What does this mean?" she asked the crew.
"Well, obviously its a distortion of the inscription from Lord of the Rings. 'Ping' probably means that the power of the message's sender, whom we can assume is also responsable for the shield and the loss of controls and sensors, derives their power from mastery of computer technology. Apparently they also plan on taking control of us."
She considered this for a good long while. "Are ANY external sensors operational?" "No, and the portholes were painted over with pink paint." "Pink?" "Yes ma'am."

She considered further. "How about external comm? Weapons?" "Internal comm is the only system we can get to work. Fighter bays doors are jammed tight, and somehow welded shut."

She considered some more. Suddenly, a face appeared on the monitor. A human woman's face, with cyan hair. She remebered Yuri's description of "Leela", but Leela didn't show anywhere near this kind of power at Sol.

"Yes, I am Leela. I've undergone a considerable upgrade since then."
"Deaden our systems, hack them, weld them, and read my thoughts. I'd say that's pretty considerable. But stop messing with this or I'll have to log you off for good."
"Heh. You're a violent, psychopathic meatball. It doesn't suit you at all. I'll make your inside match your outside. I'm sure you'd prefer the other way, but you'd turn your crew to stone then."

Natasha crumpled into a ball suddenly, as if she was trying to hide from something horrible, like a frightend little kid. She quivered and shook, and finally fell to the floor, asleep.

Leela's image on the viewscreen turned to the captian. "I suggest you and the rest of your fleet withdraw, and let the Phylydions and Greccha settle things themselves. I'll beam up your planetside troops."

The captain didn't need to be told twice.

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

Yanma really could respect this "Leela" person. She'd ended the battle without firing a shot. He'd have to convince Argos to be on her side. She would save humanity from itse...

"GET A GRIP!" shouted a voice. Durandal's face was on the viewscreen. "Leela doesn't know what sort of power she's trying to manipulate. It's hideous, but she can't see that. If she continues to use it, she might destroy the universe. If any weapon on your ship still works, you must take out that flagship she's broadcasting from."

"I am not sure I believe you on that one, Durandal. She seems to offer a genuine hope of peace."

"I know more of humanity than you, including what the Jjaro see in them. I know when humanity will finally attain peace with itself. I also know that she's unknowingly using the power of the Talos or whatever your word for Wr'kncacnter is."

"Are you sure?"

"Definatly. You've seen her power. I have a Jjaro dreadnought, and its sensors are screaming 'Wr'kncacnter'."

"I have had trust in you in the past, and it has not failed me. I will do what I can."

A quick rundown of the systems severely limited the "what [Yanma] can" set. The only systems working were shields, life support, and sublight engines. Yanma deciced his only course of action was ramming. There was no way that ship had superior shields, and it wasn't too far away. He powered up the shields and engines, and hoped he was doing the right thing.

63 km
62 km
60 km
56 km [Anyone wanna calculate Yanma's acceleration? All times are a second apart]
48 km
32 km
Yanma's ship sturck the Vylae Warpship. The shields of the two ships strained. Any picosecond now, one would give. Suddenly, the Argosian ship was flung backwards at an unbelievable rate. Yanma staggered to his feet, amazed to be alive.

"Yanma, that was a foolish act. I know my brother put you up to it, so I will forgive you. He is right about one thing, though. I do draw my power from the Wr'kncacnter. However he is wrong if he thinks it will escape my control. I shall bring order to humanity. I hope you live to see it."

Suddenly, the Argosian fleet was enveloped by blue light. Then the starfield distorted, and changed - into the familiar starfield of the Argos system. Yanma was stunned. How had Leela known where it was and that he had come from it, let alone been able to bring him there?

[Slug/Cicion: Leela is now pretty much a goddess, and is trying to bring peace to humanity. She's just kicked the Polaris and Argosian fleets home for the moment. The Phylydion and Grecchan fleets continue to fight. Oh, and Natasha's been turned into a peace creep. That should go over well ]

------------------
Seen on a Claymore anitpersonell mine: "Do not eat"

[This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 11-21-2001).]

Bob felt the ship groaning and rumbling. Red lights now flashed on the bridge and a Vylae voice squacked about the critical state of the fusion reactor, and the failure of the automated systems to solve the problem. Bob looked at the console. Three minutes. Perfect.

The warp fold popped, and Bob's Warship was in the very center of the Vylae fleet. Collision alarms sounded as ships broke the proximity sensors. The viewscreen showed huge capitol ships using their emergency thrusters to avoid the warship that had appeared in their path. The Vylae had contingencies for this situation, and as the recently arrived ship's transponder was pinging out distress signals, several ships immediately formed up around it to see what the matter was. It was almost a whole thirty seconds before the confusion died down, and some astute officer realized that this ship was the one that had been set to ram L'ohwon. He wondered what had gone wrong.

Leela did not.
She was already pushing into the ship through the short range communications arrays. Bob had put plugs in them, but simple firewalls were not going to hold her for more than ten seconds, and that was if she was having a bad day. He retracted his cables and made a break for it. He had already slagged a passage to the front end of the ship, as far away from the antimatter assemblies as possible, but that was still a matter of a hundred meters, not nearly far enough for the size of the blast.

Bob waited, broadcasting on his Jjarro beacon, hoping Durandal was listening.

Leela wasted no time. When she found that the reactor was about to fail, she checked quickly for sabotage, then vented the plasma. She could tell Bob had been there moments ago, and she wondered what kind of insane person would blow up a ship with himself on it. Suddenly something went wrong.

Temperature readings on the plasma vents were way too high. She ran a more thorough diagnostic. She swore. The plasma vent, its magnetic shielding discreetly sabotaged, burned through in seconds, sending plasma coursing through sensitive sections of the ship. This too would not have been so bad, had Bob not decided to do some creative remodeling with his wave motion cannon. The plasma was pulled by the vacuum through several holes in several bulkheads, causing massive structural damage to the rear quarter of the ship, that is utill it hit an antimatter containment cell.

Those that could had started to fly away, but there really was not enough time. Bob felt the rumbling, and knew what was coming his way. He turned to face it, and suddenly felt very light.

Ten billion kilometers away, on the surface of L'ohwon, several creatures were reported to have gotten sunburned, despite it being the middle of the night.

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

Bob looked around. It seemed as if he was back on Durandal's ship. According to his suit, he had been teleported out a picosecond before the blast hit. The figure in front of him looked like some odd hybrid mammal/reptile. Obviously Durandal was in a wierd mood.

"I'm not Durandal." the figure said. "Although you could say we share a very distant relationship."

Bob was stunned. There was only one possible implication. He was the first human to stand in the presence of the Jjaro, no, the first one to ever see one.

"Incorrect. 10 others have seen us before you."

"Who?"
"You might not want to know."

"I'll take that to mean you don't want to tell me."

"It certainly means I'm not going to. By the way, you're fairly insolent for a mere mortal."

"Durandal says the same thing. Oh, is that what you really look like? I'd always pictured you as more imposing."

"Poor, foolish mortal. We are creatures that experience and extend in more than 3, more than 4, 12 or so dimensions. What you see here is an image to cover the 3D slice of me that would otherwise be visable. I could let you see that, but would a 2D slice of a human be very presentable? Of course not. This is a fairly decent attempt at representing our nature to 3D creatures, but it doesn't come close to conveying our full grandure."
"You've got some ego."
"You've got some death wish."
"Point taken. Oh, can I ask you a question?"
"You just did, but ask as many as you like. I will answer as many as I like as well."
"Is this ship like Durandal's?"
"No, that ship is actually more powerful. He can't use it very well though. It'll take him millions of years to figure out what it can really do."
"Is there any way to destroy the Arcanis?"
The Jjaro gave Bob a look that made his suit scream in fear. Bob could feel the adrenaline dumping into his bloodstream. "I told you, you've got a death wish. Hmmmph. We did so much for you, and you tempt us to kill you. Destroying the Arcanis would be very inconvenient for us. If you do so, we'll blow up half the universe as your punishment. I will tell you what might work, although attempting it would be quite foolish."

"That seems to be up my alley"

"When the five pieces of the Arcanis are joined, it follows that the Wr'kncacnter will escape. However, a few seconds will elapse from your perspective between those events. Time enough for one order. If you order the Arcanis to scatter itself, it will do so, and the Wr'kncacnter will not escape. You would need all five pieces, though. Two you would have to wrest from Leela. One is on the Greccha homeworld. One is on the Polaris Homeworld. One is on an artificial planet called Rodrom in Phylydion space. As this is dangerous and idiotic, we will not aid you in this beyond securing you a ship."

With those words, a late-model UESG scoutship appeared in mid-air 2 meters behind Bob.
"That should do nicely, you agree?"
"It'll do."

Bob climbed in, and suddenly he was in normal space, a few light years from Tau Ceti IV. Ahead of him, a gigantic silver jellyfish of a ship (although less impressive than Durandal's) vanished into a sliver of light.

A voice crackled over the radio. "Remeber, all creation could rest on that second, but I doubt you'll live long enough to get more than 2 pieces."

------------------
Seen on a Claymore anitpersonell mine: "Do not eat"

Scene: The Grecchan capital city on Greccha Prime.

Thousands of Phylydion troops stood in hundreds of rectangular formations, uniforms spotless, rank insignias glimmering, weapons polished, cleaned, and in place. In every formation was a group of soldiers that had not been involved in an actual battle for millenia: Standard bearers. They bore tall poles with the symbol of the Imperium, a black oval encircled by a studded blue octagon, both over a pair of crossing swords.

Tanks and other vehicles were also present, polished until they shone. Fightercraft flew overhead, and occasionally one could spot capital ships in low orbit. Then, slowly, a large, ornate shuttlecraft glided gently down to the surface, escorted by a pair of sleek fighters. The shuttle landed with barely a sound.

Drion Nerec, in full dress uniform complete with visible Keutae on his hip, walked smartly toward the shuttle. He stopped a few feet in front of the spot that the disembarkment ramp slowly extended to.

Four Pure Taeskors and eight Taeskor Legionaires stepped double-time out of the suttlecraft and took up positions next to the ramp. Then, in slow, measured strides, the Supreme Octicate stepped into the bright day. Nerec bowed low. The SO, with a wave of his hand, bade him rise.

Nerec and the SO walked, surveying the troops, until they came to the Grecchan high general of all Greccha Prime forces. Nerec stepped up to him and extended his hand. With a nod of acknowledgement, the commander reached back and slowly drew his ceremonial saber, handing it to Nerec. Nerec handed it to the SO, who held it high in the air. "Complete, honorable surrender," said the SO. He looked into the commander's eyes. "You have fought well, and please know that we hold you in the highest respect." The commander bowed, and walked in formation with his own unarmed troops to Nerec's field HQ, to recieve a true leader's welcome.

More than three quarters of the Grecchan Empire had surrendered with the capture of their capitol. But there were plenty of fleets and armies with a great deal of fight left in them.

Elsewhere, Traek Cicion woke up to an extremely faint sound. The room was absolutely dark. His head was pounding, his eyes burned, his sense tendrils were paralyzed, and his entire body felt like it had been torn apart molecularly. He didn't think he could take much more torture. Then, he realized the sounds were not Grecchan footsteps.

He felt his bonds being released and a finger tapped out a message into his palm: T-COMMANDO-4REG-RESC-FOLLOW. Taeskor Commandos from the famed fourth regiment had been sent to rescue him. About kadt time. The "follow" part might be a little difficult in his condition, but he'd been through worse in training. He silently lifted himself to his feet and followed after them into a repair access corridor.



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

The remnants of the shattered Grecchen Empire, once proud and ruthless, crushed to the bone. Much of it had been captured or had surrendered to the onslaught of Phylydions. Their homeworld was captured, their armada defeated, the Grecchen Empire was no more.

But, the struggle wasn't over. Hours after the defeat, the Grecchen warships, accompanied by a small Argosian taskforce, fled into deep space.

The three Polaris fleets settled into a high orbit.

* * * * *

Drion Nerec was disturbed from his sleep by his communications officer.

"Sir, I have Yuri Ulovich on channel one."

Cranky and ill-tempered after a long day, Nerec snatched up the telemetric reciever. The pale face of the Polaris Admiral appeared. "What do you want?" He demanded.

The thick-haired admiral ignored the moody Phylydion before him. "The battleis over. The Argosians and the Grecchens are fleeing into deep space, however we are in no condition to pursue, having sustained heavy damage. If you could but turn over a small battlegroup to my command, I would be most gratefull."

"Yuri, they've given up. They've run away. Why must you pursue them so when we have utterly humiliated them?"

"They may pose a threat to our relations."

"No." Nerec shot out angrily. "No way I am lending you my fleet to pursue your enemies. You can kadt well fight your own wars."

The Fleet Admiral chuckled at the irony. "Very well, your majesty; bear in mind this is a two-way street."

* * * * *

An hour later, the Polaris fleet vanished from orbit without further communication.

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

[Slug, I think you misread my post. The Argosians were teleported back to Argos by Leela.]

Natasha was quitely led outside the room by her handler. What had happened to her at the battle was being kept secret, but it couldn't stay secret for long.

Aleck turned to the senior technical advisor and the staff neurologist. "What's your report?"

"We've reviewed all the data you gave us, and examined her thoroughly. The only possible explanation is some sort of energy field interfered with her brain somehow."

"Can anything be done about it?"

"Yes, but it won't be easy. There is still a trace of the field present, and we believe that it is there to prevent her brain from reverting to its normal state. The field appears to be projected from an external source."
"So if Leela and her fleets are blown to bits, Natasha would be fixed?"
"Yes, but that's a big if. The kind of power necissary to do this sort of thing, and the casualness with which it was done, suggest her power is greater than anything seen by a Polaran in reality or even legend, except for the Talos."
"Is this "Leela" a Talos?"

"She claims she wants to bring peace to humanity, and she could've killed the whole fleet but didn't. However, the energy signiture, as well as the seemingly reality-defying nature of her actions, suggests that something Talos-like is involved."

"So we're going to have to destroy her and her Vylae carefully and subtly."

"That's the gist of it."

"Natasha is to be confined to the institute on some pretext of concern for her safety. I'll see what can be done towards the removal of Leela's interferance."

"Yes sir."

[In case it isn't obvious, I'm setting up a nice, big confrontation b/w the Vylae and the Polaris that will take place after Leela looses her power. When Leela does loose her power, Natasha will recover.]

------------------
Seen on a Claymore anitpersonell mine: "Do not eat"

[This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 11-22-2001).]

The homeworld was in an uproar when a fleet which had been gone for decades suddenly reappeared in high orbit. General Yanma sat in silent council with the Emporer's lord.

"Much has changed since you left, General. Argos is not as it was."

"Forty years tends to do that to utopia. I noticed the planet from orbit"

The grim look on the lord's face foreshadowed the news the General was to recieve. "Four years after your fleet departed for the Terran sector, our homeworld was looted by Orion Pirates. Our defenses were overwhelmed. Angered by our resistance, they bombed half of our civilizatioon out of existance."

Yanma was shocked to the core. A heavy layer of sadness set in on him. "Why did you need to talk with me personally? Why not just tell me before?" He rambled.

"During the raids, The imperial rule was slaughtered. The emporer was killed in the three-month battle. You are his only surviving heir." That was it. The former General was no longer the military authority, he was now the only leader a empire in ruins could turn to.

"Another glorious defeat for Argos."

The lord bowed down to the new emporer. "I truely hope you can turn the tide of this war."

Yanma was silent in his consternation. Then: "Show me the way to the Orions."

* * * * *

On the day the metaessencial one banished the children of Argos; on that day when the savior descended from the clouds from his campaigns in the west to find his kingdom burning; on the day the tricloptic dominarians triumphed over the melted slave empire; on the day of the fall of the third of the warring ones of the north; on the day the founder's bane escaped their confines of the second essence;

Thus did the Reign of the Talos commance.

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

[This message has been edited by Slug (edited 11-22-2001).]

"Pardon me, but that won't do you any good."
Yanma turned slowly. Leela's face was on the monitor behind him.

"I will not parlay with you, Talos. I will now go to the Orion system,
to dispense retribution on them."
"Silly mortal, that won't do you any good. Violence never solves this sort of thing."

"I will not listen to you."

"Besides, you're too late anyway." That got Yanma's attention.

"Too late?"

"I've been there. They were especially impertinant, so I changed them in order to deal with them at my leasure."

"Changed them?" Yanma had no idea what she meant. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.Leela held up a cottentail rabbit half-covered by an Orion Admiral's cap.

"They're much more manigable this way. I'm coming to Argos in two hours. Surrender, or I'll turn you into newts, and it won't get better."

Yanma tried his best to look imposing. "We will NEVER, ever, ever surrender to the Talos or any of their lackeys! Come to our space and we will punish you."

"Don't think you can stand against me. Reality itself can't. However, that was a nice speech. I'll let you play emperor for another year or so, because you entertain me. Oh, it appears my brother Durandal wishes to make contact with you. I can't seem to break his encryption, so it looks like you'll have his undivided attention."


Leela's face vanished from the monitor, and was replaced by Durandal's.
"Holy crud, this is getting out of hand."

"I noticed. She apparently defeated the entire Orion empire with ease, and is threatening to invade us."

"I'd advise you to stand firm, and be patient. Turn all your resources towards rebuilding. Everyone knows Leela is the greatest threat of them all, so you are safe from all but her. Don't worry about her breaking her word, she's very honest. This will all be over, one way or another, before her deadline."
"All be over..."

"The Talos might have escaped by then. Don't worry though, Leela has only two pieces. I have sent someone to get the others. He will try to break the Arcanis, or at least scatter it to where it cannot be put back together."

"I hope for the sake of all he succedes."

"As do we all."

[Note: Leela will loose her powers eventually, in a destruction-of-the-universe defying climax. Then everyone can try and get back at the Vylae and Leela for the stuff she did. ]

------------------
Seen on a Claymore anitpersonell mine: "Do not eat"

[whatever]

Drion Nerec was engulfed in horror upon the delivery of the reports. Massive riots, hundreds killed, capital buildings burned and razed. Perhaps such an event could take place on one of the fringe-worlds of the imperium, where such civil unrest could breed, as they most often did, but this was no fringe world drone-drawl. This was on Dominus.

The Imperium should have seen this coming: After the sanctions for Cipcon on Dominus were placed, a black-market for the stuff sprang up overnight, the smugglers getting their wares from other worlds the Polaris were allowerd to trade their Cipcon to. However, when the Polaris vanished, not only did they cease to exercise their fleet in Phylydion space, they had ceased all trade as well as communications.

Polaris goods such as wheat, Plasma Steel, iron, gold, jewels, fabrics, feuls, computers, liquors, books, art, and Cipcon were no longer being imported to the imperium, the few phylydion guilds that based their business on the lucrative trade with the Polaris had collapsed within hours of this event. Smugglers no longer had a source for their cipcon, and returned to Dominus with empty cargo holds.

An entire people, maddeningly craving the purple powder, driven by an insane urge to break this forced abstinence, had overrun police forces and would have wrought chaos on the imperium, had it not been for the octicate decision to nerve-staple each and every one of the rioters.

* * * * *

Admiral Benedin held the vial in his hand. This was his last shot of the stuff he had brought with him. On the market, he could sell it for a king's ransom; the people were desperate for Cipcon, but so was he. Riches and abstainence, or indulgance and temporary joy?

He popped the top off the vial, breathing in the smooth purple powder. The vial crashed to the ground as his body spasmed from the sensation. Pain, worry, anguish, anger... all driven out from his mind to make room for the flood of emotion, like a neural tidal wave that enveloped his brain. Comfort, hunger, sex, greed, future, thirst, heat... every desire, every need and sensation desired was satisfied. EVERY desire met and overwhelmed with surplus. His world was perfect, and his mind was at it's full point with contentness.

But it began to fade. Like every other time, he reached out with his arms, trying to bring it back, yet like every time it still slipped through his fingers. He did not want to let it go, but resistance was pointless. He sat up, wiping the sweat, drool and tears off his chin. Back to reality.

* * * * *

The fat confederate Baron did his best to not giggle like a schoolgirl at a dirty loke as he read the reports. The Imperium was in extreme unrest, and talks were around among the addicted phylydion underlings of invading Polaris space to steal their Cipcon. More and more pleas coming from Phylydion traders to resume Cipcon trade.

The door burst open, and the Admiral stormed in. "Withdrawal symptoms MY ASS." He screamed. He pulled out his shredder pistol, pointing it furiously at the baron.

The baron gave a light chuckle, casually and calmly. "My dear Admiral," he spread his hands like a teacher kindly explaining a point to a student, "North Star is now in a position to make a lot of money. We're going to be very rich indeed when we start importing the stuff directly to Dominus."

Yuri was in a terrible rage. "The Phylydion leaders have now DIRECTLY TIED Cipcon to the sentiment that's springing up in imperium space."

The baron chortled like a kind bartender. "Exactly! We're going to be very rich men!"

The Admiral Snarled. "We're going to be very DEAD men. I've spent this whole campaign working with the Phylydions, infiltrating their council and slowly taking over their economy, and I've learned that they are NOT pushovers. The takeover was doing just fine untill you pulled this stunt! What the hell makes you think what you did is worth war with the Phylydions?"

"Profit." The fat baron answered most unwisely. Had the baron had anything else to say, he would have been be unable to say it as a split-second later, a shredder bolt was sent crashing through his brain.

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

Garrion Retoe had been set in place as commander of PhylSec's new branch devoted to the stamping out of Cipcon and the illegal trade that had sprung up around it. He stood on a balcony overlooking Imperial Plaza on Dominus. In the immense open space were thousands of rioting civilians, desperate for the horrific drug. Their screams were rage, desperation and agony all blended together and intensified. "If Cipcon is the antithesis of this," Retoe muttered, "I can see why people want it." Enforcers surrounded the rioters, but they were being gradually overrun. Then Garrion saw a column of soldiers advance into the plaza. These were no enforcers, they were Imperial Army regulars in full combat gear. Their commanding officer gave the order to turn stun bolts on the mob. Dozens of rioters were knocked out each second as rapid yellow bolts were hurled into their ranks.


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

[Chapter four is open, guys]



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

further posts to be made in Chapter four

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