Ambrosia Software Web Board: Chapter Six- amidst the ruins - Ambrosia Software Web Board

"You see," The Salrilian Admiral slid up and down in front of me, her back aggressively arched. "there is a certain order in the universe, an inchangable constant to everything that we call uthara. It has been a constant since the beginning of the universe (or the 'creation', as your pathetically boring religeon would label it), and it will be a constant up to the end. Uthara is everywhere, uthara is unchangable. The many species and civilizations of this galaxy all have different names, different words for it, but they are all referring to the same constant. You would know it as death.

"We cannot halt it or even delay it, we can merely contain it. For there to be winners, there must also be losers, a fact we were forced to learn so harshly during the reign of your people under the UEC. They prospered, we fell. They lived utopian lives, we lived beaten ones. They lived, we suffered uthara. The UEC brough-"

I interrupted. "Who are the UEC? Are there really more of my people?" Her response was a petulant glare, as if she were staring at a slime-mold or a stillborn Gaitori larva.

"How much do you know already?"

"I... I don't know really... I know I am one of the last of my race, that there are more of us scattered throughout the cosmos, that at one point we did something horrible and were crushed by the Obain. I know that somehow, I am unique from the rest of my kind, that I am different and so rare that Salril would destroy Gaitor to recover m-"

"Enough! There is nothing special about you! You are a common human, like all the rest!" she forced it upon me almost as if she didn't believe it. "The Gaitori kidnapped you, telling you what it took to use you as a weapon. Didn't they?"

"I... I guess.... I dunno."

"Poor little human. I will explain to you what you need to hear.

"Yes, your people were once a thriving primitive civilization. You were content with your lifestyles, untill the Cantharans came. They made several attempts to invade, and even occupied your homeworld Earth for some time.

"Your people were desperate, they were willing to try anything to save them from the destruction. This allowed dangerous men to come into power. One such man, Jerry Levt, appeared two weeks after the invasion of Earth with a massive fleet. He destroyed the alien invaders who threatened your kind, and united all of your people under one common rule, known as the UEC. For a while, things were good, then in a fit of genocidal vengeance he lashed out at all nonhumans. Several races were completely eradicated before we were forced to halt his rampage forcefully.

"The resulting war left your people decimated. Your civilization in decline, your worlds and your people firmly under our stranglehold to make sure NOTHING like that would ever happen again. The prophets have witnessed it before and have foreseen that should the son of man walk free and be allowed to rise, a new evil will reign unstoppable, and even more unimaginably bloodthirsty.

"There are only about a hundred million of you left now, scattered so far across the cosmos that in three generations, your people will be extinct."

I was devastated by the news. I couldn't accept it. "No.... I don't believe you... that's impossible.... no! Stay way from me! Let me out of here! LET ME OUuuuu....." A sedative pack was placed on my throat and hissed slightly as the relaxant was transferred into my bloodstream. I fell to the wet soft floor with a thud, out cold.

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I know not who or what I am, nor where or why I am here, I remember nothing, and I know nothing; but while I don't know why, I do know is something is terribly wrong.

He rattled off a letter to the head of the Lyconian Trade Coalition, and another to Admiral Spann. If he showed his letter to the leader of the Phylidion convoy, no questions would be asked. That done, he went back to reviewing the intelligence reports.
Observer drones in the Gaitor system had been discovered, and so had self destructed before the Salrillians could determine their origin, but the resulting information blackout had meant that the Ishiman Stellar Protectorate had no idea what the Salrillians had done to Gaitor for nearly three hours. For a high-speed, information driven government like the Legislature, that blackout had been aggravating, and ultimately catastrophic.

Wizr took his seat in the legislature, along with all of the Trey'sh. No Trey'eck or lower Trey could hold a seat at these emergency sessions. Each committee was represented by its highest officer, as a consensus had to be attained. The Trey'sh of the Intelligence Committee gave his brief of the situation on Gaitor, followed by a briefing on the steps that had already been taken by the Foreign Relations Committee.

Then, the Defense Committee gave a brief summary of the capabilities of the ISN in the current situation, followed by the Intelligence Committee going through, in explicit detail the situation in Salril at the moment. This speech was what had interested Wizr the most.

"The Prophets of Salril are in a very tight spot politically, economically and militarily at this time. They had made a significant investment into the Cantharaan war machine long before we sponsored the Ares crew in their fight to liberate Sol. The great success of that operation left the Cantharaans and their powerful navy trapped, and events conspired to prevented the Salrillians from donating aid to the Cantharaans.

The Salrillians funded the Audemedon invasion force that took Earth, and invested significant manpower in their effort to subdue the Humans, who mounted a large resistance movement, with the help of a significant amount of aid from the Reestablishment Committee, which funded several joint technological ventures that allowed the UNS resistance forces to do a significant amount of damage to the Salrillian war machine. The series of lightning raids that the UNS resistance launched did significant damage, and combined with the rise of the UEC and their fleets, left the Salrillian Navy's infastructure in very poor shape.

At this point, approximately 18 months ago, the Audemedon Axis seemed to desert the Prophets. The Audemedon fleet simply abandoned the defence of Salril, leaveing the UEC fleets to rush through and make use of a direct jumpgate to Sol.

Upon secureing Earth, the UEC entered a campaign of ruthless slaughter against Salrillians and Cantharaans, which soon grew into a genocide against all other races. Sources show that this was driven by the megalomeniacal Emperor Gerald Levt, who had apparantly been driven to madness by his long and painful escape from a mission in the Audemedon Axis during which he lost his wife.

At the same time that the UEC's fleets were roaming the galaxy, the Salrillians brought together the largest combined fleet in history, including Gaitori, Cantharaan Obish and Salrillian ships under the name of the Woven, and planned a full scale assault on Earth, which they executed very well, catching Sol with its fleets far away in the field.

Unfortunately, the Woven made a large miscalculation, and despite their threats to level all life on Earth, the UEC fleets returned and proceeded to destroy a tremendous portion of their Armada.

The rebelling Audemedon Axis took advantage of the Salrillians just as they were taking advantage of the UEC, and attacked and destroyed all life on the surface of Salril useing unknown weapons while the Salrillian fleets were fighting at Sol.

The battle of Sol went very badly for the Woven fleet, and they were only saved from a rout by the sudden and mysterious appearance of Phylidion forces. The motives of the Phylidions still remains unknown.

Since then, the Salrillians have been continually hassled by the rebel Audemedon, and their vast reserves of materials is beginning to run dry. In the last few months, imports to Salrillian space have quadroupled, and exports have stopped almost entirely. Our spies indicate that the Salrillians are in dire straits. Their economy has been strained by these last few years of war, and the loss of their navy and their homeworld has left them in a shambles. They have been deficit spending for many months now. The government is in considerable debt, and much of the populous is in poverty. A less totalitarian government would have let the nation collapse into economic depression long ago, but the question still remains, how long can they last.

The Prophets have yet to make an official statement about what has happened at Gaitor, which is somewhat disturbing, but I think it is clear that the Salrillians are in a desparate situation, and, weakened though they may be, they are still a force to be reconed with, and we all know that desparation makes makes people very unstable."

The intelligence analyst took questions, and then the Legislature went to work. As always, the option of military intervention was brought up and shot down, and finally it was agreed that the Stellar Protectorate would institute trade sanctions on the Prophets. For the moment, Ishima would not buy or sell anything to or from Salril, and if Foreign Relations had its way, Elejee would initiate a similar embargo. If anything would make the Salrillians sweat, it would be when they realised that they could not support their prized illusion of control any longer.

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

I awoke to find myself strapped securely to a large metal profile table, built to support my design. I looked about me only to find my eyes had been bolted shut. I was helpless and blind, alone with the hum of machinery. What was I doing here?

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They slid in a circle around the controls. "Batteries have been charged to fifty eightyiths, Admiral. Estimated time untill total memory wipe is seven point two daps."

"How much will the probe do to him?" she queried.

"We estimate near total selective memory loss. He'll forget all the Gaitori revealed to him."

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It was cold. The machinery behind me grew louder, humming to where I could feel my skull vibrate. The table I was strapped onto was moving deeper into the device.

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"'Near-total' selective memory loss is not good enough, Corporal." She was very angry. "That Test Subject knows too much. If he were to gather the truth..."

"'Near-total' is the maximum safe level of memory wipe we can risk. If we were to go higher and push for complete memory wipe, the effects could be disasterous!"

"How so?"

"We... we've never tested that amount of power on a unit of that build. If we were to trigger the weapon inside of him-"

"It would be no better than if he were to remember, except we would die much quicker. Maximum power, Corporal."

"yes..."

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The machinery grew louder almost immediately. My temples began throbbing I clenched my fists in pain.
thudding. Thudding. THUDDING!
Bolts of electricity stabbed my body all over. My body clenched, straining against the agony that was digging deep into my cranium. I pulled hard on the straps. Harder and harder. My brow was splitting from the facial contortion brought on by my exertion of all my energy into that strap! I grunted through clenched teeth as I pulled several tons of force on the strap, out of the extra power that had entered my body.

There was a screech of twisted metal, then the bar of trianium supporting the strap snapped completely! I used my freed hand in combination with the other to free my second hand. I sat up and began untying my feet when a pair of guards entered the room, carrying their blades.

I perked up, wielding my right hand as a weapon, as still attatched to it was the strap and a pair of very dense and very heavy bars. I drove into the first one with a newborn ferocity, plowing deep into his softside. I drew out, my fist drenched in syrupy cyan-colored blood. He collapsed in a flurry of cyan.

The second one lunged at me, his blade held like the warhead at the tip of a missile. I deflected the military blade with the much stronger industrial bar. I continued untying my right foot as I sent him spinning. He recovered and made a swift dive at me, broken blade in stance. The heel of my boot slammed into his side like a sledgehammer, breaking through the soft skin and blowing cyan-goop everywhere.

I hurriedly finished untying my left foot and jumped out of the table chair, landing on the soft, now cyan-colored floor six feet below.

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The console room was amiss, a flurry of panicked activity from it's Salrilian operatives.

"What in Zom's name happened?!" demanded the Admiral

"The memory-wipe overdrive has caused him to malfunction! He's gone rampant for the next forty-eight hours!"

"Where is he?!"

"Sector 47-G! He's headed for us!"

She glanced out the doorway into the hall, loudly echoing the sounds of bloody and brutal hand-to-hand combat as herds of security troops charged me. There was an explosion from a laser bolt and a bloody Salrilian head rolled out into her view.

I lept down the twent-foot shaft, slamming into the floor into her plain view without the slightest hiccup in my procedure. I looked up, stolen rifle in my hand, masochistic grin on my face. That was the only time I had ever seen a trace of fear in her.

I started running for her as she stood frozen in the doorway with fear. Her face returned to it's usual smug frown as she remembered another trick up her sleeve. "Close the compression doors!" she bellowed over the din.

The huge metal doors, made for holding in an entire ship's atmosphere in the event of decompression, slowly sank from the ceiling, seperating us. Thet did not stop my intense burning desire to kill her. I kept running, the door closing the very instant I stopped in front of them. We were but several inches away, yet I could not harm her. Or could I?

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Inside, the mood in the control room was somewhat calmer. She turned only to jump.

CLANG

The turned back at the door, to see a huge dent had appeared in it's center.

CLANG

The door gained another dent.

CLANG CLANG CLANG

The door was bulging out at them. "He'll break through! We're all going to doe!" The Salrilians fled to the corner of the room, trapped in a slithering panic. The Admiral stood her ground against the failing door, and the super-strong man beating it down.

"Deploy the sentinals." She ordered coldly.

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I drew back, my fists woven into one in between the fingers to strike another forty-ton blow against the hull-quality door. My hands, sensing an eminant contact with the blast door, intinctivley hardened.

I charged at the door when I heard a robotic voice behind me. "Leave no survivors." it droned in a pathetically monotonous, yet strangely terrifying tone. I turned just in time to dodge a large robotic claw. I rolled to my left as four more struck the floor where I had just been. I looked up to see a quartet of spider-like droids. Battledroids. Sentinals.

They lashed out with stunning tamwork, keeping a random and unpredictable set of attacks. I strained to deflect their blows, but twenty huge atom-sharp claws at a time was a feat to block. Time for me to be unpredictable. I jumped up high, summersaulting to avoid to adapted strikes. I came out of roll and firmly pointed my heels. I landed, slammed more like it, onto the back of one of the droids, snapping all of it's joints off and crushing it's processor box.

Something deep inside me stirred. A memory? A word came to me... 'Aww', no, 'ahh', no wait, 'Audemedons'! That's what they were called.

I bound my fists again and slammed one of my blast-door-denting swings at another 'Audemedon', driving it's proccessor box deep into it's robotic body. It fizzled and spat smoke. I grinned. These Audemedons were surely the easiest opponents I had ever faced! So I thought.

I bound my fists together for another earth-crushing swings. I put my weght into it, only to see a pair of those atom-splitting claws come for me. I quickly pulled out of the dive, but not quick enough, my elbow was sliced open like a potato. Damn! What had I done wrong? It wasn't what I had done wrong, it was what the audemedon had done right! Having seen the fall of it's comrade, it had developed a countermeasure against my move!

Shït! They had adapted to my moves! There was only oe thing I could do now.
Run.

I dived over the teeming mass of claws, landing in a ball onto the ground behind them. I jumped up and dashed the fastest I could. To the docking ring! The remaining two battle drones followed me, gripping not the floor for their pursuit, but crawling across the cieling with amazing speed so as to drop on top of any unweary passer-by! I dashed faster, they clawed accross the cieling faster. I rounded the corner, to see the origional pair of dead guards, their guts spilled out into the hallway.

Aha! A gun! I picked up and did my best to mount the circular rifle. I squeezed the base. A bolt shot out, picking one of the drones off the cieling and sending it flying, a large smouldering hole embedded in it's proccessor box. I faced the last drone and squeezed the base. The rifle buzzed in protest.

Damn! The last drone had networked with the rifle's computer and shut down it's use mechanism. The rifle was useless. Or was it? With superhuman strength I tossed it, barrel-side towards the drone. Several tons of force were behind it when it slammed into the drone, ripping it apart and pinning it against the wall.

I stood there a moment, panting, gaining my breath. Then, with an adventurer's spirit, I slogged down to the docking ring to stow away onto one of the departing ships.

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I curled up alongside the heavy crates so as not to make myself a conspicuous target. I expected to perhaps stowaway on a transport or a shuttle, but all there was available was a beaten-up, worn down garbage scow. Wherever the Salrilians dumped their garbage, I would be traveling too.

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I know not who or what I am, nor where or why I am here, I remember nothing, and I know nothing; but while I don't know why, I do know is something is terribly wrong.

I was jolted awake by a yellow light through the seams in the cargo door as the Salrilian Garbage Scow maneuvered into dumping position. So, I had finally made it to the Salrilian Empire's glorious and spectacular dumps on one of their apparently lowly-regarded planets. The whole scow stank of decomposing biological products, chemical vapors, and burnt cybernetics.

Still I was glad there was breathable air. For the whole week-long journey I was in a catatonic sleep-like state in the cargo hold, which deserved no such royalties as a pressurized atmosphere. My whole bosy had gone into centralized stasis, while my skin and hair had continued at an accelerated state to adapt to the vacuum. I had noticed the gigantic gash on my elbow had disappeared.

I was spared barely a moment to gather my surroundings when the floor began to tilt. The cargo-bay door opened and I was unceremoniously dumped from it along with the rest of the garbage. I plummeted nearly a hundred feet before landing even more unceremoniously on top of a large pile of scrap. I lay there for a second as the shock passed.

I looked around me, gathering my surroundings. The planet had a blue sky with white streaks of clouds drifting lazily about. In the center of the sky sat a single yellow sun, bright but not too bright. I was quite comfortable with it's brightness in fact. Most other suns on the alien planets I had visited were either too bright and hot, or too dim and cold. This one suited me perfectly. The atmosphere was rich, carrying a sweet-metalic smell, and was quite comfortable to breathe. It was as if the whole planet had been custom-built to suit me. Or my kind. A shudder danced down my spine as I looked off into the distance.

Beyond the garbage, beyond the blue bay with it's massive red bridge lay an abandoned and ruined city; massive burnt-out skyscrapers and hollow shells of what were once the buildings of a civilization at it's peak. The buildings were everywhere, and had even spread to the few islands that dotted the jaw-shaped bay. I saw a cracked and rubbled structure sit forebodingly on a solitary island, disconnected from the rest of the city by bridge or power line. Most likely a prison or military base. The soft crumbly material beneath my feet as I dismounted from the garbage heap must have been a road sometime, a stuttered yellow line down the center of it's jagged and eroded form, leading towards the beach. From there on, lay an infinite and uncalm ocean.

The sight disturbed me. I was on a once-great planet that had been utterly crushed into dust. Once capital of a glorious empire, now nothing more than a Salrilian Garbage Dump. I felt trapped, I knew I must somehow go from here on off this planet, no matter how familiar and natural it seemed. Almost too familiar. I knew I had been on this planet before... but when? I strained for more in my locked-away memory... yes... I had been here before.... on a blue-green planet....

Earth.

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I know not who or what I am, nor where or why I am here, I remember nothing, and I know nothing; but while I don't know why, I do know is something is terribly wrong.

(Sorry I haven't been reading. I just read the part about enlisting Phylydion aid. Well, I'm here now, so go right ahead.)

Drion Nerec stood on the bridge of the Phylydia II in orbit around Dominus. Today, the capitol world was festive. Nerec watched as a ship slid from Orbital Shipyard One. She was a sleek, massive but compact battleship, the first of the new Domination II-class. The Domination-class battleships, the most common large ships in the Imperial Navy, were getting old. But the basic design was still effective. So, the Domination II-class was made. They took the Domination-class's hull and totally refitted it. This new battleship had more power, shields, armor, speed, and maneuverability. She also had new weapons: Flare-pulse batteries instead of Flare-bolt cannons. Additionally, she was the first ship to ever have the new Flare-beam weapons. As she sped from her dock, she followed the tradition of all new warships, firing several salvos at Dominus's small moon before taking up formation. She was named the Domination II, being the first of that class, and she would be the new flagship of the Phylydion Navy. The Phylydia II, while more poweful, was to remain at Dominus, the flagship of the Dominus Defense Fleet.

Within days, two more D-II class battleships would be completed, and sent off to serve as flagships in major fleets. Within a month, five more would be in service. Nerec took the lift down to his shuttle and it sped towards the Domination II.

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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

"It's my ship, Spamo. If the cargo is on my ship, it's my business."

"I still don't see how we''re going to get in to them, they're probobly all sealed."

"Well, Spann, Obviously you've never met 'the ambassador'." Dave chuckled as he patted the duffel bag on his shoulder. Spann still seemed dubious as the tram they rode in stopped in front of the first starboard cargo hardpoint. The airlock hatch opened, and the two of them clicked on their helmets.

The pod wasn't pressureised, so it had been attatched to an outer ring on the cargo spine, and hadn't been connected to a pressure collar, so Spamo and Dave stepped out onto the acess catwalks that criss crossed the spaceframe of the docking spine. With artificial gravity working at very low power for six feet over the catwalk, Dave and Jack could walk with relative ease. They walked the last ten feet to the side of the huge cargo pod, and the massive docking clamps that held it in place.

Dave opened a small gate, and stepped onto the basket of the "cherry picker" arm. Dave hooked his feet into the restraints and closed the gate behind Spann, who hooked his feet into the straps. Spann pushed the joysticks, manouvering the basket on the end of the light manipulator arm. He reched out to an acess door on the side of the pod. Needless to say, it was locked at four points. Dave reached into the bag and pulled out a small scanner. He extended the antenna and swept the door as he moved the basket around it.

"Ok, this one has at least two intrusion sensors. Those are probably just the ones they want us to find. But no matter, I can jam these ones, I think."

He took two boxes from his bag and stuck them to the door over where he thought the detectors were. He then pulled out a huge pair of bolt cutters, and attatched the handle extentions to them, giving him over ten thousand pounds of crushing power on whatever he chose.

"Admiral Spann, meet the Ambassador"

He chucled over the intercom as he went to the first external lock and put the jaws around it.

"Spann, here's where you come in. My arm is still broken. so I need you to cut these locks."

Spann looked at Dave rather oddly

"You know this is all the property of a very good friend of mine. He would be insulted if he found out I was doing this."

"So? He won't find out. We'll tell the convoy head that the customs officer wanted in, and we'll bribe the customs officer so he won't check it out. We're golden. Shut up and cut."

Spann couldn't belive he was actually cutting his way into Wizr's Cargo pod. He leaned hard against the red bars as they slowly came together. He felt the tungsen alloy pop under the pressure from the Ambassador. As he released it, Dave reached out and took what was left of the shorn deadbolt, manouvering the basket to the next. Spann started leaning into the Ambassador, straining against the bolt. The deadbolt popped similarly, and Dave moved the arm to the third. As Spann leaned into it, Dave felt a rumbling.

"oh ****..."

As the third bolt released, the doors burst open knocking the basket back as a blast of pressureized gas washed over them. Dave was already holding the joysticks, so he managed to keep his feet in the straps as the gas washed over him. He looked to his left just in time to see Spann get hauled off of the rig by his grip on the bolt shears.

"Spann, hold on. I'll be right there."

He wasn't nearly so sure. Spann was going pretty damn fast.

He clipped the end of his reel onto the safety rail and pushed off after Spann. He used his emergency manouvering unit to drive him towards the spinning figure that was rapidly heading towards the docking spine. He could hear Spann cursing over the intercom, and couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. He just managed to catch up to Spann and grabbed a handle on his suit, at the same time reaching for the button to lock his safety reel. He hadn't looked up yet, but he knew that any second they'd hit the -- WHAM ... docking collar.

"See Spamo, that is why we should always wear safety wires on EVA."

"What the hell was that, anyway?"

"It's the way Ishimans keep their cargo clean. They fill the pods with a coupla PSI of Helium. Unfortunately, they decided not to put "pressureized" warning labels or dump valves on these pods."

"Nice... Please tell me we're going back inside."

"No way, you lost my favorite bolt shears. I want to check out the cargo."

"No Dave, I'm going inside."

"Chicken."

Dave floated through the doors to examine the contents of the container, leaveing Spann to consider yet another long sail back to the safety of the inner docking ring.
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Now safely inside, Spann Dave and Liz were sitting in the huge library that Dave had used as his study for the last three years. The walls were wood paneled, and the furniture all solid Oak. Bookshelves lined three walls on two levels, above and forward was a huge skylight and window.

The view was sectacular, Just total empty blackness, and the occasional HVC that cut ahead of the ship. Behind and around the SS Barbarrossa a large convoy of merchant vessels flew, along with a rather large ISN escort.

Ahead lay the last few jumpgates across the Free Trade Zone, behind them the fronteir of the Protectorate. In a few days they would be at the customs station. In a few weeks they would be unloading cargo at Dominus.

Dave watched Liz and Spann staring out the window, smiled and declared

"Ok, I'm going to bed. You guys can sleep wherever, there are about a thousand-odd bedrooms. Just ask ACK if you need anything."

Dave left them alone in the library, and went for a stroll through the huge atriums of his spaceship. He sat down at a table in one of the parks and started to play chess with ACK.

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

It was nighttime. I plowed into another sapling as I stumbled my way through the immense forest. Nearly a day now. If I wasn't lost, I was mad because I could have sworn I passed that tree three times. When I got up, brushing the twigs and needles off me and propping the tree back up, something caught the corner of my eye. A light.

In the clearing forty yards ahead of me, was a base of some kind, apparently constructed as a tactical base out in the middle of the redwoods. I started running for it, hoping to find something, something other than these accursed aliens! I hoped to find someone of my own kind for once. I reached the edge of the clearing, peering over a large granite boulder.

The sight I saw amazed me to the core, disappointing me as well. It was no grand human city or friendly base; it was a Salrilian Airstrip. I sat there pondering my thoughts when my ears picked up some very loud and very obnoxious laughter. I crept closer to the source, hiding behind one of the many huge tree trunks. Huddled around a blazing large fire, two Salrilians sloshed their drink bags and drafted mouthfull after mouthfull of purple liquid. One of the spoke very loudly, his words slurred as if hiss brain had been disconnected.

"Aya mate, if itsh one thing theshe... youmans are good for, itsh alchoholllll."

"Yah brother, thish iz th'reeeeel reashon th'prophetsh took earth..." Distgusting. They were quite clearly drunk. Being as foreign as all aliens were to the mysterious human substance alchohol, they enjoyed it greatly. All aliens found it an exotic good, and the years following the initial invasions of Earth, the galactic markets had been awash with bootleg copies, replicated bottles, entire tankers full of the wonderfull substance. The cantharan word for human, Whota, literally meant fire water man.

They boozed on, not noticing my stealthy appearance through the shadows. One of their necks snapped as a pair of boots flipped the hapless Salrilian over like a pancake. His friend gave me one startled look before a palm-strike shattered his cranial suit, sending blood and brains everywhere. A hand slid into his pouch, retrieving an electric card. With the passport in my hand, I hurried off into the darkness towards the airstrip.

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It wasn't comfortable inside the feul tank. The liquid hydrogen was freezing and the pressure was immense. I was forced into my usual hibernation sleep, barely noticing the enormous shaking as the shuttle took off, destined for somewhere in orbit. Before I had climbed aboard, I had taken the time to memorize it's flight route. Shortly before blasting off towards Salril, it was to refeul at Earth Orbital Simlab Twenty Four. I would sneak off there.

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I know not who or what I am, nor where or why I am here, I remember nothing, and I know nothing; but while I don't know why, I do know is something is terribly wrong.

Admiral Niura Bedein strode the bridge of the Blazer, a Kiojea-class heavy battlecruiser and the flagship of the force charged with the elimination of the rebellion. "Rebellion" was used only loosely, as the group had been seperate from mainstream Phylydion society for so many centuries that they were hardly Phylydions anymore. The population of the Imperium was not in the least sympathetic to them.

And now, a medium sized fleet gathered outside of an asteroid field. The fleet floated just outside the sensor range of a large rebel base deep within the field. Soon, it would plunge inward, surrounding and destroying one of the last significant rebel outposts.

The Blazer's captain strode up to Bedein. "Sir, the fleet is assembled."
"What is the precise size of our force?"
"Two battlecruisers, including the Blazer, six destroyers, and one light carrier."
"What is the assessment of the rebel base's strength?"
"Three frigates protect the base, and the base itself has four heavy flare-bolt turrets. We don't know their exact strength, however, as more ships may be hiding in the field."
"Very well, captain. Order the carrier to launch fighters and have them do a quick sweep. Then we'll go into the field with the other battlecruiser and two destroyers. The other ships will wait outside the field and destroy or capture any escaping craft."
"Yes, sir." The young captain nodded and walked to his command station, transferring Bedein's orders.

The light carrier launched ten fighters, which plunged into the field. It was not a dense field, so the ships would have little difficulty navigating it. The fighters reported all was as they had expected. The Blazer's captain looked at Bedein, and Bedein nodded. The ships headed into the field. The sensor operator looked up. "Captain, large asteroid headed right for us!"
"Blast it apart!" The ship's smaller turrets rotated and fired, but the asteroid didn't break apart. It kept coming, with only small pieces missing. Bedein frowned. "Scan it." The sensor operator performed a quick scan, then looked up with horror.
"It's pure durantium, and..." he looked at his display. "It has a thruster on it!"
"Evasive!" Bellowed the captain. The Blazer dodged out of the way, but the two destroyers weren't so lucky. Both were struck by two of the odd missiles, and one was crippled. A pair of fighters appeared out of nowhere, fired missles into a gaping hole in the disabled ship's side, and destroyed it. The last thruster asteroid was blown to pieces by the other Kiojea's massive heavy flare-pulse battery.

Bedein sighed. "Any sign of the frigates?"
"Here they come, sir. And... They's got an old light cruiser."
"Where'd they get that kind of firepower?"
"I don't know. That class of ship was deemed obsolete ten years ago."
"All right. Target the cruiser first."
"Yessir."

The Blazer's heavy compression cannons spat glowing projectiles at the cruiser. The projectiles had a sort of a ripply wake. This wake was the bend in space that any object as dense as a compression projectile must create. The projectiles struck, downing the cruiser's shields almost instantly and starting to work their way through the hull. The other Kiojea fired on the cruiser with its heavy flare-pulse battery. Bedein turned to the captain. "I didn't know any Kiojeas were equipped with those kinds of weapons."
"It's the new upgraded version," said the captain. Bedein grunted and wondered why the most powerful ship wasn't his flagship. But the rebel fleet was soon destroyed.

As the ships turned towards the spacestation base, it detonated in a brilliant burst of flame. "Kadt," said Bedein softly. "We really could've used prisoners to provide us with information."
"The destroyers outside the field didn't capture anyone either," said the first officer. "All the ships they disabled self-destructed." Bedein shook his head sadly.

Another victory, and a very unsatisfying one, was dealt against the shrinking rebellion.

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

I was jolted into consciousness by the loud sound of docking. I drifted in the liquid hydrogen, gripping for a hold somewhere in the feul tank.

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

The shuttle sat in the cargo dock, attatched to a feeding line. All was quiet. One of it's external feul tanks began to rumble lightly. There was a clang, and a large dent stuck out. There was another loud clang, and all went haywire. A massive hole had been smashed in the tank from the inside. Frozen and liquid hydrogen blasted everywhere, sending the shuttle into a spin into the docks. Debris and broken plate metal scattered into deep space as the shuttle collided with the simlab. A large hole was smashed in the trench gouged by the remnants of the shuttle. Immediately, air and the insides of that section of the station blew out from the pressure.

The blast doors began clamping down like a pair of giant jaws, straining to keep the contents in. If an observer hadn't been so concerned with this catastrophy, they might have noticed a single human leap inside the station before the blast doors snapped shut.

------------------
I know not who or what I am, nor where or why I am here, I remember nothing, and I know nothing; but while I don't know why, I do know is something is terribly wrong.

"I am pleasssed you took your responsibilites to your race seriously, Darkk."
"I feel the same way. I've been running too long. I still find it hard to believe you would want me to have any political power at all."

Darkk was standing in a small square office, facing a rather self-important Salrilian. Darkk had accepted their 15th offer for the job of "Governor of Earth". The duities involved were rubber-stamping Salrilian tyranny and opression, and dodging assassination attempts. The pay was nice, though. He noted that the opportunities for corruption and graft had been almost enumerated in the offer. They wanted a corrupt "administration" for the humans to focus their anger on. Darkk would give them a run through on the finer points of backstabbing politics.

"We know your planet needs capable leadership to prosper."
Darkk could hardly contain his laughter at this. The Sals wanted Earth to prosper like they wanted holes in their heads. If there was anything Darkk could do about it, they would get both. There didn't seem to be much he could do at the moment more than be a petty annoyance. The Sals couldn't shoot him, as there would be nobody else to take the job of being their public-relations figurehead. The resistance, however would love to. Poor misguided saps. They still have a few of those old "submarines" Darkk remebered from his days prior to the launch of Ares aka Apollo. They also have a lot of guns and such, which they would more than likely use to try to assassinate him.

LET 'EM TRY!

Darkk was looking forward to physically hurting someone - such good stress relief.

"I'll let you go about your duties now."

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

Dock 36B
A Salrilian transport sat on the pad, being loaded by humans.
"Hurry it up, you freeloaders!!" shouted its captain.

A couple of Gaitori wearing militia uniforms walked up.
"Excuse me sir, but the Governor has ordered a revision in the customs procedures. There have been some "incidents" lately, and everyone is instructed to be on guard. We are required to search ALL vessles, even ones exempt under prior regulations."
"Oh, fine."

The Gaitori made a thorough search, and came back holding a bottle of gin each.
"We are terribly sorry, but under the new crackdown on smuggling this undeclared shipment is grounds for the confiscation of your vessle."
"WHAT?!?!?"
"The governor has stated that the statues will be enforced strictly. We will arrange transportation for you and your people to your port of regestration."

It took 33.3592 minutes for the captian to stop screaming invectives.

The Gaitori forgot to mention that they were new to the militia, and had prior training in the DEF.

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

"Mr. Darkk? There's some men to see you..."
Darkk's private secretary, assigned him by the Salrilians, was a nervious young woman who had been through so much she seemed continually fearful, and had the eggshell-walking manner common to those who lived through all sorts of disasters.

This would be the first assassination attempt. Darkk verified his plasma cannon was armed and set it to heat up quitely. "Show them in, then."

"Mr. Darkk, we need to talk."
"I don't think we have much to discuss at the moment. You're from the resistance, that bulge in your pocket is a really nice gun, and you're here to shoot me for collaberation without giving me a chance to explain myself."
"Heh, for a lapdog you're pretty perceptive."

The man in front drew the submachine gun. Darkk noted it was a GRK-67 - 20MM ammo, 2 shots per second, 30 round clip, laser sight, holy crap accurate.

Darkk had grabbed his hand before the man in front had gotten the safety off, and had twisted it around. Darkk kicked him hard to the face, sending him to the floor, still holding the gun in a position that was probably breaking the man's wrist bones. He then put his foot on the man's chest before he could release the gun and pulled up hard.

While he was doing all of this, the other 2 men had begun to get their guns out. Darkk took the SMG and popped a shot into each of their knees, then into each of their shoulders.
Darkk dropped it on the floor, cooled his plasma cannon, and walked out.
"Lisa, please send a medic up here. Those poor men had an accident."

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

"Wake up, Jocko."
Jocko, the man who had pulled the gun on Darkk first, woke up in the infirmary bed.
Darkk was standing over him with a small bouquet.
"Feeling better?"
"You treasonous hypocritical monster!"
"I thank you for the first and last charges, but the middle one is slightly offensive. I cannot recal a single instance of hypocricy."
"You sack of..."
"Heh, for your information, I'm not all that bad. Given your obvious incompetance and lack of experience, I've decided to let you and your friends go. They'll have to stay a bit longer, as I shot them in the legs and shoulders instead of just breaking a few ribs, an arm, a clavacle, and a wrist."
"Psycho arrogant murderous barbaric..."
"Heh. I consider all of those compliments, except the last one, which isn't very harsh at all."
"YOU F***ING..."
"Well, I see you're rather unable to appreciate mercy. Still, here you go."

Jocko looked at the document Darkk handed him. A full pardon.

"Wha?"
"I consider treasonous a compliment, remeber that when you get out. Don't worry about Salrilian secret police coming here, this is one of my people's facilities. I have a lot of work to do, now."

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

"Darkk, we heard there wasss an assssasssssination attempt."
"Totally incompetant and ill-planned. I let them off with severe bodily harm."

Then the Salrilian noticed that Darkk was wearing his old Ares uniform, with a picture on the back of a stylized hand crushing the life out of a Cantharan and a Salrilian.

"Why do you dressssss like that, human?"
Darkk noted the change in tone. They had noticed. Let them.
"I wore this during my period of greatest success. Many humans are silly about about an item of clothing, and I am not that much less silly than most."
"We will watch you, human."
The Salrilian signed off.

LET THEM. <snicker>

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

[This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 04-26-2001).]

Spamo stepped off the Barbarrossa and onto the unloading zone of the main orbital station around Dominus. Liz and Dave came down the ramp beside him. Various pieces of cargo were being offloaded the Barbarrossa as Spamo walked into the station. He glanced at his palmtop for the directions to his contact.

Spann walked up to a man sitting on a bench. He sat down next to the man, pulled out a magazine and opened to page 13. He turned to the man and spoke.

"Pardon me, would you happen to have Ishiman Home Report from 14 days ago?"

"Sorry, I only have the Cantharan Stock Exchange today."

"Then I would talk with Sarfi Altemena about that."

"If you say so Jack. But I'm sure you have more important things to do."
The man grinned and shook Spamo's hand. "Right on time. Come with me."

Spamo rose and followed his contact into the station towards the shuttle bays. Liz and Dave followed behind. They all boarded a small craft, and decended down towards Dominus. An hour later, they were relaxing in a penthouse nearby the Ishiman embassy building on Dominus. Wizr's people had set up a good working base here on Dominus.

"Mr. Spann, we've prepared an appointment with the Phylydian leader. All the information is here." the aid handed Spamo a data chip for his palmtop. Spamo slipped it into the slot and began to read.

"What's the plan Jack?" asked Liz, later in the evening.

"I'll be meeting with a Drion Nerec tomorrow." replid Spamo. "Hopefully I can get what I want."

"Oh, and the great Admiral Spann always gets what he wants now does he?" replied Liz with a grin.

"Damn straight. And right now, this Admiral has a little surprise." Spamo reached behind the couch he was sitting in and brought up a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He popped it open and poured the glasses.

"A toast, Liz, to success tomorrow."

"To success."

Liz sipped the champagne, then stood up. Walking over to the door, she locked it with a deft motion. Turning around, she grinned at Spamo. "Happy birthday Jack." she said with a wink.

It took a few seconds for Spamo to realize that it wasn't really his birthday. But by that time, he had other things on his hands.

<><><><><>



------------------
If things around here aren't working right, it's because I'm laughing so hard.
-Durandal

I ducked behind one of the energy pillars as the repair engineers slipped and slid down the hall. The sound of slithering grew distant. Coast clear. I made for the observation decks, my destination in mind.

It was a crazy plan, but it was the only one I had. The Salrilians always hestitate to annihilate that which is unlearned. They could bring themselves to destroy me, I hope they won't destroy my destination.

I darted down the long tube and finally reached the low-cut wall studded with windows. I looked out into deep space, awed at the view. There was Earth, a sparkling blue and white jewel hanging like an earring from the ear lobe of space. Several other simlabs and battlestations clustered together around, each tethered to each other by engineering and cargo tubes, forming an isocohedran frame around the massive starship the Salrilians were studying.

It would take decades for that massive hulk to be dissected and studied, analyzed and fed ito the Oracular Net. So valued by the Salrilian Archeologists, that it was protected byt a full ring of battlestations, guarded by a whole fleet of their deadly black warships. Nothing could get past the Salrilian guard, protecting the precious find like a mother would a child. So precious as the Salrilians would rather lose it than have it destroyed.

Perfect for me to hijack.

I gave a low whistle as I marveled at the size of the ship. Nearly a kilometer long, beautifully and lovingly crafted by an ancient and lost civilization. It's blue-tinted grey hull sparkled as the stars bounced off of it. The U.N.S. Ares.

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

No more stowing away, no more running. I would steal the titanic vessel and not turn back, and there would be nothing the Salrilians could do about it.

I dodged another patrol of guards as they slithered by with their blades, sharpening their teeth while chatting. "They say a heuman was aboard that shuttle when it blew."
"I guess that's one less of the vermin we have to worry about then."
"I'm not so sure. The Admiral lost her pet again."
"The Test Subject?"
"Yes. He was tracked to Earth, but we've searched the planet. He's nowhere to be found."
"I take it she sent her home fleets to search?"
"Yes. They're scouring the cosmos.... but if he were to return with her fleets out, the consequences would be disasterous."
"Does he know the truth about himself?"
"No. Thank Doz he doesn't."
"If he were to harness his power like the sentinal on Gaitor did...."

The talk trailed off as they headed farther and farther down the tube. I made a break for the hive airlocks. I waded through the air-proof gel barriers and into the cargo bay. It was enormous and black. Past all the crates, all the barrels and containers and equipment, was the cargo chute. I walked up to it, feeling it's rim with my fingers. I peered down the immeasurable deep hole into the blackness. The circular chute was barely wide enough to accomodate me as I wriggled into it, holding myself up with my hands. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and let go.

I plummeted down the tuboid chute faster and faster! I looked around in a panic, but could only see darkness. Futher and further I plummeted from the station, spiraling through deep space. I finally saw a light at the end. There was an enormous flash, and I crashed into something at the other end.

--------

I must have been unconscious for hours. I sat up, rubbing my head and staring down at the pink mush by my boots. Obviously I had caught the night-shift guard off guard and driven him several feet into the steel wall, now with a huge dent. I stood up on the carpet, and I didn't have to duck hen I did so as the cieling was just my height. I gazed around at the ghost ship around me in wonder. There was the uniform rack, where heavy EVA space suits hung in a rack, the NASA symbol printed on every one of them. In the corner a pile of UNS helmets, their visors cracked and their shells worn. There was a ring around me lined with computer terminals and screens, each one with a chair bolted to the floor, equipped with padding and seatbelts. I realized I must be in the command dome.

Making for the navigation controls, I took the time to look over the ship status.

Hull at 99%
Static Defenses at 104%
Drives at 138%
Core material at 50%
Core is offline.

Boy, this ship musta been through a couple of wars. The Ares must have been an early battleship, though it was now absolutely obsolete. It had crossed the spiral arm twice on it's journeys, but had a star map that was as advanced as the Salrilians. It must have met some friendlies at one point, as it had been heavily modified and upgraded. The history banks rated the ship as nearly two hundred years old. I only hoped she'd survive the next few hours.

There was some light security, a few encryption routines, nothing special guarding the navigation banks that prevented me from cracking in. I accessed an autotarget program.

Current position is 55,67,1.
Current positionary status: Stable orbit over planet: Earth
Warning! Unauthorized docking detected!
Warning! Unable to locate Earth Network!

Reconnecting through other servers listed:
NASA Headquarters 134.56.923.8 ..............................Connection Attemps Failed
UNS Headquarters 557.891.376.22..............................Connection Attempt Failed
UESC Regional HQ 74.665.234.98 ..............................Connection Attempt Failed

Searching for unlisted Earth Network Servers.................One Match Found

Listing......

1- Salrilian Oracular Network Node 94596 ....................Connected

ERROR! Invalid Data Format! Connection Closed.

Tracing Server..... Stellar Coordinates: 3:11:4

Matching to Stellar Maps: System found: Salril

Automatic Course set to: System: Salril: Fleet of the Prophets Carrier S.N.S. Burning Glory

Program created by William Darkk.

The Ares creaked and rumbled as it's fusion drives slowly came back to life. It began to turn, snapping all of it's tethers and docking links. By the time the alert sirens had gone off all over the Salrilian Stations, the U.N.S. Ares had disappeared from orbit, slipping into the abyss of Lightspeed.

------------------
I know not who or what I am, nor where or why I am here, I remember nothing, and I know nothing; but while I don't know why, I do know is something is terribly wrong.

A loud buzzing noise awoke Spamo. Glancing at the digital clock next to his bed, he saw that he had better get his arse moving or he'd be late. He rose quietly as to not disturb the other sleeping persons in his bed. Minutes later, he strode out of the door and down the hall to his makeshift office. The Ishiman on duty greeted him. A transport would take him to the Imperial center, where he would meet with the Minister under the guise of an Ishiman delegate. Being that the Ishimans employ many different races, no one will think it odd that a non-Ishiman would be meeting on their behalf. From there, it was all up to Spamo.

The transport sped towards the Imperial compound.

Inside, Spamo was bussed about by the Phylydian functionaries. Dave and Liz would be arriving shortly according to the message he recieved on his Palmtop. They would arrive on time for the meeting. A few minutes later, Spamo relaxed as much as he could in a waiting room. Dave and Liz entered only 10 minutes from the time.

"Nothing like cutting it to the wire, eh Jack?" laughed Dave.

Spamo cocked an eyebrow. "I hope you didn't run over anyone on the way here. Do you have the information with you?"

"Right here Jack." said Liz as she shuffled through a thin folder of papers. She handed them to Spamo just as a tall Phylydian entered the room.

"The Minister will see you now." said the Phylydian as he motioned through the door. Spamo , Dave and Liz all walked through the door and took seats in front of a large desk. The Minister rose to greet them.

"Good morning. Let's get right to business shall we? My aid did not give me your names." said the Minister briskly.

Spamo stood and extended his hand. "Of course. My name is Jackson Spann, late Minister of the UNS."

The Minister stopped cold for a moment. "I don't have time for jokes." he said. "Spann is dead. I am very busy, so get to your point or get out."

"I assure you, I am he. If you want proof, I can supply it. Dig up photos of me. They'll match."

The Minister eyed Spamo for a moment, then tapped some commands into his terminal. He glanced from the monitor and then to Spamo, and back to the monitor. He frowned, then hit the communication button on his desk.

"Neris, prepare the lab for a blood test. And prepare an appointment with the Supreme Ocititate."

Spamo smiled at reclined in his chair. The Minister sat across the desk, staring at Spamo in a look very close to that of seeing a ghost.

------------------
If things around here aren't working right, it's because I'm laughing so hard.
-Durandal

[This message has been edited by El Spamo (edited 04-27-2001).]

(I will soon.)

"The Supreme Ociticate will see you now." chimed a voice in the empty room. A door slide open at one end, to admit those to see the Supreme Octicate. Spamo rose from the hard chair he had been sitting in and walked through the door and into a luxurious yet very functional office. Windows looked out over the city, offering a breathtaking view. The Supreme Octicate eyed Spamo as he entered the room and bowed.

The Supreme Octicate inclined his head. "An honor Minister Spann. I am graced with your presence here. My ministers have briefed me fully of your reasons for being here and the circumstances of your, disappearance. A novel approach to a problem. Please, have a seat."

Spamo sat down in one of the chairs before the Supreme Octicate's desk.
"Thank you greatly sir. It is a privilege to meet with you. However, if I may dispense with formalities, I would like to discuss the issues I bring before you."

"Of course Minister. Go ahead."

"As you have known, the UNS has fallen underneath the dominion of the Salrillian empire. After three long and very costly wars, humanity has fallen under control of hostile forces and lies without a real chance of gaining independence solely on its own. However, the arrival of the Phylydians as a power within the galaxy has opened a new door for humanity."

"You wish the Phylydian empire to fight it's battles for you?" said the Supreme Octicate.

"Of course not. I am merely asking for material aid, and support personnel to assist in a swift attack on Earth to liberate it from Salrillian hands. The rest of UNS space lies within the control of various races, ranging from Cantharans to Gaitori to Obish. Earth is the figurehead and key to our independence."

"What is the benefit for the Phylydian empire?"

"As I stand here now, I have little to offer. However, the trade opportunities offered by a stable and independent UNS far exceed those offered by Salrillians."

"Assuming that the UNS manages to gain independence."

"We will gain our independence."

"With our help, of course."

Spamo grinned. "Of course."

The Supreme Octicate's eyes flashed, and then he nodded. He's a shrewed human. he thought.
"Very well Spann. You will have your aid. Speak with my Minsiter about the details."

"You are most generous. Humanity thanks you." replied Spamo with a bow of his head.

With a gesture from the Supreme Octicate, Spamo rose from his seat, bowed again and left the room. As he left the door, tears of joy were streaming down his face.

[Acceptable? I don't know much about phylydian personalities.]


------------------
Madness takes it's toll; Please have exact change.

(PhylydiOn, first of all. And second, the Supreme Oc. was still a little too friendly. Overall, good.)

The doors shut behind Spann as he entered his guest quarters. He clapped his hands together and huffed, an artificial grin on his face as he tried to keep his spirits up. They collapsed like a paper dam.

He placed his head in his hands and sobbed.

He sat down and opened the laptop arranged on the desk, keying the comm. frequency for a William Darkk. The screen displayed the waiting symbol as the call rang on the receiving end. There was a click and Darkk's face appeared on the screen.

"Hullo Spamo, how are the talks?" Spann tried to look his best, phony smile and all, but it obviously wasn't fooling Darkk. "Not good eh?"

"The Octicion was a nice man, but it was almost as if he were mocking me in there." Spann said. "He was gracious and all, but I don't think they're going to help us, and rightfully so. We have nothing to offer them in return for them fighting a war for a civilization they helped destroy. The UEC has left every alien out there with a hatred for humans. There is no sympathy out there for us."

"They killed the UEC, but we're not the UEC, remember Spamo? The Confederates were horrible horrible men!"

"But at least the UEC was better than what the galaxy is now. At least there was Galactic stability, even if it was unbalanced. At least there was unity and protection, glory and respect. At least we weren't doomed to extinction."

Darkk's face flashed in horror. "Extinction?!"

"We're simply too scattered and rare in the galaxy. There's no unity, no homeworld, not even a habitat. We're just a bunch of nomadic drifters now. The prophets give us six, maybe seven generations."

"So that's it now. We're all going to die off."

"Darkk, what have we done?" A tear formed in Spamo's eye. "We were fools to think we knew better for mankind."

"No, Spamo. Thet's bull and you know it. The Salrilians intended for us to be struck and never rise again. It was inevitable. It was all the prophes said about Humanity never rising again, lest it become corrupt and bring doom."

"What do the Prophets know?! They could have given us a chance!"

"They did, Spann. They said that before during the Audemedon war. We liberated Earth and got the UEC. They were right."

"God only knows if we were to rise again..."

"Somehow."

"No. Darkk, lately I have been disturbed by troubling dreams. The same kind Levt said he had had, about a man and his machine. That man, in my dreams, that man told me not to give up on humanity. That there was but one last hope, and that was for him to free mankind personally."

Darkk scoffed. "One man?"

"Yes." Spamo said darkly. "And his 'machine'"

"Personally, Spammo, I don't think this "machine" he was talking about would help any. Levt talked about a machine, too. Look where it got him. I could have finished it, if the Phylydions hadn't butted in. Those friends of his are complete morons, and probably crimianlly insane. If we have to go to tyranny, I'd prefer it to be run by somebody who at least knows how to win. Levt was a total moron. If I had gotten the chance to capture him, I'd turn him over to the Sals and laugh the whole way through the tape of it I'd have them send me. Turn the offer down."

"But Darkk..."

"And another thing - you're starting to BELIEVE the UEC's propaganda, aren't you? They didn't bring any of that. It was merely the calm before the storm - what happened to his little empire was inevitable, as such tyrannies are inevitably self-limiting. He failed to learn from history. Nazi Germany, North Korea, Cuba. All of those are great examples of what happens when you do things Levt's way."

"But Darkk, if nothing is done, humanity might go extinct!"

"Hmph. I think you, and the Salrilians, forgot the feasable alternatives. But that's not the issue of the moment. I had planned to use this figurehead office with the Sals to annoy them, and help you from the inside, but now I've got a more pressing matter. I'm going to use the resistance to fake my death, then go to Dominus to make sure you don't go nuts. I've got a theory about how these dreams are sent to you, and were sent to Levt. I don't have time to explain all the details, you'd need college degrees to understand, but this method of communication has been PROVEN to drive any normal human insane. I'd suggest you find a doctor there that can put you into suspended animation and take you out of it when I get there."

"What are you going to do when you get here?"

"Backtrace the moron who was pulling Levt's strings, and make them wear a dunce cap."

"How are you going to do that? How are you going to get here?"

"The second answer is simpler, Sarah put a stealth field on Outrun. The first part, well, will be made up as I go along. Oh, there's one other thing you must know."

"What?"

" Just in case you've got any misconceptions: Levt's morality was NOT the main reason I opposed him. Neither was his destroying my base. His morality was only different than mine one a couple of points, and my position on those can be bent a little for a little while. The reason I opposed him was I wanted to excercise control of his fall. As soon as I saw his fleet in the nebula that first time, I knew this would happen. I wanted it to happen on my terms. This could have been worse, Spann. I insured it was not so. Had Levt been a Lincoln or a Washington, I'd have been wearing his uniform. But he was a Castro, a Robespier, a Kim Ill Sung, and so on. I'm gonna win this, just so I can write the history books on that moron."

Darkk and Spamo both laughed at that last sentence.

"Well, Darkk, I'll consider what you said. Goodbye."

"Don't go crazy before I get there. If you can't get yourself frozen, DON'T SLEEP. A little shock treatment, 1984 style, can keep you awake for a few days. I shouldn't take more than 2, now that I can use Sal jumpgates."

"You bloody psychopath, I'll give that a shot. This is a little disconcerting."

"I'll try and get there as fast as I can. Cya in 3 days, tops. Don't let them talk to you, I'm serious about this."

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

[This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 05-02-2001).]

"This meeting of the High Octicon is now in session," said the Supreme Octicate as the seven other octicates took their seats. He stood up. "A simple proposal has been given to us by the leaders of what remains of the UNS. They want our help in throwing the Sals out of their territory."

The Balance Octicate snorted. "Haven't we helped them enough? Our last little venture into Human affairs cost us the Phylydia."

"The Sals don't have the kind of firepower that the UEC did," said Drion Nerec, the Military Octicate. "We have a few spare fleets that we could dedicate to this."

"What will we get out of it?" Asked the Economics Octicate. "Our budget's a little down after commencing building these new Domination II-class battleships before we were fully ready," he shot a look at Nerec, "and we could use a bit of a boost."

"They're promising us plenty of profits, mainly in the form of renewed trade between the Imperium and the UNS." The E.O. thought for a few moments, reviewed some information on his personal computer, and looked up.

"That is an acceptable boost. You're sure we'll get full trade rights?"

"Yes," said the Supreme Octicate. The S.O. then turned to Nerec. "Will this aid at all stifle our effort to crush the rebel remnants?"

"No," said Nerec. "We can dedicate three attack fleets and one major fleet to the Humans' cause."

The S.O. turned to the Technical Octicate. "Any chance of the Humans learning too much about our military technology?"

"The Humans don't have sensitive enough scanning equipment to figure out much from the outside," said the T.O., "and we will not allow any science teams in."

"All right," said the S.O. There's no reason to involve the Senate in this. Only we will vote. We will meet again tomorrow to vote, and will then inform the Human rep of the results." He nodded, and the eight members of the High Octicon left to consider their votes.

The cabinet of Phylydion Octicate leaders sat in session around a circular studded table, readying for the final questions before the vote was cast. In the middle of the table sat Spann.

He sat there nervously, gripping his chair like his life depended on it. It had been a brutal meeting, and he was beginning to loathe the Phylydions more and more for their petty universal superiority complex. The questions had been brutal, as had the dreams the night before.

"So, Spann, tell us again why we should free your people from the Salrilians."

"With all due respect, Octicate, you were the ones who got us there by destroying the UEC."

"Excuse me? The battle for Sol cost us two command ships and almost eighty support vessels. Our economy is in a bit of a shortfall right now thanks to your race."

"Well maybe if you waste all your money on building more bloody battlecruisers you might be able to feed your people!" Spann burst out in a violent outrage. "You think it's alright to destroy a civilization just to make a name for yourselves and fulfill your egocentric fantasies?!"

The Octicate smiled instead of returning the hostility. "So this is how humans act when they want something. No, I think I speak for us all when I say we have better things to do."

This hit Spann on the head like a brick. He suddenly realized what he had just said and woke up. "But..."

"You are excused, minister Spann."

"But I..."

"Please leave."

Spann hung his head in shame and left.

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

Boy he had really screwed that one up. Spann hung his head as he sat in the passenger pit on the shuttle back to Earth. Where would mankind turn now?

As he thought, he didn't notice himself dozing off to sleep....

[Slug: please stop posting unregistered and show your face]

Suddenly, Spann felt himself rudely awakend by a hard kick.
"Wake up, you moron! Didn't you learn yet that you should listen to me?"

"Will!?"

"Looks like I got here just in time. I caught your impromptu lesson on the don'ts of diplomacy on the local news broadcast as I came in. Whoever's behind those transmissions is already starting to eat away at your mind."

"Guess I sorta lost control a little..."

"You bloody might well loose more control if you keep this up!"

Suddenly Spamo noticed some bruises on the left side of William's face.
"Resistance on Earth put up some challenge?"

"Nah, they think they got me with a rocket attack. A bunch of tissue-generation samples sitting in my chiar got spread over the office, and even the Sals got fooled. Some Phylydion with a cape and a really cool knife tried to kill me; he thought I was a 'rebel' or something. I had to collapse one of the bum's lungs before he'd listen to me."

"A pure taeskor?"

"Ah, that's what they're called. Fortunatly, humans are stronger and humans similar to me have reflexes on par. Personally, I think that any modern millitary unit that uses only knives is a joke."

"I still can't believe you won..."

"The secret is that no matter how good they are, they're never as good as they think they are. Thanks to some rather interesting factors, my reaction speed is better than a Phylydion's, even if I'm not as agile. I just grabbed and broke. Then a quick spin-kick while the bum stood there trying to figure out how a measly human broke his arm, and I'd layed him out to dry."

"Still, you've got something to discuss more important than that."

"Yeah. I'm gonna turn the tables on whatever b***** is trying to drive you nuts. Sarah's coming with the Escapade in about an hour, with a fake reg # supplied by our friend on Ishima, carrying a variety of fun equipment. In the meantime, I'm going to shove you into the Outrun's suspension pod to prevent them from talking to you. Then they'll have to talk to me."

"But then you'll go nuts!!"

"Ah, Spann, Spann. Remeber what I said about it driving normal humans crazy? It can't hurt you if you're already crazy. Many neurological disorders have benificial side effects. Colorblindness lets you see people wearing camo. Aphasia and Agnosia let you see through allmost all lies told in person. Tourette's increases reaction time and creativity. Also, many of them provide protection against the comm system the late Jerry's friends use."

"So you won't go nuts because you're already nuts?"

"I believe the expression is, 'crazy like a fox.' In WWII, the US Army Airforce recruited colorblind bombadeers for their ability to see camoflauge. I prefer to use my differences, thank you. You should read more. Check anything by one Oliver Sacks, and you might understand."

"So, you're going to talk to them? Why?"

"Yes, to see if I can get them to let somebody with a brain handle the job here."

Darkk walked Spann up the onramp of his ship, and pushed him into the pod. "Relax, I had my sister check it out before coming here. You'll be fine."

Then the cold came, and Spann passed into a dreamless sleep.

Darkk watched the sky pensively, waiting for his chance. He'd love to gut-shoot the guy pulling Levt's strings, but it wouldn't happen. The bum probably has all sorts of stuff between him and anything that could hurt him - knowing the sheer stupidity of the people Levt worked for, probably neutronium or somesuch.

Darkk would have to avoid overly offending them by laughing at them too much.

As he waited for the specialized equipment needed to talk back at the wanna-be puppet masters, he recalled his list of feasable alternatives, none of them needing any outside aide. All of them would save humanity, given time, but they had side effects:

A) would result in Darkk and his sister wishing they were dead, as well as causing massive social, ethical, and relegious turmoil
would make every surviving alien race really bloody paranoid about humans
C) would end with near-omnicide, and massive outcry for William and Sarah's heads.

Maybe he could talk some common sense into the morons, and find an option that he could live with. Maybe he could grow pigs that could fly while he was at it.

[Slug: I know it's you posting all that unreg stuff. Darkk's not about to change his opinions, and I'm almost sure Spamo's unhappy with you having his character spouting Levt-isms. Play by the rules, please.]

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

[This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 05-05-2001).]

[Slug, Spann is not NEARLY that whiny. He's been through 3 wars, major diplomatic battles, and such. Even with the mind-whacking, he's still intelligent. Darkk, thanks for putting him to sleep. Saves me trouble, as I have very little time to write during finals. Apologies for the big OOC post.]

------------------
Madness takes it's toll; Please have exact change.

(How do you fellows know it's Slug? By the way, I'm the one who posted "The Meeting", but I didn't post "The Decision". Whoever posted "The Decision", please leave major Phylydion government decisions to ME, thank you very much.)

(Finally, I'm putting my personal character back into the RPG! Yahoo!)

Traek Cicion stood, his crimson cloak flowing around him, over a beaten-up young Phylydion male. The man was wearing a grey jumpsuit and a blue cloak. They were in a small cell in the Radiant Flare, which Cicion had been away in for some time. The man was loosely chained to the wall. "Who are you, and where did you get that uniform?" The man struggled and jumped up to attack. Cicion swept his hand quickly, and a wave of invisible force struck the man and slammed him back into the wall. "And, while I'm at it," Cicion added, "Why did you attack William Darkk?" The man looked into his eyes. "You're certainly no Pure Taeskor," snorted Cicion, "not with such insignificant fighting skills." Cicion then produced a blade from an armored case. "And this dagger you were carrying doesn't have a sixth the craftmanship of a Keutae. Still, your fighting abilities are far above average, if not on par with those of the group you have disguised yourself as a member of."

The man finally spoke. "You think you can just crush us like insects, you imperial-" the man spat. Cicion waved his hand, and the spit reversed course and hit the wall an inch away from the man's head. "Why the impact kinetics?" The man said. "You can't even beat me without using your special powers?" Cicion's head snapped to face the prisoner on his last remark. "Fine," Cicion said, and he detached the man's chains from the wall. "I'll even go this far," said Cicion, giving the man his blade and removing his own. He stole a quick glance at the cell door to make sure it was locked. It was. He then spread his arms. "Take your time." The rebel, for that was what this man had betrayed himself to be, lunged at Cicion, blade in hand, only to find empty air where he had been lunging at.

He spun around, his fist already swinging. Cicion caught the man's elbow and threw him to the floor. The man then jumped up and thrust his blade at Cicion's forehead. Cicion swung his hand up, carefully struck the flat part of the blade, and knocked it out of his hand. Cicion then threw five punches, each aimed at a different location. The man, unable to block, took the punches, then dove forward. Cicion sidestepped and altered the man's course so he flew into the wall.

Straightening his uniform, Cicion walked up to the rebel and reattached his chains. "Pathetic. I wasn't even using half my abilities, and you had that dagger, too. But that's beyond the point. Tell me what I want to know."

"I'm of the ones who will bring the Imperium's downfall," said the man.

"Rebels," said Cicion.

"Call us what you wish."

"Where were you based?"

"Since we're scheduled to evacuate today, it doesn't make any difference if I tell you. The base I was stationed at was on Arkerach III."

"Ahh, Arkerach III, the unihabited desert world."

"There's no use telling anyone! The staff is going to evacuate the base in less than one hour. There's no way you could get a fleet there in time to destroy it."

"Allow me to show you a recording that was made yesterday morning." Cicion placed a holoprojector on the ground, and up popped an image of a desert planet. In orbit around the planet was the Domination II, spraying intense fire down onto it. Roughly a quarter of the crust appeared to have melted. "This was the Domination II's first actual combat test." The man's eyes grew wide with terror.

"No, you couldn't have, you butchers..."

"We didn't kill everyone, only those who chose not to surrender. Those who did surrender are safely in a prison ship, en route to Yeinata."

"Yeinata..." The most infamous prison world in the Imperium, the barren, moon-sized Yeinata had an attack fleet stationed at it at all times, and any unauthorized ships trying to escape were blown to hell, no questions asked.

"You may visit them, if you wish."

"How do I know they'll be safe?"

"I give you my word."

The man snorted. "Your word. Great."

"And, if you tell me the information I require, my word will seem all that more solid." The rebel sighed, looked up into Cicion's eyes, and sighed again.

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

Darkk collapsed onto his fold-out collapsable iron mattress, a shelf like protrusion from the wall with a pillow and a blanket. It had been an excruciating day, with Spamo in deep freeze, the negotions a shambles, and constant derision from neighboring alien patrols, derision that at moments, Darkk woulda swore to be a step away from direct fighting. All accross the galaxy it was a goddamn witch hunt. Humans were being tried and executed for ludicrus charges by non-humans, ranging from spying and sabotage, to heresy. It was becoming painfully aware to Darkk that if something wasn't to be done soon, all mankind would perish.

"What to do? What to do?" He murmured, "Gotta do something... I dunno. I just can't sit here and watch us treated like this. I've gotta do something!"

Silence once again engulfed the room as he sat on the corner, chin in his hands. He chewed the inside of his cheek lazily in nervous thought. Dark realized the room seemed darker than usual. He was about to get up and fiddle with the light controls when a cough came from the corner of the room. Instinctively, he reached for his pistol, but to find it was not in it's holster! "Damn!" he shuddered as he was unarmed. After a moment he hazarded a few words. "Who's that?" he asked.

A tall, white-haired man in a gleaming white uniform strolled out, cane in hand. His brushed-back hair and studded collar indicated a man of great importance. His nose ever so slightly pointed above a pair of dry, frowning lips. He turned with military prescision and faced Darkk, eyeing him with superiority. His trousers and jacket were spotless, pressed and arranged with great pride. The golden medals that adorned his left breast gleamed, polished and arranged perfectly. Hardly a space bum by any odds.

He saluted, then spoke in a low grey voice "I would have thought you would have placed a little more faith in my apprentice before killing him, William."

Darkk did not know how to react. Where had this man suddenly come from? How long had he been waiting for him? Why did he dress like the only civilized man in the universe? He was confused and only managed to stagger out a "wha....?"

He continued. "I suppose he had it coming, didn't he. I gave him a fleet, the smarts, the biggest damn capital ship your universe has ever known, and he squanders it chasing after aliens."

Darkk suddenly realized who this man was talking about. "Levt? Gerald Levt? He was a complete psycho! If it hadn't been for him we wouldn't be stuck where we are now, 'doomed to die' and all that nonsense!"

The man glared down at Darkk disapprovingly, his brows knit and his chin in an expression of heavy thought. There was a pause, then he spoke slowly, enunciating carefully. "No, not so I'm afraid. You must not be so quick-tempered, William, it truely will be your undoing. He had, in fact, fully anticipated the Woven and laid that trap at Sol. The only things that screw up carefully planned proccesses are outside interference. The Phylydions were the only factor involved in the bringing down of the United Earth Confederacy."

"How do you know all this?"

The man gave a chuckle. He was tall and ancient, but by no standard was he feeble, as his musculature was quite impressive, his fists were still tight, overall he seemed a very strong and experienced leader. "Hah hah hah.... The Phylydions, William-"

"Stop calling me that."

"The Phylydions are not from this universe." He rolled universe and waited for it's complete effect to sink into Darkk.

"What?"

"Foreigners who will bring enormous devastation, if not but at their hands." He let out a long laugh, the room went completely black, and Darkk woke up.