Ambrosia Software Web Board: Chapter One: The Caged Pheonix - Ambrosia Software Web Board

The thing that made Vendetta Cooperative truely Irthantan is that it would hand out copies of its agenda.

For a secret organization, it wasn't very secretive. It was a registered lobbying group for the Ishiman Senate, it reported its (considerable) donations, and even had colorful informational brochures. Of course, the fact that it never, ever did any lobbying seemed suspicious to some, but the Ishimans largely regarded Irthantans with an atitude of bemused humorment, and rarely worried about what the "violent, stupid" species did. Most Irthantans would challenge the "stupid" portion of that line of thought, but the perception of the Irthantans as blustering and occasionally violent but without planning capabilities or real intelligence was just fine with Vendetta Cooperative.

Darkk looked at the schedule for when Red Crew took control of the gateship and he and his crew could go on shore leave for about a year. The war between Obain and Gaitor meant no crew rotations were occuring yet, and reservists had been called up.

This was unfortunate for Darkk, although he knew Vendetta Cooperative would understand. Darkk had recieved his heavily-encrypted message indicating that the acquisition slated for him had gone down, and Darkk would recieve his "segment" of the plan soon.

The objective of the Vendetta Cooperative was to orchistrate large-scale resistance to Cantharan expansionism. The orginization was currently buying large quantities of stock in various portions of the Ishiman military-industrial complex and ensuring that Irthantans held majority on the board of directors.

Although the activity had been noticed by a few regulators, it was not strictly illegal - the Irthantans were Ishiman citizens and entitled to own even defense industries, and the Irthantans involved were not technically members of Vendetta Cooperative (indeed, were not associated with it at all in any formal sense), and they had broken no laws.

Further, the Ishimans were simply content to let the Irthantans have their "piece of the pie" in the defense industry, as few Ishimans truly cared about it. So long without a war had made the Ishimans at large indifferent to the intrigues of the military-industrial complex. If it was owned by Cantharans, few would complain. Having it owned by a particularly loyal, hard-working segment of the Ishiman citizenry didn't seem a problem.

Of course, in the mind of the Irthantans, it wasn't a problem at all. Someday the Ishimans would be pressured into doing what is right despite the risk to themselves for once, but that day would not come for well over a century.

Right now the plans were going along, though.

Outside the Gateship, a large Gaitori vessel glided past the blockade ships, at all times staying inside the frontier establised by the Ishimans. Darkk knew it was there to rendezvous with the Cantharan merchantman he had "apprehended" earlier, the captain of which had been interrogated in tradtional Irthantan style - cause blinding fear by any means availible. Darkk smiled, having managed to scare the Cantharan into confessing everything without so much as lifting a finger. All he had to do is stare at the neck, announce his name, and smack his jaws once.

Outside, the puzzled Gaitori carrier flashed what it thought were covert recognition signals, but nothing responded. Darkk half-heartedly considered sending out a dummy and attempting to take the carrier before its crew could request help, but thought better of it. Irthantans do not attempt what they cannot do, and Darkk knew his troops weren't fast enough.

Darkk radioed the captain of the carrier to ask if the ship was in distress, or if it was looking for another ship in distress. Darkk smirked as he sent the voice-only message.

Outside the carrier finally left, not responding to Darkk's message.

Just another day of border patrol.

[I thought I'd introduce the Irthantan orginization that will help ensure the humans are the first "client race" to get a chance to fight back.]

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois
Onii7/Frinkruds and his funky forums
macgamer.net

“There were two of them? That brings the count to sixteen if I’m not mistaken”
“Plus the four we didn’t kill.” Anic put the glass down on the metal table with the plink of glass on glass.
The island of St. Lucia is approximately 44 Km long and 25 Km wide. On a clear day Martinique can be seen in the distance from Castries, St. Lucia’s capital. Most days are clear days here, and Anic could well see the other island. It was bloody hot here too. So you kept in the shade. It was nice to be able to breathe an atmosphere without any filtering aids, and to have rain that didn’t need a force shield to protect you from its corrosiveness. It had rained very heavily about five minutes ago, for a few minutes. All the run-off water had now evaporated again. Cool, to use the word in an earth-like way.

“Cantharians always send infiltrators as a prelude to invasion” Anic turned back to the K-Operative who sat in the shaded balcony.
“The invasion could be decades away, or next month” Anic’s companion said. “We have analysed data we collected from the infiltrators. Nothing, as usual.”
“Hmm, they don’t give away much.” Anic muttered, declining a cigarette that was offered. “Perhaps we should take a prisoner next time.”
“It’s unlikely that any of their field operatives would know anything.”
“I was rather thinking of raiding their headquarters...” said Anic “...and using a brain probe on them, ...both factions.”

Anic used the plastic cigarette lighter to open another bottle of beer, and took a slug from the neck. Cool n fizzy - there were some things that humans did very well indeed, and their beer was one of them.

“Ah, Jommo’s report on the Cantharian HVD should interest you.”
“That’s through already! Can’t have been much in it then.”
“That destroyer was part of The Other Wave.”
“Yes, I thought that.” said Anic.
“It gets better. There was detailed data on the ship which has lead us to the location of the rest of the fleet. Aros is watching them now.”
“We really should wait until the leaders of the faction show themselves.” said Anic.
“Or we could simply destroy the secret fleet. That would set them back somewhat.”
“Yes, normally I tend against heavy ops, but in this case I think I agree with you. It is in our best interests that the Cantharians conquer Earth, and sooner rather than later. The humans need a lesson, from an enemy they can subsequently fight back against. They need to become strong, on the right side.”
“There’s something else.” said the K-Op. “We picked up a heavy spatial distortion on the far side of Audemedon space. It’s not a strong signal, but unmistakable.”
“The Borg. They never give up.” said Anic, “That’s the fourth vessel in as many decades. How far off is it?”
“It will reach Audemedon detectors in two months. This one is different. It is bigger and faster than previous vessels. But the basic technology is the same as before. Their T-warp drive remains primitive and slow. It is ultimately headed towards Ishman space and then us. A probe, to gather data.”
Anic thought a moment. “Well, there is nothing happening here at the moment.” Took another swig of the fizzy beer “I’ll take a look myself I think. I have never encountered a Borg vessel before. It should be interesting.”

------------------
Oh, so it is another bug hunt then...

[This is an Ares thing. I'd rather stick to the Cantharans and Salrilians and Audemedons. No Borg, please.]

"Darkk, get your *** up here!"

Darkk grumbled to himself as he walked to the bridge. They always had perfect timing. Then the alarms started. Darkk realized this was serious.

"Commodore on the bridge!"

Darkk looked at the viewscreen. Cantharan warships filled it. He almost couldn't see space.

"What's going on?"

"Cantharan Admiral Hek Met has made a formal demand on behalf of his government for us to drop the blockade. If we do not, he has threatened a military engagement. He also stated any use of the jump ring would provoke an immediate attack."

Darkk gulped. "Is he still on line?"

"Yes. Shall I bring him up?"

"Yes."

The image of Hek Met appeared on a display to the side of the main tactical board.

"I'm sorry, but I do not have authority to end the blockade. I must take time to consult my superiors."

"Darkk, is it? You have some time to do so. My government wishes this situation resolved quickly, so I will not tolerate stalling."

"Very well. I will contact you again in 15 minutes."

"Understood."

Darkk closed the connection with Hek Met and made one with the Ishiman Military Command. The outcome was a foregone conclusion. The Gateship would not be risked. After 10 minutes of angry words Darkk conceded, and agreed that this one would go to the Cantharans. Darkk's protests were largely empty. He knew Hek Met was bluffing about striking first, but he didn't want to give Hek Met the chance to hit second, because he knew Hek Met could hit harder than anything he could field.

Darkk called up Hek Met again.

"It appears that your request is agreed to by my command. Therefore it is my duty to get out of your way. We will jump our blockade fleet out at once, if you agree to not interfere or cross until we have left."

The "not cross until we have left" part was merely a face saving gesture. Darkk wanted to extract some concession from the Cantharans, even the most minor one.

"I'm pleased that we could could find a diplomatic route to resolve this. An international incident would have been tragicly unfortunate." Hek Met then made his formal goodbye, Darkk returned it, and the channel was closed.

Darkk felt the knot in his stomach. This proved it to him beyond a shadow of a doubt. Hek Met had been bluffing. Darkk's inability to fight back humiliated him. Finally he turned to the Gate Operator and ordered the blockade fleet plucked up and dumped back home.

Surprisingly, Darkk didn't hate Hek Met. Darkk understood him better. Darkk respected his opponent. Hek Met would be a worthy foe in the future. If the struggle resumed in Darkk's lifetime, Hek Met would be there to fight.

And that thought banished Darkk's disappointment.

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois
Onii7/Frinkruds and his funky forums
macgamer.net

[Channel 513: NWNN]

"The notion itself is absolutely absurb. If these little green men are so adcanced and so earger to meet us, there is absolutely no reason they wouldn't show up here themselves. What we have being built up there is going to go down in history as the biggest economic blunder of the New World. Now that we have a solid global regulating of governments and we are seeing the heights of prosperity we had half a century ago, people are becoming deluded with all these innane fantasies, and the UN is no exception-they see something strange on the telescopes and immediately it becomes this 'first contact' which will do no more than humilate both this 'Expeditionary Taskforce' as well as the UN Global Council as well."

"Thank you Senator Mahyari. Dr. Klingler?"

"Well John, and, Mr. Senator, I can understand the view completely, but the signal recieved eight months ago was on a very quiet frequencey, with enourmous amplitude and contained clear and concrete mathematical encodings. Additionally, it was targetted... and clearly designed, to bounce from every broadcasting satelite in orbit. If anything is absurd, it is saying that this is some random and meaningless event this is the single biggest event in human history and is worth..."

"And does that warrant the taxation of..."

[Channel 517: MTV NEWS]

"Hi I'm Izo Ogama with an MTV breaking story, the UN General Council has confirmed rumors of the construction of another interstellar project. But the issue is raising more than just eyebrows as they say the catalyst for the effort is a message recieved from some sort of extra-terrestrial inteligence trying to..."

[Channel 525: HTNN]

"...and the faithful know-that the third world war was not the final judgement. You see, everyone knows, and everyone is saying that this message comes from a higher inteligence. But not everyone can read between the lines and come to believe that this is a direct message from God, to warn all believers of the end of days. This is the assignment to the faithful of the divine mission to escape the impending hell, on Earth, and find our ultimate paradise, to settle our new Jeruselem. as written in the Bible!"

[Channel 531: ESPAN]

"The announcement has set the global markets into maelstrom, United Industries Limited Index reporting gains and losses exceeding one-thousand points every hour. Analysts say..."

[Channel 534: LawTV]

"God dammit officer, I didn't never shoot her it was a mother {explitive} space alien. They's gonna take over!"

"Charlie, you {explitive}! You {explitive} lyin', drunking {explitive} piece o' {explitive}!"

"Ma'am, settle down, let the paramedics do their work."

[Channel 555: FOX Reality]

"It's like... dude... oh my god... there's people over there protesting the spaceship, there's people there protesting them and everyone's so totally psyched, it's like..."

------------------
…sdrawkcab dootsrednu tub sdrawrof devil si efil…

His job wasn't an easy one, but then again, Robert Lin hadn't signed up in the Mech. Infantry for a cushy desk job and the privilege of fighting the battles ex cathedra. He was a marine, about to make his third drop into hostile territory, weapons hot.

Sgt. Lin checked his orders: plain and simple. Burn and pillage everything they could, going to east to west through central Tokyo. After they'd cleared the area, they could expect a retrieval ship to fly over them for pickup and make maximum burn back to friendly territory - provided that his unit (Bravo company, or informally, "Rico's Irregulars") hadn't missed any SAM batteries on their way through.

"Marines!" yelled Lt. Rico, commanding officer of the company. "You know what we're looking for here. Someone to show the bastards this side of the Pacific what the bastards from our side are capable of!"

Lin smiled sadly behind his faceplate. Off-duty, he had found out Rico's father, Gregor, was working undercover in Havana when NACom ordered it nuked down to the bedrock - "acceptable casualties," said the brass. Rico was one of the first "bastard children" of the war, although he certainly wasn't one of the last.

"How we gonna give it to them?" Rico yelled.

"Old style!", "Cruel and unusual!", yelled 2nd Lts. Haasen and Currough, grinning despite the turbulence which was beginning to knock about their Lucy, yellow two, and which signaled that they'd be on the ground in only a minute.

"All units, strap down, weapons up," Rico ordered. As the marines grabbed onto the tanks' hardpoints, the bay doors behind them began to open and Lin - along with four other noncoms - jumped into the tanks and began warming them up to be deployed.

Twenty long seconds later, the ground was finally close enough for the company to jump out safely (Lin chuckled - about as safe as it ever was to drop into a hot LZ).

"Marines, MOVE!" yelled Rico.

Lin threw his tank into reverse, almost managing to dislodge a couple of the marines that were holding on.

He heard a distinct clank as his tank hit the pavement, then looked around to check with the rest of the company. Bad news - Lt. Currough had bought it with an HE shell which had obviously been intended for a bigger target. Lin was now first-in-command of Bravo Company's third platoon. He closed his eyes, mopped his brow, and turned to his side, com channels off. "Dammit, what am I going to do?"

"Nothing," said the nurse next to him. "It's all fine."

Lin opened his eyes to the white aircraft around him, markedly different from the dark interior of the TS-5 tank he'd been expecting. He opened his mouth, and momentarily felt a slight pain in his right arm, then went limp again as the orderly withdrew a small hypodermic needle, contents injected into his bloodstream.

The nurse beside him sighed. Lin was known to wake out of various points during his military career. It seemed that every time he'd been posed a new challenge - taking over 3rd platoon, in this case - he'd "split himself off," created a new Robert Lin perfectly suited to his new challenge that would supersede the old one. Classic symptom of multiple personality disorder.

This strategy had kept him going well through the war; through Operation Rising Sun and part-way through Operation Middle Kingdom, he'd been one of the highest-rising stars in the M.I., with a decorated record, and a knack for managing to do the impossible. Then, about halfway through Operation Middle Kingdom, he'd snapped - started having relapses, unable to command. He'd been sent to the infirmary as an untreatable mental case, presented with the forms to resign honorably.

Instead, he'd refused, thinking the war was still on, even fifteen years later, and insisting that he had a duty to his regiment.

And now he was on a plane to Osirus, last patient of a military that had already steeled itself to peace.

------------------
[~%] ssh localhost
The authenticity of host 'localhost (127.0.0.1)' can't be established.
RSA key fingerprint is 93:33:b4:fc:b8:03:b4:45:15:31:99:1a:a3:1f:a5:ac.
Are you sure you want to continue connecting (yes/no)?

Pharris let the Endeavour slide along the huge length of the UNSS Apollo. He rolled the ship and took off his goggles for a moment, looking through the emergency egress hatch's tiny window, to see the ship for a moment with his own eyes before putting his goggles back on and pulling the ship up to the docking bay, pulling the ship up to the docking latches and locking the Endeavour onto the Apollo and post-flighting the ship. Pharris floated himself out of his seat and pulled his way to the main docking hatch, which the crew chief was cycling. He felt his ears pop slightly as the ship matched pressures with the station. Pharris waited for Marissa to come up from the lower passenger compartment, then pulled himself through the open door and down the docking collar towards the interior of the UNSS Apollo. It would be their home for the rest of their lives.

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

The assignment had already gone horribly wrong. Grizt's mission was simple - watch the Gaitori meet
with Hek Met via the cameras he'd been installing for IIA. Unfortunately, he'd forgot to seal one of them
properly and it had been detected. As the only janitor allowed in the high-security conference room, he
was the immediate suspect. In retrospect, he decided leaving the camera he couldn't find a place for in
his utility room locker was also a mistake. He wished he'd payed more attention to the Ishiman agent's
training on this stuff. But now he was in it good. The Ishimans had already covered their tracks - the
cameras blew up the instant they felt the detector work, not enough to conceal their nature as cameras
but enough to make sure that there would be no way to tell the manufacturer.

He didn't doubt that the agent also had a plan to prevent him from being interrogated. He'd avoided
ingesting anything offered by the agent, even water. He'd avoided touching the agent completely.
Now he had his model 302 Personal Defense Unit in hand, ready to return fire on anyone coming for him
as he sprinted through the poorly-mapped access corridors. Voices behind him ordered him to halt
in Cantharan. Treason wasn't a crime that went over well, so he fired a few wild shots into the gloom
and dived down a sewer access port.

He knew the sewers fairly well too. He was confident he could make it to the Ishiman embassy - but
did he want to go there? They might shoot him to maintain their credibility. He was still considering
what to do when he realized that his PDU was far too warm. And that the agent had recommended
the brand.

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

"We have located Grizt. Unfortunately, it seems his PDU was defective and its heat disperser overloaded.
He's dead."
"That is most unfortunate, constable."
"Yes sir. The PDU checks out as bought legally from a standard dealer. Hole-Puncher brand model 302.
Manufactured by Applied Energetics of Bazidan's Focused Energy Weapons division."
"Any leads?"
"Forensics checked over the cameras, they're way too melty. Same with Grizt."
"Could it be Obain?"
"More likely than anyone else."

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

Darkk sighed as he powered down the primary emitter. It was amazing what a little focus could do - the primary
emitter could send a tachyon information beam a micrometer wide beam to a target the size of a fingernail - such
such as the heat drain regulation processor of a model 302 Hole-Puncher. With IIA engineers designing that processor, the gateship already had on hand the necissary algorithm to cause specific malfunctions to occur - otherwise the technique could not produce dependable results. Darkk had hoped for a great deal of information from this mission, but a very small mistake had cost the Ishimans much time and money, as well as all the information that could be learned.

On the plus side, his probes monitoring telecom on Earth indicated Apollo would be launched in sufficient time to evade the Cantharan Invasion.

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois
Onii7/Frinkruds and his funky forums
macgamer.net

[This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 02-23-2004).]

[This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 02-23-2004).]

"My God that's messy!"

The thing on the Mid-Range omniscope was tearing it's way through real space at a ponderously fast warp six or so. Radiation leaked from it as it crushed nearby spacelines into a tangled mess squeezing them together ahead of it and wrenching them out behind it. Temporal eddies pooled and swirled about it as it moved.

It's sensory mechanisms reached and probed ahead of it, searching for something to contact, switching between different modes and functions, looking for life.

An explorer.

It would detect the outer reaches of Audemedon space in 637 days at it's present rate of progress.
That gave the Orphie less than ten years.

Worth a closer look?
Yeah, why not, after coming all this way, it'd be a shame just to blow it up!

Anic smirked and pulled the big chrome lever that dropped the Nightmare out of T-Space into warp space.

The Omniscope magnified the alien up to super zoom size as the relatively tiny Perennial Nightmare swooped around it like a bug at a distance to just over three light seconds. It of course was oblivious to the presence of the Nightmare. Anic spun the ship towards it in a spiral swoop, the omniscope zooming out as the ship closed on its big target, coasting over the hull at a distance of a few hundred mekktronz. Not too close, it would be a pity to crash into it now.

Anic's BOSSystem went to work, delving into the ship's computer core looking for anything of interest. Nothing much there, simply ticking over. The crew numbered some tens of thousands..., 34,239 individuals, all in some sort of deep sleep.

Worthy of further study.
Try for a grab.
At warp six point two...,
...without them noticing that they've been grabbed!
A challenge, heh!

Anic accelerated out and away from the other ship, to a distance of two minutes.
There the Nightmare faced it's target, maintaining relative position.

The new chrome lever and switch control interface was working out nicely.
-Came from watching too many sci-fi movies whilst on Earth. The ship didn't need any manual interface, everything was controllable through the Battlefield Operations Sensearound System.
But a manual interface could be fun sometimes!

Anic pulled a big blue lever.
The tactigram showed the weapon's deployment, a small bolt lancing out towards the enemy ship which stopped at a distance of 20 LS ahead of it. Anic pressed a green clunky button which lit then up green (too clunky and too green perhaps...?).

The weapon deployed, a virtual wall along the z-axis ahead of the enemy which then curled into a sphere to enclose the enemy. The ship continued moving along in space, unaware that it had been snared.

Secure.
Negligible error.
Anic switched off it's outside contact. All data into and out of the alien ship had been severed and the ship had ceased to be in real space.
From the perspective of an outside observer the alien ship had simply vanished. It's owners would never know what happened to it...

The alien ship believed still that it was continuing to travel through space at warp six and a bit. In fact it now existed inside a warp bubble held in T-space.

Anic compressed the bubble in a few seconds to a micro-fraction of it's original size.
A moment later it teleported aboard, a three centimetre grey sphere sat on the interface.
Anic picked it up, "Well, so much for the Borg." and put it on the ULR-transmat.

Damn, forgot to use the chrome levers!
Oh well. Anic willed the tactile user interface away altogether and the interior of the Nightmare returned to it's default featureless white around the central tactigram (even that wasn't necessary, but it pleased Anic to have it there!)

.
.

The contact went through in a few seconds.
"Investigator." Anic said.
"Lord Commander."

"I'm faxing you a dot sit bubble for analysis. We should be able to determine if they are likely to be a threat."
Anic sighed, "I'll be on Earth if there's anything to report."

"Thank you Lord Commander"

End transmission.
The bubble vanished,
sent a third of the way across the west galaxy in a little more than an instant.

Thank you too.

Audio only.
The masters never revealed themselves, and despite being on their world many times, and being very senior, Anic had never seen them.
Perhaps they would have to go someday too.

Interesting that such a thought was possible despite several centuries of "training."
All part of the plan no doubt.

Anic leaned back in the command seat and smiled humourlessly.

.
.

The Perennial Nightmare set a course for Earth.



------------------
Oh, so it is another bug hunt then...

[I hate to write an entire post OOC, but honestly - what relevance does "I stopped the Borg!" have to an Ares-based RPG?]

[This message has been edited by Pallas Athene (edited 02-23-2004).]

[None really. No offense Anic, but please no Borg.]

"So Red Crew will be here in a few weeks or so," said Grithia

"I understand Virth was appointed to First Lieutenant of Red Crew," said Darkk

"Yes, he's on track for promotion to Commanding Officer of Red Crew."

"Good. Vendetta Cooperative would like that a lot."

"If your promotion comes through, will you still command Blue Crew?"

"Yes, the Gateship is so important that they'll keep me on it even if I go all the way to Fleet Admiral. Placing your most important command asset in the most defendable position, and the position with the best information access potential, is good strategy. The Gateship is undeniably both."

"In that case, you might be kept here regardless of which crew is on the ship."

"At least then I'll be able to just order modifications to my quarters so I get a decent gravity."

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois
Onii7/Frinkruds and his funky forums
macgamer.net

He that lives long & desires death much is ever the King among the Kings.

The land to the immediate southwest of Osirus is a natural hotspring slowly winding down in activity; a fading reminder of the disasterous tectonic upheaval that created the new continant. Although lush and brimming with the buds of what will in a few generations become a magnificant forest, the ground is still craggy and treacherous. These conditions drove Reid Magnuson to choose a ten mile path through it as his training grounds in the months leading up to the mission.

With only three miles left on his current circuit his muscles screamed with fatigue as his lungs churned out steam and his veins pumped acid. A feeling he was more than used to, but never thought he would welcome it. Fifteen years ago this feeling would never have occured without a disciplined subduing sense of panic, the deafening concussion of a thousand ane one different kinds of explosions, the crack of cumbustion firearms and even louder railguns, the shrill sound of splitting air from laser fire, and the symphony of niose made by thousands upon thousands of humans in a battlefield. This time though, it was so serene and with such purpose as to make Reid all the more nervous and driven to finish his run. This was a rare and bizzare sort of masochism only seen in old, battle-hardened soldiers.

The end of the trail was coming up. Reid could spot Colonel Rogers in the jeep at the bottom of the hill. By this time it was time to turn the body off of auto-pilot and begin slowing down. for the last twenty minutes he hadn't even felt the ground slip rythmically beneath his feet and it was always more effort trying to stop. but he managed to a few dozen yards before the jeep, gulping in barrels of air at a time, and feeling his age catch up to him.

Col. Rogers shook his head as he stopped the timer. "Jesus, Reid. Twenty-nine minutes and fourty-two seconds." he said with scolding disbelief.

"Yeah..." Reid managed to say between gasps. "I'm not as... young as I... used to be." He concluded before drenching a fresh towel.

"Yeah, no ****. Keep this up and you'll kill yourself before the launch."

Reid stood up, his exhaustion seeming to vanish. "I don't think I could be killed." He said as he climbed in the jeep. "Even if I wanted to be."

"Heh, well try not to think like that on the mission."

"No way. As much as i love this ball of dirt i see the is whole Apollo thing as a well deserved vacation."

"That's not what I had in mind."

Reid remained silent, temporarily lost in one of his doldrums of thought for the majority of the ride back to the base.

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[url="http://"http://www.lakesnationalmortgage.com"]Shameless advertisement![/url]

[This message has been edited by Sargatanus (edited 03-02-2004).]

Marissa Engels Pharris had been extremely surprised when she had been selected to ride on the UNSS Apollo. It was not completely beyond the realm of possibility, She was one of only six biochemists in the world who had gotten and MD and three PhDs before she was thirty. She was older than Pharris, older by several years. They had met while he was in the miliatry hospital where she was a resident during the war.
Her last fifteen years had been spent researching in Europe, and had won the first nobel prize in Biology given out after the war, for her research. She was not sure how to deal with this new job. She had initially been upset --Osirus University had given her a several hundred million dollar grant to found their biology department, and she was surrendering her tenure, and the possibility of huge advances in her research in order to go and explore the nature of an entire alien biosphere and explore the completely new biochemical makeup of a whole new process of evolution. Now, of course, she was setting up her lab space aboard the Apollo, mixing microgravity and centrifuged spaces to give her maximum flexibility. This, coupled with the constant training in spaceflight, firefighting and other emergency situation responses. There was a lot of work to do, launch was scheduled in a few short months, and while everyone knew there would be delays, there was a very strong impetus to get the Apollo moving as fast as possible.


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

"Final computer checkout... green."

"Three more systems to go."

The Apollo was scheduled to launch in 20 minutes. Outside, sails the size of a metropolis awaited a laser using up more power than a country. Reid glanced at the progress bar as he finished his manual inspection of the oxygen systems.

"Atmosphere green."

"Nav green."

"Sails green."

Reid pressed the send on his headset. "Reid to SOLC. We have confirmed ship green. Positioning for departure."

The ship rocked with the "whump whump whump" of massive maneuvering thrusters aiming it precisely. The sounds faded as the adjustments became finer and finer.

"This is SOLC. We confirm green. Continue countdown."

Final checks would continue being made by the automated systems until departure, but now the humans simply sat nervously. There would be no grand acceleration, no violent kick. They would, however, have the constant acceleration of the ship to provide a modicum of gravity to them.

The minutes ticked by. "L minus one minute and counting." "L minus thirty seconds and counting." "L minus fifteen seconds and counting." "L minus ten ... nine ... eight ... seven ... six ... five ... four ... three ... two ... one."

"Launch."

The laser snapped on, reflecting off the gigantic sail and pushing the craft forwards inexorably. On the ship, the crew and passengers felt themselves drift towards the floor. 150 years to go.

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

Darkk sighed. "There they go."

Grithia leaned against him. "How long do you think they have?"

"A hundred, hundred and fifty years maybe. It's gonna be over like stepping on a bug."

"Well, it's time to head back to Ishima, Red Crew is waiting."

Darkk looked forwards to his vacation. He'd have a chance to go home and do a bit of hunting with Grithia...

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"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois
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[This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 07-29-2004).]