Help
They didn't even ask if they could land on my strip, he grumbled, they damn well have some nerve...
Vadim watched as the pre-war colonial shuttle touched down on the dirt road, whipping up a massive cloud of dust and dirt. By the time the swirling clouds of debris had cleared, a figure had already clambered out of the boxy and dusty ship and was making his way up the road towards the farm. Vadim gave a saw as the figure came into view, and moved to intercept him. He was the first one to speak.
"You've got a lot of guts showing up here again, Peter."
Peter seemed somewhat taken aback at first, ready with a quick retort but keeping his mission in mind, resisted. "Hullo Vadim." he hazarded, hoping to establish some friendly feelings. Vadim ignored the greeting and cut straight to the point.
"What do you want now?"
Peter, sensing friendly feelings would never be established, gave in. "Vadim, the UNS needs you."
Vadim started shaking his head and backing off. "Ohhh no you don't. I resigned from the Navy over six years ago, after the war. I'm a civilian now and you can't draft me again."
"Please, Vadim, at least hear me out."
Vadim sighed. Peter always played negotiator. "Alright, but make it quick."
"Hollister, Admiral of the Fleet, has been captured by the Cantharans."
That got Vadim's attention.
"What can I say, Peter, it's a shame. Who's replacing him?"
"That's the problem. All the senior staff were onboard his carrier when it was captured. The fleet's split into three pieces among his remaining generals now."
"Clever." Vadim smirked. "Now the Canth's have leveled the playing field-"
"-we need to get him back." Peter interrupted, not wishing to digress from his planned topic.
"And where do I come in?"
"We're stretched thin, Vadim. We're immobilized and don't know how to go about rescuing Hollister. We're going to open communications to the Prophets of Salril."
"Oh no, buster, you've got the wrong man." Vadim instantly started protesting. "Not me. Nuh uh."
"Please." Peter persisted in a stern and pleading voice. "You're the only man who has dealt with the Salrilians in the past twenty years who still lives."
A long silence fell over the two.
Vadim gave another sardonic sigh. "Alright." He reluctantly agreed. "I'm in."
The room was completely black, save for a set of glowing red Cantharan eyes. The shroud of silence was broken as the Admiral rose from meditation to meet his advisor.
"Your report, Captain Hop?" He queried from his throne. "I trust the operation is proceeding as planned?"
It was the Captain's turn to speak. "Yes my lord. Our corsairs have located the target system." He seemed quite pleased with himself. "In Seventy-four hours, our fleet can invade, and lay waste to the Argomesion Capital."
The Medical Frigate UNS Manheim banked into position over the Salrilian Badlands, it's hull sheepishly displaying the scorch marks characteristic with the journey taken to it's current position. Bands of plasma danced all around, reminding Captain Peter Welsh of the spectacular tornado storms he saw on Mars when he was a boy.
"Now, nothing to do but wait." Vadim commented, drumming his hands on the helm out of boredom.
"Are you sure this is the right place?"
Vadim shot Peter a sharp look. "They knew we were coming before we even spoke. They'll be here any minute now."
On cue, the plasma clouds before the Manheim burst to reveal the massive shining carrier before them. There was total comm silence as it drew closer to within a few hundred kilometers. Peter was heavily startled at it's sudden and unannounced appearance.
"Do... do we raise our shields?" He stammered, eyes still fixed on the gleaming ship before him in a trance-like gaze.
Vadim faked a chuckle to mask his slight nervousness. "I dunno... never been this close before."
"They're waiting..." Peter noted as the carrier hung outside, motionless and silent as it dwarfed the UNS frigate.
Like a terrible disease, Audemed spread thickly over what resistance Salril could offer, plowing through entire blockades of their finest ships like a massive bulldozer. Audemed wriggled from the heart of Salrilian Space towards the border, towards escape and freedom from the worm slave masters. In the heat of battle, Audemed felt a jolt of terror dance down it's coils as it sensed a far greater power nearby.
Big brother was watching.
This is the S.N.S. Silent Grace to the U.N.S. Manheim. We know what you are doing and will halt any advances into unknown space due to risk of encounter. [general] Harthus requests permission to board.
There was a long pause.
This is the U.N.S. Manheim to the S.N.S. Silent Grace. Boarding permission granted to General Harthus and her personal entourage.
Argomed entombed itself in thought. Over the many years that it had lay dormant, it amused itself with it's observations of the war-torn Ares Sector. It had witnessed the Rise and fall of the great empire, it's dispersal throughout the heavans as the last ashes of it seeded the seven colonies with life. The Seven, planets chosen by the great empire, to bear life in their wombs. The seven planets chosen to give birth to and nurture the glorious gifts of life. Doomed as the great empire was, the seven planets would remain behind, lost in time, keeping the great empire alive in memory.
Salril. Gaitor. Cantharis. Elejee. Bazidan. Obain. Earth. The seven worlds.
Argomed fumed as it watched through time. The seven planets, sowed with the jewels the universe, life, with the intent that they would eventually emerge from their worldly chrysales and enter a new stage of existance to once again reunify to reform the great empire after many billions of years, instead took it for granted. They waged war and hatred upon each other, destroying life by the trillion-fold, defying their creators totally. Blindly they slaughtered each other.
And Argomed hated them for it. It drove him into a whirling rage. Enough of the underlings' ignorance and petty destruction; Argomed, once the left hand of the great empire itself, vowed tolerance at it's end that-
Somewhere, deep inside, Argomed felt a pang of sudden alertness. His eyes and arms had been distracted so much by the affairs in the Ares Sector that he had not noticed the intrudors from the third world untill it was too late.
And the Cantharan fleet bore down upon him.
The newely reinstated Commodore Vadim Darwin folded his arms accross his chest in his fully decorated gold-laced formal uniform as the three giant worms, equally decorated in their most formal tubes, slid in on the polished marble floor. Apparently, it's coldness was bothering them greatly, and Darwin could see their frigid gills relax when they slid onto their warm resting plates at the head of the stone conference table. Darwin waited for them to say the first word. They were waiting for him to say the first word. It was a test of patience, a war of wills to see which on broke the silence first. Darwin knew that the factor of whomever was the first to speak often decided the results.
Commodore Darwin cleared his throat for the upcoming battle against his vocal cords. "g'o'ouch'sa'f'triktt ssa'Rih?" He sneezed out the words the best he could.
The lead Salrilian, a brilliant blue worm dressed in frills and jewels, looked at him curiously, deciding whether or not she should be offended by his mutilation of her language or complimented by his use of it. "I am quite fine, thank you." She spoke in a tiny voice. Her violet-colored bodyguards chuckled slightly. "Shall we dispense with the formalities and discuss what is needed?"
Vadim Darwin was somewhat embarassed, but glad he would not have to speak Imperial Salrilian for the whole meeting. "That, my lady, is your descision." He said, following proper salrilian custom.
She glared daggers at him, apparently he had followed the wrong custom, but pushed on with the more pressing matters at hand. "You seek to consult us for aid on your war with Cantharis."
Darwin shifted in his seat slightly. "That is correct, my lady. We need information, a field in which the Prophets are known to specialize in. We are willing to pay whatever price is needed, as the very future of Earth may be at stake."
She glanced down in sorrow and fluttered her gills in a long depressed sigh. "We are in no position to help you, Earthling. My apologies." This sounded most unusual; the human officers in the room looked at each other with expressions of worry and forboding. Were they lying? Was it a trick? They're the Salrilians, for god's sake!
The commodore was unsure. "May I inquire as to why the Prophets are unable to use their powers of the future?"
The Salrilian General sighed again. Now she had to tell them. The was a long silence as she braced herself for what she had to say; "Salril is dying."
There was a flurry of whispers and astonishment between the humans in the room. She averted her eyes in shame. Vadim spoke up. "How can this be so, my lady, when Salril holds the resources of the entire galaxy at it's tips? Did the Oracular Network not see this event's prelude?"
"The Oracular Network is the cause of Salril's fall. It shielded us from seeing our own demise untill it was inavertable." Astonishing. Simply astonishing.
There's no way it could be true. Thought the Commodore. It is like the Salrilians to take us for a bunch of fools. Vadim became angry. "Thank you for your time, General." He gound out with false politeness. "I do believe this meeting's over."
The Salrilian sat up, an expression of rage on her blue soft face, directed at the commodore. She must have sensed the tone of his voice. "If you take us for liars, so be it, human." She spat the words to his feet. "Be warned that lives will end in payment for your mistrust." Motioning to her bodyguards, the sneezed a few words in Salrilian, and the three of them promptly left for their ship.
The commodore was still sitting, alone, in the room at his chair an hour after the meeting had so abruptly ended, thinking. Was that a declaration of war, or merely a threat against me and my crew? He was still pondering when battle sirens went off all throughout the ship, echoing to the deepest corners of the old UNS frigate. The ship was under attack.
[This message has been edited by moderator (edited 08-11-2001).]
[This message has been edited by moderator (edited 08-13-2001).]
MultiQuote
Also, since the other "mod-only" forum has a password and the Pending Chrons didnt...[EDIT: Ah, just realised this was so chrons could be *submitted* 
