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Stories of the Fringe - Tachyon Fiction
JGZinv:
Chapter 3
Toshiro focused on the sensor displays as his ship approached the end of the subspace tunnel. Small graphics, showing subspace readings, relative speed, estimated time for arrival, subsystems status, reactor output and many other sets of information flickered in front of his eyes, floating on the transparent HUD. He was meticulous and disciplined, always perfectly following protocol - and the protocol was really strict this time. Two minutes before reaching the edge of the subspace tunnel, he started all the sensor adjustments required for the data acquisition on the other side, and transferred a good amount of the generated power to the engine system.
He knew what had happened to the subspace probe, and didn't really know if this fighter, even with it's impressive capabilities, could handle the absurd forces that stormed outside the safety of subspace. For a few seconds, he wished that the tunnel was longer. Holding the main controls tightly, he activated the subspace drive, and the deep black ship reentered freespace.
The view was simply beautiful. Purple-blue beams of light drawing long curves across the skies, with multicolored streaks here and there, a large mass that appeared to once have been a planet slowly falling apart - all of this suddenly disappearing in a pitch black ring that seemed to house death itself. Toshiro was distracted for a few seconds, enough to have his ship dragged towards the singularity. He quickly realized the situation, and rerouted even more power to the engines, trying to stabilize the small vessel immense in a sea of overwhelming gravitational forces. Unknown to him, the enormous stream of power passing through his craft's propulsion systems started to generate a series of small subspace pulses, compensating for the gravity acting on it. Also unknown to him, something that rested nearby detected those subspace pulses and began to move.
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Andreas sat on the bridge of the Zephora, monitoring the little information arriving from the Nyx. His science crew was still trying to determine the location of the system on the other side, but the distortions caused by the gravitational pull of the black hole were creating a major hazard on this aspect.
"Where the hell does this thing lead to?" was the main thought on his mind, as he stared into the bridge's main display that showed footage from the Nyx - a few seconds delayed due to the subspace relaying. Every minute or so, a new wireframe figure popped up on the image, showing the location where the science crew determined the existence of another probable jump node. There were too many nodes, too many different locations, too many possibilities - but too much danger.
"We don't have the resources to control this many systems," thought the admiral. In fact, the GTVA didn't have enough resources even to explore all those systems in practical time - and they were only able to explore this first system thanks to the Nyx. No other ship could sustain the forces acting on the other side.
"Captain, we are losing signal from the Nyx," spoke the communications officer, calling the admiral's attention back to the real, immediate world.
"Reroute power from the navigational arrays to the sensors. We must keep track of that ship. And relay the same recommendation to the Mohses," replied Emer, ignoring all complaints from his first officer. The ship would become almost unmaneuverable if the nav systems lost more power. He didn't know that this very order spelled doom for his fleet.
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Gigantic cracks started to form on the surface at an unprecedented rate. Thousands of cubic kilometers of pure rock shatered in a matter of minutes, opening huge gaps on the surface. The planet cried as a massive portion was ripped off from it, and swallowed by the black hole. Streams of magma flowed from the wounds, forming a morbid pattern in the black and distorted skies. Toshiro stared in awe as the scene unraveled before his eyes in a matter of minutes. And in a matter of minutes, everything was as before.
The Special Operations Command pilot suddenly realized that he was not monitoring the readings and adjusting the sensors as the mission required, and that surprised him. He was never distracted during a mission, and he had never failed a mission. The fact that he had succumbed to the first brought to his mind the possibility of falling into the second. For the first time on a mission, he started to get scared.
He quickly verified all monitors, and readjusted the sensors - the ship had been drifting for quite a while, and had gained a significant distance from the jump node. Toshiro maneuvered the ship to head back to his exit point, but as the Nyx started to move, they appeared.
Jump points opened everywhere, and streams of laser fire completely engulfed the black fighter. Reacting by pure instinct, Toshiro quickly maneuvered, aligning his ship to the side of the attacking force. As he struggled to remain out of the firing line, he had a first glimpse of the attackers: Shivans.
The black and red ships swarmed the skies, moving as if the black hole wasn't even there. At first Toshiro was able to avoid being hit - most of the systems on his ship were deactivated - but his luck couldn't last long. Overwhelmed by the sheer number of enemy craft, he was once more immersed in a river of death-dealing energy bolts. This time the Nyx could no longer ignore the threat. To Toshiro's surprise, after taking a few shots the ship came to life, and all systems were brought online. He lost control of the vessel while it maneuvered wildly - almost forcing the pilot to unconsciousness - and struck back at the Shivan forces.
Pulling hard up and quickly banking to the left, the ship was in a perfect attack position, and Toshiro noticed the lights in his cockpit dimming as a bright swirling blue flare started to form at the tip of the bottom wing. The Shivans started to break formation, but it was too late - the Nyx had opened fire.
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"What do you mean by that, officer?!?" screamed the admiral, unable to believe the words he had just heard.
"Exactly that, Admiral - we have lost contact with the Nyx. Our last readings showed several unidentified contacts on his sensors," replied the communications officer, knowing that the admiral was not really angry, merely surprised.
"Who could it be? Sure as hell no standard GTVA ship could handle the gravity there," thought the admiral, staring at the replay of the last minutes of sensor data sent by the Nyx before contact was lost. They had not been able to get a visual confirmation on the ships, and the sensor data was too vague. All it showed was a collection of energy readings - but it was perfectly clear that those were ships, not debris or sensor glitches.
Emer contacted the Mohses, and ordered the deployment of a craft into the node, to relay a link to the Nyx. A few minutes later, a modified Hygeia support craft - clearly showing the distinctive features of a subspace probe - left the destroyer's fighter bay and headed to the center of the jump node location. Soon after, a white flare swallowed the small probe, and it left normal space.
The small craft travelled through subspace with all reactor output directed to one single system: communications. Monitoring all possible frequencies for any signal from the Nyx, the modified Hygeia slowly approached the exit point of the node - finding no signs of a single message from the pilot that boldly ventured into the unknown and dangerous system. The crew of both the Zephora and Mohses knew that the probe wouldn't last long on the other side, and it probably wouldn't be able to scan the area from where the last message from the Nyx had been transmitted.
"Come on, Toshiro - I know you are alive out there. For God's sake, say something!" thought the admiral, as more than twenty minutes had passed since the probe entered the node. He couldn't believe that their best pilot had been killed, and he simply couldn't believe they had lost years of research on the Nyx fighter. That was the only prototype he had access to, and as far as he knew, it was the only one ever obtained by the GTVI.
"It could be a squadron of Nyx fighters..." - the thought suddenly struck Andreas, and he considered the possibilities. He had full information clearance on the RIP 0131, but he was never able to find a single reference to the origins of the fighter.
"We might be at the fringe of finding an answer to that, if only we...". He was never able to finish this thought, though, as numerous jump points started to open and a swarm of black and red ships started to pour in from the subspace node.
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Toshiro woke up, and instictively checked the sensor display. It was blank. He had been rendered unconscious by the brutal maneuvering of the ship, and couldn't remember anything from the moment that blue glow started to form. Checking his instruments, he found that the ship hadn't moved at all, but it was badly damaged. The comm system had been completely destroyed, and he had no way of warning the fleet of the impending threat.
"Damn, what the hell did this ship do?" thought the pilot, as he tested the controls to check if he was able to command the ship again. The ship moved, but nothing near the speed and maneuverability it had before the battle. The engines must have been damaged. Toshiro looked around searching for the controls for the auto repair system, but found nothing.
"This was only a prototype, and the systems had not been installed yet," he thought. Examining the rest of the ship he noticed several blast marks on the cockpit, and heavy damage to the left section of the main hull and bottom wing. In fact, he couldn't believe that the fighter still moved and maintained life support systems.
"Thank God this thing doesn't work like a normal fighter, or I'd know how a black hole looks like from the inside," he said to himself, maneuvering the ship to return to the jump node. He constantly checked the screens, but no signs of the Shivans existed at all, and his damage reports showed no critical damage to the sensors subsystem.
The Nyx reached the node after a few minutes, and initiated jump sequence immediately after reaching a viable distance. Toshiro felt strangely safe inside subspace - different from the last time. He was tired, and was barely able to adjust the autopilot before falling once more into unconsciousness.
The pilot slept on the seat of his battered fighter, and dreamt of blue planets, of red and black ships that carried the call of death throughout the universe. He dreamt of battles that engulfed entire star systems in fire, of a titanic storm that spread fear and destruction, and of thunder that roared even in the vacuum of space. He dreamt of melted metal and shattered bones, of rotten flesh and torn souls. He dreamt of war.
He saw a veil of darkness surrounding the entire alliance, as the enemy blackened the stars. He felt the wrath of revenge, the heat of battle and the coldness of death. He saw the blood of his compatriots painting whole worlds red, as streaks of energy crossed the land.
He saw the rest of his life before him, fighting a lost war.
He felt the fear of a whole race.
Toshiro was awakened by the jump alarm, sweating, confused and frightened by his dream - everything seemed too real. He felt as if the ship was trying to warn him, and struggled to recover his senses as the fighter reentered normal space.
The view before him was shocking - he had arrived too late.
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Chapter 4
"Set course to the jump node, and get this thing working as soon as possible!" screamed Jeremiah Locheart, captain of the GTCv Proximus. A few seconds earlier he had received a distress signal from the GTID Mohses, a Hecate class destroyer serving the Terran branch of the GTVI, commanded by Boris Gurievich - a puppet in the hands of Admiral Andreas Emer. This same ship had, alongside Emer's own flagship, the GTID Zephora - expelled Locheart and his corvette from the immediate neighbourhood of the new jump node discovered by the Proximus task force. He remembered the feeling he experienced the first time he saw the Zephora, when it arrived in place of the GTD Asamonov. He knew all along that the GTVI could only bring trouble.
Jeremiah sat back on his leather chair, trying for a few nanoseconds to forget the whole situation starting to develop around him and focusing on the comfort provided by the single place where he still felt like he had control. Auxiliary lights on the bridge had turned to a light yellowish tone, replacing the usual blue and white light that filled the room. A low humming sound could be heard - indications of a soon to happen subspace drive activation. He could only imagine what would be found at the subspace exit point, but he had a fertile imagination. The low hum slowly built up to a high pitched monotonic noise, and the well known white and blue flare engulfed the Deimos class corvette while its captain wondered what could be happening on the other side.
During the few seconds that the ship travelled through subspace, Locheart's mind analyzed a myriad of possibilities - from a pirate attack, catching the destroyers off-guard, to an undercover corporate ride to capture that miracle ship he had come to know about - imagining every possible consequence and means to counteract the threat. His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of his sensor officer as the ship exited subspace, though, and he awoke to an even worse reality.
"Multiple hostile contacts in range, Captain - at least two Shivan Moloch class corvettes and over two dozen strike craft!" screamed the officer, almost panicking after the surprise.
"Both GTVI destroyers have their weapon systems offline, and one of them is suffering heavy damage," he finished the sentence, trying to calm down. The situation, though, was not calm at all. Several bombers were already in range of the destroyers, and had unleashed their payload. Huge dents could be seen on the surface of the Mohses - it was suffering a heavier attack than the Zephora - indicating that it was not the first strike. Steam and fire emerged from the cracks, as the ship's self-repair systems tried to contain the damage. Unseen by the crew of the Proximus, the faces of helpless crewmen on board the Mohses watched through the windows as another bomb impacted its surface.
A sole wing of Perseus struggled to keep the bombers away from the destroyers while the fighter bays were brought online, but it was having a terrible time against the Shivans own fighter escort. As one of the friendly fighters banked left and dropped to intercept a Seraphim bomber, three enemy Maras lined up behind him, releasing a wave of warheads that tore throught the fragile hull of the interceptor. A screaming pilot still tried to deliver a few last shots to his target, but it was too late. The aft section of his fighter had been disintegrated, and fire engulfed the rest of his ship. As if time stood still for a few moments, he could see the flaming ball of gas and debris slowly devouring his fighter - the outer hull melting, internal components vaporizing or being shattered, and the main structure torn apart by the fury of the explosion. The pilot screamed in rage for a last time before the orange blaze swallowed him.
A small distance further, both Moloch corvettes were maneuvering to bring their main anti-capship weapons to bear against the closest destroyer, and were reaching firing range fast. Locheart knew he had to do something, but the situation limited his possibilities. He didn't have the time to intercept the corvettes before they reached the Mohses and activated their forward beam cannons, but he had an idea.
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Most crew on board the Mohses and Zephora were relieved when the Proximus appeared. For the first time since the arrival of the Shivan forces, there was actual hope of survival for them. By taking most of their systems offline, the Intelligence Hecate destroyers were almost defenseless, and a few critical minutes would pass before any weapon could be reactivated. That Deimos class corvette could just buy the time they needed.
Rear Admiral Boris Gurievich, comander of the GTID Mohses, walked around his bridge, considering the situation. His ship shook with another direct hit, and he noticed the main engineering display as several green and yellow marks turned red. Without saying a word, he signaled his first officer, who pointed a number on his personal screen. It read four hundred and twenty seven. Four hundred and twenty seven casualties on his ship, after only six minutes of battle. He thought for a while about all of these people, their families and how vain were their deaths, but this was soon wiped from his mind.
"The mission," he whispered to himself while sitting down. It was the only thing he needed to worry about. He was already so deep into the scheme being run by Emer that he didn't even consider focusing his attention on anything else. The slightest mistake could lead to disaster - not for his ship or for the fleet, but for himself. His own fear forced him to ignore the pain being inflicted upon his own ship and crew, and concentrate on evaluating the true obstacles on the twisted path of their plans. And to his best judgement, the main obstacle - this time - was not the Shivan force.
From the soft leather captain's chair of the Mohses, he watched right through the fury of the bombers tearing his helpless ship apart, into the corvette jumping in a few kilometers away. Staring at the GTCv Proximus, he knew that it was the only thing keeping them away from total annihilation. He pondered the consequences, and came to a conclusion. Leaving his crew to handle the reactivation of the ship, he ignored the almost constant shaking caused by the impacting bombs and proceeded to his personal quarters, were he would contact Andreas.
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"How long for our jump drive to recharge?" asked Locheart, almost screaming. His crew knew that he had something on his mind, and it was not about escaping.
"Fourty four seconds," came the reply from main engineering. It was fast enough for him.
"Lock coordinates on the closest Moloch's current position, and prepare to activate the subspace drive as soon as it's fully charged." The crew acknowledged the order, and executed it with utmost precision. When the Deimos came out of subspace, it was positioned perfectly on the middle of both Shivan corvettes, and had most of it's heavy weaponry perfectly free to fire - while the enemy ships faced the destroyers and would have to turn at least forty degrees to effectively engage the Proximus.
"All batteries, open fire!" ordered the captain, and immediately several points on the surface of his ship started to glow, as the ship itself seemed to gather energy to face the overwhelming foe. Instants later, multiple beams of blue and green light formed, each carving holes through both enemy corvettes' hulls. Feeling the damage being inflicted by the Terran vessel, one of the red and black ships began to turn about, while a bomber wing broke off the attack against the Mohses and started to move towards the Proximus' position.
Jeremiah watched the raging battle and wondered what chance they had of actually leaving the battlefield alive that day. His single Deimos class corvette was facing at the same time two Shivan Molochs, and at least four Seraphim bombers, with absolutely no fighter support. In a standard situation, he would have absolutely no possibility of surviving, but this was no ordinary battle. He had caught the enemy by complete surprise, and would be able to inflict heavy damage to those corvettes before they even had the chance of returning fire with their big weapons. His confidence dropped, though, when he saw the first bomber reaching firing range.
The eyes of the Proximus's forward heavy beam gunner widened as the Seraphim bomber turned toward his position with no fighters pursuing it. All flak guns that could cover his position were already occupied, and his weapon couldn't get a lock on the relatively small ship. He had already closed the blast doors and was bracing for the impact, when the red dot disappeared from his screen. Lowering the shields, he stared out just to witness what once was the Shivan bomber being completely disintegrated. A blue lightning still searched through the remains, crossing the space before him, coming from absolutely nowhere.
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Lieutenant Kenzo almost jumped from his seat, shocked by the view of the battlefield. The two destroyers that had brought him and his fighter were suffering heavy bomber attacks in the distance, and standing completely still. Closer to him, a Deimos class corvette fought two Molochs and a few bombers, and was apparently taking the lead on the battle. Recovering from his forced sleep, he tried to get back to his full senses, and brought his sensor display to the HUD. It registered exactly twenty three contacts, only six of them were friendly. The situation surely seemed desperate.
Realizing what had happened to the GTVI destroyers, he checked his damage readouts - the ship was almost back at full strength, except for the hull - and engaged full burn towards the Mohses. He knew what that black fighter was capable of, and this time he intended to have control over it. What he would soon learn, though, is that for this ship his will didn't matter at all. Toshiro contacted Admiral Andreas Emer, and asked for a full situation update.
"All power had been redirected to sensors. We're bringing the weapon systems and fighter bays back online, but it's still gonna take a little more than one minute..." came the reply from the Zephora communications officer. He said something else, but Toshiro ignored it. He knew everything he wanted to know, and it was bad enough as that.
As the Nyx moved toward the battle scene, Toshiro tried to concentrate and devise a plan of action. He achieved no success at all. His own mind seemed to be unwilling to help, too tired from the previous encounter with the Shivans.
Struggling to remain awake, he once more witnessed gigantic battles, glimpses of a reality that was yet to come. He heard the ship talking to him, telling him that the Destroyers were returning for a last time. Telling him that this time, mankind stood no chance. He was pulled from his daydream by the Nyx itself, as the ship brought all standby systems to life once more and pitched hard, heading for the closest Shivan craft: a Seraphim bomber initiating an attack against the Proximus.
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"Just what the hell is that?" shouted Ezequiel Adams, also known as Zeke, the navigation officer of the Proximus. Everyone on the bridge realized what he was talking about, as a shadow rocketed past the main semi-holographic display's field of view, firing a blueish beam of uncanny appearance. No one really knew what to think about, except Locheart.
"Nothing that you should care about. Concentrate on this battle, we must take these corvettes down!" said the captain while one of the beams from his ship moved through the surface of one of the Molochs, directly hitting it's main reactor - almost if ordered directly by him. The power core of the corvette started to leak a dense stream of energy, apparently collapsing on itself, only to cause a massive explosion that opened a large gap in the central section of the vessel. Power conduits were overloaded by the blast, forming a glowing web-like net through the Moloch's surface, and a few seconds later the main engine section of the ship gave up and exploded in a huge fireball, creating a series of shockwaves that took the whole corvette with it. Locheart smiled.
"Just one more to go."
Watching the RIP 0131 fly by, he believed for the first time the information showed to him by that hotshot Special Operations Command pilot. The ship was everything the specifications said, and more - it seemed to be even faster and more agile. Through his personal control pad, he ordered the Proximus to do a heavy scan on the Nyx's surroundings, but nothing came up. The only readings showed residual radiation caused by his own ship, the GTVI destroyers and fighters, and the Shivan force. Otherwise, he had scanned only an ordinary section of deep space.
"It's impressive! Even the Pegasus leaves some residual traces, but this thing is invisible!" he thought, while following the shadow with the external cameras. He knew that he would never find that ship if he didn't know about it in the first place, and if it had refrained from actively engaging the enemy forces. It moved and maneuvered faster than any other Alliance ship, even if apparently being almost the size of an Ursa bomber. Such a ship would be a great asset to the fleet, or a terrible weapon if in the wrong hands. The captain's attention, though, was quickly brought back to the immediate battle scene, as a beam from the remaining Moloch hit his ship near the bridge, causing a small tremor.
He ordered a tactical repositioning of the Proximus to properly counteract the Shivan corvette, bringing the majority of its anti-capital ship weaponry to a position where their firing arcs could reach the enemy. Several beams of light emerged from it - eating the Moloch as they strode through its now helpless surface, opening several flaming gaps on the redish hull. The battle would soon be over.
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Chapter 5
The pitch black ship maneuvered wildly, ignoring the limitations of its pilot's body while charging it's main weapon and locking on the closest enemy bomber. Swirling particles soon gave way to an intense glow, almost immediately casting a lightning-like beam that crossed the void to impact its target's surface. The Seraphim's hull seemed to scream in agony, as the powerful stream of energy drew an almost straight line through it, completely ignoring the shields and melting the extremely resistant materials as if they were nothing but hot butter. In less than a second, the bomber was perfectly divided in two, being torn apart by the explosions in it's missile bays and engines. Moments later, nothing occupied that area of space but a few burnt pieces of metal. The streak of light remained active, roaming the battlefield toward its next target.
Toshiro fought with all his strength just to remain conscious as the fighter that carried him unleashed its fury upon the ancient enemy. He could feel a torrent of emotions passing through him, as if coming from the ship itself. The fury against the now almost desperate attackers, the relief of thousands of people as they witnessed a beacon of hope shining through what seemed to be an endless sea of darkness, the primal fear of an elemental force that had never faced such powerful and committed resistance. He was scared, but somehow felt warm and comfortable again. The cold feeling had passed.
Multi-colored beams formed intrincate patterns in the sky ahead of the Nyx, as the Proximus exchanged fire with the remaining Shivan corvette. The Terran ship still had the advantage, and was using it well. The Moloch was already feeling the burden caused by the damage it suffered in the initial stages of the battle, as it ignored the Deimos to advance toward the disabled destroyers. Locheart exploited such a mistake to the fullest, and his ship was now just moments away from complete victory. Toshiro's eyes captured a last bright flash from the battle as a beam from the Proximus hit a critical spot on the Moloch corvette, and was able to understand a last communication from the Zephora before falling into unconsciousness again - it had its fighter bay and weapon systems back online.
He awoke to find the ship standing still by the side of the Zephora, no hostile contacts at all on the sensor display. Extremely tired from the stress caused by the high G forces experienced while the Nyx ignored him to fight the Shivans, he was barely able to bring the fighter inside the destroyer's fighter bay.
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"What do you mean by this?" shouted Locheart through the communications system, while staring right into the eyes of Admiral Andreas Emer on the main screen.
"Exactly what you heard, Captain. You are ordered to surrender your vessel and prepare to be boarded. This attack will not be left unpunished," replied the Admiral.
Jeremiah was starting to understand it. He shouldn't have received any information about the RIP 0131, let alone be allowed to witness it in action. The same applied to all of his crew, and the GTVI could not let such information slip through their fingers. The presence of the Shivans had only made things worse, as now they had the perfect excuse to capture the corvette: it had attacked them uprovoked while both destroyers had their weapon systems down for scientific monitoring.
"We are deploying a shuttle carrying a security team. You will allow them to dock and will oblige their directions. The GTCv Proximus and its crew are now on the custody of the Galactic Terran Vasudan Intelligence, under charges of high treason. Follow our orders, or you will be destroyed," came another message from the Zephora, directly from the mouth of the Admiral. Locheart couldn't allow his crew to be captured under false accusations - not by the GTVI at least - and more than everything, he couldn't allow the Intelligence to cover the presence of Shivan forces in GTVA space.
He discreetly signaled his communications officer to add some noise to the transmission, creating the opportunity for him to tap a scripted order into the ship's main computer. Bringing the transmission back to the normal status, he sent his reply to Emer.
"I know that this is not true, you know that this is not true, and most of all, our signed combat logs show that this is not true. We will surrender, but we'll prove our innocence. And we'll show everyone the truth behind your actions."
Emer didn't even have the time to think, "What a fool." Locheart knew that his crew wouldn't be awarded a fair trial. He knew that most probably they wouldn't even face judgement. Execution was more the way of the Intelligence, so he activated the program.
All at once, the Proximus fired all of its beams on both destroyers communications systems, and engaged its subspace drives. In both intelligence vessels, the almost magical precision of the corvette's beams brought the target systems offline, while also creating a major and essential distraction. Soon the battle-scarred corvette was inside subspace, while the Mohses and Zephora were unable to send any long distance communications to the rest of the fleet. As Locheart's ship vanished into the white and blue whirlpool, a last message arrived at the Zephora's bridge.
"This is not the end."
To be continued...
JGZinv:
“Daily Dissorts”
by
VA Griffin Moone
The Daily Distort, Issue #1
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Volume #1, No. 1 July 2002
"Don't Funk Up a Good Story With Too Much of the Truth."
VOID ALLIANCE STILL PRETTY NICE
Today in the news, most clanners Fringe-wide came to a pretty general conclusion= The Void Alliance is still pretty nice.
"This is a shocking development." Skaare said, who has been a pilot in VA for almost two years. "We have firmly dedicated ourselves to being nifty, or perhaps even keen. It comes as a bit of a shock that we are nice. Our best social scientists are now in deep study to figure out how to show the Fringe that VA plays hardball, or at the very least, a swell game of Cricket."
New Dawn was in Jumpgate, and was unavailable for comment.
IK leader Maverick had this to say.
"What do you mean, they're nice!!? Griffin Moone and Icefox have gone on more flaming sprees in the past few months to burn Antarctica to steam!!! I don't get it! Decon Frost would tell people he didn't like their shoes, and General Phoenix would call us the evil empire...but VA is completely bulletproof. It's unfair. They have to have done something bad in the past couple of years...maybe we have to stop deleting threads at our boards so much."
VA's niceness was never quite apparent, for some time, but recently studies show that their benevolence has been at an all time high.
Icefox allowed himself to be interviewed.
"Well, yesterday Moone and I were having Kool Aid and ice cream, and came to much the same conclusion. It's a matter of press, I believe. But we all agree it's time for a change. As of next week VA is going to war with someone, I guess, if no one minds too much, and we fully intend to sic Moone on some pilot or some clan, soon. Of course, I could nuke a pre-school and everyone would forget in a week because my sig is bright blue. Colors are funny like that."
Skaare has attempted to help VA appear more "dark" in past years, to little avail.
"I don't get it. It's like we are the Disney corporation. I post pictures of my personal arsenal at home...Griffin Moone writes up fifty pages of scathing prose on (X)...we make our color scheme the same as the Nazi party...but no one buys that we are menacing! It's no use."
Neechi Kitana had this to say.
"It's because Griffin Moone is so cute. He looks like a chipmunk, or maybe even an Osmond brother. He's cuddly. Very Keebler. How can he be so evil if he looks like that?"
(X) BUYS RABID CHICKEN CAPITAL LETTERS
(X) celebrated the formation of their new clan by finally purchasing capital letters for their legendary pilot, Rabid Chicken.
"I had a bunch of extra cash lying around from the advertising deal with Vivid Video" Decon Frost said "So I thought, what the hell, why not?"
"He seemed comfortable with it, so it was never brought up in the IK Overlord Council. I had read e.e. cummings in college, so I didn't think anything of it. But then Powersurge made us all feel guilty, so we bought enough capitals to fund him for a century. He's worth it. We still haven't got any w's, though."
"I call it discipline" former IK pilot MisterFour said. "I freak out if I don't hit the shift key at the proper moments. I think I'm nuts. I posted in lower case one time...and it kept me up all night. I got up at three in the morning and did an edit job like you can't believe. That was a test of will I failed."
"It's a bit different." Rabid Chicken said. "I don't know if I am entirely comfortable with the change. A lot of people I post to don't know if it's really me. werewolf still won't believe me. But the world will see that this is a change that is here to stay."
"It's the end of an era, let me tell you. His laid back style of prose typified the easy going nature of the guy and seperated his work from the rest of all the posts out there. If he ever hits the caps lock and posts that way, my whole paradigm will crack into forty six fist sized pieces." MisterFour commented.
When asked if a similar donation would be made to Squiggy the Vorpal Bunny, Decon Frost said, "Not likely."
FRINGE WISHES IK WOULD CRACK AT THE SEAMS AGAIN SO THERE WOULD BE SOMETHING TO TALK ABOUT
There has been an alarming trend of nothing to talk about since the IK break up came and went, and people are starting to get desperate.
Black Knight had this to say.
"It came and went so fast, we were left breathless. This is how manic depressive people must feel. There was almost 100 posts or more in a single day, and now it's all over! What are we going to talk about, now?"
"Serves 'em right." Rabid Chicken said. "what are they going to say now? Nothing. Bad news gets the most press, it's been that way since time began. well, they are going to have to hope that some other clan has problems...(x) is doing just fine."
New Dawn was unavailable for comment, since they were all in Jumpgate.
"The situation is dire, indeed." VA Captain Scarlet said. "People are beginning to post satirical newspaper type articles out of desperation. Something has to be done, fast."
"I'll think of something." IK Lucid said. "If it gets any worse, I'll post the damage for the lightsabre in every single stance for Jedi Knight II...but it's not got to that point, yet."
"Sorry, Fringe, we did our best, but we're kind of out of scandals right now." IK Maverick told a reporter. "How about doing a story on VA being so damn nice?"
GRIFFIN MOONE DECLARES WAR ON ADVERBS
"I'm tired of them." The VA pilot said, furiously speaking at a press conference Monday morning. Reporters interviewed him, asking their questions carefully.
"It's like some insidious plot that creeps up silently. I am sick of it. Why not just say, "He said." ? Why does it have to be, "He said, breathlessly" ?"
"I counted 186 such vile specimens in MisterFour's "Burning Void". I drove fast quickly over to the cafe' and told Twilight Jack about it. He listened attentively, but I still don't think he understands completely the danger we face, unknowingly."
MisterFour had this to say.
"Yeah, writing with too many adverbs is uglier than a burlap bag full of mashed gorilla as*holes, that's for sure. I need to re-read an MLA handbook again, totally."
Icefox, the legendary VA pilot, said, "Huh?"
Griffin Moone clenched a nice fist and hit the podium in a cute display of wrath.
"I've been warning the Fringe futilly for the last few months. Eventually, it will be too late."
DECON FROST STILL "THROUGH" WITH MISTERFOUR
In a post on Fringe Station, Decon Frost, formerly of IK, announced he was "through" with MisterFour, also formerly of IK.
Some curiosity still abounds over what "through" means.
MisterFour was reached for comment.
"I felt pretty bad about all that mess, and I was reading a book, eating a cheeseburger, and drinking a Coke, and then when I was done, I realized I was through with the book, through with the Coke, and through with the cheeseburge...and I got confused."
"How can you be "through" with a person? It's all so very confusing. It's kind of surreal." MisterFour said, perplexed, utilizing a spare adverb much to the consternation of Griffin Moone.
"what's there to understand?" Rabid Chicken said. "when Decon says he's through, he's through. I don't blame him."
Decon Frost agreed to a phone interview.
"Through, as in, done. I mean, over with. Let me explain, I won't communicate or game with guy anymore. Is that hard to understand? When he apologizes, it just makes me madder. I am not mad at VA though...they are pretty nice. But I'm through. I'm also through with this interview."
TygerBlueEyes had this to say.
"When Decon says through, he means it. I remember one time when the Rams lost, way back in the Eighties. Decon set down his beer and said, "I'm through." I thought it was the beer, but later on I realized he didn't like the Rams anymore. Then he said he was through with Tachyon, and again I thought he meant that he had solved the game. But I never saw him fly again. When he told me he was through with Ralph Nader, after the last election...his true intent in utilizing the phrase finally sunk in. He's certainly through with MisterFour."
"I have regrets over the whole thing, but there's nothing more to do." MisterFour said. "I will simply have to admit to my mistake and add the phrase to my vocabulary of slang. It has a nice ring to it. "I am through with you." Gotta love it. Very zen. Oh yeah, the IK/X thing sucked too. I apologize."
"I am really glad that I was able to read it. If it had been said, I would have really gotten confused. "I am threw with you." ?Get it? What a difference the placement of vowels can make. Glad it was written down."
...that being said, this reporter is through with this story.
=dAb= Arcanuum, The Crawling Chaos, Himself
The Daily Distort, Issue #2
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE DAILY DISTORT
“All the news that printed to fit.”
HEADLINES
VA BEATS (X) IN CLAN VS. CLAN MATCH
In a series of five controversial clan vs. clan matches, the Void Alliance beat Excalibur 4 to 1.
“They were some tough opponents. (X) is small, but as potent as a neutron bomb. Still, I think we did quite well for ourselves…despite the communications mix-up.” Icefox reported.
“Yeah, I think next time we should read the boards a little more carefully. Still, we were all there, and we wanted to fight, so fight we did…LOL!” Said Decon Frost, who now goes by the title Cypher Zeros.
The miscommunication being that the Void Alliance thought the match was to be in MW4, while (X) thought it to be Jedi Knight II. Still, both parties fought it out, much to the amazement of Captain Scarlet.
“I was in my Thor, ready to rock-n-roll, and Osiris was in an Argus, and we were starting to get board, hanging around in Palace Gates…than we see these tiny figures running towards us…I toggle the zoom, and I realize they are all carrying lightsabres.”
“well, i thought, screw it. we wanted to fight, right? besides, an argus ain’t so tough, once you hack at it a while. push sure doesn’t work on a daishi, though.” Veloramus said, shortly after the fight.
“you don’t want to go trying to force pull a clan lb20x from a thor, either. what happens if it actually floats your way?”
Veloramus has recently experienced his own difficulties, having run out of consonants, despite the large purchase made by (X).
Captain Scarlet was still amazed by (X)’s valor.
“Arioch had somehow got his hands on a missile launcher and was starting to dent Osiris. So I stepped on him. But Veloramus actually was able to force leap up to my cockpit…”
“you’d think they’d armor the cockpits better…i jumped up there and just cut a hole in it. after that, it’s not like it was tough killing a guy in a glorified easy chair. zap zap zap.”
“After that,” said Icefox, “We kept them at a distance.”
Highlights include an ERPPC shot from a Loki that obliterated Cypher Zeros (“Ouch, kind of like lightning…”), a MRM20 shot that hit Arioch, despite his dodging (“Ran into a damn wall…bleh.”) and an ER laser that took out Veloramus, much to his surprise (“damnit, you’d think you could block that @#$^%#.”).
Arioch was still ebullient.
“Yeah, we took quite a beating…but the last match sure went our way! Heh heh heh…”
Scarlet had to agree.
“Yup yup. We got smushed.”
The last match being that the Void Alliance force ended up on Gator Bait, which was upon a planet that was nearby a Death Star.
Arioch seemed pleased.
“We got kind of confused, at first. I mean, there we were aboard the Death Star map, and no VA anywhere! I figured they were on the planet outside the window, so Cypher Zeros screwed with the station’s computers, trying to get it to fire, and then…”
Captain Scarlet was still shaken.
“There we were, trying to decide if the match was a dud or not, and then I noticed this thing in the sky…I thought to myself, ‘Hey, ain’t that the thingy from the first movie?’…and then there was this really bright light…”
“Yeah, the score being 0 to 12,334, I’d say we mopped up.” Arioch laughed.
“Good game, (X)!” Icefox said, congratulating the newly formed clan. “Next time I’ll have a lightsabre to defend myself against Veloramus, no doubt…”
Veloramus was in agreement.
“screw that, i’m ready for a rematch. let’s all break out our tach ships and fight ‘em on that moon. my cutlass has three rails to punch through a cockpit with…and cockpits are huge on those damn mechs. shoot, I got ecm’s…they can have all the lrm’s they want.”
MICROSOFT RELEASES DROPSHIPS FOR MW4
“I am soooo happy. My Daishi wasn’t big enough. It’s about time!” A MW4 pilot, Dumbphuc, reported.
“I hated having to move and stuff. I always wanted more guns. The Daishi wasn’t big enough. Now I have everything! Yippee!” He said, his chincup full of drool emptying upon his lap, in his excitement.
Dumbphuc is one of a growing legion of mentally challenged MW4 players who want more tonnage with less thinking, and Microsoft is granting their wish.
A MW4 designer had this to say.
“Yeah, well, there’s a market, so we got to work. Don’t know why they use those damn things. Oh well.”
The Droppod is at least 5,000 tons, and is quite large, to say the least. Sporting 56 omni slots, it’s more than a match for a lance of mechs. Players like Dumbphuc are overjoyed.
Another pilot, Phuchead, had this to say.
“I like to play and not think too much. Me like big mechs. Atlas no big enough, Daishi only 100 tons. Me now have lot’s of guns…still overheat, though. Me sad.”
Dumbphuc was quite elated at the possibilities.
“I have 34 configs set up. I also have 100 clan LB20X’s. That’s a lot of damage. I wish I could count that high.”
Captain Scarlet, of the Void Alliance, had this to say.
“What the f*ck-?”
EXCALIBER DESIGNS THEIR OWN OPERATING SYSTEM SO THEY WON’T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT PLAYING ANYONE ELSE EVER AGAIN
Cypher Zeros was available to comment.
“Well, we’d thought getting our own passworded server, getting away from EZ board, and separating ourselves from IK would be clue enough that we wanted nothing whatsoever to do with the outside world…but some as*holes just don’t get it. So I’m through with them.”
The operating system, called, appropriately enough, X, was designed chiefly by TygerBlueEyes, who also re-wrote Jedi Knight II for it.
“This’ll keep those people away. I was sick of all the posts on our board, and even the potential chance someone might guess the password…so this’ll seal the deal. Besides, if someone could even run a search for (X) and find us, that was waaaay too much. Now I don’t have to deal with any idiots ever again. If this isn’t enough, we’ll all move to a mansion in Calcutta, live together, and play over a LAN. Shoot, what if someone comes over, though? Now I gotta think…”
Cypher Zeros was ecstatic.
“It's like everyone thinks we/I am supposed to play other f*ckers from other clans, forever. Hell that's just stupid. It's been over 2 years and excuse the hell out of me, but I need a change.”
”Why form a clan? To play your friend and not have to look at any other dumb faces and deal with their sh*t...if the 8 of us are going to remain friends and hook up to play anyway, then why the hell not? Isn't that what we would be anyway…an 8 man clan, club, or whatever you want to call it? Now, with our own operating system to keep out the inferior riff-raff, we can at last play forever in relative peace. So long, losers! We won’t be revealing the source code anytime soon, either!”
TygerBlueEyes still had other reservations.
“Microsoft is really pissed. I mean, it’s been an action flick. They keep sending ninja’s to kill me. They are afraid this is going to be the next Linux, and they have enough to worry about between Torvald and Macintosh. But f*ck them…if I have to dodge ninja nerds for the rest of my days to keep us from having to interact with any other player in Jedi Knight II ever again, so be it. I just shot a lawyer from Microsoft who tried to give me a service of summons for copyright infringement. Seven ninjas and one lawyer dead? It’s been a good week.”
Veloramus agreed.
“i’m glad. really. i was always paranoid before, like maybe any second someone else would come in from ik or va or jra and ruin our fun. but now, we’re safe. with no one able to contest us, x is the best clan, ever.”
“i still don’t trust those bots, though…”
=dAb= Arcanuum, The Crawling Chaos, Himself
JGZinv:
“Fist or Fate”
by
SoulCrusher06 of the Devil's Fist
CHAPTER 1
SoulCrusher06 looked up from his datapad as the incoming message alert sounded. The data encryption algorithms processed, and a similarly encrypted face gazed at him from his viewscreen. "06, we have a contract. Do not reply. A pilot in your sector has been suggested to us as a potential contract due to his decidedly amoral conduct concerning honorable battle. Here is an excerpt from the formal contract.
'The pilot known as Johnny Rebel was seen pumping rocket after rocket into a nearby Galspan model fighter as the pilot was composing a message to his superiors regarding a recent escort run. The pilot barely escaped with his life, and the attacker, who's ident broadcast identified him as "Johnny Rebel" was heard laughing uncontrollably over the open comm as his intended prey fled.' Needless to say, 06, this is a dangerous individual, although not overly skilled, to be attacking idle ships. Dispatch this individual and upload the completion data and ident match to the usual location. Hull that reprobate! Reamer00 out."
06 inhaled deeply, then exhaled with a visible slump to his shoulders. He stood up, and surveyed his quarters with a regal air, as he exited toward the hangar area. On his way, he passed several of his clanmates, and greeted them with false bravado concerning the upcoming arena matches with their rival clans. Yes, they were going to kick some @$$. No, they werem't going to stop at anything to win. And so on and so forth. He had other things on his mind. He was used to killing. He was a combat pilot. The world in which he had embroiled himself was another matter altogether. To kill, not for the honor of his clan, not for his ideals, not for pride; but merely because someone asked a pilot dead. Of course, his victim was an idiot. He had tried to kill an unsuspecting pilot like himself. But somehow, this was different. The Devil's Fist was not your usual group.
He climbed inside his Galspan Pegasus fighter under pretenses of patrolling the border of the Twilight Region from attack. Yes, he replied to the command section query, just adding an extra shift because he couldn't sleep. No, he wouldn't let his guard down due to sleeplessness. Of course not. He powered up his fighter, the vibrations from the mighty engines rattling the entire hangar, but strangely distant to him in his padded and heavily shock dampened custom seat, inside his vibration and soundproofed c**kpit. The engines roared, and he tore out of the hangar at the top speed of the Pegasus, (which is considerable). He glanced at his own personal motto, mounted on a plate to the right of his instrument panel. It said "Fly with courage, with chivalry, and with skill. No matter the outcome, your honor will be without question". Tell that to my victim, he thought.
He arrived at the Devil's Fist hangar, which as usual, which was devoid of any signs of life, being tucked away deep in the all-encompassing fog, and pulled his fighter in without incident. The rows of menacing black craft shone with a deceptive gleam as he took in the view inside the voluminous hangar. He landed behind his own personal collection of ships he had purchased with his newfound credits. Blood money, all of it, he thought fleetingly. Enough of this. This pilot was an idiot, a danger to others and himself. it was time to hunt. He walked over to his locker with a deceptively easy stride, and gathered his Devil's Fist flightsuit and all his equipment. Nothing should identify him. As he pulled on his sable gauntlets, and pulled his jet-black helmet on, he truly looked a killer. The Devil's Fist is feared throughout the Fringe. Sure. If they only knew who we were, he thought.
He selected a Warhammer for Johnny's demise. Only fitting. See how he likes plasma rockets decimating his shields, he thought to himself. He powered the ship up, and slowly pulled out of the hangar. Once safely away from the secretive base of operations, he began to scan the comms for signs of his quarry's whereabouts. Nothing on the RG comms, nothing from IK. This might take a while. He continued to scan through the comms. There! Void Alliance frequency, one "Captain Scarlet". "That damn Johnny Rebel's playing with plasmas again", he heard from the comm. 06 smiled to himself. Gotcha. He swung the ship around to the new heading, and as he passed through the gate, his last thought was, Poor bastard. Wonder what else you did to piss people off? The Tachyon gate accelerated him to impossible speeds, and the jet black 'Hammer elongated, then disappeared in a flash of light.
He emerged from the gate with a euphoric rush, and shook his head huriedly to clear the effects of the jump. Within seconds, he had a lock on his victim. "Oh Johnny....", he said over the comm. There was an abrupt break in comm traffic as the current occupants of the sector took in the black lines of the Hammer's outline. He caught the tail end of an encrypted message from an Ik pilot. "There's one ... those ... scum. I say ... take him, and take ... the garbage .... him." Damn, he thought. Just what I need. An IK patrol flight to deal with too. Ah well. Take what comes. Two Pegasus' and an archangel. Great. Let's see; Target at 240, IK at 160, VA at 230, on the target's ass. The base is what he's heading for. Let's see what this baby can do. "This is Devil's Fist SoulCrusher06 on contract for Johnny Rebel. Stand down and allow me to complete it, please", he said in his most authoritative voice. "DF slime, take your contracts back out in the fog, where you both belong. get out of the Fringe!" The IK patrol leader said ominously. So much for the DF mystique.....
The IK fighters were closing, and fast. He still had 35 klicks on the targets, and the IK patrol was almost within range. Damn. Just then, came his break. Captain Scarlet scored a direct hit on his starboard engine, slowing him down considerably. Closing... 20 klicks. IK in range. God of plasma, he prayed, don't let me down. The two pegs roared past him as he kicked the Hammer into full reverse. His shields still whined in protest as two single deimos still scored. Down to 65. Damn. He kicked on his burners in an attempt to close the gap. it succeeded, until he realized one crucial thing he had missed. The sturdy ship bucked in space as quad blast torps scored direct hits on his shields! The *(&(*&() Archangel! Damn him. 10 shields, 60 hull. Crap. Still at 10 klicks out. Closing... damn peggies are coming back around. He reversed his lats haphazardly, in an attempt to buy himself some time. Another deimos took what little was left of his shields. There goes the rails, he thought, as he transferred laser power to his shields to keep himself (hopefully) intact. 7 klicks... as another deimos hit him aft. 4.... plasmas away, clean quad shot. The rockets hit Rebel's aft shields in an explosion of light, and brought him to critical on 06's scanner. 06's ship rocked as a blast torpedo found it's mark once again. Damnit! Another clear shot... and another set of quads turned Rebel's ship to stardust. He immediately turned his transmitter on to upload the evidence, in case he didn't make it out of this one. (He was beginning to doubt the outcome. Most assuredly)
Captain Scarlet suddenly burst out of nowhere, almost directly on top of him, and caused him to duck involuntarily. He distinctly heard hull armor blow up. Galspan hull. He drained the last of his laser power, and hit his slide button once oriented toward the gate. He rotated around his vertical axis on his way back past the IK fighters, and let loose several volleys of plasma on his way by. The second pegasus was not keeping up anymore, he noticed. Now he rotated fully behind his slide path, and let loose with the remainder of his plasma rockets. Busy dodging the lethal hail of rockets, he dropped back a whole 5 klicks. 06 could almost feel the deimos shots as they scattered around his overly large (or so it seemed now) profile. Why did I bring the Hammer again? He asked himself. A large explosion echoed in his ears, leaving him temporarily deaf. The peg had caught back up. The acrid smell of an electrical fire, as well as the distinct feeling he was losing velocity, began to work their way to the front of his mind. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap became almost like a mantra. This was it. His luck had run out. Seething energies surrounded him, took hold of his conscious mind, and he knew no more.
------------------------------
CHAPTER 2
06 was just your run of the mill pilot. A journeyman in a world of prima donnas. Nothing like Twilight Jack, with his rock star flair, or Werewolf, with his snarling angst. No, he was just a pilot. Better than average, but still just barely hanging on by the skin of his teeth in a hotshot's world. He wondered sometimes why he had been selected out of hundreds to be a Devil's Fist candidate.
During a long Fenris Arena Match, he had emerged victorious with a 20-5 record. Not a record-setting performance by any means, but not bad for a relative rookie. Soaked in perspiration, and exhausted from the concentration required to make it through such battles, he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a dark figure, towards the edge of the crowd that always gathered to congratulate the pilots after their matches. Almost gave him the chills when he realized whom this mysterious person was watching. Him! He decided he'd skip the showers and backed warily, almost hurriedly, toward his craft. He'd heard about those pilots. This "Devil's Fist". Nothing good, either. They were said to be killers - assassins, mercenaries for hire. They also numbered among them some of the top pilots in the fringe, leading a double life. Clansmen in their day to day lives, they also filled a darker role as their alter-egos; the dreaded "DF". He evaded the dark-cloaked figure this time, he thought. Little did he know they would become an obsession.
He logged hundreds of hours for his new clan - a wise choice considering his lack of experience in space combat. He participated in several battles with, and without his wingmates. Some he excelled in, others not. But he was a young pilot as of yet. He grew in skill, and flying acumen, learning his ship, and the Fringe itself, his new home. He fought to contain the missiler threat, against outlaws, pirates, other clans, yes somehow remained unscathed through it all. He considered himself lucky. Then one day, it happened. He entered his barracks, to find a comm waiting for him. As he plopped down in his chair, he noticed the message would not immediately initialize. Coded to my DNA pattern? He thought. Must be some new orders. He decoded the message, and initialized it. That wasn't his wingleader. Grinning hideously at him from the viewscreen was a white, deathly pale face. He wore black leather, a mockery of a flightsuit, and looked to have a forest of pins sprouting from his ghostly head.
"Greetings, Pilot." Said that grinning face. The face of Cutter01, the Infamous Breaker Wingleader. "I have been monitoring your progress with great interest. With a little time and experience, I'd like to have you join us." The message continued, but his mind was racing. He was aghast. Him, a killer? No sir! He closed the terminal with a bang, and headed to the simulators to work out the issues running through his head. He'd NEVER be a killer! So he thought.
Almost compulsively, nearly against his will, he began reading all he could find about the Devil's Fist. A group shrouded in secrecy, yet thinly guised as a mercenary group, they policed the Fringe as no one else could. With fear. With intimidation, and the strength of their reputation as cold-blooded killers. Founded by one known only as "SoulReamer", the Devil's Fist burst upon the scene just prior to All Hallows Eve; a traditional night of forbidden magics and sorcery. The other two wingleaders, SoulReaper and SoulReaver were instrumental in the group's establishment. They silently began their work. Few in number at first, but deadly fliers, all. Accept the contract, fulfill it, and post proof for the solicitor. "An evil business," quoted Reamer in an earlier text, "But necessary. Would you feel safer knowing your own wingmen are accepting these jobs, and not some unknown quantity? Better the devil you know..." Interesting.
Their numbers grew, and chief among these new recruits was a pilot assigned to the "Cutters" wing. Originally "SoulCutter02", his bravado and panache displayed in his piloting, and the artistic flair with which he displayed his kills quickly earned him the "01" position in his wing, and eventually his own wing, the "SoulBreakers". Suffice it to say, our "hero", (if you will) had a bit of a falling out with his clan. A faux pas, I suppose you would call it. The offshoot of his involvement was this; in an insane moment of frustration, he contacted Cutter01 concerning that job with the Devil's Fist. Fortunately, (or unfortunately, depending on his state of mind when thinking of it) two members of DF left; one over DF's methods of taking and completing contracts, the other over a missiler in a private arena. Quite an ugly scene at the time, but regardless of the outcome, that left DF two pilots short. He got the comm the next day. "Your application to the Devil's Fist is hereby approved. Stand by for confirmation codes, and the route to stronghold. Welcome, SoulCrusher06, to the Devil's Fist."
------------------------------
CHAPTER 3
He awoke with a start, almost injuring himself against his seat restraints. He took a deep breath, and could nearly taste how close he had come to death. He was alive, however, and he intended to stay that way. He glanced toward his nav computer, hoping he could make sense of his present position in his groggy state. Damn! Smoke lazily drifted from it's twisted casing. Ok... next plan. He checked his comm systems. Thank the void, they were still functioning. he patched himself through to his personal ship's comm, triangulated his position, and he and his damaged ship slowly limped toward their destination. As he had nothing better to do, with a busted up ship, and on half thrust he checked his personal comms. Message from Reamer thanking him for yet another completed contract, yada yada... Message from 03 about needed support in an upcoming battle, (yada yada again) Breaker00 asking for support in his plan to bring new leadership to the Devil's Fist, and a list of demands... WHAT!? Scroll back. What in the void was he thinking? Reamer will have his hide, he thought.
He was wrong. Once safely back at DF HQ, he was assaulted with propositions from every newly formed faction, all with their own agenda, it seemed. This was ludicrous! "New Blood", "Old ways are dead", "Strong leadership", "Back to what we were" - some of the slogans he encountered. Then the typical Devil's Fist rhetoric (some people took this too seriously, he thought occasionally) - "They will drown in blood". "Their screams will echo in the void for eternity", "they will be as lambs at the slaughter", and similar rubbish. By the end of his reading, three uneasy alliances had been formed. Breaker00 had initiated the split up with his noisy public argument over policy with the other wingleaders. Who in turn themselves split into two groups. Longtime allies parted over how to discipline the upstart. He had to admit, Breaker00 was a likeable rogue with a penchant for winning people over, despite his adopted evil persona. oh, and there's the message from IK outlining their support of the Breakers. Explains the attack a while ago. This could be a problem.
The Crushers, led by Reamer, were championing the decision to keep DF's structure, goals, and operating principles essentially the same as they were before this fiasco. We had been decimated by recent LOA's, public opinion reversals, and other besetting calamities, so this was a terrible time for this sort of thing to happen. The Breakers wanted a complete revamp of DF - top to bottom. With Breaker00 in charge of the "reconstruction," probably. Then the young, impetuous Stealers and Cutters. They very nearly sounded as if they wanted nothing but anarchy. Wow. Quite a day. Of course, he sent a comm out to Reamer affirming his loyalty to the Crushers' ideals, and explaining he needed a rest before doing anything. He wasn't kidding, either. About the rest, or his ideals. He slowly walked out to his ship, set the autopilot for an evasive route out of the fog, and back to his patrol route. Only five hours had passed since he left his barracks. Strange how so much could happen in so little time. But stranger things have happened in the Fringe.
06 arrived at base only slightly late. Not late enough to engender suspicion, thankfully. He blamed his tardy arrival on a malfunction in his autopilot. Easily explained by a purposeful failure to update the command protocols issued by the a/p manufacturer (remedied by the concealed datadisk still hidden in his flightsuit cargo pocket). He reported no unusual activity in his patrol sector, verified by the faked data provided by the drone he he had activated to mimic his patrol and his ident. Upon arriving home, he promptly collapsed in his bunk. He didn't want to see what other messages he had waiting.
Not surprisingly, he woke to see the message light blinking on his comm terminal. It seemed the Fringe was truly up in arms over this "internal disagreement", as it was being called. There was gossip flying everywhere, stating everything from power struggles to petty bickering as the reason for this (too public by any account) dispute. Rumors flew over the tachband as to the true identities of the pilots that comprised the DF wings (more than usual...).Almost as bad as the rumormill concerning sigtings of Susan's elusive "Lance". He hadn't seen the comms so live since the Bora/Galspan war, in fact. He shook his head and walked out to the hangar. Under pretext of making a cargo run (an independent contract) to deliver goods to a (secretly) DF controlled cargo hauler, he set off (in an Archangel this time) for the hidden base once more. His circuitous route led him deep into the twilight, away from civilization, toward his second home.
------------------------------
CHAPTER 4
The Present...
06 lay across his bunk, pointedly ignoring the persistent message light and the incoming comms sent his way. He had been quite vocal on the comms lately, both denouncing Scadian Wraith, and in silencing the Voices. It had been a draining few weeks, both mentally and physically. The numerous scorch marks still on his ships in both his clan hangar and the DF hangar could attest to that fact quite vividly. The Fringe had become a hotbed recently - a veritable cornucopia of passionate viewpoints about every subject under the Fringe's many suns. All he wanted to do was take a break, leave his alternate persona behind, and retire completely. He had the money, now. But as they say - there is no rest for the wicked. As if determined to prove the sage wrong, he slowly drifted into a deep, yet troubled slumber, eyes moving rapidly, perhaps thinking of the blurred and strife-torn days of recent weeks.
The Past...
A whirlwind of activity in the Arena. BreakerXX and Stealer03 engaged in ruthless combat. Taunts, plasma, and blood flow freely this day. Anyone venturing too near is vaporized almost instantly, as if swatting flies. We have 1 Breaker... one Stealer... and one Crusher. Him. Damn. Only himself, versus two of the best the Devil's Fist has to offer. Thoughts of the future, of a hope-filled new beginning crumble to dust in that split second of recognition. Steeling himself against the coming armageddon, he races inexorably toward the titanic battle between these two great pilots. He couldn't help wondering what he was going to do in a pegasus versus two behemoth Hammers. But too late. He was in range.
He dropped both his blast torps directly at the spot between the two ships. Far outdistancing the scream of the torp in seconds, he switched to lasers, and squeezed off a shot at XX on his way past, but doing little damage in comparison to the awesome array of weaponry on each Hammer. He heard the torps detonate behind him, watching in satisfaction as both ships suffered moderate damage from the blast, and pulled a high G turn to return to the fray.
Now, it was a matter of survival. He had to get one to destroy the other, and pick the winner off. He rolled quickly with a lat reverse to avoid a rail coming his way, but only partially succeeded. He darted nimbly *between* the two huge ships, and got a hit on 03. Glancing at his HUD, he saw 03 was getting dangerously low. Madly transferring to keep his shields up, he dropped under and behind XX, strafing his rear shields with bolts of crimson fire, then burned up and through the melee to regain his bearings.
Damn! Thinking too much, he said under his breath, as two sets of quad plasmas streaked toward him. Almost as an afterthought, it seemed. Damn, they were good.
With a tight barrel roll, he latted and burned his way around to a better position. But not before one of the rockets hit him, shredding his shields and reducing him to 75 hull in seconds. He transferred half his burners and lasers to shields. That will have to do, he thought. He dodged, corkscrewed, and reversed wildly, trying to spare himself that random shot that spelled his death. He spiraled in with full burners, reversing directions, trying to get the shot in, taking advantage of his low profile to avoid most of the fire. Arrowing in on 03, he dropped three lasers squarely in the center of their ship, on his way by at 2000 kph. XX's engines nova'd with a blinding flash, as four plasmas slammed into the rear quadrant of his ship, and the pilot ejected out with a pillar of flame trailing behind, as the dying ship jerked convulsively, then exploded into a brilliant flower of light. Down to 03, and himself. The huge Warhammer was dangerously low on resources, but a wounded beast is the most dangerous.
06 reversed course back in the Hammer's direction. With a cry, he was thrown back into his seat as he kicked in his burners for a pass at the menacing Hammer. Just enough power for one torp. It left his ship with a scream, 5k out from his target, and zeroed in on the hulking black shape. They circled each other, dancing and sizing each other up. The torp impacted with a roar. The Hammer was down to 35 hull, no shields. Only wounded the beast further. It came roaring at him with ponderous grace, closing in for the kill. Twin rails caught him off guard, and reduced him to a meager 30 hull. Into the fray! He burned up and behind the Hammer, trying to stay behind, and reduced it's newly charged shields to ribbons with a couple well placed shots. He smiled coldly, and prepared for the coup to grace. He hit the burners, and ... Nothing. He watched four plasma rockets gracefully arc their way toward him, and watched entranced as they beelined for his ship. So pretty. DAMN!!!! He punched his eject button, and rocketed out of his doomed ship just in time, as the rockets vaporized the paper thin pegasus. 03 flew through the wreckage, saluted mockingly during a victory roll, and headed for the gate. The adrenaline wore off. That was close. Way too close. Damnable Hammers.
------------------------------
CHAPTER 5
Through the rest of the Civil war, he was involved in dozens of battles. Some they won, others they lost. But the time passed in a blur of agonizing bloodletting. After some time, Cutter01 admitted defeat. He was demoted, the crisis passed, and the Fringe rested to lick it's wounds. Life is a constant struggle, it seems. But peace was not to be. The Voices arrived. Two Voices emerged first. Voice of God, and Voice of Doom. Foul-mouthed, abrasive, and arrogant, they made enemies quickly. Led (in name) by Agnostic Angel, their presence was initially accepted, if not enjoyed or encouraged. Voice of Hope... Voice of Greed... Voice of Anger... Voice of Death... Voice of Revenge... among others.
But they became the hunted rather quickly. They were attacked mercilessly everytime they entered Fringe space. Mostly due to the actions of Voice of God, the whole clan was decimated within days. Several defected or fled within those first few days and were branded as traitors by the Voices. The taunts, and the profanity still continued.
What can you say about the Voices? Those who participated in the cleansing to follow came away sick at heart over the wholesale butchering of the innocent along with the guilty. Sick to death of the vileness that was Voice of God. Of the arrogant commentary spouted by Voice of Doom. Many were judged by the actions of a few. They were judged by fire. To forestall another Firestorm. To prevent another bloodbath. They slaughtered them. To save ourselves, to save their community, to save their precious Fringe - they slaughtered them. God have mercy on their souls - and ours.
Greed, the new pilot. Hope, the victim. Revenge, the veteran with a taste for clan blood. Doom, the arrogant. God, the foul-mouthed ringleader of the vicious crew - the pseudonym for Scadian Wraith, a member of the very clan the Voices vowed to destroy. A traitor, turncoat, and fool. With the mind of a cretin, the temperament of a rabid dog. The Void Alliance welcomed the refugee Voices with open arms - Wing Zero, and Dark Ice. The Voices swore vengeance, and invoked another chapter of the Fringe's dark history. The infamous General Phoenix of the bloody Firestorm. It came to naught, as even he would not endorse their foolish course of action, and Scadian's insanity. But his shadow still lingers. Abated, perhaps, but still fresh in the mind of many.
Was there a rhyme or reason to their actions? Perhaps not. A deeper purpose behind the quest for order in the Fringe? Perhaps so. Only time will tell, and History judge the actions taken to quell the Voices' tide of infamy.
The war involved three courses of action. The vendettas - Mr4, Captain Scarlet of VA, King Dano, who went through VA and IK before settling into RG, and our own 06. Perhaps most vocal of all. The Clans - VA, ND, DeathWing, and finally every clan in the Fringe at the end. A united front to combat a growing threat to stability. The Voices - espousing a hopeless cause, following a clueless leader. Soon to be relegated to anonymity and steeped in disgrace. Does this not strike a chord of sympathy within our bleeding hearts? Get on its knees and wail for the forgiveness and understanding of good hearted individuals everywhere, deep within our psyche? No. For we are heartless killers. All of us. Hiding behind the facade of genteel civility, is the steel gauntlet, and the hardened heart of the practiced assassin and combat hardened contract killer. What is gentility? What do we mean when we say "civilization"?
How do you reconcile that with the ravenous beast that cries for blood?
The Present...
06 pondered these, and many other questions as he fought his way back to consciousness. The world appeared in a rush as his eyes snapped open, a heady influx of stimuli as the world reached into his mind and bade him rejoin. He hit the message light on his comm station. A voice, strangely familiar, yet alien as well, came quietly, but relentlessly from his speakers. "Hello SoulCrusher06. You've improved a great deal since last we met. Unfortunately, I'm under contract to eradicate you all. Who am I? I am Perfect. Independent Contractor. You are my first victim, 06. Prepare. " He shut off the comm station, ignoring the insistent blinking. They didn't matter. Probably just tell him he had a contract on Perfect INDC, anyway. Time to get this over with. Atonement, that's what it was. A chance for atonement.
Finally.
06 slowly dressed in his sable flight suit, and strode thoughtfully toward the hangar. His crew chief had perfectly duplicated his former pegasus. Even down to the skull looking menacingly from his stick handle. He rocketed out of the hangar in a swirl of heat and accelerated wildly. He almost managed to assuage the chill, growing all too familiar, in his soul.
To be continued...
JGZinv:
“Foreclosure”
by
Reaper of Neechi
Reaper stealthily glides across the floor on a cushion of fog that seems to appear from the air around his feet and takes a seat at the bar. He notices that Kitana is currently distracted by a phone call from her sister, Wandaa.
"What a disgrace", Reaper thinks. Dragon won't even pay a Jake Logan wannabe to clean the dust off the vid screens, much less off the bottles. If it wasn't for the fact that Kitana was so damn cute in the Dragon Lair Uniform (Leather backless tank top and matching tight leather pants) he probably wouldn't pay her either. Even then she hardly made any credits due to the fact that the place had a higher patronage of rats than paying customers.
While Reaper's clan leader was a great warrior and tactician, Dragon couldn't run a business to save his ass - literally.
You see, what Dragon failed to realize, due to the immensity of his current obligations with the clan's new recruitment drive, was that the bank had foreclosed on the Dragon Lair Tavern. After a long drawn out bureacratic process which, of course, included the standard 120 S.E.D (Standard Earth Day) period of assessment of assets, the bank held a sealed bid auction to liquidate all properties that once belonged to Reaper's beloved leader.
When Reaper stopped in at Wandaa's place to have a few shot's before going out searching for Super Bad - again - he overheard the CEO of Cozmik Chaos, drunk and fondling a virgin, discussing the auction with one of his print editors.
Well, when Reap heard the shocking news he pondered for days the best course of action the he should take - one that would be beneficial for all Neechi. Naturally, Dragon would not answer his VID-Phone or reply to his Tach Pages, so Reap did the only thing that he could think of: He went to the bank and transferred all his credits from savings into his business account and then walked down the hall to the collections department. There he filled out an auction ballot, had it verified and sealed by the receptionist, and then left to go try and find Razor's Kiss for their weekly SOL training.
Well, 2 weeks later Reap gets a tach-mail that says he was the high bidder and that he needs to go to the bank to fill out the appropriate paperwork.
2 days later, here Reaper sits, pretending not to look at Kitana's ass (and failing miserably, by the way) and trying to get up the courage to do what must be done.
"Dammit!" he mumbles to himself.
Reaper rises from the bar and floats down to where Kitana has just finished her conversation with Wandaa. He pulls out a piece of paper and slides it across the bar.
Looking confused she hesitantly starts reading the legal document. After a moment she stops reading the paper and looks up at Reaper with a mixed look of puzzlement, confusion, and shock.
"You're ****tin' me, right?"
"No Kitty, it's official."
"But this can't be right. Are you sure this is what you bid on?"
"Absolutely." Reaper grinned mischievously.
"Alright, but I think your an absolute nut." Kitty said shaking her head in disbelief. "I'll be right back." She walked to the back storage room and disappeared from sight.
While waiting Reaper glanced around another time and the untidy establishment and something caught his eye on the mirrored shelf behind the credit scanner. Closer investigation revealed it to be a Screen Shot of a Devil's Fist agent blowing up Dragon's nephew Buck.
"Damn!" Reaper breathed. "Those sick bastards! They sent him a picture of the hit..x" His train of thought was interrupted by Kitana struggling with a rather large and apparently heavy box, trying like hell to get out of the storeroom doorway. Reap rushed over to her aid and helped her set the parcel down on the bar.
"Well, there ya go Reap. That's all of it."
"Thanks for getting it all, Kitty. I should have helped ya."
"I don't need help from a man, Reap. If I can handle an Archangel just fine, I can handle this crap no-problemo"
Reaper grinned to himself, the year 2236 and the feminist movement still hadn't reached it's destination. Oh well, there were worse things in life than a woman with a chip on her shoulder.
"All right, Kitty. I gotta take off. If our illustrious leader should put in an appearance sometime soon, tell him to drop me a line, I just finished up the new insignia for the clan and I want his opinion before I put it on the clan boards."
"Will do, Reap. You're still gonna spin this Friday at your place?"
"Yes, Ma'am. I'll be there doin my 'wicky wicky' thing... I'll see ya then?"
"Yup, me and Wanda are gonna stop in and have few drinks and maybe dance a little, she's all pissed off at Vec right now so she wants to get out."
"Poor bastard, glad she's not mad at me."
"No Sh*t!"
Reaper leaned over and tried to conceal his excitement as he gingerly pulled the lid open on his newest possession. As he lovingly looked on the contents of the package a smile spread across his face. It was a smile of utter and complete happiness, like joy in the heart.
There in the package, for the price of 1 credit per bottle, a savings of 22 credits per bottle mind you, was every bottle of Jaegermeister that the bar had.
Reaper had never known such bliss, and he drifted out of the bar into a future sure to be hazy and vaguely tasting of black licorice.
JGZinv:
“Jading the Fringe”
by
FyreHeart of the Void Alliance and Scadian Wraith
In the dawn of a new age the warrior's heart leads many a fine pilot to the war drums' rage of battle. Today would be no different from any other glorious day, as war grips the Fringe and tries to strangle the freedom that everyone fights for. The fight would continue and the war would march on to the thunderous blasts of plasma rockets and solaris torpedos. Today many would lift up their banners and charge that imaginary hill to do battle for their honor and ethics. Today many would die and a few skilled and lucky pilots would live to continue on the struggle for freedom. This once peaceful fold of space and time, has seen many brave warriors fall, and the lamentations of women can still be heard echoing thru many a space station or capital ship. Today was no different than any other day I can remember.
Yes, peace had ruled the Fringe before the arrival of man. Now something else has come. Something - other. Perhaps these were the original inhabitants. Perhaps they come from somewhere yet unknown and space unexplored. Regardless, they have rocked the petty clashes between clans and created a united front. Humanity of the Fringe comes together to hold on to what has become theirs.
And somewhere in Bora space, a young girl is born.
Lovingly her parents cradle here, and christen her "Jade". Little do they know the significance she is born for.
They had come from nowhere with no destiny. They flew strange craft to hide their features from the prying eyes of the human aliens they were boand to conquer. The invasion had begun. Their enemies had united. This was a formiddible drawback, but they must continue - wipe them out!
ATTACK ON HUMAN BASE, TAUROS, 2264: 20 YEARS AFTER FIRST INVASION.
The battle was nearly over. There were just 5 enemy craft left that they would have to destroy the to protect the base. They attacked. 4 enemies left.
"Damn! They've taken 2 of ours. We cant hold out!"
Suddenly, a black fighter came out of the endless night of space. Firing an array of modified Bora and Spanner weapons, the remaining 4 were mincemeat.
"Damn, man, nice shooting! We owe you!!"
The mystery pilot spoke, "I'm a woman, and my callsign is JADE."
She vanished as quickly as she had come. Her black ship seemed invisible - untraceable.
For days afterward, TachBand was alive with murmurings of "Jade." Who was she? Where had she come from? What did she want? The few who knew her fell silent - once she was Bora, but now...
Then, another report. Another battle almost lost, turned around by the enigma of Jade.
In the weeks that followed, every human victory was reported with the name "Jade." A battered and bruised humanity had found a new messiah - a new cry to rally around. Under the banner of "Jade", piece by piece humanity began to reassemble the fractured space it once claimed.
Sitting aloft in his menacing, stealthed capital ship the mysterious leader of the invaders sits in his chair in deaths silence,looking over the holo vid of the last battle.He sits in his chair,which is more like a massive titanium throne,and he soothes his pet jaraych,that lies in his lap.This small, furless reptilian creature,spreads out its squid like tenticals,oozes, and wraps his appendages around his masters torso and thorax,trying to confort him after feeling his initial pulse of insult and rage.The master sits amused and uses his free hand to run over the controls on his throne to see what his skilled warriors did to meet defeat on this cold day in the vacuum of hell.The holo vid unit flashes,erupting blue and red light from the apex of the unit,filling the desolate command room. The last battle is displayed in the air before the strange master,as he analyzes the attack and views the slaughter of his seemingless inept pilots.
"hmmmm" crackles the mysterious master,"looks like we have a new thorn that pierces the side of our conquest.Should I send a legion of the dimension shifting, scadian wraiths to find this menacing shadow that lurks and halts our path to victory or perhaps I should take my ship and meet this JADE head to head in armed combat" the master speaks telepathically bonded to his most favored and cheerished pet.The creature now has a firm grasp on his master,and is feeding off of his negativity,filling itself with the delicious energy his symbiotic master is nonchalantly feeding him.The flow of energy crackles and courses thru the two beings uniting them as one mind and one spirit.As the negativity fills the small jaraych,it starts becoming translucent revealing all of the cosmos to its master scanning form.
Floating in the void of his astral form, Melniborax shifts thru the many tangents that line his present path,looking for a reality in which he can best this new threat,this JADE.The path of conquest he seeks is blocked by many foggy illusions,causing the master to strain his innate mental abilities almost to his sundering point.Even utilizing his pets cosmic awareness abilities,he seems unable to break this shimmering, blue vortex that blocks his path to this forbidden knowledge.The master's mind races frantically as he flexes his mind as he would any other muscle in his corporial form,and trys vainly again to unlock the barrier that lies in his path."This jade is strong in the arcane ways,perhaps she is an older breed of being such as we are my precious pet?",the master relays to his raptured friend.
Melniborax recedes from his cosmic probings and ponders. If this creature - this "Jade" - is as ancient as he, she may be beyond the reaches of his probing. But there are others greater than he. He flicks at the controls on his mighty chair and reads the instantaneous response. It tells him that he has yet a few hours to model his new reality. A few precious hours to prepare. The creatures morph and warp into the chamber, bending reality to their will rather than obey its dictates. The group of Ancients exchange the timeless greeting, and begin their work. Each jaraych morphs toward the others, while remaining affixed to its master. They join in the center, become transparent, and open their masters' minds to each other and the cosmos. Together, they search through the mere 10 dimensions of this little continuum, searching throughout space and time itself. Together, they would bend the models, probe the possibilities, and shape the reality that would defeat Jade. Yet the oldest of the Ancients would be shaken by what they discover...
In a far of corner of space in a remote section of the fringe,on a tranquil and beautiful planet, a ship descends cutting the atmosphere in a blazing path of fire.The ship slowly sets down and the hatch opens with a hiss,as the air pressure inside the ship finds a confortable equilibrium with that of the natural world.A red haired, fiery spirited woman descends from the ship and looks around her surroundings.She is wearing a pair of black,multipocketed cargo pants,a red silk tunic,and a par of titanium mesh vambraces.At her waist on a black leather belt hangs a blaster and a few assortments of technology and equipment that have more than once served her well.Her belt holds shut her black multipocketed vest and on her feet are strapped a pair of leather thigh high boots.
The woman touches a button on her wrist/vambraces and the tail-end of her ship opens up.She hits another button and a hover cycle emerges from the depths of her craft.
The woman looks around,smelling the clean air,and she is glad for the oppurtunity to be out of the cramped ship that has been her home for the last few weeks.The artificial air in her craft is not as clean as natural air,and the beauty flex's her neck sky ward feeling the warmth of the sun on her face.The sun bathes the woman and she starts feeling the cosmic flow of life that surrounds and penetrates everything.She takes another deep breath and starts to concentrate on her mission at hand.
The lovely creature reaches into here canvas sack that is slung like a bandaleer over her vest,and she pulls out a leather hide scoll.She opens it using an old incantation that renders the runes that protect this scroll obsolete.A flare of blue energy passes from the woman and into the parchment and the scoll opens,revealing a map.The map is thousands of years old and the strange markings on the parchment are from a time when man walked as apes.
She sits back and reads the parchment outloud.
"Behold the end of times come when the nightmares from the sky devoure the worlds of all things.Behold the end of times when the one shall rise from the apes and stand alone to combat this curse and evil.Behold the temple of the spirit that shall be the weapon and the knowledge for the salvation from these cursed creatures.Behold the three gems of power that when united will be a weapon that shall bring light and justice to the people of this time.Behold the lamp of knowledge that shines forever in the minds of many,and behold the power that will cleanse the universe"
In a mere second the parchement glows and a beam of shimmering blue energy,erupts from the parchment and a straight beam of light marks the spot where the woman is to begin her quest for the three stones of truth,light,and love.
She jumps on her hover cycle,hits another bottom on her wrist that turns her ship invisible to the normal light waves that most creatures see,she primes the throttle,and is off on her quest to save the known universe from the ancient evil that seems never to stop.
The Ancients recede from their cosmic probings into a stunned silence. Jade was merely a child. An infant in the Cosmos. Yet she alone could tap three power centers that were as ancient as they themselves. She was the key that united and focused them.
The power centers themselves had evaded the Ancients' detection, and even now confounded their modeling and shaping. Reality would not bend to their will, for it was already bent around this timeless force. They would have to proceed blindly, trapped in linear time like the lesser beings that infested this universe.
Melniborax was ejected from the cosmic probing, his jaraych settling contentedly in his lap. "Melniborax," the Ancients intoned together, still joined, "you shall seek this Jade. All the resources of our race are yours. Destroy her. Let her not unlock the timeless force."
"So be it. I shall retrieve the power centers. We shall absorb them into ourselves and break the chain she seeks to create." The plan he voiced was an old one. Countless realities had fallen to the Ancient Ones by this strategy.
"Impossible," the Ancients responded. "The timeless force defies our detection and control, and you lack the essence to obtain it. Destroy the child. Without her to focus the energies, the timeless force cannot oppose us."
Melniborax bowed deeply and left the room.
********
The planet's thick foliage swatted Jade and clawed at her flowing red hair. Halting in a marshy clearing, she dismounted, picked debris from her hair, and stuffed the unruly mass under her helmet.
She retrieved the ancient scroll and stepped away from her hover cycle into a break in the forest canopy. It flickered with a life of its own, and the runes morphed and blended until the beam of blue light again split the sky. Squinting against the blinding sun, she singled a peak out of the distant mountains. Aiming her wrist vambrace at it, she tickled the controls and a coherent light beam dashed forth and bounced back.
"'Bout blasted time I could image that spot," she muttered. "Finally I can use my tracking computer."
She returned to her cycle, carefully sealing the scroll according to runes only she could read, and hid it away. She closed her faceplate, hastily clawing at some of the stains plant stems had left on it, and continued her quest.
********
Late in the evening, she again gazed at the scroll under the light of her campfire. In the midst of the runes was the image of a woman. The colors were faded, but Jade imagined the woman to have red hair. Beneath her feet was a tiny image of a temple pyramid. The woman stood tall, arms outstretched, with shining beams coming from a finger on each hand and merging at a spot on her forehead, which glowed with an ethereal radiance. Together they formed a kind of sacred triangle which mimicked the pyramid beneath her feet.
Suddenly, her head shot up, ears probing the darkness. Something was amiss. Quickly she sealed the scroll and locked it in her hover cycle. She then stepped back into the firelight, gazing intently into the darkness. The night seemed to darken and encroach on her senses. There was an enemy here, one she could not see or hear. Quietly, she loosed the thong securing her blaster, and primed her vambraces to emit their energy shield. Tense, with the fire to her back, sweat trickles down her perfect face as minutes slither by. Silence.
A blue glow catches her eye, emanating from within her cycle. As she nears it, she senses the darkness being driven back, and suddenly clarity comes. The enemy is not like her. She cannot fight it with shields and blasters. Tonight, its weapon is fear.
Jade stands tall and takes a deep breath of the cool, wet air. There will be no sleep tonight. She secures her blaster, disables her energy shield, and mounts her hover cycle. Before closing her helmet's faceplate, she looks into the darkness and grins.
"You lost this one," she breathes, and her cycle shoots away into the darkness.
Sitting in the flora and the dense foliage,a dark presences glares at its target,waiting for the right moment when it would pounce and make its victim a meal.It's eyes flare an unholy blue fire,that seems to scan the endless ways and the jungle around it.It watches as it's prey speeds away into the darkness of the jungle on it's metal beast.The creature ponders to itself the most logical course of action to best kill this threat.
The creature slowly starts focusing on it's preys mind.Trying to open up this humans head would be an easy task,but this human is not ordinary by any legends standard.The creature flexes its abilities and slowly an image starts to fade and appear in the monsters minds eye.The image starts to take shape, of a temple with ancient runes at the apex of the local mountain."Very interesting" the creature reflects."This is the warrior who has awakened my ancient rest.I hope she can last longer than the others who have tried to steal my treasure," the creature sneers to itself.
The creature focus's again and its life memories start to flood thru its thoughts.Ancient times and ancient promises,rush to meet its masters commands.This ancient creature can remember when the temple was occupied by scholars and spiritual leaders,healers and dreamers.It can remember a time when the stones of power were used to help ease the suffering of people and light a beacon for all to see throughout the universe.It could rememebr a time when the darkness and vastness of space were all united to defeat another enemy of evil.It could remember the day,it was summoned and its bargain was struck with the leaders of the temple.For the greater good of every living species,the creature promised to guard that temple for all time.For only he knows the fullest power of the three stones.He knows that this untrained human,could destroy the cosmos if she did not have complete control and understanding of the stones.
The monster sits back and thinks,it's ethereal form partially phases thru the tree it rests upon."If i could make an allegiance with this woman,and train her,then perhaps I could have her do my bidding.Yes i will train this human,take the lost light of knowledge,and hold it secure to only my whims".
The creature closes it's eyes and fades back to its resting spot in the temple."SHe will be here soon.......hmmmmmmmmmm......what shape shall i assume that will not threaten her?" the creature asks itself.Slowly the creature takes the form of a small male child that is badly hurt.It's form becomes solid,as the beast morphs into the appearance of the small child.The child curls up in the center of the room,and falls asleep awaiting the time when the woman would find him.
Melniborax watches the creature as it sets to lure the girl and smiles. His essence hovers around the planet, looking for other servants to capture and place in her path. To challenge such a lowly creature seems almost unjust, but his race must feed on this reality to live. She will not be allowed to challenge them.
Jade forces her hover bike over the last steep rise onto a steppe. Her guidance computer blinks excitedly, alerting her that she's near her goal. The journey has been exhausting, but as a dark maw gashing the mountainside looms larger before her speeding bike, her pulse quickens with anticipation.
Dust clouds swirl up around her as she pulls her bike to a halt. She switches off the guidance computer, it's frenetic blinking long since trying her patience, and retrieves the scroll. The blue beam fires deep into the cave, and she slumps on her seat, satisfied. Stuffing the secured scroll in her pack, she makes her way into the darkness.
And inside, a tiny boy has seen the blue light, and smiles an inhuman smile...
In a deep covered area of space,in a dark matter nebula,a huge Caldorian battle cruiser dips and dives,avoiding the debris of space.Bright flares of laser fire proceed the huge craft,destroying the huge chunks of rock and other space matter that rise and fall as the ship passes.Explosion after explosion can be felt as the debris and asterioids become nothing but dust.The ship is silent except for its automated laser cannons,the ion trail it leaves disapates as the ship slowly trudges thru the cold vaccum of space.
The captain sits in his chair.His eyes are still laden with the sleep one accumulates after decades of hyber sleep.He sits there at his bridge controls,trying to regain some memories of the last 75 years.Slowly his memories start flooding him,and he is once again aware of the episode that cost him and his crew 75 years of their lives.The man is tall for a human,coming in at an amazing 6 feet 7 inches.He is wearing a long mongolain style vest that splits at the front.His green multi pocketed, cargo pants,are wrinkled and faded.His once bald head is now covered with waist length black hair,His black goatee has been transformed into a beard that nearly touches his stomach.
Wiping the sleep from his eyes,the man slowly starts to take the ship off of automatic pilot.He hits button after button,gives many a retinal scan,and voice imprints to lift the encryptions his ship used to protect them as they slept.
"Morning captian" a friendly computer says,startling the man for a brief second."I have been un able to establish a link with the local time beacon,so I cannot aprize you of the current date and time.Records indicate that it is 75 years past our last time together"
"Greetings and salutations Dora,I hope these past 75 years have given you the time you need to repair and time to get all our malfunctions under guidance?" the man asks as he proceeds to look over the past 75 years of mission logs."It seems we were permitted to sleep an additional 10 years past what I set the hybernation units too,what is the reason for our extended sleep Dora?" he remarks as he looks over the log.
"Your sleep was extended to give the repair droids and myself time to heal.After we fell into that black hole,I needed more time to repair the ship,then was originally predicted.The repair druids have needed that extra time to mine this secluded asteroid belt,and they required more time to manufacture the materials needed to fix myself.I am up and running to full capacity captain,and I await your commands" the ship says in a soothing female voice. "Please waken my men Dora,and store the ship from auto to manual controls.Have you been able to provide me with any information as to are current location?"
"Sir the best I can figure is that we are 50,000 light years from home.That black hole acted like a quantun mass accelerator,throwing us off course for what I fear will be the rest of our lives.I have calculated that it will take us approximately 75 years to reach our solar system,at maximum speed.I have also been processing vast amounts of communications I have been recieving from sources outside of this dark nebula.It appears to me Captain,that a war is being waged and thousands if not millions of life forms in this corner of the universe are being extermintated at an alarming rate."
"So basically what you are saying,my beloved Dora,is that once again we find ourselves in another mess?" the captain painfully speaks,the lines of worry can be seen underneath his pelt of dark hair.
"Yes sir I am afraid we are not in the best of arenas at this time.Captain,I have intercepted an energy reading that I have never recorded.The energy reading comes from a small planet,located 2 light years from our current position.The readings are unknown to me and none of my hypothesis can direct how to reproduce this source of energy.The science computer has been analyzing this source for the last day,and it has come to the conclusion that with this source of power we could create a device that would act like a quantum mass accelerator that could get us home in a few weeks.I have plotted a course to this planet,shall I activate the manuevering thrusters and proceed to this heading captain?" the soothing voices inquires?
"Dora,please show me what information you have gathered on this unknown power source," he asks as the hope for returning home once again rushes thru him.He reviews the logs,the charts and the energy matrix of this new and potentially usefull source of energy."Dora,please awaken the crew and when they have regained their senses alert them that our new destination is that small planet.Have you witnessed any activity from the aggresors of this war we are about to join?" he asks as he sits in his chair drinking a black substance that smells of almonds and butterscotch.
"Sir I have been monitoring this war for the past 7 years.I am afraid the force which is destroying these people are stronger and more complex then any force we have ever encountered.Their craft are faster and sleeker than our own,but their weapons have nothing on our own weapons.I predict that if we entered this campaign we will sustain heavy loses,but we do have a chance at turning the tide of battle to help these humans that are being exterminated.I have been working on a few new ideas,and I have increased the power of our shields to 1,000 trimes what they use to be.The star drive is up and running and It is also 500 times faster then when you and the crew entered hypersleep.If we are cautious and wise,we can help these people in this galaxy,and perhaps claim an area of this galaxy in the name of the Caldorian Empire."
The captain sits in his chair thinking,he ponders over the equation,and quickly settles on the idea that he is a warrior and as such he will join this crusade and help this beings in this corner of the galaxy."Dora I am gonna go get in uniform,please keep the ship at a stop halt until my men have a chance to get on thier feet."
"As you command Captain Gyllian ",the voice replies.
The Captain gets up from his chair.His legs are weak from the 75 year slumber and as he rises he can feel the gravity of the situation all about his form.He proceeds thru the blast doors,and they close behind him wish a swoosh.
Jade's headlamp plays across the craggy terrain. Her progress is slow. Around her, the cave walls are littered with religious art, and amidst the rubble at her feet are many a treasured possession offered to a beloved god. Something in her senses the power in this place, and it invigorates her.
Presently, the walls smooth out, and the cave takes on a more temple-like appearance. The art takes on a higher class, clearly done by devout professionals. She weaves her way through the debris and entry chamber, and the cave opens into a massive anteroom.
As her awe gives way to reality, a faint sound catches her ears. She looses her blaster from its holster and stealthily moves toward the sound. As she moves closer, the sound resolves itself into a quiet weeping. She moves more quickly. Huddled behind a shrine, she finds a small boy, crying softly. Quickly, she holsters her weapon and touches him lightly on the shoulder.
"Hey," Jade whispers tenderly, "hey, are you all right?" The little boy starts and rolls over to see her, suddenly shuffling backwards with a look of fear.
"Hey, it's OK. I'm not going to hurt you," she coos, hands outstretched. "Can you speak? What's your name?"
He sits up, and bites his finger, eyes wide. Jade shuffles closer and sits down. "Hey, are you hurt? Can you tell me your name?"
"I..." he starts, then bites his finger again.
"Yeah? It's OK. I won't hurt you."
"I... ungy," he says, and dots his hand to his lips.
"Ungy? Oh, hungry! Sure. Here ya go." She swings off her satchel and reaches in for a morsel. The boy cranes his neck to glance inside as she's rummaging through, and sits back satisifed, having seen the scroll.
"Here ya go." The boy reaches out tenatively and takes a cautious bite of the bar she offered, then devours it.
"There ya go. See? I'm not so bad, am I? Can you tell me your name?"
He offers a shy smile, and says "I Ilyam."
"Ilyam? Do you mean William?"
The boy shakes his head, "yust Ilyam."
Jade shrugs, "OK. So how did you get here? What happened to you?" The little boy smiles and just shrugs.
"Tell ya what," Jade continues, "I'm going to get you outta here, but first I have something to do." She stands and turns toward the altar platform to begin her search for the first gem, but Ilyam clings to her leg.
"No leave! No leave!"
"Look, I said I'm not going to leave you, I just need to look for something first."
"No! No leave!" and the child clings to her leg tighter, punctuated by a shrill wailing. Jade tries without success to pry the boy loose, but finally resigns herself to dragging him along. She lifts him from the waist, turning him upside down as he clings to her leg, and makes her way awkwardly toward the altar.
The altar had a raised platform of sorts on it, presumably from which the officiating priests harangued the worshippers. As she made her way behind it, Ilyam loosened his grip on her leg. She sat him down, and he scuttled over to the platform and sat on it, watching her. She shook her head, and began her search, looking in each compartment, in the crags, in the holy receptacles preserved for whatever worship this temple housed. All came up empty. She finally descended to her knees and began crawling about, searching the seams between the bricks and cracks in the floor.
"What you doing?" Ilyam's voice echoed in the massive stone hall.
"I told you, I have to find something."
"You no tell me that. What you find?"
"A... gem. A bright stone of some kind."
"What it look like?"
Jade, frustrated, spun on her heel. "It looks..." she began, reaching in her satchel for the scroll, then she caught herself. She let go of the scroll and rummaged through her bag for some of her jewelry. "It looks something like this," she concluded, producing an artificial diamond earring.
"Oh, you look for shining ring," Ilyam replied. He slid off the platform and ran to the left wall. His hand disappeared inside the wall for a moment, and then a grinding sound commenced above Jade's head. She jumped back and looked up. A door was opening in the wall above her head, from which a red glow emanated. She swung up on the platform and looked in. A ring. Upon it was mounted a red gem, which glowed in and out, as if it was breathing.
Jade hopped down from the platform and drug a pot over to the wall, turned it over, and stood on it. She could just reach in the hole. As she fumbled with the ring, it seemed to be moving on its own. When she drew her hand out, the ring was on her finger.
She held her hand out straight and gazed at the beautiful stone mounted on her finger. It seemed to speak to her, warming her, and its glow grew to fill the room.
********
Captain Gyllian strode onto the bridge with confidence, decked out in full uniform. Where it was dark a few hours ago, it was now light. Where there was solitude was now abuzz with activity. Darkened consoles were now manned and vibrant with activity.
"Dora! Status report," Gyllian commands as he settles into his seat.
"All hands accounted for," intones the computer's feminine voice. "All systems go. We await your command."
"Helm?"
"Course laid in, Captain. Should be a short trip."
"All ahead full."
"Aye, sir."
Within moments an angular mass solidified out of the dusty nebula, swirls of space dust and particles of the vacuum bounding out of its way. From this short distance, the target star loomed bright in the viewport, and then the Singularity Drive flexed its power. A wash of nausea crept through each crew member, and the ship sped on its way.
It seemed but a moment's breath before the Singularity Drive switched off, gracing the crew with another wash of nausea. Before them lay a beautiful blue-green orb.
"Helm, take us into orbit. Dora, scan the surface."
"Aye." The ship's chemical boosters fired, and the ship slowly began to move into orbit around the little planet.
"Scan complete, Captain," intoned Dora, "significant life form readings. Few appear sentient. The large energy source appears to be atop a mountain on the northern continent. Also, I am detecting a faint energy signature matching the enemy I advised you of earlier."
"Acknowledged. Thank you, Dora. Please do a threat assessment while we prepare a landing party."
"As you command."
********
Jade and Ilyam emerged from the rubble strewn cave a bit battered. Again in the sunlight, Jade gazed at the ring now on her finger. She sensed - something - from it. She felt her essence searching, as if for an activation switch.
"If only I could figure out how you worked," she whispered to the stone.
"I show you," Ilyam replied.
Jade started, surprised that he overheard her.
"Ok." She shrugged. Ilyam made a show of trying to maneuver himself around her hand, trying to get in just the right spot to "activate" the ring.
"I no do. You take ring off. I wear."
Jade's eyes narrowed. Something felt wrong, but she didn't know what else to do. So, she reached to take the ring off. She pulled. She twisted. It stayed firm. The ring could not be removed.
The creature that was Ilyam receded for an instant. It had not expected this.
To be continued...
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