---THE GOLDEN HORIZON - GRAND FINALE---

Credits:
Finale written by Thunder, with minor editing by Captain Carnotaur in Parts II and III
The scene in Part II involving Admiral Tacaera was written by Igor Rigadaz.

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Note: This is the ending post to the Golden Horizon story. Comments are welcome (and encouraged :D), but please do not post any story continuations. A full six months after it began, the story is over. Thanks to all those who participated - you all deserve a huge round of applause. Also, hats off to Esponer and Carnotaur for the excellent job they did writing the New Galaxy Finale.

Due to the length of the Grand Finale, it will be posted in three parts, each of which will be posted in this topic about 8 to 12 hours apart. Part II will be posted later tonight, and Part III will go up tomorrow morning.
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PART I

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Admiral Nahar looked across his bridge, at the sight on the forward viewscreen. The system was filled with two massive fleets. In all his days as a soldier in the Voinian military, he had never seen so many ships gathered in one system. On one side of the system stood a massive mass of gray and red, a formidable fleet of nearly a hundred thosand Voinian and Federation ships. Scattered the uniform fleet were ocassional splotches of purple, yellow, silver and white. The Kayans, the Horoth, the Strand League, even some remnants of the RA were present, all seeking retribution for the failed Edien invasion of the New Galaxy.

On the opposite side of the system was a seething mass of black and blue; an Edien armada of warships, battlecruisers, and thousands upon thousands of fighters. They were slightly outnumbered, but they looked no less menacing. Behind their lines was a massive gray construct, somewhat in the shape of an octagonal ring - an Edien jumpgate. This was the last system that remained under Edien control, and all their remaining Milky Way forces were here to defend it.

The stage was set, but neither side moved. For minute after minute, each side scrutinized the other, as if each were desparately searching for a clue, a way to gain the upper hand in the battle that was sure to follw. Silently, the two opposing fleets sat on opposite sides of a black void of space. Tension filled the air as each side waited for the other to make the first move. Finally, Admiral Scorcher of the Federation contingent gave the order. "All ships, launch long-range ordinance! Fighter craft, prepare for strafing runs! Warships, lock and load. Let's do this thing!"

The sight that followed was spectacular to say the least. All along the allied front lines space filled with smoke as a solid wave of missiles and torpedoes broke free and began closing on the Edien Armada. Instead of moving to evade, the Edien fleet answered in kind. Admiral Scorcher watched in awe as a wall of blue light appeared in front of the Edien armada - incoming energy weaponry. The two waves of long range ordinance swept through the system, passing through one another, closing upon their respective targets. Chaos suddenly reigned as explosions rocked both battlefleets, both long range barrages connecting with deadly accuracy. The battle for the Milky Way was on.

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Admiral Vorath smiled as three dozen Edien fighter squadrons swept through the breach, forcing the fresh allied reinforcements coming from behind the front lines to retreat, leaving the path clear. His strategy was working. "Now!" Vorath shouted, "Squads 16 through 26, blow that breach wide open!" The Edien warships moved forward, easily blasting their way through the breached allied front line. First one squad, then a second, then a third made it through the breach, and began to attack the Federation and Voinians from behind. The forth squad, however, didn't stand a chance. Realizing the Ediens' tactics, Admiral Scorcher ordered ships to shift toward the breach, spreading the front lines a bit thinner in hopes of squeezing the breach shut. As allied ships closed in from all sides, it was the Ediens who found themselves in a crossfire, surrounded by a quickly closing hole in the allied lines. Though they fought valiantly, they were forced to retreat to the Edien lines. The few Edien ships that made it through the allied lines, cut off from their armada, were easily dealt with by the allies.

"Well," Vortah muttered to himself, "It looks like we'll have to fight this one the old fashioned way. If it's a battle they want, it's a battle we'll give 'em."

The battle that followed was a classic show of military might; brilliant stragegy versus brilliant strategy, pure will versus unending determination. One fleet would seem to swell forward, threatening to engulf the enemy, and then the other would counter, pushing back the offensive. Waves of ships would fly outward, attempting to flank the enemy, only to be scattered by a determined counter-attack. This process repeated itself over and over; for hours the battle seeming to be stuck in perpetual neurtality, neither side able to overcome the other or score a decisive blow. It became clear this would be a battle of attrition, the stubborn Ediens fighting to the last, and the allies pressing forward, determined to rid their galaxy of the Edien menace.

As the hours pressed on, casualties mounted for both sides. The battle had raged on, unabated, since the opening salvoes that morning. Never before had so many ships battle for so long in one system. New problems, never before encountered in battle, plagued the combatants on both sides. It became increasingly difficult to make out friend from foe, sensor arrays unable to cut through the increasing fog of smoke and scrap metal that littered the entire battlefield (Federation admirals would later estimate that nearly a third of the casualties in the last hour of battle were due to friendly fire). Engine manifolds stalled, choked by scrap metal. Crews raced frantically to clear the engines, their ships stuck dead in the water.

Through it all, neither side budged, neither was willing to put an end to the carnage. Only after sixteen hours of battle was the outcome made clear. Through a haze of smoke and debris, Admiral Scorcher watched as a glow of red light seemed to eminate from the far side of the system. Slowly the gunfire in the system began to subside. The Edien armada, having lost more than half their number, had activated their jumpgate, and were retreating through it to parts unknown. Within minutes it was over. The red glow disappeared, and the surviving allies were left alone on a silent battlefield, surrounded by smoke and debris, death and destruction.

Slowly the surving allies began to realize that they had won the day. The victory had not come easily, though. The allied fleet had suffered 40% casualties; tens of thousands of ships had been lost, and hundreds of thousands killed. Limping off the battlefield, the allied fleet gathered near the massive construct that was the Edien Jumpgate. Carried fighters looked for their motherships, squadron leaders searched in vain for lost wingmates, captains and crewmen alike tried to contact friends - just to see if they were still there.

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Three hours passed, and repairs were well underway, the allied fleet remaining stationed in the jumpgate system. Aboard the Federation flagships, prominent captains from each race met in a dimly lit meeting room.

"Now..." Federation Admiral Firebird said, "now is our chance to take the battle to the Ediens themselves. In two days our fleet will be fully repaired, and reinforcements will have arrived from the distant corners of the Milky Way and the New Galaxy. Then we can active the Edien Jumpgate and take the battle to their territory for once - and get a little payback for all that they did to our galaxy. Now it's our turn!"

Firebird's speech was met with applause from most of the gathered races. The Kayan delegation, though, remained silent. "If I may speak," said Kayan Commander Akiva. Firebird nodded his assent, and the old Kayan stood.

"With all due respect," Akiva began, "I don't think we should press our luck. We have chased every Edien fleet out of the Milky Way. The battle is won - our galaxy is ours once more, and nobody can dispute that. Why sacrafice more lives and prolong this war? We should destroy this jumpgate and cut the Ediens off from our territory once and for all."

Firebird thought for a moment before he spoke, as if trying to fashion the perfect reply in his mind. When he did speak, it was with a distinct air of determination, with just a touch of anger: "On the contrary, commander, destroying this jumpgate is the last thing we want to do. We may have secured our galaxy for now, but for how long? If we destroy this gate, what's to stop the Ediens from building another one and coming back even stronger than before? We have them on the run! We must seize this advantage and make it count! The Ediens have killed billions in our galaxy. If we allow them to live on, they will have the chance to kill even more, in this galaxy and in others. They must be stopped, once and for all!"

"Surely you concede," Akiva retorted, "that peace is preferable to war. We can scan the jumpgate. Once we know enough about it, we may be able to find a way to block it! Then we will be safe from future Edien invasion. We need not spill more blood to ensure our safety."

"The Kayan has a point," said the Miranu representitive, a young man wearing the emblem of the old Zachit. "We already have quite a bit of expreience with subspace, what with the rift and all. If we can find a way to disrupt the Edien jumpgate technology, then we have no reason to take the war to them."

"That's as well as may be," interrupted a Voinian admiral, "but how long will that take? Months? Years? Decades, even? Our opportunity is now! The first rule of war is to keep the pressure on your opponent - don't give him a moment's rest! If we don't press our advantage, it may be only a few weeks before we find an even stronger Edien fleet knocking on our front door. The only smart option is to go through that jumpgate and keep the heat on the Ediens."

Sensing that popular support was on his side, Admiral Firebird offered a compromise. "So, it seems we're deadlocked. How about this, then? Let's put it to a vote. Each race gets one vote, majority rules. What do you say?" All the delegations agreed, and slips of paper were distributed. Once all the votes were cast, Firebird read them one by one until the result was clear - four in favor of fighting on, three against.

The matter decided, the delegates began to file out of the room, to return to their respective ships. Before leaving, Commander Akiva pulled Admiral Firebird aside. "I respect the majority opinion," Akiva said, "and the offensive will have the full support of the Kayan Alliance. But I want you to know that I think we are making a grave mistake." With that he walked off, leaving Firebird alone in the meeting room.

As Akiva left, Firebird looked decidedly determined. "Time will tell which of us is right..." he said to himself...

----------

Admiral Grathon of the Edien Order scowled at the news that the forces battling in the Milky Way had been beaten back and forced to return to Andromeda. He knew the Milky Way resistance fighters were stubborn, but never expected them to force the Ediens to be pushed out of the galaxy altogether. His mind didn't dwell on this defeat for long, though - there were other problems for him to deal with. His armada was leading the battle against the Rarkyl, and activity along the Rarkyl front had increased in recent days. Over the last week, there had series of skirmishes along border systems - a five-fold increase in activity over the weeks before. Grathon's conclusion - the Rarkyl were planning something. Little did he know how right he was about to be.

Two days later, his armada passed through the system of Lyrak on their way to a Rarkyl border outpost, a massive Rarkyl fleet, rivaling the Edien armada in size, hypered into the system and immediately opened fire. The Ediens had only seconds to respond before they were hit with the opening volleys of weapons fire. Acting with a keen battle sense born of dozens of years of military experience, Grathon ordered his fleet into battle formation, striking back against the Rarkyl ambush. The Ediens blasted forward, managing to extricate themselves from the grasp of the Rarkyl fleet, regrouping several thousand kilometers away, letting loose a long-range barrage of their own. (Captain Carnotaur has renedered a really cool 3-D depiction of this battle scene - the image can be viewed at : (url="http://"http://www.carnotaurhq.com/golden_horizon/graphics/battle_scene.jpg")http://www.carnotaur...attle_scene.jpg(/url) )

Grathon quickly took stock of the situation. The Rarkyl's initial element of surprise was gone now, but it had taken its toll on the Edien fleet in the initial moments of the battle. Several thousand ships had been lost in the opening minutes, and the Rarkyl fleet now outnumbered the remaining Ediens substantially. Still, Grathon didn't let this stop him from bringing his full fury to bear against the enemy. Fighter groups formed into strafing wings, warships hunted as wolfpacks, all with the support of the Ediens' largest battleships. It was a brilliant and well-executed strategy, and it seemed to put the Rarkyl back on their heels. For several minutes the Rarkyl were put on the defensive, trying strategy after strategy to combat the brilliant Edien offense.

The Edien advantage didn't last long, as the Rarkyl adapted similar tactics, striking back with strafing runs and warship wolfpacks. The two fleets clashed for nearly two hours, devistating enemy ranks, reducing enemy vessels to burnt out hulks. Finally, Grathon, his shields nearly depleted, nearly two thirds of his fleet destroyed, called for a retreat. The remaining Edien vessels lit up the system with hyperspace jump points, as their fleet fled back toward safe Edien territory. The Rarkyl took stock, finding they had not fared much better. Though their ambush had been a success, they had lost more than half their ships. Instead of of pursing the retreating Ediens, they salvaged what they could from the battlefield, then set off toward Rarkyl space. The battle of Lyrak was over. It had been a Rarkyl victory, but a costly one.

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Six days had passed since the Battle of the Jumpgate. The allied fleet had been repaired, and reinforcements had arrived from the more distant systems of the Milky Way and New Galaxy, nearly doubling the size of the fleet. The wreckage of the battle had been cleaned up, enough scrap metal collected to build a thousand ships. "Now," thought Admiral Scorcher, "it was time to move out, and to take the battle to the Ediens home turf."

Scorcher looked out over the fleet. The assembly of ships could only be classified as massive, numbering easily into the hundreds of thousands. Red, gray, white, purple, yellow - they filled the system, surrounding the dormant jumpgate, waiting for it to open once again. Walking onto his bridge, Admiral Scorcher activated his comm unit. "Open a fleet-wide comm channel," he said to one of his crewmen. The officer complied, and Scorcher picked up a microphone.

"My friends and allies," he began, "Today is a bright day in the history of our galaxy. The Edien menace had been expelled from our borders, and it is our duty and our honor to follow them through their jumpgate, to put an end to their reign of terror once and for all. We do not know what we will face on the other side, but we will seek out new allies with open arms and an open mind, and hunt down the Edien Order, murderers of billions. Our suffering will be avenged."

As he finished speaking, two Kayan aradas moved forward, firing beams of white energy into the octagonal ring of the Edien Jumpgate. At first little happened, the energy seeming to coarse over the surface of the metal. After a few seconds, a reddish glow could be seen eminating from the center of the ring, followed by a flash of red light. As the flash subsided, the assmbled fleet could see the swirling red vortex that had appeared. The captured jumpgate was open.

"Let us not be afraid..." Scorcher told the fleet. "We fight for the honor of the Milky Way, and for our people and our homes, and for the memories of those we've lost. Let's go!" Caught up in the exuberance and courage of Scorcher's speech, the gathered fleet seemed to move forward all at once. Ships began to flow into the vortex, on their way to a distant galaxy, and an unknown battlefield...

...To be continued...

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"One day you'll find your whole life has changed - act quick, be brave, your heart will show you the way"

(Edited to add Carno's finale graphic and battle graphic link)

(This message has been edited by Thunder (edited 02-20-2002).)

I'm speechless... BECAUSE THAT WAS SO FREAKIN' COOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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PART II

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Admiral Zaraesh kept a brave profile when he was in public, but when he was alone, he couldn't help but worry about the current state of events. It had been two months since the Ediens had been pushed out of the Milky Way, and things had not improved since then. The Rarkyl had renewed their offensive, forcing ships to be diverted from the Sladerei and Horosk fronts in order to contain them. As if that were not trouble enough, the Milky Way races had somehow found a way to open one of the abandoned Edien jumpgates left behind in the Milky Way, and had begun an offensive on their own, capturing nearly a dozen Edien systems within Andromeda itself. Even more ships had to be diverted to slow their advance, leaving forces on the Sladerei front spread disturbingly thin.

Zaraesh had made repeated calls to Edien High Command, warning that he did not feel that he had sufficient forces remaining to combat a true Sladerei offensive should they choose to take action against his fleet, but each time High Command had refused to issue him additional forces, explaining that those ships were needed elsewhere. All this left Zaraesh sure that an offensive by either the Sladerei or the Horosk would lead to disastrous results. He barely had enough ships to defend a couple border systems, let alone an entire border. It was this very thought that was going through his head when klaxxons began blaring in his personal quarters. He hoped it was nothing but a fire or a false alarm, but that was not to be. A voice in his headset confirmed his worst fears - the Horosk were attacking.

Rushing to his bridge, Zaraesh saw a massive wall of Horosk ships bearing down on his small fleet of defenders. His communications officer had already called for reinforcements from surrounding systems, but it would take them nearly an hour to arrive. Already the Horosk were bearing down, taking potshots at the Edien defenders. Zaraesh ordered his forces into a defensive formation, taking refuge behind an Edien minefield. This bought him a few minutes, but it didn't take long for Horosk minesweepers to clear a path to the Edien position. Ordering his fleet to fall back farther, Zaraesh struggled to keep his footing as a Horosk missile detonated mere meters from his ship. "I hope those reinforcements get here quickly," he thought, "or there won't be any of us left to save."

By the time the reinforcements came storming into the fray, merely a quarter of the original Edien forces remained. From his tattered bridge, Zaraesh watched the fresh Edien ships assult the Horosk formation. They were repulsed in short order, simply overwhelmed by superior enemy numbers.

As if to add insult to injury, still more jump points opened, and Sladerei ships began to pour into the system. Apparently the Horosk had called in reinforcements of their own. Now outnumbered five to one, Zaraesh was ready to admit defeat. Still, he wasn't willing to go without a parting blow. "All ships clear the minefield," he ordered. The Ediens retreated, followed closely by the Sladerei and Horosk. Even before the last Edien vessels had cleared the minefield, Zaraesh entered a computer code into his command console. As his crew watched in awe, explosions of blue and white light and energy filled the system, the entire minefield going up all at once. The Sladerei and Horosk were stunned. They had not expected this kind of self-destructive stragegy, even from the Ediens. When the smoke had cleared, thousands of ships were lost, and thousands more lay disabled or severely damaged. There was no sign of the Edien fleet, which had retreated to safer territory. Still, it would be at least a week, if not more, before the Horosk and Sladerei would be ready for another assult.

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As the wars raged on in Andromeda, the situation continued to get progressively worse for the Edien Order. Now forced to fight a continual war on three fronts, their defenses were in a state of slow collapse - they simply didn't have the number of ships needed to fight three enemies at once. System after system fell, borders were redrawn almost weekly. Five months after the initial invasion of Andromeda, the Allied front had pushed the all the way to their home system - Edien Prime. Nearly three hundred thousand ships gathered there, ready to defend the homeworld of the Ediens. At the same time, a veritable armada of Federation, Voinian, and New Galaxy vessels was preparing for an invasion of the very same system. The Ediens waited tensely for the allies' next move. They would have only a few days to wait.

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The vision was extreme, expansive, far spanning, all encompassing, and beautiful; Nothing had ever seemed more realistic or wonderful, a pleasure for all involved, and the serenity was beyond imagination, transcending all notions of good and evil, bringing full circle the plight of the galaxy.

But it was not to last. A loud pulsating noise had erupted from nearby and Edien Admiral Tacaera woke up with a start. For a moment he stared off into the darkness, contemplating his perfect dream. A call from the Bridge interrupted his musings.

“Admiral Tacaera, we need you up here,” Captain Shclera’s faint voice interjected into the small room.

“I’ll be there in a bit, Captain,” Tacaera responded.

Feeling incredibly lethargic, the middle-aged Edien hoisted himself off his cot and put on a new tunic. Today is going to be a long day, he quietly told himself, and quickly proceeded out the door.

His ship, the Majestic Glory was one of the newest Edien cruisers, and crewed with some of the most talented, however inexperienced, Edien warriors in existence. As he approached the aft-bridge door, the somewhat short Edien straightened his uniform and prepared for the coming problems.

“Ah, Admiral we are expecting the Federation and Voinian fleets within the next four hours. They should number around 200,000, easy prey for our force. In the meantime, you have a message from the Emperor.” Shclera told him.

“Thank you. I want our fleet prepped as much as possible between now and then. Run them through a few strategic war scenarios if possible,” Admiral Tacaera ordered, making his way to his command console. The term Emperor had thrown him, he had been one of Rigadaz’s biggest supporters among the military, and the former Emperor’s disappearance wasn’t easy for Tacaera to deal with. While he was supposedly kidnapped by one of the accursed Alien species, Tacaera couldn’t help but think that Grunadulater had a bigger role then he took credit for. Now the slowly dwindling Rigadaz family was vanishing without a trace, and Grunadulater, the new Emperor himself, was not exactly on top of things. But still...

“Admiral, The Enemy has arrived,” Shclera shouted, sounding worried. Tacaera jogged to the command console, only to realize that the supposed 200,000 ships was actually twice as many. 400,000 Federation and Voinian ships had appeared in the Vaeaka system, and the Ediens were now effectively outgunned. The Edien Admiral glanced out the view field, realizing that he was right, today was indeed going to be a very long, drawn out and horrible day.

-----*-

The Edien fleet, currently involved in a preemptive practice session, was caught completely off guard The huge Federation and Voinian Armada moved in quickly, dispersing their fighters and concentrating their fire on single targets. An entire Edien battle group was eliminated before the Ediens had responded to the carnage unfolding. Things were not looking good for the Ediens.

-----*-

Find the flagship,find the flagship,find the flagship,find the flagship,find the flagship. Tacaera found himself losing concentration. “Prepare another volley of Torpedoes!” he ordered through clenched teeth. Another volley appeared in the view port, decimating a few federation fighters. A group of Voinian interceptors swooped up to fill their space, raining destruction on the Majestic Glory. Admiral Tacaera tightened his elongated fist, his bright blue eyes glowing with anger and confusion. For no apparent reason, many of the Federation ships appeared to be retreating. Tacaera took the opportunity to charge the Voinians. “This should finish them off,” Tacaera replied with a devious grin.

-----*-

Powerful beams blazed from all Edien ships. Suddenly Voinian ships started to flicker, and others exploded. The Edien forces quickly rushed their dying enemies, the Majestic Glory taking the point position. More and more Voinians began disappearing in large blazes. It looked like the Ediens were going to prevail. Appearance is nothing.

-----*-

“What in the Emperor’s Name are they doing?” Shclera demanded, seeing that the retreating Federation ships had turned around, many now moving at unimaginable speeds, on straight collision courses with Edien forces.

“Take evasive action!” Tacaera ordered. The Edien battlecruiser moved out of the way of the approaching ships, right before witnessing the destruction of numerous Edien Battle cruisers. Apparently, the frantic Ediens had set the same evasive course, and many had collided with each other. Even more ships had not moved fast enough, and were only left as smoldering wreckage and remains.

“Destroy the enemy forces quickly!” Tacaera screamed. But that proved to be easier said then done. Suddenly, another 10,000 Voinian cruisers had appeared, apparently cloaked. The Edien’s were now without hope.

-----*-

More Federation Alliance ships moved in, ready for the kill. The Ediens had been readily dispatched. The tide of the battle was firmly on the Alliance’s side. And now with only a few thousand Edien ships remaining, it wouldn’t take much longer. “Arm our weapon, commander,” The Voinian captain ordered. “It's time for some real carnage.”

-----*-

“Move closer to that Dreadnaught,” Admiral Tacaera ordered. “I want our remaining ships to prepare to fire all weapons at it. Soon, the pitiful Edien forces moved towards the large Voinian ship. They launched an all out attack, watching as the shields quickly faded. As the Ediens neared completion of their simple mission, The Dreadnaught blew up, the waves rippling outward, quickly eliminating many of the closer warships. The Majestic Glory towards the rear of the task force was instantly crippled, nearly all other Edien ships were destroyed. Admiral Tacaera took his remaining interceptor, and made way for the Edien Homeworld of Edien Prime.

The small Interceptor ejected from the derelict Edien cruiser. The incredibly fast Federation Azdara's moved up right behind it. In just a few moments time, the Edien Interceptor was nothing more than a small ball of fire.

Peace and serenity were finally restored to Admiral Tacaera.

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Admiral Grathon of the Ediens was clearly nervous. Two of his scout vessels had been destroyed only one system out from Edien Prime within the last sixteen hours. Neither had managed more than a second or two worth of communication before being destroyed, but that was enough to tell Grathon that the force he would be up against was formidable - perhaps even a match for his own. His forces were on high alert, stationed in a defensive perimeter around the planetary system of Edien Prime. He and his forces would fight to the death to defend the home of their ancestors and the birthplace of their race.

"Sir," one Edien officer said to Grathon, "we're detecting a large energy signature approaching this system. It could be the enemy armada."

"How long?" Grathon asked.

"Whatever it is, it'll be here within two minutes."

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As the sun of the Edien Prime system loomed ever closer on his viewscreen, Nova6, commander in cheif of Voinian forces, opened a comm channel to the entire allied fleet. "In mere minutes, we will arrive in the system of Edien Prime, the home system of our hated enemies. No doubt they will have a formidable defense waiting, but I know that with strength, perserverence, and courage, we will overcome whatever their defenses may be. We will be victorious, and when the smoke clears, we will have won the day. Today we will avenge the billions killed in our galaxy by the Edien menace. Let us fight with honor. May fate be with us." Almost on cue, the streaks of hyperspace began to fade as Nova uttered the final words of his pep talk.

"Dissolving to realspace," an officer reported...

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Points of light filled the Edien Prime system, the allied fleet arriving two hundred and fifty thousand strong. Unlike previous engagements, there was no pause before battle. Neither side stopped to analyze their foe, to gather their formations, or to prepare a battle plan. Everything had been said, both sides were pumped up, ready to fight. Not five seconds after the first allied ships had entered, explosions and weapons fire began to flash across the rim of the system.

Whereas previous battles had relied on strategy and military genius, this battle was a furious melee. There system soon took on the look of an angry swarm of hornets, engaged with itself in mortal combat. There were no battle lines, no fleets; there was only one frenzied mass of ships, filled with explosions, smoke, debris and chaos. The Ediens fought with unparalleled fury and rage, determined to turn the tide of battle, and with it, the tide of the war. This evoked a similar rage in the allies, who were equally determined to avenge the victims of the Edien Wars, and ensure that the Ediens never had a chance to commit another atrocity.

For nearly thirty minutes, the battle raged on this way, a constant state of chaos, both sides using every weapon at their disposal to rain death upon their opponents. In the entire battlefield, one would be hard-pressed to find a single cannon or turret that was not actively involved in pummeling the enemy. Thousands of ships fell every minute, casualties were unprecidented. Yet neither side seemed to notice or care - all that was important was to destroy as many enemy vessels as possible, as quickly as possible. No doubt the battle would have raged on to mutual annhilation were it not for one last ace that Admiral Grathon had up his sleeve. Pulling his vessel clear of the melee, he opened a comm channel to the surface of the planet. "Launch it now."

Looking on from the viewscreen of his ship, Grathon could see a bluish black wedge ascending through the skies over the northern continent of the Edien homeworld. It rose slowly, almost gracefully, passing through the clouds, and eventually clearing the atmosphere itself. Several kilometers in length, it was the most powerful vessel ever built by the Edien Order. "Let's see how the allies handle our Dreadnaught," Grathon chuckled. "This battle will be ours within the hour."

Vessels from both sides scattered as the dreadnaught approached, nobody wanting to get caught in the path of it's fury. It moved forward, and it's unstoppable force met squarely with the immovable object that was the allied front lines. Supported by thousands of Edien warships and fighters, the dreadnaught led a headlong charge into the hastily assembled allied fomation. The weight of fire was incredible - quantum pulses, long range energy bombs, innumerable turrets - all were aimed squarely at the allied fleet. Though the allies rallied to fight, the dreadnaught had them terribly outgunned. Within minutes they were forced to draw back, and regroup farther out.

Admiral Grathon pressed his advantage, sending his ships forward to intercept the retreating allies. At first the allied forces stood their ground, but they again took a pummeling as the dreadnaught once again joined the fray.

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Watching from the bridge of the Kayan flagship, the K.A.S. Clairvoyant, Militia Commander Lasin could tell that the allies were quickly losing this battle. The dreadnaught was simply too powerful for the fleet to overcome. Orders over the fleetwide channel were chaotic; ships trying in vain to retreat to safer ground. "We have no choice," Lasin said. "Activate the Tachyonic Generator". His crew complied. The generator sat attached to a console in the center of the bridge, a large glass sphere containing a complex web of circutry. As it was activated, it began to hum quietly. At first the noise was barely detectible, but it grew steadily in volume. "The generator is charging..." the science officer reported. "Full charge in three minutes."

The battle raged on, the allies desparately trying to cling to survival. The Ediens, now firmly in control of the system, were blocking all escape routes, determined to destroy the allied forces outright. The dreadnaught prowled the battlefield with impunity, blasting to bits any ship that dared venture near it. Aboard the bridge of the Clairvoyant, the quiet hum of the generator had grown to a constant buzz. Commander Lasin barely noticed, though - he was too busy trying to pilot his ship away from the front lines, trying to keep it intact long enough for the tachyonic generator to reach full charge. "Two minutes and counting..."

The allied lines were now in a total state of disarray, and it was all the allied commanders could do just to keep their fleet toghether. The allies fought with bravery and valor, but they were simply outmatched, and they knew it. Admiral Firebird was about to order a desperate charge into the Edien lines until he recieved an urgent message from the Kayan flagship: "We've activated the tachyonic generator. If you can keep our ship in one piece, this will all be over in another 90 seconds!" Immediately Firebird ordered three squadrons of ships to surround the Clairvoyant. "Protecting this ship just became our number one priority," he said. "Vessels defending the Clairvoyant: don't back down - no matter what!"

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Aboard the the Clairvoyant, a brilliant blue flash lit up the bridge as a pulse of tachyonic energy jumped between two capacitors. Commander Lasin jumped out of his seat startled, but the science officer assured him that this was perfectly normal. "Just stand back from the generator and you're not in danger from the flashes," he said. "Sixty seconds to full charge."

---------

Admiral Grathon was savoring a victory in progress when he was interrupted by his tactical officer. "Sir, I'm picking up some very odd readings from one of the enemy vessels. It's emitting a strange energy signature - tachyon readings are off the chart!"

"Which vessel?" Grathon asked, only half interested. Strange readings like this were routine - it was usually nothing more than a scanner malfunction.

"Umm... it looks to be one of the Kayan ships, sir."

At first Grathon thought little of this information, but there was something in the back of his mind that told him this was important. Suddenly he remembered intelligence reports he'd recieved from the failed invasion of the New Galaxy - something about a tachyon-based weapon that only the Kayans possessed. This was no scanner malfunction, he thought to himself. Instantly Grathon bellowed an order in reply: "Two squadrons converge on that vessel - now!!!"

----------

Blue flashes were now illuminating the bridge of the Clairvoyant every few seconds, and the buzz of the generator had grown to a high pitched squeal. Inside the sphere of the generator bright blue tachyonic energy was being pooled into a battery of capacitors, now nearly three-quarters full. "Forty-five seconds to full charge!" reported the science officer.

"Forty-five seconds too late..." Lasin said, looking at the radar scope. Two hundred Edien warships were closing on the Clairvoyant. "It looks like our secret's out. Evasive maneuvers!"

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The allied vessels escorting the Clairvoyant rushed to intercept the incoming Ediens, buying just enough time for the flagship to escape intact. Lasin did all he could, dodging and weaving through allied forces, trying desparately to evade the Edien fighters now tailing his ship, distracted by the now constant blue flashes from the generator. The flashes were not the only distraction; the squeal had grown into an ear-splitting screech - several of Lasin's bridge crew were covering their ears with their hands. "Ten seconds!" screamed the science officer, struggling to be heard above the din.

Acting quickly, Lasin opened a fleet-wide comm channel. "This is Kayan Commander Lasin to all vessels - SHIELDS TO MAXIMUM AND BRACE FOR IMPACT! "

The screech grew ever louder, filling the whole ship, echoing through the corridors of the vessel. Just as Lasin was convinced the noise would shake his ship apart, all fell silent. Tachyonic energy began to flow through the internal circutry of the generator, rippling over the surface of the sphere, giving the whole apparatus a strange bluish sheen. Suddenly a brilliant flash lit up the entire vessel as the stored tachyonic energy discharged. On the battlefield outside, both sides stopped dead in their tracks, all eyes on the unfolding specacle.

From his bridge, Federation Admiral Scorcher looked on in awe as the hull of the K.A.S. Clairvoyant began to glow with a bright blue light, brighter even than the Edien sun. Waves of energy shimmered across its surface, as if the hull were almost liquid. Moments later the collected tachonic energy flew outwards, expanding into a shockwave, sweeping outward through the battling fleets. Knowing there was no way to evade it, Admiral Scorcher braced himself for the impact - but none came. Instead he felt an intense acceleration as the shockwave overtook his ship, and the image on his viewscreen was replaced by a series of streaks and flashes. Mere seconds later his ship came to rest. Looking on his viewscreen he saw thousands of other allied vessels - the bulk of his fleet - all looking just as disoriented as his.

"What happened?" he asked his tactical officer.

"I don't know how it's possible..." the reply came, "but we're in a system two jumps from Edien Prime. That shockwave must have pushed us into some kind of hyperjump."

"What about the Ediens?"

"I suppose they must have ended up in a different system," was the tactical officer's reply."

"Amazing! That blast must have cleared the whole system!"

----------

Lasin looked at his viewscreen, amazed by what he saw. The entire Edien Prime system was cast with a bluish glow, and not a single ship was left anywhere on the battlefield. One of the biggest battles in the history of three galaxies had ended in just a few seconds. "We should prepare to join the rest of the fleet," his science officer said. "We only have enough energy on board to keep the generator active for five minutes, and as soon as we shut it down, you can bet the Ediens will be coming back. Lasin nodded his head in agreement.

The science officer pressed the controls to shut down the tachyonic generator, and Lasin began powering up the hyperdrive. Quickly blue glow of the system faded away, and a single pinpoint of light was seen as the K.A.S. Clairvoyant jumped out to join its allies.

----------

Constant skirmishes marked the days that followed, the Sladerei, the Horosk, the Rarkyl, and the allies all closing in on the remnants of the Edien Order. As time went on, it became clear to everyone that all three battle fronts were converging on the Thorosk system. As forces built up on both sides, the tension mounted. Over a million Edien vessels had gathered in Thorosk, prepared to battle to the death, ready to make one last stand. Not to be outdone, the Allies, the Sladerei and the Rarkyl all launched fleets of their own, all destined for the Thorosk system.

Admiral Firebird was more than a little nervous as his fleet prepared to enter realspace. He knew the majority of the Edien Navy was in the system he was about to enter, and that this would be the biggest battle of his life. Pushing back his fear with determination and a sense of duty, he stood tall as the streaks of hyperspace dissolved into the images of the Thorosk system. What he saw left him speechless.

The mass of ships surpassed all description. Firebird could think of no words to describe the enormity of the armadas. Nearly fourteen million vessels were gathered in Thorosk, almost equally split between the Edien Order and their enemies, though the Ediens seemed to hold a slim advantage in numbers, and their dreadnaught, the Dark Lord , sat menacingly within their lines. Every race in the known universe was present, from the xenophobic Rarkyl to the bold Voinians to the usually peaceful Miranu and Kayans. There was no doubt in anyone's mind as to the importance of this battle, the outcome of this day. This battle would change the course of history. This battle would decide the outcome of the war, and alter the future for decades to come. There would be no mercy, no negotiation, and no backing down - the fate of three galaxies hung in the balance.

...To be continued...

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"One day you'll find your whole life has changed - act quick, be brave, your heart will show you the way"

All hail the Dreadnaught

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Never pet a burning dog.
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Come visit (url="http://"http://nova6.pautsch.com/forum/intro.lasso")Nova6s Webboards(/url).

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Part III
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History would record that the Ediens fired the first shot, but in truth there were so many shots so quickly that no observer could tell. Every ship on the battlefield shot forward, accelerating toward their foes, ready to fight with all their skill, all their power, and all their might. The apocolyptic Battle of Thorosk had begun.

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"For our comrades who remain enslaved under the Edien scum!" a Sladerei captain shouted into his comm unit, as he brought his frigate in behind a squadron of Edien fighters. Two of the fighters were quickly oblitherated, the other two retreated. "Yee-ha! Two down, a million to go!"

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"Regroup those interceptors, and cover our cruiser wings!" Delta7, a Voinian admiral, ordered.

"Do you think we'll win the day?" one of his bridge crew asked.

"I have no doubt. Borb himself couldn't have assembled a better fleet than we have today. We will fight with honor and victory shall be ours."

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A young Zacha pilot screamed with excitement as his fighter tore through the wreckage of an Edien destroyer his squad had just destroyed. "Who says the Miranu can't fight? Bring it on! "

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"Reinforcements to these coordinates," Admiral Vor'nath of the Ediens said, transmitting the coordinates to the fleet. Two Voinian interceptors rocked his ship with rocket fire, but he picked them off with several quick blasts from his ion turrets. "Our enemies may be determined, but they cannot defeat our strategy. Or our dreadnaught. The Edien Order shall be the sole survivor of this battle!"

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"Target the fighters approaching our valiant fleet from starboard," ordered a Zidagar captain, aboard a Strand League vessel, showing the typical Zidagar penchant for melodrama. "You are in my sights, vile Edien. May whatever god you believe in have mercy on your soul!"

"Phased beamers charged, sir," reported an ensign.

"For the glory of the Zidagar!" shouted the captain. "For the glory of the Strand League! For the glory of the Milky Way! Force, know our plight! Release the light! "

On cue, the Zidara fired its phased beam, tearing the nearest Edien fighter in two. Letting out a triumphant war cry, the captain turned his Zidara to face his next foe...

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United with their long lost ancestors the Horosk, the Horoth were a force to behold. Their ships tore through the Edien lines with vengance and fury, and the pent-up anger of a civilization oppressed and seperated from their ancestors for millenia.

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"These aliens fight well," mused a Rarkyl admiral, observing the allied fleet. "Together we may just pull this off." Three Edien fighters approached his vessel, but they were ripped to shreads by the Rarkyl vessel's slicer beam - a weapon of fearsome power. "With our power and their determination, I believe we can actually do this..."

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"Shields to maximum," ordered Kayan Commander Lasin, "and target all weapons. This is one battle the Kayans will not run away from!"

"Um... I'm picking up something strange here..." his science officer said. "There's something out there beyond the edge of the battlefield."

"I don't see anything," Lasin replied, his attention still on the battle.

"The energy readings are barely detectable," the science officer reported. "But believe me, it's there. Whatever it is, it's massive and in deep cloak..." Several seconds passed as the scientist pondered over his readings. "This is odd... it seems to have an energy signature similar to the Horosk..."

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Aboard the Horosk vessel H.M.S. Vengance, three scientists recieved a priority transmission from the Clairvoyant. "What is it?" one asked, unable to see the screen.

"The Kayans have found something..." reported another. "Some kind of energy signatures, very similar to ours. They suspect objects - huge objects - in deep cloak."

"Could it be..."

"I don't know. Let's get to work - we've no time to waste. Every second is critical in battle."

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The fury of the battle was incredible, and the carnage staggering. The fleets seemed to ebb and flow, bulging forward in offensive thrusts, and giving way when resistance became too strong. Minutes became hours, and still the battle raged on, neither side able to flank the other or score a critical blow. Then, after nearly four hours of battle, came the event that would turn the tide of the battle - and change the course of history - a breakthrough on the H.M.S. Vengance.

"Captain!" one of the scientists shouted, rushing onto the bridge, a frantically scribbled slip of paper in his hand. "Transmit a modular, inverted carrier wave to these coordinates!"

"We're in the middle of a battle, if you hadn't noticed," was the captain's reply. "We don't have the energy - or the time - to waste on scientific experiments."

"This is no experiment," the scientist replied. "Believe me, if we pull this off, we will be heroes." Reasonably convinced, the captain complied, turning over control of the energy emitters to the scientist, who immediately transmitted the carrier wave.

"I'm in!" shouted another scientist, working at a computer terminal across the bridge. "Now, if I can just break through the security shell..." His fingers flew across the keypanel with a speed and precision born of dozens of years of practice. "Got it!"

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All around the battlefield, shimmering distortions began to appear. Massive constructs - mysterious in origin and menacing to behold - began to emerge from their state of deep cloak. Within seconds they came into clear view; more than a dozen asteroid-sized structures, with a style of construction recognized only by the Horosk. "Holy Horath..." the Horosk Admiral said, gaping in awe. "So the legends are true... Even from beyond the grave the Thorosk have returned to fight by our side..."

The constructs were part of an aincent defense network, built by a civilization thought long since extinct. By some twist of fate, it was these very constructs that would seal the doom of the enemy they were originally built to fight - tens of millenia after they had been built.

A surge of light and energy filled the battlefield as every one of the battlestations, under the control the Horosk, opened fire on any and all nearby Edien ships. The Ediens were momentarily stunned; providing the allies the advantage they needed. Wasting no time, the allies launched a powerful offensive, intent on driving the Edien armada back into the field of battlestations that were pummelling them from behind.

The Ediens rose to the occasion, facing the allies head on, peeling off several tens of thousands of their ranks to assult the new threat. The shields of the battlestations were incredible though - and every assult against them was repelled in mere seconds by their awesome arsenal of weaponry. Only when the Edien dreadnaught itself came face to face with one of the battlestations did it finally meet it's match. The two behemoths lobbed explosive energy blasts at one another, draining shields and tearing apart armor, the Ediens knowing that the battlestations had to be eliminated if they were to have any hope for survival. Explosions engulfed the hull of the dreadnaught, system after system went disabled. Even the most powerful ship in the known universe was not enough to match the raw power of the Thorosk constructs. Admiral Grundanulater, the commander aboard the dreadnaught, knew his ship was doomed. He was not about to die in vain, though. "Turn us toward the battlestation," he ordered, "and give me all the speed we can muster."

Hundreds of thousands looked on as the immense dreadnaught slowly rotated to face the construct, and began moving ponderously toward it. Even as whole sections of its hull were torn off by ever more furious explosions, the dreadnaught's sheer power could not be stopped. Grundanulater stood proud on his bridge, awaiting the inevitable. He didn't have long to wait. The screech of metal on metal could be heard throughout the halls of the stricken behemoth as it slammed head-on into the Thorosk battlestation, slicing into it near the center of the lower decks. Seconds later the weapons of the construct ceased to fire, and explosions could be seen issuing from the gaping hole torn by the dreadnaught. In a final blaze of glory, the entire battlestation was vaporized as the Edien dreadnaught pierced it's energy core. A shockwave of pure white energy surged out in all directions, tearing through the battlefield with unabated fury.

Seeing the oncoming wall of energy, Federation Admiral Firebird turned to his tactical officer. "Shields to maximum! Divert all power we have!" The tactical officer merely stared back, a dismayed look on his face. "Our shield generators have been destroyed, sir."

"In that case... Evasive maneuvers!" Firebird ordered.

"Sir, even at full speed we can't outrun that shockwave," his navigator replied. Firebird felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, realizing the full impact of their predicament. For several seconds, he stood silent, lost in thought, watching the shockwave close in. Moments later, he turned to his bridge crew, a serene look on his face. "It's been an honor serving with all of you," he said. "I could not have asked for a better crew. May none of you be forgotten."

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Fortunately for Carnotaur, his Federation Battlecruiser, the Red October had been along the outskirts of the system chasing down an enemy destroyer when the shockwave had gone off, putting him well outside the blast radius. As Carnotaur watched the shockwave race across the system, a multitude of thoughts raced through his head. "Are my forces okay? How many did we just lose? What about our admirals? Nahar? Scorcher? Firebird? Have they all survived?”

As the shockwave dissapated, Carnotaur and his bridge crew quickly took stock of the situation. "Who's still left out there?"

“Admiral Nahar is okay," reported the tactical officer. "His dreadnaught cleared the shockwave. Admirals Specter, Delta7, and Scorcher all accounted for. Scorcher's ship was hit hard, but his shields absorbed the brunt of the blast. I've got Admiral Yakuza reporting in from the Demonshadow; he says he sustained heavy damage but is alright.”

“Where's Firebird?” Carnotaur asked. The sensor operator paused for a moment before responding, checking the display twice to make sure he hadn't made a mistake. Much to his dismay, he hadn't. “His battlecruiser has been destroyed.”

Carnotaur froze. It was if he had gone into shock; he didn’t move, he just watched the system through the viewscreen, unmoving. “Firebird...” Carnotaur said, holding back the tears. “Why... why did you of all people have to.... to...” He clenched his fist. “Send out order to all vessels. Engage full speed towards the Edien fleet. The shockwave is still clearing, and I wanted to hit them while they’re still in a bit of confusion. Waves 21 through 25, move in for the kill! Now! ”

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Nearly four hundred thousand ships were destroyed by the time the shockwave had subsided, and the remaining battlestations were knocked offline. For the Ediens it was a hollow victory though - the damage had already been done. So many Edien ships had been oblitherated by the battlestations that they were now outnumbered two to one. Though they could seem to sense their fate, they never gave up. Even as their number dwindled, they fought on to the very last. Within three more hours it was over. The allies had suffered nearly 60% losses. Edien losses were total - not one ship left the battlefield intact. All had chosen to fight on, preferring death over defeat. As soon as the last Edien ship was destroyed the Rarkyl contingent made a quick exit, not saying a single word to the remaining allies.

A rugged cheer went up over the comm channels, the allies realizing that they had prevailed. There could be no question now as to the outcome of this war - it was only a matter of time.

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The battle was over, but there was one more surprise in store for the survivors in the Thorosk system. Carnotaur was sitting in his captains chair, crying softly, still in a state of shock over the death of his close friend Firebird, when Admiral Specter turned to him. “Mr. President, I think you should come look at this."

Carnotaur got up. "What is it?"

"Take a look at the viewscreen," Specter replied. On the screen was an image of something at the far edge of the system, moving slowly and silently - it appeared to be an alien ship. It was big, about the size of five Federation battlecruisers, and it appeared to be partially cloaked.

“What is it?” Carnotaur asked. Nobody on the bridge could give him an answer.

Only Admiral Jarion of the Horosk Navy realized what they were looking at. “I recognize that ship type," he muttered to himself. "But that can't be... that ship is... it’s Thorosk!”

The strange vessel moved silently on for several more seconds before suddenly, in a flash of light, it disappeared, leaving the survivors in a state of awe as they began efforts to rescue survivors from the wreckage strewn throught the system.

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"So it's finally over..." Carnotaur mused to himself. In his hand he held the so called Firebird Accords, named after the late Federation Admiral, signed by the Edien Emperor himself. Three weeks had passed since the final apocolyptic battle in the Thorosk system. In the days that had followed, the Edien military, battered and crushed, had fallen into a state of chaos. As many ships deserted as remained loyal to what more and more saw as a lost cause. Within two weeks the remnants of Edien military, lacking leadership, their two brightest and best admirals casualties of war, had sought out the Federation, asking to negotiate terms of surrender. After nine years of fighting, the Edien Wars were finally ended.

Carnotaur seemed lost in thought, barely responding to a voice over his intercom informing him of a couple of visitors. He tossed the accords onto a nearby table, and picked up a picture of Admiral Firebird. Firebird had been a very close friend of Carnotaur's, almost like a brother. It had been only a week since the funeral, and Carnotaur clearly was still deeply affected by the loss. He was awakened from his thoughts as a young man and woman entered the room. He recognized them immediately: Thunder and Rima.

"I take it you've heard the news?" Thunder said excitedly, holding his own copy of the Firebird Accords. "Finally, we can begin rebuilding our homes and our lives!"

"Yeah," Carnotaur replied, in a tone of voice clearly lacking enthusiasm. "Those of us who are left..." He paused for a moment, a distant look in his eyes. “So many died... so many who didn't have too...”

Thunder fell silent, as Rima stepped forward and put her hand on Carnotaur's shoulder. "We've all been affected by losses in the wars," she started. "Everyone's lost a brother, or a best friend, or a cousin, or a child... there's nobody who hasn't been touched by the destruction we've witnessed."

For a moment everyone was silent, then Rima continued. "I remember Admiral Firebird," she said, looking directly at his photo. "He was a good man, and a brave fighter. I'll miss him too. But you've got to remember, he died fighting for peace. He sacrificed his life, as did countless other men and women, so that those of us who remained could live in freedom. He died fighting for us... that's how much he cared about us, and our people. I know his loss may be difficult for us now, but he will be remembered as a hero."

"Yes, I know," Carnotaur said, in a slighly wavering voice. "But it's not just him. So many people we knew are gone. Brave warriors, innocent civilians. Friends, family, officers... why did the Ediens have to be so stubborn? Why did so many have to die?"

Now it was Thunder's turn to speak. "Not all races value peace," he said. "War and conquest was all the Ediens knew. It was their history, their legacy... it was their whole culture. Peace was as foreign to them as nine years of war was to us. We could have tried all the diplomacy and negotiation we wanted, but in the end we all knew we would have to step up and fight for what was ours. As tragic as it was, it was the way things had to be."

Again silence engulfed the room, as Rima continued to comfort Carnotaur. After several minutes, Thunder spoke. "Don't forget the friends you still have here," he said. "The future will be brighter than you might think. I think we could all use a little celebration, and there will certainly be one when we announce these accords to the public in half an hour. Are you two ready to go?"

"Give us a few minutes," Rima replied, her arm still around Carnotaur's shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll be there," she said, managing a smile. Thunder nodded, turning and exiting through the door of the office.

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The month that followed was a flurry of emotion and excitement, of highs and lows. Festivals and celebrations broke out across the galaxy, as a war torn people came out to celebrate their newfound peace and freedom. Human music and fireworks, Zidagar operas, Voinian victory rallies, Miranu dances, Kayan light displays, Azdara races, Igadzra hydrotechnics... every government, every culture was present, together in an air of celebration and rejoicing. Every now and then the happiness was punctuated by solemn funerals and memorial ceremonies, as the survivors celebrating their freedom stopped to remember those who made it all possible. Amidst all the celebration, peace was slowly returning, not merely to one galaxy, but to three.

In the Andromeda galaxy, the Federation miltary was putting the finishing touches on the defensive perimeter around Rarkyl space. As a Federation Battlecruiser laid the last of the mines, the crew realized the importance of what they had done. With a few patrols and a powerful monitoring net developed with the sensor expertise of the Kayans and Renegade Alliance, the people of the Andromeda would be safe from the xenophobic Rarkyl.

In the New Galaxy, the Pirate menace was nothing more than a memory. The once terrifying Akrahd had been crushed, reduced to a handful of survivors and civilian refugees. The remaining governments were finally united behind a common effort - the desire to live together in harmony. In the Milky Way, rebuilding efforts were underway, as all races came together to rebuild the devistated regions of their galaxy. A tide of change had started, and all paths now seemed to lead toward a peaceful future.

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Security was tight on Kayia as representitives from nearly a dozen different races arrived, each filing in to the large meeting hall once occupied by the Kayan Senate in the days before the great wars and the refugee evacuation. It had been nearly two and a half months since the Edien surrender, and life was beginning to return to normal. The only unresolved issue was that of government. The refugee governments were eager to return to take control of their former territories in the Milky Way, but these areas were now controlled and settled by the Federation.

Debate was fierce and heated. The governments represented ranged from pure diplomacy to forms of socialism to imperial rule, and all wanted their form of government represented in the end result. Nobody was quite sure whether all the delegations would agree to Federation rule, or whether the Federation would turn over rule to the individual refugee races, but everyone waited eagerly for news.

After three days of rampant speculation while the delegations worked feverishly to iron out their differences, an announcement finally came. A group of around ten delegates, one from each race, stepped out onto a balcony overlooking the square below. Thousands of people were gathered, awaiting their announcement, and billions more were watching live via holo-vid. Slowly, the Federation delegate stepped forward and spoke.

"It has not been an easy task to work out an agreement on how our galaxy should be governed. There have been countless opinions to consider, and each had to be addressed before we could come to our final decision, which is supported by all delegations present." The Federation delegate politely acknowledged the crowd's applause, handing the microphone to the Voinian representitive.

"We realize," the old Voinian began, "that though the Federation and the Voinian Empire have been left to care for space once inhabited by nearly a dozen races, that we must allow the refugees to return home. Each refugee government will be allowed to re-colonize their homeworld, and their core systems, and residents will be allowed to return to their homes from before the refugee evacuation. Government control will be restored to them." Again the crowd applauded, as the Voinian stepped down and handed the microphone to a young Kayan man.

"But we also realize," the Kayan delegate said, "that without the diligence and bravery of the Federation, we would not have homes to return to. The Federation also has a right to remain in their new homes, to live on the worlds they've spent the last nine years fighting to defend. To this end, a power sharing agreement has been reached. The fringe worlds of each government will be governed by the Federation, who will work hand in hand with the local governments of the returning refugee races. Together we will rebuild our worlds, our systems, and our future."

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Rima smiled as she looked out the window, overlooking the now-restored surface of Mira. The ecosystem had recovered in full. The seas were blue once again, and the trees and grass were once again dotting the landscape. It was almost the way she remembered it from her childhood. Six months had passed since the Edien surrender. Today, though, would be just as big a day for Rima. Two Miranu women came in the room carrying an elegant gown - they were two of Rima's closest friends.

Rima thanked them, taking the gown into a nearby changing room. After several minutes, she came out, and her friends helped her to adjust the gown so it looked just right. "There, perfect!" one of her friends exclaimed. "You look like something out of a fairy tale." Rima laughed a little - she did bear a striking resemblance the illustrations from the fairy tales she remembered from when she was young. "But still", she thought to herself, "You've got to look good for your wedding day."

Two aides led Rima down to a waiting skimmer - a hovering transport designed to carry people - common throughout the Crescent. The morning breeze blew her hair about as the transport sped away from her residence, across an open meadow, and out over a deep blue lake - Rima could see fish below the surface, darting this way and that, eager to escape the skimmer's wake. Ahead was another meadow, and then the skyscrapers of Mira's capitol came into view over the horizon. Rima strained to see her destination - an aincient temple on the outskirts of the city.

A crowd of thousands surrounded the pillars in the plaza outside the Temple of Miran as Rima's skimmer arrived. The temple was a sight to behold, built by the founders of the Miranu capitol nearly four thousand years ago, somehow having survived Edien Wars mostly intact, and now fully restored to its former glory. Disembarking from the skimmer, Rima strode through the crowd and scaled the stairs of the temple. At the top waited a tall human man, dressed in his military officers uniform - her husband-to-be, President Carnotaur of the Federation. The two embraced one another, indulging in a breif kiss before striding hand-in-hand into the temple itself. Colored light lit the aisles of the temple, shining through the stained glass windows of the walls and roof. Together Rima and Carnotaur stepped onto a small platform, turning to face the assembled crowd, looking out over some of their closest family and friends, and many, many well-wishers.

After nearly an hour of songs and speeches in their honor, Rima and Carnotaur turned to face a wrinkled, aging Miranu priest. He took each of their hands, and a smile lit up his seemingly ancient face. "Lady Rima," he began, speaking in a soft, comforting voice, "do you pledge your life, your love, and your loyalty to this man? Will you stand by him in times of happiness and of trouble?"

"Of course," Rima replied, a smile evident on her face.

"Do you, then, wish to bind your life to his now and forever? Do take this man as your husband?"

"I do," she replied. The priest turned now to Carnotaur.

"President Carnotaur," he said, "do you promise your life, your loyalty, and your undying love to this woman? Will you stand by her always, no matter what the future may bring?

"Yes."

"Then do you wish to bind your life to hers now and forever? Do you take this woman as your wife?"

"I do," Carnotaur said, smiling broadly.

"Then let no-one tear you apart," the priest said. "I pronounce you husband and wife. May your lives together be filled with happiness and your future be bright."

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Thunder shivered slightly, pulling his jacket tight around his chest. It would certainly be a warm day, but before dawn, spring mornings could be surprisingly cool in Kayia's capitol. Looking around, Thunder admired the beautiful morning scene. Everything was bathed in a pre-dawn twilight, lights were visible in the city below, dark shadows of buildings outlined against the pale aquamarine of the early morning sky. The ocean was still and glassy-looking; despite the light breeze here above the city, it was an almost windless morning down by the coast. In the distance the eastern horizon was tinted with shades of red and gold, signs of the coming sunrise. Looking up, Thunder saw an impressive, shadowy spire pointing skyward, the monument erected nine years ago before the great exodus. The very tip of the spire was illuminated, sparkling, catching the first rays of the morning sun. Finally Thunder's gaze settled on the young man standing next to him - Kyala, his cheif aide of the past five years. He was just a teenager at the time of the great exodus to the New Galaxy; Thunder could only imagine what it felt like for him to be back on Kayia once again.

Thunder smiled slightly as Kyala reached into the pack he was carrying, and handed him a small laser-engraver. Thunder accepted it, and as Kyala looked on he slowly walked over to the side of the monument, knelt down, and went to work.

As the laser-engraver glided over the smooth, polished granite surface, Thunder couldn't avoid the flood of memories that came back to him. The spire had been the last place he visited before the exodus. It had been the site of so many memorial ceremonies since the end of the Edien Wars. Carved in the stone were the names of victims of the Great Wars, and now the Edien Wars as well. Though he did not usually show many outward signs of his emotions, he couldn't help but shed a tear or two at the memories of so many lives, so many people, so many friends - all lost to violence and strife.

After several minutes, Thunder stood, satisfied with his work. Kyala approached him, taking his place by Thunder's side and admiring the newest addition to the memorial spire.

"What do you think?" Thunder asked.

"Not bad," Kyala replied. "I'm glad I was here to see it written."

Together with Kyala, Thunder walked to the edge of the memorial plaza, facing outward, looking out over the city, the ocean, and the light of the eastern horizon. A cool breeze swept past the pair of Kayans, gently ruffling their hair as they gazed out over the landscape. As they watched, the gold and red of the horizon gave way to shades of yellow and white. In the city below, the morning light began to grace the tops of the tallest buildings and skywalks, causing them to shimmer, giving the entire capitol an almost prismatic sheen. Finally, the sun itself became visible, slowly peeking out from over the ocean.

Behind Thunder and Kyala, the first morning sunlight advanced down the fascade of the memorial spire, illuminating the names and writings on the side. As the sun rose, the light revealed a new inscription, four new lines freshly engraved into the sparking, polished granite:

"In memory of the brave fighters and victims the Edien Wars,
All those who died, sacrificing their lives in search of a better future...

The darkness is over; may this be the dawn of an era of hope.
The night has ended, and the light of peace shines brightly over the golden horizon..."

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THE END

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"One day you'll find your whole life has changed - act quick, be brave, your heart will show you the way"

Golden Horizon is now officially over!!!

Thanks to everybody to participated! SilverDragon, Captain Redeye, Rigadaz, Grunadulater, Commander Whitehawk, Nova6, Thunder, Rima, Arada Pilot, Lord Asriel, Admiral Benden, Redchigh, ImmortalFirefly, and RMA!!

A special thanks for Rigadaz, Thunder, and SilverDragon for helping with the Finale!

Great finale Thunder!!!!

-Captain Carnotaur

P.S. Thunder; Get on AIM, I need to tell you something that's kinda urgent.

------------------
If at first you don't succeed...Hit it harder! - Me
--------------
Millennium. Its coming, prepare for it.
Coming to the (url="http://"http://www.ambrosiaSW.com/games/ev/chronicles.html")EV Chronicles(/url).

(This message has been edited by Captain Carnotaur (edited 02-20-2002).)

(quote)Originally posted by Captain Carnotaur:
(b)Golden Horizon is now officially over!!!

------------------
Word.

Strand League Epilogue
Silverdragon's End
100% uncleared

Slowly, in the private confounds of his own home, where there were no Ediens, or pirates, or Rarkyl, or Akrahd, Evaniol began to laugh. At first, he laughed shyly, unable to shake off the terrors he had lived through, but then his laughter became more free, more real. He laughed in delight, he laughed at ironies, he laughed at war, and he laughed in genuine humour at the recent events. And through all this, I have lived.

Evaniol looked back upon his past, and there was something strangely ironic about it all. Two years ago, he was shipping commodities around the New Galaxy, mostly between Athena and Cerberus. He had piloted an old battered starship, and had spent most of his idle time wondering if a raid on pirate space would be profitable.

Of course, before the Ediens had come, Evaniol had been a bounty hunter, and, he admitted here in the safety of his home, a pirate himself. A small organisation which was both and neither had be been in, by the name of Aragonite when they were by the name of anything. To his dishonour, the leader of that organisation had surrendered to the Ediens at first contact. Evaniol, and his brother, Riul, had not.

In the following battle, Riul’s warship had been destroyed, and his brother slain or taken a slave. Evaniol’s heart pounded with pride at the memory of Riul, his younger brother, his more energetic brother, who had fought until the dying breath. Evaniol had escaped, at the request from Riul as his warship had been surrounded. And yet, Evaniol was not an Igadzran, or a Zidagar, or an Azdgari. There was blood in his veins that shouted more than “fight to the last!” Fighting to the very last was folly; sheer folly. Too many good men and women had died of that philosophy.

Evaniol grinned broadly, looking back on the events. His laughter faded, replaced with fond memories. He liked to think that destiny did not control him, but that he controlled destiny. Surely, luck must like him, for him to go from a wandering trader to the highest officer of the Igadzra Grand Naval Arm, one of the most elite naval forces in the Large Megellanic Cloud.

_The Templar will never fail, they said. The Templar will never fall - not the Survivor. It never did. Oh, the memories...strafing an Edien Battlecruiser...hailed from the captain, to surrender...”

That, Evaniol thought, had been funny. Not ironic, not interesting, just plain funny. He had rammed the Templar straight up the battlecruiser’s thrusters, and in a miracle that only the Survivor could manage, she rose out from the depths of the finished battlecruiser, and Evaniol had laughed then, breaking the grim faces of the officers on his bridge, who had allowed small, personal smiles at being the crew of a ship that despite all odds had never fallen.

“And now it’s over...” Evaniol murmured to himself, his laughter gone and his grin fading slightly. “The Ediens are broken, the Akrahd are broken. Vengeance has been paid - Sans has been avenged, and Riul...everyone, almost everyone.”

“Except Haar,” came a voice from the hall. Evaniol’s smile returned quickly. There was, indeed, only one person who had the keys to Evaniol’s house, a retreat far from the events of war, on Zeus.

Evaniol turned, but not quickly out of fear, to see Silverdragon walk into the room Evaniol stood in. It was then that he realised how much older Silverdragon looked. “Except Haar,” Evaniol agreed so quietly that he was surprised to see recognition of his remark on Silverdragon’s face.

“The Ediens have paid their debts now, as have the Akrahd,” Silverdragon said, not moving from his position by the door. “The Rarkyl have not, and the Federation are foolish to expect anything but war from them.”

“We are becoming stronger,” Evaniol replied slowly, carefully choosing his words, “but after that war, none of us are prepared to fight the Rarkyl. We’re probably the best of, what with most of our new fleet not having reached the battlefield in time, but still...”

Silverdragon nodded. “Force cannot take the Rarkyl. But, Evaniol...” his voice faded then, and Evaniol saw fear and apprehension in the Igadzra’s face for the first time. “I am old, Evaniol. In two weeks today I shall be one hundred and eleven.”

“You still look better than most,” Evaniol allowed with a faint smile.

Silverdragon did not return the smile. “Do you know of Igadzran custom, Evaniol?”

Evaniol’s face turned solemn. He did not, but from what he knew of the Strands, he could guess that this wasn’t going to be good. “I do not.”

“At one hundred and eleven, we leave our lengthy prime. We begin to age quickly, extremely quickly, and usually die within ten years. At one hundred and eleven, we are forced into retirement, by tradition,” Silverdragon said. He did not have to explain; Evaniol knew. He heard the words, and then he pondered on them, and Silverdragon did not speak again.

They must have stood there for five minutes before Evaniol spoke, although it seemed like an eternity. “You Igadzrans are an insane bunch,” he managed faintly. “Silverdragon, I trust you now to the ends of the earth. I will help you with anything that you seek to do, at the cost of my own life.”

And then it was Silverdragon’s turn to laugh; a secret laugh, which seemed to melt the years off his face. “I think, Evaniol, that you’re becoming more Igadzran every day!”

“I’d hope not,” Evaniol murmured wryly. “I can’t stand the colour yellow.”

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

Once they had established trust, the two of them worked quickly. Evaniol’s traditional retreat, which appeared quaint to the first glance, was as well equipped for tactical planning as the IGNA logistical command centres - the difference being, Evaniol preferred to hide things away so he could keep his mind off war when he was off duty.

The two of them locked themselves away for hours within Evaniol’s lounge, drawing out old maps and tactical information. Silverdragon did not once state what he was intending to Evaniol - it would not have been necessary. Evaniol knew Igadzrans well enough now.

“The Edge is stored away underground on Igadzra,” Silverdragon replied to a question. “When I somehow managed to go from fleet commander to ruler of the Igadzra, I realised that I wouldn’t be allowed to keep the Edge with me anymore.”

“So you threw a load of mud on it and called it a job done?” Evaniol asked with a smile.

Silverdragon shrugged, a smile on his face also. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Evaniol grinned. This, he thought, was much more fun than shouting obvious orders at officers on the bridge of the Templar. Evaniol privately wished he could go with Silverdragon, but he knew it wasn’t his time yet. “Getting the Edge is the easy part. You’ve got two galaxies to cross.”

“That’s where you come in,” replied Silverdragon. “I need you to...” his sentence collapsed.

Evaniol never really found out what Silverdragon would have asked, because he volunteered something absolutely incredible first. Would Silverdragon have asked it? Evaniol wasn’t sure. He was never sure. “I’ll resign as commander,” Evaniol declared firmly. “I can make a trade run to Deneba - like I used to in the good old days.”

Silverdragon blinked then. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Ask me to?” Evaniol grinned. “I’m sick of all this war; sick to bloody death of it. I’ll resign, and get you to Deneba. At that point...oh, I don’t know. I have about four million credits stored away that I never spent.”

Silverdragon blinked again. Today wasn’t a good day for his brain. “How’d you get that much on the pathetic commander income?”

“I was a rich merchant,” Evaniol replied. “And a rich bounty hunter before that. Did you know that if you steal a pirate’s money, there isn’t a system to return it to it’s true owners?” Evaniol was tempted then to stick his tongue out, but couldn’t quite remember whether it was Igadzrans or Azdgari who saw that action as a request of mating. The last he wanted was to confuse things.

Silverdragon laughed. “There is now, in most places.” He paused a moment, and then held out his hand. “I don’t know where I’d be without you, my outlaw.”

Evaniol took the proffered hand warmly. “I should be able to get you through Deneba, since I intend to retire to where I was born; Akrayhek. Hopefully, my old armoury of ancient war techniques will still be there. A swordfight with Janret and Kanret, my nephews, wouldn’t be amiss.”

“You have nephews?” Silverdragon asked, and then went back to the subject. “I’ll hitch a ride to Igadzra, fetch the Edge , and then fly to wherever the hell IXD Outpost is right now. I have some unfinished business with Laiors.”

Evaniol nodded, understanding perfectly. “You’ll need ‘Fed clearance to get through to Andromeda.”

“Hardly. I’m pretty sure that the IXD is now so filled with Federation officers that Laiors is but a secretary. IXD ships will be making patrols through Andromeda to clear out the Ediens - I can sneak on a patrol.”

“And the Edge?” Evaniol asked.

“Hmm...I’m not sure. I suppose I’ll just clear out a bomb-bay on a Shadow and throw the Edge in.”

Evaniol grimaced. “The costs to repair that! You Igadzrans, my friend, are mad. Totally mad.”

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

The Strand League’s government was in tatters, and apparently, no-one particularly cared. This was one of the first times in history that anarchy didn’t mean a violent civil war. People were tired of war, so they all went back to their previous lives, and they rested, and were glad of it.

Silverdragon had hardly been a leader during the past few months, and when he had left to “visit a friend” in Zeus, he had left a note behind at the Gateway.

Slowly but surely, the lightning fast genes of the Strands had begun to adapt. Zidagar and Igadzra relationships were everywhere, almost as if they were struggling to counter all the blood spilt from thousands of years of warfare. Very few of the offspring were either Zidagar or Igadzra. Most were noticeable Hybrids.

The Ancient Returned. The Triune - a combination of Azdgari, Igadzran and Zidagar blood. It seemed not to matter what percentages the Triune were made up of, they all were the same. They were fast, strong and intelligent, and were believed to be the Gadzair - the Ancient Returned. Very few Triune were born, and as many in Miranu and Kayan space as in Starnd League space, but few in the still prejudiced Azdgari realms.

The Triune, and the Halpirans, the Strand League’s race. An interesting combination between Igadzra, Zidagar and the surprisingly dominant Miranu blood that ran through them. Halpirans were not as physically elite as Triune, nay, but they were more balanced.

In what came to be known as the Mating Season, numerous Halpirans and some Triune were born.

It was thus that Igadzra and Zidagar culture was slowly to fade, and become cosmopolitan. Idols to Zid or Ig would mean nothing in several generations. A change was about; and as sorrowful as it was magnificent.

Silverdragon had written to the Strand League populace as a whole, and the surety of his words left people wondering - some believed rightly that he was gone. He had told them that the time of emperors was over, that empires now were fading. Lars Magna’s dominion, the Akrahd, the Ediens, and now it was time for the Strands to surrender their dominance in exchange for freedom. He requested that a Council be formed, with him not included, and that the council should consist of a Zidagar, an Igadzran, and two Hybrids to represent the winds of change. They should hold council on neither Cerberus nor Titan, but between. He left explicit suggestions, yet not orders, as to how everything was to be worked.

And then, one beautiful evening on Cerberus, with a beautiful violet and gold sunset, with Cerberus’ silver and gold moons dancing together, the silver finally eclipsing the gold, a messanger flew like the winds aboard a Zirada, slicing across the sky to land at the Gateway, bringing news that IGNA Commander Evaniol had resigned, and had already left Zeus for his past life. Silverdragon was nowhere to be seen.

And the people of Cerberus looked out to the sky on the same night tht Thunder of the Kayans had looked out, and yet they saw not a golden horizon as they did. The sun fell, and all they saw was the silver light of one moon, eclipsing the other, bathing the horizon in a ghostly, yet somehow promising, light.

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

Iosa Kane, subcommander of the Igadzra Grand Naval Arm, also saw that silver light, and he called it a foreboding. He dismissed the two men that watched the light with him on the balcony of one of the IGNA buildings, and he looked out, leaning on the railing, deep in his thoughts.

Evaniol had left - he’d gone forever, no doubt. And so too, Kane secretly believed, had Silverdragon. Not even Tassar had any suspicions, but Kane, a usually silent man who had seen so much of the paths of emotions, knew. Silverdragon had been wing commander of Final Destiny for eight years, since he was picked out by an admiral during an inspection of one of the more backwards Igadzra cities of Irdor, on Igadzra. In those eight years, Silverdragon had become known as one of the bravest, most reckless, and most emotional commanders in the navy.

And Kane, who had at this time been the captain of the Paradox , an Igazra, had heard countless tales of him, leading his wing of Igadzra Aradas into places that Igazras dared not go. And when he had met Silverdragon, just before the Igadzra fled their homes, he had learnt something about the man.

Silverdragon was a haunted man. His parents had been killed, and his family, and Irdor had been levelled when the Azdgari invaded, as it had resisted too much. Life meant so little to Silverdragon that he wanted it to end, and more than anything, he wanted to win his honour. He would not die of age.

And so, staring out into the twilight, Kane did not notice as another man crept silently up behind him.

“Iosa Kane?” came a practiced voice, the sound of which seemed to defoul the night to Kane.

“Yes?” Kane asked sharply, turning and examining the face of a veteran as worn as he.

“A vote has been held throughout the IGNA division. Almost everyone wants you to command,” replied the voice, devoid of emotion. Only the very slight beginnings of a smile spoke his mind.

Kane waved his hand at the man carelessly, and then turned back to the sky. “Ig wish them both all the luck on this plane,” he prayed quietly to Silverdragon and Evaniol both. “They want me to lead the IGNA?” he asked louder. The other man was about to reply when Kane continued. “Throw IGNA into the silver sky, and let any man who catches it hold it to themselves,” came his droll reply, and then, without another word, Kane turned on his heel, walked past the man, and left the peace of the balcony, not entirely sure where he would go, or what he would do.

But he knew one thing. It wasn’t over yet. It would never be over. And Kane thought to himself, that perhaps the time of command was over for him. Something lay ahead of him, and he wasn’t sure what.

Kane had left then, leaving the Igadzrans utterly alone. He had gone with some of them back to Igadzra, where he lived alone for thirty years, lying in wait, thinking, planning. He grew old, and knew it not, for he cared not of death, only of finding his purpose.

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

“My fellow Zidagar, my friends, today I have an announcement to make,” came Aldaris’ strong, powerful voice. Before him was a massive crowd of Zidagar, here to listen to what Aldaris had to say.

The man named Corsair stood, and said nothing. He knew what Aldaris would say - even before Aldaris had confided in him of his intentions. The ZSN commander was old, and it was time for him to retire. Corsair had been offered position as commander, and he had not yet come to his conclusions.

His indigo eyes studied the crowd before Aldaris from the unseen safety to the right of the platform. They all loved him - but why? The Zidagar were no longer that, they were now the Strand League.

Corsair was shocked by the realisation. Down in the crowd, not only Zidagar were present. Igadzrans stood hand in hand with Zidagar of the opposite gender, and others crowded to listen to the words of the Zidagar ruler! The boundaries had been torn down, utterly and completely.

Corsair let his thoughts fall back to his parents; his human mother and his Zidagar father, living together on Paaren, in the Milky Way. His brother, enrolled in the Federation navy. They were all happy with their lives, while Corsair felt himself floating from one realm of depression to another, with no end.

Everything, it appeared, was changing. Silverdragon had not been seen in some time, Evaniol had left, Kane had declined to become IGNA commander, and Aldaris was retiring. Corsair realised, however, that this was not an ending. Things would continue, for both the Strand League and for all who were leaving it. Corsair was still young, and perhaps it was his time. He still didn’t know whether to accept the position.

“My life is a web of emotions that I cannot admit exist,” Corsair whispered. “I strive to find myself, and yet I push people away every moment.” He sighed. “I have no friends, no companions, no love, and no life.”

“I’m insulted, ‘ya know,” came a sly voice that Corsair recognised. “I’m insulted you wouldn’t consider me your friend.”

And Corsair turned to see the Igadzran, Tassar.. Through the silent anarchy and all the recent happenings, Corsair had not asked himself where he had gone. “Why did you come here?” he asked in the typical unfriendly voice he lapsed into. Tassar actually rolled his eyes at Corsair’s tone.

“I got bored,” Tassar grinned. “Kane’s gone. Went off with the Igadzrans who flocked to see their homeworlds again. He left me a note before he went.”

“And this has what, exactly, to do with me?” Corsair questioned him coldly.

Tassar laughed out loud. “Cool it, Corsair.” Then he continued. “The note said that Kane believed Silverdragon had left to die an Igadzran’s death. I personally think he’s right, and so we have the question of what he do about it.”

Corsair fell silent. He had wondered, very vaguely, if Silverdragon had planned this. He felt somewhat annoyed that Kane could be so sure. “Let him go. His life is his own.”

“Indeed,” Tassar replied solemnly. “Do you realise that us two are respected enough to become the commanders of IGNA and ZSN? Probably council members, too.”

“I am not sure,” Corsair replied hesitantly. He didn’t entirely like Tassar, or at least, he tried to act like he didn’t.

“We’re in a situation of power,” continued Tassar. He laughed then. “We could be. You more than I, at least. I’m planning on leaving them to elect their own leader. I’m not much of a commander, eh?”

“I noticed,” Corsair said wryly, almost smiling. Tassar winked at him, and Corsair cursed himself for allowing himself to show emotion. “Leave him be, Tassar. I know he was your friend, but it is his choice...and I would do the same.”

Tassar nodded after a while. “As would I. So, what are your plans?”

With that, Corsair laughed for the first time in years, perhaps in his whole life. “I think, that maybe...I might spend a few years in human space. I’d like to see my parents, and fall in love.”

Tassar grimaced. “Fall in love? Are you sure about that? Human women really do restrict your life. Did you know they don’t even let you have more than one of them?”

Corsair smiled. He knew that he had just let his defences down, and for some reason, he felt happy for it. “I know, Tassar. I intend to fall so blindly in love that it won’t matter.”

“All the best for you,” Tassar replied, holding out his hand. “I personally am planning on drinking. A lot.”

Corsair took the hand. “All the best for you and your liver, then.”

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

It had been a long journey. He’d stowed away in Evaniol’s newly purchased freighter - heavily defended, of course - until they reached Akrayhek. There, Silverdragon and Evaniol had parted ways with an embrace, and Evaniol left to look for his nephews, and his old historic armoury. The armoury was still there, but his nephews had gone to war, and in the final battle they had both been killed.

Silverdragon had boarded a freighter transporting goods to Igadzra, and there he had stepped on his free homeworld for the first time in too long.

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

The terrain around Irdor was a jungle, and Silverdragon was pleased to see that even the Azdgari’s attack and later the Edien’s annexation had not changed that. It was a dense, wet jungle in which Silverdragon had walked during his childhood. Now he walked through it again, and he could almost fade backwards in time, a hundred years, to when the Igadzra were a proud race in the prime of it’s life, a time when Silverdragon had not been Silverdragon, but had been a young, lively Igadzra named Takira. When Irdor had fallen, Takira had left that name behind, and embraced his nickname.

Silverdragon sighed. He was not Takira any longer, and he was not walking in the jungle a hundred years ago. He was walking in it now.

Fortunately, he wouldn’t have to go as far as the the ruins of Irdor, which would have been an extremely painful experience for him. Near the edge of the jungle, Silverdragon found a familiar clearing. A great mound rose up, almost to the height of the trees, and there remained a stone tablet that he had placed there long ago.

In loving memory of the people of Irdor and of my family who I care for so much. Forgive me for not dying with you.

And then below were words Silverdragon had not seen before, ones he had not written.

You are forgiven.

And Silverdragon stood there in shock for a long time, trying to sort out in his mind who could have logically written that. A priest of Ig, who had wandered by? He didn’t know, entirely. He slowly, painfully, pushed the logic out, and he began to weep.

It was several hours later when he forced himself to the task of digging up the mound at the steepest side. He worked continously, despite the heat and his fatigue, until finally, he dug far enough that he found the Edge.

With a loud sigh, he stroked the revealed section of his Igadzra Arada, a memory of exciting war, of the first years of his adulthood. He continued digging, until the entirety of this comparatively large, and yet still so insignificant vessel was revealed.

And then, wordlessly, still weeping, he took off, leaving behind the jungle, leaving behind Irdor, leaving behind everything. The IXD Outpost had been moved - again - and was now in orbit of Igadzra. The time was upon him now. He was almost at the last stretch.

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

Before, the Edge had been a vessel of glory, and every time he piloted it he had been filled with energy. Now, however, he did not feel that. He felt, accurately, that he was flying to a funeral - his own.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly, no-one stopped in as he made his short journey. The system was busy, and most people would simply assume that it was an Arada discovered on the planet, and of little importance.

Docking with IXD Outpost was easier than he’d expected, also. Docking command had hailed him, and he had simply stated his name, and said that no-one was to know who he was. He had been quickly been granted access to dock with the outpost.

He left the Edge , and stepped out into the functional bay on the station. IXD carriers were lined up in the bay, and several Shadows. Obviously, a bay of this size could not support the IXD Executors, in the frame of Igazras. There would be docking clamps around the outpost to connect any Executors, but they would not actually enter the station.

Cloaking himself in brown, the colour of mourning for the Igadzrans, Silverdragon quickly began to make his way to where he knew Laiors would be.

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

Laiors sat back in his chair, alone in one of the viewing chambers on the outpost. Several extremely advanced telescopes allowed people to look out into the depths of space, as far as the Virgo Cluster.

He had spent much of his time since the Ediens were defeated looking out there. He wasn’t entirely certain what he was looking for. He wondered constantly about whether it would be possible to colonise the Small Megellanic Cloud, a minor galaxy. He had sent such word back to the Strand League and talked with several Federation scientists about the idea. He also looked out at several other galaxies, further away than the SMC, LMC or Andromeda, and wondered what might be there; more threats from beyond, perhaps.

He was so engrossed in viewing the different stars and galaxies that he did not hear when the door opened and closed quietly. He was thus completely shocked when he heard an Igadzran combat knife click out, and appear before his neck.

“You coward,” came a hoarse voice from beyond. Silverdragon’s voice. “You pitiful coward. You do not deserve to be an Igadzra.”

Laiors was shaking. He realised that the man behind him was going to kill him, there was no question of it. His life had come to an end. At the heart of it, he knew he was a coward. He just simply was. He had tried to do his best, but sometimes he just could not. “I...I...” Laiors stuttered. His neck shook against the blade - he forced himself to be calm. “What do you...mean?”

“Haar,” Silverdragon replied harshly. “As a commander, if was your duty to challenge the Rarkyl. Not to send your cadet to his death.” The blade crept closer to Laiors’ neck, and the shaking started again. The combination of the two caused the blade to slice into his neck. He cried out, and Silverdragon grabbed him with one hand by the crest and pulled him back, not wanting him to kill himself in his own cowardly fear.

“I...couldn’t have stopped him...his right...” Laiors gasped.

“You are a coward,” Silverdragon repeated, “and have always been so.”

“Are you g-going...to kill me?”

And with that, the blade was pulled back, and the grip on Laior was withdrawn. Laiors could almost hear Silverdragon thinking. “No,” Silverdragon sighed eventually. “You do not deserve my time...and I would not go down to your level.” With that, Silverdragon kicked the chair forward, and Laiors went flying to the floor. Silverdragon clicked the blade back into it’s hilt, and threw it at Laiors. “Goodbye, Laiors.”

And with that, Silverdragon was gone.

Laiors wept openly, at his own weakness. He wept for all the things he should have done but couldn’t, and he wept for how pathetic he was. If he was seen here, his life as IXD commander would end. Lying in the ground, weeping in terror.

And then, through the fit, Laiors managed to speak firmly to himself, again and again; “You are a coward”. His temperature rose, his pulse began to beat extremely fast, and his sweating hands took the blade hilt and struggled to reveal the blade. It clicked open after some effort.

“I am a coward,” he said then, in a surprisingly clear and decisive voice, and he plunged the blade into his heart.

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

Silverdragon went back to the dock then, and he gathered several Igadzra he knew he could trust. He told them what must be done, and they understood. One of the Shadows was quickly loaded with the Edge. It would fly out with a group of other IXD vessels captained by the Igadzra he trusted. Meanwhile, the station was sabotaged. The fleet that should have taken off to patrol Andromeda couldn’t. No-one would know until it was too late.

And so Silverdragon was at the final stretch of his journey, and his mind was strangely clear and empty, devoid of any emotion anymore. He knew what he had to do, what his soul cried for him to do.

At Andromeda, Silverdragon had gone to the Edge , as he had been captain and only crew of the Shadow which held it, and he had opened the enclosement, and with that, he was gone. The (i)Edge_ flashed out into the infinite depths of space, and once more the joy of that vessel was restored, and Silverdragon was gone, never to be seen again.

He flew into the eye of death, the boundary of Rarkyl space, where his legacy would finally end...

OOC: Sorry for the delay in posting the epilogue. I thought I had posted it before I went over to a friends house for the night, but I guess IE screwed up. Then, my internet connection messsed up, which delayed it furthur.

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Golden Horizon
Finale Epilogue

Written by Captain Carnotaur

-----------

Sixteen years later after the Battle of Thorosk...

Wind blew across the graveyard at Delara Senar, the Federation Alliance capitol city on New Earth, formerly known as S-570. As leaves were swept across the field, a lone figure looked across the landscape, covered by gravestones of some of the 233,000 Federation lives lost in the battle with the Edien Empire sixteen years ago.

The figure walked over to one of the gravestones and pushed the leaves away. As tears welled up in his eyes and dropped onto the stone, one could easily notice the name that was on it.

“Captain Firebird” Daniel Ramer
United Federation Alliance Admiral
Died during Battle of Thorosk
Age: 31
“He was the greatest example of an courageous admiral that I have ever seen.” - President Carnotaur

“If only you didn’t have to die...” the figure muttered. As he lifted his face towards the sky and wind wipped around his graying hair, President “Captain” Carnotaur struggled to keep from collapsing in tears right there.

Looking over the grave of his friend, Carnotaur slowly got up and walked away back towards the main capitol building. “If only you and so many other people along with Firebird didn’t have to die... If only...”

Carnotaur walked up the steps to the capitol building on the way to his office. Fleet Admiral Scorcher wanted to breif him on some new tactical reports about the Rarkyl sector. As always, he was worrying about the military. Scorcher always did, and most of the times he was right. Scorcher was one of Carnotaur’s most trusted advisors, and one of his closest friends, right up next to Firebird.

As Carnotaur entered his office, he saw Rima standing next to his desk. “Hello Rima,” Carnotaur said, giving a hello kiss to his wife. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Rima said, smiling. “Mark called. He said that he was having some problems with Akrahd Pirates in the Cecarta Sector, so he won’t be able to get back for a while.”

“How’s Kenra?” Carnotaur asked, looking at some paperwork.

“She’s okay. She says that Leiton should be ready for recolonization within 2 months. She’s having problems with...the...” Rima slowed down as she looked at one of the papers. It read “Resignation Speech”.

She picked it up and looked at Carnotaur. “You didn’t tell me about this. Why are you resigning now?”

“Because...” Carnotaur said, staring out at the horizon. “It’s about time I did. I’ve been president for a long time, ever since the beginning. Heh, I’m old. I’m tired. I’ll continue on as a starship captain, but really, it’s time for retirement.” As tears welled up in his eyes, Carnotaur continued on. “Mark can manage the empire himself. Scorcher and Captain Subterfuge can help him. Though he’s young, so was I when I started this government.”

Carnotaur looked down as Rima’s eyes began to well up with tears as well. She walked over to the Federation President and hugged him. “Don’t worry, I’m with you all the way.”

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

Edien Grand Admiral Tach’usd looked at a holo-portrait of the Battle of Thorosk. He was soo engaged in looking at it that he barely noticed Federation Fleet Admiral Scorcher walk up behind him. “Looking up old memories?” he asked, surprising the old Edien admiral, once held as a POW in a Federation prison camp.

“Sort of,” Tach’usd said slowly. “I, I would like to thank you for getting me out of the prison camp.”

“Oh?”

”Yes. I, I just heard from Admiral Specter about what you did in convincing President Carnotaur to let me and Admiral Lyrak go free.”

Scorcher smiled. “Yes. It wasn’t easy convincing him, even with the Edien Empire defeated.” He paused for a moment. “How is Ly’rak?”

Tach’usd looked down. “He’s... Not well... The doctor said that his neurological deseise is uncurable. Though he thinks that they may be able to find a cure using information learned from the Rarkyl, he isn’t hopeful.”

Scorcher put his arm on Tach’usds shoulder. “Don’t worry. He’s a strong man, he’ll make it.”

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

A silent figure walked slowly through the halls of the Hodosk Hospital in the Voinian capitol city. Followed by a powerful looking bodyguard, anyone could see that the figure was Grand Emporer Nova6 of the Voinian Empire. Nova6 walked up to a door marked “Daresk”, and turned around to face the bodyguard. “Stay here, don’t you or anyone else enter unless I say otherwise.”

The guard nodded, and Nova6 walked in. Moving slowly forward, Nova6 looked around slowly at the surroundings. There was a few medals, a few pictures of battles or old friends. There were several momentoes, including a small piece from the hull of an Edien battlecruiser. The Voinian then looked at the bed in the center of the room.

”Nahar?” he said, slowly. “Are you awake?”

A silent figure sleeping on the bed stirred a little, then turned around to face Nova6. “Who...?” the Voinian barely managed to ask.

“It’s me, Nahar; Nova6.”

The mans face immediately brightened up. “Ah, N..Nova6! Please, please, sit down! Sit down!” As Nova seated himself on a nearby chair, former Grand Admiral Nahar Daresk tried to sit up more.

“So, tell me, how is the empire?”

“It’s going good. I picked Fleet Admiral Yakuza to replace you as Grand Admiral.”

“Ah, that is good,” Nahar replied. “Yakuza is a very well trained admiral, I’m sure he will do well.”

“Yes, but he will never be able to be as good as you,” Nova replied, smiling while tears began to well up in Nahar’s eyes.

The Voinian emporer looked down for a moment. “What has the doctor said about your condition?”

“My nervous system is continuing to degrade, as is my heart. My lungs are okay, but they’re going to have to do another surgery on me to remove more scar tissue.”

Nova began to cry a little as well. “Don’t be sad, Nova,” Nahar said, continuing to smile even through the tears. Even though Voinians were quite tough and great warriors, they also made very strong and emotional friendships with other warriors. When a warrior died, it was a very big deal to his fellow soldiers. “Everyone has to die eventually, it’s just a matter of time. No one knows when you will die, no one knows how you will die. I’m not scared of dying. I’m an old man, Nova. I’ve faced death many times, and well, I think that now death has pretty much caught up with me.” Nahar managed to lean forward enough to put a hand on the emporers shoulder. As Nova looked up at him, Nahar choked back the tears and continued on. “So when I’m gone, you can know I died a happy man. My fellow soldiers will continue to fight on for all Voinians, just as I have done for many years. And I want you to Nova, emporer, that I’ve never served under a greater man like you.”

Nahar saluted, and Nova saluted in return. “Thank you Grand Admiral Nahar,” and Nova slowly left the room.

Two days later, Nahar died.

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

Captain Rooster Corojak walked through the Federation base of Freeport in the Riomor system. In the years following his retirement to Saalia, Rooster had watched the Edien War from afar, until finally he had felt compelled to try and do something about it. So he joined the Confederate Alliance, and was immediately accepted as a Captain. He had been in the Battle of Azdgari and the Battle for the Jumpgate. Though he had not been in battles in Thorosk or Edien Prime, Rooster still managed to find plenty of excitement, serving the government which he once considered an enemy years ago when it was still the Captains of of S-570.

Suddenly he heard a familiar voice. “Well well well.... If it isn’t Rooster Corojak!”

Rooster turned to see who it was. Standing there, a little was down the hall, was Bubaganoosh, another famous captain, like Rooster. “Buba!” Rooster exclaimed. “I never expected to see you again!”

Buba smiled and walked towards him. “Hehe, yes, it’s me. Became a frieghter courier for the Feds during the war. Still do a little of it, but now I do a lot more inter-government trading and stuff. What’ve you been up to?”

Rooster sighed a little, a smile still on his face. “I’ve gotten around. Been in a lot of battles. But now, I’m getting kind of old, so.... I’m retiring.”

“For good?”

Rooster nodded. “For good. It’s really a pit; I wouldn’t mind adventuring around the galaxy for a long while longer. But, I guess age has finally caught up with me.”

The two started to walk down the hallway. “I’ve been keeping in touch with Zacha Snake...” Rooster said slowly.

“Oh?” Buba replied.

“Yeah... He was injured in the first invasion and was transported back with the refugees. He lives on Athena. I was thinking about going over to pay a friendly visit.”

Bubba nodded slowly, then grinned. “What do you say to an old friend offering another old friend a nice drink down at the bar?”

Rooster nodded. “Sure thing, Buba.”

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

Admiral Nelson Psack looked across the great, spanning landscape. For miles around the giant Sladerei capitol city of Delenaera spanned, with its great towers rising up from the ground, nearly touching the sky. Everything was beautiful and majestic as ships came and went from the spaceport, while the sun slowly began to set in the distance.

It had taken seventeen years for the Sladerei to rebuild their lost civillization. During those seventeen years, they had endured immeasurable hardships and losses, but they had gotten through it all.

With aid from the Federation and Horosk, the Sladerei had started to rebuild the lost Sladerei Alliance, city by city, colony by colony. Now, it was ready. The Sladerei Sodality was no more; it was now the Sladerei Alliance, arisen from the grave and scattered refugees. They were now a major player in the galaxy, and they would never fall so easily again.

Standing onto the podium in front of millions of Sladerei civillians and military personnel, Nelson spoke. “My fellow citizens, friends, and family. Today is a historic day in the history of the Sladerei race. Over a century ago, we were driven from our homes by the Edien Empire. We endured countless problems and plagues, and we were scattered across the galaxy, barely able to survive.

“But we did survive, and we wound refuge with our friends in the Milky Way. There were grew and prospered, until finally we were able to return to our home galaxy with our friends the Horosk. With their help, and help from our dear friends the Federation, we began to rebuild our lost race, and we fought back against the Edien Empire.

“And now, through many toils, we have prevailed. Our society is rebuilt, our navy now once more strong. Our technology is advanced, and our people secure. With many allies and few enemies, the Sladerei have prevailed!”

A cheer arose from the millions of civillians, and Nelson continued. “Today, the Sladerei Sodality is no more. We are now the Sladerei Alliance! The Alliance that was broken and scattered has arisen and will now fight to defend itself!”

Another massive cheer arose, with cries of “Sladerei!” and “Nelson! Nelson!”. Smiling, the aging sladerei continued. “I wish I could see and rule this new alliance, but sadly, I will be unable to. I am retiring, and I will leave my position over to...”

Suddenly there was a loud cry of “Booo!”s and “No!”s. That was followed by cries of “Nelson! Nelson! Nelson!”

The Sladerei shook his head and put up his hands. “No no, I can’t I...”

“Nelson! Nelson! Nelson!”

The Sladerei sighed as the chanting continued. “Very well.... I will stay,” he said, grinning slightly as a cheer arose so loud that it was said it could be heard all across the planet of Sladerei Prime...

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

“And so, our dear friend Redchigh passes from this world. May he find eternal rest,” former Renegade Alliance officer Martin Hardslab said to the assembled crowd.

Admiral Scorcher, Vice Emporer Lonevoinian, Helena, Admiral Corsair, and Emporer Tasina were all on hand to witness the funeral for Redchigh, the former leader of the Renegade Alliance. There were many others to see the funeral besides the government representatives.

“Redchigh was a dear friend to us all. He devoted himself entirely to his dutey and to the honor of the Renegade Alliance. We should all look at him as an example of devotion to his post. Even when the Renegade Alliance was crushed, he fought on for freedom, and justice, and peace for all. He did his job selflessly; always wanting to better not just the Renegade Alliance, but all the Refugee races. Redchigh; we all salute you.”

And with that, the tomb was laid to rest in the cemetary on Rigel Prime, newly reclaimed after years of lying dorment after the Edien Invasion of the New Galaxy...

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

Titan looked over the vast landscape of Kenra; the capitol city of Mira.

For the last seventeen years, the Miranu and Federation Alliance had continued the slow and tedious process of rebuilding the Miranu coreworlds. The project had been completed two years ago, but that only restored the natural enviroment. Cities, towns, and starports still needed to be construct.

It was now a triumph of strength and unity, a sign for all that the Miranu, though peaceful, could live through the toughest wars. Titan, once the leader of the Zidagar, had retired years and years ago. Now he was back to Mirava to whitness the work that the Federation had put into restoring Mira.

The scene brought tears to the old Zidagars eyes, with children playing in their houses, and millions of happy citizens walking about on the ground, with hundreds of hovercars going this way and that.

He had last seen Mira as a chunk of blasted rock, hardly able to support any form of life. Now, it was rebuild, with the sun shining in the background, and dozens of starcraft going to and from the many spaceports.

Titan looked down at the ground, crying. He missed his old life, the old Mira. He missed the way the galaxy had once been, with no one ever having to worry about the Ediens or the New Galaxy.

But, things could never stay the same. He told himself this often enough, but he could still not help but wonder what it would be like if the Ediens had never come... If only...

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

In the years following the defeat of the Edien Navy, the Imperial family of Hk'ryund Rigadaz had gone into hiding. The new government had bannished them before the battle, and Grunadulater, before his death, had considered him a public enemy.

After the battle, and after the new emporer took over, the feelings toward the Imperial family continued to drop. Finally, however, the emporer was deposed after a scandal, and a new emporer was choosen, who did not dislike Rigadaz.

But now, 17 years later, with the Imperial family still in hiding, a group of fanatical soldiers discovered their safehouse. Creeping in at night, the imperial family was brutally stabbed and shot, murdured in their own house. The fanatics had actually been aided by a traitor in the family, who escaped shortly after the murdur was carried out. Only three people escaped, and loyal troops soon moved in and gunned down the fanatics in a large gunbattle. The traitor escaped and was not heard of again.

Igor Rigadaz was not among the dead, or so it seemed. There was no body, no DNA trace, no nothing, and yet the Edien military was positive that he had been staying in the safehouse due to intellegence reports.

The last three Imperial family members were attacked, several weeks later, by Edien Pirates close to the Edien border. Their frieghter was destroyed, and presumably all onboard were killed.

But in truth, the daughter of Rigadaz had managed to escape in an escape pod. The pod was not attacked by the Pirates, and was later picked up by the Federation. The Federation, in turn, decided to keep the daughter as a prisoner, but not a POW. They also decided not to publisize the event.

The Edien was taken to Federation territory in the Milky Way to be treated as a normal civillian, but under close surveilliance, and kept usually out of the general populace. Few outside the Federation military knew about her true identity.

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

If one had been on hand to see the ceremony at the Federation Military Academy, known as West Point, on Earth, they would have seen an old yet strong Federation admiral, dressed in his military overcoat, his officers hat with four gold stars on his head, walk through the auditorium and to the front of the room. Standing behind the podium, Four-star Admiral and Vice-President Jacob Benden looked at the crowd of young cadets, who would one day form part of the Federation Alliance Navy, or the Army.

Smiling slightly, taking off his dark glasses, the admiral began to speak. He spoke about his career, his family, and his friends in the military. Finally, he got to the main point; the fact that, after ruling alongside Carnotaur for years, he was retiring along with Carnotaur himself.

“When I left the Centauri Hotel today, the doorman asked me. ‘Where are you going admiral?’. And when I replied ‘West Point’, he said. ‘Beautiful place. Have you ever been there before?”

This caused a bit of laugher from the cadets, and Benden continued, smiling. “Yes, I know it may be a shock to you all,” Benden said slowly. “But during my years serving with you, I’ve done things I never before dreamed of, and saw the end of a great evil, and the bringing up of a new age of peace for all races.

“I’ve learned a lot during my years here, but now, I guess it’s time that I retired. I’m old, my body can’t keep up with my demanding schedule. I want someone to take my place that is young, energetic, and capable of serving the needs of men and women like you. For me, I can’t keep up with it all. You people deserve more than I can offer; I am proud of you, and the fight you go into every single day. Dutey, honor, country. Those three hallowed words reverently dictate what you want to be, what you can be, what you will be.

“I was trained here. I remember sitting there, watching some admiral or high-up speak, just like you’re doing now. I was so young, then. I never imagined that I would be able to command such a fine force. I never imagined that, at all.

“I hope you all will live all to a ripe old age, like myself, but I know that many of you won’t. It greives me greatly to see fine, young soldiers dying in a fight that should never have happened, when there should have been peace. But, I guess that’s wishful thinking. Peace is a hard thing to come by, but we found it a lot better because of people like you.”

Benden paused, his eyes getting watery. “I... I can’t tell you how proud I am to be a soldier, fighting the cause of freedom. It’s... it’s hard to put it into words. I am proud to be one of you. I am proud to have served in this academy, which I loved so dearly.

“So when I am about to breathe my last breath, I come back to west Point. My home, where I was proud to be. My last conscious thoughts will be of this place. Right here, in this fine academy...”

Benden stopped, crying a little as all the cadets in the room stood up to cheer for him. He looked at them, then spoke one last time. “Thank you all... Now, I want to go out... Outside, to the cemetary.

“I want to be with the people I grew up with in this place, the people I knew and loved. I want to pay them honor and respect that they so rightly deserved for giving up their lives...

“I want to be with my friends.

“I bid you all, farewell.”

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

And thus, the Great Edien War ended. To many it still continued, but only with the occassional skirmish, for the Edien Empire was badly crippled and ruined. Now it was the Rarkyl that posed the only threat, and with help from the Horosk, the Federation was readily able to stop any assault they made.

In this time of joy like that of the Miranu, and sorrow like the death of Redchigh, life in the universe continued. It was definitely a prosperous time, with the scars caused by the Edien War mostly repaired, but with the dark memories still in everones mind.

As the races of the Milky Way, Andromead, and Large Megallanic Cloud prospered, only a few could see that a dark storm was gathering on the horizon. A storm that would soon burst, and that would be more evil than even the barbarianism of the Edien Empire.

With this dark cloud arising from afar, it is probably good that the other races did not see this, for they had suffered much from the oppression of the Ediens, and deserved a time of peace.

And thus, the light of the Golden Horizon, shined on...

------------------
If at first you don't succeed...Hit it harder! - Me
--------------
Millennium. Its coming, prepare for it.
Coming to the (url="http://"http://www.ambrosiaSW.com/games/ev/chronicles.html")EV Chronicles(/url).

(This message has been edited by Captain Carnotaur (edited 02-23-2002).)

I am Admiral Nelson, I made a typo when wanted to change my email and had to change the whole thing. This being cleared:
As the sequel of Gh has been proposed by one of the three major writters, or will it sleep. I'd personally liked it to continue, with that kind of ending! I don't know if Carno has plans for the future, but I liked to write.

Until then, or never, good work to all of you.
Cheer!

I.

------------------
Mes plus sincčres Salutations ŕ la Vie,
Reine de ce Monde.
Under Cover Gentleman known as Admiral Nelson

Quote

Originally posted by Ne Demord Jamais:
**I am Admiral Nelson, I made a typo when wanted to change my email and had to change the whole thing. This being cleared:
As the sequel of GH has been proposed by one of the three major writters, or will it sleep. I'd personally liked it to continue, with that kind of ending! I don't know if Carno has plans for the future, but I liked to write.

Until then, or never, good work to all of you.
Cheer!
**

Silver Horizon, the sequel to Golden Horizon and the threequel to Red Horizon, will start sometime in June, or maybe a month earlier. Not exactly sure.

And thanks for all the comments on the finale.

And for those of you which have not commented; comment on the finale!!!

------------------
If at first you don't succeed...Hit it harder! - Me
--------------
Millennium. Its coming, prepare for it.
Coming to the (url="http://"http://www.ambrosiaSW.com/games/ev/chronicles.html")EV Chronicles(/url).

Quote

Originally posted by Captain Carnotaur:
Silver Horizon, the sequel to Golden Horizon and the threequel to Red Horizon, will start sometime in June, or maybe a month earlier. Not exactly sure.

Quote

Originally posted by SilverDragon:
Indeed. Carnotaur has this thing about starting webstories quickly...he just doesn't. So for March, April and May, we'll be all alone. You know, I'm still proud of how long it took Thunder and I to go from basic concept to actual webstory with Flashpoint. : ) (two hours)

Hehe, quite true. Silver Horizon will take a LOT of planning, as well as a heck of a lot of other work, as well as scavanging for players.

Quote

Originally posted by SilverDragon:
**...or you will pay. ; )
**

Indeed. <takes out Super-Beam-of-Death>

------------------
If at first you don't succeed...Hit it harder! - Me
--------------
Millennium. Its coming, prepare for it.
Coming to the (url="http://"http://www.ambrosiaSW.com/games/ev/chronicles.html")EV Chronicles(/url).

I was a good man

Kinda wish I knew how I died, but oh well. SH is in June? Coincidence... my birthday is June Thirtieth... how about I be co-mod as a present? huh Carno? poke poke I earned it, considering you almost forgot about me in the finale. poke

The finale was great. I really did like it, and I really laughed at Grundy's "Hail the Dreadnought" comment.

The finale was great, and once again, I'm impressed by it.

I look forward to the Silver Horizon. hmm... Silver... could it have something to do with the Silver Fleet rising once again?
jk
(it'd be cool though )

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"I- I Swear Officer.. The Dwarf was on fire when I got here!"
------------------------
"....This is only what I think. We can't in a million years guess what goes on in the snarling, churning bowels of Red's head."
~ESPilot

Hehe, thanks Red. I actually just edited the GH New Galaxy finale and added a little part to include you. Hope you like it.

And sorry, but the RA will will be part of Silver Horizon, except for possibly an elite section of the Federation Navy. However, there will be several more spots for commanders in SH, so you may want one of them.

------------------
If at first you don't succeed...Hit it harder! - Me
--------------
Millennium. Its coming, prepare for it.
Coming to the (url="http://"http://www.ambrosiaSW.com/games/ev/chronicles.html")EV Chronicles(/url).