INCOMING TRANSMISSION - HIGH FREQUENCY TIGHT BEAM - FREQUENCY 39675348
SENDER: Free Worlds of Obain
REPLY: You're Invited
TO: Bazidaneze Star League
--//Obish Translators Active//--
Invitation accepted
Wh'tken, getori.
------------------
-Pallas Athene of Dysian Beta, Obish Consensus Representative
-Nieru Dast, {M}ilitia Aeriane
-Danae Vernius
ThinkFish, and good things will come.
INCOMING TRANSMISSION - HIGH FREQUENCY TIGHT BEAM - FREQUENCY 39675348
SENDER: United Nations of Sol
REPLY: You're Invited
TO: Bazidaneze Star League
-/Transmission Tag #283672/-
Invitation accepted by UNS.
Expect human spectators.
-/End of transmission/-
------------------
Ne Cede Malis Sed Contra Audientor Ito
Darkk was amazed at how poorly defended this Cantharan convoy was. Were they ever going to learn that their gunships weren't really threats to anyone NOT a foolish pilot?
There were only 4 gunships defending this convoy, as cruisers didn't have the range and carriers were deemed too important. As the pirate forces lept in for the kill, that quickly changed in a short series of 4 fireballs as Darkk and got on their tails and pounded while his gunships and carriers delivered long-range knockouts. Now for some raiding...
Darkk's EVATS mercilessly slaughtered the military personel aboard the transports. Darkk had no mercy or pity for Cantharans. Absolutely none. Dang, there didn't seem to be anything on these transports worth his time. A few small arms, not bad, a reasonable supply of currency carried by their late crew is OK, but the main cargo was medical supplies destined for a minor Cantharan world that had a bioweapon research accident - not exactly the antimatter handling equipment Darkk needed.
Darkk considered. The surviving civilian crew pleaded for him to allow the medical supplies to be sent. Darkk decided: "I have no compassion for you. You nearly destroyed my species. You deserve the painful deaths you brought upon yourselves."
Darkk's chief leutenant Bizz was a little miffed: "Darkk, how can you be so heartless? That's medical supplies, they're civilians DYING! Are you as big a monster as they are?"
"Don't go all moral on me, Bizz - we're pirates. We're still better than them, THEY made the bioweapons. Besides, the UNS needs these, as the Cantharans left them no medical supplies. They pay huge prices on the black markets, no questions asked."
"When you put it that way, you're right."
"We've got incoming: 2 HVDs, 5 carriers, 13 gunships, and about 29 cruisers," came over the speaker. "Darkk, Bizz, let's get the heck outa here."
"Rodger that. Bizz, let's move. The crews can have those aboard in no time."
Darkk reboarded Wind of Blades , and Bizz reboarded her carrier. The EVATS loaded the medical supplies while the Cantharans sat numb in stoney silence.
The DEF forces made it through the jumpgate just ahead of the opening volley from the small fleet pursuing them.
Darkk read the messages he had been able to intercept. A game, eh? Human spectators? He might be there. If nothing else, rigged gambling on it could turn a handsome proffit...
------------------
William Darkk, head of the Darkklight Entrepenurial Federation
Your cargo or your life!!!
(This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 01-02-2001).)
"You know they've confined me to my ship now?"
The Trey'sh's weelchair drove through the door of Captain Spammo's readyroom, just off the bridge of the UNS Mariposa.
"They have that sort of authority?"
"Apparantly they can make up their own rules, and they have these two fiends guarding me."
"Who are they? They look viscious."
"They are. They are extremely powerful predators, but they had not established spaceflight when we rescued them from the Cantharaans. The Ishimans thought they were terrifying, and didn't want to rescue them, but I intervened. They have an extremely powerful sense of justice and morals, and they consider it their duty to serve the protectorate in the best way they can: as fighters. The only real use the Protectorate has for fighters is as bodyguards, so a Gaath escort is considered a high honor. I have only been under Gaath escort three times. Each time they saved my life. It is remarkable."
Spammo watched the two relatively small figures dissapear in the shadows that seemed to follow them around the edges of his bridge.
"Amazing..."
"I have to tell you Admiral, I am nervous. From what the man said before he tried to kill me, I am certain he was sent by the Prophets. They are somehow infiltrating Earth. I have ordered the top surveillance equipment sent in to monitor the fronteir, as well as Sol. We cannot have the Prophets organizing more disruptions."
"Agreed, next time it may be worse."
"Which is why I have ordered my Trey'eck, Myrk to represent me on Earth. Ishiman aid has only flowed so freely because of the clout I have in the legislature. If I die at the hands of a Human assassin, my enemies would use it as an excuse to cut off the UNS. I cannot let that happen. I will stay on my carrier, and I will accompany your fleet into battle. I do not intend to die fighting, but should it come to that, better to die a martyr at the hands of the Audemedons than to be assassinated in my office on Sol, and get the UNS removed from the protectorate."
"Are you sure that that is wise? We are going into tough combat, you know the power of the Audemedons-"
"In Eight hundred years, I have never seen them firsthand. My ship is a 915 series carrier, one of the Elite of the ISN. I will not squander its crew's capability sitting in orbit at Sol. I have decided to join you, I will not be convinced otherwise."
Spamo stared at him in shock for a moment...
------------------
Faris eck Vaenar Maletena-Wizr, Trey'ish of the Ishiman reestablishment comittee.
"I don't think I'm alone when I say that I'd like to see more and more planets fall under the ruthless domination of our solar system."
(This is Cicion. Although they're dragging me into the new rpg kicking and screaming, I'm going to join and I've made a character I think I can have some fun with. I've posted info on the new dossier.)
"I tell you, my good man, sixty credits is a perfectly fair price for this little beauty. It's a prime collector's item, you know!" Cicero Brownstone patted the antique comm unit on the table in front of him. The aging Obiard across from him growled and grumbled.
"I'll give you twenty."
"Fifty."
"Thirty."
"Forty."
"Thirty-six."
"Thirty-eight."
"Done." The knobby-kneed old creature handed over a handful of plastic chips and Cicero slid him the device. "Good doing business with you, good sir."
The Obiard got up and grumbled something as he walked out the door of the small inn on this UNS border world. The bartender looked over.
"A pretty polite customer for you, Cicero." The bartender frowned as the first name left his mouth. "Cicero, Cicero, Cicero. What were your folks thinking, giving you a name like that?"
"Helps the people I do business with remember me."
"I see."
"Uh-oh." Brownstone averted his gaze to as far from the door as possible as a thug walked in. The tough was followed by a small man with a mustache and a bad suit. The little man spotted Cicero immediately.
"Brownstone, you curséd liar, you!"
"You dislike the product you aquired in our transaction, my good fellow?"
"That 'genuine Obiard artifact' was made of a cheaper material than your cloak, and it was the very scanner that determined this fact that broke the damn thing!" The man plunked three pieces of wood-like material on Cicero's table.
"I'll be happy to replace it."
"I'm not going to give you the chance, you peddler." The man snapped his fingers, and the tough walked slowly towards Cicero.
"Now, now, I'm sure we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement, sir." Cicero stood up and backed away from his table. From his pocket, he produced five millimeter-thick rectangles of pure gold, each four inches by two inches. He spread them out like a poker hand and held them to the light. The small man walked over and took one, running it under a scanner. His eyes widened. He took the rest and placed them in his pocket.
"Where did you get these?"
"That's a secret, sir."
"Very well. I have what I want. Now, you are of no concern to me. Joe, have some fun. I'll be out front." Cicero looked betrayed. "You gangster." Cicero stepped forward angrily and grabbed the man by his lapels. The tough intervened, sending Cicero five feet in the air to land on his table. The small man just laughed as he walked out. Cicero leaped up and went into a fighting stance. The thug charged, and Cicero ducked, slid, and slammed his fists into the thug's left shin. The gorilla collapsed, but got back up after a few seconds. By that time Cicero was already in his ship and on his way away from the planet. As he entered a jumpgate, he relaxed and patted his pocket where the five gold rectangles lay. He smiled and remembered his days as a pickpocket, so long ago. He closed his eyes and took a long nap.
Irto Squadron and it's convoy had nearly reached the coordinates assigned, when three Cantharan carriers and twelve Cantharan cruisers came into the system, and immediately superlighted to the convoy. A voice came over the intercom on the squadron transport.
"This is the captain of the Escort Cruiser ISN 3183543 speaking. A Cantharan fleet is attacking our convoy. Irto Squadron: scramble."
The Irto Squadron pilots immdediately ran for the docking ports, and the twelve fighters soon rocketed out of the squadron transport. Mag scuttled back to his servicing bay as fast as his little legs could take him, and turned on his holo-vid, just before the Cantharan fleet dropped out of superlight.
"Irto Squadron, take the enemy fighters. There are thirty of them, but you'll have to do. All cruisers and the assault tranport, engage their cruisers as best you can. Tractor tugs, take cover by the squadron transport. Squadron transport, stay away from those carriers, and use your concussion missile turret to deliver support fire."
Various voices affirmed that they understood the orders, and the battle began. Only six of the Cantharan cruisers stayed to engage the various friendly cruisers, while the other six stealthed and headed full throttle for the squadron transport.
"Tractor tugs, disengage from the disabled gunships, and try to get a tractor lock on those cruisers."
"Yes, sir."
The Cantharan gunships began drifting off into space, and the tractor tugs began messing up the cruisers' flight paths. The cruisers were still giving the squadron transport a heavy beating, however, and the concussion missile launcher couldn't handle them all.
Soon, the squadron transport was losing some main systems, and gouts of flame were occaisionally spurting from blackened and twisted holes in the hull. Another voice came over the intercom.
"All crews: we are losing life support. We have no space suits on board. Head for the nearest stasis cells, and lock yourselves in. We have thirty seconds until the conditions are inhostpitable."
"WHAT?!?" screamed Mag. He'd be the only person left on the ship that was concious in a few seconds. Without anybody piloting it or firing the weapons, the squadron transport would surely be destroyed. "This is NOT a good day!" Mag yelled. He decided to head to the bridge to see if there was anything he could do to keep himself alive. He took a laser torch with him as he left his servicing bay, just in case.
As he was heading up to the bridge, a Cantharan pk beam shot past him. He turned his head, and saw two Cantharans in EVAT suits behind him. Mag screeched and ran in his clumsy way up the corridor to the nearest intersection, and hid in one of the corridors off to the side. He turned on his infrared vision, used to see inside a damaged ship, and saw the Cantharans in the corridor. Using the infrared vision to aim, he stuck his hand with the laser torch out into the main corridor, and fired at one of the Cantharans. It was a terrible miss, but the Cantharans ducked for cover into nearby doorways.
Mag continued firing, until they both had gotten through the doorways (into personal quarters of the crew), and locked their doors. He quietly scuttled up between the two doors, firing at the floor as he went, to create the impression that he was still firing like mad. Mag got close enough to the doors for the laser torch to effectively work, and welded them both shut. He then turned and continued on his way to the bridge.
The ship kept rocking and buckling, and eventually lost artificial gravity. He turned on the electromagnets in his feet to compensate. As he got to the bridge, he checked the computer for a ship diagnostic. It was in terrible shape. It was only able to turn to the right and fire, now. Mag hit the turn right key on the pilot's computer terminal, and the ship began rotating to the right. Two of the Cantharan cruisers swerved out of the way on his viewscreen.
Mag tried to stop the turn, but the ship kept slowly spinning. "Stupid piece of junk." He locked the concussion missile turret on one of the cruisers, and fired a missile at it. The missile missed, and drifted off into space. Mag tried several more missiles, but the cruiser dodged them each time. He headed to the scanner terminal.
One of the Cantharan carriers had been badly chewed up by the escort cruiser, which was now busy with Cantharan cruisers, as they had lost most of their interest in the squadron transport. Mag locked the turret on the carrier, and fired a missile. A perfect hit! He held down the fire key, and sent a steady barrage at it. The carrier took five missiles, then twisted, rocked, and burst into a giant fireball. The Cantharans seemed to get scared by that, and superlighted off into the distance, where a jumpgate picked them up. The convoy continued on, with the cargo ship and tractor tugs dragging the damaged ships behind them.
They got to the coordinates, and the jumpgate opened up. They headed in...
------------------
"I think I have discovered the problem with humans. It is not entirely stupidity, as I once thought. It is their pigheaded and baseless philosophy: "If it isn't me, then it's opinions, feelings, and life do not matter, and it was meant to serve me." They also have this ability for creating excuses that are pointless, but they get others to believe it. A few examples: "It's only some savages. It's only five acres of rain forest. It's only one semi-truck. It's only fifty gallons of toxic waste..." After this realization, I marvelled at how humans, and the rest of the planet, have survived for so very long."
- Me
Year of Hell: Day 28
The Calcutta was nearly crippled, pursued by a trio of the monsterous Audemedon Destroyers, reveling in spilled debris and innards. A pair of A-missiles darted past the Calcutta's bridge, it's captain breathed a sigh of relief as they ate into deep space, only to have them turn about and speed back towards the bridge. It blew itself apart in a furious rage and the Calcutta began to spin out of control!
Onboard the Chimaera , Levt sighed morosely as he watched the once glorious UNS Carrier twist and write, trailing plasma and scorched wreckage. A tear formed in his eye as it collided with the Audemedon Jumpgate inhibitor, annihilating itself. The Jamming was interrupted very briefly. Enough time for the Ishiman Gateship to establish a Jumpgate link. The swirling effigies shaped themselves into a vortex and a familiar retreat signal was broadcasted. The two remaining UNS Carriers Foxtrot and Chimaera entered first, followed by the remnants of the cruiser squadron.
They were on the move again. Wounded. Bleeding.
------------------
Never put all your ranking officers in a shuttle.
Tweeett
"Admiral on the bridge!"
The entire bridge crew stood as Admiral Jackson Spann entered the bridge. He returned the salutes and moved towards the command post.
Spamo sat down in the command chair of the Mariposa and ran his hand over the display screen. He could feel the sheer strength and power of the ship beneath his fingers. With it, he might be able to turn the onrushing tide of Audemedon ships.
"Lieutenant, is the rest of the fleet prepared?"
One of the men at the various monitors punched a screen a few times and replied "Yes sir, all ships are responding with a Go for departure."
"Very well then, all ships prepare for departure on my mark."
The Second UNS Fleet turned towards a jumpgate opening in front of them. Ishiman cruisers and heavy warships edged in closer and Obish escorts angled towards the shimmering gate.
"Mark."
------------------
Ne Cede Malis Sed Contra Audientor Ito
INCOMING TRANSMISSION - HIGH FREQUENCY TIGHT BEAM - FREQUENCY 39675348
SENDER: Gaitori Union
REPLY: You're Invited
TO: Bazidaneze Star League
Invitation accepted
(I'm writing this because I want the chance to pound some Gaitori skulls into space dust)
Also, I'd like to point out a somewhat dehabilitating problem with this arrangement. The Sals/Auds, the Ishies/Jeets, the Cans/Gators, and the Obies/UNS will almost be guaranteed to pair off (the last because of this most recent combat arrangement), and the S/A, C/G and I/E, O/U will almost be guaranteed not to take immediate hostile action.
------------------
-Pallas Athene of Dysian Beta, Obish Consensus Representative
-Nieru Dast, {M}ilitia Aeriane
-Danae Vernius
ThinkFish, and good things will come.
(This message has been edited by Pallas Athene (edited 01-03-2001).)
pain...
throbbing pain...
The orange dreamships fought hard, disabling one of the horrible invaders. Even in his dreams he lashed out.
Then a needle entered him and he awoke.
He was being attacked.
He grew enraged at the pain, as some part of his mind fed him the information that a jumpgate inhibitor had been destroyed, and that a jumpstream had delivered several large ships right on top of his largest jumpgate.
The entire Audemedon race of machines coursed with his anger, and immediately made for the jumpgate. The large fleet that had been in the system leapt towards the jumpgate at full FTL, driven by the power of Pharris' will.
The infiltrators tore through the Jumpgate's defences, and began to tear into the unarmoured gate itself. Pharris grunted in discomfort as parts of him were destroyed.
Still he pushed the rest of his fleet on to intercept.
The discomfort grew, and so did the rage. He pushed the ships harder than he knew, he had to protect his jumpgate. Something more than the pain told him it was vital to his goals.
As large section of the jumpgate detatched in a ball of fire, the Ishiman stream opened again, and the infiltrating ships fled.
Pharris screamed in frustration, and a rasping voice from somewhere boomed over speakers in the ceiling...
"Calm yourself Mark, it was most unfortunate, but there was nothing you could have done. We have a means of revenge on those horrible creatures that tried to hurt you."
------------------
NEW NAME FOR THE DREADNOUGHT
The Hard-Boiled Egg
Why?
Because she cant be beaten!
The members of Irto Squadron were sitting around a large circular table, along with an Admiral and several other people in authority. The Admiral rose from his seat, and began talking.
"Greetings, members of Irto Squadron. We have an interesting mission for you, and I think you'll enjoy it.
The Bazidaneze are worried about the galactic peace being in such a fragile state after the Ares War. They are hosting a tournament. We will be using non-damaging weapons only. Irto Squadron will be sent to the tournament, along with various other ships, which we'll brief you on later. Any questions, so far?"
"What about the three pirate cruisers that are working for us?"
"Well, they won't be fighting there, as they are not standard ISN ships. They will join the crowd of spectators."
"And what about simulations? They're the best way to train for missions."
"ISN HQ hasn't yet chosen the rest of the ships that will be representing us. We will give you the data for your simulators when they do."
"Our fighters are armed with damaging photokinetic beam cannons at the moment. What should we do?"
"A cargo ship will arrive soon with replacement weapons. Their beams will act and look like the standard photokinetic beams, but will do so little damage that it can be classified as none. Any other questions? Good. Have fun at the game, and be sure to be friendly with everybody there."
"Yes, sir."
------------------
"I think I have discovered the problem with humans. It is not entirely stupidity, as I once thought. It is their pigheaded and baseless philosophy: "If it isn't me, then it's opinions, feelings, and life do not matter, and it was meant to serve me." They also have this ability for creating excuses that are pointless, but they get others to believe it. A few examples: "It's only some savages. It's only five acres of rain forest. It's only one semi-truck. It's only fifty gallons of toxic waste..." After this realization, I marvelled at how humans, and the rest of the planet, have survived for so very long."
- Me
Ambassador N'tek watched as data streamed through his direct link to the Obish escorts. One Audemedon cruiser down, another one, quite good. Human fighter destroyed; not the best of news, but replaceable. A gunship from each was disabled; again, not good news; the Audemedons doubtlessly had the better of the two, but the Audemedons could surely replace it. The UNS could not. He wondered of the futility of his aid; might Sol fall even with the help given? That though was quickly dismissed. He would need the aid of those escorts, possibly almost the whole of the UNS, in what was to come. The Audemedons were a threat, yes. But not the only one.
T'kar Okyen, Sh'yara!
(In case you're wondering, yes. I am developing the entire Obish lanuguage. And as it turns out, I said "getori" before. It is actually "g'etori." I would apologize, but they're Gaitori, so I don't care. (It is gramatically incorrect to leave it uncapitalized, but it's a demeaning little Obish oddity))
------------------
-Pallas Athene of Dysian Beta, Obish Consensus Representative
-Nieru Dast, {M}ilitia Aeriane
-Danae Vernius
ThinkFish, and good things will come.
(This message has been edited by Pallas Athene (edited 01-03-2001).)
INCOMING TRANSMISSION - HIGH FREQUENCY TIGHT BEAM - FREQUENCY 39677948
SENDER: Prophets of Salril
REPLY: You're Invited
TO: Bazidaneze Star League
We and our servants will be there.
(I'm writing this because it makes rigging (or attempting to rig) the bets more worthwhile, as everyone else will bet on the Auds.)
------------------
William Darkk, head of the Darkklight Entrepenurial Federation
Your cargo or your life!!!
(This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 01-03-2001).)
Year of Hell, day 40
Captain's Log, U.N.S. Chimaera, Rear Admiral Levt in command.
Yesterday we lost our last four cruisers. Only the UNS Foxtrot accompanies the Chimaera _. The Audemedons closed the gap and have trapped us in their own space. Our only possible means of exit is through Salrilian Space.
Our mission, once one of combat, is now one of survival. Be this as it may, I have resolved to do as much damage as I can on our way out. We are on a course to the A-1 system, known to organics as Audemedon._
------------------
Never put all your ranking officers in a shuttle.
The Trey'sh paced lazily back and forth in front of the window. Around him the 9155041 ran like clockwork, each crewmember knew his task and his place perfectly. The Captain came to his side, and asked;
"Sir, should we proceed?"
The Trey'sh looked at him scornfully
"I am a diplomat, not a fleet commander. I am here for the ride. You serve under Admiral Spann. Command your ship, Captain."
"yes sir"
He turned back to watching the fleet move out. He never really comprehended fleet movements. He had read many books on military strategy and the principals of combat, but he never really cared for the thought of killing others. Now, he watched the movements of the Obish and Elejeetian ships ahead, along with the Human and Ishiman ships, weaving towards the pulseing jumpgate that hid the Ishiman Gateship from view. The first of the ships entered, continueing until finally he felt the ISN 9155041 cross the rift. Behind them, an Ishiman HVD accompanied by two HVCs entered, and the gate closed behind them. After the ships were out of the jumpstream, the Gateship returned to its orbit around the sun, just inside of Earth, ready to shunt ship to wherever they were needed, or recall the fleet to Sol, if it ever came to that.
The Trey'sh watched the swirling, pulseing walls of the jumpstream, after countless thousands of trips, he never tired of watching the colors. He smiled at the irony, that such a pleasing activity would lead to such destruction, once the Audemedons arrived.
------------------
Faris eck Vaenar Maletena-Wizr, Trey'ish of the Ishiman reestablishment comittee.
"I don't think I'm alone when I say that I'd like to see more and more planets fall under the ruthless domination of our solar system."
(This message has been edited by Trey'sh Maletena Wizr (edited 01-03-2001).)
A set of jumpgate modules opened, and the Ishiman competitors entered the system. A bit later came a cargo ship with various Ishiman spectators on it. Then came a stream of Ishiman civilian traffic, as the Ishiman Stellar Protectorate was allowing free use of it's jumpgate modules for this event.
"Ishiman competitors, please report to the trading post for checks on your weapons. We need to make sure that this will be a peaceful engagement."
The ships flew over to the trading post, and docked. The brochure was downloaded to Irto Squadron's cargo ship, and Mag downloaded it into his own database. He began checking through the teams.
Elejeetian Empire: 3 cruisers, 1 battleship.
Audemedon Axis: 5 gunships, 5 cruisers, 12 fighters.
Prophets of Salril: 10 gunships, 5 cruisers.
Bazidaneze Star League: 5 gunships, 10 cruisers.
Free Worlds of Obain: 10 escort cruisers, 1 battleship.
Cantharan Order: 5 gunships, 1 heavy cruiser, 3 cruisers, 2 schooners.
Ishiman Stellar Protectorate: 1 gunship, 1 escort cruiser, 1 heavy cruiser, 5 cruisers, 12 fighters.
United Nations of Sol: 5 gunships, 9 cruisers.
Gaitori Union: 10 gunships, 6 cruisers.
This would be a close fight. He checked the other events going on. Lots of trading, parties, and tours of military ships. Some other mock-dogfights were going on, and there were Bazidaneze ships outfitted with EMP emitters ready in case anything got out of hand. The Ishiman Stellar Protectorate was supposed to host a surprise event after the fight was over, at the same time there would be a large party. Pretty impressive.
Mag looked through the list of parties, and found an interesting-looking one aboard the ISN 2020187, which had served in the Ares War. He hired a shuttle to pick him up, and headed for the airlock.
------------------
"I think I have discovered the problem with humans. It is not entirely stupidity, as I once thought. It is their pigheaded and baseless philosophy: "If it isn't me, then it's opinions, feelings, and life do not matter, and it was meant to serve me." They also have this ability for creating excuses that are pointless, but they get others to believe it. A few examples: "It's only some savages. It's only five acres of rain forest. It's only one semi-truck. It's only fifty gallons of toxic waste..." After this realization, I marvelled at how humans, and the rest of the planet, have survived for so very long."
- Me
Year of Hell Day 43
Captain's Log U.N.S. Chimaera, Rear Admiral Levt in command
While we destroyed three of their hypergates, the Audemedons managed to spring a fractal trap on us. We were surrounded by thousands of their drone ships and badly damaged. The Foxtrot _broke formation and proceeded to assault the planet itself, herorically buying us time to escape. We lost contact with it soon after.
We are alone now. The _Chimaera has suffered minor hull breaches throughout the ship and a damaged EMP array. The Foxtrot _'s fate remains unknown, but knowing the Audemedons, it was most likely torn apart piece by piece and salvaged to build more drones.
The Audemedons have yet to launch their armada, which now tallies in the thousands. We have bought Earth time enough to evacuate. Surely the UNS would not be foolish enough to stay and fight against the Prophets. Either way, Earth will fall, for the prophets only attack when they are certain they will win. If the humans fight, they will die. If they retreat, they will live another day.
That is not their style.
When the Cantharans were invading Earth, few humans evacuated. Even in the face of overwhelming odds and a garanteed loss, we humans still do not give up. If Salril is determined to take Earth before the Ishiman Protectorate does, so be it._
------------------
Never put all your ranking officers in a shuttle.
(why would the UNS send ships to the Bazidanese competition when the Audemedon were knocking on the gates of Sol? It makes no sense.)
The Wild Karrde entered realspace 2 light minutes out from Obain.
"Where the hell are we? This doesn't look like a backwater planet to me!"
"Sir, I think that that EMP wave disrupted our navigational computer. We seem to be in the Obain system!" The helmsman was just as surprised as the capn'.
"Hail them."
"Comm channel open."
"Obain control, this is the Elejeetian ship Wild Karrde reporting. We need to dock for repairs."
"Roger, Wild Karrde. You show up on our monitors as a Modified Heavy Cruiser. I don't think we have any spare parts for a ship of your type."
"Control, requesting permission to land? If you let us use our Hypercomm, I'm sure that I can have parts brought in." That was one of the good things about being a Captain. People listened to you.
"Roger Wild Karrde. You are cleared for bay 232c. Grid coordinates 135,32. We will have an officer meet you. Control out."
That went quite well. I might have the ship back online in 3 days.
The Wild Karrde was on the ground within 20 minutes. The captain arranged everything else within 25.
"Message for captain Talon Karrde!" Karrde was rudely awakened from a deep sleep. He cursed at the ungodly hour as he picked up the Hypercomm receiver unit.
"Hello?" He asked, still half asleep.
"Thank god I reached you. There's a crisis developing. Something that is much more important than a few renegades taking over a planet. Audemed is about to invade Sol! " That message jerked Karrde's brain fully awake and concentrated.
"Sir, my ship has been almost completely immobilised! Replacement parts will take a while to get here."
"I know. I have the permission of the Emperor himself to use our Gateship in the battle to come. Have one of the obish ships tractor you into orbit, and it will do the rest." Karrde was surprised, he was stunned! For the Emperor to risk the gateship in battle was incredible!
" What? Under whose command?"
"Mine. The Terrans were informed of this change mere minutes ago. You are to be one of the Escort ships. Most of our fleet will be involved in this!"
The full power of Audemed might have been enough to overrun the Humans, Ishiman and Obish task forces, but Elejee might tip the scales in the humans favour.
"Understood."
"Rest now, my friend. Battle will come soon! Elejee out."
"Karrde out." He signed off, feeling dread and honour in the coming conflict.
------------------
"Sergeant, you can't fire that in here! We're indoors!"
"Only until I pull the trigger, Captain!" -Terry Pratchett
(Why not send ships? There's plenty of mercenaries that will represent the UNS.)
Admiral Jackson Spann was having tea with Trey'ish Wizr when one of the ensigns entered the room.
"Sir, I have some preliminary reports about the Audemedon fleet."
"Of course. Wizr, you will excuse me for a moment?"
Wizr nodded. "Of course my good friend."
Spamo turned back to the ensign. "Well, ensign, what have you for me?"
"Sir, we've recieved a long range message pod sent through an Audemedon jumpgate before it was destroyed. Apparently Rear-admiral Levt was send his status report."
The ensign hands Spamo a small pad, which he then reads over quickly.
"Thankyou ensign. Return to you post."
The ensign leaves the room, and Spamo turns back to the Trey'ish.
"Wizr, it seems we have some good news. The Audemedons have yet to launch their main attacking fleet. And Anglagard still stands in their way. One of my Rear-Admirals, a Jerry Levt has succeeded in his task of disabling Audemedon jumpgates. More importantly, we now hold a tactical advantage. Should they use their gateship to assault Sol itself without going through Anglagardia, they will be detected en-route and we would fall on them from behind. They will have to go through the Anglagard system in order to attack Sol safely. Since these reports say that the Auds have yet to attack, we have time to set up fortifications."
Wizr smiled and sipped his tea. "This is very good news. I think that we now have a good chance at turning this thrust at the UNS heart."
Over the intercom a voice spoke. "Admiral, we've exited the Jumpgate into the Anglagard system. Sensors show no signs of an Audemedon offensive. We're now preparing a more through scan."
"Very well. Alert me of any results. Spann out."
Spamo turned back to the Wizr, and drank the last of his tea.
"A very good chance indeed."
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Ne Cede Malis Sed Contra Audientor Ito
Darkk watched the data redouts. Currently, he held the only major bets on the UNS finishing in the top 3. He had good odds though, the Bazidanese Gaming Leuge had set the odds on the UNS at 1:15, as they held human technology in low reguard, as it couldn't be sold anywere for much money. Darkk, however, knew a UNS victory was likely. Especially when the odds were stacked by someone with interest in their victory. Someone like himself...
"Will that be sufficient?" Darkk asked the Cantharan commander standing right in front of him.
"Yes, 30000 credits will be plenty. As you insist on it being conditional, I will make my attack on the Audemedon and Salrilian forces as effective as I possibly can."
"If there's anything of your forces left after that, the Eleejeetians and Ishimans should be your next targets."
"I understood that when you told me you would only pay if the humans won. Cantharis's pride isn't on the line here, so I'm not under any pressure to play fair. I'm not even under any pressure to avoid this sort of thing. This is reguarded mostly as humoring the Bazidanese."
"I guessed as much. You, an important commander, only came because you were bored and wanted to make some cash off the inevitable gambling."
"Yes, which is prescisely why I am talking to you and not turning you in."
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William Darkk, head of the Darkklight Entrepenurial Federation
Yes, I hate Cantharans. Does the trophy on the wall make it too obvious?
