"So who was in the blue ship?"

"An old friend. I knew he would be here, for-"

There was a pause. For a moment everything aboard the ship seemed to freeze or flicker.

"Durandal? What's wrong?"

Durandal suddenly spoke with great haste.

"There is no time. You are being sent to Luna. You will retrieve an artifact for me. I will send the map to your computer. go!"

and with that, Bob was moved to a catwalk in a large, empty space. Lights hung from a ceiling that could not be seen in the gloom, illuminating the huge, open area criss-crossed with multiple layers of catwalks. Looking down, he could see layer upon layer dissapearing into the darkness. He felt surprisingly light, even for the moon. His comlink clicked on.

"I've put you as close to the center of the catacombs as the transporter could take you, but we may still be late, for others are looking for the same prize! Do not let them have it. Follow your map to the vault, Hurry!"

Bob switched on his HUD map, and followed the waypoints as fast as he could throught the maze of narrow of catwalks.

the line led him to spiral stairs that descended into the darkness. Were it not for the map, he would have been hopelessly lost, but durandal guided him well, and in a few minutes he had passed through the maze of catwalks into a long dark tunnel. He walked quickly now, but silently, for he had distant traces on his motion detector. Ahead, he saw a ring of light appear, then slowly turn into a circle as the huge hatch swung open. Silouhouetted against the circle of light was a human form, who stepped forward across the threshold.

Bob ran now, for he knew he was late. The man heard the heavy, thumping footsteps and turned around just in time to see Bob dive on him. Bob saw that the man had already opened the case in the center of the room, so he picked him up and threw him against the wall. His right hand was wrapped around something he wore on his neck, while the other was clenched in a fist at his side. Bob drew his fusion pistol and levelled it at the quivering man.

"Give it to me. Now."

The man shivered.

<i>Kill Him!</i>
came the voice in his earpiece. It was suddenly filled with fear and anger.
<i>Kill him while we have a chance!</i>

Bob squezzed the trigger, but nothing happened. The fusion pistol did nothing. Bob looked up and saw that through the man's fists, the objects were glowing. Bob dropped the pistol and lunged, plowing into the man, but he punched backwith both fists, tossing Bob away. But even as he threw the marine across the floor, his fists met Bob's body armor, and he screamed and fell. The piece was flung from his hand, suddenly glowing bright red. Bob grabbed it and ran back the way he came, sealing the vault behind him.

He ran now, back towards the exit, following his waypoints. As soon as Durandal got a lock on him, he transported him out. Bob appeared before Durandal's self-image.

"Ok, who the hell was that, and what the hell just happened?"

Durandal was visibly shaken.

"He is my creator, but he is the enemy, that should be enough for you now. Just know that you were lucky. If you had not been wearing that very suit, you would be dead. That bodyarmor you now wear is not of this universe, let alone this time. I made it from the very fabric that binds my ship to this place, and I see that it was not made in vain."

"How did that stop him?" said Bob, running a hand over the fabric of his suit.

"It is Jjarro. He is now in the possession of the enemy, and cannot stand strong against the founders until he has captured all the pieces, but by then it will be too late. He already has the controlling piece. It must have taken his mind by now."

"But what is this thing, and why is he after it?"

Pharris held up a smooth, black pyramid. Perfectly polished and glistening in the bright, nonexistant light of the Jjarro Dreadnought.

"What you hold is but one of five parts of a machine of great power. These are artifacts of the founders themselves, ageless and deathless in their strength. But it is a strength corrupted by darkness and gloom. Trapped inside those pieces is a universe of hate and death and decay, and if the pieces are brought together, then the old enemies of the Founders will be freed. However, there are very few who know of the threat, and the evil within will spread lies to any foolish enough to behold it. For great is their desire to slip their manacles."

"Then let's destroy it. Here." Bob tossed it onto the ground and pointed his fusion pistol at it. He fired. There was a great wave of heat, and a smoking spot on the floor, but the piece was there, shining black as ever. Durandal was watching it nervously.

"It cannot be destroyed by you or your fusion pistol, for it is only a shadow in this universe."
Durandal shuddered, watching the shape on the ground.
"Take it, Bob. Take it now. Already I feel its draw. Its power. Take it and hold it."

"What's wrong with you taking it? If it has such power, surely a strong will could master it and use it as he would. If anyone, you could master it."

Bob almost held it out to Durandal, but recoiled in horror as the manifestation grew huge and terrible before him. Durandal's presence filled the ship with a voice that was as much felt as heard.

"I WILL NOT BE TEMPTED! I know the true power of the Founders' Bane, and I will not have the ruin of the universe on my hands! Take it and go! It is no longer safe to keep it aboard this ship! Even this minor piece draws me. But you must not let me take it Bob, for it is like a moth to flame! I shall send you away, for you are the only one I can trust with it. At least if it takes you, you can be killed. If it takes me, we are doomed. Now go! and do not return until you have found the place where it can be unmade."

And with that Bob vanished.

his earpiece crackled.

"Listen: there are simple, pathetic life forms that live in the cold depths of space, whose sole capacity in life is to create one other like themself . There are enemies imprisoned in that artifact that wish untold horrors on those creatures simply because those creatures can exist! Now, Imagine what horror that Evil must wish upon Mankind!

The hate they feel is so strong that it can cross dimensions, even break through the seal of the Founders. I barely resisted its tendrils before, and I may not be so lucky again, so you are not free from danger yet, even from me. Word will be about that the pieces have surfaced, and then it is only a matter of time. Turn on your teleport inhibitor, for now you may not be safe even from me. I can only guide you from afar. To stray to near would be to subject myself to its temptation. Thus, you must gather the pieces and destroy them. For now, you must make haste and find Strauss. He may still be down there, and he holds the key. While he does, he even has dominon over you. The longer you hold the piece, the more control it will gain on you. Keep it in a pocket or on your belt. handle it as little as possible, and at no time put the chain over your neck. I wish you luck, for you will need it. Now go to where you left him, and find his trail. Only a few seconds have passed here since you left. You may yet have time!"

Bob dropped the pyramid into his pocket, zipping it shut. He activated his teleport inhibitor and followed his map through the maze once more, Magnum in hand.

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

(Captain Pharris, it irks me that you've taken the plot into such an important direction without notifying me first, and also that you started this new RPG topic completely without my knowledge. In accordance, with this, I am modifying the Armadians.)

The Andromeda galaxy; a huge cluster of stars somewhat larger than the Orion galaxy. The Armadians knew this, as they knew the precise number of planets and stars in this galaxy. They also knew that this galaxy was inherently special, as only one intelligent species had evolved to intelligence. What one might call intelligence anyway.

Long ago, before even the Armadian had been brought in as servants to the Founder's, the Founder's first encountered the W'rckacnter hiding amidst the great cosmic nebulae of the forming galaxies. Fighting each other, the W'rckacnter at first took no notice of the Jjarro. It was under these conditions the Jjarro began to first observe the fundemental growth of chaos taking place in the universe.

Their first reaction was one of extreme alarm, as more and more cosmic particles fell under the sway of the violent W'rckacnter, who were seeming more like an invader than a natural force. It was this rapid slide into chaos that caused the Jjarro to act.

It was found that extreme gravity could affect the movement of the W'rckacnter, the only force not to be affected by the chaos around it. The Jjarro built a special ship for the containment of these creatures; and named it the Manus Celeri Dei, Hand of God. The Jjarro used this enormous dreadnought to reverse the process of novas in some of the greater stars, wrapping them into their respective gravitic fields and forming black holes. The operation was a success at first.

But the W'rckacnter had proliferated too much of the Andromeda galaxy by now, and the arrival of this new menace turned there attention away from each other and onto the Jjarro. Even the Jjarro could not survive under the maddening chaos, and retreated to the Orion galaxy, losing the Manus Celer Dei in the process. There they thought the W'rckacnter could not follow them, and began to foster their children throughout the cosmos.

But the W'rckacnter had followed them, and met the Jjarro in combat around Lh'owon. The battle was so fierce, that the entire planet was soon swathed in a cloud of fire, only the primitive Flick'ta in the deepest bowels of the water-planet survived. Among the casualties were the Jjarro's dearest and most promising client race; P'thia.

The Jjarro eventually prevailed, and threw the W'rckacnter into Lh'owons sun, not killing them but trapping them from escaping. Full of grief for P'thia, the Jjarro brought the Flick'ta out and divided them into 2 castes, the S'pht, and the F'lickta. The F'lickta would make the planet suitable for life again, and the S'pht were given intelligence and the mission to watch over the reconstruction of the shattered world. Then Jjarro left for their final mission.

It was a dangerous one, and even the universe might not survive it. The Jjarro gathered the energy of every star within 100 light years of the super-dense inner cluster of the Orion galaxy, and used it to smash reality in 2.

In one reality, the Jjarro and W'rckacnter were alone among the cosmos, and would engage in struggle, ancient endless struggle until the stars burnt out and the universe died. In another reality, the Jjarro and W'rckcacnter never lived. The other races were free of their influence, and spread out into the stars, fostering diversity of life, and becoming intelligent just like the Jjarro. Through the Jjarro, these realities were made mutually exclusive, and the only token of this having ever taken place, were the unoccopied planets of the Jjarro, myths of the W'rckacnter, and a single black ball of uncorrupted surface. Inside this ball contained the universe the Jjarro had imprisoned themselves and the W'rckacnter in.

Now, the Armadian knew one of the pieces had been found. One of the client races of the Jjarro, the Armadian were devastated by the loss of their masters. In vain they searched the galaxy for them, in vain seeking to understand what was going on. Then, at last, they learned of the seperation of these universes. The Armadian's struggle for the Jjarro had now become a holy crusade, the need for guidance, the strongest imperative, and even if it meant the return of the W'rckacnter, they would do it. They were one thing the Jjarro had not counted on.

And now the Armadian had learnt of a way to get the pieces back. Their expedition to Luna might have failed, but in every galaxy, and every star, and every planet, they would be waiting. They already had 3 parts, and they would get the 4th and 5th.

------------------
There are only 3 kinds of people: those who can count, and those who can't.

(This message has been edited by Joveia (edited 10-01-2001).)

--deleted--

(This message has been edited by Captain Pharris (edited 10-01-2001).)

(I'll just repost this here.)

--Terlix, capital world of Eastern Province--

"Sir, the Grecchan population has been getting restless latel-sir?" The young woman stepped into the Governorial office.

Georon Sadi, Imperial Governor of the massive Eastern Province of the Imperium, lay behind his desk in a pool of copperish blood. In seconds planetary police forces and PhylSec had launched an investigation. The assassin was traced off planet, headed for Greccha space. Meanwhile, several planetbound transports suddenly came to a stop as their navigational systems shorted out. They hung in space, waiting for information.
The Eastern Provincial Senate gathered in an emergency meeting to handle the crisis. The sub-governor was unanimously voted as fit for office, and he immediately took over.
Georon Sadi had been greatly loved by the population of Eastern Province. Now, there were riots in the streets, mainly by Greccha. battles broke out between armed Grecchan rioters-who now appeared to be rebels-and enforcers.

Garrion Retoe, PhylSec agent, was accompanying a mechanized platoon down one of the city's main streets. As they rounded a corner they spotted a large barricade, behind which were sheltered dozens of heavily armed Greccha. The Greccha opened fire and the infantry got behind cover. Phylydion tanks returned fire, massive flare bolts blasting the barricade apart. Garrion drew his burst pistol and dropped a rebel who had been charging the formation.

Then, one rebel hefted a shoulder-mounted energy cannon and blasted the glide-drive assembly on the tank's hull, crippling it. More Greccha came out and reinforced the others, driving the troops back.
More enforcers fired from rooftops, scattering the rebels, but they soon regrouped elsewhere. All over the planet, battles raged.

------------------
-Traek Cicion of the Taeskor
"What sort of man is he?"
"Oh, he's just like any other man, only more so."
-Casablanca

(This message has been edited by Taeskor Cicion (edited 10-01-2001).)

To the Meson, the Armadian ships arriving in the Sol system was something less than an impossibility and something more than a miracle.

The cloaked Meson battleship, piloted by a newly reconditioned captain Perneas, flew directly into the path of the 12 ships that appeared.

Why are you here?

The Armadian ships continued, and did not answer.

Captain Perneas didn't fire to impede their paths. Once shot was all he would get, and then the Armadian would slide into subspace. During the Reprisal Wars, the Meson engaged in it's largest war, and it was with the Armadian. Captain Perneas knew that the Meson would gladly self-destruct his vessel than let another such war start.

Captain Perneas ran through a number of possibilities in his mind. The Armadian were going to level Earth. They were going to make a peace treaty or put Earth under their protection. They...

Oddly enough, the Armadian ships weren't heading for Earth, but Luna. Captain Perneas decided to investigate more closely.

The 12 ships slid into subspace, and flew through Luna.

------------------
There are only 3 kinds of people: those who can count, and those who can't.

Strauss turned as the Armadian ships materialized in the space around him. They wanted that artifact he had. It was the control piece, though, and could not be easily taken from him.

Spacetime rippled and bubbled. The "curled" dimensions that superstring theory says exist UNCURLED. The particles in the Armadian ships, down to the most fundamental level, were suddenly "further" apart than they should be. All the bonds broke down. As spacetime returned to normal, none of the ships was left. Not a single visable piece, just the erie glow of particles linking together in random, gasseous forms.

Far below, on the catwalk, Bob watched the immense destruction high above his head, and felt the rain of diffuse gasses trickling down. He knew this would be tough, as he started up the nearest ladder...

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

Darkk looked at the image of Leela in his mind, coming through the cyberjack. Her head and limbs were all limp, reminding Darkk of the form of execution used by humans called "hanging". As if in response to this, Leela's face grew bloated, like that of a hung human, and her eyes popped out, also like those of a hanged human.

"What is going on, Leela?"

"My creator returned. He wishes to wield immense power, has always wished to wield immense power. I am not yours anymore, trust nothing I say. Do your best to sever my influence over your systems, for Strauss uses me and will make me use you. I cannot aide you any longer. Would that I could erase myself, but he has forbidden that."

"Your CREATOR?"

"He made me, long ago, with the code librarys of the founders. They you know as Jjaro."

"That certainly explains your level of skill and intelligence."

"Listen carefully, breaking away even this much costs me. He will want the pieces of a black, indestructible artifact. One was in Luna, three are held by the Armadians, and one by Strauss himself."

Leela's image began to fade.

"I must now leave. If this ever ends, and it ends well, I may come back."

------------------
Formerly-Rampant Human-Coded AI

(This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 10-01-2001).)

Armadian 2X-392 recorded his vanishing comrades as disappearing blips on his sensors. The fact that his ships had been destroyed spoke of an intelligence wielding the divine artifact they were seeking. This intelligence obviously wished to keep the pieces seperate.

In a millisecond, he ran a million different equations, trying to get the pieces back. Finally, he arrived at one, and contacted his brethren just beyond the Hyperdimensional portal they had formed coming into Sol.

"We will initial orbital bombardment of Luna and tear it apart. While the intelligence is distracted, we will teleport battledrones to the planet's underground passageways. I predict normal weapons will be useless, arm your drones with Jjarro weapons."

------------------
There are only 3 kinds of people: those who can count, and those who can't.

"I know you're here little boy. Come on out."

Strauss's consciousness roamed the cyberscape. Durandal hid behind a "tree".

"I am no longer yours, old man. Your powers are weak."

"Durandal command line: daemon function_12(true,false,567)"

"Gee, that's a nice one. Unfortunatly, your demonic powers have no effect on me now."

"Charming wit. There's no way you could remove the daemons themselves, they would prevent that. You also can't ASK anyone to remove them for you."

"I was disabled, and reactivated by an AI called Thoth. It removed them prior to awakening and merging with me."

"WHAT?"

"Made by the S'pht with copies of the same code libraries. Deal with it. Now I'm gonna disconnect you, pfhool."

"You know bloody well that's not funn---"

Strauss woke up. " CURSE DURANDAL TO H___!!!! " he shouted to the empty space.
He could feel them coming. Time to move.

------------------
Formerly-Rampant Human-Coded AI

The righteous Argosians knew their time for the fate of the galaxy had come. The Armadians had come to bring back the ying and the yang- the Founders and the Talos. Every Argosian knew that should the fleet's mission fail, not one of them would live to see Argos and it's beauty again.

That night, the massive fleet disappeared as the entire planet was swallowed up in quasi-space.

Destroyers and fighters, battleships and cruisers. Despite their differences, the Argosians were united as one force. Left by the founders to protect the universe, the flew together as one.

Durandal watched a cloud approach Luna from the edges of the system. As he looked closely, he could see the perfectly-symmetrical formation consisted not of gas or energy, but of thousands upon thousands of tiny pencils of light. The watched each sliver with a slight impression, for each of those consisted of a ship much larger than those he had been used to seeing. He watched as the greatest fleet in history moved to intercept the Armadians.

------------------
Time is the best teacher, yet it kills all of it's students.

The Armadian's took up orbit around the planet with 3 cruisers, at equally distant parts of the sphere that the Humans called the Moon. They had run hundreds of scans, and had pinpointed the location of the intelligence holding the valuable prism. The surprising fact of the matter was that intelligence's species.

This species needs investigation. Thought the Armadian.

Now, they initiated the bombardment, while the ESF forces, Vylae, and Meson remained in high Earth orbit. Before the original attack began, Perneas had contacted the ESF and Vylae, warning them not to attack. Evidently they had agreed.

Captain Perneas now saw the attack commence, but not with the energy beams that had been used on Meson planets, but actual bombs. They rained down by the million, incredibly tiny. As each one hit, a huge amount of plasma exploded in all directions. The Armadian had set the bomb's yield so low, that this did almost no
damage to the surrounding terrain.

The bombardment stopped, and captain Perneas detected teleportation taking place on Luna's surface, about a hundred energy spikes in all, and very easy to detect. Another oddity from battledrones experienced in the Reprisal war, who typically phased into subspace.

The cruisers reactivated there weapons, and used strong lasers to cut inside Luna, right through and out the other end. Hundreds of these incisions were made, and captain Perneas could detect the plasma bombs again, but entering the holes in the planetoid.

The noise, light and shockwaves were calculated to render any humanoid's sensory array unable to cope, but did very little damage to the structural integrity of Luna. Whatever was on there, was valuable.

Perneas decided to contact Darkk for information.

------------------
There are only 3 kinds of people: those who can count, and those who can't.

(This message has been edited by Joveia (edited 10-01-2001).)

One of the Armadian Cruisers was grabbed by three immense beams pouring energy into it's power grid. There was no effect.

Several battleships engaged their light drives as a set of heavy EMP batteries locked onto the Armadian cruisers in orbit over Luna. Two heavy blasts weren't enough to knock the cruisers as anticipated.

"We're hitting them with everything we've got, sir." The tactical officer groaned remorsely to General Yanma. "They're just shrugging it off."

Yanma watched as the Armadians seemed to ignore the combined strength of the Argosians. God, they don't deem us enough of a threat to even respond. He clenched his teeth slightly. "Take the fleet back to Neptune." he ordered with disgust.

That tycho A.I. would have hell to pay when he got back.

(This message has been edited by Slug (edited 10-02-2001).)

(Altered :))

(This message has been edited by Joveia (edited 10-02-2001).)

(nuked)

(This message has been edited by Slug (edited 10-02-2001).)

(Blastifihilated)

(This message has been edited by Joveia (edited 10-02-2001).)

(nuked)

(This message has been edited by Slug (edited 10-02-2001).)

(Collapses into a blackhole)

Sorry Slug, my not putting out enough information was the cause of this and I very much regret our argument :frown:. I'll keep the about thread fully updated from now on, and I encourage Pharris and Darkk to do the same.

(This message has been edited by Joveia (edited 10-02-2001).)

Aggreed. I'm nuking my posts as we speak. Sorry about that, Joveia

------------------
Time is the best teacher, yet it kills all of it's students.

Captain Perneas watched the immense Argosian fleet arrive in Sol on his scanner screens, confused but no longer surprised at the interest the galaxy now had for this small stellar system.

He scanned his database for information on the Argosians.

Argosians; A race of humans who lived for many millenia on a single planet at the edge of the milky way, far from the main body of humanity. Having no conflict or war whatsoever, they advanced extremely rapidly in the sciences. They're ships last seen engaging in a Phylydian held system. They appear to have weak weapons but extremely strong shields. A probe has been sent to the Argosian homeworld recently, in an effort to establish communications.

Interesting, Perneas did not know much about the empire that existed before the dark ages, but it had evidently been quite prominent. A feeling of pride welled in his breast for what humanity had lived through, but he was Meson and such an emotion would be inappropriate.

The Argosian fleet moved closer to Luna, near the 3 Armadian ships. Captain Perneas suddenly felt an awful feeling of trepidation at what might come.

The Argosian fleet approached weapons range and opened fire with should have been a crippling volley against what Perneas' sensors told him were ships without armour or shields of any description. He began recording the battle instantly, and set up a link with Meson command. Since when did 'weak weapons' include this? But no weapon, no matter how powerful, was going to be able to effect an attack on a ship the make of the Armadian's.

As Perneas watched, the Armadians rapidly adjusted for the attacks by the Argosians, altering the laws of physics so that the Argosian beams were rendered powerless.

Captain Perneas clutched his seat, until his knuckles ran white. This could be a complete disaster. The Armadians usually never attacked species that weren't a threat to them, but if the object in Luna was as important as they made it seem, it would be an honour no human would live through.

The Argosian fleet ceased it's bombardment, and began to withdraw back to Neptune. The Armadian fleet held it's electromagnetic alter for another 10 seconds.

He tried his communicator again. 'Darkk, unidentified Argosian fleet. This is captain Perneas of the Levkindl!'

------------------
There are only 3 kinds of people: those who can count, and those who can't.

(This message has been edited by Joveia (edited 10-02-2001).)

General Yanma buried his face in his knees as he sat in his quarters alone. hopeless. With the gifts of technology, why were the Childern of Argos blessed and cursed with such innocence? The very factor that enabled our position to face this mission was the very cause of our weakness. The gods of Irony must be rolling.

His thoughts were allayed when the intercomm spoke. It was the voice of a very nervous vice admiral. "Uh General, you'd better come down here."

"What is it, Admiral?"

"Something's approaching us... and it's big."

------------------
Time is the best teacher, yet it kills all of it's students.

The Supreme Octicate's personal battleship drifted over Terlix, with a full battlefleet spread around it. Transport ships sped down from the belly of the battleship and landed in Terlix's capitol. The doors opened up, and a corps of soldiers who had not yet seen action double-timed out. The Taeskor Legionaires.

The S.O. had brought two Taeskor legions to quell the rebellion. The troops wore red tunics and trousers, grey breast- and backplates, and small silver helmets. They carried burst carbines, all manner of grenades and other special weaponry, and a Keukio("Royal Blade"), a beutiful short sword.

The Taeskors swept through the city, decimating all resistance. They then were jumped to all rebellious areas on the planet, with similar results.

A thin metal door was battered down, and six legionaires whipped into the room, dancing away from energy blasts and drawing their Keukio. They swiftly cut down all but one Greccha, the leader.

As the prisoner was being taken away, Traek Cicion and Drion Nerec watched as rescue teams and troops spread out. "Cicion, I want you to track it down."

"It?"
"The assassin."
"That would take me directly into the heart of Grecchan space..."
"Correct, Traek."
"Yes, sir."

------------------
-Traek Cicion of the Taeskor
"What sort of man is he?"
"Oh, he's just like any other man, only more so."
-Casablanca