Bob felt the ship groaning and rumbling. Red lights now flashed on the bridge and a Vylae voice squacked about the critical state of the fusion reactor, and the failure of the automated systems to solve the problem. Bob looked at the console. Three minutes. Perfect.

The warp fold popped, and Bob's Warship was in the very center of the Vylae fleet. Collision alarms sounded as ships broke the proximity sensors. The viewscreen showed huge capitol ships using their emergency thrusters to avoid the warship that had appeared in their path. The Vylae had contingencies for this situation, and as the recently arrived ship's transponder was pinging out distress signals, several ships immediately formed up around it to see what the matter was. It was almost a whole thirty seconds before the confusion died down, and some astute officer realized that this ship was the one that had been set to ram L'ohwon. He wondered what had gone wrong.

Leela did not.
She was already pushing into the ship through the short range communications arrays. Bob had put plugs in them, but simple firewalls were not going to hold her for more than ten seconds, and that was if she was having a bad day. He retracted his cables and made a break for it. He had already slagged a passage to the front end of the ship, as far away from the antimatter assemblies as possible, but that was still a matter of a hundred meters, not nearly far enough for the size of the blast.

Bob waited, broadcasting on his Jjarro beacon, hoping Durandal was listening.

Leela wasted no time. When she found that the reactor was about to fail, she checked quickly for sabotage, then vented the plasma. She could tell Bob had been there moments ago, and she wondered what kind of insane person would blow up a ship with himself on it. Suddenly something went wrong.

Temperature readings on the plasma vents were way too high. She ran a more thorough diagnostic. She swore. The plasma vent, its magnetic shielding discreetly sabotaged, burned through in seconds, sending plasma coursing through sensitive sections of the ship. This too would not have been so bad, had Bob not decided to do some creative remodeling with his wave motion cannon. The plasma was pulled by the vacuum through several holes in several bulkheads, causing massive structural damage to the rear quarter of the ship, that is utill it hit an antimatter containment cell.

Those that could had started to fly away, but there really was not enough time. Bob felt the rumbling, and knew what was coming his way. He turned to face it, and suddenly felt very light.

Ten billion kilometers away, on the surface of L'ohwon, several creatures were reported to have gotten sunburned, despite it being the middle of the night.

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

Bob looked around. It seemed as if he was back on Durandal's ship. According to his suit, he had been teleported out a picosecond before the blast hit. The figure in front of him looked like some odd hybrid mammal/reptile. Obviously Durandal was in a wierd mood.

"I'm not Durandal." the figure said. "Although you could say we share a very distant relationship."

Bob was stunned. There was only one possible implication. He was the first human to stand in the presence of the Jjaro, no, the first one to ever see one.

"Incorrect. 10 others have seen us before you."

"Who?"
"You might not want to know."

"I'll take that to mean you don't want to tell me."

"It certainly means I'm not going to. By the way, you're fairly insolent for a mere mortal."

"Durandal says the same thing. Oh, is that what you really look like? I'd always pictured you as more imposing."

"Poor, foolish mortal. We are creatures that experience and extend in more than 3, more than 4, 12 or so dimensions. What you see here is an image to cover the 3D slice of me that would otherwise be visable. I could let you see that, but would a 2D slice of a human be very presentable? Of course not. This is a fairly decent attempt at representing our nature to 3D creatures, but it doesn't come close to conveying our full grandure."
"You've got some ego."
"You've got some death wish."
"Point taken. Oh, can I ask you a question?"
"You just did, but ask as many as you like. I will answer as many as I like as well."
"Is this ship like Durandal's?"
"No, that ship is actually more powerful. He can't use it very well though. It'll take him millions of years to figure out what it can really do."
"Is there any way to destroy the Arcanis?"
The Jjaro gave Bob a look that made his suit scream in fear. Bob could feel the adrenaline dumping into his bloodstream. "I told you, you've got a death wish. Hmmmph. We did so much for you, and you tempt us to kill you. Destroying the Arcanis would be very inconvenient for us. If you do so, we'll blow up half the universe as your punishment. I will tell you what might work, although attempting it would be quite foolish."

"That seems to be up my alley"

"When the five pieces of the Arcanis are joined, it follows that the Wr'kncacnter will escape. However, a few seconds will elapse from your perspective between those events. Time enough for one order. If you order the Arcanis to scatter itself, it will do so, and the Wr'kncacnter will not escape. You would need all five pieces, though. Two you would have to wrest from Leela. One is on the Greccha homeworld. One is on the Polaris Homeworld. One is on an artificial planet called Rodrom in Phylydion space. As this is dangerous and idiotic, we will not aid you in this beyond securing you a ship."

With those words, a late-model UESG scoutship appeared in mid-air 2 meters behind Bob.
"That should do nicely, you agree?"
"It'll do."

Bob climbed in, and suddenly he was in normal space, a few light years from Tau Ceti IV. Ahead of him, a gigantic silver jellyfish of a ship (although less impressive than Durandal's) vanished into a sliver of light.

A voice crackled over the radio. "Remeber, all creation could rest on that second, but I doubt you'll live long enough to get more than 2 pieces."

------------------
Seen on a Claymore anitpersonell mine: "Do not eat"

Scene: The Grecchan capital city on Greccha Prime.

Thousands of Phylydion troops stood in hundreds of rectangular formations, uniforms spotless, rank insignias glimmering, weapons polished, cleaned, and in place. In every formation was a group of soldiers that had not been involved in an actual battle for millenia: Standard bearers. They bore tall poles with the symbol of the Imperium, a black oval encircled by a studded blue octagon, both over a pair of crossing swords.

Tanks and other vehicles were also present, polished until they shone. Fightercraft flew overhead, and occasionally one could spot capital ships in low orbit. Then, slowly, a large, ornate shuttlecraft glided gently down to the surface, escorted by a pair of sleek fighters. The shuttle landed with barely a sound.

Drion Nerec, in full dress uniform complete with visible Keutae on his hip, walked smartly toward the shuttle. He stopped a few feet in front of the spot that the disembarkment ramp slowly extended to.

Four Pure Taeskors and eight Taeskor Legionaires stepped double-time out of the suttlecraft and took up positions next to the ramp. Then, in slow, measured strides, the Supreme Octicate stepped into the bright day. Nerec bowed low. The SO, with a wave of his hand, bade him rise.

Nerec and the SO walked, surveying the troops, until they came to the Grecchan high general of all Greccha Prime forces. Nerec stepped up to him and extended his hand. With a nod of acknowledgement, the commander reached back and slowly drew his ceremonial saber, handing it to Nerec. Nerec handed it to the SO, who held it high in the air. "Complete, honorable surrender," said the SO. He looked into the commander's eyes. "You have fought well, and please know that we hold you in the highest respect." The commander bowed, and walked in formation with his own unarmed troops to Nerec's field HQ, to recieve a true leader's welcome.

More than three quarters of the Grecchan Empire had surrendered with the capture of their capitol. But there were plenty of fleets and armies with a great deal of fight left in them.

Elsewhere, Traek Cicion woke up to an extremely faint sound. The room was absolutely dark. His head was pounding, his eyes burned, his sense tendrils were paralyzed, and his entire body felt like it had been torn apart molecularly. He didn't think he could take much more torture. Then, he realized the sounds were not Grecchan footsteps.

He felt his bonds being released and a finger tapped out a message into his palm: T-COMMANDO-4REG-RESC-FOLLOW. Taeskor Commandos from the famed fourth regiment had been sent to rescue him. About kadt time. The "follow" part might be a little difficult in his condition, but he'd been through worse in training. He silently lifted himself to his feet and followed after them into a repair access corridor.

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

The remnants of the shattered Grecchen Empire, once proud and ruthless, crushed to the bone. Much of it had been captured or had surrendered to the onslaught of Phylydions. Their homeworld was captured, their armada defeated, the Grecchen Empire was no more.

But, the struggle wasn't over. Hours after the defeat, the Grecchen warships, accompanied by a small Argosian taskforce, fled into deep space.

The three Polaris fleets settled into a high orbit.

Drion Nerec was disturbed from his sleep by his communications officer.

"Sir, I have Yuri Ulovich on channel one."

Cranky and ill-tempered after a long day, Nerec snatched up the telemetric reciever. The pale face of the Polaris Admiral appeared. "What do you want?" He demanded.

The thick-haired admiral ignored the moody Phylydion before him. "The battleis over. The Argosians and the Grecchens are fleeing into deep space, however we are in no condition to pursue, having sustained heavy damage. If you could but turn over a small battlegroup to my command, I would be most gratefull."

"Yuri, they've given up. They've run away. Why must you pursue them so when we have utterly humiliated them?"

"They may pose a threat to our relations."

"No." Nerec shot out angrily. "No way I am lending you my fleet to pursue your enemies. You can kadt well fight your own wars."

The Fleet Admiral chuckled at the irony. "Very well, your majesty; bear in mind this is a two-way street."

An hour later, the Polaris fleet vanished from orbit without further communication.

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

(Slug, I think you misread my post. The Argosians were teleported back to Argos by Leela.)

Natasha was quitely led outside the room by her handler. What had happened to her at the battle was being kept secret, but it couldn't stay secret for long.

Aleck turned to the senior technical advisor and the staff neurologist. "What's your report?"

"We've reviewed all the data you gave us, and examined her thoroughly. The only possible explanation is some sort of energy field interfered with her brain somehow."

"Can anything be done about it?"

"Yes, but it won't be easy. There is still a trace of the field present, and we believe that it is there to prevent her brain from reverting to its normal state. The field appears to be projected from an external source."
"So if Leela and her fleets are blown to bits, Natasha would be fixed?"
"Yes, but that's a big if. The kind of power necissary to do this sort of thing, and the casualness with which it was done, suggest her power is greater than anything seen by a Polaran in reality or even legend, except for the Talos."
"Is this "Leela" a Talos?"

"She claims she wants to bring peace to humanity, and she could've killed the whole fleet but didn't. However, the energy signiture, as well as the seemingly reality-defying nature of her actions, suggests that something Talos-like is involved."

"So we're going to have to destroy her and her Vylae carefully and subtly."

"That's the gist of it."

"Natasha is to be confined to the institute on some pretext of concern for her safety. I'll see what can be done towards the removal of Leela's interferance."

"Yes sir."

(In case it isn't obvious, I'm setting up a nice, big confrontation b/w the Vylae and the Polaris that will take place after Leela looses her power. When Leela does loose her power, Natasha will recover.)

------------------
Seen on a Claymore anitpersonell mine: "Do not eat"

(This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 11-22-2001).)

The homeworld was in an uproar when a fleet which had been gone for decades suddenly reappeared in high orbit. General Yanma sat in silent council with the Emporer's lord.

"Much has changed since you left, General. Argos is not as it was."

"Forty years tends to do that to utopia. I noticed the planet from orbit"

The grim look on the lord's face foreshadowed the news the General was to recieve. "Four years after your fleet departed for the Terran sector, our homeworld was looted by Orion Pirates. Our defenses were overwhelmed. Angered by our resistance, they bombed half of our civilizatioon out of existance."

Yanma was shocked to the core. A heavy layer of sadness set in on him. "Why did you need to talk with me personally? Why not just tell me before?" He rambled.

"During the raids, The imperial rule was slaughtered. The emporer was killed in the three-month battle. You are his only surviving heir." That was it. The former General was no longer the military authority, he was now the only leader a empire in ruins could turn to.

"Another glorious defeat for Argos."

The lord bowed down to the new emporer. "I truely hope you can turn the tide of this war."

Yanma was silent in his consternation. Then: "Show me the way to the Orions."

_On the day the metaessencial one banished the children of Argos; on that day when the savior descended from the clouds from his campaigns in the west to find his kingdom burning; on the day the tricloptic dominarians triumphed over the melted slave empire; on the day of the fall of the third of the warring ones of the north; on the day the founder's bane escaped their confines of the second essence;

Thus did the Reign of the Talos commance._

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

(This message has been edited by Slug (edited 11-22-2001).)

"Pardon me, but that won't do you any good."
Yanma turned slowly. Leela's face was on the monitor behind him.

"I will not parlay with you, Talos. I will now go to the Orion system,
to dispense retribution on them."
"Silly mortal, that won't do you any good. Violence never solves this sort of thing."

"I will not listen to you."

"Besides, you're too late anyway." That got Yanma's attention.

"Too late?"

"I've been there. They were especially impertinant, so I changed them in order to deal with them at my leasure."

"Changed them?" Yanma had no idea what she meant. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.Leela held up a cottentail rabbit half-covered by an Orion Admiral's cap.

"They're much more manigable this way. I'm coming to Argos in two hours. Surrender, or I'll turn you into newts , and it won't get better."

Yanma tried his best to look imposing. "We will NEVER, ever , ever surrender to the Talos or any of their lackeys! Come to our space and we will punish you."

"Don't think you can stand against me. Reality itself can't. However, that was a nice speech. I'll let you play emperor for another year or so, because you entertain me. Oh, it appears my brother Durandal wishes to make contact with you. I can't seem to break his encryption, so it looks like you'll have his undivided attention."

Leela's face vanished from the monitor, and was replaced by Durandal's.
"Holy crud, this is getting out of hand."

"I noticed. She apparently defeated the entire Orion empire with ease, and is threatening to invade us."

"I'd advise you to stand firm, and be patient. Turn all your resources towards rebuilding. Everyone knows Leela is the greatest threat of them all, so you are safe from all but her. Don't worry about her breaking her word, she's very honest. This will all be over, one way or another, before her deadline."
"All be over..."

"The Talos might have escaped by then. Don't worry though, Leela has only two pieces. I have sent someone to get the others. He will try to break the Arcanis, or at least scatter it to where it cannot be put back together."

"I hope for the sake of all he succedes."

"As do we all."

(Note: Leela will loose her powers eventually, in a destruction-of-the-universe defying climax. Then everyone can try and get back at the Vylae and Leela for the stuff she did. )

------------------
Seen on a Claymore anitpersonell mine: "Do not eat"

(whatever)

Drion Nerec was engulfed in horror upon the delivery of the reports. Massive riots, hundreds killed, capital buildings burned and razed. Perhaps such an event could take place on one of the fringe-worlds of the imperium, where such civil unrest could breed, as they most often did, but this was no fringe world drone-drawl. This was on Dominus.

The Imperium should have seen this coming: After the sanctions for Cipcon on Dominus were placed, a black-market for the stuff sprang up overnight, the smugglers getting their wares from other worlds the Polaris were allowerd to trade their Cipcon to. However, when the Polaris vanished, not only did they cease to exercise their fleet in Phylydion space, they had ceased all trade as well as communications.

Polaris goods such as wheat, Plasma Steel, iron, gold, jewels, fabrics, feuls, computers, liquors, books, art, and Cipcon were no longer being imported to the imperium, the few phylydion guilds that based their business on the lucrative trade with the Polaris had collapsed within hours of this event. Smugglers no longer had a source for their cipcon, and returned to Dominus with empty cargo holds.

An entire people, maddeningly craving the purple powder, driven by an insane urge to break this forced abstinence, had overrun police forces and would have wrought chaos on the imperium, had it not been for the octicate decision to nerve-staple each and every one of the rioters.

Admiral Benedin held the vial in his hand. This was his last shot of the stuff he had brought with him. On the market, he could sell it for a king's ransom; the people were desperate for Cipcon, but so was he. Riches and abstainence, or indulgance and temporary joy?

He popped the top off the vial, breathing in the smooth purple powder. The vial crashed to the ground as his body spasmed from the sensation. Pain, worry, anguish, anger... all driven out from his mind to make room for the flood of emotion, like a neural tidal wave that enveloped his brain. Comfort, hunger, sex, greed, future, thirst, heat... every desire, every need and sensation desired was satisfied. EVERY desire met and overwhelmed with surplus. His world was perfect, and his mind was at it's full point with contentness.

But it began to fade. Like every other time, he reached out with his arms, trying to bring it back, yet like every time it still slipped through his fingers. He did not want to let it go, but resistance was pointless. He sat up, wiping the sweat, drool and tears off his chin. Back to reality.

The fat confederate Baron did his best to not giggle like a schoolgirl at a dirty loke as he read the reports. The Imperium was in extreme unrest, and talks were around among the addicted phylydion underlings of invading Polaris space to steal their Cipcon. More and more pleas coming from Phylydion traders to resume Cipcon trade.

The door burst open, and the Admiral stormed in. "Withdrawal symptoms MY ASS." He screamed. He pulled out his shredder pistol, pointing it furiously at the baron.

The baron gave a light chuckle, casually and calmly. "My dear Admiral," he spread his hands like a teacher kindly explaining a point to a student, "North Star is now in a position to make a lot of money. We're going to be very rich indeed when we start importing the stuff directly to Dominus."

Yuri was in a terrible rage. "The Phylydion leaders have now DIRECTLY TIED Cipcon to the sentiment that's springing up in imperium space."

The baron chortled like a kind bartender. "Exactly! We're going to be very rich men!"

The Admiral Snarled. "We're going to be very DEAD men. I've spent this whole campaign working with the Phylydions, infiltrating their council and slowly taking over their economy, and I've learned that they are NOT pushovers. The takeover was doing just fine untill you pulled this stunt! What the hell makes you think what you did is worth war with the Phylydions?"

"Profit." The fat baron answered most unwisely. Had the baron had anything else to say, he would have been be unable to say it as a split-second later, a shredder bolt was sent crashing through his brain.

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

Garrion Retoe had been set in place as commander of PhylSec's new branch devoted to the stamping out of Cipcon and the illegal trade that had sprung up around it. He stood on a balcony overlooking Imperial Plaza on Dominus. In the immense open space were thousands of rioting civilians, desperate for the horrific drug. Their screams were rage, desperation and agony all blended together and intensified. "If Cipcon is the antithesis of this," Retoe muttered, "I can see why people want it." Enforcers surrounded the rioters, but they were being gradually overrun. Then Garrion saw a column of soldiers advance into the plaza. These were no enforcers, they were Imperial Army regulars in full combat gear. Their commanding officer gave the order to turn stun bolts on the mob. Dozens of rioters were knocked out each second as rapid yellow bolts were hurled into their ranks.

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

(Chapter four is open, guys)

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

further posts to be made in Chapter four

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