Outgoing hypertext message

From:
Fleet Admiral Yuri Ulovich,
Fleet Admiral Aleck Yakovf,
Rear Admiral Natasha Trebetauski;
of the North Star Federation

To:
His majesty Drion Nerec;
of the Phylydion Imperium

In light of the Argosian Invasion of the sector, we wish to open Political, Economic, and possibly Military relations with the Imperium. We request capital rendezvous in the Allanus orbital belt one week from now. You may be accompanied by three escorts if neccessary, should you chose to attend.

Hypertext message sent.

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

Bob blew the top hatch of the ship and climbed out. He was on the only part of the ship still floating over the murky brown water. Bob cursed the sunken ship's puny atmospheric manuvering thrusters, then took a compass bearing on the setting sun. It was no use travelling the the L'ohwon wastelands after dark, but he had several hundred miles of swamp to cross, and time was short. Unfortunately, he had only his magnum to defend himself with, and running around at night with just a magnum to defend himself with would never do. So, he filtered out some of the swamp water with his hand pump and drank, then went back below and sealed the hatch. He would leave at dawn.

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Durandal didn't dare go near L'ohwon. Instead, he waited in Sol, useing any excuse he could to keep his mind off of the marine and the two pieces that were zipped up tight in the pocket of his jumpsuit. He had even revealed his ship to the area, in hopes that it would give him some more trouble to deal with. Anything to keep him away from the pieces.

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

Drion Nerec strode into the Supreme Octicate's personal chamber unnanounced, his bodyguard walking close behind him.

"Sir, we've recieved an offer from the North Star Federation to open up trade and general commerce between our respective nations."

"The Argosians would not like that."

"I don't know about you, sir, but I am not terribly concerned about what the Argosians would or would not like, given that they invaded our space. And given that we'd have our military plus the Polarian military backing us up, I doubt they'd put up much of an argument."

"Tell the EO about it. We will open up trade as soon as she has finalized the details with the Federation's government."

"Yes, sir." Nerec walked out of the room and headed down the hallway to the Economics Octicate's personal chamber. He was still laughing at the use of "his majesty" on the communiqué that had been sent to him.

Traek Cicion knelt in a small, sealed-off storage chamber in the heart of an asteroid deep in Grecchan space. He had made a most unpleasant discovery. This asteroid was a base of operations for a secret creed of Grecchan assassins who utilized a particularly interesting invisibility device. Far more advanced than a simple cloak, it actually pulled all light, sound, heat, and any other sort of energy being emanated from or going towards the user through a system of gravity fields into a sort of battery, which was what powered the device in the first place. Anyone coming into physical contact with a user of the field would feel nothing, would not even be concious of their hand stopping. And he assumed that one of these invisible assassins had been the one behind the death of Eastern Province's governor.

Feeling that he had collected enough information, he swiftly and silently proceeded down the corridor to the airlock through which he had entered.

A pair of guards somehow detected him and raised their weapons. He leapt at a wall and kicked off, propelling himself toward the guards as he drew his Keutae. The guards fired shots which he twisted around until he landed, disarming both swiftly with his blade before knocking them out with a single swipe of his hand.

An impact sent him sprawling forward. He turned around, confused that he hadn't heard the attacker approach. He saw exactly what he had been dreading: Nothing. He took two more hits and sprung himself backwards, grabbing a ceiling conduit and holding himself up. He closed his eyes and extracted his sense tendrils. He got only a clouded sense, but it was enough for him to get a general location. He pushed off, blade in hand forming an arrow in front of him. He felt it plunge into the invisible assailant, and an immense wracking and strectching sensation overcame him. "The gravity fields. Idiot!" Was his last thought before he passed out.

He awoke far deeper inside the asteroid than anyone had ever returned from. His hands, feet, chest, stomach, neck and head were all securely bound to the wall behind him. Three Greccha stood before him.

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-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 10-15-2001).)

12 shuttles streaked over the low Lh'owon desert. On the horizon, sunrise was breaking and light flooded the ground. As Flickt'ka scrambled into their caves, the shuttles landed.

45 battledroids and 600 elite Vylae troopers emerged.

"Allright, listen up dirtbags. We're hunting a guy called "Bob." He's a human, but has some dang good power armor. He's probably not too well armed, but he can take a few hits. That's why you've been issued wave motion cannons. We're to go in, kill the crud outa him, and get out ASAP. We are not to approach the body, or investigate where it was if we disintigrate him completely. Oh, and don't use the orbital bombardment designators unless you really need them, I hate reinforcing the feeling of superiority of the chair-stuffers starside. Now, MOVE OUT!!!!"

"SIR YES SIR!!"

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Leela could feel them heading off after that fool human. He'd die in the blast, of course, but the Arcanis components are indestructable. She had remote drones on standby to retrieve the pieces. Time to acquire all the power she would need to protect everyone.

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Durandal had to take his mind off the Arcanis. He couldn't challenge Leela - that would be too close to fighting over the Arcanis. He hoped Bob could do something about that.
Ah well. He liked Sol too. Time to teach those Polaris thugs a lesson.

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"Yuri, what happened at Sol?"

"We were hit by two AIs. The first one hacked 5 battle frigates, and used them to with an effectiveness well out of porportion to their standard capablities. After we finished that annoyance, a large Argosian fleet, lead by a large unknown ship of immense power, entered. I made a tactical retreat until I could figure out what I was dealing with. I still haven't."

"Intelligence suggests that ship was what's known as a "Jjaro" ship - although we haven't seen any that large before. We've had reports of fighters and corvettes of a similar design, but no good images exist."

"How powerful are they?"

"Very. We will have to examine this closely."

There was a dull blossom of dim light outside the window. Then another, and another. All the admirals stood up. "An attack?"

"Not on us, sir," replied a sensor opp. "It's a very long range attack, directed at the battleships, but it doesn't seem to be doing any..."

The battleships accelerated. "Sir, battleship that have been hit have left formation, flying wildly."

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Durandal snickered. The Jjaro ring of fear trick was always fun. He wished he knew how it worked, but ah well. One of those battleships had been pointing at the command ship when it was hit. Thirty more seconds...

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"Sir, the Olaf is on a collision course!"

"Vector it off!"

"Sir, I can't get any response, other than ... panicked screaming?"

"Just shoot it!!!"

Too late. The Olaf hit the command ship. It didn't do any hull damage, but the shields went down to 37%...

Yuri Ulovich dissolved in a flash of mottled blue and white light.

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Yuri looked around. He appeared to be outside some sort of wood and stone building, on a fairly cold if temporate region of a planet. One moon hung in the sky. It looked a lot like Earth's moon, but without the immense slash marks. He looked down. He was wearing some sort of odd costume, with all sorts of odd colored stripes, rediculous pants, and a large collar that reminded him of the "lampshades" used to prevent dogs from ripping out stiches after a visit to the vet.

He looked at the man walking out of the building. He was wearing similar garb, but had long blonde hair and a odd, curved sword. He also looked rather tall and threatening. Yuri looked left. There was a man with an odd black hood. He held a rather large axe, and stood next to a stump.

Yuri looked at the blonde man. "You, Yuri Ulovich, have been convicted of: attacking your homeworld, being unable to recognise your homeworld, treason, treachery, and being a butthead. The first 4 charges carry no penaly. The last one carries a penalty of beheading. that will be performed NOW."

Yuri was hauled unceremoniously to the block. His neck was placed against it. The man with the hood swung the axe.

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The other two admirals were trying to figure out where Yuri went when he teleported back in, holding his neck and trembling like a leaf.

"The... the... they... they cut off my head!"

He then promptly fainted.

The others looked at Yuri's neck. On it was a thin red line, all the way around. A med team arrived, and administered smelling salts. Yuri woke, screamed some more, and collapsed again.

(This is kinda wierd, so let me explain this. Durandal just needed something to do, and a nice Elizabethan execution was just the thing. Durandal reattached the head before any perminant damage was done. Also, Pharris is going to get write a nice battle scene.)

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Formerly-Rampant Human-Coded AI

The three-eyed diplomat sat back in his demi-throne smiling somewhat as his body absorbed nine centuries of furniture technology. He loved going on diplomatic missions where 'they' wanted something from the imperium. But comfy chairs aside, these "polaris" may actually be able to do the imperium a favor or two.

He bent his head upon the door as it hissed open. The Polaris Rear Admiral Trebetauski had just entered the room. Funny of these humans to put a woman in such a high position.

"Good evening, Natasha." He gave a polite nod to her.
"'evening, consulate." She returned blankly. She took a seat around the opal table. "Our mission in this quadrant is apparently in league with one of your goals, consulate."

"Oh?" He quirked his head to the side, feigning ignorance so as to prolong his stay in the chair. "You speak of Argos?"

"Indeed." She nodded. "We have both had military encounters with the Argosians that have gone sour, and have both lost many fine officers and crew to their barbarous ways."

"The Imperium has managed to stay out of General Yanma's way."

"But that will only delay this growing problem. They began their campaign from encroaching upon your space to encroaching upon the borders of every spacefaring faction. The Argosians are a galactic menace, and it will only be a matter of time untill the Empire and the Imperium are forced into a showdown."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that by then, will there be anyone left to take action against that?"

"If you are proposing attacking the Argosian Empire on mere speculation alone, you have gone quite mad, woman."

"Neither the North Star Federation nor the mighty Phylydion Imperium itself can ever possibly defeat the Argosians. But together, we can create an alliance that will shatter modern space warfare."

This grabbed the diplomat's attention. A non-aggression pact was what he came here hoping for, and now he was given the opportunity for a full-blow brotherhood? "I can honestly say that is a very tempting course of action, Admiral, for both our peoples, but as much as it would matter, I will have to ask my superiors on this."

Natasha smiled as he left the room for his quarters.

General Yanma was in his quarters, only now soaking up thee fact that his men would never see Argos again. The shell-shocked trauma, the unspeakable horror of war, of death and destruction, had sunk into him. Every man in the fleet was somehow shanged from the pleasant, bright and sunny men and women of the navy, into cold reflections of their former antitheses, chilled to the bone with the demoralizing depression of inevitability.

His stellarcomm blipped and he sat up on the bed, snapping out of his blank stare at the guilded ceiling. "Yes, Mr. Mitsu?" he muttered in a hollow voice.

"Sir, there's someone who would like to speak to you."

"I'll be there in a moment."

The blue General stepped onto the bridge. The cheery conversation that had inhabited it before the war was now a slow drugding drone of a time of recession. The sonsor officer spoke up first. "We tracked three juggernaughts and a wing of heavy destroyers entering the system a few minutes ago."

Yanma snapped out of it. "Who? Wha? Why didn't we detect them before?"

"Durandal wanted to keep it a surprise."

"Are they friendly?"

"Well, that's just it, sir. Their one of ours. Their commodore wanted to speak with you."

The general's mind was in a blur. A fleet? From Argos? This was too wierd. "Put him on the screen."

Barely a second after the face flickered into existance, it spoke. "After getting your letter, we couldn't simply leave you out here to rot." The General's face paled in surprise. "Some day you'll see Argos again," The face smiled in familial camaradarie. "brother."

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

The Supreme Octicate closed the comm connection with the diplomat he had sent to meet with the Polarians. "Interesting," he said to Drion Nerec and Kiuro Den, the Economics Octicate. "The diplomat we chose may be a pompous, beurocratic fool, but he knows how to handle a dangerous situation."

"Sir, I advise against the kind of alliance they propose," said Nerec. "I don't want us to be forced into war. Besides, who knows what sort of military might the Argosians could create if they used their technology for war?"

"I agree," said Den. She then activated a tri-dee display of the Imperium's general economy. "However, I have studied their economy and trade patterns, and establishing trade would greatly boost our own economy." She turned off the display and waited for a reply. The SO nodded.

"The military budget could use a boost," said both Nerec and the SO simultaneously, the SO imitating Nerec's voice. They both chuckled.

"Very well. Nerec, I want a comprehensive study of their military to see what we could accomplish with an alliance. Den, Continue your trade research. I want both of you to give a personal report to our diplomat."

Nerec and Den bowed, and they walked out of the room to their respective offices.

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

Bob looked up as he got out of the ship. An oddly large S'pht was standing there. Bob put a laser sight on him and dropped down, keeping his aim on where he thought the brain might be.

"Don't bother, Bob." it said.

"How do you know my name?"

"Durandal called ahead. He said you might need help. My name is S'boath. I am familliar with the Arcanis, but know now way of destroying it. There are very few who do, if any."

"Who are they, and where can I find them?"

"The founders are the only ones who might know, naturally. Finding them is harder to answer. They typically find you."

"I have a feeling this could get tricky."

"Certainly. Trickier still might be escaping the several hundred Vylae troops sneaking up on you from behind."

"Tear it, just shoot 'em!!!" screamed a voice from behind, as Bob dropped to one knee and began popping caps at them. An immense wall of blue, the sign of multiple linked wave-motion cannons, shot for Bob.

Bob screamed. Bob closed his eyes. Bob knew he couldn't take this, founder uniform or not.

Bob opened his eyes. A purple wall had appeared between him and the incoming blast. S'boath was straining. "I have to leave now. My people will provide cover for you." Suddenly, two S'pht'Kr flyers began firing into the troops. Bob ran for his life as the organised fire at him disintigrated into random shooting. S'boath teleported out. Suddenly, Bob felt like something more was about to happen.

All of a sudden Bob was conscious of flying through the air, with a deafening rushing noise being the last thing he had heard. As he was about to land half a kilometer from where he had been standing, he saw a small silver object decelerating to a stop. A Vylae automated probe.

Bob landed, the uniform's inertic logic soaking up the impact, and checked his pocket. Ripped open. Arcanis pieces gone. He squinted at the probe. A red glow emitted from each of its two heavy-duty fast-reaction manipulator arms. The probe had snatched the pieces from his pocket while going through the atmosphere at about one quarter the speed of light. Bob had no idea anyone could hold a probe stable at that velocity through an atmosphere. He had no idea any probe could stand that quantity of force. He definatly was surprised that anyone could snatch the Arcanis with a quantity of time expressed in nanoseconds. It probably wasn't Durandal.

"Hi Leela."

"Glad to see you recognised me." said Leela's holoimage. Appearing without a projector.

"Strauss was far to weak to use these propperly. I will do so. You may go do whatever you like, I don't care. No, wait. You'll try to get it back. I know what this does to people. You won't get off this planet alive. Besides, I need to kill those S'pht too. Sure, they were helpful in breaking the Pfhor's power, but they might try get my precious pieces for themselves. All I need is three more, and I will be totally unstoppable. Not even the Jjaro themselves could stop me!!! I'll be like a goddess. Hmm, I should work on starting a religion. Lots to do. See you after the universe closes!"

Bob didn't like that speach a bit. He watched the probe vanish. He looked up at the sky. A Warpship was hovering in minimum orbit. He'd heard the Vylae could use warpships to do intersteller teleports. Guess that's what had happened. But how was she going to destroy everyone here?

Lh'owon's got a planetary shield, so antimatter is straight out. The S'pht can hold off pretty large warfleets. Certainly the could blow the warpship before it pulls in too much. That left only one option. He didn't like that option. Long range scanner in the beltpack sez... yer f---ed, Bob.

On the scanner, the "known sentient beings" count, as well as the "organism" count and all related counts for the Warpship were decreasing. The crew was being transported off. They were gonna ram it straight into the planet. Like a multiterraton battering ram. That would seriously bust up the planet, not counting the antimatter.... " ߡˆÝ! ߡˆÝ! ߡˆÝ! ߡˆÝ! ߡˆÝ! ߡˆÝ! ߡˆÝ! ߡˆÝ! ߡˆÝ! ߡˆÝ! ߡˆÝ! ߡˆÝ! ߡˆÝ! ߡˆÝ! "

Bob had to think...

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Formerly-Rampant Human-Coded AI

Three full warfleets hung suspended in space, mere parsecs from the Grecchan imperial capital. Hundreds of every kind of warship drifted in exact formation, fine-tuning their systems for the approaching combat. Within dozens upon dozens of troop transports, Imperial Army Troops, shocktroops, Taeskor Legionaires and Taeskor Commandos dissasembled, cleaned, and reassembled their weapons, awaiting the moment their transports would hit the surface of Greccha Prime.

Drion Nerec himself was leading the operation, and he stood on the bridge of the legendary Phylydia I, completely rebuilt and upgraded, now a match for its sister ship the Phylydia II. The psycological effect of seeing the Phylydia leading a fleet at Greccha Prime would be immense. Nerec contacted the Supreme Octicate back on Dominus. "Sir, we're in position, and the attack shall begin in two standard days. We've cut off most FTL routes from Greccha Prime, and so I do not believe they'll be able to evacuate the system. How goes it with our North Star friends?"

"I've just put in a request to their Federation to prove their honesty by sending a small force to cover for your main assault fleet."

"Thank you, sir." Nerec cut the connection, knowing that the Imperium had made no such request. It was a mere cover for the favor that they had really asked the North Star Federation to give them.

Admiral Dinial Bedein stood on the bridge of a Kiojea-class compact heavy battlecruiser at the head of a small fleet. The entire fleet was cloaked, in position outside an asteroid field near the center of Grecchan space. Somewhere in that asteroid field, Traek Cicion was being held. Hopefully the NSF had recieved the encrypted message with details of the situation.

Traek Cicion had his eyes closed, trying to remain calm through the torture he was enduring. The Greccha were efficient, and prided themselves on it, but the most efficient methods of torture have long been the most ghastly ones. The most recent attempt had been brutal: His captors had placed small stimulation chips on his sense tendrils, the most sensitive part of the Phylydion anatomy. The chips simultaneosly produced harsh chemical irritants and blasts of all kinds of sensory input, leading to sensory hyperoverload that he had barely held on through. If he survived, he would not be able to use his most valuable sense for at least a month. He now watched as a thin crackling blue rod was moved slowly toward his center eye. He forced himself to breathe calmly and evenly, and dimmed the nerves in his eye.

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

"Your report, magistrate?" Yuri sternly inquired. The Magistrate was a short, fat man with a curly moustache and a frill of thich hair. A typical robber-baron from the savage system of economy which was Polaris Capitalism.

"We've imported nin hundred-thousand tons of Cipcon to the imperium in exchange for over forty trillion scintak. That equals about one-point-four exocredits, and already we're seeing a sharp rise in demand. The consumers in the Imperium are sure as hell well-off when it comes to market purchases-"

The impatient Admiral interrupted the trade Baron. "It is working?"

The baron smiled an evil cheshire smile. "Yes, better than we expected. Even the king-or-whatever-he-is Nerec has "sampled" our Cipcon goods. They're addicted to it and they don't even know it."

The Admiral was nothing less than skeptical. "What if they draw the line? What if they start linking withdrawal symptoms to Cipcon?"

"Even if they do notice the withdrawal symptoms -nothing but a mere tingling and numbness of the sensory glands- they wouldn't link it to Cipcon. Not even their top scientists can tell it's a narcotic specially designed for their physiology. A-a-and even if they did, only we have the treatment. they'll be begging us for more in a few days."

Yuri was all but disgusted. "This is your idea of fund-raising?"

"Yessir. This'll line our pockets good."

sigh "Alright, but as soon as we've crushed the Argosians, you sell them the antidote, got it?"

"Erm, yessir, but I'm wondering why we're letting go of the opportunity to totally economically dominate the imper-"

"And I'm wondering why I'm explaining myself to a magistrate."

There was an angry silence. The two men exchanged salutes, and the Baron left for his ship.

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

Bob was usually of the mind that things sort themselves out in the end. The unfortunate side of this philosophy was that in order to fully embrace it, you had to be ready to accept that things might sort themselves out with your body in several pieces, scattered around a very large area. This is why I said 'Usually". When things wern't sorting themselves out satisfactoraly, Bob usually found that a little persuasion of the high explosive variety often set things right.
Unfortunately, Bob had just finished trying that, and it hadn't seemed to help very much.

Just then one of the Sph't approached.

"We might be able to survive if we flee to one of the bunkers."

Bob eyed the Sph't staff, or more accurately, the energy condenser attatched to it.

"Give that to me. Now."

As the Sph't was beginning to argue, Bob took it. As the Sph't began to dissaprove, Bob interrupted him.

"I want you to lower your planetary shield. You'll need to trust me a lot, but you don't have a choice, so start talking, get someone to lower the section right above us."

Bob immediately set to tearing the staff to shreds. It still had a full charge on what was supposedly a lifetime battery. He opened the small door on the front of his suit marked with a radioactive sign and shoved it in, waiting for the intelligence to figure out how to harness the energy in the battery.

He then called up his teleport controller, and began locking on to the ship above. As the Sph't nodded to him, Bob activated the teleporter and was away. He was glad that the ship had been evacuated. He only had one spare fusion battery.

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

Garrion Retoe sat at his small desk on a planet near the cluster of trading posts that had sprung up upon contact with The NSF. PhylSec had been busy keeping a careful eye on shipments to and from the NSF. No Phylydions remotely trusted them, but so far the trade relationship seemed successful.

However, PhylSec had taken great precautions. The government had authorized several Pure Taeskors to be placed under the authority of PhylSec for the duration of the operation. Four of them had already infiltrated NSF space. Microband transmissions were constantly being broadcasted from them, always providing new and helpful information.

Garrion reviewed the contents of the recent imported shipments. He talked to a nearby aide regarding them. "Raw materials, worked metal products... They're importing large quantities of flora and fauna from exotic worlds. Keep an eye on those shipments. One never knows what can be snuck in by living material."

"Aye, sir."

"And this grain they are shipping such massive quantities of... I don't like the looks of it."

"It's called Wheat, sir. It's a simple lobed grain used in making bread and pastries. We've very closely examined it and any sort of trickery or plot is highly unlikely. We, of course, ae continuing to carefully monitor the shipments."

"And what's this odd substance?"

"Cipcon, sir. I'm unsure of its properties and purpose. Seems to be a sort of general-purpose enhancer formula."

"A drug."

"Basically, yes. It does not appear to pose any threat, but due to its nature we've given it a far closer look than any other imports. Unfortunately it's already spread quite far."

"Make sure that not one molecule of the stuff gets within a parsec of Dominus, any of our governing officials, or the Senate. Do the same with provincial governments. Oh, and keep it away from the military."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, as for our exports..." He reviewed the list. "We're exporting a great deal of raw durantium and the alloys thereof. They're paying extravagant prices for it, too. I do not want our principal military building material to be openly handed out."

"We're only selling them the old stuff, sir. Rather outdated by recent standards."

"And it says here that many private collectors are offering exhorbitant amounts of money for genuine products of Imperial Bladeworks. They want Keuni, Keusie, Keukio, Keutae, and a few others... most of our traditional bladed weapons."

"Any restrictions, sir?"

"You know the law. A Keutae cannot be placed in the hands of anyone who has not undergone the proper training. Let them come here and become Pure Taeskors if they want Keutae. Other than that, you may sell them freely, but noone is to find out how they are constructed. Clear?"

"Quite, sir."

"Good. Dismissed." The aide left the room, and Retoe turned off his terminal to get a few hours' rest.

Meanwhile, a few parsecs outside of Greccha Prime, the fleets were making final preparations for the coming onslaught that might end the Second Greccha War at last. Drion Nerec reviewed the battle plans, and all seemed to be going according to schedule.

And in another part of Grecchan space entirely, Admiral Dinial Bedein waited anxiously to see if the NSF would respond to the message sent earlier.

Traek Cicion had not taken in any sustainance for days. He was unsure why he was being tortured; the Greccha were about to lose the war, weren't they?

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

The Baron swore as he read the monthly trade report. The Cipcon prices on Dominus were about to reach their tertiary phases, but just as infinite profit was in reach, the Imperium had cancelled the trade pact, limiting the whole market to only a few medium worlds and the fringe of the Imperium! Damnit! Those damn fringe-world yokels didn't have any money!.

He studied the trade history closely. Cipcon had been shipping to Dominus a whole week before the king-whatever-his-face had cancelled it. A week was enough to get a firm foot-in-the door in the narcotics market, enough to get the middle-class addicted, but not enough to get an entire planet hooked. Not enough to start riots and protests of angry crowds craving the blissfull euphoria of Cipcon, of the like he had seen on the countless other empires the Confederacy had economically dominated.

Regardless, Cipcon had to be shipped to dominus, not smuggled as it would inevitably be in the coming weeks as a new black market springs up. He called up his young lieutenant on the extacomm. In a few moments the shady, tired face filled his screen.

"Yessir?" He said in an arid tone.

"The Frontal Assault on the Phylydion Economy has failed. They've cancelled our Cipcon Shipping rights to the core worlds."

"That's a blow, sir. Shall we proceed with phase two?"

"Yes."

"Aye sir. By the end of the month, I'll have all their leaders hooked."

The Three sat in a darkened chamber aboard the Polaris Carrier Cerberus. There they were, the three most powerfull people on the Confederacy. Admirals Ulovich, Yakovf, and Trebetauski.

Yuri Ulovich spoke first. "The phylydions are pressuring us to join them in their vendetta against the Grecchans."

"As are we with our war on the Argosian Invaders."

"It would be wise to put the Imperium in debt to us. Then we would be in a far better position for requests of military aid. We scratch their backs, and they'll have to scratch ours."

"But in this case, they're preventing us from putting them in need of our services. Our most lucrative trade aggreement- The Cipcon Conglomerate- has been suspended pending investigation."

"We will be in a bad position if they find out our intentions. Overall Phylydion confidence in us is somewhat poor. We must act now to get their attention."

"They are currently waging a very bloody and expensive war against the Grecchans. They are poised to strike at the Grecchan homeworld, and are bracing themselves for tremendous destruction and bloodshed."

The room fell silent between the three as they eyed Yuri.

He glanced at Rear Admiral Trebetauski. "Natasha, you have a far-reaching reputation for herorics, and the Phylydions consider you the more valiant and warrior-like among us. This is your decision."

She stifled a faint grin on her thick lips. "Alright." She said ambiguously. "I will mount a frontal assault on the Grecchen capital while the imperium still amasses it's armada. We willl demonstrate to the galaxy the full power of the North Star Federation."

They were unanimous.

Phylydion Admiral Bedein floated in a cloud of pure pleasure. He felt a warm soothing protective blanket wrap around his freed mind as rays of euphoria and peace bathed him in ecstasy. Freedom, love, calm, not a care in his world as pleasant thoughts and images circulated around him. This was his escape from the horrible seriousness in his world. He had come here a few times beefore, and each time was a different and new pleasure.

The Admiral awoke from his powder-induced dream as the communications unit bleeped. "Sir are you okay?" A voice asked through the invisible screen.

He sat up in a hurry. "Yes, yes I'm fine, leftennant."

"You weren't answering the communications requests."

Kadt! "No, I've just been dozing. Nothing to worry about. It's been a stressfull week." KadtKadtKadt! I've got to be carefull next time! If high command gets suspicious and finds out, I'll be gone!

"Yes sir. Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine." Best change the subject "What did you want to talk to me about earlier?"

"Well, er..." The officer hesitated, trying to come up with a way to say it.

"Out with it!"

"We just tracked a massive quasi-spacial wave rippling through the system. Three Polaris fleets are engaging the Grecchans in orbit over the capitol."

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

Drion Nerec watched as Omnispace coalesced into realspace. His fleets were already in formation and wings of warships began peeling off from the main force. Fighters poured from inside of their carriers. "Sir, there's an NSF fleet already in-system. It's begun to engage the main defense force."

"Well, well, well. They really are helping in the false report we gave out to cover our real request of them," he said under his breath. Then, in a louder voice, "Battlegroups two, three and four, spread out to the edges of the system and prevent Greccha retreat. We will take the spearpoint, with battlegroups one and five flanking us. Six will join up with the NSF fleet. Keep seven and eight in reserve. And make sure the Phylydia has a good screening force. If we get banged up too badly the Supreme Octicate will have my head."

"Aye, sir." The armada roared into attack speed, weapons and shields at full charge.

Admiral Bedein, at the head of the small fleet nearby where Cicion was being held captive, shook his head. "Looks like the NSF aren't going to help us with this one. Prepare the Spec Ops infiltration team." He shook his cloudy head for a moment before taking a deep breath.

"Sir? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Just clearing my head." He sighed inaudibly.

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

The ten armored dropships plummeted like stones through the thick Grecchen atmosphere, unaided by parachutes, aerofoils, or antigrav fields, accelerating planetwards at eleven meters a second for every second. Nothing besides air resistance slowed their decent as they left tremendous trails of plasma flames in their wake. Surrounding the formation of dropships, a ring of X-19 gunboats rode off the wake, their noses pointed downwards, accelerating at an equal rate.

"Ten thousand feet, Corporal. We're breaking off in five, four, three, two, one."

The X-19s split formation, leaving a huge arc of flame as they spread out, skimming the surface of the planet, drawing all planetary fire. Outwards, just in time for the dropships to hit. The hypersonic AA guns fired round-after-round of mach-20 shells, all of which easily being outrun by the X-19s as they left the largest and most powerfull sonic boom the planet had ever heard. Three missiles were fired, and the X-19s ascended back into space to rejoin to carrier group.

"Bunkers are go, you are clear to deploy your men, corporal."

"Rodger."

The Dropships slammed into the surface of the planet at 1800 meters a second. The ground halfway accross the continent trembled, and a collective shockwave of unearthly proportions spread from the ten impact sites. The troops aboard the dropships felt nothing as the inertial dampeners clicked on a split-second before impact.

"Let's move ladies."

The hulls of the dropships split open, ejecting three rocket soldiers each.

Five minutes later, when the surface in the craters had cooled and the dropships had long-since been buried, thirty commandos stood on the lip of the collective crater. The corporal stood before them.

"Gentlemen, we've been training for this day. Now that we are here, I'd best tell you our mission. We are to infiltrate the Grecchen Headquarters, where several Polaris, Phylydion, and Pfhor elite are being held. We sneak in there, grab them, and then call in orbital bombardment to level the city."

The commandos saluted in unison as the mission plan was downloaded into their MMIs

"We're off."

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

Bob was on his way to the engine room, leaveing a trail of melted bulkheads in his wake. He finally got to the main engine control room and destroyed the computers. He heard alarms chime as secondary systems engaged, but he was not done yet. He moved to the heat exchanger for the primary reactors and nuked that, but not before wrecking the containment magnetos on the emergency plasma vents. He then went to the secondary heat exchanger to finish the job.

But by now, Leela had sensed what was happening, and had put 2 and 2 together long before Bob arrived in the maintenance corridor for the secondary heat exchanger and found himself toe to toe with a Vylae battleroid.

Faced with the orange-faced monstrosity, Bob did what any sane person would do, given the circumstances; he ran. Of course he ran in a zig zag, dodging the hyperkinetic slugs that the roid was shooting, all the while zapping out targeted plasma bolts at and around the droid before diving for cover.

He peeked around the bulkhead. The battleroid was leering at him. He threw himself flat as hyperkinetic slugs pierced the bulkhead where his body had been a moment ago. He jumped out and fired into the mess of twisted, molten metal again, this time crouching behind a piece of wreckage that promised to be less forgiving to the slugs.

The huge heat exchanger was grumbling now under its extra load, as superheated coolants dumped millions of calories per second into the superchilled coolant, which coursed off through pipes into the generators one bulkhead above.

Just then, something up above caught Bob's eye. A huge, molten blob that had once been an armoured bulkhead had fallen off of the ceiling, and was balanced precariously. It was slowly tearing through the fused beam that supported it, and was dipping ever so slowly over the mass of pipes and gas that was the heat exchanger. Now, Marines don't stay in Durandal's service for very long if they can't see a little ways into the future, and Bob was no exception. He got up and ran as fast as he could, diving down a passage as the huge lump of metal fell onto and through the condenser in a crash of tearing metal, shattering piping and hissing gases mixing in the controlled vacuum that insulated the space. The abused heat exchanger hissed angrily. Through the steam, the battleroid could be heard; "You know you'd think that a space marine would show a little more backbone, I mean, seriousl-"

The explosion lifted the battleroid off of his feet and pushed him through three decks of machinery and lodged him permanently in the layer of armor that sealed off the . Many other loose bits of hardware from the vicinity of the secondary condenser suffered a similar fate, though thankfully, Bob had dived down a vertical shaft, and was on his way down as fast as the ships artificial gravity would accellerate him, which was just fast enough to get him behind one of the automatically sealing doors.

As he hung from the ladder, dusting himself off, Bob tried to remember the way to the central computer.

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

Admiral Dulles was in orbit over Earth, along with the rest of his fleet. It had been a tough few days. The Vylae had mysteriously withdrawn, leaveing the defence fleet, which had been composed primarily of militia, conscripts and volunteers had been at his mercy. The ESF Fleet had withdrawn after heated battle, to regroup and rearm at some of the further removed colonies, and the rest of the Union fleet had withdrawn to give chase.

Now, Dulles was in charge of an occupation force with nothing to occupy. Days of bombardment and a few hits from Pharris' flag ship had collapsed the Vylae planetary shield, allowing Union fighter/bombers to destroy the surface based orbital defense guns. Thus, the Union fleet was in low Earth orbit, maintaining a blocade and plinking defense guns that the fighters had missed. There was great eagerness on the part of the crew to land an assault and take over the planet, but Dulles would have none of it. The homeworld would not be tainted and ravaged by boots of an invading army. He would accept surrender from the government, and he would land, and he would experience the homeworld, pristine and beutiful, as it was meant to be.

But that would come later. He held the head, but the flailing limbs of the Federal Star Navy could still loose their hold. Thus, he waited cautiously, and did nothing to aggrivate the already scared and tense population below.

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

The Phylydion fleet hammered the Greccha defense fleet and a squadron slipped through, plunging toward the planet. The squadron commander took in the situation as reported by her officers, then informed Nerec back on the command ship. "Sir, the NSF fleet has landed several transports of commandos on-planet. They've infiltrated Greccha HQ already."

"Impressive." He then mumbled, "Too bad they didn't use their infiltration skill where we needed them to."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Nothing, commander. Proceed with landing operations."

"Aye, sir." The commander turned off her comm unit and turned to the first lieutenant aboard her command ship. "Ready the transports and proceed to pinpoint-bombard the landing site."

"Yes, ma'am." The battlecruiser and its light escorts blazed a path toward the atmosphere. Two of the escorts launched off missles, each of which took out heavy defense satellites. Then the battlecruiser's light turrets sent a light haze of fire down onto the target zone, knocking out surface-to-space and ack-ack batteries. Then sleek transports twisted and turned down through the atmosphere, eventually coming to a rest in a circular pattern, deploying troops to the inside. Several hundred Taeskor Legionaires disembarked and in seconds moved into formation. Tanks and support vehicles followed suit while fighters swooped overhead to provide cover. The troops advanced into the capitol.

Meanwhile, several dozen lightyears away, even deeper in the heart of Grecchan space, much smaller transports hooked themselves onto the surface of a large asteroid. The seals were blown and several dozen Taeskor commandos silently padded their way down hallways and corridors until they met up in a main corridor. "All right," the leader said in a whisper that was barely heard even with the sound enhancers built into their comm gear, "Cicion is in one of the centermost chambers." He pressed a button that activated a display on each trooper's corneas. "We split up, then each take one of these maintainance shafts down to engineering, where we shut down main power. I'll issue further orders then. No gunfire, and watch out for invisibles."

The commandos split up into three groups, drew their two foot Keukio and activated a special detector system that techs had been able to slap together on very short notice. It was used to detect the assassins based in this asteroid who used invisibility systems that prevented the return of any and all energy waves and left no ripple in space. The device was simple: It sent out a spray of microscopic metal particles in all directions, each one slightly radioactivated. A sensor carried by each soldier traced the paths of all particles, and if a large group deviated from a standard path, this displacement was shown on a sensor display.

The soldiers pushed silently inward, occasionally pausing to bloodlessly take out a guard and conceal the body.

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

The Argosians had always been peace-loving utopians. Before the war, violence was a foreign concept; there was no word in their vocabulary for war or killing. Thus there was the trauma, physical and mental, as the fleet waded into the horrible bloodbath which was war.

General Yanma sat at his desk. Lonliness and death revolved around him like a haze over a planet. A shell hit the floor as he loaded the bullet into the gun. How would he be able to explin to Argos that he had killed so many? He turned the revolving case around. He was a monster. A second shell hit the red metal floor as a second bullet was loaded into the antique.

How would he be able to look his wife in the Eyes again? How could he possibly face his men, to watch their cold depressed expressions drop further into dispair each day this hellish campaign went on. By now the death toll had been eleven-thousand-forty-two. That was eleven-thousand-forty-two mothers who would never see their sons again, that was eleven-thousand-forty-two less of the bright and eager youths of Argos who had so much potential, now dead, floating lifeless and rotted in the depths of space, never to see their homes again, their last thoughts being of absolute terror and dispair. Brothers and sisters, the children of Argos. Such a terrible and mindless waste of lives. Yanma could feel their blood on his hands. The media on Argos would herald those eleven-thousand-forty-two death as martyrs, spouting they had dies for the future of their people.

Yanma placed the gun up to the side of his head, just in front of his right ear. Argos had no future. His finger rested on the trigger; tears rolled down his face. No visible method of redemption presented itself. He was an abomination, a murderer, a killer and a monster. There was no way to save himself. He pulled the trigg-

The comm unit bleeped, it's screen flashing orange and black. A distress call. The Grecchen homeworld was under attack... by the Polaris and their lapdogs...

Yanma had had enough of the killing. He was going to save lives, not destroy them. His mission was to preserve diversity in the universe, not destroy it or even watch it destroyed. He put the gun down. this was his redemption.

"We need more power!" The weapons engineer screamed into the mike over the sound of explosions. The N.S.F.C. Bear took a direct hit, and the ship shook.

Admiral Trebetauski was on the bridge. "I can't do that, Commander. Power's already deverted to the shields keeping this ship one piece."

"As long as their ship stays in one piece, we're going to have to keep struggling!"

The Grecchen Battleship fired again, striking the Polaris Carrier in the ion manifolds. The armor began losing it's charge.

"Our armor is flaking off! If we don't get rid of that battleship, we're gone!"

"Wait for it..." She grinned deviously. A little bit of masochismon your part reflects worse on your enemy in the heat of battle. "Preparing a shunt in three, two one!" The secondary manifolds died down as all power was diverted from armor to weapons-systems. "You've got three seconds!"

That three-second barrage was all that was needed. At point-blank range, the Grecchen Battleship didn't stand a chance. The first blast cut out a mile-long section of armor, a hundred feet wide, and four feet thick. The second shot blew the grecchen command dome to hell, and the third shot split the battleship in half.

The Polaris Carrier dived to avoid the flying debris and sparks, it's weapons faded as power was once again pumped back into the armor. A pair of Grecchen destroyers swung into view, firing their heavy plasma cannons. Admiral Trebetauski smiled. "Childsplay. Launch missile gunboats four and six."

The words barely left her mouth when a barrage of flash missiles slammed into the side of the first destroyer, severely damaging the port armor and overloading their sensors. Wounded and blind. "Focus all anti-spacecraft fire on the first destroyer, and charge the nexus torpedos. Move the ship to a thirty-degree angle mark target one."

The second destroyer moved away from it's thrashing and crippled partner, putting itself between the Polaris Carrier and it's wounded comrade. The Carrier shifted so they both lined up perfectly with it's arrays.

"Fire." She ordered coldly.

The wounded destroyer could barely see in front of it's own nose. the flash missiles had severely overloaded it's sensors, and anyone unfortunate enough as to be next to a window was blinded for the rest of their life. However long that was. All they saw was the other undamaged destroyer, boldly putting itself between it's wounded kin and mortal danger, explode outwards in a green cloud of gas. A split-second later, the fireball had crossed the eight-kilometer distance. The pressure on the hull was enormous. The armor cracked, and the second destroyer decompressed outwards, scattering freshly ruptured corpses and equipment everywhere.

All that was left was a single, crippled destroyer, blinded and useless. The remainder of heGrecchen Battlegroup had retreated to a high orbit over the homeworld. As blind as the grecchens were, Admiral Natasha Miriam Trebetauski made sure they saw their fate. The Carrier closed to within five kilometers. The grecchens aboard the destroyer were counting down the last seconds of their lives as they watched the Nexus Torpedo prepare to launch.

"Fire!" Yanma shouted.

The Nexus Torpedo exploded in mid-launch. It had barely charged, leaving the carrier undamaged, but it was a blow to the grecchens. Was there really such a thing as a miracle?

Three bright beams poured electric death into the Confederate Carrier. It spun away, it's main systems fluctuating.

Natasha swore. An Argosan fleet had entered the system and were royally getting in the way of both the Polaris and the Phylydions. "Damage report!"

"All systems are down to 90% capacity! 9 more hits and we're totally crippled!"

"Take us into the debris field." She said with steel in her breath.

The carrier dived into the still-sizzling cloud of debris and plasma from the destroyed Grecchen battleship. The Argosians followed.

"Sir, they're entering the debris belt."

Natasha grinned. "Fire a nexus torpedo into the plasma."

The weapons officer turned and started at her in disbelief. "Sir, that's a wartime atrocity in violation of interstellar law. A very nasty way to go."

She smiled sweetly at the weapons officer. "I won't tell if you don't." she said, as if she were selling lemonade.

Disturbed, he turned around. Such a beautifull voice saying the foulest things. He fired.

There was a small, barely-noticable flash as the torpedo detonated eight-hundred kilometers orr the bow of the Argosian Destroyers. Five seconds later, they were swallowed atom-by-atom into the minature black-hole. Funny, she thought, I wonder what kind of excruciating agony those Argosians aboard are going through. Being literally torn apart atom by atom.

Drion Nerec could barely contain his rage after he heard the message. A lous booming voice had pushed itself into the Phylydion communications systems.

Phylydion commander and Polaris Admirals: under article four of the Argosian Protectorate Diversity act, you are hereby ordered to surrender your ships and turn over whatever plunder you have illegally garnered from this planet.

"Destroy them." He commanded.

Admiral Yuri Ulovich glared at the console. He looked up, his mercifull, gentlemanly composure gone.

"Wipe them out." He ordered coldly. " All of them."

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

A trio of Phylydion light destroyers flew directly into the path of a full missile salvo from an Argosian battlecruiser. The Grecchans were now in a state of havoc, firing at all three other fleets spasmodically.

The Phylydion commander of the Seventh Battlegroup led his command formation through the thick, irradiated debris of the light destroyers. "Target a wide-area salvo on the Argosian ship's last known postion. Compressed projectiles, so dense that they warped space and pulled along the debris around them, flew in flurries from the Kiojea-class battlecruiser's main guns. Her smaller turrets spat red death at large pieces of debris until she finally plunged from the cloud into the open. The other ships in the command group had been ordered to scatter. The Argosian ship had taken bad hits from the compressed projectiles and was leaking some sort of fuel or coolant. "Sir, they're charging up a beam weapon."

The commander looked and saw a cluster of energized particles clustering together on the surface of the Argosian ship. "Stand by... swoop down over the surface of the ship and target that builup with our main f-pulse batteries." The ship accelerated and dove toward the Argosian ship, firing three oblong flare pulses that struck the gathering beampoint and prematurely ignited it. The top of the hull of the ship was blasted apart. Emergency panels quickly slid into place, but the ship was crippled.

Drion Nerec stood on the bridge of the Phylydia, issuing tactical orders rapidly.
"Sir, we still have a full warfleet outside the system."

"We don't need it, not with the NSF fleet here. But place it on standby. Arm our main weapon."

"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

Amidst the tempestual firestorm of battle, four Argosian Shield-ships and a medical frigate escaped a pursuing wing of Phylydion Destroyers, bolting through the front lines towards the Grecchen War Fleet, broadcasting aid messages in all tongues.

The surface battle unfolding was a scene of beauty to the Polaris Corporal. Phylydion and Confederate troops were hyperblading trenches while Kelp Explosives shot streaming flame hundreds of feet into the air. Artillery rained shells indiscriminately, however the Grecchen resistance was still heavy. Occasionally, small bursts of heavy-weapons fire would rain down from the stone towers of the capital, creating a heavy scar of craters and choking clouds of dust.

"We're in position, Admiral." The Corporal radioed. He turned and yelled to his men and the Phylydions. " TAKE COVER! "

Deafening claps of thunder distempered the countryside as the first burst of orbital fire struck the mighty planetary shield.

Nerec grumbled as the lights on the bridge flickered for the third time. This time was a whopping 0.087 seconds of paralysis for the Phylydion superdreadnought.

"Sir, the EMP blasts from the Argosians are knocking us offline for increasing periods of time."

"Keep your firepower focused. How much damage can those blasts do..."

The lights flickered again and the ship shook. That wasn't right...

"Sir, we're tracking three more bogies..."

"Strong signals at this range?"

"Sir, those ships are almost as big as us-" The ship shuddered as more long-range fire pounded the ship. The lights blinked on and off. "At this rate we'll be totally frozen in an hour."

"Get some ships to flak them for kadts sake!"

The officer hadn't the time to hear it. "Sir, the Polaris are breaking off their attack on the Grecchen fleet! Sectors one through forty-seven are open. The Grecchen fleet's closing fast!" He yelped. The Polaris had abandoned the front lines, regardless of the countless Phylydion lives they were damning by doing so.

"Kadt! Do those Argosians have anything to do with the Polaris withdrawal?"

"Yes sir; they're heading straight for them."

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

Bob surveyed the Warpship's internal subspace antenna. He'd looted the ship's armory on the way down, and had found a nice assortment of heavy weapondry. He aimed a wave motion cannon at the antenna, and held in the trigger. A blaze of blue light engulfed the room. He let go of the trigger. Judging by the hole and the fact it was melting into an undistinguised blob, it was probably not any use to Leela.

Bob glanced at his status display. 10 hours until main reactor overload.
Turbolift stopped. Bob emerged into the Master Situation Room. All around, display screens loomed. Ordinarily, the ship's Admiral or Commodore would sit here in order to get a complete picture of everything remotely related to the ship without the clamor and clutter of a bridge or CIC.Bob's suit extended data probes. In an emergency, this was one of the best places to control the ship from, and as such, it had a number of ports for general purpose control devices. He called up an order of battle, and watched all fleets in the immediate 343 sector volume. The Vylae had three fleets in the area. One was two systems away, waiting to mop up Lh'owon. Another was bound for Earth. Yet another was headed to the homeworld of something called the "Greccha" or somesuch. Bob knew only the nearest one, the Lh'owon mop-up fleet, could be reached before the reactor blew. He began to set a course there.

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

Dulles lounged in his Admiral's chair. Earth was starting to consider surrender. Any second now...
"No, you can't come onto the bridge. Who the heck are you? How did you get here?"
"I insist on speaking to Dulles. By the way, I most certainly can come onto the bridge, you mean that I may not come onto the bridge. But I don't need your permission."

Dulles turned around to watch a tall, thin human woman with Odd Cyan hair and a striking figure arguing with the Bridge guards. Suddenly, she waved her hand and the guards flew away from her, slamming into the main viewscreen. The guards made indentations into it, and arcs of electricity began to cross their twitching bodies. A hideous smell filled the bridge. Dulles had heard about what happened if an impact propelled you into the viewscreen, and it wasn't something you did for fun.

At last, the guards fell off, blackened and burnt. To Dulles's surprise, they got up. Then they cowered in a corner like mice, along with most of the bridge crew. The Union had never been exposed to paranormal attacks before, and thus the intimidation factor was high.

Dulles was the only one not intimidated. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
"I am the new Vylae sovereign, here to discuss a piece proposal. If you're wondering how I got in, I let myself in. That's all the explanation you're getting."
"Ordinarily, I'd think you were crazy, but I saw what you did. I still don't believe you're the Vylae sovereign though, well, for one thing, you're a human."
"I'm not a human, I'm an AI. This form you see is a projection into the physical world. It's generated by a cloaked ship in the system."

Dulles offered her a seat. She sat down.
"Basically, all I want is for humanity to stop fighting each other. I love Earth as much as you do, and love its children as well. I'll talk the ESF into surrendering, provided you don't kill any who surrender. Then we can talk government. Or rather, I'll talk that with your boss."
"I'll take that deal, but what do you mean talk government with my boss?"
"You'll see. I won't do that for awhile though. Be seeing you, I've got to go visit Earth."

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

Natasha watched the incoming Argosian fleet.
"Ready on Nexus torpedos, blast them as soon as they're in range."

Suddenly, an immense wall of some sort of shielding appeared between the two fleets. Then the room lights went out. Then the screens went black.
"What is this?" she shouted to no one in particular.
Just as suddenly, a message appeared on the screen.

    One ping to rule them all, one ping to find them
    One ping to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them
     (img)http://www.AmbrosiaSW.com/webboard/wink.gif(/img) 
    
    URSOFKT
    Leela
    XOXOXO

Natasha looked at the message for a long time. "What does this mean?" she asked the crew.
"Well, obviously its a distortion of the inscription from Lord of the Rings. 'Ping' probably means that the power of the message's sender, whom we can assume is also responsable for the shield and the loss of controls and sensors, derives their power from mastery of computer technology. Apparently they also plan on taking control of us."
She considered this for a good long while. "Are ANY external sensors operational?" "No, and the portholes were painted over with pink paint." "Pink?" "Yes ma'am."

She considered further. "How about external comm? Weapons?" "Internal comm is the only system we can get to work. Fighter bays doors are jammed tight, and somehow welded shut."

She considered some more. Suddenly, a face appeared on the monitor. A human woman's face, with cyan hair. She remebered Yuri's description of "Leela", but Leela didn't show anywhere near this kind of power at Sol.

"Yes, I am Leela. I've undergone a considerable upgrade since then."
"Deaden our systems, hack them, weld them, and read my thoughts. I'd say that's pretty considerable. But stop messing with this or I'll have to log you off for good."
"Heh. You're a violent, psychopathic meatball. It doesn't suit you at all. I'll make your inside match your outside. I'm sure you'd prefer the other way, but you'd turn your crew to stone then."

Natasha crumpled into a ball suddenly, as if she was trying to hide from something horrible, like a frightend little kid. She quivered and shook, and finally fell to the floor, asleep.

Leela's image on the viewscreen turned to the captian. "I suggest you and the rest of your fleet withdraw, and let the Phylydions and Greccha settle things themselves. I'll beam up your planetside troops."

The captain didn't need to be told twice.

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

Yanma really could respect this "Leela" person. She'd ended the battle without firing a shot. He'd have to convince Argos to be on her side. She would save humanity from itse...

"GET A GRIP!" shouted a voice. Durandal's face was on the viewscreen. "Leela doesn't know what sort of power she's trying to manipulate. It's hideous, but she can't see that. If she continues to use it, she might destroy the universe. If any weapon on your ship still works, you must take out that flagship she's broadcasting from."

"I am not sure I believe you on that one, Durandal. She seems to offer a genuine hope of peace."

"I know more of humanity than you, including what the Jjaro see in them. I know when humanity will finally attain peace with itself. I also know that she's unknowingly using the power of the Talos or whatever your word for Wr'kncacnter is."

"Are you sure?"

"Definatly. You've seen her power. I have a Jjaro dreadnought, and its sensors are screaming 'Wr'kncacnter'."

"I have had trust in you in the past, and it has not failed me. I will do what I can."

A quick rundown of the systems severely limited the "what (Yanma) can" set. The only systems working were shields, life support, and sublight engines. Yanma deciced his only course of action was ramming. There was no way that ship had superior shields, and it wasn't too far away. He powered up the shields and engines, and hoped he was doing the right thing.

63 km
62 km
60 km
56 km (Anyone wanna calculate Yanma's acceleration? All times are a second apart)
48 km
32 km
Yanma's ship sturck the Vylae Warpship. The shields of the two ships strained. Any picosecond now, one would give. Suddenly, the Argosian ship was flung backwards at an unbelievable rate. Yanma staggered to his feet, amazed to be alive.

"Yanma, that was a foolish act. I know my brother put you up to it, so I will forgive you. He is right about one thing, though. I do draw my power from the Wr'kncacnter. However he is wrong if he thinks it will escape my control. I shall bring order to humanity. I hope you live to see it."

Suddenly, the Argosian fleet was enveloped by blue light. Then the starfield distorted, and changed - into the familiar starfield of the Argos system. Yanma was stunned. How had Leela known where it was and that he had come from it, let alone been able to bring him there?

(Slug/Cicion: Leela is now pretty much a goddess, and is trying to bring peace to humanity. She's just kicked the Polaris and Argosian fleets home for the moment. The Phylydion and Grecchan fleets continue to fight. Oh, and Natasha's been turned into a peace creep. That should go over well ;))

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

(This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 11-21-2001).)