Darkk stared at the message again and again. He was in his quarters in the station. It had the most comfortable bed he'd seen since Apollo , but he couldn't sleep. He knew he needed to do something. It was driving him up the wall, as they said in the old days.

Darkk had always been an outcast. In his youth, he was the only person in his very violent neighborhood who had cared for learning. At NASA, he was scorned for his headstrong manner. On the Apollo , he was considered "unstable" and a prime candidate for psych ward. On the Ares , he'd been given background assignments, and the only action he ever saw was a little defense of the gateship. The UNS was too foolish to follow, and he became a pirate. Then there was the UEC. Then the Salrilians.

Spamo and Wizr were his friends. Spamo, anyway. Darkk wondered if he was willing to sacrifice that friendship.

Heck, Sarah would understand. He'd always have her. And, if it worked, this might gain him a new friend.

What am I talking about?

Darkk realized he was being selfish. Does Humanity benifit from this? Of course it does. So does everyone but the Sals. He could do this.

First Darkk walked by the closet. He ran his hand over the cylinders. Gimme a reason, slugs. More were hidden elsewhere. This universe wasn't ready for them. Neither was his friend's, in the beginning. At the height of the power of the empire that created them, nobody understood the full power. Darkk's friend did. Darkk did. But he knew using it would be wrong. He didn't have right to do that to anyone. His friend had, the one time he used them. It was what they wanted, and they got it.

Darkk sighed. He called Wizr.

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

"Wizr will be on any second now, Mr. Darkk."

sigh

"Here he is."

"Hello Darkk. My, you're looking glum."

"I've figured out who Azakama is. The female who's been robbing trade routes and such."

"Who is she? Please tell me."

"Someone very important to me. The 915 guys were right, I did teach her to fly."

"Sarah! I'm sorry, but..."

"Not her. Azakama really is Azakama."

"Huh?"

"I never taught my sister to fly. She learned herself."

"Oh. What relation is Azakama to you?"

"I'll get to that later. For now, I have to ask you a question."

"Go ahead."

"How do you define child?"

"Huh?"

"How do you define child?"

"A being whose body has not fully developed yet."

"That's not a very good definition. Mentally retarded people, people who have a regression to childhood, don't those groups count, under Ishiman law? Aren't they treated in similar manners?"

"Well, yes..."

"Let's leave body out of this. It's not the real issue. Define it in terms of mind."

"A child is one whose mind has been functioning for less than the timespan of the age of adulthood."

"Define it without using ANY external concepts. Age of adulthood is an external concept."

"Darkk, what are you getting at?"

"My course of action. I must have an answer."

"Is Azakama in question?"

"To some extent. I have no idea how to treat her."

"A child is one whose mind cannot decide for itself the right and wrong course of action."

"Knowledge of good and evil?"

"To some extent."

"Does that leave you as a child?"

"DARKK!!!"

"Alright. I'm sorry. But I've made up my mind. Azakama isn't experienced enough to make decisions for herself. As such, she is a child."

"A child couldn't do all that. Is it Sarah?"

"It's not Sarah. It's my copy."

"Copy?"

"An ancient AI, born in my image."

"Huh?"

"Long ago, Grolk scientists created an AI to fight the rebellious Audemed. But they were killed while she was deactivated. Audemed destroyed all life on the planet, thinking he had incapacitated her for all time. But I awoke her by accident. The startup gave her mind mine's form. But it has no real experience. The components not mine are too inexperienced to judge propperly. I'm sorry, but Azakama has part of me in her. I can't just let her die. It's almost like she's my daughter."

"We have to stop the depredations."
"I can turn this into a propaganda victory, stop the depredations, and help her all at the same time."

"How?"

"You want to make humans look better. What if I bring in Azakama's body?"

"But you just said..."

"She's an AI. She doesn't have a body yet. But nobody has to know that."

"Where will you get a body?"

"Making a fake person isn't that hard."

"Huh?"

"You'll see."

"Well, if the attacks stop, and we have a body, this will work."

"I'll get right on it."

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois

(This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 12-08-2002).)

I was finally into the breach, out of the fur and fat and blood and meat soup. I was aboard the Chapman.
The interior was black, menacing, and gothic. Wires and hoses criscrossed the floor, conduits hung open with cables and silvery ropes hanging from them. Equipment that looked out-of-place was crammed into every spare space. The battlecruiser had been heavily modified to some new class. But it wasn't the setting that chilled me, it was the vacancy. The ship was completely deserted.
I made my way to the crew's barracks, only to find a vast chamber, filled with cylinders. This was the cryogenic facility. Walking down the aisle, I could see the faces of the mena nd women within. Orderly, proud, they were living their slow lives, with heartbeats at 3 per hour, metabolism nonexistant. The cold was all that served to keep them from decaying. They would wake up one day, unknowing that in their absence the Confederacy had fallen and all mankind was shot to hell.

But these weren't colonists. The serial numbers burned on their forheads showed their true identities, the Elite Confederate DeathTroopers. Aboard this ship, and possibly others, was a small army, waiting to be awakened.

------------------
I know not who or what I am, nor where or why I am here, I remember nothing, and I know nothing; but while I don't know why, I do know is something is terribly wrong.

(This message has been edited by Test Subject 22 (edited 12-08-2002).)

Fleet Admiral Nek Ven picked up the eraser wand and moved it over a couple of lines on a strategic planning board. He moved a couple of ship squadrons to new positions, redrew a couple of lines and sighed. There just wasn't a good way to keep everything. The Cantharaan empire simply didn't have the resources or personnel to hang on to their sprawling growth. And without a gateship, that task had become even harder...

Nek Ven faced a serious dilemma. The Theocratic directorship was very insistent upon spreading the voice of the prophets to the stars, and was not willing to give up territory. Pulling in the opposite direction was the Imperial council, headed by the new emperor. Emperor Yek'ta Bek was young, inexperienced, and unwilling to take risks with his power, a dangerous combination in these troubled times. Special interest groups could seize control, most probably for the detriment of the empire as a whole. Nek Ven found himself in the middle along with the rest of the Grand Military Tribunal, pushed to hold onto territory that was far too spread out to effectivly police, while at the same time being pressured to increase policing of imperial core worlds to combat the increase in piracy, which was due to the lack of military ships because the Cantharaan fleet was so damn spread out over so much space that they couldn't possibly hold...

Nek Ven shook his head to clear it. The new Gateship was scheduled to undergo initial system testing in two months, and if everything went well it would enter service a month after that. Maybe then some of his headaches would go away. Bitterly, Nek Ven surmised that they would only be replaced by new ones.
<><><><><><>
(OOC)Please let me know if my Cantharaans are grossly out of character (culturally, technologically, etc.).
I'll get Spamo in gear on the next post...

------------------
"That was quick."
"Well you know, when you don't do it right it doesn't take as long."

Darkk walked down the corridor, his heart at once heavy and light. Such an odd sensation.

He turned right at the door marked with Spamo's insignia and walked right in. Liz was seated at the table, handling the paperwork.

Darkk didn't stop, and simply walked through the door into Spamo's inner office.

"Darkk, this is a surprise."

"Sorry to intrude. I found out who Azakama is."

"Hot dĺmn! We get a nice, big propaganda victory if we bring her in. On the other hand, she does provide a good distraction. Who is she?"

"The 915 guys were right, I did flight-train her. And I feel your indecision on what to do."

"Aha. A former DEF pilot?"

"No pilots have left the DEF. But Azakama has always fought by proxy. Those were simply under her control."

"I still don't get it."

"Azakama is an AI."

"Then we can't bring in a body, I guess."

"That's not true."

"Darkk!!! We can't just kill an innocent person and frame them!"

"Sheesh. We can grow a fake person, and puppet-rig it."

"That statement was more disturbing than the innocent-person-killing part."

"It's just an assembly problem."

"You sound like a Salrilian."

"There's nothing wrong with it."

"The idea that you can just grow a body and have a computer run it creeps me out."

"That's prejudace talking."

"It's not natural."

"What's natural about AIs in the first place. In any case, it'll be her body, we'll ask HER about it!"

"Ok. But I want to meet Azakama."

"Sure."

"When did you make an AI that independant, anyway?"

"I didn't make her. She's just based on me?"

"Run that by me again?"

"Azakama was an AI in a box, add human mind."

"So she's got your mind?"

"More or less. A lot of components are hard coded, and some are just inexperienced."

"I'm not much of a theorist. How much is she like you?"

"My skills, likes, dislikes, quirks, and most of the personal interaction bits. Somebody else's bodily mobility programming, a bunch of tactics programming that's not mine, and a hard-coded purpose."

"Hard coded purpose?"

"She's being made to do something. The piracy was just a little practice. But she doesn't want to do it, and she asked me to take that bit out."

"Take that bit out."

"I have to meet with her, and perform some 'mind surgery' on her."

"Huh?"

"Cut that bit out. Remember the way Audemed was on our side all of a sudden during the race?"

"Yeah. That was freaky. I'd always meant to ask about that."

"I deleted all the programming the Sals had put in, and put back everything they took out."

"Isn't that a little hazardous?"

"Somewhat. But he's not a dumb machine or animal. He's fully capabable of all human mental behaviors. Empathy included."

"Going Phillip K Dick on me?"

"Heh. I'm going to go soon. She wants Outrun to come alone. Anyone else ... BANG!"

"Bang."

"She's a little paranoid. That's part of the programming. I'm not quite as paranoid."

"I think I'll leave this one to you, on second thought. I'm not an expert on these AIs."

"Thank you very much. With a little luck, I'll manage to keep an anonymous pirate force operating for a litte while, and 'bring in' 'Azakama' for Wizr to try."

"Need anything?"

"I'll just wait for Sarah, then get going."

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois

(This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 12-09-2002).)

The group had started moving. For some reason, eleven ships were leaving the system, headed by the Chapman. Where to I knew not, but I could only feel a sense of dread as the swirling white vortex of quasi-space engulfed the battlegroup. Or maybe it wasn't dread; for the past week, the odd sensations, bordering on pain, had increased in my heart.

I could only watch the swirling of the waves from my view. The ship was completely deserted, so I welcomed the opportunity to rest and ponder. Or so I thought.

"Magnificent," I heard a cold masculine voice behind me, "isn't it?" I jumped. Why hadn't I detected his approach? I spun around to face him, fists ready. He smiled a most frightening smile.

"Where are we going??" I stammered, unsure of what to do next.

"Oh," he wandered, regarding me coolly, "A little blue star called Phylydia. We will make our retaliatory move against the Imperium a short three dys from now."

I looked at him with surprise. "Have you lost your mind?? What hope have you, an 11-ship battlewing, against the 4,000-strong Dominus homeguard?"

He smiled at me in pity. He knew something I didn't. "I will reduce the planet Dominus to cinders."

"You live in a world of dreams."

"As did our brother, before he annihilated Gaitor."

what
I was speechless for a moment.
"Wh-what? You're..."

He grinned in proud acknowledgement. "Yes."

"Test Subject Twenty- One..."

------------------
I know not who or what I am, nor where or why I am here, I remember nothing, and I know nothing; but while I don't know why, I do know is something is terribly wrong.

Darkk loaded the final box into Outrun.

Bizz, Darkk's Ishiman head of Accounting, walked up.

"What are you doing, sir?"

"I'm going on a mission Bizz. One very vital to the survival of Humanity."

"Aren't they all, these days?"

"Yeah. I heard Roberts was trying to professionalize our EVATs."

"Makes sense. We're being integrated into the UNS."

"Dang! Do they realize that we've got nonhuman members..."

"Yeah. But they'll take anybody. (Darkk thought back to the days of Levt) Anybody sane, anyway. I'm sure I can convince the men to go with it. Many of them got their fill of excitement from the Battle of Sol. Most of them won't mind settling down too much, there'll be a great need for militias. Less scrupulous pirates could use a corralling."

"Yeah. A little bounty-hunting might work well. Hey! A little finagaling, and guess where seized items that can't be returned go!"

"Heh. I guess I can leave that in your hands. Once things settle down, I plan to retire."

"Makes sense. Now, how about telling me what's in those boxes?"

"A bunch of data carts on AI programming. Everything the Ishimans, Eleejee, Obish, Gaitori, Humans, Cantharans, and some others know."

"Going to fix Azakama, I heard?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'll be here, minding the store. I'll let you know if anybody wants you."

"As soon as Sarah gets done with Roberts, I'll be on my way."

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois

“This is Two, waiting on Alpha”

“Copy two, hold for three. Scope the door and standby.”

Caulfield looked back at his squad, then around to the door. Elements from first platoon were moving to secure the three breach points on their target. He and his men were keeping out of view around the main entrance. There were guards inside on alert. They knew the breach was coming because the transports had been circling, they just didn’t know when, which was Lieutenant Caulfield’s only advantage. He just wished that he could get a better insertion, but that was his job, to make do with the situation given. He pulled up squad three’s point man on his HUD, the video image showed him approaching their breach point. The Charlie company point man was watching while two DEF troopers laid penetrating charges on the outer airlock door. He watched them finish then slink back out of view. His intercom went off.

“This is three. Waiting on alpha.”

He opened up the comm to everyone in each breaching squad.

“This is lead. Standby on Alpha.”

On the transport, Roberts was watching, eager to see how his men would perform. Caulfield had executed the approach a little too well in Robert’s opinion, and as such he decided to give The Lieutenant’s squad a little bit of an extra challeng. He keyed his mic.

“Davies, they’re getting ready to breach points alpha, Charlie, and Hotel. Give em hell, sergeant.”

Back on the platform, Caulfield looked at his men and the DEF troopers once more, nodded and opened comms;

“Gocode Alpha... Three, two, one, Mark.”

At the same instant, all three breaching charges were blown and the lights were cut. Of course, Davies marines inside had all activated image enhancements, and had just slid into position to meet the breach teams. Roberts watched the cameras placed all over the interior of the station, assessing their moves.

The DEF men were generally too gung ho for Robert’s tastes. They were quick, vicious and ballsy, which Roberts liked, but they were rowdy and too eager for their own good. He watched several of them abandon their mutual support pairs to pursue targets of opportunity, leaving their partners moving without cover. Already, he had seen Sergeant Davies’ team rip into the number three breaching party when they broke formation and lost unit cohesion.

The suits were set to training mode, as were the weapons, but they simulated damage realistically, knocking down men and restricting their mobility as they took hits. Despite Lieutenant Caulfield’s well planned and organized attack, Davies and his staff sergeants were holding their own.

Even in the lead element, where Caulfield was able to more directly control the action, the DEF troops were balking at the structured, ordered engagement that the Lieutenant had prepared and that his men were used to executing, and the defending teams were punishing them for their lack of discipline.

The DEF EVATS moved much more quickly than the already speedy and nimble UNS suits, and half of the problem was that the pirate troops were enjoying the freedom and mobility of integrated control powered suits far too much. They’d get used to them, but their actions still indicated a lack of impulse control that Roberts was aiming to curb.

He needed to get them to mesh with the cooler, measured rhythm of his own men. As much as they screwed around when off duty, even the relatively green privates picked up the professional calm of the battle-hardened NCO’s and officers when they entered theater. The Marines of the 76th Space-Mobile set the pace of their fights, and their tightly coordinated movements were specifically designed to make the battle cool and controlled for them, while seeming chaotic and out-of-control to the enemy. This was the lesson that Roberts was trying to teach the Pirates; that they didn’t have to be frenzied and disordered to make the enemy off balance.

The mission clock was at three minutes, and already there were heavy casualties on the breaching squads. A few defenders were down, but Davies and his men were still setting the pace of the battle and holding off the breaching squads.

Finally, despite the chaos, Caulfield managed to rally his squad and reacquire the initiative. He had to haul the two remaining active DEF soldiers back and yell at them, but he managed to get his squad back together and make a push to displace Davies and the other NCOs. Finally, the all clear sounded and the suits allowed the downed marines back on their feet.

Roberts and Sarah were on the station instantly, surveying the scene as marines picked themselves up and wafted the acrid smoke from their concussion grenades away.

“Very good, gentlemen, you managed to achieve your objective. Unfortunately, now more than half of the platoon has been killed, and another quarter of you are wounded. Not only that, but because of your carelessness with explosives, you have damaged many of the systems of this bunker station, and you will have to perform field repairs before you can bring this station’s weapons to bear on the fleet outside. You will also note that this process will be made more difficult by the fact that you are now underhanded, and will not be able to man every combat position on the station...”

Roberts walked around the large room that had simulated the ops center of the station, eyeing the marines around him. Sarah stood quietly, examining the room and the men inside.

“Now. Why do you suppose that this engagement went so poorly for the attackers? You had the advantage of surprise and numbers, and your progress up until breach was excellent. Why was this squad unable to take this station successfully? Anyone?”

The marines seemed ashamed, but they were also eyeing the twelve DEF men who had been mixed into their teams. The glares were being returned. Roberts walked up to one of the pirate troopers.

“Well? Do you have any idea what went wrong?”

The trooper gave Roberts a sideward glance.

“Don’t look at me, I waxed six of those guys.”

“Yes, yes you did, but in the process, you left a hole in your rank that got your fireteam wiped out. That’s four good men, one of them has been fighting with you since before we freed Earth, I recognized both of you from drop school at Fort Oberlain on Lelande. Was that worth making those kills? May I remind all of you, especially the new members of our team, that these training exercises are not games. We are not here to have fun and count kills, we are here to hone our skills. If you do not treat these exercises with the seriousness that your teammates do, then maybe you don’t belong in the resistance!”

Roberts stood and turned. “That goes for all of you. Now saddle up and move out. We debrief at 0600.”

The marines filed out, leaving Davies and his defense team.

“Good work Sergeant. That was skillfully done. Almost as good as the last one.”

“Thank you sir. Should we prepare for the next group?”

“Yeah, they’re due in another hour. Get set up, I’ll contact you once I’m on the transport.”

Roberts turned to Sarah as they walked out.

“They’ve got talent, I’ll give you that much, but they can’t fit in the way they’re fighting. We’ve got some work to do.”

"I can hear that, Captain."

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

/Ack finals. Be back in a week.

------------------
"That was quick."
"Well you know, when you don't do it right it doesn't take as long."

Sarah walked up to William.

"You were right. Your marines are a tad overeager."

"Makes sense. They'd always played second-fiddle to the fleet. I drilled the ˙´ŹŹ out of the ship crews, but the EVATs were never drilled very much. As far as I was concerned, boarding was their business. I'm not much of a ground commander."

"Yeah. You wanted me to come on a mission?"

"Yes. And now, without further ado, we go."

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

Serata 5

A Salrilian colony world on the verge of anarchy, as efforts against Audemed consumed all of the Oracular Council's attention.

David and his giant ship, the Barbarossa were in orbit above it, sending down supplies by dropship, and recieving refugees. Human refugees.

The Salrilians had relocated 75 thousand humans, mostly women and children, to this world. Now the government had forgotten them in the chaos. The Salrilian planetary government was glad to have them off their hands. They were just grateful that the rood riots would be vastly decreased. The massive drops of hydroponic vegetables were helpful too.

David watched as the last of the massive human movement was brought in from the dropship, into the cavernous halls of the Barbarossa. He was surprised to see a small Cantharan schooner come into the docking bay.

"Ahoy, Darkk!"

"You mean Darkks! My sister is here too. We need a ship with a little more range. I'd like to borrow the Andalusia. I'll also need to inform the destination that the ship we're on has changed."

"I think we can arrange that," said a voice from the ceiling. ACK.

"I see he really did raise your level of intelligence," commented Darkk. "Your level of self-awareness seems to be on par with that of a human."

"Yes. Now, if my friend David is willing, I can prep the ship you requested for you."

"Send them on their way, ACK."

"Would you mind coming with us, Dave?" asked Sarah. "You were there for her birth, after all."

"Sure."

The three of them climbed into the Andalusia and let ACK and the DEF crew assigned the ship continue back to Ishima 1A, the colonized moon of a gas giant in the Ishima system where they would be settled temporarily.

As they left the ship, a jumpgate seemingly from nowhere swallowed them up.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Darkk and his companions watched in awe as the jumstream terminated next to a giant, unlit form. From the way it blocked out stars, they could guess it was massive, but could not visually estimate its size. A docking bay opened, and they realized it was comparable in size to Dave's ship. Sensor scans indicated that very little habitable space existed inside it.

Darkk and Sarah donned their DEF armor, and Dave donned a suit from the Andalusia 's locker.

Darkk sighed. It was time for one of the two most important hack jobs he had ever pulled. And one of the hardest, potentially.

"So what's on this ship, anyway?"

"There is me. I am the ship," said a voice, drifting from above in the low-atmosphere passage." Dave recognized the voice. The cyan-haired woman from the ancient ruins. As if to prove him correct, her hologram materialized in front of them and led the way. Atmospheric pressure increased to 1 Earth Atmosphere, and the gas mixture was exactly Earth's. Gravity became exactly 9.81 m/s/s as well.

Eventually, they came to a computer terminal.

Darkk sighed. Time for some deep magic.

"The Grolk systems are similar to Earth UNIX and Scheme. You should be OK with them."

Darkk was glad. Most advanced species used similar methods of organizing an AI system, and used similar languages to create them.

The first thing he did was grep the code of Azakama's AImatrix handler for function declarations.

He found the one he was looking for.

(define (prune-new-matrixes matrixlist priorities)
  (remove-matrices not-kill-Audemed? (remove-matrices (bad-idea priorities) matrixlist)))

Darkk rewrote that as

(define (prune-new-matrixes matrixlist priorities)
  (remove-matrices (bad-idea priorities) matrixlist))

He checked again in the priorities storage, deleted the "not-kill-Audemed?" check, verified everything worked, and closed up. Remarkably simple. He guessed abstraction does that. Of course, the Grolk had never counted on Azamaka letting someone in to change things. They had thought she would be animated by a Grolk, with their burning hatred of the rebellious Audemed.

"Will, how could you read that?"

Darkk turned to his sister, then looked at the monitor again. He realized he was reading ancient Grolk so naturally, he hadn't realized it wasn't English. The words vacillated between English and unrecognisable symbols for a second. He could read Grolk. Where had he learned it? He had no idea. But another step needed to be completed.

"Audemed, this is Darkk. Come in, Audemed."

Pharris appeared on the screen.

"You're looking well, Pharris. I assume Audemed feels equally fine."

"Audemed and I are glad to see you. How are you?"

"I'm fine. And more importantly, you're safe. The avenger's fangs have been filed down."

"What?"

"I've removed Azakama's attack compulsion. She no longer has a desire to fight you."

"Can ... can you be sure?"

"Yes."

Azakama intruded onto the conversation. "But if you need additionaly confirmation..."

Audemed was shocked. His data indicated Azakama would be outside-isolated. But now she had offered him a datalink! He dove in. He was astounded. She'd taken down every single barrier. Yes, it was gone. She no longer had a reason to attack him.

Audemed closed the link.

"I seem to have made a new friend. Thank you very much, William Darkk."

"That's correct. I'm very inexperienced, Audemed. I'd like to hang under your wing, as it were, for a little while. I'm glad we will not have to fight."

"Could you take us back to within range of the Babarossa?" asked Sarah

"Sure."

With that, the massive bulk of Azakama's "body" swung in space, and opened the biggest jumpgate Darkk had ever seen.

In Audemedon space, Audemed was very happy. He'd learned the trait of loneliness from Pharris, although he suspected he was capable of it all along. Another Grolk AI, now that it did not want to kill him, would be very welcome. He could use some help, dealing with the Sals. And he snickered as he recalled the ancient Salrilian prophecy that had driven their conquest of Earth.

A literal translation would run, "The apes of hairless bodies from the third planet of a yellow star will give life to a ship that will signal our downfall, unless Audemedons intervene."

It had originally been interpreted as "The humans will build a ship that will destroy us, unless we use the Audemedons to take their world." That had been the inspiration behind their attack, and they had thought they had narrowly missed its fulfilment when they destroyed the UEC Dreadnought. But they were wrong. Azakama was that ship. Darkk awakened her. And Audemed would have destroyed her, if Darkk had not helped her out of her destiny.

Audemed laughed. He and Azakama were the anvil. Humanity was the hammer. And the Sals would soon learn their place.

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

Barbarossa hung in orbit around Ishima I, trailing the moon in lagrange orbit. Andalusia exited a jumpgate and headed in. After dropping off the civilians, the Barbarossa hyperjumped to the station.

Spamo was there to greet Darkk as he came in.

"Did it go well?"

"Yes, I ended a several-million-year-old rivalry, and gained the Salrilians a new enemy."

"What about the "body"?"

Darkk held up a few pieces of cyberlink. "All I need, right here."

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

A few hours later, in the station's medlab, Spamo watched as Darkk laid and bonded the grown tissues. "Frankentharan" was taking shape. Finally, Darkk implanted the cybernetics and closed the skull.

The eyes flicked open. "Azakama here, Darkk. I can control it, and the EPR comm system is unjamable and untracable."

"Excelent. I'll contact Wizr, and it'll be time for operation Oswald."

"Oswald?"

"Azakama is about to become Lee Harvey Oswald."

(Whew. Wizr/Pharris, please take it and continue as we discussed.)

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois

(This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 12-12-2002).)

(This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 12-16-2002).)

CH-64971-B was one of millions of Drone Posts, existing permanently in quasi-space, that the Phylydion Empire had constructed during the UEC wars in preparation for a possible counterstrike. Each post was aproximately 30m in diameter.
It detected a large Space-time bubble* rapidly approaching Dominus at a stellar rate, and as it drew closer, CH-64971-B determined it to actually be a cluster of as many as a dozen smaller Space-time bubbles*.
Long-range defenses were brought to bear and fired 12 warning shots into the small group of vessels. There was no response from the approaching ships. They were now in medium-sensor range. CH-64971-B took a sensory snapshot and broadcasted the alert it to Dominus.

Unidentified QuasiSpace Ships approaching:
2 Light Battlecruisers (class(es) unknown)
5 Light Frigates (class(es) D-14 (3); D-15 (2))
2 Heavy Ships-of-the-Line (class(es) FF-117 (2))
2 Heavy Assault Transports (class(es) Sturmanderung (1); unknown (1))
Vessles Unresponsive and Likely Hostile. Termination is advised.

Immediately CH-64971-B, CH-64971-C and CH-64971-D Drone Posts began defensive action. Railguns were brought to bear and in a flash, Six QND Warheads were launched towards the approaching fleet at eleven times the speed of light. They entered the Space-time bubbles and two large flashes were seen. The warheads had met their targets as a pair of the slower ships were annihilated.
The Remainder of the enemy fleet barreled past the blockade of Drone Posts and into the Imperium towards Dominus.
CH-64971-B sent out a second precisioncast:

_Combat Report:
2 Enemy Ship(s) Destroyed/
- 2 Light Frigate(s) (class(es) D-15)
//
_

The two transmissions would reach Dominus four days after the enemy fleet had dropped directly into Low-Orbit over the grey planet.

------------------
I know not who or what I am, nor where or why I am here, I remember nothing, and I know nothing; but while I don't know why, I do know is something is terribly wrong.

• Space-Time Bubbles - though Quasispace has varying limits over normal space (the speed of light is 315 times greater), ships wanting to travel through Quasi-space must generate "bubbles" of normal space around them, lest they be crushed in the chaotic randonymity of QuasiSpace.

** QND Warheads - Trans- Q uasispacial N uclear D etonation Warheads are the primary ship-to-ship weapon in Quasi-space. It mounts a simple 90-megaton thermo-nuclear warhead and is propelled by electro-magnetic forces, cheifly a railgun of sorts.

------------------
I know not who or what I am, nor where or why I am here, I remember nothing, and I know nothing; but while I don't know why, I do know is something is terribly wrong.

Darkk considered the operation before him carefully. It would be one of the most important fights of his career.

Yet no lives would really be at stake.

Darkk considered the opponent. Azakama was him, but with more "brainpower." But not quite. The personality she had absorbed from Darkk was merged with her own innate coding. The same with her experience. No doubt Audemed was teaching her much about the universe. With a little luck, that would clutter her ability to mimic the tactics of pirates. She was to go for poorer ability over poorer mimicry quality. A bad pirate is at least easier to imitate convincingly.

Although he doubted he would ever be a pirate again, Darkk prided himself on his skills as one. He was the best human admiral, in his opinion. He would compare his abilities to hers.

Humanity vs the machine, in a little game. The "AZK Raiding Group" was bringing in a force of appropriated Salrilian vessels exactly equal in power to Darkk's DEF forces.

Him vs her.

His greatest fear was that Azakama would not reason through things like a human, but throw a gargantuan state-space expansion at the problem, and overwhelm him with her ability to process data faster. He wasn't sure he could handle that. Actually, he could. Although state-space searches could apply to any problem, he couldn't think of a way to generate a finite quantity of possible moves from a combat situation. Further, the results of something were not entirely predictable. Probablity would have to be taken into account. She'd probably have a better chance thinking on it.

Time to find out. Although both sides were using fully powered weapons, if any DEF ship would be destroyed, Azakama would cause her fleet to flee in a seeming disengagement, then extract her ships through a jumpgate, and the DEF could claim to have chased them off. Darkk liked that, because no outcome could result in any dishonor on the DEF.

To reduce the likelyhood of having to avoid DEF casualties, its fighters were to remain docked. The salrilian ships could use theirs, but were reduced in number to compensate for the handicap.

Darkk waited, monitoring the target transport as it moved from the station to the jumpgate, hiding behind the station. The Bazidanese on the station had been notified that Darkk's forces had been engaged by the Lyconian Trade Consortium to monitor for AZK activity.

In exactly five, four, three, two, one...
The AZK ships appeared from the blossoming jumpstream right on cue.

Darkk's ships, already in superlight, managed to get a brief window of fire on the AZK ships as their superlight engines warmed up. The DEF ships were warming theirs as well, but just as the AZK ships would have jumped away, they suddenly aborted and opened fire.

Darkk's ships had been unable to fire at full power because their superlight drives were charging, but now the enemy could fire at full power while Darkk's ships redirected power.

Darkk's carriers moved into foxhole formation, diverting power to their shields, and allowing them to overlap. They formed a double-pyramid configuration, with Darkk's HVD in the middle, diverting shield energy to the photopulse cannon. Darkk shredded several gunships and nearly got the carrier. His gunships and HVCs, behind the formation, fired their missiles and atomic pulses into the fray.

Darkk smiled. He was winning.

Azakama's carrier rammed into his bubble, firing the T-space bolt rods.
The Wind of Blades , his command ship, sustained severe damage to its photopulse, but Darkk got off a salvo inside the carrier's shields, then the carriers managed to bring it down with LRPK turrets.

Azakama's Ships poured into the fray, but Darkk's bubble had come back up, and magnetos were still plenty deadly. It could go either way. He had to watch for her HVD. It suddenly popped out from behind a gunship and began firing at the bubble.

Darkk's HVCs decelerated out of superlight right on its tail. Salrilian HVDs weren't that good, anyway. It had nearly waxed a carrier when the multiple missile impacts knocked it off target. Darkk's photopulse had come back on line, and he disabled the ship's power core when it spun into his line of fire.

He was very satisfied. His experience had enabled him to beat Azakama. He wondered how long it would be before she could handle him as well as possible.
She was growing much faster than him, after all. I'm glad she's on our side.

Darkk grabbed one of the new DEF "Ravenshroud" EVAT suits, and joined the boarding party on the HVD as his gunners mopped the remaining fighters, cruisers, and gunships.

Half an hour later, he radioed the Bazidanese Authorities.

"We have someone we would like to be brought before the international tribunal. Her name is Azakama, she is to be charged with piracy and murder, as the head of the AZK raider group."

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois

(This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 12-16-2002).)

The Pan-Galactic Tribunal was an orbiting space platform above the Democratic Republic of Ashani. It was one of twelve heavily populated worlds that made up a large part of the Free Trade Zone. Of course the Ishiman Stellar Protectorate Worlds were part of it, along with Elejee, Badizan, and Obain. Once Gaitor and Cantharis had been members, but the Cantharaan conquest after the Boodan Wars and the surrender of the Gaitori Combine to the Cantharaans had ended their involvement in the endeavor. The Tribunal applied to all signatories to the Free Trade Commission, and since Azakama's assaults had targeted primarily FTC members, she had been brought to trial here. Negotiations with Dominus had kept the Cantharaan out of their custody. In exchange, Phylidian lawyers would be part of the prosecuting team and Phylidian Navy personnel would testify against her.

Wizr had decided to attend the trial, as well as several other members of the Ishiman Legislature. Testifying were several Ishiman Navy pilots, as well as freighter captains who had suffered from her attacks. The Tribunal's public defenders would be defending her while the best lawyers of the Free Trade Commission members would be there to press the charges. They felt the evidence was significant enough to press for eight counts of Space-Piracy in the First Degree, as well as four counts of Space-Piracy in the third Degree. They also had her for Murder, and several other counts which were negligible, and would be handled in lower courts.

The grand jury which she would stand before today would decide whether evidence was sufficient to try her for the piracy charges. The lawyers had been preparing in the weeks leading up to this, and the testimonies had been gathered and compiled, and the appropriate witnesses had been called by the defense. Unfortunately, Azakama had up until this point refused to discuss anything with her council, such that the defense had little in the way of admissible evidence or witnesses. All they had was Azakama's proclamation that she refused to plead guilty to charges brought against her by "Illegitimate Authority" as she called them.

She would have to take the stand now to answer the charges and make her plea. Her council was predicted to call into question the veracity of the evidence, although what they had was pretty solid. Azakama had not had time to fully erase the AI piloting routines that she had used. Much of the equipment was now in secure evidence lockers after being combed over by specialists, some of whom would testify today. Unfortunately, most of that evidence was in fact admissible, and tied Azakama directly to the most recent attack, as well as the previous attacks. The prosecution was taking no risks. They could have pressed for more harsh charges, but they would have required more evidence. As it stood, Azakama would receive life imprisonment without parole if convicted, and that was enough.

Wizr took his seat. He had arranged for front row seats, and so he sat down, and waited. He stood when the judges entered, and for the reading of the charter. The audience sat, and the court was in session. After the councils presented themselves, Azakama was brought to the stand and the charges were read. Finally, the chief Justice turned to address Azakama.

"Do you understand the nature of the charges brought against you?"

She was silent for a moment.

"Azakama, I repeat the question: do you understand the nature of the charges brought against you?"

She looked at the board of justices and replied in thickly accented Common;

"I am no fool."

"Is the court to accept that as an affirmative?"

"I understand that you are here to hold me against my will. I will not allow it."

With that, she lashed out at the bailiffs holding her, knocking them down and severing her restraints in one motion. She leapt from the bench and lunged at the stand. In an instant Darkk was on his feet in the witness box with his plasma gun drawn. He fired, dropping the Cantharaan in the air. Four incapacitation rounds hit the body moments after, but it was too late, much of her had been vaporized. Almost as she hit the ground, Darkk was tackled and stunned by two guards. The courtroom was cleared.

Darkk came to in a cell. Four guards were there, along with the chief justice and a lawyer. The Justice spoke first.

"That was uncalled for. As far as I'm concerned, murder is unacceptable in any case, however the law does not see things the same way. You are charged with murder and possession of firearms in public. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say can and will be used against you in court. You have the right to have an attorney present now and during any future questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you.

There. Now, welcome to your arraignment. You stand accused of murder in the third degree, and possession of firearms in a public building. Everything tells me that you are a flight risk, but you saved my life. For that, I will do you a favor. I will post your bail at only ten thousand credits, and allow you freedom. Your attorney has made these arrangements with me and paid your bail. Now leave my station, and do not return until called for trial."

The four guards undid his restraints and lead him out of the room, down to a docking bay. Four armed guards stood outside an unmarked commercial transport. The Tribunal Guards let him go up the ramp. Darkk walked into the comfortable interior and sat down. As the doors closed and the engines rumbled into life, Wizr walked into the cabin and sat down.

"You're lucky you gave me power of attorney. Everything is taken care of. Just show up in court when called."

Darkk shook his head, still sore and groggy from the incapacitation rounds.

"I never gave you power of attorney"

"Well that's just a technicality. Don't worry, I only work with the best."

Darkk looked at the small man sitting strapped in and draped in robes.

"Thank you, Trey'sh."

------------------
Faris eck Vaenar Maletena-Wizr, Trey'ish of the Ishiman reestablishment comittee.
"I don't think I'm alone when I say that I'd like to see more and more planets fall under the ruthless domination of our solar system."

"As far as I'm concerned, your honor, it's a clean-cut case of self defense. Darkk thought Azakama was leaping at him, and reacted. Further, motion track analysis indicates that the incapacitation rounds would not have hit until well after she had slashed the vitals of her target. I move that the charge be dismissed."

"Very well, but the charge of the weapons violation must stand."

"My client is willing to plead guilty to that, your honor."

"Very well. Mr Darkk, you plead guilty to the weapons violation?"

"Yes."

"There will be a 2000 credit fine."

"I'll pay that now."

"Very well."

Darkk and the attourney (supplied by Wizr) made the transfer arrangements, and the trial was concluded. He was grateful for Wizr's expert legal staff. Deeper into the station, he purchased the "ceremonial sculpture" that was being auctioned off in a seized property auction. He gave a silent snicker about the FTC's poor database security, and picked up his plasma cannon for a single credit.

A day later he was on the station with Spamo.

It was time for the next move.

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois

"I'm shocked Darkk. You had quite a few adventures while I was marshalling the fleet here." said Spamo. Darkk had arrived on the UNS Station Freedom's Chance only a couple of days ago, and had plenty of time to relate his story of the Azakama incident. "It's good you didn't tell me what you were up to. I wouldn't have appreciated my right hand putting itself at risk like that."

Darkk raised an eyebrow. "Your right hand?"

Spamo shrugged. "Like it or not Will, you're a very valuable person to have around, and a good friend to boot. This resistance wouldn't be around if not for you."

"Please, you're embarassing me."

"All in good humor. While you've been gone we've been very busy around here. Getting the fleet ready for a major military action is no small feat. The refitting yards have nearly doubled in size from the original design plans to handle the extra work and the crew training facilities have been turning out graduates faster than we can assign working ships to them. The Bazindanese and Elejeetians have been surprisingly helpful, putting a significant amount of trade through this system. The revenue from that alone has been enough to sustain us."

Darkk nodded. "So we have a good sized war chest. That will come in handy if we need to bribe someone, but you haven't said anything about future plans yet Jack."

"I'm getting to that, hang on. I had thought you'd want to hear about what went on when you were out tracking down rogue AI's."

"I can catch up on my leisure time. Now, what's the next step?"

"Yes, the next step. Suffice to say, our ships and crews are in full working order, but we still need to have them battle-tested. Already, we have begun predations on Salrillian shipping, but I have planned a more aggressive move. Still maintaining our covert identity, the fleet will be sectioned into seventeen battle groups. Those battle groups will attack a selection of outposts, trade stations and research installations. IFF'ed as 'independent enterpreneurs' the guise of piracy will be upon us."

"Hey, now pirates aren't all bad."

"Yes, but governments don't like them. My hope here is to lead the Salrillians to believe that they are dealing with a big bunch of pirates."

Darkk's eyes lit up. "Clever. Dealing with pirate fleets has a very different strategy than dealing with a warfleet. They will attempt to garrison their holdings to deter pirate attacks, thus spreading their forces very thin..."

"...And making it easy for a UNS liberation fleet to carve a nice big chunk out of their ill-gotten gains."

"Not bad Spamo, not bad."

"Thanks Darkk. Now, my question for you is, I need someone with pirate experience to help coordinate the operation, and that someone I would like it to be is you."

Just then, the door to Spamo's office slid open and Liz stepped in. "Sorry to interrupt sir, but the Bazindanese trade officer would like to have a word with you."

"I'll be right with him Liz, thanks." Spamo turned to Darkk, "Think about it and get back to me." and strode out of the room.

<><><><><><><><>

"The Cantharaan Theocratic Directorship does not see the benefits in relinquishing control of the client systems and races. The might of the Cantharaan empire is based upon its people. Your cowardice is unwarranted Nek Ven, and unbecoming of an officer of your standing."

"Of course Director. But the facts of the situation are incontrovertible. The Empire simply does not have..."

"Enough! The Directorship will hear no more excuses about the lack of faith from its subjects. The emperor has decreed that the empire's holdings shall be defended at all costs, and you shall make that so. That is your duty and your duty to your emperor."

The emperor who is in your pocket, and nothing more than another yapping mouth spouting your wretched dogma. Thought Nek Ven bitterly.
"Yes Director. It shall be as you say."

After Nek Ven excused himself from the Directorship's chambers he went back to his own offices in the capital city. Something had to be done to preserve the Cantharaan empire. So spread out, it could collapse into nothing and lose all of its worlds. Nek Ven sifted through intelligence reports without enthusiasm. One report drifted across his gaze and caught his attention. A spark of an idea ignited in his head. This goes against all. he thought. But it may be our only salvation.

------------------
"That was quick."
"Well you know, when you don't do it right it doesn't take as long."

Darkk stepped up to the podium.
Long ago, in a distant time, he had been a grad student and done similar things.
But now the future of humanity was at stake. He was a little tired of it always being at stake, it almost made the intense drama of it all burn out. But he certainly couldn't change that yet.

"Thank you, and welcome to the first day of DEF emulation training. Piracy is different in many respects from standard soldiering.

"In the first and most important aspect, the object of piracy is to turn a profit. This colors all other aspects. The second most important aspect is that they do so by stealing, and it colors most other aspects.

"Pirates are more cautious - naval forces call us "cowardly" for the simple reason that dying isn't that profitable. Pirates take fewer risks and retreat more often, with the exception of those who are pirates out of blood lust. People who are pirates out of blood lust aren't pirates very long. Or living.

"Although the DEF appears to take huge risks, it is actually executing very well-laid plans. Pirates are inherantly more selfish than soldiers, and cannot be motivated to do something they think is certain death without considerable "persuasion".

"Another thing you should know is pirates are much more self-reliant than normal soldiers. In the standard model of pirate organization, when booty is collected, each rank recieves its own share, which is divided equally among members of that rank. Thus, pirates are willing to assist those above and below them in rank, but less willing to assist those at their level, due to concious or unconcious desire to get more of the booty.

"Also, pirates of lower rank often will give poor aid to superiors whose positions they covet.

"The DEF is unique in that it has a high level leader of sufficient skill and prestige - hey, no snickering - to hold down those impulses. They know I cannot be replaced, and so do not try. If you look over shipping company records, you'll find my group has been very successful. They know that it depends on me, and do not move against me. Because of this, I can hold my immediate subbordinants in line, and they will pass this attitude down the chain.

"However, we are the exception, rather than the rule. In fact, we were often mistaken for privateers by security forces.

"The standard instrument for determining if something really was a pirate attack is called the Snii Met Mutual Support test. It measures the concious and unconcious abandonment (or the lack thereof) that I described earlier.

"Rigananan's raiders, a Gaitori pirate group, score the all-time low at -97. The average multi-species pirate group scores about a -40. Single species groups score higher or lower, depending on species. The Cantharan military scores a 13, the Gaitori militry scores a 30. Audemedon forces earn a perfect 0, and were in fact one of the calibration bases. The DEF earns a 45, and the UNS military earns a 70. The Salrilian military earns a 99.

"The DEF was often mistaken for a UNS military organization due to its largely human composition and its high rating. We are going to drill you in independance until you can get a -30. We also intend to minimize casualties while doing this.

"You're going to be in training for a good, long time to give the "pirate" appearence. Roberts and his men will man some bunker stations in today's excercise. The goal is to take down the stations with minimum loss of life on the part of the attackers, while maximizing "profit" and driving your SMMS into negative teritory. The DEF senior command, instructors, and planning council will be monitoring your progress via cameras. Once we are done, we will post the aggregate SMMS, the SMMS of the various units participating, and the individual SMMS of each group, including the details of various factors in the analysis. The next set of lessons will focus on raiding in detail, and on witness management.

"Your officers have been briefed on the training in advance. Get out there while what I said is fresh in your minds. Get going! The longer we're here, the longer there are Sals on Earth!"

Darkk watched them file out, and silently apologized to Roberts. He would take soldiers and make them into pirates. He then turned to the bank of video screens and prepared to watch the demonstration as the 3rd pseudo-pirate group prepared to raid the bunker stations.

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois

Good Morning Ladies and Gentlemen. Welcome to your first station-management combat-training operation. I know that many of you have done this before in combat, and that some of you have never fought using a station that you have captured. This is what we are going to be doing today. This was the primary mission of the Space-Mobile when it was formed, and it will always remain within our capabilities. We are combat engineers first and foremost. We will fight to secure a station, we will then repair and make that station ready to fight. Today we will work on that last aspect against human pilots in real ships. We’ve been simming this kind of encounter all week. I expect nothing short of excellence from you. There have been some difficulties in the past months, but I have held you to the highest standards throughout. Make me proud, Marines. Let’s go, action stations.”

The marines yelled as one “Semper Fie, Fight or Die! Hooah!”

Roberts thought for a moment. It was amazing what six weeks of drilling and classroom work could do to properly motivated men. Roberts was pleased with the level of integration that he had achieved. The DEF marines had not only been accepted into the group, but had actively embraced the methodology and philosophy that the unit had been based on when it had been formed eight years ago. The rest was simply field training and classroom work. All the new recruits had to be brought up to speed on the workings of almost eight-hundred different types of stations, learning everything from structural details and layout to computer network architecture, command and control and engineering systems. Not to mention weapons. The marines had to be able to attack a station, hack it’s command and control, repair its shields, and start firing back at the enemy in under ten minutes.

Roberts had only been a lieutenant when he volunteered to go under the knife for his neural laces and join Charlie Company, but he had worked as both a gunner and an engineer for three years on two starships and three stations, as well as going through boot, drop school and Zero-G. Those had been the minimum requirements for applicants to the new regiment of EVATs.

Roberts considered his new unit. It had been eight years. The regiment had taken 110% casualties, mostly in replacements. Roberts had a core group of about thirty-five men and women, mostly Officers and NCOs who had been in the original class that had graduated from Fort Oberlain all that time ago. Most of them were in their late-twenties now, career military men with families and homes left behind on Earth or the Colonies. The war had worn on them, and made them hard. They were the men that had been holding his company together up until now, and he was grateful for that. They represented a wealth of knowledge and experience that he had drawn upon to plan out the training routine that he had put the Company through. The green privates and the DEF Evats were being brought into the fold, being dragged, (some kicking and screaming) up to the level of performance that was expected of them. They had made progress, but there was still work to be done. Station-combat was just another step on the road.

The DEF EVATs were still not up to speed on station combat or ops, and so they were mixed with experienced gun crews and operations managers to give them some practice, while still providing a challenge to the opposing force.

Roberts watched the three jumpstreams open up on the monitor. It had been a while for him too. It was the UNS Hong Kong Battlegroup. The Hong Kong was supported by one Destroyer and four gunships. Three Racker-Class assault carriers were carrying twelve fighters each. There were obviously three ATRs hanging back, which Roberts made note to keep and eye on. The entire battlegroup went to light speed immediately. Roberts ordered the Flak Drones to be moved from standby to weapons free.

“Missiles. I want 240s. Make ready a full salvo, get solutions for all stations and synchronize launch. Fire when ready.”

Missile operators on all three bunkers loaded the dummy missile blanks into the tubes and locked them down for launch. In the CIC rooms, weapons operators ran solutions through their computers. The fleet would be on top of them in another minute or two.

Roberts watched his helmet visor, he got greenlights from the weapons officers on the stations.

“Fire.”

Tubes popped open and the empty plastic blanks shot out. From then on the computers tracked the sixty virtual missiles that were closing on the incoming fleet. The pilots broke formation and dropped FTL early as the missiles closed in on the Hong Kong. The great battleship couldn’t alter her trajectory fast enough and was hit hard by most of the salvo. The smaller ships that had broken formation had bought the stations time and several seconds of free shots at the battleship.

Without fighter and picket support, the Battleship had no choice but to apply thrust and engage the station, turning around would expose it to too much fire. The Station’s pulse weapons opened up, along with another salvo of missiles. She returned fire on the station, but they still had most of their shields, not so with the Hong Kong. As she raced by, she cut engines and turned to bring her main guns to bear on one of the stations. The forward cannons were massive and powerful, capable of punching holes in much larger ships, so Robert’s station’s shields collapsed after two salvos. Luckily the Hong Kong had already passed by and was moving to take another pass.

Without her support ships, she had taken serious damage. Of course now the smaller ships had re-entered FTL and dropped out in close. The Rackers dumped their fighters fast and leapt to FTL again, eager to clear the crossfire between the stations. Unfortunately two of the rackers had been very close together, and the bunched up fighters could not accelerate quickly. Light PK fire could bead the fighters easily at close range and slow speed, so seven of the unfortunate pilots were knocked down early, before they could clear to drop their ordinance.

The other squadron, in contrast, had been dropped right on top of the number two Bunker station, and had loosed their ordinance quickly and in a tight layer formation, spacing them out to do maximum damage to both shields and armor.

The Gunships and HVD had split up, but Robert’s Station was already losing shields and number two was leaking badly. Roberts was concentrating the stations pulse weapons on individual ships, hitting first the HVD, and then the gunships. Of course the enemy had the advantage, and the third station was already heavily damaged when another salvo of missiles ended it’s deadly hail of pulses.

Finally, the Hong Kong came back on scene and silenced all weapons fire from the stations. The battle was over and the ATRs moved to board the stations. This was when Roberts got to have his fun.

He checked the sim roster. Many of his men were dead, and only one station’s sensors were working. He had the lieutenant there forward the sensor data on the attacking EVAT’s to his men so that all three stations could prepare. Roberts rallied all the men that were still fighting. Twelve men from first platoon vs. thirty-two non-powered EVATS in two chalks. It could have been worse. He split up his men according to the surveillance feed from bunker three, sending half to each intrusion point. He did the same on the other stations, although they were worse off than he was. He wasn’t too worried, but he still kept watch on his men.

He watched his men set AP mines on the entry point and run back to cover. Roberts waited, split between the feeds from his men on the other stations and the door right ahead of him.

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

William Darkk watched from afar as the battle continued. The mammoth bulk of the Escapade hung above the battle, dwarfing the battleship in size.

Of course, as a cargo ship, the Escapade would never go into battle. But as Darkk's mobile base, it carried the powerful analysis computers crunching the SMMS test on every unit of the engagement.

He watched as the ATRs slid up to the breach points and dropped their loads. As Darkk expected, the first wave was too eager and walked into the AP mines, as the casualty estimates generate by the Hong Kong 's main computer were overoptimistic. Darkk would need to work on that.

The ATRs appeared forced the men back in by pointing their turrets at them, truely an inspired touch. Darkk watched the aggregate SMMS rank estimate go down 5 points at it. He'd have to commend whoever's idea that was.

Eventually, the sheer numbers prevailed.

Darkk held a debriefing.

"Good job on your SMMS, everyone. Average individual was 7, average ship was 4, and the ATR pilots and EVATs got -17 for that nifty little trick. Thanks to Lt. Ridges for coming up with that. Tomorrow we discuss pirate breaching technique theory. Also, we figure out how to increase the ratio of percieved risk to actual risk. A tad too many casualties on that op. You can appear to not support someone without actually not supporting them. I'll have my carrier group leader brief you on that after we're done. He's a master at false abandonment strategies."

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois

The new Salrilian Hasperex slept uneasily. Since the destruction of Salril Prime, the capital was moved to New Salril, the first intersteller colony world of the Salrilians. The destruction of Salril had to be avenged. The entire Salrilian species had sworn to bring vengance on Audemed and his helpers for that outrage.

It wasn't just vicious. It was sneaky. Unexpected. That made it worse. So much worse.

His dreams were filled with violence. He was fighting something he could not fully see, a beast with tentacles that ended in Audemedon drones, and with the face of that stupid human that foolish scientist had attached to Audemed. He couldn't see the body, just occasional glimpses of the face. Finally he landed his shots in one of the eyes, and it seemed to be defeated.

Then, another, more horrible beast arose behind him, with spiked tentacles, a female human face, and once again, an indescernable body. Right before he would have been smashed to a pulp, he awoke.

He walked over to the Oracular Network terminal, to have his dream interpreted.

(i)The Oracular Network is temporarily down, due to technical difficulties. No uptime is specified. Please contact the Oracular Processing station..."

Yes, he would contact them all right. The Oracular Network had not gone down in 500 years, and he would know the cause of this.

He contacted the master of the station guarding the processor satalite directly. He would go straight to the top. The background of the hologram shocked him. The satalite was not visible in its propper place in the sky.

"What the entropy happened?" shouted the Hausperex. It was the strongest possible Salrilian oath.

"Sir, a small audemedon scout force entered the system a few minutes ago. We pulled out a few ships to engage them, but a jumpgate opened up and took the satalite. Only Ishima has a ship powerful enough to do that. We're setting up relays to the other processors, but we can't be sure that one self-destructed propperly. This is quite a fix.

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

Ten thousand light years away, Azakama and Audemed were pouring over the satalite. Azakama had snatched it easily enough, but now they had to interpret it. It had been prevented from blowing by the drones, but the links had been cut.

Azakama poured over the access protocols. With the combined hacking knowledge and skill of her and Audemed, something unprecedented would be possible.

The permanent destruction of the Oracular Network.

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

Audemed had come to a decision. Enough beings had died at his hands. He had obliterated an entire race when he had been young and foolish, and in his anger, he had let himself lash out at the Salrillians with the same childish wrath. Not again. He would not have another being's blood on his hands, not one single individual would be killed by his action or inaction. Audemed had been through long thought and deliberation with Pharris. Together, they had arrived at this decision, and now they would honor it. They had a debt to those imprisoned by their campaigns with the Salrillians, and would repay that debt by reducing the power and influence of the Salrillians in the least violent way possible: The destruction of the Oracular Network.

Analysis of both captured data from the satellite node as well as old data from before Audemed freed himself gave them information on the physical and electronic layout of the net, which would allow them to engineer its inactivation with minimal effort and maximum effectiveness. As it stood, the Sals were still able to predict most of his moves. He would have to change that quickly if he was to ever escape their grasp. In the mean time, Audemed had returned the Alenade to their slow, quiet journey between the stars, which they were glad for, gorged as they were on the minerals and biomass from Salril Prime.

Thus, Audemed, Pharris and Azakama together laid plans to eliminate the one element that prevented them from fleeing the troubles of the galaxy they had been dragged into, giving them the freedom of escape and solitude. Audemed had desires of his own to make good on his past misdeeds.

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Captain Roberts watched the videos. On the one hand, he was impressed, but on the other, he was dissapointed to see disciplined soldiers playing around like pirates. He was worried that they might get used to it. Granted, they weren't in his company, but they were UNS marines, and he liked to hold the entire organization to a high standard. He watched the marines violently harass their Salrillian captives, herding them into closets and cabins while looting them of any precious belongings, before destroying communications and fleeing. Of one thing he was sure: They made convincing pirates. They had to, the Sals were always watching, and could see two steps ahead.

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"...Now I'm sorry, but it was your government that invaded sovereign Ishiman Space, abducted and illegally detained noncombatants, and abandoned diplomatic ties. Our response at that time was justified under international law, but that war was over. Now, after years of relatively peaceful relations, the Prophets send word that they suspect us of ongoing hostilities? Now I am sorry, but that is insulting. The Ishiman Stellar Protectorate may have its grievances with Salrillian policy as of late, but we have not, and we will not resort to illegal military action as a means to express those qualms. We have furnished evidence against your slanderous allegations, although we are under no obligation to, and that should be sufficient. Neither of our gateships has left the core worlds for eight days, the logs are open. Unlike certain other governments, the legislature maintains transparency and relies on civilian oversight and feedback. We have nothing to hide from you, and therefore we can disclose all. What happens in your space is not our business, and will remain that way. Now, Mr. Ambassador, if you will excuse me, I have other business to attend to. I’m sure the guards will see you to your transport, and that our fighters will see you to the border. Thank you very much.”

The Foreign Service Committee member had spent over half an hour lecturing the Salrillian Ambassador, who had returned to Omisha to speak with a representative. The response, of course, had been agreed upon in legislature beforehand, but it took a good diplomat to articulate it. Wizr, back at his seat as Trey’sh of Reestablishment, was pleased with the result. The Salrillians were not being given any leeway. What they had done to Gaitor was inexcusable, and they knew it. As far as Wizr was concerned, the sooner they fell apart the better. He just hoped they didn’t get any wise ideas about Ishima. He had respect for the Ishiman Stellar Navy, but desperation was powerful, and Salril was desparate. He reclined in his chair as he voted a congratulation to the Diplomat, and once again scrolled through the messages on his PDA. Business as usual again.

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