"Making them listen to reason with a knife to their throats isn't an option, is it?" Grithia moaned. "I feel so frustrated."

Grithia had made two more attempts to convince the Gaitori to accept Ishiman negotiation. Neither was successful. Despite the fact that the Cantharans were steadily moving towards Gaitor, they could not tell that they were next on the list to be conquered. The Gaitori thought their impressive weapondry would allow them to mop up the Obish like they were nothing.

Darkk put his arm around her. "Diplomacy is not the task of an Irthantan. Your frustration is only natural, as we can do little more than intimidate. Our empathy does not extend to persuasion."

She put her arm around him. "Are you trying to comfort me, or advise me?"

"Which would you rather I do?"

"Neither, at the moment."

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

"Mr Darkk, you Irthantans have one messed-up society," said the medical officer. "Killing each other is not the purpose of romance, now is it?"

Darkk did not feel pain, despite the dangling laceration on his arm. "We merely wish to see the strength of our loved one demonstrated. The weak should not reproduce."

"You and your eugenics..."

"Survival of the fittest is inescapable. Only by merging with it can one prosper. Even a civilization is not above it, as the Cantharans taught us."

"At least the Ambassador's in better shape than you. How come women always do more damage to you than you do to them?"

"The gateship has a lower gravity than my homeworld, so my muscles are not as toned as those who spend time there. The engineering department still has my request for variable cabin gravity tied up in paperwork. Besides, female Irthantan are just as strong and slightly more limber."

"Good luck to you. Grithia said that once I'd patched you up you could see her again."

Darkk smiled. "I feel like taking her up on that. I'm sure I'll do better this time."

"As your medical officer, I must recommend against this."

"Be quiet, snackball." Darkk and the medical officer smiled. "Snackball" was the Irthantan derogitory term for an Ishiman, due to the Ishiman resemblance to a prey animal. Darkk and the MO knew each other well enough to jokingly use terms like that.

"Be on your way, rabid one."

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

Darkk rubbed the new wound on his other arm. This time he had delivered as good as he had gotten, and the Ambassador, standing beside him, softly rubbed her identical wound. Identical wounds were considered a sign of a good match, Darkk recalled.

Outside the Gaitori carriers had moved back slightly, even though they didn't really need to.

"Gate us to Obain."

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

Darkk looked down at the blue world of Obain, and up at the many bluish ships and stations around it. Shipyards were cranking out fearsome Obish battleships and Escorts, as well as a wide variety of other ships.

On the surface, Grithia wasn't having better luck with the Obish.

"We feel these systems belong to us."

"Could you not simply expand in the other direction?"

"No, there are far fewer good candidates in that direction. We have already invested much into that sector."

"We've just come from Gaitor. You can't beat them. I know, I saw their weapondry. You'll be blasted flat."

"Do not be silly. They are quite fond of building empty shells to fool those who are unfamiliar with them."

"Our spies report on the construction of real ships, not empty shells."

"Gaitori bought off are unreliable. They could easily be double agents."

"We scanned the entire dang system with the gateship's primary array. It could burn through any kind of jamming in the universe, and we confirmed their reports."

"You are unfamiliar with reading falsifier beacons."

"I may be, but the sensor operator of the gateship is familiar with all known countermeasures."

"Do you trust him? He could have been bought by the Gaitori as you bought their men."

"Now that is just silly. IIA is second only to the Salrilian Intelligence Agency."

"Perhaps it is YOU who was bought..."

Grithia grabbed the coat of the Obain representative.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

Guards moved toward her with stun prods. Her own retinue moved uneasily into a half-circle between her and the Obish guards.

"I meant no offense. I was merely covering all posibilities."

Grithia overcame her raging blood and set him down.

"Guards, escort her to her shuttle."

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

"That bad?" said the Ishiman Trey of Foriegn Relations.

"The Obain are in willful denial. They will be flattened. After today, I feel it will be deserved."

"Harsh."

"They are fools. I will include that in my report. They insulted me in the highest manner possible."

"You nearly got shot, you nearly created an international incident."

"It would have been his fault. He accused me of being in the pay of Gaitor."

"Don't make the same mistake again."

"It would be a mistake to kill him, but I do not consider it a mistake to show him that his words have consequences."

"Grithia, you should be calmer."

"Every species has limits to its personality. Where is Ishiman bloodlust?"

"Point taken. Evolution dealt your minds a cruel hand."

"You should not joke like that."

"Grithia, now that we know that neither side will give in, it's time to pull back and apraise. I'll send thirty starliners. You and Darkk remove all Ishiman citizens from Gaitori and Obish space. I'm sending Darkk a writ of Martial Authority." A writ of Martial Authority entitled military commanders to round up civilians and force them to obey military dictates in a specified area or circumstance. It was not given lightly. Grithia knew the full Ishiman Senate had authorized this.

"Understood."

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois
Onii7/Frinkruds and his funky forums
macgamer.net

(This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 08-30-2003).)

Point de Sčvres was one of the four stations of the Paris Metro sub-terran city rail system which served Boulogne-Lčlu International Hypersonic Rail Terminal. There were also tow IHRTs which served the city. Boulogne-Lčlu IHRT was the smallest of the three with an area of a little less than two square kilometres. In its entirety Boulogne-Lčlu was underground, tunnelled out a few hundred metres beneath the ground, it stretched from below the Bois de Boulogne to the town of Meudon on the other side of the river.

The International Hypersonic Rail Network was spread densely across the planet Earth. Entirely sub-surface, all of the tunnels were evacuated to a near total vacuum. The magnetic trains poured down the passages at a nauseating velocity. You got used to it. It was safe. Everyone used it most days.

The 20 minutes or so of the journey from Sahara Spaceport to Paris had been passed with reading the plastic propaganda leaflet supplied by the train company. It was of course intended for foreigners, this being a non-stop passenger train from the spaceport to the capital. Aino hadn’t seen this leaflet before and resolved to pinch it as she left the train.

The interior of the train itself was like that of an aircraft except that there were no windows. Though quite full, it still retained a feeling of spaciousness and cleanliness, not in the least clustraphobic as some public transit systems are wont to be. This train belonged to Global International Subway Trains Limited (Aino supposed they shoved in the word “subway” for obvious reasons. who in their right mind would travel with a company called GIT Limited when there were so many alternatives available!).

The leaflet had been interesting. It was a short well written history of the International Hypersonic Transit Network (to give it it’s proper title), the most efficient, and cheap public transit system ever devised (most modest too it would appear). Aino was a little surprised to read that most of the network of tunnels was a little under twenty years old. The main arteries, like the Chicago to Moscow via Paris line were older, built in the days when the only thing more expensive than long range tunnelling was space vessel construction. The Chicago-Moscow tunnel had taken years to construct and had finally cost half a billion credits a kilometre.

It was of course the invention and patenting by the Ping Corporation of the Industrial Compressor that made possible the construction of cheap high quality tunnels. Basically the Compressor was a machine which could cut through almost anything at a rate of six kilometres or so an hour. It worked by compressing everything within its target area to a fraction of its size whence it would be removed from the vacuumed space, created by its compression. Once removed from the pressure inflicted upon it by the Compressor the tunnelled out material would re-expand to a stable structure. Cost, only a few million credits per kilometre, including the huge capital cost of the machine. And how the machine worked exactly..., a secret. Some said it was alien technology. Some said it wasn’t. Aino knew that it was.
Alien or not, the result was nearly ten million kilometres of tunnels beneath the Earth’s surface, with the network being used by over a thousand million people each day. Long distance trains in the huge trunk routes such as the Paris-Sahara line would accelerate at point five g up to a maximum of six thousand kmh, and then smoothly decelerate again from the journey’s halfway point to zero. It was an elegant system. It had killed off large scale air transport. Most airlines were now well into the subway business.

The Ping Corporation and the Global and Colonial Merchant Banking Corporation, the latter of which had financed the Industrial Compressor had become hugely wealthy and powerful. The G&CMBC; was humanity’s biggest bank and largely financed humanity’s leap to the stars.

Aino Terävä lit her eighth cigarette of the day as she stepped out of the no-smoking zone in one of the ancillary halls of Boulogne-Lčlu. She’d catch a domestic Metro to Place d’Italie and walk half a block to the office. The half block walk would be her first time on the actual surface of the Earth since landing at the spaceport barely an hour ago. With diplomatic credentials she’d had no formalities to suffer on landing and had sped directly to the IHTN.

.
.
.

The headquarters of the United Nations Secret Investigation Authority is in Geneva.

However, most of the work done in UNSIA is caried out in a large complex of offices under Avenue Edison in the thirteenth Arondisement. This is where Aino Terävä had finally ended her journey.

------------------
Oh, so it is another bug hunt then...

Darkk ran his fingers over Grithia's throat. That she allowed him to do so was a sign of true trust. Now if he could get a few more seconds with her...

"Mr Darkk, you'd better come and have a look at this."

Darkk cursed the intercom silently. Grithia awoke from her reverie and followed him. Darkk mentally reviewed his progress as he walked to the bridge. The small size of the crew compartment of a gateship meant that you walked everywhere, as there were no lifts or whiskers (sideways moving platforms).

"Commodore on the Bridge."

"So what seems to be so important?"

"That." The sensor chief pointed at the main screen.

"Standard Cantharan convoy, 14 frieghters and 7 cruiser escorts visible, undoutably 7 more cloaked."

"Yes sir. Their public manifest port indicates it's carrying munitions to Gaitor. Private Corporation, 'Nev Kim', one of their larger weapon manufacturers. Pretty good government clout."

"Thank you."

Darkk considered the situation. Outside, the liners that remained to retrieve the remaining Ishiman citizens from the coming zone of the conflit had positioned the gateship between themselves and the convoy. The gunships escorting the Ishiman Gateship and liners had formed a circle around the Gateship in the xy plane, all facing the convoy.

"Grithia, stall them. I'll see if I can get an interdict operation approved."

Grithia sat down at the comm station and began grilling the obviously uncomfortable convoy commander. Cantharans didn't like Irthantans. Just because the Irthantans sent back the severed heads of every Cantharan on the planet but one the first time they repelled the Cantharans didn't strike the Irthantans as reason to dislike them so much. They were dead, so what did it matter if they sent the heads back?

Darkk in the meantime had contacted the Ishiman Department of Defense. The Division of External Affairs chief of staff was luckily on hand. After a brief discussion, Darkk was granted blockade authority, in order to "prevent escalation and bleed-over to nearby Ishiman Protectorates". Darkk didn't really care about the reason. He just wanted to thwart the Cantharans.

Darkk nodded to Grithia to stop stalling and activated the main viewer. The Cantharan commander was obviously a civilian, quite likely one with no prior military experience. An analysis of command traffic indicated with 84% certainty he was also in command of the cruisers.

"As Commodore of the Ishiman Gateship and commanding officer of the blockade region surrounding the zone of conflict between Gaitor and Obain, I must request you allow us to have your ships escorted to a neutral port, in order to prevent escalation of this conflict and its bleeding over into Ishiman Protectorate territory."

"I am aware of your formidible bluffing skills. I will call your bluff."

One of the cruisers and two freighters moved forward. Radar showed an additional cloaked cruiser going with.

"I will give you a thirty second warning."

"I don't believe you."

"20 seconds."

"You think you can scare me."

"10."

"Ha."

"5"

"HA!"

"4"

"Ha!"

"3"

"HA!"

"2"

"HA!"

"1"

"HA!"

Darkk pressed the button on his console. Three ATRs appeared on top of the frieghters. The gunships surrounding the Gateship began firing to disable.

"You won't get away with this!" shouted the Cantharan. "Your career will be over when they learn you attacked us without authorization, unless you let us go right now!"

"I have authorization. In fact, I'll let them know for you."

"This is an act of war!"

"Don't be silly. It's perfectly within our rights to enforce a blockade of two of our neighbors. They're not your neighbors yet."

"You... You..."

"Stow it. And prepare to recieve our capture crew. They'll take you to a neutral Bazidan outpost where your crew will be deposited. What will be done with your ships and cargo will be decided by the diplomatic section."

"My government will protest!"

"I'm sure. However, they won't be willing to do anything about it except protest."

"Curses upon your species, Irthantan. May your sun burn out!"

"May your species become infertile."

Darkk smiled at the exchange of spacer curses. It meant that this little incident was settled. He began drawing up patrol routes for the new blockade area, and placed a ship construction request with the Matériel department. Outside, the convoy and its new set of ATR and Ishiman Cruiser escorts prepared for Darkk to jump them out.

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois
Onii7/Frinkruds and his funky forums
macgamer.net

"Did we destroy them?" Tanaka paced the bridge uneasily.
"Far as I can tell, Charlie. There's a lot of debris and the targets appear to be sinking."
"Give 'em another salvo to make sure, then get us out of here."

No sooner had the last torp sped from the Aeneas than she about-faced and blasted away at top speed. Explosions of that size wouldn't take long to detect.

Tanaka entered his cabin, unbuckled his weapon belt, and sat down on his bunk. Chuckling to himself, he picked up his cell and recorded a message on to its memory banks. "Job's done." Leaving the message on the cell's memory, he set the tiny communication device onto his bunk table and flopped down to sleep. In a day or two all of his vessels would be at the rendezvous point, and would be able to start planning raids again.

------------------
-Traek Cicion, barkeep extraordinaire
"PS: If nothing's working around here, it's because I'm laughing so hard."
-Durandal

"Another six UFO sightings this week." Aino Terävä lit her eighteenth cigarette of the day. "Do we really need to bother with these?"

Jones looked up. "These are the ones that are real!" he muttered.
"Anyway, the people of Earth are restless. They want it to be true, that there are aliens out there. They want to meet them."

"Yes, and we know it's true, and want to keep it a secret..."

"Anyway, here's one that should interest you." He slid an LCD tablet over to her.

She unrolled it flat on the glass table. There was the definite image of a space vessel of some unknown kind against the backdrop of a planet. The QuickTime 234 movie played, nearly three seconds of poor quality footage that showed a space vessel fade in and fade out again.

"Anyway, it was taken near the Europa by a mining survey satellite."

"Mmm, interesting alright." She looked up at her boss. "Do we know what it is?"

"No. Stealth spy ship of some kind." said Jones. "We've come across this particular design on two other occasions within the last eighteen months."

"Did a magnetic anomaly scan of the area reveal anything?" Aino stubbed out the remains of the cigarette.

"Nothing, nor did we get anything on pulse emission scans."

"I wonder why they're spying on us, why not land openly..."

"Anyway, if this gets out we could have a panic."

"Anything closer to Earth?"

"Only one CE3K that we need to bother about, yesterday" Jones nodded at the tablet "in St Lucia."

Aino glanced at the report..., urk, sixty three pages, switch to one page summary...

She lit her nineteenth cigarette of the day and sat back in the comfortable chair. "I've always fancied a trip to St Lucia."

"You're going to South Africa! Anyway Orlov is in St Lucia, reports that the trail has gone cold. There'll be nothing for you to find."

"I disagree Sir, Orlov is a good researcher, but he's not a field operative."

"And you are?"

"Demonstrably" she smiled at him.
"Um, what's in South Africa?"
"The man who saw the bug! Telecom Engineer"

"Hmph, better send Orlov there then." she said without looking up. St Lucia was an interesting place for a bug to turn up. She wondered if there had been any other sightings on the Leeward Islands.

"Anyway, try not to mess it up"

"Certainly Sir" she said "I'll catch a commercial Train to Barbados and take it from there. You can send my gear on by air from Pico. I'll need a Type 4 scanner...," she looked up again "... and someone who actually knows how to operate the thing would be helpful. We wasted three days last time."

"We do try to support our operatives in the field. Anyway, you're not the only Investigator out there."

"No, but I am the best!"

"Hmph!"

------------------
Oh, so it is another bug hunt then...

I see you.
Or your path at least.
So this is how a dog sees the world.
The multiscan contact lenses could “see” just about anything. Currently they were doing a little sniffing. The scent trails of every creature that had been in here in the last few days were wafting about the place. Deep colours, violet, purple burgundy were assigned to humans. There were many of those. Insects were in the brown range. A few green rats had been in here too. The software analysed the data and resolved each trace into what it was so that the user instantly knew what they were looking at, how long approximately it had been since the source of the scent had been there, what direction it had been moving in, it’s speed, size, stress level, age etc with probabilities of error. With the visible light end of the spectrum blocked out, only infra red operated, giving a reddish tinge (the colour could be varied to suit the user) to the black background of the scent map. Infrasonics was also active, giving access to low frequency and ultra low frequency sound. With the application of a few obvious filters to screen out for example the scrabble of cockroaches on a concrete surface two kilometres distant or the sound of a bird flapping its wings twenty kilometres away this function was quite effective in tracking something that did not wish to be tracked.
The thin yellow scent trail was a perfectly formed sharp line that waved it’s way behind the structure. It’s owner had passed by between two and two point five seconds ago, as evidenced by the degree of degradation. It’s owner’s internal circulatory system was coming in loud and clear in infrasound, the software being able to accurately pinpoint the creature’s location to within a few millimetres.
Thus Anic could see it even though it was completely invisible.
It was not aware of Anic, not yet anyway. Anic would need a direct line of sight. One of the drawbacks of this game was that there could not be any physical evidence left on third party infrastructure... Anic advanced stealthily, carefully stepping over the very dead body of a human, face frozen in surprise. Never saw what hit him.
The Cantharian was dead ahead. Anic fired the death ray. The Cantharian dissolved in death without knowing what had hit it.

Cantharians have good reflexes. The second Cantharian (there’s always a second one isn’t there!), just off a little to the left of the first sprang to the roof, rolled to the right over the MDF and scuttled down behind it, all in a split second. Anic’s reaction was instantaneous Switching to fire a seeker projectile Anic leapt forward into the cable trench the Cantharians had been working at. The Cantharian’s weapon’s fire exploded quietly on the wall above. Pretty accurate considering that it couldn’t see or sense Anic. The homer had impacted close to the Cantharian, wounding it slightly. So now it was mad. Good, that reduced its chances of survival. Anic analysed the work of the Cantharians. They had been trying to plant a photonic bug in the fibre optic cable. It would have entered the network and nested, spreading eventually across most of this region, possibly the whole planet. Interesting choice of location. The Cantharian was moving again. It was slithering along the wall, rather noisily. Anic had a precise infrasonic fix on it The death ray disintegrator was a very effective weapon. Once it struck its target it destroyed that target completely, right down to the last structured atom or molecule, depending on the setting. Currently it was keyed to a Cantharian genetic profile, the intention being to leave no evidence whatsoever. Human forensic and bio science was quite sophisticated and would easily detect the smallest fragment of residue. The disadvantage of the death ray was that it needed a direct line of fire...
Er, yes. that would present itself in a couple of seconds at the current rate of slither...
The Cantharian was down behind one of the frames at the back of the building. Millet telephone exchange was cool and dark, maintained at a reasonably constant temperature by the air conditioning.
The Cantharian made a noise and moved, fast very fast.
Anic leapt up out of the cable pit as a shock grenade whizzed past, somersaulted in the air, no line of fire, switch to compression blast, hit the ground in front of the MDF and fired. The Cantharian got off a shot before it was hit, flung back against the wall and splatted across the surface like a cockroach, only greener. Anic smirked. Gaudy but effective. The Cantharian’s projectile had hit Anic squarely in the chest, but failed to significantly affect the shield, let alone penetrate it. Superior technology.
The remains of the Cantharian drained off the wall. they were surprisingly unsquishy.
Anic switched the blaster’s mode and fired the death ray at the plastered bug. The Cantharian remains disintegrated, or rather more accurately they were converted into matter similar to the indigenous surroundings, in this case Earth air, concrete dust and some decaying plant matter. One of the advantages of the death ray was that the target could already be quite dead for the weapon to be fully effective.
Anic adjusted scan to infra red and piggybacked a Cantharian genetic profile. Each fragment of Cantharian matter located received a pulse from the death ray. It took nearly ten minutes to cleanse the entire chamber. Millet TE would not betray any evidence of it’s visitors. The dead engineer would be found of course, but the Cantharians had killed him with a blow to the neck, no energy weapons. So Anic left him, possibly the first victim of a war still long off.

That the Cantharians were bugging the planet was interesting. It meant that they knew of Earth, were definitely interested in it and were coming, somewhen in the future.
Anic carefully gathered all of the cantharian bits n’ bobs together, including their bugging device. In an instant they were teleported out of the room, far away.

After a final glance around Anic too transported out.

------------------
Oh, so it is another bug hunt then...

Friztt was a very nervious Gaitori. Although he wouldn't have understood the cultural reference, he was about to reenact the "stomach-bursting" part of the Alien movie line. And he knew it, too.

The message from the Cantharan had been short and too the point. A piece of his daughter's leg and the message that she would be turned over to the Salrilians for dissection if he did not complete the mission.

And, of course, he recieved the device. Swallowing the device was very uncomfortable, due to its size, as was having it complete itself and ready for action inside him. He glanced at his chronomiter and saw his time was almost up. On the platform, Premier Va**** was concluding his speech. Friztt finished his own little speech in his thoughts, a prayer to his diety.

And time came.

Friztt exploded in a blast of flesh and ichor, spraying everyone around him with gore. The metallic sphere oriented itself towards Vashat via genetic scanners and fired its railgun in a fraction of a second. Vashat's head disintigrated in a fountain of brain matter, and many spectators were maimed and killed by the sphere as recoil drove it backwards.

Automated investigations already beginning within minutes of the assassination showed a large deposit in the account of Friztt from the Obain treasury. War had become inevitable.

And a long, long way away Friztt's daughter was kicked out the door of a Cantharan transport onto a Bazidan station.

(The reason Friztt's daughter isn't slain is that she will never be a convincing proof of what happened, primarily because she has no way to get back to Gaitori space for a long time.)

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois
Onii7/Frinkruds and his funky forums
macgamer.net

(This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 09-12-2003).)

Tetra-commander Dzhll was bored. His centipede body coiled and uncoiled restlessly around his interface aboard the bridge of the Nursing Hand. He glanced quickly behind him. The Captain of the Nursing Hand , Octa-commander Tktarol, was bored too. He could see it in his eye under the persona of command.
The Escort Destroyer G.C.S. Nursing Hand had been in Jump space for the past four days, returning from convoy duty in the deep south, and thus hadn't heard the news of the greusome events of the day. Short of actually sending a courier, there was no way to relay information through Jump space, as nobody had yet figured out a method of ramming a radio signal through. Only by generating a space-time bubble could a ship travel through jumpspace - and anything that exited the bubble into Jumpspace simply ceased to exist. weapons, beams, shuttles and fightercraft, all had to stay within a space-time bubble.
They were skimming the neutral zone now, only a few hours away from Aradys, where they were to rendezvous with their next convoy, and start over. To Dzhll, the G.C.S. seemed so much more exciting before he joined. Such is Gaitor's wishes.
The televista bipped softly, and five small objects entered the screen. Dzhll looked up - they often encountered natural space-time bubbles, trapped in Jumpspace, but these five were moving towards them. In a vanguard formation.
"Who are they?" Octo-commander Tktarol breathed, shifting his many-legged body forward, paying quiet, almost indifferent, attention.
A young bug by the name of Kpf straightened up at his station. "No IFF, sir, treat them as hostile."
Tktarol clenched his mandible. "Obain." Kpf's silence confirmed this. "What are they doing?" He pondered, almost silently, watching the signatures glide towards the Nursing Hand. "Trying to follow us?"
Dzhll was worried now. "No, captain. They're on an intercept course."
"Why? They can't attack us in Jumpspace."
"They can sir. If -" Dzhll checked his figures "they merge with our space-time bubble."
"They'd practically be at ramming distance."
"I know, sir."
Silence. The signatures continued to approach. The two largest fell back, leaving the three to continue their charge.
"Power up the lepton batteries and have them track those three targets."
Kpf spoke up. "Sir, we're recieving a transmission from the larger targets." He began to panic. "It's a challenge signal!"
It dawned on the Octo-commander. Either war had already been declared, or this was their declaration. He chimed the Intracomm. "Everyone is to man battle-stations. We've got incoming hostiles."
The smaller signatures were small. Fighters, perhaps? They were speeding up.
"Time untill space-time merge... four seconds!"
"Get ready. They'll pop in at about a kilometer to port"
The signatures merged. They were now in scanning, and shooting, range. Then the Octo-commander gave a start. "Clever bastards." Obain had rigged three Marcus-IX rockets with their own bubble generators.
A fraction of a second later, they slammed into the destroyer at 30 Km/s. The Nursing Hand 's Space Bubble collapsed, and the destroyer vanished forever into Jumpspace.

------------------
If you want to win anything-a race, your self, your life-you have to go a little berserk.

"That's the last one, sir."

Darkk nodded as he keyed the gate closed. In the equipment pit uncovered in the middle of the bridge, Darkk's engineers were manually monitoring the IFF. Now was not the time to have it fail at an inconvenient moment. Even the gateship's shields couldn't hold against the devices the Gaitori had brought.

Darkk had seen a similar tactic before. The Cantharan nukes had been bigger, and had annihilated many cities on Irthanta before the ships carrying them had been destroyed by suicide missions of Irthantan commandos.

Darkk had only been a child at the time, but the firey red lines streaking down from the sky had only seemed beautiful until he learned what they meant. Some forty thousand Irthantans died per blast, according to historians.

Darkk doubted the Obain on the planet below could make the kind of attack the Irthantans could. It wasn't just kamikazi, it was truely insane. No, they'd just dig or run or scatter.

Like it would help them, Darkk thought, as the first nuke went off, exploding with the force of a moderately large asteroid.

This war would be only a shadow of the coming war with Cantharis, Darkk thought, but it was already worse than anything since the Boodan war.

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois
Onii7/Frinkruds and his funky forums
macgamer.net

Pharris pulled the car up to the line of men and women standing in front of the two Lucys. The pilots saluted their CO through the cockpit windows, then powered up and lifted off, heading to the Division's hangars on the far side of Osirus. Pharris didn't let himself falter under the harsh jet wash, but many of the new pilots got blown over or had their gear scattered as the two Lucys picked up and flew out.

There were a few moments of scrambling to arrange gear before the Master Chief yelled;

"Fall in, Pilots!"

In an instant they were back in line, saluting. Pharris returned it.

"At ease, gentlemen." Pharris paused.

"Welcome to Osirus Air Force Base at the United Nations Space Command Spaceport, Osirus. I am Major Mark Pharris. I will be your commanding officer for your stay in my unit. Gentlemen, welcome to the 109th airlift wing."

As if on cue, the Constitution screamed down the runway behind Pharris and pointed up into a 45-degree climb. Pharris knew that she was empty and heading to England to move the last of the 109th's equipment from their old airbase at Southampton, but to the Warrants, watching a LCU-64 climb to altitude at mach 3 was pretty spectacular. Pharris sighed as he watched their young eyes follow the ship into the sky. This was going to be his last group of recruits. In four weeks, he would be moved out to a remote station to begin training aboard the Apollo. He had received the eight hundred page "brief" manual on the vessel, and he was already undergoing the physical and psychological analysis, as was Marissa.

Everyone knew about the Apollo, and the signal, it had been announced publically after a three-week "verification" period, at which point, the general secretary of the UN had announced publicly that Earth had made first contact with an alien race, and that Earth was going to respond by sending forth explorers to the origin of the signal.

What the men did not know yet was that Pharris had been chosen to ride the Apollo.

As the engine drone from the Constitution died down, Pharris continued his introduction to the latest additions to the 109th Airlift Wing. He felt something inside. Even if it was only a brief command, it was his first, and therefore, the 109th would forever have its insignia pinned right next to the 7th Cav on his shoulder. Pharris began:

"Gentlemen, you are now flyers in the most elite flying unit in the UN. For that I congratulate you, but flight school was just the first stage in a long and arduous process by which you will earn the right to be called "pilot" in this unit..."

In the line of warrants, WO-1 Knowles smiled. His hands, folded behind his back, at ease, rested on top of his one of many scars along his spine, souvenirs from his first time through flight school. He breathed easy hearing the reassuring words from his new CO. He had beaten flight school, and was now ready to face his first assignment. It was only fitting that it be the best.

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

The thing that made Vendetta Cooperative truely Irthantan is that it would hand out copies of its agenda.

For a secret organization, it wasn't very secretive. It was a registered lobbying group for the Ishiman Senate, it reported its (considerable) donations, and even had colorful informational brochures. Of course, the fact that it never, ever did any lobbying seemed suspicious to some, but the Ishimans largely regarded Irthantans with an atitude of bemused humorment, and rarely worried about what the "violent, stupid" species did. Most Irthantans would challenge the "stupid" portion of that line of thought, but the perception of the Irthantans as blustering and occasionally violent but without planning capabilities or real intelligence was just fine with Vendetta Cooperative.

Darkk looked at the schedule for when Red Crew took control of the gateship and he and his crew could go on shore leave for about a year. The war between Obain and Gaitor meant no crew rotations were occuring yet, and reservists had been called up.

This was unfortunate for Darkk, although he knew Vendetta Cooperative would understand. Darkk had recieved his heavily-encrypted message indicating that the acquisition slated for him had gone down, and Darkk would recieve his "segment" of the plan soon.

The objective of the Vendetta Cooperative was to orchistrate large-scale resistance to Cantharan expansionism. The orginization was currently buying large quantities of stock in various portions of the Ishiman military-industrial complex and ensuring that Irthantans held majority on the board of directors.

Although the activity had been noticed by a few regulators, it was not strictly illegal - the Irthantans were Ishiman citizens and entitled to own even defense industries, and the Irthantans involved were not technically members of Vendetta Cooperative (indeed, were not associated with it at all in any formal sense), and they had broken no laws.

Further, the Ishimans were simply content to let the Irthantans have their "piece of the pie" in the defense industry, as few Ishimans truly cared about it. So long without a war had made the Ishimans at large indifferent to the intrigues of the military-industrial complex. If it was owned by Cantharans, few would complain. Having it owned by a particularly loyal, hard-working segment of the Ishiman citizenry didn't seem a problem.

Of course, in the mind of the Irthantans, it wasn't a problem at all. Someday the Ishimans would be pressured into doing what is right despite the risk to themselves for once, but that day would not come for well over a century.

Right now the plans were going along, though.

Outside the Gateship, a large Gaitori vessel glided past the blockade ships, at all times staying inside the frontier establised by the Ishimans. Darkk knew it was there to rendezvous with the Cantharan merchantman he had "apprehended" earlier, the captain of which had been interrogated in tradtional Irthantan style - cause blinding fear by any means availible. Darkk smiled, having managed to scare the Cantharan into confessing everything without so much as lifting a finger. All he had to do is stare at the neck, announce his name, and smack his jaws once.

Outside, the puzzled Gaitori carrier flashed what it thought were covert recognition signals, but nothing responded. Darkk half-heartedly considered sending out a dummy and attempting to take the carrier before its crew could request help, but thought better of it. Irthantans do not attempt what they cannot do, and Darkk knew his troops weren't fast enough.

Darkk radioed the captain of the carrier to ask if the ship was in distress, or if it was looking for another ship in distress. Darkk smirked as he sent the voice-only message.

Outside the carrier finally left, not responding to Darkk's message.

Just another day of border patrol.

(I thought I'd introduce the Irthantan orginization that will help ensure the humans are the first "client race" to get a chance to fight back.)

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois
Onii7/Frinkruds and his funky forums
macgamer.net

“There were two of them? That brings the count to sixteen if I’m not mistaken”
“Plus the four we didn’t kill.” Anic put the glass down on the metal table with the plink of glass on glass.
The island of St. Lucia is approximately 44 Km long and 25 Km wide. On a clear day Martinique can be seen in the distance from Castries, St. Lucia’s capital. Most days are clear days here, and Anic could well see the other island. It was bloody hot here too. So you kept in the shade. It was nice to be able to breathe an atmosphere without any filtering aids, and to have rain that didn’t need a force shield to protect you from its corrosiveness. It had rained very heavily about five minutes ago, for a few minutes. All the run-off water had now evaporated again. Cool, to use the word in an earth-like way.

“Cantharians always send infiltrators as a prelude to invasion” Anic turned back to the K-Operative who sat in the shaded balcony.
“The invasion could be decades away, or next month” Anic’s companion said. “We have analysed data we collected from the infiltrators. Nothing, as usual.”
“Hmm, they don’t give away much.” Anic muttered, declining a cigarette that was offered. “Perhaps we should take a prisoner next time.”
“It’s unlikely that any of their field operatives would know anything.”
“I was rather thinking of raiding their headquarters...” said Anic “...and using a brain probe on them, ...both factions.”

Anic used the plastic cigarette lighter to open another bottle of beer, and took a slug from the neck. Cool n fizzy - there were some things that humans did very well indeed, and their beer was one of them.

“Ah, Jommo’s report on the Cantharian HVD should interest you.”
“That’s through already! Can’t have been much in it then.”
“That destroyer was part of The Other Wave.”
“Yes, I thought that.” said Anic.
“It gets better. There was detailed data on the ship which has lead us to the location of the rest of the fleet. Aros is watching them now.”
“We really should wait until the leaders of the faction show themselves.” said Anic.
“Or we could simply destroy the secret fleet. That would set them back somewhat.”
“Yes, normally I tend against heavy ops, but in this case I think I agree with you. It is in our best interests that the Cantharians conquer Earth, and sooner rather than later. The humans need a lesson, from an enemy they can subsequently fight back against. They need to become strong, on the right side.”
“There’s something else.” said the K-Op. “We picked up a heavy spatial distortion on the far side of Audemedon space. It’s not a strong signal, but unmistakable.”
“The Borg. They never give up.” said Anic, “That’s the fourth vessel in as many decades. How far off is it?”
“It will reach Audemedon detectors in two months. This one is different. It is bigger and faster than previous vessels. But the basic technology is the same as before. Their T-warp drive remains primitive and slow. It is ultimately headed towards Ishman space and then us. A probe, to gather data.”
Anic thought a moment. “Well, there is nothing happening here at the moment.” Took another swig of the fizzy beer “I’ll take a look myself I think. I have never encountered a Borg vessel before. It should be interesting.”

------------------
Oh, so it is another bug hunt then...

(This is an Ares thing. I'd rather stick to the Cantharans and Salrilians and Audemedons. No Borg, please.)

"Darkk, get your *** up here!"

Darkk grumbled to himself as he walked to the bridge. They always had perfect timing. Then the alarms started. Darkk realized this was serious.

"Commodore on the bridge!"

Darkk looked at the viewscreen. Cantharan warships filled it. He almost couldn't see space.

"What's going on?"

"Cantharan Admiral Hek Met has made a formal demand on behalf of his government for us to drop the blockade. If we do not, he has threatened a military engagement. He also stated any use of the jump ring would provoke an immediate attack."

Darkk gulped. "Is he still on line?"

"Yes. Shall I bring him up?"

"Yes."

The image of Hek Met appeared on a display to the side of the main tactical board.

"I'm sorry, but I do not have authority to end the blockade. I must take time to consult my superiors."

"Darkk, is it? You have some time to do so. My government wishes this situation resolved quickly, so I will not tolerate stalling."

"Very well. I will contact you again in 15 minutes."

"Understood."

Darkk closed the connection with Hek Met and made one with the Ishiman Military Command. The outcome was a foregone conclusion. The Gateship would not be risked. After 10 minutes of angry words Darkk conceded, and agreed that this one would go to the Cantharans. Darkk's protests were largely empty. He knew Hek Met was bluffing about striking first, but he didn't want to give Hek Met the chance to hit second, because he knew Hek Met could hit harder than anything he could field.

Darkk called up Hek Met again.

"It appears that your request is agreed to by my command. Therefore it is my duty to get out of your way. We will jump our blockade fleet out at once, if you agree to not interfere or cross until we have left."

The "not cross until we have left" part was merely a face saving gesture. Darkk wanted to extract some concession from the Cantharans, even the most minor one.

"I'm pleased that we could could find a diplomatic route to resolve this. An international incident would have been tragicly unfortunate." Hek Met then made his formal goodbye, Darkk returned it, and the channel was closed.

Darkk felt the knot in his stomach. This proved it to him beyond a shadow of a doubt. Hek Met had been bluffing. Darkk's inability to fight back humiliated him. Finally he turned to the Gate Operator and ordered the blockade fleet plucked up and dumped back home.

Surprisingly, Darkk didn't hate Hek Met. Darkk understood him better. Darkk respected his opponent. Hek Met would be a worthy foe in the future. If the struggle resumed in Darkk's lifetime, Hek Met would be there to fight.

And that thought banished Darkk's disappointment.

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois
Onii7/Frinkruds and his funky forums
macgamer.net

(Channel 513: NWNN)

"The notion itself is absolutely absurb. If these little green men are so adcanced and so earger to meet us, there is absolutely no reason they wouldn't show up here themselves. What we have being built up there is going to go down in history as the biggest economic blunder of the New World. Now that we have a solid global regulating of governments and we are seeing the heights of prosperity we had half a century ago, people are becoming deluded with all these innane fantasies, and the UN is no exception-they see something strange on the telescopes and immediately it becomes this 'first contact' which will do no more than humilate both this 'Expeditionary Taskforce' as well as the UN Global Council as well."

"Thank you Senator Mahyari. Dr. Klingler?"

"Well John, and, Mr. Senator, I can understand the view completely, but the signal recieved eight months ago was on a very quiet frequencey, with enourmous amplitude and contained clear and concrete mathematical encodings. Additionally, it was targetted... and clearly designed, to bounce from every broadcasting satelite in orbit. If anything is absurd, it is saying that this is some random and meaningless event this is the single biggest event in human history and is worth..."

"And does that warrant the taxation of..."

(Channel 517: MTV NEWS)

"Hi I'm Izo Ogama with an MTV breaking story, the UN General Council has confirmed rumors of the construction of another interstellar project. But the issue is raising more than just eyebrows as they say the catalyst for the effort is a message recieved from some sort of extra-terrestrial inteligence trying to..."

(Channel 525: HTNN)

"...and the faithful know-that the third world war was not the final judgement. You see, everyone knows, and everyone is saying that this message comes from a higher inteligence. But not everyone can read between the lines and come to believe that this is a direct message from God, to warn all believers of the end of days. This is the assignment to the faithful of the divine mission to escape the impending hell, on Earth, and find our ultimate paradise, to settle our new Jeruselem. as written in the Bible!"

(Channel 531: ESPAN)

"The announcement has set the global markets into maelstrom, United Industries Limited Index reporting gains and losses exceeding one-thousand points every hour. Analysts say..."

(Channel 534: LawTV)

"God dammit officer, I didn't never shoot her it was a mother {explitive} space alien. They's gonna take over!"

"Charlie, you {explitive}! You {explitive} lyin', drunking {explitive} piece o' {explitive}!"

"Ma'am, settle down, let the paramedics do their work."

(Channel 555: FOX Reality)

"It's like... dude... oh my god... there's people over there protesting the spaceship, there's people there protesting them and everyone's so totally psyched, it's like..."

------------------
sdrawkcab dootsrednu tub sdrawrof devil si efil

His job wasn't an easy one, but then again, Robert Lin hadn't signed up in the Mech. Infantry for a cushy desk job and the privilege of fighting the battles ex cathedra. He was a marine, about to make his third drop into hostile territory, weapons hot.

Sgt. Lin checked his orders: plain and simple. Burn and pillage everything they could, going to east to west through central Tokyo. After they'd cleared the area, they could expect a retrieval ship to fly over them for pickup and make maximum burn back to friendly territory - provided that his unit (Bravo company, or informally, "Rico's Irregulars") hadn't missed any SAM batteries on their way through.

"Marines!" yelled Lt. Rico, commanding officer of the company. "You know what we're looking for here. Someone to show the bastards this side of the Pacific what the bastards from our side are capable of!"

Lin smiled sadly behind his faceplate. Off-duty, he had found out Rico's father, Gregor, was working undercover in Havana when NACom ordered it nuked down to the bedrock - "acceptable casualties," said the brass. Rico was one of the first "bastard children" of the war, although he certainly wasn't one of the last.

"How we gonna give it to them?" Rico yelled.

"Old style!", "Cruel and unusual!", yelled 2nd Lts. Haasen and Currough, grinning despite the turbulence which was beginning to knock about their Lucy, yellow two, and which signaled that they'd be on the ground in only a minute.

"All units, strap down, weapons up," Rico ordered. As the marines grabbed onto the tanks' hardpoints, the bay doors behind them began to open and Lin - along with four other noncoms - jumped into the tanks and began warming them up to be deployed.

Twenty long seconds later, the ground was finally close enough for the company to jump out safely (Lin chuckled - about as safe as it ever was to drop into a hot LZ).

"Marines, MOVE!" yelled Rico.

Lin threw his tank into reverse, almost managing to dislodge a couple of the marines that were holding on.

He heard a distinct clank as his tank hit the pavement, then looked around to check with the rest of the company. Bad news - Lt. Currough had bought it with an HE shell which had obviously been intended for a bigger target. Lin was now first-in-command of Bravo Company's third platoon. He closed his eyes, mopped his brow, and turned to his side, com channels off. "Dammit, what am I going to do?"

"Nothing," said the nurse next to him. "It's all fine."

Lin opened his eyes to the white aircraft around him, markedly different from the dark interior of the TS-5 tank he'd been expecting. He opened his mouth, and momentarily felt a slight pain in his right arm, then went limp again as the orderly withdrew a small hypodermic needle, contents injected into his bloodstream.

The nurse beside him sighed. Lin was known to wake out of various points during his military career. It seemed that every time he'd been posed a new challenge - taking over 3rd platoon, in this case - he'd "split himself off," created a new Robert Lin perfectly suited to his new challenge that would supersede the old one. Classic symptom of multiple personality disorder.

This strategy had kept him going well through the war; through Operation Rising Sun and part-way through Operation Middle Kingdom, he'd been one of the highest-rising stars in the M.I., with a decorated record, and a knack for managing to do the impossible. Then, about halfway through Operation Middle Kingdom, he'd snapped - started having relapses, unable to command. He'd been sent to the infirmary as an untreatable mental case, presented with the forms to resign honorably.

Instead, he'd refused, thinking the war was still on, even fifteen years later, and insisting that he had a duty to his regiment.

And now he was on a plane to Osirus, last patient of a military that had already steeled itself to peace.

------------------
(~%) ssh localhost
The authenticity of host 'localhost (127.0.0.1)' can't be established.
RSA key fingerprint is 93:33:b4:fc:b8:03:b4:45:15:31:99:1a:a3:1f:a5:ac.
Are you sure you want to continue connecting (yes/no)?

Pharris let the Endeavour slide along the huge length of the UNSS Apollo. He rolled the ship and took off his goggles for a moment, looking through the emergency egress hatch's tiny window, to see the ship for a moment with his own eyes before putting his goggles back on and pulling the ship up to the docking bay, pulling the ship up to the docking latches and locking the Endeavour onto the Apollo and post-flighting the ship. Pharris floated himself out of his seat and pulled his way to the main docking hatch, which the crew chief was cycling. He felt his ears pop slightly as the ship matched pressures with the station. Pharris waited for Marissa to come up from the lower passenger compartment, then pulled himself through the open door and down the docking collar towards the interior of the UNSS Apollo. It would be their home for the rest of their lives.

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

The assignment had already gone horribly wrong. Grizt's mission was simple - watch the Gaitori meet
with Hek Met via the cameras he'd been installing for IIA. Unfortunately, he'd forgot to seal one of them
properly and it had been detected. As the only janitor allowed in the high-security conference room, he
was the immediate suspect. In retrospect, he decided leaving the camera he couldn't find a place for in
his utility room locker was also a mistake. He wished he'd payed more attention to the Ishiman agent's
training on this stuff. But now he was in it good. The Ishimans had already covered their tracks - the
cameras blew up the instant they felt the detector work, not enough to conceal their nature as cameras
but enough to make sure that there would be no way to tell the manufacturer.

He didn't doubt that the agent also had a plan to prevent him from being interrogated. He'd avoided
ingesting anything offered by the agent, even water. He'd avoided touching the agent completely.
Now he had his model 302 Personal Defense Unit in hand, ready to return fire on anyone coming for him
as he sprinted through the poorly-mapped access corridors. Voices behind him ordered him to halt
in Cantharan. Treason wasn't a crime that went over well, so he fired a few wild shots into the gloom
and dived down a sewer access port.

He knew the sewers fairly well too. He was confident he could make it to the Ishiman embassy - but
did he want to go there? They might shoot him to maintain their credibility. He was still considering
what to do when he realized that his PDU was far too warm. And that the agent had recommended
the brand.

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

"We have located Grizt. Unfortunately, it seems his PDU was defective and its heat disperser overloaded.
He's dead."
"That is most unfortunate, constable."
"Yes sir. The PDU checks out as bought legally from a standard dealer. Hole-Puncher brand model 302.
Manufactured by Applied Energetics of Bazidan's Focused Energy Weapons division."
"Any leads?"
"Forensics checked over the cameras, they're way too melty. Same with Grizt."
"Could it be Obain?"
"More likely than anyone else."

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

Darkk sighed as he powered down the primary emitter. It was amazing what a little focus could do - the primary
emitter could send a tachyon information beam a micrometer wide beam to a target the size of a fingernail - such
such as the heat drain regulation processor of a model 302 Hole-Puncher. With IIA engineers designing that processor, the gateship already had on hand the necissary algorithm to cause specific malfunctions to occur - otherwise the technique could not produce dependable results. Darkk had hoped for a great deal of information from this mission, but a very small mistake had cost the Ishimans much time and money, as well as all the information that could be learned.

On the plus side, his probes monitoring telecom on Earth indicated Apollo would be launched in sufficient time to evade the Cantharan Invasion.

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois
Onii7/Frinkruds and his funky forums
macgamer.net

(This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 02-23-2004).)

(This message has been edited by Fleet Admiral Darkk (edited 02-23-2004).)

"My God that's messy!"

The thing on the Mid-Range omniscope was tearing it's way through real space at a ponderously fast warp six or so. Radiation leaked from it as it crushed nearby spacelines into a tangled mess squeezing them together ahead of it and wrenching them out behind it. Temporal eddies pooled and swirled about it as it moved.

It's sensory mechanisms reached and probed ahead of it, searching for something to contact, switching between different modes and functions, looking for life.

An explorer.

It would detect the outer reaches of Audemedon space in 637 days at it's present rate of progress.
That gave the Orphie less than ten years.

Worth a closer look?
Yeah, why not, after coming all this way, it'd be a shame just to blow it up!

Anic smirked and pulled the big chrome lever that dropped the Nightmare out of T-Space into warp space.

The Omniscope magnified the alien up to super zoom size as the relatively tiny Perennial Nightmare swooped around it like a bug at a distance to just over three light seconds. It of course was oblivious to the presence of the Nightmare. Anic spun the ship towards it in a spiral swoop, the omniscope zooming out as the ship closed on its big target, coasting over the hull at a distance of a few hundred mekktronz. Not too close, it would be a pity to crash into it now.

Anic's BOSSystem went to work, delving into the ship's computer core looking for anything of interest. Nothing much there, simply ticking over. The crew numbered some tens of thousands..., 34,239 individuals, all in some sort of deep sleep.

Worthy of further study.
Try for a grab.
At warp six point two...,
...without them noticing that they've been grabbed!
A challenge, heh!

Anic accelerated out and away from the other ship, to a distance of two minutes.
There the Nightmare faced it's target, maintaining relative position.

The new chrome lever and switch control interface was working out nicely.
-Came from watching too many sci-fi movies whilst on Earth. The ship didn't need any manual interface, everything was controllable through the Battlefield Operations Sensearound System.
But a manual interface could be fun sometimes!

Anic pulled a big blue lever.
The tactigram showed the weapon's deployment, a small bolt lancing out towards the enemy ship which stopped at a distance of 20 LS ahead of it. Anic pressed a green clunky button which lit then up green (too clunky and too green perhaps...?).

The weapon deployed, a virtual wall along the z-axis ahead of the enemy which then curled into a sphere to enclose the enemy. The ship continued moving along in space, unaware that it had been snared.

Secure.
Negligible error.
Anic switched off it's outside contact. All data into and out of the alien ship had been severed and the ship had ceased to be in real space.
From the perspective of an outside observer the alien ship had simply vanished. It's owners would never know what happened to it...

The alien ship believed still that it was continuing to travel through space at warp six and a bit. In fact it now existed inside a warp bubble held in T-space.

Anic compressed the bubble in a few seconds to a micro-fraction of it's original size.
A moment later it teleported aboard, a three centimetre grey sphere sat on the interface.
Anic picked it up, "Well, so much for the Borg." and put it on the ULR-transmat.

Damn, forgot to use the chrome levers!
Oh well. Anic willed the tactile user interface away altogether and the interior of the Nightmare returned to it's default featureless white around the central tactigram (even that wasn't necessary, but it pleased Anic to have it there!)

.
.

The contact went through in a few seconds.
"Investigator." Anic said.
"Lord Commander."

"I'm faxing you a dot sit bubble for analysis. We should be able to determine if they are likely to be a threat."
Anic sighed, "I'll be on Earth if there's anything to report."

"Thank you Lord Commander"

End transmission.
The bubble vanished,
sent a third of the way across the west galaxy in a little more than an instant.

Thank you too.

Audio only.
The masters never revealed themselves, and despite being on their world many times, and being very senior, Anic had never seen them.
Perhaps they would have to go someday too.

Interesting that such a thought was possible despite several centuries of "training."
All part of the plan no doubt.

Anic leaned back in the command seat and smiled humourlessly.

.
.

The Perennial Nightmare set a course for Earth.

------------------
Oh, so it is another bug hunt then...

(I hate to write an entire post OOC, but honestly - what relevance does "I stopped the Borg!" have to an Ares-based RPG?)

(This message has been edited by Pallas Athene (edited 02-23-2004).)

(None really. No offense Anic, but please no Borg.)

"So Red Crew will be here in a few weeks or so," said Grithia

"I understand Virth was appointed to First Lieutenant of Red Crew," said Darkk

"Yes, he's on track for promotion to Commanding Officer of Red Crew."

"Good. Vendetta Cooperative would like that a lot."

"If your promotion comes through, will you still command Blue Crew?"

"Yes, the Gateship is so important that they'll keep me on it even if I go all the way to Fleet Admiral. Placing your most important command asset in the most defendable position, and the position with the best information access potential, is good strategy. The Gateship is undeniably both."

"In that case, you might be kept here regardless of which crew is on the ship."

"At least then I'll be able to just order modifications to my quarters so I get a decent gravity."

------------------
"In literature as in love we are astounded by what is chosen by others." Andre Maurois
Onii7/Frinkruds and his funky forums
macgamer.net