My original plan was to keep EV based completely on the original game. Apparently, my plan didn't stick when I handed the webstory down to a few other members...
I'm sorta working on a webstory, but it will likely end up in the chronicles page. I think it's my best writing so far. 
Here's the intro if anywhere cares to read it... if it ever becomes a hit, I'll make a webstory out of it. A few names are based on old ones I've used.
The Escape
Quentin Deckered paced throughout his small prison cell and began running through his memories, hoping to kill some time during the long trip ahead. The defenders of Dreden had at last collapsed under the great might of the Empire. They had fought with everything they had, but sheer numbers had brought the human colonist's enemies victory. Now the human defenders had lost their capital world of Dreden after a bitter two-week battle. Surrounding colony worlds inhabited by the Dreden were still holding out, but the majority of the navy had fallen apart during the last desperate gamble to save the home world. Indeed, one half of the Dreden Navy was destroyed during the engagement with Imperial forces. The Empire had suffered nearly four times the losses, but their patience and perseverance had finally paid off. Deckered had piloted a fighter wing during the battle, and his craft was disabled during the final day. Imperial forces boarded his fighter and captured him, and then proceeded to send him to one of many prison ships setting out for the Imperial capital world of Deneba, located in the Beta Quadrant of Sentarus Prime. There the captured Dreden naval officers would either be killed under the strict and harsh treatment or Imperial rule, or spend the rest of their lives in the large labor mines. Whatever the future would hold, the Dreden never quite seemed to lose hope... somehow, someday, they would strike back.
As Quentin thought of these moments and future possibilities, the door to his cell opened and an Imperial guard entered with a pathetic portion of food in his hands. The guard dropped the plate on the floor and stared at Quentin for a moment with a cold look hidden behind his helmet.
Quentin couldn't help but notice the stunner pistol strapped to the guard's left hip.
"If only I could get my hands on that weapon," he thought, "then I could get out of this rat trap. Wait, no. There's no way I can overpower this soldier."
As Quentin argued with his thoughts, the soldier turned and slowly began walking out if his cell. Without even making a final decision, Quentin suddenly dashed towards the doorway and ripped the stunner pistol from the guard's hip. As the guard turned with his neutron pistol and was about to blast the human's head off, Quentin fired the stunner at the guard and watched as he sank to the floor unconscious. Shocked at what he had just managed to pull off in such a brief moment, Quentin was motionless for a few seconds. His thoughts were then interrupted by the shouts of another guard down the hall who had heard the commotion. Quentin could hear the guard's footsteps approaching his cell...
With no time to lose, Quentin dashed from his cell and began running away from the approaching guard. His pursuer fired off numerous neutron bursts from his pistol, several of which whizzed inches around him. Quentin could feel the heat from the beams as he watched them fly over his head.
Rounding a turn into another passageway, Quentin saw a patrol of ten troopers up ahead walking towards him. The patrol suddenly stopped when they saw Quentin, and began to shout orders as they began running towards him.
Quentin took a left and ran once again. For a moment he was out of sight of his pursuers, and he hid in a small darkened corner that overlooked a four-way junction of additional passageways. Soon the troopers were standing at the junction attempting to find what direction the prisoner had run. Wanting to throw off his pursuers, Quentin threw the stunner he still grasped in his hands into the hallway opposite of where he hid. The banging of the weapon as it bounced down the hallway immediately attracted the attention of the guards, who took off down the passage to track Deckered down. Quentin had thrown them off, at least for now.
Quentin did not wish to re-enter the hallway, as enemy troops seemed to be everywhere. Noticing a ladder which led up to an air shaft just above him, Quentin climbed it and reached the unlocked doorway. Pulling himself into the shaft, he closed the grate and listened for a few moments to see if anyone was following him. Nothing.
Minutes after entering the air shaft, Quentin stared through the long, narrow passageways alert for danger. He could hear the shouts and orders of Imperial troops as they raced throughout the prison ship looking for him. The enemy soldiers were rushing through hallways and passageways with neutron rifles leveled, prepared to shoot Deckered on the spot should he attempt to put up a fight once found. The rhythm of rushing boots and click of military array echoed throughout the shaft, which only made Quentin all the more uneasy.
For now, Quentin rested to catch his breath and plan his next move. He had escaped his prison cell, but didn't know how much longer he could evade his Imperial enemies. This left Quentin no choice. It was do or die.
After resting his aching muscles and listening to yet another patrol of rushing boots pass just below the air shaft's wall, Quentin began to crawl towards the southern sector of the ship. He proceeded slowly, careful not to create noise which could give himself away. Following a few twists and turns in the cold rushing air of the shaft, Quentin found an air opening located just ahead of him on the floor. He slowly approached the large grate and gazed through the narrow bars, discovering that the deck below was the power room. The hallway was empty of any Imperial troops; only the operating computers and their distinct sounds could be heard here. Just as Quentin was positive that there were no troops below, he heard the slow pace of a guard appear in the hallway. His neutron rifle was slung across his shoulder, and he seemed unaware of Quentin's presence. Like most Imperial soldiers, the guard was heavily armed and protected. Indeed, human laser pistols and rifles were practically harmless against such superb body armor. The intimidating look of the standard Imperial helmet was fearful to look at, as was the strong frame and body structure. And like most Imperial troops, the guard was well over seven feet tall, dwarfing Quentin's six-foot frame. These human-looking aliens had mastered space combat centuries ago, and the very site of such a soldier struck fear in all the persons who happened to be on the opposite end of his neutron barrel. An Imperial soldier was not someone a human wanted to pick a fight on; each went through twelve months of advanced marksmanship gun training and hand to hand combat courses. Their strength often went unmatched, as did their willingness to fight (but certainly not a Dreden soldier's will to fight).
As these thoughts raced through Quentin's mind, he prepared to continue down the shaft, but he hesitated. The nearby guard beneath him could easily hear him should he make the slightest sound in the shaft. For a moment, Quentin carefully eyed the guard to see if he would leave the power sector. But the patrolling guard only walked around the hallway, never going more than ten feet from the vent. At first, Quentin wondered if the guard knew he was there. No, no... he would have been shot long before. Quentin couldn't continue down the shaft for fear of discovery, so he began to unscrew the loose bolts of the grate. A cold sweat began to pour down his face as he quietly removed the bolts one by one. If he were going to take this guard out, it would have to be quick. He began to wish he still had the stunner, but he probably would have been spotted had he not thrown it down the hallway earlier before.
Having been a member of the Dreden Commando Force for eight years before becoming a fighter pilot, Quentin knew how to take on a foe much larger than himself. But this guard had a dreaded neutron rifle, armor, and advanced hand-to-hand combat skills, making him a lethal opponent.
Quentin quickly put aside his fear as he twisted off the final bolt from the grate and placed it in the pocket of his torn blue pilot uniform. He didn't take his eyes off the pacing guard, waiting for the right moment to strike. Quentin could still hear soldiers running throughout the ship, which didn't help settle his uneasy nerves. He needed to get the guard before more troops entered the power sector.
Taking a deep breath and keeping his eyes on the guard, Quentin gave the grate a strong blow with his boot and sent himself crashing through the shaft floor. He and the grate landed directly on the guard's head, sending his helmet into the air and both of them to the floor. As the guard stumbled back to his feet and recovered from the shock, he attempted to unsling his neutron rifle. Quentin swiftly responded by grabbing the metal grate off the floor and hurling it at the guard's exposed head. The grate slammed against the soldier's face, creating a deep gash to his forehead and staining his eyes in his own pinkish blood. As the guard was again sent to the floor from Deckerd's throw, Quentin jumped onto the guard and delivered a sharp blow to his already injured head. The guard replied with a kick to Quentin's belly, forcing him against the wall and onto the floor. As Quentin again rose back to his feet, the guard was able to unsling his rifle at point it at his daring foe. Quentin froze for a split second, and then rapidly ducked beneath the gun's barrel as a neutron beam flashed inches above his head and crashed into the wall. Quentin then wrapped his hands around the gun's barrel and forcefully flung both feet at the guard's left shin. As the guard replied with a shriek of pain, Quentin swiftly unsheathed the 10-inch combat knife strapped to the soldier's right leg. He lunged at the guard's throat and sank the razor-sharp blade into his throat, silencing the moans of pain instantly. As blood freely ran from the guard's slit throat, he sank to his knees and rolled onto the floor in a pool of his own blood from the earlier head injury.
Quentin breathed heavily as he collapsed against the hallway wall. Fifteen seconds of fierce struggling and continually evading soldiers had worn him out, not to mention his unsteady nerves. He stared into the guard's motionless and lifeless face, noting that his dead foe still possessed a look of contempt and hatred.
While resting against the wall, Quentin's thoughts were again interrupted by additional footsteps around the corner. He quickly pulled the knife from the dead guard's throat and picked the neutron rifle off the floor. He then dashed into the darkness of the hallway, fleeing the approaching noise and unable to find time to hide the guard he had just killed. Seeking shelter behind the doorway to the power room, Quentin saw two Imperial troops round the corner at the opposite end of the hall and freeze at the sight of the dead guard. While one of the soldiers stared quentionably at the open air vent above and the grate lying on the floor, the other rolled his dead comrade over and investigated the injuries.
"Wound to the head and a slit throat," the kneeling soldier said in his awkward language. "The escaped prisoner must have done this."
Having learned the language of these aliens during his days as a commando, Quentin watched and listened as the second guard responded.
"His knife and rifle are also missing. Not only do we have a prisoner on the run, but he's armed."
The kneeling guard jumped back to his feet.
"I'll alert the rest of the security force. He's got to be down here somewhere."
Just as the first guard reached the radio transmitter strapped to his right shoulder, Quentin lifted the neutron rifle he carried and squeezed the trigger several times. The first beam slammed into the wall just behind the soldiers, sending bright sparks to the floor. As the troops whirled around, the next two neutron bursts struck the guard who was attempting to radio the rest of the force, severing his left arm and puncturing his chest armor. As he dropped silently to the floor dead, the second guard had located Quentin's position. He sent a burst of his own weapon toward the doorway. The beam shot through the thick metal door and narrowly missed the side of Quentin's head. Jumping into the exposed doorway, Quentin then responded with more neutron fire and struck the remaining guard in the shoulder, bringing him to his knees and causing him to drop his weapon. Quentin was about to pull the trigger of his rifle again when he suddenly hesitated. Instead of killing the wounded guard on the spot, he slowly left the protection of the doorway with his gun leveled. The wounded soldier eyed Quentin through his helmet visor and stared down the rifle barrel of the neutron weapon, thinking twice of pulling any additional action. Quentin stopped twenty feet short of the guard and eyed him for a few moments.
"Your name," Quentin said in a demanding tone.
Surprised that the human knew his language, the guard was slow in responding.
"I will not tell you," the guard said fearlessly. "Why should that concern you?"
Annoyed by the typical stubbornness of an Imperial officer, Quentin stiffened his facial expression and glared on.
"Very well," he responded.
During Quentin's response, the guard had removed his combat knife from its leg sheath and was preparing to hurl it at his interrogator at the next opportunity. He slowly pulled the knife behind his back.
"And I'd suggest," Quentin continued, "that you slide that knife on the floor towards me. Take it slow," he added with a motion of his rifle.
Frustrated that Quentin had seen him remove his knife, the guard slapped it on the floor and pushed it across the floor towards his human victor.
"You won't get a second chance. Anymore games like that and you can say farewell to your life."
Quentin picked the knife off the floor and strapped it to his belt, with his first knife right next to it.
"Now, remove your weapons belt and stand with your hands on your head."
Quentin's order was followed by the clang of the weapons belt as it fell to the floor. The guard then slowly got to his feet and placed his hands on his head. Soon the guard had also removed his body armor under Quentin's additional threats, and was ordered to stand in the corner with his face to the wall.
Keeping his rifle pointed at the Imperial soldier (who now seemed to have nothing but his pajamas on), Quentin began looking through the items attached to the weapons belt: a single neutron pistol, ten energy clips, three plasma grenades, a flashlight, a few motion and timer mines, a stunner, and fifty feet of wire. Inside a pocket attached to part of the leg armor was a small amount of medical supplies, straps, flash grenades, an emergency oxygen mask, and... the guard's ID papers. Quentin looked the papers over before stuffing them into his pocket.
"I know your name now," Quentin said aloud with a slight chuckle, "and a little more than that."
Quentin strapped the weapons belt around his waist and collected all the firearms littering the hallway. Two neutron rifles were slung around his shoulders (not to mention the one he was carrying), and three knives and neutron pistols. He also took as much of the items from the two dead soldier's weapons belt as he could carry. Any witnesses would have thought Deckered was a space pirate prepared to take on the entire universe.
Quentin then proceeded to hide the dead bodies in a nearby room, and then turned to the guard who still stood looking at the wall.
"Move for the doorway. Move it!"
The guard ran into the power room with a neutron rifle thrust against his back. Once in the room, Quentin ordered him into a chair which faced one of many computer screens throughout the deck.
"Activate this computer," Quentin ordered, "and give me complete access to the ship's power supply and security system."
The guard hesitated. "I'm an Imperial soldier. I know nothing of this computer system."
"Is that so," Quentin replied as he pulled the guard's ID papers from his pocket. "According to your official military papers, you are certainly a soldier. But you're also in command of the entire power deck. Now I suppose you're going to tell me you've forgotten all the security codes and passwords?"
Again furious that he had been caught, an angry scowl appeared on the guard's face.
Quentin pressed his neutron gun against the guard's head. "It's your turn to do or die."
Reluctantly, the guard began to type his way across security checkpoints and into the ship's power database. Soon, access was granted to the security codes and power levels.
"First, deactivate all the ship's security systems," Quentin said as he looked at the screen.
Following a short grunt, the soldier again went on with his typing and shut off all the ship's security checkpoints.
"Now get rid of the power. All the power."
Seconds later the lights throughout the ship blinked off, and the hum of the warp engines died into an eerie silence. Soon all primary power was non-functional, and only emergency lights lit portions of the decks with a dark red glow.
Quentin could hear an increase of activity as Imperial soldiers above and below the power deck scrambled to find out what was going on.
Satisfied with the results, Quentin lifted his neutron rifle towards the computer systems and destroyed everything in site. Then checking to make sure there were no additional exits, Quentin backed out of the doorway and into the darkened hall.
"You've been of great help," he said to the guard who stared at a flaming computer screen. Quentin then pulled the heavy door closed but couldn't lock it through the security pad because of offline power. He then pulled a sensor mine from his belt and placed it against the outer edge of the door. Any movement of the door would set the explosive off. After setting an activation timer, Quentin dashed from the door and into the other side of the hall, placing the protective helmet of one of the dead guards onto his head as he ran. The guard trapped in the power room was now a prisoner in his own ship.
Now that security and power was deactivated, Quentin prepared to head towards the midsections of the ship and reach the smaller prison cells which housed the higher-ranking Dreden military figures.
"I've made it this far," he thought, "and it's about time I get a little help."
He then began to run around the corner and into another hallway barely lit by the dark red emergency backup lights. He could hear more commotion up ahead...
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Resistance is futile. Join the alliance.
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"Everything we know tells us that machines are structures intelligence designs, and that accidents destroy. Therefore, accidents do not design machines. Intellect does. And the myriad of biological wonders that sprinkle our world testify to the design ingenuity of a Supreme Intellect." -Robert Gange, Origins of Destiny
