wow!
thats great man!
cant wait for more..
007
"When life gives you lemeons, find someone with some vodka and have a party!"
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Freelancer Fanfic: Ragnarok (Attempting to come out of retir
Read, add and comment on excellent written stories by fans, set within the Freelancer universe
Mon Feb 20, 2006 7:39 pm
Sorry about the 2 week wait - I was busy, then sick, then busy again. I looked over the new installment and wound up deleting half of it, and it works somehow. Enjoy, and I hope to have the next update ready soon.
Chapter 25
Invader homeworld, G-32 galaxy.
The prize room of the fortress that served as the Invader capital was known as Kamosht Sbeh, or Grand Hall. It was not very grand by human standards, though; Invaders didn’t value petty objects and riches the way humans did. The floor and walls were made of roughly hewn stone. The majority of the stone surfaces were adorned with large scrawling symbols, written in red ink, telling tales of glorious battles from so long ago. Everything was lit in a pale yellow glow from a single electronic light that bathed the room from above, casting deep, crisp shadows throughout the room.
Its rich ambience was what made the room so important.
At the back of the room, facing the hall’s engraved double iron doors, was the Invader leader himself.
Selestren-Kulam impatiently flexed his thick arms, his massive biceps bulging as he waited for the latest news from the battlefront. As he waited, he sat in a very ornate chair, a dim amber thing with blue feather-stuffed cushions and reinforced frame of thick, dark gray-brown steel to support the Invader’s impressive weight.
Kulam momentarily squeezed the armrests, his black claws leaving impressions as they dug into the firm wood. The Invader leader was not a very patient creature. Due to such, his current situation was one of his least favorite to be in; battle reports took an incredible amount of time to process. He had already been waiting for fourteen minutes, and still no sign of progress. He was… dare he say it? He was bored. He wanted something to do.
Selestren-Kulam looked to his right, then to his left. Two Invader capital guards flanked each side of the chair, totally still and silent. Each of the guards, save for the soldier at the leader’s far left, wore a full suit of armor. Each piece of armor was unique and reflected the beliefs of those who made them. They varied in shape and size, from thin and light to thick and heavy. Some had large barbs, while other pieces had blades welded onto the surface, while still others had no protrusions at all.
Each soldier had a weapon sash about their waists and an antimatter mortar cannon slung around their torsos. Kulam looked at the nearest soldier on his left. The soldier stood stock still, refusing to take notice of his leader’s gaze - exactly what a capital guard was trained to do. But he had been standing there for a few hours… had the soldier grown weary?
In the blink of an eye, Kulam snapped his fingers, and the soldier’s hand instantly j-erked upwards towards the handle of his mortar cannon. Then, realizing that there was no immediate threat, the soldier let his hand slowly fall back to his side. The Invader leader made an unnoticeable smile, satisfied that the guard was alert.
Selestren-Kulam settled back in his chair. As he sat there, his thoughts turned to his potential mates. There was Essehui-Guiteem-Ofnei – as the leader had come to know the clutch females, she had fallen into second place, outranked by another female by the name of Plaifet-Nuun.
Essehui was a rather young Invader – so far she had only birthed one child (a male). However, she was very intelligent for her age and gender. Sometimes she enjoyed asking the Invader leader how and why things worked to the point that he became greatly irritated, though, and the Kulam did not like the fact the she might be able to outsmart him.
Nuun, on the other hand, was older and had birthed four children (three males and a female), and had recently held the duty of raising young Invader males and preparing them for the military. Her personality was generally cold and sometimes arrogant, but she readily took orders and performed her duties well. This made her Kulam’s first pick, but not by much.
Kulam put his left hand to his bony chin, massaging it thoughtfully. So far, his choice was rather difficult. But what if he were to compare the two females side-by-side, and see how they interact with each other, with him in their presence? It was an intriguing question that could open new opportunities.
The Master rubbed his hands together, a plan forming in his mind. He turned to the capital guard on his far left.
“Soldier!” he barked.
The capital guard stepped outward and turned towards Selestren-Kulam, kneeling in salute. “Yes, Master?” he whispered humbly.
“Go retrieve the females Essehui-Guiteem-Ofnei and Plaifet-Nuun. Bring them here.”
“Immediately, Master.” The capital guard was allowed to rise, and Kulam watched as he ran to the iron doors and left the room. Kulam took the time to groom the long black hair on his arms.
Kulam had finished his preening by the time the capital guard returned with the two requested females in tow. The guard knelt in salute before returning to his assigned position.
The females knelt before Selestren-Kulam, exposing their unprotected necks to the Invader leader. Kulam allowed them to rise.
Selestren-Kulam took note of the various differences between the two females. Plaifet-Nuun was a few inches shorter than Essehui, with more muscle and hair. She had a faint scar on her muzzle that passed below the right nostril. And in contrast to Essehui’s bright yellow eyes, Nuun’s were dull and pale, and a grayish yellow color. Her face held graceful contours that gave her a wise appearance. She also had a rather large ego, and it showed from time to time.
The Invader leader spoke in a polite manner. “Plaifet-Nuun, and Essehui-Guiteem-Ofnei. It is a pleasure seeing you again.” Kulam saw Nuun’s torso expand slightly in response. “I have some questions that I want to ask you.”
*****
Outside the Invader capital, the morning sun was beginning to rise from behind the mountain Messenger, and the dark shadows that blanketed the fortress slowly began to recede and die. It was quiet, so quiet that you could hear the stream that ran through the capital as it whispered its quiet melody, as well as the sleepy morning rhythm of nature as life outside the walls began to stir.
But not all was peaceful, evident as a young Invader sentry guard named Yumuos-Getnou-‘Sie-Dem hastily donned his iron chest plate and helmet before sprinting from the barracks towards the steep stairs that led to the top of the walls that enclosed the capital.
He was late again, dammit. Mating season was beginning, and Yumuos had spent too much time the previous night courting females. And now he had overslept. As he ran, the Invader silently cursed himself for his lack of self-discipline. Work came before pleasure; he knew that his repetitive tardiness could become a serious threat to his duty and his honor, not to mention his physical well-being.
Yumuos ducked between various buildings as he followed familiar path that ran in a relatively southern direction until he met the walls. From there he ran due east along the perimeter, running under massive twenty-foot thick braces that held the five-story walls firmly in place. The soldier ran until he found the fore mentioned stairs, an all-but-empty wooden weapon rack, and a very impatient and angry-looking Invader soldier who was garbed in a significant amount of polished armor, as well as a rare pair of honorary chain-mail hose.
The impatient alien was Tuus, Yumous’ commanding officer. The tardy soldier felt his superior’s eyes lock onto him as he approached.
“You are late. Again,” Tuus growled as Yumuos came to a halt in front of his superior.
The sentry kneeled before his superior. “My apologies, sir, I overslept again. You see, with mating season…”
“Enough!” Tuus shouted, bringing the soldier’s excuses to an abrupt halt. “You know as well as I that duty must come before pleasure, and yet you seem to think that your sexual urges are good enough reasons to be continuously late to your post!” His point made, the superior of the two soldiers approached the other and inspected his armor dressings much more roughly than usual, putting Yumuos at a significant amount of physical discomfort. The officer forcefully pushed the sentry’s head up and checked the fastenings of his helmet before giving a somewhat disappointed grunt of approval.
“You’re gear is fine,” Tuus stated flatly, stepping back. “Grab your weapon and a battery sash, and make haste to your post.”
Silently Yumuos-Getnou-‘Sie-Dem heartily agreed, but as he made to pass his superior, Tuus’ powerful hand shot out and wrapped itself around the sentry’s neck.
“One more thing,” Tuus growled. The officer’s massive bicep flexed, and Yumuos was somehow dragged closer until the poor soldier was nose-to-nose with his superior. “Keep this in mind: if you are late again, I WILL have your head on a pike.”
Tuus’ hand was clenched tightly around Yumuos’ neck, and the sentry could only wheeze his acknowledgements.
The officer threw the soldier to the ground. “You have wasted enough of my time,” he hissed. “Get going.” And with that, Tuus strode off, leaving the sentry Invader to his duties.
*****
Damn the Invaders. Damn them to hell.
Within the last hour, the Osiris had received a flood of reports that Invader battleships were attacking systems within colonies. Not just attacking any systems, but attacking the capital system of each major house.
Orillion sat in his private quarters, back to his old bottle of Edinburgh scotch. As he sat, the stressed leader poured a finger of the drink into a small glass and quickly downed it in one swift gulp. It burned his throat only slightly; Edinburgh scotch was a ‘polite’ drink – meaning that it wasn’t as strong as other alcoholic beverages.
Even though he had a high bar of stamina, Orillion was still human, and the stress from recent events was finally beginning to wear him down. An ache had formed in the back of his head, barely noticeable at first, but had since grown into a constant annoyance that stubbornly refused to cease, even with medication. His face was drawn out and his mind was sluggish; he hadn’t slept in over fifty standard hours. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried. He simply couldn’t.
But due to the present crisis, Orillion was willing to tough it out. Headache and fatigue aside, he was mad. How did the Invaders discover the human-held systems? The man set his mind at a steady pace, mulling over the possibilities. He immediately ruled out a deciphering of the human language; all human communication channels were encrypted. And that along with the fact that the Invaders didn’t encrypt their own ship-to-ship messages, it was a near given that they wouldn’t be able to crack such codes.
Orillion sighed, picking up the bottle and pouring himself another finger of scotch. How the Invaders found the colonies wasn’t important now: defending them was. As soon as the Osiris had started receiving the messages, Orillion had given the order to move into Rheinland and assist. Out of all the colonies, he knew that Rheinland would be in the most trouble. For years the nation had been teetering on the verge of bankruptcy, and the colonial war that had been brought on by the Nomad infiltration had ultimately left Rheinland with four cruisers and one considerably outdated battleship, the Westfalen. And to make matters even worse, the nation’s continuous lack of money and equipment had caused the Westfalen to fall into extreme disrepair – it was in such poor condition that it couldn’t even ignite its engines and break orbit from around planet Kiel. That meant that the police and military had virtually no heavy reinforcements to combat Invader fighters, much less the titanic battleships.
Orillion downed the contents of his glass and sealed the bottle. He needed to be doing something besides drinking.
His thoughts turned to his colonels Trent and Zane, and the Order leader closed his eyes and let out a low breath of self disappointment. He had sent them home for this? Manhattan was under attack and the Invaders were landing troops on the planet surface. And still more bad news: if the reports could be believed, the Invaders were big, fast, extremely strong, and had a remarkable amount of endurance. They were like something out of a nightmare.
“’For the best’, my ass,” Orillion thought. “I should have never listened to that voice in my head.”
Orillion could only hope that the pair made it out alright.
For three minutes the man collected his thoughts before he was interrupted by a belch of static as the overhead speaker came on and voice of Lieutenant Anthony Carson came through.
“Orillion, sir! This is Lieutenant Carson. Are you there?”
Orillion looked upwards at the ceiling. “I’m here, Lieutenant,” he replied, “what is it?”
“I have major news from Bretonia, sir. The Invaders have destroyed the battleship Sellack, along with a cruiser, the BNC Martham. They are now landing forces on planet New London.”
Orillion was silent for several seconds as this new information sank in. “I see,” he finally said. “Thank you for the update, Carson. Orillion out.”
As the lieutenant gave his regards and terminated the communication, Orillion’s mind went into a haze. As he let the haze consume him, his vision blurred to white, a tingling sensation came to his face, and there was a faint ringing sound in his ears. Orillion had no recollection of how much time had passed before he finally snapped out of it, only to find himself staring at his bottle of Edinburgh scotch, which now seemingly sat oh-so-patiently before him, looking friendly and inviting.
“Screw it,” Orillion thought as he grabbed the bottle and accompanying glass and poured himself another drink.
w00t! Another chapter finished! sorry about the wait for the chapter's final installment (FYI: its in the middle) but I got a sizeable writer's block while writing it. I may modify it later down the line, though.
Off to the next chapter!
Edited by - Steel_Fang on 3/24/2006 2:48:04 PM
Chapter 25
Invader homeworld, G-32 galaxy.
The prize room of the fortress that served as the Invader capital was known as Kamosht Sbeh, or Grand Hall. It was not very grand by human standards, though; Invaders didn’t value petty objects and riches the way humans did. The floor and walls were made of roughly hewn stone. The majority of the stone surfaces were adorned with large scrawling symbols, written in red ink, telling tales of glorious battles from so long ago. Everything was lit in a pale yellow glow from a single electronic light that bathed the room from above, casting deep, crisp shadows throughout the room.
Its rich ambience was what made the room so important.
At the back of the room, facing the hall’s engraved double iron doors, was the Invader leader himself.
Selestren-Kulam impatiently flexed his thick arms, his massive biceps bulging as he waited for the latest news from the battlefront. As he waited, he sat in a very ornate chair, a dim amber thing with blue feather-stuffed cushions and reinforced frame of thick, dark gray-brown steel to support the Invader’s impressive weight.
Kulam momentarily squeezed the armrests, his black claws leaving impressions as they dug into the firm wood. The Invader leader was not a very patient creature. Due to such, his current situation was one of his least favorite to be in; battle reports took an incredible amount of time to process. He had already been waiting for fourteen minutes, and still no sign of progress. He was… dare he say it? He was bored. He wanted something to do.
Selestren-Kulam looked to his right, then to his left. Two Invader capital guards flanked each side of the chair, totally still and silent. Each of the guards, save for the soldier at the leader’s far left, wore a full suit of armor. Each piece of armor was unique and reflected the beliefs of those who made them. They varied in shape and size, from thin and light to thick and heavy. Some had large barbs, while other pieces had blades welded onto the surface, while still others had no protrusions at all.
Each soldier had a weapon sash about their waists and an antimatter mortar cannon slung around their torsos. Kulam looked at the nearest soldier on his left. The soldier stood stock still, refusing to take notice of his leader’s gaze - exactly what a capital guard was trained to do. But he had been standing there for a few hours… had the soldier grown weary?
In the blink of an eye, Kulam snapped his fingers, and the soldier’s hand instantly j-erked upwards towards the handle of his mortar cannon. Then, realizing that there was no immediate threat, the soldier let his hand slowly fall back to his side. The Invader leader made an unnoticeable smile, satisfied that the guard was alert.
Selestren-Kulam settled back in his chair. As he sat there, his thoughts turned to his potential mates. There was Essehui-Guiteem-Ofnei – as the leader had come to know the clutch females, she had fallen into second place, outranked by another female by the name of Plaifet-Nuun.
Essehui was a rather young Invader – so far she had only birthed one child (a male). However, she was very intelligent for her age and gender. Sometimes she enjoyed asking the Invader leader how and why things worked to the point that he became greatly irritated, though, and the Kulam did not like the fact the she might be able to outsmart him.
Nuun, on the other hand, was older and had birthed four children (three males and a female), and had recently held the duty of raising young Invader males and preparing them for the military. Her personality was generally cold and sometimes arrogant, but she readily took orders and performed her duties well. This made her Kulam’s first pick, but not by much.
Kulam put his left hand to his bony chin, massaging it thoughtfully. So far, his choice was rather difficult. But what if he were to compare the two females side-by-side, and see how they interact with each other, with him in their presence? It was an intriguing question that could open new opportunities.
The Master rubbed his hands together, a plan forming in his mind. He turned to the capital guard on his far left.
“Soldier!” he barked.
The capital guard stepped outward and turned towards Selestren-Kulam, kneeling in salute. “Yes, Master?” he whispered humbly.
“Go retrieve the females Essehui-Guiteem-Ofnei and Plaifet-Nuun. Bring them here.”
“Immediately, Master.” The capital guard was allowed to rise, and Kulam watched as he ran to the iron doors and left the room. Kulam took the time to groom the long black hair on his arms.
Kulam had finished his preening by the time the capital guard returned with the two requested females in tow. The guard knelt in salute before returning to his assigned position.
The females knelt before Selestren-Kulam, exposing their unprotected necks to the Invader leader. Kulam allowed them to rise.
Selestren-Kulam took note of the various differences between the two females. Plaifet-Nuun was a few inches shorter than Essehui, with more muscle and hair. She had a faint scar on her muzzle that passed below the right nostril. And in contrast to Essehui’s bright yellow eyes, Nuun’s were dull and pale, and a grayish yellow color. Her face held graceful contours that gave her a wise appearance. She also had a rather large ego, and it showed from time to time.
The Invader leader spoke in a polite manner. “Plaifet-Nuun, and Essehui-Guiteem-Ofnei. It is a pleasure seeing you again.” Kulam saw Nuun’s torso expand slightly in response. “I have some questions that I want to ask you.”
*****
Outside the Invader capital, the morning sun was beginning to rise from behind the mountain Messenger, and the dark shadows that blanketed the fortress slowly began to recede and die. It was quiet, so quiet that you could hear the stream that ran through the capital as it whispered its quiet melody, as well as the sleepy morning rhythm of nature as life outside the walls began to stir.
But not all was peaceful, evident as a young Invader sentry guard named Yumuos-Getnou-‘Sie-Dem hastily donned his iron chest plate and helmet before sprinting from the barracks towards the steep stairs that led to the top of the walls that enclosed the capital.
He was late again, dammit. Mating season was beginning, and Yumuos had spent too much time the previous night courting females. And now he had overslept. As he ran, the Invader silently cursed himself for his lack of self-discipline. Work came before pleasure; he knew that his repetitive tardiness could become a serious threat to his duty and his honor, not to mention his physical well-being.
Yumuos ducked between various buildings as he followed familiar path that ran in a relatively southern direction until he met the walls. From there he ran due east along the perimeter, running under massive twenty-foot thick braces that held the five-story walls firmly in place. The soldier ran until he found the fore mentioned stairs, an all-but-empty wooden weapon rack, and a very impatient and angry-looking Invader soldier who was garbed in a significant amount of polished armor, as well as a rare pair of honorary chain-mail hose.
The impatient alien was Tuus, Yumous’ commanding officer. The tardy soldier felt his superior’s eyes lock onto him as he approached.
“You are late. Again,” Tuus growled as Yumuos came to a halt in front of his superior.
The sentry kneeled before his superior. “My apologies, sir, I overslept again. You see, with mating season…”
“Enough!” Tuus shouted, bringing the soldier’s excuses to an abrupt halt. “You know as well as I that duty must come before pleasure, and yet you seem to think that your sexual urges are good enough reasons to be continuously late to your post!” His point made, the superior of the two soldiers approached the other and inspected his armor dressings much more roughly than usual, putting Yumuos at a significant amount of physical discomfort. The officer forcefully pushed the sentry’s head up and checked the fastenings of his helmet before giving a somewhat disappointed grunt of approval.
“You’re gear is fine,” Tuus stated flatly, stepping back. “Grab your weapon and a battery sash, and make haste to your post.”
Silently Yumuos-Getnou-‘Sie-Dem heartily agreed, but as he made to pass his superior, Tuus’ powerful hand shot out and wrapped itself around the sentry’s neck.
“One more thing,” Tuus growled. The officer’s massive bicep flexed, and Yumuos was somehow dragged closer until the poor soldier was nose-to-nose with his superior. “Keep this in mind: if you are late again, I WILL have your head on a pike.”
Tuus’ hand was clenched tightly around Yumuos’ neck, and the sentry could only wheeze his acknowledgements.
The officer threw the soldier to the ground. “You have wasted enough of my time,” he hissed. “Get going.” And with that, Tuus strode off, leaving the sentry Invader to his duties.
*****
Damn the Invaders. Damn them to hell.
Within the last hour, the Osiris had received a flood of reports that Invader battleships were attacking systems within colonies. Not just attacking any systems, but attacking the capital system of each major house.
Orillion sat in his private quarters, back to his old bottle of Edinburgh scotch. As he sat, the stressed leader poured a finger of the drink into a small glass and quickly downed it in one swift gulp. It burned his throat only slightly; Edinburgh scotch was a ‘polite’ drink – meaning that it wasn’t as strong as other alcoholic beverages.
Even though he had a high bar of stamina, Orillion was still human, and the stress from recent events was finally beginning to wear him down. An ache had formed in the back of his head, barely noticeable at first, but had since grown into a constant annoyance that stubbornly refused to cease, even with medication. His face was drawn out and his mind was sluggish; he hadn’t slept in over fifty standard hours. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried. He simply couldn’t.
But due to the present crisis, Orillion was willing to tough it out. Headache and fatigue aside, he was mad. How did the Invaders discover the human-held systems? The man set his mind at a steady pace, mulling over the possibilities. He immediately ruled out a deciphering of the human language; all human communication channels were encrypted. And that along with the fact that the Invaders didn’t encrypt their own ship-to-ship messages, it was a near given that they wouldn’t be able to crack such codes.
Orillion sighed, picking up the bottle and pouring himself another finger of scotch. How the Invaders found the colonies wasn’t important now: defending them was. As soon as the Osiris had started receiving the messages, Orillion had given the order to move into Rheinland and assist. Out of all the colonies, he knew that Rheinland would be in the most trouble. For years the nation had been teetering on the verge of bankruptcy, and the colonial war that had been brought on by the Nomad infiltration had ultimately left Rheinland with four cruisers and one considerably outdated battleship, the Westfalen. And to make matters even worse, the nation’s continuous lack of money and equipment had caused the Westfalen to fall into extreme disrepair – it was in such poor condition that it couldn’t even ignite its engines and break orbit from around planet Kiel. That meant that the police and military had virtually no heavy reinforcements to combat Invader fighters, much less the titanic battleships.
Orillion downed the contents of his glass and sealed the bottle. He needed to be doing something besides drinking.
His thoughts turned to his colonels Trent and Zane, and the Order leader closed his eyes and let out a low breath of self disappointment. He had sent them home for this? Manhattan was under attack and the Invaders were landing troops on the planet surface. And still more bad news: if the reports could be believed, the Invaders were big, fast, extremely strong, and had a remarkable amount of endurance. They were like something out of a nightmare.
“’For the best’, my ass,” Orillion thought. “I should have never listened to that voice in my head.”
Orillion could only hope that the pair made it out alright.
For three minutes the man collected his thoughts before he was interrupted by a belch of static as the overhead speaker came on and voice of Lieutenant Anthony Carson came through.
“Orillion, sir! This is Lieutenant Carson. Are you there?”
Orillion looked upwards at the ceiling. “I’m here, Lieutenant,” he replied, “what is it?”
“I have major news from Bretonia, sir. The Invaders have destroyed the battleship Sellack, along with a cruiser, the BNC Martham. They are now landing forces on planet New London.”
Orillion was silent for several seconds as this new information sank in. “I see,” he finally said. “Thank you for the update, Carson. Orillion out.”
As the lieutenant gave his regards and terminated the communication, Orillion’s mind went into a haze. As he let the haze consume him, his vision blurred to white, a tingling sensation came to his face, and there was a faint ringing sound in his ears. Orillion had no recollection of how much time had passed before he finally snapped out of it, only to find himself staring at his bottle of Edinburgh scotch, which now seemingly sat oh-so-patiently before him, looking friendly and inviting.
“Screw it,” Orillion thought as he grabbed the bottle and accompanying glass and poured himself another drink.
w00t! Another chapter finished! sorry about the wait for the chapter's final installment (FYI: its in the middle) but I got a sizeable writer's block while writing it. I may modify it later down the line, though.
Off to the next chapter!
Edited by - Steel_Fang on 3/24/2006 2:48:04 PM
Wed Mar 22, 2006 8:19 pm
this is great dude!
i just love the way you write!
heck i love you!
j/k all, im happily married..
to a girl...
007
oilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate.The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose vis-à-vis an introduction, and so it is my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V.
V from V for Vendetta
i just love the way you write!
heck i love you!
j/k all, im happily married..
to a girl...
007
oilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate.The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose vis-à-vis an introduction, and so it is my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V.
V from V for Vendetta
Mon Apr 10, 2006 5:32 pm
Its the end of the school year, and I'm trying to make up for all the slacking off I've done over the year. So unfortunately, my writing has been going very slowly. Anyways, here is the first installatino of chapter 26.
Chapter 26
Battleship Relentless, over Manhattan, Liberty space
Orad-Porel gingerly ran a claw over his infected wounds as he watched the monitors, their screens filled with the surrounding environment. The Invader scowled at what he saw. The damned aliens had taken him by surprise; not only did they refuse to flee, they were proving to be much more cunning and determined than the Invader captain had ever expected them to be. Their fighters, as pathetic as they were, housed superb pilots who had already learned to counter the Invader fighter tactics. This battle would prove to be a bloody one.
But as much as Orad wished to see such a fight, he knew that he needed to save his forces. With the majority of the soldiers taking the fight to the surface of ‘Mehn-haht-ehn,’ the battleship would more or less be running on a skeleton crew.
Orad knew from records that keeping a massive battleship such as the Relentless running with the bare minimum of soldiers was a significant risk. The smaller the crew keeping the battleship in check, the greater the chance that some minor issue would be overlooked until it grew into a serious problem. The commander could recall one such incident where an old battleship blew its engines and crashed into a moon after her particularly lax crew failed to monitor the ship’s power systems. (The Invader military had quickly damned the memory of the deceased crew for such gross incompetence.)
So in order to preserve the lives of his pilots, Orad had ordered the burner ships Turmoil, Agony, and Woe to teleport themselves out of the Relentless’ bay and provide assistance. Their orders were very specific: one by one, they would charge their main cannons. Since the burner ships would be defenseless while charging their clusterbeams, one of the other burner ships would guard its occupied companion while the last one would drive itself into the enemy forces and open a cone in their defenses. Orad-Porel knew that the plan was a fierce one, and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation as he continued to observe the battle.
With an air of confidence, Orad-Porel strode over to one of the display monitors that walled the deck. The particular monitor that he chose was one that provided an excellent view of the planet. The commander suppressed a smile: he had confidence in his troops and knew that they would carry out their mission. Assassin patrols had always proven to be devastating. And Rames-Une-Teral was down there. Orad took a moment to wonder what kind of carnage the leviathan was leaving in his wake.
Orad turned to the Invader at comm. station. “Communications! Give me an update on the ground assault.”
The Invader gave the commander an attentive eye. “One moment, sir,” he stated flatly.
Orad watched as the Invader’s claws rapped sharply against various keys on the console.
“Sir, the assault is progressing quickly. It will only be a short while before the troops have cleared out an enough area large enough for us to send reinforcements.”
Orad nodded. “Reinforcements, indeed,” he muttered.
*****
Rames-Une-Teral took a long, deep breath and let out a terrifying battle cry before exploding out of the shadows towards the fortress-like human structure, the rest of his patrol in close pursuit.
There were hundreds of targets, each one of them a potential threat to Rames’ mission. Any on of them could be trained and equipped for combat. Thanks to his military training, Rames knew this all too well, and was not one to underestimate any foe. So, instead of making a beeline towards the fortress, the massive Invader dug his bare feet into the alien terrain and made (for a being his size) a sharp right, strafing the battleground lobbing shot after shot of compressed antimatter at the fortress, the vehicles, and anything else that moved. The rest of the patrol had scattered, the smaller, more vulnerable soldiers choosing to duck in and out of the battlegrounds as they saw fit.
Rames’ long muscular legs pumped, and the alien bounded a quarter of the way across the field before he chose to duck between two buildings on the perimeter. He dropped to a squat and rested his weight on his leg muscles as he eyed for another opening to charge and further wound the defense.
It took a while for Rames to find an opening; there was so much activity. Nevertheless, his war-trained eye found an opportunity on the other side of the grounds – a loose cluster of the pale bodied humans. After a quick tap on the trigger of Rames’ antimatter mortar, the massive alien once again forged a path of destruction through the battlefield, firing his weapon as he crossed the terrain. An unoccupied vehicle was parked in the path of Rames’ carnage, and debris exploded upwards and outwards as the Invader firmly planted a massive foot on its roof, flattening the vehicle as he pushed off. The crushed metal and debris cut into the alien’s foot, but the soldier was too caught up in the battle to notice.
Rames-Une-Teral reached the other side and ducked between two buildings. His weapon had become significantly lighter, indicating that the battery was almost empty. Rames took a moment to release the near spent battery of his mortar cannon and quickly obtained new one from his satchel, slamming it into the weapon’s port and locking it in place. Obscured in shadow, the Invader carefully eyed the fortress, as he tried to make out the smaller details of the structure (the intense sunlight still somewhat obscured his vision).
It was then that the soldier noticed that there were no guards. None at all. None on the walls, and even from this distance, Rames could see that the only humans exiting the structure were terrified things, their short legs pumping as they attempted to flee.
So far, Rames-Une-Teral had found the humans to be very pathetic and confusing. They were obviously ill-prepared to handle ground based attacks. And why, as Rames was attacking this fortress, were the humans running out into the open when they would obviously be safer if they just stayed behind the walls?
The Invader scowled, taking a moment to wish that the humans would put up a decent fight.
Rames was pulled from his thoughts when a black transport suddenly flew into the area surrounding the human fortress. Rames, with his somewhat obscured vision, analyzed the craft. He determined that it was not an Invader ship; he had never seen a ship like it in his military. The Invader watched as the thing’s whispering engines quickly guided the machine to the front of the white structure and dropped like a rock. Rames expected the craft to crash, but was surprised when it halted its fall and hovered a few feet off the ground as several small black dots fell out of it. The black ship then climbed into the air and began circling the human fortress, as if guarding it.
Rames eyed the ship warily, waiting to see what it would do. After about three laps around the fortress, the ship suddenly veered off course and opened its guns. Flares of light poured out of the weapons, and the massive soldier watched as another Invader was pierced by the flares, folding in the middle. The ship then returned to the fortress and began circling it again.
Damn.
Rames-Une-Teral knew that he was not equipped to tackle an enemy aircraft. The projectiles from his antimatter mortar, while devastating, flew too slowly to effective against flying machines, especially at long range, where Rames stood now. If he fired on the black ship, the human craft would have ample time to dodge the attacks. Even worse, the antimatter’s thick contrail would give away his position.
But Rames’ battle hardened mind screamed at him to take the fortress. He needed to find a way to counter this new threat.
The titanic soldier quickly glanced at the alley he was in. It was a small, narrow thing, completely covered in shadow. Small pieces of litter were dotted here and there on the ground. Rames glanced behind him to see that a vertical slit of light at the other end; the alley continued for a long way before it opened again.
Rames-Une-Teral took in his surroundings before made a decision. With a low, disappointed growl, the armored Invader took three steps back and fell forward, catching himself with his free hand. Then, bringing his mortar cannon to bear, Rames lowered himself onto his belly and lay still.
Rames tracked the black aircraft with angry yellow eyes, thoroughly frustrated by its presence. There was nothing he could do about the thing. He would have to stay hidden until an opportunity presented itself. So, the soldier tensed his leg muscles and prepared to spring from hiding when that opportunity arose, and kept his eyes and ears open for any changes in the fight.
He waited.
*****
True to Juni’s word, it wasn’t long before the Manhattan skyscrapers gave way to residential neighborhoods. Houses of varying size and shape whipped by the windows as Juni continued to push the pedal to the metal on the wounded skiff, easing up only to make turns, and cursing the design of the craft as she went. She had almost completely shut herself off, responding to any physical or emotional support from her fiancé with a nod or a short sentence, leaving Trent with little to do but worry about her and hope that she didn’t wreck the skiff – the stress that she was under was making her driving somewhat erratic.
Finally, Juni turned into a cul-de-sac and parked the skiff to the left side of the street in front of a small one-story white house with an attached garage and a gently sloping roof - the house that her mother lived in. Juni moved with swift determination, shutting off the engine, unbuckling the safety harness and exiting the vehicle before the craft had completely settled onto the pavement. Juni ran for the house.
It was then that Juni gave Trent her attention, looking over her shoulder at the man as he exited the vehicle. “I’ll get my mother,” she shouted. “You stay here and watch the skiff!”
Trent started to protest. “But, don’t you…”
“Just do it, Edison!” she snapped back, the tone of her voice effectively silencing her partner.
Juni reached the front door, rang the doorbell and started fumbling with the security device. After a few seconds, it was unlocked, and Juni bolted into the house, tearing through the entryway and taking a right down a hall.
“Mother?!” Juni called out as she ran towards the bedroom. She was certain that her mother would be there – after all, she slept during the day. Juni ran past a few closed doors before stopping in front of the last door at the end of the hall: the bedroom. Without hesitation, she grabbed the handle, turned, and pulled the door open.
“Mother?” she called as she took a hurried step inside the bedroom.
The room was a quaint one, with walls painted a soft, light green with thin hazel borders, and a carpet tinged blue. Furniture aside from the bed, consisted of a desk and a wardrobe/hall tree, which sat at the far end of the room, and were both adorned with pictures of family and friends, among them images of a nine-year-old Jun’ko smiling alongside her parents, a portrait of the late Mr. Zane, and a recent addition: Juni being hugged by Trent from behind, both of them smiling.
Juni saw none of this, however, as she swiveled her head to see her mother sleeping soundly in her bed.
But there was a problem: Ms. Kumiko Zane wasn’t there.
*****
From what Captain Greyson had seen so far, the enemy ship imposed an intriguing problem. In offensive terms, the weapon technology that the vessel carried was intimidating, with ordinance capable of lobbing highly destructive projectiles of energy farther and faster than the weapons onboard the Michigan, and with decent accuracy. Fortunately, so far there had been no signs that the ship carried missiles or torpedoes, or any other type of guided weapon. But defensively, the ship was lackluster. Aside from the aforementioned blind spot in its weapons systems, it seemed that whoever or whatever had created the ship had designed it to absorb any kind of attack on it, instead of countering or blocking them. It was the ships sheer size that employed this idea; any critical components that it had were bound to be buried deep within the ships innards, making a critical hit impossible, and allowing the craft to take a tremendous amount of punishment before failing.
Taking all of this information in, Captain Greyson’s strategic mind had hatched a plan to get both the Michigan and the Omaha into the massive blind spot above the enemy mothership. It was dangerous, yes – but it was the only thing she could think of.
“Omaha, the enemy ship has a very large blind spot in its defense systems, located directly above it. Here’s what I want you to do: I want you to position yourself approximately 4K away from me, and when I give the signal, were both going to put our ships into overdrive and use our bow and port thrusters to put the ships into a tight clockwise corkscrew, heading towards the blind spot. I believe that this is the best guarantee that at least one of us will make it into that blind spot if it tries to throw us off by rolling. And since the target is currently facing away from us, it’s actually presenting a small target, meaning that the chance of a collision is minimal.” Grayson had by this time produced a small handheld computer and had entered the details of her plan onto it. “I’m sending you the specifics,” she said as she handed the computer to Officer Smith, who copied the information and sent it to the Omaha.
There was a long pause from the Omaha before Captain Anderson finally spoke up. “You know that this ship wasn’t made to pull a stunt like that,” he said slowly. “The Gs could damage the framework. And your ship is the same design, so that includes you as well.”
Greyson had already thought of that. “I know that, Captain, but unless you’ve got a better idea, I suggest that you get into position and tell your crew to sit down, lie down, or grab hold of something, and prepare themselves for one hell of a ride.”
Anderson sighed over the comm. channel. “Fine,” he said resentfully, “have it your way. I’ll be in position shortly.”
“Thank you, Omaha. Michigan out.”
Captain Greyson returned her attention to the battle, her eyes flicking to the small red pinpricks – the unidentified ships – as they lazily drew closer to the battle zone. “What the hell were they doing?” she thought as she watched them with an attentive eye.
Greyson grumbled and shifted her footing, seemingly already preparing for what she was about to put her ship through. She barked a few more orders to get the calculations for her daring move, and waited for the Omaha to move into position.
Well guys, im back with a renewed will to finish this story. Sorry ive been gone, things happened and I made some great friends, and I just continually put this story off to the point where I all but forgot about it. Well, recently it all fell apart and my friends are no longer my friends anymore. But at least now i have time to work on this story some more
Expect more updates.
Edited by - Steel_Fang on 4/10/2007 3:27:56 PM
Chapter 26
Battleship Relentless, over Manhattan, Liberty space
Orad-Porel gingerly ran a claw over his infected wounds as he watched the monitors, their screens filled with the surrounding environment. The Invader scowled at what he saw. The damned aliens had taken him by surprise; not only did they refuse to flee, they were proving to be much more cunning and determined than the Invader captain had ever expected them to be. Their fighters, as pathetic as they were, housed superb pilots who had already learned to counter the Invader fighter tactics. This battle would prove to be a bloody one.
But as much as Orad wished to see such a fight, he knew that he needed to save his forces. With the majority of the soldiers taking the fight to the surface of ‘Mehn-haht-ehn,’ the battleship would more or less be running on a skeleton crew.
Orad knew from records that keeping a massive battleship such as the Relentless running with the bare minimum of soldiers was a significant risk. The smaller the crew keeping the battleship in check, the greater the chance that some minor issue would be overlooked until it grew into a serious problem. The commander could recall one such incident where an old battleship blew its engines and crashed into a moon after her particularly lax crew failed to monitor the ship’s power systems. (The Invader military had quickly damned the memory of the deceased crew for such gross incompetence.)
So in order to preserve the lives of his pilots, Orad had ordered the burner ships Turmoil, Agony, and Woe to teleport themselves out of the Relentless’ bay and provide assistance. Their orders were very specific: one by one, they would charge their main cannons. Since the burner ships would be defenseless while charging their clusterbeams, one of the other burner ships would guard its occupied companion while the last one would drive itself into the enemy forces and open a cone in their defenses. Orad-Porel knew that the plan was a fierce one, and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation as he continued to observe the battle.
With an air of confidence, Orad-Porel strode over to one of the display monitors that walled the deck. The particular monitor that he chose was one that provided an excellent view of the planet. The commander suppressed a smile: he had confidence in his troops and knew that they would carry out their mission. Assassin patrols had always proven to be devastating. And Rames-Une-Teral was down there. Orad took a moment to wonder what kind of carnage the leviathan was leaving in his wake.
Orad turned to the Invader at comm. station. “Communications! Give me an update on the ground assault.”
The Invader gave the commander an attentive eye. “One moment, sir,” he stated flatly.
Orad watched as the Invader’s claws rapped sharply against various keys on the console.
“Sir, the assault is progressing quickly. It will only be a short while before the troops have cleared out an enough area large enough for us to send reinforcements.”
Orad nodded. “Reinforcements, indeed,” he muttered.
*****
Rames-Une-Teral took a long, deep breath and let out a terrifying battle cry before exploding out of the shadows towards the fortress-like human structure, the rest of his patrol in close pursuit.
There were hundreds of targets, each one of them a potential threat to Rames’ mission. Any on of them could be trained and equipped for combat. Thanks to his military training, Rames knew this all too well, and was not one to underestimate any foe. So, instead of making a beeline towards the fortress, the massive Invader dug his bare feet into the alien terrain and made (for a being his size) a sharp right, strafing the battleground lobbing shot after shot of compressed antimatter at the fortress, the vehicles, and anything else that moved. The rest of the patrol had scattered, the smaller, more vulnerable soldiers choosing to duck in and out of the battlegrounds as they saw fit.
Rames’ long muscular legs pumped, and the alien bounded a quarter of the way across the field before he chose to duck between two buildings on the perimeter. He dropped to a squat and rested his weight on his leg muscles as he eyed for another opening to charge and further wound the defense.
It took a while for Rames to find an opening; there was so much activity. Nevertheless, his war-trained eye found an opportunity on the other side of the grounds – a loose cluster of the pale bodied humans. After a quick tap on the trigger of Rames’ antimatter mortar, the massive alien once again forged a path of destruction through the battlefield, firing his weapon as he crossed the terrain. An unoccupied vehicle was parked in the path of Rames’ carnage, and debris exploded upwards and outwards as the Invader firmly planted a massive foot on its roof, flattening the vehicle as he pushed off. The crushed metal and debris cut into the alien’s foot, but the soldier was too caught up in the battle to notice.
Rames-Une-Teral reached the other side and ducked between two buildings. His weapon had become significantly lighter, indicating that the battery was almost empty. Rames took a moment to release the near spent battery of his mortar cannon and quickly obtained new one from his satchel, slamming it into the weapon’s port and locking it in place. Obscured in shadow, the Invader carefully eyed the fortress, as he tried to make out the smaller details of the structure (the intense sunlight still somewhat obscured his vision).
It was then that the soldier noticed that there were no guards. None at all. None on the walls, and even from this distance, Rames could see that the only humans exiting the structure were terrified things, their short legs pumping as they attempted to flee.
So far, Rames-Une-Teral had found the humans to be very pathetic and confusing. They were obviously ill-prepared to handle ground based attacks. And why, as Rames was attacking this fortress, were the humans running out into the open when they would obviously be safer if they just stayed behind the walls?
The Invader scowled, taking a moment to wish that the humans would put up a decent fight.
Rames was pulled from his thoughts when a black transport suddenly flew into the area surrounding the human fortress. Rames, with his somewhat obscured vision, analyzed the craft. He determined that it was not an Invader ship; he had never seen a ship like it in his military. The Invader watched as the thing’s whispering engines quickly guided the machine to the front of the white structure and dropped like a rock. Rames expected the craft to crash, but was surprised when it halted its fall and hovered a few feet off the ground as several small black dots fell out of it. The black ship then climbed into the air and began circling the human fortress, as if guarding it.
Rames eyed the ship warily, waiting to see what it would do. After about three laps around the fortress, the ship suddenly veered off course and opened its guns. Flares of light poured out of the weapons, and the massive soldier watched as another Invader was pierced by the flares, folding in the middle. The ship then returned to the fortress and began circling it again.
Damn.
Rames-Une-Teral knew that he was not equipped to tackle an enemy aircraft. The projectiles from his antimatter mortar, while devastating, flew too slowly to effective against flying machines, especially at long range, where Rames stood now. If he fired on the black ship, the human craft would have ample time to dodge the attacks. Even worse, the antimatter’s thick contrail would give away his position.
But Rames’ battle hardened mind screamed at him to take the fortress. He needed to find a way to counter this new threat.
The titanic soldier quickly glanced at the alley he was in. It was a small, narrow thing, completely covered in shadow. Small pieces of litter were dotted here and there on the ground. Rames glanced behind him to see that a vertical slit of light at the other end; the alley continued for a long way before it opened again.
Rames-Une-Teral took in his surroundings before made a decision. With a low, disappointed growl, the armored Invader took three steps back and fell forward, catching himself with his free hand. Then, bringing his mortar cannon to bear, Rames lowered himself onto his belly and lay still.
Rames tracked the black aircraft with angry yellow eyes, thoroughly frustrated by its presence. There was nothing he could do about the thing. He would have to stay hidden until an opportunity presented itself. So, the soldier tensed his leg muscles and prepared to spring from hiding when that opportunity arose, and kept his eyes and ears open for any changes in the fight.
He waited.
*****
True to Juni’s word, it wasn’t long before the Manhattan skyscrapers gave way to residential neighborhoods. Houses of varying size and shape whipped by the windows as Juni continued to push the pedal to the metal on the wounded skiff, easing up only to make turns, and cursing the design of the craft as she went. She had almost completely shut herself off, responding to any physical or emotional support from her fiancé with a nod or a short sentence, leaving Trent with little to do but worry about her and hope that she didn’t wreck the skiff – the stress that she was under was making her driving somewhat erratic.
Finally, Juni turned into a cul-de-sac and parked the skiff to the left side of the street in front of a small one-story white house with an attached garage and a gently sloping roof - the house that her mother lived in. Juni moved with swift determination, shutting off the engine, unbuckling the safety harness and exiting the vehicle before the craft had completely settled onto the pavement. Juni ran for the house.
It was then that Juni gave Trent her attention, looking over her shoulder at the man as he exited the vehicle. “I’ll get my mother,” she shouted. “You stay here and watch the skiff!”
Trent started to protest. “But, don’t you…”
“Just do it, Edison!” she snapped back, the tone of her voice effectively silencing her partner.
Juni reached the front door, rang the doorbell and started fumbling with the security device. After a few seconds, it was unlocked, and Juni bolted into the house, tearing through the entryway and taking a right down a hall.
“Mother?!” Juni called out as she ran towards the bedroom. She was certain that her mother would be there – after all, she slept during the day. Juni ran past a few closed doors before stopping in front of the last door at the end of the hall: the bedroom. Without hesitation, she grabbed the handle, turned, and pulled the door open.
“Mother?” she called as she took a hurried step inside the bedroom.
The room was a quaint one, with walls painted a soft, light green with thin hazel borders, and a carpet tinged blue. Furniture aside from the bed, consisted of a desk and a wardrobe/hall tree, which sat at the far end of the room, and were both adorned with pictures of family and friends, among them images of a nine-year-old Jun’ko smiling alongside her parents, a portrait of the late Mr. Zane, and a recent addition: Juni being hugged by Trent from behind, both of them smiling.
Juni saw none of this, however, as she swiveled her head to see her mother sleeping soundly in her bed.
But there was a problem: Ms. Kumiko Zane wasn’t there.
*****
From what Captain Greyson had seen so far, the enemy ship imposed an intriguing problem. In offensive terms, the weapon technology that the vessel carried was intimidating, with ordinance capable of lobbing highly destructive projectiles of energy farther and faster than the weapons onboard the Michigan, and with decent accuracy. Fortunately, so far there had been no signs that the ship carried missiles or torpedoes, or any other type of guided weapon. But defensively, the ship was lackluster. Aside from the aforementioned blind spot in its weapons systems, it seemed that whoever or whatever had created the ship had designed it to absorb any kind of attack on it, instead of countering or blocking them. It was the ships sheer size that employed this idea; any critical components that it had were bound to be buried deep within the ships innards, making a critical hit impossible, and allowing the craft to take a tremendous amount of punishment before failing.
Taking all of this information in, Captain Greyson’s strategic mind had hatched a plan to get both the Michigan and the Omaha into the massive blind spot above the enemy mothership. It was dangerous, yes – but it was the only thing she could think of.
“Omaha, the enemy ship has a very large blind spot in its defense systems, located directly above it. Here’s what I want you to do: I want you to position yourself approximately 4K away from me, and when I give the signal, were both going to put our ships into overdrive and use our bow and port thrusters to put the ships into a tight clockwise corkscrew, heading towards the blind spot. I believe that this is the best guarantee that at least one of us will make it into that blind spot if it tries to throw us off by rolling. And since the target is currently facing away from us, it’s actually presenting a small target, meaning that the chance of a collision is minimal.” Grayson had by this time produced a small handheld computer and had entered the details of her plan onto it. “I’m sending you the specifics,” she said as she handed the computer to Officer Smith, who copied the information and sent it to the Omaha.
There was a long pause from the Omaha before Captain Anderson finally spoke up. “You know that this ship wasn’t made to pull a stunt like that,” he said slowly. “The Gs could damage the framework. And your ship is the same design, so that includes you as well.”
Greyson had already thought of that. “I know that, Captain, but unless you’ve got a better idea, I suggest that you get into position and tell your crew to sit down, lie down, or grab hold of something, and prepare themselves for one hell of a ride.”
Anderson sighed over the comm. channel. “Fine,” he said resentfully, “have it your way. I’ll be in position shortly.”
“Thank you, Omaha. Michigan out.”
Captain Greyson returned her attention to the battle, her eyes flicking to the small red pinpricks – the unidentified ships – as they lazily drew closer to the battle zone. “What the hell were they doing?” she thought as she watched them with an attentive eye.
Greyson grumbled and shifted her footing, seemingly already preparing for what she was about to put her ship through. She barked a few more orders to get the calculations for her daring move, and waited for the Omaha to move into position.
Well guys, im back with a renewed will to finish this story. Sorry ive been gone, things happened and I made some great friends, and I just continually put this story off to the point where I all but forgot about it. Well, recently it all fell apart and my friends are no longer my friends anymore. But at least now i have time to work on this story some more
Expect more updates.
Edited by - Steel_Fang on 4/10/2007 3:27:56 PM
Mon Jun 12, 2006 11:41 am
AUTHORS NOTE:
For all of my fans out there, I apologise that the next update is taking so long - The story is entering a stage where it is becoming difficult for me to write, and summer activities, as well as a job, are taking up the majority of my free time. But this story is not dead, and I have no intention of letting it die. The next update is coming along, and if all goes well, it will be released next monday.
Sorry for the inconvenience
For all of my fans out there, I apologise that the next update is taking so long - The story is entering a stage where it is becoming difficult for me to write, and summer activities, as well as a job, are taking up the majority of my free time. But this story is not dead, and I have no intention of letting it die. The next update is coming along, and if all goes well, it will be released next monday.
Sorry for the inconvenience
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