It was a killer. From stem to stern, the hulking, massive super-dreadnaught was built for one purpose and one purpose only. To destroy. That in itself wouldn’t be such a bad thing if it wasn’t for whom the ship was built to kill. The captain of the V.A.G. Checkmate’s sole intention was for the total destruction of the Sirius system, and all life in it.

On the bridge of the behemoth, Golden Admiral of the First Order Henri Govreux sat, grim and determined. Admiral Govreux was the direct, male line descendent of the Captain of the fabled sleeper ship, Versailles. He thought over the story in his mind.

One of eight sleeper ships to leave earth at the fall of the Alliance, the Versailles was fitted with a faulty guidance system. 1/1000th of a degree may not seem like a very large problem, but over the course of light-years, the slightest of errors grows with exponential speed. Suffice it to say, the Versailles was well and truly lost by the time anyone noticed a problem, and by then it was far to late. The Captain and his crew pushed bravely onward, until they happened upon a small, dismal, only slightly livable planet. Rather than continue their hopeless quest for finding their lost wingmen, the Versailles landed at the planet. Though officially named Second Paris, it was quickly dubbed Purgatory, due to its cold, bleak exterior. The denizens lived underground, in an expanse of tunnels that stretched miles below the surface. Then, one hundred and fifty years ago, the coordinates for Sirius were rediscovered, but after 650 years, there was much ill-will felt towards their interstellar neighbors, and the keels for a massive fleet were laid.

So ended the story, except for the dull paperwork required of building so many ships at once. After so many years, the Versailles Attack Group was completed. Many men had lived and died since they were first begun. And now, they would have their revenge. A slow smile crept over the Admirals face, though no hint of it showed in his gray eyes.

“Helmsman, set us a course for the edge of Sirius.”

“Aye Admiral, it shall be as you say.”

“Very good, Commsman, relay the order to the rest of our fleet, we move tonight.”

“Yes Admiral, if it pleases you, sir, you have a message from Emperor Boublil.”

“Play it aloud, I want my crew to hear the well wishes of our leader.”

The face of a man, beginning to grow wrinkled with age appeared on the main viewing screen. As soon as he appeared, every man and woman on the bridge stood up and crossed their arms, placing their hands on their shoulders in the Versailles salute.

“Admiral Govreux, Finally our fleet is finished. Your orders are, of course, to conquer the Sirius sector. Let them have no mercy. 800 years ago they had a chance to save us from going so far astray, and they foolishly denied us the chance for life. Very well, so shall the children of those treacherous so-called allies be exterminated for the rats that they are. My well wishes go with you. Conquer all in your path. Onward. To victory, and Revenge.”

The face faded into blackness, and the bridge crew sat down and let out a collective sigh. The Admiral was the first to speak.

“Well, Helmsman, you heard the Lord Emperor, take us out.”

With those words, the V.A.G. Checkmate, with almost two thousand of her brothers and sisters began to accelerate towards a completely unexpecting cluster of stars known as Sirius.




Edited by - Chupa on 11/25/2005 9:38:23 PM

i love it! i cant wait till the next chapter...but please take your time, chupa, its quality not quantity...

Thank you Shroud, I will be going slowly, two Fanfics so different will take some time, lol. I think I'm going to enjoy this one. I'm putting in Trent and Company, and It takes place only a few months after "THE GAME".

Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice.

---"Smoke me a kipper, I'll be back for breakfast."

Holy mackerel that was awesome. I thought you were only reduced to ripping off starmans style but nevermind. It's all good. Keep up the good work

it might be cool ifsomeone writes one about the dutch too...the netherlands are small but rich and economically strong.

Short chapters I think, that way It will be quicker between posts.

Chapter 1

A few months earlier, during the Nomad War

“My ship is carrying a large number of Gravinometric Mines, enough to destroy the battleship.”
“Walker, no, you’ll be killed!”
“Better me than all of us, protect the president Juni.”
“WALKER! NOOOOO!!!!!”

In a deafening explosion, Marcus Walker, once of the Liberty Navy, destroyed his ship. In the detonation, two Nomad occupied Rhineland Battleships were destroyed, clearing the way to the Alaska-New York jumpgate. One cruiser and its crew for two battleships, it was a victory in anyone’s book, except for those who knew Walker. He was a hero, nobly sacrificing himself to save his friends and leaders. But he was not dead. Deep inside the wreckage of his cruiser, Walker coughed up blood. He couldn’t see, move, or feel his left arm, and his leg was cruelly bent backwards at a strange angle, but he was alive. Not that it mattered; of course, he would die soon enough. After all, everyone knew he was dead, and it was only a matter of time until blood loss or asphyxiation finished what the explosion failed to accomplish.

For six long days and nights he faded in and out of consciousness, sometimes wishing to die, sometimes hoping that he might still live.
“Goodbye, my friends.” He thought, wistfully, as the darkness began to close in around him, “Remember me, when I am gone.” And he closed his eyes, half wondering why that screeching sound, almost like the tearing of metal, would not stop.

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

Able Spaceman 1st class Jonathan DuHurst, stationed out at Juneau Shipyard, gasped. As a scrap recoverer, he had seen some rather grisly things in his day, but nothing like this.

“Sir! We have a live one here!”

“What?” came the rather curt reply, “That’s impossible, this hulk has been floating out in deep space almost a week, the only reason we recovered it was because of the chance someone might hit it coming out of the jumpgate. No man or woman could survive out their for that long. You’re going cr- Hang on, I’ll go get a doctor”

The suddenly pale officer of the deck paged the duty officer and the duty doctor. Both 1st Lt. Stiles and Chief Surgeon Jackson arrived at the same time, but this was the surgeon’s element. Immediately he began to clear space away from the injured man, and muttered to himself.

“His arms nearly gone, He won’t keep it. That left eye is damaged too. I think I can save his sight, but not in both eyes. His leg is a little better. He’ll walk, at least. We have to get him some blood though. You! Come here!” He gestured to DuHurst, “Help me pull back this scrap of metal. With Lt. Stiles, Spaceman DuHurst, and Doctor Jackson all pulling together, they were able to pry back the metal slab pinning Capt. Walker to the deck of his once splendid bridge.


Edited by - Chupa on 11/26/2005 9:45:27 PM

"Juneau" Shipyards.

Akk, your right, fixing now.

Chief Sturgeon Jackson arrived at the same time, but this was the sturgeon’s element.

=P

haha, your so funny. >


Chapter 2

“Juni! Have you heard? It’s incredible! You’ll never guess what’s happened.”

“What is it King? I won’t know unless you tell me.”

Michael King was a tall man who had more hair in his mustache than on the top of his head. His Friend and Commanding Officer, Junko Zane, a young woman whose slightly Asian face was wrinkled in disgust, spoke again.

“Well? Are you going to tell me? Or am I going to have to go get President Jacobi to tell me?” She threatened, only half joking.

“All right spoilsport, I’ll tell. You must realize though, this is only based on rumor, I haven’t gotten any reports or anything on it, so it may not-“

“King! Just spit it out already!”

“Fine then, you ready? From what I’ve gathered… Walker is alive!”

“What? No way! King you were there! You saw him die! That explosion was big enough to take out two battleships. There is no way in, or out of, hell that anyone could have lived through it!”

“Well, all I know.” King looked a little hurt that Juni didn’t trust him. “Is that a drunk Ell-Tee buddy of mine, who happened to be stationed up in Juneau… That’s a rather interesting story in itself, how he got there, I mean. Let me tell you, If your ever standing guard and your buddies play the joke of impersonating a General, don’t bad mouth said General. He might be the real--”

“King…”

“Ok, Ok, Anyway, Stiles started spouting off about how while he was on duty they pulled a wreck out of the way of Alaska Jump Gate, and found a man inside. Alive. And not just any man, but a Captain in the Liberty Navy though he was missing an arm, and his eyes are real bad. The Doc fixed him up the best he could, but he’s being held now in some military hospital out in the Texas system. Port Arthur, I think he called it.”

Juni’s face showed a wide range of emotions, from joy to fear. Marcus, the man who introduced her to the joy of flight, and once thought dead, was alive.

“So what do we do know Juni? I mean, we can’t just glide in and visit him, can we?”

“I don’t see why we shouldn’t do exactly that. I mean, they’re not going to deny a winner of the, ahem, Lone Star for Bravery, the privilege of going in and visiting pilots wounded ‘Bravely defending the rights of the citizens of Liberty’ are they?”

“Ahh Juni, I knew there was a reason I hung out with you. Lets go, I’ll meet you in space.”

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

Edison Trent was not a happy man. What remained of his brand new Dromedary freighter had been impounded. And for what? Two hundred and Seventy-Five bloody units of light arms! “Light arms are not contraband!” He thought darkly to himself. “And since when is supply and demand not the only law when it comes to trading? Just because the Rouges and Xenos pay good money for the guns I sell, doesn’t make me a criminal does it?” Apparently it did, and he was now sitting pretty in some military hospital. Why he didn’t go directly to jail was a mystery to him, he assumed it was because of that stupid medal he one for his “act of daring bravado going far beyond his duty, and stopping an invasion of hostile forces from entering Liberty space” as that stupid citation went. Then he thought back to what happened and how he landed in this crummy hospital. He had been caught, wounded, and jailed, quite a day.

He had been running light arms from Detroit Munitions to Buffalo Base, it was a quick run with a tidy little profit, and it put him in a position to be friendly with everyone. Suddenly he heard the whine of a missile alarm, and before he could check to see who it was, his head was spinning from the rapid deceleration that could be caused only by a cruise disrupter. A voice came over his radio.

“Mr. Trent, isn’t it? This is the LSF; care to tell us what you are doing in the Badlands with a hold full of guns? You wouldn’t be gunrunning would you? It’s illegal to supply criminals with firearms, as you surely know. I think we’ll be having your ship, your guns, and a fair chunk of your cash, if you please.”

Trent knew when he was caught, and had seen that Cops show enough times to know it wasn’t worth trying to run. He cut his engines and was prepared to be boarded, when a patrol of outcasts flew out of nowhere into the patrol. Trent knew how badly outclassed the Daggers were to the new Defender, and tried to call them off.

“Outcasts Blue 1 through 4, this is Freelancer Alpha 1 dash 1, you’re gonna get slaughtered, back off now.”

The Outcast leader replied in a strange accent that Trent didn’t recognize.

“Freelancer Alpha 1-1 and LSF petrol, you are now our prizoners. Geeve up now or die.”

The two forces began to fight, and were surprisingly well matched, Trent was the deciding factor. One of the main offensive advantages of a freighter was that it is often overlooked in a fight, and this was no exception. Trent fired a full broadside into an onrushing Dagger, and before the pilot knew what was happening, he was little more than a ball of expanding gasses. Two Defenders each targeted a pair of the fighters, and, despite several gorgeous maneuvers, both Daggers were destroyed. The final Dagger targeted Trent, but this time from below and behind, where he was nearly defenseless. Powerful beams of energy ripped through Trents shield, and into his cargo hold. Guns and Ammunition spewed out of his hold, and was all that saved Trents life. As the vacuum of deep space propelled the light arms outward, they created a sort of wall between him and the enemy Dagger. Its targeting computer went bezerk, sighting on everything but Trent, and giving the Defenders just enough time to dive down and finish off the final ‘Outcast’.

Sitting up in bed, Trent laughed at the irony of his situation. When the cannons went through his hold, it set off a chain reaction among the ammunition, firing one after another in his hold, he had been shot in the shoulder three times by his own guns. Oh well, it was easier to laugh then to cry. He wondered how much time in jail he’d get, hopefully no more than a few months, they hadn’t recovered any of the guns, and he had destroyed that dagger, after all. Suddenly the door opened and two figures walked in.

“Why Trent! What are you doing here?” Asked Juni, with a smile on her face that showed she knew exactly what he was doing.

“Trent,” said King, with an equally ill hidden smile “I hear you had a run in with some of your own contraband.”

Trent had to laugh, “King! How many times do I have to tell you and your goons…”

“Yes, yes, we know,” smiled Juni, “Light arms aren’t contraband.”

Methinks I'm gonna like this story...

Why thank you. I've told you that enough times... lol

trents bum wiggle is contraband, thats why he needed to be stopped