(Phasmus' Catacombs)
Phasmus: Life is good, I think I'll check up on Namrok and his tapization process...*happily trots on over to the resin pits*
Mummy Guard: Uuuunnnnnnnnggggggg! (Hello Phasmus sir!)
Phasmus: Why hello loyal servant! How is are you today.
Mummy Guard: Uuuunnnggggggggggggggggggg (I am great sir, thank you for asking!)
Phasmus: Glad to hear it, so how is Namrok doing in his transformation?
Mummy Guard: Unnngg (Namrok?)
Phasmus: You know! Namrok, the soul that I wanted to enslave!
Mummy Guard: Uuuuuuunnnnnnnggggg (Oh, him, he said he had to go do a gameshow about a week ago and left)
Phasmus: AND YOU LET HIM GO!!!
Mummy Guard: Unnnnnnggg (But the gameshows are really cool! Watch this rerun of Gluttony.)
Phasmus: WHAT! THIS IS MADNESS! HOW COULD YOU LET HIM- hey, this is pretty cool. Jenkins, get me some munchies.
Mummy Servant: Unnnnnnnnnnnggggggggg (Yes sir! Right away sir!)
What Happened:
-Its been confirmed that Namrok HAS in fact gotten free and is doing evil in
the form of game shows on Fox.
-Also, for the time being, my character Namrok
is out of the war. Driver is parked by the studio and Nathan is in the studio
audience getting necromancy lessons during the commercial breaks.
Shortly after Namrok's escape from the Catacombs...
Phasmus is sitting in his office under City Hall, checking some numbers
and chuckling maniacally. He rapidly pages through a thick book, bound in duct
tape. A ledger containing the names of those who were to be transported to Limbo
.01 to be put to work. As he flips toward the back of the book, however, his
chuckling stops. When he reaches the last few pages, representing the last few
days of the war, he ceases to look even remotely amused, and scowls angrily at
the book. There was a discrepancy.
-Phasmus presses a button on his huge desk, and a small screen pops up. Cog's somewhat disturbing ethereal face can be seen staring back.-
Cog: Yes, sir?
Phasmus: We have another problem, Cog. Have you noticed any interesting dynamics in the number of new "workers" you've been receiving lately?
Cog: Why, yes sir. Their numbers have been decreasing for several days. I had assumed there had been a lull in the liquidations taking place.
Phasmus: Not so, my minion. If anything, my forces here have been more, heh, efficient lately. Something is happening to my victims, which is preventing them from making it to Limbo .01. At the current rate of decrease, the flow of new workers will have ground to an utter halt in a matter of days. It is necessary that the situation be remedied. WHEN I LOOSE THE ESSENCES OF MY VICTIMS, I LOOSE MONEY!!!
Cog: Understood sir. What is your recommended course of action?
Phasmus: We need to find out where they're going. Namrok is, occupied. Who else could be redirecting the destination of the defunct DSAers?
Cog: Um, sir. It hasn't been just DSAers that we have stopped receiving. The number of minions who have become non-functional in combat we've been getting has also decreased markedly.
Phasmus: WHAT? -he pulls another thick book off the top of his desk, and flips through it quickly- You're right... WE ARE LOOSING THE ESSENCES OF MY MINIONS!!! Some of those guys owed me money too... We have to find out what's going on!
Cog: I will attempt to find the answer sir, using the standard procedure.
Phasmus: No, the "standard procedure" is too slow. I don't want to loose any more of my minions souls then necessary. I have a contract promising them safe passage to Limbo .01! If something else is happening to them, that has several unpleasant legal implications. We shall need to attempt... the direct approach.
Cog: NO!!! NOT THAT! AIIIEEE!
Phasmus: Cog...
Cog: NOOOOOOO!!!
Phasmus: COG...
Cog: NOT THE DIRECT APPROACH!!!!
Phasmus: COG!!!
Cog: ahem... Yes sir? Sorry, I guess I just overreacted.
Phasmus: Well, I guess so! -grumbles something about incompetent non-corporeal beings-. Anyway, all you need to do is find a xeno-planar spectrographic resonator, compatible with Xel'Nagan meta-binary code, within three hours. Make it a cheap one too...
Cog: Oh, is THAT all I have to do? Well gee, you could have made it something challenging...
Phasmus: Oh, and run a trace on minion #8045830. He's at the front lines, and likely to become non-functional shortly. Keep track of his essence after he is destroyed, and see where it goes.
Cog: -grumble- Yes sir...
Three hours later...
The desk begins to beep. Phasmus walks into the room a few minutes later and presses a button on the edge of the large piece of furniture. Cog's face is displayed on comm. screen.
Phasmus: Progress?
Cog, sounding very tired: I.. found one.
Phasmus: Good! Send it over!
Cog: You don't want to hear how I.. got it?
Phasmus: Not really. If you feel it is important however...
Cog: Remember the Shlargs?
Phasmus: Oh, of course. How could I forget? Most disgusting things I've ever laid eyes on...
Cog: They had a resonator. Probably stolen from someone else... Anyway, to get it from them I had to rent them space in the Corporate spike.
Phasmus: Um... Not in a section where anyone else will have to go, ever, I hope.
Cog: The primary meeting chamber. Three weeks.
Phasmus: -twitch-. Well, renovating the primary meeting chamber will only cost about as much as buying two or three second hand resonators anyway. -twitch-.
Cog: I'm sorry sir. But, you see...
Phasmus: Just send it over, Cog. I have to work quickly.
There is a bright flash of green light from an alcove on the Wall behind Phasmus, leaving what could be a bomb, a laser gun, or a pair of binoculars. A strip of duct tape snaps off Phasmus's arm, grabs the thing, and places it on the desk. He begins wrapping the strange device in duct tape. Soon it is entirely infested with the powerful gray substance.
Phasmus: Good work Cog, this should be perfect for my needs. What about that trace?
Cog: The minion you selected was liquidated approximately two hours ago. His essence was about to be transported to Limbo .01. He disappeared a few minutes before we got to him.
Phasmus: Disappeared?! What do you mean? How can a stable collection of psychic and electromagnetic vibrations disappear???
Cog: I detected a very strong, dynamic source of negative resonant energy nearby. I ran a trace on a few other minions on the front lines, all of them that didn't make it to Limbo .01 were near that negative energy source when they vanished.
Phasmus: Try to track it then... That negative energy source is what we're after.
Cog: I'll try sir. It's movements are erratic at best, and it seems to vanish off the face of the earth every so often.
Phasmus: Do your best. Monitor the catacombs for it's presence. I suspect it will be coming here shortly.
Cog: I obey, sir.
Phasmus: Good. Contact me if anything else interesting takes place.
-Phasmus closes the connection and picks up the infested Xeno-Planar Resonator. Then leaves his office, and makes his way through the collapsed catacombs to a central resin pit, chamber. The very resin pit that formerly contained the freeze-dried essence of Namrok. Phasmus pauses at the lip of the bubbling pit, and raises his hands to the ceiling. Several tendrils of duct tape come down from above and lift the large metal box out of the resin. The box is placed by the entrance of the chamber. Phasmus approaches, and wipes the remaining residue off the window, revealing the empty interior-
Phasmus: That blasted lich may have escaped permanent liquidation for the time being, but he can't elude me forever. For now, however, his absence is an important asset...
-Phasmus unceremoniously pushes the metal box backward onto the tape covered, stone floor. Several pieces of the brittle dried lich remain in the bottom of the box. Phasmus opens the box and presses a small button on the inside of the lid. The box fills with a light blue liquid, which the remnants Namrok's dehydrated flesh quickly begins to absorb. Phasmus activates the Xeno-Planar resonator and tapes it inside, then closes and seals the box. A field of dull green light emanates from the small window on the box. The resonator begins to hum quietly. A few moments later, a nearby wall begins to beep, and Cog's face is displayed on a small tape screen.-
Phasmus: Yes?
Cog: I don't know what you're doing over there sir, but it seems to be working. Our subject has stopped his random movement along the front lines...
Phasmus: Good... Everything is going according to plan. I am using the resonator to amplify the vibrations from a few small remnants of Namrok's essence exponentially. Our quarry should be attracted directly to my position!
Cog: Indeed sir. It is heading directly toward you now.
Phasmus: Excellent... It shall be lured to it's doom... IT SHALL BE LIQUIDATED!!!
Meanwhile, near the city limits of Irvine...
The shrieks of the dying, and the groans of the undead perforate the air, along with the sounds of active combat. Destruction is apparent in the landscape. The VILE horde, the living and undead DSAers, the forces of Wuss, and even some stragglers from the Canadian Dominion, all working as hard as humanly (or otherwise) possible to destroy those on the opposing side. At this battlefield, only one entity is safe from the carnage; Senthin, moves like a shadow among the ranks, taking the souls of whoever is available, growing stronger by the hour. He had noticed some slight exterior force pulling on the defunct forces of VILE, and their victims, but had utterly ignored it, gorging himself on their ethereal existence whenever the opportunity arose. Senthin was preparing to examine the front lines for more to consume, when he was hit by a blast of pure, energy of the variety which he craved. He stopped and looked away from the battle field, toward the city center from which the energy was emanating. It felt as if every cannon character in CWAL prime had died, and they were now waiting in the prime plane to be consumed by him. He already knew it was too good to be true. He stops his rounds through the battle field, and heads toward the power...
The catacombs...
Phasmus has finished making preparations for the arrival of his subject. A layer of slightly glowing duct tape coats the ceiling, walls and floor of the small resin pit chamber. Namrok's box, and the resonator device are suspended over the pit by several thick tendrils of duct tape. The glowing aura created by the resonator makes the room look even more creepy then usual. Phasmus is nowhere to be seen.
The sewers...
Senthin quickly makes his way through the network of ancient catacombs and modern sewers under the city. With each step, the intensity of the power grows. As does the feeling that something is amiss. Something obviously artificial permeates the very essence of the energy he detects. Senthin continues forward, into the older, tape covered sections of the catacombs. He easily passes through the blockages created by the recent canuckilisk attack. Soon, he reaches the junction leading to the resin pit chamber in question. Slowly, cautiously, the evil spirit enters. As soon as he is within the chamber, a tape covered stone slab slides in place behind him. The tape in the room glows more brightly then it had earlier.
Senthin: What... IS THIS???!!!
He sees the metal box over the pit, the source of the amplified psychic vibrations. He readies his scythes to destroy the thing, but as he approaches the tape tendrils release their cargo, and the tiny pieces of Namrok and the accompanying hardware disappear below the surface of the resin pit. Senthin narrows his eyes, upset at walking into such an obvious trap. He turns toward the chamber's exit, and slashes at the door. It glows very brightly, and when the light fades no damage is apparent. The sound of duct tape ripping can be heard above. Senthin spins around to see Phasmus fall from the high ceiling of the chamber.
Senthin: DIEEE!!!
Phasmus: Em hmmm...
Senthin charges at Phasmus, and cuts his head off neatly at the shoulders. Phasmus casually bends down picks his head up, and replaces it.
Senthin: Phasmus... You...
Phasmus: Yes, me. If you would introduce yourself, that might be a touch more productive. I KNOW who I am.
Senthin: I am Senthin... AND YOU ARE MINE!!!
The soul eater charges at Phasmus again, this time hacking at him with all of his scythe/hands. Phasmus stands for a few seconds, and then falls apart into little pieces on the floor. The chunks of Phasmus quickly slither into the resin pit, and the fully reconstituted tape fiend crawls out a few seconds later.
Phasmus: Honestly, would I be in here if I thought you could hurt me? Save your energy, I can't even be slowed down when I'm within a few yards of a resin pit.
Senthin, seething: What... do you want?
Phasmus: My face on the one dollar bill!
And failing that, I want you
working on the assembly lines of Limbo .01 by the end of the day. You have been,
consuming entities who are rightfully mine. That makes you a top contender for
liquidation.
Senthin: Heh, you think you can snap your fingers and send me back to limbo? Limbo is MINE. I WAS IN LIMBO LONGER THEN YOUR PITIFUL RACE HAS BEEN IN EXISTENCE...
Phasmus: -twitch- And with what, race, would you be associating me? YOU THINK I'M SOME TWO-BIT UNDEAD HUMAN?! YOU THINK YOUR PITIFUL NECROMANTIC CONCEPTS CAN EVEN BEGIN TO DESCRIBE ME?!
Phasmus flails out with several strips of duct tape. Senthin easily dodges them and grabs them before they can retract. He Holds onto the tape tightly, for several seconds. Nothing happens.
Phasmus: Oh, were you looking for a soul to eat? I'm afraid you'll have to do quite a lot of work before you find something in me you can consume!
Senthin smirks slightly, and slams Phasmus into the doorway with the tape handle. The tape on the door parts slightly, and Senthin runs toward the gap. It closes before he makes it there.
Phasmus: Okay, now you will...
A loud beeping interrupts Phasmus, and Cog's face is displayed on the chamber wall.
Phasmus: What is it cog? I'm rather busy now...
Cog: DON'T SEND THAT THING TO LIMBO!!!
Phasmus: What? Why not?
Cog: I've been able to scan it since it entered the catacombs. For it to enter Limbo .01 would be BAD! Very bad...
Phasmus: Noted... Thanks Cog. Um, will the tertiary business protocol apply to this thing?
Cog nods: I believe so sir... The Level three agreement is pretty hard to escape.
Phasmus: Then, begin.
Phasmus turns to Senthin: Heh... Slight logistical problem. Just a moment.
Senthin replies by blasting a large hole in Phasmus's chest with a ball of green flame.
Phasmus: Ow... Oh, wait... Could that have hurt that bad??? Yep...
OOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!
Phasmus's eyes begin to dim slightly, and he dives into the resin pit. The comes to the surface a few moments later, and hangs onto the lip of the pool. Senthin is standing there, chuckling.
Phasmus: Seeing as how the situation has been somewhat altered, I am prepared to offer you a deal. You leave the casualties of this war comprised of my minions and their victims to me, and I'll give you, um, Namrok.
Senthin stops chuckling and steps forward.
Senthin: What do you mean Namrok?
Phasmus: Why, the non-fodder Lich of course. It would take quite a few DSA grunts to equal the sustenance you could derive from him, I dare say.
Senthin: And if I refuse to accept your deal?
Phasmus: Firstly, you will not get what I assume is a fairly precious commodity to you... And secondly, I will devote a substantial quantity of my own personal wealth to liquidating you, for all eternity if necessary. Be honest now, Namrock must be worth more to you then the 10-25% of GHW casualties who comprise my own property.
Senthin: Heh heh heh... Very well, I accept. Give me Namrok!
Phasmus: Not so fast, my enemy. I don't trust you even remotely. A contract is in order.
Senthin: Contract or no contract... Why would my signature make me honor any agreement with you?!
Phasmus: Because the contract I'm speaking of is not your typical sign and file deal... It's a level three soul binder.
Senthin's eyebrows raise: Perhaps you are not so foolish as they say...
Phasmus: WHO says I'm foolish?! -twitch-
At this point, a small vortex of green light appears, and deposits a parchment scroll in Phasmus's hand.
Phasmus: Ah, here it is. -he places a small strip of duct tape on the first X a the bottom of the scroll.- Now, if you'd be good enough to scratch something in by the other X, we could complete this transaction.
Senthin: Wait... What exactly is contained in this contract? -he snatches the scroll from Phasmus's grip-
Phasmus: It just says that I give you the contents of that box, Namrok, and you never touch the essence of any causality of this war who was either a minion or a victim of a minion of mine. Breach of contract will result in banishment to the dimension of pain for all eternity. Pretty standard really.
-Senthin quickly reads the contract, and then scratches something by the second X. The contract glows slightly.-
Senthin: There, now GIVE ME NAMROK!
Phasmus: With pleasure.
-Several thick tendrils of duct tape pull Namrok's box out of the resin pit and place it on the floor. The contents of the box are obscured by the resin covering the small window. As soon as Senthin touches the box, the Contract vanishes.-
Phasmus: Namrok is all yours!
Senthin: The transaction is complete! Now... I will FEED!!!
Senthin rips open the box, revealing the few crumbs of lich essence, the resonator, and a little blue reconstitution serum.
Senthin: YOU... YOU HAVE VIOLATED OUR CONTRACT!
Phasmus: No, not really. The box and all Its contents are yours. As for Namrok, he wasn't exactly mine to give to you, but now you have the horde's full, eternal, and legal permission to do whatever you want to him. If you can find him.
Senthin, twitching slightly: Prepare to die, worthless adhesive thing...
Phasmus: Gee, you're taking this rather seriously aren't you?
Senthin points his arm at the ceiling. There is a bright flash of light from above, and several tons of rock fall to the ground, of course crushing Phasmus and destroying the Resin Pit in the process.
Phasmus: Eep...
-Suddenly, the sealed door is forced open by a small group of Phasmus's Minions-
Minion: UNNNNGGGGGGG!!! (Here we come to save the DAYYYYY!!!)
Minion2: Uggg.. (Uggg...)
-Senthin rushes out the door, decapitating all the mummies outside in the process-
Phasmus: HEY!!! YOU VIOLATED THE CONTRACT!!!
Senthin, mocking Phasmus's voice: No, not really. I didn't touch the essence of your pathetic troops. And I guess I won't for any of the other ones I KILL!
Phasmus: You will be liquidated eventually, one way or another... -twitch--twitch-
There is no response. Senthin had already vanished, leaving Phasmus under a pile of rubble, twitching and wondering if getting involved in the war was such a good idea after all.
Here's what happened:
Senthin can no longer feed on the essences of Phasmus's minions, or their
victims (But he can still kill them)
Senthin is really irritated with Phasmus
& Co.
Phasmus is still twitching, a lot.
Regards,
Phasmus & Co.
"All opposition will be liquidated!!!"
(GHW)Changes, Pt. I(GHW)
---------------------
Aboard the MFS Yamamoto
Teleconference
Room
Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean
Time Unknown
---------------------
Adrien: Is this a secure channel?
Gesir: Yes. We have confirmed that this signal is not being intercepted.
Adrien: All right. First order of business, Rumias?
Rumias: Sensor logs and passive scans from Ann Arbor have revealed an extremely high concentration of LPDs. Apparently, this is causing a phenomenon we've named "dimensional fatigue", phase shifts in the time-space continuum.
Karim: Wait a minute. I thought veterans weren't allowed to use lame plot devices. CWAL convention, or something.
Robo-Gerbil: Apparently, they do. The difference between one of us that uses LPDs and a vet that uses LPDs is that a vet gets listened to.
Adrien: Well, first order of business is to rally what's left. Dei'Nach'r, I need you aboard the Yamamoto with all speed. When can you make it?
Dei'Nach'r: In twelva hoursh, I shoulda be able to come ifa I leave as soona as possiblhe.
Adrien: Excellent. We await your arrival. Make sure you keep a low profile. Adrien out.
------------------
MFS Yamamoto
Twelve Hours
Later
------------------
Dei'Nach'r: Iy'as rew'ka?
Adrien: Well, we desperately need all the assistance we can find. Nathen was heading towards Michigan until Fron invaded… We need to find him and plead our case. To do this task, I've acquired… that.
"That" happened to be the Griffin, a Free State thunderbird and one of the few produced before the Invasion.
Adrien: This thunderbird, a vectored-thrust plane, is capable of flying large distances without refueling. However, we need to keep a low profile and watch our fuel. To do this, I've ordered a cloaking device retrofitted in place of the weapons systems, but the cloak shortens our range 20-30%. We need to scour the American West for him and Lenny... I wanted you here because I needed your talents. So... are you ready to go hunt down someone on the highway?
Dei'Nach'r: Re'tu'a oo'cus... Wat'tu?
Adrien: Oh, that? That's nothing. Just something I've been working on in my spare time... Yes, like you said, it is a katana.
Dei'Nach'r: Ur'exa?
Adrien: No, actually, the blade is obsidian. Black volcanic glass. It's not
done, but it's coming along...
But anyway, we depart in three hours. Do what
you need to. Dismissed.
-------------
MFS Griffin
Three Hours Later
Somewhere in the
American West
-------------
Adrien: Cloaking device rating nominal. Still no sign of Nathen... We've found his Arrow, though.
(A white light flashes through the cockpit.)
Adrien: What the! Have we been hit?
Dei': No. Tru'ata rr'ux.
Adrien: Maybe... We'll just wait and see.
As the light descended upon their ship, all the instrument controls went dark and everything went black…
--------------
Time Unknown
Place Unknown
--------------
Adrien looks around. Everything is black. Then it filters through his groggy, dulled brain that his eyes are still closed. He opens his eyes, sticky with sweat and filth. He looks around.
Adrien: Ugh… Where am I? Where's Dei'?
Dei'Nach'r is, in fact, on the next table over. The "room", for lack of a better term, is shining steel and chrome, glinting in the artificial lights of the place.
Adrien: Are the rumors true? Have we in fact been abducted by these so-called "aliens" that Paranoid CWALer is so fond of speaking of?
At that moment, a strange figure literally materializes from one of the wall panels. Its elongated face, black, almond-shaped eyes and mysterious aura seemed to radiate a profound alienness. Dei'Nach'r shouts joyously.
Dei'Nach'r: Captain Tiffowillo! Is that really you?
The alien replies, in flawless Nez'chre, "Yes, it is I, Captain Tiffowillo. I thought we would never meet again, Dei'. It's been too long."
Dei'Nach'r: Yes, much too long. Oh, forgive me. Adrien, this is Captain Tiffowillo.
Tiffowillo: Greetings, clever child. You are destined for… interesting deeds ahead, all of you.
Adrien: Thank you… I guess. But who are you? Have we ever met?
Tiffowillo: Oh. I apologize. You yet perceive timespace that way… I am Captain Tiffowillo, of the Arilou A'Leelay. We have not met you, nor your race… From whence do you come?
Adrien: A very, very long way from here. But the present is much more interesting than the past. Why have you taken us here? Where are we? What are we doing here?
Tiffowillo: So many questions! A mark of inquisitiveness, to be sure. I shall start with the simple questions. You are aboard the Arilou research vessel Candlelight. The rest is a long story, beginning with the being that your Canadian Dominion scientists named HOD. He is no true deity, yet he has the power to fundamentally change the nature of realspace… We had not thought he would be so powerful so soon… But that is irrelevant. Suffice it to say that when timespace has been changed, there are signs. Signs you are able to read with the proper training and instrumentation.
Dei'Nach'r: That IS bad news. Please continue.
Tiffowillo: When timespace was altered, instrumentation in orbit around your sun detected it and relayed it back to our homeworld. We were immediately sent here as a research team to determine the cause of the incident. When we found you… we solved our problems. We can warp for Home now, as soon as we drop you off. We'll forgo erasing your memories this time.
Adrien: But can't you help us, somehow? I mean, can't you give us military aid or something?
Tiffowillo: Well, no. Rules forbid us from directly intervening.
Dei'Nach'r: Whose rules? Can't you just restore the continuum to its natural state?
Tiffowillo: No. I can't. The rules that prevent this story from being wiped from your reality matrix are the ones that forbid me from intervening. We Arilou simply don't have the technology to restore the continuum; otherwise, we would. Taking something apart is infinitely easier than putting it back together. But… I can give you this.
Tiffowillo hands Dei'Nach'r a datapad and a large sheaf of papers.
Tiffowillo: Those are the plans for a light cruiser of Precursor design. It was created by the same race that built the Canuck, a vessel you are almost all certainly aware of… But this is a military craft. It is smaller, faster, less modular and better armed. May this aid you on your quest.
Adrien: We thank you, Captain Tiffowillo. May the stars shine upon your home and family.
Tiffowillo: Thank you, Adrien. I will accept this compliment in the spirit that it is given. Now, go in peace. May we meet again.
Dei'Nach'r: Until then. Goodbye, my friend.
End of Part I
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Part II: Raid
----------------------
MFS Yamamoto
Communications Station
1220
Hours
----------------------
Adrien: This is Adrien, to all units.
Operation New Frontier begins in three hours. What's your status?
Dei'Nach'r: Irn'a w'ertu Haiphong.
Karim: Delta Squadron ready.
Rumias: Bangkok Station reporting in. All positions nominal.
Robo-Gerbil: TacCom online. Ready to coordinate.
Adrien: All right. You have your orders. Maintain radio silence until 1900 hours Honolulu time. Good luck, all of you. May the goodwill of the deities rest upon us.
----------------------
MacroTech Assembly Facility
Palo Alto,
California
1500 Hours
----------------------
Rumias: (in thick Russian accent) Hello, sirs. We would like to arrange a purchase of computer equipment, specifically your prototype systems.
Lackey: But sir, you aren't supposed to know ab… What prototype?
Rumias: Your manufacturing equipment that is due to go on the market soon. We wish to purchase it.
Lackey: But, but, but… You can't. I'm sorry.
Rumias: We are prepared to offer five hundred thousand dollars. Your company is in deep financial trouble, and we realize this would help you greatly. Will you take the deal?
Lackey: All right. It's yours. Where do you want it delivered to?
Rumias: This address, on the waterfront. ----------------------- Dei'Nach'r: A'cara! A'cara! A'cara!
The platoon of Michigan Free State expatriates stormed through the Woomera
Deep Space tracking facility, methodically hunting down security guards and
Australian Dominion troops. The sound of Michigan burst-fire rifles filled the
hallways, along with the louder chatter of submachine guns. Dei'Nach'r barked
out, "Don'ta damage de equipment. Beeee careful with it!"
Bob, his second in command for the mission, barked out an order. "Pin them
down in that conference room!"
Just then, the radio crackled.
Radio: -^v- This is Squad 17, calling for emergency backup. We're trapped in
the … (static)-^v-
Dei'Nach'r: Bob, take half see infantreey and-a stand guard-a. I'll go for
backup.
Bob: Yes, SIR!
Dei'Nach'r: Let'ss move!
Squad 17 had been in a junction between two hallways, caught in a crossfire.
Their bodies had been riddled with bullets and badly burnt, a horrible sight to
see when the rest of the team caught up to them.
Dei'Nach'r: Which one of you iss the fasstesst?
A young private by the name of Disposable stepped up.
Disposable: I am, sir!
Dei'Nach'r: You wouldn't happen to have a brother named Throwaway, would you?
Disposable: Yes, sir, I would! He's serving in the Canadian starfleet right
now.
Dei'Nach'r: (under his breath) Figures. (aloud) Well, I guess you're elected.
We're pinned down here, and I want you to stand out in the hall and draw their
fire.
Disposable: Very well, sir.
Private Disposable stands out in the middle of the hallway, and
semi-automatic fire immediately starts sounding in the halls. When the smoke
clears, Private Disposable is standing completely unharmed in the hallway.
Dei'Nach'r looks at him oddly.
Disposable: Did you want to say something, sir?
Dei'Nach'r: Uhhh… Never mind. We shall seee the results of thiss ruse…
Predictably, the troops guarding the hallway have shot themselves up with
friendly fire, effectively canceling themselves out.
Dei'Nach'r: Excellent. It worked. And, there t'iss. You, you, you and you,
wiss me!
"There" was the deep space tracking facility for the Southern Hemisphere.
This was the heart of the Australian space program and the nerve center of
Western space-tracking efforts. Half the equipment in that room could be
salvaged and reused, provided it could be transported out. Powerful
supercomputers lined the walls, but there was the problem of transporting them
out. A problem neatly solved by a few short phrases…
Dei': Get-a me the trranssport-a helicopterrs.
And so, the powerful transports, remnants from the Michigan evacuation,
buzzed off towards the Pacific Ocean with their precious cargo of detection
equipment, while the troop transports followed just after…
------------------------- Karim: You two, cover the back door. The rest of you are with me. Our
objective is the second room to the left. We have to get the goods and get out
in one hour. Let's go.
The black-ops squadron of what was once the Michigan Free State, Delta Team,
or rather, the four of them left, were positioned to strike at the United States
Naval tracking station at Guam. Dressed in black, and armed with whatever
weapons came to hand, they looked ragtag but professional. Which is what they
were.
As they peeked in the main door, a security guard slumbered next to a bank of
television monitors, a half-eaten donut sitting on the counter. Karim drew out a
needle and carefully injected the guard through his carotid artery.
Karim: That should keep him asleep for a while. Now, the monitors show that
there's a squad of fully trained troops in that room to the right, so we'll have
to avoid it. Down the hall and two turns to the right is the main tracking
facility. Load all the equipment onto the antigrav sleds we brought and get all
you can. I don't have to tell you to be quiet. Move.
And so, Delta Team made their way to the tracking station and began taking
equipment…
------------------- Like the locations before, the USNS Mercury was a space tracking site.
However, it was mobile and difficult to detect, so it was quite a task for the
Hunter/Battleship Cupertino to find it. The unarmed vessel would be easy prey
for the Cupertino, as long as they didn't have backup…
Robo-Gerbil: Officer, what's our time to intercept?
Officer: Time to intercept is: three minutes and counting. We reach weapons
range in one minute thirty.
Robo-Gerbil: Prepare the radio and the speakers. We have a message to
broadcast. (clears throat) Radio: -^v-What the hell is this? Some kind of joke? -^v-
Robo-Gerbil: -^v- This is no joke. Weapons officer, prepare to fire a warning
shot. -^v-
Weapons officer: Sir?
Robo-Gerbil: Fire on my mark- now.
A bolt of ionized plasma whizzed over the superstructure of the Mercury,
singeing a few unlucky crew members on the deck.
Robo-Gerbil: -^v- We are ready to use our weapons. Now stand down and prepare
to be boarded. -^v-
Captain: This is insane! Do they really expect to get away with this? Break
out the weapons.
(H/B Cupertino) XO: Yes, sir, we are.
Robo-Gerbil: Excellent. Launch the Frosties now. Repeat demands for
unconditional surrender constantly. We'll see when we get a response.
(Ten minutes later) Robo-Gerbil: Yes?
Radio: -^v- We can't hold out much longer against these Frosties. What are
your terms? -^v-
Robo-Gerbil: Personally, I'd throw you in the ocean, but I've been ordered to
drop you within sight of a habitable island with radio equipment and a week of
supplies. In two hours, we will reach an island. I want you to prepare your men
for disembarkment. We will provide the equipment. What is your response?
Radio: -^v- We have no choice but to accept, I suppose. At least this is
better than the last three boardings we've been in. -^v-
------------- Meanwhile, Karim and the black ops team have finished loading and are leaving
the building, when someone sets off a tripwire and the silent alarm…
Karim: Quick, you, you, and you, get the sleds to the pickup point! We'll
hold them off here!
And two squads of U.S. Marines comes running down the corridor to meet two
grenades and half a kilo of carefully placed C-4 plastic explosive. Needless to
say, there weren't too many more Marines after that. There wasn't much more of a
facility, either, but the point is, Karim et al managed to smuggle large amounts
of deep-space tracking equipment out of Guam.
---------------- Dei'Nach'r, having completed the raid on Woomera, was hiding off the coast of
Vietnam in the Hunter/Battleship Yamamoto, scouting the harbor defenses of
Haiphong with his binoculars. Two transports, loaded with everything that could
be spared from the Murmansk and San Francisco garrisons, flanked the Yamamoto,
floating low in the water. It was about dusk in the port city, so the streets
were nearly deserted, most sane people having left work and headed home for the
evening meal.
Dei'Nach'r: Hmmm… It iss time-a. -^v- Commence-a naval bombarde-ment. -^v-
And with that order, the H/B swiveled its mighty cannon to face the coastal
fortress and the barracks defending the city and its harbor, vital to the
commerce of the nation of Vietnam. In a puff of smoke, both facilities were
vaporized and the transports began lumbering up to the coasts…
~~~
The tank columns rumbled through the dark, lamp-lit streets of Haiphong a
mere three hours later. The citizenry, having gotten used to revolutionaries
taking over the city, had demanded an official parade of tank columns. So, all
three tanks left to the MFS forces rumbled down the main thoroughfare to City
Hall, located near the center of the city. Dei'Nach'r, riding in the first tank,
waved to the civilians gathered on the streets to watch the pathetic little
parade.
Civilian 1 (to civilian 2) (in Vietnamese): That's not much of an army, is
it?
Civilian 2 (to civilian 1) (also in Vietnamese): Actually, that's the second
biggest army I've seen so far.
And with the arrival of the Free State troops in front of City Hall,
Dei'Nach'r clambered out of the tank, a folded scrap of cloth in his hand. As he
walked up to the flagpole, a bitter smile crossed the feline's lips for a
moment, until it was washed away in a sea of solemnity. In a ceremony performed
once before, in better times, he ceremonially lowered the Vietnamese flag and
slowly, slowly raised the worn, tattered colors of the Michigan Free State…
~~~
And suddenly, it wasn't easy anymore. The remaining Frosties, having been
modified once again, this time for jungle combat, had been placed on garrison
duty and the human troops and tanks been sent out to capture Hanoi. Having
raided the armories in Haiphong, the 2nd Army of the Pacific had gained an air
division and two tank columns and sent a force up the Red River to capture the
strategic hydroelectric plant, powering the city of Hanoi. However, the city was
heavily garrisoned, and after the capture of Haiphong, troops had been placed on
a high alert status. However, the capture of the armories had weakened the
Vietnamese army as much as it had strengthened Michigan's. So, the Vietnamese
were forced to fight at a significant disadvantage, which would be even more
strengthened by the next few minutes…
Dei'Nach'r: U'ta e'rw wee'ty x'ae?
Radio: -^v- (static) taken control facilities (static) light casualties.
Signal b-ing j-m—d (silence) -^v-
Dei'Nach'r sits and stares at the radio unhappily for a while, until another
signal pierces the jamming.
Radio: -^v- This is Captain Peabody speaking. We've managed to pierce the
jamming and are holding out in the control room. Shutting off power delivery…
now.
And, in a few seconds, the lights in the city of Hanoi flicker and die. A few
seconds later, the screaming of jet engines can clearly be heard in the night,
piercing the jungle stillness. Muffled explosions, and the command center of
Vietnamese forces in the city had been bombed into rubble. More explosions
signified collateral damage against the barracks and garrison facilities, before
the fighter/bombers had to head home for repair and refuel. Slowly, slowly, the
tanks rumbled forward and men marched in lockstep alongside, providing air and
ground support for the tanks.
~~~
In brutal street-to-street warfare, the Vietnamese Army, completely
unprepared for an attack without its power supply, was in chaos. Scattered knots
of resistance continued in apartment blocks and around the Capitol, but for the
most part, the Army of the Pacific had taken the city. Unit commanders drifted
into the makeshift field command on the outskirts of the city, reporting in to
Dei'Nach'r individually. As 4th Sergeant Anderson entered the facility, he saw
Dei'Nach'r poring over a map of the city and a map of northwestern Vietnam.
Dei'Nach'r: Re'a nu'ani cr'va, cu'pin sec'sa… Yess?
Anderson: Sir, just wanted to report that we've captured the Hanoi Armory,
resulting in a strengthening of our forces by 65 percent.
Dei'Nach'r: Excellent. Adrien-a will be mosst pleased…
Anderson: Sir, with all due respect, what are you looking at?
Dei'Nach'r: Oh, thiss is a map-a of our objectives. We are trying to capture
thiss strategic-a river delta and the hydroelectric plant-a. This-a is what-a we
call the Haiphong Corridor. We are waiting-a for shipments of tantalum down the
river, which we need desperately. If we have done all this, we simply sit tight
and wait.
--------------------- Adrien sat on the prow of the Hunter/Battleship MFS Lake St. Clair. One of
the earliest H/B's, it had a large cargo hold instead of more advanced targeting
systems, acquired at the Palo Alto coup. A packet of three H/B's, the Lake St.
Clair, the Petoskey, and the Wolverine, had been assigned to this vital mission
to secure the nickel resources of this island. Adrien had completed his
disguise, and was ready to land in Noumea, the capital. He had brushed his hair
back to completely cover his elven ears, essentially disguising himself for the
most part. He commandeered a lifeboat, and rowed his way toward shore.
With his hooded cloak covering his face, he wandered into the French
Governor's office, fully intending to speak with the Governor. A secretary
stopped him.
Secretary: Sir, do you have an appointment?
Adrien: Actually, I don't.
Secretary: Then you'll have to go next door to wait until he's available.
Adrien: All right. What's next door.
Secretary: Oh, nothing. It's just the Canadian Embassy.
Adrien: Uh, um, no thanks. I'd rather, uh, take a walk. I'll be back in an
hour. Is that all right?
Secretary: Oh, that should be fine.
-------- Adrien, on his walk around this small town, notices out of the corner of his
eye someone who seems to be following him. He stopped, confused, and the man
immediately seemed to be engrossed in a display of "native" beads created on
computer lathes. Adrien shakes his head and keeps walking, but ahead, turns into
an alley and blends perfectly into the shadows, thanks to his skill and his dark
cloak. The man stops near the mouth of the alley, confused, and in a flash,
Adrien grabs him, spins him around and pins him with his arms under him before
the man could react.
Adrien: Who are you and why have you been following me?
Man: I haven't been following you, eh!
Adrien: Oh, haven't you? Let's just see, here. (pulls out the man's wallet)
Aha. So you're John MacDonald of the Canadian Dominion, hmm? Is that really your
name? Who are you?
Man: Fine. You've got me. I work for the Canadian Embassy. I was ordered to
find you and bring you back to Canada for execution.
Adrien: On what charges?
Man: Messing with the great and munificent Emperor Fron.
Adrien: Really? I should just kill you and leave you here. I don't care
whether you've got family, a wife, children. But, I'm not going to. Go tell your
Emperor Fron not to mess with the Unnamed Faction. And remember, I let you live.
And on that last word, Adrien whacks the man on the back of the neck gently
but firmly. He collapses in a heap. He checks the man's pulse, finds it to be
steady, straightens his clothes and walks back toward the Governor's Office.
-------------- Secretary: Ah, you're back. Just head right in.
(Adrien walks in.)
Governor: ( in a strong French accent) Ah, oui, monsieur, you wanted to see
me?
Adrien: Yes, actually, I did. I wanted to speak with you about control of the
island. We desperately need the resources and facilities this island offers. And
so, we're prepared to make you a deal. We want you to declare independence from
France. We know they'd be glad to let you go. Join our forces, and we pay you 2
million dollars US. You'd still keep your job here, administrating day-to-day
affairs, and we'd only intrude on your duties the few times we'd need to,
because we are merely concerned with industry, and you don't interfere with our
problems. Do you accept?
Governor: This is a bit of a hasty decision to make. And if we didn't declare
independence from France?
Adrien: Would that be a workable solution?
Governor: Ah, oui. We could do that. Declare allegiance to both France and
your forces. That way, we would have the protection of both France and you.
Adrien: All right. That should work. Here's your funds. (hands Governor a
credit card) I'm sure you'll find my credit's good. Or, if you wish, we could
pay you in cash, if necessary.
Governor: That's all right, I trust you. But who do you REALLY work for,
monsieur?
Adrien: (smiles) You could say I'm the chief diplomat of the Michigan Free
State. And you, sir, are now the governor of the New Caledonia Protectorate.
The Governor looks own, bewildered at the last statement, while Adrien slowly
steps out the door…
------------- Adrien: All units, report.
Dei'Nach'r: The equipment has been secured and is on its way to New
Caledonia. The Haiphong Corridor has been taken, as well.
Rumias: We have taken the manufacturing equipment and are now installing it
in San Francisco.
Robo-Gerbil: The Mercury has been captured and is on its way to the
rendezvous point.
Adrien: Excellent. In three weeks, I want you to meet at New Caledonia. I
realize this runs the risk of centralization and another Detroit, but it's a
chance we'll have to take. Adrien out.
--------------------- In the afternoon sun, Robo-Gerbil, monitoring the work at New Caledonia Port
Facility, saw Adrien walking up, his cloak flapping behind him. Robo-Gerbil
noticed a large sheathed katana strapped to his back, but was too polite to
comment. Adrien looked around him, and said,
Adrien: How's work coming? The estimates said the Project would be finished
about now.
Robo-Gerbil: It's just about complete. We're just putting the final touches
on the interior and the external paint. The Reality Grounding fibers have been
installed, courtesy of recent research into a covered-up event known as the
Magellan Incident.
(Paranoid CWALer swims out of the ocean, walks onto the beach and starts
screaming.)
Paranoid: I TOLD YOU IT WAS A COVER-UP!!! I WAS RIGHT!! FOR ONCE IN A STORY,
I WAS RIGHT!!!
(Paranoid CWALer stops screaming, runs off the beach and jumps into the
ocean.)
Robo-Gerbil: Hmm. Odd fellow. Anyway, everything else has been completed,
thanks to the diverting of all factories in San Francisco, Murmansk, the
Haiphong Corridor and here at New Caledonia. We should be completely finished in
a few hours. Would you like a tour?
Adrien: Would I! I've been looking forward to this for a long, long time.
Show me the way!
Robo-Gerbil: Well, all right. That's it, over there. We had a hard time
keeping it hidden from spysats, but nobody even knows we HAVE New Caledonia yet.
Adrien: (gasps) It's beautiful!
And it was. The sleek, organic lines of the Precursor light cruiser looked
strangely out of place in the square, boxy hangar. It looked like a bird, a
semi-cylindrical frame with trifold wings that converged at the ends, relatively
similar in shape to a Romulan Warbird or a swallow with wings outstretched. It
even had a "beak", the housing for the main disruptor array. Some craftsman had
shaped it in the form of a bird's beak, looking very appropriate, given the rest
of the ship. The darkness of the main FTL engine, mounted in the back,
contrasted with the gleaming nickel-tantalide alloy of the ship and the
under-wing graviton cannon. The impulse engines, mounted on the wingtips, gave
the whole thing an otherworldly appearance.
Robo-Gerbil: We've named it the MFS Windseeker We're ready for the
boarding ceremony just as soon as we can round everybody up. We want to wheel it
out onto the launch pad beforehand, so that will take a while. But, it's just
about ready to go!
----------- On a modified hoverpad, the command staff of the Unnamed Faction floated next
to the docking bay doors, the rest of the crew already having boarded. The
gigantic doors slid open, and with a hum of antigrav units, the hoverpad floated
in and settled on the docking bay floor. The small group slowly made its way up
to the bridge, save for Rumias and R. Gesir, who headed toward engineering. In a
few minutes, they arrived at the smallish bridge of the Windseeker. A viewscreen
dominates the front wall, currently transparent and showing the deep blue of the
South Pacific. Various consoles dot the bridge, and a chair, presumably for the
Captain, sits in the middle.
Adrien: (looking around) Wow. This is it. The flagship of our fleet.
Dei'Nach'r, you're the only one with piloting experience. You've got the helm.
(Dei'Nach'r settles down at the helm, conveniently marked "Helm Control".)
Adrien: Robo-Gerbil, your console is the one with the direct neural port.
You've got weapons, shields, internal systems and the Automated Repair Unit
controls.
(Robo-Gerbil scampers over to the gerbil-sized console/neural jack.)
Adrien: And finally, Karim, you've got the Ops station: internal security
systems, communications, sensors and life support.
(Karim walks over to the last remaining console.)
Rumias: (over ship's intercom) -^v- Engineering reporting. All systems
nominal. -^v-
(Adrien settles down in the Captain's Chair. He draws his cloak tighter
around him and checks a console.)
Adrien: All systems look ready. Power up main thrusters. Dei'Nach'r, prepare
us for liftoff.
The thruster engines glow red, then orange, then yellow, then white-hot.
Slowly, slowly, the ship starts moving off the ground and into the air, finally
being lost in the Pacific afternoon sky.
---------------------- Intern: Scientist Bob! Scientist Bob! I need you over here, now!
Chief Scientist Bob: What is it now, boy?
Intern: (salutes stiffly) Sir, satellite G56 just detected an unauthorized
launch off an island in the Southern Pacific. Permission to inspect.
Chief Scientist Bob: You fool! That satellite's reading a mass of 850 metric
tons! There must be something wrong with that satellite. See? The readings just
fuzzed out.
----------- Karim: Sensors are reading a small object in orbit. It's a Canadian spysat,
sir, ID number G56.
Adrien: Excellent. Prepare the graviton cannon.
Robo-Gerbil: Cannon ready.
Adrien: All right, then. Fire at will.
A small burst of hyper-accelerated gravitons tears at the structure of the
spysat, and soon, the tidal forces tear it apart.
---------------- Chief Scientist Bob: See? Now we're not getting any readings from that
satellite. Must have been a problem with the sensors or the datastream or
something.
Intern: But sir, we're picking the bogey up on three other satellites now.
Chief Scientist Bob: Then get it on visual, moron!
Intern: Yes, sir. Entering visual range in 5, 4, 3, 2…
(The Intern frantically punches some buttons on his console, and an image
pops up on the monitor.)
Chief Scientist Bob: Oh. My. God. Get me Emperor Fron. NOW!
----------- Chief Scientist Bob: And as you see, this ship is clearly of Precursor
design. We believe, however, that it has been significantly modified. The
weapons systems aren't nearly as good as the ones on the Canuck or the
Blackvoid, but they can easily overwhelm any other vessel, including
battlecruisers. That, we believe, is due to the dual weapons systems that can be
fired simultaneously. Also, due to the sheer size of the engines, we believe it
is capable of going much faster than any ship currently in existence, including
the Canuck.
Fron, however, isn't listening. He is clearly lusting for that ship, evident
by the thin stream of drool trickling out the corner of his open mouth.
Chief Scientist Bob: Emperor Fron? Sir?
Fron: Oh, sorry. (wipes his mouth) Anyway, I want that ship. Find out who it
belongs to. Buy it if you can, board it if necessary. But I want that ship.
Chief Scientist Bob: Um, sir, finding out who it belongs to won't be a
problem. Look…
And on the screen, as if on cue, a series of floodlights turn on. First, the
floodlights illuminate the name of the ship, the Windseeker. More ominous would
be the second set, that shined upon the freshly painted flag of the Michigan
Free State…
The Unnamed Faction, in a series of raids, has taken over New Caledonia and a
small chunk of northern Vietnam and raided Guam and Australia. Most importantly,
they have built a ship off of Precursor designs, a light combat cruiser. (Read
the description in the story.)
Woomera, Australia
1525
Hours
----------------------
Guam
1720 Hours
-------------------------
USNS Mercury
Pacific Ocean
1735
Hours
-------------------
Crew of the USNS Mercury. This is the
Hunter/Battleship Cupertino. Surrender your ship now or prepare to be boarded.
(Aboard the Mercury)
Robo-Gerbil: Prepare the Mark II Frosties for amphibious
mode. Are we within range of motion?
Radio: -^v- This is the Captain of the Mercury. We
wish to speak with your ranking officer at once. -^v-
Guam
1645 Hours
-------------
Near Haiphong, Vietnam
Hunter/Battleship
Yamamoto
1800 Hours
----------------
New Caledonia
1615 Hours
---------------------
Later
--------
Government Office
--------------
2000 Hours
New Caledonia
--------------
New Caledonia Port Facility
Three Weeks
Later
---------------------
One Hour Later
New Caledonia Port Facility
-----------
Dominion Research Station
London,
Canada
----------------------
Bridge
MFS Windseeker
-----------
Dominion Research Facility
London,
Canada
----------------
Emergency Meeting
Castle Cattle Prod
London,
Canada
-----------