Crossover The Greater Game (Babylon 5/BattleTech)
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BF110C4
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Probable an artifact of the EA doctrine in which accurate and fast firing firepower destroys any feasible threat long before entering point blank range. In that sense the incredible tough armor and structure of the mechs is something the armored corps has yet to internalize in their tactics because its hard to imagine anything surviving the plasma and and artillery barrage this mechs can dish before the BT short range weaponry comes into play.
Adventwolf
Well-known member
Here and during the meeting they mention a place that doesn't exist. Coromodir is the name of the Capital and the Reach or Aurigan Reach is the name of the area.
While ComStar might be a agitator for the one causing trouble in the Reach it doesn't make much sense. If the Precentor in the Reach has gotten an idea that Lord Arano has information on the Argo and Outpost Nautilus then their involvement becomes more likely as they would want the region distracted and fighting so they don't go looking for Star League tech.
Another player is the Taurians but not the main government. Instead it would be factions that believe that taking back the colonies would make them stronger for the "inevitable and immediate Davion invasion".
And then we have everyone's favorite March Lord Michael "I deserve to be First Prince" Hasek-Davion. With Hanse in his backyard and the Cappies too weak to be considered a immediate threat his power and influence has dropped. He might be trying to stir trouble on the border so he has a target for glory and fame by "stabilizing the area" either through conquest or other means.
Too bad for whoever is pulling the strings that the EA has been asked in to garrison the area and investigate with a joint task force. The military presence alone will reduce the stress the raids were causing and the working relationship of the three Periphery powers will be stabilized by outside influence.
Chapter 26
Babylon 3
Ceti Star System
Inauguration Day was absolutely as busy as expected, the sky around the station choked with drop ships milling around or hanging in space to watch things unfold. While the event would be televised, there was much to be said for seeing it all first hand, especially as Earth Force was going to be putting on various fighter displays and a lightshow. Keeping the mass of vessels in at least some sort of order was a major headache, one that was distinctly unwelcome on top of the existing migraine of handling a full house of dignitaries.
"The Marik ship is locked down in the VIP Dock," Major Lewis Krantz reported. "That's the last one, the Liao and Kurita ships are already locked away."
"I trust there's plenty of distance between those docks?"
"Absolutely sir, and I have round the clock guards on bay access."
That was probably a wise choice. The way the local powers hated each other made the Narn and Centauri conflict look like bickering children. They were more polite about it, but the odds of an assassination happening on this station were going to be high for a long time.
"How about traffic control, what's that looking like?"
"Busy, but we've got the various civilian ships divided up into blocks. Space Lanes are clear and we have two squadrons on crowd control."
"Good, we're expecting the President any minute now, along with the last two House Lords. If anyone's going to make a move, it'll be then."
"I'll keep the defense grid heated up sir," Krantz nodded.
"On standby, but not deployed. No need to spook the guests unless we have to."
This would be the great test, and one of the most nerve wracking moments of his career. General Walter Smits was an old soldier. He'd earned his wings in the border wars at the turn of the century before commanding a battlegroup against the Dilgar. Since that time, he'd been part of the Colonial Defence command, organising the various patrols and anti-piracy flotillas defending Earth's colonies, which had transitioned into running Minbari Blockades in the last war.
Today though, in this new reality, he was Military Governor of Babylon Three, several trillion tons of space station, hundreds of light years from home, representing what was best in the Earth Alliance. A technological and industrial wonder, it was designed to help foster business and trade between Earth and the Inner Sphere, while also serving as neutral ground for the great houses to speak. Whether it did any of those things remained to be seen.
In any case, General Smits would do his part. As one of the most senior officers left in the Force, he had been first choice for the assignment, his experience in dealing with the assorted and often hostile colonial administrations hopefully preparing him for the day to day realities of this mission. Smits wouldn't have to worry about negotiations or diplomacy at least. Earth was sending its own specialized Ambassador for that, but he'd still be responsible for making sure the various House Ambassadors were happy. He was absolutely dreading that.
Still, command of Babylon Three was a highly prestigious posting, a nice final assignment before he retired in a few years time. Until then, he was determined to make the station a success and leave a well structured and proven routine for his successor.
So far things had gone well for Babylon 3. Construction had been smooth after Earth Force had taken over security for the project rather than leave it in the hands of contractors. There had been no sabotage, no disasters or mishaps. For such a massive project, it was somewhat surprising. The station itself was just over six miles long, a metal cylinder with extensive docking facilities and the ability to house and support a third of a million people indefinitely. The Babylon stations were all designed to be self sustaining, with extensive food production capacity, enough genetically tweaked plants to keep the air fresh and breathable, plus machine shops to fix anything that broke. They could even refine their own fuel from raw hydrogen mined from the gas giants deeper in system.
The station had a permanent population of a few tens of thousands, which was expected to grow massively. Tourism was predicted to be the key driver. Curiosity about the Earth Alliance was high and this station offered a far easier destination than the long haul to Tortuga for most people. All the various shop fronts and kiosks were long since sold out and awaiting their owners. Restaurants and bars were looking forward to making a fortune each, while advertisers had bought every inch of available space to hawk their wares.
In terms of protection, the station had a respectable defense grid. Earth Force had decided against any capital class guns as there was no need. The hull sported nothing bigger than light pulse cannons and rapid fire interceptors, which was considered sufficient. It could defend itself, but would rely on its four squadrons for any offensive missions. That said, it would be policy to keep a warship on station somewhere close by as a response force.
Internal security was a greater concern. With so much traffic and the intricacies of House Politics, not only did the station have a robust security detachment, it also had a company of Marines for more direct threats. On top of that, far less obvious, was a field branch of the EIA to keep an eye open for anything happening on the station, or nearby.
The only major change to the design had been the addition of docking ports specifically tailored to locally produced dropships. Rather than the modular EA built freighters that unloaded pallets in zero gravity, provisions had been made for a few hundred universal docking rings to facilitate the expected local traffic.
The location had been easy to choose, but had unlocked it's own set of mysteries. The Ceti system was within Lyran claimed territory relatively close to the more famous Tau Ceti star system, better known locally as New Earth. Both of those stars had been Earth Alliance colonies back home, so there was a certain familiarity with them, and that is where things started to get odd.
New Earth had become very familiar to the construction crews, it was their main choice for shore leave and the influx of traffic to Babylon 3 promised to boost the economy on New Earth too. They had been happy to let Earth scientists survey the planet and it had turned out to be identical to its equivalent in Alliance territory a universe away.
But Ceti was different. Here, it was an unremarkable rock which had been untouched, apart from a very brief Terran Alliance outpost. The Lyrans had no objections to leasing the system to Earth for the duration of the Babylon project, as it was otherwise worthless. Only its location within one jump of each major power made it of any interest.
But back home, Ceti had been habitable. Indeed more than that, in antiquity, it had been the homeworld of the Garmak species, a belligerent empire that had been early rivals to the Centauri. The Garmak had been the superior of the three major nations which had risen to fill the power vacuum after the Great Wars of a thousand years earlier, with the Orieni being the third. Unfortunately for the Garmak, they had decided to pick a fight with the Minbari, considering the isolationist power a paper tiger hiding behind whispered legends and fears. Like humanity several centuries later, they were proven violently incorrect. The Minbari crushed the Garmak, but unlike the war with Earth, the Minbari maintained control of themselves. There was no calls to genocide, they simply obliterated the Garmak military and went home.
The miracle of survival didn't last long, as the Centauri arrived shortly after and enslaved their former rivals, initiating the first major expansion of the Centauri Republic as a superpower. The Garmak persisted, but eventually were driven to extinction. What was left of their civilization was bombed to nothing after an ill fated rebellion during the Centauri/Orieni war. The Centauri abandoned the planet soon after as their empire contracted, clearing the way for humanity to claim it, just as the biosphere was recovering from the bombardment.
None of that history had happened here. The planet had never been habitable, its rocks had never been able to support even simple life. There was no real reason why not, especially as all the pieces were there and habitable worlds seemed unusually common in this universe. Yet Ceti had never become one of them. The Garmak never existed, nothing had.
It wasn't just here either. An expedition to Zeta Turanae, the location of Centauri Prime, had likewise found only lifeless rocks. Each major League Homeworld, again, lifeless. And yet worlds like Aquila, Sirius, Proxima, planets inhabitable and claimed by the Alliance back home were likewise habitable worlds here. As were several known League colonies Earth had fought over during the Dilgar invasion. But not their homeworlds. The pattern seemed to be that habitable colony worlds were identical, but not any homeworlds apart from Terra itself.
That was of course an impossible coincidence. How could all the planets known to birth sentient life be barren, but other perfectly habitable worlds were not? There was no pattern regarding location, star type, age, nothing. The only thing those worlds had in common was that they were homeworlds of known species. Even the homeworlds of semi-sentient creatures who might have one day evolved to true sentience, like the Nakaleen feeder or the Zarg, were similarly barren.
Several scientific organisations were currently working with the Explorer Division to find out why. So far, no trace of orbital bombardments or other obvious interference had been detected, but such coincidences were absurdly unlikely. The sense of cosmic dread was, however, mitigated by the fact that IPX had found that their maps of known Quantium deposits also turned out to be accurate. And of course, the reserves in this universe were completely untapped.
"General, the Presidential escort just signaled." Major Krantz leaned over the text display scrolling across his main control panel. "They are about to make their jump, requesting final clearance."
"Double check their entry point." Smits ordered. "Still empty space?"
"Yes sir, we're all green."
"Clearance approved." Smits nodded. "Alert all squadrons, here we go."
It took another couple of minutes before the first ship arrived above Ceti, a clean jump directly to the pirate point high above the barren world. It was closely followed by four others, a quintet of Omega class destroyers, led by the Alexander under General Hague once again. The ships performed their own checks of the immediate area before sending their own approval for the rest of the task force to deploy.
The President had elected not to travel in EarthForce One this time, the diplomatic liner not best suited to defend itself from determined attacks. It wasn't just President Santiago, but also Archon Steiner and First Prince Davion all arriving together, the temptation of eliminating all three leaders necessitating some precautions. Another couple of destroyers arrived, then between them, in a blinding flash of blue, arrived the Presidential transport, the EAS Poseidon.
The Alexander and her ships took up vanguard positions around the President, more Omegas arriving to fill out the escort. The Poseidon was substantially larger than the already hefty destroyers surrounding it, the prototype supercarrier immensely bulky and ungainly looking thanks to its blocky hangar decks. While not designed for direct combat, the Poseidon had enough firepower to adequately protect itself, including the same heavy weapons as the Omega, and an absolutely ridiculous number of missiles, but that wasn't really the point. Destroyer after destroyer continued to jump into the system and form up beside the carrier, an expanding sphere of grey steel. It took half an hour for the entire fleet to arrive, ninety destroyers in total surrounding the supercarrier, the biggest deployment since the Battle of Proxima.
Santiago was, of course, making a statement. He didn't need that many ships to escort him. Indeed he needed none at all, nor did he need the Poseidon to serve as his transport when any destroyer would be satisfactory. He knew the news agencies of the galaxy would be here watching, and he knew the great powers and those who guided them would also be paying close attention. This was a message to them, a demonstration that he could send this many ships this far from home on a mission this unnecessary.
He knew as well as they did what five ships had done to Sian. What could ninety do? The Poseidon and her bulk was just the sugar on top, a warship far heavier than anything on local records to underline the fact that the same industry that had made the Babylon station could just as easily make weapons of war. This was, of course, at the limit of what he could send. Rather than a casual deployment, it had taken immense coordination and represented almost the entirety of Earthforce's expeditionary capacity. But the other great powers didn't know that, and Santiago wanted today to be all about generating awe.
The assembled fleet began its short journey to the station, with each destroyer holding position around the carrier. The group then launched their full airwings, thousands of fighters again assuming defensive positions around the formation, following the flight plan that ended with the Poseidon facing Babylon 3 a few miles out. For most of the galaxy, today was probably the first time most citizens of the Inner Sphere were getting a good look at the Earth Alliance. Santiago wanted it to be unforgettable.
"Presidential shuttle is on its way," Krantz reported. "The Archon and First Prince will launch after the President docks."
"I want close escort on all three of those transports," Smits ordered clearly. "Put so many Starfuries out there that they could walk to the station."
This was the bit that was giving Smits palpitations. As long as the President was on the carrier, he was all but untouchable, but on a shuttle, it was different. There were a hell of a lot of civilian and unregistered ships lurking around and while his pilots were keeping them back and trying to scan each ship, any one of them could pop off a barrage of missiles or a salvo of laser fire from hidden weapon banks. He watched the procession like a hawk. Only when all three shuttles successfully landed did he relax a little.
"Security has secured a route from the docking bay to the conference hall," Major Krantz relayed. "Shall I give the go order for the other guests?"
"Do it." The General pulled himself up from behind his console and straightened up his uniform with a decisive tug. "I'll head down there and start shaking hands. Call me immediately if anything sets on fire or otherwise explodes."
"Aye sir."
In that moment he was undecided if that would be a good thing or a bad one.
The main transit terminal was not yet operational. Besides the station personnel and diplomatic staff, Babylon 3 was not yet open to the public. For now at least, the entire ingress point with customs and passport checking stations were empty and unmanned, not that anyone would likely ask the sort of people currently roaming the station for identification. Instead ranks of officers and enlisted stood in their dress uniforms, four ranks deep, waiting for the final tranche of guests. With these arrivals, the station would set about its business at last.
The Presidential shuttle had arrived first but Santiago had insisted on waiting for the other two royal vessels to dock, sleek and well decorated drop shuttles that made Centauri ships look drab and cheap. Smits had to wait with the rest of the honor guard until half an hour later, the four last people on his list arrived, meandering through the docking bays into the terminal itself..
"Mr. President." General Smits snapped a salute to his Commander in Chief. "Welcome to Babylon 3."
"General, thank you." Luis Santiago responded with a casual salute in return, the former Senator from Buenos Aires projecting an easy confidence. He didn't put on any air of arrogance or superiority, his manner was more like a school teacher with a calming smile and the feeling he would always have the time to indulge his students. It was a persona of course. Santiago was a career politician and as sharp and ruthless as any who had risen to such heights, but that pleasant easiness had served him well in the elections. "It's a great pleasure to be here, and a relief. Wasn't convinced this place would still be here when we arrived."
It was told as a joke with a gentle laugh, but the message was sincere.
"We have the situation well in hand, Mr. President. We've had no incidents at all."
"Good, if anything was going to happen, it would be today. You don't mind if my security detail double checks everything?"
"Not at all, sir."
It didn't matter if Smits had objected, he'd already noted a team of hard looking men in dark suits breezing past security, waving identi-cards that opened every door in the Alliance. He also knew there were at least ten Psi Cops deployed at key positions, ten that he knew about anyway.
The second guest was also very familiar.
"Madam Levy, I can't imagine how you must be feeling."
"Overwhelmed." The former President shook his hand. "To see this place actually functioning, it's incredible."
"Maybe you'll actually sit back and enjoy your retirement now?" Santiago chided with mild amusement. "I've known a lot of lobbying agents in my time, all complete amateurs compared to this woman."
"After the loss of the first station, there was a powerful movement to cancel the project. After the loss of the second..." She sighed heavily. "Yet here we are. We fought for this, pushed for it, begged, borrowed, and stole to get to this point. It will be worth it."
"I have no doubt Ma'am." Smits allowed a real smile. Levy had been worn out and exhausted by the presidency, which was understandable, but this project had restored much of her fire.
The next two arrivals were strangers to him, but their faces were known across the galaxy. He straightened up and put on his best smile.
"Archon Steiner, welcome to Babylon 3."
"A pleasure to be here General." She allowed him to take her hand in the formal style, the Archon exquisite in a frosty coloured gown that accentuated her pale features and hair. "This place is even more magnificent than I had expected, a true testament to what cooperation may achieve."
"I agree entirely Ma'am." He bowed, then pivoted. "Likewise, welcome aboard First Prince."
This time he offered a salute which was returned perfectly, Ian Davion in his own full dress uniform.
"Lot of hard work here, General. You'll make this place the envy of everyone else."
"Perhaps, but that was not our intention sir."
Ian laughed. "Of course it was. Congratulations on a job well done General. Now, I assume there's some sort of lunch to be attended?"
"Right this way, produce from our own farms and orchards."
"Should be different."
The Babylon station had been built to have every amenity and luxury, but during construction, it had become very apparent that Earth's opinion of luxury fell somewhat short of everybody else. Whereas even the highest ranked EA diplomat was happy with simulated gravity, actual water showers, and two steel walled rooms about the size of an inner city studio apartment, that didn't really work for the representatives of the Great Houses. With a lot of help from the Lyrans, Earth had dramatically upgraded their facilities to something altogether grander. Diplomatic quarters had been moved out to the gardens and were now stone villas surrounded by trees and flowerbeds, all lavishly decorated. The Council chambers were wood paneled, lit by chandeliers and housed oil paintings of various landscapes from Earth selected for their neutrality.
Most of the rest of the station retained its plain utilitarian design. Grey was the dominant color and most of the surfaces were given little more than corrosion resistant paint. The markets, bars, consular offices, and corporate sectors were all extremely bland, but walking into the diplomatic quarter was like entering another land. Nestled between the villas was the great hall, a place for balls and banquets to serve as something of a social hub for the nobility. It was again a building in its own right, set among gardens that would otherwise have been a public park, a stone faced edifice with great ornate doors and its own staff of butlers and maids from the highest quality hotels on Earth. This was where the functions so beloved by the various aristocrats would play out with all the intrigue and positioning that entailed, all starting today.
The ballroom at the heart of the hall was already busy, throngs of immaculately dressed individuals mingling and meandering, making deals, spreading rumors, plotting. Most paused and glanced across as the first of the real VIPs began to arrive, spearheaded by President Santiago with the masters of House Steiner and Davion alongside. In a world of image and presentation, the arrival of the rulers of these three entities together was obviously symbolic. Lines had long been drawn, friends and enemies were in the process of being sifted. This showed where the EA was aligning.
"President Santiago. An honor."
He had barely made it through the doors when the voice interrupted his plans, the President of the Earth Alliance fixing a deceptively pleasant smile.
"Anton Marik." Santiago had been well briefed on the people he was expected to meet and their relative value. Anton was considered a high value individual, so the President extended a hand and offered some indulgence. "The honour is mine, I was surprised when such a high ranked person was named as Ambassador."
That was, of course, a lie. If Janos Marik could have sent his brother even further away, he would have.
"It was a surprise, but I consider it an opportunity." Anton hid his disappointment well. "Improving ties with your Alliance is a key element in League policy. I am humbled to be at the forefront of that."
"My trade office has approved a partnership deal to manufacture new jump ships in League territory," Santiago recalled. "We can probably have the papers signed this month."
"That will be great news for the Captain General, he doesn't want us to fall behind our fellow Lords when it comes to merchant ships."
"Trade is the lifeblood of a healthy nation, I believe we both agree on this," Santiago approved. "More ships means more trade, and that is good for everyone."
"On that we are wholly agreed."
"If you will excuse me Ambassador, I must speak with my own representative here, but rest assured the Alliance is very interested in greatly expanding trade with your League."
"I sincerely look forward to helping deliver it."
A string chamber orchestra began to run through some suitable music, drawing a few of the younger and more carefree guests to the center of the hall far some formal dancing. Most preferred to mill around at the edges singling out targets for polite interrogation or to share stories.
"These pastries are genuinely very good." Ian Davion finished a third example. "Fresh produce indeed."
"Any more and they might need to expand the hatch for your mech." Katrina let slip a little mischief. She was focused on the games at play in such a setting and on the company around her, but she was still feeling distracted without Arthur at hand.
"Point noted." Ian decided this fourth example would be the last. "I heard your mech was given the same upgrades as mine."
"It was, a nice showcase for Alliance technology." Katrina confirmed. "It worked. My Generals are demanding five regiments of Alliance Marauders."
"Then I suppose I'll have the same to keep parity. Whatever you buy, I buy."
"And vice versa to maintain parity between us." Katrina nodded. "A sign of the trust between our houses."
"Something in scant supply." Ian scanned the crowd picking out individuals of note. One of them caught his eye and began to head over. "Is that Morgan Kell?"
"It is." Katrina raised a glass as the dark haired mechwarrior joined them. "My dear Morgan, it's been too long."
"My Lady." He bowed formally. "And First Prince, an honor once again."
"You know each other?" Katrina raised an eyebrow.
"We met very briefly some years ago." Ian half smiled. "Good to see you well."
"Your husband sends his regards." Morgan delivered his most valuable message to Katrina. "He is back home, arrived just yesterday but he is well. He awaits you with Melissa."
"I'll be departing tomorrow morning, once my business is done here." She spoke solemnly. "Are you to be my escort, Morgan?"
"I am, my lady. Arthur was very insistent that I watch over you in his absence."
Both of them understood that didn't just mean for this journey, but for the remainder of their lives.
"You have my thanks."
"And you have my word of honor, Archon."
She caught a fresh arrival entering the room over Morgan's shoulder, the uniform instantly catching her eye.
"Well, well." Ian had also seen the arrival. "That looks a lot like Yorinaga Kurita."
"It is." Katrina confirmed. "Perhaps the Dragon is taking this more seriously then I expected."
Almost as if fate decreed it, Yorinaga spotted them and walked over, tall and proud in his pristine uniform. He displayed no hesitation in presenting himself before the two most powerful people in the room, bowing formally and receiving nods of respect from the Archon and First Prince.
"Honored Lords, I am Yorinaga Kurita. I speak today for the Coordinator and offer his respects."
"Lord Yorinaga." Ian took the lead. "I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you more a field commander?"
"I am. General Samsonov is the official Ambassador," Yorinaga clarified. "But at such a gathering, it was decided somebody of Kurita blood should be present as a matter of honor."
"May I introduce my old friend Morgan Kell, Baron of Arc Royal?" Katrina interjected.
"Always glad to meet a fellow warrior." Kell inclined his head.
"Likewise." Yorinaga returned the gesture. "I have heard you have much skill. I hope to see it some day."
"Perhaps I can provide a demonstration." Kell laid down the subtle challenge.
"That would be most satisfying."
The two faced each other for a moment longer, taking their measure, then Yorinaga nodded and stepped aside.
"If you will excuse me, I must offer the Coordinator's greetings to the other Great Lords."
"Of course." Ian smiled. "Until we meet again."
"I pray it is soon."
"Nice man." Kell remarked as the Kuritan warrior departed. "Look forward to killing him."
"It might not come to that." Katrina observed.
"It will." Ian sided with Morgan. "Yorinaga is probably the best mechwarrior the Combine has, one of the best there is. The old man didn't send him here on a whim or because he was next on the list for diplomatic functions. He's weighing us up, watching us for clues."
Katrina studied the possible opponent, the white uniformed man bowing to President Santiago on the far side of the hall. "Presumably you are doing the same?"
Both men smiled.
"Against a man that good you need every edge. If something in his personality, his mannerisms, his state of mind can give you that..." Morgan listed. "I'll take it."
"I consider it an honor he sees us in the same light." Ian grinned widely, drawing a chuckle from Morgan. "And Samsonov as Ambassador is a fair choice, he's an astute politician, devious as they come."
"Kurita is positioning itself for conflict." Katrina understood. "We didn't expect Takashi to roll over and give up."
"If he's positioning pawns, then he has a plan." Ian concluded. "Interesting times ahead."
"Speaking of interesting times..." Katrina took a sip of champagne and directed their attention to the doors. "Something wicked this way comes."
There was a difference between entering a room and making an entrance, something now demonstrated by Candace Liao. She was wearing enough high grade silks to fund her own space station, edged in gold and accentuated in a variety of jewels. She wore her hair tied up in a traditional style, but with enough tactically loosened curls to give some allure. In a room filled with beauty and opulence, Candace stood apart, exactly as she had meant to.
Almost as an afterthought, trailing behind her followed her sister Romano and step mother Elizabeth, both also very well presented but naturally not permitted to outshine the Chancellor.
"All three witches." Katrina smiled. "We are in for a treat."
"Little dangerous having all three in the same place?" Kell wondered.
"Just the opposite." Ian answered. "Candace's main threat is her sister, not the likes of us. If she came out here so far from home and left her sister behind with her powerbase, that's a recipe for a coup."
"That old saying about keeping friends close," Katrina agreed. "I am fortunate in having people I trust to fight for me in my absence and keep the faith. To have no one to trust like that? I feel pity for her."
"It's their way of life." Ian shrugged. "Unfortunately, she's better at it than her father was. Her House is weakened, but her personal skill and absolute ruthlessness has kept the Confederation together. That will complicate things."
Candace breezed directly through the middle of the ballroom, forcing the dancers to adjust their steps to clear the way, an obvious power move. Her two companions kept pace behind her, Romano looking uncomfortable in a spotless dress uniform, while Elizabeth kept her eyes open and moving.
"Mr President." She radiated a smile as she slowed to a halt opposite Santiago, cutting into his current conversation. "My compliments on this achievement, truly a wonder of this age."
"Chancellor Liao, I shall pass your compliments to the engineers." Santiago gave her his attention, taking the hand she offered. "I'm glad you were able to attend in person. It will be seen as a very important gesture."
"How could I refuse?" She continued to smile. "A structure of such size and potential offered simply for diplomacy, trade, peaceful negotiation. It is an intriguing idea."
"Something my predecessor strongly believed in, she is here somewhere if you'd like to discuss specifics?"
"That won't be necessary, you are the President now and it is you I am interested in speaking to."
Santiago detected the shift to business. "Did you have something specific in mind?"
"Our nations did not get off to the best of starts, I think we can both agree to that."
"Well, the murder and kidnapping wasn't a good opening gesture."
"Nor was killing sixty thousand residents of Sian."
"We dispute that number, our strikes were very precise."
"The point is we have both been wounded, but wounds heal." Candace spoke softly. "If we want to ensure they do not scar, I think it would be in our mutual interest to work on closer ties."
"I agree wholeheartedly." Santiago nodded along. "That is ultimately why this place exists."
"I have seen the shipyards the Lyrans have built with your help. I assume the price for such facilities is high, but well worth it."
"For the right customers, I am sure it is."
"My trade and development ministers are very keen to open negotiations towards entering a similar partnership," Candace laid out. "What is your price?"
"it is negotiable." Santiago dodged a specific commitment. "My Ambassador here will be able to handle more. Give him the specifics."
"Very well." Candace smiled radiantly again. "Perhaps I might visit your world one day very soon? As the Davions and Steiners have?"
"I think that is possible."
With a final graceful bow of her head she peeled away, the harsh faced Romano and unreadable Elizabeth doing the same. Imperceptibly, Santiago sighed in relief. The three Liaos were undeniably attractive, but there wasn't an ounce of humanity between them.
"She's forward, I'll give her that."
Senator Aki Hidoshi, now Ambassador Hidoshi, offered his own very similar appraisal. Hidoshi had been one of Levy's most trusted confidants and a strong supporter of the Babylon Project. It had seemed only fair to appoint him as the Earth Alliance Ambassador to handle the diplomatic side of things while General Smits kept the station turning.
"Her step mother is the official Ambassador. Elizabeth Liao, widow of Chancellor Maximillian." Santiago recalled his briefings. "We don't know much about her. Rumour is she was the brains behind old Max. He took all the credit and she bedded half the court behind his back."
"Charming set of people." Hidoshi watched them mingling, the representative of Kurita offering them a bow which Candace seemed amused by. "I'm going to guess she is here because the new Chancellor wants her out of the way?"
"Probably, same story as Marik," Santiago reasoned. "Not sure about the Draconis choice. He isn't particularly senior in their ranks by bloodline, but he has achieved a lot of success. He's powerful enough to have influence, but not enough to be a threat."
"So he might actually be a genuine well thought out appointment?" Hidoshi guessed. "The best man for the job."
"That might be it." Santiago didn't have any other alternatives. "But that doesn't make him useful or helpful, watch yourself."
"What about the others?"
Santiago peered around the room looking for the remaining ambassadors.
"There's Olivia Fenlon, a Duchess and career diplomat. She's fairly young but has been raised for this kind of role since birth. The Davions have a lot of faith in her."
Hidoshi spotted a dark haired young woman speaking with General Smits. her easy smile and nature looked natural, but was almost certainly the product of an extremely expensive finishing school.
"Her father was representative to the Steiner Court and she spent a lot of time over there. The general impression is she greatly favours stronger ties with the Lyrans," Santiago continued. "Her appointment here is considered a signal to the Lyrans that Davion wants to keep improving ties."
"Who did the Lyrans send?"
"One Duke Harrison Bradford." Santiago nodded toward a rakish man surrounded by giggling waitresses. "Something of a casanova, but also a talented diplomat and, well as, you can see, quite a charmer."
"Was it a good idea matching him up with that pretty young Davion woman?" Hidoshi raised an eyebrow. "How professional is he?"
"I don't know, but he is said to be absolutely trusted by the Archon. That might be enough." The President frowned. "It means Steiner is devoted to this. There aren't many people she really trusts, to send one all the way out here is a significant gesture."
"Which leaves Anton Marik." Both turned their gaze to the League Ambassador. "Definitely talented, but our trade envoy told me that Duggan Marik was virtually begging for this job and all the business contacts it would bring."
"Anton is considered a threat. No doubt Janos wants him here so he loses his power base," Santiago reasoned. "That would suggest he doesn't care much for our mission here. We are just a means to an end."
"I can live with that," Hidoshi accepted. "And then we have Comstar."
"Not official Ambassadors, but they will have an office on board." Santiago looked over to some robed individuals looking very out of place. "Watch them like a hawk, they have a lot of influence and a lot of contacts. They could be useful, or they could ruin everything we want to achieve here."
"So noted."
"Going to be a hell of a job, Aki. Sure you want it?"
"I'm only here because David Sheridan said no and retired on you." Hidoshi chuckled. "I can handle it. Should be a challenge."
"More than that." Santiago's eyes wandered across the room. "It might be our best hope of preventing this galaxy from ripping itself apart."
Story notes: It seems the latest update has broken the threadmarks. Its gonna be fun putting those back...
Ceti Star System
Inauguration Day was absolutely as busy as expected, the sky around the station choked with drop ships milling around or hanging in space to watch things unfold. While the event would be televised, there was much to be said for seeing it all first hand, especially as Earth Force was going to be putting on various fighter displays and a lightshow. Keeping the mass of vessels in at least some sort of order was a major headache, one that was distinctly unwelcome on top of the existing migraine of handling a full house of dignitaries.
"The Marik ship is locked down in the VIP Dock," Major Lewis Krantz reported. "That's the last one, the Liao and Kurita ships are already locked away."
"I trust there's plenty of distance between those docks?"
"Absolutely sir, and I have round the clock guards on bay access."
That was probably a wise choice. The way the local powers hated each other made the Narn and Centauri conflict look like bickering children. They were more polite about it, but the odds of an assassination happening on this station were going to be high for a long time.
"How about traffic control, what's that looking like?"
"Busy, but we've got the various civilian ships divided up into blocks. Space Lanes are clear and we have two squadrons on crowd control."
"Good, we're expecting the President any minute now, along with the last two House Lords. If anyone's going to make a move, it'll be then."
"I'll keep the defense grid heated up sir," Krantz nodded.
"On standby, but not deployed. No need to spook the guests unless we have to."
This would be the great test, and one of the most nerve wracking moments of his career. General Walter Smits was an old soldier. He'd earned his wings in the border wars at the turn of the century before commanding a battlegroup against the Dilgar. Since that time, he'd been part of the Colonial Defence command, organising the various patrols and anti-piracy flotillas defending Earth's colonies, which had transitioned into running Minbari Blockades in the last war.
Today though, in this new reality, he was Military Governor of Babylon Three, several trillion tons of space station, hundreds of light years from home, representing what was best in the Earth Alliance. A technological and industrial wonder, it was designed to help foster business and trade between Earth and the Inner Sphere, while also serving as neutral ground for the great houses to speak. Whether it did any of those things remained to be seen.
In any case, General Smits would do his part. As one of the most senior officers left in the Force, he had been first choice for the assignment, his experience in dealing with the assorted and often hostile colonial administrations hopefully preparing him for the day to day realities of this mission. Smits wouldn't have to worry about negotiations or diplomacy at least. Earth was sending its own specialized Ambassador for that, but he'd still be responsible for making sure the various House Ambassadors were happy. He was absolutely dreading that.
Still, command of Babylon Three was a highly prestigious posting, a nice final assignment before he retired in a few years time. Until then, he was determined to make the station a success and leave a well structured and proven routine for his successor.
So far things had gone well for Babylon 3. Construction had been smooth after Earth Force had taken over security for the project rather than leave it in the hands of contractors. There had been no sabotage, no disasters or mishaps. For such a massive project, it was somewhat surprising. The station itself was just over six miles long, a metal cylinder with extensive docking facilities and the ability to house and support a third of a million people indefinitely. The Babylon stations were all designed to be self sustaining, with extensive food production capacity, enough genetically tweaked plants to keep the air fresh and breathable, plus machine shops to fix anything that broke. They could even refine their own fuel from raw hydrogen mined from the gas giants deeper in system.
The station had a permanent population of a few tens of thousands, which was expected to grow massively. Tourism was predicted to be the key driver. Curiosity about the Earth Alliance was high and this station offered a far easier destination than the long haul to Tortuga for most people. All the various shop fronts and kiosks were long since sold out and awaiting their owners. Restaurants and bars were looking forward to making a fortune each, while advertisers had bought every inch of available space to hawk their wares.
In terms of protection, the station had a respectable defense grid. Earth Force had decided against any capital class guns as there was no need. The hull sported nothing bigger than light pulse cannons and rapid fire interceptors, which was considered sufficient. It could defend itself, but would rely on its four squadrons for any offensive missions. That said, it would be policy to keep a warship on station somewhere close by as a response force.
Internal security was a greater concern. With so much traffic and the intricacies of House Politics, not only did the station have a robust security detachment, it also had a company of Marines for more direct threats. On top of that, far less obvious, was a field branch of the EIA to keep an eye open for anything happening on the station, or nearby.
The only major change to the design had been the addition of docking ports specifically tailored to locally produced dropships. Rather than the modular EA built freighters that unloaded pallets in zero gravity, provisions had been made for a few hundred universal docking rings to facilitate the expected local traffic.
The location had been easy to choose, but had unlocked it's own set of mysteries. The Ceti system was within Lyran claimed territory relatively close to the more famous Tau Ceti star system, better known locally as New Earth. Both of those stars had been Earth Alliance colonies back home, so there was a certain familiarity with them, and that is where things started to get odd.
New Earth had become very familiar to the construction crews, it was their main choice for shore leave and the influx of traffic to Babylon 3 promised to boost the economy on New Earth too. They had been happy to let Earth scientists survey the planet and it had turned out to be identical to its equivalent in Alliance territory a universe away.
But Ceti was different. Here, it was an unremarkable rock which had been untouched, apart from a very brief Terran Alliance outpost. The Lyrans had no objections to leasing the system to Earth for the duration of the Babylon project, as it was otherwise worthless. Only its location within one jump of each major power made it of any interest.
But back home, Ceti had been habitable. Indeed more than that, in antiquity, it had been the homeworld of the Garmak species, a belligerent empire that had been early rivals to the Centauri. The Garmak had been the superior of the three major nations which had risen to fill the power vacuum after the Great Wars of a thousand years earlier, with the Orieni being the third. Unfortunately for the Garmak, they had decided to pick a fight with the Minbari, considering the isolationist power a paper tiger hiding behind whispered legends and fears. Like humanity several centuries later, they were proven violently incorrect. The Minbari crushed the Garmak, but unlike the war with Earth, the Minbari maintained control of themselves. There was no calls to genocide, they simply obliterated the Garmak military and went home.
The miracle of survival didn't last long, as the Centauri arrived shortly after and enslaved their former rivals, initiating the first major expansion of the Centauri Republic as a superpower. The Garmak persisted, but eventually were driven to extinction. What was left of their civilization was bombed to nothing after an ill fated rebellion during the Centauri/Orieni war. The Centauri abandoned the planet soon after as their empire contracted, clearing the way for humanity to claim it, just as the biosphere was recovering from the bombardment.
None of that history had happened here. The planet had never been habitable, its rocks had never been able to support even simple life. There was no real reason why not, especially as all the pieces were there and habitable worlds seemed unusually common in this universe. Yet Ceti had never become one of them. The Garmak never existed, nothing had.
It wasn't just here either. An expedition to Zeta Turanae, the location of Centauri Prime, had likewise found only lifeless rocks. Each major League Homeworld, again, lifeless. And yet worlds like Aquila, Sirius, Proxima, planets inhabitable and claimed by the Alliance back home were likewise habitable worlds here. As were several known League colonies Earth had fought over during the Dilgar invasion. But not their homeworlds. The pattern seemed to be that habitable colony worlds were identical, but not any homeworlds apart from Terra itself.
That was of course an impossible coincidence. How could all the planets known to birth sentient life be barren, but other perfectly habitable worlds were not? There was no pattern regarding location, star type, age, nothing. The only thing those worlds had in common was that they were homeworlds of known species. Even the homeworlds of semi-sentient creatures who might have one day evolved to true sentience, like the Nakaleen feeder or the Zarg, were similarly barren.
Several scientific organisations were currently working with the Explorer Division to find out why. So far, no trace of orbital bombardments or other obvious interference had been detected, but such coincidences were absurdly unlikely. The sense of cosmic dread was, however, mitigated by the fact that IPX had found that their maps of known Quantium deposits also turned out to be accurate. And of course, the reserves in this universe were completely untapped.
"General, the Presidential escort just signaled." Major Krantz leaned over the text display scrolling across his main control panel. "They are about to make their jump, requesting final clearance."
"Double check their entry point." Smits ordered. "Still empty space?"
"Yes sir, we're all green."
"Clearance approved." Smits nodded. "Alert all squadrons, here we go."
It took another couple of minutes before the first ship arrived above Ceti, a clean jump directly to the pirate point high above the barren world. It was closely followed by four others, a quintet of Omega class destroyers, led by the Alexander under General Hague once again. The ships performed their own checks of the immediate area before sending their own approval for the rest of the task force to deploy.
The President had elected not to travel in EarthForce One this time, the diplomatic liner not best suited to defend itself from determined attacks. It wasn't just President Santiago, but also Archon Steiner and First Prince Davion all arriving together, the temptation of eliminating all three leaders necessitating some precautions. Another couple of destroyers arrived, then between them, in a blinding flash of blue, arrived the Presidential transport, the EAS Poseidon.
The Alexander and her ships took up vanguard positions around the President, more Omegas arriving to fill out the escort. The Poseidon was substantially larger than the already hefty destroyers surrounding it, the prototype supercarrier immensely bulky and ungainly looking thanks to its blocky hangar decks. While not designed for direct combat, the Poseidon had enough firepower to adequately protect itself, including the same heavy weapons as the Omega, and an absolutely ridiculous number of missiles, but that wasn't really the point. Destroyer after destroyer continued to jump into the system and form up beside the carrier, an expanding sphere of grey steel. It took half an hour for the entire fleet to arrive, ninety destroyers in total surrounding the supercarrier, the biggest deployment since the Battle of Proxima.
Santiago was, of course, making a statement. He didn't need that many ships to escort him. Indeed he needed none at all, nor did he need the Poseidon to serve as his transport when any destroyer would be satisfactory. He knew the news agencies of the galaxy would be here watching, and he knew the great powers and those who guided them would also be paying close attention. This was a message to them, a demonstration that he could send this many ships this far from home on a mission this unnecessary.
He knew as well as they did what five ships had done to Sian. What could ninety do? The Poseidon and her bulk was just the sugar on top, a warship far heavier than anything on local records to underline the fact that the same industry that had made the Babylon station could just as easily make weapons of war. This was, of course, at the limit of what he could send. Rather than a casual deployment, it had taken immense coordination and represented almost the entirety of Earthforce's expeditionary capacity. But the other great powers didn't know that, and Santiago wanted today to be all about generating awe.
The assembled fleet began its short journey to the station, with each destroyer holding position around the carrier. The group then launched their full airwings, thousands of fighters again assuming defensive positions around the formation, following the flight plan that ended with the Poseidon facing Babylon 3 a few miles out. For most of the galaxy, today was probably the first time most citizens of the Inner Sphere were getting a good look at the Earth Alliance. Santiago wanted it to be unforgettable.
"Presidential shuttle is on its way," Krantz reported. "The Archon and First Prince will launch after the President docks."
"I want close escort on all three of those transports," Smits ordered clearly. "Put so many Starfuries out there that they could walk to the station."
This was the bit that was giving Smits palpitations. As long as the President was on the carrier, he was all but untouchable, but on a shuttle, it was different. There were a hell of a lot of civilian and unregistered ships lurking around and while his pilots were keeping them back and trying to scan each ship, any one of them could pop off a barrage of missiles or a salvo of laser fire from hidden weapon banks. He watched the procession like a hawk. Only when all three shuttles successfully landed did he relax a little.
"Security has secured a route from the docking bay to the conference hall," Major Krantz relayed. "Shall I give the go order for the other guests?"
"Do it." The General pulled himself up from behind his console and straightened up his uniform with a decisive tug. "I'll head down there and start shaking hands. Call me immediately if anything sets on fire or otherwise explodes."
"Aye sir."
In that moment he was undecided if that would be a good thing or a bad one.
The main transit terminal was not yet operational. Besides the station personnel and diplomatic staff, Babylon 3 was not yet open to the public. For now at least, the entire ingress point with customs and passport checking stations were empty and unmanned, not that anyone would likely ask the sort of people currently roaming the station for identification. Instead ranks of officers and enlisted stood in their dress uniforms, four ranks deep, waiting for the final tranche of guests. With these arrivals, the station would set about its business at last.
The Presidential shuttle had arrived first but Santiago had insisted on waiting for the other two royal vessels to dock, sleek and well decorated drop shuttles that made Centauri ships look drab and cheap. Smits had to wait with the rest of the honor guard until half an hour later, the four last people on his list arrived, meandering through the docking bays into the terminal itself..
"Mr. President." General Smits snapped a salute to his Commander in Chief. "Welcome to Babylon 3."
"General, thank you." Luis Santiago responded with a casual salute in return, the former Senator from Buenos Aires projecting an easy confidence. He didn't put on any air of arrogance or superiority, his manner was more like a school teacher with a calming smile and the feeling he would always have the time to indulge his students. It was a persona of course. Santiago was a career politician and as sharp and ruthless as any who had risen to such heights, but that pleasant easiness had served him well in the elections. "It's a great pleasure to be here, and a relief. Wasn't convinced this place would still be here when we arrived."
It was told as a joke with a gentle laugh, but the message was sincere.
"We have the situation well in hand, Mr. President. We've had no incidents at all."
"Good, if anything was going to happen, it would be today. You don't mind if my security detail double checks everything?"
"Not at all, sir."
It didn't matter if Smits had objected, he'd already noted a team of hard looking men in dark suits breezing past security, waving identi-cards that opened every door in the Alliance. He also knew there were at least ten Psi Cops deployed at key positions, ten that he knew about anyway.
The second guest was also very familiar.
"Madam Levy, I can't imagine how you must be feeling."
"Overwhelmed." The former President shook his hand. "To see this place actually functioning, it's incredible."
"Maybe you'll actually sit back and enjoy your retirement now?" Santiago chided with mild amusement. "I've known a lot of lobbying agents in my time, all complete amateurs compared to this woman."
"After the loss of the first station, there was a powerful movement to cancel the project. After the loss of the second..." She sighed heavily. "Yet here we are. We fought for this, pushed for it, begged, borrowed, and stole to get to this point. It will be worth it."
"I have no doubt Ma'am." Smits allowed a real smile. Levy had been worn out and exhausted by the presidency, which was understandable, but this project had restored much of her fire.
The next two arrivals were strangers to him, but their faces were known across the galaxy. He straightened up and put on his best smile.
"Archon Steiner, welcome to Babylon 3."
"A pleasure to be here General." She allowed him to take her hand in the formal style, the Archon exquisite in a frosty coloured gown that accentuated her pale features and hair. "This place is even more magnificent than I had expected, a true testament to what cooperation may achieve."
"I agree entirely Ma'am." He bowed, then pivoted. "Likewise, welcome aboard First Prince."
This time he offered a salute which was returned perfectly, Ian Davion in his own full dress uniform.
"Lot of hard work here, General. You'll make this place the envy of everyone else."
"Perhaps, but that was not our intention sir."
Ian laughed. "Of course it was. Congratulations on a job well done General. Now, I assume there's some sort of lunch to be attended?"
"Right this way, produce from our own farms and orchards."
"Should be different."
The Babylon station had been built to have every amenity and luxury, but during construction, it had become very apparent that Earth's opinion of luxury fell somewhat short of everybody else. Whereas even the highest ranked EA diplomat was happy with simulated gravity, actual water showers, and two steel walled rooms about the size of an inner city studio apartment, that didn't really work for the representatives of the Great Houses. With a lot of help from the Lyrans, Earth had dramatically upgraded their facilities to something altogether grander. Diplomatic quarters had been moved out to the gardens and were now stone villas surrounded by trees and flowerbeds, all lavishly decorated. The Council chambers were wood paneled, lit by chandeliers and housed oil paintings of various landscapes from Earth selected for their neutrality.
Most of the rest of the station retained its plain utilitarian design. Grey was the dominant color and most of the surfaces were given little more than corrosion resistant paint. The markets, bars, consular offices, and corporate sectors were all extremely bland, but walking into the diplomatic quarter was like entering another land. Nestled between the villas was the great hall, a place for balls and banquets to serve as something of a social hub for the nobility. It was again a building in its own right, set among gardens that would otherwise have been a public park, a stone faced edifice with great ornate doors and its own staff of butlers and maids from the highest quality hotels on Earth. This was where the functions so beloved by the various aristocrats would play out with all the intrigue and positioning that entailed, all starting today.
The ballroom at the heart of the hall was already busy, throngs of immaculately dressed individuals mingling and meandering, making deals, spreading rumors, plotting. Most paused and glanced across as the first of the real VIPs began to arrive, spearheaded by President Santiago with the masters of House Steiner and Davion alongside. In a world of image and presentation, the arrival of the rulers of these three entities together was obviously symbolic. Lines had long been drawn, friends and enemies were in the process of being sifted. This showed where the EA was aligning.
"President Santiago. An honor."
He had barely made it through the doors when the voice interrupted his plans, the President of the Earth Alliance fixing a deceptively pleasant smile.
"Anton Marik." Santiago had been well briefed on the people he was expected to meet and their relative value. Anton was considered a high value individual, so the President extended a hand and offered some indulgence. "The honour is mine, I was surprised when such a high ranked person was named as Ambassador."
That was, of course, a lie. If Janos Marik could have sent his brother even further away, he would have.
"It was a surprise, but I consider it an opportunity." Anton hid his disappointment well. "Improving ties with your Alliance is a key element in League policy. I am humbled to be at the forefront of that."
"My trade office has approved a partnership deal to manufacture new jump ships in League territory," Santiago recalled. "We can probably have the papers signed this month."
"That will be great news for the Captain General, he doesn't want us to fall behind our fellow Lords when it comes to merchant ships."
"Trade is the lifeblood of a healthy nation, I believe we both agree on this," Santiago approved. "More ships means more trade, and that is good for everyone."
"On that we are wholly agreed."
"If you will excuse me Ambassador, I must speak with my own representative here, but rest assured the Alliance is very interested in greatly expanding trade with your League."
"I sincerely look forward to helping deliver it."
A string chamber orchestra began to run through some suitable music, drawing a few of the younger and more carefree guests to the center of the hall far some formal dancing. Most preferred to mill around at the edges singling out targets for polite interrogation or to share stories.
"These pastries are genuinely very good." Ian Davion finished a third example. "Fresh produce indeed."
"Any more and they might need to expand the hatch for your mech." Katrina let slip a little mischief. She was focused on the games at play in such a setting and on the company around her, but she was still feeling distracted without Arthur at hand.
"Point noted." Ian decided this fourth example would be the last. "I heard your mech was given the same upgrades as mine."
"It was, a nice showcase for Alliance technology." Katrina confirmed. "It worked. My Generals are demanding five regiments of Alliance Marauders."
"Then I suppose I'll have the same to keep parity. Whatever you buy, I buy."
"And vice versa to maintain parity between us." Katrina nodded. "A sign of the trust between our houses."
"Something in scant supply." Ian scanned the crowd picking out individuals of note. One of them caught his eye and began to head over. "Is that Morgan Kell?"
"It is." Katrina raised a glass as the dark haired mechwarrior joined them. "My dear Morgan, it's been too long."
"My Lady." He bowed formally. "And First Prince, an honor once again."
"You know each other?" Katrina raised an eyebrow.
"We met very briefly some years ago." Ian half smiled. "Good to see you well."
"Your husband sends his regards." Morgan delivered his most valuable message to Katrina. "He is back home, arrived just yesterday but he is well. He awaits you with Melissa."
"I'll be departing tomorrow morning, once my business is done here." She spoke solemnly. "Are you to be my escort, Morgan?"
"I am, my lady. Arthur was very insistent that I watch over you in his absence."
Both of them understood that didn't just mean for this journey, but for the remainder of their lives.
"You have my thanks."
"And you have my word of honor, Archon."
She caught a fresh arrival entering the room over Morgan's shoulder, the uniform instantly catching her eye.
"Well, well." Ian had also seen the arrival. "That looks a lot like Yorinaga Kurita."
"It is." Katrina confirmed. "Perhaps the Dragon is taking this more seriously then I expected."
Almost as if fate decreed it, Yorinaga spotted them and walked over, tall and proud in his pristine uniform. He displayed no hesitation in presenting himself before the two most powerful people in the room, bowing formally and receiving nods of respect from the Archon and First Prince.
"Honored Lords, I am Yorinaga Kurita. I speak today for the Coordinator and offer his respects."
"Lord Yorinaga." Ian took the lead. "I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you more a field commander?"
"I am. General Samsonov is the official Ambassador," Yorinaga clarified. "But at such a gathering, it was decided somebody of Kurita blood should be present as a matter of honor."
"May I introduce my old friend Morgan Kell, Baron of Arc Royal?" Katrina interjected.
"Always glad to meet a fellow warrior." Kell inclined his head.
"Likewise." Yorinaga returned the gesture. "I have heard you have much skill. I hope to see it some day."
"Perhaps I can provide a demonstration." Kell laid down the subtle challenge.
"That would be most satisfying."
The two faced each other for a moment longer, taking their measure, then Yorinaga nodded and stepped aside.
"If you will excuse me, I must offer the Coordinator's greetings to the other Great Lords."
"Of course." Ian smiled. "Until we meet again."
"I pray it is soon."
"Nice man." Kell remarked as the Kuritan warrior departed. "Look forward to killing him."
"It might not come to that." Katrina observed.
"It will." Ian sided with Morgan. "Yorinaga is probably the best mechwarrior the Combine has, one of the best there is. The old man didn't send him here on a whim or because he was next on the list for diplomatic functions. He's weighing us up, watching us for clues."
Katrina studied the possible opponent, the white uniformed man bowing to President Santiago on the far side of the hall. "Presumably you are doing the same?"
Both men smiled.
"Against a man that good you need every edge. If something in his personality, his mannerisms, his state of mind can give you that..." Morgan listed. "I'll take it."
"I consider it an honor he sees us in the same light." Ian grinned widely, drawing a chuckle from Morgan. "And Samsonov as Ambassador is a fair choice, he's an astute politician, devious as they come."
"Kurita is positioning itself for conflict." Katrina understood. "We didn't expect Takashi to roll over and give up."
"If he's positioning pawns, then he has a plan." Ian concluded. "Interesting times ahead."
"Speaking of interesting times..." Katrina took a sip of champagne and directed their attention to the doors. "Something wicked this way comes."
There was a difference between entering a room and making an entrance, something now demonstrated by Candace Liao. She was wearing enough high grade silks to fund her own space station, edged in gold and accentuated in a variety of jewels. She wore her hair tied up in a traditional style, but with enough tactically loosened curls to give some allure. In a room filled with beauty and opulence, Candace stood apart, exactly as she had meant to.
Almost as an afterthought, trailing behind her followed her sister Romano and step mother Elizabeth, both also very well presented but naturally not permitted to outshine the Chancellor.
"All three witches." Katrina smiled. "We are in for a treat."
"Little dangerous having all three in the same place?" Kell wondered.
"Just the opposite." Ian answered. "Candace's main threat is her sister, not the likes of us. If she came out here so far from home and left her sister behind with her powerbase, that's a recipe for a coup."
"That old saying about keeping friends close," Katrina agreed. "I am fortunate in having people I trust to fight for me in my absence and keep the faith. To have no one to trust like that? I feel pity for her."
"It's their way of life." Ian shrugged. "Unfortunately, she's better at it than her father was. Her House is weakened, but her personal skill and absolute ruthlessness has kept the Confederation together. That will complicate things."
Candace breezed directly through the middle of the ballroom, forcing the dancers to adjust their steps to clear the way, an obvious power move. Her two companions kept pace behind her, Romano looking uncomfortable in a spotless dress uniform, while Elizabeth kept her eyes open and moving.
"Mr President." She radiated a smile as she slowed to a halt opposite Santiago, cutting into his current conversation. "My compliments on this achievement, truly a wonder of this age."
"Chancellor Liao, I shall pass your compliments to the engineers." Santiago gave her his attention, taking the hand she offered. "I'm glad you were able to attend in person. It will be seen as a very important gesture."
"How could I refuse?" She continued to smile. "A structure of such size and potential offered simply for diplomacy, trade, peaceful negotiation. It is an intriguing idea."
"Something my predecessor strongly believed in, she is here somewhere if you'd like to discuss specifics?"
"That won't be necessary, you are the President now and it is you I am interested in speaking to."
Santiago detected the shift to business. "Did you have something specific in mind?"
"Our nations did not get off to the best of starts, I think we can both agree to that."
"Well, the murder and kidnapping wasn't a good opening gesture."
"Nor was killing sixty thousand residents of Sian."
"We dispute that number, our strikes were very precise."
"The point is we have both been wounded, but wounds heal." Candace spoke softly. "If we want to ensure they do not scar, I think it would be in our mutual interest to work on closer ties."
"I agree wholeheartedly." Santiago nodded along. "That is ultimately why this place exists."
"I have seen the shipyards the Lyrans have built with your help. I assume the price for such facilities is high, but well worth it."
"For the right customers, I am sure it is."
"My trade and development ministers are very keen to open negotiations towards entering a similar partnership," Candace laid out. "What is your price?"
"it is negotiable." Santiago dodged a specific commitment. "My Ambassador here will be able to handle more. Give him the specifics."
"Very well." Candace smiled radiantly again. "Perhaps I might visit your world one day very soon? As the Davions and Steiners have?"
"I think that is possible."
With a final graceful bow of her head she peeled away, the harsh faced Romano and unreadable Elizabeth doing the same. Imperceptibly, Santiago sighed in relief. The three Liaos were undeniably attractive, but there wasn't an ounce of humanity between them.
"She's forward, I'll give her that."
Senator Aki Hidoshi, now Ambassador Hidoshi, offered his own very similar appraisal. Hidoshi had been one of Levy's most trusted confidants and a strong supporter of the Babylon Project. It had seemed only fair to appoint him as the Earth Alliance Ambassador to handle the diplomatic side of things while General Smits kept the station turning.
"Her step mother is the official Ambassador. Elizabeth Liao, widow of Chancellor Maximillian." Santiago recalled his briefings. "We don't know much about her. Rumour is she was the brains behind old Max. He took all the credit and she bedded half the court behind his back."
"Charming set of people." Hidoshi watched them mingling, the representative of Kurita offering them a bow which Candace seemed amused by. "I'm going to guess she is here because the new Chancellor wants her out of the way?"
"Probably, same story as Marik," Santiago reasoned. "Not sure about the Draconis choice. He isn't particularly senior in their ranks by bloodline, but he has achieved a lot of success. He's powerful enough to have influence, but not enough to be a threat."
"So he might actually be a genuine well thought out appointment?" Hidoshi guessed. "The best man for the job."
"That might be it." Santiago didn't have any other alternatives. "But that doesn't make him useful or helpful, watch yourself."
"What about the others?"
Santiago peered around the room looking for the remaining ambassadors.
"There's Olivia Fenlon, a Duchess and career diplomat. She's fairly young but has been raised for this kind of role since birth. The Davions have a lot of faith in her."
Hidoshi spotted a dark haired young woman speaking with General Smits. her easy smile and nature looked natural, but was almost certainly the product of an extremely expensive finishing school.
"Her father was representative to the Steiner Court and she spent a lot of time over there. The general impression is she greatly favours stronger ties with the Lyrans," Santiago continued. "Her appointment here is considered a signal to the Lyrans that Davion wants to keep improving ties."
"Who did the Lyrans send?"
"One Duke Harrison Bradford." Santiago nodded toward a rakish man surrounded by giggling waitresses. "Something of a casanova, but also a talented diplomat and, well as, you can see, quite a charmer."
"Was it a good idea matching him up with that pretty young Davion woman?" Hidoshi raised an eyebrow. "How professional is he?"
"I don't know, but he is said to be absolutely trusted by the Archon. That might be enough." The President frowned. "It means Steiner is devoted to this. There aren't many people she really trusts, to send one all the way out here is a significant gesture."
"Which leaves Anton Marik." Both turned their gaze to the League Ambassador. "Definitely talented, but our trade envoy told me that Duggan Marik was virtually begging for this job and all the business contacts it would bring."
"Anton is considered a threat. No doubt Janos wants him here so he loses his power base," Santiago reasoned. "That would suggest he doesn't care much for our mission here. We are just a means to an end."
"I can live with that," Hidoshi accepted. "And then we have Comstar."
"Not official Ambassadors, but they will have an office on board." Santiago looked over to some robed individuals looking very out of place. "Watch them like a hawk, they have a lot of influence and a lot of contacts. They could be useful, or they could ruin everything we want to achieve here."
"So noted."
"Going to be a hell of a job, Aki. Sure you want it?"
"I'm only here because David Sheridan said no and retired on you." Hidoshi chuckled. "I can handle it. Should be a challenge."
"More than that." Santiago's eyes wandered across the room. "It might be our best hope of preventing this galaxy from ripping itself apart."
Story notes: It seems the latest update has broken the threadmarks. Its gonna be fun putting those back...
I'm sensing parallels developing in the future...
"The Babylon Project was our last, best hope for peace. It failed."
"The Babylon Project was our last, best hope for peace. It failed."
Adventwolf
Well-known member
The station is going to be the signing forum for the FedCom accords in this universe. Likely with a non aggression/military agreement with the FWL to stay out of the fight/target the Cappies.
Candace is going to use her stepmom to get all the tech, materials, and trade she can to bootstrap her dying realm.
The Combine is going to pour all their resources into expanding their forces using ComStar tech and assistance. They know that the Lyrans and FedSuns are getting closer too fast for the Combine to not be the target.
ComStar might actually be able to have trained and veteran soliders for the coming war. They would be doing contracts for "newly raised mercenary companies" to the Cappies and Combine to attack the forming FedCom.
Since it is unlikely that the EA will take an active role in the 4th SW or the final stage of the 3rd ComStar should be able to bloody their forces for the coming conflict.
Candace is going to use her stepmom to get all the tech, materials, and trade she can to bootstrap her dying realm.
The Combine is going to pour all their resources into expanding their forces using ComStar tech and assistance. They know that the Lyrans and FedSuns are getting closer too fast for the Combine to not be the target.
ComStar might actually be able to have trained and veteran soliders for the coming war. They would be doing contracts for "newly raised mercenary companies" to the Cappies and Combine to attack the forming FedCom.
Since it is unlikely that the EA will take an active role in the 4th SW or the final stage of the 3rd ComStar should be able to bloody their forces for the coming conflict.
AJW
Well-known member
Nice update.
What should be interesting is how the various Successor States and Comstar react to seeing the fleet that arrived with Santiago. A display of power that even at its height the Star League would have struggled to match especially as said warships have far more powerful weapons. After all they think triple kiloton range nukes are the ultimate weapons having no idea that for EA thats a firecracker as even a tactical nuke - like the ones Sheridan used to destroy the Black Star and the Thirdspace gate - is a two megaton weapon.
What should be interesting is how the various Successor States and Comstar react to seeing the fleet that arrived with Santiago. A display of power that even at its height the Star League would have struggled to match especially as said warships have far more powerful weapons. After all they think triple kiloton range nukes are the ultimate weapons having no idea that for EA thats a firecracker as even a tactical nuke - like the ones Sheridan used to destroy the Black Star and the Thirdspace gate - is a two megaton weapon.
Chapter 27
27
Babylon 3
The following morning
The First Day of Operations
"It gives me particular pleasure to sign the first Treaty presented on Babylon 3," Katrina Steiner announced from behind an ancient oak desk set in the grand council chambers. Assorted reporters were gathered ahead of her, electronic eyes watching her every move and gesture. "The updated Ares Conventions, clarifying protocols on the usage of Weapons of Mass Destruction, and restricting the size of fleets that can be deployed within the Inner Sphere."
She signed her name to the papers arrayed on the desk using an ancient silver pen, her signature as elegant as expected. A round of polite applause met her as she finished, rising to clear the way for Ian Davion to take over and put his name to it. One by one, the representatives of the Great Houses re-affirmed their commitments, with the final signature belonging to Luis Santiago.
"I feel like I'm missing something." Major Krantz applauded along with the rest of the senior staff, assembled toward the back of the chambers. "Why are we signing this?"
"Because it makes the different rulers a little more relaxed knowing we promise not to drop a thousand destroyers on them," General Smits spoke quietly through his diplomatic smile. "They know they can't match us. This way they can go home and tell their people there is no danger and everyone can sleep safely in their beds. That's good for them, because when people stop feeling safe in absolute monarchies, they tend to start building guillotines."
"But why are we reducing our fleets?"
"We aren't." Smits turned to him. "Look at the text. No nation may deploy a fleet larger than a hundred vessels anywhere within the Inner Sphere."
"Right."
"Within the Inner Sphere," Smits repeated. "We aren't in the Inner Sphere. This treaty only covers the territory of the Great Houses, not the Periphery or beyond."
The various Ambassadors and rulers took some time to shake each others hands for the cameras, smiling and projecting a scene of unity. The most interesting was Santiago and Candace Liao standing shoulder to shoulder, laughing at each other's jokes, the assembled reporters capturing every second, scrutinizing them for hints of rivalry. Both were, of course, far too good to show whatever they were really thinking about each other.
"This treaty means nothing in our area of operations," Smits dismissed. "The restrictions on nuclear weapons are no different to our existing laws signed after the Dilgar War, but it makes us look like less of a threat. That's Santiago's goal here. We demonstrate our power, show that if we are provoked we can and will drop the hammer on anyone we need to, but by signing up to the Ares Conventions, we show we're not here to slaughter everyone. Then we point out how much money and effort we've invested into this station as a sign of how much we value peaceful diplomacy."
"Speak softly and carry a big stick." The Major understood. "Bedrock of diplomacy for the last few hundred years."
"Our goal is peace, but we have to show that our words and promises are backed with enough force to give them weight. Nobody signs a treaty with a nation that doesn't have the power to bring your fears to life. The leaders of each House know what we can do. Now so does everyone watching the news, which will make selling the idea of this station much easier."
"I suppose it also limits the Inner Sphere to five hundred warships in total," Krantz reasoned. "Last I heard, we were over three thousand."
"And still accelerating. The Joint Chiefs want at least ten before we even think about going back."
"If we ever do."
The ceremony came to a close, releasing the press to head out and file their various reports, while the representatives and rulers retired to yet another brief reception. Smits was beginning to understand why the station had its own vinyards. They were going to go through a lot of wine and champagne if every meeting was bookended by an informal round of drinking. Still, the various Ambassadors seemed used to it, this was effectively just an extension of courtly life. If Smits instead saw the Council Chambers and diplomatic quarter as a form of Earth Alliance Royal Court then it made more sense. It was just the natural habitat of these high born aristocrats. He was no fan of the class system, but it wasn't up to him. Just had to indulge the titles and remember the long term goal. Hidoshi would have the hard job as Ambassador. Smits did not envy him.
"That's us done, head down to security and check up on the situation." The General set to work. "The big names will start leaving this evening. Make sure it goes smoothly."
"Got it, sir."
"I'll be in the fancy ballroom, smiling at people we should probably be putting in prison." Smits grimaced. "It's about to get very busy for us. We start business operations next week. I'm expecting full occupancy by the end of next month."
"We've never had that many people on a station before. Let's hope those radiators are as good as advertised." Krantz winced. "We never got round to testing them at full capacity."
"Put it on the list of potential disasters." Smits took a moment to reflect on his job. "Stick it under religious terrorism, but above face melting aliens."
"You know, there's a pool going around the crew about how long we'll last out here," his First Officer brought up gingerly. "People are a little worried, I mean, we're a long way from home here. If something does go wrong, its going to be two months until a rescue force arrives."
"Put me down for a hundred credits on forever," Smits responded. "Put yourself down for that too. Show a little confidence, Major. Besides if we're wrong, at least we'll never have to pay up."
Candace Liao was about halfway through the gardens leading to the Ballroom, where a small formal luncheon had been provided, when she spotted her stalker once again. She rolled her eyes hard, but concluded ignoring the problem wasn't going to make it go away.
"Go on ahead," she told her entourage. "I just want to absorb the scenery a little. Give me a few minutes."
They nodded and went on their way, any doubts or concerns buried beneath absolute obedience. Exactly what she wanted in her servants. There was a place for people who spoke their mind and she appreciated that in her advisors, more so than her father did at least. But in her handmaidens and bodyguards, all she wanted was blind loyalty and an IQ not quite in the triple digits. Too many leaders had been stabbed in the back by their chambermaids or praetorians. If they were stupid, it at least gave her a bit more of a chance.
She strolled off the gravel path and stopped to appreciate some flowers, making a scene of leaning in to examine their scent and color while waiting for her shadow to catch up.
"Lady Liao, I've been trying to talk with you since yesterday!"
"It is Chancellor Liao." She spoke matter of factly, making her ire apparent. "And I know, which is why I've been avoiding you."
"Why? Are you backing out on our deal?"
"No, Anton, I am not." Candace straightened up but still looked at the flowers. "But if anyone notices you and I having a deep and meaningful conversation together, it will raise questions. The fact I have to explain this to you is not inspiring confidence in your political acumen."
"Let them talk, there's no evidence." Anton Marik sneered at the imaginary gossips. "Everyone knows your father was planning on marrying you off to me anyway."
"Happily, he didn't. It would have ended badly."
"What do you mean? Are you saying I'm not good enough for you?"
She chortled a high pitched laugh, raising a hand to her mouth as she finally looked at him with laughing eyes.
"I wouldn't let you marry my dogs. I wouldn't let you marry the girl who paints my toenails. I wouldn't even let you marry Romano. If we had been forced to marry, I would have been widowed within a few months. So when I say it would have ended badly, I don't mean for me."
There was a flash of anger in Anton Marik, a long stoked rage that he carefully managed and dampened down, replacing it with a slanted smile.
"That old Liao charm, always so popular at parties."
"We have an arrangement, Duke Marik. I haven't forgotten. It remains mutually beneficial."
"Really? Because now I'm out here, while my allies are back home," he growled. "If you had supported my bid for power when you had the chance..."
"What chance?" She glared back. "My resources are stretched thin. I am still fighting Ian fucking Davion over Chesterton. I am not ready to commit to backing you until all the pieces are in place."
"Like what? What are we waiting for?"
"More mercenaries, for a start. Comstar is vetting and deploying as many as they can. Turns out running the Mercenary Review Board gives them a lot of influence over the jobs those mercs take. I'll give you an army, even if it isn't strictly mine."
"You think mercs are enough?"
"Wolf's Dragoons will lead them. It will be enough," Candace promised. "If what you say is true, the worlds of the League will eagerly embrace their dynamic new leader. You'll have Janos' head in a couple of months of light fighting. If what you say is true."
"I know my people," Anton confirmed. "Janos is despised, only his closest inner circle will back him. I could probably do it with one regiment."
"Let's use my mercenaries, just to be sure."
He looked over his shoulder at a noise, relaxing when all he saw was a bird.
"Just don't take too long."
"It will take however long it takes, but it will happen," Candace assured. "Just remember my price. I will make you the next Captain General, and in return you give me a fully operational Earth Alliance shipyard."
"Not an issue, we have three of them under construction."
"Fully operational," she emphasized. "With all technical support and necessary instruction."
"Yes, yes, you'll have it." He sighed. "Just make it soon. I can't stay on this place while my people need me."
Candace went back to staring at the flowers, smiling slightly as she reflected on the relationship between IQ and people she used. "You don't understand it yet, do you, Anton? What this place is?"
"A talking shop for people who will never agree with each other."
"A crossroads," Candace corrected. "There are other neutral worlds, but not so perfectly positioned. One jump from each major house, a direct link to all that implies. Your nephew Duggan understood some of that. He wanted to be here, because he could sense the money. He wanted to use this place to make contacts, arrange deals, open opportunities with countless people he would not otherwise meet. You should be embracing that."
"I'll be rich enough when I am Captain General."
"Not business contacts." She held her smile, amused more by him than for him. "This place will become famous for deals, but not those signed in the open. This is where you make clandestine pacts, meet with allies who wish to remain secret, make deals similar to the one we have. This place will make that so much easier. You won't need to go through Comstar or rely on friends of a friend. The opportunities and contacts this place will offer are enticing beyond words. That is why I am offering this place my full support, not because I want to be friends with the Alliance, but because this place is about to become the biggest hive of intrigue and illicit information in the galaxy. You are sitting right in the middle of it. Use it."
"I will, but this is just a stepping stone to my real goal."
"I understand." She kept smiling. "Everything is just a stepping stone for people like us."
"No, I swear I saw it with my own eyes, he was definitely an alien." Ian Davion gestured with the wine glass in his hand, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. "He looked human on the outside, but when he took off his shirt he had these..." He noticed Katrina raising an eyebrow. "Appendages."
"What sort of appendages?" Ambassador Bradford was utterly engrossed in the story.
"Well, he said they were, well..."
"Part of his reproductive system." Katrina spared the First Prince some embarrassment.
"You mean they were..."
"Yes." Katrina definitely enjoyed surprising Bradford. "Six of them."
"Six?" His mind worked through options. "Wait, does that mean their females have six, you know?"
"Apparently so."
"And these Centauri are well known for hedonism?"
"So they say," Ian confirmed.
Bradford tightened his lips and lifted his chin. "My Lady Archon, please promise me that if they ever go home, you'll let me go with them."
"And never see you again?"
"It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."
"Are you sure? Six is rather a high number."
"I consider it the moment I have been training all my life for."
"Sounds like some of the sordid rumours you hear from Canopus," Ambassador Olivia Fenlon dismissed, a little flustered.
"I think I've definitely seen a very similar plot in a Canopian movie." Bradford grinned widely. "When I was very young, of course."
"Of course," Katrina played along. "I had heard you were a connoisseur of Canopian cinema."
"It was enlightening in my younger years," Bradford admitted. "But I've since learned the most important lesson of the game. It isn't meant to be a spectator sport."
That brought a brief laugh from Katrina, the Archon taking a drink to mask it.
"If you'll excuse me, Archon, I need to speak with President Santiago." Ian began to move. "Olivia, I'll need your help."
"Of course." She bowed. "Archon."
"Ambassador."
She watched them move off to intercept the Alliance leader, leaving her with her old friend.
"Thank you." She said simply.
"You looked like you needed a bit of a laugh." Bradford relaxed, with the two of them alone, they were just old friends catching up. "How are you holding up?"
"It's hell." She answered honestly, painfully blunt. "I'm going to live, but Arthur isn't."
"There's nothing I can say you haven't already raked over a thousand times. There isn't a reason, it just is." He spoke just as plain. "No one to blame, no retribution to be had, no great lesson to be learned or some strength to be found. It's going to happen, and that's it."
Katrina stared into her drink for a long moment. He was right, in the end she had been forced to come to much the same conclusion. There was nothing to do beside accepting it.
"I have learned something. I learned the value of time and how to spend it." She made her answer. "And who I spend it with."
"Hope you mean me there?"
She met his smile in kind. "I suppose you'll do as a friend." She made a show of begrudgingly agreeing. "There's so much I want to do, and this has made me realize I'll never be able to do it all. I'm going to die unfulfilled because what I wanted most, to grow old with my love, will never happen."
"But you do have Melissa."
"I do, and I have promised to leave her a Commonwealth worthy of Arthur. She will rule in peace and prosperity, I will make sure of that."
"I hope so, you have my absolute devotion. Whatever I can do, I will."
"That's why you are here," Katrina stated simply. "There is a war coming. Kurita isn't going to sit back and let himself fade into irrelevance. I'm also sure Liao is up to something."
"Sounds like a Liao, good for nothing but up to something."
"Either way, you are on the frontlines here. If something is going to happen, you'll see it first here," Katrina recognised. "I need you to stay on top of events."
"Using my natural wit and charm?"
"Whatever it takes." Katrina didn't hide her intent. "Elizabeth Liao is going to throw herself at you, I guarantee it. You have a reputation as a lothario, trying to fight getting old by fucking anything with a pulse. She'll see you as pathetic and will try to use you as a font of information."
"Oh, don't sugar coat it to try and make me feel better will you?" He made a pained expression.
"Stop it." She elbowed him. "We've been building this reputation for you for years, all for this moment. She'll try to use you, make sure you use her instead. This might be the most important hate fuck in the history of the galaxy."
"Happy to be doing my part for the Commonwealth." Bradford raised his glass. "She'll kill me if she figures it out."
"Absolutely, so don't let her." Katrina gave him a look. "I'm not burying any more friends. Not you, not the Kells, no one. Am I clear?"
"As crystal."
"Get me what I need from the Capellans, and be careful. Heaven knows where she's been."
"As I said before Primus, the Alliance is perfectly happy for you to install a HPG on the upper docking bay." General Smits spoke indulgently. "We've got the spare power, we've got the space, but I'm not going to allow anyone to tie anything into my station without my engineers understanding what it does."
"I'm afraid that is impossible, General." Primus Julian Tiepolo sighed apologetically. "The system is proprietary technology. We can't share the secrets of its operation outside the followers of Blake."
"That's a real shame."
"Of course, if you were to allow Comstar technicians to examine your computer and communication grids, then we could ensure a smooth integration."
"I think you know the answer to that, Primus."
"Then we find ourselves back where we started, but at least with understanding." Tiepolo laughed a little. "We are still new to each other, it will take time to trust. I hope that we can start that process here, today."
"That is why we are here, Primus. Actually, the President was very keen to grant Comstar some premises beside the Post Office," Smits relayed. "We both offer valuable services delivering across distances."
"Well, I suppose that is true. It will make our mission a little difficult, but I appreciate the offer of free usage of your Tachyon system."
"A gesture of good will. Just encode your messages, send them to the nearest planet to the destination that has an HPG and go from there." Smits considered the arrangement. "You know, you'll probably cut transmission times significantly if half the journey is done by tachyon relay."
"Yes." Tiepolo smiled thinly. "How incredibly helpful."
He tilted as he was joined by another robed figure, the man inclining his head to Tiepolo.
"Greetings of Blake to you, Primus."
"The Clarity of his Word to you," Tiepolo returned. "General Smits, this is Precentor Alain Giscard. He will operate the office here."
"I am humbled General, and I look forward to deepening the understanding between us."
"I hope so," Smits allowed. "A Precentor is quite a senior rank, isn't it?"
"A reflection of the value we place on this mission," the Primus answered. "Your goal is a noble one, and we share it. Enabling peace through understanding aligns with the teachings of Blake."
"Blake being your founder?" Smits recalled.
"Correct, and I am sure Precentor Giscard will happily teach all you need to know about his life and wisdom."
"It would be an absolute pleasure."
"I have no doubt." Smits recoiled inside, but hid it well. Lectures from religious devotees was why he had swapped Utah for the absolute depths of space. "If there's anything you need, within reason, let me know."
"My subordinates are due to arrive tomorrow from Terra," Giscard spoke, both to Smits and Tiepolo. "I hope to begin work soon after."
"Diplomatic signals will likely be point to point, from here to the homeworlds by tachyon relay," Smits explained. "Civilian traffic is their business. They can come to your office or apply to the local embassy to package their messages with diplomatic traffic."
"An inevitable consequence," Tiepolo accepted. "But I hope our reputation and long history of handling communications galaxy wide will ensure the vast bulk of traffic remains ours."
"That's a matter for business. I just keep the lights on." Smits smiled. "You don't deliver parcels do you? Because the Post Office, well, they get really territorial."
"Do they have weapons?" Giscard spoke a little too fast earning a fierce glare from Tiepolo.
"If you've ever met a Post Master, you'd know they don't need them."
"So I wanted to ask about your homeworld," the Primus redirected deftly. "Is it true? That you are from a sister dimension?"
"Essentially yes, and before you ask, I don't know." Smits held up his hands in surrender. "I don't understand the how or why, it just happened. Somebody screwed up the math somewhere and here we are."
"With your fleets of warships." Giscard noted. "Why do you keep them?"
"I don't understand?"
"You don't need them here. There are no warships anywhere in the Inner Sphere."
"Not yet," Smits observed.
"What I believe the Precentor means is, with the sheer expense, why keep an active force?" Tiepolo rephrased. "It must cost you to build and maintain them, to fuel them, to keep crews and train new ones. Why go to the expense when they are unneeded? Or at least you only need a handful of units?"
"Because it takes time to build a fleet, to train them. If we ever did need those ships and we'd let them go, then we'd be in trouble," Smits replied. "It's not just the money or numbers, it's the knowledge, the techniques. We already lost a lot of that institutional knowledge to the Minbari War. We have to preserve what's left."
"But why so many? Do you really need more than your ten best ships?"
Smits thought about it for a moment before finding an answer.
"Evil," he said simply.
"Evil?" Tiepolo frowned. "I'm not sure I follow?"
"Just Evil, plain and simple." The General continued in plain tones. "We like to think we're a more civilised people than our ancestors, more learned and educated than those who founded our cultures. We like to think we know how things really are, the realities of sentient life, the nuances and shades of grey. There is no good or bad, just a scale of choices and consequences. Moral absolutes are just a relic of a primitive time when people didn't have our understanding of the bigger picture."
Smit's eyes grew harder.
"But there is evil. Pure, irredeemable old testament evil. It is real, it is out there and it wants you to die screaming. I've seen it, seen it twice in just the last twenty years of my career. I've fought it and I have seen up close what it does to those who can't stop it. You are lucky. If you had seen the same thing, served in our wars, you'd know it too. I learned that there is nothing and there is no one who is going to fight it for you. You are all alone in that night, so you better be damn well ready when that evil shows up on your doorstep. You think we have too many ships?"
Smits shook his head.
"We don't even have close to enough for the job we need to finish."[/hr][/hr]
Babylon 3
The following morning
The First Day of Operations
"It gives me particular pleasure to sign the first Treaty presented on Babylon 3," Katrina Steiner announced from behind an ancient oak desk set in the grand council chambers. Assorted reporters were gathered ahead of her, electronic eyes watching her every move and gesture. "The updated Ares Conventions, clarifying protocols on the usage of Weapons of Mass Destruction, and restricting the size of fleets that can be deployed within the Inner Sphere."
She signed her name to the papers arrayed on the desk using an ancient silver pen, her signature as elegant as expected. A round of polite applause met her as she finished, rising to clear the way for Ian Davion to take over and put his name to it. One by one, the representatives of the Great Houses re-affirmed their commitments, with the final signature belonging to Luis Santiago.
"I feel like I'm missing something." Major Krantz applauded along with the rest of the senior staff, assembled toward the back of the chambers. "Why are we signing this?"
"Because it makes the different rulers a little more relaxed knowing we promise not to drop a thousand destroyers on them," General Smits spoke quietly through his diplomatic smile. "They know they can't match us. This way they can go home and tell their people there is no danger and everyone can sleep safely in their beds. That's good for them, because when people stop feeling safe in absolute monarchies, they tend to start building guillotines."
"But why are we reducing our fleets?"
"We aren't." Smits turned to him. "Look at the text. No nation may deploy a fleet larger than a hundred vessels anywhere within the Inner Sphere."
"Right."
"Within the Inner Sphere," Smits repeated. "We aren't in the Inner Sphere. This treaty only covers the territory of the Great Houses, not the Periphery or beyond."
The various Ambassadors and rulers took some time to shake each others hands for the cameras, smiling and projecting a scene of unity. The most interesting was Santiago and Candace Liao standing shoulder to shoulder, laughing at each other's jokes, the assembled reporters capturing every second, scrutinizing them for hints of rivalry. Both were, of course, far too good to show whatever they were really thinking about each other.
"This treaty means nothing in our area of operations," Smits dismissed. "The restrictions on nuclear weapons are no different to our existing laws signed after the Dilgar War, but it makes us look like less of a threat. That's Santiago's goal here. We demonstrate our power, show that if we are provoked we can and will drop the hammer on anyone we need to, but by signing up to the Ares Conventions, we show we're not here to slaughter everyone. Then we point out how much money and effort we've invested into this station as a sign of how much we value peaceful diplomacy."
"Speak softly and carry a big stick." The Major understood. "Bedrock of diplomacy for the last few hundred years."
"Our goal is peace, but we have to show that our words and promises are backed with enough force to give them weight. Nobody signs a treaty with a nation that doesn't have the power to bring your fears to life. The leaders of each House know what we can do. Now so does everyone watching the news, which will make selling the idea of this station much easier."
"I suppose it also limits the Inner Sphere to five hundred warships in total," Krantz reasoned. "Last I heard, we were over three thousand."
"And still accelerating. The Joint Chiefs want at least ten before we even think about going back."
"If we ever do."
The ceremony came to a close, releasing the press to head out and file their various reports, while the representatives and rulers retired to yet another brief reception. Smits was beginning to understand why the station had its own vinyards. They were going to go through a lot of wine and champagne if every meeting was bookended by an informal round of drinking. Still, the various Ambassadors seemed used to it, this was effectively just an extension of courtly life. If Smits instead saw the Council Chambers and diplomatic quarter as a form of Earth Alliance Royal Court then it made more sense. It was just the natural habitat of these high born aristocrats. He was no fan of the class system, but it wasn't up to him. Just had to indulge the titles and remember the long term goal. Hidoshi would have the hard job as Ambassador. Smits did not envy him.
"That's us done, head down to security and check up on the situation." The General set to work. "The big names will start leaving this evening. Make sure it goes smoothly."
"Got it, sir."
"I'll be in the fancy ballroom, smiling at people we should probably be putting in prison." Smits grimaced. "It's about to get very busy for us. We start business operations next week. I'm expecting full occupancy by the end of next month."
"We've never had that many people on a station before. Let's hope those radiators are as good as advertised." Krantz winced. "We never got round to testing them at full capacity."
"Put it on the list of potential disasters." Smits took a moment to reflect on his job. "Stick it under religious terrorism, but above face melting aliens."
"You know, there's a pool going around the crew about how long we'll last out here," his First Officer brought up gingerly. "People are a little worried, I mean, we're a long way from home here. If something does go wrong, its going to be two months until a rescue force arrives."
"Put me down for a hundred credits on forever," Smits responded. "Put yourself down for that too. Show a little confidence, Major. Besides if we're wrong, at least we'll never have to pay up."
Candace Liao was about halfway through the gardens leading to the Ballroom, where a small formal luncheon had been provided, when she spotted her stalker once again. She rolled her eyes hard, but concluded ignoring the problem wasn't going to make it go away.
"Go on ahead," she told her entourage. "I just want to absorb the scenery a little. Give me a few minutes."
They nodded and went on their way, any doubts or concerns buried beneath absolute obedience. Exactly what she wanted in her servants. There was a place for people who spoke their mind and she appreciated that in her advisors, more so than her father did at least. But in her handmaidens and bodyguards, all she wanted was blind loyalty and an IQ not quite in the triple digits. Too many leaders had been stabbed in the back by their chambermaids or praetorians. If they were stupid, it at least gave her a bit more of a chance.
She strolled off the gravel path and stopped to appreciate some flowers, making a scene of leaning in to examine their scent and color while waiting for her shadow to catch up.
"Lady Liao, I've been trying to talk with you since yesterday!"
"It is Chancellor Liao." She spoke matter of factly, making her ire apparent. "And I know, which is why I've been avoiding you."
"Why? Are you backing out on our deal?"
"No, Anton, I am not." Candace straightened up but still looked at the flowers. "But if anyone notices you and I having a deep and meaningful conversation together, it will raise questions. The fact I have to explain this to you is not inspiring confidence in your political acumen."
"Let them talk, there's no evidence." Anton Marik sneered at the imaginary gossips. "Everyone knows your father was planning on marrying you off to me anyway."
"Happily, he didn't. It would have ended badly."
"What do you mean? Are you saying I'm not good enough for you?"
She chortled a high pitched laugh, raising a hand to her mouth as she finally looked at him with laughing eyes.
"I wouldn't let you marry my dogs. I wouldn't let you marry the girl who paints my toenails. I wouldn't even let you marry Romano. If we had been forced to marry, I would have been widowed within a few months. So when I say it would have ended badly, I don't mean for me."
There was a flash of anger in Anton Marik, a long stoked rage that he carefully managed and dampened down, replacing it with a slanted smile.
"That old Liao charm, always so popular at parties."
"We have an arrangement, Duke Marik. I haven't forgotten. It remains mutually beneficial."
"Really? Because now I'm out here, while my allies are back home," he growled. "If you had supported my bid for power when you had the chance..."
"What chance?" She glared back. "My resources are stretched thin. I am still fighting Ian fucking Davion over Chesterton. I am not ready to commit to backing you until all the pieces are in place."
"Like what? What are we waiting for?"
"More mercenaries, for a start. Comstar is vetting and deploying as many as they can. Turns out running the Mercenary Review Board gives them a lot of influence over the jobs those mercs take. I'll give you an army, even if it isn't strictly mine."
"You think mercs are enough?"
"Wolf's Dragoons will lead them. It will be enough," Candace promised. "If what you say is true, the worlds of the League will eagerly embrace their dynamic new leader. You'll have Janos' head in a couple of months of light fighting. If what you say is true."
"I know my people," Anton confirmed. "Janos is despised, only his closest inner circle will back him. I could probably do it with one regiment."
"Let's use my mercenaries, just to be sure."
He looked over his shoulder at a noise, relaxing when all he saw was a bird.
"Just don't take too long."
"It will take however long it takes, but it will happen," Candace assured. "Just remember my price. I will make you the next Captain General, and in return you give me a fully operational Earth Alliance shipyard."
"Not an issue, we have three of them under construction."
"Fully operational," she emphasized. "With all technical support and necessary instruction."
"Yes, yes, you'll have it." He sighed. "Just make it soon. I can't stay on this place while my people need me."
Candace went back to staring at the flowers, smiling slightly as she reflected on the relationship between IQ and people she used. "You don't understand it yet, do you, Anton? What this place is?"
"A talking shop for people who will never agree with each other."
"A crossroads," Candace corrected. "There are other neutral worlds, but not so perfectly positioned. One jump from each major house, a direct link to all that implies. Your nephew Duggan understood some of that. He wanted to be here, because he could sense the money. He wanted to use this place to make contacts, arrange deals, open opportunities with countless people he would not otherwise meet. You should be embracing that."
"I'll be rich enough when I am Captain General."
"Not business contacts." She held her smile, amused more by him than for him. "This place will become famous for deals, but not those signed in the open. This is where you make clandestine pacts, meet with allies who wish to remain secret, make deals similar to the one we have. This place will make that so much easier. You won't need to go through Comstar or rely on friends of a friend. The opportunities and contacts this place will offer are enticing beyond words. That is why I am offering this place my full support, not because I want to be friends with the Alliance, but because this place is about to become the biggest hive of intrigue and illicit information in the galaxy. You are sitting right in the middle of it. Use it."
"I will, but this is just a stepping stone to my real goal."
"I understand." She kept smiling. "Everything is just a stepping stone for people like us."
"No, I swear I saw it with my own eyes, he was definitely an alien." Ian Davion gestured with the wine glass in his hand, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. "He looked human on the outside, but when he took off his shirt he had these..." He noticed Katrina raising an eyebrow. "Appendages."
"What sort of appendages?" Ambassador Bradford was utterly engrossed in the story.
"Well, he said they were, well..."
"Part of his reproductive system." Katrina spared the First Prince some embarrassment.
"You mean they were..."
"Yes." Katrina definitely enjoyed surprising Bradford. "Six of them."
"Six?" His mind worked through options. "Wait, does that mean their females have six, you know?"
"Apparently so."
"And these Centauri are well known for hedonism?"
"So they say," Ian confirmed.
Bradford tightened his lips and lifted his chin. "My Lady Archon, please promise me that if they ever go home, you'll let me go with them."
"And never see you again?"
"It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."
"Are you sure? Six is rather a high number."
"I consider it the moment I have been training all my life for."
"Sounds like some of the sordid rumours you hear from Canopus," Ambassador Olivia Fenlon dismissed, a little flustered.
"I think I've definitely seen a very similar plot in a Canopian movie." Bradford grinned widely. "When I was very young, of course."
"Of course," Katrina played along. "I had heard you were a connoisseur of Canopian cinema."
"It was enlightening in my younger years," Bradford admitted. "But I've since learned the most important lesson of the game. It isn't meant to be a spectator sport."
That brought a brief laugh from Katrina, the Archon taking a drink to mask it.
"If you'll excuse me, Archon, I need to speak with President Santiago." Ian began to move. "Olivia, I'll need your help."
"Of course." She bowed. "Archon."
"Ambassador."
She watched them move off to intercept the Alliance leader, leaving her with her old friend.
"Thank you." She said simply.
"You looked like you needed a bit of a laugh." Bradford relaxed, with the two of them alone, they were just old friends catching up. "How are you holding up?"
"It's hell." She answered honestly, painfully blunt. "I'm going to live, but Arthur isn't."
"There's nothing I can say you haven't already raked over a thousand times. There isn't a reason, it just is." He spoke just as plain. "No one to blame, no retribution to be had, no great lesson to be learned or some strength to be found. It's going to happen, and that's it."
Katrina stared into her drink for a long moment. He was right, in the end she had been forced to come to much the same conclusion. There was nothing to do beside accepting it.
"I have learned something. I learned the value of time and how to spend it." She made her answer. "And who I spend it with."
"Hope you mean me there?"
She met his smile in kind. "I suppose you'll do as a friend." She made a show of begrudgingly agreeing. "There's so much I want to do, and this has made me realize I'll never be able to do it all. I'm going to die unfulfilled because what I wanted most, to grow old with my love, will never happen."
"But you do have Melissa."
"I do, and I have promised to leave her a Commonwealth worthy of Arthur. She will rule in peace and prosperity, I will make sure of that."
"I hope so, you have my absolute devotion. Whatever I can do, I will."
"That's why you are here," Katrina stated simply. "There is a war coming. Kurita isn't going to sit back and let himself fade into irrelevance. I'm also sure Liao is up to something."
"Sounds like a Liao, good for nothing but up to something."
"Either way, you are on the frontlines here. If something is going to happen, you'll see it first here," Katrina recognised. "I need you to stay on top of events."
"Using my natural wit and charm?"
"Whatever it takes." Katrina didn't hide her intent. "Elizabeth Liao is going to throw herself at you, I guarantee it. You have a reputation as a lothario, trying to fight getting old by fucking anything with a pulse. She'll see you as pathetic and will try to use you as a font of information."
"Oh, don't sugar coat it to try and make me feel better will you?" He made a pained expression.
"Stop it." She elbowed him. "We've been building this reputation for you for years, all for this moment. She'll try to use you, make sure you use her instead. This might be the most important hate fuck in the history of the galaxy."
"Happy to be doing my part for the Commonwealth." Bradford raised his glass. "She'll kill me if she figures it out."
"Absolutely, so don't let her." Katrina gave him a look. "I'm not burying any more friends. Not you, not the Kells, no one. Am I clear?"
"As crystal."
"Get me what I need from the Capellans, and be careful. Heaven knows where she's been."
"As I said before Primus, the Alliance is perfectly happy for you to install a HPG on the upper docking bay." General Smits spoke indulgently. "We've got the spare power, we've got the space, but I'm not going to allow anyone to tie anything into my station without my engineers understanding what it does."
"I'm afraid that is impossible, General." Primus Julian Tiepolo sighed apologetically. "The system is proprietary technology. We can't share the secrets of its operation outside the followers of Blake."
"That's a real shame."
"Of course, if you were to allow Comstar technicians to examine your computer and communication grids, then we could ensure a smooth integration."
"I think you know the answer to that, Primus."
"Then we find ourselves back where we started, but at least with understanding." Tiepolo laughed a little. "We are still new to each other, it will take time to trust. I hope that we can start that process here, today."
"That is why we are here, Primus. Actually, the President was very keen to grant Comstar some premises beside the Post Office," Smits relayed. "We both offer valuable services delivering across distances."
"Well, I suppose that is true. It will make our mission a little difficult, but I appreciate the offer of free usage of your Tachyon system."
"A gesture of good will. Just encode your messages, send them to the nearest planet to the destination that has an HPG and go from there." Smits considered the arrangement. "You know, you'll probably cut transmission times significantly if half the journey is done by tachyon relay."
"Yes." Tiepolo smiled thinly. "How incredibly helpful."
He tilted as he was joined by another robed figure, the man inclining his head to Tiepolo.
"Greetings of Blake to you, Primus."
"The Clarity of his Word to you," Tiepolo returned. "General Smits, this is Precentor Alain Giscard. He will operate the office here."
"I am humbled General, and I look forward to deepening the understanding between us."
"I hope so," Smits allowed. "A Precentor is quite a senior rank, isn't it?"
"A reflection of the value we place on this mission," the Primus answered. "Your goal is a noble one, and we share it. Enabling peace through understanding aligns with the teachings of Blake."
"Blake being your founder?" Smits recalled.
"Correct, and I am sure Precentor Giscard will happily teach all you need to know about his life and wisdom."
"It would be an absolute pleasure."
"I have no doubt." Smits recoiled inside, but hid it well. Lectures from religious devotees was why he had swapped Utah for the absolute depths of space. "If there's anything you need, within reason, let me know."
"My subordinates are due to arrive tomorrow from Terra," Giscard spoke, both to Smits and Tiepolo. "I hope to begin work soon after."
"Diplomatic signals will likely be point to point, from here to the homeworlds by tachyon relay," Smits explained. "Civilian traffic is their business. They can come to your office or apply to the local embassy to package their messages with diplomatic traffic."
"An inevitable consequence," Tiepolo accepted. "But I hope our reputation and long history of handling communications galaxy wide will ensure the vast bulk of traffic remains ours."
"That's a matter for business. I just keep the lights on." Smits smiled. "You don't deliver parcels do you? Because the Post Office, well, they get really territorial."
"Do they have weapons?" Giscard spoke a little too fast earning a fierce glare from Tiepolo.
"If you've ever met a Post Master, you'd know they don't need them."
"So I wanted to ask about your homeworld," the Primus redirected deftly. "Is it true? That you are from a sister dimension?"
"Essentially yes, and before you ask, I don't know." Smits held up his hands in surrender. "I don't understand the how or why, it just happened. Somebody screwed up the math somewhere and here we are."
"With your fleets of warships." Giscard noted. "Why do you keep them?"
"I don't understand?"
"You don't need them here. There are no warships anywhere in the Inner Sphere."
"Not yet," Smits observed.
"What I believe the Precentor means is, with the sheer expense, why keep an active force?" Tiepolo rephrased. "It must cost you to build and maintain them, to fuel them, to keep crews and train new ones. Why go to the expense when they are unneeded? Or at least you only need a handful of units?"
"Because it takes time to build a fleet, to train them. If we ever did need those ships and we'd let them go, then we'd be in trouble," Smits replied. "It's not just the money or numbers, it's the knowledge, the techniques. We already lost a lot of that institutional knowledge to the Minbari War. We have to preserve what's left."
"But why so many? Do you really need more than your ten best ships?"
Smits thought about it for a moment before finding an answer.
"Evil," he said simply.
"Evil?" Tiepolo frowned. "I'm not sure I follow?"
"Just Evil, plain and simple." The General continued in plain tones. "We like to think we're a more civilised people than our ancestors, more learned and educated than those who founded our cultures. We like to think we know how things really are, the realities of sentient life, the nuances and shades of grey. There is no good or bad, just a scale of choices and consequences. Moral absolutes are just a relic of a primitive time when people didn't have our understanding of the bigger picture."
Smit's eyes grew harder.
"But there is evil. Pure, irredeemable old testament evil. It is real, it is out there and it wants you to die screaming. I've seen it, seen it twice in just the last twenty years of my career. I've fought it and I have seen up close what it does to those who can't stop it. You are lucky. If you had seen the same thing, served in our wars, you'd know it too. I learned that there is nothing and there is no one who is going to fight it for you. You are all alone in that night, so you better be damn well ready when that evil shows up on your doorstep. You think we have too many ships?"
Smits shook his head.
"We don't even have close to enough for the job we need to finish."[/hr][/hr]
Adventwolf
Well-known member
ComStar at least will be smart enough to wait on any fight. They will boost Liao and Kurita so they can soak up resources and bullets from the other states that are allying with the EA.
Since the treaty is about warships the other states will work on getting alternative weapons set up. Getting better aerospace fighters, attack craft, and bombers for one. Creating a sub-class of Jolly Roger jumpships especially since the new KF drive doesn't need as much mass. Creating pocket warships that aren't weak out of new or old dropship designs that can be docked on jumpships. Making sub-capital class warships that are cheaper than full warships but more expensive and far more powerful than pocket warships.
And when they do get around to making proper warship they will have even more mass to work with because the compact KF drive will be even more compact and heavy due to the new cores design principles the EA created.
So for every single warships the Great Houses have they will be backed up by several cheaper support ships. Would actually force them to develop a balanced and more effective navy instead of the BT standards of big guns rush in and smash faces together until the other side blows up.
Since the treaty is about warships the other states will work on getting alternative weapons set up. Getting better aerospace fighters, attack craft, and bombers for one. Creating a sub-class of Jolly Roger jumpships especially since the new KF drive doesn't need as much mass. Creating pocket warships that aren't weak out of new or old dropship designs that can be docked on jumpships. Making sub-capital class warships that are cheaper than full warships but more expensive and far more powerful than pocket warships.
And when they do get around to making proper warship they will have even more mass to work with because the compact KF drive will be even more compact and heavy due to the new cores design principles the EA created.
So for every single warships the Great Houses have they will be backed up by several cheaper support ships. Would actually force them to develop a balanced and more effective navy instead of the BT standards of big guns rush in and smash faces together until the other side blows up.
Babylon 3 Design
Lightning Count's Bablyon 3 renders:
Chapter 28
28
Cooperland Colony
Alliance Space
"How do you even live like this?"
Angela Ginelli had to put her shoulder to the door to push it open, forcing it against the piles of clothing and discarded papers amassed behind it. This wasn't the first time. Odds were good that it wouldn't be the last.
"I'm still getting organised!" The carefree voice of Cranston Snord bounced from somewhere deeper in his home. "Just need a little more time."
"You've been here two years!"
"And I'm still getting organised!" He called back. "I've got a lot of things to sort out, don't want to miss anything."
"You need a bulldozer and a dump truck." She squeezed through the doorway, flattening herself as much as possible and watching her step.
"These are treasures dearheart, artefacts that tell the tale of human culture." Cranston was still not visible. "Would you have taken a dump truck to King Tut's Tomb? Or bulldozed the Terracotta Army because it was taking up space?"
"No, I guess not." She frowned and picked up a flat case from the floor. "But I don't think the 'Howard the Duck' movie is up there with the Lost Ark."
"It is if it's the original! A trailblazer, Angela!"
Cranston emerged from another room, arms full of detritus, which he carefully laid down on an already busy desk. His house looked like a dragon's hoard, if a dragon had taken a liking to obscure pieces of art and items from random points in history. He had pictures of famous paintings on his walls, things Ginelli could recognise and appreciate, but also things she thought pushed the boundaries of cultural treasures.
"Everyone has their own taste, lollipop. I don't judge, everything is beautiful to someone." Cranston gingerly walked over toward the scientist. "One day I'll put all this stuff in a museum. It'll be great, maybe even build it right here on Cooperland."
"That might actually be pretty nice." She looked around at the eclectic collection, most of it centuries old. "Where did you get all this stuff anyway?"
"Here and there." He shrugged. "So, you didn't come here to marvel at my collection."
"No but, well, it's got everything, hasn't it?" She peered around. "Like shoes. Why do you have shoes?"
"Shoes? Oh my sweet bundle of science, those are not merely shoes."
"They are blue suede shoes." She read the tag in front of them.
"No honey, they are the Blue Suede Shoes. From the Twentieth Century. Elvis?"
She stared at them with a frown, something clicking in her memory. "I think I saw on the news there was an auction of historic musical items."
"Oh, yes, I think so."
"Some shoes, a guitar owned by a John Cash, some massive boots from a guy with his face painted like a cat."
"Is that so?" He shuffled suspiciously to his left automatically drawing Ginelli's eye.
"Looked a lot like that guitar. And those massive silver boots."
"What a strange coincidence."
"I'm pretty sure the news said they were stolen in transit after the auction." She glared at him. "Cranny, have you done something a bit naughty?"
"No, of course not." He smiled. "I'm saving treasures here, all those things were bought by rich hoarders who would just shove them in a room with all their other stuff and lock them away!"
She gave him a look of disbelief, then waved her arms around her head.
"You mean like all this?"
"Yes, no, I meant what I said. All this stuff belongs in a museum." Cranston smiled widely. "I'm just a little hazy on which museum."
"You need to give this stuff back, stealing is wrong." Ginelli wagged her finger.
"I have never stolen anything in my life. I preserve the future for all mankind," Cranston defended, wounded by the accusation. "Everything here belongs in a museum. My museum. Eventually.
"I won't say anything because I may have borrowed things and misplaced them."
"Like your entire solar system?"
"It's not as bad as taking..." She looked at his desk, "...David Bowie's trousers from Labyrinth, I mean what? But I'll just leave it to your conscience."
"Well, in that case honey, I'll definitely be doing the right thing."
"Anyway, Anna needs you outside. More finds for you to identify."
"My absolute pleasure sweetness, lead on."
Anna Sheridan was running down the checklist on her data slate when Cranston Snord showed up, loping over toward her on his long legs. Snord and his unit of Irregulars had been sent over by Archon Steiner a couple of years ago now to help Earth Force figure out basic battlemech tactics and doctrine. To say they were an unusual assortment of mechwarriors did not quite cover the sheer, distilled crazy often demonstrated by the team, but oddities aside, they were as skilled as Katrina had promised and their unorthodox methods has been valuable in training new pilots.
From time to time, they would leave to perform a mission for the Lyrans, usually returning with more supply crates than they had left with, which raised eyebrows. Command allowed them a lot latitude as outside contractors, but also had kept them isolated on Cooperland. Or at least so they had imagined.
Aside from training duties , Cranston had also shown himself quite an expert on history, and historical artefacts. This had helped a lot when it came to filling in gaps regarding historical points of divergence between the two versions of humanity, but more practically, it meant whenever Anna's team found something special, they would run it by him. Today counted.
"Hey Doc, beautiful sunny day." He strolled over the grass outside the EA Research Complex to join her, the shiny steel and glass compound the home of EA Offworld sciences. "If we're outside, does that mean you've got something serious to look at?"
"Exactly right, Mr Snord." Anna nodded in greeting. "How was your time off?"
"It was great. Didn't go far, just up to Tortuga."
"Not Earth?"
"We both know Doc that travel to Earth is highly restricted and needs a ton of permits."
"Or crossing the right hands with some gold?"
"As an honest warrior, I wouldn't even know where to start." Cranston stuck out his chin and shrugged. "I just don't associate with such dodgy characters."
"Right."
Anna didn't believe a word, but Cranston was at least proving to be an absolutely invaluable source of information. She was pretty confident the Earth Force liaison team that worked with Snord's Irregulars was about 80% EFNI or EIA undercover agents, so if he was up to something , he'd have a lot of eyes on him. Presumably his usefulness outweighed his security risk, for now.
Once again, she would put him to the test. Their targets this time were crumpled up on the back of a pair of wide bodied transport trucks making their way across the wide concrete sliproads, toward the attached mech hangers where Ginelli's engineers worked their magic. Flanking the trucks were two Marauders, one carrying the familiar Daffy Duck nose art, the other a heavily armed gun toting cartoon eagle.
"Oh yeah, this is the good stuff." Cranston was already grinning as the trucks halted temporarily beside them. "You got them from the dig?"
"That's right, on the outskirts of the old capital." Anna confirmed. "Heavy mechs, but they are pretty mangled, probably caught in the nuclear strike that destroyed the city, then buried over the centuries."
"They definitely won't be walking again." Cranston started to move closer. "But they seem to be mostly complete. Give me a minute, but I think these are rare ones. Worthy of a museum."
As Cranston began his examinations the two mechs came to a halt and crouched, powering down and dropping rope ladders to disembark their pilots. The first was naturally Michael Garibaldi, now rejoining his unit after hosting Ian Davion, the second was Collette Ferro, his Company commander. Ferro's machine also had a passenger, a scrawny girl who scrambled down the ladder a lot faster than most kids her age would, her wild pink hair and dark makeup looking wild and outlandish.
"Hey Rhonda, how was the run?" Cranston called over. "You break anything?"
"No!" She rolled her eyes. "And it was okay, did some piloting."
"Your little gremlin here is pretty damn good." Ferro messed up Rhonda's hair. "Got a mech pilot in the making."
"Mechwarrior." She quickly corrected. "And yeah, you're pretty good too."
"Pretty good?" Ferro grinned. "I'll take that. Come hit the mess when you're done, got ice cream with your name on it."
"I'm not a kid, I don't need ice cream."
"Okay, I won't save you any."
Rhonda pouted. "I suppose a little would be fine."
"Don't take too long."
Anna gave Captain Ferro a carefully hidden grin, one returned by the officer. Rhonda Snord had arrived with her father and usually remained behind when he departed on adventures. She'd grown up quite a lot on the base and had bonded with the test unit, who had effectively adopted her as part of the team. Despite being thirteen years of age, she'd proven surprisingly talented in the simulators and had started going on exercises with the EF mechs. While she would likely end up joining the Irregulars once she was old enough, Ferro was pitching for her to join Earth Force instead.
"Hey, Rhonda, don't forget I got something for you after lunch." Garibaldi strolled past. "You know that music you like?"
"Yeah, it's Metal Mikey."
"Right, Metal." Garibaldi nodded. "Well an old buddy of mine got me the full works of a band called Sabaton. Definitely your kind of thing."
"Maybe." She tried to be cool but was clearly intrigued. "I'll check them out."
"It's just a phase!" Cranston shouted from behind the trucks. "She'll be back to the Beach Boys next month."
"It's not a phase dad, Metal is life!" She shouted back.
"Come see me and Angela later." Garibaldi grinned. "Oh, hey, wear that mask when you come to the door."
"The fiery stone head thing you gave me?"
"That's it, scare the hell out of her."
Anna gave him a wry sideways look. "Is this how you treat the ones you love, Michael?"
"I owe her for hiding all my socks last week. How do you even have the time to do that? I'm still finding them in random places. Like how do you get a sock up a flagpole?"
"Amazing stuff, Caffeine." Anna grinned widely. "She's in the lab running numbers."
"Still working on hyperspace huh?" Garibaldi shrugged. "Dangerously smart woman, stubborn as all hell. Perfect addition to the Garibaldi family." He chuckled. "Remember, Sabaton!"
"Got it Mikey!"
Cranston wandered back from his examination, smiling at his daughter as she joined Anna.
"How was the Marauder? Good solid machine, right?"
"Yeah, pretty cool." Rhonda allowed nonchalantly. "Kinda want a Shadowhawk though."
"I'll see what I can find for your sixteenth," Cranston promised. "So, Doc, want the good news?"
"By all means."
"Once upon a time, these were some high end machines. Not much good now, they're all locked up, heavy corrosion, the electrics are gone and everything's cracked or scrammed. But the core chassis and frames are there, and as far as I can see, so are all the components."
"What are they?"
"Well, that's a Nightstar, and that is an Atlas Two." He pointed to the respective vehicles. "Both Star League Assault Mechs, top tier warmachines. I'd guess they were the command Lance for whatever unit got nuked out here. Frankly I can see why, fighting these guys would be a son of a bi..." He remembered Rhonda. "Birch. Real son of a birch."
"So you think it's worth sending them to R&D?" Anna asked. "Or just for targets?"
"Oh, no no no, not these." Cranston shook his head emphatically. "You can't smash these up. Get your guys to take them apart, see how they work, then I'll bolt them back together and put them on display. One day."
"Fair enough." She tapped a few controls on her slate assigning them to the research squad. Her IPX team had pulled up quite a few mechs and tanks from the ruins of whoever had owned this planet, mostly Star League era gear. Most of it was too wrecked to be anything other than target practice, but sometimes they struck gold. Nothing worked of course, but if the relics she had found were intact enough, they could be copied for future use. "I'll put them with the Land/Air mechs."
"You're going to love them," Cranston promised happily. "Maybe, if you do make your own, you might want to sell a couple to your old friends in the Irregulars?"
"Not my department, but I can put in a good word."
She was interrupted by the light but pointed sound of someone clearing their throat behind her, a sound followed by a feminine voice speaking her name.
"Doctor Anna Sheridan? Laurel Takashima, Earth Force New Technologies."
Waiting for Anna was an extremely young looking Asian woman in Earth Force blues. She was smiling widely and offered her hand, which Anna took with a nod.
"Lieutenant." Anna had spent enough time around the military to know rank and divisions. "Something I can help you with?"
"Quite possibly, Doctor Sheridan. Can we speak in private for a few minutes?"
"I suppose so." She threw a glance at Cranston, the grizzled warrior apparently immersed in surveying the new wrecks but almost certainly trying to catch every word. "My office is on the first floor."
Takashima followed Anna's lead, an aide carrying a large case keeping pace behind them. Both military officers kept their eyes moving, marking exits, blind spots, locations that could hide danger. It struck Anna as a little paranoid, but perhaps it was a way of life for these soldiers, looking for constant threats. Her office was cluttered but organised, Anna clearing enough space on her desk for Takashima's associate to lay his case down.
"We're here to speak with you specifically Doctor, because your doctoral research was on unusual mineral traces on one of the outer planets in the Narn Home System." The young officer began. "Do you still have a clear recollection of that?"
"Yes, crystal clear." Anna took up a position on the far side of her desk. "We found some scattered material, extremely unusual."
Takashima nodded to her subordinate who cracked open the case.
"Anything like this?"
Within the case carefully isolated and contained within an artificial diamond cylinder was a chunk of jet black material, as dark as obsidian, but with none of its reflective properties. It was much blacker than carbon, appearing more as a hole in the world than anything else. Anna knew it immediately.
"Yes, that matches what I remember, though I'd need to put it under a microscope."
"We ran our own analysis." She handed over a data crystal. "But before you take a look, I must remind you this matter is classified."
"Understood." Anna took the crystal and slotted it into her desk top console. It loaded up fast, the data matching what she remembered but in far higher fidelity. Technology must have improved.
"A match, Doctor?" Takashima pressed breaking Anna's immersion.
"Yes, that looks right."
"What can you tell me about it, so I can summarise it for my superiors."
"Well, the samples we found were scattered on a lifeless dwarf planet in the Narn System, as you know. They were laying on the surface, so our guess was they didn't originate there. Some of us guessed it was from a ship at first, but this molecular structure didn't match any alloy."
"A mineral then? An asteroid?"
"No, the composition of elements didn't appear natural, too evenly distributed in the samples. It appeared manufactured, but it wasn't an alloy or some sort of compound. And the structure, it wasn't solid, it was porous, filled with channels and tunnels. Our xenobiologist thought it looked like muscle tissue, but obviously not organic. It's metals and minerals."
"Very curious." Takashima considered. "Did you detect any nanotechnology?"
"No, but we didn't have the equipment to look in the field. We sent samples back home and that was all I heard about it." Anna looked at the sample. "Until now. Is it worth asking what this is about?"
"We found this in the archives, but it wasn't labelled." Takashima smiled. "It had your name assigned to it. It must be one of your samples from that Narn expedition a decade ago. We'll file it properly now. Thanks for your help, Doctor."
The silent assistant slammed the case shut and locked it, Takashima pulling the data crystal from the computer that automatically wiped itself of any stored data.
"You traveled a long way for just a quick identity check." Anna engaged conversationally, her eyes alert for any hints of information. "You need anything else?"
"No, not at all." Takashima continued to smile. "My superiors didn't want something potentially deadly sitting in the basement. You know how things can go wrong with strange alien artefacts."
"Artefacts, not minerals?"
"Turn of phrase." Takashima remained pleasant, only the very tiniest flicker of annoyance crossing behind her gaze. "Thank you again Doctor, and please remember this entire interaction is classified, even from your husband."
"So noted. I suppose I should get back to work then."
"No rest for the wicked." The officer grinned marginally wider. "Pleasant day, Doctor Sheridan."
The two officers left, Anna pondering the meeting for a moment. She was definitely lying, but why? Had they discovered something about this object and wanted to confirm its origin? Did they want to check if she knew more than had been in her papers? There was a lot that didn't make sense. The objects had been an enigma both to the research team and the Narn, but the expedition had found itself cancelled before any discoveries were made. Shut down by the future Ambassador G'Kar, apparently. No reason had been given, but he had sounded very spooked when he had wished them a safe and swift voyage home.
No doubt someone in New Technologies or IPX had started messing around with things they didn't understand again. At least this time, she was well away from it. She did not envy the team trying to get results for those slave drivers.
Outside Takashima slid into her plain government issued sedan, her assistant taking the driver's seat and setting off for their next destination. She tapped the in-car communication system, the screen flickering as it tapped into a rotating encryption before connecting to her boss.
"Four." A blank voice responded.
"Sample is confirmed identical to the ones from Narn. The warnings from Kha'ri Representative G'Kar are also a match, his description of the vessel from his historic books seem accurate."
"They were from his religious texts, his bible, not historic fact." Four corrected. "Still, this is not a coincidence. The timeline matches. This is likely a similar ship to the ones Narn myth references."
"Multiple League religions and stories speak of similar beings from that era," Takashima informed. "Soldiers of Darkness, demons that hunt unseen, devils descending from the stars."
"Tall tales, but perhaps there is something to it," her director considered. "Return to Mars, monitor the situation within Mars Dome One. Watch Earth Force and inform me if they start asking questions."
"I thought we owned the local military?"
"Only ground forces and naval intelligence, enough to secure the site but not enough to stop people asking questions."
"Understood, Eighteen out."
The screen went black, her task complete. She had only a vague idea what was happening. Only a few people knew the truth and that was just how it was. For now, she had a new task, a fresh mission, another opportunity to excel. One day, she'd be the one giving orders, seeing the full picture, directing humanity to greatness at any price. She was ready for it, she just had to prove she was worthy.
Syria Planum
Mars
"We are slipping behind schedule." Four said bluntly, his attention never on anything beside the job. His single mindedness was deliberate, he quite literally had no concern beyond this one task. That was how he had been programmed. Agent Kelsey had tried to quietly scan him and had found nothing, no history, no home life, no wishes or desires beyond the current task. He was an automaton, but retained the creativity and ingenuity of a human being. It was a little chilling, even to the Psi Cop. Whoever had reset this man's mind had been extremely capable.
"The drills keep wearing down before they can make much of an impact." She checked through the latest series of reports. "The hull of the alien ship is impervious to laser and plasma cutters. It just soaks up the energy and barely registers a rise in local temperature. Earth Force New Technologies Division at Fort McHenry are trying to rig a naval plasma cannon as a makeshift plasma torch, and IPX are flying in a tunnel boring machine. They might have a better chance."
"Or they might not." Four exhaled. "Something built this ship, and whatever did must have needed a way in. Even if just for maintenance, there has to be access somewhere."
"All our scans show the vessel is completely smooth, down to the micron." Kelsey shook her head. "No hatches, no panels, no weld lines, no variations at all. IPX still has no idea how it was built. The current theory is that it was grown."
"It has internal components though. We've detected power, and initially a signal, correct?"
"Yes sir, a signal beamed to a world in far space, uncharted." Kelsey confirmed. "IPX is already gathering funds for an expedition."
"We don't have time to wait for that. Tell me about the telepaths."
That was an unpleasant situation. Kelsey was fully committed to her task, to increasing the power of Earth at any cost. While her loyalty was to the Corps above all else, the Corps was part of Earth, and if humanity died, so too would its telepaths. Earth needed more power, and there would have to be sacrifices, including some from within the Corps.
"They are uncomfortable. They all report difficulty sleeping, migraines, a steady low level feeling of being under attack."
"And you?"
"The same. My defences are stronger, so it isn't having a negative effect, not yet. But it will, given enough time."
"So there's a telepathic element to this ship?"
"Perhaps, or maybe it's just telepaths are better attuned to detecting variations deeper into the EM spectrum than mundane humans."
Four took no offence at the label, he had no ego or pride to be wounded.
"Send one to scan the ship," he ordered. "A telepathic scan, see if they really can sense outside the spectrum of our scanners."
"I'll remind you, sir, that one of the workers excavating this vessel accidentally touched it and died instantly. The autopsy gave no clue how."
"The telepaths assigned here were listed as expendable. Aside from you, of course," Four noted. "Though that may change if the lower rated telepaths fail. Expending a P-12 may become necessary."
"I'll begin assignments." Kelsey kept an even expression, but knew with certainty it was true. Department Sigma wouldn't hesitate to kill her if it meant unlocking this alien power.
"Keep me informed." Four went back to work and gave her no more attention, his focus on the papers scattered across his desk. No animosity, no resentment, no regrets or hatred, just clarity of purpose. He was sending people to their deaths with the calm of a man ordering lunch and for Kelsey, that void of feeling was worse than if he had simply hated teeps.
She tapped her link and activated a secure channel.
"Miss Winters, Mr Kraski, report to the expeditions building."
"I hate this thing." Talia Winters stared up at what was assumed to be the front of the ship, like spines jabbing out hundreds of metres above her, the hastily built dome sitting overhead giving them a safe breathable environment. Around her, engineers were heading to their buildings as the shifts began to change, dragging their tools behind them. There had been no progress in the last month and people were getting tired and frustrated. The science team she was supporting were still enthusiastic, still driving at the problem of discovering more about this incredible ship, but even they were starting to be ground down by dead end after dead end.
"Sooner we're done the better." Peter Kraski shared her revulsion. It seemed that whenever they got closer to the ship, their anxiety and frustrations grew, making them increasingly short tempered. It was as if the ship itself hated them, that it was a poison to their minds. All the telepaths thought the same way, but they had a contract to fulfill with a serious payday at the end of it. That was worth a few headaches.
"What's the plan?"
"We'll just get close and try scan it as we would a person." He shrugged. "Seems a bit of a waste of time, but we get paid. Whatever."
"Maybe they think there's still someone inside?" Talia suggested, her eyes widening at the idea. "Someone in stasis maybe, in a freezer they want us to wake up?"
"I hadn't though of that." Kraski nodded. "Yeah, maybe. But let's just do a quick check for now."
"Right, play it safe." The young blonde peered over the jet black hull. "Where do we start?"
"Under the centre of mass."
Both strolled underneath the ship, its hull blocking the faint sunlight above them. Electric lights lit their way, a few vehicles laden with scanners sitting around where work crews had left them. Talia noted they were the only two people out under the dome, a realisation that began pushing her unease. It was a shift change, but that didn't usually mean a complete abandonment of the workspace.
"Shouldn't we have some scientists out here?" She raised the question with her older companion. "To monitor if something happens?"
"They didn't send any." He kept walking. "No harm in asking."
Talia was getting a lot more uncomfortable about this. She tapped her link. "Winters to Doctor Kirkish, are you monitoring us?"
"We are." A different voice crackled back. "Everything is normal."
"Who is that?"
"It's Agent Kelsey." The Psi Cop responded curtly. "Is there a problem?"
"Shouldn't we have scientists out here if this is an experiment?"
"It's not an experiment, there's no scientific basis for this, it's just something that seemed logical while we have telepaths at the base."
"So we're just throwing ideas at the wall and seeing what sticks?" Kraski coughed a laugh. "We really are out of our depth with this thing, aren't we?"
"It is beyond our scientific understanding right now. When we're done, it won't be," Kelsey replied. "Just run a surface scan."
"Are we looking for crew?"
"We're looking for anything."
Kraski halted underneath the approximate middle of the ship. The hull had been raised on struts, but it was still just about within arm's reach above them. Standing there was incredibly oppressive, the entire weight of the black ship pushing down around them. Talia's flight response was screeching in her mind to get the hell away, her body was twitching and primed to act, her muscles twitching involuntarily now and then with pure nervous energy.
"I'll take the first scan." Kraski stared up. "Then you take a shot."
"Alright." Talia nodded, her brow prickly with sweat. "Let's just make it quick."
He focused on the vessel and reached out with his mind looking for signs of life, a spark somewhere within, the faintest of flickers.
"Nothing," he said as he continued.
"Winters, this is Morden." Her link beeped startling her. "We're detecting a faint energy reading in the ship, a small heat source."
"Peter, did you hear that?"
"I heard." He answered, still scanning. "I'm not sensing anything."
"It's localising in your area." Morden continued. "I recommend you stop whatever you're doing and wait for a full science team."
"Negative." Kelsey's voice cut in. "Keep going, this is the only reaction we've had."
"I'm going to try a deep scan." Kraski relayed. "See if I can find anything at the heart of the ship."
He extended his hand, reaching for the hull, fingers stretching up toward the black mass. Talia was absolutely not on board with this, already her feet were edging backwards.
"I think..." Kraski frowned. "I think I have something..."
The ship moved. It moved suddenly and with impossible fluidity, the flat, smooth, hardened underside transforming into a flexible, tense liquid immediately above Kraski's hand. Talia didn't even have time to shout a warning, even if her voice hadn't been robbed by shock, it would be too late. The black hull enveloped Kraski's lower arm, oozing down to his elbow in an action that shocked him out of his scan.
"What happened?" Kelsey demanded, her voice tiny and distant. "We're seeing a heat buildup, what happened?"
"Talia!" Kraski threw out his other hand. "Talia! Help!"
Without thinking she lunged forward and grabbed his free hand with both of hers, her body moving on pure instinct, while her mind rushed to catch up. With no plan, she just did what seemed logical, she pulled.
"What is happening?" The link demanded, neither caring. Kraski was suddenly lifted from his feet as the ship began to envelop him, drawing him up into its now shimmering hull. The attack on her mind was clearer now, like waves of hatred more intense than anything she had ever known.
"Talia! Pull!"
She put all her weight into it, dug her heels in, set herself against the force trying to consume her friend. She had no idea what was happening or why, but she knew without doubt the results would be cataclysmic. She fought, struggled with all she had, but it was pointless.
The ship drew Kraski up, lifting Talia with it, her eyes locking with Kraski's for a final instant before the entire top half of his body was dragged into the ship. She held a little longer, then quickly let go before she was drawn inside too. She scrambled backwards, Kraski's hand still grabbing for her help the last thing she saw of him before she turned and ran, too frantic to even stop and grab one of the jeeps. She just ran the entire kilometre back as the monster stirred.
"Energy readings are up. There's a heat build up in all monitored sectors!" Doctor Kirkish yelled from her monitors. "Power is localised and growing, no central reactor yet."
"It might not have one!" Morden called back. "Did anyone see what happened?"
"One of the telepaths did something." Professor Chang, the IPX team leader was also glued to his console checking the last set of data. "It looked like it absorbed him."
"Absorbed him?" Morden frowned. "How?"
"I don't know, just keep watching it!"
"If that thing is powering up, do we want to still be here when it takes off?" Kirkish raised the pertinent question. "We don't even know what kind of engines it has!"
The ground beneath their feet began to vibrate, cups and stationary on tables began to rattle and move drawing their attention.
"That thing's definitely getting ready to go," Morden stated flatly. "We need to move or we're going with it!"
"We can't abandon this facility!" Chang protested. "This equipment is worth millions of credits!"
"Stay with it then!" Morden snapped upright. "I have a family, I'm not staying for this, anyone else?"
Kirkish stood. "We can take the crawler at airlock eight."
"If you abandon this place, you'll be in breach of contract!" Chang shouted them down. "This is the greatest discovery in human history!"
"So live to tell people about it." Morden was already heading for the door to the lab, Kirkish quickening her pace to keep up. A few others looked like they might try to follow, but were too afraid of Chang and IPX to follow through. Only Morden and Kirkish left, the yells of Chang's accusations of cowardice in their ears.
Morden bolted outside of their small building, finding himself in full view of the ship. The inky black metal was now shifting, pulsing, shapes moving within shapes, like some form of living creature. He could hear it now, or rather feel the thrumming in the air as the raw power built up within the vessel. Other engineers and scientists were watching, as were a few soldiers who should have been standing guard. Some were even activating instruments, setting up scans, oblivious to the danger.
"This way." Kirkish steered him toward the edge of the dome, the thick steel walls pitted with airlocks and cargo doors that saw steady use. Several six wheeled crawlers were arrayed near the nearest door, basic cargo haulers from Fort McHenry or the Psi Corps city on Syria Planum.
The ground lifted beneath their feet, a sudden, violent jolt that cracked the concrete and tossed the two of them down onto their faces. Now, finally, alarms began to sound, the humming in the air increasing in volume and pitch as whatever passed for a main reactor kicked in. Dormant for a thousand years, buried and hidden, forgotten by all beside its makers, the monster began to breathe.
"Get in the nearest crawler, go!" Morden had to shout over the increasing noise, half lifting and half pushing Kirkish back to her feet. They stumbled into a run, the rest of the base now realising the same thing they had.
The crawlers were still a good few hundred metres away, Morden noting a cluster of soldiers and teamsters already jumping on two of the vehicles and activating them. He nearly stumbled again as the ground heaved once more, dust and small rocks beginning to move as he watched them, rolling toward the ship as if they were on a slope. His scientific mind pondered it for a second before he guessed the ship must have gravitic propulsion. It was an interesting revelation, but also concerning. If the ship was dragging things toward it, pulling with its artificial gravity, that might soon include Kirkish and himself.
"Run faster!"
To his left, through the glass of the dome, he spotted the first shuttle, the pilot pulling the craft straight up at maximum burn. He could guess who was onboard. Professor Chang, for one, Agent Kelsey, anyone who had the right friends to book the first seat on the first escape ship. To hell with them, survival was all that mattered.
"Wait! Morden! Wait!"
He was snapped back by Kirkish, his fellow scientist yelling over the growing roar of the resurrected alien ship. She was waving her arm to the side, pointing furiously at something. There was enough dust in the air that it was getting hard to see beyond a distance but he could see a person, someone on their hands and knees struggling to keep moving. He wanted to get on that crawler, to get the hell out, but there was someone in clear distress as the world was about to be torn asunder. He had to run, to return to his wife and infant child, but how could he go home to them as a coward who abandoned someone in need? He cursed loudly, then waved to Kirkish.
"Get one ready!"
Morden acted against his better judgement, tilting away and sprinting for the shape. He didn't have far to run, but even a few moments could be critical. He felt the pull of the ship, the faint tug as its gravity drive drew power. Time was ticking. He was a damn fool for doing this, he wasn't born to be a hero and yet here he was.
He reached the figure and at once recognised Talia Winters, his heart sharply rebuking his head at the notion of leaving a friend behind. She was exhausted, hands bloody from where she had crawled as fast as she could like a terrified animal. She had no plan, she just needed to be as far from the ship as possible.
Morden grabbed her, she was incoherent, unable to stand, he had to just pick her up and hope he was still going to be fast enough. He could feel her weight shift, sense her shallow breathing as she surrendered and allowed him to throw her over his shoulder. Morden had done his time in the service during the war, so he was in good shape, but he was already tired and the extra weight wasn't making this easy.
That was when everything went to hell. In that instant the ship finally awoke, the final organic circuits clicking into place, bringing the ship to full readiness. The reactor spiked, power flowed freely, the eyes opened their electronic iris' and took in the world, before delivering an exultation of pure joy and fury.
Morden didn't know if what he heard was through his ears, or if it was rammed straight into his brain. He guessed the latter as his eardrums didn't immediately burst from the screech, the scream so unearthly and inhuman, so animalistic and primal, so fundamental, his deepest most prehistoric instincts recoiled. He dropped involuntarily to his knees and it took a long moment before he realised Talia was screaming too, the telepaths whole body tensed, her worn out muscles finding enough final strength to snap her almost upright on his shoulder in searing pain. She cried out in absolute anguish before all of her strength departed and she flopped unconscious back down on his shoulder.
He had no time to think, no time to allow consideration, no energy to spare to compute what had happened. He just needed to run. Kirkish was fumbling with the door of the nearest cargo crawler, two others were already in the cargo airlock cycling. They'd have to wait until they were clear to take their turn, which was not good. The intense scream that heralded the awakening of the ship had passed, but there was still the murmur of it in his mind, the voice of the ship as it very awkwardly started to move, shifting sideways a few metres, scraping on the supports holding it up.
"Morden!" Kirkish got the door open and yelled for him. "For fuck's sake, run!"
He didn't have the energy to shout back, to make some snarky response. Every muscle burned, his vision was darkening at the edges, his breathing was getting ever more difficult. Talia felt like she weighed a thousand tons. Even in the reduced gravity of Mars, he was nearing his limits. He just needed a few more metres.
The ship lifted up and at once crashed back down, crushing everything beneath it. The vessel was having serious trouble controlling itself, its control systems unable to properly manage its systems. The CPU was wrong, the living being it needed hadn't been prepared. The mind was chaotic, wild, lost in madness and that was spreading to the rest of the ship. It was struggling to figure out what it was, to learn how to fly again. The brain wasn't listening to the control computer. It was blocking it, interfering, trying to take sole control, instead of accepting its subordinate role. The brain ran the ship, but it had to follow the input of the computer, which in turn obeyed the Eye of Z'ha'dum. But there was no eye, no signal, no control. The ship buried its forward spines into the ground again, engines pulsing wildly, communications broadcasting to a home that didn't exist. Everything was wrong, nothing was where it should be, but right at its core, at the absolute centre of its being, there was something the computer and the brain found agreement upon. It yearned for war above all else. It was ready for a fight.
From his office, Four watched with no emotion at all, his window looking down on the ship as it finally mastered the concept of flight and began to lift upwards.
"Thirteen. Four." He spoke to his desk console. "Receive."
"Thirteen receiving."
"We have activated the alien ship, the telepathic stimulus apparently worked."
"So noted."
There was a sudden build up of light, a purple incandescent glow that bathed his office like a blinding strobe.
"There is, however, a complication."
Everything between the front of the ship and the mountain range thirty kilometres away, in a narrow line, stopped existing. The senior office buildings, the wall of the dome, several dozen rock formations and sand dunes. All were pierced and then bisected as a lance of pure purple energy speared from the ship. The effect was instant. Air began escaping with a rushing whistle through the new rent in the dome. There were no safety shutters on this hasty structure. People instead either bolted for shelters or crushed toward the shuttles waiting to lift off, squeezing inside like sardines.
Morden didn't look. He didn't have to. He could feel the ship rising, sense the pull of its gravity system switch to push as it now worked against the planet. He made it to the crawler with his last strength, pushing the unconscious Talia into the cab before following himself and slamming the door shut.
"Drive, go!"
"Right!" Kirkish pushed the pedal down, the truck accelerating with all the haste of treacle exiting a can. She floored it, the vehicle slowly gaining speed as she turned to the airlock. "It's still cycling!"
A purple light passed overhead, cutting across the dome, macro-glass shattering as if it were nothing, dissected girders weighing thousands of tons dropping around the truck.
"Override it!" Morden told her. "There's no air left in here anyway!"
She did as instructed, the process taking several long agonising seconds before the door controls agreed and opened both airlock gates at once. As expected, there was no rush of air, the shattered dome having already failed.
"Go north!"
"North? The Fort is East!"
"That's where the shuttles are going, and I guarantee you that thing won't let them run. North, get to the hills!"
"Okay, running for the hills!"
He forced himself to check on Talia. She had a pulse and was breathing, but showed no signs of consciousness. Through the back windows, he saw the ship rising like a beast from an egg, the top of the dome sitting on its back as it levitated upwards, shedding glass and steel beneath it. The purple beam fired a few more times, erasing the shelters around it, then reached out to cut down the two slowest shuttles. He'd saved the three of them, but he wasn't feeling especially heroic, not in the face of that monster. He was too tired to feel much of anything, but he was pretty confident last night would be the last nightmare free night of his life.
Earth Force Mars Command
Mars Dome One
"Give me the run down." General Riley was still pulling on his blue jacket as he half ran into the situation room, the far wall dominated by a massive screen showing a wireframe topographical map of the Tarsis plain. Two dozen officers and technicians were at work, seated at rows of consoles like mission control, all of them assimilating and condensing a tide of information.
"Seismic sensors picked up a series of explosions four minutes ago," the Duty Officer reported a curtly, a Lieutenant Susan Ivanova, who had drawn the short straw to be on duty at this hour. She was fairly new to the role, the high profile posting a good path to promotion if she could handle the intense stress. Today would be the ultimate challenge. "We then started hearing distress calls from shuttles fleeing the Syria Planum Quarantine zone."
"I knew that place was trouble." Riley snarled as he took his own station elevated to oversee the rest of the room. "Some sort of accident?"
"I don't think so sir, the distress signals were garbled, but some mentioned an alien ship." Ivanova relayed. "No confirmation and we can't raise those shuttles."
"What do we have in the area?"
"Fort McHenry is our nearest base, they already have a flight of fighters in the sky heading for the location. There is also the EAS Borodino guarding the No Fly Zone. She's currently dropping into low orbit over the target."
"Send warnings to all ships and stations." Riley ordered. "Have McHenry put their entire air group on alert. Where's the Perimeter Guard Force?"
"Near Phobos." Ivanova answered. "Ten ships under Captain Kerala."
"Put them on alert and have them deploy for Syria Planum. Borodino is a heavy cruiser, correct?"
"Yes sir, Hyperion class, fully upgraded." Ivanova confirmed.
"She can probably handle it, but a Hyperion can't handle disaster relief, no shuttles." Riley frowned. "And I don't like all this secrecy. Satellites?"
"They had their orbit adjusted to avoid overflying the Quarantine zone sir."
"Adjust them back, I want eyes on that area. I'll take responsibility for countermanding those orders."
Ivanova set to work efficiently coordinating her junior staff and barking concise instructions. Riley was satisfied she could handle things without being micromanaged so he left her to her devices and got on with his own job.
"Initiate Gold Channel access, I need lines to Earthforce Command and Governor Xavier Montoya," Riley instructed his console. It only took a few seconds to connect, his desk screen splitting to show Montoya, head of the Mars government on one side, and General Hague on the other.
"General Riley." Hague nodded a quick greeting. "The Joint Chiefs are on their way to meet President Santiago, I'll be monitoring the situation until they can join us." Hague was currently commanding the Alliance First Fleet and was likely to be one of the Joint Chiefs before the decade was out. Montoya on the other hand was a civilian and still looked sleepy, having just been dragged out of bed and infused with coffee.
"All we know at this time is there has been a violent incident in the Quarantine zone, a series of explosions, and garbled messages referencing an alien ship." Riley ran down. "Governor Montoya, if you have any information on the Quarantine zone, I need to know it right now."
"It was under military jurisdiction, General," Montoya answered. "You probably know more than I do. I've been submitting requests for information since this started. Nobody has given me a straight answer."
"I don't want to go into this blind." Riley grimaced. "General Hague, do you have anything?"
"Nothing concrete." Hague shook his head. "But I'll make some urgent calls."
"Alright. I'm going to keep these channels open so you can monitor what happens," Riley informed. "I think I'll be a little busy to answer questions, but if you have any extra data send it as a priority."
He noticed Ivanova turning toward him, trying to catch his attention.
"Lieutenant?"
"Sir, I'm having trouble contacting the Borodino."
"What sort of trouble?"
"I have a direct channel but they are refusing to respond to requests sir." Ivanova was clearly annoyed. "I've tried threatening them, shall I continue?"
"I'll take it." Riley brought up the comms channel on a second console. "Borodino, this is General Riley, Mars Defence Command. You are directly over the target location, establish a datalink so we can observe the situation."
"Sorry sir, we have orders not to share classified data." A curt voice returned.
"I am giving you a direct order Captain."
"My orders supercede yours sir, I'm sorry but I cannot comply."
Riley fought extremely hard to maintain his composure. "Captain, within the Mars perimeter, I have seniority. Establish a datalink."
"I'm sorry General, but..."
"Captain, enough." Riley cut her off. "This is a potential attack, an act of war against us by an unknown party. Disobeying a direct order in a situation like this, with lives on the line, is mutiny and punishable by summary execution. If you do not obey, I will order the Perimeter fleet to board your vessel and throw you out of a damn airlock. I am not bluffing and I am done talking. Obey the command or consider yourself under arrest."
There was a long silence before common sense won out.
"Establishing datalink."
The exchange had infuriated Riley, given the circumstances the Captain of the Borodino should have been eager to help. It was the only ship in orbit right now and was specifically assigned to guard whatever was happening down there. Clearly the Captain was having a conflict of orders. Whoever had assigned that ship really did not want anything leaking out regarding what this entire fiasco was really all about. It looked like that wasn't going to be a factor anymore.
"Sensor feed coming through," Ivanova reported. "Patching through to the main screen."
The highly anticipated data showed very little, just a large dust cloud interspersed with flashes of light. It could have been a dust storm crackling with lightning, but the rest of the weather was clear with just a few scattered clouds.
"Thermal?"
"Too much heat bloom." Ivanova shook her head. "Lots of heat sources, I'd guess chemical fires."
"Any sign of a ship?"
"If it's there, it's in the dust cloud." Ivanova had nothing. "Fighters are two minutes out."
"Patch us through and establish a datalink."
"Aye sir." Ivanova tapped some controls. "Cobra Flight, you're on with Mars Command. We are monitoring the situation, proceed to scout the area and use caution."
"Copy that command, one minute out." The flight leader narrated. "I have a dust cloud ahead, possible movement within. Moving in for a closer look."
The whole room was tense with anticipation. This still could have been some sort of accident, but Riley didn't think so. Someone already knew what this was and was hiding that information, potentially jeopardising lives. When this was done, Riley was going to see some heads roll.
"Command, Cobra Leader, possible visual." The lead pilot reported. "There's a shape in the dust, it's big."
"Approach with extreme caution." Ivanova repeated. "Object may be hostile."
"Understood." The pilot acknowledged. "Weapons on standby, loosening formation."
It was chaotic. Nothing made sense. The information flowing in was confusing, a kaleidoscope of data that just did not make sense. The human brain just wasn't designed to understand this amount of information bombarding it at once. It couldn't move in the ways he was moving. Something was commanding him, instructions he could not refuse, but didn't know how to obey. His mind was supposed to be quiet, passive, helpful. This was a partnership, a symbiosis, but he didn't know how that worked. The ship around him was taking orders from two places, one that knew what to do and another that was erratic. The ship circled, scraped across the ground, fired its weapon, screeched and tried to communicate with the home it knew had to be there somewhere. There was no plan, no logic, it just acted completely at random. Until it saw a threat.
Then things changed, everything started to become clear. The makers of this ship had engineered it to accept living beings as its core in part because sentient brains made excellent processors, but also because they knew a living being had something no machine could emulate. Pure instincts, passions, drive. The makers valued these aspects above everything and their ships and technology existed to enhance those feelings. They were fundamental to their philosophy and denying them was sacrilege.
The computer and the brain found their agreement once again, the need to fight. The ship was still erratic, wild, but it had remembered its purpose and that brought a level of control. The computer acted, fueled by the instincts of the unexpected pilot, it stopped randomly shooting at anything it perceived as breakable and began to consider a real plan.
The ship rose upwards, rotating as it left the dust cloud it had kicked up and glimmered in the clear blue sky. It shook off the last pieces of the environmental dome still on its back and brought its targeting systems on line. Their were several potential targets, but one stood out above the others, a gathering of telepaths to the west. Buried in its most basic instructions, one of the very first things the makers had told it, was to prioritise the destruction of any telepaths. It was happy to obey, lurching forward and clearing away the small aircraft whizzing around with a casual swipe of its slicer cannon.
"We just lost Cobra flight!" Ivanova called, the screens blazing white before dissolving into static. She quickly replayed the images from the Borodino high above, the warship showing all four fighters were struck with a single swift arc of an energy beam. Things changed immediately, the possibility of hostile action was now confirmed and that triggered a full escalation. Whatever the ship was, wherever this hideous spidery vessel had come from, it wasn't leaving Mars.
"Put every facility on alert." Riley ordered. "Borodino, you will target that ship and destroy it. Are those orders clear enough?"
"Yes General." The Captain responded flatly. "For the record, my other orders state we should not engage anything without clear instructions from the Joint Chiefs."
"I will take responsibility for any criticism." Riley dismissed the concern. "Now hit that ship."
"Moving into firing position."
"Ivanova, who's in command at McHenry?"
"Colonel Buchanon sir," she answered. "Line three."
Riley connected his console, the system beeping ready.
"Colonel, this is General Riley, are you aware of the situation?"
"Yes sir, I'm scrambling every fighter."
"Good man. Also, Colonel, my records show you have a stockpile of Nuclear weapons. I am authorising you to arm and load as many as you can onto the next wave of fighters. Hopefully we won't need them, but if we do, get them in the air."
"Understood General. We also have multiple ground to space weapons, if it crosses the horizon, permission to engage?"
"Absolutely Colonel. Fight your base as you see fit. The enemy vessel is fairly close, you might get a chance."
"General, Borodino is angling to attack." Ivanova updated him. "She's in range."
"Borodino, Riley, atmospheric diffusion may reduce your firepower too much to be decisive. I'm authorising nuclear weapons. Hit it with everything."
"Yes General, commencing attack."
The Borodino was a relatively new ship, completed during the Minbari war to greatly enhanced capabilities. She carried the latest weapons acquired from the Narn and while inferior to the bigger capital ships, the battle tested Hyperion class was not to be underestimated. She dropped her bow to point down at Syria Planum, the vast red desert expanding beneath her. She was low enough to be just skimming the upper atmosphere, the drag slowing her down and making her position increasingly risky. The Captain took the gamble, she needed to be as close as possible to deliver as much energy as she could. The prow guns came to life, firing ports opened, golden orange energy coalesced and built until reaching critical levels.
The Borodino engaged with a storm of pulse cannon fire, the fixed prow guns and topside turrets blasting a stream of salvoes down to the planet. A moment later, the flank laser cannons reached full power and joined in, dazzling red beams timing their strike to coincide with the arrival of the pulse shots.
The impact was impressive, one beam missed, but the second caught the black ship directly drawing a screech from the vessel. The hail of pulses also saturated the area, many hitting the vessel in a ripple of energy, while others struck the desert in fountains of red sand and glass. The Borodino struck again, reading which weapons had hit or missed and adjusting its firing solutions for greater accuracy. More pulse cannon salvoes, more lasers raking the desert, and this time a pair of nuclear missiles to guarantee the kill. She showed no mercy, the heavy cruiser now fully committed, whatever previous reluctance there had been. It fired into the desert, chasing the fast moving black ship, while descending dangerously close to the atmosphere.
The black vessel absorbed the damage, scattered the energy across its hull and sunk it into the diffuser spines to radiate safely away. Systems were still clean, no loss of capability was observed, but those hits hurt. Somewhere along the line, the makers had decided pain was an excellent motivator and had decided to tie the pain receptors of the pilots brain into the defensive systems. It drove a new anger in the ship, the reactor pumping additional energy into the engines as the ship took evasive action, skimming the desert, swinging left and right as energy weapons impacted everywhere with thunderous explosions.
The defences could hold off attacks like this, but they still hurt, they had to stop. The choice was an easy one, the sensors easily identifying the source of the attack in low orbit above. The engines screeched again as the black ship rose high enough to flip over, rolling onto its back to bring its main gun into arc of the blocky ship raining gunfire from above. The sensors also noted a pair of nuclear missiles, which it really didn't want to have to deal with, and marked them for destruction too. At that point, all it had to do was shoot and return to its real target, the hated telepaths.
The Borodino had no chance, the purple slicer beam passed through the cruiser as if it were made of thin air, cutting through the hull bow to stern along the keel of the ship. The heavy armour, the millions of tons of mass, the defence grid and energy webs, none of it made any difference at all. The ship was bisected in two seconds, so fast even the laws of physics seemed surprised. It hung for a second before secondary explosions ripped the remains apart, millions of tons of metal beginning their fall across the Martian equator.
In the command room, the images were terrifying. Even the Minbari hadn't been that powerful, the atmosphere apparently having no effect on the strength of the alien weapon. The Borodino ended instantly, a brief glimmer in the sky that transformed into thousands of meteors robbing the planet of its primary defence. There was silence, the full gravity of the situation now inescapable to all who saw it. They'd had a few years where they had been the kings of space, where Earth ships had been unchallenged. That time was now over and it was time to respond.
"Governor Montoya." General Riley spoke with sternness, his voice deafening in the silence conveying an air of command and certainty. Giving in to fear was not going to save lives. "I request that you declare a state of emergency. I need your permission to use all forces at my disposal to end this threat."
"You have it." Montoya was clearly shaken by the effortless destruction of a major warship.
"General Hague, I need reinforcements."
"I'm already mobilising the fleet. We'll make the jump as soon as we can."
"Lieutenant Ivanova, where is the defence fleet?"
"Twenty minutes out sir. Captain Kerala has detached his destroyers, they're the faster ships, so will arrive first. The slower ships will follow up later."
"Put all bases and stations on combat alert. Launch every fighter, deploy every vehicle, bring the defence grid online and be ready to engage if that thing makes for space."
"Aye sir."
"Where's it going?"
"Psi Corps Mars Headquarters, contact in four minutes."
"Do we have anything in the area, anything at all?"
"Squadrons from McHenry are six minutes out." Ivanova's throat was dry. "Warships at nineteen minutes."
"Can we turn the defence grid inwards?"
"Yes sir, but the particle beams will take about twenty minutes to charge, the missiles aren't shielded for atmospheric friction." Ivanova hated delivering the news. "They'd burn up on the way in."
"How many people in that base?"
She checked the data records, tightening her lips. "Twenty thousand."
"So noted." Riley accepted the report, that was all he could do. "Get me some surveillance satellites, we need new eyes up there."
Telepaths. For some reason that concept brought more than hate and revulsion, it also brought fear. Nothing else brought fear, not even the possibility of destruction, just telepaths. It was an instinctual response, something left in to force caution into the otherwise supremely confident and aggressive warships of the old ones. He could sense them, and though none were attacking him, he could feel their panic, their fear. Their mere presence was an attack on his mind, especially with so many together in one place. He had to make it all stop, and fortunately he had the means to do it.
The Psi Corps facility was large and rather well defended. Pulse cannons met his approach as he crested the horizon, the black ship shuddering and shaking to throw off the aim. Once again, the hits were mostly inconsequential, but the pain was not. He fired from range, cutting through the gun batteries first, silencing each one in turn. A handful of armed shuttles made an attack run on him, weak, poorly coordinated, a desperate assault barely worth the output it took to burn them out of the sky.
The dome was ahead now, macro-glass hardened to withstand plasma fire offering no challenge to the black ship. He hit a few landing pads as he passed over, bright explosions tracing the path of the beam as he lined up on the dome. He half expected something to stop him, some feeling, something from deep, deep in his subconscious that remembered living under that dome, that remembered the friends and family he had there. But there was nothing, the mind was lost in madness, overwhelmed by the ship, it only had instinct and the overriding drive to destroy these threats.
The beam swept across the dome, cutting across it one side to the other. He traced it back and forth, collapsing the whole structure, gusts of air rushing out to join the thin Martian atmosphere. Within the dome, he could see with his sensor eyes the lakes whipping under the winds, trees swaying violently and the tiny figures of people trying to find safety. No, not people, telepaths. He moved the ship overhead and began to fire, hitting every building, every source of heat. He could detect underground shelters and bunkers. None of them were of any use against the purple slicer beam.
He took his time, he was thorough, his instructions were hard wired into every fibre of his being. Telepaths were not permitted to exist.
"Fighter squadrons approaching target." Ivanova focused entirely on her job. She organised the attack, timed the arrival of various units, vectored them in on the most efficient path. She couldn't afford to stop and consider what was happening, the fact civilians were now being killed because this ship had cut through their defences with utter contempt. She couldn't rage about where the ship came from, who knew about it, why the military was not aware and able to take precautions against this situation. She kept her eyes on her screen, kept her staff focused on their jobs, and she put her faith in the General.
"Lead squadrons will engage up close, try to draw the vessel away from the dome," Riley ordered, very aware he just sent those people to certain death. "Once it gives chase and is clear of civilians, engage with nukes."
"Aye sir, Banshee squadrons heading in."
The Earth Force atmospheric fighters were fast and agile, but had virtually nothing in the way of protection. Even without knowing the strength of the black ship, they were well aware of their odds facing a warship. They also knew their duty, and the consequences if the ship was not stopped.
The first two squadrons ripple fired their missiles, standard plasma core warheads that impacted in plumes of fire, but not much else. The fighters rushed in after, spraying pulse cannon fire into the black ship before peeling away and rushing past, clearing the line of fire for the second wave. It wasn't much, but it did the job, the black ship rotating and climbing. The fighters scattered into evasive twists and spirals as the ship powered up, making it hard to hit more than one fighter at a time. Again, it wasn't much, but it was better than not trying at all.
"Enemy ship on the move, it looks like it's taking the bait." Ivanova watched, barely daring to blink in case she missed something critical. "I have satellites overhead."
"Put it on the big screen." Riley ordered, a clear image of the desert zooming down to the monstrous ship swerving away from the ruins of the Psi Corps base. He gritted his teeth. The destruction was very thorough, there was nothing left untouched as fires burned fiercely despite the oxygen depleted atmosphere. It was still the most alien thing he'd ever seen. The Minbari ships had been otherworldly and shared little in common with human made vessels, but this thing was just something else entirely. If pure terror could be forged into a physical object, it would be what he was looking at.
"Squadrons engaging, ten percent casualties so far."
"Tell them to stay evasive, hit and run attacks, just keep it following them."
"Yes sir."
"And get those nukes into the game."
He watched a few more fighters vanish, the Banshee's struggling to burn the thin air, robbing them of the speed they would have on Earth. They still pushed the attack, flashes of blue showing pulse cannons firing before the stream of bright purple energy retaliated. They only needed to hold on a little longer.
"Third wave coming in, Viper Squadron is signalling it has nukes armed and ready to shoot."
"Scatter the fighters and take the shot," Riley ordered quickly. "Launch them all."
The black ship chased down a pair of the fleeing aircraft as the fresh attackers rolled in, Viper squadron firing off six nuclear weapons between them. The ship however was learning, starting to see through the feints and distractions. It spotted the missiles as soon as they fired and spun on its centre of mass, slicing its main gun across the sky. It eliminated each missile and then followed up by erasing most of the still distant Viper Squad.
The General clenched his fist but did not shout or lash out. He took a moment to calm himself, then glanced to Ivanova.
"Time for the next squadrons?"
"About ten minutes, The airwing from Fort Carter."
"Do they have nukes?"
"Yes sir."
"This time engage from multiple directions. We keep trying." He exhaled. "Where's it heading now?"
"West sir, it will overfly Fort McHenry in about five minutes." Ivanova tensed as she checked the flight path. "And in another fifteen, New Vegas."
"There are three hundred thousand people in New Vegas." Riley's eyes never left the ship. "Get someone to work out if we can use our ground to space nukes on a suborbital trajectory. If we have to saturate that bastard with hundred megaton fusion bombs, then that is what we do. See to it."
"We might not need to General," Ivanova responded to a notification flashing up on her console with a relieved smile. "Captain Kerala on the line for you."
The attack was staggeringly violent, even for a ship as old and battle hardened as this one, it found itself surprised by the weight of fire it was subjected to. This wouldn't normally have happened. If the systems were fully functional, the computer would have seen the threat from far away, but the brain was mad and the enemy was taking advantage. It counted six antiproton bombs falling from orbit. They were already most of the way down before the warning was registered, allowing the ship to go full defensive and dump all its spare power to the gravity drives. It wasn't quite enough.
The six energy mines dropped by the three Omega destroyers of the Mars Perimeter Fleet exploded in a clean saturation pattern at different heights to maximise coverage. The black ship was still quite close to the ground, meaning it would enjoy the full force of the attack, the mines detonating with blinding fury beyond anything Mars had seen in living memory. The mines released hundreds of megatons between them, the intense radiation and heat hurling shockwaves that bounced off the ground and weaved around each other, amplifying the destruction. It was an attack carefully calculated to kill anything in the midst of it, from Minbari battlecruisers to entire urban sprawls. Short of a mass driver, it was the fiercest strike deployed by mankind up to that point.
The black ship survived. It saw the attack and dodged, racing for the edge of the blast zone and avoiding the maelstrom in the heart, a storm that might actually have killed even that most ancient of weapons. It survived but not intact, the edge of the blast was still powerful enough to fill its energy sinks and superheat the hull armour. The ship that burst from the firestorm was not black anymore, but red, the hull sizzling in the air as the ship screamed skyward, burned and utterly enraged.
"Target hit but not destroyed." Captain Kerala's voice reported evenly. "Looks like it's heading our way, at least we're pulling it into space."
"That's where we'll kill it." Riley broke a predatory smile. "Defence grid?"
"A few more minutes for the particle beams." Ivanova called back. "Missiles are armed and ready."
"As soon as that thing leaves the atmosphere, you bury it in missiles." Riley felt like they might actually have a chance. They had definitely hurt it, now just to finish it off. "Captain Kerala, we'll synch the satellites to your attacks. Engage at will."
"Understood General, taking target now."
The trio of destroyers opened fire with their main anti ship weapons, the laser/pulse cannons mounted on either side of the blocky forward hull. The Omega could put more power into each shot than the smaller Hyperion , but it was still going to be an uphill fight against the ancient ship, the vessel already starting to dim as its diffuser system radiated the heat built up within it into sub-dimensional hyperspace. The destroyers at least had a chance. With the energy absorption system at capacity, every hit was going to inflict damage, shear chunks of the hull, sever the spines further diminishing its energy diffusers.
The vessel dodged, it was still insane, but the instincts were sharp. It knew to avoid attacks, attain a superior position, and then retaliate. One of the heavyweight lasers caught the ship tearing a deep strip from the hull, a wound that sprayed ichor from the heart of the vessel. It screamed again and fired wildly, missing for the first time.
The defence grid added its weight, six satellites were in range and all of them began chugging out anti-ship missiles, a river of grey steel lancing for the alien ship from multiple directions. The destroyers began to pull back, engines burning to take the ships up to a higher orbit and draw the enemy further from Mars. More ships were on their way, the satellites were coming online, Starfuries were launching. The battle was now truly joined.
Missiles began reaching their target, some impacting while others missed. The ancient ship shot down as many as it could, but it was being swamped from all directions. Every impact dumped more energy into its over taxed systems, heat starting to build again in the hull. Once it reached a critical point, it would no longer matter who had made it or how mighty its technology was, it would still cook from the inside out. It had to level the field and fast.
The beam fired, more powerful now, the ship becoming desperate. It was no longer an efficient scalpel like cut now, but the full strength of the vessel lashing out in anger and pain. The closest destroyer took a glancing hit, the beam scoring down the right flank and immolating the whole side of the vessel. It lurched sideways, systems shorting out until a second hit carved it into chunks.
Both remaining destroyers turned sharply now, keenly aware the heavily wounded enemy was still an existential threat. They rolled to expose more weapons, the flank guns joining the barrage, missile doors popping open to spit out their own projectiles to join the defence grid.
The Ancient ship dodged, rolling like a kilometre wide fighter to avoid the first barrage. It moved in close, logic told it to maintain its distance, but logic didn't reign here, just rage incarnate. Still glowing red, it pressed in, a pair of spines shot off by the Earth Force warship. The pain of the damage gave it the last burst to close in, switching power from engines to weapons and cutting the lead destroyer in two, breaking its back and swerving around the mass as it spun out of control, the rotating section throwing the ship out of stable orbit.
The final destroyer didn't flinch, accelerating to meet the ancient ship head on with every weapon on overload. If given the chance, her Captain would happily ram the enemy, bow guns alternating between a burst of laser fire, then a salvo of pulses and back to lasers in a constant loop. The older ship accepted the challenge, spinning to face the aggressor and charging in, only at the last instant seeing the trap. It swung hard to one side and turned upward narrowly avoiding a tremendous surge of energy, a stream of highly charged particles ripping past from the first of the heavy satellites that were now finally able to attack.
That changed the calculus a little but not the objective. The vessel spiraled aside and fired a short swipe at the satellite, easily defeating the thinly protected target. The distraction cost it another spine to the destroyer, but it didn't matter. The flow of battle now fully joined drove the ancient vessel forward, the beam cannon once again speaking to cut through the forward third of the ship, reducing everything ahead of the rotating section to junk riddled with secondary blasts. The destroyer lost balance, the momentum of its spinning section throwing off the ship as its centre of mass suddenly shifted, the flank guns sill managing a defiant fusilade as the great ship careened past, the older ship sidestepping the out of control hunk of metal. It was enjoying itself, fully in the moment, curling around to finish this enemy and then seek fresh blood. As it happened, fresh blood found it first.
From the flank, a massive storm of gunfire blasted the hostile warship, hundreds of rounds of bright orange pulses converging in a brutal strike. Many missed but the volume was so great, enough hit to inflict real damage, the computer recognising fluctuations in the reactor and power failing in the engines. Heat was becoming critical, the defences just hadn't had time to discharge the existing heat and recharge. They were overloading, leaving just the physical armour to protect the core of the vessel.
The rest of the Perimeter fleet had arrived, a pair of Nova Dreadnoughts delivering a full alpha strike, the two ships tilted at forty five degrees so their far side guns could fire between their nearside ones. The level of destruction was titanic, nothing known would have lived through that opening broadside, and yet the ancient ship had. It was glowing almost white hot, it was losing spines, struggling to move, but it wasn't dead yet. The dreadnoughts kept up the barrage, but they had unknowingly already done their job and sealed their enemy's fate. With the drive system failing, the ship could no longer use its superlative acceleration and agility to avoid the worst of the Earth Force fire, and as violent as the dreadnoughts were, the heavy particle cannons on the defence grid now finally had the range and a target they couldn't miss.
The first hit was enough, the particle beam thundering from high orbit above and hitting the ancient warship in its centre of mass. Everything stopped working, systems died, the weapons sparked out, the reactor flatlined. The engines fought a little longer on backup power to keep the ship steady, writhing against the attack, but the impact had effectively killed the brain, blasting the hull and cracking it open. A second beam just made it certain, the engines died and the ship was thrown backwards by the force of the weapons, pushed down through the atmosphere at increasing speed, the heavy particle beams shoving it back to Mars.
It fell from the sky, a fireball smashing into the desert not too far from where it had started its journey. The beams cut out, the shrivelled incandescent remains of the black vessel finally motionless.
"Target down." Ivanova unravelled, closing her eyes for an instant before continuing on. "Impact on Syria Planum, mid desert."
"Hit it again." Riley ordered. "We have two more satellites above, hit it again."
She sent the orders, the immensely powerful weapons firing down into the desert, creating massive plumes of heat and dust, turning swathes of the plain to glass. The weapons were overkill for most targets, but here Riley was absolutely not taking any chances. He waited for the beams to stop, observed no further movement, and decided that was enough.
"Satellites two and three recharging, target locked if you want another volley sir?" Ivanova offered.
"No, keep them on standby." The General was satisfied that was enough for now. "Put the Perimeter fleet in orbit directly above the target. If they see so much as a flicker, we hit that spot with everything, clear?"
"Aye sir, relaying orders."
"Then start launching medical shuttles." Riley set about his duties. "We'll need recovery ships in orbit to rescue survivors on those destroyers and stop their debris from dropping out of orbit. Better get some shuttles out to the Psi Corps base too."
"I'll alert the hospitals at New Vegas to standby to receive survivors." Ivanova anticipated his plan. "If any."
"If any." He nodded. "And deploy some Rangers to the Quarantine zone, secure wherever this thing came from. Send Major Stoller, someone we can rely on."
"Aye sir."
"This is done but it's not over." Riley understood. "Secure any surviving data and records. Someone, somewhere, is answering some very difficult questions right now. There's no hiding this and I want to know exactly what happened today."
Spartan's busy, so I'm posting this in his stead.
Cooperland Colony
Alliance Space
"How do you even live like this?"
Angela Ginelli had to put her shoulder to the door to push it open, forcing it against the piles of clothing and discarded papers amassed behind it. This wasn't the first time. Odds were good that it wouldn't be the last.
"I'm still getting organised!" The carefree voice of Cranston Snord bounced from somewhere deeper in his home. "Just need a little more time."
"You've been here two years!"
"And I'm still getting organised!" He called back. "I've got a lot of things to sort out, don't want to miss anything."
"You need a bulldozer and a dump truck." She squeezed through the doorway, flattening herself as much as possible and watching her step.
"These are treasures dearheart, artefacts that tell the tale of human culture." Cranston was still not visible. "Would you have taken a dump truck to King Tut's Tomb? Or bulldozed the Terracotta Army because it was taking up space?"
"No, I guess not." She frowned and picked up a flat case from the floor. "But I don't think the 'Howard the Duck' movie is up there with the Lost Ark."
"It is if it's the original! A trailblazer, Angela!"
Cranston emerged from another room, arms full of detritus, which he carefully laid down on an already busy desk. His house looked like a dragon's hoard, if a dragon had taken a liking to obscure pieces of art and items from random points in history. He had pictures of famous paintings on his walls, things Ginelli could recognise and appreciate, but also things she thought pushed the boundaries of cultural treasures.
"Everyone has their own taste, lollipop. I don't judge, everything is beautiful to someone." Cranston gingerly walked over toward the scientist. "One day I'll put all this stuff in a museum. It'll be great, maybe even build it right here on Cooperland."
"That might actually be pretty nice." She looked around at the eclectic collection, most of it centuries old. "Where did you get all this stuff anyway?"
"Here and there." He shrugged. "So, you didn't come here to marvel at my collection."
"No but, well, it's got everything, hasn't it?" She peered around. "Like shoes. Why do you have shoes?"
"Shoes? Oh my sweet bundle of science, those are not merely shoes."
"They are blue suede shoes." She read the tag in front of them.
"No honey, they are the Blue Suede Shoes. From the Twentieth Century. Elvis?"
She stared at them with a frown, something clicking in her memory. "I think I saw on the news there was an auction of historic musical items."
"Oh, yes, I think so."
"Some shoes, a guitar owned by a John Cash, some massive boots from a guy with his face painted like a cat."
"Is that so?" He shuffled suspiciously to his left automatically drawing Ginelli's eye.
"Looked a lot like that guitar. And those massive silver boots."
"What a strange coincidence."
"I'm pretty sure the news said they were stolen in transit after the auction." She glared at him. "Cranny, have you done something a bit naughty?"
"No, of course not." He smiled. "I'm saving treasures here, all those things were bought by rich hoarders who would just shove them in a room with all their other stuff and lock them away!"
She gave him a look of disbelief, then waved her arms around her head.
"You mean like all this?"
"Yes, no, I meant what I said. All this stuff belongs in a museum." Cranston smiled widely. "I'm just a little hazy on which museum."
"You need to give this stuff back, stealing is wrong." Ginelli wagged her finger.
"I have never stolen anything in my life. I preserve the future for all mankind," Cranston defended, wounded by the accusation. "Everything here belongs in a museum. My museum. Eventually.
"I won't say anything because I may have borrowed things and misplaced them."
"Like your entire solar system?"
"It's not as bad as taking..." She looked at his desk, "...David Bowie's trousers from Labyrinth, I mean what? But I'll just leave it to your conscience."
"Well, in that case honey, I'll definitely be doing the right thing."
"Anyway, Anna needs you outside. More finds for you to identify."
"My absolute pleasure sweetness, lead on."
Anna Sheridan was running down the checklist on her data slate when Cranston Snord showed up, loping over toward her on his long legs. Snord and his unit of Irregulars had been sent over by Archon Steiner a couple of years ago now to help Earth Force figure out basic battlemech tactics and doctrine. To say they were an unusual assortment of mechwarriors did not quite cover the sheer, distilled crazy often demonstrated by the team, but oddities aside, they were as skilled as Katrina had promised and their unorthodox methods has been valuable in training new pilots.
From time to time, they would leave to perform a mission for the Lyrans, usually returning with more supply crates than they had left with, which raised eyebrows. Command allowed them a lot latitude as outside contractors, but also had kept them isolated on Cooperland. Or at least so they had imagined.
Aside from training duties , Cranston had also shown himself quite an expert on history, and historical artefacts. This had helped a lot when it came to filling in gaps regarding historical points of divergence between the two versions of humanity, but more practically, it meant whenever Anna's team found something special, they would run it by him. Today counted.
"Hey Doc, beautiful sunny day." He strolled over the grass outside the EA Research Complex to join her, the shiny steel and glass compound the home of EA Offworld sciences. "If we're outside, does that mean you've got something serious to look at?"
"Exactly right, Mr Snord." Anna nodded in greeting. "How was your time off?"
"It was great. Didn't go far, just up to Tortuga."
"Not Earth?"
"We both know Doc that travel to Earth is highly restricted and needs a ton of permits."
"Or crossing the right hands with some gold?"
"As an honest warrior, I wouldn't even know where to start." Cranston stuck out his chin and shrugged. "I just don't associate with such dodgy characters."
"Right."
Anna didn't believe a word, but Cranston was at least proving to be an absolutely invaluable source of information. She was pretty confident the Earth Force liaison team that worked with Snord's Irregulars was about 80% EFNI or EIA undercover agents, so if he was up to something , he'd have a lot of eyes on him. Presumably his usefulness outweighed his security risk, for now.
Once again, she would put him to the test. Their targets this time were crumpled up on the back of a pair of wide bodied transport trucks making their way across the wide concrete sliproads, toward the attached mech hangers where Ginelli's engineers worked their magic. Flanking the trucks were two Marauders, one carrying the familiar Daffy Duck nose art, the other a heavily armed gun toting cartoon eagle.
"Oh yeah, this is the good stuff." Cranston was already grinning as the trucks halted temporarily beside them. "You got them from the dig?"
"That's right, on the outskirts of the old capital." Anna confirmed. "Heavy mechs, but they are pretty mangled, probably caught in the nuclear strike that destroyed the city, then buried over the centuries."
"They definitely won't be walking again." Cranston started to move closer. "But they seem to be mostly complete. Give me a minute, but I think these are rare ones. Worthy of a museum."
As Cranston began his examinations the two mechs came to a halt and crouched, powering down and dropping rope ladders to disembark their pilots. The first was naturally Michael Garibaldi, now rejoining his unit after hosting Ian Davion, the second was Collette Ferro, his Company commander. Ferro's machine also had a passenger, a scrawny girl who scrambled down the ladder a lot faster than most kids her age would, her wild pink hair and dark makeup looking wild and outlandish.
"Hey Rhonda, how was the run?" Cranston called over. "You break anything?"
"No!" She rolled her eyes. "And it was okay, did some piloting."
"Your little gremlin here is pretty damn good." Ferro messed up Rhonda's hair. "Got a mech pilot in the making."
"Mechwarrior." She quickly corrected. "And yeah, you're pretty good too."
"Pretty good?" Ferro grinned. "I'll take that. Come hit the mess when you're done, got ice cream with your name on it."
"I'm not a kid, I don't need ice cream."
"Okay, I won't save you any."
Rhonda pouted. "I suppose a little would be fine."
"Don't take too long."
Anna gave Captain Ferro a carefully hidden grin, one returned by the officer. Rhonda Snord had arrived with her father and usually remained behind when he departed on adventures. She'd grown up quite a lot on the base and had bonded with the test unit, who had effectively adopted her as part of the team. Despite being thirteen years of age, she'd proven surprisingly talented in the simulators and had started going on exercises with the EF mechs. While she would likely end up joining the Irregulars once she was old enough, Ferro was pitching for her to join Earth Force instead.
"Hey, Rhonda, don't forget I got something for you after lunch." Garibaldi strolled past. "You know that music you like?"
"Yeah, it's Metal Mikey."
"Right, Metal." Garibaldi nodded. "Well an old buddy of mine got me the full works of a band called Sabaton. Definitely your kind of thing."
"Maybe." She tried to be cool but was clearly intrigued. "I'll check them out."
"It's just a phase!" Cranston shouted from behind the trucks. "She'll be back to the Beach Boys next month."
"It's not a phase dad, Metal is life!" She shouted back.
"Come see me and Angela later." Garibaldi grinned. "Oh, hey, wear that mask when you come to the door."
"The fiery stone head thing you gave me?"
"That's it, scare the hell out of her."
Anna gave him a wry sideways look. "Is this how you treat the ones you love, Michael?"
"I owe her for hiding all my socks last week. How do you even have the time to do that? I'm still finding them in random places. Like how do you get a sock up a flagpole?"
"Amazing stuff, Caffeine." Anna grinned widely. "She's in the lab running numbers."
"Still working on hyperspace huh?" Garibaldi shrugged. "Dangerously smart woman, stubborn as all hell. Perfect addition to the Garibaldi family." He chuckled. "Remember, Sabaton!"
"Got it Mikey!"
Cranston wandered back from his examination, smiling at his daughter as she joined Anna.
"How was the Marauder? Good solid machine, right?"
"Yeah, pretty cool." Rhonda allowed nonchalantly. "Kinda want a Shadowhawk though."
"I'll see what I can find for your sixteenth," Cranston promised. "So, Doc, want the good news?"
"By all means."
"Once upon a time, these were some high end machines. Not much good now, they're all locked up, heavy corrosion, the electrics are gone and everything's cracked or scrammed. But the core chassis and frames are there, and as far as I can see, so are all the components."
"What are they?"
"Well, that's a Nightstar, and that is an Atlas Two." He pointed to the respective vehicles. "Both Star League Assault Mechs, top tier warmachines. I'd guess they were the command Lance for whatever unit got nuked out here. Frankly I can see why, fighting these guys would be a son of a bi..." He remembered Rhonda. "Birch. Real son of a birch."
"So you think it's worth sending them to R&D?" Anna asked. "Or just for targets?"
"Oh, no no no, not these." Cranston shook his head emphatically. "You can't smash these up. Get your guys to take them apart, see how they work, then I'll bolt them back together and put them on display. One day."
"Fair enough." She tapped a few controls on her slate assigning them to the research squad. Her IPX team had pulled up quite a few mechs and tanks from the ruins of whoever had owned this planet, mostly Star League era gear. Most of it was too wrecked to be anything other than target practice, but sometimes they struck gold. Nothing worked of course, but if the relics she had found were intact enough, they could be copied for future use. "I'll put them with the Land/Air mechs."
"You're going to love them," Cranston promised happily. "Maybe, if you do make your own, you might want to sell a couple to your old friends in the Irregulars?"
"Not my department, but I can put in a good word."
She was interrupted by the light but pointed sound of someone clearing their throat behind her, a sound followed by a feminine voice speaking her name.
"Doctor Anna Sheridan? Laurel Takashima, Earth Force New Technologies."
Waiting for Anna was an extremely young looking Asian woman in Earth Force blues. She was smiling widely and offered her hand, which Anna took with a nod.
"Lieutenant." Anna had spent enough time around the military to know rank and divisions. "Something I can help you with?"
"Quite possibly, Doctor Sheridan. Can we speak in private for a few minutes?"
"I suppose so." She threw a glance at Cranston, the grizzled warrior apparently immersed in surveying the new wrecks but almost certainly trying to catch every word. "My office is on the first floor."
Takashima followed Anna's lead, an aide carrying a large case keeping pace behind them. Both military officers kept their eyes moving, marking exits, blind spots, locations that could hide danger. It struck Anna as a little paranoid, but perhaps it was a way of life for these soldiers, looking for constant threats. Her office was cluttered but organised, Anna clearing enough space on her desk for Takashima's associate to lay his case down.
"We're here to speak with you specifically Doctor, because your doctoral research was on unusual mineral traces on one of the outer planets in the Narn Home System." The young officer began. "Do you still have a clear recollection of that?"
"Yes, crystal clear." Anna took up a position on the far side of her desk. "We found some scattered material, extremely unusual."
Takashima nodded to her subordinate who cracked open the case.
"Anything like this?"
Within the case carefully isolated and contained within an artificial diamond cylinder was a chunk of jet black material, as dark as obsidian, but with none of its reflective properties. It was much blacker than carbon, appearing more as a hole in the world than anything else. Anna knew it immediately.
"Yes, that matches what I remember, though I'd need to put it under a microscope."
"We ran our own analysis." She handed over a data crystal. "But before you take a look, I must remind you this matter is classified."
"Understood." Anna took the crystal and slotted it into her desk top console. It loaded up fast, the data matching what she remembered but in far higher fidelity. Technology must have improved.
"A match, Doctor?" Takashima pressed breaking Anna's immersion.
"Yes, that looks right."
"What can you tell me about it, so I can summarise it for my superiors."
"Well, the samples we found were scattered on a lifeless dwarf planet in the Narn System, as you know. They were laying on the surface, so our guess was they didn't originate there. Some of us guessed it was from a ship at first, but this molecular structure didn't match any alloy."
"A mineral then? An asteroid?"
"No, the composition of elements didn't appear natural, too evenly distributed in the samples. It appeared manufactured, but it wasn't an alloy or some sort of compound. And the structure, it wasn't solid, it was porous, filled with channels and tunnels. Our xenobiologist thought it looked like muscle tissue, but obviously not organic. It's metals and minerals."
"Very curious." Takashima considered. "Did you detect any nanotechnology?"
"No, but we didn't have the equipment to look in the field. We sent samples back home and that was all I heard about it." Anna looked at the sample. "Until now. Is it worth asking what this is about?"
"We found this in the archives, but it wasn't labelled." Takashima smiled. "It had your name assigned to it. It must be one of your samples from that Narn expedition a decade ago. We'll file it properly now. Thanks for your help, Doctor."
The silent assistant slammed the case shut and locked it, Takashima pulling the data crystal from the computer that automatically wiped itself of any stored data.
"You traveled a long way for just a quick identity check." Anna engaged conversationally, her eyes alert for any hints of information. "You need anything else?"
"No, not at all." Takashima continued to smile. "My superiors didn't want something potentially deadly sitting in the basement. You know how things can go wrong with strange alien artefacts."
"Artefacts, not minerals?"
"Turn of phrase." Takashima remained pleasant, only the very tiniest flicker of annoyance crossing behind her gaze. "Thank you again Doctor, and please remember this entire interaction is classified, even from your husband."
"So noted. I suppose I should get back to work then."
"No rest for the wicked." The officer grinned marginally wider. "Pleasant day, Doctor Sheridan."
The two officers left, Anna pondering the meeting for a moment. She was definitely lying, but why? Had they discovered something about this object and wanted to confirm its origin? Did they want to check if she knew more than had been in her papers? There was a lot that didn't make sense. The objects had been an enigma both to the research team and the Narn, but the expedition had found itself cancelled before any discoveries were made. Shut down by the future Ambassador G'Kar, apparently. No reason had been given, but he had sounded very spooked when he had wished them a safe and swift voyage home.
No doubt someone in New Technologies or IPX had started messing around with things they didn't understand again. At least this time, she was well away from it. She did not envy the team trying to get results for those slave drivers.
Outside Takashima slid into her plain government issued sedan, her assistant taking the driver's seat and setting off for their next destination. She tapped the in-car communication system, the screen flickering as it tapped into a rotating encryption before connecting to her boss.
"Four." A blank voice responded.
"Sample is confirmed identical to the ones from Narn. The warnings from Kha'ri Representative G'Kar are also a match, his description of the vessel from his historic books seem accurate."
"They were from his religious texts, his bible, not historic fact." Four corrected. "Still, this is not a coincidence. The timeline matches. This is likely a similar ship to the ones Narn myth references."
"Multiple League religions and stories speak of similar beings from that era," Takashima informed. "Soldiers of Darkness, demons that hunt unseen, devils descending from the stars."
"Tall tales, but perhaps there is something to it," her director considered. "Return to Mars, monitor the situation within Mars Dome One. Watch Earth Force and inform me if they start asking questions."
"I thought we owned the local military?"
"Only ground forces and naval intelligence, enough to secure the site but not enough to stop people asking questions."
"Understood, Eighteen out."
The screen went black, her task complete. She had only a vague idea what was happening. Only a few people knew the truth and that was just how it was. For now, she had a new task, a fresh mission, another opportunity to excel. One day, she'd be the one giving orders, seeing the full picture, directing humanity to greatness at any price. She was ready for it, she just had to prove she was worthy.
Syria Planum
Mars
"We are slipping behind schedule." Four said bluntly, his attention never on anything beside the job. His single mindedness was deliberate, he quite literally had no concern beyond this one task. That was how he had been programmed. Agent Kelsey had tried to quietly scan him and had found nothing, no history, no home life, no wishes or desires beyond the current task. He was an automaton, but retained the creativity and ingenuity of a human being. It was a little chilling, even to the Psi Cop. Whoever had reset this man's mind had been extremely capable.
"The drills keep wearing down before they can make much of an impact." She checked through the latest series of reports. "The hull of the alien ship is impervious to laser and plasma cutters. It just soaks up the energy and barely registers a rise in local temperature. Earth Force New Technologies Division at Fort McHenry are trying to rig a naval plasma cannon as a makeshift plasma torch, and IPX are flying in a tunnel boring machine. They might have a better chance."
"Or they might not." Four exhaled. "Something built this ship, and whatever did must have needed a way in. Even if just for maintenance, there has to be access somewhere."
"All our scans show the vessel is completely smooth, down to the micron." Kelsey shook her head. "No hatches, no panels, no weld lines, no variations at all. IPX still has no idea how it was built. The current theory is that it was grown."
"It has internal components though. We've detected power, and initially a signal, correct?"
"Yes sir, a signal beamed to a world in far space, uncharted." Kelsey confirmed. "IPX is already gathering funds for an expedition."
"We don't have time to wait for that. Tell me about the telepaths."
That was an unpleasant situation. Kelsey was fully committed to her task, to increasing the power of Earth at any cost. While her loyalty was to the Corps above all else, the Corps was part of Earth, and if humanity died, so too would its telepaths. Earth needed more power, and there would have to be sacrifices, including some from within the Corps.
"They are uncomfortable. They all report difficulty sleeping, migraines, a steady low level feeling of being under attack."
"And you?"
"The same. My defences are stronger, so it isn't having a negative effect, not yet. But it will, given enough time."
"So there's a telepathic element to this ship?"
"Perhaps, or maybe it's just telepaths are better attuned to detecting variations deeper into the EM spectrum than mundane humans."
Four took no offence at the label, he had no ego or pride to be wounded.
"Send one to scan the ship," he ordered. "A telepathic scan, see if they really can sense outside the spectrum of our scanners."
"I'll remind you, sir, that one of the workers excavating this vessel accidentally touched it and died instantly. The autopsy gave no clue how."
"The telepaths assigned here were listed as expendable. Aside from you, of course," Four noted. "Though that may change if the lower rated telepaths fail. Expending a P-12 may become necessary."
"I'll begin assignments." Kelsey kept an even expression, but knew with certainty it was true. Department Sigma wouldn't hesitate to kill her if it meant unlocking this alien power.
"Keep me informed." Four went back to work and gave her no more attention, his focus on the papers scattered across his desk. No animosity, no resentment, no regrets or hatred, just clarity of purpose. He was sending people to their deaths with the calm of a man ordering lunch and for Kelsey, that void of feeling was worse than if he had simply hated teeps.
She tapped her link and activated a secure channel.
"Miss Winters, Mr Kraski, report to the expeditions building."
"I hate this thing." Talia Winters stared up at what was assumed to be the front of the ship, like spines jabbing out hundreds of metres above her, the hastily built dome sitting overhead giving them a safe breathable environment. Around her, engineers were heading to their buildings as the shifts began to change, dragging their tools behind them. There had been no progress in the last month and people were getting tired and frustrated. The science team she was supporting were still enthusiastic, still driving at the problem of discovering more about this incredible ship, but even they were starting to be ground down by dead end after dead end.
"Sooner we're done the better." Peter Kraski shared her revulsion. It seemed that whenever they got closer to the ship, their anxiety and frustrations grew, making them increasingly short tempered. It was as if the ship itself hated them, that it was a poison to their minds. All the telepaths thought the same way, but they had a contract to fulfill with a serious payday at the end of it. That was worth a few headaches.
"What's the plan?"
"We'll just get close and try scan it as we would a person." He shrugged. "Seems a bit of a waste of time, but we get paid. Whatever."
"Maybe they think there's still someone inside?" Talia suggested, her eyes widening at the idea. "Someone in stasis maybe, in a freezer they want us to wake up?"
"I hadn't though of that." Kraski nodded. "Yeah, maybe. But let's just do a quick check for now."
"Right, play it safe." The young blonde peered over the jet black hull. "Where do we start?"
"Under the centre of mass."
Both strolled underneath the ship, its hull blocking the faint sunlight above them. Electric lights lit their way, a few vehicles laden with scanners sitting around where work crews had left them. Talia noted they were the only two people out under the dome, a realisation that began pushing her unease. It was a shift change, but that didn't usually mean a complete abandonment of the workspace.
"Shouldn't we have some scientists out here?" She raised the question with her older companion. "To monitor if something happens?"
"They didn't send any." He kept walking. "No harm in asking."
Talia was getting a lot more uncomfortable about this. She tapped her link. "Winters to Doctor Kirkish, are you monitoring us?"
"We are." A different voice crackled back. "Everything is normal."
"Who is that?"
"It's Agent Kelsey." The Psi Cop responded curtly. "Is there a problem?"
"Shouldn't we have scientists out here if this is an experiment?"
"It's not an experiment, there's no scientific basis for this, it's just something that seemed logical while we have telepaths at the base."
"So we're just throwing ideas at the wall and seeing what sticks?" Kraski coughed a laugh. "We really are out of our depth with this thing, aren't we?"
"It is beyond our scientific understanding right now. When we're done, it won't be," Kelsey replied. "Just run a surface scan."
"Are we looking for crew?"
"We're looking for anything."
Kraski halted underneath the approximate middle of the ship. The hull had been raised on struts, but it was still just about within arm's reach above them. Standing there was incredibly oppressive, the entire weight of the black ship pushing down around them. Talia's flight response was screeching in her mind to get the hell away, her body was twitching and primed to act, her muscles twitching involuntarily now and then with pure nervous energy.
"I'll take the first scan." Kraski stared up. "Then you take a shot."
"Alright." Talia nodded, her brow prickly with sweat. "Let's just make it quick."
He focused on the vessel and reached out with his mind looking for signs of life, a spark somewhere within, the faintest of flickers.
"Nothing," he said as he continued.
"Winters, this is Morden." Her link beeped startling her. "We're detecting a faint energy reading in the ship, a small heat source."
"Peter, did you hear that?"
"I heard." He answered, still scanning. "I'm not sensing anything."
"It's localising in your area." Morden continued. "I recommend you stop whatever you're doing and wait for a full science team."
"Negative." Kelsey's voice cut in. "Keep going, this is the only reaction we've had."
"I'm going to try a deep scan." Kraski relayed. "See if I can find anything at the heart of the ship."
He extended his hand, reaching for the hull, fingers stretching up toward the black mass. Talia was absolutely not on board with this, already her feet were edging backwards.
"I think..." Kraski frowned. "I think I have something..."
The ship moved. It moved suddenly and with impossible fluidity, the flat, smooth, hardened underside transforming into a flexible, tense liquid immediately above Kraski's hand. Talia didn't even have time to shout a warning, even if her voice hadn't been robbed by shock, it would be too late. The black hull enveloped Kraski's lower arm, oozing down to his elbow in an action that shocked him out of his scan.
"What happened?" Kelsey demanded, her voice tiny and distant. "We're seeing a heat buildup, what happened?"
"Talia!" Kraski threw out his other hand. "Talia! Help!"
Without thinking she lunged forward and grabbed his free hand with both of hers, her body moving on pure instinct, while her mind rushed to catch up. With no plan, she just did what seemed logical, she pulled.
"What is happening?" The link demanded, neither caring. Kraski was suddenly lifted from his feet as the ship began to envelop him, drawing him up into its now shimmering hull. The attack on her mind was clearer now, like waves of hatred more intense than anything she had ever known.
"Talia! Pull!"
She put all her weight into it, dug her heels in, set herself against the force trying to consume her friend. She had no idea what was happening or why, but she knew without doubt the results would be cataclysmic. She fought, struggled with all she had, but it was pointless.
The ship drew Kraski up, lifting Talia with it, her eyes locking with Kraski's for a final instant before the entire top half of his body was dragged into the ship. She held a little longer, then quickly let go before she was drawn inside too. She scrambled backwards, Kraski's hand still grabbing for her help the last thing she saw of him before she turned and ran, too frantic to even stop and grab one of the jeeps. She just ran the entire kilometre back as the monster stirred.
"Energy readings are up. There's a heat build up in all monitored sectors!" Doctor Kirkish yelled from her monitors. "Power is localised and growing, no central reactor yet."
"It might not have one!" Morden called back. "Did anyone see what happened?"
"One of the telepaths did something." Professor Chang, the IPX team leader was also glued to his console checking the last set of data. "It looked like it absorbed him."
"Absorbed him?" Morden frowned. "How?"
"I don't know, just keep watching it!"
"If that thing is powering up, do we want to still be here when it takes off?" Kirkish raised the pertinent question. "We don't even know what kind of engines it has!"
The ground beneath their feet began to vibrate, cups and stationary on tables began to rattle and move drawing their attention.
"That thing's definitely getting ready to go," Morden stated flatly. "We need to move or we're going with it!"
"We can't abandon this facility!" Chang protested. "This equipment is worth millions of credits!"
"Stay with it then!" Morden snapped upright. "I have a family, I'm not staying for this, anyone else?"
Kirkish stood. "We can take the crawler at airlock eight."
"If you abandon this place, you'll be in breach of contract!" Chang shouted them down. "This is the greatest discovery in human history!"
"So live to tell people about it." Morden was already heading for the door to the lab, Kirkish quickening her pace to keep up. A few others looked like they might try to follow, but were too afraid of Chang and IPX to follow through. Only Morden and Kirkish left, the yells of Chang's accusations of cowardice in their ears.
Morden bolted outside of their small building, finding himself in full view of the ship. The inky black metal was now shifting, pulsing, shapes moving within shapes, like some form of living creature. He could hear it now, or rather feel the thrumming in the air as the raw power built up within the vessel. Other engineers and scientists were watching, as were a few soldiers who should have been standing guard. Some were even activating instruments, setting up scans, oblivious to the danger.
"This way." Kirkish steered him toward the edge of the dome, the thick steel walls pitted with airlocks and cargo doors that saw steady use. Several six wheeled crawlers were arrayed near the nearest door, basic cargo haulers from Fort McHenry or the Psi Corps city on Syria Planum.
The ground lifted beneath their feet, a sudden, violent jolt that cracked the concrete and tossed the two of them down onto their faces. Now, finally, alarms began to sound, the humming in the air increasing in volume and pitch as whatever passed for a main reactor kicked in. Dormant for a thousand years, buried and hidden, forgotten by all beside its makers, the monster began to breathe.
"Get in the nearest crawler, go!" Morden had to shout over the increasing noise, half lifting and half pushing Kirkish back to her feet. They stumbled into a run, the rest of the base now realising the same thing they had.
The crawlers were still a good few hundred metres away, Morden noting a cluster of soldiers and teamsters already jumping on two of the vehicles and activating them. He nearly stumbled again as the ground heaved once more, dust and small rocks beginning to move as he watched them, rolling toward the ship as if they were on a slope. His scientific mind pondered it for a second before he guessed the ship must have gravitic propulsion. It was an interesting revelation, but also concerning. If the ship was dragging things toward it, pulling with its artificial gravity, that might soon include Kirkish and himself.
"Run faster!"
To his left, through the glass of the dome, he spotted the first shuttle, the pilot pulling the craft straight up at maximum burn. He could guess who was onboard. Professor Chang, for one, Agent Kelsey, anyone who had the right friends to book the first seat on the first escape ship. To hell with them, survival was all that mattered.
"Wait! Morden! Wait!"
He was snapped back by Kirkish, his fellow scientist yelling over the growing roar of the resurrected alien ship. She was waving her arm to the side, pointing furiously at something. There was enough dust in the air that it was getting hard to see beyond a distance but he could see a person, someone on their hands and knees struggling to keep moving. He wanted to get on that crawler, to get the hell out, but there was someone in clear distress as the world was about to be torn asunder. He had to run, to return to his wife and infant child, but how could he go home to them as a coward who abandoned someone in need? He cursed loudly, then waved to Kirkish.
"Get one ready!"
Morden acted against his better judgement, tilting away and sprinting for the shape. He didn't have far to run, but even a few moments could be critical. He felt the pull of the ship, the faint tug as its gravity drive drew power. Time was ticking. He was a damn fool for doing this, he wasn't born to be a hero and yet here he was.
He reached the figure and at once recognised Talia Winters, his heart sharply rebuking his head at the notion of leaving a friend behind. She was exhausted, hands bloody from where she had crawled as fast as she could like a terrified animal. She had no plan, she just needed to be as far from the ship as possible.
Morden grabbed her, she was incoherent, unable to stand, he had to just pick her up and hope he was still going to be fast enough. He could feel her weight shift, sense her shallow breathing as she surrendered and allowed him to throw her over his shoulder. Morden had done his time in the service during the war, so he was in good shape, but he was already tired and the extra weight wasn't making this easy.
That was when everything went to hell. In that instant the ship finally awoke, the final organic circuits clicking into place, bringing the ship to full readiness. The reactor spiked, power flowed freely, the eyes opened their electronic iris' and took in the world, before delivering an exultation of pure joy and fury.
Morden didn't know if what he heard was through his ears, or if it was rammed straight into his brain. He guessed the latter as his eardrums didn't immediately burst from the screech, the scream so unearthly and inhuman, so animalistic and primal, so fundamental, his deepest most prehistoric instincts recoiled. He dropped involuntarily to his knees and it took a long moment before he realised Talia was screaming too, the telepaths whole body tensed, her worn out muscles finding enough final strength to snap her almost upright on his shoulder in searing pain. She cried out in absolute anguish before all of her strength departed and she flopped unconscious back down on his shoulder.
He had no time to think, no time to allow consideration, no energy to spare to compute what had happened. He just needed to run. Kirkish was fumbling with the door of the nearest cargo crawler, two others were already in the cargo airlock cycling. They'd have to wait until they were clear to take their turn, which was not good. The intense scream that heralded the awakening of the ship had passed, but there was still the murmur of it in his mind, the voice of the ship as it very awkwardly started to move, shifting sideways a few metres, scraping on the supports holding it up.
"Morden!" Kirkish got the door open and yelled for him. "For fuck's sake, run!"
He didn't have the energy to shout back, to make some snarky response. Every muscle burned, his vision was darkening at the edges, his breathing was getting ever more difficult. Talia felt like she weighed a thousand tons. Even in the reduced gravity of Mars, he was nearing his limits. He just needed a few more metres.
The ship lifted up and at once crashed back down, crushing everything beneath it. The vessel was having serious trouble controlling itself, its control systems unable to properly manage its systems. The CPU was wrong, the living being it needed hadn't been prepared. The mind was chaotic, wild, lost in madness and that was spreading to the rest of the ship. It was struggling to figure out what it was, to learn how to fly again. The brain wasn't listening to the control computer. It was blocking it, interfering, trying to take sole control, instead of accepting its subordinate role. The brain ran the ship, but it had to follow the input of the computer, which in turn obeyed the Eye of Z'ha'dum. But there was no eye, no signal, no control. The ship buried its forward spines into the ground again, engines pulsing wildly, communications broadcasting to a home that didn't exist. Everything was wrong, nothing was where it should be, but right at its core, at the absolute centre of its being, there was something the computer and the brain found agreement upon. It yearned for war above all else. It was ready for a fight.
From his office, Four watched with no emotion at all, his window looking down on the ship as it finally mastered the concept of flight and began to lift upwards.
"Thirteen. Four." He spoke to his desk console. "Receive."
"Thirteen receiving."
"We have activated the alien ship, the telepathic stimulus apparently worked."
"So noted."
There was a sudden build up of light, a purple incandescent glow that bathed his office like a blinding strobe.
"There is, however, a complication."
Everything between the front of the ship and the mountain range thirty kilometres away, in a narrow line, stopped existing. The senior office buildings, the wall of the dome, several dozen rock formations and sand dunes. All were pierced and then bisected as a lance of pure purple energy speared from the ship. The effect was instant. Air began escaping with a rushing whistle through the new rent in the dome. There were no safety shutters on this hasty structure. People instead either bolted for shelters or crushed toward the shuttles waiting to lift off, squeezing inside like sardines.
Morden didn't look. He didn't have to. He could feel the ship rising, sense the pull of its gravity system switch to push as it now worked against the planet. He made it to the crawler with his last strength, pushing the unconscious Talia into the cab before following himself and slamming the door shut.
"Drive, go!"
"Right!" Kirkish pushed the pedal down, the truck accelerating with all the haste of treacle exiting a can. She floored it, the vehicle slowly gaining speed as she turned to the airlock. "It's still cycling!"
A purple light passed overhead, cutting across the dome, macro-glass shattering as if it were nothing, dissected girders weighing thousands of tons dropping around the truck.
"Override it!" Morden told her. "There's no air left in here anyway!"
She did as instructed, the process taking several long agonising seconds before the door controls agreed and opened both airlock gates at once. As expected, there was no rush of air, the shattered dome having already failed.
"Go north!"
"North? The Fort is East!"
"That's where the shuttles are going, and I guarantee you that thing won't let them run. North, get to the hills!"
"Okay, running for the hills!"
He forced himself to check on Talia. She had a pulse and was breathing, but showed no signs of consciousness. Through the back windows, he saw the ship rising like a beast from an egg, the top of the dome sitting on its back as it levitated upwards, shedding glass and steel beneath it. The purple beam fired a few more times, erasing the shelters around it, then reached out to cut down the two slowest shuttles. He'd saved the three of them, but he wasn't feeling especially heroic, not in the face of that monster. He was too tired to feel much of anything, but he was pretty confident last night would be the last nightmare free night of his life.
Earth Force Mars Command
Mars Dome One
"Give me the run down." General Riley was still pulling on his blue jacket as he half ran into the situation room, the far wall dominated by a massive screen showing a wireframe topographical map of the Tarsis plain. Two dozen officers and technicians were at work, seated at rows of consoles like mission control, all of them assimilating and condensing a tide of information.
"Seismic sensors picked up a series of explosions four minutes ago," the Duty Officer reported a curtly, a Lieutenant Susan Ivanova, who had drawn the short straw to be on duty at this hour. She was fairly new to the role, the high profile posting a good path to promotion if she could handle the intense stress. Today would be the ultimate challenge. "We then started hearing distress calls from shuttles fleeing the Syria Planum Quarantine zone."
"I knew that place was trouble." Riley snarled as he took his own station elevated to oversee the rest of the room. "Some sort of accident?"
"I don't think so sir, the distress signals were garbled, but some mentioned an alien ship." Ivanova relayed. "No confirmation and we can't raise those shuttles."
"What do we have in the area?"
"Fort McHenry is our nearest base, they already have a flight of fighters in the sky heading for the location. There is also the EAS Borodino guarding the No Fly Zone. She's currently dropping into low orbit over the target."
"Send warnings to all ships and stations." Riley ordered. "Have McHenry put their entire air group on alert. Where's the Perimeter Guard Force?"
"Near Phobos." Ivanova answered. "Ten ships under Captain Kerala."
"Put them on alert and have them deploy for Syria Planum. Borodino is a heavy cruiser, correct?"
"Yes sir, Hyperion class, fully upgraded." Ivanova confirmed.
"She can probably handle it, but a Hyperion can't handle disaster relief, no shuttles." Riley frowned. "And I don't like all this secrecy. Satellites?"
"They had their orbit adjusted to avoid overflying the Quarantine zone sir."
"Adjust them back, I want eyes on that area. I'll take responsibility for countermanding those orders."
Ivanova set to work efficiently coordinating her junior staff and barking concise instructions. Riley was satisfied she could handle things without being micromanaged so he left her to her devices and got on with his own job.
"Initiate Gold Channel access, I need lines to Earthforce Command and Governor Xavier Montoya," Riley instructed his console. It only took a few seconds to connect, his desk screen splitting to show Montoya, head of the Mars government on one side, and General Hague on the other.
"General Riley." Hague nodded a quick greeting. "The Joint Chiefs are on their way to meet President Santiago, I'll be monitoring the situation until they can join us." Hague was currently commanding the Alliance First Fleet and was likely to be one of the Joint Chiefs before the decade was out. Montoya on the other hand was a civilian and still looked sleepy, having just been dragged out of bed and infused with coffee.
"All we know at this time is there has been a violent incident in the Quarantine zone, a series of explosions, and garbled messages referencing an alien ship." Riley ran down. "Governor Montoya, if you have any information on the Quarantine zone, I need to know it right now."
"It was under military jurisdiction, General," Montoya answered. "You probably know more than I do. I've been submitting requests for information since this started. Nobody has given me a straight answer."
"I don't want to go into this blind." Riley grimaced. "General Hague, do you have anything?"
"Nothing concrete." Hague shook his head. "But I'll make some urgent calls."
"Alright. I'm going to keep these channels open so you can monitor what happens," Riley informed. "I think I'll be a little busy to answer questions, but if you have any extra data send it as a priority."
He noticed Ivanova turning toward him, trying to catch his attention.
"Lieutenant?"
"Sir, I'm having trouble contacting the Borodino."
"What sort of trouble?"
"I have a direct channel but they are refusing to respond to requests sir." Ivanova was clearly annoyed. "I've tried threatening them, shall I continue?"
"I'll take it." Riley brought up the comms channel on a second console. "Borodino, this is General Riley, Mars Defence Command. You are directly over the target location, establish a datalink so we can observe the situation."
"Sorry sir, we have orders not to share classified data." A curt voice returned.
"I am giving you a direct order Captain."
"My orders supercede yours sir, I'm sorry but I cannot comply."
Riley fought extremely hard to maintain his composure. "Captain, within the Mars perimeter, I have seniority. Establish a datalink."
"I'm sorry General, but..."
"Captain, enough." Riley cut her off. "This is a potential attack, an act of war against us by an unknown party. Disobeying a direct order in a situation like this, with lives on the line, is mutiny and punishable by summary execution. If you do not obey, I will order the Perimeter fleet to board your vessel and throw you out of a damn airlock. I am not bluffing and I am done talking. Obey the command or consider yourself under arrest."
There was a long silence before common sense won out.
"Establishing datalink."
The exchange had infuriated Riley, given the circumstances the Captain of the Borodino should have been eager to help. It was the only ship in orbit right now and was specifically assigned to guard whatever was happening down there. Clearly the Captain was having a conflict of orders. Whoever had assigned that ship really did not want anything leaking out regarding what this entire fiasco was really all about. It looked like that wasn't going to be a factor anymore.
"Sensor feed coming through," Ivanova reported. "Patching through to the main screen."
The highly anticipated data showed very little, just a large dust cloud interspersed with flashes of light. It could have been a dust storm crackling with lightning, but the rest of the weather was clear with just a few scattered clouds.
"Thermal?"
"Too much heat bloom." Ivanova shook her head. "Lots of heat sources, I'd guess chemical fires."
"Any sign of a ship?"
"If it's there, it's in the dust cloud." Ivanova had nothing. "Fighters are two minutes out."
"Patch us through and establish a datalink."
"Aye sir." Ivanova tapped some controls. "Cobra Flight, you're on with Mars Command. We are monitoring the situation, proceed to scout the area and use caution."
"Copy that command, one minute out." The flight leader narrated. "I have a dust cloud ahead, possible movement within. Moving in for a closer look."
The whole room was tense with anticipation. This still could have been some sort of accident, but Riley didn't think so. Someone already knew what this was and was hiding that information, potentially jeopardising lives. When this was done, Riley was going to see some heads roll.
"Command, Cobra Leader, possible visual." The lead pilot reported. "There's a shape in the dust, it's big."
"Approach with extreme caution." Ivanova repeated. "Object may be hostile."
"Understood." The pilot acknowledged. "Weapons on standby, loosening formation."
It was chaotic. Nothing made sense. The information flowing in was confusing, a kaleidoscope of data that just did not make sense. The human brain just wasn't designed to understand this amount of information bombarding it at once. It couldn't move in the ways he was moving. Something was commanding him, instructions he could not refuse, but didn't know how to obey. His mind was supposed to be quiet, passive, helpful. This was a partnership, a symbiosis, but he didn't know how that worked. The ship around him was taking orders from two places, one that knew what to do and another that was erratic. The ship circled, scraped across the ground, fired its weapon, screeched and tried to communicate with the home it knew had to be there somewhere. There was no plan, no logic, it just acted completely at random. Until it saw a threat.
Then things changed, everything started to become clear. The makers of this ship had engineered it to accept living beings as its core in part because sentient brains made excellent processors, but also because they knew a living being had something no machine could emulate. Pure instincts, passions, drive. The makers valued these aspects above everything and their ships and technology existed to enhance those feelings. They were fundamental to their philosophy and denying them was sacrilege.
The computer and the brain found their agreement once again, the need to fight. The ship was still erratic, wild, but it had remembered its purpose and that brought a level of control. The computer acted, fueled by the instincts of the unexpected pilot, it stopped randomly shooting at anything it perceived as breakable and began to consider a real plan.
The ship rose upwards, rotating as it left the dust cloud it had kicked up and glimmered in the clear blue sky. It shook off the last pieces of the environmental dome still on its back and brought its targeting systems on line. Their were several potential targets, but one stood out above the others, a gathering of telepaths to the west. Buried in its most basic instructions, one of the very first things the makers had told it, was to prioritise the destruction of any telepaths. It was happy to obey, lurching forward and clearing away the small aircraft whizzing around with a casual swipe of its slicer cannon.
"We just lost Cobra flight!" Ivanova called, the screens blazing white before dissolving into static. She quickly replayed the images from the Borodino high above, the warship showing all four fighters were struck with a single swift arc of an energy beam. Things changed immediately, the possibility of hostile action was now confirmed and that triggered a full escalation. Whatever the ship was, wherever this hideous spidery vessel had come from, it wasn't leaving Mars.
"Put every facility on alert." Riley ordered. "Borodino, you will target that ship and destroy it. Are those orders clear enough?"
"Yes General." The Captain responded flatly. "For the record, my other orders state we should not engage anything without clear instructions from the Joint Chiefs."
"I will take responsibility for any criticism." Riley dismissed the concern. "Now hit that ship."
"Moving into firing position."
"Ivanova, who's in command at McHenry?"
"Colonel Buchanon sir," she answered. "Line three."
Riley connected his console, the system beeping ready.
"Colonel, this is General Riley, are you aware of the situation?"
"Yes sir, I'm scrambling every fighter."
"Good man. Also, Colonel, my records show you have a stockpile of Nuclear weapons. I am authorising you to arm and load as many as you can onto the next wave of fighters. Hopefully we won't need them, but if we do, get them in the air."
"Understood General. We also have multiple ground to space weapons, if it crosses the horizon, permission to engage?"
"Absolutely Colonel. Fight your base as you see fit. The enemy vessel is fairly close, you might get a chance."
"General, Borodino is angling to attack." Ivanova updated him. "She's in range."
"Borodino, Riley, atmospheric diffusion may reduce your firepower too much to be decisive. I'm authorising nuclear weapons. Hit it with everything."
"Yes General, commencing attack."
The Borodino was a relatively new ship, completed during the Minbari war to greatly enhanced capabilities. She carried the latest weapons acquired from the Narn and while inferior to the bigger capital ships, the battle tested Hyperion class was not to be underestimated. She dropped her bow to point down at Syria Planum, the vast red desert expanding beneath her. She was low enough to be just skimming the upper atmosphere, the drag slowing her down and making her position increasingly risky. The Captain took the gamble, she needed to be as close as possible to deliver as much energy as she could. The prow guns came to life, firing ports opened, golden orange energy coalesced and built until reaching critical levels.
The Borodino engaged with a storm of pulse cannon fire, the fixed prow guns and topside turrets blasting a stream of salvoes down to the planet. A moment later, the flank laser cannons reached full power and joined in, dazzling red beams timing their strike to coincide with the arrival of the pulse shots.
The impact was impressive, one beam missed, but the second caught the black ship directly drawing a screech from the vessel. The hail of pulses also saturated the area, many hitting the vessel in a ripple of energy, while others struck the desert in fountains of red sand and glass. The Borodino struck again, reading which weapons had hit or missed and adjusting its firing solutions for greater accuracy. More pulse cannon salvoes, more lasers raking the desert, and this time a pair of nuclear missiles to guarantee the kill. She showed no mercy, the heavy cruiser now fully committed, whatever previous reluctance there had been. It fired into the desert, chasing the fast moving black ship, while descending dangerously close to the atmosphere.
The black vessel absorbed the damage, scattered the energy across its hull and sunk it into the diffuser spines to radiate safely away. Systems were still clean, no loss of capability was observed, but those hits hurt. Somewhere along the line, the makers had decided pain was an excellent motivator and had decided to tie the pain receptors of the pilots brain into the defensive systems. It drove a new anger in the ship, the reactor pumping additional energy into the engines as the ship took evasive action, skimming the desert, swinging left and right as energy weapons impacted everywhere with thunderous explosions.
The defences could hold off attacks like this, but they still hurt, they had to stop. The choice was an easy one, the sensors easily identifying the source of the attack in low orbit above. The engines screeched again as the black ship rose high enough to flip over, rolling onto its back to bring its main gun into arc of the blocky ship raining gunfire from above. The sensors also noted a pair of nuclear missiles, which it really didn't want to have to deal with, and marked them for destruction too. At that point, all it had to do was shoot and return to its real target, the hated telepaths.
The Borodino had no chance, the purple slicer beam passed through the cruiser as if it were made of thin air, cutting through the hull bow to stern along the keel of the ship. The heavy armour, the millions of tons of mass, the defence grid and energy webs, none of it made any difference at all. The ship was bisected in two seconds, so fast even the laws of physics seemed surprised. It hung for a second before secondary explosions ripped the remains apart, millions of tons of metal beginning their fall across the Martian equator.
In the command room, the images were terrifying. Even the Minbari hadn't been that powerful, the atmosphere apparently having no effect on the strength of the alien weapon. The Borodino ended instantly, a brief glimmer in the sky that transformed into thousands of meteors robbing the planet of its primary defence. There was silence, the full gravity of the situation now inescapable to all who saw it. They'd had a few years where they had been the kings of space, where Earth ships had been unchallenged. That time was now over and it was time to respond.
"Governor Montoya." General Riley spoke with sternness, his voice deafening in the silence conveying an air of command and certainty. Giving in to fear was not going to save lives. "I request that you declare a state of emergency. I need your permission to use all forces at my disposal to end this threat."
"You have it." Montoya was clearly shaken by the effortless destruction of a major warship.
"General Hague, I need reinforcements."
"I'm already mobilising the fleet. We'll make the jump as soon as we can."
"Lieutenant Ivanova, where is the defence fleet?"
"Twenty minutes out sir. Captain Kerala has detached his destroyers, they're the faster ships, so will arrive first. The slower ships will follow up later."
"Put all bases and stations on combat alert. Launch every fighter, deploy every vehicle, bring the defence grid online and be ready to engage if that thing makes for space."
"Aye sir."
"Where's it going?"
"Psi Corps Mars Headquarters, contact in four minutes."
"Do we have anything in the area, anything at all?"
"Squadrons from McHenry are six minutes out." Ivanova's throat was dry. "Warships at nineteen minutes."
"Can we turn the defence grid inwards?"
"Yes sir, but the particle beams will take about twenty minutes to charge, the missiles aren't shielded for atmospheric friction." Ivanova hated delivering the news. "They'd burn up on the way in."
"How many people in that base?"
She checked the data records, tightening her lips. "Twenty thousand."
"So noted." Riley accepted the report, that was all he could do. "Get me some surveillance satellites, we need new eyes up there."
Telepaths. For some reason that concept brought more than hate and revulsion, it also brought fear. Nothing else brought fear, not even the possibility of destruction, just telepaths. It was an instinctual response, something left in to force caution into the otherwise supremely confident and aggressive warships of the old ones. He could sense them, and though none were attacking him, he could feel their panic, their fear. Their mere presence was an attack on his mind, especially with so many together in one place. He had to make it all stop, and fortunately he had the means to do it.
The Psi Corps facility was large and rather well defended. Pulse cannons met his approach as he crested the horizon, the black ship shuddering and shaking to throw off the aim. Once again, the hits were mostly inconsequential, but the pain was not. He fired from range, cutting through the gun batteries first, silencing each one in turn. A handful of armed shuttles made an attack run on him, weak, poorly coordinated, a desperate assault barely worth the output it took to burn them out of the sky.
The dome was ahead now, macro-glass hardened to withstand plasma fire offering no challenge to the black ship. He hit a few landing pads as he passed over, bright explosions tracing the path of the beam as he lined up on the dome. He half expected something to stop him, some feeling, something from deep, deep in his subconscious that remembered living under that dome, that remembered the friends and family he had there. But there was nothing, the mind was lost in madness, overwhelmed by the ship, it only had instinct and the overriding drive to destroy these threats.
The beam swept across the dome, cutting across it one side to the other. He traced it back and forth, collapsing the whole structure, gusts of air rushing out to join the thin Martian atmosphere. Within the dome, he could see with his sensor eyes the lakes whipping under the winds, trees swaying violently and the tiny figures of people trying to find safety. No, not people, telepaths. He moved the ship overhead and began to fire, hitting every building, every source of heat. He could detect underground shelters and bunkers. None of them were of any use against the purple slicer beam.
He took his time, he was thorough, his instructions were hard wired into every fibre of his being. Telepaths were not permitted to exist.
"Fighter squadrons approaching target." Ivanova focused entirely on her job. She organised the attack, timed the arrival of various units, vectored them in on the most efficient path. She couldn't afford to stop and consider what was happening, the fact civilians were now being killed because this ship had cut through their defences with utter contempt. She couldn't rage about where the ship came from, who knew about it, why the military was not aware and able to take precautions against this situation. She kept her eyes on her screen, kept her staff focused on their jobs, and she put her faith in the General.
"Lead squadrons will engage up close, try to draw the vessel away from the dome," Riley ordered, very aware he just sent those people to certain death. "Once it gives chase and is clear of civilians, engage with nukes."
"Aye sir, Banshee squadrons heading in."
The Earth Force atmospheric fighters were fast and agile, but had virtually nothing in the way of protection. Even without knowing the strength of the black ship, they were well aware of their odds facing a warship. They also knew their duty, and the consequences if the ship was not stopped.
The first two squadrons ripple fired their missiles, standard plasma core warheads that impacted in plumes of fire, but not much else. The fighters rushed in after, spraying pulse cannon fire into the black ship before peeling away and rushing past, clearing the line of fire for the second wave. It wasn't much, but it did the job, the black ship rotating and climbing. The fighters scattered into evasive twists and spirals as the ship powered up, making it hard to hit more than one fighter at a time. Again, it wasn't much, but it was better than not trying at all.
"Enemy ship on the move, it looks like it's taking the bait." Ivanova watched, barely daring to blink in case she missed something critical. "I have satellites overhead."
"Put it on the big screen." Riley ordered, a clear image of the desert zooming down to the monstrous ship swerving away from the ruins of the Psi Corps base. He gritted his teeth. The destruction was very thorough, there was nothing left untouched as fires burned fiercely despite the oxygen depleted atmosphere. It was still the most alien thing he'd ever seen. The Minbari ships had been otherworldly and shared little in common with human made vessels, but this thing was just something else entirely. If pure terror could be forged into a physical object, it would be what he was looking at.
"Squadrons engaging, ten percent casualties so far."
"Tell them to stay evasive, hit and run attacks, just keep it following them."
"Yes sir."
"And get those nukes into the game."
He watched a few more fighters vanish, the Banshee's struggling to burn the thin air, robbing them of the speed they would have on Earth. They still pushed the attack, flashes of blue showing pulse cannons firing before the stream of bright purple energy retaliated. They only needed to hold on a little longer.
"Third wave coming in, Viper Squadron is signalling it has nukes armed and ready to shoot."
"Scatter the fighters and take the shot," Riley ordered quickly. "Launch them all."
The black ship chased down a pair of the fleeing aircraft as the fresh attackers rolled in, Viper squadron firing off six nuclear weapons between them. The ship however was learning, starting to see through the feints and distractions. It spotted the missiles as soon as they fired and spun on its centre of mass, slicing its main gun across the sky. It eliminated each missile and then followed up by erasing most of the still distant Viper Squad.
The General clenched his fist but did not shout or lash out. He took a moment to calm himself, then glanced to Ivanova.
"Time for the next squadrons?"
"About ten minutes, The airwing from Fort Carter."
"Do they have nukes?"
"Yes sir."
"This time engage from multiple directions. We keep trying." He exhaled. "Where's it heading now?"
"West sir, it will overfly Fort McHenry in about five minutes." Ivanova tensed as she checked the flight path. "And in another fifteen, New Vegas."
"There are three hundred thousand people in New Vegas." Riley's eyes never left the ship. "Get someone to work out if we can use our ground to space nukes on a suborbital trajectory. If we have to saturate that bastard with hundred megaton fusion bombs, then that is what we do. See to it."
"We might not need to General," Ivanova responded to a notification flashing up on her console with a relieved smile. "Captain Kerala on the line for you."
The attack was staggeringly violent, even for a ship as old and battle hardened as this one, it found itself surprised by the weight of fire it was subjected to. This wouldn't normally have happened. If the systems were fully functional, the computer would have seen the threat from far away, but the brain was mad and the enemy was taking advantage. It counted six antiproton bombs falling from orbit. They were already most of the way down before the warning was registered, allowing the ship to go full defensive and dump all its spare power to the gravity drives. It wasn't quite enough.
The six energy mines dropped by the three Omega destroyers of the Mars Perimeter Fleet exploded in a clean saturation pattern at different heights to maximise coverage. The black ship was still quite close to the ground, meaning it would enjoy the full force of the attack, the mines detonating with blinding fury beyond anything Mars had seen in living memory. The mines released hundreds of megatons between them, the intense radiation and heat hurling shockwaves that bounced off the ground and weaved around each other, amplifying the destruction. It was an attack carefully calculated to kill anything in the midst of it, from Minbari battlecruisers to entire urban sprawls. Short of a mass driver, it was the fiercest strike deployed by mankind up to that point.
The black ship survived. It saw the attack and dodged, racing for the edge of the blast zone and avoiding the maelstrom in the heart, a storm that might actually have killed even that most ancient of weapons. It survived but not intact, the edge of the blast was still powerful enough to fill its energy sinks and superheat the hull armour. The ship that burst from the firestorm was not black anymore, but red, the hull sizzling in the air as the ship screamed skyward, burned and utterly enraged.
"Target hit but not destroyed." Captain Kerala's voice reported evenly. "Looks like it's heading our way, at least we're pulling it into space."
"That's where we'll kill it." Riley broke a predatory smile. "Defence grid?"
"A few more minutes for the particle beams." Ivanova called back. "Missiles are armed and ready."
"As soon as that thing leaves the atmosphere, you bury it in missiles." Riley felt like they might actually have a chance. They had definitely hurt it, now just to finish it off. "Captain Kerala, we'll synch the satellites to your attacks. Engage at will."
"Understood General, taking target now."
The trio of destroyers opened fire with their main anti ship weapons, the laser/pulse cannons mounted on either side of the blocky forward hull. The Omega could put more power into each shot than the smaller Hyperion , but it was still going to be an uphill fight against the ancient ship, the vessel already starting to dim as its diffuser system radiated the heat built up within it into sub-dimensional hyperspace. The destroyers at least had a chance. With the energy absorption system at capacity, every hit was going to inflict damage, shear chunks of the hull, sever the spines further diminishing its energy diffusers.
The vessel dodged, it was still insane, but the instincts were sharp. It knew to avoid attacks, attain a superior position, and then retaliate. One of the heavyweight lasers caught the ship tearing a deep strip from the hull, a wound that sprayed ichor from the heart of the vessel. It screamed again and fired wildly, missing for the first time.
The defence grid added its weight, six satellites were in range and all of them began chugging out anti-ship missiles, a river of grey steel lancing for the alien ship from multiple directions. The destroyers began to pull back, engines burning to take the ships up to a higher orbit and draw the enemy further from Mars. More ships were on their way, the satellites were coming online, Starfuries were launching. The battle was now truly joined.
Missiles began reaching their target, some impacting while others missed. The ancient ship shot down as many as it could, but it was being swamped from all directions. Every impact dumped more energy into its over taxed systems, heat starting to build again in the hull. Once it reached a critical point, it would no longer matter who had made it or how mighty its technology was, it would still cook from the inside out. It had to level the field and fast.
The beam fired, more powerful now, the ship becoming desperate. It was no longer an efficient scalpel like cut now, but the full strength of the vessel lashing out in anger and pain. The closest destroyer took a glancing hit, the beam scoring down the right flank and immolating the whole side of the vessel. It lurched sideways, systems shorting out until a second hit carved it into chunks.
Both remaining destroyers turned sharply now, keenly aware the heavily wounded enemy was still an existential threat. They rolled to expose more weapons, the flank guns joining the barrage, missile doors popping open to spit out their own projectiles to join the defence grid.
The Ancient ship dodged, rolling like a kilometre wide fighter to avoid the first barrage. It moved in close, logic told it to maintain its distance, but logic didn't reign here, just rage incarnate. Still glowing red, it pressed in, a pair of spines shot off by the Earth Force warship. The pain of the damage gave it the last burst to close in, switching power from engines to weapons and cutting the lead destroyer in two, breaking its back and swerving around the mass as it spun out of control, the rotating section throwing the ship out of stable orbit.
The final destroyer didn't flinch, accelerating to meet the ancient ship head on with every weapon on overload. If given the chance, her Captain would happily ram the enemy, bow guns alternating between a burst of laser fire, then a salvo of pulses and back to lasers in a constant loop. The older ship accepted the challenge, spinning to face the aggressor and charging in, only at the last instant seeing the trap. It swung hard to one side and turned upward narrowly avoiding a tremendous surge of energy, a stream of highly charged particles ripping past from the first of the heavy satellites that were now finally able to attack.
That changed the calculus a little but not the objective. The vessel spiraled aside and fired a short swipe at the satellite, easily defeating the thinly protected target. The distraction cost it another spine to the destroyer, but it didn't matter. The flow of battle now fully joined drove the ancient vessel forward, the beam cannon once again speaking to cut through the forward third of the ship, reducing everything ahead of the rotating section to junk riddled with secondary blasts. The destroyer lost balance, the momentum of its spinning section throwing off the ship as its centre of mass suddenly shifted, the flank guns sill managing a defiant fusilade as the great ship careened past, the older ship sidestepping the out of control hunk of metal. It was enjoying itself, fully in the moment, curling around to finish this enemy and then seek fresh blood. As it happened, fresh blood found it first.
From the flank, a massive storm of gunfire blasted the hostile warship, hundreds of rounds of bright orange pulses converging in a brutal strike. Many missed but the volume was so great, enough hit to inflict real damage, the computer recognising fluctuations in the reactor and power failing in the engines. Heat was becoming critical, the defences just hadn't had time to discharge the existing heat and recharge. They were overloading, leaving just the physical armour to protect the core of the vessel.
The rest of the Perimeter fleet had arrived, a pair of Nova Dreadnoughts delivering a full alpha strike, the two ships tilted at forty five degrees so their far side guns could fire between their nearside ones. The level of destruction was titanic, nothing known would have lived through that opening broadside, and yet the ancient ship had. It was glowing almost white hot, it was losing spines, struggling to move, but it wasn't dead yet. The dreadnoughts kept up the barrage, but they had unknowingly already done their job and sealed their enemy's fate. With the drive system failing, the ship could no longer use its superlative acceleration and agility to avoid the worst of the Earth Force fire, and as violent as the dreadnoughts were, the heavy particle cannons on the defence grid now finally had the range and a target they couldn't miss.
The first hit was enough, the particle beam thundering from high orbit above and hitting the ancient warship in its centre of mass. Everything stopped working, systems died, the weapons sparked out, the reactor flatlined. The engines fought a little longer on backup power to keep the ship steady, writhing against the attack, but the impact had effectively killed the brain, blasting the hull and cracking it open. A second beam just made it certain, the engines died and the ship was thrown backwards by the force of the weapons, pushed down through the atmosphere at increasing speed, the heavy particle beams shoving it back to Mars.
It fell from the sky, a fireball smashing into the desert not too far from where it had started its journey. The beams cut out, the shrivelled incandescent remains of the black vessel finally motionless.
"Target down." Ivanova unravelled, closing her eyes for an instant before continuing on. "Impact on Syria Planum, mid desert."
"Hit it again." Riley ordered. "We have two more satellites above, hit it again."
She sent the orders, the immensely powerful weapons firing down into the desert, creating massive plumes of heat and dust, turning swathes of the plain to glass. The weapons were overkill for most targets, but here Riley was absolutely not taking any chances. He waited for the beams to stop, observed no further movement, and decided that was enough.
"Satellites two and three recharging, target locked if you want another volley sir?" Ivanova offered.
"No, keep them on standby." The General was satisfied that was enough for now. "Put the Perimeter fleet in orbit directly above the target. If they see so much as a flicker, we hit that spot with everything, clear?"
"Aye sir, relaying orders."
"Then start launching medical shuttles." Riley set about his duties. "We'll need recovery ships in orbit to rescue survivors on those destroyers and stop their debris from dropping out of orbit. Better get some shuttles out to the Psi Corps base too."
"I'll alert the hospitals at New Vegas to standby to receive survivors." Ivanova anticipated his plan. "If any."
"If any." He nodded. "And deploy some Rangers to the Quarantine zone, secure wherever this thing came from. Send Major Stoller, someone we can rely on."
"Aye sir."
"This is done but it's not over." Riley understood. "Secure any surviving data and records. Someone, somewhere, is answering some very difficult questions right now. There's no hiding this and I want to know exactly what happened today."
Spartan's busy, so I'm posting this in his stead.
AJW
Well-known member
Nice.
This really showed the immense destructive power and technological supremacy of a Shadow battlecrab. Volleys that would have torn a Sharlin-class war cruiser apart barely hurt it and only through sustained attack did its defence finally fail and the vessel be destroyed.
EarthForce is not going to forget this one in a hurry.
This really showed the immense destructive power and technological supremacy of a Shadow battlecrab. Volleys that would have torn a Sharlin-class war cruiser apart barely hurt it and only through sustained attack did its defence finally fail and the vessel be destroyed.
EarthForce is not going to forget this one in a hurry.
Hopefully some worthwhile salvage left, gravity manipulation tech is something shitstar and the crappies would have trouble dealing with
Just...dang.
What's really going to be interesting is watching how PsiCorp responds to this.
What's really going to be interesting is watching how PsiCorp responds to this.
Doomsought
Well-known member
This disaster won't kill psi corps, but it will cause them to take a big hit. They fucked aroudn and found out.
AJW
Well-known member
It might be an even bigger hit than you realise as the Syria Planum facility was where the Psi Corps did a lot of its more morally reprehensible things. Like creating sleeper agents via personality reprogramming.
BF110C4
Well-known member
And then we got the actual threats that Sigma was keeping at bay, legitimately or not. Telepath rebels (both those who want to escape Psicorps and those who want to burn hummies), political opponents who will see a chance of getting Psicorps under a greater level of control by EA, EF and the intelligence community after decades of running rampant, and individual and independent organizations ranging from those who fears telepaths and want them culled to those who don't want their telepath families to be drugged to the gills and disappeared.