FreeSpace Wiki - User contributions [en]

NTF Rebellion

2020-04-29T19:26:34Z

SypheDMar: /* Unknown dates- no particular order */ Removed non-canon date

The '''NTF Rebellion''' was an open rebellion against the [[Galactic Terran-Vasudan Alliance]] by Admiral Aken Bosch and his loyalists.

In 2366, Admiral Aken Bosch of the [[GTVA]] 6th Fleet declared his scission with the rest of the GTVA and the formation of a new government based in [[Polaris]], the [[Neo-Terran Front]]. The governments of [[Regulus]] and [[Sirius]] also defected, leading to heavy fighting in the front lines of [[Alpha Centauri]], [[Deneb]], and [[Epsilon Pegasi]]. This timeline will span between the initial fall of [[Polaris]] to the escape of Bosch and destruction of the [[NTF Iceni|NTF ''Iceni'']] in the [[Nebula System|nebula]].

'''Because FS2 does not provide dates in its command briefings, events are simply listed, in sequential order if possible.'''

===2366:===

=====Unknown dates- no particular order=====

*Admiral Aken Bosch of the [[GTVA]] 6th Fleet secedes from the GTVA and forms his own government, Neo-Terra, in [[Polaris]]. (18 months before [[Surrender, Belisarius!]])

*The government of [[Regulus]] defects to the [[NTF]].

*[[Sirius]] swears allegiance to the [[Neo-Terran Front]].

*[[NTF]] successfully invades [[Alpha Centauri]].

*[[NTF]] gains a foothold in [[Epsilon Pegasi]].

*[[NTF]] takes control of most of [[Deneb]]. Bosch plunders [[Ancient]] archeological sites.

*[[GTC Trinity|GTC ''Trinity'']] defects to the NTF; canonically said to have defected six months before the Trinity was discovered in the nebula.

===2367:===
=====Unknown dates- in order of occurence=====
*Bosch learns the location of the [[Knossos]] subspace portal.

*[[GTVA Colossus|GTVA ''Colossus'']] construction completed.

*[[NTF Iceni|NTF ''Iceni'']] discovered in a hidden asteroid base in Deneb.

*[[NTF]] presence detected in [[Gamma Draconis]]. GTC ''Vigilant'' sent to patrol node.

*[[SC Rakshasa|''Rakshasa''-class Shivan cruiser]] and several wings of [[SF Mara|Maras]] appear through the [[Knossos]] portal, destroying the ''Vigilant''. GTVA command deploys the GTD ''Carthage'' and the GVCv ''Dashor'' to neutralize the immediate threat.

*NTC ''Trinity'' discovered adrift by scouting wings of the [[107th Ravens]], [[GTD Aquitaine|GTD ''Aquitaine'']] and destroyed by the Shivans in the nebula.

*[[SD Ravana|SD ''Ravana'']] destroyed in the nebula.

*A GTVA two-pronged offensive in [[Sirius]] fails, allowing the NTF to maintain their grip on that system.

*NTF launches a major offensive in [[Epsilon Pegasi]]. Rear Admiral Koth and the NTF 6th Fleet inflict 75.1% causalties to GTVA forces in the system. Out of the 107,000 GTVA operatives based in Epsilon Pegasi, 80,357 are killed during the first phase of the assault.

*First combat deployment of the [[GTVA Colossus|GTVA ''Colossus'']] at the Battle of [[Enif Station]].

*[[NTD Repulse|NTD ''Repulse'']] destroyed by ramming the ''Colossus''. NTF 6th Fleet defeated. GTVA gains full control of [[Epsilon Pegasi]].

*GTVA forces take [[Alpha Centauri]] and [[Deneb]].

*[[Sirius]] falls to the GTVA. Bosch orders the rest of the NTF fleet to [[Gamma Draconis]] and the [[Nebula System|nebula]] to make contact with the [[Shivans]].

*GTVA ''Colossus'', Terran and Vasudan warships, sentry guns and bombers annihilate much of the NTF's fleet.

*NTF ''Iceni'', NTC ''Alexandria'', and NTT ''Grall'' escape to the nebula. NTF saboteurs deactivate the beam cannons on the ''Colossus'' to allow the ''Iceni'' to escape. End of the NTF rebellion.

*First appearance of the [[SJ Sathanas|SJ ''Sathanas'']]. Testing of the [[ETAK]] device successful between the NTF ''Iceni'' and the SD ''Chemosh''.

*Destruction of the SJ ''Sathanas'' by the GTVA ''Colossus'' in [[Capella]].

*Admiral Bosch and his immediate subordinates captured by the Shivans. GTVA recovers the schematics for the [[ETAK]] device. NTF ''Iceni'' self-destructs.

[[Reconstruction]]''' :PREVIOUS | NEXT: '''[[The Second Shivan Incursion]]

[[Category: History|NTF Rebellion, the]]

Talk:NTF Rebellion

2020-04-29T19:23:15Z

SypheDMar:

==Canonicity==

Can anyone confirm the August 20th dating as the start of the Mystery of the Trinity? [[User:SypheDMar|SDM]] ([[User talk:SypheDMar|talk]])

I removed the non-canon tag because the article doesn't appear to have that much speculative information. If anyone spots such information it would be best to simply remove it. I've already edited the article to identify some of the non-canon dates. [[User:Mustang19|Mustang19]] 10:49, 14 April 2008 (CDT)

Personally, I absolutely loathe having these non-canon dates in all the history sections. If I was in charge I'd remove them, but since I'm not I'll leave them. I would, however, like to put the non-canon tag back in, since they are non-canon. This is exactly the sort of thing that confuses people. Someone who simply has a 10 second glance at the timeline to look for a certain event won't see your non-canon disclaimer, and they'll think it's all canon. [[User:Snail|Snail]] 11:46, 14 April 2008 (CDT)

It doesn't matter who's in charge. This is a wiki, everyone contributes. In fact, I've never heard anyone call themselves the "boss" of FSWiki, even the admins- if you have an idea you're just as entitled to your opinion as anyone else. As for the dates, there's still a lot of useful canon reference info here, so a better option might be to say "the Trinity was found in the nebula ''around'' this date" instead of "the Trinity ''was'' found on this date". Since dates are never mentioned in mission briefings, we can only estimate, as for all we know command briefings could have taken place days before their following missions. [[User:Mustang19|Mustang19]] 14:17, 14 April 2008 (CDT)

Thing is, if I tried that then my opinion would be unimportant in comparison to say, Wanderer's, since I've only been contributing for a while. Anyway, what I'm saying is that you're putting the dates down as if they are fully canon - Without non-canon tags or gray text - When the dates are certainly not canon. After briefly skimming through, I haven't actually seen anything saying "The dates are not canon." This would bring someone who wouldn't know better to the conclusion that the information is all canon, when it is explicit fanon. This is a classic case of canon being obscured by fanon. [[User:Snail|Snail]] 15:49, 14 April 2008 (CDT)

It's a wiki, just change it, and if anyone doesn't like it they can revert it in a couple clicks. --[[User:Monitor|Monitor]] 15:00, 15 April 2008 (CDT)

Amen to Monitor. Also, I added a note at the top regarding the dates, although it might not be obnoxious enough to get everyone's attention. From my experience it seems like people on the internet tend to miss anything that isn't allcaps size 36 font. [[User:Mustang19|Mustang19]] 09:47, 16 April 2008 (CDT)

==Italicized ship names==

Does anyone have any hard data or definite dates for any events in FS2? [[User:Galemp|Galemp]] 22:02, 21 Nov 2005 (CET)

----

About recent formatting: I saw no point in keeping ''these entries'' (in italic) if those entries were already linked. [[User:Wanderer|Wanderer]] 22:37, 21 Nov 2005 (CET)

It is generally accepted that in texts such as these, ship names MUST be in italic. - [[User:TopAce|TopAce]] 22:48, 21 Nov 2005 (CET)

You could have only posted that note in here and i would have fixed it... Now all the other links and stuff reverted as well. [[User:Wanderer|Wanderer]] 22:59, 21 Nov 2005 (CET)

I cannot post this comment everywhere... you can already find it on the HLP Wiki forum. I did post it there - [[User:TopAce|TopAce]] 23:08, 21 Nov 2005 (CET)

Those are guidelines, and haven't been generally accepted yet. I personally think individual ships don't need to be Italicized. Also, we need to eliminate the dates herew. They're fanon at best, but look randomly guessed and don't fit with ingame information. [[User:Black Wolf|Black Wolf]] 02:07, 22 Nov 2005 (CET)

All the wikipedia articles I have seen so far italicize ship names. So it IS generally accepted: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/U.S._Navy_ships 
You can look into the History page of each to make sure I did not italicized all of them myself just to falsely support my point. You can also ask an HLP Admin to check my IP address so you could not say I simply did not register and did all the changes with my IP. The mere fact that you (personally) do not approve it is no valid reason to remove all italication. To further prove your arguments fallacious, get a Sci-fi book and look into it where ships are named. You will be surprised. The conclusion is that even if it is '''ME''' who wrote it does not unconditionally mean it is UNTRUE, despite what you would desire to believe. 
If you still hesitate to believe me (why would you not? TopAce is always mentioning dumb things) you can ask an expert, consult reference books or anything. My arguments are finished.- [[User:TopAce|TopAce]] 19:34, 22 Nov 2005 (CET)

----

This article says the Iceni was built in only 14 months, starting two months after the rebellion was officially declared. The [[NTF_Iceni|Iceni's]] canon database entry on the other side says the ship was built under Bosh and (afterwards?) captured by the NTF at the start of their rebellion, so there must be some error in this timeline as far as I can see. Where did you find these dates anyway? --[[User:RealZeratul|RealZeratul]] 23:13, 20 July 2006 (BST)

== SOC Operatives/NTF Saboteurs ==

This is crap. I am removing it. Whoever put it in can go suck on a lemon.[[User:Aardwolf|Aardwolf]] 20:59, 25 March 2007 (CST) Never mind. I see it is already gone.

Cumulative Projects

2015-06-07T00:15:59Z

SypheDMar:

''For the released ship that branched from this project, see [[GTBs Moscow]].''

The Cumulative Projects is the brainchild of Black Wolf. It is largely a community experiment to see whether members Hard Light Production can cooperate with one another to create a model, thus beginning the Cumulative Modeling phase. What originally started out as an unfinished, 140-polygon model by Black Wolf was given to veteran 3D modellers of the HLP community to work on in turn. Over the course of the next two years, several members of the community worked on it one by one. Each member made a modification of the model, submitted it online and let another member work on that modified model. The model was [[GTBs Moscow|eventually completed]], and then UV mapped. What followed later was an even more experimental Cumulative Texturing project. However, there seems to be no action happening, and the project may have died.

Below is the history of the Cumulative Projects and the GTCv Moscow.

'''Note:''' This does '''NOT''' include anything outside of the forum threads.

==2007==

'''August 30th:''' Black Wolf creates an [http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?topic=49207.msg998638#msg998638 Announcement] on Hard Light Productions. He also creates a thread titled [http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?topic=49206.msg998637#msg998637 Cumulative Modeling] with guidelines. The project commences with a 140-polygon model.

'''August 31st:''' Akenbosch is the first to add to the model after Black Wolf. Hades follows up with added turrets. Model looks like a hollow box. Vasudan Admiral optimized a small bit of the project and then posts pictures of his progress. It is no longer hollow and is described by some as a mini-Colossus.

'''September 3rd:''' RazorsKiss reconverted files by Vasudan Admiral.

'''September 6th:''' Turambar posted his progress. The front of the model grew longer. The overall shape of the corvette is made.

'''September 8th:''' Water made small changes to the front and added a small tower. RazorsKiss reconverts his parts again.

'''September 14th:''' Black Wolf was caught by surprise at the quickness of how the model was finished. UV mapping was suggested for phase II.

'''September 15th:''' After Eviscerator asked about how to turret the vessel, a debate lasted about the Moscow's weaponry until the 19th.

'''September 29th:''' After concerns about whether or not the project is dead, Vasudan Admiral changed the model by enlarging the engines and changing the tower.

'''December 11th:''' Months of inactivity later, bizzybody added minor greebles to the model.

==2008==

'''April 9th:''' Vasudan Admiral mentions that the older changes were deleted. Axem has the latest model.

'''April 10th:''' Axem is hesitant to releasing his changes because it is in the finer details. Blame Axem.

'''June 12th:''' Noticing that his ISP did not remove the most recent files, bizzybody again reuploads his changes. Water notices that TrueSpace errors are contained in the 7b.

'''June 15th:''' Problem is solved by Water after bizzybody explains what happened.

'''June 16th:''' Water wonders about the size of the model.

'''June 17th:''' 1000 meter Moscow is chosen unanimously. Water begins to UV map.

'''July 22nd:''' Water says that the basic UV was done a month ago. UV layout is being delayed by real life.

'''July 28th:''' Water proposes a change to make the Moscow look less like a gun by shrinking the grip and enlarging the engine.

'''July 30:''' Water consents to the public and reverts change. From this point, the Cumulative Modeling Project is technically finished.

'''August 19th:''' Water's version gains support and a name for the bottom is proposed. Tblisi gained traction.

'''September 8th:''' peterv notices a [[GTBs Moscow]] on FreeSpaceMods. It is considered a split from the Cumulative Modeling project.

'''September 18th:''' Water thought he was responsible for texturing it as well.

'''September 20th:''' Dekker is happy for having the model.

==2009==

'''July 22nd:''' After almost a year, Water posts his UV map and sample texture progress.

'''July 23rd:''' Water posts link to UV map.

'''August 10th:''' Water reuploads link.

'''August 11th:''' Black Wolf considers starting a Cumulative Texturing project.

'''August 12th:''' Black Wolf creates [http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?topic=65042.msg1282081#msg1282081 Cumulative Texturing] thread.

'''August 16th:''' After an underwhelming response, Black Wolf works on the textures again. Dekker uploads his addition. No progress has been made since then, and the links are dead. Cumulative Texturing Project seems to be a disaster.

==2011==

'''December 29th:''' Without news of the GTCv Moscow in over two years, Black Wolf posts a new [http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?topic=79471.msg1572887#msg1572887 thread] regarding the continuation of the UV mapped Moscow from Water. SypheDMar claims to have a copy of the Moscow, which inspired him to create this article, the following three posts later.

'''December 30th:''' Black Wolf and Darius independently work on their own Moscow textures after Black Wolf acknowledges the failure of a retexture collaboration effort. Darius posts a picture of his work the following day, and he then releases the download links to the files a day later.

==2012==

'''January 2nd:''' Black Wolf uploads a screenshot of his work-in-progress.

''' February 10th:''' Androgeos Exeunt posts a screenshot of Darius's textures rendered in Maya.

'''June 14th:''' Betrayal uploads a conversion of of the GTCv Moscow.

==2015==

'''March 24th:''' After three years of silence, Darius updates the texture on his version of the Moscow with placeholder weapons.

'''April 8th''' Darius updates the glowpoints and glowmaps.

'''April 22nd''' Darius repackages the GTCv Moscow as the [[GTCv Ophion]] with new PBR maps.

==Gallery==
<gallery>
Image:Moscow1.jpg | Work by Black Wolf, akenbosch, and Hades
Image:Moscow2_2.jpg | Plus the addition of Vasudan Admiral
Image:Moscow3.jpg | Plus RazorsKiss and Turambar
Image:Moscow5_1.jpg | Plus Water and Vasudan Admiral
Image:Cap-moscow.jpg | Plus bizzybody and Water with Water asking about size of Corvette and 1000 m is selected
Image:Moscow76.jpg | Water makes more changes to the Moscow but the reverts and the bottom one is called the Tblisi by some.
Image:Mos-b02.jpg | Moscow fully mapped with sample textures
Image:Darius-Moscow.jpg | Darius's Mapping of the GTCv Moscow
Image:BW-MoscowWiP1.jpg | BW's WiP Mapping of the GTCv Moscow
Image:Gtcvmoscow-db.jpg| Androgeos Exeunt's render of the Darius-textured Moscow
Image:Mij6tx.jpg| Betrayal's conversion of a Moscow.
Image:Darius-Moscow2.jpg| Darius texture update
</gallery>

==Related Links==

[http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?topic=49207.msg998638#msg998638 Cumulative Projects Announcement Thread]

[http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?topic=49206.msg998637#msg998637 Cumulative Modeling Thread]

[http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?topic=65042.msg1282081#msg1282081 Cumulative Texturing Thread]

[http://www63.zippyshare.com/v/58240954/file.html Zippyshare Download of the UVed, untextured Moscow]

[http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?topic=79471.msg1572887#msg1572887 UVed Moscow Model Thread]

GTCv Ophion

2015-06-07T00:12:32Z

SypheDMar: Created page with "{{User-made Ships|''GTCv '''Ophion'''''}} {{shipimage|image=Image:gtcvophion.jpg|caption=GTCv Ophion}} ==Description:== ===Tech Room Description=== Heavy warship conceptu…"

{{User-made Ships|''GTCv '''Ophion'''''}}

{{shipimage|image=[[Image:gtcvophion.jpg]]|caption=GTCv Ophion}}

==Description:==

===Tech Room Description===
Heavy warship conceptualised to supercede the Deimos corvette as a frontline combatant.

===Credits===
*Model by [[Cumulative Projects| participants of the Cumulative Modeling Project]]
*Texture by Darius

==Performance:==
===Statistics===
{{Ship_box
|name = GTCv ''Ophion''
|type = Corvette
|manufacturer = Unknown
|yaw_pitch_roll = 150.0, 150.0, 150.0
|max_velocity = 20
|hitpoints = 95 000
|length = ?
|turrets = 31
}}

===Armaments===

*'''[[Technical_Terms_and_Definitions#Turrets|Turrets]]'''
{| border=1 cellpadding=4 style="border-collapse: collapse"
|- align="center"
| colspan=2 style="background:#351515;"| '''Default Statistics'''
|- align="center"
| style="width:120px" |Turret Type
| style="width:60px" |Amount
|- align="center"
| [[Standard Flak]]
| 6
|- align="center"
| [[Terran Turret]]
| 13
|- align="center"
| MGreen
| 6
|- align="center"
| [[AAAf| Anti-Fighter Beam]]
| 4
|- align="center"
| [[Hornet]]
| 2
|}

===Veteran Comments===
{{comment|}}

==Download link:==
*Darius Post
**[http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?topic=79471.msg1783539#msg1783539 Release post | Hard-Light Productions.net]

Cumulative Projects

2015-06-06T23:44:30Z

SypheDMar:

''For the released ship that is a separate branch from this project, see [[GTBs Moscow]].''

The Cumulative Projects is the brainchild of Black Wolf. It is largely a community experiment to see whether members Hard Light Production can cooperate with one another to create a model, thus beginning the Cumulative Modeling phase. What originally started out as an unfinished, 140-polygon model by Black Wolf was given to veteran 3D modellers of the HLP community to work on in turn. Over the course of the next two years, several members of the community worked on it one by one. Each member made a modification of the model, submitted it online and let another member work on that modified model. The model was [[GTBs Moscow|eventually completed]], and then UV mapped. What followed later was an even more experimental Cumulative Texturing project. However, there seems to be no action happening, and the project may have died.

Below is the history of the Cumulative Projects and the GTCv Moscow.

'''Note:''' This does '''NOT''' include anything outside of the forum threads.

==2007==

'''August 30th:''' Black Wolf creates an [http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?topic=49207.msg998638#msg998638 Announcement] on Hard Light Productions. He also creates a thread titled [http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?topic=49206.msg998637#msg998637 Cumulative Modeling] with guidelines. The project commences with a 140-polygon model.

'''August 31st:''' Akenbosch is the first to add to the model after Black Wolf. Hades follows up with added turrets. Model looks like a hollow box. Vasudan Admiral optimized a small bit of the project and then posts pictures of his progress. It is no longer hollow and is described by some as a mini-Colossus.

'''September 3rd:''' RazorsKiss reconverted files by Vasudan Admiral.

'''September 6th:''' Turambar posted his progress. The front of the model grew longer. The overall shape of the corvette is made.

'''September 8th:''' Water made small changes to the front and added a small tower. RazorsKiss reconverts his parts again.

'''September 14th:''' Black Wolf was caught by surprise at the quickness of how the model was finished. UV mapping was suggested for phase II.

'''September 15th:''' After Eviscerator asked about how to turret the vessel, a debate lasted about the Moscow's weaponry until the 19th.

'''September 29th:''' After concerns about whether or not the project is dead, Vasudan Admiral changed the model by enlarging the engines and changing the tower.

'''December 11th:''' Months of inactivity later, bizzybody added minor greebles to the model.

==2008==

'''April 9th:''' Vasudan Admiral mentions that the older changes were deleted. Axem has the latest model.

'''April 10th:''' Axem is hesitant to releasing his changes because it is in the finer details. Blame Axem.

'''June 12th:''' Noticing that his ISP did not remove the most recent files, bizzybody again reuploads his changes. Water notices that TrueSpace errors are contained in the 7b.

'''June 15th:''' Problem is solved by Water after bizzybody explains what happened.

'''June 16th:''' Water wonders about the size of the model.

'''June 17th:''' 1000 meter Moscow is chosen unanimously. Water begins to UV map.

'''July 22nd:''' Water says that the basic UV was done a month ago. UV layout is being delayed by real life.

'''July 28th:''' Water proposes a change to make the Moscow look less like a gun by shrinking the grip and enlarging the engine.

'''July 30:''' Water consents to the public and reverts change. From this point, the Cumulative Modeling Project is technically finished.

'''August 19th:''' Water's version gains support and a name for the bottom is proposed. Tblisi gained traction.

'''September 8th:''' peterv notices a [[GTBs Moscow]] on FreeSpaceMods. It is considered a split from the Cumulative Modeling project.

'''September 18th:''' Water thought he was responsible for texturing it as well.

'''September 20th:''' Dekker is happy for having the model.

==2009==

'''July 22nd:''' After almost a year, Water posts his UV map and sample texture progress.

'''July 23rd:''' Water posts link to UV map.

'''August 10th:''' Water reuploads link.

'''August 11th:''' Black Wolf considers starting a Cumulative Texturing project.

'''August 12th:''' Black Wolf creates [http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?topic=65042.msg1282081#msg1282081 Cumulative Texturing] thread.

'''August 16th:''' After an underwhelming response, Black Wolf works on the textures again. Dekker uploads his addition. No progress has been made since then, and the links are dead. Cumulative Texturing Project seems to be a disaster.

==2011==

'''December 29th:''' Without news of the GTCv Moscow in over two years, Black Wolf posts a new [http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?topic=79471.msg1572887#msg1572887 thread] regarding the continuation of the UV mapped Moscow from Water. SypheDMar claims to have a copy of the Moscow, which inspired him to create this article, the following three posts later.

'''December 30th:''' Black Wolf and Darius independently work on their own Moscow textures after Black Wolf acknowledges the failure of a retexture collaboration effort. Darius posts a picture of his work the following day, and he then releases the download links to the files a day later.

==2012==

'''January 2nd:''' Black Wolf uploads a screenshot of his work-in-progress.

''' February 10th:''' Androgeos Exeunt posts a screenshot of Darius's textures rendered in Maya.

'''June 14th:''' Betrayal uploads a conversion of of the GTCv Moscow.

==2015==

'''March 24th:''' After three years of silence, Darius updates the texture on his version of the Moscow with placeholder weapons.

'''April 8th''' Darius updates the glowpoints and glowmaps.

'''April 22nd''' Darius repackages the Moscow as the [http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?topic=79471.msg1783539#msg1783539 GTCv Ophion] with new PBR maps.

==Gallery==
<gallery>
Image:Moscow1.jpg | Work by Black Wolf, akenbosch, and Hades
Image:Moscow2_2.jpg | Plus the addition of Vasudan Admiral
Image:Moscow3.jpg | Plus RazorsKiss and Turambar
Image:Moscow5_1.jpg | Plus Water and Vasudan Admiral
Image:Cap-moscow.jpg | Plus bizzybody and Water with Water asking about size of Corvette and 1000 m is selected
Image:Moscow76.jpg | Water makes more changes to the Moscow but the reverts and the bottom one is called the Tblisi by some.
Image:Mos-b02.jpg | Moscow fully mapped with sample textures
Image:Darius-Moscow.jpg | Darius's Mapping of the GTCv Moscow
Image:BW-MoscowWiP1.jpg | BW's WiP Mapping of the GTCv Moscow
Image:Gtcvmoscow-db.jpg| Androgeos Exeunt's render of the Darius-textured Moscow
Image:Mij6tx.jpg| Betrayal's conversion of a Moscow.
Image:Darius-Moscow2.jpg| Darius texture update
</gallery>

==Related Links==

[http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?topic=49207.msg998638#msg998638 Cumulative Projects Announcement Thread]

[http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?topic=49206.msg998637#msg998637 Cumulative Modeling Thread]

[http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?topic=65042.msg1282081#msg1282081 Cumulative Texturing Thread]

[http://www63.zippyshare.com/v/58240954/file.html Zippyshare Download of the UVed, untextured Moscow]

[http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?topic=79471.msg1572887#msg1572887 UVed Moscow Model Thread]

File:Darius-Moscow2.jpg

2015-06-06T20:42:28Z

SypheDMar: 2015 Moscow

2015 Moscow

Famous Persons in Blue Planet

2013-10-06T03:57:47Z

SypheDMar: /* Blue Planet: War in Heaven */ Bad descriptions but better than nothing, right? I'd stub it, but....

{{BPArticle}}

The central figures of the [[Blue Planet]] universe are listed here. Please note that this article spoils the content of the Blue Planet campaigns.

==[[Blue Planet: Age of Aquarius]]==
===Samuel Bei Cheow Keng===

===Philip Corey===
A pilot assigned to the [[222nd Nightwolves]] aboard the [[GTD Orestes|GTD ''Orestes'']], he flies on [[#Samuel Bei Cheow Keng|Samuel Bei]]'s wing as Alpha 2 during the 14th Battlegroup's expedition to [[Sol]]. Corey is inquisitive and incredibly loyal, usually being the first in Alpha wing to conduct a quick scan of the area he is sent in and possessing slightly more knowledge regarding the workings of Allied warships than Bei. He will fulfill any orders given to him by Bei regardless of the odds.

During a short separation from his wing leader, Corey's flight record on board the [[GTD Temeraire|GTD ''Temeraire'']] first saw him filling up Bei's position as Alpha leader, followed by him being promoted from his original rank of Lieutenant to Lieutenant-Commander shortly before being reunited with Bei during an attack on a ''Sathanas'' juggernaut spearheaded by the ''Orestes''.

Along with Bei, Corey defected to the [[UEF]] shortly after the destruction of the [[Blue Planet United Earth Federation ship database#UEFg Renjian|UEFg ''Renjian'']] and the beginning of the [[GTVA]]'s invasion of Sol.

===Mina Taylor===
A pilot assigned to the [[222nd Nightwolves]] aboard the [[GTD Orestes|GTD ''Orestes'']], she flies on the wing of [[#Samuel Bei|Samuel Bei]] as Alpha 3 during the 14th Battlegroup's expedition to [[Sol]]. Her family came from the San Francisco Bay Area. Outgoing and loyal, Taylor constantly reminds Bei of what he has done for Alpha wing as a whole, keeping everyone together during their darkest moments.

During a short separation from her wing leader, Taylor flew on Philip Corey's wing as Alpha 2 while he replaced Bei as Alpha 1, and was promoted from Ensign to Lieutenant on board the [[GTD Temeraire|GTD ''Temeraire'']] shortly before being reunited with Bei during an attack on a ''Sathanas'' juggernaut spearheaded by the ''Orestes''.

Along with Bei, Taylor defected to the [[UEF]] shortly after the destruction of the [[Blue Planet United Earth Federation ship database#UEFg Renjian|UEFg ''Renjian'']] and the beginning of the [[GTVA]]'s invasion of Sol.

===Bei Wen Jian===
The [[GTVA]] admiral who commanded the 14th Battlegroup aboard the [[GTD Orestes|GTD ''Orestes'']] during its expedition to [[Sol]]. During the [[Second Shivan Incursion]] in 2367, he was assigned to the GTVA [[3rd Fleet]] in [[Capella]], commanding the [[Blue Planet Terran ship database#GTCv Arifiel|GTCv ''Arifiel'']]. His family consisted of his son, Samuel, his wife Mei-Ling and daughter-in-law Eriana.

Bei's ship, the ''Arifiel'', was selected by GTVA High Command to organize the evacuation of Capella until the fleet's flagship, the [[GTD Aquitaine|GTD ''Aquitaine'']], was repaired following its retreat from the [[nebula system]]. It was during this initial stage of the evacuation when the transport carrying his wife and daughter-in-law and escorted by his son was destroyed by Shivan bombers.

After Samuel Bei's failure to defend his wife's transport, Bei Wen Jian estranged himself from his son, not speaking to him until Samuel reported to the ''Orestes'' as pilot in 2385. Relations were frosty and strictly professional between them until Samuel Bei, assisted by the [[Vishnans]], saved the ''Orestes'' from the [[SD Lucifer|SD ''Lucifer'']] in the Sol system.

It is revealed, shortly after he and his son led a successful attack on a single ''Sathanas'' juggernaut, culminating with its destruction, that Bei was capable of receiving and interpreting communications from the Vishnans, just like his son. However, he chose to keep this a secret.

After the events of ''Age of Aquarius'', he was reluctant to carry out the 14th Battlegroup's original orders to invade Sol. When pressed, he quit his command, absconded with a shuttle, and defected to the [[UEF]], but not before informing the battlegroup of their true purpose of coming to Sol.

===Orestes Control===
:''Voiced by [http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?action=profile;u=735 Dekker]''
What is known to most pilots serving the ''Orestes'' simply as "''Orestes'' Control" is personified by this man in his late twenties. Matter-of-factly and to the point, "Orestes Control" conveys orders from GTVA Command and the Commanding Officer of the ''Orestes'' to all pilots under the ''Orestes'''s charge. He is incredibly level-headed even in the face of imminent destruction.

===Katashi Iwakura===
Squadron leader (and presumptive CAG) aboard the [[GTD Sanctuary|GTD ''Sanctuary'']]. It was she, along with Commander Tell, who made first contact with the [[GTVA]] 14th Battlegroup in the [[N362]] system, allowing the ''Sanctuary'' to escape the N362 nebula and return with the 14th Battlegroup to [[Sol]]. She presumably defected to the [[UEF]], along with the ''Sanctuary'', when the 14th Battlegroup began the GTVA's invasion of Sol.

==[[Blue Planet: War in Heaven]]==
===Noemi Laporte===
A [[UEF]] fighter pilot, she is the protagonist of ''War in Heaven''.

Laporte was born to friends of Elder [[#Martin Mandho|Martin Mandho]]. Her father was a fighter pilot, as was her uncle, [[#Manuel Brie|Manuel Brie]]. As a child, she exhibited symptoms of schizophrenia which manifested as an "[[Ken|invisible friend]]". This eventually culminated in a psychotic episode in her early teens. Her mental condition eventually improved, and she joined the UEF Naval Academy when she came of age in the early 2380s to follow in her father's and uncle's footsteps. While she was in the Academy, her father was killed in a deck accident that set his spacecraft on fire; he asphyxiated after inhaling superheated air. In 2385, her mother developed a respiratory infection and died; the drugs required for her treatment became unavailable after military strikes by the [[GTVA]].

In 2386, Laporte graduated from the academy and was assigned to the 170th Fighting Navajas on the First Fleet's [[UED Solaris (BP)|UED ''Solaris'']]. Under the command of her uncle, who was also her squad leader, she participated in many important missions, including [[Post Meridian|the strike on the GTD ''Meridian'']] and [[Darkest Hour|the defence of Rheza Station]]. Despite a low measured aggression profile at the Academy, her performance in these missions was excellent, and marked her for future tactical command; after Manuel Brie leaves the ''Solaris'' to train fighter pilots at Rheza Station, Laporte was promoted to Sub-Lieutenant and given tactical command of the Navajas for their final mission.

As more First Fleet assets were being reassigned to guard classified projects for the Council of Elders, Laporte requests -- and gets -- a transfer to the Second Fleet's [[UEFg Indus|UEFg ''Indus'']]. Her desire for the ''Indus'' transfer may have had something to do with [[#Lorna Simms|Lorna Simms]] being on board, as Laporte had developed romantic feelings for her.

After [[The Intervention|keeping Simms from self-destructing]] after a 400% casualty rate sends her into a deep depression, Laporte, along with the rest of the ''Indus'', is tapped for inclusion in Task Force Wargods, a group tasked with taking the war to the [[GTVA|Tevs]]. Laporte flies several sorties with the Wargods, including [[The Plunder|the capture of the GTL ''Agincourt'']] and [[What Binds Us|Earth's first contact with the Vasudan Imperium in 50 years]]. In addition, she and Simms were also sent, along with Elder Lin Taudigani, to meet with the Vasudans for preliminary peace negotiations with the UEF; however, the negotiations collapse after [[Deals in Shadows|the assassination of Elder Taudigani by Tev forces]].

Laporte was one of the few Wargods to survive after [[Delenda Est|their disastrous attempt to destroy the GTD ''Carthage'' at Saturn]]. After the ''Indus'' makes a crash jump into deep solar orbit, she is rescued by the Fedayeen [[UEFg Narayana|frigate]] [[Blue Planet United Earth Federation ship database#UEFg Masyaf|UEFg ''Masyaf'']]. Laporte transfers to the Fedayeen after her rescue.

She managed to lead Falcata wing in many missions, capturing or destroying the ''Carthage'' and retrieving data from Jupiter's turbulent atmosphere.

===Lorna Simms===
Leader of the interceptor squadron aboard the [[Blue Planet United Earth Federation ship database#UEFg Indus|UEFg ''Indus'']]. She is one of the squadron's two surviving original members.

As with many Martian unit commanders, she prefers to build morale and rapport with her subordinates on an interpersonal basis, involving them in games and hand-to-hand sparring matches. After three weeks of her squadron taking a 400% casualty rate in the course of the war, she becomes dangerously detached from her pilots, dehumanizing them by only giving them numbers instead of callsigns and forbidding the painting of names aboard fighters. This has detrimental effects on the unit's morale. Simms is eventually snapped out of her grief-fueled death spiral by Noemi Laporte and Karen Ng'Mei.

She is attracted to Noemi Laporte, but regulations forbid a relationship between them.

She suffers from radiation poisoning at the end of Part 1 of ''War In Heaven'', and is being moved to the Second Fleet's radiation trauma center. It is unclear whether she survives.

===Manuel Brie===
Squadron leader for the [[UEF]]'s [[170th Fighting Navajas]] aboard the [[UED Solaris (BP)|UED ''Solaris'']]. A fighter pilot for over two decades, the war between the UEF and the [[GTVA]] has worn down his nerves, and his reflexes aren't what they used to be at the beginning of his career. After Admiral Steele's blitz of [[Earth]]'s orbital stations, Brie decides to retire from the front lines, transferring to a position on Earth-orbit [[Blue Planet United Earth Federation ship database#UEI Rheza Station|Rheza Station]] training fighter pilots.

He is the uncle of Noemi Laporte.

===Enabren Kassim===
A pilot for the [[UEF]]'s [[170th Fighting Navajas]] aboard the [[UED Solaris (BP)|UED ''Solaris'']]. Although initially possessing bravado and machismo, grief over the deaths he inflicts as a fighter pilot eventually consumes him, and he takes to drinking heavily to dull his pain. Eventually, he is found drunk in his cabin during the [[GTVA]]'s blitz on [[Earth]]'s orbital stations, leading to his immediate court-martial and psychological discharge. He is sent to a government-run psychiatric facility.

===Karen Ng'Mei===
Leader of a gunship squadron aboard the [[Blue Planet United Earth Federation ship database#UEFg Yangtze|UEFg ''Yangtze'']]. She has served as the ''de facto'' CAG for the ''Yangtze'' since the original CAG became a psychological casualty. A good friend of Lorna Simms', she encourages Noemi Laporte to snap her out of her guilt-fueled death spiral after three weeks of very heavy casualties in Simms' squadron take their toll.

She is presumed killed at Saturn when the [[GTD Imperieuse|GTD ''Imperieuse'']] ambushes the ''Yangtze'', along with the other frigates of TF Wargods, as they were attempting to destroy the [[GTD Carthage (BP)|GTD ''Carthage'']]'s battlegroup.

===Robert Byrne===
Admiral Robert Byrne is currently serving as Commander In Chief, UEF Home Fleet. While he is an able Commander in the field, his true area of expertise lies in the administrative side of his duties. During his first tenure as CO of 1st Fleet, and continuing through his stint on the Space Policy and Warfare boards, his efforts were instrumental in streamlining the UEF Navy's procurement and logistics support. His greatest achievement, arguably, was the successful approval and subsequent completion of the Solaris project, which marked the return of the Destroyer ship class to Sol space. However, while he was a respected, if not exactly liked, CO during peacetime, his shortcomings as a leader during combat make themselves felt as a notable slump in 1st Fleet's Morale. His subordinates fear that his apparent passivity, especially when compared to 3rd Fleet's Admiral Calder, or 2nd Fleet's Admiral Netreba, will eventually lead to a defeat-in-detail of the Federations' armed forces.

===Kyle Netreba===
Kyle Netreba is the current Commander In Chief of 2nd Fleet Mars. Among the triumvirate that commands the UEF Navy, he is the least "military" officer. Originally trained as an engineering specialist (software subspecialty), he switched to the command track after he demonstrated good leadership skills during an incident in which he had to take command of a frigate after its command staff died during combat. His market-based algorithms for logistical handling earned him the praise of the Council of Elders, a lasting relationship with scientist-elder Svetlana Henriksson, and eventually a place in the Admiralty.

His leadership style is unorthodox. He has structured his command less like a traditional fleet, and more like a design bureau, hand-selecting 2 Fleet's ship captains for their ability to think and act independently. Yet the outbreak of the war saw an abrupt shift in his disciplinary approach, including crackdowns on traditionally lax Martian standards. Some suspect Netreba sought advice from Admiral Calder on wartime conduct.

During the war against the GTVA, Netreba found himself in a difficult position. Calder and Byrne used his fleet as a reserve asset pool for their own very different priorities, and Netreba feels increasingly dissatisfied with this position. His cooperation has not always been rewarded, either in terms of assets for his own OrBat or rest and repair time for his crews and ships. Between having to guard assets that are nominally in 1st Fleet's remit, and supporting offensive actions by 3rd Fleet, his own command and the abilities of the people within it are being wasted, a state of affairs that he feels threatens 2 Fleet's effectiveness as a unit.

While the Admiral is unsatisfied with Admiral Byrne's strategic directives, and much more comfortable with Admiral Calders' aggressive strategies, his ability to work with Admiral Calder is limited. Given their vast differences in command styles, this comes as no surprise. Where 2 Fleet relies on each element acting independently in support of a broad strategy, the Jovian Rim Fleet relies on detailed pre-battle planning and pre-rehearsed maneuvers that can be executed with a minimum of forethought. Whether or not the two commands can overcome these structural differences and produce results when acting in concert will probably be one of the deciding factors in determining the wars' outcome.

===Hans Maxwell Calder===
Admiral Calder, currently serving as Commander In Chief, Jovian Rim Fleet, is the last officer of the GTA. He has served both the GTA and, after the collapse of the node, the Jovian Systems Republic for more than 5 decades. Among the three Admirals that command the UEF Navy, he is the archetypical warrior. He has drilled the people under his command relentlessly, and as a result, 3JRF was able to hold back the GTVA assault for nearly 18 months. Only the arrival of the 15th Battlegroup under Admiral Steele made it possible for the GTVA forces to deal a decisive blow to 3rd Fleet, and force the Jovian Systems Republic to surrender. Admiral Calder is known for his utter disdain at what has become of his once-beloved GTA, and he uses all his knowledge of GTA (Now GTVA) combat tactics and strategies to devastating advantage.

===Chiwetel Steele===
Admiral Chiwetel Steele is the Fleet Officer of the GTVA's 15th Terran Battlegroup and Commanding Officer of its flagship, the [[GTD Atreus|GTD ''Atreus'']]. Steele is a master strategist and well-intentioned extremist, able to play an unusual game of "subspace chess" with the top brass of the Federation and emerge triumphant, as well as single-handedly dealing with two of the Federation's three fleet Admirals on his own, and makes no secret about his intentions to end disputes as quickly as possible by full-scale attacks in order to minimise casualties on both sides. Steele's competence ironically outstrips his ability to secure the loyalty of his subordinates, who find him unnerving and erratic in spite of considerable personal charm, but in many cases the results he gets have earned him both considerable political clout and significant command credibility.

===Cyrus Severanti===
Admiral Cyrus Severanti, Commanding Officer of the GTVA 13th Battlegroup, was the first Theater Commander in Sol. Originally deployed to Sol as backup for Admiral Bei's 14th BG, Admiral Severanti found himself in a difficult situation. With the most powerful ships in the fleet unavailable, and with considerable confusion on all levels of his command structure, he nonetheless pursued the mandate given to him by the GTVA Security Council with skill and determination.

Unfortunately, his slow, methodical, by-the-book approach was countered at every turn by Admiral Calder and the Jovian Rim Fleet, who used Admiral Calders' understanding of the GTVA psyche and the system-wide subspace surveillance net to always stay ahead of the Alliance fleet. After 18 months of uphill battles, Severanti was finally in a position to mount a major assault against 3rd Fleet positions, only to have his thunder stolen by the Security Council's decision to deploy the 15th Battlegroup under Admiral Steele in support of the 13th.

Severanti's subsequent actions, taken rashly in an effort to reassert his authority in Sol, lead straight to his flagship being ambushed by a UEF Frigate division, and he had to withdraw to Delta Serpentis to effect the necessary repairs, where he was reassigned to the GTVA Space War College to head the Advanced Tactics Course.

===Anita Lopez===
Admiral Anita Lopez is the Commanding Officer of the [[GTD Carthage (BP)|GTD ''Carthage'']]. She is a veteran of the Second Shivan Incursion, and has been in command of the ''Carthage'' for the past 15 years. She is noted for her fierce loyalty to her crew, her ship, and the GTVA, in that order. In sharp contrast to Admiral Steele, her command style is based on her instinctive understanding of interpersonal relationships, and her ability to inspire a genuine esprit de corps among her subordinates. Where the 15th Battlegroup is characterized by fast personnel rotations, the ''Carthage'' and her escort fleet are noted for their stability. Under her leadership, the ''Carthage'' and her Battlegroup (formally known as Combat Evaluation Detachment 2, 2nd Fleet GTVA, informally as "The Carthage Clan"), although composed primarily of Capella- and even Great War-Era ships have become one of the GTVA's premier front-line forces. She was captured or killed in [[Her Finest Hour]].

===Vicmouth===
An agent for the [[UEF]] Council of Elders. Evaluated Noemi Laporte's Nagari sensitivity while pretending to be evaluating Laporte's psychological state. A copy of his subsequent report came into the hands of Bei Wen Jian.

===Martin Mandho===
At the time of the [[Great War]], he was associated with [[Galactic Terran Intelligence]]. When the Isolation began, he became a college professor in the Federation of African States. In the spring of 2345, amidst the post-Isolation economic collapse, he met with the spiritual leaders of the fledgling but ascendant Restoration Party and the surviving pilots of [[Good Luck|the mission to destroy the SD ''Lucifer'']]. Within two years, he was one of the founding members of the Ubuntu Party, who would rule post-Isolation Sol. In 2350, he gave a speech to the [[UEF]] Council of Elders. Sometime between 2350 and 2386, he became a member of the Council. In 2384, he taught Philosophy of War to [[#Robert Byrne|Admiral Robert Byrne]] at Xia University on Earth. He has been friends with the Laporte family since at least the mid 2360s, and has known [[#Noemi Laporte|Noemi Laporte]] since childhood. He is also a friend (or at the very least a colleague) of Elder Lin Taudigani.

===Al-Da’wa===
The leader of the Fedayeen. A gestalt consciousness of those who access CASSANDRA.

===Thorn===
The analyst of the Fedayeen. The Heart.

===Vidaura===
The Counselor. Prior to being taken to the Fedayeen, she was in prison as a serial killer. She gets into the heads of others.

===Kovac===
The Warrior. Laporte seems to get along well with Kovacs well.

===Falconer===
The Berserker. Her relationship with Laporte starts of cold and hostile until she starts warming up to Laporte at the end. She was found by the Fedayeen and is known to use knife metaphors.

[[Category: Lists]]

Talania

2013-06-14T03:02:24Z

SypheDMar: Removed non-canon info

:''The only in-game reference to the Talania system is the FS1 [[Leviathan]] tech description.''

===Celestial Information===
*''Distance from Sol:'' Unknown
*''Type of System:'' Unknown
*''Color:'' Unknown
*''Right Ascension:'' Unknown
*''Declination:'' Unknown

===Important Events===
*[[Battle of Talania]]

===Jump Nodes===

[[Category:Stars and Planets]]

Beta Aquilae

2013-06-14T03:00:52Z

SypheDMar:

===Celestial Information===
*''Name, meaning and Constellation:'' Beta Aquilae, Aquila. The name comes from the Arabic term الشاهين aš-šāhīn ''the (peregrine) falcon''. This pseudo-Arabic name is derived from the Persian Šāhīn tarāzū (or possibly Šāhīn tara zed).
*''Other name(s) and meaning:'' Alschairn, Alshain

*''Distance from Sol:'' 44.7 ly, 13.7 pc
*''Type of System:'' Binary
*''Color:'' G8-Yellow Subgiant, M3-Red Dwarf
*''Right Ascension:'' 19h 55m 18.799s
*''Declination:'' +6Â° 24' 24.29"

===Important Events===
*2335: The [[GTD Hades|GTD ''Hades'']] is destroyed, ending the [[Hades Rebellion]].
*The Beta Aquilae Convention, or [[Beta Aquilae Convention|BETAC]], is signed by representatives of the [[Vasudans|Vasudan]] and [[Terrans|Terran]] governments in 2358
*With the ratification of BETAC, Beta Aquilae becomes the new capital of the [[Galactic Terran-Vasudan Alliance]] and the GTVA Security Council (see [[Briefing_texts_%28FS2%29#Into_the_Maelstrom|Debriefing 6 of Into the Maelstrom]] ).

===Jump Nodes===
*[[Antares]]
*[[Delta Serpentis]]
*[[Sol]] ([[Node Inconsistencies#CBAnim|CBAnim]] - presumed collapsed in 2335)
*[[Vasuda]] ([[Node Inconsistencies#Implied|Implied]])
*[[Vega]]

[[Category:Stars and Planets]]

Vega

2013-06-14T03:00:31Z

SypheDMar: No point in keeping non-canon nodes, is there?

===Celestial Information===
*''Name, meaning and constellation:'' Alpha Lyrae, Lyra. The original name "Wega", then turned into "Vega", comes from the Arabic word waqi meaning ''falling'', via the phrase النسر الواقع an-nasr al-wāqi‘, which is translated with ''the falling eagle'' or ''the swooping vulture.''
*''Other name(s) and meaning:'' Dayan-same (Assyrian for ''Judge of Heaven''), Tir-anna (Akkadian for ''Life of Heaven''), Dilgan (Babylonian name given to many other stars, which means ''the Messenger of Light''), Zhi Nü 織女 (Chinese name), Vultur Cadens (Latin word with the same meaning as Vega).

*''Distance from Sol:'' 25.30 ly, 7.756 pc
*''Type of System:'' Singular
*''Color:'' A0-White Main Sequence
*''Right Ascension:'' 18h 36m 56.332s
*''Declination:'' +38Â° 47' 1.17"

===Important Events===
*The PVD ''Typhon'' was first sighted during the "[[Vega Engagement]]" during the Terran-Vasudan War, resulting in the destruction of the GTD ''Eisenhower''. The Terran 4th fleet (as described in the Typhon techroom description) was decimated during this engagement.
*Along with Beta Cygni, cited as one of the first systems attacked by the Shivans.
* (25/1/2335) The 3rd fleet (GTA) is reported as having lost the GTD ''Amadeus'' in Vega at some point prior to the joint Terra-Vasudan declaration of war on the Shivans.
* (15/2/2335) The Vasudan fleet was decimated by a Hammer of Light attack in Vega. The Vasudan fleet had been massing in Vega for a counterstrike after the initial Shivan attacks while the GTA fortified [[Antares]]. The Shivans bypassed both systems and reached [[Deneb]] via an uncharted jump node.
*The [[GTD Bastion|GTD ''Bastion'']] was transferred to Vega at some point between FS1 and FS2. Vega remains the 4th Fleet's base.
*The players training missions "take place" in Vega at the beginning of FS2.
*Home of the 4th Fleet in FreeSpace 2
*GTVA refugees were evacuated to Vega and [[Epsilon Pegasi]] during the Shivan invasion and subsequent destruction of Capella.
*The Shivans launched a "massive attack" upon the Vega node whilst the ''Bastion'' was being deployed in Capella to destroy the [[Epsilon Pegasi]] node.
*During the same time period, the GTD ''Nereid'' was sent (laden with Meson Bombs) from Vega to destroy the node connection to Capella.
*The Meson Bomb was developed at the Hideki Institute in Vega.
*In FreeSpace 2, Admiral Petrarch transfers the player to the Vega Penal Colony if the player is a traitor.

===Jump Nodes===
*[[Antares]] ([[Node Inconsistencies#CBAnim|CBAnim]])
*[[Beta Aquilae]]
*[[Capella]] (collapsed in 2367)
*[[Deneb]]
*[[Ribos]] ([[Node Inconsistencies#CBAnim|CBAnim]])

[[Category:Stars and Planets]]

Sensor degradation with range or facing

2013-03-05T17:17:20Z

SypheDMar: /* Nested 'when'-based event */

The following event is based on an idea by SypheDMar, as proposed in #freespace. It will, in theory, make a set of fighters either be invisible, show up as a fuzzy radar blip, or be fully targetable, all depending on their range to the player as well as whether the player is facing them (or more specifically if he has them within a 60-degree forward cone).

==Nested 'when'-based event==

The following version of the event demonstrates a number of things, not the least of which are nested 'when' operators, shared argument list between the nested whens, and considerable use of and/or-operators to fine tune triggers. Detailed explanation below, but without further ado, the event itself:

- op when-argument
- op any-of
# <list of ships for which to apply range/facing-based targetability>
- op true
- op when
- op and
- op not
- op is-ship-stealthy
# <argument>
- op or
- op and
- op >
- op distance
# <argument>
# Alpha 1
# 3000
- op facing
# <argument>
# 60
- op and
- op >
- op distance
# <argument>
# Alpha 1
# 1000
- op not
- op facing
# <argument>
# 60
- op ship-stealthy
# <argument>
- op when
- op and
- op or
- op =
# 2
- op is-ship-visible
# <argument>
- op is-ship-stealthy
# <argument>
- op or
- op and
- op <=
- op distance
# <argument>
# Alpha 1
# 3000
- op >
- op distance
# <argument>
# Alpha 1
# 1000
- op facing
# <argument>
# 60
- op and
- op <=
- op distance
# <argument>
# Alpha 1
# 1000
- op >
- op distance
# <argument>
# Alpha 1
# 300
- op not
- op facing
# <argument>
# 60
- op ship-invisible
# <argument>
- op ship-unstealthy
# <argument>
- op when
- op or
- op and
- op <=
- op distance
# <argument>
# Alpha 1
# 1000
- op facing
# <argument>
# 60
- op and
- op <=
- op distance
# <argument>
# Alpha 1
# 300
- op not
- op facing
# <argument>
# 60
- op ship-visible
# <argument>
- op ship-unstealthy
# <argument>
Note the use of nested 'when' operators to cover three distinct sets of possibilities (in this case, distance brackets, but anything goes) within the same event, which allows them to draw on the same argument list. This is not terribly important in this particular case, as no arguments are invalidated or revalidated, but it is kept as one event for demonstration purposes. If one prefers, the event could easily be split in three without any change in functionality (one for each distance bracket).

The trigger conditions for each distance bracket are complicated by the fact that for this example, the direction the player is facing is also taken into account - If a ship is within a 60-degree forward cone of the player, it can be targeted at a significantly greater distance than otherwise. To account for this, each distance bracket actually has two distinct sets of trigger conditions, one for when the player is facing the right way, and one for when he isn't. And each of those sets in itself may require multiple conditions. This is all accomplished with a combination of [[and]] operators and [[or]] operators, allowing very precise tuning of when an given action should be triggered.

Finally, each distance bracket has a further condition which checks whether the ship currently being looked at is already set up for the bracket. Why? There's no point changing anything if nothing needs to be changed, and it's a waste of resources to, say, go setting invisibility flags for twenty ships every frame if they already have it set. It isn't strictly necessary to include such a check, but optimising where you can is a good habit to get into.

==If-then-else-based Event==

Now, using the above event (or three seperate ones), every distance bracket will get checked every frame against the argument list. Which, on the surface of it, is exactly what you want. But what if you could make it so the distance brackets are checked in turn, the next one in line only checked if the first one fails? That would surely save some CPU cycles. The thing is, you can. FreeSpace_Open now includes an [[if-then-else]] operator, which will let us do precisely that:

- op when-argument
- op any-of
# <list of ships for which to apply range/facing-based targetability>
- op true
- op if-then-else
- op and
- op not
- op is-ship-stealthy
# <argument>
- op or
- op and
- op >
- op distance
# <argument>
# Alpha 1
# 3000
- op facing
# <argument>
# 60
- op and
- op >
- op distance
# <argument>
# Alpha 1
# 1000
- op not
- op facing
# <argument>
# 60
- op ship-stealthy
# <argument>
- op if-then-else
- op and
- op or
- op =
# 2
- op is-ship-visible
# <argument>
- op is-ship-stealthy
# <argument>
- op or
- op and
- op <=
- op distance
# <argument>
# Alpha 1
# 3000
- op >
- op distance
# <argument>
# Alpha 1
# 1000
- op facing
# <argument>
# 60
- op and
- op <=
- op distance
# <argument>
# Alpha 1
# 1000
- op >
- op distance
# <argument>
# Alpha 1
# 300
- op not
- op facing
# <argument>
# 60
- op when
- op true
- op ship-invisible
# <argument>
- op ship-unstealthy
# <argument>
- op when
- op and
- op or
- op =
# 1
- op is-ship-visible
# <argument>
- op is-ship-stealthy
# <argument>
- op or
- op and
- op <=
- op distance
# <argument>
# Alpha 1
# 1000
- op facing
# <argument>
# 60
- op and
- op <=
- op distance
# <argument>
# Alpha 1
# 300
- op not
- op facing
# <argument>
# 60
- op ship-visible
# <argument>
- op ship-unstealthy
# <argument>

In the revised event above, [[if-then-else]] is used to check the three distance brackets in sequence. If a ship is shown to place within a bracket, it acts on that and breaks out, whereas if a ship is not within the bracket being checked, it moves on to the next bracket and checks that instead. This reduces the amount of checks that happen compared to the first version of the event, and as a result will place a slightly lower demand on system resources. And while this is generally not a noticable effect, every CPU cycle does count.

Note the use of an additional nested 'when' in the second 'if-then-else'. This is necessary as there is more than one action to be taken, and only the second argument of the 'if-then-else' operator is the action to be taken if it is true - Third and beyond is for when it is false. Hence, the 'when' is used to group two actions into one argument.

Also note that the last case is not an 'if-then-else', but a 'when', just as in the first version of the event. This is because it is the last case, and as such there is no 'else' if this fails as well. However, it is NOT a default case which will always be carried out should the other two fail. Were that the case, the actions in it could simply be tacked onto the third-and-beyond argument of the second 'if-then-else', with no need for the 'when'.

==See also==
*[[FreeSpace 2 Tactical#Stealth Missions|Stealth missions]]
*[[Stealthing ships to force target loss]]

[[Category:FRED Examples]]

Windmills

2013-02-22T20:18:45Z

SypheDMar: /* Player Comments */

==General Info==
'''Released:''' ''31st March 2009'' 
'''Author:''' ''Ransom Arceihn'' 
'''Missions:''' ''4'' 
'''Requirements:''' [[FreeSpace Open|''FreeSpace Open'']] 

==Description==
''Windmills'' is a storytelling experiment and a demonstration of tactics-based gameplay in the FreeSpace Open engine.

==Related Links==
*'''[http://www.rateofinjury.com/campaigns/Windmills.rar Download | Rateofinjury.com]''' 
*'''[http://freespacemods.net/download.php?view.526 Download | FreeSpaceMods.net]''' 

*[http://rateofinjury.com/windmills.php Project Site | Rateofinjury.com] 
*[http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php/topic,62062.0.html Release thread | Hard Light Productions.net]

==Player Comments==
''This is one of the most creative mini-campaigns I've ever played and enjoyed. This "real-time tactics" mod has lots of possibilities in this little package, and this was made in the 3.6.10 era. I don't know if it still works in the newer SCP, but I tried updating the campaign for 3.6.12. Also expect a little bit of "Transcend" in Windmills. '' --[[User:SypheDMar|SDM]] 20:18, 22 February 2013 (UTC)

{{stub}}

[[Category: User-made Campaigns]]

Windmills

2013-02-22T20:18:20Z

SypheDMar:

==General Info==
'''Released:''' ''31st March 2009'' 
'''Author:''' ''Ransom Arceihn'' 
'''Missions:''' ''4'' 
'''Requirements:''' [[FreeSpace Open|''FreeSpace Open'']] 

==Description==
''Windmills'' is a storytelling experiment and a demonstration of tactics-based gameplay in the FreeSpace Open engine.

==Related Links==
*'''[http://www.rateofinjury.com/campaigns/Windmills.rar Download | Rateofinjury.com]''' 
*'''[http://freespacemods.net/download.php?view.526 Download | FreeSpaceMods.net]''' 

*[http://rateofinjury.com/windmills.php Project Site | Rateofinjury.com] 
*[http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php/topic,62062.0.html Release thread | Hard Light Productions.net]

==Player Comments==
''This is one of the most creative mini-campaigns I've ever played and enjoyed. This "real-time tactics" mod has lots of possibilities in this little package, and this was made in the 3.6.10 era. I don't know if it still works in the newer SCP, but I tried updating the campaign for 3.6.12. Also expect a little bit of "Transcend" in Windmills. '' - --[[User:SypheDMar|SDM]] 20:18, 22 February 2013 (UTC)

{{stub}}

[[Category: User-made Campaigns]]

List of historic events

2013-02-05T04:53:35Z

SypheDMar:

Below can be found a '''list of historical events''', in rough chronological order.

==[[The 14-Year War]]==
*[[Aldebaran Encounter]]
*[[Battle of Rexias 4]]
*[[Battle of Gulnara]]
*[[Battle of Talania]]
*[[Vega Engagement]]

==[[Great War]]==
*[[Heist of the Avenger Prototype]]
*[[First engagements against the Shivans]]
*[[Hammer of Light Rebellion]]
*[[Destruction of Vasuda Prime]]
*[[Destruction of the SD Lucifer]]

==[[Reconstruction]]==
*[[Hades Rebellion]]
*[[Operation Templar]]
*[[Beta Aquilae Convention]]
*[[NTF Rebellion]] ''(continued until the Second Shivan Incursion)''
*[[Battle of Deneb (2367)|Battle of Deneb]]

==[[Second Shivan Incursion]]==
*[[Operations inside the Shivan Nebula]]
*[[Liberation of Epsilon Pegasi]]
*[[Hunt for the SJ Sathanas]]
*[[Destruction of Capella]]

[[Category:Lists]]
[[Category:History|*]]

Hades Rebellion

2013-02-05T04:50:06Z

SypheDMar:

The '''Hades Rebellion''' was an attempted coup initiated by rogue elements of [[Galactic Terran Intelligence]] following the events of the [[Great War]], and was cataloged in the ''[[Silent Threat]]'' campaign. In one of his monologues in ''FreeSpace 2'', Admiral Bosch mentions that he had once battled rogue elements of the GTI during this rebellion, which has sparked speculation that the player's character in ''Silent Threat'' was, in fact, Aken Bosch, though this has never been canonically confirmed.

===2335:===

'''February 31:''' Battle of Deneb, a last-ditch effort to hold off the Shivans as long as possible to evacuate Vasuda Prime.

'''March 29:''' SD ''Lucifer'' destroyed by pilots from the GTD ''Bastion'' while exiting subspace in [[Sol]]. Sol-[[Delta Serpentis]] jump node collapses, severing Earth from the rest of the galaxy. ('''Main Article: [[Destruction of the SD Lucifer]]''')

'''April 18:''' First combat deployment of the [[GTF Loki]] stealth fighter by GTI Research and Development.

'''April 23:''' Initial sightings of [[SB Seraphim]] reported.

'''May 7-19:''' Allied Terran and Vasudan forces intensify their offensive against the Shivans.

'''May 19:''' GTI forces attack and destroy the [[GTD Krios]] in an attempt to cover up illegal GTI activities. [[GTD Soyakaze]] intervenes and retrieves enough data to implicate the rogue elements.

'''May 20:''' Rogue GTI forces open hostilities against GTA and PVN forces.

'''May 27:''' High Command dissolves Intelligence and integrates loyalist forces, including the ''Soyakaze'', into the main GTA fleet. The former GTI headquarters, the Jotunheim installation, is destroyed.

'''June 1:''' Pilots from the GTD ''Soyakaze'' confront and, after a lengthy battle, cripple the Hades. End of the Hades Rebellion.

[[category:History]]

Unification

2013-02-05T04:44:51Z

SypheDMar:

Sometime during this period, [[Terrans]] discovered subspace, unified under the [[Galactic Terran Alliance]], explored the galaxy, and set up colonies in several systems. This timeline will cover from the discovery of [[subspace]] to the first contact with the [[Vasudans]].

{{stub}}

'''NEXT:''' [[Terran-Vasudan War]]

[[Category:History]]

Unification

2013-02-05T04:44:34Z

SypheDMar:

{{NotAllCanon}}

Sometime during this period, [[Terrans]] discovered subspace, unified under the [[Galactic Terran Alliance]], explored the galaxy, and set up colonies in several systems. This timeline will cover from the discovery of [[subspace]] to the first contact with the [[Vasudans]].

{{stub}}

'''NEXT:''' [[Terran-Vasudan War]]

[[Category:History]]

Unification

2013-02-05T04:44:21Z

SypheDMar: Removed noncanon info.

Terran-Vasudan War

2013-02-05T04:42:12Z

SypheDMar:

Shortly after first contact, the '''Terran-Vasudan War''', or the '''14-Year War''', broke out. Heavy and sustained casualties were suffered on both sides, but both species learned valuable lessons in adaptation and the development of new technologies. This timeline will span from the first Vasudan contact to the signing of the treaty that officially ended the 14-Year War.

Most of the events that occur during the '''Terran-Vasudan War''' do not have specific dates attached to them. We know, for example, that the [[Battle of Gulnara]] was a major Vasudan defeat that seemed to ensure Terran victory, and the [[Battle of Talania]] was a major Vasudan victory that forced the GTA to resume production of the Leviathan. Other known events include the Battle of Rexias 4, where kamikaze Anubis pilots destroyed the [[GTD Goliath]], and the destruction of the [[GTD Eisenhower]] against a PVD [[Typhon]] at the Vega Engagement.

=====January 8th:=====
GTA launches [[Operation Thresher]]. Initial losses cause Thresher to be declared a failure only two days after it started. GTA command estimates 504 pilots dead, fourteen missing (and presumed dead).


=====January 15th:=====
The Shivans attack Vasudan and Terran forces near the Antares-Ribos node. The loss of the PVC ''Taurus'' and GTSC ''Plato'' leads toward a cease-fire proposal on the 18th by the Vasudans.

=====January 25th:=====
GTA and PVE sign a cease-fire and non-aggression pact. The 14-Year War officially comes to an end.

{{stub}}

[[Unification]]''' :PREVIOUS | NEXT: '''[[Great War]]

[[Category:History|Terran-Vasudan War]]

Eishtmo's Terran-Vasudan War timeline

2013-02-05T04:41:33Z

SypheDMar:

{{non-canon}}

Shortly after first contact, the '''Terran-Vasudan War''', or the '''14-Year War''', broke out. Heavy and sustained casualties were suffered on both sides, but both species learned valuable lessons in adaptation and the development of new technologies. This timeline will span from the first Vasudan contact to the first contact with the [[Shivans]] in [[Ross 128]].

'''Almost all dates and events below are taken from Eishtmo's FreeSpace fan fiction. This fanfic is being used by the [[Terran-Vasudan War Project]] team, although little of it is grounded in canon.'''

Canon events in silver and non-canon events are in gray. Events with canon dates are in white. Please note that, due to differing sources and interpretations of the war, some information may conflict.

===2320:===

=====March:=====
First official contact with the [[Vasudan Parliamentary Empire]].


=====April:=====
First diplomatic meeting in [[Antares]].

=====July:=====
The [[Pan-Galactic Treaty]] is agreed to by diplomats. Taken to respective governments. GTD ''Gaia'' completed.

=====December:=====
[[Pan-Galactic Treaty]] rejected by legislators on both sides.

===2321:===

=====January:=====
Prince Mihos killed during drug gang battle. Vasudan politicians blame the [[Galactic Terran Alliance]] outright.

=====February:=====
Diplomats Knum and Andrews meet. Meeting ends in bloodshed. War declared by both sides the next day.

=====April:=====
Vasudans launch raid on Sol system. Crushed by GTD ''Gaia'' and 1st Fleet.

=====May:=====
Vasudans begin construction on their own destroyer, the ''Thanatos'' class.

=====September:=====
First Thanatos, PVD ''Thanatos'', completed.


===2322:===

=====November:=====
GTA officials determine the war will not be short. Authorizes the construction of the [[GTC Leviathan|GTC ''Leviathan'']] cruiser.

===2323:===

=====March:=====
First Battle of the [[Vasuda]]-[[Antares]] node. Marks the first time Terran warships enter the [[Vasuda]] system. Terrans only managed to hold the node for a week before being driven back.

===2324:===

=====June:=====
Battle of Vega III. In an attempt to get around the Terran hold on [[Antares]], the PVN launches its first major assault on a Terran system at Vega. The battle was the bloodiest to date, with the loss of nearly 50,000 on both sides. The Terrans managed to drive the Vasudans back to Deneb, but didn't have the strength for a counterattack.

===2326:===

=====August:=====
The first ''Savior''-class destroyer, PVD ''Savior'', come off the lines. Over the next two years, the Vasudans would completely replace their ''Thanatos''-class destroyers with these powerful ships.

=====October:=====
Second Battle of Antares-Vasuda node. To show off the new ship, Vasudan Prince Amon organizes an attack on Antares. The PVD ''Savior'' tears through Terran lines. The Vasudans gain a powerful foothold in Antares.


=====November:=====
[[Battle of Gulnara]]. As the Vasudans poured into the system, the [[Terrans]] launched a massive counterattack. Near the Antares IV moon, Gulnara, the [[Vasudans|Vasudan]] fleet is beaten back to the node. This defeat leads GTA command to believe that victory is on the horizon. Leviathan production is halted, and the GTA initiates a major offensive.

===2327===

=====January:=====
Realizing the end is coming, the Vasudan parliament unofficially moves to [[Alpha Centauri]] where it would stay until after the [[Great War]]. The Third Battle of the Vasuda-Antares node happens days later. Terrans establish a strong foothold in [[Vasuda]].

=====February:=====
The last element of the Vasudan navy is forced out of [[Vasuda]]. The GTA begins building up forces for the invasion of Vasuda Prime.


=====March:=====
Battle of [[Talania]]. 
In an attempt to avenge the invasion of Vasuda, a group of Vasudan admirals, under the leadership of Prince Imhotep, launch an attack on Talania] destroying the Terran 6th Fleet and the supply base there. After the raid, PVN command realized that the attack had crippled GTA supply lines, and orders the group to capitalize on their initial success. By then, the GTA had reinforced Talania, and the fighting was much fiercer.

=====April:=====
With their defenses weakened, the Vasudans launch a renewed attack on the Terrans in Vasuda, finally driving them out by May. The GTA orders Leviathan production resumed with new weapons and technologies.

===2328:===

=====February:=====
First cease-fire established. After regaining lost territory, the Vasudans prepare for an assault on Terran systems when a rare Vasudan holiday comes up. Forced by religious leaders, the Vasudans offer the GTA a short cease-fire. The GTA eagerly accepts, and uses this time to establish new defensive lines. The cease-fire is ended before the treaty is half over with no progress toward a lasting peace.

=====March:=====
Battle of [[Ribos]]. Using information gotten via a spy amongst the Vasudans, the GTA counters an invasion of Ribos by easily destroying the pride of the PVN fleet, the PVD ''Savior''.

===2329:===

=====January:=====
Second cease-fire established. Following a series of crushing defeats, the Vasudan parliament offers the GTA terms for a cease-fire during which a lasting peace treaty would be discussed. Negotiations lasted only an hour before breaking down, but the cease-fire held until the beginning of February, during which the Vasudans strengthen their own lines.

=====August:=====
Battle of [[Deneb]]-[[Sirius]] node. After surprising Vasudan forces in [[Deneb]], the GTA attempts to take the Deneb-Sirius node. The defeat at this battle begins a chain of defeats for Terran forces that would eventually force them into [[Beta Aquilae]].

=====December:=====
Third cease-fire established. In an attempt to stave off certain defeat, the GTA asks for a cease-fire during the holiday season. It is agreed to, and lasts the five days after Christmas. The GTA uses this time to reinforce its lines and prepare a counter attack it launches on New Years' Eve day.

===2330:===

=====June:=====
[[Betelgeuse]] Siege. After a dramatic counter-offensive, the Vasudans had managed to capture and hold [[Antares]] and [[Beta Cygni]]. It is decided by Prince Imhotep to lay siege to Betelgeuse and force the system to surrender. The siege lasts nearly six months, costing the Vasudans dearly. While they busied themselves trying to starve out Betelgeuse, the rest of the GTA attacked multiple supply bases in Antares, crippling PVN supply lines. By December, the [[Vasudans]] are forced to withdraw from Beta Cygni.

===2331:===

=====January:=====
The collapse of the Talania nodes. Though known for their instability, the nodes to the Talania system had been stable enough for the GTA to use the system as a major supply dump. In late December 2330, however, the system was contested when a PVN fleet entered via the [[Vega]] system forcing the GTA to withdraw key equipment and personnel. By January, Vasudan and Terran scientists had independently determined that both nodes into the system were due to collapse to an unusable state within only a few weeks. The commanding officers of both the GTA and PVN fleet called a cease-fire and jointly organized an evacuation of the system. By late February, the nodes were no longer stable for anything to travel through. For years it was hoped that the nodes would restabilize, but hopes would be dashed after the destruction of the [[Sol]]-[[Delta Serpentis]] node and the system was finally removed from maps.

=====March:=====
Fourth cease-fire established. Considered the last serious attempt at peace, Vasudan and Terran officials meet for the bulk of the one-month cease-fire. Serious talks of an end to the war come up, but are dashed when no agreement is made.

=====November:=====
Fifth cease-fire established. By odd coincidence, Terran and Vasudan election dates overlapped during 2331, encouraging the ruling groups to ask each other for a cease-fire so they could remain in power. The cease-fire lasts two days, and the ruling parties were both soundly defeated. There would be no further cease-fires until the arrival of the Shivans.

===2332:===

=====January:=====
After being sworn in, Senator Williams makes a speech proclaiming that the Vasudans should be "bled white" as the only way to win the war. Similar statements by Vasudan legislators trigger a stalemate in the war that lasts for the next three years.

=====March:=====
Designs for the new Vasudan destroyer, the [[PVD Typhon|PVD ''Typhon'']], are approved and construction begins in Altair. Any Saviors currently in production are scrapped and used to build the new warship.

====2333:====

=====March:=====
Nearly one year to the day, the first Typhon, [[PVD Typhon|PVD ''Typhon'']], leaves the [[Altair]] shipyards. Its first assignment is to take [[Vega]].

=====April:=====

Operation Thunderbolt; the GTA succesfully forces the last Vasudan forces out of the Beta Aquilae system, in preparation for an attack upon Antares. ''(Continuity with the defunct 20k campaign)''

 The [[Vega Engagement]]. The GTA's first encounter with the ''Typhon''-class destroyer ends with the destruction of the [[GTD Eisenhower|GTD ''Eisenhower'']] and the [[4th GTA Fleet|4th Fleet]]. The GTA launches a counterattack on Vega, forcing the ''Typhon'' to retreat but taking horrendous losses in the process.

=====June:=====
(12-19th June) Operation Mako; the GTA launches an invasion of the Vasudan-held Antares system from Beta Aquilae, in order to relieve the 5th fleet (trapped in the Ribos system). Despite the destruction of the PVD ''Typhon'' and significant Vasudan losses, the GTA only makes minimal gains at a heavy cost, resulting in stalemate. ''(Continuity with the now-defunct 20k campaign)''

====2334:====

=====June:=====
Battle of Vega-Deneb Node. The last major battle of the 14-Year War sees the Terrans take the Vega side of the node. The first Typhon destroyed in combat occurs during the battle.

=====September:=====
In an attack that surprised both sides, a second Typhon is destroyed in Antares.


====2335:====

=====January 8th:=====
GTA launches Operation Thresher, also known as the Fifth Battle of the Vasuda-Antares Node. Initial losses cause Thresher to be declared a failure only two days after it started. GTA command estimates 504 pilots dead, fourteen missing (and presumed dead).


=====January 15th:=====
The Shivans attack Vasudan and Terran forces near the Antares-Ribos node. The loss of the PVC ''Taurus'' and GTSC ''Plato'' leads toward a cease-fire proposal on the 18th by the Vasudans.

=====January 25th:=====
GTA and PVE sign a cease-fire and non-aggression pact based on the [[Pan-Galactic Treaty]]. The 14-Year War officially comes to an end.

[[Category:History|Terran-Vasudan War]]

Talk:Terran-Vasudan War

2013-02-05T04:40:06Z

SypheDMar: moved Talk:Terran-Vasudan War to Talk:Eishtmo's Terran-Vasudan War timeline: This is mostly not canon.

#REDIRECT [[Talk:Eishtmo's Terran-Vasudan War timeline]]

Talk:Eishtmo's Terran-Vasudan War timeline

2013-02-05T04:40:06Z

SypheDMar: moved Talk:Terran-Vasudan War to Talk:Eishtmo's Terran-Vasudan War timeline: This is mostly not canon.

This is 99% Eishtmo's fictional timeline for the T-V War Project. The FS1 tech descriptions for the Leviathan and Typhon make up the canon information.[[User:Galemp|Galemp]]

I added the non-canon template for this reason - [[User:TopAce|TopAce]] 21:54, 21 Nov 2005 (CET)

Added semi-non-canon flag since this still has canon info in it. - [[User:TopAce|TopAce]] 22:42, 23 Nov 2005 (CET)

I put the 20k references back in, minus the links. Opinions? [[User:Mustang19|Mustang19]] 17:48, 2 October 2007 (CDT)

==Reconsideration==
I think all this non-canon information should be removed. I really see no reason why this timeline should be elevated to a higher position than any other - even if it's marked non-canon, the fact that it is on a page that is about a canon subject has that effect. - [[User:Snail|Snail]] 13:46, 30 July 2011 (UTC)
*Not much would remain if we removed all this, but I see where you're coming from. Maybe renaming this page to [[Eishtmo's Terran-Vasudan War timeline]] would be better than removing it in its entirety. Then create a whole new Terran-Vasudan War article from a blank page and see how it turns out. - [[User:TopAce|TopAce]] 16:28, 30 July 2011 (UTC)
**That sounds great. I guess we should wait for a couple more people's opinions before continuing though. - [[User:Snail|Snail]] 20:34, 30 July 2011 (UTC)

Terran-Vasudan War

2013-02-05T04:40:05Z

SypheDMar: moved Terran-Vasudan War to Eishtmo's Terran-Vasudan War timeline: This is mostly not canon.

#REDIRECT [[Eishtmo's Terran-Vasudan War timeline]]

Eishtmo's Terran-Vasudan War timeline

2013-02-05T04:40:05Z

SypheDMar: moved Terran-Vasudan War to Eishtmo's Terran-Vasudan War timeline: This is mostly not canon.

{{NotAllCanon}}

Shortly after first contact, the '''Terran-Vasudan War''', or the '''14-Year War''', broke out. Heavy and sustained casualties were suffered on both sides, but both species learned valuable lessons in adaptation and the development of new technologies. This timeline will span from the first Vasudan contact to the first contact with the [[Shivans]] in [[Ross 128]].

'''Almost all dates and events below are taken from Eishtmo's FreeSpace fan fiction. This fanfic is being used by the [[Terran-Vasudan War Project]] team, although little of it is grounded in canon.'''

Canon events in silver and non-canon events are in gray. Events with canon dates are in white. Please note that, due to differing sources and interpretations of the war, some information may conflict.

===2320:===

=====March:=====
First official contact with the [[Vasudan Parliamentary Empire]].


=====April:=====
First diplomatic meeting in [[Antares]].

=====July:=====
The [[Pan-Galactic Treaty]] is agreed to by diplomats. Taken to respective governments. GTD ''Gaia'' completed.

=====December:=====
[[Pan-Galactic Treaty]] rejected by legislators on both sides.

===2321:===

=====January:=====
Prince Mihos killed during drug gang battle. Vasudan politicians blame the [[Galactic Terran Alliance]] outright.

=====February:=====
Diplomats Knum and Andrews meet. Meeting ends in bloodshed. War declared by both sides the next day.

=====April:=====
Vasudans launch raid on Sol system. Crushed by GTD ''Gaia'' and 1st Fleet.

=====May:=====
Vasudans begin construction on their own destroyer, the ''Thanatos'' class.

=====September:=====
First Thanatos, PVD ''Thanatos'', completed.


===2322:===

=====November:=====
GTA officials determine the war will not be short. Authorizes the construction of the [[GTC Leviathan|GTC ''Leviathan'']] cruiser.

===2323:===

=====March:=====
First Battle of the [[Vasuda]]-[[Antares]] node. Marks the first time Terran warships enter the [[Vasuda]] system. Terrans only managed to hold the node for a week before being driven back.

===2324:===

=====June:=====
Battle of Vega III. In an attempt to get around the Terran hold on [[Antares]], the PVN launches its first major assault on a Terran system at Vega. The battle was the bloodiest to date, with the loss of nearly 50,000 on both sides. The Terrans managed to drive the Vasudans back to Deneb, but didn't have the strength for a counterattack.

===2326:===

=====August:=====
The first ''Savior''-class destroyer, PVD ''Savior'', come off the lines. Over the next two years, the Vasudans would completely replace their ''Thanatos''-class destroyers with these powerful ships.

=====October:=====
Second Battle of Antares-Vasuda node. To show off the new ship, Vasudan Prince Amon organizes an attack on Antares. The PVD ''Savior'' tears through Terran lines. The Vasudans gain a powerful foothold in Antares.


=====November:=====
[[Battle of Gulnara]]. As the Vasudans poured into the system, the [[Terrans]] launched a massive counterattack. Near the Antares IV moon, Gulnara, the [[Vasudans|Vasudan]] fleet is beaten back to the node. This defeat leads GTA command to believe that victory is on the horizon. Leviathan production is halted, and the GTA initiates a major offensive.

===2327===

=====January:=====
Realizing the end is coming, the Vasudan parliament unofficially moves to [[Alpha Centauri]] where it would stay until after the [[Great War]]. The Third Battle of the Vasuda-Antares node happens days later. Terrans establish a strong foothold in [[Vasuda]].

=====February:=====
The last element of the Vasudan navy is forced out of [[Vasuda]]. The GTA begins building up forces for the invasion of Vasuda Prime.


=====March:=====
Battle of [[Talania]]. 
In an attempt to avenge the invasion of Vasuda, a group of Vasudan admirals, under the leadership of Prince Imhotep, launch an attack on Talania] destroying the Terran 6th Fleet and the supply base there. After the raid, PVN command realized that the attack had crippled GTA supply lines, and orders the group to capitalize on their initial success. By then, the GTA had reinforced Talania, and the fighting was much fiercer.

=====April:=====
With their defenses weakened, the Vasudans launch a renewed attack on the Terrans in Vasuda, finally driving them out by May. The GTA orders Leviathan production resumed with new weapons and technologies.

===2328:===

=====February:=====
First cease-fire established. After regaining lost territory, the Vasudans prepare for an assault on Terran systems when a rare Vasudan holiday comes up. Forced by religious leaders, the Vasudans offer the GTA a short cease-fire. The GTA eagerly accepts, and uses this time to establish new defensive lines. The cease-fire is ended before the treaty is half over with no progress toward a lasting peace.

=====March:=====
Battle of [[Ribos]]. Using information gotten via a spy amongst the Vasudans, the GTA counters an invasion of Ribos by easily destroying the pride of the PVN fleet, the PVD ''Savior''.

===2329:===

=====January:=====
Second cease-fire established. Following a series of crushing defeats, the Vasudan parliament offers the GTA terms for a cease-fire during which a lasting peace treaty would be discussed. Negotiations lasted only an hour before breaking down, but the cease-fire held until the beginning of February, during which the Vasudans strengthen their own lines.

=====August:=====
Battle of [[Deneb]]-[[Sirius]] node. After surprising Vasudan forces in [[Deneb]], the GTA attempts to take the Deneb-Sirius node. The defeat at this battle begins a chain of defeats for Terran forces that would eventually force them into [[Beta Aquilae]].

=====December:=====
Third cease-fire established. In an attempt to stave off certain defeat, the GTA asks for a cease-fire during the holiday season. It is agreed to, and lasts the five days after Christmas. The GTA uses this time to reinforce its lines and prepare a counter attack it launches on New Years' Eve day.

===2330:===

=====June:=====
[[Betelgeuse]] Siege. After a dramatic counter-offensive, the Vasudans had managed to capture and hold [[Antares]] and [[Beta Cygni]]. It is decided by Prince Imhotep to lay siege to Betelgeuse and force the system to surrender. The siege lasts nearly six months, costing the Vasudans dearly. While they busied themselves trying to starve out Betelgeuse, the rest of the GTA attacked multiple supply bases in Antares, crippling PVN supply lines. By December, the [[Vasudans]] are forced to withdraw from Beta Cygni.

===2331:===

=====January:=====
The collapse of the Talania nodes. Though known for their instability, the nodes to the Talania system had been stable enough for the GTA to use the system as a major supply dump. In late December 2330, however, the system was contested when a PVN fleet entered via the [[Vega]] system forcing the GTA to withdraw key equipment and personnel. By January, Vasudan and Terran scientists had independently determined that both nodes into the system were due to collapse to an unusable state within only a few weeks. The commanding officers of both the GTA and PVN fleet called a cease-fire and jointly organized an evacuation of the system. By late February, the nodes were no longer stable for anything to travel through. For years it was hoped that the nodes would restabilize, but hopes would be dashed after the destruction of the [[Sol]]-[[Delta Serpentis]] node and the system was finally removed from maps.

=====March:=====
Fourth cease-fire established. Considered the last serious attempt at peace, Vasudan and Terran officials meet for the bulk of the one-month cease-fire. Serious talks of an end to the war come up, but are dashed when no agreement is made.

=====November:=====
Fifth cease-fire established. By odd coincidence, Terran and Vasudan election dates overlapped during 2331, encouraging the ruling groups to ask each other for a cease-fire so they could remain in power. The cease-fire lasts two days, and the ruling parties were both soundly defeated. There would be no further cease-fires until the arrival of the Shivans.

===2332:===

=====January:=====
After being sworn in, Senator Williams makes a speech proclaiming that the Vasudans should be "bled white" as the only way to win the war. Similar statements by Vasudan legislators trigger a stalemate in the war that lasts for the next three years.

=====March:=====
Designs for the new Vasudan destroyer, the [[PVD Typhon|PVD ''Typhon'']], are approved and construction begins in Altair. Any Saviors currently in production are scrapped and used to build the new warship.

====2333:====

=====March:=====
Nearly one year to the day, the first Typhon, [[PVD Typhon|PVD ''Typhon'']], leaves the [[Altair]] shipyards. Its first assignment is to take [[Vega]].

=====April:=====

Operation Thunderbolt; the GTA succesfully forces the last Vasudan forces out of the Beta Aquilae system, in preparation for an attack upon Antares. ''(Continuity with the defunct 20k campaign)''

 The [[Vega Engagement]]. The GTA's first encounter with the ''Typhon''-class destroyer ends with the destruction of the [[GTD Eisenhower|GTD ''Eisenhower'']] and the [[4th GTA Fleet|4th Fleet]]. The GTA launches a counterattack on Vega, forcing the ''Typhon'' to retreat but taking horrendous losses in the process.

=====June:=====
(12-19th June) Operation Mako; the GTA launches an invasion of the Vasudan-held Antares system from Beta Aquilae, in order to relieve the 5th fleet (trapped in the Ribos system). Despite the destruction of the PVD ''Typhon'' and significant Vasudan losses, the GTA only makes minimal gains at a heavy cost, resulting in stalemate. ''(Continuity with the now-defunct 20k campaign)''

====2334:====

=====June:=====
Battle of Vega-Deneb Node. The last major battle of the 14-Year War sees the Terrans take the Vega side of the node. The first Typhon destroyed in combat occurs during the battle.

=====September:=====
In an attack that surprised both sides, a second Typhon is destroyed in Antares.


====2335:====

=====January 8th:=====
GTA launches Operation Thresher, also known as the Fifth Battle of the Vasuda-Antares Node. Initial losses cause Thresher to be declared a failure only two days after it started. GTA command estimates 504 pilots dead, fourteen missing (and presumed dead).


=====January 15th:=====
The Shivans attack Vasudan and Terran forces near the Antares-Ribos node. The loss of the PVC ''Taurus'' and GTSC ''Plato'' leads toward a cease-fire proposal on the 18th by the Vasudans.

=====January 25th:=====
GTA and PVE sign a cease-fire and non-aggression pact based on the [[Pan-Galactic Treaty]]. The 14-Year War officially comes to an end.

[[Unification]]''' :PREVIOUS | NEXT: '''[[Great War]]

[[Category:History|Terran-Vasudan War]]

Modular Construction Kit

2013-02-05T01:04:21Z

SypheDMar:

{{User-made Ships|'''Modular Construction Kit'''}}

The '''Modular Construction Kit''' is a series of models designed to be docked together in FRED to produce larger structures, or to be added to existing models to add an addition level of detail or functionality.

==Components==

Currently, the kit contains the following pieces:

*A single girder "cell", for connecting other girders together.
*A five-cell girder.
*An eleven-cell girder.
*A twenty three-cell girder.
*A blank cap-plate for ending girders.
*A docking ring.
*A larger docking pad.
*A six way girder connector.
*An 'umbilical' tube, to either connect ships inside the drydock with the ouside world, or to run through girders as an access tube.
*A small umbilical piece, to connect larger umbilicals.
*A 90 degree bend, for turning corners with the umbilicals, and creating intersections.
*A cylindircal gas tank, with a set of "habitation pod"textures.
*A cargo docking platform.
*A Sensor Dish
*A Multi-Part Turret
*A set of Cables
*A Set of Solar Panels
*A Biodome

==Current Status==
Version 1.2 of the kit has been released. Future releases will focus on modular installation type pieces, habitable pods, fighterbays, etc.

==Useful Links==
*Release Thread:
**[http://www.hard-light.net/forums/index.php?topic=74116.0 Release thread | Hard-light forums]
*Download Version 1.2:
**[http://www.freespacemods.net/download.php?view.875 Download | FSMods.net]
**[http://www.mediafire.com/?xhrz4dh5znndwxn Download | Mediafire]

==Gallery==
Here are some applications of the Kit in-game.

<gallery>
Image:MCKReinforcements.jpg | An exploration unit during the TV-War, for jumping fighters through nodes.
Image:MCKLeviDock.jpg | A Leviathan in a custom designed drdock.
Image:MCKOutpost.jpg | A small modular outpost.
Image:MCKCargoDepot.jpg | A large cargo depot, built with kit parts and utilizing texture replacement.
</gallery>

[[Category:User-made Ships]]

Terrans

2013-02-05T00:57:30Z

SypheDMar: Removed non-canon fluff.

[[Image:Terran1.jpg|thumb|right|300px|An individual Terran.]]
'''Terrans''', or humans, are bipedal, carbon-based life forms that evolved from primates several thousand years ago on the third planet in the [[Sol]] system. They have an internal skeleton that supports and protects all their internal organs, musculature, and external skin.
==Physiology==
Compared to [[Vasudans]] or [[Shivans]], Terran are physically weak, able to lift only slightly more than their own body weight. Humans have circumvented this weakness by using their relatively compact and powerful brains to develop tools that give them advantages over their adversaries and the ability to manipulate/change their environments. The ability to reason and use logic has enabled this species to outsmart their competitors. The combination of intelligence and versatility has given the Terran species the flexibility it needed to adapt to the various threats it has faced, and allowed Terrans to evolve from tribal, nomadic primates (not entirely unlike their progenitors) to a spacefaring race.

==History==
:''Main article: [[Galactic Terran Alliance#History|Galactic Terran Alliance]]''

[[Image:GTA_logo.JPG|thumb|left|300px|The GTA logo]]

The '''Galactic Terran Alliance''' ('''GTA''') was an alliance formed by the human race after rapid political upheavals that pervaded the years following the discovery of [[subspace]]. The space-based military wing of the GTA was known as the GTA League of Defense. The intelligence branch of the GTA was [[Galactic Terran Intelligence]] (GTI).

In early versions of FreeSpace, several names were used for the Terran faction before the final name was decided upon. Early names included the acronyms "ITA" and "TEF". These names are generally regarded to be non-canon. The space-based military was also referred to as the Galactic Terran Navy (GTN), but only in the ''[[FreeSpace Reference Bible]]''.

==Technology==
[[Image:Terran4.jpg|thumb|left|The [[GTF Apollo|''Apollo'']] fighter, an example of Terran engineering.]]
Terran ship design are utilitarian and easy to mass produce. Despite this, Terran design aesthetics have held to the military-industrial themes. Legendary warships like the [[GTF Apollo|GTF ''Apollo'']], [[GTB Medusa|GTB ''Medusa'']], and [[GTD Orion|GTD ''Orion'']] are considered by many to represent the finest in unadulterated Terran design. After [[Vasudan]] and [[Shivan]] technologies began being implemented, Terran design took a softer turn. Terrans ships such as [[GTF Hercules Mark II|GTF ''Hercules Mark II'']], [[GTB Artemis|GTB ''Artemis'']], and [[GTCv Deimos|GTCv ''Deimos'']] became sleeker and smoother.

Weaponry on Terran ships is very diverse, reflecting both Terran adaptability for different circumstances and the philosophy that pilots should be able to customize their loadout to their own tastes. All-purpose weapons such as the [[GTW Subach HL-7|Subach HL-7]], [[GTW Avenger|Avenger]], and [[GTW Prometheus|Prometheus]] are complemented by weapons that have a special effect upon their targets, like the kinetic effect of the [[GTW Flail|Flail]] rifle and the energy-draining abilities of the [[GTW Lamprey|Lamprey]]. Kinetic-energy weapons were widely used until pulse cannons were developed. Early energy-based weapons were distinctly gaseous in their aural signatures and visual identifications, due to the use of gases like argon and nitrogen used to intensify the laser pulses. Later weaponry used during the [[Second Shivan Incursion|second Shivan conflict]] put more of an emphasis on plasma and electromagnetic weapons, such as the [[GTW Circe|Circe]].

Terran missile design is mostly dependent on brute force, rather than finesse. Heavy ordnance like the [[GTM Phoenix V|Phoenix]] line of heavy missiles and the [[GTM Cyclops|Cyclops]] torpedo annihilate large targets, as Terrans prefer to use their primary weapons against smaller, faster targets. Many of the lighter missiles, such as the [[GTM Interceptor|Interceptor]], used by Terran fighters were only made possible through Vasudan improvements in aspect lock times and engine speeds.

The heavy beam cannons mounted on most Terran warships were first known to be mounted on the [[GTI]]'s pet project, the [[GTD Hades]], and was poised to overtake the surviving forces of the [[GTA]] and [[PVN]] towards the end of the [[Great War]]. [[Hades Rebellion|The ill-fated rebellion]] of these engineers in their bid to overthrow the [[Galactic Terran Alliance]] apparently led to the development of the comparatively advanced weaponry. Many ship classes were refitted with these new weapons. But according to the tech room, this wasn't always practical. Several variants appear to exist, some firing a steady, unmoving beam, other "slashing" across the hull area of the target. These 'slash' beams maximize the spread of the beam fire on a wide arc across the target's hull, increasing the chances of disabling subsystems and turrets. Both Slash beams and Line-of-Sight (LOS) beams are standard by the time of the Second Shivan Incursion on Terran and Vasudan warships.

[[Category:Species]]

Corporations

2013-02-05T00:40:07Z

SypheDMar: /* Sahr Corporation */

Several '''corporations''' are credited with the manufacture of numerous technologies used throughout the [[FreeSpace]], including weaponry and ships. Named corporations are included here, along with a list of products they are credited with manufacturing. Apparently, all these corporations are manufacturers of the [[GTVA Colossus|''Colossus'']], as seen in the Colossus cutscene and intel_GTVA.ani.

Many corporations were named after staff members of the developer [[Volition]].

==Terran contractors==

===Baranec Aquisitions===
[[Image:BaranecAquisitions.png|200px]]

Note: the misspelling "Aquisitions" (instead of "Acquisitions") is canon.

===Bessimer-Kohn===
[[Image:BessimerKohnConstruction.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GTW Prometheus|GTW-5 Prometheus]]
* [[GTM Fury|GTM-2 Fury]]
* [[GTM Hornet|GTM-4 Hornet]]

===Comet propulsion systems===
[[Image:CometPropulsionSystems.png|200px]]

===Dynamic Metamer===
[[Image:DynamicMetamer.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GTB Athena]]
* [[GTB Zeus]]

===Han-Ronald Corp.===
[[Image:HanRonaldCorporation.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GTF Hercules]]
* [[GTF Loki]]
* [[GTF Apollo]]
* [[GTF Valkyrie]]
* [[GTB Artemis]]
* [[GTB Medusa]]
* [[GTB Ursa]]
* [[GTC Fenris]]
* [[GTC Leviathan]]

===Johnson Munitions===
[[Image:JohnsonMunitions.png|200px]]

===Mesa Corp.===
[[Image:MesaCorporation.png|200px]]

===[[Nankam Aeronautical]]===
[[Image:NankamAeronautical.png|200px]]

* [[GTF Ares]]
* [[GTF Pegasus]]
* [[GTF Perseus]]
* [[GTB Artemis D.H.|GTB Artemis D.H. powerplant]]

===RNI systems===
[[Image:RNISystems.png|200px]]

Note: According to the [[Aeolus|GTC Aeolus]] tech description, RNI has shipyard facilities in the [[Laramis]] system.
* [[GTF Hercules Mark II]]
* [[GTF Myrmidon]]
* [[GTB Boanerges]]
* [[GTSG Mjolnir]]
* [[GTC Aeolus]]

===STX Exploration===
[[Image:STXExploration.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

Note: According to the [[GTM MX-64|Rockeye]] tech description, STX Exploration has mining facilities in [[Laramis]] and [[Luyten 726-8]].

===Subach-Innes===
[[Image:SubachInnes.png|200px]]

* [[GTW Subach HL-7]]
* [[GTM Cyclops|GTM-12 Cyclops]]

===Triton Dynamics===
[[Image:TritonDynamics.png|200px]]

* [[GTF Ulysses]]
* [[GTF Erinyes]]
* [[SF Mara (Terrans)]]
* [[GTS Hygeia]]
* [[GTFr Triton]] & [[TC-TRI]]
* [[GTW UD-8 Kayser]]
* [[GTM D-Missile|GTM-31 Disruptor Missile]]

===Velocity: A Han-Ronald Company===
[[Image:VelocityAHanRonalCompany.png|200px]]

==Vasudan contractors==

===Akheton Corporation===
[[Image:AkhetonCorporation.png|200px]]

* [[GVF Horus]]
* [[GVF Serapis]]
* [[GVB Osiris]]
* [[GVB Bakha]]
* [[GVF Ptah]]
* [[GTW Akheton SDG]]

===Mekhu Enterprises===
[[Image:MekhuEnterprises.png|200px]]

* [[GVF Seth]]
* [[PVF Anubis]]
* [[GVB Sekhmet]]
* [[GVS Nephthys]]
* [[GTW Mekhu HL-7]]

===Sahr Corporation===
[[Image:SahrCorporation.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GVF Thoth]]
* [[GVF Tauret]]
* [[GVF Seth|GVF Seth powerplant]]

===Snapka\Flegel Weapons Systems===
[[Image:SnapkaFlegelWeaponsSystems.png|200px]]

==Unspecified Race contractors==

===Agay Fluctuators===
[[Image:AgayFluctuators.png|200px]]

===Allender Hydraulic Actuators===
[[Image:AllenderHydraulicActuators.png|200px]]

===Andsager Logistics===
[[Image:AndsagerLogistics.png|200px]]

===Capezzuto Textiles===
[[Image:CapezzutoTextiles.png|200px]]

===Enricco Ergonomic Systems===
[[Image:EnriccoErgonomicSystems.png|200px]]

===Gerace Corporation===
[[Image:GeraceCorporation.png|200px]]

===Gulisano Precision Group===
[[Image:GulisanoPrecisionGroup.png|200px]]

===Holt Atmospheric Systems===
[[Image:HoltAtmosphericSystems.png|200px]]

===J Scott Weapons===
[[Image:JScottWeapons.png|200px]]

===Kresge Connections===
[[Image:KresgeConnections.png|200px]]

===Kulas Management Group===
[[Image:KulasManagementGroup.png|200px]]

===Pletcher Designs===
[[Image:PletcherDesigns.png|200px]]

===Wentz Acoustics===
[[Image:WentzAcoustics.png|200px]]

===Whiteside Construction===
[[Image:WhitesideConstruction.png|200px]]

[[Category:Organizations]]

Corporations

2013-02-05T00:39:21Z

SypheDMar: /* Triton Dynamics */

Several '''corporations''' are credited with the manufacture of numerous technologies used throughout the [[FreeSpace]], including weaponry and ships. Named corporations are included here, along with a list of products they are credited with manufacturing. Apparently, all these corporations are manufacturers of the [[GTVA Colossus|''Colossus'']], as seen in the Colossus cutscene and intel_GTVA.ani.

Many corporations were named after staff members of the developer [[Volition]].

==Terran contractors==

===Baranec Aquisitions===
[[Image:BaranecAquisitions.png|200px]]

Note: the misspelling "Aquisitions" (instead of "Acquisitions") is canon.

===Bessimer-Kohn===
[[Image:BessimerKohnConstruction.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GTW Prometheus|GTW-5 Prometheus]]
* [[GTM Fury|GTM-2 Fury]]
* [[GTM Hornet|GTM-4 Hornet]]

===Comet propulsion systems===
[[Image:CometPropulsionSystems.png|200px]]

===Dynamic Metamer===
[[Image:DynamicMetamer.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GTB Athena]]
* [[GTB Zeus]]

===Han-Ronald Corp.===
[[Image:HanRonaldCorporation.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GTF Hercules]]
* [[GTF Loki]]
* [[GTF Apollo]]
* [[GTF Valkyrie]]
* [[GTB Artemis]]
* [[GTB Medusa]]
* [[GTB Ursa]]
* [[GTC Fenris]]
* [[GTC Leviathan]]

===Johnson Munitions===
[[Image:JohnsonMunitions.png|200px]]

===Mesa Corp.===
[[Image:MesaCorporation.png|200px]]

===[[Nankam Aeronautical]]===
[[Image:NankamAeronautical.png|200px]]

* [[GTF Ares]]
* [[GTF Pegasus]]
* [[GTF Perseus]]
* [[GTB Artemis D.H.|GTB Artemis D.H. powerplant]]

===RNI systems===
[[Image:RNISystems.png|200px]]

Note: According to the [[Aeolus|GTC Aeolus]] tech description, RNI has shipyard facilities in the [[Laramis]] system.
* [[GTF Hercules Mark II]]
* [[GTF Myrmidon]]
* [[GTB Boanerges]]
* [[GTSG Mjolnir]]
* [[GTC Aeolus]]

===STX Exploration===
[[Image:STXExploration.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

Note: According to the [[GTM MX-64|Rockeye]] tech description, STX Exploration has mining facilities in [[Laramis]] and [[Luyten 726-8]].

===Subach-Innes===
[[Image:SubachInnes.png|200px]]

* [[GTW Subach HL-7]]
* [[GTM Cyclops|GTM-12 Cyclops]]

===Triton Dynamics===
[[Image:TritonDynamics.png|200px]]

* [[GTF Ulysses]]
* [[GTF Erinyes]]
* [[SF Mara (Terrans)]]
* [[GTS Hygeia]]
* [[GTFr Triton]] & [[TC-TRI]]
* [[GTW UD-8 Kayser]]
* [[GTM D-Missile|GTM-31 Disruptor Missile]]

===Velocity: A Han-Ronald Company===
[[Image:VelocityAHanRonalCompany.png|200px]]

==Vasudan contractors==

===Akheton Corporation===
[[Image:AkhetonCorporation.png|200px]]

* [[GVF Horus]]
* [[GVF Serapis]]
* [[GVB Osiris]]
* [[GVB Bakha]]
* [[GVF Ptah]]
* [[GTW Akheton SDG]]

===Mekhu Enterprises===
[[Image:MekhuEnterprises.png|200px]]

* [[GVF Seth]]
* [[PVF Anubis]]
* [[GVB Sekhmet]]
* [[GVS Nephthys]]
* [[GTW Mekhu HL-7]]

===Sahr Corporation===
[[Image:SahrCorporation.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GVF Thoth]]
* [[GVF Tauret]]
* [[PVB Amun]]
* [[GVF Seth|GVF Seth powerplant]]

===Snapka\Flegel Weapons Systems===
[[Image:SnapkaFlegelWeaponsSystems.png|200px]]

==Unspecified Race contractors==

===Agay Fluctuators===
[[Image:AgayFluctuators.png|200px]]

===Allender Hydraulic Actuators===
[[Image:AllenderHydraulicActuators.png|200px]]

===Andsager Logistics===
[[Image:AndsagerLogistics.png|200px]]

===Capezzuto Textiles===
[[Image:CapezzutoTextiles.png|200px]]

===Enricco Ergonomic Systems===
[[Image:EnriccoErgonomicSystems.png|200px]]

===Gerace Corporation===
[[Image:GeraceCorporation.png|200px]]

===Gulisano Precision Group===
[[Image:GulisanoPrecisionGroup.png|200px]]

===Holt Atmospheric Systems===
[[Image:HoltAtmosphericSystems.png|200px]]

===J Scott Weapons===
[[Image:JScottWeapons.png|200px]]

===Kresge Connections===
[[Image:KresgeConnections.png|200px]]

===Kulas Management Group===
[[Image:KulasManagementGroup.png|200px]]

===Pletcher Designs===
[[Image:PletcherDesigns.png|200px]]

===Wentz Acoustics===
[[Image:WentzAcoustics.png|200px]]

===Whiteside Construction===
[[Image:WhitesideConstruction.png|200px]]

[[Category:Organizations]]

Corporations

2013-02-05T00:38:03Z

SypheDMar: /* Triton Dynamics */

Several '''corporations''' are credited with the manufacture of numerous technologies used throughout the [[FreeSpace]], including weaponry and ships. Named corporations are included here, along with a list of products they are credited with manufacturing. Apparently, all these corporations are manufacturers of the [[GTVA Colossus|''Colossus'']], as seen in the Colossus cutscene and intel_GTVA.ani.

Many corporations were named after staff members of the developer [[Volition]].

==Terran contractors==

===Baranec Aquisitions===
[[Image:BaranecAquisitions.png|200px]]

Note: the misspelling "Aquisitions" (instead of "Acquisitions") is canon.

===Bessimer-Kohn===
[[Image:BessimerKohnConstruction.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GTW Prometheus|GTW-5 Prometheus]]
* [[GTM Fury|GTM-2 Fury]]
* [[GTM Hornet|GTM-4 Hornet]]

===Comet propulsion systems===
[[Image:CometPropulsionSystems.png|200px]]

===Dynamic Metamer===
[[Image:DynamicMetamer.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GTB Athena]]
* [[GTB Zeus]]

===Han-Ronald Corp.===
[[Image:HanRonaldCorporation.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GTF Hercules]]
* [[GTF Loki]]
* [[GTF Apollo]]
* [[GTF Valkyrie]]
* [[GTB Artemis]]
* [[GTB Medusa]]
* [[GTB Ursa]]
* [[GTC Fenris]]
* [[GTC Leviathan]]

===Johnson Munitions===
[[Image:JohnsonMunitions.png|200px]]

===Mesa Corp.===
[[Image:MesaCorporation.png|200px]]

===[[Nankam Aeronautical]]===
[[Image:NankamAeronautical.png|200px]]

* [[GTF Ares]]
* [[GTF Pegasus]]
* [[GTF Perseus]]
* [[GTB Artemis D.H.|GTB Artemis D.H. powerplant]]

===RNI systems===
[[Image:RNISystems.png|200px]]

Note: According to the [[Aeolus|GTC Aeolus]] tech description, RNI has shipyard facilities in the [[Laramis]] system.
* [[GTF Hercules Mark II]]
* [[GTF Myrmidon]]
* [[GTB Boanerges]]
* [[GTSG Mjolnir]]
* [[GTC Aeolus]]

===STX Exploration===
[[Image:STXExploration.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

Note: According to the [[GTM MX-64|Rockeye]] tech description, STX Exploration has mining facilities in [[Laramis]] and [[Luyten 726-8]].

===Subach-Innes===
[[Image:SubachInnes.png|200px]]

* [[GTW Subach HL-7]]
* [[GTM Cyclops|GTM-12 Cyclops]]

===Triton Dynamics===
[[Image:TritonDynamics.png|200px]]

* [[GTF Ulysses]]
* [[GTF Erinyes]]
* [[SF Mara (Terrans)]]
* [[GTS Hygeia]]
* [[GTFr Triton]] & [[TC-TRI]]
* [[GTD Hades]]
* [[GTCv Deimos]]
* [[GTW UD-8 Kayser]]
* [[GTM D-Missile|GTM-31 Disruptor Missile]]

===Velocity: A Han-Ronald Company===
[[Image:VelocityAHanRonalCompany.png|200px]]

==Vasudan contractors==

===Akheton Corporation===
[[Image:AkhetonCorporation.png|200px]]

* [[GVF Horus]]
* [[GVF Serapis]]
* [[GVB Osiris]]
* [[GVB Bakha]]
* [[GVF Ptah]]
* [[GTW Akheton SDG]]

===Mekhu Enterprises===
[[Image:MekhuEnterprises.png|200px]]

* [[GVF Seth]]
* [[PVF Anubis]]
* [[GVB Sekhmet]]
* [[GVS Nephthys]]
* [[GTW Mekhu HL-7]]

===Sahr Corporation===
[[Image:SahrCorporation.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GVF Thoth]]
* [[GVF Tauret]]
* [[PVB Amun]]
* [[GVF Seth|GVF Seth powerplant]]

===Snapka\Flegel Weapons Systems===
[[Image:SnapkaFlegelWeaponsSystems.png|200px]]

==Unspecified Race contractors==

===Agay Fluctuators===
[[Image:AgayFluctuators.png|200px]]

===Allender Hydraulic Actuators===
[[Image:AllenderHydraulicActuators.png|200px]]

===Andsager Logistics===
[[Image:AndsagerLogistics.png|200px]]

===Capezzuto Textiles===
[[Image:CapezzutoTextiles.png|200px]]

===Enricco Ergonomic Systems===
[[Image:EnriccoErgonomicSystems.png|200px]]

===Gerace Corporation===
[[Image:GeraceCorporation.png|200px]]

===Gulisano Precision Group===
[[Image:GulisanoPrecisionGroup.png|200px]]

===Holt Atmospheric Systems===
[[Image:HoltAtmosphericSystems.png|200px]]

===J Scott Weapons===
[[Image:JScottWeapons.png|200px]]

===Kresge Connections===
[[Image:KresgeConnections.png|200px]]

===Kulas Management Group===
[[Image:KulasManagementGroup.png|200px]]

===Pletcher Designs===
[[Image:PletcherDesigns.png|200px]]

===Wentz Acoustics===
[[Image:WentzAcoustics.png|200px]]

===Whiteside Construction===
[[Image:WhitesideConstruction.png|200px]]

[[Category:Organizations]]

Corporations

2013-02-05T00:37:22Z

SypheDMar: /* Subach-Innes */

Several '''corporations''' are credited with the manufacture of numerous technologies used throughout the [[FreeSpace]], including weaponry and ships. Named corporations are included here, along with a list of products they are credited with manufacturing. Apparently, all these corporations are manufacturers of the [[GTVA Colossus|''Colossus'']], as seen in the Colossus cutscene and intel_GTVA.ani.

Many corporations were named after staff members of the developer [[Volition]].

==Terran contractors==

===Baranec Aquisitions===
[[Image:BaranecAquisitions.png|200px]]

Note: the misspelling "Aquisitions" (instead of "Acquisitions") is canon.

===Bessimer-Kohn===
[[Image:BessimerKohnConstruction.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GTW Prometheus|GTW-5 Prometheus]]
* [[GTM Fury|GTM-2 Fury]]
* [[GTM Hornet|GTM-4 Hornet]]

===Comet propulsion systems===
[[Image:CometPropulsionSystems.png|200px]]

===Dynamic Metamer===
[[Image:DynamicMetamer.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GTB Athena]]
* [[GTB Zeus]]

===Han-Ronald Corp.===
[[Image:HanRonaldCorporation.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GTF Hercules]]
* [[GTF Loki]]
* [[GTF Apollo]]
* [[GTF Valkyrie]]
* [[GTB Artemis]]
* [[GTB Medusa]]
* [[GTB Ursa]]
* [[GTC Fenris]]
* [[GTC Leviathan]]

===Johnson Munitions===
[[Image:JohnsonMunitions.png|200px]]

===Mesa Corp.===
[[Image:MesaCorporation.png|200px]]

===[[Nankam Aeronautical]]===
[[Image:NankamAeronautical.png|200px]]

* [[GTF Ares]]
* [[GTF Pegasus]]
* [[GTF Perseus]]
* [[GTB Artemis D.H.|GTB Artemis D.H. powerplant]]

===RNI systems===
[[Image:RNISystems.png|200px]]

Note: According to the [[Aeolus|GTC Aeolus]] tech description, RNI has shipyard facilities in the [[Laramis]] system.
* [[GTF Hercules Mark II]]
* [[GTF Myrmidon]]
* [[GTB Boanerges]]
* [[GTSG Mjolnir]]
* [[GTC Aeolus]]

===STX Exploration===
[[Image:STXExploration.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

Note: According to the [[GTM MX-64|Rockeye]] tech description, STX Exploration has mining facilities in [[Laramis]] and [[Luyten 726-8]].

===Subach-Innes===
[[Image:SubachInnes.png|200px]]

* [[GTW Subach HL-7]]
* [[GTM Cyclops|GTM-12 Cyclops]]

===Triton Dynamics===
[[Image:TritonDynamics.png|200px]]

* [[GTF Ulysses]]
* [[GTF Erinyes]]
* [[SF Mara (Terrans)]]
* [[GTS Hygeia]]
* [[GTFr Triton]] & [[TC-TRI]]
* [[GTI Ganymede]]
* [[GTD Hades]]
* [[GTCv Deimos]]
* [[GTW UD-8 Kayser]]
* [[GTM D-Missile|GTM-31 Disruptor Missile]]

===Velocity: A Han-Ronald Company===
[[Image:VelocityAHanRonalCompany.png|200px]]

==Vasudan contractors==

===Akheton Corporation===
[[Image:AkhetonCorporation.png|200px]]

* [[GVF Horus]]
* [[GVF Serapis]]
* [[GVB Osiris]]
* [[GVB Bakha]]
* [[GVF Ptah]]
* [[GTW Akheton SDG]]

===Mekhu Enterprises===
[[Image:MekhuEnterprises.png|200px]]

* [[GVF Seth]]
* [[PVF Anubis]]
* [[GVB Sekhmet]]
* [[GVS Nephthys]]
* [[GTW Mekhu HL-7]]

===Sahr Corporation===
[[Image:SahrCorporation.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GVF Thoth]]
* [[GVF Tauret]]
* [[PVB Amun]]
* [[GVF Seth|GVF Seth powerplant]]

===Snapka\Flegel Weapons Systems===
[[Image:SnapkaFlegelWeaponsSystems.png|200px]]

==Unspecified Race contractors==

===Agay Fluctuators===
[[Image:AgayFluctuators.png|200px]]

===Allender Hydraulic Actuators===
[[Image:AllenderHydraulicActuators.png|200px]]

===Andsager Logistics===
[[Image:AndsagerLogistics.png|200px]]

===Capezzuto Textiles===
[[Image:CapezzutoTextiles.png|200px]]

===Enricco Ergonomic Systems===
[[Image:EnriccoErgonomicSystems.png|200px]]

===Gerace Corporation===
[[Image:GeraceCorporation.png|200px]]

===Gulisano Precision Group===
[[Image:GulisanoPrecisionGroup.png|200px]]

===Holt Atmospheric Systems===
[[Image:HoltAtmosphericSystems.png|200px]]

===J Scott Weapons===
[[Image:JScottWeapons.png|200px]]

===Kresge Connections===
[[Image:KresgeConnections.png|200px]]

===Kulas Management Group===
[[Image:KulasManagementGroup.png|200px]]

===Pletcher Designs===
[[Image:PletcherDesigns.png|200px]]

===Wentz Acoustics===
[[Image:WentzAcoustics.png|200px]]

===Whiteside Construction===
[[Image:WhitesideConstruction.png|200px]]

[[Category:Organizations]]

Corporations

2013-02-05T00:36:56Z

SypheDMar: /* Subach-Innes */ Proof first

Several '''corporations''' are credited with the manufacture of numerous technologies used throughout the [[FreeSpace]], including weaponry and ships. Named corporations are included here, along with a list of products they are credited with manufacturing. Apparently, all these corporations are manufacturers of the [[GTVA Colossus|''Colossus'']], as seen in the Colossus cutscene and intel_GTVA.ani.

Many corporations were named after staff members of the developer [[Volition]].

==Terran contractors==

===Baranec Aquisitions===
[[Image:BaranecAquisitions.png|200px]]

Note: the misspelling "Aquisitions" (instead of "Acquisitions") is canon.

===Bessimer-Kohn===
[[Image:BessimerKohnConstruction.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GTW Prometheus|GTW-5 Prometheus]]
* [[GTM Fury|GTM-2 Fury]]
* [[GTM Hornet|GTM-4 Hornet]]

===Comet propulsion systems===
[[Image:CometPropulsionSystems.png|200px]]

===Dynamic Metamer===
[[Image:DynamicMetamer.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GTB Athena]]
* [[GTB Zeus]]

===Han-Ronald Corp.===
[[Image:HanRonaldCorporation.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GTF Hercules]]
* [[GTF Loki]]
* [[GTF Apollo]]
* [[GTF Valkyrie]]
* [[GTB Artemis]]
* [[GTB Medusa]]
* [[GTB Ursa]]
* [[GTC Fenris]]
* [[GTC Leviathan]]

===Johnson Munitions===
[[Image:JohnsonMunitions.png|200px]]

===Mesa Corp.===
[[Image:MesaCorporation.png|200px]]

===[[Nankam Aeronautical]]===
[[Image:NankamAeronautical.png|200px]]

* [[GTF Ares]]
* [[GTF Pegasus]]
* [[GTF Perseus]]
* [[GTB Artemis D.H.|GTB Artemis D.H. powerplant]]

===RNI systems===
[[Image:RNISystems.png|200px]]

Note: According to the [[Aeolus|GTC Aeolus]] tech description, RNI has shipyard facilities in the [[Laramis]] system.
* [[GTF Hercules Mark II]]
* [[GTF Myrmidon]]
* [[GTB Boanerges]]
* [[GTSG Mjolnir]]
* [[GTC Aeolus]]

===STX Exploration===
[[Image:STXExploration.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

Note: According to the [[GTM MX-64|Rockeye]] tech description, STX Exploration has mining facilities in [[Laramis]] and [[Luyten 726-8]].

===Subach-Innes===
[[Image:SubachInnes.png|200px]]

* [[GTT Argo]]
* [[GTW Subach HL-7]]
* [[GTM Cyclops|GTM-12 Cyclops]]

===Triton Dynamics===
[[Image:TritonDynamics.png|200px]]

* [[GTF Ulysses]]
* [[GTF Erinyes]]
* [[SF Mara (Terrans)]]
* [[GTS Hygeia]]
* [[GTFr Triton]] & [[TC-TRI]]
* [[GTI Ganymede]]
* [[GTD Hades]]
* [[GTCv Deimos]]
* [[GTW UD-8 Kayser]]
* [[GTM D-Missile|GTM-31 Disruptor Missile]]

===Velocity: A Han-Ronald Company===
[[Image:VelocityAHanRonalCompany.png|200px]]

==Vasudan contractors==

===Akheton Corporation===
[[Image:AkhetonCorporation.png|200px]]

* [[GVF Horus]]
* [[GVF Serapis]]
* [[GVB Osiris]]
* [[GVB Bakha]]
* [[GVF Ptah]]
* [[GTW Akheton SDG]]

===Mekhu Enterprises===
[[Image:MekhuEnterprises.png|200px]]

* [[GVF Seth]]
* [[PVF Anubis]]
* [[GVB Sekhmet]]
* [[GVS Nephthys]]
* [[GTW Mekhu HL-7]]

===Sahr Corporation===
[[Image:SahrCorporation.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GVF Thoth]]
* [[GVF Tauret]]
* [[PVB Amun]]
* [[GVF Seth|GVF Seth powerplant]]

===Snapka\Flegel Weapons Systems===
[[Image:SnapkaFlegelWeaponsSystems.png|200px]]

==Unspecified Race contractors==

===Agay Fluctuators===
[[Image:AgayFluctuators.png|200px]]

===Allender Hydraulic Actuators===
[[Image:AllenderHydraulicActuators.png|200px]]

===Andsager Logistics===
[[Image:AndsagerLogistics.png|200px]]

===Capezzuto Textiles===
[[Image:CapezzutoTextiles.png|200px]]

===Enricco Ergonomic Systems===
[[Image:EnriccoErgonomicSystems.png|200px]]

===Gerace Corporation===
[[Image:GeraceCorporation.png|200px]]

===Gulisano Precision Group===
[[Image:GulisanoPrecisionGroup.png|200px]]

===Holt Atmospheric Systems===
[[Image:HoltAtmosphericSystems.png|200px]]

===J Scott Weapons===
[[Image:JScottWeapons.png|200px]]

===Kresge Connections===
[[Image:KresgeConnections.png|200px]]

===Kulas Management Group===
[[Image:KulasManagementGroup.png|200px]]

===Pletcher Designs===
[[Image:PletcherDesigns.png|200px]]

===Wentz Acoustics===
[[Image:WentzAcoustics.png|200px]]

===Whiteside Construction===
[[Image:WhitesideConstruction.png|200px]]

[[Category:Organizations]]

Corporations

2013-02-05T00:34:27Z

SypheDMar: /* Bessimer-Kohn */ Removing ships with unknown manufacturer for now until proof is confirmed. Sorry for hogging all of the Recent Pages.

Several '''corporations''' are credited with the manufacture of numerous technologies used throughout the [[FreeSpace]], including weaponry and ships. Named corporations are included here, along with a list of products they are credited with manufacturing. Apparently, all these corporations are manufacturers of the [[GTVA Colossus|''Colossus'']], as seen in the Colossus cutscene and intel_GTVA.ani.

Many corporations were named after staff members of the developer [[Volition]].

==Terran contractors==

===Baranec Aquisitions===
[[Image:BaranecAquisitions.png|200px]]

Note: the misspelling "Aquisitions" (instead of "Acquisitions") is canon.

===Bessimer-Kohn===
[[Image:BessimerKohnConstruction.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GTW Prometheus|GTW-5 Prometheus]]
* [[GTM Fury|GTM-2 Fury]]
* [[GTM Hornet|GTM-4 Hornet]]

===Comet propulsion systems===
[[Image:CometPropulsionSystems.png|200px]]

===Dynamic Metamer===
[[Image:DynamicMetamer.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GTB Athena]]
* [[GTB Zeus]]

===Han-Ronald Corp.===
[[Image:HanRonaldCorporation.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GTF Hercules]]
* [[GTF Loki]]
* [[GTF Apollo]]
* [[GTF Valkyrie]]
* [[GTB Artemis]]
* [[GTB Medusa]]
* [[GTB Ursa]]
* [[GTC Fenris]]
* [[GTC Leviathan]]

===Johnson Munitions===
[[Image:JohnsonMunitions.png|200px]]

===Mesa Corp.===
[[Image:MesaCorporation.png|200px]]

===[[Nankam Aeronautical]]===
[[Image:NankamAeronautical.png|200px]]

* [[GTF Ares]]
* [[GTF Pegasus]]
* [[GTF Perseus]]
* [[GTB Artemis D.H.|GTB Artemis D.H. powerplant]]

===RNI systems===
[[Image:RNISystems.png|200px]]

Note: According to the [[Aeolus|GTC Aeolus]] tech description, RNI has shipyard facilities in the [[Laramis]] system.
* [[GTF Hercules Mark II]]
* [[GTF Myrmidon]]
* [[GTB Boanerges]]
* [[GTSG Mjolnir]]
* [[GTC Aeolus]]

===STX Exploration===
[[Image:STXExploration.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

Note: According to the [[GTM MX-64|Rockeye]] tech description, STX Exploration has mining facilities in [[Laramis]] and [[Luyten 726-8]].

===Subach-Innes===
[[Image:SubachInnes.png|200px]]

* [[GTFr Poseidon]]
* [[GTT Argo]]
* [[GTW Subach HL-7]]
* [[GTM Cyclops|GTM-12 Cyclops]]

===Triton Dynamics===
[[Image:TritonDynamics.png|200px]]

* [[GTF Ulysses]]
* [[GTF Erinyes]]
* [[SF Mara (Terrans)]]
* [[GTS Hygeia]]
* [[GTFr Triton]] & [[TC-TRI]]
* [[GTI Ganymede]]
* [[GTD Hades]]
* [[GTCv Deimos]]
* [[GTW UD-8 Kayser]]
* [[GTM D-Missile|GTM-31 Disruptor Missile]]

===Velocity: A Han-Ronald Company===
[[Image:VelocityAHanRonalCompany.png|200px]]

==Vasudan contractors==

===Akheton Corporation===
[[Image:AkhetonCorporation.png|200px]]

* [[GVF Horus]]
* [[GVF Serapis]]
* [[GVB Osiris]]
* [[GVB Bakha]]
* [[GVF Ptah]]
* [[GTW Akheton SDG]]

===Mekhu Enterprises===
[[Image:MekhuEnterprises.png|200px]]

* [[GVF Seth]]
* [[PVF Anubis]]
* [[GVB Sekhmet]]
* [[GVS Nephthys]]
* [[GTW Mekhu HL-7]]

===Sahr Corporation===
[[Image:SahrCorporation.png|200px]]

Note: There is no canon logo. This is a rendition by MjnMixael.

* [[GVF Thoth]]
* [[GVF Tauret]]
* [[PVB Amun]]
* [[GVF Seth|GVF Seth powerplant]]

===Snapka\Flegel Weapons Systems===
[[Image:SnapkaFlegelWeaponsSystems.png|200px]]

==Unspecified Race contractors==

===Agay Fluctuators===
[[Image:AgayFluctuators.png|200px]]

===Allender Hydraulic Actuators===
[[Image:AllenderHydraulicActuators.png|200px]]

===Andsager Logistics===
[[Image:AndsagerLogistics.png|200px]]

===Capezzuto Textiles===
[[Image:CapezzutoTextiles.png|200px]]

===Enricco Ergonomic Systems===
[[Image:EnriccoErgonomicSystems.png|200px]]

===Gerace Corporation===
[[Image:GeraceCorporation.png|200px]]

===Gulisano Precision Group===
[[Image:GulisanoPrecisionGroup.png|200px]]

===Holt Atmospheric Systems===
[[Image:HoltAtmosphericSystems.png|200px]]

===J Scott Weapons===
[[Image:JScottWeapons.png|200px]]

===Kresge Connections===
[[Image:KresgeConnections.png|200px]]

===Kulas Management Group===
[[Image:KulasManagementGroup.png|200px]]

===Pletcher Designs===
[[Image:PletcherDesigns.png|200px]]

===Wentz Acoustics===
[[Image:WentzAcoustics.png|200px]]

===Whiteside Construction===
[[Image:WhitesideConstruction.png|200px]]

[[Category:Organizations]]

Talk:Corporations

2013-02-05T00:27:04Z

SypheDMar:

The non canon corps should be flagged as such, i've already flagged MT, but if there's any others that are in there or will be added they should be flagged also.
-oohal

== WTF Snapka/Flegel? ==

And this stuff about snapka/flegel or whatever is both not canon and not encyclopedic--this is an encyclopedia, not a joke.
::What's this article, anyways? Really, what is it? --[[User:Selectah|Selectah]] 23:24, 21 November 2006 (CST)
:::A list of corporations, maybe? --[[User:Snail|Snail]] 13:53, 23 July 2007 (GMT)

==Hades and Triton?!!?==

What the hell? Hades was made by Triton Dynamics? Impossible! It must be made by NTF Dynamics.[[User:Nubbles|Nubbles]] 04:22, 12 August 2007 (CDT)

The Hades was constructed by the GTI. And what are you saying about NTF Dynamics? - [[User:Supernova|Supernova]] 12:52. 12 August, 2007 (EST)
*Err...Sarcasm? [[User:Nubbles|Nubbles]] 14:21, 12 August 2007 (CDT)

Since the Loki was made by HR, I think that it stands to reason that the Hades was also constructed by HR (Han Ronald) [[User:Snail|Snail]] 18:28, 12 August, 2007 (GMT)
*Not to be stubborn or mean, but I think Han-Ronald "copied" the design and manufactured it. But the original is by GTI.[[User:Nubbles|Nubbles]] 14:21, 12 August 2007 (CDT)
**The FS1 table does say that the Loki is HR. I think it was "commissioned" by GTI. [[User:Snail|Snail]] 10:38, 13 August, 2007 (GMT)

==Norman Inc==

I say get rid of it. Only widely accepted stuff should be included on a page like this (like MT) or deleted altogether. - [[User:Snail|Snail]] 17:45, 3 July 2008 (CDT)

:I'm inclined to agree that Norman should be removed, but I'd extend the suggestion to include purging all of the corporations that are never so much as mentioned in a canon FreeSpace campaign. Noncanon corporations could probably be a worthy topic for another page, but I think that moving away from these mixed canon-noncanon pages would be a good precedent to set. -- [[User:BlueFlames|BlueFlames]] 18:02, 3 July 2008 (CDT)

::Looks like the Master's already removed it. - [[User:Snail|Snail]] 08:48, 4 July 2008 (CDT)

==Non-Canon Highlighting==

If we use the gray text system this entire article should be highlighted in gray. Practically none of this information is canon. - [[User:Snail|Snail]] 06:07, 18 July 2008 (CDT)

==Roland vs. Ronald==
It seems that on some other pages on the Wiki (not this one), HR is spelled "Han-Roland Corp." instead of "Han-Ronald Corp." The root files for FS2 and the FSPort both spell it 'Ronald' (I haven't checked the original FS1 files though). Is there any reason for this discrepancy, or is it just a typo? - [[User:Snail|Snail]] 10:03, 23 October 2009 (UTC)

==Links==
I don't believe anyone is actually going to make the individual corporation articles. Shall I remove the links? - [[User:Snail|Snail]] 13:42, 5 December 2009 (UTC)
:I'm fine with it. I hate redlinks and redirects anyway. -- [[User:Androgeos Exeunt|Androgeos]] 14:04, 6 December 2009 (UTC)

==The Purge==
Galemp made this all up and it's time we faced that fact. A lot of ships and weapons were assigned to things without canonical proof. The descriptions are totally made up. All of it that has no canonical source known to me has now been destroyed for the greater good. Please cite your sources if you add anything back. [[User:Ngtm1r|Ngtm1r]] 12:44, 8 December 2009 (UTC)
:Where does it say that Bessimer-Kohn made anything? I don't want to delete yet in case it's stated somewhere I didn't see, but it looks non-canon to me. Needs more purging. --[[User:SypheDMar|SDM]] 00:27, 5 February 2013 (UTC)

A Thousand Years

2013-02-05T00:21:02Z

SypheDMar:

'''''A Thousand Years''''' is an official short story written by Clayton Emery and published by [[Interplay]]. It is not known if it is considered canon, though it is generally not regarded as canon because there are many inconsistencies between the five stories published by Interplay and the [[FreeSpace 1|game]] itself. [[Volition]] does not seem to have been involved with the stories, either. However, there are no confirmations from Volition itself.

'''The following is a repost of Emery's short story A Thousand Years.'''
==A Thousand Years==
"Shivans! Class-II! Pair at nine o’clock!"

"Roger! I got the far one!"

Wrenching the joystick, stamping the right rudder, the pilot sideslipped her Hercules fighter until it stood on its tail for a second, long enough for the screen’s green gunsight to center on a Shivan fighter wicked as a silver knifeblade. Atsuko triggered her laser banks and saw metal boil on the fighter’s belly. The enemy ship flipped into a wingover and dropped, but she’d planned to overtake it with a barrelroll anyway. Yanking the stick to her gut tightened her loop. Stars whirled by in a dizzy blur, then she released the joystick for just a second. The fighter bobbed and waggled as the computer autolevelled, and the pilot found she’d guessed right.

The escaping Shivan lay dead-on.

Atsuko triggered a second recessed button, and twin Disruptor cannons scorched black space. The Shivan knife-ship shuddered, kicked as one or both engines stalled --

-- but the momentum of Atsuko’s barrelroll looped her far afield, so her quarry was lost to sight. With freespace as a battlefield, it was almost impossible to stick with an enemy. The wounded ship would implode, she guessed, but Shivan technology was a mystery. Still, she was an ace a dozen times over, as was everyone in her squadron. They had to be to survive.

"Computer, rejoin the wing." Atsuko released the joystick, jabbed her console to widen its angle. No rest: a pair of top-heavy Shivan bombers soared down a 140 bearing. Her wingman called a visual confirm and recommended a split. Seizing the joystick, Atsuko barked, "Roger! I’ll dust your ass!"

There.

Spiralling in came two spidery Shivan fighters that also split formation. Atsuko cut her partner’s trail to attack the uppermost ship. Her wingman was a GTF Apollo with half its paint scorched off. The Laramite pilot snaprolled to avoid an oncoming stream of purple lightning, then leveled to unleash a sizzling MX-50 missile. The semi-smart bomb backtracked the Shivan lightning stream, aiming infrared sensors at the hot gunport, but another burst of lightning spiked the missile’s electronics so it curlicued out of sight. By then the wingman had pounced on the spider-ship’s rear. The next MX-50 shot straight up an exhaust pipe. The spider-ship’s back end blew out, then the entire ship ruptured in midair. The golden flash didn’t even leave smoke.

Atsuko caught the picture on the fly, because the other spider-ship bored straight at her like a bowling ball. Sniffing, she counter-matched its path, zooming toward a collision, then goosed her rear vertical thrusters. Her ship tilted onto its nose. As the enemy rushed onto her viewscreen, she led it for just a second, then triggered her disruptor cannons to blast the cockpit where the shields were weakest. As the hatch disintegrated, she got the barest glimpse of an angular alien body like a broken-fingered fist... then his ordnance erupted in purple fury and the ship exploded in fragments. Atsuko hooted, "YES!"

"Red Flight, regroup on me." The voice of "Butterfly" Butterfield. "No enemies within six klicks. Take five, then we’ll redeploy."

"Computer, throttle back and reform." Atsuko let go her joystick and slumped in her seat. With a hands-on/hands-off configuration, the computer took over whenever the pilot released the joystick. Handy if the pilot became disabled, or dead. Grabbing the stick returned full flight capability. The human pilot stole a minute to sip water from a hose. But even resting, she watched the sky with one eye and read her cockpit and HUD displays with the other.

The power plant hummed in overdrive to resupply the defenses, the starboard engine lugging but within acceptable limits. Shield and Weapon Energy Statuses glowed gold along three-quarters of the bar: a timer showed they’d be fully charged in minutes. The blue concentric rings of shielding around her ship looked solid as angel wings. Her armament was reassuring: twin banks of six ML-16 ceramic-argon lasers; two GTW-41 gatling-gas Disruptor cannons; and in her secondary payload, a big surprise for some big enemy: six GTM-3 Tsunami intel-track bombs. "Antimatter that mattered," the armorers joked.

LDF-E44, nicknamed CHERRY BLOSSOM, was an antique refitted GTF Hercules, a two-man (one-woman) Heavy Assault Fighter-Bomber. At the ship’s heart sat its weakest component, a skin sack of guts, blood, and bones that was Atsuko "Rammer" Toranaga, female, Asian descent, shavetail second lieutenant in the Laramis Defense Force. And while the ship was running at ninety-percent capacity, its pilot thumped her forehead to stay awake, feeling as if she’d been mauled by an ice-bear. Her eyes were grainy from lack of sleep, her hands trembly from stimulants, her back and butt and thighs achey from tension and exertion over too many twenty-hour days. Even her ship felt heavy and slow, as if the bomb-bay were stuffed with lead and pig iron.

Red Flight reformed behind Colonel "Butterfly" Butterfield’s big Ulysses, CITY OF NEW ORLEANS. Atsuko’s wing had two coffee-grinder Apollos, an overengined Valyrie that skittered all over the sky, and Atsuko’s Hercules. She tapped her Ship’s Status screen; it flickered to show Fleet Status. Silver chips converged towards the deployment point near their home, Laramis Prime. Red Flight, Green, Blue, and Gold. Such was the Laramis Defense Force, a floating junkyard dubbed "The Flying Tigers" by a squadron history buff who was now dead, as were too many good people. The Tigers had spent '''days''' fighting friend and foe. Though her brain was beat, Atsuko tried to sort out the jumble of recent events..

The Laramis solar system was the ass-end of Terran space, a research facility where not much happened and hotshot pilots blasted asteroids for combat training. Then one dark day, the Shivans jumped out of subspace, and the pilots had plenty of real-live targets.

Not long after, the GTA jumped in to save the day. Two Terran heavy cruisers, JUSTICE and RETRIBUTION, and a skyfull of fighter/bomber-escorts turned Laramis’s system into a freefall war zone. Naturally, the mothers from the "mother planet" (snotty as Vasudans) had first demanded the Laramis Defense Force supersede itself to the GTA. Laramis said no. The GTA then demanded the LDF disband and surrender all vehicles, and that Laramis Prime power down its weaponry! While the Terran Allied Command banged heads with Laramite’s Parliament, the LDF’s commander-in-chief, Admiral Carla American Horse, told them ALL to torque off and mobilized every ship that would fly. (GTA now stood for "Get Torqued, Asshole!") Ignoring the GTA armada, the Flying Tigers went to work pot-shotting Shivans...

"Red Flight, tune in." Butterfly’s voice crackled over the comm unit as they approached the deploy point. Instinctively Atsuko grabbed her joystick.

"Tigers, this is Admiral American Horse. Listen up." Cool raspy tones, always calm. "CivCom’s sent a coded message: coded so GTA can’t intercept. We’re to axe the two GTA cruisers. That’s right: the '''TERRAN''' cruisers. GTA insists on containing the Shivans right here because our jump node opens a back door straight to Earth. The GTA cruisers hug the jump point, but more Shivans are hopping in minute by minute. Something’s going to pop soon. We all know the LDF doesn’t have the ordnance to stop the Shivs or to slam the jump node shut. So, at this moment, Laramite combat engineers have sneaked aboard JUSTICE and RETRIBUTION to plant jet-axe charges -- we hope. If we implode the cruisers and nav buoys, we implode the jump node. Terra will be safe and we’ll be called traitors, but that’s the luck of the draw. Our upcoming mission is to distract the Shivans AND the GTA until the cruisers blow. Flight commanders, download attack patterns from the LTC. The password is `Phoenix’. Stick with the plan. If any pilot deviates from the flight path, '''I personally''' will shoot you down. Good luck. American Horse Out."

"You heard the boss. One tough lady," came Butterfly’s laconic tones. "Stand by for ADT transmission."

"Whew! Might as well declare war on earth!" Atsuko muttered as orders scrolled down her screen. "Bad enough to fight Shivans. But sinking cruisers? Impossible!"

Still... impossible odds and futile battles resonated in Atsuko’s blood, called up programs from her DNA. In the biggest of Earth’s ancient wars, her ancestors had thrown tiny fighters against aircraft carriers and battleships. Some of Atsuko’s great-many-times uncles and cousins had become kamikazes, the "Divine Wind" that blew against the enemy and flamed-out bravely screaming "BANZAI!" so their empire might last "A thousand years!"

And today, at the far fringes of space, two great empires clashed, and another young Toranaga flew into battle --

But Atsuko was doping off as the attack got underway. Maintaining position in her air wing, CHERRY BLOSSOM rocketed towards a black sky stippled with thousands of silver-metal chips, each one a Shivan fighter or bomber. Beyond them hung the two Terran cruisers, large as floating cities, surrounded by the cloud of the GTA armada, all guarding the eight navigation buoys that focussed the vital jump node to Earth. In the background spun Laramis II like a dirty iceball. The Shivan cruisers were temporarily out of sight in far orbit. Atsuko wondered if they were slingshotting around the planet to stab Laramis Prime in the back.

"Red Flight, engage enemy’s left flank," commanded Butterfly. "Pilots fire as you bear."

Before she could draw breath, Atsuko’s wing was swamped by sizzling spacecraft. A Shivan vessel like a flying beartrap rushed at her. Firelight winked along the ship’s rim, and Atsuko instinctively goosed her topside thrusters to drop like a rock even as she triggered lasers. Her wing’s Valkyrie zipped past to protect her, since Atsuko’s Hercules carried the biggest bombload, an honor that made her wallow like a pregnant sow. Zinging past -- leaving Atsuko’s left exposed -- the Valkyrie fired dual Banshee cannons that warped the beartrap’s shields, then sent in four screaming Hornets smart enough to home on the damaged area. The Shivan’s hull breeched --

-- and Atsuko was threatened on her exposed left side.

Roaring up from seven o’clock came a boxy-looking craft with flare-mouthed cannons lipped black. Two machete-like fighters escorted it, and one peeled off as if to spear CHERRY BLOSSOM. Lasers pinged her shields like hailstones while the enemy swooped in below eye level.

Atsuko had her own bag of tricks. In a squadron full of aces, her talents as a flyer were suspect, which is why she rated a slow bomber. She’d earned the nickname "Rammer" in flight school by bashing into targets before firing. The shields and hull of a Hercules could take it, she’d argued a thousand times over beers, and if you bowled the enemy backwards they couldn’t shoot while you could. Her strategy earned high scores, and no skipper ever ordered her to switch tactics, so she carried on ramming. Only the mechanics grumbled about her warped shields and scuffed hulls.

Now "Rammer" didn’t try to evade the rising machete, but hooked her nose to meet it. Too late, the enemy pilot climbed to avoid a collision. Atsuko’s heavier Hercules slammed the machete at an angle and knocked it sprawling. From twenty meters Atsuko triggered her lasers. This close, the ML-16s vaporized the Shivan shields and destabilized the hull into red-gold slag. In her tiny cockpit Atsuko shouted, "Put THAT in a training video!"

Ahead loomed the big boxy ship with one escort on the far side. No help in sight. Atsuko shimmied right as yellow lights winked deep inside those flaremouth cannon barrels. Still crawfishing, she thumbed her joystick while shouting "Missiles away!" for computer backup.

Green gunsights winked as CHERRY BLOSSOM bucked. Two Tsunami missiles rocketed out of her pipes. Carrying their own on-board computers, the missiles corkscrewed in evasive paths, marking the Wild Black with vapor curls. The remaining machete-like escort banked and dipped to intercept a Tsunami, danced a brief dogfight, stalled for a better firing angle -- and caught the missile right in the cockpit. The eye-blistering white fire of matter-antimatter implosion momentarily bleached Atsuko’s cockpit. Her light-compensating faceplate phased black lest she be blinded.

The second Tsunami missile slammed like a sentient cannonball down a flaring mouth on the Shivan box-ship. Atsuko temporarily let go the joystick to let the computer belly-out. From behind came another nova pulse of antimatter fury. The pilot chirped as her wingtips glowed white-hot in the aftermath of the explosion.

"Ooh! Computer, status."

"Stable. Paint blistered from undercarriage. Bomb-bay doors warped but operable."

"Whoa!" Atsuko whistled. Fusing the bombs into the hold would hurt! But she felt/heard the double WHINNNNE-THUMP! as new missiles dropped into the pipes. Scanning the sky for bogies while she regrouped, the pilot flicked a glance at the console. And glanced again. That can’t be right!

"That’s impossible! Computer, we’re hauling '''Harbingers'''?"

"Correct," chimed the machine. "GTM-N1 Harbinger missiles. A solid-core fusion bomb salted by three fission bombs. Propulsion is provided by a one-half size regulation GTA Class-II fighter-thruster --"

"I know all that!" Atsuko stabbed the display and gasped. Two more Harbingers hung ready to load behind the first two. "Damn! My armorer must’ve been half-asleep to rack those monsters! Or else I was too crispy to double-check her! Sheesh, now what?"

"Proceed with caution," advised the mechanical voice. "The 5000 megaton shockwave can fracture armor plate of Fenris- and Orion-Class cruisers --"

"Shut up." Atsuko chewed her lip. A single Harbinger missile could evaporate an airbase or a small city. If she touched off even one Harbinger, she’d need to skedaddle ten kilometers before it exploded! So '''that''' was why the ship felt so fragging heavy --

"Incoming Shivan attack vessel at four o’clock," chirped the computer.

"Mine!" Atsuko snaprolled to avoid a plunging silver arrow shot out of nowhere. Stamping both rudders, she spiral-climbed after the bandit, watched white pulses like plasma flash by, boosted the throttle and sideslipped, then strafed the arrow’s underbelly with lasers. Burns stitched the enemy craft laterally, then it backflipped away. By the time Atsuko had swung around, it was gone, so she hurried to rejoin her wing. Plenty more Shivan fighters stippled the sky, and every one seemed aimed at CHERRY BLOSSOM.

The comm whistled the flagship’s signal. "Warning. Countdown to Phoenix begins. 60. 59. 58..."

Dipping a wing, Atsuko located the two cruisers in the distance. Her wing flew well outside the blast range, so she concentrated on keeping her place and potshotting bad guys.

"... 5. 4. 3. 2 --"

From far off, Atsuko saw one of the two cruisers suddenly flush yellow at every port and gunbarrel. The great ship vomited fire like a volcano, burped again, and cracked its spine, burning in air spilled from her ruptured guts. Atsuko tried not think of the poor GTA bastards who took it in the neck, doublecrossed by two-timing politicians and rockheaded commanders.

"Flagship, we’ve got a situation." A strange voice broke radio silence. Crackling and sputtering caused by electromagnetic pulses masked her transmission, so she must be a long-range scout. "RETRIBUTION is still cooking full-bore."

"What? How can that be?" Atsuko joggled the joystick to copy as her wing banked. One cruiser was a flaming arrow being snuffed by vacuum. The other cruiser hung intact, steaming a slow spiral with all guns firing. "What the hell went wrong?"

"Tigers, redeploy!" The Admiral’s voice, for once angry. "Assemble in two flights! Consult your screens!"

Shaking her head to ward off fatigue, Atsuko watched her screen spell out two new flights: Red and Blue. Green and Gold were history, she realized, because the Flying Tigers had suffered forty-three percent casualties. Atsuko hissed, "This is crazy! Even if we win, we lose! Every damn Laramite’ll be dead! Whoa!"

Atsuko flinched as a snake-headed Medusa flashed up on her left, escorted by a trio of lightning-quick Athenas. The fuselage was painted with a spotted horse and the name LAKOTA NIGHTS. CHERRY BLOSSOM’s computer intoned, "Left flank, flagship of Admiral American Horse."

The comm crackled in Atsuko’s ear. "American Horse to Toranaga. Do you read?"

"I read, ma’am." Atsuko didn’t watch the admiral’s ship, but rather watched the sky for bandits.

"Change in plans. The jet-axes on RETRIBUTION failed to ignite. A scout reports Shivans -- not Terrans -- occupy the bridge. All we can guess is the Shivans sent their own sappers aboard and pulled our fuses. We’ve got to touch off that cruiser with hand-carried missiles."

"Hand -- carried?" Atsuko squeaked.

"Roger. My master computer shows four Harbinger missiles packed in your aft bomb-bay. Confirm."

"Confirmed, admiral, but it’s a screw-up --"

"We’ll take what luck we can get, lieutenant. Pick up your speed and prime all your projectiles. Red Flight’ll sweep wide along 290 and pull up over the cruiser’s midship gunwales. You target the conning tower with your Harbingers. The shields are weakest there. Blue Flight will clear your flight path."

"Target the -- Admiral, these are proximity missiles!"

"Affirmative." The cool voice could order soldiers to die, like it or not. "You drew the short straw. Prime, please."

'''Please commit suicide? Well, what the hell.''' More of her friends were dead than alive: it was simply her turn. And someone had to carry the payload to the enemy. Atsuko flicked switches with trembling fingers. "P-primed, ma’am."

"Follow my tail, pilot. We’re going in. Good luck."

"Thank you, admiral." Formal as a funeral parlor. "You too."

As if soaring down a black tunnel, the new Red Flight slid across the sky. The Terran cruiser RETRIBUTION, long as a city, was etched black against snowy Laramis II. The moon Laramis Prime had orbitted into view, and in the far distance floated two -- no three! -- Shivan D-Class cruisers. Blocking the flight’s path buzzed a swarm of silver Shivan destroyers, transports, convoy vessels, and fighters. Stationed back at the three-quarter mark of the flight, Atsuko’s Hercules was ringed by flaming steel ships steered by vulnerable human beings. As the flight’s speed increased and the silver web of enemies grew larger, the sky began to wink and sparkle. Not with starlight, but with munitions fire. Lights flashed like dawn until they were engulfed in hell.

Atsuko watched flight after flight peel away to attack or repulse the enemy. Many didn’t return, knocked to splinters of flying metal. One of Admiral American Horse’s Athena escorts exploded, so close pieces bounced off Atsuko’s shields. Flying Tiger ships were pared from Atsuko’s right flank, so she watched that side more than most. Those guards didn’t return either, the flank destroyed. Would '''anyone''' survive this war to see victory?

A hunchbacked GTA Ulysses flicked by upside-down, a factory-new beauty without a scratch. What miracles Atsuko could have performed flying that ship! But the Terran pilot waffled, lost and confused. More Terrans flocked, unsure whether to attack Red Flight or escort it. Atsuko wondered what story the admiral was spinning to stall them. GTA couldn’t know yet that the Tigers had croaked their first cruiser: so far they probably believed the Shivans had hit a soft spot, or else the ship imploded through internal mishap. '''Frag the GTA''', Atsuko cursed. The Terrans would figure out the Laramites’ master plan when their second cruiser novaed in their faces.

Atsuko watched in wonder as a triple-wing Shivan ship dropped almost onto her head, but it targeted the admiral’s flagship. A side-mounted Flail cannon pulsed, hurling a cloud of krypton-powered laser beams to push the enemy back. The Shivan answered with chained lightning that etched cracks in LAKOTA’s hull. The tri-wing ignored its own wounds and actually accelerated into the snarling hellstorm. The Shivans formed suicide squads too, Atsuko marveled. She harried the enemy ship with laser bursts, as did other flyers, until the hull glowed cherry-red. Atsuko’s thumb ached to unleash a Harbinger missile to save the admiral’s ship, but she had the admiral’s orders to save her firepower for the cruiser. The tri-wing surged closer to the flagship, and Atsuko had to cease firing. LAKOTA NIGHTS staggered.

The comm snarled, the admiral’s voice. "Rammer -- Uh! -- Carry out -- the mission! Con-firm!"

"Confirmed, ma’am!" Atsuko’s own voice cracked as tears ran into her oxygen mask.

Zigging and zagging to avoid the wobbling enemy craft, Atsuko watched from the corner of her eye as the painted horse burned: burning that hot in vacuum! Admiral American Horse’s Medusa suddenly veered into the path of its nemesis like a kamikaze of old. The Shivans didn’t dodge: probably the crew was already dead. Both ships exploded in a boiling fireball that shoved CHERRY BLOSSOM on like a giant hand.

Atsuko fired and fired again, almost blind with tears, and let the computer fire too. No need to conserve ammunition. Tapping the Ship’s Status indicator showed her the Fleet Status. Maybe thirty Tiger ships were left in Red Flight, though several had dropped behind as their power plants failed. A quick wingover for visual confirmation showed her Red Flight had bored within spitting distance of RETRIBUTION. The city-sized cruiser suspended firing amidships for fear of hitting their own GTA guys. Atsuko wondered about the pause, until she realized the cruiser was so huge, the bridge could be overrun by Shivan assault squads before other sections even knew it... or maybe the Tigers’ "secret plan" had been leaked so the Terran crew could abandon ship.

Atsuko hoped so.

A machete-ship crabbed past, spewing wreckage and Shivan bodies. A Synaptic bomb whistled by, close enough to touch. Ships came and went as if tossed by a whirlwind. Close by the cruiser were scattered red spinning cluster mines. Atsuko diverted two lasers and let the computer pop them.

The LOCK alarm by Atsuko’s left hip suddenly flashed on, and she almost panicked. Instinct made her sideslip and then wingover to shake off whatever heat-seeking missile was chasing her vapor trail. She flicked her console to rear view, saw a silver streak, joggled the joystick to evade --

-- and saw a Ulysses stoop like a hawk to bump the missile with a wingtip. The missile erupted, and the Ulysses touched off in sympathetic vibration. As the ship ruptured, Atsuko read the name CITY OF NEW ORLEANS on the blistered hull. She whispered, "Thanks, Butterfly."

Now came Atsuko’s turn.

Before her loomed the cruiser. All around her soared Shivans and too few Tigers.

"Afterburners ready!"

"Ready," replied the computer.

"Afterburners -- ON!"

Atsuko was slammed back into her seat as her Hercules was kicked in the tail. With all rockets firing, she zoomed away from her doomed escort and aimed her craft like an arrow for the RETRIBUTION’s conning tower.

This was it, she thought. Her '''final''' descent.

Alone, Atsuko dived while the cruiser’s conning tower grew in her screen. Her lasers and cannon are auto-firing, more for distraction than damage. She needed to concentrate to hit her target.

"Computer!" Atsuko barked. "Cut the Harbingers’s fuses long but squeeze the range to minimum! Divert all power to front shields!"

"Harbinger charges delayed to fifteen seconds. Detonation interval reduced to fifty meters," confirmed the machine. "Full power to bow screens."

Atsuko felt the ship lurch, fishtail and headstall, as her shields blinked out at the stern and thickened before her bow. Down in the secondary bomb-bay, the dangerous Harbingers hummed alive, probably frying her auxiliary electronics. Yet this configuration should do the deed just dandy, she calculated. Harbingers alone might not penetrate the cruiser’s defenses and armor. But a 146-ton starcraft tipped with twelve layers of shielding should smash like a fist through wet paper. Four missiles, delivered deep into the cruiser’s guts, would deliver 20,000 megatons of atomic destruction.

And the pilot, sitting at the heart of the explosion, wouldn’t feel a twinge.

Wrestling the joystick, Atsuko aimed straight for the glistening window on the bridge, where interior lights illuminated silhouettes crooked as a dog’s leg. The vision was fuzzed by the heavy shielding, but she saw the evil armored faces of Shivans swivel towards her.
Atsuko screamed a battle cry that hadn’t been heard for a thousand years. "BANNN-ZAIIIII!"

She thumbed the joystick: once, twice. CHERRY BLOSSOM bucked and bucked again as the Harbingers fired two and two. Missiles drilled like lasers for the bridge window.

Atsuko clamped the joystick against her gut to hold her course, but the cruiser’s massive shields, like multiple layers of splintering ice, sent her Hercules skidding and slipping in a dozen directions at once. Lacking the mammoth payload, with afterburners driving the stern to overtake the bow, the ship’s nose dropped. Atsuko yanked upwards and CHERRY BLOSSOM took wing like a bird, flattening into a shallow arc. The pilot grit her teeth as armor plate and plexiglass cartwheeled across her screen. Her ship straightened, bored on --

-- and rammed the cruiser’s bridge.

Although Atsuko never saw it happen, the nose of the Hercules caromed off the bridge’s brow like a cannonball. Despite safety harness, the pilot was flung forward hard enough to snap bones. Her crash helmet splintered gauges while her nose hammered her faceshield and spurted blood. The joystick busted ribs.

CHERRY BLOSSOM suffered worse. Far behind Atsuko’s seat, the power plant blew as shields ruptured from feedback. Electronics sputtered and spat and burned and burned out. Hull plates sheared and rivets popped. Stubby wings crumpled and snapped off. The wreck pinwheeled across a backdrop of stars.

Dimly, despite the frantic spinning, Atsuko saw only that the cruiser sailed on, still fired all its guns, still dealt death in all directions. She blacked out moments before a nuclear-powered star blossomed inside RETRIBUTION’s bridge and the conning tower shattered like a volcano.

All Atsuko knew was she’d failed.

Failed her comrades, dead and alive, and failed herself.

Atsuko’s loyal CHERRY BLOSSOM blacked out, electronics gone, life-support failing. The spinning shell of metal was dying in space, with its pilot dying within for lack of air...

----

Air puffed on Atsuko’s eyelids, filled her nostrils, cooled the sweat on her brow. Prying open a swollen eye, she saw the word RESCUE swim past.

A GTA tech, a black man with merry blue eyes, snapped an oxygen mask over her face. A red cross burned bright on his white helmet. As Atsuko’s vision cleared, she saw another medic rode a rescue boom that draped an oxygen tent over the shattered cockpit. A mechanical umbilical ran back to a GTA convoy ship, an old hammer-headed Chronos freighter refitted for rescue and repair. The second medic handed down instruments while the first leaned into CHERRY BLOSSOM’s cramped cockpit.

"You okay?" He smiled and waved a hand. "How many fingers?"

"Uh. Thirty or -- forty. You must play -- a hell of a piano." Atsuko’s lungs gurgled as she sucked oxygen, a wonderfully sweet "divine wind". With consciousness came curiosity. "Hey! Why am I alive? What happened?"

"Plenty. Hold still." The medic aimed a long-needled syringe and punched clean through her flightsuit into her skin. "When RETRIBUTION blew it fragged four of the nav buoys -- and blew you five klicks, practically into our laps. Our GTA guys from the west pole clobbered the other buoys. Yeah, we know you Tigers scuttled our cruisers: our CO explained the plan. I wish you locals had given us Terrans the full picture: we could’a worked together."

"We -- tried." Atsuko sipped air and let the tech work. Finally she could relax. "Your top brass -- wouldn’t listen."

"They never do. But the ol’ home planet is safe because the jump node is flooey. The down side is, you and us and a shitload o’ Shivans are trapped in this system for good. But your second-in-command says there’s plenty of other planets. We’ll be okay. That’s the news. Oh, and you’re a hero."

"He -- ouch! -- ro?" A cracked rib squeaked in Atsuko’s chest, but the medicine soothed her pain like cold fire.

"Yes, ma’am. Though us and your buddies might be the only ones who’ll ever know."

"That’s -- enough."

"That bombing run of yours was quite a sight." Plying a parachute knife, the medic cut loose her harness, then attached snaphooks from the rescue boom to her flightsuit. Gently Atsuko was plucked from her seat. She felt nothing, her head buzzing while the medic talked to keep her awake. "You knocked out an enemy cruiser single-handed."

"No. Not single-handed." Atsuko pictured all the good men and women who’d gotten killed escorting her down to that cruiser. And all those ancient dead ancestors who’d given her life, and put her here today. "No, I was just the -- the point of the sword."

"Maybe," laughed the medic, "but they’ll need to mint you some new kind of medal. Crunching a cruiser alone? No one’s done that in -- a thousand years!"

==Related links==
http://web.archive.org/web/19990218050743/http://www.interplay.com/freespace/stories/story4.html

[[Category:Canon reference]]

Freefall in Darkness

2013-02-05T00:20:42Z

SypheDMar:

'''''Freefall in Darkness''''' is an official short story written by Jeff Grubb and published by [[Interplay]]. It is not known if it is considered canon, though it is generally not regarded as canon because there are many inconsistencies between the five stories published by Interplay and the [[FreeSpace 1|game]] itself. [[Volition]] does not seem to have been involved with the stories, either. However, there are no confirmations from Volition itself.

'''The following is a repost of Grubb's short story Freefall in Darkness.'''
==Freefall in Darkness==
Space was always dark, and for years that darkness comforted Val.

Her mind realized that there was nothing but void between the beacons of the stars, but her heart thought of the those stars as diamonds scattered against a velvet backdrop. She knew the space between was cold and empty, but always made her feel warm, and was filled with memories. The darkness reminded her of summer camps in Reclamation Georgia, where the fireflies would dance and spark among the ghostly moonlit pines.

Hers was not an opinion held by the other members of her squad. Spex the Tech would talk about the time it took for the light to reach across the eons of space. Maddog Maddox, the burned-out vet of too many battles, would say that the stars were the eyes of the gods - hard and uncaring. Hype, the rookie, would worry about the darkness between the lights in the sky. And Top Kick, the captain and the only other woman in the squad, probably didn't give a damn one way or the other.

Val craned her neck upwards, but the brow of her visor cut off the view of the zenith. Ahead of her, the spotlights from the Terran cruisers played over the shattered wreck, the white circles of illumination rippling over the twisted machinery of the Shivan ship's surface.

Maddog's voice crackled in her ear. "Looks like a major Hollywood opening! All-singing, all-dancing"

Top's voice rasped in weary response. "Cut the cute talk, Maddox. We've got a job here." Top was all business, all professional, and her voice had a steely edge to it, but Val knew the squad captain would rather be anywhere than here at this particular moment.

Val gave the squad leader an exaggerated nod in support. Spex chimed in, "Can we examine the hull, Top? There are micrometorite hits riddling the surface. This thing is OLD."

"There are enough bug-eyes looking at the surface," responded Top. "Our job is to find out what's inside. Val, you got the uplink set?"

There was a cascade of colors over Val's right eye. The visor itself served as her screen, and colored icons pulsed quietly along the base. She reached out with her left hand and gasped one. "Bravo-1 to Control. You read?"

"You're living large," responded Control, in a corn-fed Kansas accent. "Read you live, five by five". Val smiled - the voices at the other end of control seemed to come in two flavors - hayseed and robotic. She preferred the hayseed.

"Link established," said Val, to the group net. "We are on data feed now."

There was a burst of static in her ear. Val could not determine if Top had reacted to her comments. Val turned slowly to the squad leader, but the larger woman was already moving towards the access hatch. Her magnetic boots held the gangway and tugged at her steps like thick mud.

The gangway was a thin extruded bridge from their shuttle to the rear quarters of the Shivan ship, near the engine pods. The superstructure of one shattered pod lay twisted to their right, its oddly-shaped supports bent to resemble the skeleton of some long-forgotten beast.

Whatever had happened to the ship was catastrophic.

"What do you think hit it?" said Hype quietly. Hype was always quiet, and nervous. That was probably why he always carried the big krypton laser in the team. Security issues.

"Major meteor," said Spex before anyone else would answer. "Maybe cruised too close to a black hole's event horizon. Or even one of those micro-point black holes. They're theoretical, still, but its a possibility."

"Leave the speculation for the scientists," snapped Top. "We're here to just gather the data. Eyes up."

Along the base of Val's visor four pips appeared. The cameras mounted within their helmets and weapons had been activated. She reached out and stroked an icon, and a fifth pip appeared.

Hype said, "Don't you think our guys might have done it?"

The question hung there like a wounded fighter in space. No one responded, and not just because they were officially recording now.

No, thought Val, 'our guys', the Terrans and the Vasudans, could not have done it. This was the first Shivan ship anyone had seen up close. Most of what they knew about the invaders' ships was from helmet feeds before the pilots using them were blown up. The few times they had beaten back an attack, the Shivans had chosen to activate self-destructs as opposed to being captured. No one knew what they looked like, or what their ships were like inside.

Until now.

"At the entrance," crackled Top.

"Wait for a moment, Bravo-1," said Control. A short pause, and Val looked up at the stars shining above the pitted surface of the Shivan ship. She thought of fireflies again. "Bravo-2 in position, now. Proceed."

Top motioned for Spex to activate the hatch. Val brought up her blaster, as did Maddog, though the vet did so slowly. Hype already had his trained on the hatch as if it would suddenly spring out and grab him.

He might not be wrong, Val thought. The on-board brains had made their best guess as to where the access passages were, but they were based on Terran and Vasudans ships. The Shivans were something completely different, and they could be boring into a fuel tank or an engine core for all they knew.

At the other end of the ship, the Bravo-2 team would be making a similar access, the hatch mechanism burning through the outer hull and establishing an air lock, should there be any atmosphere within.

The edge of the hatchway glowed red, and Val found she was holding her breath. Then the laser-etched light dimmed, and the telltale across the hatch's top flashed a vibrant green.

"We're through," said Top.

"Hatch access complete," confirmed Val, watching her monitors.

"Proceed," said Control, letting each syllable be a separate word.

The hatch accordioned out to form an access bay. Top was through first, followed by Hype with the heavy krypter, Val, and Spex. Maddog brought of the rear, "Ding-dong," said the veteran softly, "Avon calling."

Val grimaced. Maddog's sense of humor lurked eternally on the edge of official reprimand, and the soldier seemed to prefer that territory. Still, Maddog was the oldest of the five, and had seen more real action than even Top Kick.

Spex' fingers danced over the touchpad on the hatch's inner side. "We got an atmosphere," he said, obviously surprised.

"Nature?" growled Top, caution in her voice.

Val gripped the icon hanging in front of her right eye, and the data spilled into her system the same time it reached Spex. Mostly oxy-carb mix, but thinner than ship's air. Lot of exotics, but nothing that breather systems could not handle. Heavy particulate count, an indoor smog.

"Like Mexico City before the war." said Spex, as the data cascaded into the other systems. "Nasty, but not murderous. We go forward or back?"

"Forward," said Top.

"Proceed," chimed Control in Val's ear, and she nodded as well.

Spex gave an exaggerated nod and returned to punch numbers into the pad. The hatch to the access bay closed behind them, and there was the rhythmic pumping of pressure equalizing. Despite herself, Val held her breath as the smoky haze filled the bay, even though her suit was a closed system.

Finally she said, "Visibility sub-par. Toggling infra-red."

A second set of shadows appeared on her screens, the heat signatures of the other members of the squad. She grabbed another icon and the inboard computer winked their images out. Too much info on the visor screen could practically blind you. She saw Spex and Hype do the same. Maddog made no motion, and Top, well, Val assumed that Top would already have her infrared on before they even left the ship.

"Squad ready?" said the tall, muscular woman.

Grunts of agreement all around. "Yessem."

"Let's dance," she said, and Spex fingers stroked the keyplate.

The inner hatch steamed and irised open, the miasma rising in a smoky haze as the air from the access bay and the ship mixed.

"Spex, this crap organic?" said Top.

"Negative," replied the soldier, holding up a sensor, "More like particulate ash. Could have been fires on board at one point."

"Or still," noted Val, for the access was limned with red.

It was a dull red, the color of low-power lights on Terran ships. There were a number of small reddish lamps set in the walls, floor, and ceiling, winking like dragon-eyes in the smoky darkness. The walls and floor seemed to be covered with striations of browns and greys that caught the light and scattered it around the room.

Their bore-hole through the hull was high, above the level of the floor. It was a short jump down, and a scrambling climb back up. Top motioned for Maddog to go first.

The old soldier released the hold of his magnetic boots and gave just enough of a spring launch into the ship. Then he re-engaged his mag-boots to drift down to the floor itself. He hit with a resounding clang as they struck the uneven floor below. Maddog pulled up one boot, then the other, then signaled that everything was clear.

"We have lights," reported Top for Control's benefits, "But no grav. Repeat, no grav. Keeping mag-boots active."

Spex kicked off and joined Maddog on the floor, then Top, and Val. Hype was the last to go, and Val noted that it was with great reluctance that the youngest member of the squad released the hold of his boots, stepped off the edge, and reactivated them, bringing him and his heavy weapon down to their level.

Val snagged an icon on her view-monitor. "Control, we are in," she said.

There was a slight hiss of static now over the master link. "Breaking up slightly. You'd better boost you gain," said the hayseed voice of the Control.

Val twitched a slider-bar on a virtual menu. "How about now?"

"Better," said Control, "Kill the in-squad feed to me and keep your eyes on. Crank the audio scanners as well."

Val tugged at a few more icons, disengaging the inter-squad communications but keeping the individual cameras in operation. As soon as the inter-squad radio was no longer touched by Control, Spex said, "You know, they're going to get rid of those old visor-monitors soon. Beam the data directly onto your eyeballs, and let a sub-vocal communicator allow you to think you orders directly to the machine."

Val smiled - Spex was always up on the latest tech, whether real or imagined. Top didn't say anything to stop him, this time, but was more interested in the interior of the Shivan ship.

The area was vast, compared to human ships, with large amounts of open space. They had guessed that this was the engine room, or the Shivan equivalent of it. Odd pipes erupted from all sides, some heavy and black, others clear and filled with a luminous green-yellow solution. There were occasional bubbles through the pipes. From all sides smaller antler-like arrays sprung like twisted black trees.

"Think there's a central power system on-line?" asked Top.

"Possible," said Spex, "But more likely the ambients are running of back-up power, and are self-contained. There are number of dead lights around."

"Beam this back to Control and ask for input," said Top.

Val scanned around the room. "Nothing obvious," noted the corn-fed voice on the other end of the radio. "Keep scanning."

"That's a negative," said Val to Top through the squad link. Top grunted as Val moved the helmet-camera around, at the walls, the floors, and the oddly shaped antlers."

"The floor is a composite," said Spex, "a combination of materials, grey and brown. The greyish stuff is slightly adhesive, but that could just be from the age of the craft."

"But what was it?" said Hype, quietly into the link. Val turned slightly and saw that he was still near the entrance. "What was the purpose of the ship?"

"Heard some big-brains talking after the briefing," said Top, "They think it was a freighter of some type. Makes sense, since there are no visible weapon pods, and too much open space in here." The squad leader waved her weapon down the hall. The access-way disappeared in red-filled mist."

"And a freighter implies they have something to move from one place to another." said Spex. "But there's no freight."

"Further towards the bow, maybe," said Top, "Where Bravo-2 is."

Val got the sudden urge to ask about the other squad's position, but knew that Control wouldn't pass anything along. There was a completely different officer manning their link. Instead she toggled the local position guide.

Across her right eye the visor showed herself in the center, Spex over near one of the warped antler machines, and Top at point, moving towards one of the high-arched exits at one end of the room. Maddog was bringing up the rear, and Hype had not moved far from the access point.

"Better close it up, Mad, Hype," she said.

"Hyper is too worried about monsters in the shadows," Maddog said with a laugh.

"Am not!" said Hype, though there was a tremor in his voice that indicated that the older soldier had hit the nail on the head.

"He's afraid of rats," the older man said on a private line that excluded Top. "All these old ships have rats on it."

"Unlikely," said Spex, "Vermin maybe, but not rats."

"I'm not afraid of anything," puffed Hype, swinging his laser back and forth for effect. The thin red lance of the sight scanned across the large engine room.

"That's right," said Maddog. "My friend Hype's not afraid of . . . hang on. . . "

Val saw Maddog touch the side of his helmet.

Val checked her own icons. Top was not in on this conversation, and Spex had moved over to confer with her about some piece of equipment.

"What is it?" said Hype, a small tremor in his voice.

Val turned slightly towards Hype, but said nothing. She knew what was coming. Maddog did the same thing to her on her first patrol. She turned down her volume.

"I'm getting an erratic audio scan, rookie," said the older soldier. "Big one!"

"Where?" The young man groped at the air with his free hand, and Val could imagine Hype flipping through menus, seeking out the correct wavelength, "Where it it?"

"BEHIND YOU!" shouted the veteran, turning his feed all the way up so the words sounded like a roar.

The youngster jumped, or rather would have jumped if his mags had been disconnected. Instead, he bolted upright and tried to pivot in place, nearly pulling himself out of his boots. He flipped the command to release one of the boots, but too late, and that leg went lashing out in one direction as the rookie's body tried to twist the other, bringing the heavy laser up in the process. The force of the twist cascaded him backwards, and Hype fell over, one magnetic boot still moored securely to the floor.

Val quickly re-engaged the squad link so Top could hear Hype's surprised yelp, and the Squad Captain and Spex were back in a flash.

Top's eyes were hard, like steel marbles set in her dark flesh. "What the hell is going on?" she said, but Val already knew that the leader knew what was going on.

"Hunter's nerves," said Maddog. "The boy's seeing bogeys everywhere."

"That true, soldier?" said Top.

Hype pulled himself to his feet, and his pale flesh was red beneath the visor. "False reading. I'll confirm before reacting next time. Sorry. It won't happen again."

"I believe you," said Top, and turned to Maddog, "And I believe that there will be no more 'false readings', either. Am I clear?" She said it to the squad, but she was looking at Maddog.

"No problem," said the veteran.

"See that it isn't," said Top, and gave Val a fiery glance as well, "This isn't any garden party. This is the first hands-on exploration of a Shivan ship. I hope to remind you of that."

"Yessem," was the universal reply.

"We're moving in," said Top. "Val, I want you scan these tubes over here and send the data back to control. The rest of you, assume this is a potentially hostile situation and act like it. Am I clear?"

"Yessem," was the reply again, and the squad formed up.

"Val, I want you to give a scan on some of this ooze coming out from these tubes."

"Yessem," said Val, her breather mask hiding any trace of amusement.

The tubes in question were more of the clear ones with luminous plastic shining green against the reddish mist. The tubes had been nicked by some explosion or accident, and were oozing the glimmering fluid. Where it fell it left a dark stain against the material.

Val took visual scans of the area in regular, infra, and ultra, and switched to audio scan to see how deep the fluid had penetrated It looked like it had penetrated through the brown stuff, but left the grey stuff next to it intact.

Her own personal icon beeped as she worked. She flipped it open with an off-handed grab, and Spex crackled in her ear.

"What is missing from this picture?" said the other squad member.

"Chairs?" said Val softly, uploading the data to Control. "Consoles? Anything that resembles a work station or monitor?"

"Bodies," said Spex. "There are no bodies."

"Yeah," said Val, finishing off the last of the scan, "that too. There are no bodies. So?"

"So that means that whatever happened here, it happened slow enough that there were survivors to clean up the mess. Haul off the dead and patch up the ship."

"Again, so?"

"So where are they?" said Spex. "Where are the Shivans?"

Val shrugged, an oversized gesture because of her heat-dissipating shoulder plates. "They were rescued by other Shivans, in another ship."

"Then why did they leave the ship and not tow it in? We've had reports of bigger ships than this."

Again Val shrugged, "OK. No other Shivans, then. A lifeboat?"

"Again, why leave the ship behind? They've blown up their own wounded vessels before."

"Look, Maddox just did the 'monsters-in-the-dark trick on Hype. Don't you start."

"Yeah, I want you to play that little incident back for me later on the vid," said Spex. "If he wasn't moored down, he would have launched into orbit."

"You assume I got a vid of it," said Val, hiding a smile in her voice.

"After he did the same thing to you on your first patrol, of course you did," said Spex.

"Yeah, it was Vasudans that time. Its still a childish, hazing ritual that . . . Hang on . . , " more data flooded into her screen. "Control, is this correct?"

Control's voice was a little snowy. "Affirmative, Bravo-1. Keep the vids coming and the chatter down. There's something in the hull that's breaking you up. Boost your com-cells to compensate.

"Affirmative," touched several more icons, "Top, the stuff in the tubes is major-league volatile. Control says use caution with all controls, and particularly with weapons in this area." She turned towards Maddog. "A stray blast could set everything off."

If Maddog understood the danger of his earlier stunt, he said nothing.

Top said, "Let's move forward, rendezvous with Bravo-2".

They made for the low archway and Control's beacon signal started to fade. Val boosted the gain again, but it was still weak. Val wondered what was in the hull of this thing to make communications so difficult.

The archway opened into an even larger vault, dominated by great cones. The bases of the cones had vertical ribbing, and there were occasional flashes of light among the vanes. The cones could have been the Shivan subspace drive, or they could have been the Shivan equivalent of a portapotty for all Val could tell. Around them were the bands of brown, grey, and black composite material that seemed to make up the entire ship, broken by tangles of cable and more of the odd, antler-things. The floor, walls, and ceiling were dotted with open grates, and deep beneath those grates were more reddish lights.

Spex was on the private link again. "It is only a matter of time, you know."

"Before Maddog goes too far?"

"No, before we'd meet the Shivans, or somebody like them."

"You mean we were predestined to find an extremely powerful race of xenophobes?" said Val.

"Not necessarily the xenophobe part," said Spex, ". . . but the extremely powerful part. Look, the Vasudans and us are about the same tech level, right?"

"OK." Spex had a tendency to go on about his pet theories, whether they were the Shivans or the identity of the mystery meat in the mess. She let him go and continued to scan as they proceeded forward in the ship.

The other soldier continued, "So what are the odds that we would be one of the two first races to independently figure out sub-space? That in all the universe, there wasn't somebody who beat us to it?"

"The Shivans," said Val, levely.

"The Shivans," said Spex. "They were inevitable. A race that has been using subspace drives longer than us. Hell," he tapped the barrel of his laser against an antler thing, "this ship alone looks like its been around longer than humans or Vasudans have been using sub-space."

"If they're so advanced," said Val, "then how come they attack everything they find?" As they progressed deeper into the ship, the beacon signal got progressively weaker. She had the gain cranked up all the way now, and there was a snowy background to Control.

"Thought about that," said Spex, "what if they met another subspace-using race, like we met the Vasudans, and they got into a war, and they were the survivors. How likely does it make it that they will be a little aggressive the next time they run into someone?"

Val shook her head. The fact was that the Shivans took out every ship they met, whether it was Terran or Vasudan. Now they had one of their ships in their hands, literally a gift, and they did not know what to make of it.

The link to control was spacing now, leaving blank spots between the snow, " . . osing you, Bravo-1. Boost gain."

Val checked her menus. She had cranked the power all the way up as it was, and they were still losing the signal, "Top, we're just about out of shouting radius. Moving into a radio shadow. Forward or back?"

Top halted at the edge of another arch. Beyond that was a corridor, similar to the first diminishing finally in the red mist. The ship seemed to stretch out forever in front of them. Val felt the hairs raise at the base of her neck, as if, far off, doors were opening and shutting.

"Double back, " she replied at last, "There are some cross-passages that we can . . . "

"Top, I got an audio read," said Maddog.

Top snarled, "Soldier, I don't need your jokes right now. You're on report when we get back to . . . "

"Negative, ma'am," insisted Maddog. "Its on the low-level scan. Look for yourself."

"Maddog's right," said Val, cranking her own receptors up to max.

It was there, right where the vet had pegged it. It was half-way between a scratch and a hiss, the sound that a silk makes when its being dragged against the carpet. Drag, drag, then silence. Drag, Drag, then silence again.

"Control, we have an audio contact," she said into the mike, but was only rewarded with a low hiss. She could urge a few more amps out of array by shutting down other systems, but did not want to lose the audio contact.

It appeared at the edge of their vision, crystallizing out of the smoky red haze. It was alone, and at first Val thought it had been wounded from its halting, lurching steps.

The creature was mildly dog-like, and had five limbs. The rear three were like a tripod, with its torso slung forward from their apex. These rear legs looked almost delicate compared to the front pair, which were heavily muscled and armored with thick plates. There was one joint too many in all the limbs, and the creature seemed to move with an abominable grace. A neckless head sprung from the juncture of the two forward arms, roughly human-sized, but painted with pale red clusters of dots. Val thought of them at once as eyes.

"Power up!" snapped Top, and three argon blasters and a krypton heavy laser came up, their red tell-tales flashng around their barrels to show they were at full charge.

"Top, hold your fire," said Spex.

The Squad Captain scowled, but nodded. Ten meters away, the Shivan squatted in its lower tripod and regarded them almost quizzically.

"We got into war with the Vasudans so easily, and fell into fighting these creatures as well," said Spex. "Can we just talk to them?"

"We've tried communication and they wiped our ships out of space," snapped Top, "Power up!""

"We tried radio communication," said Spex sternly, "We tried to talk to their technology from our technology. Maybe it doesn't match. Maybe they don't understand. Maybe we can communicate face-to-face for once."

"You're violating orders," said Top.

"Give me a chance," said Spex. "Let me take the risk." He leaned forward. "Look at it. It's unarmed."

Maddog put in, "Those might not even be real Shivans. They might be rats, or dogs, or something."

"No," said Spex, "it's intelligent. It's waiting for us to come to a decision. Look at it! It's waiting."

Indeed, the creature was poised, not so much in a crouch as in an expectant position. It flexed its knuckle-like fingers against the deck of the ship. It was waiting for them.

Top did not lower her weapon. "Val, any chance of reaching Control?"

Val gripped some icons, but was rewarded only with static. She shook her head, and kept her own weapon up, the laser-dot aimed square that the creature's head.

There was single moment of silence deep in the bowels of the ruined ship, then Top said, "Do it. But at the first hostile move, drop out of there, because we're going to shoot through you. Clear?"

"Clear," said Spex, taking a deep breath, and setting down his own blaster. He stepped forward, holding his hands outstretched and empty.

The Shivan held its ground as Spex approached, its head rotating first counterclockwise, then clockwise. As if it was attempting to understand the bipedal creature that approached it.

"Its ship is wounded," said Spex calmly. "It has two choices, to accept help or to die. It won't want to die if it can help it. It might be the only one. It might be lonely. It IS intelligent."

Val nodded at the last point. It was smart enough to wait. Smart enough to stand its ground as the humans decided what to do about it.

Spex raised his hands, and opened and closed and opened his palms. The Shivan repeated the gesture. The tech was all of two meters apart, easily within the reach of the powerful arms.

It was intelligent, realized Val. Was it intelligent enough to wait for them in the heart of the ship? Smart enough to know that this would be the best place for an ambush?

Smart enough to know they were cut off from contact with their ship?

Val opened her mouth to bark a warning, but it was too late. Spex opened his palms one last time to show they were empty. The Shivan opened its three-fingered palms as well, and bursts of blue energy coalesced in its stubby palms.

He didn't even have time to cry out as his upper body, cut free from the tether of his magnetic boots, pinwheeled upwards, trailing a thick, boiling cloud of crimson bubbles. With the speed of a scorpion the Shivan had lunged forward and in two short blows, bisected Spex easily across the middle.

Then Top barked another order, and they were firing, all of them, at the Shivan. Spex's remains, still attached to his boots, were shredded as the beams laced along the corridor, and hit the Shivan square in the head. The small dome-like face vaporized under the blow, but the creature did not fall. Instead, it pulled back, blubbering and hissing as it did.

"Follow it," ordered Top, "Finish it off!"

"No!" shouted Val into the link, so sharply that even Top snapped her head back. "Along the low-scale audio. Listen for a moment."

Top toggled the channel and there it was again. The low sound of a silk bag dragged across a carpet.

And it came from all around it.

"Ambush!" snapped Top, "Pull back to the entrance. Maddox, you cover the rear!"

Val was backpedaling already as the hissing noise grew greater further down the corridor. Maddog began sweeping the area with his targeting laser, ready for the first monster to appear from the mists.

That was when the grate beneath him gave way and he sank into the deck, into a neat hole burrowed beneath his feet. His weapon when tumbling to one side, and his body began to twitch as something beneath began to twist the soldier's legs off. His screams filled Val's helmet, and despite herself, she raised her hands to her ears.

"Dammitohell!" shouted Top. "Kill the feed!"

Blindly Val reached out and gripped an icon, and Maddog's shrieks died instantly. The body continued to shake in its shallow pit, and then slumped forward at last, its internal organs shredded from below.

Val ran now, following Hype, with Top bringing up the rear. Almost immediately they moved out of the radio shadow created by the wreck, and Contact's voice was harsh in her ears. The hayseed was gone, replaced with panic.

"... avo-1, please respond! Bravo-1 Please respond!"

Hype stopped in front of her, wheeled, and fired a bolt down the hallway. No visible target, but the krypton laser flashed and thundered, then whined again as it slowly recharged for the next shot. Val touched the icon for Control."

Val fought to keep the panic out of her voice. "Bravo-1. We are under attack by Shivans. Repeat, we are under attack by Shivans."

"Evacuate, Bravo-1," said Control. "We have lost Bravo-2. You are ordered to evacuate."

Val blinked back the sweat pouring into her eyes. Bravo-2 was gone. The attacks took place at the same time, when they were under the radio shadow.

The Shivans were very intelligent, indeed.

At each intersection, they would halt, quickly check the side approaches, then scuttle across. The access bay felt like it was miles away. And behind them there was the rustling sound that chilled her to the bone.

Top passed beneath a low archway and died instantly as a Shivan dropped down from above, its tripod legs moored firmly to the ceiling above. The squad captain was ripped from the floor, and flailed against the beast, firing two shots into it before.

There was a soft ripping noise and something the size of Top's battered helmet struck the wall next to them. Val realized that she still had Top's link open, but the women did not even scream.

Hype did enough screaming for the three of them, unloading the heavy laser into the beast at point blank range. There was a flash of bright blue, and when Val's eyes had returned to normal, the creature was gone, burrowing up through the ceiling, taking Top's remains with it.

Zero gravity did not seem to bother these creatures. Indeed, they seemed to thrive on it.

"Bravo-1 to Control, We've lost the Captain. Two others dead."

"Evacuate," said Control, and this voice was cold and robotic, "We will destroy the ship if we have to, but evacuate."

Hype scanned the area around them. There were hissing noises in all the mists, as if a basket of snakes had been overturned. "You go ahead," he said, "Run for it."

"We'll go together," she said, hoisting her own laser. The tell-tales were already flashing yellow. Her power was low. Had she fired it so much?

"I've got the gun, you've got the information," said Hype, his voice level and cool. "You have to get out. I'll follow."

Val wanted to argue, but Hype's eyes behind the visor were cold and icy. He knew what he was doing. She had to get out with the information. The helmet cams were the only record of the first contact.

Val ran, and behind her there was the booming shot of the krypton laser. Then a pause as it recharged, then another booming shot. There was no third shot.

She was in the engine room now, with its strange cones and pipes of greenish-yellow fluids. The bay was ahead, up a short scramble. She could unlock the mags on her boots and leap through it. And then she would be safe.

And the thought died in her heart as she saw the figures moving around the access hatch. Figures that were vaguely dog-like, with five limbs. They looked up at her and hissed.

Val screamed and fired. Not at them, but at the access hatch itself. Her bolt pierced both the outer and inner seals, and ruptured the hatchway, opening the engine room to space itself. To the welcoming darkness.

Val felt like a twister was trying to rip her from the deck, but her boots held. She was in her suit, but her foes were naked to space. Drastic, but a suitable solution to the problem.

The Shivans did not seem to be affected by the loss of atmosphere. Instead, they launched themselves towards her, their powerful muscles overcoming the winds of the escaping atmosphere. They were more intent on killing her than surviving themselves.

Control said something that she did not hear over the tornado winds, and Val screamed again. She released the grip of the magnetic boots and leapt upwards to meet them. As she flew forward, she used the large of the blaster's energy to strafe the walls, walls laced with translucent tubes filled with volatiles.

There were the burst of half a hundred bright red flowers around her, which combined with the winds to shoot her out the opening, trailing a banner of flame. The last sight of her camera was of the flames spreading along the length of the Shivan freighter, and the last words she heard was Control ordering all ships to stand clear of the wreck . . .

----

They found her among the wreckage, and saved enough of her for a decent trial. Spex was found guilty of violating regs in trying to talk to the Shivans, and Top in letting him, and both were posthumously court-martialled. Maddog and Hype were given commendations, with the increase shown in the benefits paid to their families.

Val was commended for getting the information out, the first data showing the Shivans in action. Then she was busted down for starting the explosions that destroyed the ship (and all of its attendant useful data), and shipped back to Earth. None of that made any difference to Val after the drug-facilitated debriefing, and put her in a veteran's shelter, her mind shattered and most of her body broken.

The only thing that did make a difference was the darkness. She could not bear it, and cried in an inhuman, keening scream whenever the lights were doused. As a result, the lights in her room were permanently left on.

For it was always dark in space, and Val had learned to fear the darkness.

==Related links==
http://web.archive.org/web/19990218035427/http://www.interplay.com/freespace/stories/story3.html

[[Category:Canon reference]]

Hammer of Light, Omen of Darkness

2013-02-05T00:20:30Z

SypheDMar:

'''''Hammer of Light, Omen of Darkness''''' is an official short story written by Simon Hawke and published by Interplay. It is not known if it is considered canon, though it is generally not regarded as canon because there are many inconsistencies between the five stories published by Interplay and the game itself. Volition does not seem to have been involved with the stories, either. However, there are no confirmations from Volition itself.

'''The following is a repost of Hawke's short story Omen of Darkness.'''
==Hammer of Light, Omen of Darkness==
There was a moment, a brief, incandescent moment, when Creed Harlow could have chosen death.

It would have been so easy.

Instead, he’d hesitated ... just a beat too long ... and now it was too late. By default, he had chosen life. And now he’d have to live with it.

The Vasudan gunner was damn good. In that fateful moment of Harlow’s crucial hesitation, the gunner had taken out the Apollo fighter’s entire port weapons bank. One shot. The Banshee cannon pulse-blast had sheared the entire bank of secondaries clean off their mounting struts, like a laser scalpel slicing through soft tissue. And now Harlow had nothing left to fight with. The starboard weapons bank had already been destroyed, along with the primary disruptor pods. The Vasudans knew that; they could easily see where the GTF Apollo fighter had been crippled, shot to pieces as if some gigantic sledge hammer had knocked huge chunks right off it.

The amazing thing was that the cabin still maintained integrity. The life support systems were still functioning, even with the shields gone and over half the ship reduced to slag. And they wanted to mothball these puppies, Harlow thought. The Apollo was one goddam terrific piece of hardware. He had been lucky. If anyone could call this luck.

The Vasudan squadron got in close under the pretext of providing escort, which was always welcome in this sector ever since the Shivans had appeared in the Ikeya system, coming through the node with some kind of huge, Cruiser-class vessel rumored to be about the size of Rhode Island, capable of launching somewhere between several hundred and over a thousand fighters. Intelligence was a little wonky on that score. The reports were mostly secondary sources, panicked subspace frequency transmissions that sounded hysterical and incoherent ... until they were cut off abruptly. No one who had actually seen the Shivan Cruiser was ever left alive to tell the tale. So when the Vasudan squadron had shown up and offered to help fly escort duty for the heavy freighter to the Tombaugh station, Harlow could almost hear the collective sigh of relief over his com. And that, in itself, felt weird.

For fourteen years, fully half his life, the Galactic Terran Alliance had been at war with the Vasudan Empire. Harlow had grown up hating the Vasudans. Long before he had ever laid eyes on one, he hated them with a passion bordering on the pathologic. Among his boyhood friends, there had been no worse insult than being called Vasudan. Epithets such as "Vasudan slimeball" or "Vasudan scumbucket" were not just fighting words, they were invitations to mayhem. He had grown up with the daily newscasts reporting distant space battles, body counts and numbers of ships lost, and colonies destroyed and bases decimated, and then, when he was seventeen, his older brother’s ship vaporized in an attack upon his squadron. Harlow had enlisted the very next year, on his eighteenth birthday.

His mother had cried.

His father had been proud. "Go get ‘em, son," he’d said. "Go get those Vasudan bastards."

You spend half of your goddamn life hating the sonsabitches, Harlow thought, and suddenly, one day, they’re your allies. And not because they wanted to make peace, but because they had no freakin’ choice.

For years, humanity had wondered what would happen if they ever encountered another intelligent race. As far back as the late 20th century, probes had been sent out with little plaques upon them showing Earth’s position on a stellar map – not too smart, perhaps – with a little arrow pointing, as if to say, "We are here." Then one day, after all those years of wondering, the discovery of FreeSpace, followed by ... contact.

No one could ever seem to agree on what, exactly, started the Terran-Vasudan War. Mutual distrust was about as good an answer as any. But it went on for fourteen years, with neither side managing to gain an upper hand ... until the Shivans came.

So far as Harlow knew, no one had ever even seen a Shivan. They just saw their ships. Black and red fighters, shaped like some kind of space-going arachnids, deadly fast and lethal ... and now the SuperCruiser, as someone had christened it, which no one could describe, because no one who had actually seen it had been left alive to give a complete report. What little was known about it was that it was BIG. Really big. And it was out there ... somewhere.

Fourteen years of warfare with the Vasudan Empire had ended in a treaty and an alliance that could, at best, be called uneasy, yet rendered necesarry by the simple imperative of survival, because the Shivans didn’t come to conquer. They came to annihiliate. Pure and simple. If it lived, and it wasn’t Shivan, it was slated for extinction. It became apparent, very quickly, that the only chance of survival the Terrans and the Vasudans had was if they made peace and joined forces against this new, implacably destructive foe that seemed far stronger than either of them ... but maybe, just maybe, not stronger than both of them together.

So when the Vasudan squadron had shown up on their scanners and made contact, Harlow had swallowed his natural antipathy, nurtured for over half his life, and accepted their offer to join the freighter escort conducting the Orion Maru to Tombaugh Station. He had met Vasudans before and though he couldn’t say he liked the ugly brutes, he was able to put up with them. Just barely. The common good of the alliance and all that.

He still recalled the first time he had heard about the treaty. It was in the officer’s club back at the station. "So we’re supposed to trust the bastards now?" he’d said. And he had vowed he never would. He hadn’t been alone, either. Not by a long shot. But to his surprise, and just about everybody else’s, the Vasudans had lived up to their end of the treaty. They had shared their resources and technology and, at least so far as any of the experts could tell, had not held anything back. The results of combined Terran/Vasudan research and technology had been better ships, better weapons and significant spinoff from defense-based R&D. Regardless of his personal prejudices, Harlow had been forced to admit that the alliance was working and the Vasudans were living up to their end of the bargain. So, when the Vasudans had shown up and offered to join the escort, Harlow had done the one thing he had sworn he’d never do. He trusted them.

And now he was the only one left.

He didn’t especially want to live. Not now. The entire squadron had been blown apart. At least half of them were rookies. Kids. They hadn’t stood a chance against the veteran Vasudan fighter pilots. What was left of their ships drifted in space around him like so much scrap metal. The Orion Maru had been gutted. Several of the larger Vasudan fighters had made fast to it and sent boarding parties in to loot.

And it was all his responsibility. His blame. He was in command. And after his fighter had been crippled, and he was drifting, without any ability to navigate at all, there had been that one moment, when he still had function in his port secondaries, when he could have fired a final shot at the Vasudan fighters that surrounded him and demanded his surrender. One shot. And then, of course, they would have finished him. But he had hesitated, and given them the chance to take out those port secondaries before he could change his mind. With that hesitation, he had chosen. He chose to live.

God help me, he thought.

As the fighters encircled him, he sat there helpless, impotent. "What do you want?" he said through gritted teeth, inside his helmet. "What the hell do you double-crossing bastards want? Finish it, goddamn you!" And then he spotted the Vasudan squadron’s mothership coming in.

It was a Scorpio-class vessel, to use the human name for them, about the size of a GTA Destroyer, well over 2 kilometers in length. And as the message came in through his com, identifying the ship as the IVS Hammer and informing him he was a prisoner of war, he suddenly realized who his captors really were. Vasudans, yes ... but renegades who did not recognize the treaty. Branded traitors by their own kind, they were members of the Imperial Vasudan Fleet who had followed some psychotic admiral in a mutiny against their government, religious fanatics who saw the Shivan invasion as some kind of "cleansing" foretold in some obscure Vasudan prophecy. Deathheads, as the Terrans called them. They called themselves "The Hammer of Light."

According to the scuttlebutt, they had been the "Praetorian Guard" of the Imperial Vasudan Fleet, the top guns, the elite of the elite. And after seeing what they had done to his squadron, Harlow could believe it. It had happened so fast, so goddamn fast... they took apart the squadron like a school of spacegoing piranha ... saving him for last.

"We have been monitoring your transmissions, Commander Harlow," the translated voice came over his com. His name, incongurously, came through as ‘hollow.’ Which was exactly how he felt. "Prepare to be taken aboard," the Vasudan said. "Further resistance would be pointless. You have fought well and you shall be treated with all due deference to your rank, according to your own long-standing tradition of the Geneva Conventions. Do you accept these terms?"

Harlow grimaced. "Have I got a choice?"

"No, Commander, you do not. Death, however honorable, is no longer an option. We prefer to have you alive. But out of respect, we would like to at least observe the formalities."

Harlow snorted. "Well, that’s mighty goddam human of you," he replied.

"Sarcasm," came the reply, followed by a peculiar, grunting sound that might have been a chuckle. "Derision. Irony. The use of words meant to convey the opposite of meaning. A uniquely human concept. I have studied this. I shall hope to have the opportunity to learn more from you. It will be interesting to make your acquaintance, Commander. I look forward to it. Tallanis out."

Son of a bitch, thought Harlow. Admiral Tallanis! The old death-lover himself. The most decorated Vasudan officer of the T-V War. And the leader of the mutiny. What the hell does he want with me?

They did not take any chances. As soon as they brought the blasted hulk of his fighter aboard through one of the launch bays, they threw up a cordon of security around it, Vasudan Elites armed with lightweight energy weapons. A low setting would merely stun. Full setting would disintegrate. They had their weapons leveled at the cockpit as they waited for him to retract the canopy, just in case he had a sidearm and decided to try committing suicide by coming out fighting. He’d never have had a chance. They’d simply sweep the cockpit with stun blasts and he’d wake up in a day or so, nursing the mother of all headaches.

As it happened, they had no cause no concern. He was not wearing a sidearm ... and he couldn’t even get the cockpit open. The canopy would not retract. They had to call their engineers to cut him out of there.

Once they had him freed, they helped him out and then the senior officer of the Elites approached him and snapped off a passable imitation of a Terran salute. It stuck in his craw, but Harlow returned it. If they were going to show him proper military courtesy, he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to respond in kind.

"Follow me, you should, sir," the Vasudan officer addressed him. Harlow nodded curtly. No restraints. No rough stuff. There was no need for it. He was hopelessly outnumbered. They formed up on either side of him and marched him through the corridors of the Vasudan ship.

Physically, the Vasudans were imposing. They were larger than humans, though not significantly stronger. Their armored uniforms tended to make them seem bigger than they were. Harlow knew that, superficially, they possessed many similarities to humans. They breathed the same air, had similar metabolisms and similar modes of communication, though their vocal cords could not reproduce the necessary sounds for Terran Standard. They needed to wear translators to make themselves understood. Beyond that, appearances started to diverge.

Vasudans had brown, mottled, leathery-looking skin, with longer, bonier limbs and broader shoulders. They looked, to Harlow’s eyes, like exaggerated skeletons with a little bit of skin and muscle layered over them. And there was something peculiar about the way they moved. They looked like effects from those old 20th century stop-motion animation films, as if their brains were sending their muscles hundreds of little messages a second, each designed to translate into a single millimeter of movement, resulting in motions that had a vaguely jerky flow.

Alien, thought Harlow. No matter how liberal you wanted to be about it, you just couldn’t think of them in human terms, because, when it came right down to it, they weren’t.

He was escorted to the bridge, where he was brought into the presence of the old death-lover himself. Admiral Tallanis swiveled around in his command chair to face him as Harlow was brought aboard the bridge. Their gazes locked. What Harlow wanted to do was spit right in his eye. What he did, however, was salute a superior officer. "Permission to come aboard, sir," he said, with a strong hint of irony in his tone.

Tallanis returned the salute, Terran-style, with textbook precision. His shoulders shook slightly as he gave that peculiar, grunting chuckle. "Permission granted, Commander," he replied, using a mini, throat-mounted translator. "Welcome aboard the Imperial Vasudan Starship Hammer. I am Admiral Gar Tallanis."

The name, Harlow knew, was merely a translator approximation of the actual Vasudan name. To Harlow, untranslated Vasudan sounded like a cross between a camel grunting and Chinese that had been recorded and then played backwards.

"Commander Creed Harlow, 101st GTA Fighter Wing, Black Eagle Squadron," he replied.

Tallanis made a pigeon-headed movement that passed for a nod among Vasudans. "I am familiar with the reputation of the 101st Fighter Wing," he said. "The Black Eagles distinguished themselves during the war."

"A war you’re apparently still fighting," Harlow said.

"No, Commander, not the same war," Tallanis replied. "A different one. A holy war. As you Terrans might call it... a jehad."

"That’s Arabic, not Terran Standard," Harlow corrected him. "There may still be some Terrans who believe in the idea of a holy war, but most of us regard it as an outmoded concept...a contradiction in terms. There’s nothing holy about war, Admiral. Killing is just killing."

"I beg to disagree, Commander. There are many different types of killing. There is the killing that one does for self-defense, and the killing that one does for conquest or suppression. There is the killing done out of personal necessity, and the killing done out of duty. There is the killing which can produce personal satisfasction ... and the killing which produces only regret and a sense of loss, as in the case of your squadron. Their deaths were necessary, but I took no satisfaction in them."

Harlow snorted with derision. "They were just a bunch of young rookies. Not counting myself, there were only two pilots in the whole squadron who had ever flown a combat mission. You never even gave ‘em a chance. Your fighters came in like a bunch of common sneak thieves, offering to asssist in flying escort, and like a fool, I agreed. You wiped them out before they even knew what hit ‘em."

"Yes, no doubt it would have been more honorable to offer combat properly rather than employing stealth and deceit to gain the advantage of surprise," Tallanis said, with what sounded like regret, "but it would not have been nearly as efficient. You see, Commander, I have only this one vessel, and the complement of fighters that it carries. As a renegade who has been declared traitor by my own misguided government, I do not have the luxury of pulling into base for resupply, refitting or refurbishment. And while it would be difficult, though not necessarily impossible, to pick up new recruits to replace personnel that had been killed in action, there would be no way to replace their fighters. Efficiency, therefore, must be my constant watchword. I can afford to take no chances. So I took none with your squadron. And despite my advantage of surprise, you almost managed to mount an effective counter-offensive. Quite impressive, under the circumstances. I was ruthless, Commander, because I had to be. I had no choice."

"Why spare me, then?" Harlow asked. "You had your fighters double and triple team me, so that you could cripple my weapons and navigation systems without blowing me apart. What makes me so goddamn special that you wanted me alive?"

"Essentially, your rank, Commander," Tallanis said. "Although you seem to possess some qualities that I find admirable and worthy of respect, the simple fact of the matter is that you are an officer of the Galactic Terran Alliance, specifically, a combat officer... and I need one."

"Then I’m afraid you wasted your time," said Harlow. "I’m just a fighter jock, Admiral. We don’t have a lot of ‘Need to Know’ when it comes to highly classified intelligence. We’re just point and shoot. You ought to know that."

"You mistake my meaning, Harlow, if I may permit myself the familiarity of addressing you by name," Tallanis said, rising from his command chair. He approached Harlow and looked down at him. Harlow was six feet tall, and Tallanis had at least another foot and a half on him. "I did not bring you aboard my ship so that I could interrogate you, but so that you could, in a manner of speaking, interrogate me and my crew."

Harlow blinked. "You want to run that one by me again?"

"All the Galactic Terran Alliance knows about the Hammer of Light is what the Foreign Ministry of the Vasudan Empire tells them," said Tallanis. "And that is not only secondhand information, it is also very biased and utterly self-serving. I want the Terrans to know the truth ... from someone who has experienced it firsthand."

"Then why not tell them yourself?" asked Harlow. "Your knowledge of Terran Standard is excellent. Translators do not usually compensate for syntactical patterns so smoothly. You may not be able to speak the language, Admiral, but I’m betting you can read and write it fluently."

"Indeed, I can," Tallanis replied. "I am something of a student of your human culture. Enough to know that your innate distrust of your own various races was overwhelmed only by your xenophobia towards extraterrestrials. Your alliance with the Vasudan Empire exists only out of a perceived necessity, and is based less on trust than on a mutual fear of extinction. I can easily discern your true feelings for my people, Commander Harlow. My words to humanity would only be the words of yet another detestable Vasudan. And a renegade, at that. They would listen far more readily to one of their own, to a veteran combat officer of the Galactic Terran Alliance Starfleet."

Harlow frowned and narrowed his eyes, uncertain he had heard correctly. "You saying you want me to be your PR man?"

Tallanis hesitated, apparently not familiar with the term and waiting for the translator headpiece to sort through all the acronymic possibilties and choose the proper one from the context. "Ah, a public relations representative," he said, a moment later, then nodded. "Excellent. In essence, yes. That is exactly what I want."

"Then you’ve gotta be out of your bloody, goddamn mind.... sir."

Tallanis chuckled with that strange, deep, grunting sound. "I have been accused of that before. I ask nothing more than that you speak the truth, as you perceive it. We will speak more of this. In the meantime, I have taken the liberty of having quarters prepared for you. There will be no enforced confinement unless your actions should make that necessary. You may have the run of the ship -- save for certain secure areas such as the armoury, of course. For reasons of security, you understand, you will be kept under constant guard. You may be a prisoner of war, Commander, but we shall attempt to make your stay with us as comfortable as possible. I want you to know us, Harlow. And to understand us. You must understand if you are to communicate our purpose. Now, if you will excuse me, I must see to it that the prize crew have completed the task of requisitioning the necessary supplies from the freighter."

"And what about the freighter’s crew?" asked Harlow, tensely.

"I am told that they did not put up a struggle."

"So you killed them all?" asked Harlow, with a sinking feeling.

"I am a soldier, Harlow, not a murderer. I do not kill people who surrender. That is not my purpose. There were some injuries, but no fatalities. They have functional life support in the sealed off sections of their vessel which have maintained structural integrity. They had already sent out a distress signal, so they should survive until a rescue ship arrives."

And with that, Tallanis nodded to Harlow’s escort, and the Elites led him from the bridge, down a short companionway, and to an interior tube shuttle that traversed the length of the ship. The guards did not speak to Harlow as they led him into the shuttle and indicated a seat. His human anatomy did not quite fit properly, but he made do. With a soft hiss, the door slid shut and the clear-walled, egg-shaped shuttle began to slide along the tube, gathering speed as it went.

He glanced at the Elites sitting across from him. One was clearly an officer, the equivalent of a lieutenant of Marines, if Harlow recalled his Vasudan insignia. He met the Elite’s gaze. "Are you allowed to talk to the prisoner?" he asked, wryly.

"Speak, you wish?" the Vasudan replied, his syntax clearly not as good as his commanding officer’s. The translators could only translate; they couldn’t make you sound more erudite than you were.

"Sure, why not?" said Harlow.

"About what, speak?"

"Oh, I dunno. You. The admiral. This ship. This nutso prophecy that you all seem to believe in."

The word "nutso" seemed to hang up the Vasudan’s translator for a moment. Harlow grinned.

"Admiral Tallanis great man is," the Elite replied, after a moment. "Spiritual man is. Visionary leader is. The prophecy foretells does truly. Not ... nutso."

"Not nutso, eh?"

"Not."

Harlow snorted. "So we’re all supposed to die, is that it? The Shivans are the Hand of God, come to cleanse the universe, something like that? And we’re all just supposed to roll over, put our heads between our legs and kiss our butts goodbye? Just because about a thousand years ago, some goofball Vasudan holy man had a few too many belts one night and said so? Is that the deal, more or less?"

Judging by the Elite’s reaction, the translator seemed to be having a tough time with that one. Harlow didn’t care. He half-hoped the Elite would come up out of that contoured seat and take a swing at him for making fun of his beliefs, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Tallanis ran a tight ship, and the old deathhead needed him, or thought he did. He had made that clear enough, though why he really give a damn what humans thought about him one way or the other didn’t seem to make much sense. He wipes out my entire squadron, Harlow thought, then spares the freighter’s crew and asks me to get his terrorist message out to the GTA, so that the Hammer of Light could be properly understood. Tallanis may have been a brilliant soldier once, and perhaps he still is, but he had to be completely certifiable.

Either the translator had made a complete muddle of his slang, or else the Elite had simply chosen not to bother to respond, because the rest of their short ride was spent in silence. Harlow was escorted to his quarters, which had apparently been vacated for his benefit by some Vasudan officer, judging by their size and furnishings. It was a lot nicer than the berth he had back at Tombaugh Station. The Elites took up their post outside the door as it closed automatically.

"Well, here we are," Harlow said to himself out loud, as he glanced around at his surroundings. "Home, sweet, alien home."

"It’s not exactly what I would’ve picked, either."

Harlow started at the familiar and totally unexpected sound of another human voice. A female human voice. She stood in the bedroom doorway, hands braced against the doorframe, watching him with a speculative gaze. Harlow had never seen her before. Her dark hair was cut short and she stood about five-five, slender and leggy. She was young, Harlow guessed in her early to mid-twenties. And she wore the uniform of a lieutenant junior grade in the GTA Merchant Space Fleet -- which could only mean one thing, of course. She was off the freighter they’d been escorting.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, as soon as he’d recovered from his initial surprise.

"I was trying to figure out more or less the same thing," she replied. "But I think now I understand. It all makes a weird, but perfect kind of sense, I guess."

"Well, then maybe you wouldn’t mind explaining it to me," said Harlow. "And if you don’t mind, Lieutenant, identify yourself?"

With a smirk, she straightened up, approached him, and snapped off a crisp salute. "Lieutenant Rafferty, C.J., Merchant Space Fleet, late of the MS Orion Maru, reporting for duty, sir!"

"Duty? What the hell are you talking about? What duty? We’re both prisoners of war."

She gave a small snort. "A little slow on the uptake, huh, Commander? That chauvinist Vasudan dinosaur up there on the bridge decided you needed some female companionship, so I got ‘requisitioned,’ along with everything else they needed off my ship. Don’t you get it? I’m here for you. So .... ‘reporting for duty.’ Sir," she added, wryly.

Harlow stared at her. "You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me."

"Hey, figure it out, hot shot," she said. "They didn’t even give me time to pack any spare clothes. I guessed they figured I wouldn’t be needing them. Much."

"That’s insane. They bring anyone else from the Orion Maru aboard?"

"Nope. Just me. They lined up the whole crew of the freighter, segregated the males from the females, and then one of the Vasudans went down the line, checking us all out up and down. I guess he had a vidlink thru his helmet com to the mothership. So who was watching the monitor on the other end?" She raised her eyebrows. "You?"

"Don’t be ridiculous, Lieutenant," Harlow said. He headed for the door. "I’m going to demand that Admiral Tallanis return you to the Orion Maru immediately."

"It’s a little late for that," said Rafferty. "We just entered Freespace."

Harlow stopped. "I know. I just felt the shift."

"So it looks as if we’re stuck with one another," Rafferty replied. "Besides, if you go telling the admiral that we’re a bit more enlightened than the Vasudan culture when it comes to equality between the sexes, and that you’re not going to accept the, uh, ‘arrangements’ that he had in mind, he might decide that I’m just so much unnecessary baggage, if you get my drift. Maybe he won’t put me out an airlock, but I’d just as soon not have to find out."

"Good point," said Harlow. "He’s not exactly consistent with his logic."

"Oh, and there’s only one sleeping cubicle in here."

"Yeh." Harlow grimaced. "Well, that would have to figure, wouldn’t it?"

"You’re senior officer," she said. "I’ll take the floor."

"The hell you will." He glanced around dubiously at the Vasudan furnishings. "I’ll sleep in that thing," he said, pointing at what looked like a cross between a contoured lounger and a birthing chair.

Rafferty glanced at it and raised her eyebrows. "Good luck," she said. "By the way, I’m a certified ship’s medic and a licensed chiropractor. I think you’ll be glad of that come morning."

Tallanis had promised Harlow free run of the ship, and Harlow took advantage of that, exploring the Hammer to the extent he was allowed, escorted by alert guards every step of the way. Rafferty accompanied him, since there wasn’t anything else for her to do. Besides, as a Merchant Space Fleet officer, she was just as curious as he was. What Harlow wanted to see more than anything else was the Flight Deck of the Hammer, and apparently the guards did not have any instructions to prevent him.

A younger officer had replaced the one who had led the detail the first day and this one "spoke" much better Terran Standard, which meant that, like Tallanis, he understood grammar and syntactical structure well enough to sound natural through the translator. He answered all their questions and proudly pointed out the details of his ship. As Harlow and Rafferty stood out on the catwalk overlooking the Hammer’s Flight Deck, the young Vasudan pointed out the fighters and the salient points of the launch bays with obvious pride.

"The Hammer boasts a complement of three hundred and fifty Imperial class fighters," the young Vasudan officer said, sweeping his arm out to indicate the sleek vessels below.

"Isn’t that more than the standard Vasudan destroyer usually mounts?" asked Harlow, as he stared down at the Flight Deck, where row upon row of the sleek, silver and gold, Imperial class Vasudan fighters stood parked side by side, weapons banks pivoted up and back on their mounting struts, enabling them to be parked close together, with only a few feet separating fuselage from fuselage..

The young officer did that strange, pigeon-headed nod. "We have maximized our fighter capability to carry as many as the Flight Deck can possibly hold. And our highly trained launch crews are capable of deploying the full complement of fighters in less time than the average destroyer in the Imperial Vasudan Fleet can launch all theirs. We are on constant standby, battle-ready mode, and can engage the enemy almost twice as quickly as the average destroyer in the Vasudan Fleet."

"Lucky for you, since they’re all out gunning for you, aren’t they?" Harlow said. "How does it feel to regard your own people as ‘the enemy,’ and to have them regarding you as traitors and terrorists?"

"I was warned that you would ask such questions," the young officer replied. "And I was instructed to reply honestly and to the best of my ability. The answer is, it feels sad that so many of our people lack the faith to understand that what must be must be, and that the prophecy of the Omen of Darkness shall come to pass."

"The Omen of Darkness?" Rafferty asked. "What’s that?"

"It is an old prophecy among my people," the Vasudan officer replied, with the intensity of the true believer. "Long before our own civilization arose, there lived another race of beings known to us only as ‘The Ancients.’ Evidence of their culture was discovered in a nearby system and it is believed by many that our own civilization on Vasuda Prime could never have developed as it did without their aid. But The Ancients disappeared without a trace, and Vasudan scientists believe a catacylsm of some sort befell their culture. The prophecy, however, tells us what that cataclysm must have been."

"The Shivans?" Rafferty asked.

"Or some force very much like the Shivans," the young officer replied. "The ruins of the Temple of Altair, one of the few almost completely intact structures left behind by the The Ancients, contain elaborate murals depicting the arrival of a dark and cleansing force, relentless and unstoppable. Some of these illustrations show monsters, creatures, which resemble strongly the design of spacecraft employed by the Shivans."

"So you believe that the Shivans came and wiped out these Ancients?" Rafferty asked.

The Vasudan gave a pigeon-headed nod. "They became too proud, too arrogant, too unmindful of the balance of the universe and their proper place within the scheme of things. They threatened to upset that balance, and so, the Destroyers came. Much as they have now come for my people ... and for yours."

"So why not fight them?" Rafferty asked. "Why simply accept defeat?"

"Because the cleansing force of the Destroyers is the inevitable mechanism through which the Omen of Darkness shall be realized," the young Vasudan said. "They cannot be stopped, because the universe cannot be stopped. The balance must be preserved. Your own human sacred writings also speak of this. Do they not say, ‘To every thing, there is a season, and a time to every purpose under Heaven?’ Our season has passed, and so we must pass, as well. We must return to the Oneness of the Universe and reunite with it, so that the cosmic balance may once more be restored."

"Except that most Vasudans don’t seem as anxious to return to the ‘Oneness of the Universe’ as you do," said Harlow, wryly.

"If they lack the moral courage to accept their destiny, then they must be shown how to find it."

"By Admiral Tallanis, right?" said Harlow. "The Hammer of Light, himself. Fall in love with death, embrace your Fate. What a load of crap. You realize he’s totally psychotic, don’t you?"’

The look the young Vasudan officer gave him was difficult to read, because Harlow simply did not know enough about Vasudan facial expresssions, but his terse words spoke plainly enough. "Admiral Tallanis is my father," the Vasudan said.

"Great," muttered Rafferty, under her breath. "Smooth move, Harlow."

Suddenly, am alarm pealed out across the Flight Deck, igniting an instant flurry of activity below. Harlow did not need to be familiar with the protocol aboard Vasudan military vessels to know what was going on. It was obvious.

"Battle Stations," the young officer said, tensing visibly. "I must go. You may remain here, if you wish, and watch the Flight Deck preparations. These soldiers will attend you." He indicated the guards behind them, then rushed off.

"What’s going on?" asked Rafferty.

"Well, when we came out of Freespace ," said Harlow, "we were somewhere in the system of Vasuda Prime, according to one of the guards I spoke to. So that means that either Tallanis is about to launch an attack on some of his own people, or else somone is attacking him."

"The Vasudan Fleet?" asked Rafferty.

"Let’s hope so," Harlow said. "Because if it’s the Shivans, then that fruitcake might just decide to embrace his predestined fate and not fight back. Either way, I don’t much feel like sticking around and finding out."

And before Rafferty could react, Harlow turned quickly, grabbed the Vasudan guard behind him, yanked him forward and swung him around, yanking the sidearm out of his holster as he did so and shoving him hard into the other two. Startled and knocked off balance, one of the guards staggered back and almost went over the railing of the catwalk. As the others collided, Harlow hit them both with stun blasts and they collapsed to the catwalk at his feet. Then he caught the arm of the guard that was struggling for balance, half over the railing, and pulled him back onto the catwalk, then promptly stunned him point blank to the chest.

"You’re welcome," he said to the unconscious guard, glancing down at the weapon in his hand and checking the power supply. "Let’s hear it for shared technology."

"Are you crazy? What are you doing?" Rafferty asked, shocked.

"Getting the hell outta here. You coming?" he relived the unconscious guards of their sidearms and tossed one to Rafferty. "You know how to use one of those?"

"I had the same briefings on Vasudan weapons you did," she replied, catching the weapon and checking it. "That’s S.O.P. in Merchant Space Fleet. I even had a chance to qualify with one."

"Yeh?" said Harlow. "You ever qualify with one of those?"

She followed his gaze down to one of the gold and silver Imperial fighters on the Flight Deck and her eyes grew wide. "You’re not serious?"

"It’s the only chance we’ve got," he said.

Below them, the cacophany of the call to Battle Stations and the frenzy of activity taking place to get the fighters launched meant that the Vasudans on the Flight Deck were not going to have much time to notice them. At least, Harlow devoutly hoped that was the case.

"C’mon," he said, beckoning Rafferty to follow as he took off running down the catwalk towards the lift tube at the other end. "Move it!"

"I sure hope you know what the hell you’re doing," she said, as she followed him. They got into the cage and Harlow stabbed at the unfamiliar controls until he got the thing descending.

"I hope so, too," he said. "But either way, I’m not about to trust my fate to some whacked out fanatic who thinks the Shivans are God’s avenging angels or some crazy thing like that."

The rising and falling, whooping claxon of the Battle Stations call filled the cavernous Flight Deck as launch crews went into their well-rehearsed routines and pilots came rushing out to their assigned fighters. Several fighters were already rising on their platforms to the Launch Bays on the level above.

"Leave that weapon set on stun," said Harlow. "It’ll make the charge last longer and if we blow this, it’ll go easier on us if we don’t kill anyone."

"Let’s hope you’re right. Can you fly one of those things?" asked Rafferty, as they reached the Flight Deck level and stepped out of the lift cage.

"I’m not sure," said Harlow.

"What the hell do you mean you’re not sure? This is a fine time to tell me that!"

"The Vasudan Imperial two-man fighter was the basis of the GTF Ulysses," Harlow said, as they moved along the bulkhead, trying to stay out of sight behind banks of equipment and the fighter lift platforms. "That was the first fighter developed from shared T-V technology. The Ulysses combined the best aspects of our Apollo fighter with their design. I qualified in one of those."

"But it still wasn’t the same fighter," said Rafferty. "And the controls were not set up for a Vasudan."

"Well, gee, Rafferty, if you’re gonna nitpick ...."

"Shit," swore Rafferty. "We’re gonna die."

"Heads up." He pointed to a couple of helmeted pilots hurrying their way, rushing toward one of the silver and gold fighters parked in front of them. "You take the one on the left...."

Two stun blasts and they were down. They ran out and quckly dragged them back out of the way. "Get their helmets off," said Harlow.

"They’ll never fit," said Rafferty. "They’re much too big! And we’ll never get into their uniforms!"

"We don’t have to," Harlow replied, as he tugged a helmet off one of the unconscious pilots. "Once we’re in the cockpit, all they’ll see is our helmets. And they won’t have to fit perfectly. The cockpits have their own life support systems that kick in once the canopies lock down. Now hurry up!"

They donned the helmets and climbed up into the cockpit of the nearest fighter, settling into the seats just as other pilots appeared running towards their craft on the Flight Deck.

"What happens now?" asked Rafferty. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Nothing," Harlow told her. "Just sit tight and look like you belong there. Fighter launch procedures are not handled by the pilot. The launch crews and automated capapults take care of that. Let’s just hope they follow the battle drill and get us launched as fast as possible without a whole lot of preliminaries. If we have to do a flight check, we’re screwed."

The fighter pivoted on its remote-controlled locking mounts as the launch crews brought it up in line to the next lift platform. Harlow scanned the unfamiliar instruments as diagnostics readouts flashed by automatically in a language he could not make hide nor hair of.

"We’re never going to get away with this," said Rafferty.

"Shut up and let me think, dammit," Harlow replied, curtly. He could not translate the readouts, but he knew roughly what they’d have to be saying if everything was optimal. In seconds, years of training took over and he started to see certain parallels in the design of the instrumentation with the Ulysses fighter. The control had been designed for larger Vasudan hands, and longer Vasudan arms, but he could work them. It wasn’t really all the different from the Ulysses design....

"Harlow...."

"I see them...."

As the fighter was brought up on the track, the launch team was signaling something, clearly waiting for a response. Harlow gambled and made a quick, vague gesture with his arm, then imitated the pigeon-headed nod.

The fighter shuddered slightly as it slid into the launch platform’s locking chocks and started to rise toward the Launch Bay. The canopy slid forward with a whine and locked into place.

"Cross your fingers...." Harlow said.

"Oh, boy...." said Rafferty.

The fighter jerked forward and snapped into position in the catapult, then the locking chocks released. "Okay, stand by," said Harlow. "Engines on...."

The engines came on as the weapons banks lowered into place and locked in on their mounting struts.

"Yes!" said Harlow. "Okay. Here goes nothing...."

The Launch Bay doors opened and the catapult hurled the fighter out into space as Harlow slammed the stick forward as far as it would go and they shot away from the ship, gaining speed rapidly.

"We did it! We made it!" Rafferty cried.

"Not yet we haven’t," Harlow said. "In about five seconds, the squadron’s leader’s going to realize we’re deviating from formation and he’ll want to know why in one hell of a hurry."

"And then what?"

"Depends how fast it takes them to figure out who we are. And how busy they’re going to be with those incoming fighters."

"What incoming fighters? I don’t see anything."

"Check your displays."

"Which one?"

"The large square one to the right."

"The one with all the little dots?"

"Yeh," said Harlow. "Those ‘little dots’ are blips, Lieutenant. And each one is a Ulysses fighter from the Imperial Vasudan Fleet. They’re coming in hot, in battle formation, at about eleven o’clock. We should have visual contact in about two minutes."

"Well...that’s good, right? I mean, they’re on our side."

"Yeh, except they don’t know it," Harlow said.

"Right," said Rafferty. "We’re in one of the Hammer’s fighters. You can radio them, right?"

"Maybe.... If I can find the damn radio controls ... and if they’ll listen."

"Harlow...."

A burst of rapid Vasudan came over his com.

"Damn. I think they just figured out who the hell we are," said Harlow.

Several of the Hammer’s fighters peeled off from their formation and gave pursuit. A moment later, a familiar voice came over the com.

"Commander Harlow," said Admiral Tallanis, "you are abusing my hospitality."

"Really?" Harlow said. "I thought I was a prisoner of war. And isn’t it a prisoner of war’s first duty to attempt escape?"

"Harlow! They’re coming!" Rafferty cried.

"I know. I see ‘em on the monitor. You know how to work the weapons systems?"

"I’m a medic, not a goddamn gunner!"

"Well, I don’t need a medic! Damn it, we’ll just have to do the best we can. Listen....there should be a fire control console just to your right, by your knee, I think...."

"Okay. I think I got it."

"You should have a row of toggles right across the top. Flick ‘em all up to arm the guns."

"What if they’re the wrong ones? I don’t want to go hitting an ejector seat or anything."

"Well, you’ll find out soon enough."

"Terrific."

"Harlow, this escape attempt is doomed to fail," Tallanis came back over the com. "I cannot have you hijacking one of my fighters. I cannot afford to lose it."

"Yeh, well, I couldn’t afford to lose my squadron, either," Harlow replied, through gritted teeth.

"Okay. The toggles are all up and glowing orange. What does that mean?" asked Rafferty.

"It means the Banshee guns are armed...I hope," said Harlow. "We’ll find out in a moment. Damn!"

A pulse blast from one of the pursuing fighters narrowly missed them on the port side. Harlow pulled back and up on the stick and went into a roll. The fighter on his tail was good. The pilot stayed right with him.

"Shoot the son of a bitch!" said Harlow.

"How?" asked Rafferty.

"Fire control button on your gunnery stick. Direction of the stick controls the turrets in the pods...."

"Okay...."

A new voice came on over the com, but a familiar one. "Turn around and return to the ship at once, Commander Harlow, or my next shot shall not miss."

"Like father, like son," said Harlow. "You’re both nuts. I thought you couldn’t afford to lose this fighter."

"We cannot. But we shall destroy it if we must. I do not have time to waste on you, Commander. We are coming under attack."

"Will you shoot him, please?" said Harlow.

"I’m trying...."

Two pulse blasts shot out from the weapons banks, directly to the front of the fighter.

"Okay, now you want to try shooting behind us, where the fighter is?" said Harlow.

"How the hell do I that?"

"Directional pod controls, right next to the trigger, on your stick....."

"Oh...okay....I think I got it...."

"Commander, this is your last warning," Tallanis’ son said, over the com, from the pursuing fighters. "Turn around now."

"Shoot, damn it!"

This time, the pulse cannon fired to their rear, but the shots did not even come close.

"Hell...." said Harlow.

"I’m doing the best I can!"

"Yeh, I know you are. Trouble is, it’s just not good enough."

Another shot from the pursuing fighers narrowly missed their starboad side. They had him bracketed. They were telling him he was directly in their sights.

"Tallanis!" Harlow shouted, into his com.

There was no response.

"Tallanis! Who the hell is going to take your message to the Terran Alliance if you kill us?" Harlow shouted.

Another shot, this time grazing the port side. They were playing with him. Letting him know they could blow him to bits at any time.

"The Omen of Darkness, Tallanis! Who’s going to explain that for you? Who gets to tell your side of it, me or the Vasudan government?"

There was a brief burst of Vasudan over the com.

"They’re turning back!" cried Rafferty.

"And here comes the Vasudan Fleet," said Harlow, as the attacking fighters came swooping towards them. "Let’s just hope they saw them shooting at us and give us time to explain."

The voice of Admiral Tallanis came over the com one last time. "I am surprised at how much you have learned in such a short time. Perhaps we will meet again someday, Commander. In the meantime ... be a good ‘PR man.’ Tallanis out."

The passenger quarters aboard the Vasudan transport heading out to Freespace and then Tombaugh Station were not all that dissimilar from the quarters Harlow had aboard the Hammer. Reasonably roomy, but with appointments that looked less like furnishings than torture equipment from some bizarre, art deco dungeon. As soon as he came in, a chime from the wall screen informed him that he had a call coming in. It was his division commnader from Tombaugh Station.

"Good to see you alive, Harlow."

"Thank you, Colonel. It’s nice to be alive."

"About your squadron, Harlow…"

Harlow tensed.

"We received a full report from the crew of the Orion Maru. They also kept a monitor log of your transmissions. I’m satisfied that, under the circumstances, you did the very best you could. Under the treaty alliance protocol, and with the Shivans loose somewhere in the sector, you did the right thing in accepting their offer to assist with escort. You had no way of knowing they were terrorists."

"Yes, sir, but –-"

"Even if they didn’t have the advantage of surprise," the colonel continued, "your squadron wouldn’t have stood a chance. Most of them were replacement personnel, with no combat experience. And they were up against pilots who were once the cream of the Imperial Vasudan Fleet. I don’t see how it could have come out any different. You did the best you could, son. Don’t go blaming yourself for this one."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"I understand you had a chance to spend some time with Admiral Tallanis."

"Not much, sir, but enough to get a good sense of what he’s all about."

"Headquarters is very interested. There will be a formal debriefing as soon as you get back."

"It’ll be good to be back, sir."

"Get some rest, Harlow. See you back at Tombaugh."

The colonel signed off and Harlow switched off the screen.

"So…home, sweet, home, eh?"

He spun around. Rafferty was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, her hands braced against the doorframe. She was wearing a short robe.

"What the hell are you doing here?" asked Harlow, with surprise.

"I told the Vasudans I was yours," she said. "You know how enlightened they are about their gender politics. They didn’t even question it."

"I see. How many sleeping cubicles are there in this cabin?"

"One."

"I’m not sleeping in that goddamn chair again."

Rafferty smiled as she came toward him. "Who asked you to?"

==Related links==
http://web.archive.org/web/19991104143010/http://interplay.com/freespace/stories/story2.html

[[Category:Canon reference]]

Predator

2013-02-05T00:20:13Z

SypheDMar:

'''''Predator''''' is an official short story written by Fred Saberhagen and published by [[Interplay]]. It is not known if it is considered canon, though it is generally not regarded as canon because there are many inconsistencies between the five stories published by Interplay and the [[FreeSpace 1|game]] itself. [[Volition]] does not seem to have been involved with the stories, either. However, there are no confirmations from Volition itself.

'''The following is a repost of Saberhagen's short story Predator.'''
==Predator==
Talavera sometimes thought that being on this kind of a patrol was in some ways a lot like hunting, walking the woods with a sporting weapon under your arm. But of course there were many other ways in which this business was a whole lot different.

Talavera was a radioman-gunner, and occupied the rear seat of the two-man recon ship. Whenever he raised his eyes from his own display panel and controls, he could look over Captain Colby’s shoulder, and when Colby happened to turn round in his combat chair, Talavera could see the captain’s face. At the moment, their small craft was a good many light years from Earth, trying to spy on a bigger Vasudan military vessel.

As it happened, Talavera’s instruments were the first to pick up the mysterious object, at a range of almost a thousand kilometers, and he called the captain’s attention to it at once. A minute later, the main detectors had locked on, and the onboard computer had matched the unknown object’s radar profile with that of a known type of Vasudan lifeboat.

"I’m going to get a little closer," said the captain tersely.

And when Colby had maneuvered to within ten kilometers of the object, there was no longer any doubt that what they had found was indeed a Vasudan lifeboat.

"Can’t have come here by itself," Colby muttered on the private intercom.

"No sir," Talavera agreed. It was obvious that a sizable enemy ship, almost certainly the one they had been looking for, was somewhere nearby, or had been recently.

The Terran recon craft was prowling on the outskirts of a solar system devoid of naturally habitable planets. But interspersed with the system’s lifeless planetary children were several thick belts of asteroids, many of the orbiting bodies not much more than dust particles. With this kind of configuration, the system offered endless opportunities for ships of any size to hide. The Vasudans were known to have done some mining here, for certain rare and important minerals, and a big part of the Terran recon mission was to learn more about that operation.

Now, at Colby’s orders, Talavera worked with swift delicacy to establish subspace radio contact with their home base, exchanging signals with an effective speed many times that of light. Breaking radio silence was always somewhat risky, though coding and carefully beamed transmission minimized the danger. But the discovery of an enemy lifeboat seemed to offer such a special opportunity that the captain considered it necessary to inform the people back at base, even before investigating further. The war between Vasuda and the Galactic Terran Alliance had now dragged on for almost fourteen standard Terran years, and by now each side was in some ways well known to the other; but the actual capture of any substantial amount of hardware was an uncommon event. And the fact of a lifeboat suggested the possibility of being able to take prisoners, and prisoners were always valuable.

Presently, the decoded voice of a Terran operations officer sounded from a speaker in the recon ship’s cabin. "You have to investigate, of course. But watch yourselves. Could be some kind of a booby trap, or trick."

"Yeah, thanks for nothing," Colby muttered aloud, to Talavera and to himself. Then, opening for transmission again, he responded officially: "Acknowledge, Base. Preparing for EVA."

Moving at the captain’s orders, Talavera put on his space suit, armed himself with a handgun--the only portable weapon available-- and went out through the airlock. A minute later he was approaching the enemy lifeboat, a stubby cylinder about ten meters long. As far as Terran instruments could tell, it wasn’t emitting any kind of beacon. There was no visible lock on the outer door of its airlock, only a simple handle by which, he supposed, it could be opened.

Using tightbeam communicator, Talavera reported on the situation to the captain, who was of course also watching through a small video camera mounted on the radioman-gunner’s shoulder. Colby had the recon ship’s modest armament focused on the lifeboat from a couple of kilometers away.

The next step, of course, was to look inside it. Talavera got his orders.

Pistol drawn, he went in. He could tell when the inner door of the lock opened that there was comfortable gravity inside, and the interior, virtually all one compartment, was nicely pressurized. But he kept his helmet on, and its airmikes picked up the sound of ragged breathing, from a single pair of lungs.

The cramped space he had now entered was dimly lit, and seemed to be almost filled with bunks. But only one of them was occupied. Talavera pointed his handgun, then slowly lowered it again.

There was only one Vasudan in the lifeboat, and he was badly wounded. There were bloodstains, some old, some fresh-looking, on the clothing and the bunk. The figure in the bunk had two arms, two legs, two eyes and a mouth, arranged in a basic body plan not too different from that of Terran humanity. But, as was normal for his race, the Vasudan’s skin was the texture of leather, mottled brown, and his four limbs appeared to be all bone and sinew where they protruded from its clothing.

The figure turned its head and looked at Talavera, and raised one empty hand in a feeble gesture, that might have been intended as a greeting.

Being taken prisoner was not necessarily the worst thing that could happen in this war--certainly not, if you were a Vasudan.

Moments later, the man in the bunk spoke to Talavera. "I have been trying to reach you. To reach your ship." The Vasudan’s voice came through clearly, processed into crisply enunciated Terran Standard by the little translator he was wearing, part of which was visible in the form of a small microphone projecting near his mouth. The translated and reprocessed mechanical voice sounded incongruously strong and healthy. "I have a message of transcendent importance for all your people."

"Sure you do," said Talavera immediately. He knew that the Vasudan translating devices worked both ways, and as soon as the words had left his mouth, he wondered if they would be rendered to his prisoner as a sincere expression of agreement, the exact opposite of his intention. But on second thought he supposed it didn’t matter in the least.

"Take it easy," he added. "I’ll be right back." Nodding to the Vasudan in what he hoped was a reassuring way, he turned and went back to the airlock, because he thought that from there it would be easier to confer with the captain. Their exchange of words was brief.

It would have been ideal if the recon ship could have towed the whole lifeboat home, but that was obviously impossible. Talavera hastily scanned the lifeboat’s interior for any small objects that might be of military value, but could identify nothing.

"Of transcendent importance," repeated the Vasudan when Talavera came back to him. Then he added: "Our former modes of conduct are inadequate."

Whatever. "All right, buddy, I’m not going to hurt you. Not as long as you admit that for you the war’s all over." And Talavera helped the wounded prisoner get his space helmet on before he tried to move him. He was able to leave the translator in place.

"The war is over for us all," the crisp mechanical voice responded, between intervals of ragged breathing. "The cleansing force of the ancients comes upon us."

Well, the translators weren’t perfect, Talavera reminded himself, after pondering that last remark for a moment. At least he didn’t think it sounded like anything a man would say who was determined to go on fighting.

The prisoner made no objection to being moved to the Terran ship, and the transfer was soon accomplished, the abandoned lifeboat left behind. Atmosphere and gravity inside the Terran ship were close enough to Vasudan standards for the prisoner to feel as comfortable as his wounds would let him.

While Captain Colby remained in the pilot’s seat, ready to take immediate action at the first sign of renewed enemy presence nearby, Talavera got the prisoner established in his own bunk, brought out the medical kit, and set about trying to bandage the worst of the alien body’s wounds. Terran and Vasudan were biologically similar in many ways, but also different enough so that Talavera didn’t want to attempt any additional treatment. If it had been an Earthman he was patching up, he wouldn’t have been optimistic about the patient’s chances for survival.

While Colby concentrated on getting his ship moving again, the Vasudan continued the conversation--actually it was more of a monologue--he had begun when he first laid eyes on Talavera. He kept talking, despite his injuries, and what must have been additional pain induced by Talavera’s clumsy treatment. He introduced himself as Tak--at least that was the way his name sounded, coming through translation. And he kept reminding the two Terrans that he had surrendered deliberately--at least that was how he saw the situation.

"Why did I do that? you must be asking yourselves."

"Because you had no choice?" asked Colby over his shoulder. In spite of all the other demands on his attention, maneuvering the ship and watching for the enemy, the captain was trying to listen with half an ear to what was going on in the cabin behind him.

Tak ignored the comment. His attitude, even flattened out and helpless as he was, seemed to say that he hadn’t come their ship to listen to them, but to preach. "And the answer is this: because there is something of overwhelming importance that must be explained to all the Terran people, on all their worlds. I come before you as the Hammer of Light."

"What was that?" asked Colby, frowning. "He comes before us as what?"

"Don’t know what he means, sir." Talavera had now returned to his own combat chair, sitting before his own controls and panel display. As gunner and radioman, he had plenty of things to keep him busy too. "Sounded like ‘Hammer of Light.’"

Time passed while Tak, strapped into Talavera’s bunk, kept gibbering about some great new Galactic force, before which all other beings must bow down. The "ancients," whoever they were, had known about this entity, but modern races had forgotten. Talavera was sure he heard the word "Shiva" once or twice. All his own memory could connect with that word was a vague image of some ancient Earthly god.

"Does he have a fever?" Colby asked his crewman, after a while. "The way he’s babbling."

"Damned if I could tell, captain. If he was an Earthman, I’d say no. Skin didn’t feel that hot."

The Terrans were were not bothering to restrict their talk to private intercom, and some of what they were saying to each other must have come through to the prisoner. He began to speak more slowly now, with pauses as if for thought, as if to refute the charge that he was babbling. But whether what he was saying actually made more sense was hard for Talavera to tell.

But presently, what Tak was telling his captors began to sound like important news indeed. He said his wounds were not the result of combat against another Terran ship, nor of an accident.

Now Talavera was paying attention to every word, though he kept his face turned toward his panel. Now and then the captain’s head swiveled round, and he glanced back at the occupied bunk. Unless Tak’s whole story was indeed a fever dream, it began to sound like there had indeed been serious mutiny aboard the Vasudan. A mutiny connected with, triggered by a dispute over, the same matter of overwhelming importance that Tak kept talking about. The immediate cause of rebellion had been the failure of some of the men on board--including, it sounded like, the spacecraft commander and most of the officers--to see and acknowledge the glorious truth that the Hammer of Light proclaimed to them.

Captain Colby turned his head again, caught his crewman’s eye, and made a gesture indicating that he wanted to communicate on intercom. When they had both switched over to throat mikes and headsets, and the prisoner, and the prisoner’s translator, would presumably be unable to hear their conversation, the captain said. "Talavera, this could be very big news. Better get on the horn to Base again."

"Yessir." With every reason to believe that a powerful enemy was somewhere near, normal procedure called for maintaining radio silence. But the information now being conveyed by the prisoner sounded important enough to make the risk of signaling worthwhile. Whatever the true nature of Tak’s transcendent force of Light might be, whether any such thing actually existed or not, the report that some Vasudan spacers were ready to mutiny over it was news of the first significance.

Presently the voice of the operations officer at base was coming through again. "Captain Colby, can you induce your prisoner to talk some more?"

"I don’t think you understand, Base. So far, getting him to talk has not been a problem. Getting him to shut up might become one, if he keeps jabbering like this."

"Are you recording what he says?"

Colby glanced back at Talavera, who shook his head. "Negative, Base. We haven’t been, so far. We’re both of us already trying to do about three things at once."

Just flying the ship, in this locale so thick with dust and rocks, was anything but routine. Before Colby could dash for home with his prisoner, he had to maneuver to the proper subspace node, and that meant some groping and jockeying in normal space; his autopilot could accomplish most of this maneuvering, but the captain had to keep an eye on the process. Talavera was fully alert also, but while going through the routines of his job he had time also to talk to the prisoner.

When Talavera felt able to look away from his panel for a little while, he turned his head and asked the prisoner: "So, tell me again, Tak, what happened on your ship? I’m not sure I understood you the first time. How’d you get hurt?"

The wounded man seemed to be trying, and what he said was at least consistent with his earlier story. Not all Vasudans, apparently, were willing to see the Light, obvious as its truth must be to all right-thinking beings. Some kind of mutiny had indeed flared up on his warship--the Hammer of Light rebels had been in a distinct minority, and had failed to take over the vessel. The most they had been able to achieve had been the freeing of one of their number in a lifeboat, to carry on the work of spreading the all-important message.

Seeing that he had the full attention of one of his captors, at least for the moment, Tak kept emphasizing, trying to pound the point home with feeble gestures, that this transcendent Galactic force--Shiva, again--foretold by the Ancient Ones, was even now present, or very near.

"You mean near us in space? Near this ship, this very moment?"

"That is what I mean. But the fools on my own ship would not believe me when I tried to warn them." And there Tak had to pause for a spasm of ragged breathing.

At the captain’s urging, Talavera attempted some interrogation on what seemed to the Terrans to be more practical matters. But questioning Tak about the size of the Vasudan vessel from which he had escaped did little good; it was like pulling teeth to get him to discuss its type, armament, or its original mission. His conversation was almost totally confined to one subject. But virtually everything he said confirmed, at least indirectly, the existence of serious conflict dividing the crew of the Vasudan warship.

Tak himself was a fanatical member of what seemed to be a religious-philosophical sect, calling themselves something that translated as the Hammer of Light, that had to some extent broken away from the rest of the Vasudan race.

And again and again that mysterious name kept coming up: something, or someone, whose name came through the squawker in translation as Shiva, or the Shivans. The position taken by the extremist, Hammer of Light heretics was that the Shivans should not, must not, be resisted.

"Do you know, Terrans, anything of the ancient legends of my people?"

"Not a whole lot," admitted Captain Colby, cautiously.

There was nothing Tak wanted more than to educate his captors on that subject. Pausing now and then for a sip of water, he talked on. Talavera and the captain learned of the fatalistic legends, the stories of the Ancient Ones. Much of what the Vasudan said was obscure to his audience, and remained so even when Tak tried to explain. But one idea was coming through more or less clearly now: that of an avenging power or force, by which the Galaxy sought to keep its subspace levels free of intruding vermin. "And Shiva is very near. Shiva was almost upon my ship when I left it."

"The vermin is us, I suppose?" Colby asked over his shoulder. "Terrans in general?"

"Terrans and Vasudans too," said the clear, energetic voice from Tak’s mechanical squawker. The wounded Vasudan seemed to think no better of his own people than he did of their long-time opponents in the war.

Colby and Talavera weren’t even entirely sure that they were getting Tak’s message straight--there might be problems in translation, or their prisoner might indeed be delirious. Quite possibly both conditions were in effect.

Talavera tried to sum it up. "So. You mutinied because you thought your captain was wrong, in his determination to resist this Shiva--whatever it is, exactly?"

"The commander of my ship was wrong even to try to get away from Shiva. Shiva will find him yet . . . " There was more, compelling in a way because it was so repetitious.

Talavera was getting the definite impression that their Vasudan prisoner had studied Terran history and mythology. He might be babbling, out of his head at times, but he wasn’t ignorant. Tak knew who Earthly Shiva was, and thought his character a good match for the legendary entity that had haunted the Vasudans from the epoch of their most ancient records.

The clear voice of the wounded man went on and on, militant, almost hypnotic. Talavera was beginning to get an eerie feeling that, in a way, he and Captain Colby were the prisoners.

And now, the area of most dangerous maneuvering within the system had been reached. "The node is near now," muttered the captain. "Just a little farther--"

And that was the point at which the Vasudan ship attacked. As the captain feared, they had probably been waiting in ambush at the node.

Talavera thought the Vasudan vessel was almost certainly the one from which Tak had defected; but whether it was the same or not made little difference, as it came hurtling out of a dust cloud’s concealment toward Colby’s ship.

For just a moment before the enemy struck, Talavera could hear it coming. The sound of a ship’s passage through airless space might be heard aboard another ship, through the medium of the wave of virtual particles that a passage at such speed evoked.

The interior of the little recon craft was suddenly filled with slamming impacts, deafening noise, the blinding flare of weapons, brutal acceleration despite the buffering effect of interior gravity. Colby fought his ship as best he could, Talavera used skillfully such weapons as he had available, but in moments it was obvious that they were about to be overwhelmed by superior Vasudan force. At least there was only one enemy ship, and it must have been weakened somewhat by internal combat, that had cost it at least part of its crew. But it was still too strong for the lightly armed Terran recon craft. Nothing that Talavera or Colby could throw at the Vasudan made a dent in its defenses.

Again, the great, slamming impacts of near misses and minor hits.

The Terran’s hull had been breached once, and Talavera could feel a trickle of blood coming down his forehead. It was lucky for him and for the ship that he did not lose consciousness, because fragments from the same blast had injured the captain too. Colby was slumping in his seat.

Fortunately, the hull was self-sealing, and the ship still functional. They were not dead yet, though they were very near it.

Colby, before passing out, managed to break contact with the enemy, but he couldn’t get far away enough to hide, and his situation was now hopeless.

"Captain. Captain?" Talavera tried for a while on intercom, and then gave up.

Seeing that the spacecraft commander had been seriously wounded, Talavera was able to activate an emergency set of dual controls, and from his gunner’s position assumed command of all ship’s systems. Colby, still strapped into his combat chair, was drifting in and out of consciousness, but part of the time he could at least watch what was going on.

On his screens Talavera could see the enemy, the Vasudan destroyer, once more coming after them for the kill.

In his desperation, Talavera manipulated his subspace radio equipment in such a way as to broadcast freespace vibrations, at top volume and all across the available frequency spectrum. The recon ship was letting out the loudest howl that it could utter.

Colby had regained consciousness in time to observe his radioman’s action. "What the hell are you doing, Talavera? Give me back the con--" And by using the master switch that was on his panel, the controls of course were his for the taking.

But the captain’s protest was in vain, his action came too late to interfere with what his crewman had just done.

Moments later, just as the little recon ship was about to be destroyed, a ship of a kind that neither Terran had ever seen before responded, bursting out of subspace through what appeared to be a red hole in the fabric of reality. The captain was on intercom again, shouting something, but Talavera didn’t know what, he couldn’t listen. All he could do was watch, as the incredible shape went pouncing--there seemed no other word for it--on the lesser Vasudan predator that had been about to blast the Terran recon vessel out of existence.

Talavera might be temporarily paralyzed by what he saw, but Colby wasn’t. He had now reclaimed command, and the stranger’s miraculous intervention gave him the second or two he needed to microjump in intra-system distance, getting to a node that allowed him to escape at interstellar speed a few moments later. In moments, the strange conflict they had glimpsed was billions of kilometers behind.

Colby slumped again.

Talavera got the controls back. This time, since the captain’s override had already been used once, it was necessary for him to stumble his half-dazed way over to the captain’s position and flip the main switch back again.

Then the wounded gunner moved unsteadily over to his bunk, now stained with Vasudan blood, and looked down at the wounded occupant. "You were right," he said to Tak. "Shiva was coming for us. Shiva came. I watched it take your ship."

"Blessed be the Light," breathed Tak.

"But," said Talavera, "Shiva’s not getting this one." He put out a hand and grabbed a nearby stanchion, to emphasize which ship he meant.

Tak looked at him. "Then why did you call it?" And at the same time, the voice of the wounded captain sounded from behind him. Colby had managed to rally one more time.

"Talavera. What the hell did you think you were doing there, sending a beacon for them? I saw that transmission, high-volume, in the clear. I could charge you with treason. Mutiny."

Talavera dragged himself back to his own seat, where he slumped down wearily. "I wasn’t giving up, captain. I was hoping to get help. Didn’t figure it was much of a chance, but it was the only chance I could see. And I think it worked."

Colby was looking at him blankly.

The gunner sighed, and tried again. "Ever spend much time out in the woods, captain? No, not where you come from. I have, though." He paused, letting his gaze drift around the cabin, looking for the words he needed. "Small animal, hunted by a big one. Almost always the little one keeps as quiet as it can, the same as it tries to stay out of sight.

"But when it knows it’s almost caught--I mean right at the last damn moment, when the pearly gates are yawning--or the big pearly teeth--then there’s just one more move that it can make. That’s when it gives up on keeping quiet, and saving breath, and lets out the loudest scream it’s got.

"There’s a reason it does that: there just might be an even bigger predator somewhere near; and if there is, and the big one hears the scream, it knows there’s game on hand. And if the big one comes on the scene before the screamer’s dead--well, it’s a whole new game, and just maybe the little screamer can get away.

"Captain, after what our guy here told us, about Shiva and all that, I thought there was a fair chance that we had a bigger predator nearby. Well, maybe only a small chance. But better than none." And he looked at his commanding officer hopefully.

But the captain was not going to understand, though his eyes were open and he looked thoughtful. With a chill running along the back of his neck, Talavera realized that the captain had just died, before his radioman could learn whether or not his explanation had been believed.

As for the Vasudan . . .

Turning his gaze in that direction, Talavera found it practically impossible to read emotion on the alien face, any more than he could hear it in Tak’s voice as it came through the translator. Tak drew a deep breath and asked him: "Where is this ship now?"

"On its way home," Talavera said, and watched another indecipherable change spread over the dying Vasudan’s face.

Eventually he did manage to raise home base again on subspace radio, and let them know what had been happening. Again, he went through a brief explanation of his survival maneuver.

After a pause, the operations officer at the other end commented: "Evidently your tactic worked."

Talavera wondered if they were only humoring the distant victim of injury and battle shock, speaking to him soothingly. In imagination he could hear the dialogue in Operations: Agree to anything he says. He said he had a head wound. Just get him to bring the ship back to base. After turning the transmitter off he repeated to himself: "Any chance is better than none."

"It’s finished me," said Tak’s translator, into the quiet cabin, and fell silent. Talavera got up and went to look over the Vasudan, and made sure that he too was dead.

Turning his body awkwardly in the cramped space, he made his way back to his combat chair. Controls in hand, he could feel reasonably confident that he was on his way home.

Of course neither he nor Colby had ever got around to recording anything their prisoner had said. Bringing in a dead Vasudan would offer some support for Talavera’s story. Not nearly as much, of course, as he might have got from a live witness, an intelligent being who could have given corroborating evidence, preaching his gospel of surrender.

Now Talavera could only hope that he would be believed when he got back to base--if he got back to base, for it was by no means certain that his damaged ship was going to make it. And he could only hope that if he lived to get there, they wouldn’t put him in the ward of raving psychos. Because he was going to have to stick to his story, and the story was that something else was out there in deep space, something large and terrible, powerful enough to crunch up tough Vasudan battle craft like pretzels.

Shiva.

If the Terran Alliance was going to survive, its leaders were going to have to believe Talavera, when he came to warn them. What they would be able to do then, how they might try to deal with Shiva, Talavera couldn’t guess. But before they did anything they would have to be convinced.

If only some other Terran spacer, somewhere else, could also catch a glimpse of Shiva’s face, and bring home the word . . .

==Related links==
http://web.archive.org/web/19991010002252/http://www.interplay.com/freespace/stories/story1.html

[[Category:Canon reference]]

A Veteran of the Great War

2013-02-05T00:20:02Z

SypheDMar: Four?

'''''A Veteran of the Great War''''' is an official short story written by Brian M. Thomsen and published by [[Interplay]]. It is not known if it is considered canon, though it is generally not regarded as canon because there are many inconsistencies between the five stories published by Interplay and the [[FreeSpace 1|game]] itself. [[Volition]] does not seem to have been involved with the stories, either. However, there are no confirmations from Volition itself.

'''The following is a repost of Thomsen's short story A Veteran of the Great War.'''
==A Veteran of the Great War==
Archer had stopped wondering what his father, the hero of the Great War, would have done in a given situation while he was still back in boot camp.

The answer had always been simple, his duty.

Somehow doubt not, delay not had lost it's luster as a battle- hymn mantra after the treaty with the Vasudans had been announced. He always had a problem with unquestioningly following orders from those who now supported alliance with the inhuman bastards who had killed his father, even if every fiber of his conditioned body and implant-enhanced reflexes reminded him that such doubts and delays were in direct contradiction to his duty.

"Yo, Archer!" Athans hailed from the cockpit of his fighter that was subspacially moored on Archer's flank. "You awake?"

"That's an affirmative," Archer mentally v-mailed back to his comrade-in-arms of three months via the subspace communication implants, adding, "not that it's any of your business, lard-ass."

"Oooh, I love it when you v-mail dirty to me."

V-mail was one of the great blessings and curses of the life of subspace fighters. Talking interrupted breathing thus wasting mils of nano-liters of oxygen. Cerebral implants with senders and receivers made intra-thought communication at close proximity as easy as e-mail. It wasn't really practical in populated areas, but out here in an isolated outpost, stuck guarding a subspace node where vacuum and silence were understatements, everything worked just fine.

"How's it hanging with the friggin' new guys?"

"Pretty quiet, a bit v-shy if you know what I mean, but you know how it is being a FNG."

Archer and Athans were old friends and comrades-in-arms having served together for over two weeks now, though they had never met face-to-face to shake hands. All of the other members of the squadron had only logged in within the past forty-eight hours, having converged on this spot from all directions.

"Any idea when this party is supposed to start?"

"Whenever they get here," Archer replied, and in the back of his mind out of v-mail range, privately added, and they shall not pass.

Archer closed his eyes and retreated back into internal solitude and amused himself with the revelation that he was actually wondering what his father would be thinking about in this situation...what did he think about as he prepared himself to meet death ... did he know it was coming the way Archer knew now?

Archer had just arrived home from school for his yearly three week academic-free period and was greeted by the sounds of his normally stoic mother's uncontrollable sobs. He rushed to her room in barely enough time to see the holo-gram from his father fade into the ether.

"He's not coming back," she cried. "He's dead! They send a stinking hologram of him to me to say that he is dead, with details to follow later."

Archer had heard rumors that some of his classmates knew about the holo-grams from first-hand experience since the Galactic Terran Alliance had decided that bad news was best conveyed to loved ones by a loved one and had thus adopted the absurd policy of having all warriors holographically record messages to their families concerning their own demise, dismemberment, or incapacitation, ... but he didn't really believe that their great leaders could be that stupid and inhuman.

They were and they were.

Archer put his arm around his mother and rocked her gently until she escaped into a catatonic ball on the bed that she had formerly shared with the love of her life. He drew a blanket over her and went downstairs to await the red-tape team who followed such announcements once the initial shock had been administered. There would be a Galactic Terran Alliance bureaucrat, a doctor, and supposedly someone who had actually known his dad to spend an allotted period with the "surviving kin."

"I don't know which I hate more - the waiting or the carnage," Archer v-mailed to no one in particular.

"What?" Athans answered back in incredulity.

"Maybe I've been out here too long."

"Yeah," Athans agreed with a sigh that suggested a hint of reassurance on Archer's own sanity, "all of us who survive are."

And the survivors shall inherit the red tape.

The red-tape team was late, and didn't arrive until after Archer had already called EMS for help with his mother. They said they would get back to him. That was two days ago.

The red-tape team arrived on the next day, five days after the holo-gram had brought the grim reaper to their family. They apologized for their tardiness but confessed that they were greatly overworked, an admission that no doubt would be denied if any of the media decided to make it public.

Archer was reassured by the three men that his mother was going to be alright. They had drugs and implants to help you deal with grief and sorrow, and most people were able to bounce back to normal duty within a few days of the loss of a loved one, even if that person was the one who they believed gave their life meaning. Archer hoped that they were right.

Colonel Adkins, a pudgy and pale bureaucrat disguised as a warrior, put his arm around the shoulders of the now half-orphaned Archer and gave his heart-to-heart spiel that was probably 95% canned from previous errands of mercy and compassion, and said, "I know, son, that no words can possibly describe the sense of loss you are feeling right now."

Archer nodded, trying to ignore the discomfort and awkwardness of the sagging weight that felt like the paw of an out-of-shape albino yeti, that was draped around his shoulders and drawing him closer, hoping that this part of the grieving would be over soon.

"His death is a loss for all of us," Adkins continued (in a manner that Archer would later realize was probably a direct download from some data that had been impersonally programmed into this mouthpiece). "He was a great ... fighter pilot ... and a credit to his squadron. No one hated the Vasudan devils more, nor earned their fear ... uh ... more fearsomely. I assure you that he did not die in vein and took a few devils with him."

Archer nodded again, hoping that he was finished. The blubbery paw was beginning to make him sweat despite the clima-control sensors of the living room.

"His buddies always spoke well of him..."

Archer remembered that his father made fun of those losers that he was stationed with in the holos that he sent home.

"...and they send their condolences as well..."

Archer remembered that their feelings towards his father were mutual.

"...and they look forward to the day that you will be fighting with them side by side, kicking some alien butt."

Archer quickly sank to a sit on the floor, surprising Adkins and temporarily sending him off balance and mercifully curtailing his caterwauling of condolences.

"Archer," Athans v-mailed, "how did you get out here?"

"I turned right at the last asteroid belt."

"C'mon, I mean, how did you wind up as a fighter jock? I can sense from the edges of your v-mail that you have more cerebral potential than the average grunt."

One of the disadvantages of v-mail, Archer thought to himself, is that sometimes more can be given away than a sender might intend.

"I really don't know," Archer replied uneasily. "Maybe it was my father. Maybe it was my mother. It was the only thing that made sense, or at least more sense than what I was doing before."

The drugs and the implants didn't work for Archer's mom. The doctors claimed that she must have been unbalanced prior to the trauma, and was apparently beyond reasonable limits of therapy as laid out by the conventions dictated for the surviving loved ones of the great war.

The Galactic Terran Alliance would cover all of the expenses for the duration of her husband's tour of duty (at least another nine months) and these benefits could be extended provided that another warrior was brought in to claim her as a dependent.

Still slightly numb from his father's death, and not quite finished with what would be his last three week academic-free period, Archer enlisted to follow in his father's footsteps as a fighter pilot, and kill the damned Vasudans who were responsible for the hijacking of his life.

All through basic training, he cursed the Vasudans. He claimed his motivations were to honor his father (to do his duty) and to protect his mother and the world that was his home, but in reality his motivation was one word : hatred.

Hatred of the Vasudans, the enemy that he had not yet met.

And with his graduation from bootcamp came an announcement.

They are now our allies?

"Yo, Athans."

"Yeah."

"How did you first hear about the Shivans?"

"Didn't hear about them. Saw them."

"Wow!"

"Yeah, wow. I was there that first time around outpost Riviera."

"So, you've been at this for awhile now," Archer asked, now trying to conceal his surprise that his v-mail buddy of the past weeks was probably old enough to be a contemporary of his father.

"You could say that."

"I already did, old timer."

Before his inaugural assignment came through, Archer put in a specific request to his temporary commanding officer that he be given a hardship dispensation that would limit his duty to non-Vasudan allied missions and assignments, given the obvious conflicts that he felt working with the inhuman murderers of his father.

The TCO (yet another pasty faced bureaucrat whose warrior fighter status had to have been obtained as a desk jockey) conveyed great empathy and sympathy, and offered him a place in the experimental bio-cyber-implant program which was, at the present time at least, off-limits to their alien allies.

Archer hesitated for a moment and waited for another choice. None was forthcoming.

He had heard about the BCI program and the rumors that more than a handful of fighter jocks had had their brains scrambled beyond therapy as part of pre-implementation testing, and that a few had even opted for `the euth alternative' ... but those were just rumors, and the current reports gave every sign of the successful implementation of the program specifically in far flight combat programs.

Archer signed the release that would schedule him to be prepped for surgery immediately on that, his first day of active duty.

"Athans?"

"Yeah."

"How did an oldster like you get involved in the BCI program?"

"I was part of the gamma phase."

"The gamma phase?"

"Yeah."

"They never told any of my crew that there were different phase groups involved."

"They probably didn't tell you a lot of things."

Archer knew that was true, and sighed.

Archer made it through the surgery with nary a setback. The cysurgeon in charge of his case offered that his gray matter took to the filament mesh that networked the cybernetic implants like geezer geeks to a Trek convention.

All of the things he worried about in bootcamp, the stumbling blocks of average reflexes that got in the way of targeting and maneuvering and would probably have relegated him to, at best, the second seat of a two man fighter, had miraculously disappeared ... and it felt good.

Archer realized that the overwhelming sense of wellness that he felt upon being able to do his duty beyond his wildest dream was probably a direct result of hormones that were coursing through his system at the direct instigation of the implants to aid in its own assimilation into his being.

He didn't mind; he just wanted to get into a cockpit and go kill aliens, and if he had to settle for just Shivans that would be quite alright with him.

"Athans, you ever kill a Vasudan?"

"The Vasudans and the Galactic Terran Alliance are allies," he replied not answering the question.

"What about before the alliance?"

"No."

Archer paused in his thoughts for a minute, musing that if this had been a 20th century war movie he would probably be lighting up a nic-stick or something.

"They were bad for your health," Athans interrupted.

"What?" Archer asked, shaken back to the present and out of private thought mode.

"Nic-sticks," Athans replied. "Congress tried to outlaw them. Said they caused cancer."

"So what?" Archer replied, realizing that he was going to have to concentrate harder on blocking his private thoughts. "Everything did back then."

"I guess that's why it never got outlawed."

"I guess," Archer v-mailed, and then changing the subject back to the original topic. "How about those Hammer of Light Vasudans?"

"What about them?"

"Ever kill any?"

"Nope."

"Well, I did."

"Wow."

"My first time out, too."

Archer had been sent out on a typical long-range patrol mission around the apex point of the GIGAK node when all hell broke loose.

His head was immediately filled with sensation and data and he instinctively veered his cyber-enhanced GTF Valkyrie 50 degrees by 45 degrees geo-starboard towards the emanations of battle (the top of the line scientific researchers and advisors had discovered that the Shivans left high levels of negatively charged meson particles strewn through the areas of space that served as their battlegrounds and had adjusted the cyber-senses of the fighters and the pilots within to respond accordingly).

When he arrived at the scene of carnage, which turned out to be back towards the node from which his patrol had originally begun, a Shivan Superdestroyer was already retreating back into Freespace as a squadron of Vasudan fighters seemed to be strafing a mortally wounded Terran Fenris Cruiser.

Yeah, they're our allies, the xenophobic young cyber pilot thought to himself as he lit into the alien squadron with both of his Prometheus lasers, and the battlecry, "Eat light!"

Two rebel Vasudan fighters burst into great balls of fire as the rest of their number regrouped against the interloper who had interrupted their final acts of deliverance for the crippled Fenris Cruiser.

"Valkyrie, can you hear me?" Archer heard in his head."This is the GTF Cruiser Orsonscottcard."

"Affirmative," Archer v-mailed back. "How did you piss off the Vasudans? I thought they were our allies."

"Switch to stealth mode, now!"

Archer obeyed, narrowly missing a leftover proximity bomb, and temporarily confusing the attacking squadron who had almost drawn a bead on him.

"Thanks."

"Those fighters," the Terran contact on board the Orsonscottcard continued, "are renegades Vasudans, members of the Hammer of Light."

Immediately Archer's head was filled with all of the necessary data on his opponents. The accompanying rush however was not caused by the implants but rather by the overwhelming joy he felt about finally being able to kill some Vasudans.

Armed with the appropriate skills and training as well as the updated data on his opponent, Archer went to work, v-mailing, "We'll continue this conversation later. I got me some killin' to do."

Archer readjusted his weapon battery, maintaining one of the Prometheus lasers while replacing the other with an avenger cannon. Without his enhancements there would have been no way that he would have been able to maintain controlled and targeted fire with both weapons while maneuvering his ship in and out of enemy fire, but with them it was as easy as falling in a vortex.

His secondary systems were also armed at capacity though Archer knew that he would have to be exceptionally discriminating in his choices there to avoid further damaging the wounded cruiser, or any of its fighters who might have temporarily exited the theater of conflict. He decided to stick with the stilettos as they were made for melee combat.

Archer counted six Hammer of Light fighters remaining, all directing their efforts in search of him as he dropped out of stealth mode and back into combat form, christening an unwary opponent with a stiletto to announce his presence with an enemy ball of flame.

Three down, five to go, he thought to himself, odds almost even.

The element of surprise gone, the young fighter pilot took drastic evasive action, buzzing his prey at close quarters in hopes that his opponents would be reluctant to shoot out of fear of hitting one of their own.

The invasive and immediate presence of a fireball on his right proved this assumption to be wrong as a Vasudan laser ignited the enemy ship he had barely just cleared.

That's four with an assist, he noted, and all bets are off.

A partial barrel roll into an inverted loop-the-loop brought his fighter face-to-face with the enemy that he had left in his wake, as his cannons alternated shots across the expanse of space that was his battlefield. Hammer down in rapid fire, Archer cut a zig-zag path between his prey avoiding the deadly bolts of light that were aimed towards him, the Vasudans' reaction time downright sluggish in comparison to his faster-than-light reflexes.

Five in flames, another notch.

Blam Craaaaaak!

A heat splay spread across his canopy, almost cracking it's integrity.

No time to get cocky now. I'll keep score later.

The Vasudan fighter whose grazing shot had almost exposed Archer to the vacuums of space or the flames of laser fire was trying to retreat for a second, perhaps better targeted pass through the line of fire.

Archer's newly released stiletto was all the urging it needed to change its coarse marginally to the port and directly into the line of fire of his Prometheus and on into fiery oblivion.

Blam Rurrrk!

He was hit again but everything seemed fine. No structural damage ... but the weapons' banks didn't seem to respond.

Cripes, he thought, the system must be rebooting and I don't know if I have the room to wait for it to come back on line.

The remaining two Hammer of Light kamikazes had reached the apex of their loops and were now baring down on him from opposite directions, and the weapons were still off-line.

Here goes nothing, Archer thought, hoping that his reflexes (and those of his ship) were as good as he thought they were. Solely through his concentration and focus, the young pilot set his course directly between the two enemies who were just about ready to fire, charging ahead at full speed, and then reversing thruster in just enough time to witness the midspace collision of his adversaries.

"Well done, Valkyrie," the Orsonscottcard hailed. "I'm glad a polished pro like you showed up in time to save our bacon."

"Old pro nothing," Archer replied. "I just popped my cherry."

"Regular war hero, huh?"

"Not really," Archer v-mailed, "they did register me for a medal though, although they never mentioned whether it was for saving the Orsonscottcard or for scattering Vasudan ass into space."

"You know the Hammer of Light don't speak for all Vasudans?"

"Yeah, I know, and that's fine by me. I don't really care about them except that they are authorized fodder for my kill list."

"How many you up to?"

"I lost count," Archer v-mailed absently. "After the first fifty or so, it didn't really seem to matter any more."

Now it was just doing his duty, though he sometimes wondered whether that was at the instigation of his implants as well.

Archer did a visual on all of his ship's sensors and determined that all was still quiet around the node. He tried to convince himself that perhaps the qualifier on his designated course of action had switched from "when they come" to "if they come" but also realized that such thoughts were just mind games to pass the time.

Just mind games.

Archer began to have second thoughts about his implants after a tabloid reporter for the galactic net asked him if he purposely always placed himself in danger in order to compete for the most dangerous missions. Verbally he dismissed such notions as just another way of referring to the duty of any warrior for the Galactic Terran Alliance, when he realized that he hadn't even taken a second to consider his response before he said it as if this action too was being enhanced by the implants.

Enhanced? ... maybe controlled.

After that he became more cautious in his accepting of assignments, fighting back the urge to volunteer in favor of just going with luck of the draw assignments. Eventually he was permanently assigned to duty on a supercarrier, the Pournelleniven. By that time the ranks of warrior fighter pilots had become homogenized enough that his being part of the BCI program no longer seemed to matter. He did manage, however, to avoid any close quarters with the Galactic Terran Alliance's alien allies, and that suited him just fine.

Each new assignment seemed to station him further and further from earth, not that the distance from `home' really mattered since he had learned that his mother had been diagnosed as terminally catatonic and now only eligible for maintenance rather than actual constructive treatment. Friends from the neighborhood, as well as family all had fallen out of contact, and with the exception of the memory of his place of birth, Earth was now just another place on the great list of places he had been.

The Pournelleniven came under heavy attack from two Shivan destroyers who had silently managed to slip out of Freespace and strategically box the supercarrier in. Squadrons of fighters and heavily armed Shivan commandoes managed to swarm the GTF vessel before the allied forces had managed to get off a single retaliatory wave. Archer and several others who were out on patrol managed to return in enough time to cause enough of a diversion to allow a few bombers and transports to get off before the entire carrier imploded under the strain of the Shivan attack, it's shields finally going down in a synchronization with the blowing of the ship's reactor in a valiant command maneuver of boobytrap harikari that managed to mortally wound one of the two enemy destroyers and untold Shivan warriors.

The other destroyer blocked Archer and the remnants of the supercarrier's contingent from using the node as an escape to Freespace, and the young fighter pilot knew that it would only be a short time before he and his allies were destroyed by the Shivans in the course of normal attrition of an under-armed force against an enemy stronghold, but he also knew that he and his men would die trying to defy the odds against them.

In no time at all, the size of Archer's contingent was already halved, and his own ship was beginning to show signs of malfunction when the calvary, in the form of a rag-tag squadron of allied fighters who spewed forth from the remanents of a GTF carrier who barely managed to pass out from the node before self-destructing.

Athans was one of the surviving fighters from the ailing carrier whose swansong was to provide the necessary support to defeat the surviving Shivan destroyer and blow it to meson particle hell.

The Shivan destroyer destroyed, the combined surviving allied squadron was soon picked up by another supercarrier who escorted them through the node through freespace to yet another node further out where they were left as an advance guard. The pilots were briefed while in their cockpits as there was not sufficient time to allow the flyers to exit their crafts and undergo the transitional decompression that went with transferring from inspace to oncarrier environs. Less than a few hours had transpired in transit though Archer and the others still wished they had had the opportunity to stretch their legs, shower, and or relieve themselves in a manner that didn't involve the internal evacuation of a section of one's flightsuit.

As the supercarrier passed back through freespace, it send a message to all members of the guarding squadron that relief and transport back would arrive in due time.

None of the fighter pilots took this seriously as they all figured that they would probably be dead before it ever arrived if such a transport accommodation was really planned.

"Yo, Athans"

"Yeah."

"Never asked you where you were coming from when you bailed my ass out two weeks ago. I mean like what happened with your carrier."

"It imploded."

"Duh."

"It was on its last legs and we knew that we wouldn't be able to accomplish our primary objective and settled for the secondary, namely rescuing your cruiser."

"What was your primary?"

"The Vasudan evacuation."

"The what?"

"The Vasudan evacuation. The entire home world was destroyed. Didn't you hear about it?"

"No. I guess Galactic Terran Alliance didn't think it was necessary. I mean what's a few more or less aliens after all."

"Heads up," Athans interrupted, "the perimeter's being breached!"

By the time Athans had finished his statement, Archer was already aware that endgame was in sight. Their duty was to defend this node or die trying.

A Shivan supercarrier armed to the gills loomed out of the darkness of space.

"It's going to try to make a run through the node and into Terran space," Athans announced to the squadron.

"Why isn't she launching her fighters against us?" Archer queried.

"She wants to make it through intact. She probably figures her defensive armor and weapons would be enough to handle us."

"Well here goes nothing," Archer instigated.

"No," Athans commanded, taking charge of the squadron, "there's bound to be more following her. We should wait until she is about to enter Freespace, and then set on her with everything we have."

Archer was taken aback by the no-nonsense control mode that his buddy of the past few weeks had assumed. Had he had a second or two to think about it, he might have realized that they had never exchanged ranks in any of their conversations, but now was not the time for such frivolities.

Archer did his duty and assumed his position in the GTF semi-circle that framed the node.

"Archer, set your retros on automatic reverse shut-off."

The young fighter pilot complied without even thinking about it.

The carrier was on the node now as the flyers began their attack. Archer and Athans dogfought the stationary cannons, while Athans's comrades utilized their diversion to loop around to the rear of the supercarrier and seemed to dock on the rear end of the deck.

Archer was too busy with his flying to question their actions when an errant EMP wave disabled his core, leaving him defenseless and motionless as the carrier passed beneath him.

Athans maneuvered his ship to join the others, but then deviated from the course and headed towards the disabled Archer using secondary thrusters to propel both his ship and Archer's away from the carrier as it began to simultaneously slip into Freespace and erupt into flame as the GTF flyers on its hull ignited with the force of ten full payloads of N1 Harbingers ripping through the Shivan warship and destroying the node in mid-passage.

Archer was simultaneously blinded by the flash of the explosion and rocked back by the massive g-forces that were unimpeded by the vacuum of space as his ship now magnetically docked to Athans's turned nose over tail through space.

The son of the veteran of the great war knew he had done his duty and blacked out.

Archer came to in the second seat of the Vasudan named Athans's fighter cockpit, his own ship having sustained too much damage from the g-wave to maintain its own integrity.

Athans commanded him to relax against the oversized co-pilot section as he explained:

"Initially it didn't occur me to introduce myself as a Vasudan. The cerebral implants eliminated the normal syntactical communication problems, and when I realized your true feelings about my race, I was afraid it might get in the way, and since you were the only human in the squad..."

"The only human?"

"That is correct," he replied. "You were right about this being basically a suicide mission. I knew that if our reinforcements didn't pass through the node to assist us, we would have to destroy the node to avoid their forces from reaching Terran airspace and destroying the supercarrier in mid-passage was the only way. Originally that is what we were trying as an experiment with my original forces when we came to your rescue. The problem was that the integrity of the ship's hold held until it had already made it through and as a result the node survived. That gave us the knowledge that the only way to destroy it was to literally blow it in mid-passage. Not before and not after, but during. That is why my comrades held their payloads until there was no turning back. They, as you say, knew their duty, and did it."

"Why did you pull out at the last moment?"

"I don't know," Athans conceded. "Maybe I didn't want you to die out here alone..."

Archer had already realized that with the node destroyed there was no going home.

"...or maybe I just didn't want you to die without knowing that I was a Vasudan."

Archer smiled and closed his eyes as the internal injuries of his body began to cause it to shut down. His last thoughts were that maybe not all Vasudans were bad, and that maybe he should have finished high school before becoming a veteran of the great war himself.

==Related links==
http://web.archive.org/web/19991104115018/http://www.interplay.com/freespace/stories/story5.html

[[Category:Canon reference]]

A Veteran of the Great War

2013-02-05T00:16:35Z

SypheDMar: Created page with "'''''A Veteran of the Great War''''' is an official short story written by Brian M. Thomsen and published by Interplay. It is not known if it is considered canon, though it i…"

'''''A Veteran of the Great War''''' is an official short story written by Brian M. Thomsen and published by [[Interplay]]. It is not known if it is considered canon, though it is generally not regarded as canon because there are many inconsistencies between the four stories published by Interplay and the [[FreeSpace 1|game]] itself. [[Volition]] does not seem to have been involved with the stories, either. However, there are no confirmations from Volition itself.

'''The following is a repost of Thomsen's short story A Veteran of the Great War.'''
==A Veteran of the Great War==
Archer had stopped wondering what his father, the hero of the Great War, would have done in a given situation while he was still back in boot camp.

The answer had always been simple, his duty.

Somehow doubt not, delay not had lost it's luster as a battle- hymn mantra after the treaty with the Vasudans had been announced. He always had a problem with unquestioningly following orders from those who now supported alliance with the inhuman bastards who had killed his father, even if every fiber of his conditioned body and implant-enhanced reflexes reminded him that such doubts and delays were in direct contradiction to his duty.

"Yo, Archer!" Athans hailed from the cockpit of his fighter that was subspacially moored on Archer's flank. "You awake?"

"That's an affirmative," Archer mentally v-mailed back to his comrade-in-arms of three months via the subspace communication implants, adding, "not that it's any of your business, lard-ass."

"Oooh, I love it when you v-mail dirty to me."

V-mail was one of the great blessings and curses of the life of subspace fighters. Talking interrupted breathing thus wasting mils of nano-liters of oxygen. Cerebral implants with senders and receivers made intra-thought communication at close proximity as easy as e-mail. It wasn't really practical in populated areas, but out here in an isolated outpost, stuck guarding a subspace node where vacuum and silence were understatements, everything worked just fine.

"How's it hanging with the friggin' new guys?"

"Pretty quiet, a bit v-shy if you know what I mean, but you know how it is being a FNG."

Archer and Athans were old friends and comrades-in-arms having served together for over two weeks now, though they had never met face-to-face to shake hands. All of the other members of the squadron had only logged in within the past forty-eight hours, having converged on this spot from all directions.

"Any idea when this party is supposed to start?"

"Whenever they get here," Archer replied, and in the back of his mind out of v-mail range, privately added, and they shall not pass.

Archer closed his eyes and retreated back into internal solitude and amused himself with the revelation that he was actually wondering what his father would be thinking about in this situation...what did he think about as he prepared himself to meet death ... did he know it was coming the way Archer knew now?

Archer had just arrived home from school for his yearly three week academic-free period and was greeted by the sounds of his normally stoic mother's uncontrollable sobs. He rushed to her room in barely enough time to see the holo-gram from his father fade into the ether.

"He's not coming back," she cried. "He's dead! They send a stinking hologram of him to me to say that he is dead, with details to follow later."

Archer had heard rumors that some of his classmates knew about the holo-grams from first-hand experience since the Galactic Terran Alliance had decided that bad news was best conveyed to loved ones by a loved one and had thus adopted the absurd policy of having all warriors holographically record messages to their families concerning their own demise, dismemberment, or incapacitation, ... but he didn't really believe that their great leaders could be that stupid and inhuman.

They were and they were.

Archer put his arm around his mother and rocked her gently until she escaped into a catatonic ball on the bed that she had formerly shared with the love of her life. He drew a blanket over her and went downstairs to await the red-tape team who followed such announcements once the initial shock had been administered. There would be a Galactic Terran Alliance bureaucrat, a doctor, and supposedly someone who had actually known his dad to spend an allotted period with the "surviving kin."

"I don't know which I hate more - the waiting or the carnage," Archer v-mailed to no one in particular.

"What?" Athans answered back in incredulity.

"Maybe I've been out here too long."

"Yeah," Athans agreed with a sigh that suggested a hint of reassurance on Archer's own sanity, "all of us who survive are."

And the survivors shall inherit the red tape.

The red-tape team was late, and didn't arrive until after Archer had already called EMS for help with his mother. They said they would get back to him. That was two days ago.

The red-tape team arrived on the next day, five days after the holo-gram had brought the grim reaper to their family. They apologized for their tardiness but confessed that they were greatly overworked, an admission that no doubt would be denied if any of the media decided to make it public.

Archer was reassured by the three men that his mother was going to be alright. They had drugs and implants to help you deal with grief and sorrow, and most people were able to bounce back to normal duty within a few days of the loss of a loved one, even if that person was the one who they believed gave their life meaning. Archer hoped that they were right.

Colonel Adkins, a pudgy and pale bureaucrat disguised as a warrior, put his arm around the shoulders of the now half-orphaned Archer and gave his heart-to-heart spiel that was probably 95% canned from previous errands of mercy and compassion, and said, "I know, son, that no words can possibly describe the sense of loss you are feeling right now."

Archer nodded, trying to ignore the discomfort and awkwardness of the sagging weight that felt like the paw of an out-of-shape albino yeti, that was draped around his shoulders and drawing him closer, hoping that this part of the grieving would be over soon.

"His death is a loss for all of us," Adkins continued (in a manner that Archer would later realize was probably a direct download from some data that had been impersonally programmed into this mouthpiece). "He was a great ... fighter pilot ... and a credit to his squadron. No one hated the Vasudan devils more, nor earned their fear ... uh ... more fearsomely. I assure you that he did not die in vein and took a few devils with him."

Archer nodded again, hoping that he was finished. The blubbery paw was beginning to make him sweat despite the clima-control sensors of the living room.

"His buddies always spoke well of him..."

Archer remembered that his father made fun of those losers that he was stationed with in the holos that he sent home.

"...and they send their condolences as well..."

Archer remembered that their feelings towards his father were mutual.

"...and they look forward to the day that you will be fighting with them side by side, kicking some alien butt."

Archer quickly sank to a sit on the floor, surprising Adkins and temporarily sending him off balance and mercifully curtailing his caterwauling of condolences.

"Archer," Athans v-mailed, "how did you get out here?"

"I turned right at the last asteroid belt."

"C'mon, I mean, how did you wind up as a fighter jock? I can sense from the edges of your v-mail that you have more cerebral potential than the average grunt."

One of the disadvantages of v-mail, Archer thought to himself, is that sometimes more can be given away than a sender might intend.

"I really don't know," Archer replied uneasily. "Maybe it was my father. Maybe it was my mother. It was the only thing that made sense, or at least more sense than what I was doing before."

The drugs and the implants didn't work for Archer's mom. The doctors claimed that she must have been unbalanced prior to the trauma, and was apparently beyond reasonable limits of therapy as laid out by the conventions dictated for the surviving loved ones of the great war.

The Galactic Terran Alliance would cover all of the expenses for the duration of her husband's tour of duty (at least another nine months) and these benefits could be extended provided that another warrior was brought in to claim her as a dependent.

Still slightly numb from his father's death, and not quite finished with what would be his last three week academic-free period, Archer enlisted to follow in his father's footsteps as a fighter pilot, and kill the damned Vasudans who were responsible for the hijacking of his life.

All through basic training, he cursed the Vasudans. He claimed his motivations were to honor his father (to do his duty) and to protect his mother and the world that was his home, but in reality his motivation was one word : hatred.

Hatred of the Vasudans, the enemy that he had not yet met.

And with his graduation from bootcamp came an announcement.

They are now our allies?

"Yo, Athans."

"Yeah."

"How did you first hear about the Shivans?"

"Didn't hear about them. Saw them."

"Wow!"

"Yeah, wow. I was there that first time around outpost Riviera."

"So, you've been at this for awhile now," Archer asked, now trying to conceal his surprise that his v-mail buddy of the past weeks was probably old enough to be a contemporary of his father.

"You could say that."

"I already did, old timer."

Before his inaugural assignment came through, Archer put in a specific request to his temporary commanding officer that he be given a hardship dispensation that would limit his duty to non-Vasudan allied missions and assignments, given the obvious conflicts that he felt working with the inhuman murderers of his father.

The TCO (yet another pasty faced bureaucrat whose warrior fighter status had to have been obtained as a desk jockey) conveyed great empathy and sympathy, and offered him a place in the experimental bio-cyber-implant program which was, at the present time at least, off-limits to their alien allies.

Archer hesitated for a moment and waited for another choice. None was forthcoming.

He had heard about the BCI program and the rumors that more than a handful of fighter jocks had had their brains scrambled beyond therapy as part of pre-implementation testing, and that a few had even opted for `the euth alternative' ... but those were just rumors, and the current reports gave every sign of the successful implementation of the program specifically in far flight combat programs.

Archer signed the release that would schedule him to be prepped for surgery immediately on that, his first day of active duty.

"Athans?"

"Yeah."

"How did an oldster like you get involved in the BCI program?"

"I was part of the gamma phase."

"The gamma phase?"

"Yeah."

"They never told any of my crew that there were different phase groups involved."

"They probably didn't tell you a lot of things."

Archer knew that was true, and sighed.

Archer made it through the surgery with nary a setback. The cysurgeon in charge of his case offered that his gray matter took to the filament mesh that networked the cybernetic implants like geezer geeks to a Trek convention.

All of the things he worried about in bootcamp, the stumbling blocks of average reflexes that got in the way of targeting and maneuvering and would probably have relegated him to, at best, the second seat of a two man fighter, had miraculously disappeared ... and it felt good.

Archer realized that the overwhelming sense of wellness that he felt upon being able to do his duty beyond his wildest dream was probably a direct result of hormones that were coursing through his system at the direct instigation of the implants to aid in its own assimilation into his being.

He didn't mind; he just wanted to get into a cockpit and go kill aliens, and if he had to settle for just Shivans that would be quite alright with him.

"Athans, you ever kill a Vasudan?"

"The Vasudans and the Galactic Terran Alliance are allies," he replied not answering the question.

"What about before the alliance?"

"No."

Archer paused in his thoughts for a minute, musing that if this had been a 20th century war movie he would probably be lighting up a nic-stick or something.

"They were bad for your health," Athans interrupted.

"What?" Archer asked, shaken back to the present and out of private thought mode.

"Nic-sticks," Athans replied. "Congress tried to outlaw them. Said they caused cancer."

"So what?" Archer replied, realizing that he was going to have to concentrate harder on blocking his private thoughts. "Everything did back then."

"I guess that's why it never got outlawed."

"I guess," Archer v-mailed, and then changing the subject back to the original topic. "How about those Hammer of Light Vasudans?"

"What about them?"

"Ever kill any?"

"Nope."

"Well, I did."

"Wow."

"My first time out, too."

Archer had been sent out on a typical long-range patrol mission around the apex point of the GIGAK node when all hell broke loose.

His head was immediately filled with sensation and data and he instinctively veered his cyber-enhanced GTF Valkyrie 50 degrees by 45 degrees geo-starboard towards the emanations of battle (the top of the line scientific researchers and advisors had discovered that the Shivans left high levels of negatively charged meson particles strewn through the areas of space that served as their battlegrounds and had adjusted the cyber-senses of the fighters and the pilots within to respond accordingly).

When he arrived at the scene of carnage, which turned out to be back towards the node from which his patrol had originally begun, a Shivan Superdestroyer was already retreating back into Freespace as a squadron of Vasudan fighters seemed to be strafing a mortally wounded Terran Fenris Cruiser.

Yeah, they're our allies, the xenophobic young cyber pilot thought to himself as he lit into the alien squadron with both of his Prometheus lasers, and the battlecry, "Eat light!"

Two rebel Vasudan fighters burst into great balls of fire as the rest of their number regrouped against the interloper who had interrupted their final acts of deliverance for the crippled Fenris Cruiser.

"Valkyrie, can you hear me?" Archer heard in his head."This is the GTF Cruiser Orsonscottcard."

"Affirmative," Archer v-mailed back. "How did you piss off the Vasudans? I thought they were our allies."

"Switch to stealth mode, now!"

Archer obeyed, narrowly missing a leftover proximity bomb, and temporarily confusing the attacking squadron who had almost drawn a bead on him.

"Thanks."

"Those fighters," the Terran contact on board the Orsonscottcard continued, "are renegades Vasudans, members of the Hammer of Light."

Immediately Archer's head was filled with all of the necessary data on his opponents. The accompanying rush however was not caused by the implants but rather by the overwhelming joy he felt about finally being able to kill some Vasudans.

Armed with the appropriate skills and training as well as the updated data on his opponent, Archer went to work, v-mailing, "We'll continue this conversation later. I got me some killin' to do."

Archer readjusted his weapon battery, maintaining one of the Prometheus lasers while replacing the other with an avenger cannon. Without his enhancements there would have been no way that he would have been able to maintain controlled and targeted fire with both weapons while maneuvering his ship in and out of enemy fire, but with them it was as easy as falling in a vortex.

His secondary systems were also armed at capacity though Archer knew that he would have to be exceptionally discriminating in his choices there to avoid further damaging the wounded cruiser, or any of its fighters who might have temporarily exited the theater of conflict. He decided to stick with the stilettos as they were made for melee combat.

Archer counted six Hammer of Light fighters remaining, all directing their efforts in search of him as he dropped out of stealth mode and back into combat form, christening an unwary opponent with a stiletto to announce his presence with an enemy ball of flame.

Three down, five to go, he thought to himself, odds almost even.

The element of surprise gone, the young fighter pilot took drastic evasive action, buzzing his prey at close quarters in hopes that his opponents would be reluctant to shoot out of fear of hitting one of their own.

The invasive and immediate presence of a fireball on his right proved this assumption to be wrong as a Vasudan laser ignited the enemy ship he had barely just cleared.

That's four with an assist, he noted, and all bets are off.

A partial barrel roll into an inverted loop-the-loop brought his fighter face-to-face with the enemy that he had left in his wake, as his cannons alternated shots across the expanse of space that was his battlefield. Hammer down in rapid fire, Archer cut a zig-zag path between his prey avoiding the deadly bolts of light that were aimed towards him, the Vasudans' reaction time downright sluggish in comparison to his faster-than-light reflexes.

Five in flames, another notch.

Blam Craaaaaak!

A heat splay spread across his canopy, almost cracking it's integrity.

No time to get cocky now. I'll keep score later.

The Vasudan fighter whose grazing shot had almost exposed Archer to the vacuums of space or the flames of laser fire was trying to retreat for a second, perhaps better targeted pass through the line of fire.

Archer's newly released stiletto was all the urging it needed to change its coarse marginally to the port and directly into the line of fire of his Prometheus and on into fiery oblivion.

Blam Rurrrk!

He was hit again but everything seemed fine. No structural damage ... but the weapons' banks didn't seem to respond.

Cripes, he thought, the system must be rebooting and I don't know if I have the room to wait for it to come back on line.

The remaining two Hammer of Light kamikazes had reached the apex of their loops and were now baring down on him from opposite directions, and the weapons were still off-line.

Here goes nothing, Archer thought, hoping that his reflexes (and those of his ship) were as good as he thought they were. Solely through his concentration and focus, the young pilot set his course directly between the two enemies who were just about ready to fire, charging ahead at full speed, and then reversing thruster in just enough time to witness the midspace collision of his adversaries.

"Well done, Valkyrie," the Orsonscottcard hailed. "I'm glad a polished pro like you showed up in time to save our bacon."

"Old pro nothing," Archer replied. "I just popped my cherry."

"Regular war hero, huh?"

"Not really," Archer v-mailed, "they did register me for a medal though, although they never mentioned whether it was for saving the Orsonscottcard or for scattering Vasudan ass into space."

"You know the Hammer of Light don't speak for all Vasudans?"

"Yeah, I know, and that's fine by me. I don't really care about them except that they are authorized fodder for my kill list."

"How many you up to?"

"I lost count," Archer v-mailed absently. "After the first fifty or so, it didn't really seem to matter any more."

Now it was just doing his duty, though he sometimes wondered whether that was at the instigation of his implants as well.

Archer did a visual on all of his ship's sensors and determined that all was still quiet around the node. He tried to convince himself that perhaps the qualifier on his designated course of action had switched from "when they come" to "if they come" but also realized that such thoughts were just mind games to pass the time.

Just mind games.

Archer began to have second thoughts about his implants after a tabloid reporter for the galactic net asked him if he purposely always placed himself in danger in order to compete for the most dangerous missions. Verbally he dismissed such notions as just another way of referring to the duty of any warrior for the Galactic Terran Alliance, when he realized that he hadn't even taken a second to consider his response before he said it as if this action too was being enhanced by the implants.

Enhanced? ... maybe controlled.

After that he became more cautious in his accepting of assignments, fighting back the urge to volunteer in favor of just going with luck of the draw assignments. Eventually he was permanently assigned to duty on a supercarrier, the Pournelleniven. By that time the ranks of warrior fighter pilots had become homogenized enough that his being part of the BCI program no longer seemed to matter. He did manage, however, to avoid any close quarters with the Galactic Terran Alliance's alien allies, and that suited him just fine.

Each new assignment seemed to station him further and further from earth, not that the distance from `home' really mattered since he had learned that his mother had been diagnosed as terminally catatonic and now only eligible for maintenance rather than actual constructive treatment. Friends from the neighborhood, as well as family all had fallen out of contact, and with the exception of the memory of his place of birth, Earth was now just another place on the great list of places he had been.

The Pournelleniven came under heavy attack from two Shivan destroyers who had silently managed to slip out of Freespace and strategically box the supercarrier in. Squadrons of fighters and heavily armed Shivan commandoes managed to swarm the GTF vessel before the allied forces had managed to get off a single retaliatory wave. Archer and several others who were out on patrol managed to return in enough time to cause enough of a diversion to allow a few bombers and transports to get off before the entire carrier imploded under the strain of the Shivan attack, it's shields finally going down in a synchronization with the blowing of the ship's reactor in a valiant command maneuver of boobytrap harikari that managed to mortally wound one of the two enemy destroyers and untold Shivan warriors.

The other destroyer blocked Archer and the remnants of the supercarrier's contingent from using the node as an escape to Freespace, and the young fighter pilot knew that it would only be a short time before he and his allies were destroyed by the Shivans in the course of normal attrition of an under-armed force against an enemy stronghold, but he also knew that he and his men would die trying to defy the odds against them.

In no time at all, the size of Archer's contingent was already halved, and his own ship was beginning to show signs of malfunction when the calvary, in the form of a rag-tag squadron of allied fighters who spewed forth from the remanents of a GTF carrier who barely managed to pass out from the node before self-destructing.

Athans was one of the surviving fighters from the ailing carrier whose swansong was to provide the necessary support to defeat the surviving Shivan destroyer and blow it to meson particle hell.

The Shivan destroyer destroyed, the combined surviving allied squadron was soon picked up by another supercarrier who escorted them through the node through freespace to yet another node further out where they were left as an advance guard. The pilots were briefed while in their cockpits as there was not sufficient time to allow the flyers to exit their crafts and undergo the transitional decompression that went with transferring from inspace to oncarrier environs. Less than a few hours had transpired in transit though Archer and the others still wished they had had the opportunity to stretch their legs, shower, and or relieve themselves in a manner that didn't involve the internal evacuation of a section of one's flightsuit.

As the supercarrier passed back through freespace, it send a message to all members of the guarding squadron that relief and transport back would arrive in due time.

None of the fighter pilots took this seriously as they all figured that they would probably be dead before it ever arrived if such a transport accommodation was really planned.

"Yo, Athans"

"Yeah."

"Never asked you where you were coming from when you bailed my ass out two weeks ago. I mean like what happened with your carrier."

"It imploded."

"Duh."

"It was on its last legs and we knew that we wouldn't be able to accomplish our primary objective and settled for the secondary, namely rescuing your cruiser."

"What was your primary?"

"The Vasudan evacuation."

"The what?"

"The Vasudan evacuation. The entire home world was destroyed. Didn't you hear about it?"

"No. I guess Galactic Terran Alliance didn't think it was necessary. I mean what's a few more or less aliens after all."

"Heads up," Athans interrupted, "the perimeter's being breached!"

By the time Athans had finished his statement, Archer was already aware that endgame was in sight. Their duty was to defend this node or die trying.

A Shivan supercarrier armed to the gills loomed out of the darkness of space.

"It's going to try to make a run through the node and into Terran space," Athans announced to the squadron.

"Why isn't she launching her fighters against us?" Archer queried.

"She wants to make it through intact. She probably figures her defensive armor and weapons would be enough to handle us."

"Well here goes nothing," Archer instigated.

"No," Athans commanded, taking charge of the squadron, "there's bound to be more following her. We should wait until she is about to enter Freespace, and then set on her with everything we have."

Archer was taken aback by the no-nonsense control mode that his buddy of the past few weeks had assumed. Had he had a second or two to think about it, he might have realized that they had never exchanged ranks in any of their conversations, but now was not the time for such frivolities.

Archer did his duty and assumed his position in the GTF semi-circle that framed the node.

"Archer, set your retros on automatic reverse shut-off."

The young fighter pilot complied without even thinking about it.

The carrier was on the node now as the flyers began their attack. Archer and Athans dogfought the stationary cannons, while Athans's comrades utilized their diversion to loop around to the rear of the supercarrier and seemed to dock on the rear end of the deck.

Archer was too busy with his flying to question their actions when an errant EMP wave disabled his core, leaving him defenseless and motionless as the carrier passed beneath him.

Athans maneuvered his ship to join the others, but then deviated from the course and headed towards the disabled Archer using secondary thrusters to propel both his ship and Archer's away from the carrier as it began to simultaneously slip into Freespace and erupt into flame as the GTF flyers on its hull ignited with the force of ten full payloads of N1 Harbingers ripping through the Shivan warship and destroying the node in mid-passage.

Archer was simultaneously blinded by the flash of the explosion and rocked back by the massive g-forces that were unimpeded by the vacuum of space as his ship now magnetically docked to Athans's turned nose over tail through space.

The son of the veteran of the great war knew he had done his duty and blacked out.

Archer came to in the second seat of the Vasudan named Athans's fighter cockpit, his own ship having sustained too much damage from the g-wave to maintain its own integrity.

Athans commanded him to relax against the oversized co-pilot section as he explained:

"Initially it didn't occur me to introduce myself as a Vasudan. The cerebral implants eliminated the normal syntactical communication problems, and when I realized your true feelings about my race, I was afraid it might get in the way, and since you were the only human in the squad..."

"The only human?"

"That is correct," he replied. "You were right about this being basically a suicide mission. I knew that if our reinforcements didn't pass through the node to assist us, we would have to destroy the node to avoid their forces from reaching Terran airspace and destroying the supercarrier in mid-passage was the only way. Originally that is what we were trying as an experiment with my original forces when we came to your rescue. The problem was that the integrity of the ship's hold held until it had already made it through and as a result the node survived. That gave us the knowledge that the only way to destroy it was to literally blow it in mid-passage. Not before and not after, but during. That is why my comrades held their payloads until there was no turning back. They, as you say, knew their duty, and did it."

"Why did you pull out at the last moment?"

"I don't know," Athans conceded. "Maybe I didn't want you to die out here alone..."

Archer had already realized that with the node destroyed there was no going home.

"...or maybe I just didn't want you to die without knowing that I was a Vasudan."

Archer smiled and closed his eyes as the internal injuries of his body began to cause it to shut down. His last thoughts were that maybe not all Vasudans were bad, and that maybe he should have finished high school before becoming a veteran of the great war himself.

==Related links==
http://web.archive.org/web/19991104115018/http://www.interplay.com/freespace/stories/story5.html

[[Category:Canon reference]]

A Thousand Years

2013-02-05T00:12:36Z

SypheDMar:

'''''A Thousand Years''''' is an official short story written by Clayton Emery and published by [[Interplay]]. It is not known if it is considered canon, though it is generally not regarded as canon because there are many inconsistencies between the four stories published by Interplay and the [[FreeSpace 1|game]] itself. [[Volition]] does not seem to have been involved with the stories, either. However, there are no confirmations from Volition itself.

'''The following is a repost of Emery's short story A Thousand Years.'''
==A Thousand Years==
"Shivans! Class-II! Pair at nine o’clock!"

"Roger! I got the far one!"

Wrenching the joystick, stamping the right rudder, the pilot sideslipped her Hercules fighter until it stood on its tail for a second, long enough for the screen’s green gunsight to center on a Shivan fighter wicked as a silver knifeblade. Atsuko triggered her laser banks and saw metal boil on the fighter’s belly. The enemy ship flipped into a wingover and dropped, but she’d planned to overtake it with a barrelroll anyway. Yanking the stick to her gut tightened her loop. Stars whirled by in a dizzy blur, then she released the joystick for just a second. The fighter bobbed and waggled as the computer autolevelled, and the pilot found she’d guessed right.

The escaping Shivan lay dead-on.

Atsuko triggered a second recessed button, and twin Disruptor cannons scorched black space. The Shivan knife-ship shuddered, kicked as one or both engines stalled --

-- but the momentum of Atsuko’s barrelroll looped her far afield, so her quarry was lost to sight. With freespace as a battlefield, it was almost impossible to stick with an enemy. The wounded ship would implode, she guessed, but Shivan technology was a mystery. Still, she was an ace a dozen times over, as was everyone in her squadron. They had to be to survive.

"Computer, rejoin the wing." Atsuko released the joystick, jabbed her console to widen its angle. No rest: a pair of top-heavy Shivan bombers soared down a 140 bearing. Her wingman called a visual confirm and recommended a split. Seizing the joystick, Atsuko barked, "Roger! I’ll dust your ass!"

There.

Spiralling in came two spidery Shivan fighters that also split formation. Atsuko cut her partner’s trail to attack the uppermost ship. Her wingman was a GTF Apollo with half its paint scorched off. The Laramite pilot snaprolled to avoid an oncoming stream of purple lightning, then leveled to unleash a sizzling MX-50 missile. The semi-smart bomb backtracked the Shivan lightning stream, aiming infrared sensors at the hot gunport, but another burst of lightning spiked the missile’s electronics so it curlicued out of sight. By then the wingman had pounced on the spider-ship’s rear. The next MX-50 shot straight up an exhaust pipe. The spider-ship’s back end blew out, then the entire ship ruptured in midair. The golden flash didn’t even leave smoke.

Atsuko caught the picture on the fly, because the other spider-ship bored straight at her like a bowling ball. Sniffing, she counter-matched its path, zooming toward a collision, then goosed her rear vertical thrusters. Her ship tilted onto its nose. As the enemy rushed onto her viewscreen, she led it for just a second, then triggered her disruptor cannons to blast the cockpit where the shields were weakest. As the hatch disintegrated, she got the barest glimpse of an angular alien body like a broken-fingered fist... then his ordnance erupted in purple fury and the ship exploded in fragments. Atsuko hooted, "YES!"

"Red Flight, regroup on me." The voice of "Butterfly" Butterfield. "No enemies within six klicks. Take five, then we’ll redeploy."

"Computer, throttle back and reform." Atsuko let go her joystick and slumped in her seat. With a hands-on/hands-off configuration, the computer took over whenever the pilot released the joystick. Handy if the pilot became disabled, or dead. Grabbing the stick returned full flight capability. The human pilot stole a minute to sip water from a hose. But even resting, she watched the sky with one eye and read her cockpit and HUD displays with the other.

The power plant hummed in overdrive to resupply the defenses, the starboard engine lugging but within acceptable limits. Shield and Weapon Energy Statuses glowed gold along three-quarters of the bar: a timer showed they’d be fully charged in minutes. The blue concentric rings of shielding around her ship looked solid as angel wings. Her armament was reassuring: twin banks of six ML-16 ceramic-argon lasers; two GTW-41 gatling-gas Disruptor cannons; and in her secondary payload, a big surprise for some big enemy: six GTM-3 Tsunami intel-track bombs. "Antimatter that mattered," the armorers joked.

LDF-E44, nicknamed CHERRY BLOSSOM, was an antique refitted GTF Hercules, a two-man (one-woman) Heavy Assault Fighter-Bomber. At the ship’s heart sat its weakest component, a skin sack of guts, blood, and bones that was Atsuko "Rammer" Toranaga, female, Asian descent, shavetail second lieutenant in the Laramis Defense Force. And while the ship was running at ninety-percent capacity, its pilot thumped her forehead to stay awake, feeling as if she’d been mauled by an ice-bear. Her eyes were grainy from lack of sleep, her hands trembly from stimulants, her back and butt and thighs achey from tension and exertion over too many twenty-hour days. Even her ship felt heavy and slow, as if the bomb-bay were stuffed with lead and pig iron.

Red Flight reformed behind Colonel "Butterfly" Butterfield’s big Ulysses, CITY OF NEW ORLEANS. Atsuko’s wing had two coffee-grinder Apollos, an overengined Valyrie that skittered all over the sky, and Atsuko’s Hercules. She tapped her Ship’s Status screen; it flickered to show Fleet Status. Silver chips converged towards the deployment point near their home, Laramis Prime. Red Flight, Green, Blue, and Gold. Such was the Laramis Defense Force, a floating junkyard dubbed "The Flying Tigers" by a squadron history buff who was now dead, as were too many good people. The Tigers had spent '''days''' fighting friend and foe. Though her brain was beat, Atsuko tried to sort out the jumble of recent events..

The Laramis solar system was the ass-end of Terran space, a research facility where not much happened and hotshot pilots blasted asteroids for combat training. Then one dark day, the Shivans jumped out of subspace, and the pilots had plenty of real-live targets.

Not long after, the GTA jumped in to save the day. Two Terran heavy cruisers, JUSTICE and RETRIBUTION, and a skyfull of fighter/bomber-escorts turned Laramis’s system into a freefall war zone. Naturally, the mothers from the "mother planet" (snotty as Vasudans) had first demanded the Laramis Defense Force supersede itself to the GTA. Laramis said no. The GTA then demanded the LDF disband and surrender all vehicles, and that Laramis Prime power down its weaponry! While the Terran Allied Command banged heads with Laramite’s Parliament, the LDF’s commander-in-chief, Admiral Carla American Horse, told them ALL to torque off and mobilized every ship that would fly. (GTA now stood for "Get Torqued, Asshole!") Ignoring the GTA armada, the Flying Tigers went to work pot-shotting Shivans...

"Red Flight, tune in." Butterfly’s voice crackled over the comm unit as they approached the deploy point. Instinctively Atsuko grabbed her joystick.

"Tigers, this is Admiral American Horse. Listen up." Cool raspy tones, always calm. "CivCom’s sent a coded message: coded so GTA can’t intercept. We’re to axe the two GTA cruisers. That’s right: the '''TERRAN''' cruisers. GTA insists on containing the Shivans right here because our jump node opens a back door straight to Earth. The GTA cruisers hug the jump point, but more Shivans are hopping in minute by minute. Something’s going to pop soon. We all know the LDF doesn’t have the ordnance to stop the Shivs or to slam the jump node shut. So, at this moment, Laramite combat engineers have sneaked aboard JUSTICE and RETRIBUTION to plant jet-axe charges -- we hope. If we implode the cruisers and nav buoys, we implode the jump node. Terra will be safe and we’ll be called traitors, but that’s the luck of the draw. Our upcoming mission is to distract the Shivans AND the GTA until the cruisers blow. Flight commanders, download attack patterns from the LTC. The password is `Phoenix’. Stick with the plan. If any pilot deviates from the flight path, '''I personally''' will shoot you down. Good luck. American Horse Out."

"You heard the boss. One tough lady," came Butterfly’s laconic tones. "Stand by for ADT transmission."

"Whew! Might as well declare war on earth!" Atsuko muttered as orders scrolled down her screen. "Bad enough to fight Shivans. But sinking cruisers? Impossible!"

Still... impossible odds and futile battles resonated in Atsuko’s blood, called up programs from her DNA. In the biggest of Earth’s ancient wars, her ancestors had thrown tiny fighters against aircraft carriers and battleships. Some of Atsuko’s great-many-times uncles and cousins had become kamikazes, the "Divine Wind" that blew against the enemy and flamed-out bravely screaming "BANZAI!" so their empire might last "A thousand years!"

And today, at the far fringes of space, two great empires clashed, and another young Toranaga flew into battle --

But Atsuko was doping off as the attack got underway. Maintaining position in her air wing, CHERRY BLOSSOM rocketed towards a black sky stippled with thousands of silver-metal chips, each one a Shivan fighter or bomber. Beyond them hung the two Terran cruisers, large as floating cities, surrounded by the cloud of the GTA armada, all guarding the eight navigation buoys that focussed the vital jump node to Earth. In the background spun Laramis II like a dirty iceball. The Shivan cruisers were temporarily out of sight in far orbit. Atsuko wondered if they were slingshotting around the planet to stab Laramis Prime in the back.

"Red Flight, engage enemy’s left flank," commanded Butterfly. "Pilots fire as you bear."

Before she could draw breath, Atsuko’s wing was swamped by sizzling spacecraft. A Shivan vessel like a flying beartrap rushed at her. Firelight winked along the ship’s rim, and Atsuko instinctively goosed her topside thrusters to drop like a rock even as she triggered lasers. Her wing’s Valkyrie zipped past to protect her, since Atsuko’s Hercules carried the biggest bombload, an honor that made her wallow like a pregnant sow. Zinging past -- leaving Atsuko’s left exposed -- the Valkyrie fired dual Banshee cannons that warped the beartrap’s shields, then sent in four screaming Hornets smart enough to home on the damaged area. The Shivan’s hull breeched --

-- and Atsuko was threatened on her exposed left side.

Roaring up from seven o’clock came a boxy-looking craft with flare-mouthed cannons lipped black. Two machete-like fighters escorted it, and one peeled off as if to spear CHERRY BLOSSOM. Lasers pinged her shields like hailstones while the enemy swooped in below eye level.

Atsuko had her own bag of tricks. In a squadron full of aces, her talents as a flyer were suspect, which is why she rated a slow bomber. She’d earned the nickname "Rammer" in flight school by bashing into targets before firing. The shields and hull of a Hercules could take it, she’d argued a thousand times over beers, and if you bowled the enemy backwards they couldn’t shoot while you could. Her strategy earned high scores, and no skipper ever ordered her to switch tactics, so she carried on ramming. Only the mechanics grumbled about her warped shields and scuffed hulls.

Now "Rammer" didn’t try to evade the rising machete, but hooked her nose to meet it. Too late, the enemy pilot climbed to avoid a collision. Atsuko’s heavier Hercules slammed the machete at an angle and knocked it sprawling. From twenty meters Atsuko triggered her lasers. This close, the ML-16s vaporized the Shivan shields and destabilized the hull into red-gold slag. In her tiny cockpit Atsuko shouted, "Put THAT in a training video!"

Ahead loomed the big boxy ship with one escort on the far side. No help in sight. Atsuko shimmied right as yellow lights winked deep inside those flaremouth cannon barrels. Still crawfishing, she thumbed her joystick while shouting "Missiles away!" for computer backup.

Green gunsights winked as CHERRY BLOSSOM bucked. Two Tsunami missiles rocketed out of her pipes. Carrying their own on-board computers, the missiles corkscrewed in evasive paths, marking the Wild Black with vapor curls. The remaining machete-like escort banked and dipped to intercept a Tsunami, danced a brief dogfight, stalled for a better firing angle -- and caught the missile right in the cockpit. The eye-blistering white fire of matter-antimatter implosion momentarily bleached Atsuko’s cockpit. Her light-compensating faceplate phased black lest she be blinded.

The second Tsunami missile slammed like a sentient cannonball down a flaring mouth on the Shivan box-ship. Atsuko temporarily let go the joystick to let the computer belly-out. From behind came another nova pulse of antimatter fury. The pilot chirped as her wingtips glowed white-hot in the aftermath of the explosion.

"Ooh! Computer, status."

"Stable. Paint blistered from undercarriage. Bomb-bay doors warped but operable."

"Whoa!" Atsuko whistled. Fusing the bombs into the hold would hurt! But she felt/heard the double WHINNNNE-THUMP! as new missiles dropped into the pipes. Scanning the sky for bogies while she regrouped, the pilot flicked a glance at the console. And glanced again. That can’t be right!

"That’s impossible! Computer, we’re hauling '''Harbingers'''?"

"Correct," chimed the machine. "GTM-N1 Harbinger missiles. A solid-core fusion bomb salted by three fission bombs. Propulsion is provided by a one-half size regulation GTA Class-II fighter-thruster --"

"I know all that!" Atsuko stabbed the display and gasped. Two more Harbingers hung ready to load behind the first two. "Damn! My armorer must’ve been half-asleep to rack those monsters! Or else I was too crispy to double-check her! Sheesh, now what?"

"Proceed with caution," advised the mechanical voice. "The 5000 megaton shockwave can fracture armor plate of Fenris- and Orion-Class cruisers --"

"Shut up." Atsuko chewed her lip. A single Harbinger missile could evaporate an airbase or a small city. If she touched off even one Harbinger, she’d need to skedaddle ten kilometers before it exploded! So '''that''' was why the ship felt so fragging heavy --

"Incoming Shivan attack vessel at four o’clock," chirped the computer.

"Mine!" Atsuko snaprolled to avoid a plunging silver arrow shot out of nowhere. Stamping both rudders, she spiral-climbed after the bandit, watched white pulses like plasma flash by, boosted the throttle and sideslipped, then strafed the arrow’s underbelly with lasers. Burns stitched the enemy craft laterally, then it backflipped away. By the time Atsuko had swung around, it was gone, so she hurried to rejoin her wing. Plenty more Shivan fighters stippled the sky, and every one seemed aimed at CHERRY BLOSSOM.

The comm whistled the flagship’s signal. "Warning. Countdown to Phoenix begins. 60. 59. 58..."

Dipping a wing, Atsuko located the two cruisers in the distance. Her wing flew well outside the blast range, so she concentrated on keeping her place and potshotting bad guys.

"... 5. 4. 3. 2 --"

From far off, Atsuko saw one of the two cruisers suddenly flush yellow at every port and gunbarrel. The great ship vomited fire like a volcano, burped again, and cracked its spine, burning in air spilled from her ruptured guts. Atsuko tried not think of the poor GTA bastards who took it in the neck, doublecrossed by two-timing politicians and rockheaded commanders.

"Flagship, we’ve got a situation." A strange voice broke radio silence. Crackling and sputtering caused by electromagnetic pulses masked her transmission, so she must be a long-range scout. "RETRIBUTION is still cooking full-bore."

"What? How can that be?" Atsuko joggled the joystick to copy as her wing banked. One cruiser was a flaming arrow being snuffed by vacuum. The other cruiser hung intact, steaming a slow spiral with all guns firing. "What the hell went wrong?"

"Tigers, redeploy!" The Admiral’s voice, for once angry. "Assemble in two flights! Consult your screens!"

Shaking her head to ward off fatigue, Atsuko watched her screen spell out two new flights: Red and Blue. Green and Gold were history, she realized, because the Flying Tigers had suffered forty-three percent casualties. Atsuko hissed, "This is crazy! Even if we win, we lose! Every damn Laramite’ll be dead! Whoa!"

Atsuko flinched as a snake-headed Medusa flashed up on her left, escorted by a trio of lightning-quick Athenas. The fuselage was painted with a spotted horse and the name LAKOTA NIGHTS. CHERRY BLOSSOM’s computer intoned, "Left flank, flagship of Admiral American Horse."

The comm crackled in Atsuko’s ear. "American Horse to Toranaga. Do you read?"

"I read, ma’am." Atsuko didn’t watch the admiral’s ship, but rather watched the sky for bandits.

"Change in plans. The jet-axes on RETRIBUTION failed to ignite. A scout reports Shivans -- not Terrans -- occupy the bridge. All we can guess is the Shivans sent their own sappers aboard and pulled our fuses. We’ve got to touch off that cruiser with hand-carried missiles."

"Hand -- carried?" Atsuko squeaked.

"Roger. My master computer shows four Harbinger missiles packed in your aft bomb-bay. Confirm."

"Confirmed, admiral, but it’s a screw-up --"

"We’ll take what luck we can get, lieutenant. Pick up your speed and prime all your projectiles. Red Flight’ll sweep wide along 290 and pull up over the cruiser’s midship gunwales. You target the conning tower with your Harbingers. The shields are weakest there. Blue Flight will clear your flight path."

"Target the -- Admiral, these are proximity missiles!"

"Affirmative." The cool voice could order soldiers to die, like it or not. "You drew the short straw. Prime, please."

'''Please commit suicide? Well, what the hell.''' More of her friends were dead than alive: it was simply her turn. And someone had to carry the payload to the enemy. Atsuko flicked switches with trembling fingers. "P-primed, ma’am."

"Follow my tail, pilot. We’re going in. Good luck."

"Thank you, admiral." Formal as a funeral parlor. "You too."

As if soaring down a black tunnel, the new Red Flight slid across the sky. The Terran cruiser RETRIBUTION, long as a city, was etched black against snowy Laramis II. The moon Laramis Prime had orbitted into view, and in the far distance floated two -- no three! -- Shivan D-Class cruisers. Blocking the flight’s path buzzed a swarm of silver Shivan destroyers, transports, convoy vessels, and fighters. Stationed back at the three-quarter mark of the flight, Atsuko’s Hercules was ringed by flaming steel ships steered by vulnerable human beings. As the flight’s speed increased and the silver web of enemies grew larger, the sky began to wink and sparkle. Not with starlight, but with munitions fire. Lights flashed like dawn until they were engulfed in hell.

Atsuko watched flight after flight peel away to attack or repulse the enemy. Many didn’t return, knocked to splinters of flying metal. One of Admiral American Horse’s Athena escorts exploded, so close pieces bounced off Atsuko’s shields. Flying Tiger ships were pared from Atsuko’s right flank, so she watched that side more than most. Those guards didn’t return either, the flank destroyed. Would '''anyone''' survive this war to see victory?

A hunchbacked GTA Ulysses flicked by upside-down, a factory-new beauty without a scratch. What miracles Atsuko could have performed flying that ship! But the Terran pilot waffled, lost and confused. More Terrans flocked, unsure whether to attack Red Flight or escort it. Atsuko wondered what story the admiral was spinning to stall them. GTA couldn’t know yet that the Tigers had croaked their first cruiser: so far they probably believed the Shivans had hit a soft spot, or else the ship imploded through internal mishap. '''Frag the GTA''', Atsuko cursed. The Terrans would figure out the Laramites’ master plan when their second cruiser novaed in their faces.

Atsuko watched in wonder as a triple-wing Shivan ship dropped almost onto her head, but it targeted the admiral’s flagship. A side-mounted Flail cannon pulsed, hurling a cloud of krypton-powered laser beams to push the enemy back. The Shivan answered with chained lightning that etched cracks in LAKOTA’s hull. The tri-wing ignored its own wounds and actually accelerated into the snarling hellstorm. The Shivans formed suicide squads too, Atsuko marveled. She harried the enemy ship with laser bursts, as did other flyers, until the hull glowed cherry-red. Atsuko’s thumb ached to unleash a Harbinger missile to save the admiral’s ship, but she had the admiral’s orders to save her firepower for the cruiser. The tri-wing surged closer to the flagship, and Atsuko had to cease firing. LAKOTA NIGHTS staggered.

The comm snarled, the admiral’s voice. "Rammer -- Uh! -- Carry out -- the mission! Con-firm!"

"Confirmed, ma’am!" Atsuko’s own voice cracked as tears ran into her oxygen mask.

Zigging and zagging to avoid the wobbling enemy craft, Atsuko watched from the corner of her eye as the painted horse burned: burning that hot in vacuum! Admiral American Horse’s Medusa suddenly veered into the path of its nemesis like a kamikaze of old. The Shivans didn’t dodge: probably the crew was already dead. Both ships exploded in a boiling fireball that shoved CHERRY BLOSSOM on like a giant hand.

Atsuko fired and fired again, almost blind with tears, and let the computer fire too. No need to conserve ammunition. Tapping the Ship’s Status indicator showed her the Fleet Status. Maybe thirty Tiger ships were left in Red Flight, though several had dropped behind as their power plants failed. A quick wingover for visual confirmation showed her Red Flight had bored within spitting distance of RETRIBUTION. The city-sized cruiser suspended firing amidships for fear of hitting their own GTA guys. Atsuko wondered about the pause, until she realized the cruiser was so huge, the bridge could be overrun by Shivan assault squads before other sections even knew it... or maybe the Tigers’ "secret plan" had been leaked so the Terran crew could abandon ship.

Atsuko hoped so.

A machete-ship crabbed past, spewing wreckage and Shivan bodies. A Synaptic bomb whistled by, close enough to touch. Ships came and went as if tossed by a whirlwind. Close by the cruiser were scattered red spinning cluster mines. Atsuko diverted two lasers and let the computer pop them.

The LOCK alarm by Atsuko’s left hip suddenly flashed on, and she almost panicked. Instinct made her sideslip and then wingover to shake off whatever heat-seeking missile was chasing her vapor trail. She flicked her console to rear view, saw a silver streak, joggled the joystick to evade --

-- and saw a Ulysses stoop like a hawk to bump the missile with a wingtip. The missile erupted, and the Ulysses touched off in sympathetic vibration. As the ship ruptured, Atsuko read the name CITY OF NEW ORLEANS on the blistered hull. She whispered, "Thanks, Butterfly."

Now came Atsuko’s turn.

Before her loomed the cruiser. All around her soared Shivans and too few Tigers.

"Afterburners ready!"

"Ready," replied the computer.

"Afterburners -- ON!"

Atsuko was slammed back into her seat as her Hercules was kicked in the tail. With all rockets firing, she zoomed away from her doomed escort and aimed her craft like an arrow for the RETRIBUTION’s conning tower.

This was it, she thought. Her '''final''' descent.

Alone, Atsuko dived while the cruiser’s conning tower grew in her screen. Her lasers and cannon are auto-firing, more for distraction than damage. She needed to concentrate to hit her target.

"Computer!" Atsuko barked. "Cut the Harbingers’s fuses long but squeeze the range to minimum! Divert all power to front shields!"

"Harbinger charges delayed to fifteen seconds. Detonation interval reduced to fifty meters," confirmed the machine. "Full power to bow screens."

Atsuko felt the ship lurch, fishtail and headstall, as her shields blinked out at the stern and thickened before her bow. Down in the secondary bomb-bay, the dangerous Harbingers hummed alive, probably frying her auxiliary electronics. Yet this configuration should do the deed just dandy, she calculated. Harbingers alone might not penetrate the cruiser’s defenses and armor. But a 146-ton starcraft tipped with twelve layers of shielding should smash like a fist through wet paper. Four missiles, delivered deep into the cruiser’s guts, would deliver 20,000 megatons of atomic destruction.

And the pilot, sitting at the heart of the explosion, wouldn’t feel a twinge.

Wrestling the joystick, Atsuko aimed straight for the glistening window on the bridge, where interior lights illuminated silhouettes crooked as a dog’s leg. The vision was fuzzed by the heavy shielding, but she saw the evil armored faces of Shivans swivel towards her.
Atsuko screamed a battle cry that hadn’t been heard for a thousand years. "BANNN-ZAIIIII!"

She thumbed the joystick: once, twice. CHERRY BLOSSOM bucked and bucked again as the Harbingers fired two and two. Missiles drilled like lasers for the bridge window.

Atsuko clamped the joystick against her gut to hold her course, but the cruiser’s massive shields, like multiple layers of splintering ice, sent her Hercules skidding and slipping in a dozen directions at once. Lacking the mammoth payload, with afterburners driving the stern to overtake the bow, the ship’s nose dropped. Atsuko yanked upwards and CHERRY BLOSSOM took wing like a bird, flattening into a shallow arc. The pilot grit her teeth as armor plate and plexiglass cartwheeled across her screen. Her ship straightened, bored on --

-- and rammed the cruiser’s bridge.

Although Atsuko never saw it happen, the nose of the Hercules caromed off the bridge’s brow like a cannonball. Despite safety harness, the pilot was flung forward hard enough to snap bones. Her crash helmet splintered gauges while her nose hammered her faceshield and spurted blood. The joystick busted ribs.

CHERRY BLOSSOM suffered worse. Far behind Atsuko’s seat, the power plant blew as shields ruptured from feedback. Electronics sputtered and spat and burned and burned out. Hull plates sheared and rivets popped. Stubby wings crumpled and snapped off. The wreck pinwheeled across a backdrop of stars.

Dimly, despite the frantic spinning, Atsuko saw only that the cruiser sailed on, still fired all its guns, still dealt death in all directions. She blacked out moments before a nuclear-powered star blossomed inside RETRIBUTION’s bridge and the conning tower shattered like a volcano.

All Atsuko knew was she’d failed.

Failed her comrades, dead and alive, and failed herself.

Atsuko’s loyal CHERRY BLOSSOM blacked out, electronics gone, life-support failing. The spinning shell of metal was dying in space, with its pilot dying within for lack of air...

----

Air puffed on Atsuko’s eyelids, filled her nostrils, cooled the sweat on her brow. Prying open a swollen eye, she saw the word RESCUE swim past.

A GTA tech, a black man with merry blue eyes, snapped an oxygen mask over her face. A red cross burned bright on his white helmet. As Atsuko’s vision cleared, she saw another medic rode a rescue boom that draped an oxygen tent over the shattered cockpit. A mechanical umbilical ran back to a GTA convoy ship, an old hammer-headed Chronos freighter refitted for rescue and repair. The second medic handed down instruments while the first leaned into CHERRY BLOSSOM’s cramped cockpit.

"You okay?" He smiled and waved a hand. "How many fingers?"

"Uh. Thirty or -- forty. You must play -- a hell of a piano." Atsuko’s lungs gurgled as she sucked oxygen, a wonderfully sweet "divine wind". With consciousness came curiosity. "Hey! Why am I alive? What happened?"

"Plenty. Hold still." The medic aimed a long-needled syringe and punched clean through her flightsuit into her skin. "When RETRIBUTION blew it fragged four of the nav buoys -- and blew you five klicks, practically into our laps. Our GTA guys from the west pole clobbered the other buoys. Yeah, we know you Tigers scuttled our cruisers: our CO explained the plan. I wish you locals had given us Terrans the full picture: we could’a worked together."

"We -- tried." Atsuko sipped air and let the tech work. Finally she could relax. "Your top brass -- wouldn’t listen."

"They never do. But the ol’ home planet is safe because the jump node is flooey. The down side is, you and us and a shitload o’ Shivans are trapped in this system for good. But your second-in-command says there’s plenty of other planets. We’ll be okay. That’s the news. Oh, and you’re a hero."

"He -- ouch! -- ro?" A cracked rib squeaked in Atsuko’s chest, but the medicine soothed her pain like cold fire.

"Yes, ma’am. Though us and your buddies might be the only ones who’ll ever know."

"That’s -- enough."

"That bombing run of yours was quite a sight." Plying a parachute knife, the medic cut loose her harness, then attached snaphooks from the rescue boom to her flightsuit. Gently Atsuko was plucked from her seat. She felt nothing, her head buzzing while the medic talked to keep her awake. "You knocked out an enemy cruiser single-handed."

"No. Not single-handed." Atsuko pictured all the good men and women who’d gotten killed escorting her down to that cruiser. And all those ancient dead ancestors who’d given her life, and put her here today. "No, I was just the -- the point of the sword."

"Maybe," laughed the medic, "but they’ll need to mint you some new kind of medal. Crunching a cruiser alone? No one’s done that in -- a thousand years!"

==Related links==
http://web.archive.org/web/19990218050743/http://www.interplay.com/freespace/stories/story4.html

[[Category:Canon reference]]

A Thousand Years

2013-02-05T00:09:01Z

SypheDMar: Created page with "'''''A Thousand Years''''' is an official short story written by Clayton Emery and published by Interplay. It is not known if it is considered canon, though it is generally n…"

'''''A Thousand Years''''' is an official short story written by Clayton Emery and published by [[Interplay]]. It is not known if it is considered canon, though it is generally not regarded as canon because there are many inconsistencies between the four stories published by Interplay and the [[FreeSpace 1|game]] itself. [[Volition]] does not seem to have been involved with the stories, either. However, there are no confirmations from Volition itself.

'''The following is a repost of Emery's short story A Thousand Years.'''
==A Thousand Years==
"Shivans! Class-II! Pair at nine o’clock!"

"Roger! I got the far one!"

Wrenching the joystick, stamping the right rudder, the pilot sideslipped her Hercules fighter until it stood on its tail for a second, long enough for the screen’s green gunsight to center on a Shivan fighter wicked as a silver knifeblade. Atsuko triggered her laser banks and saw metal boil on the fighter’s belly. The enemy ship flipped into a wingover and dropped, but she’d planned to overtake it with a barrelroll anyway. Yanking the stick to her gut tightened her loop. Stars whirled by in a dizzy blur, then she released the joystick for just a second. The fighter bobbed and waggled as the computer autolevelled, and the pilot found she’d guessed right.

The escaping Shivan lay dead-on.

Atsuko triggered a second recessed button, and twin Disruptor cannons scorched black space. The Shivan knife-ship shuddered, kicked as one or both engines stalled --

-- but the momentum of Atsuko’s barrelroll looped her far afield, so her quarry was lost to sight. With freespace as a battlefield, it was almost impossible to stick with an enemy. The wounded ship would implode, she guessed, but Shivan technology was a mystery. Still, she was an ace a dozen times over, as was everyone in her squadron. They had to be to survive.

"Computer, rejoin the wing." Atsuko released the joystick, jabbed her console to widen its angle. No rest: a pair of top-heavy Shivan bombers soared down a 140 bearing. Her wingman called a visual confirm and recommended a split. Seizing the joystick, Atsuko barked, "Roger! I’ll dust your ass!"

There.

Spiralling in came two spidery Shivan fighters that also split formation. Atsuko cut her partner’s trail to attack the uppermost ship. Her wingman was a GTF Apollo with half its paint scorched off. The Laramite pilot snaprolled to avoid an oncoming stream of purple lightning, then leveled to unleash a sizzling MX-50 missile. The semi-smart bomb backtracked the Shivan lightning stream, aiming infrared sensors at the hot gunport, but another burst of lightning spiked the missile’s electronics so it curlicued out of sight. By then the wingman had pounced on the spider-ship’s rear. The next MX-50 shot straight up an exhaust pipe. The spider-ship’s back end blew out, then the entire ship ruptured in midair. The golden flash didn’t even leave smoke.

Atsuko caught the picture on the fly, because the other spider-ship bored straight at her like a bowling ball. Sniffing, she counter-matched its path, zooming toward a collision, then goosed her rear vertical thrusters. Her ship tilted onto its nose. As the enemy rushed onto her viewscreen, she led it for just a second, then triggered her disruptor cannons to blast the cockpit where the shields were weakest. As the hatch disintegrated, she got the barest glimpse of an angular alien body like a broken-fingered fist... then his ordnance erupted in purple fury and the ship exploded in fragments. Atsuko hooted, "YES!"

"Red Flight, regroup on me." The voice of "Butterfly" Butterfield. "No enemies within six klicks. Take five, then we’ll redeploy."

"Computer, throttle back and reform." Atsuko let go her joystick and slumped in her seat. With a hands-on/hands-off configuration, the computer took over whenever the pilot released the joystick. Handy if the pilot became disabled, or dead. Grabbing the stick returned full flight capability. The human pilot stole a minute to sip water from a hose. But even resting, she watched the sky with one eye and read her cockpit and HUD displays with the other.

The power plant hummed in overdrive to resupply the defenses, the starboard engine lugging but within acceptable limits. Shield and Weapon Energy Statuses glowed gold along three-quarters of the bar: a timer showed they’d be fully charged in minutes. The blue concentric rings of shielding around her ship looked solid as angel wings. Her armament was reassuring: twin banks of six ML-16 ceramic-argon lasers; two GTW-41 gatling-gas Disruptor cannons; and in her secondary payload, a big surprise for some big enemy: six GTM-3 Tsunami intel-track bombs. "Antimatter that mattered," the armorers joked.

LDF-E44, nicknamed CHERRY BLOSSOM, was an antique refitted GTF Hercules, a two-man (one-woman) Heavy Assault Fighter-Bomber. At the ship’s heart sat its weakest component, a skin sack of guts, blood, and bones that was Atsuko "Rammer" Toranaga, female, Asian descent, shavetail second lieutenant in the Laramis Defense Force. And while the ship was running at ninety-percent capacity, its pilot thumped her forehead to stay awake, feeling as if she’d been mauled by an ice-bear. Her eyes were grainy from lack of sleep, her hands trembly from stimulants, her back and butt and thighs achey from tension and exertion over too many twenty-hour days. Even her ship felt heavy and slow, as if the bomb-bay were stuffed with lead and pig iron.

Red Flight reformed behind Colonel "Butterfly" Butterfield’s big Ulysses, CITY OF NEW ORLEANS. Atsuko’s wing had two coffee-grinder Apollos, an overengined Valyrie that skittered all over the sky, and Atsuko’s Hercules. She tapped her Ship’s Status screen; it flickered to show Fleet Status. Silver chips converged towards the deployment point near their home, Laramis Prime. Red Flight, Green, Blue, and Gold. Such was the Laramis Defense Force, a floating junkyard dubbed "The Flying Tigers" by a squadron history buff who was now dead, as were too many good people. The Tigers had spent *days* fighting friend and foe. Though her brain was beat, Atsuko tried to sort out the jumble of recent events..

The Laramis solar system was the ass-end of Terran space, a research facility where not much happened and hotshot pilots blasted asteroids for combat training. Then one dark day, the Shivans jumped out of subspace, and the pilots had plenty of real-live targets.

Not long after, the GTA jumped in to save the day. Two Terran heavy cruisers, JUSTICE and RETRIBUTION, and a skyfull of fighter/bomber-escorts turned Laramis’s system into a freefall war zone. Naturally, the mothers from the "mother planet" (snotty as Vasudans) had first demanded the Laramis Defense Force supersede itself to the GTA. Laramis said no. The GTA then demanded the LDF disband and surrender all vehicles, and that Laramis Prime power down its weaponry! While the Terran Allied Command banged heads with Laramite’s Parliament, the LDF’s commander-in-chief, Admiral Carla American Horse, told them ALL to torque off and mobilized every ship that would fly. (GTA now stood for "Get Torqued, Asshole!") Ignoring the GTA armada, the Flying Tigers went to work pot-shotting Shivans...

"Red Flight, tune in." Butterfly’s voice crackled over the comm unit as they approached the deploy point. Instinctively Atsuko grabbed her joystick.

"Tigers, this is Admiral American Horse. Listen up." Cool raspy tones, always calm. "CivCom’s sent a coded message: coded so GTA can’t intercept. We’re to axe the two GTA cruisers. That’s right: the *TERRAN* cruisers. GTA insists on containing the Shivans right here because our jump node opens a back door straight to Earth. The GTA cruisers hug the jump point, but more Shivans are hopping in minute by minute. Something’s going to pop soon. We all know the LDF doesn’t have the ordnance to stop the Shivs or to slam the jump node shut. So, at this moment, Laramite combat engineers have sneaked aboard JUSTICE and RETRIBUTION to plant jet-axe charges -- we hope. If we implode the cruisers and nav buoys, we implode the jump node. Terra will be safe and we’ll be called traitors, but that’s the luck of the draw. Our upcoming mission is to distract the Shivans AND the GTA until the cruisers blow. Flight commanders, download attack patterns from the LTC. The password is `Phoenix’. Stick with the plan. If any pilot deviates from the flight path, *I personally* will shoot you down. Good luck. American Horse Out."

"You heard the boss. One tough lady," came Butterfly’s laconic tones. "Stand by for ADT transmission."

"Whew! Might as well declare war on earth!" Atsuko muttered as orders scrolled down her screen. "Bad enough to fight Shivans. But sinking cruisers? Impossible!"

Still... impossible odds and futile battles resonated in Atsuko’s blood, called up programs from her DNA. In the biggest of Earth’s ancient wars, her ancestors had thrown tiny fighters against aircraft carriers and battleships. Some of Atsuko’s great-many-times uncles and cousins had become kamikazes, the "Divine Wind" that blew against the enemy and flamed-out bravely screaming "BANZAI!" so their empire might last "A thousand years!"

And today, at the far fringes of space, two great empires clashed, and another young Toranaga flew into battle --

But Atsuko was doping off as the attack got underway. Maintaining position in her air wing, CHERRY BLOSSOM rocketed towards a black sky stippled with thousands of silver-metal chips, each one a Shivan fighter or bomber. Beyond them hung the two Terran cruisers, large as floating cities, surrounded by the cloud of the GTA armada, all guarding the eight navigation buoys that focussed the vital jump node to Earth. In the background spun Laramis II like a dirty iceball. The Shivan cruisers were temporarily out of sight in far orbit. Atsuko wondered if they were slingshotting around the planet to stab Laramis Prime in the back.

"Red Flight, engage enemy’s left flank," commanded Butterfly. "Pilots fire as you bear."

Before she could draw breath, Atsuko’s wing was swamped by sizzling spacecraft. A Shivan vessel like a flying beartrap rushed at her. Firelight winked along the ship’s rim, and Atsuko instinctively goosed her topside thrusters to drop like a rock even as she triggered lasers. Her wing’s Valkyrie zipped past to protect her, since Atsuko’s Hercules carried the biggest bombload, an honor that made her wallow like a pregnant sow. Zinging past -- leaving Atsuko’s left exposed -- the Valkyrie fired dual Banshee cannons that warped the beartrap’s shields, then sent in four screaming Hornets smart enough to home on the damaged area. The Shivan’s hull breeched --

-- and Atsuko was threatened on her exposed left side.

Roaring up from seven o’clock came a boxy-looking craft with flare-mouthed cannons lipped black. Two machete-like fighters escorted it, and one peeled off as if to spear CHERRY BLOSSOM. Lasers pinged her shields like hailstones while the enemy swooped in below eye level.

Atsuko had her own bag of tricks. In a squadron full of aces, her talents as a flyer were suspect, which is why she rated a slow bomber. She’d earned the nickname "Rammer" in flight school by bashing into targets before firing. The shields and hull of a Hercules could take it, she’d argued a thousand times over beers, and if you bowled the enemy backwards they couldn’t shoot while you could. Her strategy earned high scores, and no skipper ever ordered her to switch tactics, so she carried on ramming. Only the mechanics grumbled about her warped shields and scuffed hulls.

Now "Rammer" didn’t try to evade the rising machete, but hooked her nose to meet it. Too late, the enemy pilot climbed to avoid a collision. Atsuko’s heavier Hercules slammed the machete at an angle and knocked it sprawling. From twenty meters Atsuko triggered her lasers. This close, the ML-16s vaporized the Shivan shields and destabilized the hull into red-gold slag. In her tiny cockpit Atsuko shouted, "Put THAT in a training video!"

Ahead loomed the big boxy ship with one escort on the far side. No help in sight. Atsuko shimmied right as yellow lights winked deep inside those flaremouth cannon barrels. Still crawfishing, she thumbed her joystick while shouting "Missiles away!" for computer backup.

Green gunsights winked as CHERRY BLOSSOM bucked. Two Tsunami missiles rocketed out of her pipes. Carrying their own on-board computers, the missiles corkscrewed in evasive paths, marking the Wild Black with vapor curls. The remaining machete-like escort banked and dipped to intercept a Tsunami, danced a brief dogfight, stalled for a better firing angle -- and caught the missile right in the cockpit. The eye-blistering white fire of matter-antimatter implosion momentarily bleached Atsuko’s cockpit. Her light-compensating faceplate phased black lest she be blinded.

The second Tsunami missile slammed like a sentient cannonball down a flaring mouth on the Shivan box-ship. Atsuko temporarily let go the joystick to let the computer belly-out. From behind came another nova pulse of antimatter fury. The pilot chirped as her wingtips glowed white-hot in the aftermath of the explosion.

"Ooh! Computer, status."

"Stable. Paint blistered from undercarriage. Bomb-bay doors warped but operable."

"Whoa!" Atsuko whistled. Fusing the bombs into the hold would hurt! But she felt/heard the double WHINNNNE-THUMP! as new missiles dropped into the pipes. Scanning the sky for bogies while she regrouped, the pilot flicked a glance at the console. And glanced again. That can’t be right!

"That’s impossible! Computer, we’re hauling *Harbingers*?"

"Correct," chimed the machine. "GTM-N1 Harbinger missiles. A solid-core fusion bomb salted by three fission bombs. Propulsion is provided by a one-half size regulation GTA Class-II fighter-thruster --"

"I know all that!" Atsuko stabbed the display and gasped. Two more Harbingers hung ready to load behind the first two. "Damn! My armorer must’ve been half-asleep to rack those monsters! Or else I was too crispy to double-check her! Sheesh, now what?"

"Proceed with caution," advised the mechanical voice. "The 5000 megaton shockwave can fracture armor plate of Fenris- and Orion-Class cruisers --"

"Shut up." Atsuko chewed her lip. A single Harbinger missile could evaporate an airbase or a small city. If she touched off even one Harbinger, she’d need to skedaddle ten kilometers before it exploded! So *that* was why the ship felt so fragging heavy --

"Incoming Shivan attack vessel at four o’clock," chirped the computer.

"Mine!" Atsuko snaprolled to avoid a plunging silver arrow shot out of nowhere. Stamping both rudders, she spiral-climbed after the bandit, watched white pulses like plasma flash by, boosted the throttle and sideslipped, then strafed the arrow’s underbelly with lasers. Burns stitched the enemy craft laterally, then it backflipped away. By the time Atsuko had swung around, it was gone, so she hurried to rejoin her wing. Plenty more Shivan fighters stippled the sky, and every one seemed aimed at CHERRY BLOSSOM.

The comm whistled the flagship’s signal. "Warning. Countdown to Phoenix begins. 60. 59. 58..."

Dipping a wing, Atsuko located the two cruisers in the distance. Her wing flew well outside the blast range, so she concentrated on keeping her place and potshotting bad guys.

"... 5. 4. 3. 2 --"

From far off, Atsuko saw one of the two cruisers suddenly flush yellow at every port and gunbarrel. The great ship vomited fire like a volcano, burped again, and cracked its spine, burning in air spilled from her ruptured guts. Atsuko tried not think of the poor GTA bastards who took it in the neck, doublecrossed by two-timing politicians and rockheaded commanders.

"Flagship, we’ve got a situation." A strange voice broke radio silence. Crackling and sputtering caused by electromagnetic pulses masked her transmission, so she must be a long-range scout. "RETRIBUTION is still cooking full-bore."

"What? How can that be?" Atsuko joggled the joystick to copy as her wing banked. One cruiser was a flaming arrow being snuffed by vacuum. The other cruiser hung intact, steaming a slow spiral with all guns firing. "What the hell went wrong?"

"Tigers, redeploy!" The Admiral’s voice, for once angry. "Assemble in two flights! Consult your screens!"

Shaking her head to ward off fatigue, Atsuko watched her screen spell out two new flights: Red and Blue. Green and Gold were history, she realized, because the Flying Tigers had suffered forty-three percent casualties. Atsuko hissed, "This is crazy! Even if we win, we lose! Every damn Laramite’ll be dead! Whoa!"

Atsuko flinched as a snake-headed Medusa flashed up on her left, escorted by a trio of lightning-quick Athenas. The fuselage was painted with a spotted horse and the name LAKOTA NIGHTS. CHERRY BLOSSOM’s computer intoned, "Left flank, flagship of Admiral American Horse."

The comm crackled in Atsuko’s ear. "American Horse to Toranaga. Do you read?"

"I read, ma’am." Atsuko didn’t watch the admiral’s ship, but rather watched the sky for bandits.

"Change in plans. The jet-axes on RETRIBUTION failed to ignite. A scout reports Shivans -- not Terrans -- occupy the bridge. All we can guess is the Shivans sent their own sappers aboard and pulled our fuses. We’ve got to touch off that cruiser with hand-carried missiles."

"Hand -- carried?" Atsuko squeaked.

"Roger. My master computer shows four Harbinger missiles packed in your aft bomb-bay. Confirm."

"Confirmed, admiral, but it’s a screw-up --"

"We’ll take what luck we can get, lieutenant. Pick up your speed and prime all your projectiles. Red Flight’ll sweep wide along 290 and pull up over the cruiser’s midship gunwales. You target the conning tower with your Harbingers. The shields are weakest there. Blue Flight will clear your flight path."

"Target the -- Admiral, these are proximity missiles!"

"Affirmative." The cool voice could order soldiers to die, like it or not. "You drew the short straw. Prime, please."

*Please commit suicide? Well, what the hell.* More of her friends were dead than alive: it was simply her turn. And someone had to carry the payload to the enemy. Atsuko flicked switches with trembling fingers. "P-primed, ma’am."

"Follow my tail, pilot. We’re going in. Good luck."

"Thank you, admiral." Formal as a funeral parlor. "You too."

As if soaring down a black tunnel, the new Red Flight slid across the sky. The Terran cruiser RETRIBUTION, long as a city, was etched black against snowy Laramis II. The moon Laramis Prime had orbitted into view, and in the far distance floated two -- no three! -- Shivan D-Class cruisers. Blocking the flight’s path buzzed a swarm of silver Shivan destroyers, transports, convoy vessels, and fighters. Stationed back at the three-quarter mark of the flight, Atsuko’s Hercules was ringed by flaming steel ships steered by vulnerable human beings. As the flight’s speed increased and the silver web of enemies grew larger, the sky began to wink and sparkle. Not with starlight, but with munitions fire. Lights flashed like dawn until they were engulfed in hell.

Atsuko watched flight after flight peel away to attack or repulse the enemy. Many didn’t return, knocked to splinters of flying metal. One of Admiral American Horse’s Athena escorts exploded, so close pieces bounced off Atsuko’s shields. Flying Tiger ships were pared from Atsuko’s right flank, so she watched that side more than most. Those guards didn’t return either, the flank destroyed. Would *anyone* survive this war to see victory?

A hunchbacked GTA Ulysses flicked by upside-down, a factory-new beauty without a scratch. What miracles Atsuko could have performed flying that ship! But the Terran pilot waffled, lost and confused. More Terrans flocked, unsure whether to attack Red Flight or escort it. Atsuko wondered what story the admiral was spinning to stall them. GTA couldn’t know yet that the Tigers had croaked their first cruiser: so far they probably believed the Shivans had hit a soft spot, or else the ship imploded through internal mishap. *Frag the GTA*, Atsuko cursed. The Terrans would figure out the Laramites’ master plan when their second cruiser novaed in their faces.

Atsuko watched in wonder as a triple-wing Shivan ship dropped almost onto her head, but it targeted the admiral’s flagship. A side-mounted Flail cannon pulsed, hurling a cloud of krypton-powered laser beams to push the enemy back. The Shivan answered with chained lightning that etched cracks in LAKOTA’s hull. The tri-wing ignored its own wounds and actually accelerated into the snarling hellstorm. The Shivans formed suicide squads too, Atsuko marveled. She harried the enemy ship with laser bursts, as did other flyers, until the hull glowed cherry-red. Atsuko’s thumb ached to unleash a Harbinger missile to save the admiral’s ship, but she had the admiral’s orders to save her firepower for the cruiser. The tri-wing surged closer to the flagship, and Atsuko had to cease firing. LAKOTA NIGHTS staggered.

The comm snarled, the admiral’s voice. "Rammer -- Uh! -- Carry out -- the mission! Con-firm!"

"Confirmed, ma’am!" Atsuko’s own voice cracked as tears ran into her oxygen mask.

Zigging and zagging to avoid the wobbling enemy craft, Atsuko watched from the corner of her eye as the painted horse burned: burning that hot in vacuum! Admiral American Horse’s Medusa suddenly veered into the path of its nemesis like a kamikaze of old. The Shivans didn’t dodge: probably the crew was already dead. Both ships exploded in a boiling fireball that shoved CHERRY BLOSSOM on like a giant hand.

Atsuko fired and fired again, almost blind with tears, and let the computer fire too. No need to conserve ammunition. Tapping the Ship’s Status indicator showed her the Fleet Status. Maybe thirty Tiger ships were left in Red Flight, though several had dropped behind as their power plants failed. A quick wingover for visual confirmation showed her Red Flight had bored within spitting distance of RETRIBUTION. The city-sized cruiser suspended firing amidships for fear of hitting their own GTA guys. Atsuko wondered about the pause, until she realized the cruiser was so huge, the bridge could be overrun by Shivan assault squads before other sections even knew it... or maybe the Tigers’ "secret plan" had been leaked so the Terran crew could abandon ship.

Atsuko hoped so.

A machete-ship crabbed past, spewing wreckage and Shivan bodies. A Synaptic bomb whistled by, close enough to touch. Ships came and went as if tossed by a whirlwind. Close by the cruiser were scattered red spinning cluster mines. Atsuko diverted two lasers and let the computer pop them.

The LOCK alarm by Atsuko’s left hip suddenly flashed on, and she almost panicked. Instinct made her sideslip and then wingover to shake off whatever heat-seeking missile was chasing her vapor trail. She flicked her console to rear view, saw a silver streak, joggled the joystick to evade --

-- and saw a Ulysses stoop like a hawk to bump the missile with a wingtip. The missile erupted, and the Ulysses touched off in sympathetic vibration. As the ship ruptured, Atsuko read the name CITY OF NEW ORLEANS on the blistered hull. She whispered, "Thanks, Butterfly."

Now came Atsuko’s turn.

Before her loomed the cruiser. All around her soared Shivans and too few Tigers.

"Afterburners ready!"

"Ready," replied the computer.

"Afterburners -- ON!"

Atsuko was slammed back into her seat as her Hercules was kicked in the tail. With all rockets firing, she zoomed away from her doomed escort and aimed her craft like an arrow for the RETRIBUTION’s conning tower.

This was it, she thought. Her *final* descent.

Alone, Atsuko dived while the cruiser’s conning tower grew in her screen. Her lasers and cannon are auto-firing, more for distraction than damage. She needed to concentrate to hit her target.

"Computer!" Atsuko barked. "Cut the Harbingers’s fuses long but squeeze the range to minimum! Divert all power to front shields!"

"Harbinger charges delayed to fifteen seconds. Detonation interval reduced to fifty meters," confirmed the machine. "Full power to bow screens."

Atsuko felt the ship lurch, fishtail and headstall, as her shields blinked out at the stern and thickened before her bow. Down in the secondary bomb-bay, the dangerous Harbingers hummed alive, probably frying her auxiliary electronics. Yet this configuration should do the deed just dandy, she calculated. Harbingers alone might not penetrate the cruiser’s defenses and armor. But a 146-ton starcraft tipped with twelve layers of shielding should smash like a fist through wet paper. Four missiles, delivered deep into the cruiser’s guts, would deliver 20,000 megatons of atomic destruction.

And the pilot, sitting at the heart of the explosion, wouldn’t feel a twinge.

Wrestling the joystick, Atsuko aimed straight for the glistening window on the bridge, where interior lights illuminated silhouettes crooked as a dog’s leg. The vision was fuzzed by the heavy shielding, but she saw the evil armored faces of Shivans swivel towards her.
Atsuko screamed a battle cry that hadn’t been heard for a thousand years. "BANNN-ZAIIIII!"

She thumbed the joystick: once, twice. CHERRY BLOSSOM bucked and bucked again as the Harbingers fired two and two. Missiles drilled like lasers for the bridge window.

Atsuko clamped the joystick against her gut to hold her course, but the cruiser’s massive shields, like multiple layers of splintering ice, sent her Hercules skidding and slipping in a dozen directions at once. Lacking the mammoth payload, with afterburners driving the stern to overtake the bow, the ship’s nose dropped. Atsuko yanked upwards and CHERRY BLOSSOM took wing like a bird, flattening into a shallow arc. The pilot grit her teeth as armor plate and plexiglass cartwheeled across her screen. Her ship straightened, bored on --

-- and rammed the cruiser’s bridge.

Although Atsuko never saw it happen, the nose of the Hercules caromed off the bridge’s brow like a cannonball. Despite safety harness, the pilot was flung forward hard enough to snap bones. Her crash helmet splintered gauges while her nose hammered her faceshield and spurted blood. The joystick busted ribs.

CHERRY BLOSSOM suffered worse. Far behind Atsuko’s seat, the power plant blew as shields ruptured from feedback. Electronics sputtered and spat and burned and burned out. Hull plates sheared and rivets popped. Stubby wings crumpled and snapped off. The wreck pinwheeled across a backdrop of stars.

Dimly, despite the frantic spinning, Atsuko saw only that the cruiser sailed on, still fired all its guns, still dealt death in all directions. She blacked out moments before a nuclear-powered star blossomed inside RETRIBUTION’s bridge and the conning tower shattered like a volcano.

All Atsuko knew was she’d failed.

Failed her comrades, dead and alive, and failed herself.

Atsuko’s loyal CHERRY BLOSSOM blacked out, electronics gone, life-support failing. The spinning shell of metal was dying in space, with its pilot dying within for lack of air...

* * *

Air puffed on Atsuko’s eyelids, filled her nostrils, cooled the sweat on her brow. Prying open a swollen eye, she saw the word RESCUE swim past.

A GTA tech, a black man with merry blue eyes, snapped an oxygen mask over her face. A red cross burned bright on his white helmet. As Atsuko’s vision cleared, she saw another medic rode a rescue boom that draped an oxygen tent over the shattered cockpit. A mechanical umbilical ran back to a GTA convoy ship, an old hammer-headed Chronos freighter refitted for rescue and repair. The second medic handed down instruments while the first leaned into CHERRY BLOSSOM’s cramped cockpit.

"You okay?" He smiled and waved a hand. "How many fingers?"

"Uh. Thirty or -- forty. You must play -- a hell of a piano." Atsuko’s lungs gurgled as she sucked oxygen, a wonderfully sweet "divine wind". With consciousness came curiosity. "Hey! Why am I alive? What happened?"

"Plenty. Hold still." The medic aimed a long-needled syringe and punched clean through her flightsuit into her skin. "When RETRIBUTION blew it fragged four of the nav buoys -- and blew you five klicks, practically into our laps. Our GTA guys from the west pole clobbered the other buoys. Yeah, we know you Tigers scuttled our cruisers: our CO explained the plan. I wish you locals had given us Terrans the full picture: we could’a worked together."

"We -- tried." Atsuko sipped air and let the tech work. Finally she could relax. "Your top brass -- wouldn’t listen."

"They never do. But the ol’ home planet is safe because the jump node is flooey. The down side is, you and us and a shitload o’ Shivans are trapped in this system for good. But your second-in-command says there’s plenty of other planets. We’ll be okay. That’s the news. Oh, and you’re a hero."

"He -- ouch! -- ro?" A cracked rib squeaked in Atsuko’s chest, but the medicine soothed her pain like cold fire.

"Yes, ma’am. Though us and your buddies might be the only ones who’ll ever know."

"That’s -- enough."

"That bombing run of yours was quite a sight." Plying a parachute knife, the medic cut loose her harness, then attached snaphooks from the rescue boom to her flightsuit. Gently Atsuko was plucked from her seat. She felt nothing, her head buzzing while the medic talked to keep her awake. "You knocked out an enemy cruiser single-handed."

"No. Not single-handed." Atsuko pictured all the good men and women who’d gotten killed escorting her down to that cruiser. And all those ancient dead ancestors who’d given her life, and put her here today. "No, I was just the -- the point of the sword."

"Maybe," laughed the medic, "but they’ll need to mint you some new kind of medal. Crunching a cruiser alone? No one’s done that in -- a thousand years!"

==Related links==
http://web.archive.org/web/19990218050743/http://www.interplay.com/freespace/stories/story4.html

[[Category:Canon reference]]

Freefall in Darkness

2013-02-05T00:05:36Z

SypheDMar:

'''''Freefall in Darkness''''' is an official short story written by Jeff Grubb and published by [[Interplay]]. It is not known if it is considered canon, though it is generally not regarded as canon because there are many inconsistencies between the four stories published by Interplay and the [[FreeSpace 1|game]] itself. [[Volition]] does not seem to have been involved with the stories, either. However, there are no confirmations from Volition itself.

'''The following is a repost of Grubb's short story Freefall in Darkness.'''
==Freefall in Darkness==
Space was always dark, and for years that darkness comforted Val.

Her mind realized that there was nothing but void between the beacons of the stars, but her heart thought of the those stars as diamonds scattered against a velvet backdrop. She knew the space between was cold and empty, but always made her feel warm, and was filled with memories. The darkness reminded her of summer camps in Reclamation Georgia, where the fireflies would dance and spark among the ghostly moonlit pines.

Hers was not an opinion held by the other members of her squad. Spex the Tech would talk about the time it took for the light to reach across the eons of space. Maddog Maddox, the burned-out vet of too many battles, would say that the stars were the eyes of the gods - hard and uncaring. Hype, the rookie, would worry about the darkness between the lights in the sky. And Top Kick, the captain and the only other woman in the squad, probably didn't give a damn one way or the other.

Val craned her neck upwards, but the brow of her visor cut off the view of the zenith. Ahead of her, the spotlights from the Terran cruisers played over the shattered wreck, the white circles of illumination rippling over the twisted machinery of the Shivan ship's surface.

Maddog's voice crackled in her ear. "Looks like a major Hollywood opening! All-singing, all-dancing"

Top's voice rasped in weary response. "Cut the cute talk, Maddox. We've got a job here." Top was all business, all professional, and her voice had a steely edge to it, but Val knew the squad captain would rather be anywhere than here at this particular moment.

Val gave the squad leader an exaggerated nod in support. Spex chimed in, "Can we examine the hull, Top? There are micrometorite hits riddling the surface. This thing is OLD."

"There are enough bug-eyes looking at the surface," responded Top. "Our job is to find out what's inside. Val, you got the uplink set?"

There was a cascade of colors over Val's right eye. The visor itself served as her screen, and colored icons pulsed quietly along the base. She reached out with her left hand and gasped one. "Bravo-1 to Control. You read?"

"You're living large," responded Control, in a corn-fed Kansas accent. "Read you live, five by five". Val smiled - the voices at the other end of control seemed to come in two flavors - hayseed and robotic. She preferred the hayseed.

"Link established," said Val, to the group net. "We are on data feed now."

There was a burst of static in her ear. Val could not determine if Top had reacted to her comments. Val turned slowly to the squad leader, but the larger woman was already moving towards the access hatch. Her magnetic boots held the gangway and tugged at her steps like thick mud.

The gangway was a thin extruded bridge from their shuttle to the rear quarters of the Shivan ship, near the engine pods. The superstructure of one shattered pod lay twisted to their right, its oddly-shaped supports bent to resemble the skeleton of some long-forgotten beast.

Whatever had happened to the ship was catastrophic.

"What do you think hit it?" said Hype quietly. Hype was always quiet, and nervous. That was probably why he always carried the big krypton laser in the team. Security issues.

"Major meteor," said Spex before anyone else would answer. "Maybe cruised too close to a black hole's event horizon. Or even one of those micro-point black holes. They're theoretical, still, but its a possibility."

"Leave the speculation for the scientists," snapped Top. "We're here to just gather the data. Eyes up."

Along the base of Val's visor four pips appeared. The cameras mounted within their helmets and weapons had been activated. She reached out and stroked an icon, and a fifth pip appeared.

Hype said, "Don't you think our guys might have done it?"

The question hung there like a wounded fighter in space. No one responded, and not just because they were officially recording now.

No, thought Val, 'our guys', the Terrans and the Vasudans, could not have done it. This was the first Shivan ship anyone had seen up close. Most of what they knew about the invaders' ships was from helmet feeds before the pilots using them were blown up. The few times they had beaten back an attack, the Shivans had chosen to activate self-destructs as opposed to being captured. No one knew what they looked like, or what their ships were like inside.

Until now.

"At the entrance," crackled Top.

"Wait for a moment, Bravo-1," said Control. A short pause, and Val looked up at the stars shining above the pitted surface of the Shivan ship. She thought of fireflies again. "Bravo-2 in position, now. Proceed."

Top motioned for Spex to activate the hatch. Val brought up her blaster, as did Maddog, though the vet did so slowly. Hype already had his trained on the hatch as if it would suddenly spring out and grab him.

He might not be wrong, Val thought. The on-board brains had made their best guess as to where the access passages were, but they were based on Terran and Vasudans ships. The Shivans were something completely different, and they could be boring into a fuel tank or an engine core for all they knew.

At the other end of the ship, the Bravo-2 team would be making a similar access, the hatch mechanism burning through the outer hull and establishing an air lock, should there be any atmosphere within.

The edge of the hatchway glowed red, and Val found she was holding her breath. Then the laser-etched light dimmed, and the telltale across the hatch's top flashed a vibrant green.

"We're through," said Top.

"Hatch access complete," confirmed Val, watching her monitors.

"Proceed," said Control, letting each syllable be a separate word.

The hatch accordioned out to form an access bay. Top was through first, followed by Hype with the heavy krypter, Val, and Spex. Maddog brought of the rear, "Ding-dong," said the veteran softly, "Avon calling."

Val grimaced. Maddog's sense of humor lurked eternally on the edge of official reprimand, and the soldier seemed to prefer that territory. Still, Maddog was the oldest of the five, and had seen more real action than even Top Kick.

Spex' fingers danced over the touchpad on the hatch's inner side. "We got an atmosphere," he said, obviously surprised.

"Nature?" growled Top, caution in her voice.

Val gripped the icon hanging in front of her right eye, and the data spilled into her system the same time it reached Spex. Mostly oxy-carb mix, but thinner than ship's air. Lot of exotics, but nothing that breather systems could not handle. Heavy particulate count, an indoor smog.

"Like Mexico City before the war." said Spex, as the data cascaded into the other systems. "Nasty, but not murderous. We go forward or back?"

"Forward," said Top.

"Proceed," chimed Control in Val's ear, and she nodded as well.

Spex gave an exaggerated nod and returned to punch numbers into the pad. The hatch to the access bay closed behind them, and there was the rhythmic pumping of pressure equalizing. Despite herself, Val held her breath as the smoky haze filled the bay, even though her suit was a closed system.

Finally she said, "Visibility sub-par. Toggling infra-red."

A second set of shadows appeared on her screens, the heat signatures of the other members of the squad. She grabbed another icon and the inboard computer winked their images out. Too much info on the visor screen could practically blind you. She saw Spex and Hype do the same. Maddog made no motion, and Top, well, Val assumed that Top would already have her infrared on before they even left the ship.

"Squad ready?" said the tall, muscular woman.

Grunts of agreement all around. "Yessem."

"Let's dance," she said, and Spex fingers stroked the keyplate.

The inner hatch steamed and irised open, the miasma rising in a smoky haze as the air from the access bay and the ship mixed.

"Spex, this crap organic?" said Top.

"Negative," replied the soldier, holding up a sensor, "More like particulate ash. Could have been fires on board at one point."

"Or still," noted Val, for the access was limned with red.

It was a dull red, the color of low-power lights on Terran ships. There were a number of small reddish lamps set in the walls, floor, and ceiling, winking like dragon-eyes in the smoky darkness. The walls and floor seemed to be covered with striations of browns and greys that caught the light and scattered it around the room.

Their bore-hole through the hull was high, above the level of the floor. It was a short jump down, and a scrambling climb back up. Top motioned for Maddog to go first.

The old soldier released the hold of his magnetic boots and gave just enough of a spring launch into the ship. Then he re-engaged his mag-boots to drift down to the floor itself. He hit with a resounding clang as they struck the uneven floor below. Maddog pulled up one boot, then the other, then signaled that everything was clear.

"We have lights," reported Top for Control's benefits, "But no grav. Repeat, no grav. Keeping mag-boots active."

Spex kicked off and joined Maddog on the floor, then Top, and Val. Hype was the last to go, and Val noted that it was with great reluctance that the youngest member of the squad released the hold of his boots, stepped off the edge, and reactivated them, bringing him and his heavy weapon down to their level.

Val snagged an icon on her view-monitor. "Control, we are in," she said.

There was a slight hiss of static now over the master link. "Breaking up slightly. You'd better boost you gain," said the hayseed voice of the Control.

Val twitched a slider-bar on a virtual menu. "How about now?"

"Better," said Control, "Kill the in-squad feed to me and keep your eyes on. Crank the audio scanners as well."

Val tugged at a few more icons, disengaging the inter-squad communications but keeping the individual cameras in operation. As soon as the inter-squad radio was no longer touched by Control, Spex said, "You know, they're going to get rid of those old visor-monitors soon. Beam the data directly onto your eyeballs, and let a sub-vocal communicator allow you to think you orders directly to the machine."

Val smiled - Spex was always up on the latest tech, whether real or imagined. Top didn't say anything to stop him, this time, but was more interested in the interior of the Shivan ship.

The area was vast, compared to human ships, with large amounts of open space. They had guessed that this was the engine room, or the Shivan equivalent of it. Odd pipes erupted from all sides, some heavy and black, others clear and filled with a luminous green-yellow solution. There were occasional bubbles through the pipes. From all sides smaller antler-like arrays sprung like twisted black trees.

"Think there's a central power system on-line?" asked Top.

"Possible," said Spex, "But more likely the ambients are running of back-up power, and are self-contained. There are number of dead lights around."

"Beam this back to Control and ask for input," said Top.

Val scanned around the room. "Nothing obvious," noted the corn-fed voice on the other end of the radio. "Keep scanning."

"That's a negative," said Val to Top through the squad link. Top grunted as Val moved the helmet-camera around, at the walls, the floors, and the oddly shaped antlers."

"The floor is a composite," said Spex, "a combination of materials, grey and brown. The greyish stuff is slightly adhesive, but that could just be from the age of the craft."

"But what was it?" said Hype, quietly into the link. Val turned slightly and saw that he was still near the entrance. "What was the purpose of the ship?"

"Heard some big-brains talking after the briefing," said Top, "They think it was a freighter of some type. Makes sense, since there are no visible weapon pods, and too much open space in here." The squad leader waved her weapon down the hall. The access-way disappeared in red-filled mist."

"And a freighter implies they have something to move from one place to another." said Spex. "But there's no freight."

"Further towards the bow, maybe," said Top, "Where Bravo-2 is."

Val got the sudden urge to ask about the other squad's position, but knew that Control wouldn't pass anything along. There was a completely different officer manning their link. Instead she toggled the local position guide.

Across her right eye the visor showed herself in the center, Spex over near one of the warped antler machines, and Top at point, moving towards one of the high-arched exits at one end of the room. Maddog was bringing up the rear, and Hype had not moved far from the access point.

"Better close it up, Mad, Hype," she said.

"Hyper is too worried about monsters in the shadows," Maddog said with a laugh.

"Am not!" said Hype, though there was a tremor in his voice that indicated that the older soldier had hit the nail on the head.

"He's afraid of rats," the older man said on a private line that excluded Top. "All these old ships have rats on it."

"Unlikely," said Spex, "Vermin maybe, but not rats."

"I'm not afraid of anything," puffed Hype, swinging his laser back and forth for effect. The thin red lance of the sight scanned across the large engine room.

"That's right," said Maddog. "My friend Hype's not afraid of . . . hang on. . . "

Val saw Maddog touch the side of his helmet.

Val checked her own icons. Top was not in on this conversation, and Spex had moved over to confer with her about some piece of equipment.

"What is it?" said Hype, a small tremor in his voice.

Val turned slightly towards Hype, but said nothing. She knew what was coming. Maddog did the same thing to her on her first patrol. She turned down her volume.

"I'm getting an erratic audio scan, rookie," said the older soldier. "Big one!"

"Where?" The young man groped at the air with his free hand, and Val could imagine Hype flipping through menus, seeking out the correct wavelength, "Where it it?"

"BEHIND YOU!" shouted the veteran, turning his feed all the way up so the words sounded like a roar.

The youngster jumped, or rather would have jumped if his mags had been disconnected. Instead, he bolted upright and tried to pivot in place, nearly pulling himself out of his boots. He flipped the command to release one of the boots, but too late, and that leg went lashing out in one direction as the rookie's body tried to twist the other, bringing the heavy laser up in the process. The force of the twist cascaded him backwards, and Hype fell over, one magnetic boot still moored securely to the floor.

Val quickly re-engaged the squad link so Top could hear Hype's surprised yelp, and the Squad Captain and Spex were back in a flash.

Top's eyes were hard, like steel marbles set in her dark flesh. "What the hell is going on?" she said, but Val already knew that the leader knew what was going on.

"Hunter's nerves," said Maddog. "The boy's seeing bogeys everywhere."

"That true, soldier?" said Top.

Hype pulled himself to his feet, and his pale flesh was red beneath the visor. "False reading. I'll confirm before reacting next time. Sorry. It won't happen again."

"I believe you," said Top, and turned to Maddog, "And I believe that there will be no more 'false readings', either. Am I clear?" She said it to the squad, but she was looking at Maddog.

"No problem," said the veteran.

"See that it isn't," said Top, and gave Val a fiery glance as well, "This isn't any garden party. This is the first hands-on exploration of a Shivan ship. I hope to remind you of that."

"Yessem," was the universal reply.

"We're moving in," said Top. "Val, I want you scan these tubes over here and send the data back to control. The rest of you, assume this is a potentially hostile situation and act like it. Am I clear?"

"Yessem," was the reply again, and the squad formed up.

"Val, I want you to give a scan on some of this ooze coming out from these tubes."

"Yessem," said Val, her breather mask hiding any trace of amusement.

The tubes in question were more of the clear ones with luminous plastic shining green against the reddish mist. The tubes had been nicked by some explosion or accident, and were oozing the glimmering fluid. Where it fell it left a dark stain against the material.

Val took visual scans of the area in regular, infra, and ultra, and switched to audio scan to see how deep the fluid had penetrated It looked like it had penetrated through the brown stuff, but left the grey stuff next to it intact.

Her own personal icon beeped as she worked. She flipped it open with an off-handed grab, and Spex crackled in her ear.

"What is missing from this picture?" said the other squad member.

"Chairs?" said Val softly, uploading the data to Control. "Consoles? Anything that resembles a work station or monitor?"

"Bodies," said Spex. "There are no bodies."

"Yeah," said Val, finishing off the last of the scan, "that too. There are no bodies. So?"

"So that means that whatever happened here, it happened slow enough that there were survivors to clean up the mess. Haul off the dead and patch up the ship."

"Again, so?"

"So where are they?" said Spex. "Where are the Shivans?"

Val shrugged, an oversized gesture because of her heat-dissipating shoulder plates. "They were rescued by other Shivans, in another ship."

"Then why did they leave the ship and not tow it in? We've had reports of bigger ships than this."

Again Val shrugged, "OK. No other Shivans, then. A lifeboat?"

"Again, why leave the ship behind? They've blown up their own wounded vessels before."

"Look, Maddox just did the 'monsters-in-the-dark trick on Hype. Don't you start."

"Yeah, I want you to play that little incident back for me later on the vid," said Spex. "If he wasn't moored down, he would have launched into orbit."

"You assume I got a vid of it," said Val, hiding a smile in her voice.

"After he did the same thing to you on your first patrol, of course you did," said Spex.

"Yeah, it was Vasudans that time. Its still a childish, hazing ritual that . . . Hang on . . , " more data flooded into her screen. "Control, is this correct?"

Control's voice was a little snowy. "Affirmative, Bravo-1. Keep the vids coming and the chatter down. There's something in the hull that's breaking you up. Boost your com-cells to compensate.

"Affirmative," touched several more icons, "Top, the stuff in the tubes is major-league volatile. Control says use caution with all controls, and particularly with weapons in this area." She turned towards Maddog. "A stray blast could set everything off."

If Maddog understood the danger of his earlier stunt, he said nothing.

Top said, "Let's move forward, rendezvous with Bravo-2".

They made for the low archway and Control's beacon signal started to fade. Val boosted the gain again, but it was still weak. Val wondered what was in the hull of this thing to make communications so difficult.

The archway opened into an even larger vault, dominated by great cones. The bases of the cones had vertical ribbing, and there were occasional flashes of light among the vanes. The cones could have been the Shivan subspace drive, or they could have been the Shivan equivalent of a portapotty for all Val could tell. Around them were the bands of brown, grey, and black composite material that seemed to make up the entire ship, broken by tangles of cable and more of the odd, antler-things. The floor, walls, and ceiling were dotted with open grates, and deep beneath those grates were more reddish lights.

Spex was on the private link again. "It is only a matter of time, you know."

"Before Maddog goes too far?"

"No, before we'd meet the Shivans, or somebody like them."

"You mean we were predestined to find an extremely powerful race of xenophobes?" said Val.

"Not necessarily the xenophobe part," said Spex, ". . . but the extremely powerful part. Look, the Vasudans and us are about the same tech level, right?"

"OK." Spex had a tendency to go on about his pet theories, whether they were the Shivans or the identity of the mystery meat in the mess. She let him go and continued to scan as they proceeded forward in the ship.

The other soldier continued, "So what are the odds that we would be one of the two first races to independently figure out sub-space? That in all the universe, there wasn't somebody who beat us to it?"

"The Shivans," said Val, levely.

"The Shivans," said Spex. "They were inevitable. A race that has been using subspace drives longer than us. Hell," he tapped the barrel of his laser against an antler thing, "this ship alone looks like its been around longer than humans or Vasudans have been using sub-space."

"If they're so advanced," said Val, "then how come they attack everything they find?" As they progressed deeper into the ship, the beacon signal got progressively weaker. She had the gain cranked up all the way now, and there was a snowy background to Control.

"Thought about that," said Spex, "what if they met another subspace-using race, like we met the Vasudans, and they got into a war, and they were the survivors. How likely does it make it that they will be a little aggressive the next time they run into someone?"

Val shook her head. The fact was that the Shivans took out every ship they met, whether it was Terran or Vasudan. Now they had one of their ships in their hands, literally a gift, and they did not know what to make of it.

The link to control was spacing now, leaving blank spots between the snow, " . . osing you, Bravo-1. Boost gain."

Val checked her menus. She had cranked the power all the way up as it was, and they were still losing the signal, "Top, we're just about out of shouting radius. Moving into a radio shadow. Forward or back?"

Top halted at the edge of another arch. Beyond that was a corridor, similar to the first diminishing finally in the red mist. The ship seemed to stretch out forever in front of them. Val felt the hairs raise at the base of her neck, as if, far off, doors were opening and shutting.

"Double back, " she replied at last, "There are some cross-passages that we can . . . "

"Top, I got an audio read," said Maddog.

Top snarled, "Soldier, I don't need your jokes right now. You're on report when we get back to . . . "

"Negative, ma'am," insisted Maddog. "Its on the low-level scan. Look for yourself."

"Maddog's right," said Val, cranking her own receptors up to max.

It was there, right where the vet had pegged it. It was half-way between a scratch and a hiss, the sound that a silk makes when its being dragged against the carpet. Drag, drag, then silence. Drag, Drag, then silence again.

"Control, we have an audio contact," she said into the mike, but was only rewarded with a low hiss. She could urge a few more amps out of array by shutting down other systems, but did not want to lose the audio contact.

It appeared at the edge of their vision, crystallizing out of the smoky red haze. It was alone, and at first Val thought it had been wounded from its halting, lurching steps.

The creature was mildly dog-like, and had five limbs. The rear three were like a tripod, with its torso slung forward from their apex. These rear legs looked almost delicate compared to the front pair, which were heavily muscled and armored with thick plates. There was one joint too many in all the limbs, and the creature seemed to move with an abominable grace. A neckless head sprung from the juncture of the two forward arms, roughly human-sized, but painted with pale red clusters of dots. Val thought of them at once as eyes.

"Power up!" snapped Top, and three argon blasters and a krypton heavy laser came up, their red tell-tales flashng around their barrels to show they were at full charge.

"Top, hold your fire," said Spex.

The Squad Captain scowled, but nodded. Ten meters away, the Shivan squatted in its lower tripod and regarded them almost quizzically.

"We got into war with the Vasudans so easily, and fell into fighting these creatures as well," said Spex. "Can we just talk to them?"

"We've tried communication and they wiped our ships out of space," snapped Top, "Power up!""

"We tried radio communication," said Spex sternly, "We tried to talk to their technology from our technology. Maybe it doesn't match. Maybe they don't understand. Maybe we can communicate face-to-face for once."

"You're violating orders," said Top.

"Give me a chance," said Spex. "Let me take the risk." He leaned forward. "Look at it. It's unarmed."

Maddog put in, "Those might not even be real Shivans. They might be rats, or dogs, or something."

"No," said Spex, "it's intelligent. It's waiting for us to come to a decision. Look at it! It's waiting."

Indeed, the creature was poised, not so much in a crouch as in an expectant position. It flexed its knuckle-like fingers against the deck of the ship. It was waiting for them.

Top did not lower her weapon. "Val, any chance of reaching Control?"

Val gripped some icons, but was rewarded only with static. She shook her head, and kept her own weapon up, the laser-dot aimed square that the creature's head.

There was single moment of silence deep in the bowels of the ruined ship, then Top said, "Do it. But at the first hostile move, drop out of there, because we're going to shoot through you. Clear?"

"Clear," said Spex, taking a deep breath, and setting down his own blaster. He stepped forward, holding his hands outstretched and empty.

The Shivan held its ground as Spex approached, its head rotating first counterclockwise, then clockwise. As if it was attempting to understand the bipedal creature that approached it.

"Its ship is wounded," said Spex calmly. "It has two choices, to accept help or to die. It won't want to die if it can help it. It might be the only one. It might be lonely. It IS intelligent."

Val nodded at the last point. It was smart enough to wait. Smart enough to stand its ground as the humans decided what to do about it.

Spex raised his hands, and opened and closed and opened his palms. The Shivan repeated the gesture. The tech was all of two meters apart, easily within the reach of the powerful arms.

It was intelligent, realized Val. Was it intelligent enough to wait for them in the heart of the ship? Smart enough to know that this would be the best place for an ambush?

Smart enough to know they were cut off from contact with their ship?

Val opened her mouth to bark a warning, but it was too late. Spex opened his palms one last time to show they were empty. The Shivan opened its three-fingered palms as well, and bursts of blue energy coalesced in its stubby palms.

He didn't even have time to cry out as his upper body, cut free from the tether of his magnetic boots, pinwheeled upwards, trailing a thick, boiling cloud of crimson bubbles. With the speed of a scorpion the Shivan had lunged forward and in two short blows, bisected Spex easily across the middle.

Then Top barked another order, and they were firing, all of them, at the Shivan. Spex's remains, still attached to his boots, were shredded as the beams laced along the corridor, and hit the Shivan square in the head. The small dome-like face vaporized under the blow, but the creature did not fall. Instead, it pulled back, blubbering and hissing as it did.

"Follow it," ordered Top, "Finish it off!"

"No!" shouted Val into the link, so sharply that even Top snapped her head back. "Along the low-scale audio. Listen for a moment."

Top toggled the channel and there it was again. The low sound of a silk bag dragged across a carpet.

And it came from all around it.

"Ambush!" snapped Top, "Pull back to the entrance. Maddox, you cover the rear!"

Val was backpedaling already as the hissing noise grew greater further down the corridor. Maddog began sweeping the area with his targeting laser, ready for the first monster to appear from the mists.

That was when the grate beneath him gave way and he sank into the deck, into a neat hole burrowed beneath his feet. His weapon when tumbling to one side, and his body began to twitch as something beneath began to twist the soldier's legs off. His screams filled Val's helmet, and despite herself, she raised her hands to her ears.

"Dammitohell!" shouted Top. "Kill the feed!"

Blindly Val reached out and gripped an icon, and Maddog's shrieks died instantly. The body continued to shake in its shallow pit, and then slumped forward at last, its internal organs shredded from below.

Val ran now, following Hype, with Top bringing up the rear. Almost immediately they moved out of the radio shadow created by the wreck, and Contact's voice was harsh in her ears. The hayseed was gone, replaced with panic.

"... avo-1, please respond! Bravo-1 Please respond!"

Hype stopped in front of her, wheeled, and fired a bolt down the hallway. No visible target, but the krypton laser flashed and thundered, then whined again as it slowly recharged for the next shot. Val touched the icon for Control."

Val fought to keep the panic out of her voice. "Bravo-1. We are under attack by Shivans. Repeat, we are under attack by Shivans."

"Evacuate, Bravo-1," said Control. "We have lost Bravo-2. You are ordered to evacuate."

Val blinked back the sweat pouring into her eyes. Bravo-2 was gone. The attacks took place at the same time, when they were under the radio shadow.

The Shivans were very intelligent, indeed.

At each intersection, they would halt, quickly check the side approaches, then scuttle across. The access bay felt like it was miles away. And behind them there was the rustling sound that chilled her to the bone.

Top passed beneath a low archway and died instantly as a Shivan dropped down from above, its tripod legs moored firmly to the ceiling above. The squad captain was ripped from the floor, and flailed against the beast, firing two shots into it before.

There was a soft ripping noise and something the size of Top's battered helmet struck the wall next to them. Val realized that she still had Top's link open, but the women did not even scream.

Hype did enough screaming for the three of them, unloading the heavy laser into the beast at point blank range. There was a flash of bright blue, and when Val's eyes had returned to normal, the creature was gone, burrowing up through the ceiling, taking Top's remains with it.

Zero gravity did not seem to bother these creatures. Indeed, they seemed to thrive on it.

"Bravo-1 to Control, We've lost the Captain. Two others dead."

"Evacuate," said Control, and this voice was cold and robotic, "We will destroy the ship if we have to, but evacuate."

Hype scanned the area around them. There were hissing noises in all the mists, as if a basket of snakes had been overturned. "You go ahead," he said, "Run for it."

"We'll go together," she said, hoisting her own laser. The tell-tales were already flashing yellow. Her power was low. Had she fired it so much?

"I've got the gun, you've got the information," said Hype, his voice level and cool. "You have to get out. I'll follow."

Val wanted to argue, but Hype's eyes behind the visor were cold and icy. He knew what he was doing. She had to get out with the information. The helmet cams were the only record of the first contact.

Val ran, and behind her there was the booming shot of the krypton laser. Then a pause as it recharged, then another booming shot. There was no third shot.

She was in the engine room now, with its strange cones and pipes of greenish-yellow fluids. The bay was ahead, up a short scramble. She could unlock the mags on her boots and leap through it. And then she would be safe.

And the thought died in her heart as she saw the figures moving around the access hatch. Figures that were vaguely dog-like, with five limbs. They looked up at her and hissed.

Val screamed and fired. Not at them, but at the access hatch itself. Her bolt pierced both the outer and inner seals, and ruptured the hatchway, opening the engine room to space itself. To the welcoming darkness.

Val felt like a twister was trying to rip her from the deck, but her boots held. She was in her suit, but her foes were naked to space. Drastic, but a suitable solution to the problem.

The Shivans did not seem to be affected by the loss of atmosphere. Instead, they launched themselves towards her, their powerful muscles overcoming the winds of the escaping atmosphere. They were more intent on killing her than surviving themselves.

Control said something that she did not hear over the tornado winds, and Val screamed again. She released the grip of the magnetic boots and leapt upwards to meet them. As she flew forward, she used the large of the blaster's energy to strafe the walls, walls laced with translucent tubes filled with volatiles.

There were the burst of half a hundred bright red flowers around her, which combined with the winds to shoot her out the opening, trailing a banner of flame. The last sight of her camera was of the flames spreading along the length of the Shivan freighter, and the last words she heard was Control ordering all ships to stand clear of the wreck . . .

----

They found her among the wreckage, and saved enough of her for a decent trial. Spex was found guilty of violating regs in trying to talk to the Shivans, and Top in letting him, and both were posthumously court-martialled. Maddog and Hype were given commendations, with the increase shown in the benefits paid to their families.

Val was commended for getting the information out, the first data showing the Shivans in action. Then she was busted down for starting the explosions that destroyed the ship (and all of its attendant useful data), and shipped back to Earth. None of that made any difference to Val after the drug-facilitated debriefing, and put her in a veteran's shelter, her mind shattered and most of her body broken.

The only thing that did make a difference was the darkness. She could not bear it, and cried in an inhuman, keening scream whenever the lights were doused. As a result, the lights in her room were permanently left on.

For it was always dark in space, and Val had learned to fear the darkness.

==Related links==
http://web.archive.org/web/19990218035427/http://www.interplay.com/freespace/stories/story3.html

[[Category:Canon reference]]

Freefall in Darkness

2013-02-05T00:05:02Z

SypheDMar: Created page with "'''''Freefall in Darkness''''' is an official short story written by Jeff Grubb and published by Interplay. It is not known if it is considered canon, though it is generally …"

'''''Freefall in Darkness''''' is an official short story written by Jeff Grubb and published by [[Interplay]]. It is not known if it is considered canon, though it is generally not regarded as canon because there are many inconsistencies between the four stories published by Interplay and the [[FreeSpace 1|game]] itself. [[Volition]] does not seem to have been involved with the stories, either. However, there are no confirmations from Volition itself.

'''The following is a repost of Grubb's short story Freefall in Darkness.'''
==Freefall in Darkness==
Space was always dark, and for years that darkness comforted Val.

Her mind realized that there was nothing but void between the beacons of the stars, but her heart thought of the those stars as diamonds scattered against a velvet backdrop. She knew the space between was cold and empty, but always made her feel warm, and was filled with memories. The darkness reminded her of summer camps in Reclamation Georgia, where the fireflies would dance and spark among the ghostly moonlit pines.

Hers was not an opinion held by the other members of her squad. Spex the Tech would talk about the time it took for the light to reach across the eons of space. Maddog Maddox, the burned-out vet of too many battles, would say that the stars were the eyes of the gods - hard and uncaring. Hype, the rookie, would worry about the darkness between the lights in the sky. And Top Kick, the captain and the only other woman in the squad, probably didn't give a damn one way or the other.

Val craned her neck upwards, but the brow of her visor cut off the view of the zenith. Ahead of her, the spotlights from the Terran cruisers played over the shattered wreck, the white circles of illumination rippling over the twisted machinery of the Shivan ship's surface.

Maddog's voice crackled in her ear. "Looks like a major Hollywood opening! All-singing, all-dancing"

Top's voice rasped in weary response. "Cut the cute talk, Maddox. We've got a job here." Top was all business, all professional, and her voice had a steely edge to it, but Val knew the squad captain would rather be anywhere than here at this particular moment.

Val gave the squad leader an exaggerated nod in support. Spex chimed in, "Can we examine the hull, Top? There are micrometorite hits riddling the surface. This thing is OLD."

"There are enough bug-eyes looking at the surface," responded Top. "Our job is to find out what's inside. Val, you got the uplink set?"

There was a cascade of colors over Val's right eye. The visor itself served as her screen, and colored icons pulsed quietly along the base. She reached out with her left hand and gasped one. "Bravo-1 to Control. You read?"

"You're living large," responded Control, in a corn-fed Kansas accent. "Read you live, five by five". Val smiled - the voices at the other end of control seemed to come in two flavors - hayseed and robotic. She preferred the hayseed.

"Link established," said Val, to the group net. "We are on data feed now."

There was a burst of static in her ear. Val could not determine if Top had reacted to her comments. Val turned slowly to the squad leader, but the larger woman was already moving towards the access hatch. Her magnetic boots held the gangway and tugged at her steps like thick mud.

The gangway was a thin extruded bridge from their shuttle to the rear quarters of the Shivan ship, near the engine pods. The superstructure of one shattered pod lay twisted to their right, its oddly-shaped supports bent to resemble the skeleton of some long-forgotten beast.

Whatever had happened to the ship was catastrophic.

"What do you think hit it?" said Hype quietly. Hype was always quiet, and nervous. That was probably why he always carried the big krypton laser in the team. Security issues.

"Major meteor," said Spex before anyone else would answer. "Maybe cruised too close to a black hole's event horizon. Or even one of those micro-point black holes. They're theoretical, still, but its a possibility."

"Leave the speculation for the scientists," snapped Top. "We're here to just gather the data. Eyes up."

Along the base of Val's visor four pips appeared. The cameras mounted within their helmets and weapons had been activated. She reached out and stroked an icon, and a fifth pip appeared.

Hype said, "Don't you think our guys might have done it?"

The question hung there like a wounded fighter in space. No one responded, and not just because they were officially recording now.

No, thought Val, 'our guys', the Terrans and the Vasudans, could not have done it. This was the first Shivan ship anyone had seen up close. Most of what they knew about the invaders' ships was from helmet feeds before the pilots using them were blown up. The few times they had beaten back an attack, the Shivans had chosen to activate self-destructs as opposed to being captured. No one knew what they looked like, or what their ships were like inside.

Until now.

"At the entrance," crackled Top.

"Wait for a moment, Bravo-1," said Control. A short pause, and Val looked up at the stars shining above the pitted surface of the Shivan ship. She thought of fireflies again. "Bravo-2 in position, now. Proceed."

Top motioned for Spex to activate the hatch. Val brought up her blaster, as did Maddog, though the vet did so slowly. Hype already had his trained on the hatch as if it would suddenly spring out and grab him.

He might not be wrong, Val thought. The on-board brains had made their best guess as to where the access passages were, but they were based on Terran and Vasudans ships. The Shivans were something completely different, and they could be boring into a fuel tank or an engine core for all they knew.

At the other end of the ship, the Bravo-2 team would be making a similar access, the hatch mechanism burning through the outer hull and establishing an air lock, should there be any atmosphere within.

The edge of the hatchway glowed red, and Val found she was holding her breath. Then the laser-etched light dimmed, and the telltale across the hatch's top flashed a vibrant green.

"We're through," said Top.

"Hatch access complete," confirmed Val, watching her monitors.

"Proceed," said Control, letting each syllable be a separate word.

The hatch accordioned out to form an access bay. Top was through first, followed by Hype with the heavy krypter, Val, and Spex. Maddog brought of the rear, "Ding-dong," said the veteran softly, "Avon calling."

Val grimaced. Maddog's sense of humor lurked eternally on the edge of official reprimand, and the soldier seemed to prefer that territory. Still, Maddog was the oldest of the five, and had seen more real action than even Top Kick.

Spex' fingers danced over the touchpad on the hatch's inner side. "We got an atmosphere," he said, obviously surprised.

"Nature?" growled Top, caution in her voice.

Val gripped the icon hanging in front of her right eye, and the data spilled into her system the same time it reached Spex. Mostly oxy-carb mix, but thinner than ship's air. Lot of exotics, but nothing that breather systems could not handle. Heavy particulate count, an indoor smog.

"Like Mexico City before the war." said Spex, as the data cascaded into the other systems. "Nasty, but not murderous. We go forward or back?"

"Forward," said Top.

"Proceed," chimed Control in Val's ear, and she nodded as well.

Spex gave an exaggerated nod and returned to punch numbers into the pad. The hatch to the access bay closed behind them, and there was the rhythmic pumping of pressure equalizing. Despite herself, Val held her breath as the smoky haze filled the bay, even though her suit was a closed system.

Finally she said, "Visibility sub-par. Toggling infra-red."

A second set of shadows appeared on her screens, the heat signatures of the other members of the squad. She grabbed another icon and the inboard computer winked their images out. Too much info on the visor screen could practically blind you. She saw Spex and Hype do the same. Maddog made no motion, and Top, well, Val assumed that Top would already have her infrared on before they even left the ship.

"Squad ready?" said the tall, muscular woman.

Grunts of agreement all around. "Yessem."

"Let's dance," she said, and Spex fingers stroked the keyplate.

The inner hatch steamed and irised open, the miasma rising in a smoky haze as the air from the access bay and the ship mixed.

"Spex, this crap organic?" said Top.

"Negative," replied the soldier, holding up a sensor, "More like particulate ash. Could have been fires on board at one point."

"Or still," noted Val, for the access was limned with red.

It was a dull red, the color of low-power lights on Terran ships. There were a number of small reddish lamps set in the walls, floor, and ceiling, winking like dragon-eyes in the smoky darkness. The walls and floor seemed to be covered with striations of browns and greys that caught the light and scattered it around the room.

Their bore-hole through the hull was high, above the level of the floor. It was a short jump down, and a scrambling climb back up. Top motioned for Maddog to go first.

The old soldier released the hold of his magnetic boots and gave just enough of a spring launch into the ship. Then he re-engaged his mag-boots to drift down to the floor itself. He hit with a resounding clang as they struck the uneven floor below. Maddog pulled up one boot, then the other, then signaled that everything was clear.

"We have lights," reported Top for Control's benefits, "But no grav. Repeat, no grav. Keeping mag-boots active."

Spex kicked off and joined Maddog on the floor, then Top, and Val. Hype was the last to go, and Val noted that it was with great reluctance that the youngest member of the squad released the hold of his boots, stepped off the edge, and reactivated them, bringing him and his heavy weapon down to their level.

Val snagged an icon on her view-monitor. "Control, we are in," she said.

There was a slight hiss of static now over the master link. "Breaking up slightly. You'd better boost you gain," said the hayseed voice of the Control.

Val twitched a slider-bar on a virtual menu. "How about now?"

"Better," said Control, "Kill the in-squad feed to me and keep your eyes on. Crank the audio scanners as well."

Val tugged at a few more icons, disengaging the inter-squad communications but keeping the individual cameras in operation. As soon as the inter-squad radio was no longer touched by Control, Spex said, "You know, they're going to get rid of those old visor-monitors soon. Beam the data directly onto your eyeballs, and let a sub-vocal communicator allow you to think you orders directly to the machine."

Val smiled - Spex was always up on the latest tech, whether real or imagined. Top didn't say anything to stop him, this time, but was more interested in the interior of the Shivan ship.

The area was vast, compared to human ships, with large amounts of open space. They had guessed that this was the engine room, or the Shivan equivalent of it. Odd pipes erupted from all sides, some heavy and black, others clear and filled with a luminous green-yellow solution. There were occasional bubbles through the pipes. From all sides smaller antler-like arrays sprung like twisted black trees.

"Think there's a central power system on-line?" asked Top.

"Possible," said Spex, "But more likely the ambients are running of back-up power, and are self-contained. There are number of dead lights around."

"Beam this back to Control and ask for input," said Top.

Val scanned around the room. "Nothing obvious," noted the corn-fed voice on the other end of the radio. "Keep scanning."

"That's a negative," said Val to Top through the squad link. Top grunted as Val moved the helmet-camera around, at the walls, the floors, and the oddly shaped antlers."

"The floor is a composite," said Spex, "a combination of materials, grey and brown. The greyish stuff is slightly adhesive, but that could just be from the age of the craft."

"But what was it?" said Hype, quietly into the link. Val turned slightly and saw that he was still near the entrance. "What was the purpose of the ship?"

"Heard some big-brains talking after the briefing," said Top, "They think it was a freighter of some type. Makes sense, since there are no visible weapon pods, and too much open space in here." The squad leader waved her weapon down the hall. The access-way disappeared in red-filled mist."

"And a freighter implies they have something to move from one place to another." said Spex. "But there's no freight."

"Further towards the bow, maybe," said Top, "Where Bravo-2 is."

Val got the sudden urge to ask about the other squad's position, but knew that Control wouldn't pass anything along. There was a completely different officer manning their link. Instead she toggled the local position guide.

Across her right eye the visor showed herself in the center, Spex over near one of the warped antler machines, and Top at point, moving towards one of the high-arched exits at one end of the room. Maddog was bringing up the rear, and Hype had not moved far from the access point.

"Better close it up, Mad, Hype," she said.

"Hyper is too worried about monsters in the shadows," Maddog said with a laugh.

"Am not!" said Hype, though there was a tremor in his voice that indicated that the older soldier had hit the nail on the head.

"He's afraid of rats," the older man said on a private line that excluded Top. "All these old ships have rats on it."

"Unlikely," said Spex, "Vermin maybe, but not rats."

"I'm not afraid of anything," puffed Hype, swinging his laser back and forth for effect. The thin red lance of the sight scanned across the large engine room.

"That's right," said Maddog. "My friend Hype's not afraid of . . . hang on. . . "

Val saw Maddog touch the side of his helmet.

Val checked her own icons. Top was not in on this conversation, and Spex had moved over to confer with her about some piece of equipment.

"What is it?" said Hype, a small tremor in his voice.

Val turned slightly towards Hype, but said nothing. She knew what was coming. Maddog did the same thing to her on her first patrol. She turned down her volume.

"I'm getting an erratic audio scan, rookie," said the older soldier. "Big one!"

"Where?" The young man groped at the air with his free hand, and Val could imagine Hype flipping through menus, seeking out the correct wavelength, "Where it it?"

"BEHIND YOU!" shouted the veteran, turning his feed all the way up so the words sounded like a roar.

The youngster jumped, or rather would have jumped if his mags had been disconnected. Instead, he bolted upright and tried to pivot in place, nearly pulling himself out of his boots. He flipped the command to release one of the boots, but too late, and that leg went lashing out in one direction as the rookie's body tried to twist the other, bringing the heavy laser up in the process. The force of the twist cascaded him backwards, and Hype fell over, one magnetic boot still moored securely to the floor.

Val quickly re-engaged the squad link so Top could hear Hype's surprised yelp, and the Squad Captain and Spex were back in a flash.

Top's eyes were hard, like steel marbles set in her dark flesh. "What the hell is going on?" she said, but Val already knew that the leader knew what was going on.

"Hunter's nerves," said Maddog. "The boy's seeing bogeys everywhere."

"That true, soldier?" said Top.

Hype pulled himself to his feet, and his pale flesh was red beneath the visor. "False reading. I'll confirm before reacting next time. Sorry. It won't happen again."

"I believe you," said Top, and turned to Maddog, "And I believe that there will be no more 'false readings', either. Am I clear?" She said it to the squad, but she was looking at Maddog.

"No problem," said the veteran.

"See that it isn't," said Top, and gave Val a fiery glance as well, "This isn't any garden party. This is the first hands-on exploration of a Shivan ship. I hope to remind you of that."

"Yessem," was the universal reply.

"We're moving in," said Top. "Val, I want you scan these tubes over here and send the data back to control. The rest of you, assume this is a potentially hostile situation and act like it. Am I clear?"

"Yessem," was the reply again, and the squad formed up.

"Val, I want you to give a scan on some of this ooze coming out from these tubes."

"Yessem," said Val, her breather mask hiding any trace of amusement.

The tubes in question were more of the clear ones with luminous plastic shining green against the reddish mist. The tubes had been nicked by some explosion or accident, and were oozing the glimmering fluid. Where it fell it left a dark stain against the material.

Val took visual scans of the area in regular, infra, and ultra, and switched to audio scan to see how deep the fluid had penetrated It looked like it had penetrated through the brown stuff, but left the grey stuff next to it intact.

Her own personal icon beeped as she worked. She flipped it open with an off-handed grab, and Spex crackled in her ear.

"What is missing from this picture?" said the other squad member.

"Chairs?" said Val softly, uploading the data to Control. "Consoles? Anything that resembles a work station or monitor?"

"Bodies," said Spex. "There are no bodies."

"Yeah," said Val, finishing off the last of the scan, "that too. There are no bodies. So?"

"So that means that whatever happened here, it happened slow enough that there were survivors to clean up the mess. Haul off the dead and patch up the ship."

"Again, so?"

"So where are they?" said Spex. "Where are the Shivans?"

Val shrugged, an oversized gesture because of her heat-dissipating shoulder plates. "They were rescued by other Shivans, in another ship."

"Then why did they leave the ship and not tow it in? We've had reports of bigger ships than this."

Again Val shrugged, "OK. No other Shivans, then. A lifeboat?"

"Again, why leave the ship behind? They've blown up their own wounded vessels before."

"Look, Maddox just did the 'monsters-in-the-dark trick on Hype. Don't you start."

"Yeah, I want you to play that little incident back for me later on the vid," said Spex. "If he wasn't moored down, he would have launched into orbit."

"You assume I got a vid of it," said Val, hiding a smile in her voice.

"After he did the same thing to you on your first patrol, of course you did," said Spex.

"Yeah, it was Vasudans that time. Its still a childish, hazing ritual that . . . Hang on . . , " more data flooded into her screen. "Control, is this correct?"

Control's voice was a little snowy. "Affirmative, Bravo-1. Keep the vids coming and the chatter down. There's something in the hull that's breaking you up. Boost your com-cells to compensate.

"Affirmative," touched several more icons, "Top, the stuff in the tubes is major-league volatile. Control says use caution with all controls, and particularly with weapons in this area." She turned towards Maddog. "A stray blast could set everything off."

If Maddog understood the danger of his earlier stunt, he said nothing.

Top said, "Let's move forward, rendezvous with Bravo-2".

They made for the low archway and Control's beacon signal started to fade. Val boosted the gain again, but it was still weak. Val wondered what was in the hull of this thing to make communications so difficult.

The archway opened into an even larger vault, dominated by great cones. The bases of the cones had vertical ribbing, and there were occasional flashes of light among the vanes. The cones could have been the Shivan subspace drive, or they could have been the Shivan equivalent of a portapotty for all Val could tell. Around them were the bands of brown, grey, and black composite material that seemed to make up the entire ship, broken by tangles of cable and more of the odd, antler-things. The floor, walls, and ceiling were dotted with open grates, and deep beneath those grates were more reddish lights.

Spex was on the private link again. "It is only a matter of time, you know."

"Before Maddog goes too far?"

"No, before we'd meet the Shivans, or somebody like them."

"You mean we were predestined to find an extremely powerful race of xenophobes?" said Val.

"Not necessarily the xenophobe part," said Spex, ". . . but the extremely powerful part. Look, the Vasudans and us are about the same tech level, right?"

"OK." Spex had a tendency to go on about his pet theories, whether they were the Shivans or the identity of the mystery meat in the mess. She let him go and continued to scan as they proceeded forward in the ship.

The other soldier continued, "So what are the odds that we would be one of the two first races to independently figure out sub-space? That in all the universe, there wasn't somebody who beat us to it?"

"The Shivans," said Val, levely.

"The Shivans," said Spex. "They were inevitable. A race that has been using subspace drives longer than us. Hell," he tapped the barrel of his laser against an antler thing, "this ship alone looks like its been around longer than humans or Vasudans have been using sub-space."

"If they're so advanced," said Val, "then how come they attack everything they find?" As they progressed deeper into the ship, the beacon signal got progressively weaker. She had the gain cranked up all the way now, and there was a snowy background to Control.

"Thought about that," said Spex, "what if they met another subspace-using race, like we met the Vasudans, and they got into a war, and they were the survivors. How likely does it make it that they will be a little aggressive the next time they run into someone?"

Val shook her head. The fact was that the Shivans took out every ship they met, whether it was Terran or Vasudan. Now they had one of their ships in their hands, literally a gift, and they did not know what to make of it.

The link to control was spacing now, leaving blank spots between the snow, " . . osing you, Bravo-1. Boost gain."

Val checked her menus. She had cranked the power all the way up as it was, and they were still losing the signal, "Top, we're just about out of shouting radius. Moving into a radio shadow. Forward or back?"

Top halted at the edge of another arch. Beyond that was a corridor, similar to the first diminishing finally in the red mist. The ship seemed to stretch out forever in front of them. Val felt the hairs raise at the base of her neck, as if, far off, doors were opening and shutting.

"Double back, " she replied at last, "There are some cross-passages that we can . . . "

"Top, I got an audio read," said Maddog.

Top snarled, "Soldier, I don't need your jokes right now. You're on report when we get back to . . . "

"Negative, ma'am," insisted Maddog. "Its on the low-level scan. Look for yourself."

"Maddog's right," said Val, cranking her own receptors up to max.

It was there, right where the vet had pegged it. It was half-way between a scratch and a hiss, the sound that a silk makes when its being dragged against the carpet. Drag, drag, then silence. Drag, Drag, then silence again.

"Control, we have an audio contact," she said into the mike, but was only rewarded with a low hiss. She could urge a few more amps out of array by shutting down other systems, but did not want to lose the audio contact.

It appeared at the edge of their vision, crystallizing out of the smoky red haze. It was alone, and at first Val thought it had been wounded from its halting, lurching steps.

The creature was mildly dog-like, and had five limbs. The rear three were like a tripod, with its torso slung forward from their apex. These rear legs looked almost delicate compared to the front pair, which were heavily muscled and armored with thick plates. There was one joint too many in all the limbs, and the creature seemed to move with an abominable grace. A neckless head sprung from the juncture of the two forward arms, roughly human-sized, but painted with pale red clusters of dots. Val thought of them at once as eyes.

"Power up!" snapped Top, and three argon blasters and a krypton heavy laser came up, their red tell-tales flashng around their barrels to show they were at full charge.

"Top, hold your fire," said Spex.

The Squad Captain scowled, but nodded. Ten meters away, the Shivan squatted in its lower tripod and regarded them almost quizzically.

"We got into war with the Vasudans so easily, and fell into fighting these creatures as well," said Spex. "Can we just talk to them?"

"We've tried communication and they wiped our ships out of space," snapped Top, "Power up!""

"We tried radio communication," said Spex sternly, "We tried to talk to their technology from our technology. Maybe it doesn't match. Maybe they don't understand. Maybe we can communicate face-to-face for once."

"You're violating orders," said Top.

"Give me a chance," said Spex. "Let me take the risk." He leaned forward. "Look at it. It's unarmed."

Maddog put in, "Those might not even be real Shivans. They might be rats, or dogs, or something."

"No," said Spex, "it's intelligent. It's waiting for us to come to a decision. Look at it! It's waiting."

Indeed, the creature was poised, not so much in a crouch as in an expectant position. It flexed its knuckle-like fingers against the deck of the ship. It was waiting for them.

Top did not lower her weapon. "Val, any chance of reaching Control?"

Val gripped some icons, but was rewarded only with static. She shook her head, and kept her own weapon up, the laser-dot aimed square that the creature's head.

There was single moment of silence deep in the bowels of the ruined ship, then Top said, "Do it. But at the first hostile move, drop out of there, because we're going to shoot through you. Clear?"

"Clear," said Spex, taking a deep breath, and setting down his own blaster. He stepped forward, holding his hands outstretched and empty.

The Shivan held its ground as Spex approached, its head rotating first counterclockwise, then clockwise. As if it was attempting to understand the bipedal creature that approached it.

"Its ship is wounded," said Spex calmly. "It has two choices, to accept help or to die. It won't want to die if it can help it. It might be the only one. It might be lonely. It IS intelligent."

Val nodded at the last point. It was smart enough to wait. Smart enough to stand its ground as the humans decided what to do about it.

Spex raised his hands, and opened and closed and opened his palms. The Shivan repeated the gesture. The tech was all of two meters apart, easily within the reach of the powerful arms.

It was intelligent, realized Val. Was it intelligent enough to wait for them in the heart of the ship? Smart enough to know that this would be the best place for an ambush?

Smart enough to know they were cut off from contact with their ship?

Val opened her mouth to bark a warning, but it was too late. Spex opened his palms one last time to show they were empty. The Shivan opened its three-fingered palms as well, and bursts of blue energy coalesced in its stubby palms.

He didn't even have time to cry out as his upper body, cut free from the tether of his magnetic boots, pinwheeled upwards, trailing a thick, boiling cloud of crimson bubbles. With the speed of a scorpion the Shivan had lunged forward and in two short blows, bisected Spex easily across the middle.

Then Top barked another order, and they were firing, all of them, at the Shivan. Spex's remains, still attached to his boots, were shredded as the beams laced along the corridor, and hit the Shivan square in the head. The small dome-like face vaporized under the blow, but the creature did not fall. Instead, it pulled back, blubbering and hissing as it did.

"Follow it," ordered Top, "Finish it off!"

"No!" shouted Val into the link, so sharply that even Top snapped her head back. "Along the low-scale audio. Listen for a moment."

Top toggled the channel and there it was again. The low sound of a silk bag dragged across a carpet.

And it came from all around it.

"Ambush!" snapped Top, "Pull back to the entrance. Maddox, you cover the rear!"

Val was backpedaling already as the hissing noise grew greater further down the corridor. Maddog began sweeping the area with his targeting laser, ready for the first monster to appear from the mists.

That was when the grate beneath him gave way and he sank into the deck, into a neat hole burrowed beneath his feet. His weapon when tumbling to one side, and his body began to twitch as something beneath began to twist the soldier's legs off. His screams filled Val's helmet, and despite herself, she raised her hands to her ears.

"Dammitohell!" shouted Top. "Kill the feed!"

Blindly Val reached out and gripped an icon, and Maddog's shrieks died instantly. The body continued to shake in its shallow pit, and then slumped forward at last, its internal organs shredded from below.

Val ran now, following Hype, with Top bringing up the rear. Almost immediately they moved out of the radio shadow created by the wreck, and Contact's voice was harsh in her ears. The hayseed was gone, replaced with panic.

"... avo-1, please respond! Bravo-1 Please respond!"

Hype stopped in front of her, wheeled, and fired a bolt down the hallway. No visible target, but the krypton laser flashed and thundered, then whined again as it slowly recharged for the next shot. Val touched the icon for Control."

Val fought to keep the panic out of her voice. "Bravo-1. We are under attack by Shivans. Repeat, we are under attack by Shivans."

"Evacuate, Bravo-1," said Control. "We have lost Bravo-2. You are ordered to evacuate."

Val blinked back the sweat pouring into her eyes. Bravo-2 was gone. The attacks took place at the same time, when they were under the radio shadow.

The Shivans were very intelligent, indeed.

At each intersection, they would halt, quickly check the side approaches, then scuttle across. The access bay felt like it was miles away. And behind them there was the rustling sound that chilled her to the bone.

Top passed beneath a low archway and died instantly as a Shivan dropped down from above, its tripod legs moored firmly to the ceiling above. The squad captain was ripped from the floor, and flailed against the beast, firing two shots into it before.

There was a soft ripping noise and something the size of Top's battered helmet struck the wall next to them. Val realized that she still had Top's link open, but the women did not even scream.

Hype did enough screaming for the three of them, unloading the heavy laser into the beast at point blank range. There was a flash of bright blue, and when Val's eyes had returned to normal, the creature was gone, burrowing up through the ceiling, taking Top's remains with it.

Zero gravity did not seem to bother these creatures. Indeed, they seemed to thrive on it.

"Bravo-1 to Control, We've lost the Captain. Two others dead."

"Evacuate," said Control, and this voice was cold and robotic, "We will destroy the ship if we have to, but evacuate."

Hype scanned the area around them. There were hissing noises in all the mists, as if a basket of snakes had been overturned. "You go ahead," he said, "Run for it."

"We'll go together," she said, hoisting her own laser. The tell-tales were already flashing yellow. Her power was low. Had she fired it so much?

"I've got the gun, you've got the information," said Hype, his voice level and cool. "You have to get out. I'll follow."

Val wanted to argue, but Hype's eyes behind the visor were cold and icy. He knew what he was doing. She had to get out with the information. The helmet cams were the only record of the first contact.

Val ran, and behind her there was the booming shot of the krypton laser. Then a pause as it recharged, then another booming shot. There was no third shot.

She was in the engine room now, with its strange cones and pipes of greenish-yellow fluids. The bay was ahead, up a short scramble. She could unlock the mags on her boots and leap through it. And then she would be safe.

And the thought died in her heart as she saw the figures moving around the access hatch. Figures that were vaguely dog-like, with five limbs. They looked up at her and hissed.

Val screamed and fired. Not at them, but at the access hatch itself. Her bolt pierced both the outer and inner seals, and ruptured the hatchway, opening the engine room to space itself. To the welcoming darkness.

Val felt like a twister was trying to rip her from the deck, but her boots held. She was in her suit, but her foes were naked to space. Drastic, but a suitable solution to the problem.

The Shivans did not seem to be affected by the loss of atmosphere. Instead, they launched themselves towards her, their powerful muscles overcoming the winds of the escaping atmosphere. They were more intent on killing her than surviving themselves.

Control said something that she did not hear over the tornado winds, and Val screamed again. She released the grip of the magnetic boots and leapt upwards to meet them. As she flew forward, she used the large of the blaster's energy to strafe the walls, walls laced with translucent tubes filled with volatiles.

There were the burst of half a hundred bright red flowers around her, which combined with the winds to shoot her out the opening, trailing a banner of flame. The last sight of her camera was of the flames spreading along the length of the Shivan freighter, and the last words she heard was Control ordering all ships to stand clear of the wreck . . .

***

They found her among the wreckage, and saved enough of her for a decent trial. Spex was found guilty of violating regs in trying to talk to the Shivans, and Top in letting him, and both were posthumously court-martialled. Maddog and Hype were given commendations, with the increase shown in the benefits paid to their families.

Val was commended for getting the information out, the first data showing the Shivans in action. Then she was busted down for starting the explosions that destroyed the ship (and all of its attendant useful data), and shipped back to Earth. None of that made any difference to Val after the drug-facilitated debriefing, and put her in a veteran's shelter, her mind shattered and most of her body broken.

The only thing that did make a difference was the darkness. She could not bear it, and cried in an inhuman, keening scream whenever the lights were doused. As a result, the lights in her room were permanently left on.

For it was always dark in space, and Val had learned to fear the darkness.

==Related links==
http://web.archive.org/web/19990218035427/http://www.interplay.com/freespace/stories/story3.html

[[Category:Canon reference]]

Hammer of Light, Omen of Darkness

2013-02-04T23:59:43Z

SypheDMar: Created page with "'''''Hammer of Light, Omen of Darkness''''' is an official short story written by Simon Hawke and published by Interplay. It is not known if it is considered canon, though it is …"

'''''Hammer of Light, Omen of Darkness''''' is an official short story written by Simon Hawke and published by Interplay. It is not known if it is considered canon, though it is generally not regarded as canon because there are many inconsistencies between the four stories published by Interplay and the game itself. Volition does not seem to have been involved with the stories, either. However, there are no confirmations from Volition itself.

'''The following is a repost of Hawke's short story Omen of Darkness.'''
==Hammer of Light, Omen of Darkness==
There was a moment, a brief, incandescent moment, when Creed Harlow could have chosen death.

It would have been so easy.

Instead, he’d hesitated ... just a beat too long ... and now it was too late. By default, he had chosen life. And now he’d have to live with it.

The Vasudan gunner was damn good. In that fateful moment of Harlow’s crucial hesitation, the gunner had taken out the Apollo fighter’s entire port weapons bank. One shot. The Banshee cannon pulse-blast had sheared the entire bank of secondaries clean off their mounting struts, like a laser scalpel slicing through soft tissue. And now Harlow had nothing left to fight with. The starboard weapons bank had already been destroyed, along with the primary disruptor pods. The Vasudans knew that; they could easily see where the GTF Apollo fighter had been crippled, shot to pieces as if some gigantic sledge hammer had knocked huge chunks right off it.

The amazing thing was that the cabin still maintained integrity. The life support systems were still functioning, even with the shields gone and over half the ship reduced to slag. And they wanted to mothball these puppies, Harlow thought. The Apollo was one goddam terrific piece of hardware. He had been lucky. If anyone could call this luck.

The Vasudan squadron got in close under the pretext of providing escort, which was always welcome in this sector ever since the Shivans had appeared in the Ikeya system, coming through the node with some kind of huge, Cruiser-class vessel rumored to be about the size of Rhode Island, capable of launching somewhere between several hundred and over a thousand fighters. Intelligence was a little wonky on that score. The reports were mostly secondary sources, panicked subspace frequency transmissions that sounded hysterical and incoherent ... until they were cut off abruptly. No one who had actually seen the Shivan Cruiser was ever left alive to tell the tale. So when the Vasudan squadron had shown up and offered to help fly escort duty for the heavy freighter to the Tombaugh station, Harlow could almost hear the collective sigh of relief over his com. And that, in itself, felt weird.

For fourteen years, fully half his life, the Galactic Terran Alliance had been at war with the Vasudan Empire. Harlow had grown up hating the Vasudans. Long before he had ever laid eyes on one, he hated them with a passion bordering on the pathologic. Among his boyhood friends, there had been no worse insult than being called Vasudan. Epithets such as "Vasudan slimeball" or "Vasudan scumbucket" were not just fighting words, they were invitations to mayhem. He had grown up with the daily newscasts reporting distant space battles, body counts and numbers of ships lost, and colonies destroyed and bases decimated, and then, when he was seventeen, his older brother’s ship vaporized in an attack upon his squadron. Harlow had enlisted the very next year, on his eighteenth birthday.

His mother had cried.

His father had been proud. "Go get ‘em, son," he’d said. "Go get those Vasudan bastards."

You spend half of your goddamn life hating the sonsabitches, Harlow thought, and suddenly, one day, they’re your allies. And not because they wanted to make peace, but because they had no freakin’ choice.

For years, humanity had wondered what would happen if they ever encountered another intelligent race. As far back as the late 20th century, probes had been sent out with little plaques upon them showing Earth’s position on a stellar map – not too smart, perhaps – with a little arrow pointing, as if to say, "We are here." Then one day, after all those years of wondering, the discovery of FreeSpace, followed by ... contact.

No one could ever seem to agree on what, exactly, started the Terran-Vasudan War. Mutual distrust was about as good an answer as any. But it went on for fourteen years, with neither side managing to gain an upper hand ... until the Shivans came.

So far as Harlow knew, no one had ever even seen a Shivan. They just saw their ships. Black and red fighters, shaped like some kind of space-going arachnids, deadly fast and lethal ... and now the SuperCruiser, as someone had christened it, which no one could describe, because no one who had actually seen it had been left alive to give a complete report. What little was known about it was that it was BIG. Really big. And it was out there ... somewhere.

Fourteen years of warfare with the Vasudan Empire had ended in a treaty and an alliance that could, at best, be called uneasy, yet rendered necesarry by the simple imperative of survival, because the Shivans didn’t come to conquer. They came to annihiliate. Pure and simple. If it lived, and it wasn’t Shivan, it was slated for extinction. It became apparent, very quickly, that the only chance of survival the Terrans and the Vasudans had was if they made peace and joined forces against this new, implacably destructive foe that seemed far stronger than either of them ... but maybe, just maybe, not stronger than both of them together.

So when the Vasudan squadron had shown up on their scanners and made contact, Harlow had swallowed his natural antipathy, nurtured for over half his life, and accepted their offer to join the freighter escort conducting the Orion Maru to Tombaugh Station. He had met Vasudans before and though he couldn’t say he liked the ugly brutes, he was able to put up with them. Just barely. The common good of the alliance and all that.

He still recalled the first time he had heard about the treaty. It was in the officer’s club back at the station. "So we’re supposed to trust the bastards now?" he’d said. And he had vowed he never would. He hadn’t been alone, either. Not by a long shot. But to his surprise, and just about everybody else’s, the Vasudans had lived up to their end of the treaty. They had shared their resources and technology and, at least so far as any of the experts could tell, had not held anything back. The results of combined Terran/Vasudan research and technology had been better ships, better weapons and significant spinoff from defense-based R&D. Regardless of his personal prejudices, Harlow had been forced to admit that the alliance was working and the Vasudans were living up to their end of the bargain. So, when the Vasudans had shown up and offered to join the escort, Harlow had done the one thing he had sworn he’d never do. He trusted them.

And now he was the only one left.

He didn’t especially want to live. Not now. The entire squadron had been blown apart. At least half of them were rookies. Kids. They hadn’t stood a chance against the veteran Vasudan fighter pilots. What was left of their ships drifted in space around him like so much scrap metal. The Orion Maru had been gutted. Several of the larger Vasudan fighters had made fast to it and sent boarding parties in to loot.

And it was all his responsibility. His blame. He was in command. And after his fighter had been crippled, and he was drifting, without any ability to navigate at all, there had been that one moment, when he still had function in his port secondaries, when he could have fired a final shot at the Vasudan fighters that surrounded him and demanded his surrender. One shot. And then, of course, they would have finished him. But he had hesitated, and given them the chance to take out those port secondaries before he could change his mind. With that hesitation, he had chosen. He chose to live.

God help me, he thought.

As the fighters encircled him, he sat there helpless, impotent. "What do you want?" he said through gritted teeth, inside his helmet. "What the hell do you double-crossing bastards want? Finish it, goddamn you!" And then he spotted the Vasudan squadron’s mothership coming in.

It was a Scorpio-class vessel, to use the human name for them, about the size of a GTA Destroyer, well over 2 kilometers in length. And as the message came in through his com, identifying the ship as the IVS Hammer and informing him he was a prisoner of war, he suddenly realized who his captors really were. Vasudans, yes ... but renegades who did not recognize the treaty. Branded traitors by their own kind, they were members of the Imperial Vasudan Fleet who had followed some psychotic admiral in a mutiny against their government, religious fanatics who saw the Shivan invasion as some kind of "cleansing" foretold in some obscure Vasudan prophecy. Deathheads, as the Terrans called them. They called themselves "The Hammer of Light."

According to the scuttlebutt, they had been the "Praetorian Guard" of the Imperial Vasudan Fleet, the top guns, the elite of the elite. And after seeing what they had done to his squadron, Harlow could believe it. It had happened so fast, so goddamn fast... they took apart the squadron like a school of spacegoing piranha ... saving him for last.

"We have been monitoring your transmissions, Commander Harlow," the translated voice came over his com. His name, incongurously, came through as ‘hollow.’ Which was exactly how he felt. "Prepare to be taken aboard," the Vasudan said. "Further resistance would be pointless. You have fought well and you shall be treated with all due deference to your rank, according to your own long-standing tradition of the Geneva Conventions. Do you accept these terms?"

Harlow grimaced. "Have I got a choice?"

"No, Commander, you do not. Death, however honorable, is no longer an option. We prefer to have you alive. But out of respect, we would like to at least observe the formalities."

Harlow snorted. "Well, that’s mighty goddam human of you," he replied.

"Sarcasm," came the reply, followed by a peculiar, grunting sound that might have been a chuckle. "Derision. Irony. The use of words meant to convey the opposite of meaning. A uniquely human concept. I have studied this. I shall hope to have the opportunity to learn more from you. It will be interesting to make your acquaintance, Commander. I look forward to it. Tallanis out."

Son of a bitch, thought Harlow. Admiral Tallanis! The old death-lover himself. The most decorated Vasudan officer of the T-V War. And the leader of the mutiny. What the hell does he want with me?

They did not take any chances. As soon as they brought the blasted hulk of his fighter aboard through one of the launch bays, they threw up a cordon of security around it, Vasudan Elites armed with lightweight energy weapons. A low setting would merely stun. Full setting would disintegrate. They had their weapons leveled at the cockpit as they waited for him to retract the canopy, just in case he had a sidearm and decided to try committing suicide by coming out fighting. He’d never have had a chance. They’d simply sweep the cockpit with stun blasts and he’d wake up in a day or so, nursing the mother of all headaches.

As it happened, they had no cause no concern. He was not wearing a sidearm ... and he couldn’t even get the cockpit open. The canopy would not retract. They had to call their engineers to cut him out of there.

Once they had him freed, they helped him out and then the senior officer of the Elites approached him and snapped off a passable imitation of a Terran salute. It stuck in his craw, but Harlow returned it. If they were going to show him proper military courtesy, he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to respond in kind.

"Follow me, you should, sir," the Vasudan officer addressed him. Harlow nodded curtly. No restraints. No rough stuff. There was no need for it. He was hopelessly outnumbered. They formed up on either side of him and marched him through the corridors of the Vasudan ship.

Physically, the Vasudans were imposing. They were larger than humans, though not significantly stronger. Their armored uniforms tended to make them seem bigger than they were. Harlow knew that, superficially, they possessed many similarities to humans. They breathed the same air, had similar metabolisms and similar modes of communication, though their vocal cords could not reproduce the necessary sounds for Terran Standard. They needed to wear translators to make themselves understood. Beyond that, appearances started to diverge.

Vasudans had brown, mottled, leathery-looking skin, with longer, bonier limbs and broader shoulders. They looked, to Harlow’s eyes, like exaggerated skeletons with a little bit of skin and muscle layered over them. And there was something peculiar about the way they moved. They looked like effects from those old 20th century stop-motion animation films, as if their brains were sending their muscles hundreds of little messages a second, each designed to translate into a single millimeter of movement, resulting in motions that had a vaguely jerky flow.

Alien, thought Harlow. No matter how liberal you wanted to be about it, you just couldn’t think of them in human terms, because, when it came right down to it, they weren’t.

He was escorted to the bridge, where he was brought into the presence of the old death-lover himself. Admiral Tallanis swiveled around in his command chair to face him as Harlow was brought aboard the bridge. Their gazes locked. What Harlow wanted to do was spit right in his eye. What he did, however, was salute a superior officer. "Permission to come aboard, sir," he said, with a strong hint of irony in his tone.

Tallanis returned the salute, Terran-style, with textbook precision. His shoulders shook slightly as he gave that peculiar, grunting chuckle. "Permission granted, Commander," he replied, using a mini, throat-mounted translator. "Welcome aboard the Imperial Vasudan Starship Hammer. I am Admiral Gar Tallanis."

The name, Harlow knew, was merely a translator approximation of the actual Vasudan name. To Harlow, untranslated Vasudan sounded like a cross between a camel grunting and Chinese that had been recorded and then played backwards.

"Commander Creed Harlow, 101st GTA Fighter Wing, Black Eagle Squadron," he replied.

Tallanis made a pigeon-headed movement that passed for a nod among Vasudans. "I am familiar with the reputation of the 101st Fighter Wing," he said. "The Black Eagles distinguished themselves during the war."

"A war you’re apparently still fighting," Harlow said.

"No, Commander, not the same war," Tallanis replied. "A different one. A holy war. As you Terrans might call it... a jehad."

"That’s Arabic, not Terran Standard," Harlow corrected him. "There may still be some Terrans who believe in the idea of a holy war, but most of us regard it as an outmoded concept...a contradiction in terms. There’s nothing holy about war, Admiral. Killing is just killing."

"I beg to disagree, Commander. There are many different types of killing. There is the killing that one does for self-defense, and the killing that one does for conquest or suppression. There is the killing done out of personal necessity, and the killing done out of duty. There is the killing which can produce personal satisfasction ... and the killing which produces only regret and a sense of loss, as in the case of your squadron. Their deaths were necessary, but I took no satisfaction in them."

Harlow snorted with derision. "They were just a bunch of young rookies. Not counting myself, there were only two pilots in the whole squadron who had ever flown a combat mission. You never even gave ‘em a chance. Your fighters came in like a bunch of common sneak thieves, offering to asssist in flying escort, and like a fool, I agreed. You wiped them out before they even knew what hit ‘em."

"Yes, no doubt it would have been more honorable to offer combat properly rather than employing stealth and deceit to gain the advantage of surprise," Tallanis said, with what sounded like regret, "but it would not have been nearly as efficient. You see, Commander, I have only this one vessel, and the complement of fighters that it carries. As a renegade who has been declared traitor by my own misguided government, I do not have the luxury of pulling into base for resupply, refitting or refurbishment. And while it would be difficult, though not necessarily impossible, to pick up new recruits to replace personnel that had been killed in action, there would be no way to replace their fighters. Efficiency, therefore, must be my constant watchword. I can afford to take no chances. So I took none with your squadron. And despite my advantage of surprise, you almost managed to mount an effective counter-offensive. Quite impressive, under the circumstances. I was ruthless, Commander, because I had to be. I had no choice."

"Why spare me, then?" Harlow asked. "You had your fighters double and triple team me, so that you could cripple my weapons and navigation systems without blowing me apart. What makes me so goddamn special that you wanted me alive?"

"Essentially, your rank, Commander," Tallanis said. "Although you seem to possess some qualities that I find admirable and worthy of respect, the simple fact of the matter is that you are an officer of the Galactic Terran Alliance, specifically, a combat officer... and I need one."

"Then I’m afraid you wasted your time," said Harlow. "I’m just a fighter jock, Admiral. We don’t have a lot of ‘Need to Know’ when it comes to highly classified intelligence. We’re just point and shoot. You ought to know that."

"You mistake my meaning, Harlow, if I may permit myself the familiarity of addressing you by name," Tallanis said, rising from his command chair. He approached Harlow and looked down at him. Harlow was six feet tall, and Tallanis had at least another foot and a half on him. "I did not bring you aboard my ship so that I could interrogate you, but so that you could, in a manner of speaking, interrogate me and my crew."

Harlow blinked. "You want to run that one by me again?"

"All the Galactic Terran Alliance knows about the Hammer of Light is what the Foreign Ministry of the Vasudan Empire tells them," said Tallanis. "And that is not only secondhand information, it is also very biased and utterly self-serving. I want the Terrans to know the truth ... from someone who has experienced it firsthand."

"Then why not tell them yourself?" asked Harlow. "Your knowledge of Terran Standard is excellent. Translators do not usually compensate for syntactical patterns so smoothly. You may not be able to speak the language, Admiral, but I’m betting you can read and write it fluently."

"Indeed, I can," Tallanis replied. "I am something of a student of your human culture. Enough to know that your innate distrust of your own various races was overwhelmed only by your xenophobia towards extraterrestrials. Your alliance with the Vasudan Empire exists only out of a perceived necessity, and is based less on trust than on a mutual fear of extinction. I can easily discern your true feelings for my people, Commander Harlow. My words to humanity would only be the words of yet another detestable Vasudan. And a renegade, at that. They would listen far more readily to one of their own, to a veteran combat officer of the Galactic Terran Alliance Starfleet."

Harlow frowned and narrowed his eyes, uncertain he had heard correctly. "You saying you want me to be your PR man?"

Tallanis hesitated, apparently not familiar with the term and waiting for the translator headpiece to sort through all the acronymic possibilties and choose the proper one from the context. "Ah, a public relations representative," he said, a moment later, then nodded. "Excellent. In essence, yes. That is exactly what I want."

"Then you’ve gotta be out of your bloody, goddamn mind.... sir."

Tallanis chuckled with that strange, deep, grunting sound. "I have been accused of that before. I ask nothing more than that you speak the truth, as you perceive it. We will speak more of this. In the meantime, I have taken the liberty of having quarters prepared for you. There will be no enforced confinement unless your actions should make that necessary. You may have the run of the ship -- save for certain secure areas such as the armoury, of course. For reasons of security, you understand, you will be kept under constant guard. You may be a prisoner of war, Commander, but we shall attempt to make your stay with us as comfortable as possible. I want you to know us, Harlow. And to understand us. You must understand if you are to communicate our purpose. Now, if you will excuse me, I must see to it that the prize crew have completed the task of requisitioning the necessary supplies from the freighter."

"And what about the freighter’s crew?" asked Harlow, tensely.

"I am told that they did not put up a struggle."

"So you killed them all?" asked Harlow, with a sinking feeling.

"I am a soldier, Harlow, not a murderer. I do not kill people who surrender. That is not my purpose. There were some injuries, but no fatalities. They have functional life support in the sealed off sections of their vessel which have maintained structural integrity. They had already sent out a distress signal, so they should survive until a rescue ship arrives."

And with that, Tallanis nodded to Harlow’s escort, and the Elites led him from the bridge, down a short companionway, and to an interior tube shuttle that traversed the length of the ship. The guards did not speak to Harlow as they led him into the shuttle and indicated a seat. His human anatomy did not quite fit properly, but he made do. With a soft hiss, the door slid shut and the clear-walled, egg-shaped shuttle began to slide along the tube, gathering speed as it went.

He glanced at the Elites sitting across from him. One was clearly an officer, the equivalent of a lieutenant of Marines, if Harlow recalled his Vasudan insignia. He met the Elite’s gaze. "Are you allowed to talk to the prisoner?" he asked, wryly.

"Speak, you wish?" the Vasudan replied, his syntax clearly not as good as his commanding officer’s. The translators could only translate; they couldn’t make you sound more erudite than you were.

"Sure, why not?" said Harlow.

"About what, speak?"

"Oh, I dunno. You. The admiral. This ship. This nutso prophecy that you all seem to believe in."

The word "nutso" seemed to hang up the Vasudan’s translator for a moment. Harlow grinned.

"Admiral Tallanis great man is," the Elite replied, after a moment. "Spiritual man is. Visionary leader is. The prophecy foretells does truly. Not ... nutso."

"Not nutso, eh?"

"Not."

Harlow snorted. "So we’re all supposed to die, is that it? The Shivans are the Hand of God, come to cleanse the universe, something like that? And we’re all just supposed to roll over, put our heads between our legs and kiss our butts goodbye? Just because about a thousand years ago, some goofball Vasudan holy man had a few too many belts one night and said so? Is that the deal, more or less?"

Judging by the Elite’s reaction, the translator seemed to be having a tough time with that one. Harlow didn’t care. He half-hoped the Elite would come up out of that contoured seat and take a swing at him for making fun of his beliefs, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Tallanis ran a tight ship, and the old deathhead needed him, or thought he did. He had made that clear enough, though why he really give a damn what humans thought about him one way or the other didn’t seem to make much sense. He wipes out my entire squadron, Harlow thought, then spares the freighter’s crew and asks me to get his terrorist message out to the GTA, so that the Hammer of Light could be properly understood. Tallanis may have been a brilliant soldier once, and perhaps he still is, but he had to be completely certifiable.

Either the translator had made a complete muddle of his slang, or else the Elite had simply chosen not to bother to respond, because the rest of their short ride was spent in silence. Harlow was escorted to his quarters, which had apparently been vacated for his benefit by some Vasudan officer, judging by their size and furnishings. It was a lot nicer than the berth he had back at Tombaugh Station. The Elites took up their post outside the door as it closed automatically.

"Well, here we are," Harlow said to himself out loud, as he glanced around at his surroundings. "Home, sweet, alien home."

"It’s not exactly what I would’ve picked, either."

Harlow started at the familiar and totally unexpected sound of another human voice. A female human voice. She stood in the bedroom doorway, hands braced against the doorframe, watching him with a speculative gaze. Harlow had never seen her before. Her dark hair was cut short and she stood about five-five, slender and leggy. She was young, Harlow guessed in her early to mid-twenties. And she wore the uniform of a lieutenant junior grade in the GTA Merchant Space Fleet -- which could only mean one thing, of course. She was off the freighter they’d been escorting.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, as soon as he’d recovered from his initial surprise.

"I was trying to figure out more or less the same thing," she replied. "But I think now I understand. It all makes a weird, but perfect kind of sense, I guess."

"Well, then maybe you wouldn’t mind explaining it to me," said Harlow. "And if you don’t mind, Lieutenant, identify yourself?"

With a smirk, she straightened up, approached him, and snapped off a crisp salute. "Lieutenant Rafferty, C.J., Merchant Space Fleet, late of the MS Orion Maru, reporting for duty, sir!"

"Duty? What the hell are you talking about? What duty? We’re both prisoners of war."

She gave a small snort. "A little slow on the uptake, huh, Commander? That chauvinist Vasudan dinosaur up there on the bridge decided you needed some female companionship, so I got ‘requisitioned,’ along with everything else they needed off my ship. Don’t you get it? I’m here for you. So .... ‘reporting for duty.’ Sir," she added, wryly.

Harlow stared at her. "You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me."

"Hey, figure it out, hot shot," she said. "They didn’t even give me time to pack any spare clothes. I guessed they figured I wouldn’t be needing them. Much."

"That’s insane. They bring anyone else from the Orion Maru aboard?"

"Nope. Just me. They lined up the whole crew of the freighter, segregated the males from the females, and then one of the Vasudans went down the line, checking us all out up and down. I guess he had a vidlink thru his helmet com to the mothership. So who was watching the monitor on the other end?" She raised her eyebrows. "You?"

"Don’t be ridiculous, Lieutenant," Harlow said. He headed for the door. "I’m going to demand that Admiral Tallanis return you to the Orion Maru immediately."

"It’s a little late for that," said Rafferty. "We just entered Freespace."

Harlow stopped. "I know. I just felt the shift."

"So it looks as if we’re stuck with one another," Rafferty replied. "Besides, if you go telling the admiral that we’re a bit more enlightened than the Vasudan culture when it comes to equality between the sexes, and that you’re not going to accept the, uh, ‘arrangements’ that he had in mind, he might decide that I’m just so much unnecessary baggage, if you get my drift. Maybe he won’t put me out an airlock, but I’d just as soon not have to find out."

"Good point," said Harlow. "He’s not exactly consistent with his logic."

"Oh, and there’s only one sleeping cubicle in here."

"Yeh." Harlow grimaced. "Well, that would have to figure, wouldn’t it?"

"You’re senior officer," she said. "I’ll take the floor."

"The hell you will." He glanced around dubiously at the Vasudan furnishings. "I’ll sleep in that thing," he said, pointing at what looked like a cross between a contoured lounger and a birthing chair.

Rafferty glanced at it and raised her eyebrows. "Good luck," she said. "By the way, I’m a certified ship’s medic and a licensed chiropractor. I think you’ll be glad of that come morning."

Tallanis had promised Harlow free run of the ship, and Harlow took advantage of that, exploring the Hammer to the extent he was allowed, escorted by alert guards every step of the way. Rafferty accompanied him, since there wasn’t anything else for her to do. Besides, as a Merchant Space Fleet officer, she was just as curious as he was. What Harlow wanted to see more than anything else was the Flight Deck of the Hammer, and apparently the guards did not have any instructions to prevent him.

A younger officer had replaced the one who had led the detail the first day and this one "spoke" much better Terran Standard, which meant that, like Tallanis, he understood grammar and syntactical structure well enough to sound natural through the translator. He answered all their questions and proudly pointed out the details of his ship. As Harlow and Rafferty stood out on the catwalk overlooking the Hammer’s Flight Deck, the young Vasudan pointed out the fighters and the salient points of the launch bays with obvious pride.

"The Hammer boasts a complement of three hundred and fifty Imperial class fighters," the young Vasudan officer said, sweeping his arm out to indicate the sleek vessels below.

"Isn’t that more than the standard Vasudan destroyer usually mounts?" asked Harlow, as he stared down at the Flight Deck, where row upon row of the sleek, silver and gold, Imperial class Vasudan fighters stood parked side by side, weapons banks pivoted up and back on their mounting struts, enabling them to be parked close together, with only a few feet separating fuselage from fuselage..

The young officer did that strange, pigeon-headed nod. "We have maximized our fighter capability to carry as many as the Flight Deck can possibly hold. And our highly trained launch crews are capable of deploying the full complement of fighters in less time than the average destroyer in the Imperial Vasudan Fleet can launch all theirs. We are on constant standby, battle-ready mode, and can engage the enemy almost twice as quickly as the average destroyer in the Vasudan Fleet."

"Lucky for you, since they’re all out gunning for you, aren’t they?" Harlow said. "How does it feel to regard your own people as ‘the enemy,’ and to have them regarding you as traitors and terrorists?"

"I was warned that you would ask such questions," the young officer replied. "And I was instructed to reply honestly and to the best of my ability. The answer is, it feels sad that so many of our people lack the faith to understand that what must be must be, and that the prophecy of the Omen of Darkness shall come to pass."

"The Omen of Darkness?" Rafferty asked. "What’s that?"

"It is an old prophecy among my people," the Vasudan officer replied, with the intensity of the true believer. "Long before our own civilization arose, there lived another race of beings known to us only as ‘The Ancients.’ Evidence of their culture was discovered in a nearby system and it is believed by many that our own civilization on Vasuda Prime could never have developed as it did without their aid. But The Ancients disappeared without a trace, and Vasudan scientists believe a catacylsm of some sort befell their culture. The prophecy, however, tells us what that cataclysm must have been."

"The Shivans?" Rafferty asked.

"Or some force very much like the Shivans," the young officer replied. "The ruins of the Temple of Altair, one of the few almost completely intact structures left behind by the The Ancients, contain elaborate murals depicting the arrival of a dark and cleansing force, relentless and unstoppable. Some of these illustrations show monsters, creatures, which resemble strongly the design of spacecraft employed by the Shivans."

"So you believe that the Shivans came and wiped out these Ancients?" Rafferty asked.

The Vasudan gave a pigeon-headed nod. "They became too proud, too arrogant, too unmindful of the balance of the universe and their proper place within the scheme of things. They threatened to upset that balance, and so, the Destroyers came. Much as they have now come for my people ... and for yours."

"So why not fight them?" Rafferty asked. "Why simply accept defeat?"

"Because the cleansing force of the Destroyers is the inevitable mechanism through which the Omen of Darkness shall be realized," the young Vasudan said. "They cannot be stopped, because the universe cannot be stopped. The balance must be preserved. Your own human sacred writings also speak of this. Do they not say, ‘To every thing, there is a season, and a time to every purpose under Heaven?’ Our season has passed, and so we must pass, as well. We must return to the Oneness of the Universe and reunite with it, so that the cosmic balance may once more be restored."

"Except that most Vasudans don’t seem as anxious to return to the ‘Oneness of the Universe’ as you do," said Harlow, wryly.

"If they lack the moral courage to accept their destiny, then they must be shown how to find it."

"By Admiral Tallanis, right?" said Harlow. "The Hammer of Light, himself. Fall in love with death, embrace your Fate. What a load of crap. You realize he’s totally psychotic, don’t you?"’

The look the young Vasudan officer gave him was difficult to read, because Harlow simply did not know enough about Vasudan facial expresssions, but his terse words spoke plainly enough. "Admiral Tallanis is my father," the Vasudan said.

"Great," muttered Rafferty, under her breath. "Smooth move, Harlow."

Suddenly, am alarm pealed out across the Flight Deck, igniting an instant flurry of activity below. Harlow did not need to be familiar with the protocol aboard Vasudan military vessels to know what was going on. It was obvious.

"Battle Stations," the young officer said, tensing visibly. "I must go. You may remain here, if you wish, and watch the Flight Deck preparations. These soldiers will attend you." He indicated the guards behind them, then rushed off.

"What’s going on?" asked Rafferty.

"Well, when we came out of Freespace ," said Harlow, "we were somewhere in the system of Vasuda Prime, according to one of the guards I spoke to. So that means that either Tallanis is about to launch an attack on some of his own people, or else somone is attacking him."

"The Vasudan Fleet?" asked Rafferty.

"Let’s hope so," Harlow said. "Because if it’s the Shivans, then that fruitcake might just decide to embrace his predestined fate and not fight back. Either way, I don’t much feel like sticking around and finding out."

And before Rafferty could react, Harlow turned quickly, grabbed the Vasudan guard behind him, yanked him forward and swung him around, yanking the sidearm out of his holster as he did so and shoving him hard into the other two. Startled and knocked off balance, one of the guards staggered back and almost went over the railing of the catwalk. As the others collided, Harlow hit them both with stun blasts and they collapsed to the catwalk at his feet. Then he caught the arm of the guard that was struggling for balance, half over the railing, and pulled him back onto the catwalk, then promptly stunned him point blank to the chest.

"You’re welcome," he said to the unconscious guard, glancing down at the weapon in his hand and checking the power supply. "Let’s hear it for shared technology."

"Are you crazy? What are you doing?" Rafferty asked, shocked.

"Getting the hell outta here. You coming?" he relived the unconscious guards of their sidearms and tossed one to Rafferty. "You know how to use one of those?"

"I had the same briefings on Vasudan weapons you did," she replied, catching the weapon and checking it. "That’s S.O.P. in Merchant Space Fleet. I even had a chance to qualify with one."

"Yeh?" said Harlow. "You ever qualify with one of those?"

She followed his gaze down to one of the gold and silver Imperial fighters on the Flight Deck and her eyes grew wide. "You’re not serious?"

"It’s the only chance we’ve got," he said.

Below them, the cacophany of the call to Battle Stations and the frenzy of activity taking place to get the fighters launched meant that the Vasudans on the Flight Deck were not going to have much time to notice them. At least, Harlow devoutly hoped that was the case.

"C’mon," he said, beckoning Rafferty to follow as he took off running down the catwalk towards the lift tube at the other end. "Move it!"

"I sure hope you know what the hell you’re doing," she said, as she followed him. They got into the cage and Harlow stabbed at the unfamiliar controls until he got the thing descending.

"I hope so, too," he said. "But either way, I’m not about to trust my fate to some whacked out fanatic who thinks the Shivans are God’s avenging angels or some crazy thing like that."

The rising and falling, whooping claxon of the Battle Stations call filled the cavernous Flight Deck as launch crews went into their well-rehearsed routines and pilots came rushing out to their assigned fighters. Several fighters were already rising on their platforms to the Launch Bays on the level above.

"Leave that weapon set on stun," said Harlow. "It’ll make the charge last longer and if we blow this, it’ll go easier on us if we don’t kill anyone."

"Let’s hope you’re right. Can you fly one of those things?" asked Rafferty, as they reached the Flight Deck level and stepped out of the lift cage.

"I’m not sure," said Harlow.

"What the hell do you mean you’re not sure? This is a fine time to tell me that!"

"The Vasudan Imperial two-man fighter was the basis of the GTF Ulysses," Harlow said, as they moved along the bulkhead, trying to stay out of sight behind banks of equipment and the fighter lift platforms. "That was the first fighter developed from shared T-V technology. The Ulysses combined the best aspects of our Apollo fighter with their design. I qualified in one of those."

"But it still wasn’t the same fighter," said Rafferty. "And the controls were not set up for a Vasudan."

"Well, gee, Rafferty, if you’re gonna nitpick ...."

"Shit," swore Rafferty. "We’re gonna die."

"Heads up." He pointed to a couple of helmeted pilots hurrying their way, rushing toward one of the silver and gold fighters parked in front of them. "You take the one on the left...."

Two stun blasts and they were down. They ran out and quckly dragged them back out of the way. "Get their helmets off," said Harlow.

"They’ll never fit," said Rafferty. "They’re much too big! And we’ll never get into their uniforms!"

"We don’t have to," Harlow replied, as he tugged a helmet off one of the unconscious pilots. "Once we’re in the cockpit, all they’ll see is our helmets. And they won’t have to fit perfectly. The cockpits have their own life support systems that kick in once the canopies lock down. Now hurry up!"

They donned the helmets and climbed up into the cockpit of the nearest fighter, settling into the seats just as other pilots appeared running towards their craft on the Flight Deck.

"What happens now?" asked Rafferty. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Nothing," Harlow told her. "Just sit tight and look like you belong there. Fighter launch procedures are not handled by the pilot. The launch crews and automated capapults take care of that. Let’s just hope they follow the battle drill and get us launched as fast as possible without a whole lot of preliminaries. If we have to do a flight check, we’re screwed."

The fighter pivoted on its remote-controlled locking mounts as the launch crews brought it up in line to the next lift platform. Harlow scanned the unfamiliar instruments as diagnostics readouts flashed by automatically in a language he could not make hide nor hair of.

"We’re never going to get away with this," said Rafferty.

"Shut up and let me think, dammit," Harlow replied, curtly. He could not translate the readouts, but he knew roughly what they’d have to be saying if everything was optimal. In seconds, years of training took over and he started to see certain parallels in the design of the instrumentation with the Ulysses fighter. The control had been designed for larger Vasudan hands, and longer Vasudan arms, but he could work them. It wasn’t really all the different from the Ulysses design....

"Harlow...."

"I see them...."

As the fighter was brought up on the track, the launch team was signaling something, clearly waiting for a response. Harlow gambled and made a quick, vague gesture with his arm, then imitated the pigeon-headed nod.

The fighter shuddered slightly as it slid into the launch platform’s locking chocks and started to rise toward the Launch Bay. The canopy slid forward with a whine and locked into place.

"Cross your fingers...." Harlow said.

"Oh, boy...." said Rafferty.

The fighter jerked forward and snapped into position in the catapult, then the locking chocks released. "Okay, stand by," said Harlow. "Engines on...."

The engines came on as the weapons banks lowered into place and locked in on their mounting struts.

"Yes!" said Harlow. "Okay. Here goes nothing...."

The Launch Bay doors opened and the catapult hurled the fighter out into space as Harlow slammed the stick forward as far as it would go and they shot away from the ship, gaining speed rapidly.

"We did it! We made it!" Rafferty cried.

"Not yet we haven’t," Harlow said. "In about five seconds, the squadron’s leader’s going to realize we’re deviating from formation and he’ll want to know why in one hell of a hurry."

"And then what?"

"Depends how fast it takes them to figure out who we are. And how busy they’re going to be with those incoming fighters."

"What incoming fighters? I don’t see anything."

"Check your displays."

"Which one?"

"The large square one to the right."

"The one with all the little dots?"

"Yeh," said Harlow. "Those ‘little dots’ are blips, Lieutenant. And each one is a Ulysses fighter from the Imperial Vasudan Fleet. They’re coming in hot, in battle formation, at about eleven o’clock. We should have visual contact in about two minutes."

"Well...that’s good, right? I mean, they’re on our side."

"Yeh, except they don’t know it," Harlow said.

"Right," said Rafferty. "We’re in one of the Hammer’s fighters. You can radio them, right?"

"Maybe.... If I can find the damn radio controls ... and if they’ll listen."

"Harlow...."

A burst of rapid Vasudan came over his com.

"Damn. I think they just figured out who the hell we are," said Harlow.

Several of the Hammer’s fighters peeled off from their formation and gave pursuit. A moment later, a familiar voice came over the com.

"Commander Harlow," said Admiral Tallanis, "you are abusing my hospitality."

"Really?" Harlow said. "I thought I was a prisoner of war. And isn’t it a prisoner of war’s first duty to attempt escape?"

"Harlow! They’re coming!" Rafferty cried.

"I know. I see ‘em on the monitor. You know how to work the weapons systems?"

"I’m a medic, not a goddamn gunner!"

"Well, I don’t need a medic! Damn it, we’ll just have to do the best we can. Listen....there should be a fire control console just to your right, by your knee, I think...."

"Okay. I think I got it."

"You should have a row of toggles right across the top. Flick ‘em all up to arm the guns."

"What if they’re the wrong ones? I don’t want to go hitting an ejector seat or anything."

"Well, you’ll find out soon enough."

"Terrific."

"Harlow, this escape attempt is doomed to fail," Tallanis came back over the com. "I cannot have you hijacking one of my fighters. I cannot afford to lose it."

"Yeh, well, I couldn’t afford to lose my squadron, either," Harlow replied, through gritted teeth.

"Okay. The toggles are all up and glowing orange. What does that mean?" asked Rafferty.

"It means the Banshee guns are armed...I hope," said Harlow. "We’ll find out in a moment. Damn!"

A pulse blast from one of the pursuing fighters narrowly missed them on the port side. Harlow pulled back and up on the stick and went into a roll. The fighter on his tail was good. The pilot stayed right with him.

"Shoot the son of a bitch!" said Harlow.

"How?" asked Rafferty.

"Fire control button on your gunnery stick. Direction of the stick controls the turrets in the pods...."

"Okay...."

A new voice came on over the com, but a familiar one. "Turn around and return to the ship at once, Commander Harlow, or my next shot shall not miss."

"Like father, like son," said Harlow. "You’re both nuts. I thought you couldn’t afford to lose this fighter."

"We cannot. But we shall destroy it if we must. I do not have time to waste on you, Commander. We are coming under attack."

"Will you shoot him, please?" said Harlow.

"I’m trying...."

Two pulse blasts shot out from the weapons banks, directly to the front of the fighter.

"Okay, now you want to try shooting behind us, where the fighter is?" said Harlow.

"How the hell do I that?"

"Directional pod controls, right next to the trigger, on your stick....."

"Oh...okay....I think I got it...."

"Commander, this is your last warning," Tallanis’ son said, over the com, from the pursuing fighters. "Turn around now."

"Shoot, damn it!"

This time, the pulse cannon fired to their rear, but the shots did not even come close.

"Hell...." said Harlow.

"I’m doing the best I can!"

"Yeh, I know you are. Trouble is, it’s just not good enough."

Another shot from the pursuing fighers narrowly missed their starboad side. They had him bracketed. They were telling him he was directly in their sights.

"Tallanis!" Harlow shouted, into his com.

There was no response.

"Tallanis! Who the hell is going to take your message to the Terran Alliance if you kill us?" Harlow shouted.

Another shot, this time grazing the port side. They were playing with him. Letting him know they could blow him to bits at any time.

"The Omen of Darkness, Tallanis! Who’s going to explain that for you? Who gets to tell your side of it, me or the Vasudan government?"

There was a brief burst of Vasudan over the com.

"They’re turning back!" cried Rafferty.

"And here comes the Vasudan Fleet," said Harlow, as the attacking fighters came swooping towards them. "Let’s just hope they saw them shooting at us and give us time to explain."

The voice of Admiral Tallanis came over the com one last time. "I am surprised at how much you have learned in such a short time. Perhaps we will meet again someday, Commander. In the meantime ... be a good ‘PR man.’ Tallanis out."

The passenger quarters aboard the Vasudan transport heading out to Freespace and then Tombaugh Station were not all that dissimilar from the quarters Harlow had aboard the Hammer. Reasonably roomy, but with appointments that looked less like furnishings than torture equipment from some bizarre, art deco dungeon. As soon as he came in, a chime from the wall screen informed him that he had a call coming in. It was his division commnader from Tombaugh Station.

"Good to see you alive, Harlow."

"Thank you, Colonel. It’s nice to be alive."

"About your squadron, Harlow…"

Harlow tensed.

"We received a full report from the crew of the Orion Maru. They also kept a monitor log of your transmissions. I’m satisfied that, under the circumstances, you did the very best you could. Under the treaty alliance protocol, and with the Shivans loose somewhere in the sector, you did the right thing in accepting their offer to assist with escort. You had no way of knowing they were terrorists."

"Yes, sir, but –-"

"Even if they didn’t have the advantage of surprise," the colonel continued, "your squadron wouldn’t have stood a chance. Most of them were replacement personnel, with no combat experience. And they were up against pilots who were once the cream of the Imperial Vasudan Fleet. I don’t see how it could have come out any different. You did the best you could, son. Don’t go blaming yourself for this one."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"I understand you had a chance to spend some time with Admiral Tallanis."

"Not much, sir, but enough to get a good sense of what he’s all about."

"Headquarters is very interested. There will be a formal debriefing as soon as you get back."

"It’ll be good to be back, sir."

"Get some rest, Harlow. See you back at Tombaugh."

The colonel signed off and Harlow switched off the screen.

"So…home, sweet, home, eh?"

He spun around. Rafferty was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, her hands braced against the doorframe. She was wearing a short robe.

"What the hell are you doing here?" asked Harlow, with surprise.

"I told the Vasudans I was yours," she said. "You know how enlightened they are about their gender politics. They didn’t even question it."

"I see. How many sleeping cubicles are there in this cabin?"

"One."

"I’m not sleeping in that goddamn chair again."

Rafferty smiled as she came toward him. "Who asked you to?"

==Related links==
http://web.archive.org/web/19991104143010/http://interplay.com/freespace/stories/story2.html

[[Category:Canon reference]]

Vasudan languages

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SypheDMar: Redirected page to Vasudan Language 101

#REDIRECT [[Vasudan Language 101]]

Briefing texts (OT)

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SypheDMar: Redirected page to Briefing texts (Operation Templar)