“Captain,” beckoned the same science officer who had discovered the blip of energy nearly half an hour prior, “I’m showing high levels of Tritanium emanating from the Borodin herself.” Gardener’s brow crumpled down into a skeptical, angry, confused scowl as he looked up and to his rear to better hear the young Lt. “Explain” With a pause and sigh the junior officer answered with a mixture of regret over the news and pride over being the one to uncover it, “It must have been those nukes Sir, they detonated so close that the heat has seared a good amount of Tritanium to the hull and GSW nacelles. We won’t be able to form a stable field till it’s removed.” The sound of gritting teeth and cracking joints gave chorus to Gardner’s words, “How long?” “Depending on how bad it is,” The Lt. replied obviously making an educated guess, “Could be as much as five or six hours.” With the redoubled wrath of a great hope turned suddenly into a bitter defeat, Captain Gardner slammed both his clenched fists downward, breaking one of his arm rests in the process. “DAMN IT!”
Me too; I really like Sci-Fi stuff; but usualy they make it so horrible that its not worth reading or watching... So I give you cookies as respect for writing some fine Sci-Fi and a good story; Can't wait to see where it goes from here :D Also it is really nice how you keep swiching between the two ships; though it seems you are working our sympathy towards the Jekotian ship...
I like writting Sci-Fi because its what I know. In the orignial Empires story Im still limited to more or less real world situations that I have only read about but this, this lives in my mind through and through. Im trying to establish an adversieral relationship between the two men, the captains, that will make sense later in the story. Perhaps Ill throw some humanity into the Borodin next post, shouldnt be too hard. Its just that these posts are so long, the last one took 3 posts. I just ordered a keyboard for my PDA though so now I can write when Im out and about without anythign to do. I know that last post wasnt very good but thank you for the replys, even if you dont say anything other than "I read it," I wouldnt write it if no one read it.
-- J.S.S Ramman -- "Eets just no gud syr, tha focusin eemiters R knocked compleetly oyt of alignmeent." The burley Jekotian engineer shook his head and waved his arms about, each massive hand draped around a different filthy tool, the black soot and grease mingling with their equally dirty captor. "Tha longer wee hev tha core onlyne tha worse tha damage iz. Eveentually she'll geeve oyt." With a concerned grimace Commander Bruce bobbed his head up and down in understanding, his own hand cupped around his chin in thought, his eyes locked on some misaligned deck plate beneath him. At 23 years old, the Ramman was one of the oldest starships in the republican fleet and certainly carried the scars to prove it. Originally designed as a blockade runner, the aging hulk had gone through 3 refits before being reclassified as a heavy cruiser and handed over to the young and wily captain Patterson who, before proving himself time and time again, was only given a command at all due to his family’s illustrious name. With pride he had refused other commands after fleet command noticed the Captain’s skill, instead using his new clout to requisition the best and brightest for his ship and crew. Yet, despite a constant flow of the most talented officers and the best technology available, the maintenance log continued to grow longer and longer. Sooner or later, all ships must be put out to pasture. "How long?" Sparks shook his head from side to side, a long dark braid flopping about as he did, "Itz hard ta sey. Eye know all ov thiz speedin around iznt helpin." A pause, "Eye'd give'r fyve or six more dayz at this speed befyre we'll hyve ta take tha kyor offlyne. More if wee slow dowyn." Jonathan looked up to an unseen microphone nestled in the ceiling. It was a completely unnecessary action, the com system pick ups were not directional, but it is an unnatural action to speak to thin air, especially if that thin air happens to out rank you. "You get all that Matt?" "Every word" came the disembodied reply, "How long will it take you to replace the emitter array?" Folding his arms and standing erect the large engineer scoffed at the preposterous notion, "Eyn dry dok wyth everythin eye need aynd a fool staff? A day end a half. A day eef wee rush." "You have 4 hours and what ever the Oznerk can spare" captain Patterson replied with a hint of grim amusement, "you'll have no shortage of hands but if we stay any longer you're going to have more to worry about than the emitters." The Lt. Commander swore under his breath. He had worked the engines of the Ramman since he was a fresh ensign and had more than once pulled off the impossible under the worst of conditions but never so much as had been the case since Matthew Patterson took command. The man seemed to take delight in forcing his ship to defy every rule laid out by Samuel himself. "Eetle B dangerous." He muttered after some of the outside the box thinking that had awarded him countless commendations, "aynd eye'l need ayn extra tree crews...but I caynt make any promises-" "I have full faith in you Commander Sparks. Jonathan-" Captain Patterson said switching subjects, "We're coming up on the Oznerk now. Head down to Cargo seven and supervise the transfer of supplies. Ill be there in half an hour to meet our guests." Commander Bruce nodded unconsciously before offering a verbal response, "Understood." With a barely audible chirp the overhead com winked off and young first officer, his tunic unbuttoned during hours of work most officers forget about once they reach commander, looked up at the still scowling tower of a man before him. "Can you send me the list of what you need in about 10 minutes?" Sparks threw his arms up with a growl as he turned to head deeper into the hectic labyrinth of his half repaired engine room. "Oh eye!" He shouted with sarcasm, ducking dangling conduits, "Eyem gona need at leest one bloody myrical ta B shure!" Jonathan chuckled as he turned to the massive blast doors that separated main engineering from the remainder of deck 18. "If anyone has those to spare," he muttered to himself amidst the groaning of the massive doors parting, "it would be Mathew Patterson." -- I.S.S. Borodin -- “You remember that don’t you? With all of those nipples?” Captain Gardner leaned back in one of the two comfortable chairs living in his office, a jovial laugh disturbing the light clouds of cigar smoke and filling the air with sound. “I didn’t know what to grab first!” “You never know what to grab” his companion shot back after a long draw on a cigar of his own. “I’m still amazed they have nipples at all, I Mean, what are the odds?” Gardner shook his head, “forget the nipples, I was just happy everything fit together like it should.” The balding Captain’s gaze fell to the round glass table that separated him from his boyhood friend and chief engineer. Growing up in the same city, both men had gone to school and training together not to mention shared most of their military posts. When Gardner had been offered the Borodin it took little effort to ensure his new ship came complete with his long time friend. “How long ago has that been Max?” Captain Maximillion Saber, larger Imperial vessels had a Captain of engineering as well, looked up in thought. “Rankor VII? Must have been over 20 years ago Sam.” Samuel Gardner took another draw from the thick brown roll of genuine Jekotian tobacco, savoring the musky flavor for a moment before sending it forth, carried aloft by the sigh of a man past his prime. “You know, I think that was the last time I had the pleasure of one of those Factional Aliens…” Maximillion smiled, “They’re called Deeites Sam, I’m sure we could arrange a visit the next time we’re near one of their worlds.” “Ha!” Gardner spat as he sat up to grab a glass of synthetic ale. It wasn’t nearly as good as the authentic stuff he had in his cabinet but wasn’t nearly as intoxicating either, the men were on duty after all. “We’re too old to be chasing alien slaves.” “Speak for you’re self Sam, let me tell you what I did the last time we were in port-“ “Bridge to Captain Gardner.” Only half disappointed to be deprived of his friends tale of wild parties and exotic women, Samuel sat his glass down and looked to the ceiling, “Go ahead.” “Long range sensors have a ship matching the Ramman’s energy signature. Looks like she is meeting up with a destroyer sized vessel. Republican.” Both men locked eyes for a moment of silent communication about the implications of such a rendezvous. “What’s our ETA?” “Four hours and thirty minutes at our current speed sir.” Samuel sighed as he thanked his Commander for the information. “How bad did we hurt them?” He asked half rhetorically after the com was off. The other Captain took a sip of the deep blue liquid half filling his glass, “You think it’s a re supply?” “He knows we are right behind him, what else could it be?” “A destroyer is pretty light and fast to ferry supplies this far back, I thought most of them were closer to our space for raids.” Gardner nodded in agreement while flicking off some of the accumulating ash from his cigar before taking another puff, “unless it’s something specific and rare…something Patterson can’t get off of just any supply ship…” Saber’s eye’s squinted in thought and realization, “He did speed out of that field pretty quick Sam, he had another three or four hours at least before we got close.” “And” he said continuing the engineer’s thought, “if it is something that called him out of hiding it must be pretty important, especially with his ship in the kind of condition it’s in.” “A mission?” “A big one.” Maximillion sat his own glass down and rocked out of the squishy silver chair with a muffled grunt, “I’ll see if I can squeeze some more power out of the engines” He said clasping the now knubby cigar in his teeth, “We’ll shave another 30 minutes off.” Wishing to finish his own cigar in peace, Samuel Gardner failed to vacate his own chair and instead just nodded in unspoken thanks. “Give me all she’s got Max,” With a quiet whoosh the Captain’s office door slid open in anticipation of the engineer walking through it and onto the chirping bridge. Stopping halfway, Max paused and turned with a laugh, “You just don’t let that bastard tear up my engines again Sam.” Gardner scoffed silently after the doors slid to a close, obscuring his friend and the bridge beyond, “No promises Max…”
-- R.S.S. Ramman -- With unintended grace, dozens of long slender pillars climbed skywards, if there was such a thing in the nothingness of space, each sharing the oppressive weight of the countless decks above and below. About every 10 feet or so, a dingy cross beam bridged the gap between wall mounted pillars and dangled with all manor of cables, ropes, attachments, and braces, their mottled array repeating all the way to the cross beamed ceiling 50 feet above. There, inset within a checker board of access panels, many long ago discarded in an attempt to make frequent maintenance that much easier, a series of massive flood lights bathed the entire room in a soft white hue that highlighted the faded beige hull plates and splotchy, uneven marks of grime and age. Far below the massive lights, neat rows of sturdy shelves, each no shorter than 20 feet, bore the weight of countless crates of numerous sizes, dimensions and colors. Further below, their forms partially hidden from the lights above by the shelving unit’s spider web of tangled shadows, dozens of crewmen hurriedly scurried about as if ants desperate to gather bit of food before the first winter snow. With the same skill, agility and absurdity of tiny creatures moving massive objects, the men and women transported machine parts, food, medical supplies and a number of small black containers surrounded by armed men who burdened themselves with only the weight of their loaded weapons. Cargo bay Seven was far from the largest aboard the Ramman, nor was she the emptiest, most secure, closest to the docking ring or most protected. In fact, “cargo 7” was one of the most unremarkable areas on the entire ship. It was for such a reason Captain Patterson had decided to store the various mission sensitive supplies along with his new guests there. If there happened to be a saboteur aboard, not unheard of in the years since the home world was labeled “free to all peoples,” this, of all the cargo bays, would be the last one they would have chosen to booby trap. His extra precautions, however, had managed to slow the transfer of goods by nearly 15 minutes, time the Ramman could not afford to waste. “Captain Patterson?” With the vitality that only youth and caffeine can bring, the young Captain smiled and offered his hand to his black clad guest. “It’s a pleasure, this is,” he replied, gesturing to his first officer, tunic once again fastened in honor of new guests, standing to one side. “My first off-“ “Charmed” came the steely reply with only the most forced mannerly nod. “These” He offered barley a breath later, “Are the list of changes that must be made to the Ramman within the next 36 hours. I understand your engines are in need of repair?” Captain Patterson had heard of the renowned lack of tact and social skills boasted by the Reconnaissance Engineering Operations members but the first hand experience demanded at least a full second of stunned silence. “Major Lajita” he choked out at last, “I want to know what’s going on before any orders are given.” In a moment the well built, average height, dark skinned Major assessed the situation and decided on the best course of action. Time was certainly of the essence but arguing with ship captains about the conditions of their ships often proved futile and merely served to waste that most valuable of resources. REO Commandos were product of countless generations of genetic manipulation. Utilizing the most advance techniques in the known galaxy, each Commando was grown from a test-tube to be the fastest, strongest, most intelligent fighting units available. Each man and woman was optimized in every way to be the perfect soldier of the Republic. Heart rate, digestion, lung capacity, muscle consistency, eye sight, hearing, all improved far beyond the average Jekotian. Their cellular structure existed in a constant state of regeneration enabling not only rapid healing but limited immunity to the cellular decay induced by disrupter fire and bio/chemical weapons. Even their nervous system had been redesigned to channel the energy from Imperial discharge weapons enabling them to take up to four direct hits before succumbing to nerve damage. Yet with all of their strength and capabilities they failed to grasp something as basic as manors and courtesy. The military had simply not seen fit to code it in. “As you wish” he said stiffly gesturing to an unoccupied corner of the room. "Intelligence has learned,” He began upon reaching their secluded destination, “that the Imperial directorate of Science has developed a working prototype of a projected energy shield." he paused for the briefest of moments to look into each man's eyes, "A bubble of energy that can be projected around a vessel or installation making it impervious to all energy or projectile weaponry so long as it is not devoid of power." His eyes darted once more from one man's face to another, reading their expressions. Although devoid of all social graces, each REO had been well trained in facial, voice and body movement analysis as each was useful in a combat situation. Captain Patterson gently bobbed his head up and down in understanding as his flashy blue eyes drifted off to a point unknown. Since the discovery of faster than light travel by Samuel McMasers so many decades ago the threat of mutual annihilation from orbital bombardment had ensured peace on the home world and an uneasy cold war every where else. With the threat of a Jekotian reprisal removed, there would be nothing to stop the Brenodi from raining hell fire onto every enemy city and town. The Jekotian Republic would fall once again. Jonathan, equally disturbed by the unsaid consequences of such a device, decided to speak first. "Would not such a prototype be well protected?" The REO Commando's posture and facial expression remained unchanged as he spoke, "it’s located on the very edge of known space in the Parthian sector. Security is light due to its inaccessibility." Patterson's thoughtful stare broke off at the mention of his ship's destination, "Parthian?" he asked in disbelief, "That is on the far side of Imperial territory. Four days through Brenodi space at high warp-" remaining unphased by his host's concerns, the dark-skinned soldier simply held out one of the many data pads resting securely within his iron like hands, "These adjustments," he offered coolly, "will alter the Ramman's gravitational wave signature to match that of an Imperial frigate. Further adjustments will need to be made to alter this vessels energy readings, radiation signature and subspace displacement. The work can be completed before we enter Imperial space." Both men's eyes widened at the treasure trove of information they had been handed, a virtual veil of invisibility that would deceive every "eye" the Empire could boast save the spectral analysis which was useless at all but the closest distances. Patterson thought for a moment about asking how the information was obtained but thought it futile. "How do we get past their boarder security?" He asked instead. This lead to another data pad being offered via outstretched hand, "these are the coordinates of a weak area in the detection grid. Recent solar flares have made this region even more susceptible to error. As we approach a distraction will draw off the patrol vessels and allow us to enter." Commander Bruce tilted his head back slightly in curiosity, "Distraction?" What almost looked to be a smile briefly crawled across the REO's face, "a distraction. We have been made aware," he went on, chasing away the glimpse of humanity he had shown, "of your GSW situation. My men can assist in the repairs as well as the modifications." he paused as his hosts nodded in approval, obviously still unaccustomed to the Commando's frank, short nature. "Very Well" he said, again without moving, "If there are no further questions?" Captain Patterson gestured for the Major to depart, "Ill inform Commander Sparks that you'll be joining him shortly." With a firm click of his boots in salute, the Major walked briskly back towards the steady stream of men and machines flowing through the open cargo bay doors. Jonathan sighed, "You sure it’s a good idea to let those men into engineering?" He asked once he thought the REO was out of earshot, he wasn't but took no offense at the comments. "You know how Sparky is about his engines." Mathew Patterson smiled and laughed, "They won't give him any trouble," he said without turning, continuing to eye the half dozen or so REOs as they carried out their tasks, "Sparks outranks all but the Major there..." Jonathan scoffed, "Bah, I'm more worried about the REOs. Sparky is gona eat them alive..."
Deeites are the name of ALL the aliens, the entire species, that the Jekotian Republic came accross on one of those planets they conqured. To date they are the only sentient life forms discovered but they were in the "industrial" stage and had no notion of outside life. They were easy to conqure.
cool, so the Jekotians invaded the world Empires takes place on, and the Brenodi are the native inhabitants?
no no no, this is many years in the future, both BE and NF have achived faster than light travel and began to colinize other worlds. On one of those worlds the Jekotians discovered an industrial civilization called the Deeites which they then conqured and enslaved.
ah. if this is in the future, what happens in the present empires then? does the Brenodi destroy the Northern Faction, or does the NF defeat their oppressors?
the war rages on for many years but neither side are able to sustain a drive deep enough or long enough into enemy territory to force surrender. Then the Brenodi, under Samuel (Borodin's brother from the other story), develop a faster than light engine that makes space travel plausable and, more importantly, orbital bombardment. Jekotian (The NF has by this time allowed the formation of a civilain goverment and the new Jekotian Republic is born) agents steal this technology and develop thier own space craft. Suddenly both sides are faced with the prospect of having thier cities oblierated from orbit, mutual destruction. Soon a agrrement is reached establishing an uneasy peace on the home world and in the space immediatly around it although anything beyond that is left purposly open for grabs. Both nations begin to spread through out space looking for res, colonizing worlds and generaly exploring, looking for life and the mythical "upper hand" that would allow them to gain full contorl over the homeworld without getting themeslves killed in the process. Fighting frequently takes place outside the safe zone on and around the homeworld, both in space and on other worlds.
well, I wrote that months ago, just never spell checked it :p Did you like? I actually have a whole story arch planned out for this story, the real plot hasent even started yet.
I'm just saying the original isn't quite finished yet. Still a pretty wide gap between the start of the resurrection and the start of the space race.
mmm i was expecting it to end in a treaty :p you could do a cold war like story arc where the treaty is established :p
