Somewhere, in the void of space...

"Nimitz... NIMITZ... NIMITZ!" the voice echoed like a thousand voices singing in a chaotic choir. Why was he even hearing voices... Much less anything at all? "NIMITZ!" the voice shouted again, stirring something deep within the barren, frozen chest of the admiral. He snapped his eyes open, and saw he was lying prone, floating on deep crimson mists which swirled around in lazy eddies, pulled by some unknown forces. Was he dead? He opened his mouth to talk, but before words came out, he could hear his own thoughts echoing out, his inner voice more powerful than his physical voice could ever be.

"Where am I?" he heard himself think.

"The more appropriate question would be when are you... You are in the Nexus... Soon, all will be made clear," the echoing chorus said. Nimitz looked around to see who belonged to the voice, but only saw the swirling crimson mists. "These are the mists of consciousness... They symbolize your thoughts and frame of mind... You have been chosen, Malcolm Nimitz, to be the bearer of great power..." the voice spoke again. As the cacaphony of sound faded, Nimitz saw a portal swirl up out of the mists, swirling into a deep, dark, reflective surface. Then, an image appeared--that of a derelict ship, drifting on the minimal currents of space itself.

It was the St. Helens.

"Behold your precious ship, Admiral..." the voices chided. "Nothing more than floating junk... It is not how you remember it, is it Nimitz?" Nimitz shook his head slowly, his thoughts again echoing out from his awakening mind.

"No."

"Will it to be whole again..." the multitude of voices sang. Nimitz shook his head. The voices continued, saying "You exist outside of time... You can be anything--everything... You have power like you've never dreamed... The Universe can be yours... We have forseen it... I have forseen it..." With the last statement, a shadowy figure emerged from the mist, fully robed, with a deep, heavy cowl pulled down over his features.

"Who are you?" Nimitz heard himself think. the figure drifted closer, scenes of history playing backwards in the swirling portal of mists.

"I am He who shall show you the True Way... We are They who shall guide your path to Enlightenment..." the figure said, still with a thousand voices at once. "Behold, your history... Time has no meaning for you now... Watch... Learn..."

An eternity passed as Nimitz beheld all of history, for all known races, and learned all things there were to be known. Nimitz watched planets created and destroyed, entire civilizations born and killed in mere instants.

He felt like a god...

"I will now grant you any requests you have..." the shadowy figure said at last. "Know that you may stay here longer, if you wish, or you may return at any time and place you want... In order for your powers to grow, you must live among Them as a Trial... Do you agree?"

"Yes. There is a planet known as Zarcon. I wish to go there. I wish to arrive ten years prior to my death," Nimitz thought aloud.

"Transcendance... You did not die... You evolved... Go, then, ShadowKnight... You are your own judge... You only answer to your own actions... Only The Forge can unmake you..." the shadowy figure said, sweeping his arms in a wide arc over his head...

Nimitz felt like he was falling, and the crimson mists faded away. He saw the blackness of space, and felt the void pulling at his being. Then, there was a burning sensation, and a feeling as if all the wind had been knocked from his lungs. He noticed his eyes were closed, and so he opened them...

Looking around, he saw he was on a planet--on a beach, near a purple ocean. He stood from the sand, brushing it off of his black clothing, and looked around. A highly technical-looking city lay slightly inland from here, small, glowing blue spheres flying all around at different speeds and directions. Nimitz smiled as he walked toward the city, already knowing the history of the planet and the first steps he would take to control it...

>To Be Continued...<

By Funk Sol Brother (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

Lal drinks her Latte - or what passes for it anyway - as she bids Sol farewell. "Good to talk to you, Ambassador."

"You, too, Lal," says the middle-aged man, "your father was a good man. He didn't deserve his fate."

"Mmmm, curious," says the girl, tilting her head a little to the side as she examines her mug.

"What's that?"

"Fate," she says, finally. She scratches her head absently and then sets her cup down on the table. "I mean, you never really know what the universe has in store for you, and yet, the universe always seems to know what is best for you in the end... I mean, there's a certain justice in things, you know?"

Sol grins, not having expected something so metaphysical from the android's daughter.

"I don't know," she says, "Father sent me to the Vesuvius - he said it was to serve them, but I think he was sending me away because he knew he was going to die..."

Sol is at first prepared to say something, but thinks better of it and refrains. Instead, he merely says, "I served with your father for a long, long time. Without him, none of us would be here. He was a good man. A good man."

"Thank you, Ambassador," she whispers. She manages a smile and drinks the last of her liquid, allowing it to fall into the forcefields that are her stomach.

"Anytime," says Sol. He nods politely in her direction, then turns to leave, bumping into Mr. Philo on the way out.

"Excuse me, young man," the Zarkonian says.

"Chief," acknowledges Sol, "Thanks again for your help restoring our engines."

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Greyfox sat in the center of the observatory, surrounded by a circle of 12, thick candles. He sat full-lotus position, eyes closed, breathing evenly and precisely. The dome above showed only stars and planets as they drifted by, giving the perspective that this circular floor jutted directly into space--no rails, no walls, just a large, flat surface surrounded by space above, and the ship below.

It was so peaceful.

In actuality, this tower had once served as the navigator's tower, dating back to the time when the first colonists began exploring space. From this tower, the entire operations of the ship could be tapped into, and almost everything around the ship could be viewed directly.

Not many people knew the tower was even there--mostly engineering staff who'd bypassed its entrance with numerous Jeffries tubes and power conduits. Greyfox preferred it this way. There were times when isolation was the only thing that might keep him sane. Solace from solitude was often what he sought.

Today, however, his solitary reflections were broken, as the hatch towards the forward section of floor began to open. Greyfox peered outwards mentally, and saw that the new crewman, McBride, was the intruder. McBride began looking around, with awe.

"Welcome, Mr. McBride," Greyfox said, waving his arm around slowly, as if presenting a prize. "Won't you sit down?"

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Unrecorded Date:

Suddenly, Greyfox winces in pain, putting his hands on his temples, while squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Something had shifted without his knowledge--reality itself had just been re-written.

"Sir?" McBride asked, looking at the admiral, concerned. Greyfox looked up, then shook his head slightly.

"Excuse me, Ensign. I have something to tend to," Greyfox said, dismissing McBride, who nodded and withdrew down the access ladder. Once he was alone again, Greyfox pressed some buttons on the floor, causing panels to rise up and become low consoles before him. Philo's face appeared before him.

"Yes, admiral?" Philo said, walking closer to his own comm-panel.

"Philo, tell me the history of your planet," Greyfox said, steepling his fingers below his chin. The echoing laughter would not leave his head.

"Well, the Zarconians are a people of much scientific knowledge and forward thinking. Eons ago, we created many androids and robots to serve us. In our arrogance, we believed ourselves superior to our creations, and although we had given them intelligence and free thought, we kept them as slaves and possessions. In time, they rose up in rebellion, and forced my ancestors into slavery themselves. Fortunately, our ruling council on our home planet of Zarcon had already banned all creations from that world, fearing such a time of rebellion might come. It was most likely the wisest thing any of us had done.

"Eventually, the only thing that remained of our great star empire was our home planet--most of my people had been killed or enslaved by the creations of our creations, which called themselves the Cylons. It was a dark time, and much knowledge was lost. There was, however, a time of rediscovery, and we as a people learned from our mistakes. And a new golden age was entered, where the Zarconians led peaceful, prosperous lives.

"And then, perhaps 10 or so years ago, someone found our planet. Sopmeone with great powers and tactical genius. He rapidly gained popularity with the ruling council, and was the first off-worlder to become our supreme chancellor. He showed us technologies we thought lost forever, as well as new technologies unimaginable to our greatest minds. I saw the dangers this man posed to our people, and beseeched my fellows to vote him out. Instead, I was scoffed at and cast out.

"This man oversaw the construction of a great fleet of ships, and also devised a way to control and communicate with the Cylons. their fleet was brought to Zarcon, and both the Cylons and Zarconians worshipped him as a god. This is when I left--in the hopes of finding refuge from the storm of war I knew was brewing.

"And that, sir, is how I came to be in your service," Philo concluded. Greyfox just nodded, stroking his chin.

"What did the man call himself?"

"He went by the name Nimitz, but soon came to be known only as 'The Great Shadow'," Philo replied. Greyfox's heart sank.

"Thank you mister Philo, that will be all," he said, switching off the comm-unit. Nimitz wasn't dead. In fact, he seemed to have been alive for quite some time now... But how could Nimitz be in 2 places at once--unless he himself had transcended time and become a Shadowknight. But what being in their right mind would grant this to Nimitz, of all people? And then Greyfox remembered the sphere A'akra Naenor had given him. The universe required balance.

Surely, the great fleet Philo had mentioned wasn't the same fleet Greyfox had just defeated... No a fleet of that magnitude could serve only one purpose: invasion. Greyfox tried to remember everything he could about Nimitz, and realization hit him just as he scanned Earth's records of the VAXMigrator on his computer.

The Great Shadow had used Nimitz' attack on the VAXMigrator as a diversion--knowing that he would be created in the attack, he did not interfere with it, rather, he used the fleet he had ammassed to capture Earth while the most powerful warships of the ConFederation were light years away, fighting amongst themselves.

Greyfox let out a quiet sigh. There would be no more going home...

By Funk Sol Brother (Sol) on Unrecorded Date:

Ambassador Sol goes over the android neural net computations one more time. Hmmm, the Soong-type had a very peculiar property. Peculiar indeed. The chime sounded on his door...

"Enter!"

Sol

By Yo' Daddy (Sol) on Tuesday, January 15, 2002 - 06:56 pm:

Sonya walks the long, long decks of the VAXMigrator. It is Midnight - the decks are as brightly lit as always, but so empty - only the occassional noise of a guard on duty.

Sonya stares up. She does not wear her uniform - only the simple white robe. Her bare feet pad across the iron-grille that is the floor.

Sonya dreams of home, Earth. So close, so close to being in their grasp, suddenly yanked away. Her husband-to-be, Hamato - they were to be married on their return to Earth. She twists the simple silver ring on her right hand.

Sonya reaches the door to E deck. It is sealed shut - her quarters are on the opposite side. She presses both hands against it, then the side of her face. Of course - night shift, all but the main corridors are sealed as a precaution. Orders of the Captain.

She will have to take the long way to get home.

Still as if in a dreamstate, the soldier known as Sonya Blade separates from the wall and seeks passage elsewhere...

Sonya

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Wednesday, January 16, 2002 - 05:12 pm:

Greyfox wanders the corridors of the mighty battlestar, contemplating possibilities within possibilities. Eventually, he comes to the conclusion that he could not, in good consience, keep his revelations secret. He takes a few cleansing breaths, then strides toward the bridge, resolute in his decision. He was an admiral, after all...

"Admiral on deck!" shouted ensign Ripley, snaping to attention from his position at comm. 4th watch, the crew was skeleton at best.

"As you were," Greyfox says quietly as he takes his position in the comm chair. Ripley returns to his position at helm, and resumes his normal duties. Greyfox glances at the time. 01:32. Most of the crew would be asleep. Nevertheless, he needed to make the announcement. "Crewman Lewis, activate internal comms, audio and video feeds on my mark."

"Aye sir," Lewis said, fulfilling her duty. Greyfox began recording.

"Good morning. I would like to personally commend all of you for your performance in the recent months. You have all gone above and beyond the call of duty in your respective tasks here on VAXMigrator. And so it is unfortunate that I must be the bearer of bad news today. In our recent conflicts with Admiral Nimitz and the Terran Confederation, many of us heard reports that Nimitz had been killed. These reports are apparently faulty, and the attack on the VAXMigrator over Kimmeron-5 was only a diversion for the real attack. The attack on Earth herself. It has recently come to my attention that a great fleet was amassed by Nimitz, traitor to the confederation, and led against Earth while her strongest defenders were light-years away, fighting amongst ourselves over Kimmeron-5. It is with a heavy heart I must inform you that the the Terran Confederation is no more, and that a collective of Cylons and other enemies to humanity are occupying Earth, under the command of Nimitz.

I plan on putting this ship and her crew directly into harm's way in order to fight Nimitz. To liberate Earth from her captors. It would be too much for me to order you into the troubled times ahead. If you wish not to participate in this most dangerous course of action, I will fully understand. Based on the astronomical data provided me by Mr. Philo, I have plotted a course to a little-known jump node near the Ghorant'ess system. Intelligence shows the 4th planet to be M-class, and populated by a spacefaring people, the Ghorians. We shall make final combat refits there before jumping closer to home.

We are about to face our most difficult challenge. Our darkest hour. Our success depends upon the exemplary performance of the entire crew, working together, as a team, to one common goal. We can succeed, and we will. May our actions shine as a beacon to other like-minded beings across the galaxies. Let us retake our Home." Greyfox pressed the END TRANSMISSION button, then sat in his chair heavily, holding the bridge of his nose with his right thumb and forefinger.

"Sir?" Crewman Lewis said, almost in a whisper, "When shall I replay the transmission?"

"All shipwide monitors, 08:30 during first watch. Send announcement there are to be general staff meetings immediately following at 09:00 to discuss the new course of action. We are escalating to combat readiness in 1 week."

"Aye, sir," Lewis said as Greyfox rose and walked to his ready room, the door sliding closed behind him...

By Yo' Daddy (Sol) on Thursday, January 17, 2002 - 02:26 pm:

Sonya, standing in the halls, perks to attention as the announcement plays out. The haziness in her eyes fades, replaced by a piercing glare. Earth. Under Cylon rule. And Nimitz, the traitor, alive. Sonya's hand grips into a fist as she listens to the announcement. So it is to be war. She will do it to protect her planet.

Sonya heads for the training room - there is no time for sleep now.

Sonya

By Yo' Daddy (Sol) on Thursday, January 17, 2002 - 07:58 pm:

Sol enters the Admiral's cabin. All of the senior officers are there - Jarrah, Commander Powers the XO, Commander William Richards, Lieutenant JG Ripley, Ensign Jones, the Doctor, and of course, the CO, Admiral Greyfox.

Sol sees some other faces as well - Philo, the crazy old man Sol had met earlier, and a newcomer to the Ready-Room - Ensign McBride. McBride had gone head-to-head with Nimitz - so the report had said - and survived. This young one had potential - Sol knew when he looked at the young man that there was something there, something that surpassed the normal confines of what a human being is capable of achieving.

"Ambassador," salute the more junior officers, standing at attention as the Solenoid moves to his honorary seat beside the Admiral - Sol notices with interest that McBride, who sits on the opposite side, does not rise to salute as he would be wont to have done only a few weeks before. hmmmm thinks the Ambassador, There is arrogance here. It shall be seen if it is ignorant or fully justified.

As the thin, thoughtful man takes a seat, Greyfox stands. "As you have heard already, our foe known as Nimitz has not perished in the Kimmeron-5 assault of last month. It has come to my attention through the briefing of Mister Philo that the man known as Nimitz is now classified as Alpha-Sabre-Six."

"Sabre?" questions Jones, "I thought the Sabre-class of Star Fleet Criminals only reached level Four, and that level is reserved for Warlords who threaten entire galaxies!"

"In fact," replies Solenoid, "The fifth level is classified above top-secret. Even knowledge of this level is on a need-to-know basis. Unfortunately, knowledge of this information puts you in an extremely elite but extremely dangerous camp. The classification of Sabre-Five is reserved for hostile Time Travellers. These men provide a threat not just to all who live, but all who have ever lived."

"A time traveller?" The Doctor speaks incredulously, "Admiral Nimitz is a Time-Traveller?"

"Not just a Time-Traveller," says Greyfox, his eyes stern and serious, "A Shadowknight."


Sol

By Technomage (Houdini) on Friday, March 01, 2002 - 08:42 am:

A rogue Shadowknight? The Doctor couldn't belive his ears. That was impossible unless...
"The prophecy!" The Doctor said thinking outloud.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Friday, March 01, 2002 - 12:58 pm:

Meanwhile, in the Sol System...

It had been nearly 3 months since final contact with Admiral Kraken, and the Hades remained dutifully on patrol in the asteroid belt with her sister ships Hellstrike, Dante,and Inferno.

"Sir," said lieutenant Wilson from her station at communications, "we have an incoming transmission from central command. General orders are to stand down our patrol and transmit our current position to Starfleet." Captain Striker looked thoughtfully at his communications officer, pondering what these new orders might mean. According to the last transmission he had received from Admiral Kraken, Nimitz had been revealed as a traitor and conspirator against the Terran Confederation. And now, orders were coming in from that very man, Nimitz, who had been 'elected' President of the Confederation no more than 2 months ago.

"Take orders under advisement. Don't issue a response at this time. Call a command staff meeting with the other captains, I want to discuss this with them before making a--" Captain Striker was interrupted by a proximity alarm and the surprised shout of his helmsman, Lieutenant Frost.

"SIR! Incoming jump signature... Looks like a Sheffield-class," Frost exclaimed while maneuvering the Hades out of the path of the incoming ship.

"Shields up, yellow alert," ordered Striker, pressing a button on his command chair. "Mr. Randall, I want a full sensor sweep of that ship."

"Aye sir. Commencing active sweep. Transponder signatures indicate that she's the Sheffield, sir," Ensign Randall reported.

"Open a channel, offer our assistance if needed," Striker ordered, as Lt. Wilson responded, and the bridge of the Sheffield appeared onscreen. John Striker stood and nearly gawked at the almost unrecognizable image before him.

"Captain Striker, are you a sight for sore eyes!" the battered-looking man on the screen said between labored breaths.

"Franklin?" asked Striker, recognizing his friend, the commander of the Sheffield. "What the hell happened out there?"

"Nimitz. He came out of nowhere. Damn Black Hawk Fleet attacked us just as we were making for home," Commander Franklin began.

"Nimitz. I might have known. Did you rendezvous with VAXMigrator?"

"Yes. And Admiral Lynxor is alive. He ordered us return home to safety after Admiral Kraken..." Franklin swallowed hard and glanced downward before continuing, "After Admiral Kraken died."

"What?" Striker asked, astonished.

"The Vesuvius and the St. Helens went head-to-head, Vesuvius was destroyed. We're all that's left. We've had to divert power from non-essential systems just to keep life support and our engines active. We need to put in for repairs. Our cargo hold is filled with refugees from Vesuvius, and in order to accomodate them, we had to jettison most of our ship's stores. We need safe haven John, and Earth is definately NOT it."

The two friends stared at each other silently across the void of space before Captain John Striker finally spoke. "We'll help you Franklin. Saturn's Rings is only 2 days and--"

"No. We're heading for the Union of Border Worlds. They've already renounced their cease-fire with Confed, and has offered safe haven for any who wish to join their cause. John, come with us. Help us take down Nimitz and win back Earth. You don't need to answer now, I'll wait," Franklin said, sighing, as the viewscreen went blank. Striker slowly sank into his chair, and silence enveloped the bridge for what seemed like an eternity.

"Sir?" asked Lt. Wilson, "your orders?"

John Striker shook himself from what seemed to be a daze before speaking, a sad, yet determined edge in his voice. "Send word to Inferno, Dante, and Hellstrike that I am assuming command of the task force. Advise them not to break radio silence, and set course for the following coordinates," Striker punched in a series of coordinates to transmit before continuing. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am about to disobey a direct order from Confed High Command. Any of you who wish to protest, I will note it in my log." Striker paused for a moment, and upon hearing no complaints, continued. "We are setting course for the Union of Border Worlds, specifically the New Bangkok colony on Altaire Prime in the Altaire system. We are about to embark on a crusade. One that will undoubtedly place us in direct conflict with brothers, sisters, former shipmates, and friends. Know that I believe this to be the proper course, the correct course. War has been declared on Earth, but not by the Union of Border Worlds--by Nimitz himself. Everything the Terran Confederation stands for is hanging in the balance. If Nimitz is allowed to continue, all will be lost. So, we do this for ConFed. We do this for Earth. We do this for Humanity, and may God have mercy on us all." Striker looked drained, as if a heavy weight were resting on his shoulders before opening a channel back to Commander Franklin.

"Is everything all right, John?" Franklin asked when he saw his troubled friend. John Striker simply nodded.

"Follow us to New Bangkok, Commander Franklin," Striker said somberly.

Franklin smiled broadly before snapping to attention and saluting his friend. "Aye sir."

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Friday, March 01, 2002 - 05:25 pm:

New Terran Order High Command:

Nimitz read the stacks of intelligence reports piled high on his desk. indications were that perhaps 25% of the Terran Confederation Starfleet had refused to report for new active duty. Nimitz smiled, for it was a smaller ratio than he had anticipated. He had been wise these past several years to place his most trusted confidants into positions of command throughout Terran space. He remembered his ship, the St. Helens, and how she was floating in the far reaches of space as a prison barge. Reaching out with his mind, he subtley manipulated the space currents so it would come to rest near the naval yards orbitting planet Zarcon. He smiled as he opened his eyes, for he had just sensed Greyfox's mind. It was not far from Zarcon. Perhaps it was time to see how one or two of his new ship designs would fare against a Battlestar.

"Get me the deep-space communications relay operator," Nimitz said as he pressed the intercomm button on his polished black onyx desk. After a few moments, the intercomm buzzed and crackled to life, and the DSC relay operator could be heard. "Lieutenant, relay a coded message on sub-zeta frequency 311 to Zarcon Prime: 'dispatch NTOS Plunkett to intercept VAXMigrator in Ghorant'ess system. Include escort as necessary. If more than 25% damage sustained, disengage. Report back results.' I want it sent priority, lieutenant," Nimitz said, steepling his fingers

"Aye sir, encoding now," the communications officer responded. Nimitz smiled. Soon he would see how effective his new ships would be against a battlestar. Soon, it would not matter that 5 of the 10 active Hades class cruisers decided to join the opposition. Soon, Nimitz would rule not only Terran space, but he would subdue Cylon space, and the frontiers beyond. Indeed, the galaxy, even the universe, would soon be his. And even if it took 500 years to do it, he cared not, for what is time for one who is timeless...

By IITYWIMWYBMAD (Smokeduster) on Sunday, March 03, 2002 - 08:12 pm:

Centaris System
Bridge of the Andromeda

"Pursuit?"

"From what I can tell, it looks like we managed to lose them."

"How do you base that judgement Lieutenant?"

"From looking out the windows?" Lt Kell replies sarcastically from the entrance to the bridge.

"Kell, what's the situation on the rest of the ship?"

"The passengers are pretty shaken up, Phi. That last group of destroyers that were following the ion trails from the engines got in some damn good hits. And they weren't using the normal pursuit weapons. They wanted to kill us. The shields are holding, barely, and we have breaches in the hull."

"Engineering..... Engineering report....... Engineering this is the Bridge, is anyone down there?"

"Engineering here. Sorry it took so long, we're kinda busy right now-" The engines give a tremendous groan, power fails again.

"What the hell is going on down there?"

"The primary engine core took a hit from some kind of energy disruption weapon sent it into an overload. We got it locked down before it could spread into the secondary and the shield core, but we've got a coolant leak and half the consoles are fried the other half are dead. And we got 3 dead bodies on the deck. Lieutenant Miller and Ensigns Thompson and Morishi. We also got wounded."

"When can you have the engines back online?"

"Are you serious Phi?"

"Yes. Those destroyer will be after us once they figure out we weren't destroyed in that jumpgate."

"Probably in a week. But I don't have a week do I? We have to shutdown the secondary engine core and the shield core to clean out the coolant and then we can try a restart of the primary engines. That'll take 8 hours alone."

"You got 2 tops."

"Can't be done commander. If we rush this, the ship will either stop dead in space somewhere between here and safety, or blow up, and not just the engines this time."

"Helm where are we?"

"We're just outside the Centaris System, commander?"

"Exellent. At least something has gone right. Set course for Centaris 6. We'll find friends there. Sam?"
"Yeah?"

"Do you think we can make it to Centaris 6 before the ship takes us straight to hell?"

"Probably, given we don't run into anything. But isn't-" Thankfully the com goes out and the ship begins to its lumbering course to the destination, listing like the village drunk, the morning after.

"Phi, Centaris 6 is a Styme slave world."
"I'm aware of it. I've been there. Hopefully the station is still there too."
"Besides the Terrans won't look for us there."

Several hours pass as the Andromeda makes it way to Centaris 6, forced to remain out of hyperspace because of the extensive damage and the proximity to the white dwarf which forms the center of the Centaris system.

"Head for that station over there"

"Why that precise one, Phi?"

"Wait a minute isn't that the-"

"SS Paradox- " Kell interrupts with a low whiste. "So that's what happened to her.

"Yeah, after we escaped the Enigma Quadrant, we set course for home, but this white dwarf drew us of course. We built the station out of the remains of the Paradox. Then the Styme came......"

"Paradox station to approaching ship. Give registry and purpose of visit."

"Andromeda, formerly of the Terran Confed fleet. We need repairs, and tell the Captain... ", she pauses before adding, "his daughter wants to see him,"

--Darren

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Monday, March 04, 2002 - 02:38 pm:

Battlestar VAXMigrator, Admiral's ready room:

Greyfox raises his hand, silencing the shocked murmurs of his senior officers before more disorder could ensue. "One of the reasons I called this meeting is to announce my intent to reorganize the command structure of this ship. As you know, we have recently undergone a transfer of personnel, an influx of refugees, and even a major reconstruction in the past 2 months. I just wanted to make it known that I will be reviewing personnel files and making decisions as to the command structure. There are several positions that need to be filled, not the least of which is captain."

"Sir," says Powers, "with all due respect, wouldn't you be the next likely candidate to assume command?"

"As a matter of fact, Mr. Powers, admirals may exercise their command option whenever they wish," Greyfox says academically, "but the fact remains that this ship needs a captain. As I said, I will be reviewing likely candidates and I'll announce my final decision before we reach Ghorant'ess," Greyfox finishes, placing a file folder on the table in front of him. "Now, until such time as I make a decision, Mr. Powers is in command. I want full combat readiness reports from all divisions on my desk in 4 days time. Mr. Philo, I want engineering moving around the clock ensuring we'll be ready for Nimitz when we confront him. Tech crews will work double-shifts until all fighters check out flight ready. The same goes for ordnance. Now, snap to, people. We have work to do."

The officers in the room snapped to attention and dispersed, leaving only Greyfox and Ambassador Sol sitting across from each other.

"Sol, you were in command here once," Greyfox began, only to be answered by Solenoid shaking his head slowly from side to side.

"That was a long time ago, old friend," Sol answers quietly. "I resigned my commission to serve on the diplomatic council, you know that."

Greyfox sighs, his countenance heavy with some unseen burden. "I know. I couldn't ask you to take command again. But I know that you once bore the burden of command." Sol notices that something is troubling his old friend.

"This whole business with Nimitz is disturbing you a great deal," Sol said insightfully as Greyfox poured some green crystalline liquid into a glass container and offered it to his friend.

"We may not survive this endeavor, Sol," Greyfox says, pouring himself some liquid and taking a sip. "And I would hate to be responsible for losing another crew, losing the ship to paradox again."

"We're in the depths of space, Admiral," Sol says, leaning forward for dramatic effect, "anything we do out here is life and death. There is no more hostile environment than what we are in." Sol pauses, being sure he has Greyfox's attention before continuing, "And there is no one man I would rather follow through it." Sol winks as he finishes his beverage, and stands to leave. As he reaches the door, he stops, looks back thoughtfully, and adds, "And if we die, at least I will be satisfied that it will have been for a noble cause." Ambassador Solenoid smiled, leaving Greyfox to his reflections and reviews of personnel files...

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Thursday, March 07, 2002 - 03:08 pm:

New Bangkok Colony, Altaire Prime:

"Sir!" the communications officer shouted, "I have multiple signals emerging from the Sol system jump node!" The watch commander strode over to the young officer's post and peered intently at the sensors display. "I confirm 5 signals, all Confed ships." A look of pure dread washed over the young man's face as he said, "4 Hades class strike cruisers and a Sheffield, Sir."

"Alert all nearby commands, send as many ships as you can spare," the watch commander ordered. "Lyons! What ships do we have close enough to intercept?" he barked at his flight control officer.

"Currently, I show 3 ships. The Durango, Tallahassee, and Loki are currently in orbit around Altaire 7, nearest the jump node," Lyons responded.

The watch commander sighed and shook his head. If this was the beginning of a Terran offensive, the Border Worlds forces wouldn't stand a chance. 1 Hades class cruiser alone was more than capable of destroying the 3 ships he was about to order to intercept. With heavy heart, he gave orders to his communications officer. "Open channel to the Durango. Issue orders for her task force to intercept incoming Confed ships. Let them know that they are all that stand between those cruisers and us. And give them my personal regards."

"Aye sir. Transmitting now..."

By IITYWIMWYBMAD (Smokeduster) on Thursday, March 07, 2002 - 05:01 pm:

Centaris System:

As the Andromeda approaches the station, and is directed to its port side primary docking bay, it becomes apparent to the other bridge officers just how large this station actually is. It's easily larger than anything in the Terran Outer Territories. It even dwarfs some of the oribital stations in the Sol System itself, with the exception of those in orbit of Earth and Mars.



Attached to the prow of the station is the remaining hull of the Paradox, her designation still partially visible along the sides. Behind that is a large dome with 2 sections. The bottom portion serves to provide the food and air recycling necessary for human life. Above it is the stations governmental center and houses the main guild halls. On either side is a series of docking clamps for ships too large to dock inside the main hangar located through the portal near the rear of the station near the water recycling equipment. It is towards the main docking bay that the Andromeda is heading. A large asteroid is tethered to the station, above relative to the command center, by a series of energy beams. The station is defenses include a series of turbolaser betteries along either side and several series of missile/torpedo launchers. It is evident from the scoring on the hull of the station that it has weathered many attacks, most recently from the energy weapons of the Styme. The station is also equipped with a mega- class mass driver capable of hurling asteroids nearly the size of the one it is currently mining at targets from long range. The asteroid currently being mined is crawling with miner ships carving pieces of the "stationary" rock to get at the valuable minerals and frozen water located within it. There are several other asteroids near by which serve as screen from most large ships.

Memories flood Philana's mind as she remembers her last visit to the station. It was several years ago, shortly after the Styme had been driven from the system to deal with raids from nearby Cylon space. She had been captured on a raid on several Styme convoys in the area. It was shortly after her capture that she was "sold" to the Cylons in an attempt to make peace which failed miserably. But it put her in the right place to help others.

"Andromeda, this is Paradox command and control. Turn control of your ship over to us and we'll tractor you into the docking bay. The station magistrate will meet you there."

"Copy CnC." The Andromeda's beleaguered engines begin their formal shutdown as the ship is pulled by the series of tractor beams into position on the docking platform.

"Engineering, this is the bridge. I want those engines back on line ASAP. We've found a reprieve, let's not wear out our welcome here Mr. Colton."

"Copy, Bridge. Any chance of getting extra help down here?"

"Not until the hull is inspected. We need to get those breaches sealed up before we can leave. But as soon as that's done you should have all the help you'll need down there."
"OK, people. I'm going to greet the Magistrate. Lt Matthews, I'm leaving you in charge here on the bridge. Thar, I'm going to need you to coordinate with the Paradox's engineering team on the repairs with Sam."

"Yes ma'am."

Phi exits the bridge, heading for the docking bay, as the ship is locked into the slip. Straightening her uniform and her hair as best she can, she steps out into the bustling docking bay, and into memories of years past.

12 years ago she had made the same steps onto the Paradox. Fresh out of the academy, she had been assigned as science officer to this ship, mostly because no one else would take her. It was not because she lacked the skills. In fact it was quite the contrary. She had graduated top of her class, but no one else was quite comfortable having her on board. It was because of who her father was. And who her mother had been. A voice jars her from her revelry. "Not even a hug for the old man?"

"Father. Its been a long time." They embrace.

"Indeed it has. I thought I'd lost you. I heard you were traded to the Cylons, and thought you had died. Apparaently not."

"No. But fate put me in the right place to do some good."

"So the rumors are true then?"

"What rumors?"

"The VAXMigrator has returned? Oh, don't look so surprised. Just because we're this far out doesn't mean that we have no knowledge of what is transpiring at home. One of the traders we deal with dropped the information as well as the stories circulatiing about a coup of some sort."

"That's how we came to be here. We're carrying refugees that were to have been delivered to safety on the VAXMigrator. We had to separate from the rest of the fleet to give them a chance to escape. We were on the way to a rendezvous at"

"New Bangkok?" Seeing surprise in her eyes, "Oh come on. Didn't it occur to you that I could figure that one out on my own? I taught you, remember? Which is how you managed to beat the hell out of that thing in our best dock slip."

"That thing is my ship, father. It is an Estanian Light Cruiser Class C. And it is one of the fastest cruisers out there now."

"Not at this minute I'd think, Phi. But we'll fix that." They stare down each other, before he breaks down laughing and embraces her. "Come. Tell me of home," and they leave the docking bay heading to the upper dome.

******* In the transport tube *******

"I see you have completed the repairs to the defenses."

"And added a few new surprises."

"Ah yes, the mass driver. Have you tested it?"

"How do you think that path you followed got made? It wasn't by the great one's hand. We had to move a few of the more useless rocks to make it easier to trade.

"And where exactly did the rocks go?

"Away. And they chased off some pretty nasty customers too.." he smiles deviously. "We've also added some new defenses. Some liberated, mid-range warships."

"Yes, I saw them on the way in. You did thank the Styme for them, right?"

"I will, if and when they come back. Right now they have more massive problems to deal with."

"Is the station still capable of flight?"

"The last time we made a major move was when Arach'Nor got us away from the planet, but that was before you left on your quest."

"Is he still around?" she asks about the ancient humanoid who had lived his entire life on the station, which no one since has done.

"We believe he is. We're not real sure, since he doesn't mix with the other visitors. We haven't actually seen or heard from him in some time."

Phi begins to feel queasy and has the strangest feeling. All around her, the world becomes complete chaos. She is able to make out a space battle between ships and the station. She reaches out and grabs the sides of the transport tube to catch herself before she falls to the floor. The vision fades from her mind as she returns to the now.

"What's wrong?" her father asks.

"Nothing, I hope. I just had the strangest sensation. I fear that I shouldn't have come here. I placed you in far too great a danger." The color begins to return to her skin and her breathing becomes less ragged.

"Nah. Just in case I'll call a halt on mining trips for now. Tube, redirect us to CnC and patch me through to Lt. Commander O'Mally."

"I'm not so sure, Dad." She tries to make sense of the vision, but like so many others she had previously, this one seems too strange. She was certain she had seen the station under attack, and some of the vessels looked like those that were in the taskforce with her own. But they weren't. They couldn't be. Time would tell though whether her vision was of what will be or what could be, or even what had been.

"Comply," and the tube heads off in a new direction, towards the control tower.

"O'Mally here, your magistrate."

"Don't let anymore of the miners out and get the fighters prepped. We may be having guests."

"I was already on it, sir. We picked up a group of ships heading this way from the Vega Jump Node. I've already launched the interceptors and the other fighter squadrons are getting prepped in case."

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Thursday, March 07, 2002 - 11:53 pm:

Pegasus Station, in the Ulysses Corridor of the Vega System:

"Sir, we're approaching the Charybdis Quasar's PNR," Lt. Taylor called out above the din of combat, only to be interrupted by his captain.

"Hold steady your course, Mr. Taylor," Captain Byrnes said firmly. "How many ships in pursuit?"

"I read 4 Estanian class cruisers, 1 Sheffield class, and 3 Ajax Destroyers. No fighters have launched yet, but the Warhawk looks like she's leaving dock at Pegasus to join the chase," Lt. Ryan called from tactical.

"Damn," cursed Byrnes, "we have to get away from that carrier before she can launch a fighter attack. Mr. Taylor, how far are we from the PNR?"

"Sir, we have 2 minutes to verify coordinates--"

"Stand by jump engines, activate on my mark," Shouted Byrnes, grasping the arms of his command chair, expecting the inevitable impact.

"One minute, sir!" shouted Taylor as the entire ship began shaking violently from the gravitational forces.

"Redirect shield control to my station," Byrnes ordered, not wanting to leave his ship vulnerable any longer than was necessary. "Give me a count-down Mr. Taylor!" Byrnes shouted, strapping himself in. When jumping an unknown trajectory, timing was of the utmost importance. As Taylor reached the count of 15, Byrnes gave his order. "Ignite jump drives!"

Space itself swirled open in a spiral of purple-white energy, lightning arcing off the ionized hull as a torpedo slammed into the port engine of the TCS Cerberus, but not before it leapt through the hole in space to the other side.

"Sir, port engines are hit bad," reported Taylor as the entire ship shook from the impact. "One more direct hit and the reactor may breach."

"Port engine full astern, starboard engine ahead flank. Mr. Ryan, begin charging primary weapon, have turrets brought online. Flight control, launch all fighters," Byrnes issued orders as he watched the jump node swirl shut.

"Something MASSIVE showing up on sensors, sir," reported Taylor as he put the Hades cruiser into a 180-degree turn. There was another sudden jolt, and a portion of Taylor's console erupted with sparks.

"Sir, I can't bring shields online because of the primary weapon charge," Ryan reported.

"Farrell, send out universal distress call, Horner, I want a reading on that massive sensor signature. Mr. Ryan, redirect energy from port engine to weapons." A bead of sweat rolled down Byrnes' temple as the Cerberus finally faced the jump node she had just come through. "Flight control, are the fighters up?"

"Aye, sir. All 30 fighters out and away, harrassing the 4 estanians that followed us through the node."

"Mr. Ryan have your turrets target those cruisers as well--" Byrnes was interrupted by the jump node swirling open, the front end of a sheffield class cruiser emerging from it. "Mr. Ryan?"

"Aye sir, primary weapon standing by to fire, torpedo tubes 1-6 prepped for launch."

Byrnes waited for the opposing cruiser to clear the jump node before clenching his fist at it. "Fire," he said, almost too quiet to be heard.

By X (Eric) on Sunday, March 10, 2002 - 01:04 pm:

Mac was in the turbolift on his way to the bridge. Something felt strange, not wrong really just not quite right either. Mac stepped out of the lift onto the bridge and saw his friend Lt. Dan Shelby sitting at flight control.

"Hi, Dan."

"Hello, Sir. What can I do for you, sir."

"Get bent, Dan."

"Yes, Sir! Right away, Sir! In what way would you like me bent, Sir?"

Mac ignored his friend's sarcasm and looked out the main view port at a squadron of Tigersharks in tight formation closing on the VAXMigrator at high speed.

"What's going on out there, Dan?"

"One of the new squadrons, made up of survivors from the St. Helens. The squadron commander wants to see if they can fly together without bumping into each other. Excuse me, but I've got to go back to work."

Dan pushed the ear piece of his head set tighter into his ear and spoke into the mike.

"Roger, Tiger leader. You are cleared for a 4+G turn and close flyby. But hurry it up, we don't want that flyby too close. Control out."

"Why so close, Dan?"

"He wants good sensor records, to review and compare with the flight recorders."

Mac watched as the squadron began their turn, first was Tiger leader then Tiger 2 and 3. Then as Tiger 4 and 5 were in the middle of their turn, and for no apparent reason Tiger 4 exploded. Tiger 7, the fighter right behind 4, attempted to avoid the fireball. Even as fast as they were moving, Mac could clearly see the engine housing of 4 hitting the cockpit canopy of 7.

There were more explosions out there, someone on the bridge had sounded collision and the klaxons were going off. But Mac could not take his eyes off Tiger 7, which was now heading straight for the main view port.

An attempt was being made to evacuate the hundreds of people on the bridge, Dan was yelling into his headset trying to find out who was alive among the pilots and what had happened. Mac knew it made no difference, whatever information he could get would die along with him and everyone else on the bridge. Right about now....

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Wednesday, March 13, 2002 - 01:04 pm:

Greyfox sat at his desk, reviewing a recent report, when his door chimed, followed by a voice over the intercom unit "Commander MacBride to see you, sir."

"Yes. Send him in," Greyfox said, not taking his eyes off the report. Mac strode in, and stood at attention behind one of the empty seats in front of the desk. "At ease. Make yourself comfortable," Greyfox said, lowering the datapad to the desktop.

"Yes sir," Mac said, nervously sitting. "You wanted to see me sir?"

Greyfox smiled. "I've had to calm down some very upset flight personnel regarding a particular order you gave earlier today. Would you care to explain yourself?"

"I acted on a hunch, sir."

"Really? And what was the basis of this hunch?"

"Nothing, sir. That's why it was a hunch."

"Well. You'll be glad to know that upon closer inspection, a mechanical flaw was discovered in the starboard engine of Tiger 4. Had the maneuver continued, there could have been catastrophic results," Greyfox said, smiling.

"Yes sir." Mac looked both relieved and a little confused.

"Calm down, son. You should stop being nervous around ranking officers--we're people, too."

"Yes sir. Sorry sir."

Greyfox smiled again. "We're going to be spending alot more time together. I want you to feel at ease when we have these meetings--they don't always mean you're in trouble."

"Yes sir." Mac remained sitting stiffly in his chair.

"Well, Randall, here's your first assignment," Greyfox said, sliding the datapad across the desk for Mac to see. "According to your records, there are several ratings you don't hold which are required for your current post. That's a list of what I need you to be rated on. It's not a major affair, you can take care of it during your free time. Report back to me weekly with your progress."

"Yes sir." Mac took the datapad and looked at the list for a moment.

"That's all," Greyfox said.

"Yes sir," Mac said, standing and saluting, before turning sharply and walking to the door. When he got there, he stopped for a moment before turning again. "Sir?" Greyfox looked up from yet another datapad. "I prefer Mac, sir."

"Alright, Mac," Greyfox said, smiling. "You did well. Keep it up."

"Yes sir," Mac said, saluting again, and then leaving.

Greyfox pressed the intercomm button again before speaking, "Chief, send in Mr. Philo, if you please."

"Aye sir."

Greyfox opened a long, narrow drawer on one wall, and produced several charts and some navigational tools, and spread them out on his desk, waiting for Philo to arrive.

By X (Eric) on Wednesday, March 13, 2002 - 01:22 pm:

Lt. J.G. Kile Anderson made his way to his quarters after a double shift in engineering. As he walked he couldn't help thinking of the new chief engineer. Mr. Philo, a great engineer, he really knows his stuff and he's not afraid to get his hands dirty. But boy is he weird. Kile didn't even know if he should call him sir or not, Mr. Philo didn't hold any rank that Kile knew of. Well, Kile knew duty on the Migrator would be different, that was why he requested it. As Kile opened the door to his quarters he saw his room mate sound asleep in his bunk.

"Wake up you febe.... It's third watch. Shouldn't you be on the bridge."

There was a groan from under the covers, "No, I got reassigned."

"Oh, sorry," said Kile as he pulled his t-shirt over his head, "I heard about.... Still it couldn't be your fault. What are you doing now scrubbing the flight deck?" asked Kile looking around for his friend who wasn't on his bunk any more.

"Not exactly," came the reply from the bathroom, at the same time as a knock on the stateroom door.

"Come," said Kile as he sat on his bunk and started to take off his pants.

In stepped an elderly warrant officer and said, "Commander MacBride, sir?"

"No, and you're in the wrong part of the ship if you're looking for Commander anybody. These are the junior officers' quarters. But Ensign MacBride is in the head if you want to wait," he said lying down on his bunk. He pulled a pillow over his eyes as Mac came out of the bathroom in nothing but his shorts and the warrent officer came to attention.

"Warrant Officer First Class Dix, sir. I'm the admiral's yeoman. Sorry I'm so late, but I've gotten you you're own quarters. It's with senior flight officers. Sorry, but its the best I could do with so many new officers aboard. There are only three offices open right now and only one of them is on the same deck as the admirals', that one was Captain Data's old office. And here's the top five name's on the duty list for yeoman," said Dix handing Mac a piece of paper.

Kile lifted his head, letting the pillow fall to the floor and stared at Mac. He did not interrupt.

Mac read the list, thought for minute and then said, "Any office except captain Data's will be fine, just let me know where it is. The first name on the list, Ensign Cooper, he's got the job. After all, being alphabetically superior must count for something. And I happen like pilots. So if you would send someone around in about an hour to move my things, I can just follow him to my new quarters.

"Of course, sir. It will all be taken care of. And thank you, sir," said Dix as he started to leave.

Mac opened the door for him and said, "No, thank you, Warrant Officer First Class Dix, you have done a fine job," and Mac closed the door behind him.

"What the hell is going on, Mac?" said Kile.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Thursday, March 14, 2002 - 11:34 am:

Amphitheater 2, VAXMigrator Flight decks:

"Alright people, let's settle down," Col. Stevens began, speaking into the mic on the podium. "I called this meeting of active flight personnel to go over our reorganization and combat flight status. With the recent transfers and reclamation of hardware from other ships, we are now able to field and fly 4 complete flight wings. Our command structure will only change slightly, in that myself, Col. Richardson, and Col. Brilliam will retain command of 1 wing each, as well as Col. Gerald, formerly flight leader on board the Vesuvius." Gerald stood up, there was some applause, and he sat back down. Quicksilver continued. "I would also like to take this opportunity to congradulate Maj. Todd Marshall for his promotion, and to announce the decision to grant him a position in squadron command. Maniac, you'll be in Gemini wing under Lt. Col. Brilliam. Tiger squadron is yours."

Jayce sat at the front of the auditorium, listening intently to Quicksilver when his personal communicator chirped. With a nod to Quicksilver, who began reading off squadron rosters, he excused himself in order to avoid the background noise of the flight meeting. "Brilliam here. Go ahead."

"Colonel Brilliam, I need an available member of the senior flight officers to help relocate Admiral Lynxor's Chief of Staff to his new quarters. Can you suggest someone?"

"Well, everyone is in a general staff meeting right now, going over reorganization of flight personnel. But, I already know who's going where, so maybe I can help. Who's moving?"

"Lieutenant Commander Randall MacBride." Jayce did a double-take.

"Lieutenant Commander?" Jayce asked, incredulously. "What happened to Ensign?"

"Field promotion by Admiral Lynxor. I take it you already know the commander, then?"

"Yeah, I ummm, ran into him once or twice a couple weeks ago. Where's he currently berthing?"

"Deck 17, junior officer's quarters, compartment 176742c."

"I'll ummm, get right on it. Always happy to help out the admiral," Jayce said, shaking his head as he walked to the turbolifts.

By Yo' Daddy (Sol) on Thursday, March 14, 2002 - 03:09 pm:

Sol rubbed his chin with interest as he sat back in his swivel-chair. He had been jovial with Greyfox, but even as Sol smiled, he realized the utter urgency of what was about to unfold. Sol laughs to himself and sips a can of yellow soda synthesite. Indeed, the Command Crew... no, Admiral Greyfox needed to be in command, it was his ship and there were none better to fill the role.

Sol taps on a PADD with his finger. He'd been going over equations ever since his talk with Lal. So the calculations were verified. A small light came on in Sol's eye as he reviewed the information. A man was dead, but everything of him, his essence and memories, why, they were all here. And in a moment of inspiration, why yes, the missing piece.

"The Admiral needs to know about this," says Sol, "but first I need to confirm just one thing..."

SoL

By IITYWIMWYBMAD (Smokeduster) on Sunday, March 17, 2002 - 04:56 pm:

***Centaris system.

"Sensors indicate 1 warship being followed by several other ships."
"How many others?" Phi asks just as the jump point opens in an orange swirl. "That's a Hades-class cruiser! How much longer until we can bring the weapons on her."

"We're launching Pheonix fighters and DemonStrike squadron as we bear on the target area. Lightning squadron will have to deal with anything the Hades launches."

"What are they carrying?"

"Hard to say. Could be as many as a 2 full sqaudrons according to the specs I've seen."

"Magistrate, the Hades is turning away in a force turn-"
"They're trying to escape. We can't let them-"
"I don't think so. They're transmitting a standard distress call on an open frequency. They say they're-"

"Tag them as a friendly and record all transmissions so we can analyze them later. Are the fighters out?"
"DemonStrike squadron says they have reached the engagement zone and are requesting orders-"

Another jump point opens immediately in front of the Hades cruiser.

"Jesus Christ! What the hell is that?"
"Hades is firing."
"It is-" explosion "or was a Sheffield class cruiser."

"We have three destroyers coming through the same jump point and 4 other jump points around the engagment zone."

"Those will be Estanians. They're gonna set up a perimeter so that they can bring in their fleet. The asteroids are probably reaking havoc with the NavCom AI's calculations. They'll use the Estanians own readings to lead them in."

"Well, commander. What do you suggest?"

"Send our fighters after the estanians and get this station oriented to this region of space, " She says, pointing to an area just off the point the previous 2 destroyers had used. "That's where the fleet will jump in. The first 2 destroyers were on a direct line to track them. The Ajax must have signaled for the estanians to jump and contain the Hades cruiser. They'll send the big ships there, now that they know which way the Hades turned." The tugs used to manuever the station through the asteroid field begin to approach the sides of the station to aid in the turn.

"How long until we can fire at that point?"

"We're bringing the mass driver on line. As soon as we're facing that way we can throw a big old rock there" The station lurches as the tugs hit the side of the station accelerating the push to re-orient the station to its new line of attack.

"Excellent. Keep the pheonix fighters on this side of the zone to act as a fighter screen against those cruisers"

"And DemonStrike sqaudron? "

"Send them after the 2 Estanians on the other side of the Hades. They can use the asteroid field to mask their approach."

"Do we have an ID on it?"
"The Hades? Its broadcasting as the Cerberus. Know her?"

"No. I hope they turn out on our side in this."

"After what we're going through, they'd better. After we throw a rock into that sector of space, believe me, they'll come around real quick."

"Estanian cruisers Valiant and Gemini incoming."

"Set defense grid for dispersal fire, we don't want to fry any of our fighters, and we need some parts off these cruisers."

"See if we can take the Valiant, her weapons look to be more advanced."

"Have the fighters target the linkage right here," Phi suggests pointing to a point on the back of the ship just behind the shield core, "and send a tight beam anti-tachyon signal here as soon as the shields flicker." The fighters begin pouring mega joules of combined energy into the shields on the Valiant. By design, most of the energy is dispersed without causing any lasting damage. The Valiant counters launching its full complement of rear firing torpedos at the fighters, readying the tachyon gun mounted in the nose for a firing run on the station. Valiant's shields flicker and at the same moment the power regulator that maintains the balance amongst the power cores freezes.

** Valiant's Bridge

"Engineering to bridge. The power regulator is shot. We have to shut down the engine core before it goes critical."
"Negative engineering. We're in the middle of a battle here. Get the shields back up before - "
At that moment the Paradox station grabs the cruiser in its tractor beam halting its momentum and begins to pour turbolaser fire onto the cruisers hull. Without the benefit of their shields the cruiser points itself into the source of the tractor beam and fires the tachyon gun, attempting to break the station's hold on their ship. The mass of the tachyon particles disrupts the tractor beam long enough for the cruiser to escape into the fray of pheonix fighters.

*** Paradox station CnC

"Valiant is free of the tractor beam. Sorry commander. They fired a tachyon blast into the beam."

"Risky manuever. It worked, but now they are going to be without power until they can bypass that locked power regulator."

"Gemini is moving to protect Valiant from further damage."

"Perfect. When they extend their shields around the Valiant, try to disable Gemini the same way. They don't have anything more than defensive weapons. And then transmit to the Valiant and Gemini an order to surrender."

"Phi, How the hell did you know that would work?"

"Its the same thing the Warlock tried on us before we got here. The thing is Andromeda's engineer is a little bit more creative, and familiar with those engines. He actually had a second backup in place which kept the engine cores from going critical before we got here. Put it in after the battle of Proxima. I figured the crew of Valiant wasn't there, since it looks like they were being refitted to a D model. That was only done at Earth Station."

"And just how did you know it was a half modified D?"

"The big nose mounted gun. C's don't normally carry that kind of nose-mounted capital weapons."

"What do you want to do with our other fighters, commander?"

"Keep them on the those two cruisers, we don't want them getting any ideas. Besides Demonstrike and Lightning squadrons won't need any help," the Magistrate answers.

DemonStrike squadron in their better armed and shielded fighters surrounded the two Estanians which were being contained by the orders they had received, and the passing Lightning squadron which would zip past getting quick shots that wouldn't do much damage, but kept the computers shifting shields. During this the DemonStrike pilots were hitting the cruisers with massive amounts of firepower. Several of the Estanians' weapons proving almost useless against the swarming interceptors turned the relatively stationary Styme fighters. But, the shields of these fighters had a similiar design to those of the estanians. The energy of the blasts was diverted away as the ships themselves learned to deal with it. After several minutes the members of DemonStrike squadron were able to stand toe to toe with the larger cruisers weapons firing on the cruiser. Before that happened tho, at least 3 of these heavy duty fighters had suffered damage critical enough for them to leave the fight. The cruisers' shields almost gone, the weapons on the fighters began carving off pieces of the hull.

"We're getting a jump signature at 42 by 10 by 100. It looks like something big."


"Fire."

The console lights dim slightly as the mass driver grabs a nearby rock in its gravititic beams and slingshots it through the hollow-ed out barrel mounted at a on the underside of the station, only to have it come rocketing out on a new course at about 95 kps. Directly into the opening jump point.

The bridge crew on board the Ajax destroyer didn't have a chance to do more than realize the giant rock that suddenly appeared where it shouldn't be. The split second allowed them to only begin to realize how screwed they were.

Unfortunately for the crew of the carrier behind the destroyer, they never even got that chance.

It wasn't until one of the cruisers exploaded that the other, badly damaged one, having just seen their support destroyed by an asteroid collision, offered to surrender.


"Paradox CnC to all fighter squadrons. Damage report."

"Demonstrike 1 here. 3 of our fighters were heavily damaged and had to leave the fight. The rest of us are beat up, but its repairable. Auto repair systems have been engaged."

"Lightning Leader here. No casualties."

"Pheonix Alpha. Our three squadrons report that we lost 4 fighters in battle with the estanians. We would have lost more had you guys not figured out how to shut them down like that. Thanks."

"This is the magistrate. Godd job people. Lightning squadron, stay out to escort our friends in the Cerberus in for repairs. Cnc Out."

"Ok people. Send out rescue and recovery teams for the cruisers first. We need the engine cores-"

"Try to take Valiant in one piece tho," Phi requests.

"Planning on taking a new ship?"

Insulted at the prospect of taking the cruiser she had just done so much to diable, she replies, "No, but we might have a use for it later."

"And go find Arach'Nor."

Phi and her father, the magistrate, leave the command center for the transport

"Not too bad."

"Yeah we lost 4 pheonix fighters, with pilots. Those machines we can replace. We should have spare pilots enough for now. Its the losses that DemonStrike suffered that worry me. "

"Why? No one died."

"Because we don't have the spare parts to keep repairing them. As it is we probably need to make contact with someone from Centaris 6 to see about spare parts for the current repairs. They take a lot of damage, but the parts are hard to come by. That's why I try not to have to use them. Unfortunately-"

"They're your best pilots too," Phi finishes her father's statement about the skill of the members of DemonStrike squadron.

--Darren

By Yo' Daddy (Sol) on Monday, March 18, 2002 - 02:01 pm:

The hallway illumination streamed into the parts-closet. Sol's bionic eye scanned the darkness as he stepped inside. Yes, even the parts-closet of the VAXMigrator was huge. Sol smiled at the hugeness - racks of parts stretched thirty feet to the ceiling, modulators, power-coils, gel-packs, everything. Hmmm, where would the android be?

Sol sat in the anti-grav chair and levitated to the ceiling for a better look, flying by the uppermost rows of equipment. Ah, Captain Data was at rest far in the back, his plastic corpse placed well out of the way. Hadn't it been launched into space? Ah, no, that may have had morale value for the crew, but Sol had seen to it that the actual shell was retained for study. Sol hovers closer, scanning...

Sol

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Monday, March 18, 2002 - 03:09 pm:

Pegasus Station, in the Ulysses Corridor of the Vega System:

By Yo' Daddy (Sol) on Monday, March 18, 2002 - 05:25 pm:

Sonya Blade watches attentively as Quicksilver continues with her briefing. Next to her is Ensign Lilaina Bean. The girl's expertise was security - her assignment until recently had been the protection of Jarrah. With the most recent strikes, however, and with all the changes in personnel, the VAXMigrator had shuffled its crew rosters quite a bit.

Sonya watched the young woman - the girl sat up straight and rigid, listening to her superior's every word even as more seasoned pilots took on a more casual posture. Bean had a deep black R charred onto the left side of her face and there were metal nodes running the length of her slender neck. Sonya had seen the girl around off-duty, but Lilaina mostly kept to herself.

"Major Blade," announces Quicksilver, "You are assigned to the combat support wing. You'll be assigned a phobos class assault shuttle for close combat support and recovery. Lieutenant Bean will be your copilot. You'll be reporting directly to me. Welcome to starfighter corps."

"Yes ma'am," Sonya replies. A chance to dish out a little hell. She didn't care who, but somebody was going to pay for the destruction of Vesuvius.

Sonya

By Yo' Daddy (Sol) on Monday, March 18, 2002 - 05:34 pm:

"Yes, thank you, Mr. President," says Sol, "I appreciate the assistance." Sol walks along the hall as the giant-of-a-man walks beside him. Abraham, who usually works in the pure heat of the engine room does not wear a shirt - only tight black pants and his stovepipe hat - the once-president of the United States has a build as impressive as one Lou Ferrigno. Over his shoulder, Mr. Lincoln carries the android, Data, who indeed weighs much more than it would appear. The android's head lolls to one side - there is no life. Having been eliminated by Nimitz' virus, the android has been inanimate for some time.

"Where would you like him, Ambassador?" asks Lincoln.

"In here," says Sol, gesturing toward Science Lab III. The lights are already on as they enter and the hologram, Lal, stands waiting as her father is delivered to the central work table.

"Admiral," speaks Sol.

"Hello Sol," Greyfox responds, "I am in a meeting with Mr. Philo right now."

"Yes, I am sorry for the interruption. But I request your presence in Science Lab III - I have some findings that may be of interest. To you and to Mr. Philo as well. It concerns Captain Data. I believe he can be restored."

Sol

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Tuesday, March 19, 2002 - 11:32 am:

"Is that so? We'll be down shortly," Greyfox responds, before turning and regarding Philo. "Well, Mr. Philo, it looks as if your astrometric knowledge will have to wait for the time being. If you'll accompany me to science lab III."

"Of course, Admiral," Philo says quietly, rolling up his personal collection of hand-drawn star-charts and tucking them under his left arm. "I've always been fascinated with cybernetic engineering--Do you think we'll have the chance to test my theories on electromagnetic transduction and its effects on the isolinear structures surrounding positronic neural-net matrices?"

Greyfox raises an eyebrow, looking at Philo, who seems genuinely excited, in his unique, straight-faced way. "Ummmm. Sure. But I think it would only be polite to ask first."

By Yo' Daddy (Sol) on Wednesday, March 20, 2002 - 03:58 pm:

"Welcome, gentlemen," smiles Sol as Greyfox and Philo come through the portal. Data is wired up to a display - the hologram, Lal, is wired to a separate conside through her mobile emitter.

Philo raises an eyebrow in interest. "I know we are all busy men," says Sol, "so I shall keep this very brief. I have been researching Mr. Data's demise for quite some time - at first none of us could be certain as to the reason. Until last Thursday when I discovered this..."

Sol places a small silver cube into the main input feed. On the Science Lab's 30-foot screen, a visual of Data's last moments alive appeared for all to see.


"Admiral," says Data into the air, then pauses as if listening to someone's voice... "Positronic... I will not betray him to you....That would kill most of my crew...I will not. Lynxor is an innocent man, and I will not condemn him to death."

There is a dead silence as Data works furiously, his brain connected directly to the engineering computer system...

"I shall... " Data clutched his throat.

The android falls to the metal deck, gasping.

Data reached for the keypad, desperately trying to enter a message, but his hands fall away clumsily as his body betrays him.

A sudden jolt of energy surges from the console, electrocuting Data; the jolt sends him reeling back from the console and onto the metal grate that is the floor.

Motionless on the deck, yellow eyes wide open, he stares into the void.

"That's the whole record, made on the day Data died. At first we assumed that his death was due to his neural link to the Talona's systems, but this footage clearly indicates that Data began to malfunction before being shocked by the feedback signal. The conversation he was having here was with an Admiral. And I do not believe it was you, Admiral Lynxor."

Philo rubs his bony chin in understanding.

"The possibility of foul play arose in my mind when the engineering autopsy on Data's body was completed. There is absolutely no residual information whatsoever in his positronic brain."

"None?" muses Philo interestedly.

"That's right," says Sol, "Nor in his backup memory. In the case of an accident, the information would be haphazardly erased, perhaps corrupted. But completely wiped? We're talking about a computer virus here. A virus that destroyed every bit in memory, every bit in storage, and finally, even itself."

"This is all very interesting," says Admiral Lynxor, "but you said there is a way to restore Mr. Data."

"Yes," says Philo, "how do you intend to do it? His backup was deleted."

"Indeed," says Sol, "but we do have another backup. One Nimitz didn't know about."

Greyfox smiles at this, Philo is still perplexed.

"We have Lal. When Data created her, he used his own positronic pathways as a template for her creation. As a result, Lal has, encoded in her own mind, all of Data's memories and experiences up until the moment of her creation. With the exception of the last few months, I believe we can restore Mr. Data to functional condition. With the help of Mr. Philo and the engineering team, of course."

Lal looks to the Admiral and the wild-eyed scientist expectantly...

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Wednesday, March 20, 2002 - 04:29 pm:

"An intriguing idea, to say the least, Sol. If you were to restore Commander Data, his memory would lapse back to what time?"

Sol looked thoughtful for a moment before answering, "I would think from the moment he uploaded Lal into the engine core, which was just prior to the ship leaving drydock over Lev-world."

Greyfox nodded. Data, if restored, would have no memory of Nimitz' treachery. No memory of any of the events from the moment Greyfox returned to the ship until now. It would be an awkward several days, but Greyfox was certain Data would manage, IF Mr. Philo could restore him.

"Mr. Philo?" Greyfox asked. "You think you can do this?"

Philo looked from Greyfox, to Lal, to Greyfox, to Data, then finally back to Greyfox before stammering, "Of-of COURSE we can do this. I'll need to retrieve some things before starting... My interocitter and several..." Philo's voice trailed off as he hurried out the door to retrieve his desired tools.

"Well, it looks like you'll all be in good hands. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some matters to attend to," Greyfox said, after turning back from watching Philo leave. "Ambassador, Ensign," Greyfox said, nodding at each in turn, before heading forward towards the bridge. He was almost glad he had not told Commander Richards of his decision to place him in command, for if he had, the good commander would have been sorely disappointed by this news. Greyfox decided to keep Sol's work a secret... For now, at least, it would be better if the crew simply did not know about it.

Greyfox ended up wandering the long corridors of the ship, once again thinking. He had no idea what Nimitz was up to, and could not predict what his adversary was going to do. It was quite unsettling to him. He decided to ascend the navigator's tower and steal a few hours of solitary reflection amongst the stars...

By Yo' Daddy (Sol) on Thursday, March 21, 2002 - 05:08 pm:

Sol and Mr. Philo stood over the table, looking down at Data. The back of the android's head was open and blinking. "There is no physical damage of any kind."

"That's good," says Sol as he works on Lal, "we should have no problems doing the transfer. Here's the tricky part, though - Data's original template is heavilly over-written by Lal's life experiences. It may not be so easy to separate Lal from Data."

"May I go now, Ambassador?" asks Lal.

"Yes, I have a copy of your matrix in the computer. Wow, does it take up a lot of space! The only way I could fit it was by uninstalling the Wing Commander series."

"What was that?" asks Philo as he absently twists a micropolar screwdriver in Data's head...

"Mmmm, nothing really," says Sol. Hmmm, a cross-date check might provide a hint, hmmm...

"Mr. Philo, I have 81% restoration... but that's a big gap. I'm having trouble isolating the remaining fifth. You've worked with this kind of technology before?"

Data's arm suddenly pops upwards, held straight up for a moment before returning to the table's surface with a dull THUD. "Fascinating," comments Philo, "Look what happens when I press here." Data's arm repeats its performance, and Philo chuckles softly, the look of an excited child at Christmas on his face...

Sol

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Friday, March 22, 2002 - 03:06 pm:

VAXMigrator Flight Officer Lounge:

Maniac swaggered into the senior officer's lounge, where his reception was being held. There was the bar, the punchbowl, the 'Congratulations!' banner, and the handy little snacky-foods on assorted tables. But the one thing that Maniac noticed immediately was the large throng of pilots gathered around the side-by-side simulator pods (courtesy of a requisition order 'signed' by Col. Brilliam) who were apparently engrossed in some competition. Maniac's smile faded quickly as he walked up to one of the pilots, tapping his shoulder

"What's going on?" Maniac asked over the din. The pilot turned, and looked disappointed.

"Somebody's in pod #2, and really kicking arse. He's already beaten 7 pilots, and he says he isn't coming out until somebody beats him," the pilot responded. Maniac glanced up at the current pilot-standings board, which hung over the simulators. The top 5 pilots were Raptor, Quicksilver, himself, Vagabond, and Panther. Maniac allowed himself another smile.

"We don't know who it is in there?"

"No, sir. Alot of guys will be disappointed that it wasn't you."

"Has anybody seen Vagabond? This is something he'd do," Maniac said, scanning the gathered pilots' faces. The display on the rear of pod #1 suddenly erupted in a ball of flame and everybody groaned. Some money also changed hands. "I bet it's Vagabond in there!" Maniac shouted, shoving his way forward.

"No, actually, I'm not," came Vagabond's voice from behind Maniac. "Why? What's going on?"

"Somebody's in pod #2 registered as 'trainee' and kicking our butts," Maniac said, pushing his way up to pod #1, as Capt. Smits clambored out to much head shaking and shoulder clapping.

Maniac stood atop a vacant chair and addressed the gathered pilots. "You can all calm down now, people. I'm gonna jump in here and show you ALL how it's done." The room erupted in cheers and applause. Someone started chanting 'MANIAC!' and it soon spread across the room. Maniac got in pod #1 trying to guess who he was flying against. 'I'll bet it's Brilliam. He's got something to prove. I'll show him a thing or two.'

"How's it going?" an unknown voice said through the simpod communicators inside Maniac's helmet. It wasn't Jayce.

"Who is this?" Maniac asked, powering up his pod for combat.

"Nobody important. Who are you? Or, should I just call you pilot #8?"

"Maniac. So, trainee, how do you wanna do this? Straight up dogfight, asteroids, what?"

"Hey, it's your quarter. Surprise me, Maniac."

"Fine," Maniac said, pressing a sequence of buttons which created the simulated environment. "Asteroid field, planetary gravity well, rogue asteroids, and a 3000 kilometer diameter spherical boundary of automated laser-mines. In Banshees."

"Ooh, a daredevil," the voice said, "good luck."

Maniac flew into the asteroids, scanning his sensors for the trainee's ship. Seeing a red blip off to starboard, he kicked his fighter up to max speed and armed his weapons. "So, what do you want me to call you?" Maniac asked, as he fired several bursts at his opponent's ship, which dipped into a low barrel roll to the left as it dove behind a mid-sized rock. The asteroids would play with the sensor readings, so this would be a game of cat-and-mouse as much as it was a dogfight.

"You can call me... Bob. Yeah, I'm Bob," the voice said. Maniac pursued his adversary through the asteroids, never getting a clear shot. The pilot was definately good, weaving between rocks of all sizes, leaving himself open for only fractions of a second at a time. Then Maniac had an idea.

"Nice flying, Bob. But try this on for size!" Maniac said, firing a missile at a small rock as 'Bob' ducked behind it. As expected, the rock exploded into many smaller rocks, several of which bounced off Bob's shields, causing them to glow a pale blue for a moment. Maniac's score indicator went up to '3'. Maniac wasted no time, firing several bursts at Bob, apparently catching him by surprise. To his credit, Bob evaded admirably, hitting his afterburners briefly to the right, then sliding a moment before diving into a cluster of larger rocks. Maniac only got 1, maybe 2 clean hits on him. "Damn," swore Maniac, diving after his adversary.

'Bob' checked his sensors as he evaded the latest barrage of attacks. This new pilot was the best he'd flown against. He decided to try his luck and see if he could lose him by flying dangerously close to the surface of one of the larger asteroids. He dodged several smaller rocks on his way in; they were apparently caught in the gravity of the larger, almost moon-sized asteroid.

Maniac pursued Bob down toward one of the larger rocks, again, never quite able to get a lock on the other pilot. He watched Bob head for a crater, and saw the flash of light as he ignited his afterburners to negotiate a narrow canyon. A risky move. Maniac smiled broadly as he followed the other pilot into the canyon, full speed. He had to admit, he was starting to have fun.

Bob checked his sensors again. Maniac was no more than 500 meters behind, and he was keeping up. and then, suddenly, the red blip was gone. Bob checked his score, thinking perhaps Maniac had collided with the canyon wall, but the number still read '0'. Sudenly, there was an eruption of blinding green energy flashes and Bob saw several chunks of rock falling into the canyon, apparently about to crush him. He swore and cranked back on the stick, pulling into a steep climb as he saw Maniac fly overhead, taking pot shots at the canyon walls. Bob nailed his afterburners as several small rock fragments bounced off his shields AGAIN. This was starting to get annoying.

Maniac laughed out loud as he taunted his adversary over the comm channel. "Had enough yet? Ready to surrender? Come on, kid, we both know you're outclassed." Maniac was surprised when he saw energy blasts sear past him from below and behind. Yeah, these rocks were definately playing with the sensor settings...

"You were saying?" Bob said as Maniac pushed his fighter down into the recently vacated canyon, hunter-turned-prey.

"Nothing. Just see if you can keep up, Bob," Maniac said derisively as he wove through the canyon, through arches, under precipices, and skimming the surface of the rock. Bob followed him down, and did his best to actually keep up, only dropping back slightly. It was enough. Maniac saw a fork in the canyon ahead, and pointed his fighter towards the left fork, firing a sensor decoy down it. He then powered down his ship and disengaged his engines, dead-sticking his banshee to the right-hand fork, spinning as he glided on momentum alone.

Bob was forced to follow Maniac using sensor readings alone, and knew that his adversary was sure to take advantage of this fact. When he saw the fork in the canyon and followed the sensor readings to the left and up out of the canyon, he realized almost too late that it had been a ploy. Swearing, he kicked in his afterburners again as Maniac blazed up from the canyon, guns firing at the now-dodging ship. Bob saw another cluster of rocks and smiled to himself. 'Two can play this game.'

Maniac pursued Bob into another cluster of smaller rocks, trying to regain a visual contact or a sensor contact. Bob had apparently disappeared. Hide-and-seek was a game Maniac could play. He keyed a few systems for minimal power output and set all his sensors to passive mode. "Come out, come out, wherever you are," he muttered, scanning the nearby rocks for some sign of his adversary. Suddenly, Maniac's score counter went up by 10. He chuckled to himself. 'Kid must've hit a rock.' A few seconds later, it jumped up by 8. Suddenly, a red blip appeared on Maniac's sensor screen, directly behind and above. He had a split second to glance up, only to see Bob's fighter approaching swiftly, firing full guns and several missiles as he came.

And then, Maniac's pod shook violently as a large, red ***YOU ARE DEAD*** blinked on his screen. Final score: pod#1: 27, pod#2: KILL. Result: DRAW

Maniac climbed out of his simulator, throwing his helmet to the floor as the gathered pilots looked on in stunned silence. He looked over at pod #2 to see a young man, perhaps 20, wearing a fleet uniform climb out. Maniac's jaw dropped.

"Lt. Commander Randall MacBride," the kid said, offering his hand. "Thanks for the run, Maniac. Wow, you're really good." Maniac glanced down at Mac's hand, not sure what to do.

"But, you won," somebody in the crowd mentioned. "Why'd you stop?"

"Sure I won," Mac said. "But I cheated. I flew outside the laser-mines." Mac turned to look at Maniac. "It's the only way I could have beaten you. And thanks for the practice. Now I feel confident that I can qualify on this ship type tomorrow."

"What?!?" Maniac shouted. he looked around for some kind of support, then lunged at Mac. "You're not even QUALIFIED yet, and you made me fly like that? I'm gonna kick your ARSE, boy!" he shouted, as several pilots restrained him. "No way! That's right, hold me back! You're lucky, kid!" Several pilots ushered Mac towards the door, thinking only of his safety as Maniac blathered impotently back in the lounge.

Mac shook his head and walked towards the bridge. Apparently, some pilots had much frailer egos than others. He made a mental note to send Maniac a nice fruit basket for Christmas...

By Yo' Daddy (Sol) on Sunday, March 24, 2002 - 02:52 pm:

"I'm going to fly like that," says Ensign Bean to Blade as MacBride walks by.

"You're new around here," says the girl with the jet-black hair, "that was some good flying." She is fairly tall for a female, about Mac's age.

The boy grins, a little bit humble, a little bit matter-of-course.

"I'm Ensign Bean, just drafted into the combat support wing."

"That's Quicksilver's team."

"She's my trainer's SO, yeah. Phobos class. Say, I'll owe you a drink if you give me some pointers," she says, "I'd do anything to fly like that. Where did you train?"

"Actually, I grew up flying around the galaxy in a merchantman light freighter with my dad," Mac responded with a smile. "I'd be happy to help you with your training, as soon as I get qualified myself."

"You're very good for someone who doesn't have his wings yet," said Sonya matter-of-factly.

"Well, all you really need is some time behind the stick, and you'll be fine," Mac said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have something to take care of. It was good to meet you." Mac smiled, nodded at Sonya and Bean, and walked away.

Bean watched quietly as Mac walked away. Without another thought she jumped in the simulator and keyed in the specs for Phobos Class...

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Monday, March 25, 2002 - 03:08 pm:

Powers sat in the command chair, overseeing the daily routine of the VAXMigrator when one of the sensors operators called for his attention.

"Sir, sensors are picking up a corvette-class ship approaching from the port quarter. She's moving fast."

"Onscreen. Let's have a look at her." An image appeared onscreen of a sleek ship, perhaps 180 meters long and 120 meters wide, but only 24 meters from top to bottom. "Columbus class. They're used primarily for deep space exploration. But I didn't think Confed had anything out this far... Open a frequency, I want to talk to them."

Suddenly, the smaller ship fired a short burst at the VAXMigrator then veered away, attempting to turn tail and run.

"Mr. Shelby, launch ready alert 4 and 5 to pursue that ship," Powers ordered. Soon, 2 banshees could be seen giving chase to the fleeing ship.

"Transponder frequency identifies the ship as the Lief Erikson, sir," Shelby reported, who was in contact with the fighter pilots. "Fighters are hailing now... The Erikson has opened fire. Sierra 1 & 2 evading, returning fire... The Erikson has powered down her shields and weapons, and is currently signalling their surrender, sir."

Powers smiled. "Helm, set course to intercept the Erikson. Have a space cleared in bay 2 with a marine company to secure the ship and prisoners."

Greyfox sat atop the navigator's tower, meditating, when his communicator chirped. Letting out a resigned sigh, he tapped it and spoke. "Yes?"

"Admiral, we have captured a small Confed deep space exploration vessel," Powers reported. Greyfox opened his eyes.

"Confed doesn't support any operations this deep in the uncharted regions," Greyfox said, stroking his chin. "Have we gathered any information from the crew yet?"

"No sir, we currently are making room for the vessel in bay 2. We should have them aboard in 15 minutes."

"Thank you, Mr. Powers. I'm on my way there now."

Several minutes later, Greyfox stood on the flight deck, watching as the captured corvette was tractored into the landing bay, just fitting through the rectangular bay door with a few meters to spare on all sides. She was a sleek vessel, with the name 'Lief Erikson' painted along its hull. Her crew had fired on the VAXMigrator and then tried to run away, so they obviously could not be trusted, but Greyfox was reluctant to let such a useful reconaissance vessel go to waste. Then, he had an idea, watching as the marines escorted the mostly frightened crew off the captured ship.

"Mr. MacBride," Greyfox spoke into his communicator.

"Yes, sir."

"Would you be so kind as to join me in my ready room in 30 minutes? There is something I'd like to discuss with you," Greyfox said as he turned sharply and walked toward the turbolifts.

"Of course. I'm on my way."

By IITYWIMWYBMAD (Smokeduster) on Tuesday, March 26, 2002 - 05:23 pm:

**** Centaris System
**** Paradox Station

"Hades cruiser Cerberus standing by for docking, Paradox station."

"Copy Cerberus. Disengage your engines and turn control of your ship over to us. We'll set you down in docking bay alpha-7-3. Crews will be standing by to assist in your repairs."

"Copy Control. Turning control of ship systems over."

The crew of the Cerberus now stand third in line for docking at the immense station. Already 2 of the Ajax destroyers (Demeter and Aries), the two that she had disabled so quickly, had been docked alongside the station. They had not been brought into the bay itself, most likely because they could explode killing millions as damaged as they were. The Cerberus had fared quite well during the escape and subsequent engagement, suffering minor damage to the starboard engine casing and somewhat more major damage to the port engine, but being brought into dry dock would allow the crew to make complete repairs quicker than in zero-G. It would also allow the captain a chance to meet his new "allies."

In front of the Cerberus for docking are the two relatively undamaged Estanian cruisers that the station had disabled. Captain Byrnes assumed that the crews of these ships would be receiving a different sort of welcome, especially since there was a wait to get them into the bay. Most likely the station was rounding up a large enough security detail to take the crews into whatever holding areas the station used for prisoners. It was also possible the station was trying to ascertain the intentions of the crew of the Cerberus. It was not the first time that he was grateful for the distress call his ship had been issuing from the moment they entered the system. And for the fact that these people believed in what in the Terran Military was Operation Rule 43.

"Anyone in the Terran Confed Military will render aid to any ship not currently involved in open hostilities against Earth or her territories."-- Terran Confed Code of Conduct

By Yo' Daddy (Sol) on Thursday, March 28, 2002 - 09:00 pm:

"Ambassador," says Data finally, "what has happened?"

"What is the last thing you remember, Mr. Data?"

"We are preparing to depart from LEV-Planet. The engine has passed its final tests, it is 45% more efficient than the 4-space drivers that brought us here. Was there an accident?"

"You could say that," says Sol.

Philo looks on with straight-faced glee. "Mr. Data I presume!"

"Yes sir, I do not know you." Data is perplexed. "I know all of the inhabitants of VAXMigrator. Who is this man, Ambassador?"

"This is Mr. Philo. And we've left LEV-World. That was three months ago. An accident happened. Your memory was wiped, and we were forced to restore you from a backup. From your daughter, Lal."

"Lal? Yes of course, I was prepared to load her personality into the ship's computer. I am pleased to hear that her ressusucation was a success. Tell me, what has transpired since then? Is the new five-space engine online? What were the circumstances of my deactivation?"

Sol is very quiet. "Admiral Nimitz. It was he who killed you."

"Nimitz?" says Data surprised, "the Fleet-Admiral."

"Yes, all ship's records starting from after the time of your backup are here." Sol hands Data a PADD.

"Yes, thank you." Data plugs the device into the side of the head. "Ah, I see. So that is what happened."

"Yes Mr. Data, I have also made some modifications to your plastic frame. You will find your form more utilitarian than ever before. There is a T-200 Phaser installed under your fingernail, a ship's com in your head, and a self-propulsion unit in your..."

"You have him a phaser in his finger?" says Sol, raising an eyebrow.

"Everyone likes birthday surprises," says Philo, matter-of-factly.

Data

By IITYWIMWYBMAD (Smokeduster) on Thursday, March 28, 2002 - 03:57 pm:

*** Centaris System
*** Paradox station

As they get exit the transport tube, they see the magistrate's office at the end of the lit hall. Guarding the door is about 4 security officers, each dressed in a simple uniform, each carrying a short rifle and a holstered laser pistol.

"We don't normally have as many guards up here as this, but given the recent activities, our head of security has seen fit to station additional guards up here, as if that would actually stop an attempt on my life, " the magistrate comments.


The office itself is circular, with only the one doorway leading into it. Inside the office is a large wooden desk with several comfortable chairs in front of it, and an obviously more comfortable one behind it. The desk is neat with a single stack of datacards. There are several shelves with various momentos of the family's past. One of the shelves is empty, an odd shapped blank spot with a fine amount of dust around it. There is a viewport that goes around the circular office, affording a fantastic view of the city below and the asteroids and starfield beyond. Standing in fronr of the viewport, looking out is a strange alien that Captain Byrnes assumes must be Arach'Nor.



"Ah, Magistrate. I see you have need of me?"

"Yes Arach'Nor. We have -"

"A problem, yes?" he interrupts turning to greet the magistrate. "Everyone is always coming to Arach'Nor with problems. I see your daughter has returned. Enjoyed her stay with the Cylons, she did?" Phi begins to phrase an appropriate response, but before she can utter a single word he interrupts her, "And another you have brought this time. I am Arach'Nor." The alien offers his hand in friendship to the captain, his other hand attempting to conceal the black metal fragment he had been studying.

"Captain Byrnes of -"

"the Cerberus.. Yes, yes. I know."

"Arach'Nor, our problem-"

"Why is it no one seeks Arach'Nor to talk about the weather, only problems. Ah well. Arach'Nor knows what to do. Arach'Nor is trained in crisis management. Only Arach'Nor has no one to manage. No one manages poor Arach'Nor. So Arach'Nor talks to dirt, talks to walls and to ceiling. But dirt is closer. Dirt is used to everyone walking on it. Just like Arach'Nor."

After listening to the tirade patiently, the magistrate once again tries to make the situation clear to the alien. "We need to move the station out of here. The Earth fleet will be coming, soon enough."

"Yes, yes. Arach'Nor knows this. He also knows that you brought this to Centaris system. And believes you should solve this problem." He turns to leave the office, on the way out putting the metal fragment back onto the shelf in the open spot. "Give you three days to solve yourselves. Then come and find Arach'Nor. Then I will help, " he says before leaving the office.

"Great, now what?"

"Now we wait 3 days. He'll help. We just get the station out of the asteroid field before then."

"But he said for us to solve the problem ourselves."

"He probably knows something we don't."

"What was that piece of metal he was trying to hide?"

"It actually doesn't belong to me. We're not sure where he got it, but each time he comes here he picks it up off the shelf, and then before he leaves, he leaves it behind. Don't worry. We've checked it again and again for any sort of eavesdropping system."

"My guess is that its something left by his people when they built this place."

By X (Eric) on Tuesday, April 02, 2002 - 09:46 am:

VAXMigrator:

Mac stood in front of Greyfox's desk waiting for him to finish with the file he was reading. Greyfox put down the paper work and said, "Mac you're qualified to command a corvette class ship are you not?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good, we have just captured a Columbus class exploration corvette, the Erikson, she fired on us and tried to make a run for it. I want you to choose a prize crew and take command of her."

"SIR!?"

"You're my only command grade officer whose duties are ... less than pressing."

"You mean I'm the only one you don't need right now, sir."

"Yes, exactly. 36 of her crew have elected to stay with the Erikson. Only one officer, a Lt. Simpson, their chief medical officer. I've also sent 12 marines aboard under Lt. Wild."

"And what am I to do with an exploration corvette, sir?"

"Intel says anti-Nimitz forces are gathering at New Bangkok Colony. The VAXMigrator will continue on to Ghorant'ess system. You will take the Erikson ahead to New Bangkok, recon the system and await the VAXMigrator."

"What should I do while I wait, sir? Make contact with the anti-Nimitz forces?"

"Use your best judgment. But remember, the Erikson isn't a combat vessel, don't be afraid to run. These are copies of the new star charts that Mr. Philo has been helping me with, you may need them." Greyfox said handing over a thick folder. "You have a lot work ahead of you, better get started. Dismissed and congratulation on your first command, 'Captain MacBride'."

"Thank you, sir." said Mac, leaving Greyfox's office with a smile on his face.

In the corridor on the way to the bridge, Mac stopped at a wall mounted intercom and punched in the code for his office. "Commander MacBride's office, Ensign
Cooper here."

"Coop, I need you to find Lt. J.G. Kile Anderson. Tell him I need him to put together an engineering team, it should be him and 10 others. They'll need to run the engine room of a corvette class ship, they should pack their kits for extended off ship duty. Have them in hanger bay 2 in two hours. Then get your things together and get down there yourself. Got that?"

"Yes, sir. But..."

"No time to talk now, see you in 2 hours, and my name is Mac."

Mac snapped off the intercom and continued to the bridge. As Mac stepped through the door to the bridge he saw Lt. Dan Shelby at flight control. Mac walked over to Commander Powers.

"Commander Powers, could you have someone relieve Lt. Shelby? I need him."

"Of course, Commander, and good luck."

"Sir?"

"I heard about the Erikson, congratulations."

"Thank you, sir." said Mac smiling again as he walked over to flight control.

"Dan, I need you."

"What’s up, Mac?"

"I want you to pick a 10 man command crew for a corvette class ship, you'll be number 11."

"Sure, what's going on Mac?"

"I just got my first command."

"The Erikson!"

"Yup, and as long as you've got rank over the rest, you get to be XO. Have everyone in hanger bay 2 in two hours." Said Mac heading for the turbolift.

"What’s the rush?" Dan called after him.

"Not even aboard yet and already questioning my orders?" said Mac as the lift doors closed.

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Wednesday, April 03, 2002 - 12:00 pm:

New Bangkok Colony, Altaire Prime:

Captain Striker sat thoughtfully in his office, datapads scattered across his desk. The logistics of a border worlds offensive against Earth were a nightmare. The people of the border worlds had spirit, conviction, determination--everything it takes to win a fight--but they were dealing with old technology. Over the past 4 days, 4 more Durango carriers had joined the cause, as well as their escorts. In typical border worlds fleet organization, each Durango was escorted by a Sheffield and Ajax, bringing the grand total of ships under Striker's command up to 20. Striker's door chimed, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Enter." Commander Devron strode into Striker's office, a grim look on his face. "How are we doing, Paul?"

"Not so good, Sir. Wilson has has been trying long range communications for 3 days straight, and hasn't been able to convince the provincial defense forces to leave station and join our group. Several planetary governors have promised aid with what limited resources they hold, but so far, none have come through. All we have, and pardon my frankness, are those 4 deathtraps and their escorts, which were not assigned to any system."

"Don't they realize that if they remain scattered, ConFed will just sweep through and take these colonies one by one?" Striker was frustrated beyond words. "And where the hell are all the ConFed deserters we've all heard so much about? I doubt we were the only ones to take off..." Striker's communicator chirped, cutting him off mid-tirade. "Striker here."

"Sir," said Ensign Randall, "I'm reading a MASSIVE subspace disturbance in the vicinity of the Regulus jump-node."

"On my way," Striker said, jumping to his feet and all but running to the bridge. "Report," he said as he arrived, several seconds later. The region of space in question was displayed on the main viewscreen.

"Massive energy fluctuations... Gravitational anomalies..." Randall's reports were interrupted as a ship breached into realspace. It was a Vesuvius. "Vesuvius class dreadnought has just breached... Transponder ID's her as the Fujiyama. Several smaller ships breaching now..."

"Shields! Red Alert! Charge primary weapons!" Striker ordered as he sat in the command chair.

"Wait, sir!" Lt. Wilson said from communications. "They're transmitting the universal friendship signal." A second Vesuvius breached into realspace, followed by 5 Sheffields.

"And now we gamble," said Striker. "Either they're genuinely trying to join us, or they're using the friendship signal to get their group through to destroy us."

"Durango and Sonoma are moving to attack position, sir," Wilson reported. "They'll engage the incoming fleet in 2 minutes."

"Order them to stand down," Striker ordered, jumping into his gamble with both feet. "And hail the Fujiyama." An image of a proud man with dark hair just turning grey appeared onscreen. "I am Captain John Striker, acting commander task force Omega. State your intentions, or we will be forced to open fire."

"These are troubled times, Commodore," said the man on the viewscreen. "I am Rear Admiral Bennett. I seek asylum from Nimitz and his insanity." Bennett had the look of a man who had been stretched too thin, but had not yet broken.

"You have a sizeable force with you," Striker said, reports still flowing in as ship after ship breached to realspace.

"Commodore Striker, you must trust me. I'm on your side. Most of these ships have mutineed and joined together, looking for someplace safe to put in. We scattered to the frontiers, hoping to hide from the larger forces in the core systems, and slowly straggled together as a group. Flying from colony world to colony world, you hear rumors, not the least of which being a force of Hades class strike cruisers trying to organize a resistance to Nimitz. We're here to help."

"How do I know we can trust you? What proof can you show?" Striker asked, crossing his arms.

"Admiral Kracken and I were roommates at the Academy. When I heard how he died, and why, I knew I had to fight Nimitz," Bennett said, his shoulders dropping slightly. "And I outnumber you 2 to 1, so IF I wanted to attack you, I would have already."

"I'm sorry sir," Striker said. "As you said, these are difficult times. Please let me know if there's anything we can do to assist you."

"I have with me 43 ships. As far as I've heard from contacts still within ConFed's ruling council, we are the entirety of the ships which have deserted. I'm sorry it wasn't more," Bennett said. "Fully 3 admirals were executed and their supporters set adrift in shuttlecraft before this force was solidified. I'm sure there are many other ships within ConFed where crewmen wish to rise against their Nimitz-loyal command crew, but aren't convinced they can take their ships."

"Well, Admiral, I'm grateful for the help," Striker said. "My condolences on the loss of Admiral Kracken. He was a great man, and I was honored to serve under him." Bennett smiled, then nodded briefly, before switching off the viewscreen. "Alright, Mr. Randall, report. I want to know classes of ships, their names, and how many of each. Let's take attendance."

"Aye, sir."

By X (Eric) on Tuesday, April 02, 2002 - 10:31 am:

Erikson:

After 2 uneventful days in space, during which Lt. Simpson insisted on giving all the new crewmen physicals, including the new captain; and Mac managed to lose a week's pay to Ensign VanDorn at poker; the Erikson arrived at the nameless singularity. Mac was sitting in the command chair on the bridge, his chair, and staring at it when Dan came up behind him.

"Sure we want to do this, sir?"

"Is everything ready, Dan?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then let's do it. Take science station 2 and monitor the jump, please, Dan."

"Yes, sir." said Dan taking his station.

Addressing Camron, Mac said, "Bring us to 546.877 and when you're ready take us in on that course, Ensign."

"Yes, sir " said Camron a little nervously.

The Erikson started to move forward, the ship shuddered as it reached the outer gravity fields. Mac could feel the pull of the singularity on his skin as they drew nearer. He did calculations on the keypad and screen in the arm of his chair.

"Correct to 550.879." Mac called out.

"Yes, sir." said Camron as she complied. Still the pull was too great on the port side. Mac worked numbers on the keypad.

"Correct to 550.881." Camron complied not even bothering with a verbal response. The ship shuddered again as it passed into another even greater gravity field. Mac could now feel a strong pull to port, an undetected current in the gravity flow. He worked his key pad.

"Correct to 548.883." Said Mac.

There was a moment's pause. "The nav computer won't let me!"

"Override!" barked Mac, Camron did so. A computerized voice started saying
"YOU ARE OUTSIDE YOUR PROJECTED SAFE COURSE CORRECT TO...." Mac ignored it and worked more numbers. The ship nearly shook itself apart as it passed into a gravity field so great, Mac could almost feel The singularity reach out and pull him in.

"Correct to 545.878 and activate jump drive." No one answered, but Camron did as she was told, space seemed to stretch for just a second and then they were breaching into normal space at Zarcon gateway.

"That wasn't so hard was it?" Mac asked the bridge, everyone stared at him. "Yes, well, congratulations, Ensign, you're the first person to pilot a ship through the Camron singularity." Mac said to Camron.

"Sir?" Camron looked puzzled.

"It was just charted and no one named yet."

"Yes, sir, but..." began Camron.

"No buts, too late. I already entered it in the log and I hate the back space key."

Before Camron could say anything Ensign William VanDorn spoke up from
science 1. "I have 2 ships, 25,000 kilometers to starboard and closing, Murphy class."

Sitting at the comm station C.P.O. Linda Jenson called out, "Transponders ID them as the Bergman and the Grant, the lead ship is hailing us sir."

"Respond, ID us, give them the captain's compliments, tell them we're en route to the Sol system, lets hope they don't ask too many questions." replied Mac and turned his attention to the nav station. "Mr. Mitchel how far to the jump point?"

"150,000 kilometers."

"Lay in a course and then start plotting our jump." Mac turned to Camron.
"Ensign, be ready for flank speed along Mr. Mitchel's course."

Jenson said from the comm., "They want us to declare whether we're with ConFed or VAXMigrator, sir."

"Tell them we have been out of touch, ask what they mean." said Mac.

Jenson spoke into her headset, waited and looking nervous said. "They want us to prepare to receive boarders sir."

"Ask them who they're with." Instructed Mac.

Again Jenson spoke into the headset and then. "ConFed sir."

"Tell them we are standing ready to receive boarders." Mac turned to Camron. "Get us out of here, Ensign."

The Erikson leapt forward, only 150,000 kilometers to the jump point. Four minutes... all Mac needed was four minutes.

VanDorn called from science 1, "They've launched fighters."

"What type? And how many?" asked Mac.

"A full squadron, sir, tigersharks."

"Tigersharks, they'll be on us before we reach the jump point," Dan said from science 2.

Mac punched the intercom code for engineering into his keypad. "Kile! You still with us down there? I need more speed!"

Kile's voice came back. "We're at 100%, after the jump we just went through..."

Mac cut him off. "I don't want to hear it Kile, if the bad guys get us before we jump, we all go BOOM!" Mac turned off the intercom and spoke to Camron. "What's our speed, Ensign?"

"600kps, sir," Said Camron from the helm and then corrected herself. "650… 700
… 725… 750… 750kps and level sir."

The intercom on Mac's chair chirped and he flipped the switch. "We're at 125% and that’s the best I can do, the bolts on the engine housing are melting as it is," came Kile's voice.

"We still won't make it," said Dan, now standing by Mac's chair.

"I know." Mac turned off the intercom then spoke to Mitchel. "Distance to the jump point?"

"63,000 kilometers sir."

"Raise shields, Dan, then get over to weapon control and see if you can knock one of those fighters out of space." Dan went with out saying a word. "Give me a distance count on those fighters Mr. VanDorn," said Mac over his shoulder.

"20,000 kilometers… 10,000… 5000… 3000… 1000. They've fired their torpedoes!" The Erikson rocked from several impacts as VanDorn continued his report. "Shields are holding, communications are gone, weapons are out too, sensors are operational. Here they come for a strafing run!" The Erikson was showered with laser fire. "Shields are gone and we have hull damage on the starboard side, sir." VanDorn reported as the fighters moved past putting themselves in front of the Erikson and began forming up for another pass.

Mac checked the distance to the jump point, 28,000 kilometers, he leapt from his chair as he watched the fighters turn and begin forming up in the forward view screen. Taking a step and leaning over Camron at helm. "Adjust your course, take us right down the center of their formation, by the time they turn around again and reform, we can be at the jump point." Mac could feel the deck quivering under his feet as Camron brought the nose of the Erikson up and in line with the fighters.

The Erikson and the Tigersharks flew at each other, going head to head, at frightening speed. "That's it... hold your course, Ensign." The fighters broke, going in all directions, one passing only meters from the Erikson's hull. Only half of them taking wild shots before they peeled off. "Never underestimate a pilot's survival instinct, now bring us around to 253.779 and they can chase us to the jump point." Mac told Camron.

VanDorn called out. "Ship breeching at 255.750, unknown class, Transponder ID, the Plunkett, she's between us and the jump point and her weapons are coming on line!"

Mac stood dumbfounded, staring at the screen, an ambush. The ship was the same one as in his "vision" when he first stepped onto the bridge. He'd known this was coming and he'd done nothing to change it. There must be a way out, something he could have done, something he should have done. He thought he heard Dan. "Sir...SIR...What are your orders? SIR!" Mac's mind began to drift, there must be a way out of this. He remembered an old story his father once told him. Yes, it could work, it could have. YES, it would have. He could picture in his mind the fights with Kile trying to make him understand. He could see the modifications to the ejection system, the calculations for jump and distance of detonation. He could feel the synapses in his brain stretching...popping with the effort of containing the idea, of containing his own thoughts. There was a way out. He could have done it, he should have done it.... HE DID IT.

By IITYWIMWYBMAD (Smokeduster) on Tuesday, April 09, 2002 - 09:15 am:

*** Paradox station to rescue operations
"Paradox control to rescue operations. We have a new target for you. Corvette beta 7-9 in sector 3 by 1 by 17. Life forms detected, minimum energy signature."

"Confirmed control, we'll have to farm this out to Holy Light Salvage. They're already in that sector and can handle another ship."

"Confirmed rescue."

"HLS did you get that? "

"Yeah, another piece of space junk. Where do ya want us to chuck this one?"

"Bring it back to the station, it's a live one."

"All right. We'll send Moragune after it. But it'll cost you."

"Come on. You're killing me, Mike. You're already on double time now."

"Not my fault you've pulled my whole team away from our other work."

"Yeah must be a lot of demand for salvage crews around the sector. Especially with those fighters your associates
are sporting. Where did you get them again? Wasn't it from the-"

"All right. We won't charge for this retrieval. Only if you stop haranguing me about that little incident. Besides where do you think you got those DemonStrike fighter parts the last time."

"We paid enough for them."

The salvage ship the Moragune approaches the disabled corvette.



**** Moragune bridge

"Reading indicate several life signs. Engine severely damaged. Hull has a gaping hole near the engine core."

"Look at that," Reed exclaims, "she's a Terran ship. Colombus class from the looks of her. Looks like its been through a war zone, too."

"They aren't built for battle. For Pete's sake, the Moragune could take this thing."

"Heak one of those Dreepazzi guardships could take one of these."

"What kind of an idiot would bring one of these into a battle?"

"Guess we're gonna find out ma'am."

"Move the ship over to dock and tow this piece of junk in. See if we can get that dock-tube connected to her hull, so we can board and see to the survivors. Reed. I want you to lead the salvage team on this one. Something about this doesn't seem kosher."

"Yes, ma'am.""

The Moragune moves over the top of the corvette, mag-locking its pylons to the damaged ships hull and slowly starts to move forward as a docking tube extends down from the ship.

As the dock-tube drops to the Erikson's hull, a salvage team suits up to move down the tube and establish a link to the ship.

"Cap'n. The dock-tube won't work with these Terran fittings. If we don't get the proper seal, everyone on board will die. Do we proceed?"

"No. Paradox Salvage wants the crew alive, if possible. We kill em, and we don't get squat."

"Ah well, guess this means we don't get any souvenirs."

"Not this time, Reed. Helm, lets get this wreck up to the station quickly so we can get back to more profitable endeavors."

By The One Known Only as (Greyfox) on Wednesday, April 17, 2002 - 05:47 pm:

Commander Hendricks sat at his desk, writing a status report to Nimitz: "A small corvette, the Erikson was fleeing from the fighter escort of the Bergman and Grant, currently assigned as Plunkett's escorts. After taking heavy fire from several of the fighters, the Erikson seemed to fall victim to a reactor core breach and subsequent jump drive implosion, the results of which being the atomization of the Erikson as well as several fighters, the destruction of the Bergman and severe damage to the Grant. All fighter escorts lost to the shockwave subsequently became projectiles, causing the severe damage to both destroyers. Our own systems were overloaded as the EMP coupled with severe radiation caught the Plunkett, and as a result our weapons, shields, and several navigational controls were seriously damaged. Work is commencing to bring those systems back online, but I suspect we shall need to put in at Zarcon Prime for brief refits before continuing current assignment. Councilman Philidor is currently reviewing data recordings of the entire incident."

Hendricks saved the report and pressed 'submit' on his direct-link, secure datapad. His observation that Philidor had been reviewing the data recordings of the incident had been a major understatement. In fact, the Zarconian had done nothing but watch the incident unfold from every possible angle, with the assistance of several computer simulations, over and over and over again. Hendricks had developed a severe facial twitch in the recent weeks in his constant dealings with the nearly impossible Zarconians. He took a few calming breaths before deciding to walk to the bridge to see how things were progressing...

By X (Eric) on Sunday, November 17, 2002 - 08:41 am:

PARADOX STATION

When Mac woke up he was in the infirmary of Paradox station. He was alone and trying to remember how he got there. The last few days were kind of fuzzy. He remembered working like a madman, putting in 16 hour shifts, and pushing the crew as hard as he could to make extensive modifications to the ship. But he also remembered a nice relaxing flight were he lost a few credits playing poker. Then there was the jump and the fight. That was always the same, except the end... That’s when Dan came in and interrupted Mac’s thoughts.

“You’re awake!” Dan boomed as he came through the door with a smile on his face.

“You’re awake sir.” Mac responded with a chuckle “And yes I am”.

“Good” said Dan sitting down next to the bed “I hate to do this to you now but I have a boat-load of problems for you”.

“Let’s start with how long I’ve been out and where am I?” Mac asked getting out of bed.

“18 hours and Paradox station.” replied Dan “How you feeling?”

“Okay, how is the ship?” asked Mac on his way into the bathroom.

“Not good. Aside from the battle damage, which is extensive, we don’t have an engine core.”

“So the jump system worked?” came Mac’s voice through the open door.

“We wouldn’t be here if it didn’t.”

“How are repairs coming?”

“Well I’ve good news and bad news,” said Dan standing to pace the floor.

“How do you mean?” asked Mac coming back in and going to the closet.

“The good news is the Cerberus and the Andromeda are here too. There are also two wrecked Ajax destroyers and four Estanian cruisers, one wrecked three captured, they were chasing the Cerberus when she came in. Also Kile is doing a good job at patching things up. The bad news is he can only do so much without replacement parts and we aren’t getting any.”

“Why not... Do you know where my clothes are?” asked Mac.

“Well... Hey, here they are,” said Dan opening the drawer of the side table and looking inside.

“Thanks. Go on,” said Mac as he came over and started getting dressed.

Dan sat down on the edge of the bed, “Well there is a problem between Captain Byrnes of the Cerberus and the station Magistrate. Seems the Magistrate wants to join the Cerberus and the Andromeda with the station’s defense forces. Byrnes just wants to make repairs and be on his way. Now both of them want to join up with the anti-Nimitz forces gathering at New Bangkok, the Magistrate is even going to move the station there. It’s just a question of who is in command when we all get there.”

“None of that tells me why we aren’t getting any parts,” said Mac as he buttoned his uniform tunic.

“Are you going to tell anyone here that you’re leaving? The med staff was worried. They didn’t really know what was wrong with you.”

“I feel fine now. So why aren’t we getting any parts?”

“The captured Estanians are the property of the station and the crews that pulled in the three wrecks have filed salvage claims. So Byrnes can’t use them for parts or trade them for parts. And unless Byrnes joins up with the station defense force the Magistrate isn’t going to foot the bill either.”

“So, no parts for the Erickson or the Cerberus,” said Mac.

“Its worse,” said Dan, getting Mac's attention. “Byrnes wants to scrap the Erickson for parts and trade.”

Mac sat down on the bed, a stunned look on his face. “Is she that bad?”

“Yes and no, we could patch her up if we had the parts. But without an engine core...”

Mac sat thinking quietly for a short time. “Anything more?”

“Yes, the Magistrate and Byrnes both want to see you as soon as you wake up.”

“Together?” asked Mac.

“No,” said Dan.

“Alright, don’t tell anyone I’m up. Do we have a scrounger on board?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay, we’ll give the job to the marines. Tell Kile to give Lt. Wild a list of what he needs. And tell her to do what ever it takes to get the parts.” Mac picked up a pen and paper off the bedside table. “Let me put that order in writing for her. I don’t want to hang her out to dry if this goes south.”

Mac finished writing and Dan asked, “What are you going to be doing?”

“Getting us an engine core,” said Mac handing over the written orders for marine Lt. Jan Wild. “Now go distract the nurse so I can sneak out.”

Dan left the room. Mac waited a minute, picked up the rest of his things and then followed.