NationStates Jolt Archive

The wind roared and the snow beat down upon two men, dressed heavily and warmly. They trudged their way through the blistering and frigid wind. Visibility was close to six inches.

"There it is! There it is!" cried out one man as he shivered violently.

"I see it too! Let's move it now and make that damn transmission!" replied his comrade.

They moved slowly, slushing through deep snow. After struggling to walk up the snow-covered hill, the first man kicked open the door of a tiny stone broadcast station with a satellite atop of it. Inside, the room was laced with controls and other flickering red lights and buttons.

"Submit the transmission, I'll keep a watch for Gor'um, Pat."

"Alright." Pat pulled back his hood and laid down his shotgun he had been carrying for self-defense. After his gloves had been also taken off, he inserted a small cassette into a slot on one of the control panels. A digital hologram flashed before him, with several choices.

Submit. Entire universe. Range: 25 lightyears. Am I sure? Yes. Transmit. he thought to himself as he carried out his thoughts through action. After he had finished, a blue bar appeared upon the hologram screen displaying the percentage of completion and the estimated time before the message was to be sent.

Suddenly, a large knocking followed by scream. Jesus Christ... no. He hurried back to the front door, where his friend was leaning against the door. He patted his shoulder gently. To his horror, his dear friend's body fell backwards. Pat winced. His friend had been mutilated. His skin from the front of his body had been peeled off. His eyes - gone. His bones were jumbled and some poked through his organs, which were now visible. Dark red blood poured from his chest.

A growl followed. Pat looked to his side. It was a Gor'um infantryman and he was enjoying a meal of human brain.

"You bastard!" wailed Pat as he raced to the control room to grab his shotgun. But it was too late. The "Grunt" hurled itself onto Pat and tore into his back, ripping out his spinal cord and devouring the nerves within.

"Onlot humat," said the creature.
<Translation: Only human.>

It voiced into its intercom, "Aht capturkid am kilurkid dosot. Unot sarkmid tranmisont to outbont rabent. Aht chekf foro abnont otber."
<Translation: I caught and killed two. One sent a transmission to the outer races. I'll check for any others.>

But the transmission had been sent. Would help be coming?

*****

Transmission: All
Date: October 28, 3331
From: Earth
Subject: Help

Greetings, friend. We call for you in anguish from a planet once bubbling with human life and magnificient human structures and technology. One hundred years ago, that vanquished.

The Gor'um, a highly developed species of Alien invaded our planet. We do not know where they came from or why they invaded, although intercepted transmissions have led us to believe that this was the work of either resource hunger or religious fanacticism or both. Either way, their technology and numbers exceeded ours and they proceeded to destroy us. First, they wiped out any form of mankind upon our farthest colonies. Then the struck our resource colonies. Then our urban colonies. Then Earth.

We are the last of Earthlings. We were pushed back to the subzero terrains of Antarctica. All five million of us. The war still rages on, but our numbers continue to dwindle by the day. Until now, we had been unable to contact anyone. All forms of intergalactic transmission had been cut off. We beg of you: please aid us. We implore you: help us, for the love of God, help us. There are too many of them. Too many...

Transmission Over.

OOC: Bump One... :roll:

A message came in for Jennifer Knight, the president-elect if IP. She was busy, and did not take kindly to being disturbed.

"What is it?" she snapped at the perfectly innocent communications officer.

"Ma'am," he said nervously, " we got a transmission from a group of humans appearantly still alive on Earth. They're holding on, but they need help."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Jennifer replied. "Mobilise a task force. Make it 15 Patrol Boats, 8 escorts, and 10 missile boats. And add in 12 Liners Mk II to rescue any injured." Humans on Earth? But they were all killed years ago...

"Yes ma'am. I'll relay the command."

OOC: I'm going to watch this thing.

<OOC: 1.) This is Earth. All human colonies have supposedly been destroyed. 2.) This war has been raging on for a century. Carry on with RP, but remember, you will have extreme difficultires making transmissions to us, as all intergalatic/interplantet transmission posts are occupied by the Gor'um. Carry on with RP. :wink: >

<OOC: 1.) This is Earth. All human colonies have supposedly been destroyed. 2.) This war has been raging on for a century. Carry on with RP, but remember, you will have extreme difficultires making transmissions to us, as all intergalatic/interplantet transmission posts are occupied by the Gor'um. Carry on with RP. :wink: >

So, we're not dealing with the timescale that the rest of the world uses?

OOC--My nation isn't that tech-advanced, but if you guys don't mind our nation Fast-forwarding a few centuries just for this thread, we'd be willing to assist.

OOC:Its the time scale that gets me. Otherwise I'd love to join in on this RP.

Despite our tech level, we do assume that modern tech nations are existing at the same time as us. Unless, of course, you would like me to ignore that temporarily...?

<OOC: Right. This timescale is completely separate as this is RL Earth during 3331. And yes, you may fast-forward your nation to take part in this RP. You may be any race: human, elf, dwarf, Michael Jackson, whatever. But remeber you don't live on Earth. Night all.>

I am comfortable with not living on Earth. :wink:

I'll edit my first post appropriately.

A Takian destroyer on the outer rim recieved the the call, the captian being summoned to personaly recive it.

"what do you think sir?" the ensign asked

"A distress call, grab the rest of the patrol, I want Marines to hit that rock and see if we can't nuetralize the threat, or evack what humans we can. Return a call, and set a course, ETA?"

"We can be in near orbit within the hour, the rest of the fleet will be with us within thirty minutes"

"get those ground pounders ready, this could turn ugly, we fold in thirty, all ships, go to code red."

Humans, still on earth after all these years. . . this indeed was going to get ugly.

What? Earth was attacked? Why didn't my Earth concentration inform me?

[**>In the office of the Grand Emir, Erik Güvståkk]
Secretary: Sir, we have a transmission from Earth.
Emir: Ah...Are those bastards finally seceding?
Secretary: ...No, they're gone.
Emir: Gone?
Secretary: Dead, wiped out, apparently driven down to Antartica and slaughtered by an alien species.
Emir: Very well, send two Covert Crawlers with ten R-Bots, and ten S.O.R.O 1's in each. Try to get the survivors under the Carribean, we'll drop off some assault robots once we assure the safety of at least some humans.
-----------------------------------

What I just did: Sent two underwater transport vehicles with enough supplies to last 160 people for three weeks, and some robots to defend them.

(OOC: Ok..trying to take this slightly into the future with Crownguard. Crownguard ceases to be a nation and evacuates its entire population after a war on Earth. Looking to the stars, it travels as one giant vagrant "fleet", sucking dry whatever resources it needs from a planet. Think the Rebellion fleet at the end of Empire Strikes Back)

"Sir....you..wont believe this....its a message from Homeworld. "

"Bullshit, Lieutenant, its a hoax like always....last time they thought they saw a space probe."

"No, Im serious sir....look..." *the Lt patches an image feed into the holorecorder*

*the message plays*

"Well....though the Homeworld people were the assholes who kicked us out, Im wondering why we should help now. After all, its their fault were reduced to wandering....nuking our lands...."

"Yes sir...shall we ignore it?"

"No...were going to one up them. They are "somewhat" human after all. Not on our level of genetic evolution (unfettered restructuring of DNA code), but they are "human" nonetheless. We can always try to absorb the savages into the fleet, I dont know if we have the manpower to commit to this, I wonder if we should try....."

*The Captain-General sits back, pondering with a cup of nutrijuice (synthetic drink from nutrients and recycled water) as the Lt looks to him. The C-G seems to shake his head free as he turns to the man.*

"Its time to take back Homeworld"

*the Fleet, after 2 hrs of back and forth relays, sets its course for earth as genetically enhanced troops prepared the drills thay had handed down for hundreds of years. The Astrogators, linked to thweir cybernetic frames, plotted their way through space and behind the sun, hoping to take the ravaged "Homeworld" by suprise.*

"Imperium trans Gnaritas!" *the slogan is heard over the various PAs of the ships as the Crownguardian anthem started to play, drowning out the voices of dissent...*

"Distress signal, unknown origin." Said a technician curtly. She didn't look up from the screen, but her feline tail swished in impatience.
Leareth's hackles ruffled. A massive Bear, he had held ships-and crew-together through the worst problems. Just the kind they would trust with this new ship, using experiemental bio-technology in a way that could make Karra a new power-or destroy it.
"Ours or someone else's?"
"Not ours. Don't know the language."
"Can we translate?"
"Eventually. Give me an hour and we'll know where it's from."
The Fury continued on its course as the message was decoded.

OOC: Damnit...if only this was started about a week and a half from now...

then I could have helped you out A LOT...

but for now...I'm still setting the future up...

"bzzzrtrrttttttt...Gor'um, a highly developed.....*static*....they invaded, although intercepted transmissions....*static*....(garbled)....wiped out any form of mankind....zzzzzzzzzzztttttttttttttttttttt....We are the last of Earthlings. We were pushed back to the subzero...We beg of you: please aid us. We implore you: help us, for the love of G-....*click**click*"
"Thats the last of it sir. All the satilites have gone."
"Hmmm, has The Hive had any luck?"
A sort of clinking mettalic praying manits appeared next to him.
"N'o si'r, we a're ha'vein'g to wo'rk w'ith noth'ing, no re'con'struct'ing eeesss d'one."
It walked off.
"Well...it does sound as though they need help, signal home that we are leaving our patrol route and heading for...Earth."
"Right sir."
The ten ships of the 23rd fleet made a few quick turns, then flashed into hyperspace.
----
(over Earth)
"Are we in orbit? Lets see the screen then."
A few clicks and the large screen over the main viewport opened. About two hundred miles away, the Earth was visible.
"Allright, take us to fiftey miles, then launch one Commander, and say, ten squads, with two FLASH tanks to each."

On the hull, ports opened, normaly these were used to launch planet cracking OTS missiles, but in this case, all that came out was a lot of small, podlike objects. As each descended through the atmosphere, it disentigrated. Small pieces came off, and slowly, the sky filled with flashing mirror like objects, designed specificaly to interfere with missiles. A few moments later, the Commander unit touched down, it immidiatly powered up its 'Lathe and began to construct defences and observation posts. The troopers landed a short while later, each quickly grabbed his rifle and formed a perimiter. In orbit a Watcher class ship was making sensor passess, trying to locate probable sites for the surviving humans.

OOC: Nice.....Total Annhiliation :!: ))

OOC: Yup, thats the wonders of Nanotechnology for ya :D

"Got it." The tech said finally.
"So?"
"Planetary origin, distress signal."
"Planet?"
"Just off our maps. From what we can tell, it's half our size, but roughly the same climate, oxygen, and position of our world."
"Let's go see who or what needs our help, then."
The ship slowly turned and chenged course to the planet.

OOC:

1.) Let's make a point of having us "rescuers" notice each other and realize that humanity isn't dead.

2.) Let's not "move" until HR posts again.

On the planets surface, again.

The Commander finished the first 'Bot factory, it immidiatly began to pump out small, spherical objects, simple cameras, really.
These zoomed over the landscape, seeking human life.
Finnaly, one noted a concentration of humans, it quickly altered its course, and flew toward them.
On arriving, it slowed to a halt in front of the first person it encountered, and activated its voice box.
"Human, are you of Earth origin?"
It spoke in a vauge, mettalic voice.
There was a buzz and a click as it switched from speak to listen.

((OOC: Mine is more a hybrid of SW (for the fleet idea), the Borg(adaption), Dune, and Homeworld))


*the Captain-General leans back with the same cup, a course already plotted in as the major cruisers, the carriers, the capital ships lumbered forward while smaller screens of fighters checked the space ahead*

"Homeworld....the legend will finally be seen...." *he mumbles, almost as if in reverence. The entire Fleet had been thoroughly indoctrinated in the Transcendental Directive, the necessity to evolve, expand...conquer. To find Homeworld was to find new DNA strands to adapt into the Lines of Ascendance. To find Homeworld was to find the past, the future, the lines of humanity traced back eons. To find Homeworld was to find the gaps in the Logbooks, the sum of humanity's knowledge.*

The high speed space shuttle, XST-347, streaks through space, hurtling towards Earth. The large cargo hold is filled with many wonderous machines, and a black box--a bomb made for the sole purpose of vaporizing the invaders of earth.

Technician: You! Keep away from there! Do you even know what that is?

-A young man steps away from the black box-

Man: No, what is it?
Technician: It's an antimatter bomb, the Grand Emir ordered it to be delivered as soon as one-hundred-sixty survivors are rescued.
Man: Well, I just so happen to be the director of this cargo bay. Why was I not informed of this weapon?
Technician: We were told to not inform anybody for the purpose of getting to Earth as fast as possible.
Director: But...This antimatter bomb...It can not possibly vaporize all of the alien lifeform on Earth!
Technician: Well, I don't know much about the mission, a group of
S.O.R.O's are programmed to set it off. Where? I do not know.
Director: Okay, well, we shall arrive in about three days.
Technician: Amazing, I remember when it took months to travel from Phi to Earth. Geweher has advanced so much since the revolution...

-The high speed shuttle rockets through the atmosphere, going 11,000mph-
Pilot 1: Hang on!
Pilot 2: Stand by for impact.
Pilot 1: Let down landing gear.

Many jagged implications emerge from the speeding spacecraft, and it lands rather roughly.
Pilot 1: Contact the cargo bay director, tell him to release the R-Bots to clear any hostiles in the area.

Half an hour later, a centipede-like machine staggers out of the cargo bay.

Rescuer 1: Look for survivors.

Numerous men start running off in every direction.

Rescuer 1: Wow, I've never been to Antarctica...It's so beautiful...
Rescuer 2: And cold, let's get back inside before we freeze our pricks off.
http://www.yourexpedition.com/bae_archive/images/firstpage/antarctica.jpg

**>Rescue team one]
Man 1: We found another body.
Man 2: ...Why is he smiling?
Man 1: Er...
http://www.geology.yale.edu/~je84/mystuff/personal/more_personal/ouch/snow2.jpg
Man 3: When we found him, he was half in the snow, half on the roof.
-one of the rescuers looks inside of the body bag-
Man 4: Ugh, I think I'm going to be sick!
Man 2: Any idea of what killed them?
Man 3: Does it look like I know?
Man 2: Temper, Johnson, temper. Let's head back, there's nothing else here.

Rescue team one heads back to the shuttle.

**>Rescue team two]
Man 1: Here's where the transmission came from.
Man 2: Here, I'll open the...-the door to the small structure falls right off the hinges-...Door...
Man 1: Holy shit!

Moments later, the second rescue team is erased from existance.

**>Rescue team three]
Man1: Well, the alien lifeform has a sense of humour.
The team gazes down at a corpse with an extended arm with no hand at the other end, sporting a tattoo:
http://store.nrahq.org/nra/assets/product_images/thumb/10819.jpg
Man 1: Come on, let's take this back to base.

<OOC:
There are millions of aliens on Earth. Think Alien and the Covenant combined. However, they are cold-blooded and thus rarely deploy to Anatarctica themselves. Their solutuion: droid armies controlled by a droid control ship in an unknown solar system.
There are hundreds of ships blockading Earth.
There are only two human space warships intact: both crashlanded in Africa about twenty years ago.
Their main weaponry is the same as the Covenant's: plasma rifle, plasma pistol, plasma grenade, fuel rod gun, etc.>

IC: "Generall," interrupted Colonel Heinz.

General Froman looked up. "Yes?"

"Radar detected a space shuttle hurtle through the atmosphere earlier today. It was unlikely that it was Gor'um. Our message got through," responded Heinz.

The General breathed a sigh of relief. "Deploy several Warthog LRV teams to search for any lifeforms, stat!"

"Yes sir!" Heinz said as he saluted Froman.

OOC: Ah, nvm about my landings then.

IC:

The DGNT ships hurtled outof hyperspace, and, noting the blocade, immidiatly began to blast. Missiles flew and space itself was twisted as probability weapons flipped the laws of physics on its head. Soon the fighters reached the blockade and began to launch Iron Fist capital ship torpedoes, tearing holes in ships, outof which air and bodies flew.

It had already been a day, and not one survivor has been found. The rescue teams start to get skeptical. All of the sudden, as if by a stroke of great luck, figures appear on the horizon.

Rescuer 1: What's that up there?

Technician: Eh? Looks like...people...

Rescuer 2: Be careful, we have no idea what our enemy looks like, they might be shape-shifters

Technician: Pfft, will you shut up with your stupid ideas? There's no such thing as shape shifters! It's physically impossible!

Rescuer 2: Alright, just don't come crying to me when you're being attacked by some alien when you think you're fucking your wife.

The team arrives.

Man: We picked you up on radar, did you crash here?

Rescuer: No, we're here to rescue you.

Man: I see...Follow us, please.

Rescuer: Where are you taking us?

Man: Back home, of course. There are more people than this.

Rescuer: We were ordered to put one-hundred-sixty of you in transport vehicles, and put you at the bottom of the Carribean sea for three weeks; Judging by the transmission we recieved, we might not be able to keep you on earth...

Man: We'll leave the decision to where we go to our leaders.

Rescuer: ...This is the only means you have of getting back? Why don't we just take the crawlers? They're faster, and it would probably be better to bring them to your people rather than your bringing your people here.

Man: Very well...That is quite a contraption you have there.

Rescuer: Yes, if you do indeed stay on Earth, you'll be spending a few weeks in one.

The men rush into the strange, armoured centipede machine, and start off. Meanwhile, carriers are being deployed to assault the enemy surrounding Earth. Grand Emir Erik Güståkk awaits a transmission from his team

OOC: Before we go any further, where is the largest area of Gor'um concentration presumably?

The Warthogs plowed through the deep snow rapidly. Jerry Malestrom's eyes scanned the horizon.

"Nothing yet!" he hollered back to his commander. Suddenly he saw a blur. He looked through his binoculars, magnifying the object 18x.

"It's them! Get the foghorn and speak!"

Greetings, Savior. We are a Warthog convoy sent to retrieve you. Please come with us, we'll take you back to base camp.

<OOC: Everywhere except the colder regions: Siberia, northern Canada, Antarctica. Droids are the basic military presence there, although it is light at the time.>

** The Fleet dropped out of hyperspace on the far side of the primary sun, "Sol" they beleived it was still called in the Terran tongue. Scanning the horizons of space, the ships hid in its gravity well, sending out several unmanned probes down towards the general location of the transmission...the transmission begand to be played in all major Earth tongues, on a period of 20 seconds**

*The voice was metallic and cold as it played, suiting the sullenness the Fleet personnel had to the descendants of the original Exilers.**

"Greetings, Homeworlders. This is the Fleet, home after hundreds of years of wandering. We are prepared to accept survivors into our ranks to vacate this planet, or if it must be, to assist in your struggle. If you recieve this message, send a supplementary message on this wavelength. Over."

*End Transmission*

The warthogs call out.
Greetings, Savior. We are a Warthog convoy sent to retrieve you. Please come with us, we'll take you back to base camp.

A technician steps into the opening of the cargo bay.

Technician: Sorry, you just missed your comrades, they're going back to your dispatchers.

Warthog guy: Oh...Okay, we'll be going back too, I guess.

Technician: Wait! We might need you to fill in some answers, come inside.

OOC--(Must..resist...urge to...create...Spartan...called...John 117...)

IC:

A second plasma bolt scraped by the ship, melting at but not totally destroying the armor. Immedaiately, several filaments looking like metallic vines began growing over the damaged area. The ship dropped into insplit as it healed, loaded several missiles, returned to normal space and sent the volley at an enemy ship.

"Any damage?" Captain Andurs asked the biotechnician.
"To us or them?" the young bull said softly.
"Both."
"Us, minimal. Shields are regrowing, albeit more slowly as we lose energy. Them? I don't know. Their shields regenerate as well, but we're able to overcome that with a full volley. We can take them down, but it's currently one hundred to our one, and that's just what we can see. We'll lose just by being overrun."
Andurs turned towards the com tech, a grumpy beaver famed for his skills with biocircuitry.
"Can we reach Karra?"
The beaver grunted. "Easily. What shall we call home for?"
"Ask for as any ships as they can spare. Lighter ships armed to the teeth. And tell them growing some of that new bio-armor on them will increase their lifespans greatly. Let's just hope we can stay alive until they come."

*plays BUMPER balls and tries to get a high score*

I'm still RPing, but I have no ideas.

"Three of our ships are in range. They'll be coming out of insplit and meet up with us."
"Three!? Wow. Someone to dig our graves." Andurs replied sarcastically. They were out of missiles, regrowth gel, armor, and running low on fuel.
"Not really. They sent the best. The Flarecore and the Raven's Storm are both elite imperial guard, and I don't know the third." He indicated the third, much larger ship that the radar could barely make out.
"Can we get a visual?"
"I think so..." the tech's paws moved quickly over the keys. On the screen, a large needle-like ship cloaked in a glittering black appeared. Andurs gaped a few moments, then got his mouth working again.
"That's the Dragon's Eye. It's a ship manned by the Astral Knights.(Imagine the meanest, toughest, most battle-hardened MPs you can. The drawback, there are maybe 3000-4000 in existence. This ship has 450.)"
"This is the Dragon's Eye. The Fury is to stand down and retreat to Karra. We're here to handle this. Return to Karra and tell them to send the next wave. Andurs, I know you're in charge. Get your people home safely, they're going to try to wear these guys down. Now, get your a**es moving! the com declared suddenly.
"You heard them. Can we reach homeworld?"
"Without being shot at, we can get there in a few days easily. We have enough fuel."
"Then let's go."
The Fury slowed pulled away from it's resting place behind the meteor it had been behind, dropped into insplit, and headed for home.

In the Dragon's Eye, Captain Arilissa Theranasdotter turned to her crew.
"Flarecore, Raven's Storm, cover us as we go in. Once we're down, get out of here. We'll handle the rescue. If we can find who sent the signal, we can get them out of here. Ladies and Gents, our time is now. Let's invite ourselves in..."

Two entire platoons of Marines slushed through the snowy tundra. Reports had been flooding in of a Gor'um assault upon a human outpost. These men were to scout the area.

Sure enough thousands of battle droids and hundreds of Meht battle tanks were assembling. An alarm suddenly blared throughout the camp.

"Jesus Christ! We've been spotted!"

Plasma rifle fire and huge plasma cannon balls flung through the air. Frantically the Marines attempted to return fire. The bullets bounced off the steel droids. Within in seconds, they were terminated.

Gor'um Banshees now soared over the skies of Antarctica. They were coming.

OOC: this is fun. *gets popcorn. Finds out its frozen.*
Damn! Now it's not fun.

OOC: *offers a flamethrower to Coreworlds* Enjoy

Thanks! :P

"Any reports of our scouts yet, lieutenant?"

"None, whatsoever. We believe they ma--"

"Shut the hell up! They're coming after us now. One final strike to eradicate mankind. There must have been a large enough force of Gor'um droids to vaporize two entire platoons. One hundred men. There's never been such a large Gor'um force in Antarctica, never. If you remember, that's because the droids' circuits would have frozen or the Grunts, Jackals, Hunters, Elites, whoever would have froze to death -- they're cold-blooded, remember? This is it. They're coming to finish us off in one climatic, last battle. This is our last stand.

Here are your orders: get the women, children, and elderly into the underground caves of the City. I want every lad, able to bear arms given a rifle and body armor. Get the APU Corps ready as well as every god damn battle tank, ICV, and Warthog. Call up the ground infantry to the surface to engage the Gor'um droids if they manage to plow through our APU and Armored Divisions. Mine the entire area ahead of our battle positions. Get the AA stations ready to rock. This is it, son."

"Uhh, General Froman, I'm just a standard lieutenant, I can't give out such orders, only you can," responded Lieutenant Jones.

"You're right, and I plan on doing so. But Jones, I do have one personal order for you. Get your company assembled. Grab yourselves ten Pelicans and get the hell out of here. This may very well be the end of humanity, but if you can manage to fly you and your company out of here safely, perhaps, just perhaps, you can recover the Liberty and Hope and use them against the Gor'um before our time runs out."

"Sir, no one has even set their eyes upon those vessels since they were downed 25 years ago. How do we know if they are still even intact?" inquired Jones.

"My heart tells me. Faith, Jones, faith," responded the General.

"Why me?"

"Because I've seen you before. You're noble, cunning, quick, versatile, and a great warrior. They best damn soldier I've ever seen, in my honest opinion. Now -- go!"

"Yes, sir," squeaked Jones.

------------

Two Hours Later
Jones and His Company

"Are you f----ing insane, Jonesy? Are you sure that the old man hasn't lost his mind? I mean, we'll never survive a desperate escape to retrieve those vessels... they're in Africa for Christakes! And even if we do, how the hell do you expect 100 Marines to man two vessels of those magnitude?" steamed Private Hammond indignantly.

"Rumor has it that the crews of those vessels are still alive and well, fighting a guerilla war," responded Jones.

"Bullshit! Even if they did survive, how the hell do you expect them to outlast the Gor'um alone for 25 years?" Hammond blurted out.

"We must try," Jones said.

"You are shitting me, man!" another private outburst.

"No, I'm not. We're going. General's orders. Obey 'em!" Jones beamed.

Hammond and the other private grunted.

"Very well, your majesty," muttered Hammond.

"What was that?" said Jones, as he strapped his helmet and body armor on.

"Nothing, sir," Hammond remarked sarcastically as he loaded a clip into his MA5B rifle.

"That's what I thought."

The company stealthily moved towards the dropship dock. In his mind, Jones knew that the Council would defintely not approve of the General's orders, but he still moved on. The fully-armored men climbed into dropships quietly as crewmembers slipped into the cockpits. General Froman had given speeches to the best of the dropship pilots and they, too, followed through. Carefully, one by one, the dropships sped upwards and out through the entrance which had been opened to allow the transportation of ammunition to the APU Corps.

They were on their way, warriors of Mankind.

Froman Meets with the Council

"Are you absolutely sure, General? Do you believe this is the final Apocalypse?" inquired a Councilmember.

"Yes, I do. As I explained several minutes ago, the Gor'um has never sent a force large enough to easily eliminate two entire platoons of Marines in Antarctica. It's time," he responded promptly.

The Head Councilmember rubbed his wrinkled forehead repeatedly and stroked his milkwhite beard several times. He turned to his left, facing the Second.

"Should we?" he whispered.

"It is your choice, Head Council. Are you convinced that this is the Assault?" she responded.

He sighed and turned back facing Froman.

He spoke thus, "General, are you one hundred percent sure that this is the Assault. Do you have any doubts whatsoever?" he questioned once more.

Froman replied quickly this, "No, I don't. And I implore you all this: we must end this useless dawdling and make the prepartions I have proposed. It is the only way that we will have a fighting chance against the Gor'um."

"Then if you are sure of yourself, permission granted. Now save our People."

------------

Two More Hours Later
The Alarms Blare, Impending Doom

The alarms throughout the installation blared loudly and red lights flashed endlessly. Men rushed everywhere, strapping body armor to themselves and already dressed soldiers gave quick lectures to the new recruits.

Ammunition carts sped across the area and armored vehicles rolled out of their storage installations.

War was coming.

OOC: Bump... more storyline coming soon [either tonight or tomorrow].

*OOC: Saw Matrix 3 did you? lol*

OOC:Whee.

IC:"Reverb Base this is Recon Vessel 614,copy."

"Copy 614,go ahead."

"Im..picking up a beacon,a call for help."

"Elaborate 614,give me a location"

"Its..its Terra."

"That isnts funny 614,what is the real location."

"Really sir,its a Terran signature."

"Thats impossible,our brethren on Terra were overran."

"I know sir."

Flarecore had lived up to its name admirably, turning from an elite ship to a ball of gaseous metal in a heartbeat. Raven's Storm was still solid, cold comfort that it was. It's ruddy glowing wreck had just taken another hit. Arilissa sent a silent prayer to the Goddess for their souls. The Dragon's Eye had descended onto an area on the southern pole, close to where the signal had been sent from.

"Anything?" asked Arilissa.
"Negative. Sensing units of unknown origin, metallic in structure, moving this way." said a pleasant voice from an AI called Killishadra.
"What weaponry do we have that would work against metallic units?"
"Standard BLOs (bioluminary oscillators), sonic disruptors, and some oxidation gels. Our ship's cannons are fully functional, so if they come into range they'll receive a rather nasty surprise. Our plasma weaponry isn't as advancved as what they have, but I still think a sustained blast should melt them down."

OOC: Can you explain the metals the robots are made up of? And how they would attack a ship capable of defending itself that had an unknown number of hostiles inside?

OOC: I did send a message that never got responded...otherwie I would continue posting on this thread.

[OOC: Ship? Huh? Which ship are you referring to? Anyways, I'll admit, I'm not the technical expert, but the droids' armor is made of cermaic-titanium, which makes it very tough against small arms fire.

As for their weapons, the droids carry plasma rifles, plasma pistols (sidearm), and two plasma grenades. The heavy infantry carry plasma squad guns and fuel rod guns.

Any further questions? A big post coming up soon. Crownguard, expect your message to be replied to soon.]

Message Received...

"Sir, come here quickly! Our radio is picking up signals!" called out the radioman.

"Impossible, they'd have to be practically standing next to that Gor'um fleet in order for this piece of junk to pick up any transmissions," snapped Froman.

"I'm not kidding," grunted the radioman, as he replayed the message.

"Greetings, Homeworlders. This is the Fleet, home after hundreds of years of wandering. We are prepared to accept survivors into our ranks to vacate this planet, or if it must be, to assist in your struggle. If you recieve this message, send a supplementary message on this wavelength. Over."

"Well, I'll be damned," said a startled General Froman. "The only damn people would left this planet a few hundred years ago would be those Crownguardians," he continued. "Can we reply?"

"Not with this piece of shit," mumbled the radioman.

Froman sighed, "But we must warn them... there's a Gor'um fleet of at least 300 to 400 massive capital ships out there, not to mention thousands of Shadow Fighters."

"We can't sir."

"Damn, damn, damn!"

------------

Six Hours Later
And so it begins...

"Let's move it ladies! The Gor'um aren't gonna wait for us to meet them on the battlefield! Go! Go! Go!

Get those APUs loaded! Armored vehicles position yourself over there! If I know the Gor'um, they're gonna hit us from two sides and then pulverize us with their armored contingments! They did it at the Battle of Paris, in 3296 AD!"

--

Thousands of Armored Personnel Units trudged forward to meet the approaching enemy from both the east and west. They could already hear the footsteps of the Droid Army of 200,000 and the sound of 2,000 Banshees soaring overhead. The night sky grew darker.

"Prepare to open fire! Guns ready!"

The beat of the footsteps fell silent. The men in the APUs looked around, scanning the frozen tundra. Two heavy plasma cannon blasts interrupted the brief serenity, hurtling the parts next to one hundred APUs into the air.

Overhead, the Banshees swooped down unleashing rapid plasma blasts from their two cannon, leaving explosions behind whereever the flew over.

"Open FIRE!!!!"

Thirty millimeter bullets streamed from each APU's two belt-fed guns and their arms were always moving, attempting to catch the speedy Banshees. Over and over again, bright white flashes lit up the now darkened skies, never striking down a single Banshee. Then came the Droid Infantry and light attack vehicles.

Ghost Light Attack Hovercraft smashed into the eastern APU Corps line and a Ghost attack of similar size followed against the western line. It was total bedlam as the APUs struggled to maintain both the Ghost assault and Banshee strafing. More and more their lines faltered and they back-pedaled because of it. Within an hour, both lines would surely meet up with each other and the Droid Infantry would close up behind them, leaving their new front lines open for an armored assault to finish them off.

But almost unexpectedly, several explosions boomed in the air and a display of flaming fireworks flashed.

"I got one!"

"Me too!"

"Yeah! Now, let's show 'em how men fight wars!"

The AA Stations had gotten a lock on the Banshee aircraft once they had moved into range. Countless laser-guided rounds flung through the air, striking down Banshee after Banshee.

This of course, caused a delay in the Gor'um's onslaught. The AA Stations were well-hidden and camoflauged. Even the large main cannons of the AA Stations were difficult to track. And radar wouldn't help much either. All radar signals were scrambled by the men inside the stations with certain anti-radar devices.

"You f---s! Take this!" screamed a young sergeant as he squeezed the controls to fire his weapons.

His face began to turn bright red as anger filled his emotions. His veins began to appear on his neck as he squeezed even tighter.

"Die! Die! Die!" he hollered.

Several bullets ripped through two Banshees sending the crafts down, where they exploded on impact. Bulletfire, as thick as pelting rain, fell upon more and more speeding Ghosts, morphing them from a fast vehicle cutting through the air to a flaming fireball falling apart as it moved forward.

Maybe, just maybe they would be able to hold off long enough.

--

He looked through his binoculars.

"I see 'em! It's the Gor'um east lmain line, where the attacks are spawned from!"

He sat back down in his tank and smiled gleefully.

"I bet they'd never expected that humans would plot a counter-attack to their battle tactics," he chuckled.

Behind him, were six hundred battle tanks and infantry combat vehicles, creeping across the tundra, in hopes that Gor'um scout vehicles would not discover them. The same force of size and men, moved forward towards the Gor'um west main line...

** The Crownguardian scout ships picked up massive energy signaures from the various Gor'um ships around them**


**The Fleet Admiral looked over the screens**

"Well...dammit...they have the planet fairly well interdicted. Perhaps we should have a little fun with them. Lets send out the Javelins...."


**As he said this, the word was carried down around the fleet as the massive Carrier ships suddenly opened their launch bays, and veritably thousands of minature drones, each armed with a small laser and copied AI, hovered around the fleet.**

"Send them out to harass the fighters and capital ships..I want the Ballista missiles locked and loaded. As soon as we see them come around the edge of the sun..hit them with all we got. Divide and conquer. Also..start work immediately on harvesting the outer belt, we have a war to win."

**The orders are relayed and the ballet in space begins....

"Any reports of our scouts yet, lieutenant?"

"None, whatsoever. We believe they ma--"

"Shut the hell up! They're coming after us now. One final strike to eradicate mankind. There must have been a large enough force of Gor'um droids to vaporize two entire platoons. One hundred men. There's never been such a large Gor'um force in Antarctica, never. If you remember, that's because the droids' circuits would have frozen or the Grunts, Jackals, Hunters, Elites, whoever would have froze to death -- they're cold-blooded, remember? This is it. They're coming to finish us off in one climatic, last battle. This is our last stand.

Here are your orders: get the women, children, and elderly into the underground caves of the City. I want every lad, able to bear arms given a rifle and body armor. Get the APU Corps ready as well as every god damn battle tank, ICV, and Warthog. Call up the ground infantry to the surface to engage the Gor'um droids if they manage to plow through our APU and Armored Divisions. Mine the entire area ahead of our battle positions. Get the AA stations ready to rock. This is it, son."

"Uhh, General Froman, I'm just a standard lieutenant, I can't give out such orders, only you can," responded Lieutenant Jones.

"You're right, and I plan on doing so. But Jones, I do have one personal order for you. Get your company assembled. Grab yourselves ten Pelicans and get the hell out of here. This may very well be the end of humanity, but if you can manage to fly you and your company out of here safely, perhaps, just perhaps, you can recover the Liberty and Hope and use them against the Gor'um before our time runs out."

"Sir, no one has even set their eyes upon those vessels since they were downed 25 years ago. How do we know if they are still even intact?" inquired Jones.

"My heart tells me. Faith, Jones, faith," responded the General.

"Why me?"

"Because I've seen you before. You're noble, cunning, quick, versatile, and a great warrior. They best damn soldier I've ever seen, in my honest opinion. Now -- go!"

"Yes, sir," squeaked Jones.

------------

Two Hours Later
Jones and His Company

"Are you f----ing insane, Jonesy? Are you sure that the old man hasn't lost his mind? I mean, we'll never survive a desperate escape to retrieve those vessels... they're in Africa for Christakes! And even if we do, how the hell do you expect 100 Marines to man two vessels of those magnitude?" steamed Private Hammond indignantly.

"Rumor has it that the crews of those vessels are still alive and well, fighting a guerilla war," responded Jones.

"Bullshit! Even if they did survive, how the hell do you expect them to outlast the Gor'um alone for 25 years?" Hammond blurted out.

"We must try," Jones said.

"You are shitting me, man!" another private outburst.

"No, I'm not. We're going. General's orders. Obey 'em!" Jones beamed.

Hammond and the other private grunted.

"Very well, your majesty," muttered Hammond.

"What was that?" said Jones, as he strapped his helmet and body armor on.

"Nothing, sir," Hammond remarked sarcastically as he loaded a clip into his MA5B rifle.

"That's what I thought."

The company stealthily moved towards the dropship dock. In his mind, Jones knew that the Council would defintely not approve of the General's orders, but he still moved on. The fully-armored men climbed into dropships quietly as crewmembers slipped into the cockpits. General Froman had given speeches to the best of the dropship pilots and they, too, followed through. Carefully, one by one, the dropships sped upwards and out through the entrance which had been opened to allow the transportation of ammunition to the APU Corps.

They were on their way, warriors of Mankind.

Froman Meets with the Council

"Are you absolutely sure, General? Do you believe this is the final Apocalypse?" inquired a Councilmember.

"Yes, I do. As I explained several minutes ago, the Gor'um has never sent a force large enough to easily eliminate two entire platoons of Marines in Antarctica. It's time," he responded promptly.

The Head Councilmember rubbed his wrinkled forehead repeatedly and stroked his milkwhite beard several times. He turned to his left, facing the Second.

"Should we?" he whispered.

"It is your choice, Head Council. Are you convinced that this is the Assault?" she responded.

He sighed and turned back facing Froman.

He spoke thus, "General, are you one hundred percent sure that this is the Assault. Do you have any doubts whatsoever?" he questioned once more.

Froman replied quickly this, "No, I don't. And I implore you all this: we must end this useless dawdling and make the prepartions I have proposed. It is the only way that we will have a fighting chance against the Gor'um."

"Then if you are sure of yourself, permission granted. Now save our People."

------------

Two More Hours Later
The Alarms Blare, Impending Doom

The alarms throughout the installation blared loudly and red lights flashed endlessly. Men rushed everywhere, strapping body armor to themselves and already dressed soldiers gave quick lectures to the new recruits.

Ammunition carts sped across the area and armored vehicles rolled out of their storage installations.

War was coming.

OOC: Reminds me of that final battle in the LOTR: The Two Towers, where every lad able to wield a sword was given a sword and some armor, and helped to fight off the 10,000+ enemies. Sad, too.

"Spectral analysis shows that the droid armor is made of a highly impact-resistant titanium ceramic. I doubt material weapons would be useful here." Killishandra said dubiously.
"Oxidation gels?" Arilissa asked softly.
"Negatory. Our scientists haven't gotten that far into the metals yet."
"BLOs?"
"All fully charged and functional. The spectral analysis shows that their armor doesn't protect effectively against it. BLOs will punch through them quite easily."
"Sonic Disruptors?"
"Not really. Sustained hits will start to hurt them but sonic disruptors hit on too broad a field for it to work well."
"So BLOs and our plasma cannons?"
"Most certainly."

OOC: Battle tactics? Will they try to overrun us, flank us, or attempt guerilla tactics? I want to know how to hurt them best.