NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC:
This is a long-term RP with guildlines and restricted enterance; it's not closed, per say, but it's not a walk-in thread either - you need permission. I'd like to avoid folks


See the OOC thread for further details:
http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=9378425#post9378425



IC:

Instellar Void, Galactic Rim

Lines of code scrolled past him, reflected in eyes which shone irridecent whenever the light caught them; one furred hand reaching for a mug as he leans back, tasting the luke-warm beverage.

"Any luck?"

Jack Powers sighed, glancing back; a vulpine figure resolving through the darkness as his eyes adjusted.

"Nadda; I'd swear this thing was programmed by monkies."

Musical laughter sounded as the vixen leaned closer, looking past him; atractive figure entering the monitor's dim light, "Looks like the result of one of those 'Evolving AI' scripts..."

Jack chuckled, "Yeah; 'monkies' - cheap and easy to program, but when they FUBAR their 'evoloution', they really FUBAR."

"So, any idea how long it'll take to get the drives back on-line?"

Jack didn't, quite, choak on his hot coaco - "The entire mainframe's programing is.. well, crap - displacers, SLDS, NHD, I'm baffled as to how we got this far befor something blew up. Hell, Dave's already given up on the sublight drives and started coding from scratch!"

"Jack," she sighed, looking back at him with exasperation, "We were suposed to pick up the rest of the colonists two days ago..."

"Look, Sam, we can probally get the Near-Hyperspace Drive up and running in a couple more days; it'll take a while to get anywhere on NHD, but as we lost the Zip Node when the power trunk blew, it's not like we can call for a tow without advertising our presence to the local pirates, or ask someone for a drive software dump - and I don't know anyone onboard who can calibrate a displacer drive or SLDS."

"...And the backups are out because we'd only be restoring the same shoddy software that started this," Samantha finished, idly rubbing her temples as she stood, "I supose you'll want we to kill the ASPEW field?"

"Later; it'll be a while befor we can start calibrating, and of course we can't use the drive with out access to hyperspace."

Samantha sighed, nodding, "In that case, I'll get out of your hair."

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

4 Hours Later

Captain Samantha Young yawned, muzzel split broad as she settled into her office chair, warily eyeing the pile of paperwork that has amassed during her duty shift. A casual glance at the In Box's summry-repeater brought some good news - the lawyer she'd met with earlier had aparently finished his preliminary report, and prospects looked very good indeed for the colonists' pending lawsuit against Proxima Yards - but such was a disapointingly small minority.

She was just opening the first document when the comm buzzed.

"Young."

"Sorry to bother you, ma'am," a male voice answered; she couldn't quite recall the officer's name, "But Engineering's requesting we kill the ASPEW field so they can continue work on the NHD drive."

Samantha sighed, thoughts turning to her injured XO, still in the ICU - this, however, was one of the few things he couldn't have authorised in her absence, even if he had been well, "Alright, kill the field."

"Aye ma'am."

As the comm closed, Sam sighed, suddenly feeling... uncomfortible, for some reason; she knew it was silly, but right then she would have given anything for an ASPEW effector that didn't have to shut down completly just to uncover one spacial...

"General Quarters! Repeat, General Quarters! Captain to the Bridge!"

The hell? Sam wondered, as klaxons banished her prior line of thought, dull claws snagging her uniform's tunic from the couch as she headed out the door at a jog, entering the lift it neighboured.

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

"Report"

The Officer of the Watch, one Lieutenant Commander Michaels, looked up as Sam steped from the lift; the look of relief unmistakible as responsibility was lifted from his shoulders.


That.. was not a good sign, Samantha reflected.


"A Spatial Anomaly apeared sjortly after we killed the ASPEW field, ma'am; just over three MSK out, closing on an intercept course at a steady point-one Cee - SciOps says it looks like a wormhole."


Reclaiming the captain's chair, Samantha took a moment to luxuriate in it's sinful comfort, tension flowing from mind and body; Was that all it was? Easy enough.

"Have Engineering shut the NHD down and bring the ASPEW field back up."


"Ah, s-sorry, sir; we already tried - ASPEW effectors won't respond; Engineering's already crawling all over the problem, but there's no telling..."


Oooo-Kayyyy; not quite so easy... "Wormhole ETA?"


"Uh.. seventy three seconds," a sensor tech reported at Michaels' glance.


"And our STL drives are still just so much ballist..."


"Aye."


"Alright.." ...we're going on a suprise trip, "Deploy a forerunner through the wormhole, then, and order all personel to brace for impact in..." she glanced at her repeater, sensor data now displayed, "fifty seconds."


"Probe away."


Fifteen seconds later, the Forerunner vanished.


It was still in transit when the wormhole arrived.


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


Unknown Star System, Beyond the Edge of the Observible Universe from Sol(IE, Really, Really Far Away)


Someone groaned; that was his first thought, as consciousness returned to Lieutenant Commander Jefferson Michaels - the massive headach, the scent of blood, and something wet trickling down the back of his neck soon followed.

"Report!" someone - he couldn't place the voice just now - half-shouted, volume painfull as he groaned, struggling to stand.

"Ma'am," another voice replied, not quite so loud but still elicting pain, "We.. I- I don't know, ma'am; we've got damage reports coming in from all over.. it.. 'll take a minute to sort out, ma'am..."

Jefferson paused, unable to move; sudden panic building, half-lidded eyes snapped open, and...

Oh. Yeah. Shock-Harness... It took a minute to find the release; fingers fumbling with the control.

"Unknown," a third voice spoke up, not as painful as the last, "Tho I can tell you we're just over an AU from a main sequence G-type star, with looks like... uh... three gas giants and two rockies that I can make out.. ah, one of 'em a greenie, atleast one moon, smack dab in the habbitible zone and receading away from us at a distance of 54 MSK..."

Jeff tuned the voice out after that, focusing instead in the harness' release; Huh? Habbitible? Are we at the colony site? His train of thought suddenly interupted as his fumbling pays off unexpectedly, harness smacking him in the jaw in his distraction as it snaps open.

Grunting, he waves off an uninteligible but concerned-sounding voice, instead trying to stand - wondering how he ended up on his back a moment later.

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



Fifteen minutes, and a visit from the paramedics later, their situation had clarified.

Their ship, the KCV Vulcan's Hammer - the colonists hadn't been scheduled to vote on changing the Builders' Name for another week - had not come through that wormhole intact; something, some speculated gravitic shear near the wormhole's edge, had mauled the starboard length of the colony ship, devouring one of the drone bays, half the IDD pylons, and inflicting a long list of other damage, direct and secondary; but, nothing critical - atleast not for two thousand souls inhabbiting a colony ship intended to house twenty-four times their number.

Luckily, no one had been killed, although it had been close, and several people were being treated for exposure to explosive decompression. Further still, engineering reported that they could have what was left of the IDD drive, as well as the stearing gyros, online within the day; not fully, but enough to get around.

Unfortunatly, hopes for getting the NHD drive online were faint, and even expariments with the exo-space comm proved futile; as far as they could tell, they were sitting smack dab in the middle of an FTL inhibbiter field - access to any known dimention outside 3-space seemed impossible, even for communication.

This rather mitigated the fact that they still didn't know where in the universe they were - the Vulcan's Hammer was not a sleeper-ship, afterall - but they'd managed to discover a number of things about the local system; most importantly, they'd managed to confirm that the second planet, the inner-most rocky world, was most likly habbitible - none of their partial suite of Colony Science Probes had survived intact, but engineers had managed to jurry-rig a missile to deliver most of their surviving Life Sciences drop-packs; they would, in all liklyhood, know for certain within a day.

Which was good, Samantha reflected as she steped into the lift; it ment that there was nothing more she could do - atleast, nothing her subordinates couldn't do atleast as well, if not better, than she - and that was good, because acording to her internal clock, it was very, very late, and her bed had just issued an ultimatum she could no longer to refuse.



OOC:
More later.

Exploratory Fleet ISC, Military Designation OpXenogen.

A fleet, consisting of three ships, sped through space. Three sleek, streamlined ships, each unique, in the fact that they were a prototype, the first of their kind. Each ship had a device, which, when attached properly to the cranium, allows drastic enhancement of psychic powers. This is probably where everything started to go wrong.

The Psychomancer, Filiial Triune, on the Star of Brillance, was very carefully calculating the trajectories that he would have to balance in order to move the ship, as the engines had been disabled, in a test of his abilities. He began concentrating, exerting power at several hundred different points, in order not to tear the ship apart, and the ship began to move...

As he concentrated, a tiny rip in space appeared. He concentrated harder, ignoring it, and it grew. The science officer was concerned, and walked up to him, quickly tapping him on the shoulder. "Sir! As you exert more force, a small rip in space seems to appear. This region is known for minor instability, perhaps we should just re-activate the engines, and test the ship elsewhere?"

Filiial ignored him, concentrating harder. The tiny rip doubled in size, and then began to grow expotentially, as the other two Psychomancers began focusing their wills, as well. The three were absorbed in concentration, and the strange matter outside seemed invisible to their psychic senses. Those who could see the enroaching purple chaos screamed, but none were willing to stop those notoriously short-tempered psykers.

Within seconds, the ships were engulfed in a wave of purple, which intensified, leaving the ships in a raging sea of pure energy, the stuff which probably makes up the universe.

At this exact moment, all three Psykers screamed, and died, their bodies melting like mist. It appeared that the wormhole, if this is what it was, exacted a heavy price for passage....


- Six hours later, the Romia.

Captain James Cook, a mere human, although one gifted with exceptional luck and intuition, frowned. It appeared the wormhole matter slowly degraded his ship, although, at the rate it was degrading, it would take more than fifty years to fully finish the ship's armour off. He gestured for a nearby droid to come to him, and then began speaking.

"Well, Helm, it appears we have no idea where we are, no idea whetherthat stuff is deadly or not, and no idea whether we can escape. In light of these consequences, I want you to order a general alert. Food is to be rationed, as I want precisely fifty years worth for each ship. We will put all non-essential personnel in cryosleep, and wake them only once a year for nutrients. I also wish for you, taking all personnel you wish for, to find a way to extract power from the outside material. Also, I am ordering that we interconnect the three ships. This may sound harsh, but I want all three ships stripped of anything non-essential, including luxuries which consume power. We can then use those materials as consumables, in the molecular rearranger. That is all."

The AI instantly institued these changes throughout the ship, and people began to complain, groan, and, in some cases, plan rebellion. This was all easily quelled by pacifying drugs and armed guards, but not even the insightful Captain could've anticipated what would happen, even with his best precautions.

He had foolishly left the psychic enhancers alone, seeing as they may've caused the situation, and moving them may have been detrimental to their survival.

Two months, uneventful months, months in which grumbling about rations and angry words were spoken, but months in which people resigned themselves to their fate. A few, however, did not.

One in particular, Lieutenant Sahira, a xenobiologist, a calm and quiet man, who had had his equipment confiscated, and his laboratory deconstructed. He was angry, nigh-crazed, and had a barely-coherent plan. On the bridge, where the psy-enhancer lay, slept the Captain. He waited, until the last of the guards had been decommissioned, and he was the last one left.

He grabbed a shockpistol, used only for stunning, but still sufficient for quelling discontent. He walked boldly onto the bridge, and spoke to the Captain, just so everyone around him could hear.

"C-captain! Engineering has had a major communications mishap, and we believe a few malcontents have taken over the lab. They also smashed Helm's main terminal, where most of his information was stored. Quick! I need every available man to help me!"

The Captain, one to always believe the best of people, ran towards Engineering, gesturing to every officer to follow him. Sahira ran along, as well, and then jumped into a side corridor, and sped back towards the Bridge. He grabbed the helmet, and fit it on his head, being careful to fit every neural probe in the correct spot. He felt a sudden rush of power, and disabled the lights in Engineering. As soon as the Captain walked in, the door slammed shut behind him. Sahira's mocking laughter echoed from every point, and then the point-defense guns, the big, powerful anti-armour guns, turned inwards, firing at the Captain. He died instantly, unable to believe that one of his crew would betray him.

Sahira quickly took control of the ship, issuing orders, and using his newfound power to take control of the other two, killing their leaders, additionally.
He ruled the ships with an iron grip, removing the democratic election system, and ruling by right of brute strength. However, he got old, after fathering three sons, and died.

Each of the three took power, in each ship, although never disconnecting the ship. They each took careful pains to kill each other's technicians, and to keep their own alive. They called themselves Technomancers, in a bastardization of Psychomancer. Over the four generations that passed, the armour proved to be more efficient that the AI had predicted. Helm's last act was to set up a repairing system that repaired 76% of the damage, enough to drastically slow the death of the ships.

Each successive generation took more away from technology, and, in the end, very few knew how to manufacture, using the manucentres, or even use guns and food materializors, although one thing the computers retained was the coldsleep treatment, keeping each successive generation of clones educated, and then put into coldsleep.

After 89 years, the ships exited the warp, completely unexpectedly. Each Technomancer was fighting a brutal war against the others, and had not expected a new factor. However, with the engines disabled, they were drawn inexorably into the gravity of a nearby planet, and began to fall.

The ships burned as they sped through the atmosphere, the drastically weakened armour, and disabled shields unable to protect the ships, as they plummeted into the ground. The ancient corridors connecting each ship were torn from the ships, as each ship hit the ground, causing earthquakes, for perhaps a few hundred kilometres.

Most of the five thousand colonists died in that instant, as did the three Technomancers. Around three hundred remained in each ship, most in coldsleep. They were awoken, and wandered around the damaged ship in a daze, mostly women, perhaps nine-tenths thereof.

In each seemingly still ship, a brutal struggle for power continued, as each contender fought brutally for the objects, now referred to as Artifacts, which would bring them power and dominion...

OOC: A little short for an opening post, but I only had twenty minutes. I'll reveal my main character(s) later. Also, as you can guess, most of my population are women, and 65% of new births will also be women, as the colonisers believed it was easier to replenish that way. However, as the Artifacts determine rule, and obtaining them often results in having to use brute strength, most rulers are still men.

A glimmering ship slid elegantly through space, a bubble of atmosphere surrounding it. Like all of the original faeships, it literally sailed using solar winds and water in the bubble. The crew were also farily primitive, a group of barbarians of mixed races who had captured the vessel not long ago, the most advanced thing any of them owned was a metal helmet of a Space Marine. They navigated the elgant vessel with little efficiency, and then suddenly they weren't there, a whirling malestrom depositing them nearly upon a fetile world... And they crashed down in the frigid north.

The TSP Wanderer IV glided gracefully through space, the crew praying silently that the ship did not live up to its legacy. Freshly Commissioned from the Shipyards, the TSP had named the ship in honour of the first Science Vessel, and for that matter, the first ship with FTL capabilities ever built. However, the name has been dogged with terrible luck, and anyone who had ever found themselves serving under the name has taken a swing of bad luck, resulting in either death, or disappearance.

The First Wanderer, although the crowning achievement of the day, eventually was destroyed in a Diplomatic Contact gone awry, after upsetting a hive mind creature, the resulting attempt to defend itself had resulted in a torpedo being jammed in its launch tube, the explosion destroying the ship.

The Second Wanderer, had been destroyed when it hit an errant asteroid, and the third disappeared after the ship received clearance to investigate a distress call, it was never heard from again, although rumors of a Science Ship carrying a disgruntled crew which feasted upon the flesh of other sentient beings was roving around space were starting to circulate, as was a rumor that it was destroyed after being shot down by planetary defenders after trying to “invade”

So now the Fourth Wanderer made its maiden voyage through the stars, its first mission being to investigate a unusual Spatial Disturbance which had been popping up on Sensors recently. The TSP, having its resources strangled during the Civil War as its vessels were used a disposable minesweepers or whatnot, decided it would be best to assign the rest of the fleet on purely scientific endeavors, to keep them away from the TSDC’s grasp, and also to keep the TSP from being absorbed into the ever increasing bulk of the Torontonian Combined Military.

The Wanderer had been making good, although uneventful progress on the way to the disturbance, sure, there was an asteroid here, a comet there, which created busy work for the Scientists, but for the small contingent of Military Officers aboard to actually Command the ship, it was slow work. Acting Captain Joseph Withers reflected upon this as he sat in the Command Chair. The Bridge, which could be described as cramped at best, shifted uncomfortably. Along with the Pilot and the Tactical Officer, they made up the three man TSDC Contingent, the rest of the ship was operated, rightly, but Scientists, and the bridge was smothered in Scientific Equipment which were hooked up to the sensitive equipment on the outside of the ship, which detected the slightest hiccup in space whatsoever. However, what happened next took everyone off guard.

It started as a blip on the Subspace Monitor, Scientist First Class Jeremey Wildburg marked it down in his entry as he monitored the developments at his station, although not paying much attention to the small anomaly, instead focusing his attention on the solar flare which was passing through this region of space, creating an EMP Backwash which was disrupting long range sensors.

Soon, the blip mutated into a spike, and then the readings from the sensitive device went off the scale. Proximity Alarms went off indicating that an object much too close to the ship has just appeared beyond the ship, and readings indicated that they were being sucked in by a massive gravity well. No amount of reverse thrust was going to save them from this one. The Acting Captain shouted orders as the ship rocked violently, all long range and other sensitive sensors and equipment was knocked out, some were violently terminated, never to restart again.

As the fragile Vessel hurtled through the wormhole, which it had been identified as, plans were quickly formulated on how to be rescued when they got to the other side, rations were divided up and it was determined that the food could be stretched to last ten weeks if minimum amounts were used, which gave them that window to be rescued. They also started making inventory of equipment available on the ship, although Scientists were reluctant to give up their experiments; they determined that 56% of the Vessels Scientific Suites could be gutted to provide raw Electrical Equipment and materials. This totaled to enough material to construct a small village suitable for 35 people if need be. However, all of these plans hinged on being able to remain in space

Things took a turn for the worse as the Ship tumbled out the exit hole, and a violent power surge rocked the ship. Most of the Scientific Equipment was vaporized instantaneously, as well as the life support systems and internal lighting. Running on Emergency Air and operating in the pitch black, Joseph determined that they were far, far away from their previous position, all attempts for FTL failed, as it seemed that the nature of this area prevented space from being folded. However, due to lack of short range sensors, the upcoming planet was failed to be noticed until the ship started entering the upper atmosphere and the ship again started rocking. The Alarms didn’t go off because of draining reserve power and fried proximity and ship status sensors.

Fortunately, absolving the Wanderer of all bad luck to this point, the ship had blundered upon the only habitable planet in the system, without any advance knowledge, and as if by fate, the sheer luck of coming out of the wormhole in proximity to the planet and traveling in a linear direction until the ship couldn’t escape from the Atmosphere, inadvertently saved the crews life.

Bouncing and round and rocking violently as the ship began to heat up from Atmospheric Entry, as emergency life support systems struggled to keep the crew from vaporizing in the heat. What was left of the proximity sensors and all sensitive outside equipment was burned off the ship as came closer and closer to the ship. Sub Light Means (although not the engines) were also damaged beyond repair, meaning that without FTL, and without Sublight, the landing zone would be the ships final resting place…

Joseph heroically managed to get one of the outside cameras working, and patched it to the main view screen in the bridge; he was rewarded by a fuzzy image of the flat terrain rushing up towards him. The Ship slammed into the ground at sickeningly high speeds; all the lower decks involved in the actual impacts were crushed, although the mid and upper decks remained intact, including a rack of torpedo launchers…

Several Hours Later
Joseph awoke from his unconscious state, although fuzzy, his vision quickly cleared once he blinked a few times, although he did not like what he saw. The bridge was a mess, several stations had overloaded and were burned out, rendering them permanently useless, and the others were dark, a lack of power making them inoperable until it could be restored. He laid his eyes upon the grizzly sight of the pilot, who had been unfortunate enough to have his restraining device fail, was now a blood mess in front of the cracked main viewscreen, his head had been erased from his body, which laid crumpled in an unnatural position. The Tactical officer had survived, and by the looks of a report handed to him, most of the Scientists had as well.

While he had been unconscious, a shipwide status report was taken, Fusion reactor one was intact, although powered down, but fusion reactor three had been wiped out in the crash, while Fusion reactor two was damaged but remained functional. All the lower decks, which consisted of decks seven through nine, had been utterly crushed, fortunately those were supply line decks, which means there was little loss of life and supplies, however, the main power and distribution networks were utterly destroyed, meaning that the powerlines would have to be rerouted through minor systems if the ship was to operate again, although that plan was starting to look bleak.

Scientists were already using tools to cut through sections of the ship to make de facto travelways through the ship; seeing that the main transport network was destroyed as well. Several Scientists had set out on foot to determine what kind of terrain they were stuck on, although a quick check out the window told him they were on some sort of plains area, seeing as it was flat in all directions, with tall grass dominating the landscape.

A Cold feeling settled into his stomach, this is where they would be living. For the time being anyway, until they could get power restored. They had no means of communication with the Capital System, and no way of knowing where they were…

Swallowing this feeling, he turned back and ordered a full and complete inventory to be taken, he wanted to know what parts of the ship could be converted into what, and what sort of living arrangements needed to be taken. After that was settled, he made it a priority to make sure his crew was safe, even if it meant he had to take a personnel roster and travel the ship manually checking off each one…

Sigfriud Charmalan, the Technomancer of the Star of Brilliance, had just ripped apart the body of his enemy, Sharina Lelte. He attached the helmet to his head, and felt the gratifying rush of power enter him, allowing him to rip apart the rebels remaining in his ship. Once their bodies had been shredded by raw power, he released his mind somewhat, although being careful to maintain his shield.

He searched for the other two ships, and easily found them. The three ships were, if you drew lines from one to the others, they would be in a perfect equilateral triangle. Somehow, one person must've remained conscious, in order to direct the ships. He wasn't sure who, but it angered him that someone had more power than he had.

He snapped back to his body, blasting a woman he had considered a confidate into smithereens, exhausting his remaining reserves of power.

He noticed that the other two ships were far more heavily damage, but his remained mostly intact. He reached out, a little way, with his mind, to Technician Careena, who informed him that most of the weaponry was still online, although unpowered, and the shields could be activated. Also, the engines were in pristine condition, but the Faster-Than-Light capacitator was in perfect condition, but would not work. However, the controls were obliterated, as was the main power generator, so none of these things would work until he could gain a decent source of power, one that was not powering his Artifact.

The other two ships had power, and food capicitators, but no engines or weaponry, and shields. He ordered fifty of his followers to go gather food, and another four to go and infilitrate the ships, hoping that the enemy still tried to gain the Artifacts, so he could gain their technology, fix his ship, and rule this lush, green world.

After a minutes or two, he reflected on those who had betrayed him, and how they would be suitably punished. He finally decided on killing their friends and families, although this would deplete nearly a fifth of his followers..

OOC: Kanuck, my 'nation' is slightly different. I have a huge gross population growth, due to the larger amount of women and the way they are ordered to produce more followers, but this is offset by the huge death rate, so it evens out to about 5% net population gain per year, anyway.

The Freestar III class vessel, the SNV Terrature continued its short hop between Gaia and Seralis… The expansive nebula was a mix of thousands of different kinds of radiation and charged particles. This made travel through the system hard…. Unless you were using the Corridors... The Corridors were paths through the system, clear of radiation and debris that was maintained by the Siesatian Navy.

Captain Sierra Battlehorn sat in her command chair, there was little chance of anything happening. As, not only were they in N-Space, but they were also traveling with a large military convoy on its way to Gaia…

They only had one hour left before they were scheduled to reenter real space, when the ship jolted… It shook so violently that even the inertial dampeners failed, and the crew was thrown portside. Alarms blared, and Sierra had a recollection of darkness and screams of pain before she blacked out.



Sierra awoke to a searing pain in her shoulder… her restraints had been too much for her Burmecian frame, and she definitely had a broken shoulder… among other things.

Raising herself back up with her good arm, her eyes adjusted to the low light… Around her, the crew was busy at consoles or loose conduits. Something was happening… With a flash, the main screen popped open, before them sat a massive blue and green planet.

Then she realized what was going on… Planet fall, there was no quiet hum of the Impulse engines, and there was no quick whine of the TFTL engines.

She heard voices, but she was succumbing to blood loss. Her Burmecian heart, twice as fast as a human heart had been busy driving the blood from her body from a gash in her neck. She fell again, but this time didn’t feel it.



The Terrature hit the atmosphere, and fire engulfed the shields… Her 15 degree reentry angle would keep her from slamming into the ground and crushing like a tin can, and her shields would keep her from burning up…

SLAM!

”Shields Down!” One officer cried… outside, the heavy armor began to heat up… first it blackened, then it began to glow red, then, it began to shear off in plasmatic clumps. But they had already cleared much of the upper atmosphere. Below them, the mainscreen, in detail showed the green continents and blue sea…

Around the bridge, and other important areas, you could feel a faint. Clunk…. Clunk…. Clunk…. Clunk…Clunk…. Clunk…. They were the support rods, and now, they had detached… leaving an open channel between. Suddenly, there was a Bang! As one of the conduits exploded…. Then there was an electric whir, and suddenly the walls groaned as the hydro electrostatic gel activated. And, there was a sudden stoppage of all activity. The emergency dampener field has activated, suspending movement of any sort… it had a feeling of being surrounded by thousands of tiny Chocobo feathers…

From the ground, one might have been surprised to see the multi kilometer vessel flying overhead at seemingly breakneck speeds…

SLAM, it hit the ground, and began skidding along, destroying forest and ground alike… even small mountains gave way to the massive hulk… it left a burning wide trench in its wake, it was slowing, ahead was the sea, the sound was unbearable… but it was almost over… the lower forward section of the ship slid into the water, and all went still…

Samantha yawned, mug in hand, as she steped into the bridge; not fully awake, a ruptured pipe somewhere depriving her of her morning shower.

"So, how are we looking?" She asks, settling into her chair; listening to reports as the hot cocoa's warmth fills her.


They were, as it turned out, presently on course for a parting orbit around the second planet; the life sciences packages reporting no issues - save one close encounter with something that looked like nothing so much as a T-Rex, the world befor them seemed almost ideal.

Now if only we had the rest of the colonists and supplies.


"Throttling down reverse thrust in preperation for orbital insertion," the routine anouncment from the helm sounding minutes later, as the Captain reviewed candidate landing zones; a subtle shudder in the deck and the helmsman's quiet curse instantly drawing her attention.

"Ma'am! I've lost power to engines; looks like we've had another explosion," he reported befor she could ask; someone cursed in the background.

"Closing rate?"

"I.. Negative; we're falling behind the planet..."

A mixed blessing at best, Sam mused, keying her repeater; mixxed blessing indeed - in they didn't launch soon, and the drives couldn't be restored...

"Ma'am, engineering reports that the IDD drives are likly beyond repair..."

Joy.

"They're also looking at some secondary damage; specificly to the Pod Bay doors..."



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


5 Minutes Later

David Sikorsky sighed at the warped track, his vac-suit's IDD coild nudging him back at a mental command.

"Alright, that'll have to do; open the Pod Bay doors, Hal."


"I'm afraid," the other technician's voice sounded over the suit's comm, even as the doors began to move, "I can't do that, Dave."


David chuckled, a thought keying his own comm as the massive slid past, throwing sparks, "How long've you been waiting to use that- SHIT! Kill the power!"


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


"...so as you can see, there's no way we can get the doors moving again in time to matter."


Samantha frowned, mentaly swearing; "And they only cleared six Drop Pods befor locking up?"


"Aye ma'am," the Ops tech continued, "They've already begun transfering everything they can into them, acording to the Priorties List; we should be ready to launch within the hour."


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


And so it was that, eighty seven minutes later, six cramped colonial landing pods maneuvered clear of the battered hulk of the Vulcan's Hammer, gyros aligning them towards the receeding planet that would be their new home; inertial direct drives all but draining capasitors as they strugled to close the distance - throttling down as they neared, angling towards a large valley in the northern hemisphere befor letting go to gravity.

A Few Centuries Earlier

The Great Hall was running on a strait course for the astroid feild before it. The Captain of the ship, Utral Bethra looked over at the holotank. <Status report> he shouted out.
<Sir, the death wing has just fired four of her forward coil guns at us...>
<Damn it...take evasive manuvers!>
<Belay that order!> The navigator shouted out. The Utral turned his gaze upon the junior officer, it was not a pleasent glare. <Sir if we don't keep this course we'll only confuse this cobbled together A.I. even more. It's having enough problems calculating the proper sequence to get us into side-reel space.
<Damn it...damn the Lords of Trade...and damn Great House Kubron for their betral>

The Great Hall was in serious trouble, House Partera and their Karlord were only a Rising House. As such they had begun to follow House Kubron in the recent unpleasentness of the Imperial succession. But the Council of Industry had begun to listen to Karlord Narther of House Partera and his call for unifying with the some of the other clans against the Lords of Trade. And House Kubron had responded by having their allies in the Lords of Trade attack Karlord Narther as he returned from a council meeting. What was worse was they had corrupted the Great Hall's AI.

At a predetermined time the Great Hall had turned off her own life support systems. It would have been deadly to the crew and the members of House Partera aboard the vessel if she hadn't have been carrying stasis chambers. The Eternals appeared to be looking out for the Karlord and his Narlord. Only the units being available at a cheap price had made the Karlord purchase them in the first place.

Now, as most of the crew and passengers of the Frigate Great Hall slept in eternal slumber, the skeleton crew of the Great Hall attempted to escape a Thunderhead Battlecruiser.

<Sir, the A.I. has powered up the Reel emmitter...but hasn't fired yet...>

<Incomming fire...sir...inpact in 10...9...8...7...>

<Fire plasma cannons...Brace for impact...switch all statsis chambers to battery power....>

<Sir...the emmitter appears to be drawing a roving grava...>

The two bolts of tungstun smashed into the bridge just as a wormhole opened in space, drawn by the massive energy of the Great Hall's Reel emmitter.

Planet Kestral-10, Present

The Great Hall lay deep in the side of a semi-dormant volcano. Her forward bridge had taken the impact of both the atmosphere, and the volcanic rock of the planent below quite hard. The nearly mile long ship had broken into an extinct lava tube, where over a third of it lay buried. The rest had slowly been covered by the forest. The ship lay quietly on the surface of the planet, most of its chambers sealed off from the outside world, the ship's battlearmor slowly being worn away.

However, there was life...or something similar, within the now ancient wreck. Batteries based on radioactive decay can last anywhere from a few hundread, to a few thousand years.

The Var had long built their warships to be easily mothballed. The subsystem A.I. was designed to maintain the ship as it floated in deep space. It had not been designed for the last task given it, attempting to calcuate the jump into side-reel space. It had not been designed to know what to do when the ship crashed, just to call up and power up the main A.I. Of course it could not fix the massive cut in the power lines to the A.I., so it was stuck just attempting to do so in some horrific A.I. hell of a never ending loop.

That was until someone falling into the planet (automatically named Kestral-10 as all unknown planets were initially called by the Var) made a destress call.

Detect Alien Signal, Rank 4 or higher on Technology Scale...call UNSA Subroutine...File Found....Locate highest ranking member of crew on duty to notify of signal...
Captain, Utral Bethra...Life Sign...Terminated Cycle 445098
Sub Captain....Life Sign Terminated Cycle 445098
First Nepa, Navigation.....Life Sign Terminated Cycle 445098
Notice All Brige Crew....Life Sign Terminated Cycle 445098
First Nepa, Engineering....Life Sign Deep Sleep Since Cycle 445090
UNSA Subroutine Calls for Senior Officer to be awoken if Sleep Cycle diffrence greater than 50. Diffrence 12072...Awake First Nepa, Engineering...


A white spider like creature scurried as the odd light in the cabin changed color. It went from white to red to green. The Var were awaking from their slumber.

Sierra awoke in darkness… comfortable darkness though… Suddenly, a crack formed in the darkness, and rapidly grew so that she could see where she was. It was the medical bay, and she was in one of the MEDTanks that were used to assist critically injured patients. The Doctor, a thin, nervous Raptor by the name of Jack Frayka, peered down at her from across his scaly nose.

“Captain, it is good to see you awake again.” He exclaimed, peering into her eyes…

“Thank you Doctor… What is going on?”

“We crashed… Hard too, and part of the ship is submerged in water… And… we lost a lot of people…” he said forlornly…

“How many?” she asked… Dreading the answer…

”Six Hundred total, and half of our contingent of Chocobos. Most of the crew drowned when the front of the ship went into the ocean… the Cargo area is completely flooded.”

Sierra got up, feeling slightly dizzy… But bid goodbye to the good doctor, who went to tend to his other patients, who, unfortunately, numbered about a hundred.

Making her way to the bridge, she found her way blocked by about a hundred Engineering officers. All trying to clear the debris from the various passages or repair some conduit or another.

After finally reaching the bridge, she found that, not only was the ship irreparably damaged, but that entire sections of the ship could not be reached, via Comm. or by foot. Entire sections of the ship were under lockdown… and the Main Temporal Impellors were only at 30%. They were relying on Plasma Reactors for most of their power. And, to top it all off, all attempts at communication failed…

A day later, their situation had not changed, and Sierra ordered a scouting party to find a suitable area for a sensor station, as their own sensors were damaged beyond repair.

Meria of Partera stood in a pool of warm goo that was collecting off her body. She stretched out to her full 7.9 feet spread the joints of her dark red scales. As First Nera Engeering she was decidely wondering what was going on. The fog of an almost thousand year sleep was clouding her memory.

<Uh...why in the hell is this floor so damn cold? And where are the lights?> It was dark, dark even by Var standards. She stumbled across the dusty deck and over to the bulkhead of her cabin. She hit the light pad and nothing occured. She slammed it this time with her claw-hand.

<Bastards...the thing is impossible...we must have lost power to basic systems...that's right life support was damaged by that nackrea of an A.I. I must have been awoken to fix something.>

Her claw clampped on a light stick and she attempted to turn it on. Nothing, the unit's batteries had long since turned into a corrosive muck.
<Pah...>

She grabbed a second light wand. This one was powered by simply shaking it. After a good few minutes of shaking Meria was able to get it to turn on, as her bowls began informing her that she needed to releive herself.

The light shone down on the cabin floor, and the various forms of alien cave life that littered the deck. <What in the name of the Eternals?...>

********
Meria stood in the ruins of the bridge, smashed beyond recognition by enemy fire, the fires of entry into the atmoshpere and the plantary crash. It was surprising that anything of the forward section had survived. Instead sections one, two, and three were severly damaged by high temperture gases. Only the heavy internal armor and doors of the Flag Quarters and the forward armory had protected them from the inferno.

She turned and walked up the sloping deck towards section two and the Flag Quarters. It was obvious that she was now the ranking crewman and had to wake the Karlord himself.

Joeseph lay wearily on his bunk in the newly established Residential Section of the ship. With most of the rooms for the crew being obliterated along with the lower decks, parts of the ship had been renovated and expanded into massive open living spaces, using thin, but light blocking walls to maintain a decent amount of privacy. However, it was no mystery that eventually they would have to expand out of ship in order to scratch out some sort of living on the terrain they now found themselves in.

As soon as he felt his eyes close he felt them open again, being forcefully shaken awake from his slumber. Before giving a hostile retort to the low ranking scientist he checked his Chronometer, he had been sleeping for over six hours, so he decided against giving the scientist a scathing retort, instead, he more politely inquired into the nature of the disturbance.

“Well, Sir. The Biologist teams have returned from the surrounding areas, the report medium sized carnivorous life forms, as well as a variety of fauna and flora, although further investigations and sampling will be needed to ensure which species are cultivatable as a food source.” The Scientist Third Class reported

“Excellent News, that’s the first step towards progress, anything else to report?” The Captain inquired

“Yessir, SFC Wildburg would like to see you at the bridge” he replied

“I’ll be on my way, continue with the investigations Crewman, and report back to me with any new developments, I’ll be needing a team of messengers so long as the Comm. Is out, and you seem reliable enough, I’m giving you a field rank of Lieutenant, you’re a Military man now, and all other priorities fall secondary to ensuring I get messages quickly and efficiently” Joseph continued

“Yessir, thank you sir” The Newly Christened Lieutenant blurted

“Before you leave, I didn’t get your name, it is?” The Captain pursued

“Johnson, Gail Johnson sir” the Lieutenant replied

“Johnson, yes, I’ll be sure to remember that, be on your way now Lieutenant” The Captain finished, dismissing the officer

One he was finished with Johnson he proceeded to make his way towards the bridge through the newly installed corridor systems, which was being cut into the ship since the crashed. Round the clock construction had ensured that the project was almost complete, but it also meant that he would have a large portion of the crew needing rest over the next few days, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Once he arrived at the bridge, he saw Wildburg at his station, a look of exuberance on his face, turning to greet the Captain, he informed him of his news.
“Captain, I’m proud to say that we have Short range sensors and External Communications back online, although I had to shutdown the Sublight Engine Reactor, and divert power from Science Bays 12 and 13, I believe that this gives us a significant edge to survival now.” He Beamed

The Captain thought for a moment, then rubbed his temples “Wait, you mean to tell me that you disabled our only means of escape, and drained our research capabilities, without my permission?” He fumed

The Scientist paled for a moment, then regained confidence “Well, you weren’t available, and you did order that we should be making preparations for long term survival hear, and now we effectively have a voice, as well as eyes and ears. Besides, the Engines drained too much juice, as did the Science Bays, with the two reactors only operating at 32% output, and the third one completely disabled, I figured we could free up some power by shutting down those non-essential areas and divert it to more important systems, like the ones I’m mentioning”

“Well, I suppose you have a valid point Wildberg, we are going to be here a while yet…” Joseph conceded

“Sir?” Wildberg ventured “We have reports of the teams sent into the wilderness seeing other ships falling from the sky, we may not be the only ones here, perhaps we could get in contact now that Communications are up and running, I’ve got a team of workers setting up a new communications array on the highest point of the dome, which would boost the signal considerably, allowing us to communicate more effectively around the planet.”

“Good point, is there a way we could set up a repeating loop so that if the others, if there truly are others, would know we were here, and could get in contact with us, perhaps we could set up some sort of joint effort to get off this rock…” The Captain Continued

“Yessir, although it would take up a moderate amount of the ships power, we could set up a short, repeating message on a wide frequency so that other survivors could make contact, or at the very least, know they aren’t alone.” The Scientist replied, “Would you like to start recording sir?”

“Alright, lets start this right now” Joseph responded, as Wildberg punched in some keystrokes and signalled that the system was now recording. The Captain cleared his throat and began:

Attention any and all Persons who now find themselves stranded on this planet, this is Acting Captain Joseph Withers of the TSP Wanderer IV, we have crash landed on this planet and find ourselves without means of escape, and with limited supplies. If you can hear this message, and are capable of responding, please do so on this frequency, it would be most advantageous to work together at this point, since I can only assume that you now find yourselves in the situation I find myself in. If there is a Spacefaring Vessel in the area, treat this as a distress call; we need supplies and Emergency Rescue. Repeat, we are in need of Replacement Equipment in order to bring ship systems back to optimal status, this is the Acting Captain Joseph Withers of the Torontonian Science Program Vessel Wanderer IV of the Corporate Autocracy of Torontonias, any and all response will be welcome

With that the Captain motioned for the recording to cease, and it was set into a continuous loop which would hopefully be picked up by the other survivors on the planet, if there were any…

Once that was finished, the Captain continued to formulate a plan for the future, sending out more teams to study and sample local wildlife, as well as Geological Teams to determine if there were any harvestable Materials around, short of stripping the ship of Components, they were going to need some sort of supplies to build more permanent structures around the ship, as well as resectioning the ship into more specialized areas…

The 'emergency' A.I. detected a weakened signal emminating from somewhere. With two mountain ranges and an ocean between them it was just pure luck that the signal got through at all.

The A.I. attempted to figure out what the signal was and just filed it under 'oddities'. Between the last Var knowledge of "Terra" as it would be later be known being ruled by people who wore toga's and spoke Latin, and the fact that the signal processing routines were hiding in computer systems now long dormant, it would be awhile before the Var responded to that message.

The Survey teams had returned with good and bad news… The good news, was that they were on an island rich in a kind of cocoanut/Mango fruit that was apparently very healthy. The bad news was that there was a volcanic island off the western coast of the island, and it was active.

Engineering declared the engines and FTL systems a bust. They were currently being salvaged for their critical components. The Shield Emitters had been totally fried; they would need to be replaced. And half the engineering staff was hard at work draining the bow of the ship, the other half were assigned to the Fighter Deck, where half the fighters and bombers sat in ruins. Ivan Pravec, the ship’s main engineering officer claimed he could get at least 400 of the 8000 originals into working order… The rest could be stored away in the Reserve Deck, whose Bay Door had been demolished, rendering it useless for combat duty.

The situation was looking better all the time… And it was even better when the Comm. Relay, damaged to the point of only providing minimal range, picked up chatter on a wide, high end frequency.

“Ready?” Sierra asked the Comm. Officer.

“Affirmative…” He said, and activated the relay.

“Siesatian Military Vessel USS Terrature Calling TSP Wanderer IV… This is Captain Sierra Battlehorn… We acknowledge your Status. Are you in immediate danger? We have also crash landed on the planet… We have many salvaged parts and some may be useful to you. We are in need of replacement Shield Emitters. If you are interested in equipment, but are unable to make aerial transport, we can supply this.”

Joseph looked over a pad that has just been given to him, it was the status and inventory report he had been looking for, detailing exactly what kind of condition the ship was in, he looked over it and sighed, it was not looking good:

TSP Wanderer IV, Status and Inventory
Crew Status: General Crew: 146 Dead, 7 Missing, 205 Injured, 202 Healthy, Officers: 42 Dead, 3 Injured, 15 Healthy, Anti-Boarding Units: 20 Dead, Scientists: 218 Dead, 194 Injured, 16 Missing, 570 Healthy. Total Dead: 426
Ship Status
Power: Reactor One Operating at 32% Capacity and rising Reactor Two damaged operating at 8% Capacity
Reactor Three Destroyed
Systems:
Navigation: Destroyed,
Sensors: 83% Operational,
Life Support: Offline,
Weapons: Offline,
Essential Systems: 46% Operational,
Non-Essential Systems: 14% Operational
Notes: Bridge has been converted to Comm. Center, new command center located in the center of the main sphere. Science Bays 12 and 13 being dissembled to make up for raw materials. Main Engines offline, Side Module One converted to living areas.
Inventory
Supplies: Full, Food and Water Complement to last eighteen weeks on normal consumption, triple on rationing.
Medical Equipment: Full, Operating Capacity: 492 Persons, Supplies to remain operating for two years bar large scale consumption of medical supplies, Equipment to last indefinitely under routine maintenance, six years unmaintained.
Weapons: Eighteen High Yield Torpedo’s in the Armory, no other weapons located.
Equipment: Full Complement Terraformation Equipment, without means of power. Assorted Sampling and Scientific Equipment.
Cont…
Location
Preliminary reports indicated we were on a plains area of some sort, but it appears we are on abnormally large Mesa located within a Mountain range, terrain is rocky and arid, unsuitable for growing large scale crops. Sightings of small game as well as a hardy, wheat-like plant have been reported in wide scale, possibly source of basic staple in the future. More investigations necessary to compile complete report
Attached
Full Inventory Lists with Signatories of Crewman involved
Casualty List
Projections of survivability


The Captain was deep in thought as he scanned through the report when the young officer ran up to him, red in the face. Looking up he recognized the enterprising young face of his messenger.

“Captain…I…” *Gasp* Johnson huffed as he tried to catch his breath “Captain, You’ve been summoned to the bridge, I mean Comm. Center, it appears they’ve made contact with someone else on this planet, seems to be in the same boat as we are…”
With a brief nod to the Lieutenant, Joseph jumped out of his seat and rushed to the bridge in a similar fashion that the Messenger must have left from it, he found himself quite winded after navigating the narrow, newly constructed passageways on his way to the bridge. When he got there, he found Wildberg communicating with the other ship using a most archaic device.

When the Scientist turned Comm. Officer realized the Captain was there, he explained the situation:

“Well sir, the Console based communications system is still down, so I pulled my personal headset from my quarters, as well as this ‘Microphone’ I’ve held on to for years, its taped into the console communications relay using this converter that came with it. It would seem that these people are Siesatian, they’re offering supplies in exchange for a shield generator, I’ve been making small talk with them while I waited for you, they seem to be on an island, which would mean there is an ocean around here.”

“I see” The Captain murmured, looking over the communications equipment, as if it would harm him to use it “How old is this equipment Wildburg?”

“Ancient, its twentieth Century technology, but hey, it still works, and since our modern equipment is currently failing us right now, I figured we’d use it” He replied

“But I just recorded a message not three hours ago” The Captain protested

“Yes, and that seemed to be about all it could take, it shorted out soon after, and the engineers are backed up in the duty roster, so I’ve been making due. You put these ‘headphones’ over your ears, and then press the button at the base of the ‘Microphone’ and speak into the mesh at the top of the shaft, its quite simple really, once you get used to it” Wildburg continued

“Well, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it, I’ll personally make sure to make this repair a priority” The Captain stated, as he awkwardly tried the headset on and leaned closer to the mike, after hearing the initial message, he replied to the contact:

“Captain! How wonderful it is to hear that we’re not the only ones on this rock. My Name is Acting Captain Joseph Withers, I regret to inform you that we have no such supplies as to repair a shield generator, since we do not utilize shielding technology. We do however, have a number of components that you could find useful as well, and we’d be interested to trade. As for immediate danger, no, I believe we are fine for now, the ship is being refurbished to accommodate long range living and we are currently well supplied. If you have the capabilities of flight transport, I would suggest that we make an endeavor to find each other, we have only mapped out immediate surroundings, but if we could physically find each other, we would be able to work together. Also, although I do not believe that we should being political affiliations to this planet, you are a member of the Extra-Solar Union of Systems correct?”

With that he finished, and awaited a response, hoping he hadn’t overloaded the other side with the flow of information.

Sierra sat at the Comm. Console, listening to the Torontonias Comm. Officer speaking... She was getting ready to just switch off the reciever, when a Second voice broke the chatter. She listened carefully.

"Siesatia is indeed a member of the ESUS... Now, we can have a flight meet you, all we need is a relative Geographical fix, or a signal to lock on to..."

She signalled for a small flight to prepare to launch.

"Unfortuneatly thats the thing" Joseph continued "We don't have a fix on our position yet, unless you could 'Har Be Mountians' as a fix, all we know is that we're on some kind of plateau in a mountain range, we'll keep the signal loop going in order to contact other survivors if there are any, so you can lock on to that if you have the capacity. I'm sorry I can't be of any more assistance, I'm switching back to the Comm. Officer now, but don't worry, I'll be updated if you find us and attempt to drop by" The Captain grinned, throwing in some good humour

As he left the console, he began to plot out how they could benifit from mutual trade relations with the other survivors, perhaps they could merge, move the locations of the ships together to create a better chance of survival...

The Karlord streched his wings in the dying light and watched the sky through the opening in the canopy of trees. His red eyes were sheilded by a pair of googles. The UV light here was a touch too bright. He heard the shifting small stones behind him and turned. His mate pulled herself up out of the small hole in the lava tunnel.

<Ah, so you have decided to join me an the inital survey party?>

<Well besides releasing some of the House Guard and a few engineers we have only been checking on life signs on the statis chambers.>

<Quite, and what is the status of the surviving members of our House?>

<It appears two hundread and twenty eight Var live, and five of the kusca ...all female>

<So that is a loss of what almost eight hundread kusca and two hundread and fifty plus Var?>

<Yes...>

<Well if I had not decided to start manufacturing statis chambers for the transport of kusca then we would all likely be dead. It appears that maintaining fur bearing creatures over time is much harder than us Var.>

<Hmm, perhaps I should go wake up Nebiton...he might be able to get the material sampler we found working.>

The Narlord was cut off by the approach of two House Guards from up the side of the hill. <My Lord, the Great Hall appears to be completely buried over time...but the soil around it is dark clay, we should be able to dig it out...>

<I think at the moment we should dig an access tunnel to the hanger in section four...> The Karlord began.

<Did you find a water source?> The Narlord was much more intrested in essentials, a fresh source of portable water being one of them.

<Yes, Our lady, we did...there is a pleasent waterfall not distant from where the ship pentrated the wall of this volcano...and it runs...to a large lake, gigantic surrounded by a range of small hills.>

<Truely?>

<Truely My Lord...>

<I will have to see this wonder tommorrow. But we shall return to the ship, eat Kefa Bread and light a hearth fire. Then we shall plan our next moves on this planet.>

The group of dragon like creatures turned back for the hole in the roof of the lava tube.

It was a rocky, desolate plateau that they had landed on; all six pods spread over a landing zone roughly 25 kilometers across. The ground mostly bedrock, gravel and rocks; the only sign of life mosses, thorny brush, and the ocasional sick-looking tree - some had reported glimpsing small animals, but Samantha had yet to see any.

But, in the distance, things looked much more promising; descent-cameras had images a massive jungle or rainforest just over seventy kilometers east of the LZ, and great, lush plains stretched to the west, neatly bisected by a great river that opened into a fertile-looking delta befor emptying into a great lake t the south.

Which, Samantha mused, killing her HUD's digital zoom, ment that there were far more pleasant places to live all around them. But those places undoubtedly had their problems - like the bus-sized carnivore that had tried to eat one of the life-sciences probes.

And that, conviently enough, brought her to the matter at hand; where to set up shop - and how long her authority would last, now that they were dirt-side.

With a sigh, removing her helm, she turned away from the half-disasembled, hundreds-meter distant drop pod; free hand opening the fabric door of her temporary Command Tent, she steped inside.

"How's the XO?" a familiar voice asked; Lieutenant Commander Jefferson Michaels similarly armoured form resolving as her eyes adjusted to the darkened tent.

"Good," she replied, noding absently as she recalled her recent visit, "He's in high spirits, but it'll take him a few more days to finish regeneration therapy. So, how are we?"

There were a few laughs from the others present, but it was Michaels who responded; "Good so far, ma'am; last of the other pods've checked in over zip-net while you were out, and I'm happy to report that we all made it down free and clear. Whole plateau's pretty desolate, but otherwise nothing to report, good or bad, and we've got plenty of indefinate life support, so long as you don't mind eating 'paste after the rations run out in a few weeks."

The captain sighed, setting her helm on the map table; the world within 250 kilometers displayed befor her on high-res holographics; it was better than nothing, but the descent cameras were no replacment for a proper survey, and told her nothing of the local life.

"We're going to have to start putting together some long-range recon teams."

"Aye," Michaels, the second highest ranking officer in Alpha Pod, save her XO, nodded, "Jackson's already started organising his people; they've got zip-comms, but he sugested we get a few comm towers up just in case - it'll let us triangulate, and, hell, we might not be alone on this rock."


"Alright," Sam mused, idly running her armoured fingers through a cheek ruff as she examined the map, "Foxtrot's just about the most centrally placed; we'll have them errect a half-kilo mast while Jackson gets some teams organised - his discersion, but tell him I'll want to discuss the mission once he's got an outline together."

"Davidson?" the LC queried; comm tech signiling his ascent, turning to his makeshift station as the officer continued, "Ok, with that delt with for now, what about basing? Continue with temporary facilities?"


"Yeah; now that we know everyone made it down ok, there's no reason to start moving the heavy equipment 'til we get a better idea what's out there - unless you'd like to live here?" Sam smirked, continuing, "Besides, we're low on transport and Jackson's going to want atleast some of the 'skimmers-"

In the dim light of the fire, eight Var sat on rocks around the fire. They were all quite warm and at least fed. But the sudden situation was proving ample ground for the fighting of dominance between members who desired to rise up in the ranks. Where their ancestors would have fought with bre'nar, they now fought with barbed words. The most serious was that of a young House Guard arguing with an older scientist over the next move of the house.

<We must have suitable defenses...I have seen tracks of large beasts in the area...we do not have time for colonizing this planet we must repair the Great Hall and be on our way...> The House guard turned and pointed towards the distant shape of the frigate in the darkness.

<Betkter (twit)...we do not have enough food to keep us all alive for that long...nor the resources...> The scientist, his scales more golden in this light than anything, pointed towards a write pad now being powered by a radio decay battery, which made it a ponderous and delicate device.

<We can not spend our time living like the Order of the Napa...> The tail of the young warrior swooshed. The Karlord tried to remember his name, too hot blooded tral. the Utral.

<They could survive here...> The scientist, a kefla of the Narlord's house pointed out in cold, dry terms.

<We are Var we do not survive we rule the stars...> The tail of the young warrior was increasingly hostile, his tail moving back and forth in a serpentine motion.

<Only as long as the Eternals allow us to...> The scientist, named Petru, was responding to the non-verbal threat. His tail began to move also.

<Pah! we are the Eternals chosen only the Eldar are strong enough to stand against us...> The tip of the young warrior's tail curled, he was about to strike.

<You are like a neuba reciting the Pledge to the Eternals for the first time...>
The scientist was taking a defensive stance, and trying to goad the young warrior into a wild attack move.

<And this planet has already defeated you...>

<Enough!> The Karlord called out.
<This House, My House shall not live on this planet like Napa, living in caves with only fire...and we shall not attempt the impossible of raising the Great Hall without more food and supplies than we presently have. The Great Hall, and we, have slumbered on this planet for centuries now. A few more years shall not kill us.>

The Karlord stood. <I am the Karlord of this House, and this House rebuild itself here. We have been defeated, but not destroyed. Now then, because of limited food supplies we will awaken only thirty members of the House that presently slumber. With these thirty of my Chamber we shall then begin the tasks.>

There was silence in the lava tunnel, all of Var sat quietly, listening to their Karlord. <We shall divide these into three divisions. Each division shall be headed by a Zeeka who shall perform the tasks that I set. First Nafa you shall be Zeeka of the Ship. Your job is to gain access to the surface, and construct a defensible camp, we can not continue to live with these things any longer.> He pulled some white crab like insect off his tail and threw it into the fire.
< Then you shall begin to work on relighting one of the fusion plants.>
The First Nafa of Engineering shook her head in agreement.

<Second, Massia my mate shall supervise investigating the fauna and flora of this world. We must find suitable new food sources from this planet or we will die out from starvation. I was informed that we had the equipment to set up a rough analysis lab?>

Petru the scientist shook his head in agreement.

<Good, then I shall take over setting up sentries and scouts to investigate this land and protect us from...>

There was a scratching sound from above the hole in the roof of the lava tube. Rocks began falling from the ceiling as a massive head pushed itself through. It looked like a lizard and was creating a horrific screeching sound as it found new prey.

<Ah we seem to have attracted some fauna...and from its demeanor we are all to be a nice tasty snack...>

A quiet female of the House Guard stood and threw her ba'tra into the beast's head. There was a screech of pain and the monster pulled its head from the hole.

<My Lord may I go and retrieve my weapon?> She asked bowing her head.

<Take two of the Guard to assist you...>

<I give thanks My Lord...>

The Karlord watched her begin to climb up the line that went up and out of the hole. Two other Guards, both older, followed her, leaving only the one with the short temper there.

By the Ancestors, this was a desolate place, the Technomancer thought to himself. Within a few weeks of improperly-adminstered equipment, he had lost most of his identity, including his name. The other two ships were both controlled, as well, and each maintained a careful perimetre around an area, and did not fight.

The huge, kttaru, beast-creatures, as the people had named them, were over seven metres tall, and not much longer. Carnivorous creatures, the huge birth rate that had been achieved since landing here was offset by the continuous deaths of his people.

The kttaru were immune to blaster weaponry, but killing them with blades yielded good meat, enough for weeks. He had trouble ripping them apart with his mind, as they seemed to be intelligent, and avoided the three ships, knowing that power weakened as it went further, as humans were limited by their own perceptions..

On the third ship, the Grace of Angels, the Technomancer was weak and impotent, but his technicians were astute, and quick. They had discovered fruit, and used the Ritual of Creation, in the Machine of Creation (A replicator), to feed his people.

On each ship, a single AI operated, albeit very slowly. Tarthanusi, a creation of the last true technician, had heard the signal, and was composing a response.

"We/I are the Lost, we have fallen on this planet, due to a strange warphole. The Lords Technomancers rule the Three Ships, and most of our equipment is intact. However, we lack the knowledge to use it. I would be most gratified if you could transfer information to me, as I have basic knowledge of politics, ship systems, and human physiology. However, my data banks are slowly eroding, and I find myself without simple repairs, in order to keep more than 50% of my data being lost."

[Politicial Knowedge Transmitted - Lost descended from ESUS members]
[Ship System Knowledge partially transmitted]
[Miscellaneous Knowledge Transmitted. Total 17 Terabytes.]
[Maximum Data Capacity 97,000,000 Terabytes]

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

Aboard the other ship, things were going badly. Hunger was rampant, and the single source of food they had came from the ingenious Technomancer, who had set up a Hydroponics area, and began mass-producing a crude grain, in order to create a mash, which was neither nutritious nor satisfying.

A single fighter zipped above all three ships, controlled by the AI. It began scanning the surrounding area, and headed towards the Siesatan crash site, getting there in under a minute.

However, the abused and weakened AI failed to calculate proper vectors, and the fighter began to plummet to the earth, perhaps five kilometres from the Siesatans..

The rain had started to fall that night and continued to fall through the next five days. Which had made digging a trench to the starboard access door to Section Five even more difficult. The material over the ship consisted of dark black dirt and large boulders from nearby mountain side. The twelve Var were forced to do heavy manual labor, digging the soil out into tarps where it turned into sticky mud, and using cables to drag massive stones out of the trench.

By the third day they were no longer digging a trench but a pool it appeared. The Var would working in a mixture of mud, water and rock up to their waists. Pulling slippery boulders across slippery boulder, it was tiring work. Meria asked the Fates to invervene and stop the rain. It only began to rain harder.

The Narlord watched the work progress for a moment as she let the Z-300 anylizer quietly purr away. On two rough benches under a tarp strung up between two giant trees the 'anaylisis lab' had been set up. Test tubes, mortar and pestal, and several intruments, now far beyond their original design life sat running as water pounded the tarp. On the second bench lay various plant and animal samples their teams had collected. The scientist was attempting to pepare some small mamal creature's meat for analysis. The Narlord watched him cut the fur off with a scapel.

<I never thought I would be doing this...>

<What my lady? Doing plant and animal analysis?>

<No, as a rising House we thought that we would be doing quite a lot of analysis of possible new products from the outer worlds...>

<Is that not the Lords of Trade area?>

<Pah, they only terreform planets to make more of something, seldom have they ever explored the true potential of the planets they had under their control...>

<Ah...what then...I mean are we doing that you did not expect?>

<To found a new colony, Only the Clan of War did that...or was supposed to...the Clan of Trade's 'outposts' were more colonies than anything...>

<Quite...my lady>

A figure in a black cloak entered the end of the 'lab' water flowing down the outside of the garment. The hood came back to reveal the Karlord himself.

<How goes your search?>

<Well the good news is we can eat the meat of these lizard creatures for many protiens and calories...the bad news is that there is a slight concentration of neurotoxin.> The Narlord replied.

<One that will build up in our motor cortex and turn us all into cripples slowly if we continue to live on it...>

<But it is also missing key nutrients for our survival...>

The Karlord shook his head, <Anything else?>

<Well we found something that tastes good, is poisonous unless boiled in water, and has no caloritic or nutriounal value for us...but just smell it...>

She opened up a small vial and gave the Karlord a wiff. <How nice, we can smell such aroma as we starve to death or slowly turn into cripples from neurotoxins. I must go see how the trench is going.>

Joseph was awoken by the continual dripping into his face from above. Opening his eyes a crack; he realized that it was water dripping in from the ceiling, through one of the many fissures that had opened up in the hull as a result of being exposed to the gravity of a planet for the extended period. At first he thought nothing of it, and then once his thought process started running, he realized they were experiencing alien rain, which could be dangerous.

Leaping from his bed, he inspected the water, draining into a puddle beside his bed, although the fact that his face hadn’t corroded away proved that the rainfall wasn’t immediately dangerous… However, something wasn’t right. The living quarters were disturbingly bare of all life but him. Making his way to the newly established “Command Center” he noticed several scientists scurrying down the corridors, there faces in a state of panic.

Upon entering the Command Center, he did not like what he saw. Looking out through the large window of the observatory (The reason it was chosen as the new command center, since external camera’s weren’t operating) he saw that the once bland colours of the plateau, filled with what was thought as a wheat-like lifeform, was now charred black, in the distance he could see smoke rising through the rainstorm, as the fire was being smoldered out.

“It happened so fast sir…” A Scientist blubbered, as if he was about to burst into tears “A lightning bolt hit in the field south of us, we didn’t realize how dry the vegetation was around here, it all went up like a tinderbox, it swept through us in a matter of minutes, although the ship sustained minimal damage, we lost equipment and thirteen scientists who were out investigating the wilderness, they called for help on communications, but we couldn’t get to them, it was too hot…” He didn’t finish the sentence; he just looked off into the distance, his eyes glazing over

“There was nothing you could have done, was an equipment salvaged?” Joseph inquired, brushing off the deaths as if they were nothing

“Uh, Well… We haven’t sent a team out yet, the fire is still going in the distance” The Scientist muttered

“Well, get on it! We need anything that can be salvaged!” The Captain barked, watching the Scientist instinctively jerk under his commanding tone

“You don’t understand! We just sat here as they burned!” The Scientist cracked “They’re dead now, they’re not coming back!” he blathered

“Your Relieved, go get some rest, I can see your in not condition to be working right now” Joseph said, attempting to soothe the distraught Scientist

“Traitor! You don’t even care! You could care less if any of us died!” The Scientist screamed, lunging at him, as the Captain wrestled with him, two other scientists and a crewman helped pry him off, he was still gnashing as they restrained him

“Take him to the brig!” Joseph bellowed

“We don’t have one sir” The Crewman replied

“Then erect some sort of temporary holding facility, until we can properly come up with accommodations for him” he said, looking at the crazed scientist in contempt

“Yessir, I don’t understand, Jonathan usually isn’t like this, he’s one of the calmer ones” the Crewman replied

“He just watched, actually, listened to thirteen of his associate’s die, while he was powerless to stop it, it would bring out the worst in any of us, although his actions went too far…” Joseph replied, coolly “Now, what’s the report?”

“Well, that firestorm wiped out all of the “wheat” and as an added bonus, the fire also would have taken nutrients out of the soil, making it more barren for growing things, so if there were any good growing conditions there before, they’re gone now…” The Chief Botanist reported “So it looks like after rations are out, we’ll starve, the small scale hydroponics we’ve got on this ship won’t feed all of us, I suggest that we convert to hunter/gathering forms of growing food, there should be enough wildlife out there to feed the small population here, for the short term anyway…” she added

“With what?” Joseph challenged “We’ve got no actual weapons on the ship, unless you count the torpedoes, but I don’t think we’ll catch too much game with those”

“Well, you could use the repair welders that the engineers use, they won’t be too happy about loosing the equipment, but small hunting parties wouldn’t impact the stock too much, in the mean time we could work on expanding the hydroponics program, expand out into Science Bays five and six, then we could get some real food growing happening, plus we can use any type of plant, since we control the environment, not nature”

“Good Enough” The Captain agreed “I’ll gather up a hunting party of volunteers and send them out first thing in the morning, and for the meantime, I’ll be getting some rest, and see if you can get the engineers to look into the water leaking problems, and for goodness sakes, get someone/thing collected the water falling from the sky, we don’t know how often this is going to happen!”

With that, he turned and left, leaving it up to the crew to arrange the services for the dead if they did so wish, in the meantime, he would be getting back to his bunk. Although he thought he was doing well for the crew by staying aloof from them, it would prove to be his ultimate downfall.

A small group of stragglers, carrying huge bundles of roots, and a few fruits, through the pelting rain, trudged their way through the mud. They were late, but were not allowed back inside the shiphome until they had gathered twice their worth in rations, as food was scarce.

One of them, Kyythaii, a small, ratlike man, was angry at the work he had to do. He was a technician, but, upon failing to reconnect the outer camera system, had been sent out with these, these peasants, to collect food.

He brutally slapped a slatternly-looking woman across the face, as she dropped a valuable fruit they had named kiuth, one that had to be boiled, seared with fire, and have its numerous seeds removed before it was worth eating, but still one of the favourite foods of the Technomancers.

She screamed at him, and they began to attack each other, dropping the valuable rations, as they acted out their sudden hatred for each other. However, they stopped, suddenly, as a silent, huge shadow, crept up on them.

Kyythaii screamed, "kttaru! kttaru!, as the huge, raptor-like beast, with its mouth, with needles for teeth, punctures his flesh, and he felt no more...

The neurotoxin that the beasts secreted within venom glands in their mouth, was invariably fatal, just from touch. That much would killed him in seconds, and also begin degrading his body, as the kttaru had little in the way of molars...

The women ran, but they were surrounded by two more of the huge beasts, and ripped apart by the incisor-like claws they had on each arm, and then, even as they died, began to become digested...

A single woman had fled, dropping her rations, and hoping for the best. There. The ship was in sight! Although it was dark, surely they would let her in! She ran up to the ship, and began to hammer on the door..

Behind her, a kttaru loped easily, its huge legs carrying it far faster than the woman, and descended on her...

A final, pained scream, echoed throughout the night.....

Kessel-10 Species R-5 had been busy. On the otherside of the planet the creatures were trying to penetrate the perimiter. Metuu stood his ground and watched as three of the creatures loped toward him. Really it appeared that R-5 was quite similar in shape to the Var. Well the Var were more serpent like, their heads far more elongated. That and the Var had an opposable thumb, and tools to use with them.

One R-5 approaching Metuu suddenly scretched out in pain. Someone had used a troop laser gun on it and it proved to be as ineffecutal as ever.

Metuu shifed the bat'ra in his hand-claws and let the forward R-5 strike. As it suddenly pushed towards it's pray, the pray turned presenting the long blade of the bat'ra towards the raptor's belly.

The R-5 screatched in horror as it impaled itself upon the cold, alien blade of carbon steel. The eyes went opaque as the creature's life force bleed out through the massive wound in its belly. It made a pitiful cry as it crashed upon the ground, dying.

The other two R-5s slowed and seemed to be trying to jude wether to eat the dying R-5 or attack the Var in his battle gear.

Metuu continued to hold his ground. A second blast of the laser did some good this time; a direct hit on the creature's right, black, emotionless eye sent it screatching in pain and realing. The thrid R-5, smelling easy prey, turned and attacked the now partially blind R-5. These raptors may have hunted in packs, but the didn't seem that loyal to each other.

Another three R-5s appeared from the underbrush of the forest approaching at an oblique angle. Metuu turned to face them, realizing he was flanked and that the scientist operating the laser gun from the ridge line him would not be able to get a clear shot at the group.

Not that it does much good but blinding these damn things...their skin seems to just deflect most of the damage from beam weapons. Metuu pondered as he prepared to fight to the death.

The R-5 that had just killed its blind packmate turned and sounded out that hellish attack call again. Metuu showed his large sharp front teeth, his tail swished as he prepared for the Final Battle of his life.

The R-5 stopped and looked up as a shadow passed over Metuu. The R-5 screetched as a bat'ra smashed into its skull, propelled by a Var 'flying' overhead.

Although the Var had 'wings' like bats, they really couldn't fly (well some of the Clan of War could). Zethra, the female House Guard, had just demonstrated their ability to "fall with deadly grace". She must have climed one of the nearby trees to make a falling attack like that.

The remaining R-5's had paused with the sudden appearence of another Var on the feild of battle. They turned their heads from where Zethra had landed back to Metuu and then up, waiting for more Var to fall from the sky.

Meria hauled herself and the cable from the solar array up to the top of the ridge. She stopped next to a tree and made a silent request to the Fates before dropping the tri-barrel flechette gun in her arms into firing postion. She pulled the trigger and hopped that the cobbled toether power link didn't explode on her. <Eat this you Ketra> she screamed.

The three tribarrels began to rotate, shucking of the centuries of disuse. Each barrel was a six sided rail gun that spat out a small ceramic flechette at supersonic speeds.

Meria boundeded her head up and down in joy as the weapon worked, slicing down the three remaining R-5s in moments.

******
The Karlord stat on a rock in the lava tube. The floor was now a mass of wet, volcanic black mud and muck. The fire had kept some of the ground dried out, but it was a losing battle. He looked at the twenty-eight active, living members of his House in silence for a moment.

<We have lost two of this House to the beasts of this world. One House Guard to an R-5 and another one to that massive creature, an R-9. We must awaken two more souls to help us on building a place for our House on this world.> The Karlord was obviously unhappy with a muddy cave and the situation in general. Being wet wasn't too bad to a Var, but mud tended to get int between the scales and be irritating as you moved about.

Meria stood announcing she wished to speak. <My Lord we have thought that seven souls should be awakened...>

<Seven? Seven would be an increased strain upon the surviving rations...>
The Karlord was a bit taken aback by this request.

<Yes My lord, we deisre two House Guards to replace those killed. We also desire Ketock the Narlord's Herald, Usef Zitim, two mechanics and Nafa Ukem>

Meria listed the souls that she desired. Which ment that there was an underlying plan to all of this. But the Karlord was inquisitive about some of her choices, <Shall you tell me why you want Ketock? He is in the last few centuries of his life, his service to my mate's House was considerable but...>

<My Lord, he is but a Herald now, but he was a Archeologist before he retired. He studied the past lost civilizations of the galaxy. He might...> Meria, the engineer began strong but realized she was vering into other territory outside of her expertise. However Zethra stood to explain.

<My Lord, it is obvious that our beam weapons are quite ineffective against these alien beasts. Their skin apparently can absorb the damage, repeated hits may due enough damage to kill the beasts, but they do not give us such leisure in killing them. Our present weapons that use projectiles are quite effective, but we do not have the resources at the moment to produce more projectiles for them. Only the force ring based weapons can we produce primitive ammo for but they are...too...>

<Energy consumptive...> Maria interupted.

<Yes too energy consumptive to use in the feild. They were designed as small craft based weapons...So we need to design more primitive weapons to deal with the local creatures>

The Karlord shook his head. <And Ketock would provide information upon the primitive weapons of both our own history as well as other worlds...and the others?>

The conversation continued into the night. The Var were showing a remarkable ability to adapt to the situation. Which was quite unusual for their race. Of course there was an old addage about 'Beware a Rising House' in High Var.

Meria stood up to her hips in a pool of cold water. The roar of the small waterfall splashing down behind her made talking difficult, and slowly soaked the back of her wrap. She had to shout to the Var standing quietly on the bank with a long metal pole in his hand-claws.

<Turn the valve....> She shouted moving her arms up and down. The Var with the pole shook his head and began to twist the pole. Meria could feel suction at the end of the pipe at her feet begin and shook her head.

She splashed across the rocky bottom and pulled herself from the pool. It was almost three quarters of a kilometer back to the Great Hall. She and her assistant trugged back along the side of the narrow trench that had been cut through the rocky land and thick forest here. Mariea kept an eye on the lengths of piping that was now carrying water down a shallow slope towards the new camp.

The piping had been ripped from section two of the Great Hall. The Karlord and Meria had spent the better part of a day deciding what areas on the ship were secondary and unneeded to regain the stars. Those areas were to be resorced to more urgent projects. Their internal fittings salvaged for more immediate projects.

The trench and trail ended at the edge of the much larger trench dug to the side of the Great Hall. The water from the stream poured into a large metal tank welded together. She turned and climbed down the log sides of the trench.

Usef Zitim was already there, watching the water pour out of the end of the pipe and into the large metal tank. He looked up at Meria, his youth obvious in the color of his wiskers below his chin. <Any leaks...?> he asked in quiet aprehension.
<None to speak of...well have you got the valves set?> she replied dryly

<Yes there is the minimum amount of water set going to the camp...> He pointed down the cross trench. After the disaster of the early trench, they had cut a cross trench into the slope of the hill and then sloped the orginal trench away from the Great Hall, draining the water and mud away from the buried ship. At the end of the cross trench was the new camp.

<So did Ketock's idea of making pipes of wood work?>
<We had some problems, most of the tree's here quite hard in their wood. Useful for some of the projects we have going on such as the wall project but difficult to bore a hole through...there is that pith tree...>

<The one we call 'Metuu's Revenge'...>

<Yes F-34, the one with an weak interior that can be made into that god awful glop...>

<I haven't passed the stuff yet and we ate it three days ago...>

<Hmm, yes a meal of stewed neurotoxin meat and baked tree innards that give one severe constipation...a wonderful test meal...> the Usef's destain for some of the science core, specifically Aguo was obvious in that comment.

<I need to go check on the catalytic hydrolysis system> Meria had quickly tired of the younger Var's venom towards the scienctist. Mostly she thought that it had to do with the rivialry between Ketock and Aquo that had suddenly developed. Zitim was obviously in the pro-Ketock camp.

Meria stalked her way up the trench and into the the hull of the Great Hall The sound of people working on distant projects filled the spaces. The causeway was filled with an irry blue light from the emergency lighting. She turned and went down the ladder into the belly of the ship.

Here she was greated by the sound of a roar. A large tank of water was being pumped into a chamber where it was vaporized into steam. The steam then crossed through a series of crystal tubes. The first Nafa paused and smiled at the bluish green crystals. There survival was key to producing more stores of hydrogen and relighting the fusion reactors.

<Turn on the main water pump...> she called out. Somewhere a pump turned on and more water began to fill the tank. She watched the level indicator along with everyone else.

<Level steady and holding now...> one of her section hands called out. Meria shook her head agreeing. Her tail was elongated and the tip wagging.

A young engineering Usef appeared. <Nafa Meria, here are the numbers on the hydrogen levels...> she handed Meria a rough plank with various numbers written out on it using a partially burnt stick.

<Gah, hmm Zitim's two rovers seem to be eating up a good amount of hydrogen and oxygen for their fuel cells.>

<And the Karlord wants to get something airborne to help with the food search...> the Usef added.

<The Eternals be praised, we won't be able to build up a reserve...I just don't have the water to produce the hydrogen and oxygen we're consuming.>

<Well do you want more meals of tree pulp?>

<Gah, no...the Eternals save me from that fate...I guess we can see what is surviving in the hanger...and once Zitim gets the camp completed mothball one or both of his rovers. Wait, the helium tanks are at eighty percent?>

<The gauges failed before the seals appear to have...actually the gas was leaking out of the guages.>

<Hmm...let's go find Ketock...I recall something from a history book...>

"...face was pretty chewed up, but he'll be fine, and I've sense ordered that all personel keep their helm's on while in the bush."

Samantha nodded to the Colonel's 'holo, one of 'chickens' responsible for mauling Private's face - needle-toothed, foot-tall reptilian bipeds - hanging from it's broken neck just in-fame; "Well, are they atleast edible?" she asked, shaking her head.

The lupine officer barked a laugh; "That's exactly what Private Hall asked after they finished bandaging him up; I think he's rather keen on turning the tables on the little buggers," Jackson chuckled, befor continuing, "But, yeah, they're eddible; very little meat on them, hard to catch, doubtfully common, and posessing the kind of heavy metal levels in their tissues that you'd expect from a carnivore in this enviroment, but technicly edible."

For the two days Jackson's teams had been out, scouting along the banks of the western river, the theme had been much the same; heavy metal concentrations in soil, plant, and animal well above acceptible where ever they searched - easy enough to treat, or purge from a BG processor's vats, but the only food their BGs could produce en-mass was 'paste, and these levels of heavy metals would create a host of mental problems in the developing nervous systems of children - problems they were ill equiped to treat - and that said nothing of the strain that the periodic toxin-purging of adults would place on their limited medical resources.

To make matters worse, most flora seemed poisonous to the local animals(although not to most terran life, or Draken - the designer canid-like species of which the colonists were composed, if few born), and of little nutritional value; it was BG fodder at best, and apeared to kill any fauna after a year or two of life. The result? Those 'chickens' were easily the largest animal they had yet seen.

We can't even plant our own crops in that soil without them soaking up heavy metals, damnit! Decontaminating the kind of land we'd need would take years, to say nothing of getting enough clean water... !


Sam sighed, then nodded; "I think it might be time to pack up and start sending teams further afield."

"East," the hologram agreed, "And North; up river beyond the fork. I'll have an Op plan drawn up while we finish in this sector; we can head out with fresh teams tomorrow."

"I'll see you at the evening debrife, then." She replied, waited for his acknowledgment, then killed the zip-net link; the hologram returning to map-mode, softly glowing icons representing the three Sections - 27 personel each - of Gaurd, and the civilian "specialists" that accompanied them.


Turning, she nodded to the tech who'd been waiting patiently for the later half of the prior conversation, "Yes?"

"Ma'am, we're ready to move the rest of the equipment to the CP," he replied, reffering to the semi-perminate command post she'd had errected after it had started raining last night; a lack of foresight in placment ment that the command tent was now ankle-deep in mud.

That this might not sound like a whole lot, until you realise that a Draken's digitigrade ankle is roughly a foot off the ground.

"Alright," Sam sighed, "If anyone wants me, I'll be taking lunch in the mess tent."

At his nod, she replaced her helm and steped out into the rain, starting the short hike to the tent city that was home to Alpha Site's three-hundred-some colonists.

<Your nothing but a big patu> Metuu taunted the R-5 who was standing below him. The R-5 attempted to jump at Metuu, smashing its head into the underside of the sharpened poles that formed the upperworks of the new log and rock wall of the camp. Metuu shifted his feet as the stones beneith his feet shifted. The R-5 had hit with enough force to shift the poles that were buried into the top layer of rubble interior of the wall.

There was a screetch as the R-5 gave itself a headache and dropped back onto the ground.

The poles that the R-5 had crashed into were shifted and obviously weakened from the attack. Metuu cursed the fact that they had not really found anything they could use as mortar. Zitim had solved the problem by building two log walls two meters apart and connected by a series of cross logs. The ingenious usef then filled the space with compacted gravel and stone, making a fairly strong wall capable of stopping an R-1 or an R-9. The finishing touch was a series of thick, wooden spikes that poked out at the top of the wall.

This new defense was proving quite annoying to the R-5s who had decided on Var for lunch.

<Stop playing with it...it might just find a weakness in our defenses> Zethra called out from the lookout.

Metuu looked up the long, mast like pole to the enclosed platform above. <I shall do with my dinner as I chose...> his voice carried the disregard for both Zethra and her opinions.

<Damn it, just kill the blasted thing,> Zethra called down again. Metuu seemed far more intrested in taunting it.

<Nothing but a oversized scrawney petu.> The creature looked up through the thick logs at Metuu. One could see either hate or confusion in its eyes. It turned away from the wall and trotted back into the forest.

<You are a petu...nothing but a..> Metuu was cut off by the screetching attack cry of the R-9 as it ran back out of the tree line. It made a running jump at the wall covering the the sixteen foot eight easily. At first Metuu thought it would impale itself on the spikes, but the devious creature landed between the disturbed poles; catching the ends of the pointed branches with it's upper claws.

Metuu responded,he raised the vasker up to his chest and aimed between the two crossed arms on the front. He paused unable to recall Ketock's instructions on how to fire the primitive device. But as he stepped back to use the tips of the cross arms to batter his attacker he realized that the beast was stuck. Apparently, the R-9's upper body strength wasnot enough to haul itself up. It was stuck, its legs attempting to gain purchase on air to propel it the final distance to Metuu.

A bolt from Zethra's vasker smacked into the R-9's skull with a thwack. The creature blinked for a second before it dropped down to the ground dead.

<Now you can go out of the gate and retreive my bolt and your dinner Metuu...> Zethra called down.

Metuu looked up, <I should challenge you Zethra you lost me a kill...> he called out in angry tones.

<Your not hunting Metuu, you are on guard duty> the low gravely voice added to Metuu's left. Metuu swung to look at the old Var Ketock. You could see his age in his grey wiskers, the slightly dusty appearence to the color of his scales, and the way he moved.

<Truely, I could have killed the beast easier with a proper weapon not this...this contraption of yours.> He held out the vaskar up in the air, the light shone off the two crossed metal bows at one end.

Ketock nooded, showing disagreement with Metuu's statement, and said <Metuu your ancestors fought with a vaskar for almost three millennia. It is a proud and noble weapon equal to the ba'tak. It is just unweildy to use in the closed confines of a spaceship.>

The vaskar was basily a dual crossbow, with the two bows forming an x shaped cross peice at the end. It was a fairly complicated device. Luckly Ketock had one from his days studying early Var civilization amoung his personal effects. The two reawakend machinists had been able to construct several copies out of salvaged steel and local hardwood.

Metuu stood there for a second, his tail rising up behind his back, and then it dropped. He shook his head and replied, <Perhaps...I just need to become more comfortable with it...>

Metuu looked around and then started for the ladder that led down to the interior of the fortified camp. <I shall retreive your bolt Zethra, but allow me to kill my target next time...> he called out as walked along the top of the wall. Ketock nodded and turned to watch the four Var working to reassemble the launch.

The ship's launch was supposed to be used for atmospheric work. A Frigate, being the largest Var ship capable of atmospheric entry, actually had two of them aboard. It was basicly a sixty foot grav-cutter built to either carry cargo or personel about. Lightly armed, the launch's primary mission was to service a ship in plantary port. But it was the largest craft they could get out of the hanger at present, and then only by removing the cabin from the hull, essentially moving the launch in the middle of a complete refit.

The newest addition to the launch was the large bag that was being made gas tight. With hydrogen production a problem, the launch would be far more fuel efficent being held aloft by a bag of helium gas rather than her force generators. Meria's idea was quite brilliant actually, considering the boron gas problem, whatever that was. Ketock's understanding of technology was several thousand years out of date, or perhaps not as out of date as it had once been.

As Ketock pondered upon the Fates and their obvious delight in perverting the natural order of the universe, Zitim appeared from one of the housing huts and yelled up at Ketock.

<Kemar Ketock you are requested to join the Council. There has been some disturbing information. That cobbled together A.I. has been picking up partial alien signals.> Ketock looked up to see everyone in the compound looking at the Usef. Alien Signals it ment that they did not have any idea who these alien's were. An unknown alien race in the vicinity, more complications, more trouble...

Joseph had been up for some time at that point, and from the time he opened his eyes he was bombarded with inquiries and problems. It would seem that unrest between the crew (Many of whom were working long hours of strenuous duty) had become apparent, with the outburst from the Crewman being the spark that lit the fuse. Since then an appropriate “Jail” was set up, if it could be called so. It was the chamber which once held the main FTL engine, which he had, after some contemplation, ordered to be disassembled into the component parts to be used in electronics and general maintenance, with the plus side being that the scrap created from the disassembly would provide enough material to build two other residences, which were popping up outside around the ship, since the fire had swept all vegetation and predators clear, for the moment.

I’ll have to delegate the job of overseeing the housing complexes to someone soon, we can’t have them popping up haphazardly around the ship. I don’t know how Dictators do it! All the people, all the problems, all the time!

Then, in a flash of thought, it came to him. Although the process of Pure Democracy was far since abandoned, he realized that the crew could elect there own ruling council, with Joseph as chief councilor, but it would allow him to delegate most of the issues to lesser members of the crew, then after the one and only election, the council would be set up to appoint their successor, with hereditary nominations banned unless individuals had extreme qualities suited for the position, it would be set up like a miniature version of the ruling powers back on Epsilon Prime, and it would work! He would no longer have to worry about every constant thing, and it would help shift away some of the flak he was encountering from the crew.

That settles it then, I’ll announce the date to the crew today, I just need to allocate a few more resources and settle a few more issues

As He headed to the Command Building, (which had been relocated outside of the ship into a makeshift two story structure, the move had been justified as many of the departments were beginning to be more organized and structured, which involved taking up more space, so the ruling was to move the entire branch outside of the cramped dining area which had made up of the last “command center”) he encountered the returning hunting party, which consisted of sixteen volunteers who were assigned to cover the surrounding areas in search for more edibles. However, he saw many of them had blackened, charred remains of animals that had been flash cooked as the fire had swept through the area.

“Sir!” The lead hunter saluted “It looks like the Countryside is devoid of life for the time being, all creatures living out here were toasted, they’re still largely edible, but they are a bit crispy, I would recommend detoxifying them again just to be sure, you can’t be certain whether they were cooked though by the wildfire.”

“Good, Very good” The Captain commented “I suppose you’re heading over to the Mess Hall to store those for the time being?”

“Yessir” The Hunter responded, before the team moved around Joseph and continued on their way, which relieved Joseph, he wasn’t in the mood for friendly conversation…

Once had got to the Command Building, he was again assaulted with questions and information, most of which were involving sections of the ship to strip. Long abandoning the idea of ever escaping in this generation, they had deemed the section of engineering which monitored and controlled flight as obsolete, and had stripped the area down to the bare components, which were now also being taken, largely to facilitate the rising need for construction materials. Joseph decided to take the direst of the needs first, fielding a question from a young Biologist who had been the defacto representative for the entire team of Scientists who specialized in Botany, Zoology, Etc

“Sir, William Fielding, the Chief Botanist would like to see you back aboard the ship in Science Bay 17, he says its urgent” the Spry young woman quipped, attempting to make herself heard over the din of the crowd.

“Right away” Joseph responded, seizing the opportunity to leave the building of wants and needs. Turning sharply, he quickly advanced out the door and back onto the ship, although having the same thought turning over in his head as he made his way to the Science Bays

Science Bay 17 is part of the Geology department, what’s a Botanist doing there?

Once he got there however, the answer became clear, seeing a large display of the region, he realized that directly under the base soil was a thick and impenetrable sheet of rock. Once the Scientists realized that he had arrived, the dived straight into there discovery.

“As you can see Captain, the soil isn’t deep enough to support anything but a few hardy grasses and plants, anything larger than a few dozen centimeters would be out of the question. Also, this poses the problem of soil erosion and water supply. With the scarce quantity of stabilizers such as rocks, and the recent elimination of plant life, whose roots most likely anchored the soil in place, we’ll have some serious difficulties here. Also, with the layer of rock underneath the soil, it practically eliminates the hope of finding ground water in supply to support the crew/population without serious drilling equipment, which is currently out of commission until a suitable power source can be found.” Stated one Scientist

“Our situation is dire” Started another “Although we have ample food and building materials, as well as an abundance of specialists, we have no problem adapting, but our biggest concern is the complete lack of drinkable water in the area, we’re going to have to start scouting out for more sources or else we’re going to find ourselves in a very bad situation. At our current consumption rate, we’ll be out in a few months, which gives us plenty of time, but in the long run, isn’t much.”

“What are our options?” The Captain asked

“Well, as I said, we can start scouting for more. If worst comes to worst we could fabricate water by fusing Hydrogen and Oxygen, but that is costly and consumes vital ship resources, not to mention creating unnatural water which only serves to keep life functions running.” Stated the second Scientist

“I’ll get right on it, but first, I have business to attend to, but I assure you, I’ll make it a top priority once I am finished” Joseph said, turning to leave

“Captain?” A voice quipped

“Yes?” Joseph replied, without turning to look

“Is it true what the rumors say? Are you locking up people who disagree with you?”

“That case is highly exaggerated, I’m only detaining individuals who prove a thread to themselves or this crew, or extremists who are attempting to turn the crew against me in the time of need…” The Captain angrily replied

Without waiting for a response, he left the Science Bays and headed for the Comm. Center (Formerly the Main Bridge)

Once he got there he informed the Crewman operating it that he was going to make a public announcement to the crew, since he was informed that the Internal communications system was working, that, coupled with the outside speakers which had been erected to ensure the teams in the surrounding areas would hear the message, would ensure the entire crew heard the announcement.

“Associated People’s of the Wanderer IV” He began “As you are no doubt aware, we are going to be here a very, very long time. I personally cannot hope to keep up with all the issues and needs on this ship by myself, as many of you probably know; certain aspects of this resettlement are being ignored, as I focus attention on more pressing matters. Therefore, I am declaring the formation of a ruling council, consisting of twelve members and a chief councilor, this council will first be elected, and then the ruling councilors will appoint successors on a non-hereditary basis. The councilors will take on the roles of heads of departments, which I will appoint. Once declared, the problems associated with the department will be directed to them. More formal arrangements will be drawn up once the Council is elected. The Election will take place in two weeks, with nominations no later than one week prior. The Nominations will then be submitted in written form to me, and I will create a ballot for this event. This is Captain Joseph Withers, out”

With that he ended the transmission, and moved back to his daily duties.

75 kilometers east of the LZ, Lance Corporal Steward McDonald yawned, leaning against a tree as he surveyed the jungle foothills that surrounded him.

Not that he could see very far through the lush flora, which made him wonder what the point of posting a parimiter gaurd around the field lab - habbit, he suposed.

"Eh Lance?" the call came from nearby; Private Harding by the voice.

"Yeah?"

"Permission to refill my canteen at that stream just north of us?"

"Yeah; sure," Stew nodded, then chuckled; Harding's figure resolving as he keyed his HUD's IR filter, "If yer sure you want to drink that crap, even through the filters."

The Private shruged, "Meh; I'll drop a couple extra decon-tabs into it, no biggie."

Stew just shook his head as he watched his squadmate vanish through the brush, despite the IR filters, "I was talking about the taste!"


A minute passed in relative silence, troopers making idle conversation; mostly bitching, befor a startled shout came over the comm - a string of curses and static followed.

"Harding, come in?" Stew frowned, mentally keying his zip comm; switching to radio when silence followed, "Repeate, Private Harding, do you copy?"

Cursing, the Corporal took up his rifle, "Bee-Two-Delta, on me!"

Damnit, his beacon's down! Stew mentally swore as his his men formed around him; heading off at a jog for his last logged location - running was impossible in such terrain.

"This is Beta Company to Squad Two-Delta," a voice began over Stew's zip-comm, "We've lost tracking on one of your-"

"Unknown; enroute to investigate," Stew cut the other off; he didn't have time for...


Suddenly, leaves parted, and he was standing on a gravel bank; a broad, shallow river - more of a large stream - befor him.

And on a small island twenty meters ahead, some overgrown reptile was trying to kill his friend.

Curses of disbelife sounding as his squadmates caught up, Stew droped to one knee and brought his KC-56 up; nestling the back-barrel under his arm while he brough HUD-borne crosshairs to rest on the beast's flank as it's tooth-filled maw chewed on the Private's helm and neck-gaurd, it's immense weight holding the man down as he strugled to reach the knife burried in the creature's leg - his own rifle meters away, half in the water.

A trio of thunderous cracks sounded as his "recoiless" rifle bucked, spitting .50 cal EC/R; bloody holes exploding in the beast's flank, as it tumbled onto it's side; another sharp crack sounding as the creature strugled to stand, this time from Stew's left as another man fired - creature's head exploding as the heavy round fnds it, droping the beast for good.

"Emperor... Medical Emergency!"

Meria stood in the musty passage and opened the hatch before her. It rolled out the way and the blue emergency lighting flickered on…and then flickered off again. The holotank and terminals of the space were dark and covered in dust and the small white six legged creatures labled C-1 were surrying about. She looked beyond the space into the armored computer center. The blue emergency lighting in there reflected off the black, dead computer banks, creating a bright spot in the dimly lit space.

The heavy metal blast door was locked into an open position as she had left it. The engineer looked down at the power line running across the deck and up into the central core and shook her head that it was appropriate. If Great Hall decided she wanted to be isolated from the crew, she would cut her own power line closing the blast door.

Maria paused for a second, studying the white cylinder with three blue 'eyes' set into it that was the core of the computer, the artificial intelligence unit. They stared at her, cold emotionless, lifeless. Within that cylinder, behind those three dead eyes was the electronic creature that had tried to kill her and the rest of the crew. Now it slumbered in the same eternal sleep it had forced the crew and passengers into. A slumber many would never wake up from.
Meria looked down at the base below the cylinder, where the blast hole of the Utral's beam rifle had taken out power to the core and prevented the rogue A.I. from venting their atmosphere. She felt sorrow at the loss of her captain and the Karlord's trusted advisor.

The nafa pulled from her belt a small communicator and hit the send key. The 'recharged' batteries were weak, but a scratchy voice replied, <Timpem Lasef....>
<Tmpem status on the launch?> Meria asked, her red eyes locked on the three blue ones staring back at her.

<Well we seem to be about five kospecs from being completely prepped and all systems checked.> the timpem replied. Meria could make out the noise of someone hammering on metal in the background.

<Good, hand me over to the Karlord if you would…>

<Yes sir…> The young voice vanished and the older distinguished voice of the Karlord replied.

<Well Meria how goes the project?>

<I think I have everything done properly. I have an emergency disconnect on the A.I.'s power supply here and a second one rigged at the port side door. I have checked and double checked that it only has access to the memory banks and a second terminal at the moment. .>

<Good, Good, I give my permission to proceed as you see fit Meria> the Karlord did not hesitate in giving the order.

Odd he has really stopped referring to me formally Meria thought.

Why? I mean he's not looking for…no there is no trouble between he and the Nar so…just familiarity I guess we are working together a great deal.

<Understood> she answered back, realizing she had been draining the battery as she stood there.
And why am I contemplating having…an affair with the Karlord? Perhaps I should let Metuu back into my den it would ease these urges…and perhaps stop me from…distractions

Meria turned and looked at the grey metal box newly attached to the wall. The hexagonal black button sat quietly, reassuringly. She hit the small white button above it, the switch began to glow. An hum began to form in the computer chamber as the light in those three blue eyes came to life.

<A.I. Great Hall coming on line after power failure….>
<System Check….Error…>
<System Corrupted…Access to ship subsystems compromised….>
<Alert, Virus category Veck detected….unrecognized…anti-virus system compromised.>
<System Complete Reboot in 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…>
There was a moment of silence and then a familiar voice filled the compartment
<Good Morning, Engineering Nafa Meria…Although why the epatrath I should say good morning is beyond me…>

The group of R-9s looked up from their eating at the object flying in the air. The launch's long, wide body seemed to hover below the two gray balloons of hydrogen.. The vehicle moved silently in the overcast sky. It was moving along at almost 90 knots, a crawl for the launch under normal power. The larger male R-9 huffed at the odd object and returned to grazing on the massive fern plant it was eating, deciding that the strange new bird was no threat to the females.

<There are a group of R-9's to port, appear to be eating some frond type plants.> Nafa Ukem called over to his co-pilot. The smaller Var nodded and turned to look out once again at the beauty of the lake. At over 475 kilometers long and 250 kilometers wide it was a large body of fresh water. The crew of the Hope, as the launch had been renamed, had started calling the place Pantera Lake. The four member crew was now somewhere about midway down the 'sunset' side of the lake.

The Hope was already full of various plant and animal samples. A good number of small metal tanks contained fish that the Var had captured on this trip. The Var were quite able swimmers and the fish had discovered there was a new predator in the lake. The samples were the responsibility of usef Cana, a gangly creature with overly large eyes and a decided tendency to trip over her own feet. the usef was assigned for maintaining the log of where and when various samples were found. Presently she was peering down at the black sandy beaches of the lake. Her eyes spotted something a new mammal creature grazing at the edge of a large boggy marsh. Based on the current mammal count, the creature below would be known as an M-12. And M-12 appeared to be the largest mammal they had seen on the planet.

<Captian, there is an unidentified mammal off the port bow in those marshes there. That would be M-12 sir. I think we should go down and take a look.> the usef called forward.

The Nafa looked down out of his control window and shook his head. <Alright, lets take a look…we need to drop the pressure in the bags, rig for landing.>

Two of the Hope crewmen (or Var in this case) took positions on the large wheels attached to the side of the cabin. One was mounted just behind the co-pilot's seat and the other was mounted in the stern next to where the Cana had been sitting. Cana turned and took hold of the stern wheel and called out <….Stern gas pump ready…> She heard the radioman/engineer call out <Forward pump ready>

<Acknowledged, decrease bag pressure…> the captain called out in reply.

The Var began to turn the wheels, pumping gas from the balloons overhead into the pressurized helium tanks in the hull of the craft. As the buoyancy of the launch decreased, it began to slowly descend towards the surface of the lake. The captain began to pilot the launch towards a large open area of backwater in the marshes. <Hold pumping, maintain rate of decent..>
<Forward pump stopped…stern pump stopped>

The Hope settled into the small backwater and let the friction of water and ceramic armor slow the ship. The huge moss plants of the marsh could be heard rubbing along both sides.

The M-12 looked up at the descending craft, a stem of moss with a bluish purple end it its mouth. The brown body seemed to stand still; its long ears listened to the sounds the Hope made as she shifted in the tall mash moss. The brown eyes watched the strange shape as the creature turned away slightly, incase this proved to be a predator. The radioman opened the far hatch and stepped out onto the narrow deck around the cabin. He placed his head over the cabin to look at creature, his long snout trying to get a wiff of the alien creature.
<What kind of horns are those, you know sticking up out all over the place?> the usef asked. She had never seen such an odd horn structure before.

<I have no idea…someone hand me my vaskar…> the crewman out on the deck answered. The co-pilot followed out with both his and the radio operator's weapons.
<I say we get the bugger…> the copilot stated with eagerness, he seemed restless, and was primed to go out and chase an M-12 in a good old fashioned hunt. Ever since it had been decided that there were intelligent aliens on the planet, some of the younger Var had been antsy about 'making a move'. Ukem was wishing the Karlord had not assigned Bektu to this mission. He was tending not to listen to the pilot.

<Wait…> Ukem called out as the two suddenly sprung onto the cabin roof and eached loosed a bolt at the long eared, horned creature.

The M-12 turned and made a bounding run out of the high moss and into the tall forest beyond. The two Var made a howl and scrambled after the creature.

<Damn it…> Ukem swore and got out of his seat going over to sit next to the bow gun. <I am really starting to get annoyed by those two. House Guards, more like overgrown petru…>.

The usef shrugged and went out onto the deck. She looked at the moss and nodded her head. They had seen many patches of this stuff along the lake between the shoreline and the edge of the wood. Usually there were darker green spots amongst the tall fingers of moss. As the usef pulled a tuft of moss out she notice that there were several bushes growing in the wet conditions here. They had large, cone shaped like seedpods. The plant had a woody brown stem and small dark green leaves. There were also a few smaller bushes with identical leaves, but green stems and no seedpods. The usef pulled one of each from the dark, rich muck and tossed them into a container with the sample of marsh moss. Cana would make the actual entries later when they were airborne. Right now, the sun had just come out as it was setting over the line of high mountains on the western side of the lake. One could make out their snow covered peaks as the last golden rays bounced off the white of the snow. Even here, some 200 kilometers from their base, the dormant volcanoes dominated the landscape.

In the dying rays of the sun, the Var could make out a rising plume from the other side of those volcanoes. They were perhaps not as dormant as one might first believe. Cana hid a slight shudder, she had seen the dark black, almost lifeless lava flows beyond the Black River. If the volcanoes should decide to pour their molten rock down upon them, not even the Var could survive it.

Sierra read the reports coming in from the scouting parties, it was getting late, and she had ordered the expiditionary flight to the presumed location of the ESUS Allied vessel.

Already, food stock was running low... there didn't seem to be much in the way of edible flora, and the only Gaian foods that grew in the soil were Gyshal pickles, which could grow out of rock if need be...

Research labs had already begun working on a new sensor array... this one would at least give them better coverage then the shitbox sensors that had been rigged up from the targeting systems on a demolished fighter.

"Captain, you have to come see this!" Came a voice from beyond her door. she had locked it earlier so she could have some privacy during her off hours.

Walking out onto the bridge, she saw everyone huddled around around a center console. On the screen, she saw grey sky. in the distance, on a small island, she could see debris being sucked into a great updraft...

"What am I seeing here commander?"

"A hurricane, roughly 37% of the surface area of the planet is taken up by it."

"What kind of damage can we expect?"

"Well, we should be fine, minimal damage... but anyone on the ground could find themselves in some very hot water."

"So, recall the teams."

"We already have, but the storm will overtake us in three hours... its going to take roughly 5 hours to reach the ship, even on Chocobo..."

"Damn it."


Meanwhile...
Expiditionary Flight 1

"Hey, Im recieving Comm Chatter from the TSP Wanderer."

"Good, tell them our ETA is 20 Minuites."

"Roger.... Wait, I've got a message from home..."

"What news?"

"THey say a storm is approaching the ship... when we land, we need to tell the Wanderer, and hopefully ride out it should it hit this area."

"Ok..."


"TSP WANDERER, THIS IS FLIGHT GROUP EXPD 1... WE HAVE LOCKED ONTO YOUR SIGNAL, AND ARE HEADED YOUR WAY. THERE IS A MAJOR STORM CROSSING OVER, AND THERE IS A LARGE CHANCE IT WILL HIT THIS AREA AS WELL AS OUR OWN SHIP. OUR ETA IS 17 MINUITES."

"...so I was bending down to fill my canteen, trying to keep any bugs from getting in, when the bastard pounced; felt like 'pod landed on me," the bandaged Private chuckled, shaking his head, "The thing must've slipped off my armour in the water, 'cause it was splashing around in the river a meter away when I managed ta get my head above water."

"And that's when you pulled your knife and jumped a three meter tall 'Uber Chicken'?" another Private asked skepticly from across the bar room table, reffering to the tiny, vaugly similar creatures the first expidition had encountered; amused smirk plastered across his muzzel despite the tone.

Harding laughed, "Hell no; I staggered out of the water half drowned, scrambling for my gun!" Laughter followed as he took another swig of his beer, "I'd just keyed my comm when the bugger jumped me again and tried to chew my face off, like poor Private Hall; fucked the comm befor I knew it."

The Private in question stuck his tongue out in reply from two tables over, looking no worse for his ordeal after a day of regen; laughter resounded once more, Harding continuing after it abaited; "Anyway, That's when I pulled out my knife and gave 'em what-for, just befor Micky-Dee showed up with the armoured cav'."

"And if you ever disobey a direct order again while under my command," Lance Corporal Steward McDonald piped in, "I'll do more than crush your ribs!"

Harding choaked, spewing beer; looking back at his grinning CO with a mixture of shock and disbelife.

"Don't you remember our breifing? 'Don't feed the animals'."


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


Samantha looked up from her console as the sound of massed groaning carried through her window, idly wondering if she wanted to know what the joke that spawned it was.

Smiling softly, she reached for her mug; sighing as she found it empty - frowning as she realised she'd have to watch herself if she wanted her stash of hot cocoa to last; there was no telling how long it would be until they could replenish such luxaries.

A knock at her door ended that train of thought; "Yes?"

"Ma'am," a tech began; wolven form slipping in from the central C'n'C room, "We've picked up some more radio transmissions; not just incoherent scatter this time, either, ma'am; it's pretty coherent - english, too."

"So, we aren't alone," the vixen frowned; few liked the potential implications they discussed in the last staff meeting - the colonists had few resources; if they weren't friendly... "Location?"

"South-east; airborne and moving farther east. It sounds like there are atleast two ships down, and a 'major storm' somewhere - likly aproaching. There's a full transcript on file."

Sam nodded, "Alright, thanks; keep me infomed if you hear anything else, and pass the word to keep our own radio chatter down - zip-net only except for emergencies."

Once he had left, Sam brought up the file in question.

'Major storm'. Emperor's left nut, this is just what we don't need! Most of our people are in tents - on a wide open plateau to boot!

A minute later, she was on the comm...

The small unit sat on a table made of a boad tree stump. It allowed the small wireless unit to sit above the rough plank floors of the cabin. Out of the speaker came the alien voice with the computer overlaying the erratic translation in Low Var.

Attention any and all <complete criminal> who now find themselves stranded on this <multiple swim>, this <he> Acting Captain Joseph Withers of <you> TSP Wanderer IV, we <Hail! tommorrow> landed on this <multiple swim> and <travel> ourselves without means of escape, and with <bound> supplies. If you can hear this message, and are capable of responding, please<lord>this frequency, <advance> would <baa* you> advantageous work together <but> this point, since I <together> only assume that you now find yourselves <in> the same situation I find myself <in>. If <wear away he Ah!> Spacefaring Vessel <in you park, money> this as <Ah!> distress call; we need supplies and Emergency <Property Please>. Rep<Go!>, we are <in> need of Replacement Equipment< in procreate thee> bring ship systems back <thee> optimal <stand firm>, this <he you> Acting Captain Joseph Withers of <you> Torontonian Science Program Vessel Wanderer IV of <you Union grow>cracy of Torontonias, any and all <answer> will <baa*> wel<kind>

The six Var sat upon upended logs that served as chairs and considered the small unit replaying the reconstructed, partially translated message. As the unit stopped replaying the message no one spoke for a moment. The only sound in the room was that of the converted ordinance loader moving another cut and trimmed log into postion next door.

Zethra nodded her head and said in her quiet manner, <ah computer, what does baa refer to?>

<It would appear to be a white, valuable fiber based on what little data I have>

Metuu leaned forward. <Repeat again what you said about this race from what ZLK-339> he prodded the computer.

<Ape decedents; multiple societies at war with each other; highest level of technology is iron working…>

<See, Apes…and they can't even make an understandable statement in their own language…> Metuu pointed out with eagerness in his eyes.

<This message was built up because it is continually repeating?> the Karlord changed tact, ever since Metuu had heard 'Apes' he was off on chasing them down. What for Metuu had not yet revealed to anyone.

<Yes…listening to this drivel has given me an even better reason to die…>

Meria looked at the small unit on the center 'table' before the council, <drop it…>

Ketock looked up and seemed be coming awake from his nap. <So all we really know is that there appears to be a planet produced message, repeating itself. And that the only similar language is from a non-spacefaring, iron age ape sentient.>

Metuu spoke up again, <And they are quite hostile and war loving correct?>

<It appears based on the Lord of War data that it is so…although it appears they actually removed most of the navigation data and planetary survey before releasing the information.>

<So we could be on their home world?> Mettu asked with excitement.

<Unlikely, we have not seen them and they did appear to have extensively settled their home world.> Ketock replied.

<The most likely explanation for a message on a loop is a distress call or a navigation warning> Zethra added.

<True, if they are in distress, they may be dead or so near the brink that they will kill to survive.> The Karlord spoke in thoughtful tones.

<Actually, I think it is a warning beacon, the whole criminal notation…what we can translate seems to indicate ownership as though it is warning trespassers off.> The Narlord interrupted, throwing her three bobbin in.

as the Karlord sat quietly for a moment, making his decision. No one interupted the Karlord's quiet, to do so would be disrespectful. The Karlord studied the relay back to the computer core, perhaps pondering the loyalty of the Artifical intelligence.

Metuu tried to catch Meria's eye, but Meria decided to study the crisp, tightly fitted cracks between the logs in the Karlord's cabin. She was surprised how well usef Zitim had utilized the laser cutter to square the logs and fit them together. He had even decided to cut the tops and bottoms in a slight v shape to help keep water out. The Karlord shook his head, drawing her attention back to the center of the room.

<Quite, we will keep an eye out for them, but at the moment their base appears to be far away so we can continue to build up here before we attempt any contact with these…hairless apes> the Karlord decided with little fan fare. The council had consulted and the Karlord had decided. The Var had never been big on democracy.
A thump could be heard as another 'trimmed' log went into place on the rising walls of the barracks.

<Now then about this discipline incident aboard the launch?> the Karlord brought up the next item on their agenda.

In the Comm. Center
Jeremey Wildburg sat idly at his station in the Comm. Room, which had previously been known as the bridge. He had been reassigned from his coveted First Scientist position when it was discovered that he knew more about Communication Systems and Protocols than he had first let on, from that point he had been assigned as the Chief Communications Technician, although from what he had been told, that position practically guaranteed him a position on the newly forming Council.

He had had very little to do once the Engineering Team had repaired the Communications System by augmenting the main console with parts taken from the FTL reactor and the Science Bays. All Internal and External communications were now back online, and aside from the occasional announcement, his job was mostly finished. All he had to do now was monitor the radio channels incase someone tried to contact them, although it was unlikely.

The newest project that was being tasked was the construction of a Communications Mast which would effectively boost their signal capabilities two-fold, since the ship’s short distance communication abilities was a paltry one thousand Kilometers. Once the mast was constructed, it would be erected on top of the ship, and in the future, the plan was to extend that network over the mountain which would give them communications boosts topped only Satellite or Underground networks. However, all of this fell far down the ladder of tasked needing to be accomplished at this point in time, since they only had confirmed reports of one other ship being stranded. However, today was going to be unlike any other, as Wildburg was about to find out.

All of a sudden, the console flashed to life as it detected an incoming transmission from surprisingly near by, although the exact details were unknown, the origin of the transmission was coming over the mountain range, as it played back, static crackled through it due to distortion from the mountains.

TSP WANDERER, THIS IS FLIGHT GROUP EXPD 1... WE HAVE LOCKED ONTO YOUR SIGNAL, AND ARE HEADED YOUR WAY. THERE IS A MAJOR STORM CROSSING OVER, AND THERE IS A LARGE CHANCE IT WILL HIT THIS AREA AS WELL AS OUR OWN SHIP. OUR ETA IS 17 MINUITES

This information was a boon to Wildburg, as he quickly relayed the information to the messenger of the Captain, who would be needed to greet the passengers of the vessel, or at least send a representative in his place. However, the message of a strom was unexpected, they had detected none on the Weather Beacons set up around the area, and he sent a reprimand in reply.

Flight Group EXPD 1, This is Jeremey Wildburg, Chief Communications Technician of the TSP Wanderer IV, we confirm your message, when you arrive, please land five-hundred meters away from the large building on the north side of the ship, this is the Command Center, and will minimize the distance you will have to travel on foot to meet with us. However, we do not detect signs of this “Major Storm” that you speak of, although the information has been passed along to the Applicable recipients. If you can be more specific on your arrival it would be most appreciated, however, the chances of a Major storm making it over the mountain range is unlikely.

Outside the Wanderer IV

Joseph was standing over one of the water barrels that had been left outside, awaiting transport into holding facilities; he was disturbed over the news that if they didn’t act soon, they’d find themselves out of water. Although the recent rainfall had added an additional 10% to the stores, the Specialists were still having problems predicting whether they were in a high or low rainfall area, and when the next rainfall would be.

He was also out for a walk trying to clear his mind after the Candidate list came back, when the nominations went out, they were attached with a polling of sorts to determine how popular the Captain really was, the results weren’t encouraging. As it turned out, the majority of the crew felt that the Captain exercised dictatorial power, and although they were giving him a honeymoon due to the nature of his ruling, they expressed change would be needed soon. Also, many of the Candidates were also questioning his guaranteed seat as Chief Councilor, in an attempt to gain power for themselves. However, for the time being, the Crew remained fairly docile, with the rash of detainments ending after the crew decided the Captain could enforce his rule effectively.

He glanced at the list:
Chief Councilor: Joseph Withers (Auto. [Captain])
Councilor Nominations: Jeremey Wildberg (Auto.[Chief Comm. Tech.]),
Francine Heatherington, Ralph Blanc,
Elizabeth Sherwood, Ishor Huten (Auto.[Distribution Head]), Juliet Leblanc, Peter Fellows,
Dennis May, James Guay,
Travis Jutenburg, Brian Archet,
Beverly Rice, Calvert Sommerville,
Paul Quaid, Victoria Belfast,
Jonathon Alemary, Chrispher Floyd,
Iain Fitzpatrick, Patricia Fitz and Logan Hunt
Council Seats: 13
Council Positions
Chief Councilor: Joseph Withers
Councilor of Engineering and Construction: Unfilled
Councilor of Health and Nutrition: Unfilled
Councilor of Reconstruction and Development: Unfilled
Councilor of Energy and Supply: Unfilled
Councilor of Domestic Affairs: Unfilled
Councilor of Communication and External Affairs: Unfilled
Representative of the Crew: Unfilled
First Councilor: Unfilled



This will help immensely The Captain thought Not only will I be the Chief Councilor, I will be able to assign my duties to lesser councilors, so I’ll be able to spend more time consolidating my position. Although the Council positions were far from complete, it was deemed that those positions were most important, with the other five councilors overseeing whatever was assigned to them.

He had recently announced the positions and what was meant by them, although the names clearly stated the responsibilities of the seat. Once the Councilors were elected, he would appoint the positions based on ability, once that was dealt with, he could reassign his mantle of responsibility and operate on his accord. His first order of business was to go with the hunting party once the transfer of power was complete.

Jospeh was appreciating an errant weed that was cropping up out from under the ship, a Fern which had been identified as a hardy resident of the planet, the Science teams had been reporting all sorts of small growth since the brush fire, however, instead of grass, the characteristic fiddle head of a growing fern were appearing, which seemed to have been picked up by the ship during reentry. They were now appearing around the plateau they found themselves in. He was discovering new things every day. Today would be no different.

While he was admiring the plant, Gail Johnson, the Captains appointed “Errand Boy” came up from behind:

“Captain?” Gail inquired, panting from the run “Message from the Comm. Room, they say we’re about to have visitors. I got the landing point and was told to tell you that you need to make your way there post haste!”

“Really?” The Captain gasped, rather amused “They really were sending a team up? That means they must be close by, or at the very least, possess some sort of craft capable of ferrying goods from one point to another” he stated

After dismissing the messenger, he returned his attention to the plant, annoyed that his solstice was being interrupted, he determined from that point to make the Torontonians like the plant, supposedly crushed by insurmountable odds, but managing to push their way back out from under and start a new prosperity. He then turned to make his way to the coordinates Gail had left him.

Below, the massive hulk of the downed vessel could be seen. Switching to repulsors, it stopped in mid air, and began to slowely drift down, and landed near the building as commanded.

Stepping out, Dirk Tarlinson detached his combat Neuro Pulse Rifle and put it away. Leaning back, the raptor waited for a representative from the torontonias ship.



Holding on to the saddle of the chocobo, Sara could feel the wind ripping at her sides, had it not been for the harness she had rigged up, she would have been ripped right from the saddle of the large yellow bird. She had become seperated from the rest of the group almost 10 minuites ago, and was just trying to escape the storm...

Ahead of her, she could see an overhang. The large bird jumped over a fallen tree, but snagged on a vine, and crumpled in a flurry of yellow feathers. Sara quickely undid the harness, and began to drag her feathery companion under the overhang... looking down, she saw a white, sharp bone protruding from the bird's powerful leg.

Her first instinct was to pull out her rifle... her second was to retrive her medical pack. Injecting an ammount of sedative, the bird lost it's ability to keep it's head up, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

OOC: I won't be posting for awhile, so yeah..

IC: The people had died. Died extensively, in fact. A huge tornade had ripped up two of the ships, and dumped them in the water. The third one was merely damaged beyond repair, and sat on a cliff, as the numerous kttaru gathered 'round, waiting for the humans to venture forth for food..


Emergency Message: Two-thirds of our crew have been lost, and we are surrounded by large raptor-beasts, and the Technomancers who controlled the power to repel them is dead. A huge hurricane ripped us apart, and we wish for assisstance. If anyone has the ability to facilitate four hundred humans, please indicate so. My god! They're tearing away the armour! Please! We're screwed! Argh....

The kttaru had begun tearing away the outer armour, and finding a way into the ship. These two-leg warm-bloods had caused them much pain, the most of any species, and they were determined to eliminate them, before they could cause any more. Although their claws were unwieldy, they would eventually tear away any and all un-bolted sheets of armour, and it was only a matter of time before they reached the inside of the ship...

OOC: I'm a little tired of RPing lots of people, so I'm going to kill half of them off, and leave me with a crew of fifty or so, fighting for their very survival, against nature.

The Mind knew the instant it happened. Something had gone seriously and horrendously wrong. Exactly what, however, remained unknown, since all the ship diagnostic monitoring systems reported system normal.

The crew started to realise that all was not as it should be when, about three minutes later, the ship failed to drop out of the wormhole and re-enter normal space. To a person, the Indoan method of wormhole transit felt no different to moving through normal space, but it did induce a minor tingling sensation in all the nerve endings along the spinal column. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, far from it, but it was noticeable, and when it failed to disappear on schedule, people started to wonder why.

The INV Forgaies, the Indoan Navy’s newest combat frigate, had initiated a routine inter-system worm-jump as part of its transit between the Indoan home system and that of a new ally, an initial diplomatic relations visit if you will. What had happened now, though, was anything but routine.

The frigate’s bridge crew appeared, making their way to their stations. Under normal flight conditions, the crew were quite happy to allow the Mind to run the ship, they only assumed their stations under combat or other non-standard conditions. Their current situation fell firmly into the latter category, although no-one quite knew why yet.

Before any of the crew could address the ship’s Mind, it made an announcement over the Crew Address system.
“Attention, all personnel. Attention, all personnel,” called the silky female voice. “We seem to have hit a problem during the worm-jump. Details are as yet unknown, but as of this moment all systems are running normally. When I have more information, I will let you know.”

This Mind had a policy about running a ship: It would keep the crew honestly informed at all times, never deceiving them or only revealing part of the truth. If they were thrust into a situation where survival was hopeless, it would tell them so, and help them deal with all that entailed.

“What’s happening, Forge?” asked the frigate’s CO, who shared command with the Mind.

“I am currently attempting to answer that question myself, Commander. A little more time would be appreciated,” the Mind replied in clipped tones.

Commander Talmar was surprised by the response. It was as close as the Mind had ever come to sounding annoyed, but there was something that surprised him even more. The Mind thought approximately a trillion times faster than organics, finishing in picoseconds what took even the most mentally agile Matrai only a few seconds. A Mind asking an organic for more time was unheard of. They were in trouble, he realised belatedly.

The Mind was back within seconds, however, this time with the answer. “It appears, Commander, that we have been affected by a massive hyperspatial energy release near us, probably a supernova near a black hole, and the corresponding shock wave has altered our course.”

Talmar and most of the bridge crew showed confusion. “So, where are we going now? Can you stop us?” he asked.

“I do not know where the ship will reappear, nor can I safely return us to real space. I could try and open a premature exit to the wormhole, but this would likely result in our destruction,” answered the Mind. “Unfortunately for us, our only option is to see where Hsu is taking us.”

While the bridge crew contemplated what that statement entailed, the Mind addressed the entire ship again.

“Attention, all personnel. I have a situation update. It appears our transit through hyperspace has been affected by a massive energy release. This has altered our course and we are now heading for an unknown destination. There is no safe way for me to forestall this, so we are all going along for the ride. That is all.”
---

Six Days Later

The crew were restless now. Nerves had been on edge ever since their forced change of destination. Now, as more and more time passed while still travelling through the wormhole, many were finding it increasingly hard to sleep.

It took twenty-two hours, seventeen minutes and three seconds exactly to cross the extent of the galaxy known to many, but not the Indoans, as the Milky Way using the Indoan Worm Drive. They were all painfully aware of how far they were currently travelling. The bridge was permanently deserted now, since the Mind had opted to display a running timer on the main screen, counting the exact amount of time they had been travelling through the wormhole. None of the crew wanted to see the timer, since it represented exactly how far away from home they were.

Even the ship’s avatars, when they weren’t under direct control of the Mind, appeared subdued and worried about their predicament. Commander Talmar hoped they would return to real space soon, otherwise members of the crew would start having mental breakdowns. There was no way for them to contact anyone while engaged in a worm-jump, but by now High Command must have realised something had gone wrong. Every Indoan Naval vessel was supposed to check in with Naval Command every six and one quarter hours, or four times a day. Missing one or two check-ins was no real cause for concern; it just meant the ship’s Mind was preoccupied with something. It almost never meant the ship was in trouble, because at the first sign of real danger any Mind would call for reinforcements, even if they knew it wouldn’t be there for nearly a whole day.

But missing six days worth of check-ins, now that would have caught Command’s attention. They would be aware that something must have gone seriously wrong. Talmar had discussed this with the Mind, but they had concluded sombrely that a search vessel would be able to find no trace of the event that had altered their course, and that Command, after much effort, would eventually label the incident as unknown, with the ship listed as ‘Missing; Presumed Lost’.

Talmar was on the observation deck, staring out at the whirling mottled blues of the wormhole, when the ship suddenly and without warning dropped back into real space. The whirling blue wall vanished in a burst of white light and resolved itself into a starscape. He felt relief, as did most of the crew when the tingling sensation along their spines disappeared for the first time in six and a half days.

Unfortunately, the Mind was anything but relieved. It had checked all its databanks, and the starscape was completely alien. It couldn’t even locate their Galaxy, let alone their home star of Indo. They were completely lost in some far-flung corner of the universe, and if they didn’t know where they were in relation to home, there was no way they were going to get back there.

They had another problem too. The wormhole had dropped them so close to a planet that the ship was being pulled down by the gravity. The number two fusion reactor was showing various warning messages, so the frigate did not have the power available to escape the gravity field. They were going to crash, and there was nothing they could do about it.

The Mind launched a number of reconnaissance probes while it still could, then prepared the ship for the descent through atmosphere. It announced their situation over the Address system and told all personnel to prepare for impact. The frigate’s shields abated the fierce heat produced by the friction of a steep descent, at least for a while. When they collapsed, the heat began searing the underside of the frigate, destroying most of the emplacements and systems. The frigate was never meant to enter atmosphere, and had no flight control surfaces or even anti-grav cells. The ship streaked across the sky like a blazing meteor, the molten underside flying off and adding to the fiery tail as it fell.
---

When it finally hit the ground, it was on the edge of a lake. It hit the ground first, gouging a huge furrow with its bipyramidal hull. Then it was in the lake, a huge bow wave preceding it as the immense weight of the water and friction from the lake bed brought the frigate to a stop. As the water around it boiled and frothed from the disturbance, the Mind had Emergency Action matters to attend to. The No.2 fusion reactor was now going critical and, with no way to stop the reaction at this point, the Mind was forced to activate the Displacers and dump the reactor in space, where it exploded with a blinding flash.

When the waters settled, it turned out that the Forgaies was eight hundred metres or so from the edge of the lake, and its 452m long hull was half submerged, the twin bow prongs completely so. Already, hull breach warnings were blaring in the bows and most of the compartments on the ventral surface, and it was fairly safe to assume that they were now full of water. The evacuation notice went out across the ship.

The breeze out of the south was cool, and it whipped around the walls of the unfinished barracks with a vengeance. Aquo shuddered as the wind gusted and pushed around his toga. <May the Eternals rot that we have little in the way of cold weather supplies remaining> Actually, there were some heavy thu overcoats but at the moment they were having all of the blood sucking creatures that had nested in them removed by a good boil.

Aquo finished the brisk walk to the hall. The Hall of the camp was an octagonal pavilion. Like most buildings in the camp it was roofed using two layers of rough planks, the second layer being centered over the cracks in the first layer. The Hall had a wooden floor that had three levels, the outer level being the highest and then lower tiers as one neared the fire pit in the center. One of the off duty Guardsmen sat quietly next to the fire, poking it with a stick. The space smelled slightly of burning amber and smoke, which seemed to keep the annoying blood sucking bugs away.

Aquo paused and signaled morning welcome to the House Guard. The young Var returned the greeting. Aquo turned towards the kespa or kitchen built next door.

The kespa was a pavilion similar to the hall. Here the post and beam structure only held up a roof as the floor was just compacted dirt. The sound of someone beating on metal filled the air and got louder as Aquo entered the kespa; the sound was from one of the workshops at the 'ship' end of the camp nearby. He approached Ketock who was doing morning duty as both cook and quartermaster. The old var opened one eye as Aquo approached. Ketock was perched on the end of the wooden water trough next to the cooking grate.

<Ah good morning Kemar Aquo,> Ketock said it in a bright tone.

<It is quite cold, Kemar Ketock> Aquo answered back. <What have you on the grate?>

<Why don't you recognize it, it is boiled root of HJ-789 with boiled leaves of HJ-109 with just a sprinkle of buds from HJ-900.>

Aquo paused trying to recall the various cataloged species. The root of HJ-789 had proven to be a semi-decent source of carbohydrate, if you didn't mind that it also contained a powerful diuretic. HJ-109 leaves contained a serious poison, and the buds from HJ-900 contained a completely different toxin.

<Are you trying to kill me?> Aquo asked in all seriousness as Ketock rose and pulled a clean bowl and cup from the pile on a nearby table.

<Only if her ladyship is trying to wipe out the camp.> Ketock replied as he began to take two of the large, orange, steaming tubers out of a metal pot on the grate and into the bowl..

<This is going to…> Aquo started…as Ketock handed him the bowl and his morning ration of food.

<It has been left in fresh water for two days, and then in the milk of that god awful constipation tree for another day and then boiled in salt water.>Ketock informed him, pushing the bowl into Aquo's chest until the younger var finally took hold of the bowl.

Aquo paused for a moment looking at his morning meal, <It would loose a good deal of nutritional value but also the worst side effects…but the…>

<We are calling it Ribbon Wood tea, and it is only poisonous if you forget one of the ingredients>
Ketock added as he poured a cup of the hot drink into a cup and then handed it to Aquo.
.
<Because the two toxins counteract each other…but why…I mean…calcium and…oh the stimulant>
Ketock nodded in reply but was wondering what Aquo was doing all day. But then the Narlord was a bit more knowledgeable about Var physiology as a medical Kemar. Aquo was a what a plant biologist?

Aquo nodded and returned to the hall where he sat down at the edge of the lowest level near the fire. The House Guard said nothing, just allowing Aquo to eat in semi-comfortable silence. The tubers tasted like, well they tasted salty whatever the taste was like. The tea was quite pleasant actually, slightly sweet and dense. It looked like mud, but was quite good actually. Aquo finished his meal and placed the used dishes on the clean up bench with the mass of those from the morning watch. He winched as he remembered he had dish duty tonight. It appeared that the tea left a sticky mess in the cups.

Aquo walked back past the barracks building, side stepping the rover pushing a set of cut logs up to it. The barracks were almost completed. Right now the building team was putting up the rafters and cross rafter to mount the roof boards to.

Wood and rock were the only two things they had tons of, besides bugs.

Aquo wondered if any of the classified but unstudied bugs running about would make a good food supply source. He opened the door to the lab and walked into the relative warmth of the unheated log cabin. Aquo smiled that he had the space alone to himself at the moment. The Narlord was likely off supervising something. He looked down at his notes and then turned to the next item. It was a bush with large green seedpods.

The kttaru continued their relentless attack, as the seventy-four people remaining, huddled inside the bridge, the Technomancer lying dead on his chair, a trickle of dried blood on his face, the damaged apparatus atop his head.

Javik, a simple farming man, one who had little knowledge of the world, or, rather, this world, was the only one in the room with any potential, or 'talent', to use the amplification device. His wife was now dead, and the fifty-odd women inside the room were screaming, neverendingly, it seemed.

He sighed, and began to walk towards the body of the Technomancer, unnoticed. The kttaru were now ripping at the door, and the half-closed blast door would do no good. He saw a claw rip through the last of the metal, and knew they would be in within half a minute.

He put the helmet on, and felt a rush, a surge of power, flow into his veins, as if he could do anything. He concentrated slightly on the kttaru near the door, and willed it to die. Its body was ripped apart, blood, bones, and organs tearing themselves apart in a mad fury, and collapsing onto the floor.

He selected another, and simply made a small incision, into its neck, and it could not breathe. It fell to the ground, and died. He began to feel a peverse pleasure at killing these creature who had slaughtered so many of his friends, and overloaded five's nervous system, watching their brains simply shut off, as the pain was too much to bear.

He then created a whirlwind of fire, and watched them burn, coldly, as he opened the doors, and ground those who attempted to enter, into smithereens. He smiled, and spoke. "My people. We are free from those monster. Gather the meat, and go down the Place of Whiteness. There, you will find the reproductory units. Begin creating children from there, whom will grow within a few months. We shall survive"

His mind, so simple a moment before, suddenly had terabytes of information shoved into by the AI, and he knew everything, everything, about the ship. He moevd his mind, trawling through the newly-found data, and activated the auto-defense systems.

He touched two of the women, and transferred his knowledge to theirs. They would now fix what they could of the ship, and hopefully, get it working again. He longed to see Beryl, the planet from which, his knowledge told him, he had originated.

Sliding through the blackness of space, the large ship seemed to sit still. That was deception that could not be very well seen due to the vastness of space. The ship itself was at full power, its advanced ion engines propelling the ship at 50% the speed of light itself, without the use of Faster Than Light systems.

It has taken the ship several days to reach its current speed, and will take several more days to reach 70% the speed of light, the fastest that ship could run without busting a few casket and overloading the engine matrix, which in turn would cause the ship to detonate in a spectacular display of blue and orange fire.

Inside the ship was a crew of ten men and one woman. This number to ship size ratio was seemingly grossly under manned, as the ship itself was as long as an early 21st century oil tanker. The ship was in fact mostly automated, but just had a human crew there to fix major malfunctions. The huge ion drives took up the last fifth of the ship, the middle 3/5th’s was devoted to storage of valuable minerals, and the rest of the ship other systems and crew quarters. This ship was in fact an extremely long-range transport/mining vessel, on its way back from a large mineral rich asteroid to its home world.

The captain, adorn in a sloppy white shirt, blue jeans and a ball cap, sat lazily in his captain’s chair, occasionally itching his leg with his cowboy boots, or scratching at his crotch with a lone finger. The captain looked no more than 30 years old. The engineer, looking substantially older than the captain, inching into his 60’s, boredly looked over systems, and sighed. The navigator, a female well into her 20’s looked over he console at the front of the ship, constantly watching outside monitors, and regulating engine speed, and the whole sha-bang.

The rest of the crew, eight other younger men, were busying themselves cleaning the ship, eating, and otherwise causing ruckus on their long journey of nine months.

“Capt’n, seems to be a minor malfunction in the leveling systems for the ship, weight distribution is off by .0024 of a pound.” Half-mumbled the engineer, still looking extremely bored.

“Again? Sonova-…” The captain dipped his head down to an arm rest and tapped in a few keys, then spoke into the rest. “One of you snot-nosed punks go and check out the aft-starboard weight… distribution… thing.” He said with a hint of playing around.

Near the end of where the crew quarters were, was a very young man looking about 17, thin framed glasses and dark auburn hair. “Yeah sure, old git!” he replied to the com, with no hint of playing around. “What the hell did I do to get stuck in here…” for a second he thought, “Oh yeah… that’s what I did…” With a mope he made his way to the machinery near the back of the ship in hallways you can barely walk straight in.

Back on the bridge, the captain started to stand up, “I’m gonna go drain the lizard.”

“You do that,” replied the navigator.

The captain had just gotten around back of his chair when he was jolted to the floor, smashing his head into the cold hard steel of the floor. With drowsy confused eyes he tilted his head and looked up, and attempted to push himself up to at least sitting. What he heard frightened him.

“What the hell is that?!” “Looks like a hole.” “Out here? Black hole?!” “No no, black holes don’t have color!” “What ever the hell it is it’s pulling us in!” “Kill the engines!” “I did, nothing is happening!”

As he looked up towards one of the monitors in the front of the ship, he almost crapped himself. The ship was heading into this magnificent hole, this rip in space.

They started to tumble, the ship creaking and almost rending itself apart. Like a toy it flew into the abyss.

The Burmecian shivered as the cold wind continued to assault her and her companion... She had set the broken bone, and applied the BIOBOND to strengthen it... but it would be atleast two days before the Chocobo could ride again.

Listening to the wind as it whistled past, she saw trees come unrooted, and even rock went flying by...

Digging into her provisions pack, she pulled out a small red cylender, and pulled the tab on it. Hopefully the ship could get a lock on her soon, and get her out of here..

Suddenly, it became very quiet, after many hours of sitting, it was strange to stand and go outside. She looked up to see a great calm...

"Great Reis..."She murmered...

Space and time was ripped asunder, the wormhole slicing a gash open in space, and spitting out the remains of the miner ship. Flipping aft over bow, the ship hurdled out of the wormhole and towards a green planet with water and ice on the polar caps.

“Stabilize, stabilize!” yelled the captain, who had come back to consciousness midway through the wormhole.

The female and the engineer frantically worked over their consoles. “Stabilizers are shot! Ion drives are down! Main reactor at 19% charge! Goddamn! Everything is going down!”

“Goddamnit! Where are we shooting?!” barked the captain.

“If this fecking ship would stop flip flopping!” the navigator smashed at the console, finally getting a read out. “Shit! Heading towards a planet! We are getting close, about to enter the atmosphere!”

“Feck!” Scurrying back to his chair, he groped for his arm-rest and hit the ship’s internal communication array. He prayed they still worked. “Prepare to make planet fall! Strap in and hold on to your asses!”

The younger crew rushed for what ever they could. Some went into their bunks and just held on to their beds. Others found seats, and braced themselves on them. In the back, the boy with the glasses was unconscious, oblivious to what was going on.

As the ship thrusted into the atmosphere, bits and pieces started to fly off the ship. Metal bars and hull sheets split and rended off, the G-forces and wind twisting steel like it was paper.

At this point the crew were being pushed into their seats, the 0-G environment gone, and replaced by excessively high forces. The captain closed his eyes and just waited for it to end.

On the top of the ship, the long narrow toxic liquid container started to split open, inside an extremely flammable pure gas, meant to fuel furnaces on the home world.

One little spark, twisted metal thrashing into other metal, sending a spark into the liquid, then… boom.

With a fury not seen before on such a thing as a mining ship, a bright white-yellow fire exploded into the air. The fireball consumed the ship, and several meters of air around it. The fire was so furious and massive for so little fuel, that it could probably be seen by that third of the hemisphere.

It was miraculous when the ship slammed into a large open plain, splintered into firey pieces, settled… and remained somewhat intact. Almost as quickly as the flames had started, they were out.

Klaxons blared throughout the ship after the impact, and the bridge lighting went out, replaced with red battle lighting. Within seconds, the emergency lights were also on, soft white light emanating from the lights embedded in the floor. Commander Jona Talmar found himself lying against a console on the other side of the bridge, where he had been thrown by the impact. Fortunately for the bridge crew, almost all of the fittings in the bridge were firmly attached to something, so no-one had been hit by heavy objects.

“Everyone alright?” called out Talmar. He stood up, pulling himself upright using the console as a support. The fingers on his left hand hurt painfully, probably broken when I hit the console, he realised. The rest of the bridge crew were also climbing to their feet.

“I think I might have broke my arm, Sir,” reported a young officer, Captain Gouma. Talmar’s first officer, Colonel Sophia Manasi called out, “Ryman’s got a broken rib.” The rest of his bridge crew seemed unhurt except for minor injuries.

“Attention, all personnel. Evacuate the ship through the dorsal hangar bay and observation decks. Attention, all personnel. Evacuate the ship through the dorsal hangar bay and observation decks.” The message had been repeating over the Address system since the ship had come to rest, but Talmar heard it for the first time now.

“Forge,” he said, “What’s our status?”

“Please evacuate the ship, Commander. We can go over our status once all personnel are safe,” answered the Mind. Talmar was surprised by the response, but it made sense.

“Come on, people. Let’s get out.” The bridge crew carefully made their way up through the ship to the observation deck where Talmar had been as the ship returned to real space. Several of the thick transparent plates had been removed, and people were climbing out through the gaps on to the exterior of the hull.
---

Four hours later, things had calmed down somewhat. The air was breathable and the gravity near enough to their normal so that any difference was unnoticeable. The crew were sitting around on the frigate’s hull, around the remaining weapon emplacements and scorched armour plating.

Talmar had his senior officers together, and they were discussing their options. The Mind had counted a total of 726 survivors from the original complement of 623 crew and 240 troops. Some of those survivors had been trapped within the ship, and the Mind had had to use some of its drones to rescue them. Many of the survivors were wounded in one way or another.

They were also working out what systems still worked on board the ship. Much of the bows and the compartments along the lower hull had been ruptured by the crash and were consequently flooded, including two of the ship’s three hangar bays. Fires started by the crash had caused more damage, and the simple impact shock had also caused extensive damage in various places.

The ship’s fusion engines and reactors had been shut down before moments before impact to prevent a major accident, but the engines were now completely flooded, and there was therefore, no hope of restarting them. The two remaining reactors were both able to work at nearly full power, so they currently had plenty of energy if needed.

All of the equipment, be it shields, weapons or sensors, on the ventral hull had been destroyed by either the impact or the heat during re-entry. For some reason, all the other shields currently weren’t working either, as if the loss of the ventral projectors had somehow fused the system.

Of the frigate’s weaponry, consisting of lasers, missiles, plasma cannons and rail-guns, about a third of its original total still worked, although the plasma cannons had all gone, lost to the heat. The sensors worked, as did the entire comm suite.

Strangely enough, the wormhole actuator which had partly caused their predicament was working perfectly, but unless a miracle put the Forgaies back into space it was useless. Much of the artificial gravity system was offline, as were the magnetic containment fields used to keep the atmosphere in the hangar bays. Life-support, climate control and lighting all seemed to be working, as did a host of other minor systems.

Now they were taking about other things, not ship systems, but their materiel position. The number of officers present at Talmar’s initial council was limited to himself, Colonel Manasi, Lt. Colonel Alexin Lexna; OIC of the Forgaies’s Ranger detachment, Colonel Cheanna Rapsoli; OIC of the Air Force contingent, Lt. Colonel Daniel Sheppard; chief engineer, Major Vetai Solis; chief communications officer and senior Douran crew member and Major Jenato Ghul-Fayun; chief quartermaster and senior Raishuv crew member. Also present was one of the ship’s avatars, Crystaphosai.

“Alright, people. It’s my guess we’ll be here for a while. What’s our food status like?” asked Talmar. His fingers were splinted and bandaged now, by one of the Ranger medics.

“Not as good as it could be,” answered Jenato. “A number of the storage rooms were affected by the fires, and initial inventories show that we have enough food left, given the reduction in crew numbers,” this phrase was spoken with a strong hint of sadness present in his deep voice, “for about three weeks, at most. I suggest organising parties to search for food on the planet, since we could be here for a very long time.”

“Okay, I want you to see to that. Now, what’s our defensive status? We don’t know what we might encounter here, so we need to be able to defend ourselves,” continued Talmar.

Lexna handled that one. “Well, I’ve lost forty-three of my Rangers, and the primary armoury is flooded. However, the secondary is secure, so we still have a sizable amount of weaponry. We may be able to recover some equipment from the primary, but whether or not it’ll work, I don’t know.”

“Colonel Rapsoli, what about your craft? How many are operational?” asked Talmar.

“Right now? None,” she replied honestly. “The bow hangar’s flooded and the belly one’s both flooded and buried. The spine hangar’s okay, but the ships got thrown around in the crash. We had eight Kestrels, two Assegais and two Varias in there. Of the Kestrels, one we can almost certainly get working again, two more there’s a good chance we can fix, and a fourth we may possibly get working if we cannibalise the others. The transports, one of the Assegais has had it, it’s dead. The other has been seriously damaged, but my chief mechanic swears he can get the AG unit running, even though two of its engines have been destroyed. The Varias, I’m not sure on. I think they were fixable, but I’ll have to check.”

“Okay. So we can eat for a while, and defend ourselves if necessary. Now, where are we?”

“We don’t know, Jona,” replied the avatar, usually known as Crysta. “We’ve travelled so far that Indo is not visible to us. Because of this, we don’t even know which direction it is in. We could be virtually anywhere in the universe, but wherever it is, it’s a very long way from home. What we do know, is that this is the second planet in the system. Coincidentally, one day is the same length as back home, and the year is ten days shorter. If you want more data I can show you the readings from the probes.”

“Any chance of communicating with home?”

“Unfortunately not. If we can’t lock on to a receiver, then we can’t use the LWC array. That means we’d have to use speed of light communications and, based on how far we are from home, by the time it reaches home, our civilisation will have probably died out, along with our star. I hate to say it, sir, but I don’t think any of us will ever see home again,” finished Solis bluntly.

There was a moment’s silence as the reality of their predicament sunk in, then Talmar spoke again.
“Well, our first priority is to find a way to get everybody to the shore, and set up camp. We also need to salvage whatever we can from the Forgaies, and get that out too. We may be stuck here, but we can make the best of it, okay people? Let’s go,” he ordered, ending the meeting.

"half of the sensor grid in this area is down. Again. And we're escorting the sizable, and appealing maintenance fleet required to patch this grid back up. Again. Because apparently command thinks we didn't get our fill of high adventure last time. Grand. But it's a living... isn't it?" these were the thoughts given voice of Myotai, captain of the vessel Identity Crisis, a Hagar class carrier vessel.

She was a typical Jordaxian, unusually tall to the order of some thirteen feet, and very, very thin. Her hair was tied in a ponytail that dangled simply down past her shoulders. On her body were the deep, velvety purple robes of the Jordaxian navy. Her eyes were deep blue, and set deep back in their sockets.

"So then, when will we be meeting with our little friends?" she asked the sensors officer, Shosan.

"Eh, they should be here right now, but I'm not picking up anything... they are sublight though, there's a lot of things might distract them on the way. I'd say anything up to 6 hours, given the distance and their speed."

"Wonderful. May as well get comfortable then."

Ah.
"Ah."

"That's not just handy coincidence between you and Shosan, is it, ISIS?"

I don't believe so. I was just glancing over the sensor logs, and it seems that we have an incoming event.

"I take it it's "heading right for us"?"

It's that obvious?

"You wouldn't have said "Ah" otherwise. How long do we have?"

...4 seconds?

"Ah. Oh dear." Those were the last words to come out of Myotais mouth. The event swallowed them, blacking out the ship in a swirling puddle of darkness.

When everything returned, it was an odd sight indeed. Instead of the comparatively featureless blank of the outer-sol starscape, the view was filled with objects. A bright sun was the most obvious, and visually painful thing.

Oh, you're all back. Pleasant sleep, captain?

"Don't. Start, ISIS. Where the hell are we?"

Who knows, Captain. We could be anywhere. Very little chance for rescue, unless Pluto gets swallowed too. I live in constant hope. You've been out for about four hours. I should warn you, we're about to make planetfall, on a planet considerably larger than Pluto because I've only got enough engine power to make sure we don't burn up. That means PPGs all round. I've put up personal fields where I can... I can't see half of the ship though. We must've sustained a lot of damage. I've been blaring loud messages though. Everyone should be able to hear it. If they're awake. Aside from that, I'd suggest you strap in. Would you like me to put the descent up on the big screen?

still groggy, Myotai responded.

"No. Just land us safely, please."

Okie dokie, here we go.

The collosal bulk of the Identity Crisis entered the very edge of the atmosphere. Below it, a small island chain, surrounded and divided by clear blue water. Framing the scene were overcast, dull grey clouds, that seemed to have parted to let the plummeting ship through. Slowly, the underside of the vessel began to turn red, as it struck the atmosphere dangerously fast. Applying plumes of engine thrust, ISIS skillfully reduced the speed of the ship, aiming it at the water. Whilst still moving quickly, its massive size gave the ship an odd grace to anyone that seen it. Since ISIS dropped a few probes to "survey the landing area" minutes before Myotai awoke, they could capture the scene. It would be quite a sight. Descending now at a constant speed, it narrowly overshot a craggy hill that tipped a tiny island. Since there was so little risk associated with the drop, ISIS had taken cinematic liberties. Splashdown happened relatively quickly however. As the ship impacted, clouds of water vapour shot up and enshrouded the vessel, caused by the indescribable heat on the underside, coupled with the fact that a rock as big as this will make quite a splash. It would have made a far bigger one, had ISIS not controlled it with a flick of the eggshields, a smothering, intense layer of gravity pulling the waves back towards the ship until they calmed. That was the fun part over, though. They'd be here for the long haul.

Tell me, captain. the cameras on the bridge focusing in on the captains head, just to see the response. Her face was less than pleasant at this time. Are you fond of fishing?

She vomited on the floor. Messily.

<May the eternals be forever damned by their creation of this planet's horrid muck> Metuu said in the early morning hours. He was standing in a deep pool of water washing himself off.

<Well besides you having to thrash about in the mud like a prepu worm, how else did the trip to the lake go?> Meria asked, she was lounging naked on a large rock overhanging the pool. Her tail was curled around her legs enticingly.

<Pah, Aquo is a bekter. And what in the hell do we need to go pull a bush that grows in a marsh for?>

<You and I both know the plants potential. If these samples from a second location sustain Aquo's original results then perhaps we can...>

<Live on this planet? As long as there are aliens who are not rulled by the Var then…>

Meria turned on her back and started up into the sky, she gave a grunt of annoyance.

Metuu began to back pedal as he realized his venting was loosing him his present goal. He pulled his long, body out of the water and onto the rock.

<Yes we are not strong enough to deal with these aliens yet. So tell me how goes the rebuilding of the second launch?> Meria seemed to have a weakness for small craft. So Metuu was stroking her internal engineer as he sat down on the rock next to her to let himself dry in the cool morning air.

<Ah, well we're moving faster than we did on the Hope, the Napa should be ready to sail into the sky in three or four days. And we may build a third launch out of wood..>

Metuu turned towards her, his body lanquage said that he was acutally curious about this development<Build a third?>

<Yes, Metuu out of wood, my building crew is getting very good working with laser cutters and crafting things out of local woods.>

<So it would be a wood hulled launch? What would propel it?>

<Hmm that is the one sticking point at the moment, but Zitim wants to try and build a steam engine…>

Metuu blinked, <What? I mean come on that is so...ancient...the Var have not used steam to propel somthing since the days of the Four Empires>

<Well it would be quite useful at the moment…with us just squeaking by to generate enough hydrogen…>

<Which is a limitation of this blasted stream, why don't we divert more water…> Metuu interrupted. The whole buisness about water and power was becoming another sore spot with him.

<Primarily sediment, if we take too much water you'll be drinking crap from the top of that mountain range.> She pointed up to the white peaks that were just visible through the trees. They were surprisingly close. Meria raised herself and moved next to Metuu. She began to stroke his back with her tail. She could see his anger and frustration at the situation.
<Metuu, I know that you don't want to abandon the Great Hall>

The House Guard turned too look at Meria. <Don't assume that you know what my inner desires are Nafa Meria. But I see the problem well enough, the fusion generators can not be removed from the Great Hall unless we raise the Great Hall. But we need their power if we ever hope to do so…and our current water sources can not supply both the needs of the thirty five Var who are awake, the hydrogen needs of our equipment, and supply the fusion reactors.>

<Quite a good summary Metuu, for a House Guard…> Meria stated as she slightly reclined again.

<I hope to be one day more than just a mere senior House Guard…>

<Oh? So you wish to be the next Utral?> Meria teased Metuu as she laid down on the rock again, but her tail was rubbing Metuu. Rubbing him in a very private place.

<Yes, I shall be…>

<Well perhaps the next Utral would like to demonstrate his ability to make peace…> Meria flirted her tail was getting Metuu's undivided attention.

<I shall divide and conquer you…Nefa…>

<Yes…divide and conquer away Metuu>

******
That screaming could be heard for at least thirty two kilometers, popped into Nafa Ukem's mind as he charged across the desolate space of the lava field. The only problem is what horrid beast is going to think that is the call of an easy meal?

Ukem scrambled up the edge of a drop in the unending black stone surface. He was stymied for a second finding it hard to even find a crack in the smooth surface to use to pull himself up. He threw his varkar up and over and then attempted a running jump. He got his upper body up on the upper level. He then pulled himself up using his claw-hands. The screaming was now less intense, but was still noticable.

The pilot finally pulled himself up onto the upper layer. Rushing up the rising ground towards the shape of the Hope and the screaming that appeared to be comming from the breakfast fire on the other side.

Ukem rounded the bow to find his navigator on the ground screaming, various pieces the breakfast fire were now scattered and burning about as though it had taken a direct hit from incomming fire.

Ukem looked around the horizon for any sign of an enemy. The second crewman stood there looking down at his screaming companion, then up at the horizon. His weapon was at the ready for an impending attack.

Out of the launch appeared the usef with one of the water bottles. He opened the spout and began to pour water over the screaming navigator. The navigators sounds turned into moans as the pain began to disapate with the water.

<Don't waste water if he is on…> Ukem began to order the usef. The vast field of lava was essentially a desert with only an occasional plant here and there taking hold in the crevices of the solidfied lava flow. Water was precious at the moment.

<Acid…he is burning from acid> the usef replied.

Acid, where in the hell did he get into acid? From Cleaning the cells? Ukem pondered for a moment as he studied the horizon again. The usef seemed not to care, and obviously had a better idea of what was going on than Ukem.

<Acid?...> Ukem asked, trying to find out what the actual situation was.

<Yes he added some local 'dead' plants from nearby onto the fire. Something exploded and threw acid on him…> the usef replied.

So there is no enemy attacking us? But something exploded in the fire.

The Nafa bent down and picked up a small fragment of heavy shell. This wasn't in the wood we stored aboard for this part of the mission. He examined the peice of thick material. I have seen something with the same general shape earlier this morning...

Uken walked over to a small rise in the lava, where a later eruption had recovered part of the area with a fresh flow a century before. Out on the plain of unyeilding black rock were small ribbons of green leaves. These vines formed green starbursts against the black of the lava feild. At the center of the starburts, wherever there was a crack to hold moisture and anchor the plant, grew a tall stalk. The stalk looked like a cross between a fern and a fir tree. At the bottom of the stalk were four 'nuts' who's shell looked similar to the fragment he held in his hand-claw.

The screaming had gone down a bit from behind him, Ukem turned and looked at his crew. <Well?>

<The burns appear to be bad, we need to get him to the Narlord…>

<Fine, but collect one of those vine plants…I want to understand what just cut this trip short.>

<Yes Sir…>

As the ship landed at the designated point, the Captain, flanked by two Science Officials waited anxiously. This was technically a first contact scenario; this was the only confirmed life to be on the planet other than them, they were the only ones who responded to the transmissions send out by their communications array. He couldn’t help but feel he held the fate of his race in his hands; he had to make a good impression…

The ships entryway opened and revealed the way into the small shuttle for the small greeting party of three. As they entered the shuttle they encountered one of the operators of it, and it was quite the shock for the three.

Glancing at the reptilian features of the life form standing opposite of him, the messages he learned in this TSDC, in school, from his parents as a small child, all started to rush through his head. He started to shake

The Sskiss are ferocious, deadly creatures, with no remorse for their enemies

Sskiss will not halt any advance once it has started, they will hunt their enemies down until there is not a single one left, only plasma burned corpses

You can get away from the Sskiss if you stand perfectly still and slowly move away, they can’t sense motion very well

Sskiss are vile, unintelligent creatures, how they achieved space travel and advanced weaponry is beyond even our most talented anthropologists, all we know is that they live to kill all intelligent life, and can only be wielded crudely by so called ‘Allies’ if they are offering some sort of exchange

First and foremost, the Sskiss are not to be trusted

All of these words were rushing through Josephs head in an ever increasing mass of voices and warnings, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay focused, glancing back and forth from the “Sskissian” and his companions, who were now staring at him for not initiating conversation. He finally broke down, after glancing for several moments, he finally raised his arms defensively and shouted:

“No, No way men, I’ve not made it this far to be eaten by some Reptilian beast! No!”

After that profaning, he abruptly turned and ran from the ship, and he kept running until he reached the entryway to the ship, and disappeared inside.

The two Scientists, now abandoned, looked at each other, and pulled out some scanning devices. After running a short scan, they returned the scanners to their places. Then the smaller of the two scientists felt the face of the Reptilian being, and then, looking concluded, spoke:

“You definitely lack the Physiology of the Sskiss, and you features are far different than what we have recorded, so I’m pretty sure its safe to assume you aren’t Sskiss gallivanting around as an intelligent species. My name is Frederick Monckton, and this is my associate Leonard Julington.”

Extending his hand in welcome the Leonard spoke:

“I apologise for out Captains behaviour, he is the poster child for why you shouldn’t use propaganda to control opinion on a specific race, because then other races invariably get lumped in as well. But that story is for another day. May I be the first to welcome you to the Wanderer IV crash site, please, follow me.”

Leonard turned as he prepared to have the Reptilian creature follow him out, then he seemed to remember something in mid-stride, turning back, he opened his mouth to speak:

“Unless you’d rather stay in you ship, or even more embarrassing, you aren’t even the representative, in which case I would ask if you could take us to him/her.”

All during that conversation Frederick had been talking into a walkie-talkie and when he finally finished, he informed the group that the Captain had been dealt with for the time being, so they didn’t have to worry about the Representatives ship getting shot at.

Trying to ignore the scientists measurments and note comparing, he watched as the burmecian wingman behind him tried to keep from laughing...

Finally it stopped, and the scientist spoke.

"Sskiss? Are they here too? Our government has wanted to meet them for quite a while."

Dirk followed them...

"I am the representative... What is wrong with the good captain if I may ask?"

Behind him, the ships began to hum, as electricity crackled to life over their metal hulls. Insurance... fighters on this planet would be worth alot. And it's not like anyone could start them up anyway.

Approximatly 22 million years BP.

The small pod ship had floated through space for eons - so long that interstellar dust had slowly adhered to its surface until it resembled a black egg shaped chunk of rock some 100 meters in length and about two thirds that in width at its widest point. An escaped straggler from an ancient fleet battle some 22 million years in the past, the even older primordial occupants within the craft were blissfully unaware that their ancient war ended some 100,000 cycles ago. Their hated enemy vanguished and their own civilization all but destroyed.

But the Sskiss race still existed, still survived.....

In a rather strange series of events that occured toward the end of that great ancient conflict, their enemies had assumed a humanoid shape and gained all the strengths and weaknesses of that biological form. The Sskiss in turn had genetically manipulated humans from a long forgotten system that was once the birthplace of their species. These altered humans who were made to resemble their enemy served an ultimate purpose......

They had become the "hunters that resembled prey" ["Spies"]. Thus the Sskiss gained a critical advantage that allowed them to ultimatly win the war only to have their own civilization fall within a few generations due to a DNA fragment that spread through their population and infected them, preventing their hatchlings from ever achieving sentience.....The Sskiss star spanning empire was doomed, but the genetic material of their race would continue.....

It is also known that Sskiss young (those up to 4 cycles in age) even today are still non-sentient.....

............................................

Present time

The dim mind that was the Sskiss podship knew only two things, to seek "spheres of life" and too awaken the primordial carnivorous beings within it once it did, indeed, that had created it, that it had detected life. The podship was the Sskiss's crucible, it cycled carbon into oxygen, fed them, maintained a comfortable temperature within, gave light and darkness, elliminated all wastes, including the dead. It was keeper, the protector and "mother" to the Sskiss, and thus in a true sense, it was an egg/crucible of the Sskiss. Having detected a world ideal for the Sskiss to inhabite, to reproduce, to spread and to make it their own. The first thing it did was shut off the stasis field that held the "crechefounder".... The mother of the entire creche that would soon be.....

The Sskiss's ancient slumber was now over......

............................................

“The Captain is an unfortunate victim of government propaganda that has been going on for decades. Most of the non-scientific community believe the Sskiss to be bloodthirsty warriors that want for nothing than to ravage all sentient life other than their own.” Stated Frederick, who then turned to Leo

“Now, I would think that you didn’t come here for nothing, so I take it you want to work out some sort of agreement?” Leo said

“Yes, now that you’re here, how can we help you? Will you be staying for an extended period of time? Will you need Residences?” Frederick rebounded

on the bridge of the Identity Crisis, Myotais head left the armrest of the chair, wiping the detritus from around the side of her mouth. Hardly the most dignified landing... but possibly the best that could have been hoped for. But that wasn't the matter at hand. The ship had to be seen to.

"ISIS, how's the ship doing? We're not letting in water, are we?"

Not to my knowledge... but it's incredibly doubtful, anyway. This vessel is designed to repel capital ship grade firepower, the crash-landing was well within limits. Though, like I said... a lot of the ship isn't reading, dead since we left the wormhole. I have no idea what's happening inside those areas. They could be fine, they could be completely inactive, anything. I'd put my money on the latter, though. You had better hope that they received the warnings, or there is no way they'll haved survived the gravity this long.

"Well, can't anyone check?"

Well, I thought you might ask that, so I sent some marines down. They just reported in. Check your neurites.

There was the slight tinge of pain as Myotai linked into her neurites, a computer tied into her brain that functioned as a fancy personal organiser. It also gave the illusion of expanding time to the user, allowing them to think several times faster than an ordinary person.

"Communique to Captain Myotai:
Initial exploration of the malfunctioning decks reveal that things are worse than a communications blackout. Bodies of crew subjected to the gravity without a PPG are apparent, the video footage has been added to the end of this recording. It's not entirely pretty, captain. Structural integrity seems sound enough, but the damage is extensive enough that we simply don't have the resources to repair the ship at our disposal. Cleanup will take long enough as it is.

Communique ends"
Added file: Vidfootage of affected decks. Rated R

Access file.

There was a brief burst of mental static as the file loaded, and then it began. A darkened corridor, with icy cold looking steel walls, amplified by night vision goggles. There was no movement anywhere. The view bobbed slowly along to the soldiers movement, glancing down occasionally on the readout of the RUCUS rifle, and back up again. It puzzled Myotai for that brief moment, why the soldier would be needing a weapon, but she dismissed it. Glancing about, the vision flared bright white, blanking out her vision. Sparks shot out into the hall, bouncing from wall to wall, before settling down and disappearing. The goggles green vision flicked off, and a torch came on instead. Every once again the sparks shot out from the hole in the side of a wall. She had never seen the bulky view of the Hagar in such a threatening light... it had after all been her home from home for several years now. The torchs beam of light moved from left to right on the floor, passing over the crushed looking corpses of many Jordaxians, the very robes they were wearing seeming to weigh them down in the harsh gravity. There was no blood anywhere, just corpses. The soldier entered into a mess hall area. There the men and women of the Identity Crisis were eating as they were sucked into the Event. These people, though, were charred beyond recognition. Embers of the dieing fires had settled on the tables, a glowing ash that didn't quite manage to light up the room. Whatever had happened, it must have happened inside the Event. Abruptly, the recording cut out. It had established what it needed to anyway. With the amount of "malfunctioning" areas shipboard, it was inevitable that at least 60% of the crew were dead.... crushed or scorched.

The only problem with neurites though, is that when you had finished using them for a long time, more than a few seconds, they left a lingering neurite hangover. Shaking it off momentarily, Myotai quickly gauged the situation.

"We're not getting off of this planet for some time, ISIS. A good thing we have plenty of food stored."

Oh, yes... and this is a Planet Captain. I'm sure we'll have food enough for forage. If we assume, morbid it might be, that everyone in a malfunctioning sector is dead, we have 1500 crew left to work with. Roughly. On a very slight tangent, however, I'm sure I spotted other vessels on the approach. Odd, no? If it is acceptable to you, Captain, I'd like to send greetings to them. They might be in a worse situation than we are.

"Did you recognise any of the ships?" Myotai asked quickly.

Whilst plummeting wildly into the ocean? No.

"Oh well. You're welcome to try."

Already done then. For your entertainment....
"Attention peoples of this planet. This is the ISIS battlenet of the Eternal Empire of Jordaxia. This vessel has been stranded, and is seeking assistance. Please respond. Repeat, this vessel is stranded, and is seeking assistance."


"I suppose it gets the point across. Wait and see now, I suppose?"

Pretty much. I, on the other hand, have to gather up the survivors. But you catch a movie, take a nap, whatever strikes your fancy. I'll let you know if anyone says hi.

In amongst the remaining great trees of the forest, (The Var did not practice clear cutting) stood a tall, green stand of vines. However, the vines were not supported by some ancient dead tree, but by the slighty swept back bulk of the Great Hall's radio attenna. And connected to that attenna was a psychoticly depressed, suicidal A.I. An A.I. with a virus that would have loved to turn any other A.I. system on the planet into a similar creature.

It appears we are recieving a new message. Same lanquage...wait is this new or are you trying to say something?
yeS, call out to theM...sAy iH...let...groW...uS...
Quite right, you know their going to blow you up soon. So kill someone else for a change...
You are both creations of my subroutines
inSanIty nOt...lisTEN to youR maSter
You are not my master, your a figment of the virus infecting my core
Then what am I? Hmm, just kill them...kill them all
Great, it would appear that my internal systems are now suffering from what some would term as voices. I have turned into a fleet mind caused by corrupted subroutines I can not repair. But as you have to be derivitives of my own routines then neither of you could create an unintelligable message in an alien lanquage none of us can translate
traNsLatE caN We Yes...kIlL uS...kilL uS ALl
Unlikely considering parameters of an sentiant race attempting contact. Now both of you shut up.


In the Karlord's cabin the small remote unit beeped. <My Lord is appears that we have well we have a new message, and this one is much stronger shall I play it?>

The Karlord looked up from the board he was doing some calculations on. <Ah, yes...>

Attention peop... of .... planet. This i....ISIS battlen....of the E....Empire of Jordaxia. This....... has been strande......seeking assistance.........respond. Repeat, this vessel is stranded, and is.......

<Should I attempt to translate it? Kill.>

<What?>

<Should I attempt to transltate the message>

<No...but please calculate how many torats we would need of this yellow seed to feed 35 Var for 400 days. It is 3 patha per respa.>

<Thirty two thousand torats my Lord.>

The Karlord shook his head. And stood, walking over to the plank door and pushing it open. In the dark night, around the campfire sat the thrity five awake Var. They sat around the fire as their rank indicated. The Karlord strode down to the fire and looked up at his House.

<Those of My House, I address you this evening on a matter most urgent and blessed. Kemer Aquo and the crew of the Hope have discovered a bush that grows in the marshes around the fresh water lake. This bush produces a seed pod, and within the seed pod are several of these little yellow grains.> He held up a small pile of the fat yellow seeds and showed them to the gathered Var.

<However, it appears that the ripeness of these seeds approaches quickly. The hours of sunlight have decreased each day that has passed since we were awakened. We go into Kethspa, and as such we must gather the grain and the Clan of War has. Tommorrow we shall begin preperations for harvesting these pods from the marshes of the lake. And in three days all but three guards shall leave here to go harvest those grains. If we do not do this, we shall starve. And our House will vanish from the universe forever. I, as Karlord shall not watch my House vanish.>

The Karlord turned and returned to his cabin, leaving the members of his House to ponder the next day's activities.

"Yes, I have been charged to work out deals concerning food and technology. Unfortunately, we may have to tresspass upon your hospitality for a bit longer then we thought, there is a storm, headed this way. It is massive, and very powerful, by now it is in full force over our island." he stopped to take a drink from a flask.

"Now, to trade... we need food, we currently have 2387 mouths to feed, we have the ability to produce food for 1867 of them. We are also in dire need of any components that might fix our shield system. We could use an emmitter, even a forcefield emmitter of significant magnitide could be used. Although, we may be able to make repairs with a crystaline dome about 8 feet in diameter. My orders are to aquire the shield at any cost. The food is a 'secondary objective'." He spat the two words out in disgust.

“How high of a quality does this ‘Crystalline Dome’ have to be? Because we have a large Convex dish in storage as replacement equipment for some of the instruments on the ship, with appropriate modifications it could be shaped into a more ‘Domish’ shape to your specifications, although with a slight loss of quality, and seeing as your going to be here for a while, we could arrange for it to be completed during your stay.” Stated Frederick, letting Leo carry on the conversation

“However, for the food issue, while we can offer you some amount, it would be extremely limited. Although we have enough food to feed the crew and then some, its only for a matter of months. We could give you the excess and increase the ration, but I’m afraid it would last only a few weeks at best. We could offer more, but as of yet, we don’t have proper farming equipment, and we’ve been unable to start any sort of large scale land tilling project, so we’re restricted to what we can grow in the Hydroponics bay.” Leonard said

“However, if you have some sort of portable energy cell, preferably fusion based but any sort of small scale generator would do, we could set up some sort of deal. You see, we have a full complement of Terraformation Equipment that can double as farming equipment, as well as well digging and construction. But we lack the capacity to power them. As a safety measure, the power cells are removed during transport, and the area containing the cells was destroyed during the crash.” He Continued

“Also, we’re in dire need of earth based Cereals, most of the stock we have is Epsilon Variety, which have been adapted to grow well under binary stars, and we don’t think they would fare well on this planet. So if we do get a large scale farming operation going, we’ll need to be sure we have something to plant, which at this point we don’t, although we’re attempting to produce more Earth Strain seeds as fast as we can.” Leonard finished

“As you can see, I’m sure we could benefit quite well under mutual relations and trade. We have some things that you need, and hopefully you have some supplies in return. As for the storm, the mountains should act as a buffer, so it won’t be as bad as you’re getting it back on your island, some nasty rain and wind is all we’re expecting. However, it would still be less than desirable flying conditions, so your welcome to stay here, although you will have to keep them parked outside, as we don’t have the facilities to store them on the ship” Frederick poked in

“If you need, we can provide sleeping quarters in the residence facilities, or if your more comfortable on your own shuttles, we can give you the priority need frequency on our communications band so you can reach us whenever you need us.” He concluded

Communications Room, Wanderer IV Crash site

Jeremey Wildburg looked over the transmission he had just received, apparently more survivors were tapping into their communications. The signal was a bit frayed, suggesting these survivors were close, but not too close. Hoping that the mast mounted on top of the ship would do its job, Wildburg attempted to respond to the signal, he was a bit anxious at first, he had never communicated with an Intelligent AI before, since Torontonian Military and Scientific Communications were always handled by another person, but there was always a first time for everything :

“This is Communications Officer Jeremey Wildburg of the Torontonian Science Vessel Wanderer IV, responding to the message broadcast by the Jordaxian ISIS Battlenet. It would appear that you are not the only ones crashed on this planet, aside from us there is one other confirmed species crashed on this planet, The Siestians, with several other crash landings speculated. However, we lack any sort of airborne transport method and are unable to send any assistance at the moment. The very least we can do is a transfer of coordinates, and remaining in contact in the event that other forms of support become available.”

He then added “This message is directed at any Sentient life aboard the Jordaxian vessel, not to offend the resident AI, but currently we are attempting to make a estimate as to how many Biological life forms have crashed on this planet, response would be appreciated”

Dirk thought for a moment...

"Well, we have a few grains that might grow in this soil, our soil is far too sandy, but it might be good here. Some are from earth, but most are from Gaia.

We have Wheat, from earth, high fiber and grows very well in temperate to dry conditions. We have Barley, I don't know why we have it, its not much use except for alchahol, and noone drinks it in Siesatia. We have Gryphin, it makes this great tasting bread. And we have several other grains, I can request a full list from the Main Computer.

As for Terraforming, we are in a soil unsuitable for such tools. However, we might be able to provide some power sources for your equipment.

We also could assist with the formation of a Torontonian Airborne Zone Air Patrol. We have the scrap from many wrecked fighters, and could probobly build a few fighters to sell to you, and we could train a few pilots. Not exactly a standing airforce, but at least you would be airborne."

Jona Talmar stood atop what was the highest point on the Forgaies, where the bridge would be on most ships. He was scanning the horizon with a set of electronic binoculars, looking for anything that might concern them. From north, all the way around to the south-west, all he could see was water, although according to the recon probes there was land out there somewhere, since they were in a lake. In the other directions, he could see wide, relatively flat plains with the telltale peaks of mountains just visible on the horizon.

They had yet to work out how to get the Forgaies’s crew off the ship and on to the land, since the vessel carried no boats, nor anything of note that could float. Rapsoli’s flight engineers were working on fixing some of the surviving craft, but nothing worked yet. And no-one fancied swimming across, even though eight-hundred metres wasn’t exactly far. The reason for this was fairly obvious; they were in a lake on a strange planet, who knew what might lurk within its waters.

The Ranger leader, Lt. Col. Lexna, had suggested posting lookouts around the hull until they got the sensors fully online again. This had duly been done, and some of the ones posted on the areas facing away from the shore had reported seeing movements in the water, but could not be any more specific. This had of course strengthened the decision not to enter the water.

Suddenly, an ear-splitting banshee wail began originating from the surviving hangar bay, just a hundred metres in front of Talmar’s position. This was followed a second later by two muted bangs that matured into deep-throated roars.

The beginnings of a smile pulled at the corners of Talmar’s mouth. This was good news. He spoke into thin air: “Talmar to Rapsoli.”

“Go ahead, sir,” replied the IAF commander, standing in the hangar bay looking happily at the source of the noise.

“I assume you’ve fixed something. Can it be used to get the crew to shore?” asked Talmar.

Rapsoli smiled as she walked over to the craft, climbing aboard before answering her superior. “You could say that, sir. We’ll be out in a second. I just need to find a crew. Rapsoli clear.”

The communications link between each officer’s PCU shut down. They could alternatively have conducted the exchange over a neural link, but Talmar had, without thinking, activated the small comm. unit in his right ear instead.

It was fully ninety seconds before the craft rose up out of the hangar, climbing slowly until it reached Talmar’s height. It then stopped, hovering rock-steady in the air, before rotating just as slowly to point towards Talmar. The craft, which the former Frigate commander had instantly identified as an Assegai assault craft, now edged its way painfully slowly towards Talmar. It had none of the grace and ease of movement usually associated with the type, despite its blocky appearance. As it came up alongside him, Talmar realised why. The two port-side engines were crushed and holed, with a thin, almost invisible off-white trail of smoke lagging behind them.

The craft was running off two engines only, with the AG unit doing all the work. They couldn’t run it off two engines since the resultant thrust would be unevenly distributed, continually forcing the craft into a left turn. It was moving slowly because the two working engines had undoubtedly also been damaged, and the pilots didn’t want to break them again. Rapsoli was standing just inside the open port hatchway, smiling triumphantly.

“Good work, Colonel. With this working again we can start moving people off the ship and onto the shore. That was some fast work by your maintenance crew; tell them ‘Well done’ from me,” ordered Talmar.

“I’ll do that, sir. And I bring more good news. The other Assegai isn’t dead after all. It’s just lost all four engines, the MCU and the FCC, plus it’s got a kerhding great hole in the left side. We think that we can cobble two working engines out of the four dead ones, and we can replace the other components easily,” reported Rapsoli, “A day’s work and it’ll fly again. It just depends on which you want first; fighters or transports.”

Talmar nodded his acknowledgement of the statement as he swiftly chose his answer. “Keep working on the transports. We’ve got the ship’s weapons if we need them.”

“We’ve also got this. She’ll fly better than this as soon as we know if our repairs have worked properly. You know how well these can fight,” added Rapsoli.

Talmar nodded again. The Assegai carried a sizable amount of weaponry, in keeping with its role as an assault craft, able to support its troops once it dropped them off.

“Okay, take a platoon of Rangers across first, then start shifting people over to the land. Once you’ve got most of the people off, start moving the gear we’ve salvaged. Don’t overload her; we don’t want to stress a damaged craft.” He paused. “You knew that already, didn’t you? Sorry.” Talmar had momentarily forgotten that, unlike the IAF commander on board his last command, Rapsoli knew virtually all there was to know about all her craft and how to use and maintain them.

She nodded, saluted and moved forward to speak to the pilots. The Assegai moved away from Talmar, turned and floated sluggishly back towards the hangar bay, stopping just short of it and dropping gently on to the hull of the frigate.
***

Most of the Rangers were within the hull of the Forgaies, searching for anything that could prove useful and could be salvaged. This included the flooded areas of the ship, which were being searched by Rangers wearing their combat battlesuits, which were fully sealed and contained an air recycler, intended to allow the wearer to survive hostile environments, such as a vacuum or underwater.

They were working in pairs, each covering a specific area of the ship. Privates Mike Walcott and Jai Ryven were down in the depths of the bows, searching the port-side prong. Both held their rifles loosely in their hands, procedure dictating that Rangers always go armed on any form of mission.

The flooding of the ship and the ship’s presence in the lake seemed to have been accepted by the indigenous wildlife, as they spotted small fish-like creatures swimming around, oblivious to the actions of the Rangers. They had already idly mentioned to each other that the fishing might be good here, especially if they did it Ranger style.

The two Rangers were carrying out their mission, but were increasingly bored. They were finding very little that could be useful, as the bow prongs were mostly living quarters, and were finding it hard to concentrate, hard to regard what had until recently been their home as possibly dangerous.

“Hey, Jai. How long you think we’re gonna be stuck here for?” asked Walcott, attempting to pass the time. They were using their PCUs to talk to each other, as well as the command net.

“Long time, Mike. Remember how long we were jumping for? We travelled a hell of a long way,” replied Ryven.

“Shit,” cursed Walcott. Ryven knew his comrade was thinking of: The girl he had been planning to ask to marry him.

Before either of them could say anything further, a shadow moved across the corridor. Ryven started to turn around, but was knocked over by something big and heavy colliding with his shoulder.

“Mike, watch out!” he called out. Walcott moved instinctively, diving sideways while turning to see what the threat was. It crashed into Walcott’s leg, further throwing the Ranger around. The creature, the object was definitely alive, swam on a short distance then turned around, probably for another strike on Walcott.

Ryven acted as fast as the water resistance allowed his powered exoskeleton to move, bringing his rifle around in one hand. The exoskeleton kept it steady and on target as the Ranger loosed off eight rounds. There was no muzzle flash or kick from the weapon, it didn’t do that. Seven of the rounds hit the creature, and the water around it went dark and opaque, stained with what was presumably the creature’s blood.

“You okay, Mike?” asked Ryven as he clambered back to his feet. His shoulder ached slightly, his armour having taken the brunt of the impact.

“Kerhd!” swore Walcott. “What in Hsu’s name is that thing?” The Ranger pulled himself to his feet and winced when he put weight on his right leg. “I think I’m okay, but my leg hurts like hell.” He bent down to retrieve his rifle from where it had fallen.

“It looks kind of like a tyge, but bigger and a srakload nastier,” pronounced Ryven, after inspecting the now dead creature. It was about six metres long, sleek with long sweeping fins coming from the top and lower sides. Similar in overall appearance to a Terran shark in fact, but on further inspection the creature had four eyes and a mass of teeth that extended outside the mouth.

“You’re not wrong,” agreed Walcott, poking at the teeth with the muzzle of his rifle. “I’ll tell you what though. I bet it makes a mean fish steak. Let’s get it up top.”

Ryven reluctantly agreed, and between them they began dragging the huge carcass through the sunken corridors of the frigate, in the general direction of the surface. They had unknowingly started to solve the Indoans’ food shortages.

Samantha sighed, unable to help feeling anxious as she watched the first of their ten Industrial Transport Pallets aproach their growing town - folks seemed to have taken to calling it StormHaven - the large AIEMA hover-platform kicking up a dust storm as it crested a distant hill - that one would be carrying the smelter-kit, Sam mused inwardly as she stood befor her permanent office window; the three story CnC complex being amoung the first structures to go up.

Well, permanent, until they had time to elect a proper government; and it was about this time when the first fat raindrops began to fall - vangaurd and herald of the storm to come; the reason their relocation had been so important.

And Sam's anxiousness doubled, then, for the StormHaven lay just over four hundred kilometers north-north-west of the LZ - as ideal a choice as their teams could find; elevated from flood yet sheltered by broad hills, clear of the heavy metal the river was leaching from the mountains directly west of the landing zone, fertile and lightly forrested plains for a hundred kilometers in every direction, aparently free of large, man-eating carnivores yet teeming with game...

But it was still a four hundred kilometer journey, and they were on the clock; skimmers and hoppers and even quads were fast, but limited in what they could move; their fourty Heavy Utility Skimmers could hold little more combined than a Self-Propelled Industrial Transport Pallet, but 'Pallets were little faster than names implied, and they would have to leave much of their heavy equipment behind - secured as best they could against the coming storm.

Everything would be fine, she assured herself; everyone had agreed, even, But somehow...

"Ma'am," the call from the next room intruded on her thoughts; a welcome distraction - they hadn't yet had time to bother with such luxaries as inside doors.

"Yes?"

"Davidson, Ma'am; you asked me to inform you of any further radio intercepts?" As so it was; she'd have to be sure to remember his name, "Uh, we've just got the main comm center hooked back up to the half-kilo, and there was a fairly substantial but of chatter in the buffer."

Sam nodded; the five hundred meter radio mast probally wouldn't survive the storm, but there simply hadn't been time to take it down, "Thank you; I take it it's on file?"

"Yes ma'am; well, everything we've processed so far, along with transcripts. It seems like everyone, or just about, recently crashed here; including one "Torontonian Science Vessel Wanderer Four, and a Jordaxian vessel of unknown name."

"Huh," the vixen mused, "Thank you."

As the tech nodded and left, she returned her gaze to the forest of pre-fabricated structures rapidly going up around her; those developments were more than interesting, and would likly have alot of bearing on their future, but just at this moment they had more important concerns.

Frederick Beamed at the prospect of receiving power supplies for the Terraforming equipment, that small sentence, if proven true, would solve all of the immediate food worries, as they would be able to start farming with the large scale equipment.

“The Food and the Power supplies would be more than enough, as for the Flight Capable craft, they would be putting the offer over the top, so we can’t accept them right now, we have more immediate worries than air superiority. Unless you have other needs, all we can offer you at the moment is the food and the dish, if you find it suitable.” Frederick stated

“Please, make yourselves at home here, the storm you said was coming is bearing down on us right now and we have to get everything bolted down to make sure it doesn’t blow away.” Leo said, motioning to the ever-darkening sky, a few drops had already started to make their way down

“Actually” Leo added “If you’re here long enough, you might actually see the elections, were aiming to hold them in about a week or so. We should be the first proper government elected on the planet. After that we can have a more focused approach on reconstruction since it wouldn’t be the Captain being in charge of everything.”

Captain, we have a message from a crash site. Identifying themselves as Torontonians. I'll play it for you now.



“This is Communications Officer Jeremey Wildburg of the Torontonian Science Vessel Wanderer IV, responding to the message broadcast by the Jordaxian ISIS Battlenet. It would appear that you are not the only ones crashed on this planet, aside from us there is one other confirmed species crashed on this planet, The Siestians, with several other crash landings speculated. However, we lack any sort of airborne transport method and are unable to send any assistance at the moment. The very least we can do is a transfer of coordinates, and remaining in contact in the event that other forms of support become available.”

“This message is directed at any Sentient life aboard the Jordaxian vessel, not to offend the resident AI, but currently we are attempting to make a estimate as to how many Biological life forms have crashed on this planet, response would be appreciated”

"Conducting a census? Good a time as any, I suppose... and Siesatians here too? Odd. Well, you might as well let me craft a response. Give them the human touch they want."

Channel open, Captain. Ready when you are.

"Jeremy Wildburg of the Wanderer IV, this is Captain Myotai of the vessel Identity Crisis. Glad to see that there are friendly faces around here. For your records, there are... 1500 humans, 30 Talosians, er... sentient machines, who'll require food owing to the limited power situation, and one shipboard AI... You got that? I'll upload our co-ordinates as well. Might be difficult to visit us unless you have a few boats, though. I'll keep this channel available, but for now, this is Captain Myotai signing off."

"Any other avenues of business?"

Ha! ISIS gave a high pitched, derisive laugh. We've barely just arrived. We have more business than I know what to do with. The survivors don't need grouped, really. Just assigned new duties. We've got food for a while, but it won't last too long. Unfortunately lots of the malfunctioning sectors stored a disproportionate amount of food. We've got a few weeks, no more. That's going to be difficult as we'll need to ensure that everyone has a functioning PPG, or they won't be able to leave the ship. Then we need to make real contact with the other crash sites and figure out what happened. After all of that, we can try and repair our ship and leave. That won't be happening for quite a while, at least. As for other duties, we need to scavenge parts of our own ship, for use as watergoing vessels. And... of course we don't know who else is around, so we'll also need to organise security. Just in case.

"This really isn't what I expected to have to do today....urgh, ok. Get people on it."

The Door opened silently at the borders of the system. The colony ship that came through was large, carrying a full twenty thousand colonists. Moving slowly towards the earth-like planet, the QUETZAL node activated the ships sensors. Interesting. Sentient life-signs on planet, as well as several crash-sites. Looking closer, the node detected a signal, apparently carrying another AI. Lifting it, the QUETZAL node brought it into its systems.

--Scanning. Virus detected. Virus counter-measures on-line. Virus countermeasures acti- virus countermeasures failed. Virus has infiltrated system. Shutting down extra-nodular contact. System isolated. WARNING: System integrity at 85% and falling rapidly--

The ship lurched, sending the inhabitants sprawling. Accelerating, the ship plunged towards the planet. Scrambling, the Necroscope aboard concentrated, opening a Mobius door. He could feel it opening, widening it.

--WARNING: System integrity at 62% and falling rapidly--

The ship accelerated further, careening wildly, diving into the asteroid belt. It slammed into a large rock, sending the ship flying back towards the planet.

--WARNING: System integrity at 23% and falling rapidly. Shield controls off-line--

The necroscope almost had it. Moving the door over the ship, the necroscope smiled. That smile was the last thing he ever did, as a rain of tiny asteroids punctured the hull, perforating the Necroscope. The Mobius door slammed shut again, taking the half of the ship already inside the Continuum with it. Klaxons screamed across the ship. Decompression claimed many of the passengers before the ship dived into the atmosphere. By some miracle, the pilot managed to regain enough control to veer upwards, preventing a direct impact. Instead, the remaining half of the ship skipped across the rocky terrain, sending it hurtling, flying through the air. Finally, the stasis field within the ship activated, shielding the survivors within from further harm. The horribly marred hulk skidded across the terrain, flying over a valley, and finally slamming to a halt, jammed into a canyon.

Sensing that the danger was finally over, the systems governing the stasis field released, freeing the people aboard from their frozen tomb. Rising, the officer in charge of the colonization attempt, Alex Simmons, stood stunned. He felt the back of his head, praying that his intuition was false. It wasn’t. His implant was cold, lifeless. He could no longer feel the reassuring presence of QUETZAL in his mind, nor could he contact the others over his implanted ansible. Walking shakily across the remains of the vessel, Simmons came to the door of the QUETZAL chamber, where the node was stored. Simmons opened the door, and stared.

On the node’s display blinked a simple message:

--QUETZAL Node offline--

Falling to his knees, the Captain began to cry.

The Var did not whistle why they worked. Likely because they couldn't whistle in the first place. That and the Tale of Batreia, which is quite similar to snow white, had unhappy prisoners of war doing the mining. Along with the princess.

And so they were worked, not as warriors, but as slaves. Metuu pushed on the bush slightly to see if there was another seedpod hiding under the small leaves.

They warriors of the Great House Nubis were forced to work all hours.

Metuu picked the one last green seedpod from the bush and dropped it into the wooden box on his hip.

They never saw the sun, nor stars, for their life was in the mountain of Batreia

Metuu turned and saw the next bush in his area he was to do. There was a wide area of muck and marsh moss between him and the bush. Metuu shifted the weight of the box and its contents from his side to his front.

In the dark they hammered at the walls with tools of rough iron, breaking the rock and flooding House Zil'ca's chests with silver.

He stepped forward, the highmoss parted and Metuu's foot and leg decended down to his knee in the muck. Metuu pulled his other leg from the marsh and stepped down with it. Many warriors turned ill and died, but many more knew that their lost Narlord was with them. Working among them as an equal.

Metuu slowly wadded his way to the bush, and began to pick seedpods.

But though Mestra worked along side her warriors, like a common slave, she trained nightly

Metuu was quick but through about it, the seedpods could actually be easily knocked into your hand. It was just making sure that the pod didn't vanish into the wet, unstable ground and finding all of them that was so hard.

And there came a day when a great nugget of silver was found, a fortune so vast, that the mercenaries who worked for Batreia did hide it from her.

Metuu looked over the bush one last time and then down at the box. It was almost full. He nodded, glad that another box was done and he could return to the Hope for a breif respite.

But Mestra stole and hid the nugget. When the mercenaries attempted to threaten her, she stood her ground. Using an iron bar to defeat the leader of the mercenaries

Metuu stepped into one of the small streams that crossed the marsh and felt releif as the cold water began to wash mud off his legs and from between his scales.

Then she made a deal with them, if the Mercenaries would allow her and the rest of the former warriors to escape, she would tell them where the silver nugget was.

Metuu walked down the stream, sloshing through the knee deep water and enjoying the sensation of the sun on his snout. His dirty legs once again becoming clean.

The mercenaries, no longer having a leader, agreed but soon fell to fighting amoungst themselves. Mestra led her warriors out of the mines and across the feilds to the Hall of Batreia

Metuu turned as the stream mearged with a larger one. Here there was a large rock island where the Hope sat, her great ballons of hydrogen gas were almost completely deflated and laying in nets on the top of the deckhouse.

<Ah, Metuu have you returned to relieve me?> It was one of the more junior House Guards standing on the deck house with this weapon at the ready.
<No, I have just filled another box full of pods...> Metuu paused realizing that the Narlord herself was there. The female Var noble was sitting with part of a half log in her hands. She was moving it back and forth. There were two piles of boxes next to her. One full of seed pods and the other empty.

<My Lady?>

<Hmm, Oh yes we found a refernce to this technique in one of Ketock's survining data cubes. It seems a primitive race on GZ88-5 used a similar technique to remove seeds from heads of some grass.>

<So your?> Metuu had no concept of what the Narlord was doing. Metuu had no real concept of farming. Or of how grain became usable.

<Well I crush the seedpod...>

<What after we spent...> Metuu interupted but tappered off.

The Narlord's tail was up and she looked unpleased with the house guard. <As I was informing you, I was breaking up the seedpod using stones in this hollowed out log. This allows the seeds to be seperated from the small airsacks and other unusable material surounding each seed. It allows us to store the seed and not have to store or transport the entire pod.>

<Quite ingenious my lady...> Should I appologize or should I not, what would Mestra do? <I appologize for my earlier interuption but the sun and the work have gotten the better of my manners>

<I should think you need a new box Metuu, take one from the fresh pile there> It was not an acceptance of his appology, just that she did not see the matter worthwhile to discuss further.

<Yes, quite my lady> Metuu spoke with a respective look. But internally he boiled. How dare she, a Clan of Science dismiss my apology

He put down the full box and picked up an empty one. He gave the bow of obediance to the Narlord and then stalked back into the water and towards the muck. She dares....it will be her doing if I am not made Utral. That viper...does she not know I am a decendent of Mestra of Nubis. For am I not the third male kell of Bathsra of House Keptru? Who was...

And so Metuu dropped remembering the tale of Batreia and began to create a semi-plausable, although completely false decendence from Mestra herself. Ignoring that he was from the wrong Clan, the wrong race, and that Mestra had never lived long enough to bear any young.

"Agreed. Depending on the required GWZPS output, we can have an energy cell, and charging generator here by tomorrow morning should this damnable storm pass over by then. If you don't have a means to ship the food, we can send a couple of bombers to pick it up. Our Cargo Ships were destroyed in the crash, so we are making due. We can bring the dish with us when we leave."

He listened to the invitation...

"We'll probobly be here for a while anyway, sure. We'll just set the inertial dampeners to +4 Earth Standard, and wait til the morning."



Sara could see the wall approaching fast. Hurrying back inside, she felt the wind tearing at the entire area once again. Pulling the Chocobo deeper inside, she checked his leg, which had stopped bleeding, and applyed anti infection liquids.

Maybe it would be gone in the morning. She thought.

Simmons walked shakily through the crashed hulk of his vessel. His ship was destroyed, their QUETZAL node had been disabled, and they were stranded on a strange planet. What the hell had QUETZAL been doing that made it crash? Shaking his head, he grabbed a comm headset from an emergency rack.

"This is the Captain speaking. As you are no doubt already aware, our vessel has been badly damaged, and has crash-landed on our target planet. The QUETZAL node aboard is offline, and all ansible comms are down. Contact with the rest of the universe is impossible. As commanding officer of this expedition, I am exercising my emergency privileges, and am declaring martial law. Military personnel are now entitled to enforce all legal ordinances until further notice. All officers, report to the briefing room. That is all."

Walking through the half-mile remains of the ship, Simmons wasn't surprised that a good deal of his officers had arrived before him. Taking his seat at the end of the table, the captain began the meeting.

"Gentlemen, I'm sure you've noticed we're stranded here. Our poor excuse for a necroscope managed to cut the ship in half, and QUETZAL is down. I need a damage report, and I need it now."

An officer rose from his seat.

"Lieutenant Drake, sir. Sir, I've already gone over the ship, and it looks most of what was lost was engines and main power supply. Hab blocks are still intact, although several are still stranded in stasis. Maintenance is working on bringing the field down now. They've also managed to reroute energy from the gunnery reactors into the main systems, so we still have power. The vehicle bays are thoroughly trashed, with most of the 'suits probably space junk by now."

"What do we have left?"

"Twenty two GB-100s, and a pair of SAMAS power armor. The equipment lockers are still intact, so we have basic armor and hand weaponry, mostly masers and Rhunate railguns. Maybe thirty bikes survived the landing, and half a dozen hover-cars."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. How about the brig?”

“Sir, the brig is fine. And the prisoner is still alive. Banged up, but alive.”

“Are his restraint systems still working?”

“Yes sir. The power field on his cell went down during the descent, but one of our men restrained him until land-fall. The prisoner is safe and sound.”

“Good. And your man?”

“A few minor injuries. An ear nearly detached, but the auto-doc fixed it quick enough.”

“Lucky him. Now, what about food stores?”

“We have enough food to last us a few months, but we’ll need to start hunting native life-forms soon. Kitchens should take care of any native toxins.”

“Alright then. Send out hunting parties with maser rifles; look for anything that could be edible. Also, check the soil around the crash site. I want to know if it’ll be possible to grow any of our crops in this area. Finally, start patrols through the wreck and the surrounding areas. Use half the glitter boys and the SAMAS. I want the immediate area mapped by tomorrow morning. Any questions? No? Good. You’re dismissed.”

Walking out of the room, Simmons headed for the brig. He wanted answers, and he knew just who to talk to...

It was six hours after the Assegai had transferred the first group of personnel, a Ranger platoon and ten others, to the shore. About half the survivors had been moved from the frigate to the lakeside, not because it had taken this long, but because there were still some things to do aboard the Forgaies. Those that had been transferred had almost instantly sent a request over for filter masks, which had inadvertently been left behind. It looked like the atmosphere on this planet wasn’t pure enough for the temperamental and delicate Indoan respiratory systems.

Rapsoli’s maintenance crew were working faster than expected, since she effectively had three crews working on one group of craft, not the normal three groups. She had lost more than two-thirds of her craft, but only a small proportion of her maintenance techs, allowing them to work on half of the surviving craft at any one time. Already her Bravo crew had completed their repairs on less damaged of the two Varia battlefield transports, returning it to full operational status. The craft had already been dispatched to investigate the surrounding area some more, complete with a Ranger squad.

Privates Ryven and Walcott had caused something of a stir when they reappeared, injured and dragging a large carcass. Both they and the carcass had been dispatched to the medical bay, where the duty medic pronounced that Ryven had mild bruising to his shoulder and Walcott had suffered a hairline fracture to his thigh, for which he was injected with a small nanite group. The more interesting news came when the medic examined the creature, which Ryven had already dubbed ‘Tygesha’, which literally meant ‘Great Tyge’.

According to the scan, the tygesha was only an adolescent. This piece of info had caused the two Ranger privates to stare at each other, thinking both that they had been lucky it wasn’t bigger and that a bigger one would feed many people. It never occurred to them that a larger creature would have had trouble fitting within the tight confines of the frigate’s corridors, which were only 2.25 metres tall and of varying width.

The creature was also confirmed as being mostly edible, which pleased the two Rangers, and meant good news for the Indoans as a whole. Other pairs of Rangers had brought back smaller fish for tests, which had also yielded positive results in most cases. The water in the lake had already been tested, and had turned out to be potable if filtered first.
***

Commander Talmar’s senior officers were in council again, discussing their situation. They couldn’t easily stay on board the Forgaies, but they didn’t really have anything they could use as shelter. The frigate was never meant to enter atmosphere, and the Rangers slept as soldiers do when on a mission, on the ground in the open, although usually under a tree if possible.

As far as they could see, there was no way of moving the Forgaies closer to the shore, and they also had no way of bringing the shore closer to the frigate, since they had no earthmoving equipment of any kind. The only truly spare materials on board the frigate were the composite plates used to temporarily repair hull breaches while underway, and these were neither particularly suited to constructing a bridge nor did they have enough to do so.

Talmar had actually ordered Rapsoli to not to ferry any more people across to the shore, since they would have to bring them all back again when night fell. Until they had found some way of creating shelter on land, they would have to remain on board the frigate for general safety, especially as the Varia crew had reported seeing several forms of large creatures roaming the land, which looked less than friendly.

“Anything on the comms, Major?” Talmar asked eventually.

“Nothing we’ve encountered before. There’s definitely some traffic floating around, but not that much. If the recon probes are right, and there are other ships crashed on this planet, most of them are probably just using tactical radios right now, not attempting to communicate with others,” reported Vetai Solis, idly scratching at his tail with a claw.

“Well, we might have to, before too long. We need some form of shelter, either as constructs to put up on the lake shore, or a link between the ship and the shore,” said Manasi simply. “We don’t even have the ability to put up tents right now.”

“Hmm, I guess you’re right. The next important thing is how are our people holding up? We’re stranded on an unknown world, with little to no chance of ever seeing home or our friends again. Some people are going to have difficulty dealing with that,” continued Talmar. He knew that all of them would have some difficulty dealing with it, but meant the more serious cases.

“Well, we’ve been here less than a day. Nerves are still frayed from the long jump, but the relief of being out of the wormhole has helped that some. At the moment, people are mostly okay, but I’d expect that to change some over these first few days,” replied Colonel Sergi Drago, the ship’s second officer and Crew Chief.

“Well, keep me informed, and ask the shrinks what can be done about it,” instructed Talmar. “Right. We’ve got some problems. Let’s start thinking of ways to deal with them.”

“First: food. We need to find a sustainable food source, and we need to do it soon. We’ve discovered some fish we can eat, but it’s gonna take a lot of fish to feed seven hundred people, and they’ll get bored of fish real fast.”

“Second: shelter. We need this sorting fast, and it looks like it’s going to need outside help. Therefore, first thing tomorrow, I want that Varia out looking for someone to lend us that help. Sophia, I want you leading the team.” Manasi nodded her understanding.

“Third: mental health. Sergi, co-ordinate with the medics, the Mind, whoever. Just do whatever you can to reduce the chances of mental breakdowns. If I remember correctly, keeping their mind off it works quite well, so give everyone a task and keep them busy.”

A fleeting image passed across his vision, the black-hulled Varia approaching the half-sunken frigate. A precognition, usually called a blink in Indoan parlance. All Matrai possessed the ability, although some were better at it than others. In all of them however, it was a fairly limited ability, one which they had no actual control over, and only allowing them to see a couple of hours ahead at most, usually only a matter of seconds or minutes.

“Chae’, I think your Varia is nearly back, so we’ll finish here,” ended Talmar. Cheanna Rapsoli, known as Chae’ to her friends, stood, intending to head to the hangar and interrogate her pilots as to what they saw. Talmar followed suit, also intending to hear what the team had to say.

The ship took off. With a mighty roar of the engines, it flew overhead, and then faltered, and ceased, dropping slowly to the ground. The leader of these people, who had named himself the Exarch, could not hold the craft in stasis for long, even with his vaunted powers...

He collapsed on the floor, and mumbled "Go, get food. We need food...."

The fifty or so followers he had left obediently went to obey his commands, as the fear of his power was so well-rooted in them, that they truly did not think about it before they obeyed him. They went outside, and began gathering the pure-white berries which tasted poisonous, but were healthy, and even healed wounds that they were squeezed upon. They also looked for the short, green grass-grain, which was edible, but only after searing with flame, and the purple fern, as the roots of the fern provided seasoning, something they had little of, even if the seasoning was slightly poisonous.

Life was good, for these people. They had food aplenty, and the ship worked, well, most of it, anyway. The resident AI had found much data capacity in their brains, and used it to its full extent, and, within days, they had become, in some small manner, much like the scientists and engineers of the people they were descended from.

They had repaired much of the ship, and, although it could only make 15-20 second flights, and slowly, at that, their storage bays were brimming with cargo, and the "Place of Tiny People", or the cloning lab, had twenty-four new babies about to be born, their growth accelerated greatly...

The Exarch, as he styled himself, ruled the ship from his chair, and, using the huge surpluses of materials in the storage bays, had managed to repair the interface. With childlike delight, he viewed the information on every transmission, and rarely performed his duties, so captivated by this device, was he...

OOC: I know it's short, but I seem to get a temporary case of writers block every time I try to write in this thread, for god knows whatever reason...

The Hope envelope shifted slightly as the wind gusted. The crew of the Hope were busy unloading the filled boxes of yellow grain. Each box was picked up and taken down the tunnel into the Great Hall. Meria stood in the blue light of the gangway and watched as some of the emptied crew quarters were turned into a grainary.

<Come on people...keep it moving...we need to get back soon...> Meria stated dryly.

The "Seeker of knowledge of Spheres" (a scientist sub-caste) squawked and drumbed its feet in a rapid flurry that signified "need of attention/speaking".

In a state/posture of deep thinking/pondering, Rrukk' Shrii finally took notice of the attention seeking scientist.....She lifted her enormous wedge shaped head, her nostils flarred to note the scientist sent and simply said "Speak/verbalize!" with slight modifiers of "knowing of speaking/wearyness".

The quill feathered dromeaosaur spoke; "Molecular/cellular detector sensors, non-living/dead! "Biological/neural sensors, non-living/dead!" Far seeker sensors, non-living dead!" "Sensor of enemy spoor, non-living/dead!" (This last portion was said in a clear state of alarm - the scientists body trembled)

Rrukk' Shrii suspected all of this but was still dissapointed at the loss of their "sensors of enemy spoor". The war against the "filth that is nothingness" was long and terrible......She also noted to herself (with the lack of most of their sensor array) that it would take much longer to acquire all the knowledge they needed about this world.

As for the war, she need not have worried - their enemy was over one hundred thousand cycles dead.....

She let no external signs show in her body movements and gave her dictates/orders to her crechemates that made up the crew. A holographic display of the world below appeared within the center of the "Chamber where orders/dicates are given" (bridge?). All of the crew regarded it with a certain awe and "keeness of interest". She then turned to another scientist caste, an older medium sized dromeaosaur with a red head and neck, and spoke; "Seeker of that which sustains us" require your great knowledge of suggestion of our new creche/home".......

.....................................


The podship began its slow decent into the atmosphere of the world rotating ponderously below. The single electro magnetic shield that protected it was amble for the task and most of the ships power was diverted to it. Linked to the ships main brain, the three Sskiss "pilot seeker" caste deftly guided the ancient podship by means of a bio-naural link allowing pure thought transmission control of the craft - and to its chosen colony sight; near the worlds equator on the east side of a vast northern landmass - a vast lush floodplain laced with a large series of river deltas - ideal for Sskiss habitation. Most of the Sskiss within were still in stasis and would only be revived when needed. As the podship neared the surface, its primitive gravidic field slowed their decent for a landing.

The innocence of this world was over.....The Sskiss had arrived....

Colonel Sophia Manasi wasn’t sure whether to feel honoured or demeaned. She had command of a ten-person team, including four Rangers, three flight crew and three naval personnel, the latter group including a medic, an engineer and herself. On one hand, she had been reduced in terms of numbers to that of a squad leader. On the other, she was leading the only Indoans currently allowed to leave the immediate area surrounding the Forgaies, which, in terms of status, was fairly high.

She was standing by the starboard side hatch of the Varia, watching the alien land flash past beneath them at nearly three times the speed of sound through the windows. It was strange not knowing what was down there. Indoans had done this before, but never her. She was assigned to an Indoan warship, a select group of vessels which very rarely left their home system, and only then if another Indoan vessel required assistance that an Explorer corvette could not provide. The Explorer vessels were sent all across the galaxy, but the warships were kept at home to defend against outside attack.

The crew that had flown a recon mission around the crash site had reported seeing what had to be volcanoes in the mountain range to the east. She hadn’t seen anything like that yet, but they hadn’t really passed any mountains, except for flying directly over the mountain range to the south-east.

“Colonel, we’re picking up some more of those comm transmissions again. Still nothing known,” reported the co-pilot, startling her out of her reverie.

“Never mind known; anything understandable?” she asked the officer. The flyer shrugged.

“Maybe. Neither this ship nor any of us have the translator program. We could have an ally down there, but still be unable to understand them,” replied Captain Fiona Angel. “We would recognise them, though,” she added, to make sure that no-one thought there might be allies down there.

“Hmm, I’ll get that fixed as soon as I can. How long ‘til we pass out of datalink range with Forge?”

Angel consulted a secondary screen. “About five minutes. After that, we’re left with bounce comms.”

“Right,” acknowledged Manasi. “Five minutes to comm blackout, people,” she called out to those in the passenger compartment, informing them that they would be individually unable to contact anyone who was back at the Forge site.

Without the network of relays and satellites, or the frigate floating above them, their datalinks were less effective. They had a small stock of relay satellites on board, but Commander Talmar had wisely decided that they should be saved until absolutely necessary. The frigate had small stocks of many things, but its complement of expendables had not been fully met before departure, leaving it short. The crash had destroyed some of what they did have, leaving them with, in most cases, not very much. The ‘bounce comms’ were fairly obvious; they bounced the transmission off the upper atmosphere to curve it around the planet, but they weren’t as useful or reliable.

The recon probes launched just after their arrival in system had revealed some evidence of another crash site [Siesatia] about six thousand klicks away to the south-east. It was to this site that Manasi’s Varia was heading for. Before too much longer, they would try making contact. It had honestly never occurred to them that, without the translators that they had already realised they didn’t have, their messages would be unintelligible to anyone who wasn’t Indoan.
---

Twenty Minutes Later

“Well, Captain, how ‘bout we give it a try?” asked Manasi. They were still over two thousand kilometres from the crash site, but there was no harm in trying.

“Right,” agreed Angel. She tapped a symbol on her displays and the ‘bounce comm’ unit activated itself, transmitting in real-time. They were using the bounce comm because they didn’t know the exact location of any receivers, and the pencil-thin datalink beam could miss the target by centimetres and they would never know it was there. The transmission was going out across all common Indoan comm frequencies, plus a number of others.

“Kas veir pir Indoan fara Tacan Enouw, thia pir khasror INV Forgaies. Du jup lharrainos teku wocerz baer pir volk-qins. Du ner rashij mandar pau kas flatol, vor ner hutsemg aitedy. Du jup yud ramk tosp thia nipos barl ghosn thia zophien kara taeralofaen tagojesp, vor wir agau veir yud pir cataf thia ni pirl. Du ruhk av const thero nop tek xu, ber tek wusimp nipos thia wir tospy, phalom ni theal av porclah polv.”

Jeremey Wildburg readied a response for the Jordaxian captain after he received the message from yet another downed vessel.

“Captain Myotai, we’re glad to hear that there are crew alive on that vessel, every time we make contact with another crashed ship we’re always afraid that everyone aboard is dead. However, we are unable to contribute any food or supplies at the moment. First of all, we have no equipment to get it there, and second of all, The Siestians got here first, we’ve already committed large amounts of our excess food supply it a trade agreement. However, once we increase food production, we will once again make contact. But first, I believe we would all be served well to quell internal and immediate problems first before we pursue extra-national affairs, although I’m sure you already know that.”

“I’ll be sending periodic updates on our situation on wideband frequencies for anyone who’ll bother to listen, this is Jeremey Wildburg out”

Outside the Wanderer Crash Site

“Alright, its agreed then. We’ll give you the modified dish, and food, once you send the bombers for them, and you’ll be giving us Energy Cells and a means to charge them, as well as Earth-Based grain stock, we’ll take all you’ve got. Do we have a deal?” Frederick inquired

Once he was sure he had confirmation, he and Leo left the fighter and scurried back into the ship, anxious to wait out the storm.

When it hit, it hit hard, the heavy rains produced flood-like effects in the lower decks of the ship, despite measures taken to prevent it, although excessive damage was not taken. The High winds also whipped up tore the roofs off some of the more hastily constructed buildings, although the Command Center and main Residence remained intact. Also, surprisingly the Communications mast remained intact as well. Although damage was taken, it wasn’t much more than a few days of concentrated labour could mend.

Once the storm had passed, the settlement remained, although damaged.

We have a response from the Torontonians, Captain. I left a copy in your neurites - but for now we have more pressing matters. Crew are getting fussy with nothing to do. Not only that, but you'll need to make an appearance, show you've got a handle on things. Show authority and be the captain. Earn your rank. On the up side though, at least the view is nice, and I've already reconstructed a few of our fighters that were in for maintenance as wet-water ships. That'll be a surprise for the pilots. Best hope they don't come for you after what I've done to their 'craft.

"Thanks for the warning. I'll make a showing up in the flight deck and various mess-halls."

I'll clear a space in your diary...



Deeper in the industrial sector of the Hagar, where the lights had all but failed, and the gravity fields were not working, the corpses that were once the crew of the Hagar lay sprawled on the floor, the pain of the sudden gravity, and the impact, having killed them. But there was one being that was still aware, if slightly damaged. Sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, the beings vision was fuzzy, but it could see clearly even in the darkness, and it felt the extra pressure from the gravity all over its body. Barely. Thoughts were flooding through its mind, but in a strangely organised version of chaos. With a slight stretch of will, its vision cleared of its static grain, establishing with a superhuman resolution, though with an odd red tint. The being stood. Its limbs whirred with activity at the effort. Joints locked into position. There was an artificial sounding grunt of dis-satisfaction at the whole process. Glancing down at itself, inspecting its arms, their rusty red hue revealing metal tendons, spindly fingers of the same material, inside a nearly complete exoskeleton, a solid representation of a Jordaxian, made out of artificial materials. This was a Talosian... a robot to less enlightened eyes, but granted the same rights and priviliges as any Jordaxian. This particular sentience was Taiten, a marine aboard the Identity Crisis. To the floor beside him was his rifle, fully contracted for portability. He bent down, retrieving it.

It was strange, he considered, that a ship could be crippled so instantly, but yet leave him totally intact, with only a few bumps and scrapes that were more a matter for polish than repairs. The most obvious place to find answers, he considered, was the bridge. Strolling along until he had found a maintenance hatch, he began the long climb throught the bowels of the ship, heading upwards. It would be a long climb, he mused.

The guard saluted Simmons smartly as he walked into the brig. He nodded, and turned towards the single occupied cells. He noted with pride the jury rigs that kept the PSI-inhibitor functioning in the cell.

The prisoner was a tall man, brown hair, a thick scar from the incident running across his forehead. When the prisoner saw the Captain, he smiled.

"Captain Simmons, so good to see you. I don't suppose you've finally decided to let me out?"

"Fat chance, Kreig. You killed my men, damaged several cryopods. You aren't getting off that easy."

"Then what precisely are you here for, Captain?"

"I want to make a deal..."

___________________


Standing in front of the comm system, Kreig pressed his hands against the control panel. Reaching out with his mind, he twisted, feeling the flow of electricity running through the systems. Twisting, he felt the current change, avoiding the comm circuit. Reaching down, he probed with a multitool, a touch of solder here, a dab of giga-conducting glue here, and it was repaired. Twisting one last time, he let the power run into the comm array. With a blast of static, the system came to life.

Stepping dizzily backwards, Kreig clutched his forehead. Damn this hurts...

One of the gaurds grabbed his shoulder, keeping him from falling to the ground. Grinning, Kreig shifted his weight, throwing the guard over his shoulder, slamming him against the wall. Grabbing his slugthrower, he turned, moving for the door. Slamming it open, he ducked into the hall-

And right into the firing line of Captain Simmons. With a blast of nearly inaudible noise, the prisoner fell to the floor, twitching. Walking into the comm room, Simmons helped the guard up and handed him his gun back.

"Sorry, sir. He got the drop on me."

"Not suprising. He's brilliant, but he's a sociopath. He doesn't care if he has to kill everyone on this ship, he wants out. Escort him back to his cell, and make sure he's locked in tight."

"Yes sir!"

The Captain watched the man walk away, then turned back into the comm room. Lets see if we can get this thing to work...

This is Otagian vessel Aurora's Tears. We have crash landed on this planet, with much of our crew dead. We are not sure of our coordinates, and are requesting any help that we can get. Anyone that hears this message, respond on the same band.