NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: If you're part of the Empire, or are not a known weyrean or Imperial enemy, then you can assume that your dignitaries have been cleared for entry. No weapons, poisonous gas clouds, or death nanites, please. Blaster weapons are not allowed on the Storm, poisonous gas would be filtered out by the air vent system, and nanites would get destroyed by the Storm's own immune system. And...no trying to sneak away, either.

They were not defeated, not really. They had simply accepted the terms of peace. Weyreans did not fight to the death, not when there was a better alternative. Gaps in Paradigm's defenses were being plugged one after another.

"Aren't we a bit close?" the Imperial governor asked shakily, standing on the observation deck of the WSGS Storm, the first of Weyr's new dreadnaughts.

The foreign dignitaries gathered on the observation deck could see a lifeless planet floating amidst dispersed debris, bracketed by six massive constructs. This was one of the two natural holes in the great, spherical asteroid field that was Majora's Wall. Two years ago, the Imperial fleet bypassed Paradigm's extensive outsystem defenses, to strike directly at the inner planets and their massive populations.

"No, ser. We're as safe here as anywhere," the Storm's CO replied. That statement was indirectly targeted at the various representatives from both within and outside Weyr. Each rep had two senior magi'i assigned to him or her, magi'i who could probably take on the Emperor himself and win. There would be no sneaking, spying, or attempts at sabotage.

"Still..."

In the Storm's CIC-bridge, the mood was tense. The Storm was coordinating every aspect of this operation. A failure could result in massive loss of life, and billions of Weyrs in damage.

"Ashanti is in position,"

"Firien cells at full capacity,"

"Synchronization complete," the chief systems technician stated, and silence overtook the dimly-lit room.

"Commence firing," Alchemist Horatio Sun Li commanded after a moment that seemed to take an eternity. In the silence of space no sound could be heard. Then the six consteructs erupted, lashing out at the dead planet with beams of azure-purple light.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v485/Weyr/Craft/Drej.jpg

OOC: Yes, those are six Siege Whooper cannon in action. Ain't they pretty? For RP purposes, their combined power output is somewhat less than that of Death Star 1. It's still more than enough to destroy practically anything out there....

"Energy flux detected..."

"Alpha station, move at vectors..."

"Gotcha.."

The cannon fired for what seemed like an eternity. Waves of energy cascaded through the planet's atmosphere. The energy beams shifted, slightly. In battle mode, each construct could put out the same amount of energy in a split second. For this, however, there was no sense in taking unnecessary risks.

The planet broke apart. Chunks of crust exploded into space, deccelerated visibly under the influence of inertial fields. One of the Storm's turrets pivoted, fired a single salvo that resonated through the vessel's outer frame, vaporized an asteroid the size of a small cruiser heading directly towards the massive craft's observation deck. Mantle turned to liquid metalloid and slilicate. When the operation was done, fifteen seconds after it had begun, only a great field of rock and molten slag remained of the planet, plugging the hole in the 'bottom' of Majora's Wall better than any mine field.

In space there was little way to dissipate energy. The molten rock would keep its energy for years, blobs of matter keeping an effective ward against any more intruders from below the elliptic.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this concludes our demonstration of the Siege Whooper system," the CO announced. "Refreshments will be served in the main gallery, and I will field any questions you may have. We will continue the tour of the Paradigm system's defenses tomorrow."

"Most impressive, the governor stated in the gallery. The observation deck was sealed off, now, and quite vacant. The gallery had a high overhead, with many sunlamps. Stewards moved between the many delegates, carrying various refreshments. There were many black-clothed magi'i, though their presense seemed lessened, somehow.

"Just simple thaumaturgy," Alchemist Li replied conversationally. "We'll repeat the process above the elliptic in two weeks. You can observe that, too."

"Ah...I trust everything will go according to plan," the governor responded, a bit to quickly.

"Thank you, governor," the alchemist inclined his head.

"We're really down to using planetbusters?" Admiral Istari Storm muttered quietly, stepping up to Li as the governor skittered away.

The alchemist downed his glass before replying. "Yes. I never thought I'd be making engines for the Empire."

"None of us did...."

"At least history will not repeat itself," the slender woman smiled ruefully, looking at the holimage of the system, of its dead planets and white dwarf sun. The sun was being strip-mined by the Weyrean government, a process that would take decades to complete."Perhaps we should not have tarried, Alicia. The universe might have been better for it. Still, now we have a weapon."

Should the Sith invade now, they would find Paradigm a harder nut to crack. There were contingency plans for everything. The greatest fear of Weyrean officials, excepting the imperial governor, was an attempt by the Empire to consolidate its hold on Weyr.

Nothing can have a planet dropped on it and survive, Victoria thought, shutting off the encrypted disk. In seconds it became a small pile of carbon, to be picked up by ambient mites and carried away. Taht was what Weyr would do to an invader employing somthing like the Death Star -- translate a planet on top of it. Anything could be translated, with enough power. It would take years to get the firien cells fully charged, but once charged they would work until destroyed.

"The gov is here to see you," the reception-secretary said over the interComm.

"Send him in," Victoria responded, lightly pressing then releasing a small button on her desk. The governor was as corrupt as anything the Regent had seen. He was being paid off by dozens of factions, all the while, keeping his fleet at Paradigm and his two million Storm Troopers around his private palace or else spread thin throughout the Kingdom.

OOC: The next several posts will deal with pilot training, If anyone (like the Rebels) have an IC reason for trying to disrupt training, feel free to do so. Contact me if you have any questions.

The shuttle shuddered, rocked slightly. Engines whined. A slight tinge of ozone filled the cabin. The twenty odd young men and women were pressed into their flight seats. All were about twenty, Van guessed, just out of High School or College. Some gripped arm rests, others stared straight ahead, still others tried to look out the small, oval viewports. The young woman next to him shifted nervously, swallowed as the noise of drives increased.

"Whoa," someone gasped from behind. Their destination was huge, a glowing mass of yellow viewports and black armor that stretched in all directions. Many of the people on the shuttle had ever seen a starcraft, much less been in space. Van tried to guess their origin by accent -- a young woman from the farmlands of Idrago, a man from the Great Desert wastes.

There was a pause, a period of weightlessness. The drives slowed, rotated, picked up. A faint hiss was the only announcement of docking. There was murmuring at the front of the shuttle. A Weyrean woman floated inside, deftly gripping the handlebars whose purpose Van tried to guess upon entry.

"Welcome to the Icarus. You have already been assigned berths by section. If you do not like your neighbors, deal with it. This craft will be returning to Terra in ten minutes," the woman's voice carried through the vessel without any amplifiers. "Get your things and come with me."

Click, click, click, the restraints opened one by one. Van reached up, found himself going in the opposite direction. He pushed against his seat, grabbed a hand bar, let the young woman next to him pass. The storage lock clicked open. After some fumbling, he managed to sling it over one shoulder.

"Five minutes," the Star Guard major stated.

**********

"Wait, so we're sharing berths?" someone exclaimed. It was a girl, Van noticed, blushing furiously.

"The Star Guard is completely integrated. deal with it," the major responded tersely. Her emotion ranged between annoyed and terse. They were in the Icarus, and, thankfully, held down by its artGrav generator. "You're the last ones. Dinner is at 1700 hours in the main mess. We will be translating at 1900 hours. Are there any questions?"

**********

"You have all signed up for one of the most dangerous jobs in the world. You have chosen to put your lives on the line to protect this Kingdom. You will learn to fly and repair the fastest, deadliest weapons ever created. You will acquire skills that will put you at the forefront of the interstellar job market. Many of you will wash out before your first year is up. Only ten new pilots are accepted every year. Welcome to the Star Guard."
--Fleet Admiral Hiro Storm, address to new Star Guard cadets

The Astro-Zeros sat on the launch catapult, Van ticking off the preflight list bullets along with the rest of the cadet squadron. A year of sims and theoretics has got him into the cockpit of an actual fighter.

"...Fusactor output at forty..."

There were sims, with direct neural input able to simulate everything, including a piece of nacopy driving iteself through Van's chest, but sitting in a fighter, with the drives thrumming behind the seat, was still different. There was no voice saying 'this is a sim'. This was for real.

"...Firien load matched..."

"...Safeties on..."

"...Scanners green..."

"...Injectors green..."

"...Inertial buffers green..."

"...Flight vectors cleared," Gamma Leader, the flight instructor, statedover the group comm.

"Catapult at ninety percent," the flight tech flashed.

Gamma two shot into the starlit darkness.

"Gamma-three, you are go," came from the control tower of the WSGS Ichero, an old supercarrier converted into a training facility for the weyreN Star Guard.

"Gamma-three away," Van was pressed backwards as his fighter was thrown into space.

"Gamma two away.."

"...Gamma six..." the comm crackled.

*********

Another year and a half of training, there were four squadrons left of an original twenty. Some left for capShip training. Some washed out. Some, like Rivka, managed to piss off the professors and flags and got kicked out. Rivka...the girl was a great pilot, that was sure, but she hated academics. Van could understand her pont -- a fighter pilot did not really need to know differential calculus and four-dimensional metaphysics.

His quarry was good. The Astro-Zero jerked violently. Van fired his lascannon, even though he didn't have a lock, to remind the other guy that he was till here and keep him from diverting power to engines so he could run away from Van's slower fighter.