Breed: Homecoming (Updated 16th Nov)

[Witcher Wolf]

This was for a project that never really got anywhere due to the idiot publisher, I wrote a massive background and story for the game: Breed.

But nothing was done with this, so it's sitting mouldering doing zilch...so here for the first time I present to you the Science Fiction backstory that CDV wanted - written by me and of course all the usual copyrights apply blah blah.

Breed: Homecoming

"Remember this: once the human race is established on more than one planet and especially, in more than one solar system, there is no way now imaginable to kill off the human race." ~ Robert Heinlein, speech at World Science Fiction Convention, 1961

Earth now stands at the dawn of a new age, an age of wonder and discovery and an age where for the first time we can spread our wings and take flight among the farthest reaches of the stars.

It is the year 2600 and we have spread our people into and across the darkest and vast distances of space, we have explored like the sailors of yore – going beyond the boundaries of our solar system and galaxy, trawling the depths of the void in search for countless homes for our vastly over populated planet.

Colonies have been established in systems such as the Besalius binary star system that neighbours our own and worlds such as Mars have become hotbeds for interstellar transport and commerce.

We have seen gas giants form in the darkness, and watched the birth of planets – safe from within the hulls of our science and research ships and stations. We have witnessed many wonders and seen things that we never dreamed we would.

Never for one moment did we think that we, ourselves, were being watched and observed – after all it was extremely egotistical of us to think we were the only beings out here in the timeless and deep reaches of the cosmos.

Yet many other races watched us – UFO sightings were dismissed in the early 20th century as the ravings of madmen and the cover-ups of military minds and governments. Perhaps we were being evaluated, monitored or even plotted against.

No one knew, and no one could have known that when the final colonist arrived in the year of 2602 that things would change for us, in so many ways – we’d be left counting the days until our final breath was uttered into the starlit void.

“Shuttle on final approach to Hammond Starbase, request permission to land, Hammond control over?” The speaker was a middle-aged man with slightly greying hair and one of the finest civilian pilots to come out of the USC’s (United Space Corps) training facility based in what remained of the old NASA headquarters on Earth.

He flicked his fingers over controls as he waited for a response and tilted the small passenger vessel, into line with the docking bay. The ship moved with a burst of phosphorescent light from the thrusters and swung into position.

“Easy does it baby, just like parking back home.” Jack Morgan grinned as he waited for Hammond to reply.

“Shuttle Omega, you’re cleared to dock, keep to the lights and ride her on home.” The ops person on duty was Jack’s long-time interest, Jenny Farrel and he so wanted to land that fish that it hurt to even think about it, but Jenny was too busy training to be a fighter pilot in the Colony Defence Force.

“Roger Hammond, Omega out.” He cut the comms and prepared to swing his ship into the docking bay, the ring of lights blinked softly as the small shuttle slid towards the docking clamps – he’d done blue milk runs like this a hundred times and could probably fly the damn thing with his eyes closed. A slow grin spread across his face and he depressed the switch that shut down the docking computers, a warning flashed across his vidscreen and the 'bitching betty' hammered her complaint in his ear.

Warning, docking computer offline – Please re-engage.

As usual he ignored it and gripped the controls with his patented off-handed style, almost casually, after all he was an egotistical son of a bitch. But Jack was good, he’d won many of the Colony races and various awards had been lavished on him, he was so good that he had the pick of the best runs in the business – and that suited him down to the ground.

“Jack? Jack, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” It was Jenny and she sounded madder than a basket full of rattlers who’d been thrown in a lake.

“Got a problem with my computers.” He lied and began to fiddle with the transmission controls. “Whole system has gone into some kind of overheat, I can barely make out what you’re saying Control…”

“Bullshit Jack, you turn the fucking computer back on now. This isn’t cargo you’re messing with, it’s people’s lives!” She snapped and thumped the control desk, this caused some of her companions to turn and give her sharp looks. Jenny scowled until they turned back round, she was a red head and she had a temper to match.

“Too late Control.” He began to back the ship into the docking bay and fired the retros hard; some of his passengers in the back looked out of the portholes and began to talk excitedly about their new home.

“Jack, you stupid son of a …” He cut the mic and shook his head, grinning, she was always like this and perhaps it was a game they played. He’d not lost a cargo or a roster of passengers yet and as the ship neatly clunked into place – he wasn’t going to lose today either.

“Docking complete.” He opened the comm channel again and chuckled down the mic. “See, I told you, nothing to worry about.” An angry silence greeted him for a few moments until Jenny’s icy voice rankled over the static.

“This time.” She left it at that and turned the mic off, her eyes narrowing at the screen where Jack’s ship showed docked. “One day.” She said to the image. “You’re going to make such an asshole of yourself and I hope I’m there to see it.”

In the cockpit of the Omega Jack shut down the systems and prepared to leave the ship, he thumbed the microphone to the back-bay and spoke in his best tones, the ones he reserved for important passengers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, those in-between, this has been a Morgan express flight – we’re glad you’ve enjoyed your trip, please keep to the exit lights at all times and have a good stay.” He cut the mic once more and grabbed his jacket, lighter and a few other things. “Yep Jack.” He said to himself. “She wants you.”

He joined the throngs of people that spilled from the various docking tubes in the base and slipped across to a nearby stand to purchase a paper from a vendor. The headline caught his attention.

Mysterious ‘Radar’ Shadow near Holtz causes widespread hysteria amongst FCF

“Oh great, just what I need, more First Contact Fanatics…when are they gonna wake up and realise. This is it baby, this is as good as it gets.”

His next stop was at a liquor store and he bought a couple of bottles of his favourite drink, his ego wouldn’t let him get by without a Jack Daniels now and again. It should have been called Jack Morgan by his reckoning but you had to have a dream, or you ended up a nobody with your atoms spread out across the stars, that’s how his father went anyways.

By the time he hit the spacer’s bar on Hammond she was already there, almost as if she’d been waiting for him. He breezed in like he’d done a hundred times before. That self same swagger – the over confident stride and that smirk of his. Jenny wanted to ram her glass in his face, but she held her temper and stood up from her chair, with a few quick steps of her booted heels she was over by Jack in moments.

[Witcher Wolf]

“Hey babe!” He smiled disarmingly, but didn’t catch the left hook that sent him spinning to the floor with a growl, or the foot that struck his chest and knocked him onto his back. He grunted, spat blood and moaned.

“Don’t you ever do that shit on my watch again, you hear me Morgan, or I’ll remove your balls with a laswelder!”

Now she was in his face, over the top of him, normally Jack would have loved this but his ego had taken a world class hammering before his peers and he was pissed. He scowled at her and grabbed her wrists.

“I don’t know what crawled up your ass and died, but its time you shut the hell up…now get off me!” He shoved hard and she was taken by surprise, she went flying and landed on her rump – green eyes narrowing harshly as she stood up.

“You wanna play it that way, huh Jack?” She spat and was about to go at him again.

Morgan stood up from the floor and rubbed his chin, he shot her back a filthy look and growled. “Look Jenny, just calm down and sit the hell down before station security locks you up, and me…”

She stopped for a moment, looked at the throng of people who were now watching them both, as though they were a pair of tigers in a gladiator’s pit. Those green eyes narrowed once more and she slid herself into the seat.

“Better be good, Jack…” Was all she could bring herself to say.

The pilot joined her at the other side of the table and fixed his eyes on hers, she narrowed them again and gave him a scowl that could scuttle a freighter. He looked back and winced.

“You’ve been learning how to fight?”

“Yeah, so I could kick your sorry ass if you did something that stupid…jerk.” Jenny grabbed a passing waiter and ordered herself a stiff scotch.

“Ok, let’s drop the hostile for a second, you don’t wanna fight me…and Jen, I sure as hell don’t wanna fight you.” He looked at her pleadingly; he didn’t want a scene, not one that could get his ego seriously ruffled.

“No you don’t, cause I’d hand you your balls on a plate.” The woman growled in the back of her throat and then snatched her scotch when it arrived. A few moments later she’d downed it and threw her head back, shaking her hair out of her eyes.

“When are you and me gonna get connected Jenny, that’s some serious tension you got there…I mean, some serious tension, if you get my drift.” Jack wasn’t a subtle man, in his line of work, it didn’t pay to be subtle – it didn’t pay to be too nice, Colony pilots could get ripped off, ship jacked or worse, spaced if they didn’t have a certain kind of attitude…and Jack had that in spades.

Emerald green eyes narrowed again and there was almost a layer of ice as cold as the surface of Pluto. She snorted a little and then had to laugh, for all his failings, Jack was a handsome man – she could do worse, but he’d need the edges smoothing down.

“You know Jack, I should break your face for that remark, but I kind of find myself thinking that would be a shame. Don’t you have a woman in every stardock?”

Morgan laughed a little and shook his head.

“Naw, to be honest babe, I don’t fly the lanes that often. Haven’t been feeling like breaking hearts for a long time.”

This revelation sparked a small amount of interest from the woman that sat opposite him; she was lithe, red headed and quite curvy. Jack liked her and the fact that she was almost as good as him when it came to flying, gave him quite a rush.

“You, an eligible bachelor?” She laughed a little, the ice melting and the air between them clearing slightly. There were sparks, but they didn’t seem to be the kind of sparks that would ignite and blow the bar to bits.

People came and went, Jack and Jenny stayed up late into the night, talking about this and that. Now they’d actually gotten a chance to find some more common ground they found a pull, an attraction that they’d not really noticed before. Well Jack had noticed it, but in his usual way he’d been enough of an asshole to put the woman off each time he’d made any kind of move. Crash and burn they say, but this time, Jack seemed to be in the zone and he was making all the right moves.

It was late the next morning that Jack woke up to the sounds of his comm system beeping over and over again. He leaned over Jenny’s inert form and brushed her skin with his hair. He grabbed the device from the table and she stirred, making a soft mumbling sound and shoving her head under the sheets.

“Morgan?” He snapped into the comm. “Wide and awake after a night of passion, what the hell do you want Gray?”

“Jack, I’ve got a sweet score for you, it’s worth triple pay!” Gray’s voice, Jack’s contact in the agency, was full of nervous excitement.

“Ok calm down Sugarboy and speak clearly…” Morgan grinned for a moment at the words ‘triple’ and ‘pay’ something about those words made him perk right up. He shuffled himself up until he could sit with his back to the headboard.

“Jack man, there’s some FCF loonies that want to go to Holtz and check out that shadow. Hear me out though, they’re willing to pay you cash upfront and a bonus if you avoid any authority patrols.” Jack’s buddy outlined the proposal and waited for the tirade that would surely come.

“Ok, now that’s got my attention…when and where?” This was a good score, he couldn’t afford to miss it, and with the money he made off these nutballs he’d be able to get Jenny something really special.

She chose that moment to appear from under the covers and shake her hair out, one hand rested on his face as she asked.

“Hey handsome, what’s going on?”

“Oh, just some pilot business, some folks want a lift real soon and it’s worth triple pay.” Jack’s eyes gleamed with that kind of fire you’d expect from a man who’s about to make a serious announcement. “And with it, well, maybe I could get you that ship upgrade you were wanting.”

Jenny was about to outline the reasons why he should stay with her and make good use of their time off, but when he said this, her eyes brimmed a little and she impulsively hugged him.

“Damn it Jack, when did you get a heart?”

“Had one all along, just keep it behind six feet of hull-plating.” He quipped.

“If you want to ferry these people Jack, do it, but you don’t have to buy me anything – pay off your debts and sort yourself out.” She stroked his hair and kissed him softly.

“Jack? Jack? What the hell’s going on man, we on, or not?”

“Yeah.” Morgan grinned widely. “We’re on.”

[Witcher Wolf]

The pilot spent the rest of his day off with Jenny and they made good use of their time. He left her on the station while he met Gray at the docking ring, the weasel faced man was there as per usual with a group of three people. They all looked like the typical conspiracy theorist FCF lunatics that he went on about – but today they were Lord and Lady pay-check and by the look of Gray’s outstretched hand, they’d paid up in full.

He took the money and ushered the people onboard the Omega, while he and Gray went to the cockpit. Gray pulled out the sling-seat and settled himself in.

“Now you’re sure that this is all going to go, ok, right? No stupid mishaps like last time?”

“Relax Gray, things are gonna be just fine.” Jack joined him and slipped into his own seat, he ran a quick diagnostic and pushed the comm button.

“Shuttle Omega to Control, requesting permission to depart?”

The man’s voice that replied was Carter, one of the senior ops, his thick hick accent pooling from the speakers.

“Roger Omega, you are cleared for take off…Jenny sends her regards Jack, says she’s got training today out near the boondocks.”

“Ok, thanks Control, Morgan out.” Jack cut the comm again and turned to Gray. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

He thumbed the controls and released the docking clamps and soon the Omega was ghosting away from the station and turning towards the rest of the traffic in the area. He needed to time this just right, to catch the edge of a jump signature was a fine art and would mislead any of the station’s tracking devices into thinking that Jack’s ship had gone somewhere else.

“Ready Gray, on three, you push that button…got it?”

“Yeah, three, right.”

A likely target flicked onto Morgan’s scanners and he began to slowly follow it, prepping his own jump engines and bringing them just to the edge of firing. The Omega complained as per usual, the ship rattling somewhat in the void and the passengers at the back began to become quite nervy.

“One…”

It was a bulk freighter, a little larger than his ship, but with the depreciation of subspace particles it wouldn’t matter, when the area was swept for traffic by the census ships – the signatures would match or be close enough as to not raise any eyebrows. And to Jack’s reckoning, he’d be back by then anyways – safe and sound.

“Two…”

The freighter moved into the departure area, the Omega matching her perfectly, staying in the larger ship’s shadow – small course corrections appeared as tiny flickers of light from the sleek ship’s thrusters.

“Three…”

The freighter’s jump engines went into full drive and a burst of light began to flow before the ship, the powerful thrusters at the back flared into life and began to push the bulk towards the rent in space. Jack’s voice cut into Gray’s marvel at this spectacle and he depressed the jump trigger.

The world lit up like a kaleidoscope and streams of colour formed as the two jump signatures interacted together. The Station security caught a brief flash on their monitors but dismissed it as one of many glitches or perhaps EM interference from a nearby solar flare. When the display cleared, Jack’s ship was well on course for Holtz and the bulk freighter was probably making good time to another Colony world. The pilot sat back in his chair and smiled at Gray.

[Witcher Wolf]

“See, nothing to it.”

“Y…yeah, nothing to it at all.” The other man was visibly shaking. “We could have been torn apart by the freighters jump…How the hell did you know, we wouldn’t?”

“That’s a trade secret, Sugarboy, trade secret.”

Gray nervously settled back in his seat, it was a good few hours before they’d be at Holtz and he was curious as to how Jack was going to sneak past the patrols that were bound to be out there.

Time passed in jump space like treacle for both men and their passengers. They passed it by either sleeping or playing many of Jack’s holo-games on his entertainment system. The pilot was sleeping when Gray tapped him on the shoulder, he complained about the thrust-to-mass ratio of the ‘turnbull’ engine and then shot up wide-awake.

“We there yet?”

Gray was about to answer when Jack’s nav computer began to burble a soft and insistent tone. It was the warning that Morgan wanted to hear; he pushed the controls and adjusted his sling-seat, preparing to return to real space.

Outside the Omega, the world that had gone into psychotic luminescent madness returned to normal with a shudder and flare of bright light. The grey of the planet Holtz greeted them through the cockpit windscreen, almost foreboding, like a giant eye in the blackness of space. Jack ran a quick low-key sensor sweep of the sector and hrmed a little at what he found.

“We’re clear, Gray, USC must be having a day off or something.”

“Eh? They’re usually swarming around here like flies around, hey, what’s that?” He pointed to a small speck at the very edges of their vision, Jack brought it up on magnification and they stared in shocked awe.

Spinning silently and relentlessly in the void was a single piece of hull plating that swam around in lazy circles. Only the first white emblazoned letter could be seen as it moved around and around, it was unmistakable – it was a U. Both men exchanged quick glances and then Jack’s ship was off towards the debris, to get a closer look – after all, he was a risk taker and this kind of risk was well worth it.

The Omega slid through the blackness and Jack halted his ship at the edge of the debris field, he could see it clearly now. Gray and the others looked over at the scene before them and one of the FCF muttered a prayer. It was a massive patrol ship; the key word here to remember Jack would have pointed out was ‘was’. Because to the pilot it looked as though a giant child had been playing with it, shaken the damn thing apart in a tantrum and smashed the whole ship to bits. Bodies, broken bits of metal and still sparking conduits littered the void. One hell of a graveyard prepared for ya – thought Jack and turned on the Omega’s front light.

The powerful beam shone out into the blackness, alighting here and there on the metal debris, illuminating the once proud hull, now ravaged by some means – what looked like plasma scorches littered the surface of what remained of the patrol ship, great gouges had been cut into the metal, blistering paint and bubbling the remaining letters SC on another hull plate. A few bodies were caught on the sweeping search of the Omega’s light, they showed up as grisly reminders of the dangers of decompression, those who had been lucky enough to get to environment suits had suffered punctures or worse – one body was pinned to a sharp triangle of metal, hands locked in death around the spike – blood hanging in tiny droplets and moving with the debris and carnage. The face behind the visor was set with the rictus grimace of death.

“Ok, I think we’ve seen enough Jack, let’s get the fuck out of here, eh?” Gray poked the other man lightly. “This is giving me the creeps man.”

Jack smiled and shook his head. “Uh huh, amigo, these guys paid a lot to get to that planet, we stick to the plan – otherwise we have to refund, and I ain’t doing that!”

“How did I know, you were going to say that…” Gray slunk back into the chair and curled into the comfortable seat. “Just don’t get us killed!”

“Me, get killed, I can’t die Gray, got a date tonight.”

“Typical, always thinking of your re-entry procedures eh?”

“Ok, enough of that.” Jack snapped and swung the ship sharply around, he angled it towards Holtz and punched the burners. The other man’s comment had rankled him a little and he pushed hard on the controls.

“Hang on buddy, it might get a little bumpy, Holtz ain’t got enough of an atmosphere to really matter, but it’ll shake those old bones of yours.”

Score one to the pilot as Gray shot him a venomous look, he hated space travel really, it was the only thing that he knew he’d have to face on this little jaunt with Morgan. And now here they were heading towards the vapid atmosphere of the planet with an angry pilot at the stick, what else could go wrong? Knowing his luck he’d meet bug-eyed monsters and be kidnapped for all sorts of vile experiments.

The Omega hit the planet’s thin atmosphere at just enough of an angle for the veteran pilot to ignore the buffeting and keep perfect control, of course, to his passenger – Gray, it seemed like the ship was about to shake apart, and when the nose cone lit with the orange foxfire of re-entry he nearly broke the sling-seat by trying to scoot it back even further.

“Does it always do that?”

“Nope…”

“Well why is it doing it now?”

“Re-entry burn, when a planet’s got atmosphere, Jesus man…don’t you know anything about space flight at all?” Jack’s tone was purposefully derogatory and snide; he was enjoying this.

“Oh…” Gray seemed mollified a little and settled back to watch the dangerous spectacle in front of him, wishing it wasn’t so close and that he’d chosen to sit in the back with the others.

It was dark when the Omega finally made planet fall, the sleek ship coasting through the atmosphere and heading towards the supposed co-ordinates of the ‘shadow’. At this rate of speed and current timing, Jack reckoned they’d hit their target in a couple of hours…while outside the thin rain continued to fall unabated on the rocky planet below. There wasn’t much of an atmosphere as his sensors showed, but what was there was going to give a damn good try and being almost typical of weather that could have once been called ‘British’.

Finally the shuttle set down at the location of the ‘shadow’ and Jack cut power to the engines, the ship gave a whine and a sigh almost as she sat in the pouring rain. The FCF grabbed their kit and gave the pilot a cheery kind of wave as they trudged off through the darkness, beams of torchlight flickering in the misty droplets – they each wore a re-breather and a hazardous environment suit, it seemed by the look of it that company policy was to make these things bright yellow and slightly reflective.

“They’ve got a few hours, then I want off this rock.” Gray muttered. For once Morgan was in complete agreement with his friend, something about the destruction out there in space – floating above them like a monument struck the veteran as odd, he couldn’t quite put his finger on the nagging thought but assumed that when the chips were down, something would come back to him.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got this one in the bag.”

[Witcher Wolf]

Jack wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he finally awoke again, Gray was sleeping this time and the comm system was quiet, he stretched, cricked his neck and checked his chronometer – the FCF were late by around two hours, he’d wanted to stay two hours and four had passed. He started to power the ship’s engines and slammed on the front light, the Omega purred at start up and gave an almost happy whine as the ship warmed herself up.

“Morgan to survey team?” He suppressed a snicker as these guys weren’t scientists, they were rich little playboys who wanted to run the system and prove that life was out there, other than humanity. Jack always thought, if it’s out there, where is it and why the hell didn’t it bring good-looking women with it?

There was no reply. Jack frowned and kicked Gray’s chair. “Hey wake up Sugarboy, we’re moving.” The veteran pushed a few more controls and brought the ship’s sensors up to full power, he began to sweep the area going wider and wider until he picked up the tracker he’d secreted aboard the survey teams equipment. “Bingo!”

“Huh, what? What’s Bingo got to do with it Jack?” Gray had gone from nought to sixty in a few seconds and now was wide-awake, rubbing his eyes and reaching for a drink. “What time is it?”

“Long overdue our bedtime, well mine anyway.” The pilot punched the lifters and the ship rose on a roar of thrusters. “We’re going out there, to them.” He snorted. “They’re late, probably got lost or something, or fell asleep telling buggy stories.”

Once more the Omega took off and flew low to the ground, Jack kept her steady and skimmed the surface. According to the tracker the FCF were around five miles away from the ship and in a northerly direction, it wouldn’t take him long at all to get to them and when he did he was going to charge them overtime. Jack’s beady eyes picked out the first tell tale reflective suit from the air and he brought his ship lower, it was then that both he and Gray caught a glimpse of the red stain on the environment suit’s leg. He looked to his friend and nearly turned the ship skywards then…but something in his makeup could never walk away from a mystery.

“Shit.” He slammed the ship down hard, keeping the engine running and locking off the controls to himself alone. “Stay here, don’t touch a single thing and watch those sensors…I want to know if we have any kind of movement…one of the indigenous life forms breaks wind – I wanna know.”

“R…right…” the businessman murmured and kept his eyes on the readouts. “How’d I know if one of them does?”

“Huh?”

“Breaks wind? Though I don’t know why you want to know that.”

“It’s a joke moron, to lighten the mood…now just watch.”

“Oh right…” Gray’s face coloured a little and he snapped his eyes back to the scanners.

Morgan shot to the back of the ship and quickly put on his spacesuit, he closed the visor and grabbed a pistol from the rack. He was allowed to keep one for emergencies and this seemed like more of a full-scale ‘shit-fest’ to him, so the pistol was probably not going do much good. Still it felt somehow reassuring as he opened the rear hatch and walked down onto the planet’s surface.

Above him the sky wheeled and careened with thin clouds as the dark splats of mud washed onto his suit’s boots. He made quick time over to the first of the FCF people and stopped dead, it was a good job that his stomach was made of sterner stuff when he got there, for before him was a mangled body – what hadn’t been blasted with some kind of high energy weapon was mangled and gutted…the man’s bowels lay open to the pattering rain and he looked as though he’d died with a scream on his lips.

The grisly story was repeated elsewhere as well, as Jack’s small hand torch lit the area in waves of searching light. The rain danced across his vision and he shuddered a little – the members of the team were all dead, blood was pooling the ground from one man’s visor where it looked like a steel bar must have been shoved from the front to the back – the helmet’s plating was cracked by the force of the blow.

“Fuck, Jack, we’ve got movement!” Gray shouted in his ear and Morgan almost tore his helmet off, his torch slammed onto the ground, the glass taking the brunt of the landing – but the beam guttered and died leaving the veteran in the pitch blackness and howling windy rain.

“Christ Gray, don’t yell so loud, where and fuck…I can’t see to get back to the ship…shit…shit…shit!” Jack swore and dropped to his knees, right in a pool of guts, he was looking and scrabbling for one of the team’s mag-lights – it was this action that could well have saved his life as a brilliant burst of plasma flashed over his head and scorched a nearby rock, leaving the surface pock marked and broken.

More plasma rained like wildfire around him and he threw himself to one side, clutching the mag-light in his hand, fumbling with the activation switch…not to see what was trying to kill him, but to try and get enough light to see by to escape. The next few moments were a blur as his heavy booted foot collided with another body and tipped it to one side, the whole thing tore apart as though the man had been pre-cut or slashed in such a way – Jack was thankful he couldn’t smell anything as a loop of steamy intestine gripped his boot like a hangman’s noose.

The veteran pilot yanked his foot forwards and freed himself from the grisly loop and then he started to run, back towards the ship screaming for Gray to turn on the lights; then with a dim groan he realised that he’d locked the controls, Gray couldn’t even operate the john without a pass code. The sight of the bright running light tipped his aggressors off to his direction and the air sizzled once more with the flash of plasma and blur of radiance – he’d just about made it to the ramp when his legs went out from under him, one of the shots had found its mark and slammed into the lower part of his leg.

The pilot gagged as pain burst through him like a supernova and he grabbed onto the edge of the ramp, hauling himself up and onto it. He lashed out at the button with a stabbing finger – pulling his frame up with a sheer force of will and a grim determination. The ramp closed behind him and he staggered, leaving bloody trails and bits of flesh on the cold hard deckplate of his ship.

“Fuck!” Gray rushed from the sling-seat and grabbed his friend. “What the fuck happened, Jack?”

“No time, get me to the controls now!”

Gray didn’t wait to be asked again, he struggled with his badly wounded friend to the sling-seat and shoved him into it, taking his own seat again he eyed the scanners with a frown.

“Oh hell, Jack, what’s happening? What are those things?”

“No time, shut up!” Morgan hammered at the controls, missing a couple of times and growling loudly. “Fuck it, fuck it!” Gray had never seen him like this; he searched near his chair for a med-kit and pressed the painkiller injection into his friends’ wickedly brutalised leg. Tiny enzymes and drugs surged into Jack’s system and the white-hot fire that threatened to consume him abated quite considerably.

The air outside was lit once more as the aggressors began to take aim and fire at the ship. Jack fired the thrusters and the Omega clawed into the night sky amidst a rain of plasma and what seemed like the very fires of hell reaching out to claim them both. A few shots came close to the mark but Jack’s training kicked in and he grabbed the stick, the ship turned in a wild barrel roll and plasma streamed past – quickly she made her escape into the atmosphere and beyond that into the void of space that seemed oddly calming and protective to Gray.

“I don’t know what happened back down there Jack, but shit.” The businessman’s voice trembled on the edge of a breakdown. “What could do that to your leg?”

[Witcher Wolf]

He was ignored for the most part, the pilot was now making the preparations to jump and he still skewed the ship erratically, partly from the remainder of the pain and partly from the instinct to stay alive in any kind of dogfight. His hands flew over the controls and he tried not to pass out. Finally as he pushed the jump switch, he slumped over the stick and the chaotic burst of jumpspace called to the Omega, opening its arms to the prodigal child returned.

As the Omega made her escape, from the shadow of the planet something lurked in the blackness – barely seen, watching and waiting – perhaps even taking a note of the small ship’s jump signature…a shark in the oceans of gasses and formless shades.

The spiral of light was of little comfort to Gray, he watched his friend, he watched the ship as though it might break apart any second and eventually sleep claimed him as well. It was a fitful sleep, full of dreams of things better left to the imagination and images of fire and death. He awoke with a start to find the ship close to Hammond Starbase.

“Jack?” He nudged the pilot gently and the man rocked a little, eyes weakly opening, his leg had clotted thanks to the med-kit but it was in a bad state, he needed the med techs on the station to take a closer look at it.

“Ok, lemme do this.” The pilot touched the jump control and the ship skewed into normal space, almost on top of a freighter, Jack yanked it out of the way and the comm’s lit up with a furious chatter.

“Fuckhead.” Screamed the captain of the freighter, then began to trail off into a rant in hispanic about Jack’s parents, his lack of balls and other things. The Omega’s pilot didn’t even reply – he was too tired and his strength was leaking from him every second. He needed to land this bird and just go to sleep, his eyes closed and Gray slapped him…earning a punch for his trouble and then a swift apology.

“Hammond, Control, this is Jack.” He slurred into the comm system and Jenny answered in her typical hot-tempered way.

“I warned you Jack, this is the last time you pull this shit!”

“Jenny, it’s me, Gray…look shut up and listen. Jack’s hurt, he needs a med tech now and I need a vacation.”

The comm operators voice went deathly silent for a moment before the frequency lit up like the fourth of July. “Jack’s hurt, is he ok? Course he’s not ok…I mean, he’ll live right? It’s not serious – he wasn’t in a rockslide, crash or anything?” A flurry of questions fell from her lips like snowflakes in a blizzard and Gray rolled his eyes.

“Just give us damn clearance.”

“Shit, sorry, you’re cleared Omega…bay three.”

Jack’s docking computer took over as the pilot lapsed into another bout of sleep, his mind constructing all sorts of images from the trauma he’d suffered. Some of them were nightmarish creatures made of metal and stone, wicked simulations of past rivals and barely formed starships…they mocked him, they laughed at him – called him names, loser and fake – they stole from him and left him wallowing in the tears of self pity – when he thought they couldn’t take anything else from him – they burned down his homeworld.

While he fought off his demons, the ship went into auto-pilot and docked safely – the computer went through the many safety checks and finally when it was happy the ship was safe to board, it promptly shut her down and opened the docking port. Gray watched as the med techs standing by piled onto the ship and Jack was taken from his sling-seat and strapped onto a hover gurney.

[mawa]

Someone is seriously nuts.... this story is AWESOME!!!!

If the guys wanted this story then why did it end gathering dust??
I don't understand.

Two thumbs WAY up!

[Witcher Wolf]

This is only part of it, there are many more pages to come...

As for the why...no idea, that's the way the industry cookie crumbles...you can write a novel for people and it can end up just wasting away.

Even tho it was comissioned.

[NateP]

Allow me be the second to say: www.computerpannen.com/cwm/cwm/cwm/eek2.gif [/img] You have an excellent writing ability!! What books have you had published? Could you ever have the book published maybe under a different name, or will it never see a place on people's shelves?(read as: MINE ;D) Sir Wolf, You once again have astounded me with your writing. If you ever need a customer review, I'd be honored to read your work ;D

[Witcher Wolf]

I have numerous things I'm doing writing wise, a lot of my work finds its way into D20 (D&D) PDFs - I wrote one you can find called: Death - Guardian of the Gate.

Usually it's PC games - if you can get hold of the game Savage (Euro Boxed Edition) you can get my Guide that comes with that, plus a story.

[Witcher Wolf]

“Take good care of him eh, he’s had a rough day.” Gray tried to sound like he wasn’t going to fall apart any second, but one of the medics took a look at him and shook his head.

“You're going to have to come with us sir, we need to check you for shock.”

The businessman scowled a little but shrugged his shoulders, as far as he was concerned the quicker he got a clean bill of health – the quicker he could get back to work and try to forget what had happened out there, they’d ask questions and he wasn’t supposed to be near that planet let alone on it!

The entourage left the Omega and the ship self sealed when no one else was on board, the computer ran diagnostics and self tests – it also filed and catalogued the various energy emissions that had been directed against it at Holtz. The next few days were a whirl for Jack and Gray, while the pilot remained in one of the med beds, Jenny was never far from his side – she kept him company long into the night and helped him on the road to recovery.

The intercom unit buzzed softly and insistently as Jenny slept, she creaked one eye open and gave it a filthy look. Sourly the trainee combat pilot and ops officer gave up, she stretched and padded over to the button.

“Hello, what is it?”

“Is Morgan awake?” Gray sounded nervous once again.

“No, do you want to speak to him?” She put her back to the wall, there never seemed to be enough time.

“No, but a Lieutenant from the USC does.” Once more Gray’s voice danced on the edges of nervousness. “And he seems very insistent.”

The woman’s eyes widened a little and she looked to Jack’s bed, the pilot lay there in a deep sleep – for once his dreams were not full of monsters it seemed.

“Oh, ok, well you’d better send him in.” She turned off the intercom and walked back to Morgan’s bed, tapping him lightly on the cheek – kissing him deeply when she got no response. It took him a few moments but he woke to return that kiss, longingly, it was the first time they’d kissed since his jaunt to Holtz.

The door to the sickbay opened and a tall man stepped in, he was dressed in the uniform of the USC and the strict perfect lines of his uniform were a demonstration of his adhesion to duty and pride in his current rank, that of a Lieutenant in the United Space Corps. His eyes were flint grey and his hair was short, black and again perfectly trimmed.

“Ma’am.” He began, nodding to Jenny and then to Morgan, he gave a curt smile. “Mr Morgan.”

“Hello.” Came the soft reply from the woman, she sank back in her chair and watched this stranger – she’d seen him once or twice when she’d been training as a pilot in the USC – she thought his name was Gunny or something similar and his next few words confirmed that and even more.

“Mr Morgan, my name is Lieutenant Gunny of the USC. I’ll cut right to the chase and get to the point. You are the pilot of the shuttle Omega are you not?”

Jack frowned and sat up a little straighter, he looked the other man in the eyes and nodded a little. “Yeah I am, what business is it of the USC’s?” He couldn’t be more than twenty-five by the pilot’s reckoning; already there was certainly a hardness and spirit to this man that left an immediate impression.

“Your ship ferried a group of FCF personnel, did it not?”

Jenny looked at Jack and he held onto her hand, she started to get a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she listened.

“One of the doctors informed us that you were badly injured, injuries that are consistent with a kind of weapon…not found in this solar system.” He paused to pace a little. “Injuries that were also found on the bodies of the poor bastards you left to die on Holtz? Or at least that’s what the brass keeps trying to tell me…but I’ve heard of you Jack Morgan and I don’t think you’d be so stupid to leave men to die.”

[Witcher Wolf]

The pilot blanched and shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t.” He admitted. “And yeah, I was on Holtz – I was chartered to go there, there were no official signs of any patrol presence when I got there and well...”

“Jack? Why the hell didn’t you tell me this?” Jenny rounded on him harshly. “The USC is making Holtz a no-fly zone as of today.”

“You’re quite correct Miss Farrel, but that’s not why I am here. Currently, Mr Morgan, there are certain charges against you that with the right testimony from yourself – could vanish…or they could remain and you could be in a shit-load of hot plasma.”

Morgan started to get that hunted look, he looked at Jenny, who met it with a disapproving scowl but squeezed his hand regardless. Gunny however stopped pacing and turned with a military man’s precision.

“What’s it to be?”

“I’ll give you a full report of the trip to Holtz, what my suit cameras picked up and what my ship’s computers have.” He said with a resigned sigh. “You can have the lot.”

“Just what I wanted to hear, but we are going to have to revoke your pilot’s license – I’m afraid.” Something in Gunny’s voice made Jack sit up and pay attention, there was almost a catch in the tone…as if another offer might be forthcoming.

“Unless of course you fly for us, we’ve been watching you for a while Mr Morgan, and to be quite honest – we could do with a pilot like you…you could join Miss Farrel here, I heard she might be heading to Squad Leader and she’ll need a wingman.”

Jenny looked to Gunny for a moment; her mouth working like a small fish’s – open, closed, open – closed. He chuckled a little at this and added, almost like a banker closing a deal.

“In these times we’re taking the veteran pilot licenses and converting them, I’d say with your record and the impressive number of non-lethal dogfights you’ve won…you’d transfer across to the corps fighter squads with sufficient perks to make it worth your while.”

All of this sounded like a cyanide laced honey-sweet to the wily pilot, but he didn’t have a choice it seemed, if they impounded his ship and revoked his right to fly – he’d go the same way as many of the burned out stick jocks – boozed up and wasting away in some hick corner of the galaxy…and Jack Morgan would rather burn out in a blaze of glory than wink out without a single moment to shine.

“Ok.” Jack said with a resigned sigh. “I’ll do it, you’ve got me…anyways…I want some payback for my leg – whatever, who ever did that is going to burn for it.”

“That’s the spirit son.” Gunny concluded the conversation with a snap of his head in a formal bow and then a salute to them both. “I’ll make the arrangements, don’t go anywhere until I’ve seen the Brass.” Then he turned and let himself out of the room.

“Jack, what the hell did you do?”

“Jenny, I did it for you, not me…that money was sweet and I wanted for once not to be a screw up. I wanted something I could say, I’d earned for someone else – not Jack Morgan.” He rocked back and forth angrily. “I didn’t know they’d die, how could I?”

“It’s ok Jack, I trust you.” She nuzzled his shoulder a little. “And I am grateful, and at least now we’ll be flying together. Saves me wondering if I’ll ever ship out and never see you again. You heard what Gunny said right, we could be on the same wing – I’ll push for it if you like?”

“Jen.” Jack’s voice was a soft sigh. “All I wanted was someone who I could share space with, if it’s going to be at the end of a stick with the stars streaming past like ribbons – what the hell, who wants to live till they’re old and grey?”

“You know I used to really despise you, now I can see why a lot of the girls went mad when you appeared on station.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, you’re quite a romantic for the so called ‘Ass of the Stars’” She laughed a little the tension easing from her and she started to breathe normally again.

“Ass…of…the…Stars?” The pilot coughed a little and a jolt of pain shot through his leg, the auto med kicked in and soon a cocktail of pain relief flooded into his system while tiny nanites continued to repair the damaged tissue and bones.

“It was my nickname for you.” She admitted with a blush. “Told you, you rubbed me up the wrong way…best thing I ever did was smack you one…no wait.” She kissed him again. “Best thing I ever did was take a chance on an arrogant son of a bitch like you.”

Morgan was about to retort when she kissed him again and his words headed into the mumbles and mutters of a good-natured retort. Lost to that kiss. When they broke their tender moment, Jack settled down to rest again…it would be a good few days before he was ready to get back into the swing of things – and he didn’t know it, but he was about to owe the USC for more than a chance to fly again.

Five days later and the medics had done their job well; Jack sat the departure lounge of the Station. Jenny was a few minutes late and he was starting to get a little nervous himself, he watched the blackness outside, pin-pricked with the flares of light from nearby and far-distant stars. People wandered past him and took seats, flights to Earth left and arrived very rarely – Gunny must have been from one of the local star-bases and now he seemed to be nosing for a chance to return to the home world, like so many who discover their life isn’t working out among the stars. He was taking them with him, they’d spend a year or so on the cruiser – he’d be indoctrinated into the USC Military Flight Wing and spend hour after hour learning how to handle their fighters and equipment. Part of him was raring to go and part of him cringed like a child who’s been taken away from their mother and sent to school for the first time.

“Hey handsome, ready?” She breezed over to him and he smiled, she looked damn good in her civvies. Her hair was pulled into a long ponytail and tied with one of his bootlaces. “I bought you some Jack D for the trip and since we’re going to be sharing a cruiser together for a year…a surprise…but I’m not telling you what!”

“That’s great, how long now?”

“Twenty minutes…or less…Control said the Myriddian is right on time barring a few subspace anomalies in calibration.” She sat down by him and looped her arm around his neck.

“I love it when you talk tech.” Jack kissed her cheek and turned to watch the stars again, one of the shuttles was just docking and for a moment he felt a moment’s pang of longing to be at the controls of that ship.

The large cruiser slid out of jump space and thundered into normal space with a rumble that passed through the whole hull. Jack was the first to see the ship arrive and his face lit up with the light of its egress. His eyes reflected the brilliance of the slowly dissipating luminescence and he smiled at the woman next to him.

“Oh my god.” He shook his head. “That was something, look at the size of that thing…how…many?” He babbled too many questions, and Jenny was on her feet dragging him and his luggage towards the secure docking point.

“Come on you big kid, don’t want to miss your first flight on a USC transport and training cruiser.”

[Witcher Wolf]

“N…no…” He said and followed her, peering out of every window he could as the large ship slid into the secure bay on the side of the station. Red and yellow beacon lights flashed in a sequence that made little sense to his eyes…he was more dazzled by the display than anything – then again, it was some sight to see and many of the other passengers in the Station’s lounge were gawping at the ship’s arrival.

Gunny was there at the docking ramp, waiting for them both, he ushered them one on side and smiled a little. “Glad you could make it.” A case was then transferred to each of them, not a large case but big enough to contain documents and a few other things.

“Papers and documents are all in order, welcome to the USC Mr Morgan.”

“Thanks, where do we sit?”

“You’ll be travelling somewhat in style.” Gunny chuckled a little and walked off deeper into the ship. “We don’t believe in barracks on our ships, so we’ve got cabins for all the personnel – and we’re fully aware of the situation between yourself and Miss Farrel, as long as you don’t let your personal feelings and natural desires get in the way of training – we’re more than happy to put you next to each other.” He even managed a little wink, which didn’t go unnoticed by Jenny – Jack missed it, he was too busy peering at this and that, she was right, he was acting like a big kid in a candy shop or toy store.

“This is amazing, hell, it’s a dream come true…wouldn’t like to try and fly it though – I prefer something with a little more zip.”

“Yeah.” They reached the cabins and Gunny stopped. “Here you go, enjoy the trip – training starts bright and early tomorrow morning…I don’t tolerate tardiness.”

“Yes Sir!” They answered both in unison and that brought a smile to the young man’s features as he nodded.

“You’re gonna fit right in here, I can see…at ease.” Then he was gone, into the massive ship’s bowels – swallowed by corridors and ducting.

“Oh wow, this is it…we’re finally going to see Earth!” Jenny couldn’t help but jump a little; Jack caught her and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Maybe, if you find yourself really in love with me – we could get married there?”

She looked at him speechless and dragged him into the cabin, the door closed with a click and just at that time the whole ship thundered as her massive engines ignited and pulled her out of the space dock. Within moments she was adrift in the sea of stars and curling into jump space like a cat onto a pillow before a warm fire.

Not a moment too soon either, fate had decided to deal a fair hand to Jack and Jenny, in fact to the whole of the crew aboard the USC ship. They were away, perhaps safe in their journey – but the station on the other hand, was about to discover the answer to the age-old question that had plagued mankind for centuries.

Are we alone in the void, adrift in a sea of nothing and no-one?

Warning klaxons sounded in the control room of the station, as their scanners suddenly became host to a number of rapidly moving dots. Command personnel looked dumbly at their monitors and out of view screens as space was lit with a dozen bright and rippling flashes, wormhole after wormhole opened up all around the spinning edifice.

Hails were swiftly sent from the comms people, their reply was nothing but static and a strange howling buzz. Then their systems began to take massive hits as sleek craft systematically began to blaze at comm’s relays and friendly traffic all around the station. In one moment of blinding panic and terror chaos had been unleashed with the flaring discharge of alien energy weapons, one ship was caught as she was about to dock…a flash of blue hammering through the hull like it were made of tin, buckling the plating and shredding the pilot into a slow forming globules of red liquid, where they touched what remained of the cockpit glass they smeared like cheap lipstick.

[Witcher Wolf]

A quick moving fighter treated another passenger liner to a swift broadside, the design was certainly not human and it moved with a kind of feral grace through the darkness outside the station. The blasts found their mark and blew great chunks from the ship; it listed and began to tilt towards the hull of the station, scraping dangerously along the side of another. That being a large freighter, co-incidentally the same one that Jack had nearly smashed into all those days ago. The captain had time to spout out a quick curse then part of his console smacked him on the side of his head from another jarring impact, when he lifted his hand to his face he drew it back – small bits of hair and blood were caught between his fingers. His ship rocked again and space rose to claim him as his hull was vaporised in another alien barrage.

“Mother---“ Were the lasts word he uttered.

These words were mirrored by one of the station’s staff as they saw the passenger liner slam into the side of the structure. Several decks were buckled immediately and areas of the station were decompressed in an instant, maintenance workers were blown out into space and suffered the chilling fate that all those without suits in the void discover.

Those on the passenger ship that did not die in the impact were left stricken and injured; hull metal, deck plates and seating all conspired to cause chaos for the people onboard. Mercifully it had sustained no real hull damage and now was locked to the hull of the other, mated almost in a terrifying mesh of twisted metal and debris. While the ship’s emergency personnel tried to tackle the problem the best they could, the alien starfighter curled around and let loose another deadly stream of blue death – this time the hull plating on the wrecked ship buckled and it disgorged bodies and the dead to the cold embrace of the void.

All the station personnel could do was watch, they had been taken by surprise and were not expecting an attack – let alone one of such numbers and with such random violence as the aggressors seemed to be bent on inflicting. They attacked defenders and civilian vessels alike until there was just a steady stream of broken hulls and damaged vessels littering space. Jack would have said it reminded him of the wrecked USC patrol ship he had found – but thankfully he wasn’t here to see this.

Gray had left for the Mars Colonies a few days ago, not long after Gunny’s visit – so fortunately for him he also missed the carnage and death. Escape pods fired from the back of the station and met only the relentless blasts of the alien starfighters, popping the pods like fireworks against the tapestry of stars and colourful gasses.

When only Hammond Starbase remained, leaking air and liquids into the void, the alien aggressors seemed to stop their assault for a while. They hung there in the blackness, sleek ships circling around the station like so many piranhas after they have smelled and tasted blood. People on board the station huddled together in small groups, civilians and military alike. The staff tried to communicate with this destructive force, but nothing they said was answered, nothing they did seemed to work.

Parker, one of the chief technicians and communications experts rubbed a weary hand over his head. “I’ve tried everything, everything…they’re not talking – they want us dead!” He screamed at the Station Commander, Elizabeth Warren, she met his scream with a firm slap across his cheek.

“Mr Parker…” Her acid tones flowed like a river. “I suggest you pull yourself together and calm down. If they wanted us dead, they’d have continued their assault – I am supremely confident that we will find out what they plan soon enough.”

“Sorry Commander.” His face stung and he wasn’t altogether happy with being slapped. Warren was an older woman, one of Earth’s rising stars all her life and he deduced probably born with a silver spoon up her ass. He grumbled a little and turned back to his console.

“I suggest, Keith, that you take this time to go to your quarters and relax!” Her voice wavered on the edges of an order. “Don’t make me turn that into an order, for old times sake?” She tried a smile.

Parker met this with a stiff nod and left the ops centre, storming down the corridor – he smacked into a technician who scurried out of his way. On the way down to his quarters he chanced upon the body of a dead security officer – rifling the man’s pockets he found some money, an ID card and more importantly – the man’s gun was lying across from him, it had slipped out of his holster. He only took the gun though and was about to continue on his way, when his comm unit buzzed.

“Get back up here now Parker, there’s something you need to see!” Warren’s voice was almost fraught with frustration. He detoured and turned back towards ops. When he got there he found Warren and her staff watching a large ship on the monitors – it was unlike anything they had ever seen – almost a mile long and beyond the scope of their understanding. Small lights winked across the surface and the whole thing seemed to just glide without a visible display of propulsion.

“I think you might have been right.” Said the Commander. “It looks like they brought the big guns in, to finish us off.”

As if right on cue, as if it were listening in and waiting for her to speak – the massive alien ship’s front began to glimmer and glow. She just had time to hear the shot sound out at the back of her as Parker took his own life with the purloined gun, then her own lit up like a bonfire as the alien vessel discharged a beam of bright lance-like energy at the station. Metal was torn apart with bone, flesh and sinew – cooked in an instant and thrown to the far reaches of space in a subatomic miasma of malignant intent.

In the silence of the void, mankind now knew – they were not alone…

[NateP]

NateP has now been so over awed by Mr. Wolf (He deserves the salutation, and will from now on get no less by this faithful reader) that He is currently unable to type more than the standardized

WHOA www.computerpannen.com/cwm/cwm/cwm/eek2.gif [/img] www.computerpannen.com/cwm/cwm/cwm/eek2.gif [/img] www.computerpannen.com/cwm/cwm/cwm/eek2.gif [/img] what a rush........

[TheMacroprosopus]

You have this knack for ending things so suspensefully. Again, like Ashes, very cinematic. This would be so cool, were it made into a film. Rock on. \m/

[NateP]

Sir, I have one question: Why in the hell did they not publish this?? Were they blind, or what? They seriously overlooked a talent. Trust me, if you were to publish this as just a stand alone novel(if it is that long) Poeple would read it! This has a Haloish(book standpoint) flair, mixed in with some unique flavor. I'd pre-order it, thats for sure....



To anyone who may think that I'm getting a little repetitive; I read, when i can, over 120 fanfiction stories and those are the ones out of the hundreds(if not thousands) I've read that I continually read the newest chapter. While not the genre I usually read, Mr. Wolf's talent with a pen is superb, and it has the professionalism of a many seasoned writer, whose story(ies) should be seen on best book lists and not just on one single website..... continue I say! Onward and forward!

[NateP]

Stuponfucious said:

You have this knack for ending things so suspensefully. Again, like Ashes, very cinematic. This would be so cool, were it made into a film. Rock on. \m/

A movie would rock!!!

[Witcher Wolf]

*tips an ear* Thanks very much for the comments, but this little ride's not over yet. I really don't know why they didn't leap on publishing this particular piece, but I did manage to get a Sourcebook into the Special Edition of the game Breed, now available for 19 euros (The Spec Ed that is)

Which combines some very slick art with my text style to produce a Technical Manual/Background for the Breed Universe.

Look for another update to Homecoming, soon.

[mawa]

Sweet Jesus!

I nearly missed this update. How could I ??

Nonetheless, it rocks. And the ending... powerful. Nah, I'm not able to say anything sensible right now... except for maybe: Two thumbs up. I'll be awaiting the next update ;D ;D

[Witcher Wolf]

The outer rim of the Colony worlds, in the Besalius system was home to a few dozen planets that supported regular human life. They sat in the tapestry of space and spun with their own plots and plans, governments were decided by democracy and sometimes they were decided by the force of arms – who had the biggest gun could make the rules. But a ring of planets in the deep core of this conglomerate were steadfast in their support of one man, the president of the Colonies themselves – voted into power at the turn of the 2600’s he had risen into the hearts and minds of his people like a shooting flare from the sun’s surface – burning just as brightly and just as strong.

His presidential palace on Ryn’s world was a sumptuous affair and overlooked the great ‘Caspian’ sea. Marble and plas-steel combined in a gorgeous architectural delight that mesmerised the onlooker with the sheer scope of design. Vaguely Grecian in style and form, many tall pillars held up the semi-arched entry and provided shelter to the residents when one of Ryn’s highly powerful tropical storms erupted with nature’s savage fury.

One such storm was burning the sky with rents of white fire and arcs of twisting brightness were lashing down like cracking whips across the sea. The president, a rather portly man with a mass of lank brown hair and a girth that often required a more supporting belt than anything, watched this display through his window and chewed on the stub of his steadily smoking cigar.

“President Cray, Sir, there’s something that you should know…we just received a report from Hammond Station, a distress signal and a coded transmission.” His aide’s eyes looked to the storm and he shook visibly as the man turned to face him. Black eyes like chips of obsidian glowered under bushy brows.

“Go on?” His flat toned voice echoed in the aide’s ears.

“I have it here…” He placed down a datastick and the president scooped it up and as he put it into the slot on the reader, he poured himself a large cognac and swirled the liquid in the glass.

As the holoscreen flared into life he watched the attack on the station with a sense of dumbfounded awe, here were alien ships – real honest to god aliens, or some kind of pirate hoax or something. They were however too quick, too powerful to be anything other than the real deal – he looked at the aide and scowled a little.

“Why the hell wasn’t I informed of this earlier Jhonson?”

“It only just arrived, an ion storm must have blocked the transmission – this was from a few days ago.” The man’s face was white as he watched the final moments of Hammond, the sheer discharge of energy was enough to melt the hull and then send the whole thing into shards that expanded in an almost beautiful display of phosphorescent particles.

“Oh god…” He turned from the screen. “All those people, all that…”

“All the damn money wasted, hell on a stick, Jhonson…where was our defence force?”

“Being cut to shreds Sir, they didn’t have a chance, it was too fast – they hit the station hard…took out the launch bays, Hammond couldn’t even scramble a bloody thing.”

“Fuck…what do I pay these jerks for?” The president’s idyllic lifestyle suddenly turned sour, if they could do that to Hammond, what happened if they reached Ryn – all his power and all his prestige would be gone in a heartbeat.

“It could just be an isolated incident Sir.”

“It better be, we don’t have the resources to deal with bloody aliens!” He threw his glass against the wall, it hit hard and sharp slivers of glass shot in all directions – the drink stained the wall – almost like blood, running down the pristine wallpaper and pooling on the floor.

“Get out…I need to think, but make sure you keep me informed this time!”

Jhonson scurried from the room and mopped his brow with a cloth, he tried to catch his breath but it wouldn’t come. He was forced to reach into his pocket and take a few of his heart pills, he popped them without a second thought and dry swallowed, the act almost causing him to retch uncontrollably – his heart hammered in his chest and he took a moment to calm down – when he could at last stand, let alone walk, he made his way down the corridor to his office and slumped into his chair. Behind closed doors it was only then that he allowed his tears to fall for the lives lost on Hammond Station and the lives he knew would be lost in the future.

Back in the president’s office, the large man kicked over his chair in frustration – he could see his empire crumbling in ruination, oh the USC boys on Earth were going to love this, they were right – the Colonies were supposed to be self-sufficient, broken away from ‘Big Brother’ and able to stand on their own two feet…but they were not prepared to battle alien aggressors – he’d be the laughing stock of the universe unless he did something about it.

“This is all your fault.” He screamed at the frozen image of Hammond Station on his holoscreen. “If you could have repelled them, I wouldn’t look like a fool.” He’d never really had this kind of sudden pressure, something was bound to snap and he tried to pull himself together.

“Rachel.” He tapped the intercom. “Cancel my appointments today and get me General Spenson right away.” Think man, he told himself harshly. You’ve got the finest Private Navy, this is just one setback – you can win this and you’ll come out looking even more of a hero – the voters are going to declare you a saviour. That forced a smile onto his rounded face and he relit his cigar, puffing away on it until a cloud of smoke roiled about him – as a plan formed in his head and he waited for his secretary’s reply.


“Right away, Mr President…do you want him here, or do you want to just speak to him?” Rachel’s voice crackled over the comm and she quietly smiled at one of the men who waited at her desk. She was going to enjoy telling him that the president was indisposed, maybe she could get a number or a quiet chat with this one – in her circle she was known as a little bit of a shark…and she loved to eat the fish in the sea, leaving them half chewed and rotting in her databook.

“Thanks, get him to come here.” The president’s reply sounded terse but friendly enough to her, she flashed the waiting man another smile and closed the link. “I’m sorry, the president has cancelled all his appointments, would you like to reschedule?”

[Witcher Wolf]

“Er, sure…when’s good for you?”

“Oh, now that’s a telling remark, I get off work in a few hours…maybe you’d like to buy me dinner?”

“Well, I’m not sure I should…but would it help me get to see Cray quicker?”

“Oh honey, you would be right in there, as if you’d known him for years.” She smiled her shark-like smile and tipped a little wink, the man’s defences dropped like overworked shields.

“You’re on.”

Hook, line and sinker she thought and opened her data file, tapping black crow-like talons onto the keys. “Name?”

“Waverly, Mr Kevin Waverly.” He replied as he started to get lost in her lovely eyes.

Back in the office, Cray paced and paced, smoking another cigar and hacking loudly as the grey pall went down too far. His vision started to swim and he snorted a couple of times…banging his fist down with a furious…

“Fuck!” Rasped his dry tones and he leaned on the edge of his table, his lips contorting in a wicked grimace as he nearly brought up a lung.

Minutes turned into nearly an hour and just as he was about to open his intercom again, Rachel’s voice buzzed in and stopped his finger from the key. She sounded a little out of breath and flustered. “Mr Cray Sir, General Spenson is on his way – he’ll be here in just under an hour.”

“Thank you, what the fuck took him so long?”

“He was surveying the damage at Hammond Station Sir, he apologises and says for you to hold tight.” She cut the comm once more, which saved her from the president’s ranting tones that turned the air blue for a full six seconds…

“Stupid bitch, what the fuck does she think I pay her for, what the fuck do they think I pay them for – who the fuck do they think they are, I should fire the lot of them into the sun and hire a pack of trained cock-sucking monkeys to do their stinking jobs!”

General Spenson found the president sitting in his leather chair, the storm outside was hammering hard against the windows and the lightning danced once more in the heavens. Cray turned and scowled at him, narrowing his eyes, to the General he took on the visage of some angry bloated demon – lit by the lashing violent storm outside.

“I don’t like being kept, waiting, General.”

“Sir?” Spenson was a short man; the tuft of snowy hair on his head was always kept cropped back as harsh as a brief winter. He was built like a tank however and stocky shoulders supported thick arms and a small neck, it gave the impression that he might have been involved with a head on collision at some point in his life, with what? No one knew. Now he regarded the president with an air of trepidation, the man’s eyes were narrowing even further.

“Sit the fuck down General.” He commanded and stood up, turning to face the man before his desk. “You know what happened out at Hammond by now?”

“Yes Sir, we’ve done sitreps and scans – it’s nothing like we’ve ever seen. The Navy’s on high alert and we’re ready to go on your orders.” He was a quick thinker and an even shrewder tactician, but what he’d seen at Hammond had made his blood turn to ice faster than being thrown into the Alps would.

The president stopped mid rant and blinked a little, he might actually have some respect for this man. “Go on?”

“We’re running double shifts, patrols and sending more marines to the Colony worlds now. We’re also actively recruiting as we speak.” The General sounded confident and Cray liked that, he liked an action man, and with Spenson in command this might actually not be a loss after all.

“You sound as though you have your bases covered?”

“Yes Sir, our bases, Sir…Mr President.”

“Great, so I need not explain to you that I don’t want to look like a fuckhead to the USC boys, back on Earth?”

“With all due respect Sir.” The Generals voice was tightly controlled. “I am supremely confident that we don’t need the USC’s help at all…there’s nothing their silk sodden diapered soldiers could do to aid us anyways. We’ve got the top of the line out here and the cream of the crop to command them.”

“Damn right.” Cray allowed himself a small smile, any animosity that he had towards Spenson evaporated in the last of his cigar smoke.

“With your permission, I’d like to take full lead on this project Sir, I feel that I’m supremely qualified to plan our defence.” Not a question, a searching comment and the man’s balls gave Cray another reason to smile – if it all went wrong, he’d have an arrogant asshole to blame for the mishaps.

“I can’t think of anyone more deserving of the chance.” He poured himself another glass of cognac and raised it. “Ad Astra, General…”

“Yes Sir.” The man rose from his chair and nodded stiffly, snapping off a perfect salute as he turned on his heel and strode from the room. Cray watched him go and turned to the storm – searching inside his mind for the right quote he shook his head.

“Storm rage and gnash your…aww fuck it, let them come, we’ll kick their asses – aliens or not, they caught us with our pants down and we’re going to make them bleed.”

The storm answered and gave another whip-crack across the sky, the clouds for a moment looked like they were like a snarling wolf’s jaws – it brought to mind old legends and one such Norse myth – the wolf, the Fenris wolf who would devour the world at the coming of Ragnarok. As the last of the cognac slipped down into the depths of his throat and warmed his insides – he felt little comfort that Spenson was out there with all his hard bought hardware.

The cosmos could well have been laughing, enjoying some private snickering joke at mankind’s expense. For now that the answer had been given to the question, the Colonies were the first to feel the brunt of the new aggressor’s first assaults – they came thick and fast, attacking without warning and without pattern or reason. Hammond was just the beginning of a nightmare that would rage out of control for what seemed like an eternity. Stars blinked and danced in the void, worlds turned once more and the Colony Defence Force was out in vast numbers – they plied the spaces between the stars in relentless droves, attempting to outflank, outthink and out plan the Breed…

The Breed…

The name that the Colonists had nicknamed their most deadly adversary yet, those soldiers who faced them hand-to-hand gave monstrous descriptions that seemed more robotic than alien. If mankind were to go to their graves in an epidemic slaughter that seemed to claim more lives of the defenders than the aggressors – they prayed that at least the killers would be like us, they had a human face, they had some degree of mercy.

They prayed in vain…

[Witcher Wolf]

They were nothing like us. The Breed were a race that worked to a plan that not even their greatest leaders knew – they reacted without thinking, their chip-minds processing thousands of commands in a single a second and turning once peaceful worlds into zones of smoke, fire and ash. Once they had assaulted a Colony world they left nothing alive – no structure standing – they eliminated and butchered without remorse.

Spenson’s fleet was woefully outmatched and outgunned but the General was not going to give up without a fight. He’d been caught in a trap set by their nemesis and his ship the ‘Blakemore’ was running low on power and their shields were almost drained. Sparks flew from control surfaces and panels were on fire, the Bridge looked like Omaha Beach on D-Day and black smoke curled around the fused wiring, officers and crew littered the deck – like rag dolls thrown about in a bloody and relentless tantrum – the child no longer pleased with his toys.

“Divert more power to the front shields, and someone get me the engineer?” The man leaned on the railing bar of his ship’s command station and stared at the screen in terror. “More of the bastards, well, they’re not going to win that easily.”

The Blakemore’s front cannons gave a silent volley to the attacking Breed cruiser and the sleek vessel took a few good hits, they were almost in as bad a shape as the defenders but they bore the brunt of the defence with a higher level of technology, if not determination. For while they were single-mindedly focussed on destroying the Colonies – the human race were unified in the objective of repelling their adversary – so they bit back with harder and more relentless attacks – dying in droves to keep the invaders from the door.

Large pockmarks burst like oozing sores over the Breed vessel and strange phosphorescent gasses bubbled into the void. A cheer went up from the Capship’s crew who witnessed this last ditch stab at their foe.

“Again!” Thundered Spenson as his ship shook from waves and waves of small plasma bursts – the Breed’s fighters, small and agile were being slowly picked off outside the Capital ship. It seemed that the defenders might just win this battle and hold the line for now.

Outside the ship the blazing plasma fire and the answering retorts of small cannons burned the darkness into flickering light. A dazzling display of deadly dance-like whirls as small spacecraft pitched themselves in a dangerous ballet – no one giving any quarter and none being asked – rapidly expanding clouds of superheated gas and metal whispered into the blackness…silent graves marked on both sides – human pilots perishing in bright roman-candle like blasts of pyrotechnical splendour.

“You got one. One your Six, Alpha leader, repeat!”

Whirls of brilliant dancing light burned around the rapidly swerving fighter…it ducked, weaved and danced between the Breed’s gunfire. The pilot yanked hard to the right and ducked through a hole in the Blakemore's side, right into the very superstructure of the ship. The Breed followed him in and thus began a deadly game of cat and mouse and both ships tried to out move the other, all the while attempting not to crater on the pylons and exposed support beams.

“Come on you tin-plated son of a cpu…” Snarled the fighter’s pilot. “Just a little more…” He gunned his vessels’ engines and curved up and over a pylon, narrowly missing smashing the cockpit open on another jagged piece of the Capship’s gutted interior – the Breed was not quick enough, and found itself hammered from behind – the hunter had become the hunted.

Small holes flashed onto the surface of the Breed’s ship, it ducked, it weaved and tried to escape the relentless human pilot – but against the determination to survive, it was ultimately futile…perishing inside the Blakemore in a bright colourful explosion that rocked the lower decks.

“Holy shit?” Said the Capship’s Captain as he steadied himself. “What the hell was that? Did we get hit in the lower deck?”

“It seems like it Sir, no wait, one of our fighters has been detected in the superstructure of the ship!” The tac-officers voice was tinged with an incredulous tone.

[Witcher Wolf]

“Reading a significant drop in the enemy ship’s power levels Sir, a few more hits like that and she’s – wait…what the fuck is that?”

On the screen the Breed ship was beginning to power the same deadly weapon as it had used on Hammond – for all that Spenson knew it could have been the same damn ship. He slammed his fist down on the rail. “No, not now, not when we’re so damn close!” His teeth clenched and he bit his lip by accident, small specks of red dropping onto the metal.

“Sir, we have a message from the leader of Alpha Wing, shall I patch it through?”

“No…wait…yes…” The General’s mind raced quickly and he tried to formulate some kind of a plan. “Meanwhile, keep hammering the blasted thing, if we can blow it to hell before it returns the favour – everyone deserves a medal.”

“Aye Sir.”

The visual of the fighter’s pilot appeared on the holoscreen and he gave a quick nod to the General. “Understand you have a problem with a big bird Sir?”

“Yes pilot…a big problem.”

“I’ll handle it, just sit tight and pray for me.”

“As you wish.” Spenson knew the price of victory was not going to be good, he knew that his men would throw themselves onto the enemy kicking and screaming if they had to.

“Alright you piece of shit, let’s see what you can do.” The heroic pilot turned his ship towards the Breed’s cruiser as the rest of his wing provided cover, stabs of light flickered from the massive craft and he ducked and weaved once more, some struck home but only served to drain his shields – giving him all the more reason to ignite the burners and power towards the behemoth.

On the bridge the General gave a long salute and ordered a full-scale barrage from the Blakemore’s cannons – this would deplete the ship’s energy reserves for weapons to a critical level but he had an inkling of what his pilot might be planning…

As the giant Capship roared an angry but still silent barrage at the enemy, the nimble fighter ducked and wove through opposing gunfire and starships, taking minor damage only – as smoke tumbled into space from a dozen small holes in the fuselage he gritted his teeth. Before him the gates of hell opened and he saw the brightest light he’d ever seen…thankfully his photo-chromic visor protected his eyes from being burned out there and then but still it caused him to flinch. He gripped the stick harder and pushed his ship further – as it struck the gathering energy, sparks flew across the hull and the whole vessel shook like a wild and dangerous roller coaster.

The warning lights flew across the control panel, heat levels rising, various readouts went off the scale. He shunted all the power he could to the shields and began to open up with everything he’d got – cannons, missiles and all of them directed at the beam-weapons emitter. His suit started to blister as the paint on his hull ripped away like skin from bone, flakes of it tumbling into the stream of energy – before they were vaporised. But the fighter powered on and on, until in a blaze of glory it struck home against the alien ship’s focal point. As his life was ended in a blast of white-hot fire the world turned into a sudden brief flaming ball – that ball hit home as he’d planned, the fighter’s fuel, remaining weapons all ignited point blank on the crystal that the Breed used to focus their beam – shattering it into a thousand pieces.

And without a focus point, the Breed’s weapon turned randomly on the hull of the ship, striking the inside of the emitter ring and melting it instantly – the robotic mind of the Breed’s captain aboard his ship registered a moment’s glitch – almost respect towards the hero who gave his life to end theirs before the whole ship shuddered and blew apart like so much matchwood struck by a galleon’s cannon.

[Witcher Wolf]

A massive cheer went up across the whole of the Capship’s comm channels, on the Bridge the General remained silent for a moment and took off his peaked cap – putting it to his heart.

“Son of a bitch…”

“Sir?”

“Hell of a way to earn yourself a reputation as the craziest son of a bitch to fly in my Navy.” He answered with a grim smile. “The actions of that man will go down in history as the most selfless stupid, god-damn luckiest act to save his crewmates from destruction.” He turned towards the screen.

“Now let’s make sure he didn’t die in vain and finish off those bastards!”

As the Breed cruiser’s particles met space they fluoresced, spinning wildly in another cosmic dance – flaring brightly for a moment before they vanished and winked out. The Blakemore’s fighter crews worked hard to wipe out the remaining Breed starships in the battle, weaving their victory loops and rolls as ship after ship was sent into bursts of luminous glory – all the time they turned their thoughts on the Wing leader who gave them a new hope and a new chance.

It was a staggering boost to morale and gave those men and women hope that they might hold out against the furious Breed assault. It was a hope that would be fleeting, like snow turning to water at the end of the long cold winter – but it was hope non-the-less.

There were many celebrations and many other victories over the coming months, the campaign to defend the Colony worlds was mostly successful – General Spenson’s reputation soared and the president on Ryn was hailed as a new saviour – some speculated that he might be the new-age Messiah come to cleanse the galaxy of evil and restore the balance – they were swiftly locked behind closed doors and never heard from again.

It was not a war; it was a fight for survival – a basic and primal instinct that had guided man from the mud of his creation and into the darkness of space. The Colonies were indeed self-sufficient and needed little from Earth, they cheered and lavished honours and much respect on the men and women of the Colony Defence Forces – but the dreams of man are often the sour and bitter tastes to their enemies. The Breed became more determined and seemed to have a near inexhaustible supply of weapons and ships.

The Colony worlds did not…

So the war that was not a war became something else, something much darker, it became a last ditch effort to replace rapidly dwindling resources, manpower and materials – the Colonies victories had come with a dynamic price and the cost was being drawn from the pockets of the traders and Colonists themselves.

[Libby]

Well...y'know...speechless or what!

I just have to borrow this from NateP!

[NateP]

More story!!! YAYYYY. I like the general.....He's cool. The presedent was a little unhinged, but it was excellent all the same. ;D ;D ;D ;D

[mawa]

Wow!!!!

This is absolutely awesome - it's getting better and better!

Two thumbs up!

[Witcher Wolf]

The story continues...

Something was going to give…it was bound to…and now the infighting between the various factions began. People turned on each other for the slightest excuse, the fragile peace that had lasted in their idyllic lifestyle shattered like sugared glass. Their heroes were now seen as vile despots who kept resources to themselves, they were the focus of hate campaigns and anti-war movements – some foolish souls stole a ship and flew it into the arms of the Breed – their reason.

“They only wish to talk, we have been the aggressor’s all along, the war-mongers have made this war last so they might tax our lives further.”

The Breed answered with the cool and calm embrace of steel, death raining onto their ship like a burning torrent. Nothing was left of it bar the flotsam and jetsam of a mistake that would be repeated by the unwary time and time again until the final realisation hit them like a punch in the face.

The Breed were not here to talk, they were here to destroy and eliminate until the human race had been wiped from every planet, every system in the Universe – they wanted nothing more than the total cleansing of our kind – we’d become too much of a prolific species…the cull was going to burn us into ashes.

We had outlived our usefulness and it was time to rub our footprints from the stars.

2603 and mankind has become a shell of its former self in the Colonies, they stand now on the edge of an Abyss that threatens to consume them like fire-ants in the burning deserts. Anti-war campaigns continue to rage back and forth as they struggle to find common ground with the Breed.

The only common ground is the earth that they’re buried in on the many worlds that have been cleansed. Few worlds hold the line against this enemy, yet still the planet of Ryn is locked in a safe ring of worlds loyal to Cray and his regime.

The storms continue to burn the skies, but now they are lit with the flickering lights of defence ships – Spenson’s own Capship floats in high orbit around his leader’s home world and they sit quietly in space – each day that passes draws them closer to the final step they know they must take, but they don’t want to take.

“The Breed are taking more and more worlds Sir, we have to send the message – if we send it now, we might be able to last for another year…but that’s it!”

The General’s voice was gritted against the hiss of his breath, his new lung was working fine it seemed, but the right side of his face had been replaced with a cybernetic plate and a glaring red eye. His good looks had been marred by the near destruction at the Colony Anti-war rally a few months ago. They had protested against Cray, attempted to drive him from power

Spenson had been forced to fire on his own people, order the massacre of hundreds of Colonists to force order – he didn’t want to do it, but Cray’s orders were concrete and he obeyed them no matter what the cost – he was a good soldier if a little too starched in his outlook.

The Breed had turned up en-mass and with a large ground force, they turned the Rally into an utter disaster and brought whole scale slaughter down on Colonist and soldier alike. Rivers of red were running into the gutters, he remembered the panic stricken face of a child as the Breed soldier gunned her down in cold blood, her body hitting the floor before his eyes – she was only six and now she would remain a haunting memory of pleading tears and grimy blood-soaked white.

Cray was not looking well, Jhonson had died a few months earlier of heart failure and he never even told him, the miserable bastard, how dare he keep that kind of shit from him…now he had this ranting General who was whining in his ear. The president scowled once more and sank another drink, this time a brandy.

“Fuck you Spenson, I refuse to cry for help…”

The General turned his head and sighed, he nodded and turned his back on the man he considered in some ways – like a father to him, the child’s face roiled in the back of his mind…her cries for help, the brutal assault of his own men on her mother.

“I’m sorry…” He coughed as his lung gave a slight chitter inside his chest, he wasn’t really sure who he was apologising to – but he turned back around - the slim and heavy pistol in his hand.

“Mr President Sir, I respectfully decline your offer…”

The last act of violence that Spenson did against another one of the human race spoke in volumes, a loud crack echoed in the office of president Cray – the shell shot out of the side of the gun and landed on the floor, smoking and hot. The bullet seemed to take aeons to reach the wide-eyed man…he mouthed a couple of times until the red soaking rivulets of blood started to fill his mouth, the shot was perfect – so precise and so beautiful almost.

The General watched his leader, the once favoured of the stars, crash backwards and onto the floor where there he finally lay still. The glass of brandy smashing in a dream-like slow motion before his eyes, and as the darkness of death closed cold hands about his throat he tried to speak – but the sound of his own voice was lost in the rush of air that sounded in his ears.

“Ad Astra…Mr President.” He said and waited for the armed security to burst in to the office. They came in a river of black suits and raised weapons. By this time Spenson’s gun was long gone, he’d thrown it out of the window along with the shell – the Caspian sea would see to it that the evidence sank as quickly as the president’s once popularity-rating had.

“What the fu…?” Cray’s security chief rounded on Spenson.

“I have no fucking idea, but I want boats out there now, get the bird’s in the air – I want a full search – lock down the perimeter and let no one in or out…do you fucking understand me?” Spenson’s voice was one of command and a jolt shot through the security, they snapped to attention and complied with those barked orders – even the head of the security forces quailed under the glare of the man’s red eyes.

“Move your fucking Asses now.”

The office emptied as quickly as it had filled, leaving the General to pick up the comm system and punch the button.

“Rachel…this is Spenson, patch me to the emergency message system…now…”

Normally she’d ask questions, maybe even try and hit on the man, but something in the tone gave her a moment’s pause for thought – she decided that she would simply comply with the order.

“Y…yes Sir…”

“Thank you, then take the rest of the day off.”

“Er, is there a problem General, Sir?”

“Always Rachel, always…have a good day.”

The General sent the message to Earth, the one that his leader refused to send – Cray had been a proud man, but in the depths of his soul he had always known this day would come. They were stretched too thin to protect themselves, they needed help. He explained that the Breed had killed the president, he explained what they were and the War they fought day after day – slowing eroding their spirit and slowly turning them back to vicious pack animals. He then hoped that it would arrive there in time and that the USC would speak with the UEG (United Earth Government) Council – send hope and help, perhaps if not to save them – but to save their offspring.

His last act on Ryn was to see the president was buried in style as befitting the man he once was. Many people attended his funeral and it was quite the state affair, many faces showed who might have been too frightened of the man in his last days – but now they appeared in droves, the well wishers and ex-wives all lamenting the loss of their finest leader – Spenson had to get of the planet before they made him sick…and as he finally made it back into the command chair of his ship, he too was welcomed home by a sea of old and new faces – his crew once more ready to engage the aggressors…damage repaired and the Blakemore was fighting fit and raring to go to hold the line while they waited for help – if it came.

[Witcher Wolf]

2603 and the Colonies now waited with baited breath for the arrival of their new saviours, the men and women of the USC…Jack Morgan and Jenny Farrel had spent a long and fruitful year aboard their new home, but as the fight to exist raged back in Besalius they were oblivious to the happenings in the Colony worlds. They had been involved in a rigorous routine of training and combat lessons, both learning to push their chosen fighter to the limits – Jack was a natural and Jenny was a born leader, both of them impressed the Brass enough already. Gunny couldn’t wait to report their progress, along with the rest of the ship’s candidates – while his own continued.

Gunny was young and headstrong, but possessed of a skill not seen in many men. He was ruthless in combat and displayed a cunning that was only echoed by Jack Morgan in the skies and depths of space. Their yearlong voyage was at an end and the cruiser began to decelerate on the approach to the shimmering blue/green orb that was Earth.

Earth…A planet so pristine and so wondrous…so beautiful and so tranquil, danced like a spinning top in the velvet embrace of the big black. She that was our birthplace and foot ladder into the void beyond, she that gave us all we’d ever asked for and in return only required careful management.

We’d defiled her, raping the planet of natural resources in the early and late 20th century – mankind had become a disease that was in danger of infesting this world and turning it all to spoiled ground and broken rubble – Wars, famine and self-doubt had all risen to chip at our resolve to yap at our heels like the three headed guardian of the underworld – Cerberus.

Yet in the depths of depravity and the moments that we thought we would destroy ourselves, we learned to co-exist at last. We unified and created the USC to hold together to the ideals that all beings should remain free and unhindered in their ways and means – no one leader should control the fate of mankind – no one country should be greater than any other.

So it was that all the countries of the world joined hands in a unified front and science and technology bloomed like a long awaited flower…rapid advances in medicine and research yielded the stardrive and the jumpdrive…cloning and of course even greater weapons of destruction. For there were those on our home world that did not like the peace and the handshaking, they worked to undermine it and many acts of terrorism were met with a brutal response from the USC and the UEG.

The betrayers would get the message or they would be ground into the dust like the Breed had done to the Colony worlds. Of course Earth knew nothing of this until just before the return of the cruiser – as it folded out of the depths of jump space in a fantastic and mesmerising burst of light near the planet. People in their houses were able to see the spectacle as it blossomed like a falling star across the night sky.

The return heralded a coming together of minds and a meeting of great nations; each one of the representatives gathered under one roof in a global meeting place. On the site of the old Red Square now stood the UEG’s prime headquarters –smaller installations ringed it like old guards, sleeping giants in the continuing wars against those who would try to ruin the dream.

And inside the massive structure the fate of the Colonies was now being decided, endless debates raged backwards and forwards – many were all for the dispatch of Earth’s defence forces to save their so-called hick brethren, but a few quiet and reasonable voices pointed out that there would be little left to defend our world and Solar System if the Breed came for us.

“I do not think that sending the whole of our fleet into battle would be a practical and a very clever idea, to be honest.” This was the voice of reason; the spokesperson of the once British Empire, to his side sat the Ambassador of the eastern islands and the emissary of NeoJapan flanked by the Ambassador of what could have once been the USA.

“I agree with the speaker.” Droned the Ambassador, his thick southern drawl sounding loudly over the speakers. “We can’t put this much into the Colony worlds, we are not gonna be caught with our pants down…”

“Yet if we stand by and do nothing!”

“We will do something…this is why I’ve asked for a special guest to join us tonight…now settle down and let’s hear what the USC’s plan is – after all, this is pretty much a military matter.”

“It should be decided by the mil-try.” Added the Texan backing up the thin and waif like Englishman.

A spotlight flared in the semi-darkness of the hall and illuminated a podium, where there stood an imposing man. He drew all eyes to him and captured them – he was somewhat like Gunny in looks and appearance, yet he had the strict military lines of a seasoned veteran more than twice the Lieutenant’s age – a shock of greying hair was cropped short as was the required length for the USC and he stood at a perfect parade rest angle. When he spoke, his charismatic tones filtered into the air, instantly translated into global languages for all the delegates present.