Layover

Captain Darren sighed and leaned forward in his chair, rubbing his forehead with his index and middle fingers. It had been 4 days since the report of the Massacre at Onyx and the new orders to head out to engage UFP. After resupplying and reinforcing the fleet at Ardreas, they had headed up-galaxy toward New Corinth, the empire's fleet base in the north-central region. All had gone well on the journey up, but shortly after transition back to normal space, they received an urgent transmission from New Corinth Fleet Comm. Rebels on the occupied worlds of Cold Moonrock and G-Rocket M. Base had taken advantage of the empire's distraction with UFP and assembled a small fleet of heavy cruisers, rising up against the Ardrean occupation force. Their assaults had destroyed the small imperial garrison at the bases, paving the way for the populations to overthrow Ardrean overloardship. Both worlds now led their entire system in open revolt against the empire, refusing to pay tribute, and voicing loudly their will to independence.

Following the communique, Fleet Admiral Coriva held a brief conference on board the Olympus with the Regional Commanders from New Corinth. When it was over, he ordered the fleet to divert to the contested system to put down the rebels and restore order to the system. It would mean some delay to their mission, but knocking off some UFP would mean little if the political stability of the region collapsed.

Captain Darren was disappointed at the delay, but he took it in stride with his bridge crew. They had jumped together with the rest of the fleet, and after another long ride through slipspace, they were poised on the edge of the contested system. Peering over his left hand at the viewscreen, he went over the plan of attack in his mind while the fleet moved into position. The Frutol's Folley and her battleship group, subsidized by the two dreadnoughts, Delphinium and Tripoli, would blockade the area directly on the solar plane between the two insurgent bases, cutting them off from supporting each other during the battle that would follow. While the rest of the fleet took up a rear echelon formation behind the Olympus, the massive Titan class warship would drive straight in toward the rebel fleet at Cold Moonrock...

"Tripoli reports all battleships in blockade position Captain," his communications officer chirped, bringing him out of his repartees and back to the present. All of 24 years old, she gave the bridge a sort of extra sparkle that helped keep the junior officers from feeling too much tension on the verge of a battle. Darren nodded. "Very good lieutenant, keep us in position with the fleet and monitor communications." Turning to his tactical officer he said, "Active scanners, full sweep of the region in-system. I want to know if anything tries to come at us from the other base."

As his tactical officer complied, Captain Darren turned back to the viewscreen. "Magnify." He said, and the imaged jumped to an enhanced view of the Olympus moving in toward the insurgent fleet. The next few minutes seemed to go by in slow motion as the bridge crew watched in silence. The defending fleet launched a hasty salvo of plasma at the incoming Titan, then broke and scattered as their shots fizzled harmlessly on the monster's shields. As the insurgents broke, groundside defensive turrets launched photon torpedoes in an attempt to cover the retreating fleet. The shields on the Titan glowed under the impact, but they held. Captain Darren held his breath as the Titan's lateral weapons array glowed white-hot, then launched a blinding flash of pure disruptor energy. The blast washed over several of the retreating ships, overloading their shields and flash-vaporizing their hulls. The engines on the remaining insurgent vessels flared as they accelerated away, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the Titan as they could. But heavy cruisers simply aren't fast enough to escape a targeted disruptor beam. The Olympus heated it's forward disruptor array again and fired, and for a split second the outlines of the enemy ships were visible against the backdrop of space, lit up like candles in a window. Then the disruptor faded, leaving behind only dust... and the dying echoes of a dozen crews, forever dissipating into the void of space.

Captain Richard Darren bowed his head and let out a long breath. After all they did bring it upon themselves, he reasoned. But still he couldn't help shake the feeling that he was, at least a little, sorry for those crews that had just been obliterated. That must have been what it was like for our fleet at Onyx, severely outnumbered and outgunned... A tone sounded just then, bringing him out of his respite, and he looked up to see the fleet's recyclers moving in to clean up the debris from the battle. Well, at least they'll get a profitable run out of today's detour.

"Captain, fleet-wide communication from the Olympus." Reported his communications officer.
"On screen." He said, straightening up in his chair.

The screen changed to an image of Admiral Vincent Coriva, a slight frown on his face as he stood on the bridge of the Olympus. "Good news and bad news everyone. The good news is that the population of Cold Moonrock, upon seeing the firepower we unleashed on their fleet, has surrendered unconditionally. Restoration of government to Ardrean control will commence immediately. The bad news is that the neighbouring insurgents at G-Rocket M. Base are refusing to cooperate. They will need some convincing of their own before they follow Moonrock's example and return to Ardrean control..."

When the admiral had finished, and the screen returned to a view of the stars outside, Captain Darren leaned back and cursed under his breath. So it's not over yet... Shaking his head he called out, "Helm take us to course two-seven-nine mark three six. Bring us along side the Tripoli as we head in-system."
"Aye sir." answered the helmsman, and a slight vibration passed through the floor as the Frutol's Folley turned to follow with the rest of the fleet as they moved on the remaining insurgent base. It was going to be a long day...

A Bitter Report

Captain Darren finished reading the report and slammed his fist down on the desk, letting the data pad clatter away across its surface. He cursed viciously. "Damn those UFP! They will pay for this."

The report, delivered to him via private comm only minutes after the Frutol's Folley had taken its station-keeping position over northern Ardreas, detailed the ambush and slaughter of the entire Raid & Recycle fleet at Onyx. 2000 corvettes and recyclers had been brutally annihilated in the space of less than an hour. He shook his head, the anger burning in him at the thought of his comrades-in-arms being blown apart by an overwhelming force of enemy fighters. "Over 13000 fighters... they didn't even have a chance."

A chime sounded at the door to his Ready Room. He was silent a moment, trying to clear the emotion from his voice, but it still quavered a little as he said, "Enter."

The door slid open and his XO stepped in. "Captain, we have received our new orders from Ardreas Command." He handed another data pad to him. "Two days of rest and shore leave for the crews, rotating shifts, while the fleet is resupplied for our next launch."

Darren raised an eyebrow as he glanced up from the pad. "That's not much time. Wherever we're going, I hope it's important."

Peterson smiled at him and nodded. "Yes sir. It is." He licked his lips and let his eyes meet the captain's. "We're going after UFP."

Darren stared at him, a dark gleam coming into his eyes. Then just as quickly it passed and he frowned. "As much as I'd love revenge on those bastards, our fleet is in no position to make such an attack. It would be suicide..."

His XO nodded. "A few minutes ago I would have agreed with you sir." A smile crept across his face. "But we're not going in alone. Command is reinforcing us while our crews take a couple days of rest." He pointed to the data pad that the captain had placed on the desk. "The Tripoli and her cruiser escort will be joining us today. And tomorrow," his face cracked into an open grin. "Tomorrow the Olympus arrives."

A chill ran down Darren's spine and he shuddered involuntarily. "The Titan??" Meant as a question, it came out more like a surprised squeak, and Peterson laughed. "Yes sir. Final preparation and supplies were completed yesterday at Cerus. She's on her way..."

The Return Home (A Fictional Short)

Captain Richard Darren stepped through the sliding doors and surveyed the bridge of the battleship Frutol's Folley. His command was one of 10 nearly identical battleships that had been produced engroupe at the massive Cerus shipyards in the wake of the last major attack on the Ardrean Empire. His sweeping gaze took in the large, circular bridge in one smooth move, noting the positions of his officers at their various stations and the blue status lights below the blank viewscreen, indicating all systems functioning normally in slipspace mode. As he stepped down onto the raised platform behind the command deck, his xo, Commander Peterson, rose to his feet and called out, "Captain on deck!" Darren paused and nodded in acknowledgment. "Carry on," he said as he headed toward the command chair.

He had just sat down when his communications officer, a slender young Arrellian woman who's jet-black hair was just over regulation, turned to him. "I have the Delphinium on Command Comm One sir."

He nodded, "Put them through Lieutenant."

There was a brief pop, then Commodore Whitcomb's voice came strong across the ship's intercom. "All vessels make ready for the transition to normal space on our mark." Numbers rolled across the bridge displays, all of course at a rate too fast for the average human to keep up with, let alone understand. But the shipboard nav computers were designed to handle just these sorts of calculations, so it was really all taken care of. So long as no one entered a faulty exit command into the system, everything would pretty much take care of itself. The main problem Captain Darren's crew would be facing would be making sure to follow the exit vector sent to them to the precise degree. The reason being was that while entering and exiting slipspace normally was no problem for individual ships or even small groups, a fleet the size of the one the Frutol's Folley was a part of had to be extremely accurate. The combined mass of over a thousand cruisers, along with a hundred heavies, carriers, fleet carriers, the ten battleships, and of course the Dreadnought Delphinium would, upon transition, produce a subspace gravitational displacement equivalent of a small moon. Any ship that was not in just the right position would risk hull disintegration under the gravitational stress of transition in such a large fleet.

But Darren was not worried. He was flying with some of the best commanders in the fleet, and they'd all made jumps like this many times before. As the Commodore's transmission ended he nodded to his helm officer to begin the sequence. The blue status lights flashed yellow, then morphed to green. There was a crackle, then suddenly a million stars winked into existence on the viewscreen. He smiled and let out the breath he was surprised to find he'd been holding. A brief tremmor vibrated through the ships, then the starfield was dotted with other shapes, cruisers, over a thousand of them. The backbone of the Ardrean mobile fleet and the most diverse ships the empire could build. While not that powerful individually, a group of them this size was enough to pound a base with anything less than planetary rings into dust.

"Lieutenant, come to heading zero six nine, z-plus five degrees." He said to the officer at helm. This new heading would bring them up to an over-position above the left wing of the bulk cruiser formation. A vibration passed through the floor at his feet, and the starfield shifted as the ship aligned on its new heading. "Aft camera." He said, and the view changed. Behind them the cruisers, heavies, carriers, and the larger bulbous fleet carriers were spreading out into fleet formation. Suddenly the stars wavered and a huge shape emerged from slipspace. The immense size of the thing alone told him it was none other than the Delphinium, the dreadnought class flagship of the fleet. It made his own battleship pale in comparison, and it helped Captain Darren remember his own place in the higher structure of the Ardrean Military.

"Return to forward cam." He said, and the image switched back. Ahead of them the stars surrounded a small moon in orbit of a large gas giant. The fleet was on a heading that would take it into orbit of the moon in a few minutes. As they approached, the eastern side of the moon began to glow, then suddenly the brilliant red light of the system's star, a type six red star, filled the screen and shone off the hulls of the cruisers ahead of them, making them look like strange, red-armoured soldiers marching in formation across an ancient battlefield somewhere.

"Captain, I have Ardrean Command on Fleet Comm One," chirped his communications officer from her station. "They've sent station-keeping coordinates."

"Acknowledged," said Darren. "Helm, take us to station-keeping at the coordinates provided." There was another slight vibration through the deck as the ship changed course again and headed toward the nothern sub-polar region of the moon. As they got closer, the lights from all the mass of surface structures shone brighter, telling of the thousands of people living on the artificial environment of the empires prized capital, Ardreas. While not a world naturally conducive to life, Ardreas had been terraformed and developed into one using the best technology available. It had been transformed from a lifeless rock at the edge of an unimportant system into the command capital of the growing Ardrean Empire.

Captain Darren smiled. "It's good to be home..."

A Sudden Hit, and a Major Loss

Some things are never over. You think they are, and you go merrily on your way not thinking about it for a while. Then one day they come back and suddenly face you, and you weren't expecting it.

In the time since the OW war, we've been working on economic growth, assisting Mordor as needed, and generally doing internal reorganizing here in our home galaxies. Everything had returned to normal, we gave invasion less thought... until today. Today I was hit by a traitor, a traitor named Frutol.

With the recent loss of many CoRE higher-members and the breakoff to form [-2-], much has been debated about the future of B57. While the discussions on the CoRE side of things remain unknown to us in MI5, it appears that not all has been as smooth as we would like. Frutol, a longtime member of CoRE, has left the guild and struck out on his own, briefly becoming a member of [SFC© ] before throwing everything away. His intentions are unknown, aside from the obvious hostility. Perhaps he is quitting AE and wanted to make life miserable for everyone around him in the process, or maybe he was hacked. We simply don't know yet. But what we do know, and what gets me more than anything is his blatant inefficiency in the way he handles combat. It's one thing to betray people who were formerly your friends, it's another to do so and then be so inefficient at it that it's insulting just to look at the horrible botched attack that was made.

Basically what happened, though the motive is still lacking, is that at about 7pm (server time) Frutol made a sudden and massive attack on the bases of my home system: Ardreas and Cerus. Unfortunately for me, because I was not on at the time he managed to catch my mobile fleet napping and completely wiped it out. But it was not without disgusting losses on his own side that he managed this. For one thing, his attack included all his carriers and recyclers, which were torn to ribbons by my Prings. In addition to that, he didn't fighter drop at all, but included his capital ships with everything else, in the process losing a dreadnought and a Titan to my defenses. He came close to losing a Leviathan too, but managed to spare it... just barely. As soon as the battle was over rushed his fleet over to a base belonging to [Huntr] Quintessence in the same region at B57:57:02:11. Shortly after its arrival, he suicided his fleet into Quintessence's defenses, and then just left the rest of it sitting there. Guesses abound as to the cause of this, but no absolute answers are forthcoming.

StRiDeR and Aledujke were preparing a counter-attack on him to liberate my bases and wipe out his marauding fleets, but [-HUN-] Dark One Of Night beat them to it, destroying Frutol's fleets in my system. She took a small amount of debris, then left. Following her departure StRiDeR came in and took the rest of it. So for now I wait, and watch, and remember. At level 34 I cannot offer much military strength on my own, but I can offer knowledge, insight, and memory. And what happens to me now is not something I will ever forget while I roam this game. I will be riding the stars long after inefficient buffoons like Frutol are gone from this place. And my journals shall reflect all my experiences on my way there...

Decisions

This is an interesting time for the commonwealth of players in B57 known as MI5. Ever since the end of the [SYM] War last month, we've been growing quietly. Most of our higher players have come back from Mordor, and we've been spending the past few days reorganizing and adding new features to our guild. With new tools, more members, and a much more detailed knowledge of B57 than we've ever had before, this is an interesting time of growth for us. But it is also a dangerous time. MI5 has reached a crossroads in B57, a crossroads that will make a huge difference in the future of our guild...

Until recently, B57 has been composed of largely two main groups of players: Those in the Commonwealth family, and those in the [-ΛSG-]/[CoRE] family. There are other guilds in B57 of course, like UFP, [-2-] (an offshoot of CoRE), and a few other smaller guilds. But the primary inhabitants of this galaxy are these two families of guilds. For the most part since our arrival, we have been on friendly terms with each other, each growing in its own way. Recently, however, our relationship with the [CoRE] element of the
former [-ΛSG-] family has been undergoing some considerable changes. With some of their most prominent players leaving the game, CoRE is at a crossroads for their future. And while seeking courses of action, they came to us with the offer of a merger, thus bringing us to the crossroads along with them. Now here we stand, the possibility of a merger with the only guild in B57 large enough to pose a significant threat to us staring us in the face. What path do we take?

In considering out future, I cannot help but recall our old pal Benny (from the B56 Invasion Journal). But is it honestly realistic to put an entire guild to comparison with a single GOON infiltrator? Somehow I do not think so. In my heart I would like to believe CoRE is sincere in their offer and embrace them into the commonwealth and the Agency working within it. But it is a major crossroads, and not a decision to be taken lightly. Mordor is in favor of the idea of a merger between our guild families. If all worked well, we would gain nearly total dominance of B57 and add it to our stronghold galaxies greater than ever before. But it is never wise to blindly jump at something that looks good without weighing the risks involved. There are many questions to be asked, and policies to be considered if such a merger were to take place. Also the question of dedication and loyalty would need to be put forward. But if that is all satisfactory, then perhaps a joined future could bring considerable blessing... to all of us.

As I write this, the future of B57 is still uncertain. We stand at the crossroads. Where shall we turn?