So I did something. (Original Sci-Fi, critics wanted)

[VX-145]

Not story stuff:

Hey ladies, gentlemen and eldritch beings from every corner of the known universe (except the Horsehead nebula because I hate those guys); I recently started writing again after a long break. I've never exactly been happy with my work - although that's a trait I've heard many writers share - so I thought I'd post an example to see if people actually like what I write.

As to the story itself - I'm trying to create a universe where humanity is the generic precursors/progenitors/other word beginning with p, in a sense. Of course, as with all these stories, those guys are never actually gone , just sleeping .
What's posted below is the first chapter of several I have currently written. After I post those (some of them need re-writing already), updates will probably be infrequent because of other projects and real-life stuff.

Also, if anyone gets some of the things I was inspired by (they're pretty obvious, in retrospect), they earn some sort of imaginary snack. Probably a cupcake or something, I need all my imaginary cookies.

Story:

DEEP SPACE

The halls were cold. Lit only by emergency lights that continued to function despite their age, the twists and turns of the once-bustling ship stood silent and empty, a testament to its last, desperate, mission. Banks of weapons, which had once spat their defiance against the gods themselves, sat neglected.

The scars from its myriad wars, though faded and patched over, were still visible if one knew how to look for them. A slight distortion from a heat-beam here, patches of unpainted armour from a row of impacts there. In one place, a lance of energy from some enemy fortress had burned off some of the name inscribed on the prow of the mighty warship. The words, faded with age even in the vast coldness of the void, read -S VICT-. The full name had been painted over a thousand years ago, according to its internal clock, before the ship had been cast into the depths of space and long before the empire which launched it faded.

On board the once-proud dreadnought, auto-routines still functioned. Scores of small craft were kept ready to launch as soon as a pilot climbed inside. Pods of missiles, still potent, sat awaiting the order to launch. The main weapons of the ship, a cluster of tubes running along the keel of the titan, were loaded. The cold halls were still ready for the crew to walk along them. Stocks of personal weapons were oiled and maintained. The crew quarters were clean, waiting for their former occupants to reclaim them.

Somewhere on board the ship, another auto-routine ticked over, as it had with decreasing frequency as the centuries passed. The dreadnought's active sensors probed the immediate area. Seeing it was not threatened, the computer sent out a transmission, the second it had made since it determined it was no longer in enemy territory. The broadcast, recorded only minutes before the surviving crew went into cryogenic sleep, called for help.

A call that, finally, was answered. Not by an assurance of salvation, nor even a promise of destruction, but, most curiously, by a plea for help.

The computer did not know how to respond, so it did the one thing it could under the circumstances.

It woke up the crew.

[Dass.Kapital]

Interesting.

[VX-145]

Thanks

I'm not particularly happy with the next bit, for various reasons, but I've decided to use it anyway. For that reason, you guys get two segments (for some reason the word "chapter" doesn't feel right) in one post (as I'm actually quite happy with the second bit). Happy birthday

One last thing: I did some (relatively minor) edits on this using the post-creation form thingy. If you see terms that are inconsistent, that's why. That's my story and I'm sticking to it

Story:

THE TRIBAL GROUNDS

Leesh ran. It was something she enjoyed doing, most of the time, but now was different. Her father had told her that she was to be offered to the sky-monsters as a tribute, so they might look upon her tribe with mercy and perhaps even generosity.

The reasoning made sense. She ran anyway.

Father would send the hunt-packs after her, maybe even the war-band. To her, it didn't matter. They would not find her if she chose to hide.

Her legs took her across the Great Bridge, disturbing flocks of birds that nested in the trees and bushes that grew there. A herd of game beasts, driven by fear past the point of hiding, fled from the undergrowth and ran in front of her like an honour guard. On any other day, she would have praised her good fortune, and picked off the bulkiest members of the pack with her hunting bow. Today, however, the bow sat beside her sleeping mat, and she would not have tried to hunt even if she had it.

One of the huge Stone Forests lay ahead, crumbling slightly in the breeze. The hunt-packs were skilled at the craft of hunting in them, but this one was different. She came to a hole in the side of one of the square stone-trees, and climbed through. The space within was mostly clear, unlike some of the other Pillars, and the faded colours on the walls of the chamber were visible in the morning light. She had once come here with her friends, and they had talked for hours while trying to find out why there were colours inside the trees. On their way back, they had stumbled across a large metal case with a button on one side. When pressed, it made an unearthly screeching sound for a second, then died. They had traded it for a bit of food from one of the Metal Tribes, who had a strange attachment to such objects.


Leesh shook off the memory, and plunged into the depths of the cavern. While there were more caverns above her, the way up was dangerous and unstable.

No, what interested Leesh was the way down, a way only she and one other knew. She felt for the familiar protrusion next to the shaft that linked all the caverns in the pillar, and was rewarded with a click, and the wall next to the shaft opening. She had discovered this by accident, trying not to fall into the shaft which led much deeper than the shafts in the other trees. She had only just been rescued by her friend Land, who almost fell in himself. He'd grabbed the wall to try to stop them from falling, and had opened the secret passage.

A stepped ramp lead down into the depths of the planet, turning every so often so as to fit into the square hole it was squeezed in to. Unlike the rest of the building, this area was lit by torches the two of them had brought from the camp in their exploration of the Pillar. She dearly hoped Land was not one of the people hunting her now; he was trying to gain membership in the war-band, but so far none of the current members were willing to vouch for him. Even so, they would likely ask him to help them search for her.

She reached the bottom of the ramp, where another sliding wall awaited. This one was not lit by torches, but by a strange light that came from a half-ball above the part of the wall that slid to the side. She pushed the button to open this wall, and ran inside the corridor behind it. She took no time to contemplate the markings on the door, as she normally did, but went straight to the Komand Senter, where the Maji had first spoken to the two children as they explored the place the voices called the “Komplecks”. The Maji had threatened them with something called “Prosekushion” if they told anyone about it, so they had kept it a secret between them.

Before she got there, she was stopped by the waiting figure of Land. She sighed in resignation.
“I suppose you are here to return me to my father,” she said, wondering why he didn't just pick her up and carry her there right then.
“Do you want me to?” he asked, surprising her.
“I am being hunted by the tribe, wanted as a disobedient tribute. Helping me will only earn you death!” she shouted at him, despite the voice in her head that screamed at her to let him help. He laughed.
“You are so predictable, Leesh! I knew you'd run, and I knew where you'd run to! If I wanted to help your father suck up to the Sky-Monsters, I'd have brought the packs with me.”
“But... we can't stay here. There's no food, or water. And I don't want you being an outlaw too!” she replied.
“I have a plan.” he said, simply. She'd once been afraid to hear those words, but this time she stopped and listened intently. “The Maji are old, far older than even the oldest Sky-Monster. They are wise, too. Maybe they know of some way to get away from here, to find another tribe which won't sell us to the Sky-Monsters. They might even be able to give us knowledge that will make us valuable. They talk of something called “Akri-Kulture” and “Ekonomiks”.” The look on his face turned to that excited one that she'd come to associate with finding out something new. The last time she'd seen it was when he had thrown the contents of one of the red canisters on the walls of the Komplecks over a fire, and it had smothered it. After a long moment of looking into that face, she made up her mind.
“We will ask them if they can help. If they cannot, you will take me back to my father.” With that, she pushed past him into the Senter.

One of the voices greeted her as she walked in.
“Welcome back, Civilian (Access Level Delta) Leesh. It has been one month and twenty-six days since you last conversed with us. Have you come for another story of the wars against the gods?” It was the one that had introduced itself as Baltha-sar, the one that was the friendliest to her and talked the most.
“Is your friend Land here too?” Asked another of the voices. This one was Kas-par, the one that was friendlier to Land. That it even talked to her was strange, but then she hadn't brought Land here for the past two visits. She talked before Kas-par could talk to Land, who had moved to stand beside her.
“We need help.”

Both voices were silent for a moment, then a third voice spoke. This one had only spoken when she had brought Land here when he was ill, and called itself Mel-kior.
“We had calculated that you would ask this of us soon. We received a message from a dreadnought that was lost long ago. We can send a reply, asking for it to help you, if you will give us a message to send.” That was how Mel-kior spoke, talking of predictions yet never speaking in riddles. If one could ignore the strange words it used, anyway. Land looked ready to interrogate it – he'd never forgiven her for not letting him do so last time – but she cut him off, knowing that time was short.
“What do I need to do?”
“Push the buttons that glow on the panel in front of you, in the order they glow. Then, speak your message, identifying yourself and the trouble you are in.” Mel-kior explained.
“We will add all the other details.” Cas-par said.
“And I will ask them to hurry.” said Baltha-sar. “Sending this message will alert the xenos (gamma-class) to our presence.”

The panel Mel-kior referred to lit up, and some of the buttons glowed. Leesh pushed them as soon as they did so, knowing that the voices would not like it if she had to repeat the sequence. Another panel, this one transparent, slid out of the top of the pulpit the first panel rested on. It lit up, and markings flashed across it. Remembering Mel-kior's instructions, she spoke quickly.
“I am Leesh of the Mountain Tribe. I, and my friend Land, are being hunted by our tribe to be offered as tribute to the Sky-monsters, who destroy our mightiest war-bands and take our people as slaves. If you can hear this, please help us.”

There was a low throbbing sound, the scrape of metal on stone and the humming sound of all the panels in the room working at once. Dozens, hundreds of markings scrolled across the transparent panels, and a large panel at the back of the room lit up. The familiar symbol of the Maji was displayed across it, with more markings below it. This lasted for only a moment, then everything was silent and still once more.

“Message sent.” Melchior said.
“You should pray to your gods that they listen,” said Caspar.
“And if they do, the xenos should pray to theirs for salvation.” Balthasar said.
“I have taken the liberty of activating the external sensors. Your fellow tribespeople are in the city above. I recommend that you persuade them to fight the xenos and protect us. We are the only means of communication you have with the lost ship.” Mel-kior interjected, cutting off its siblings.

Land looked across at Leesh, and motioned her to follow him outside. As they returned to the surface, her mind raced, trying to figure out how to persuade her father to follow her in rebellion against the creatures which had once decimated entire tribes.

As it turned out, she didn't even have to try.

The Stone Forest – no, Sity, she used the term the Maji had used to describe it – had undergone a transformation while they were underground. Some of the Pillars had disappeared, replaced by newer-looking pillars with what looked like the Sky-monster's fire-tubes attached to them, and metal men – a wonder only spoken of in the oldest of legends – plodded about the streets towards a knot of people.

Her tribesmen.

They had their spears and bows levelled at the advancing tide of metal, ready to fight if need be. She saw her father, proud warrior that he was, standing in front of the largest group of metal men, the fragment of the ancient war-blade Godsplitter in his hands.

The metal men stopped a few meters away from the crowd of hunters and warriors, awaiting orders.

Leesh stepped forward, Land at her side, and her father looked at her with defeat in his eyes.

“So,” he began, “You are so determined to avoid your responsibilities that you would kill us all.”

“No.” Leesh said. “I have consulted the Maji, in the depths of the Sity, and they say that help is at hand if we fight the Sky-Monsters. An ancient Dread Nought, from the days of legend, will come to our aid, and bring us salvation.”

“Have you forgotten the stories?!” exclaimed her father, “Where all the ancient vessels were lost in the great void-wars? You risk damning us all with false hope!”

“We should be fighting the Sky-monsters anyway, Father!” For a moment, the desire to order the metal men to close in on the stubborn fool ran through her. As soon as it appeared, she felt revulsion – why would she ever do that to her father? She continued, regardless; “You have damned us all with this lack of hope! Is it not told in the tales that we once ruled a mighty empire, when we did not even know of the Sky-monsters? Is it not said that we stood against our gods and their messengers, and drove them into the dust before us? You hold proof that we did that once! That blade pierced the heart of a god, and three of its messengers! The Sky-monsters are nothing compared to that. Their mightiest war-boats would be nothing before the Fortress-God, but we killed it in a day!” Some of the younger, more headstrong, warriors started nodding in agreement, “Their most skilled warriors would stand hopeless against the First Messenger alone, yet with just one Lance of Fire we destroyed it utterly!” She paused to catch her breath.

One of the older warriors took the advantage and spoke; “The ones who defeated the gods were not us, child. We do not have even one Lance of Fire. Those - and the other weapons with which we defied our gods and proved that we have a right to exist - have been lost for as long as the eldest's father's father's father could remember! While this “Sity” is impressive, do you really believe any of this can stand before the wrath of the Sky-Monsters?”

“It does not need to,” she retorted, “It only had to hold it back long enough for either the Dread Nought to appear, or for the Sky-monsters to learn the true price of rulership over these tribes. Even so, I have been talking to the Maji for a long time, and while they have not told me much, some is clear. This is one of the Sitys of legend, the ones the Gods chose to destroy first. Even though the Lances are long gone, and we have no war-boats, we still have a fortress that repelled the traitor war-band of the Final Messenger! A war-band far more powerful than any the Sky-Monsters could send against us!” The older warrior looked as though he would snap at her, but her father intervened.

“Are you sure that we can at least bloody them?” He asked.

“We can.” She did not say anything more. She did not need to.

“Then we shall.” her father, Alecks, Chieftan of the Mountain Tribe “I will send word to some of the other tribes, to take those who cannot fight... and to invite them to fight here too.”

The tribesmen raised their weapons in celebration, even the warrior who had argued against her. The metal men, acting on some ancient impulse, raised whatever passed for arms for them and walked off to continue repairing the ancient fortress-city.

______________________________________

LUNAR ORBIT

The clan-ship Builder's Wisdom was a hive of activity. Slaves from the system's third planet rushed to accomplish their tasks, whatever they may be. Warriors practised in the pits, waiting for a chance to use their skills against an actual foe and not the pitiful bands of half-trained and primitive free-slaves still on the Planet. Skilled workers of metal and earth oversaw the running of the ship, crushing any slave who made a mistake beneath their armoured legs.

Watching everything, Breeder-Captain Thornek felt a small amount of pride. He had taken the ship, given to him as a joke by the King's Court, and turned it into the pride of the King's Fleet. Not only that, but he had found an entire star system ripe for the taking, with a Green-class planet full of slaves and even, it was whispered, relics of the Builders themselves. The ancient gods had, for some reason, left this system littered with them, from autonomous orbital platforms to actual habitats on some of the planets.

Pride was, however, conflicting with annoyance. The system was no end of trouble, even for all of its wonders. The Transway Point between this system and the next in the chain was in orbit around the fourth planet, not the third, Green, planet. This meant he'd had to spend weeks travelling from that barren – but oddly enough habitable – world just to get here. Now, he would have to spend another month at least – after the years he had already wasted here - before being able to report back to the King and claim glory for this find. A month in which the plotters on his ship could spend overthrowing him or stealing that glory for their own.

The thrill of pride left him, and he scratched at his carapace with one of the vestigial claws growing from his back.

On top of everything else, it seemed the free-slaves on the planet were growing restless. One of his scout-ships had been destroyed, and its crew lost. They had found some old fortress, perhaps another relic of the Builders, and were resisting all attempts to dislodge them. Offers of weapons and preferential treatment hadn't worked, and bringing in free-slave "Tribes" (a term he'd never fully understood) from outside the area had just resulted in those tribes joining the rebels.

He let out a burst of air in frustration. He would have to deal with this in one fell swoop. Even if it meant destruction of a relic, and the death of countless slaves, he would have to order the Wisdom to use its weapons against the fortress. He summoned one of the metal-workers to him, and relayed the necessary commands. As he expected from a metal-worker, it questioned why he would do such a thing, but explaining it to the creature before him allowed him to deflect any further questioning from his crew. After agreeing with the necessity of his commands, it left, leaving Thornek to look upon the dusty moon of the planet. He would have to search that rock next, in case any more relics were left there.

He allowed himself a small smile. Even though it was a pain, this was still going to be very profitable.

[VX-145]

This is the last bit I've got written. I'll try to get around to writing more, but it could take a while.

Story:

DEEP SPACE,
Human Dreadnought INS Victory:

“CRYOGENIC DE-FREEZING PROCESS COMPLETE. LIFE SIGNS NOMINAL. BRAIN ACTIVITY NOMINAL. WELCOME BACK, CAPTAIN JACKSON.”

The words blinked on the glass in front of Horatio Jackson's face, as the biting cold receded from his body, replaced by a flood of memory. The cryo-pod's link with his brainstem was automatically sending pulses of electricity though his nervous system, to both help with the re-adjustment process and to make sure everything still worked.

The tingling sensations ran through his entire body. Once the auto-routines were satisfied, the brain-link detached from the base of his neck, and the glass wall of the cryo-pod opened, folding “downward” relative to the artificial gravity. He pushed himself out of the pod, and stepped back into his personal quarters for the first time in however long they had been trapped floating in the void.

He pulled off the sodden jumpsuit that he'd worn in the pod, and pulled on a fresh uniform. Status displays lit up around the room, telling him the location of the ship, how long they had been travelling, the progress of the crew's re-awakening and the various minutiae of the ship. He dismissed them – he'd always preferred hearing the reports from the crew themselves, a relic of his time in the old Enterprise-class explorer ships, where the computers weren't as reliable.

Finished dressing, he strode out of his room and onto the bridge of the ship, where the main bridge crew were already assembled. Fortunately, none showed the tell-tale rashes or skin bumps of freezer-sickness, so they could get to work immediately. His Executive Officer, Lieutenant Commander Maria Carter, saluted as he walked past.

“Sir,” she started, knowing he'd want information from her, “Merlin reports that we've taken only minimal casualties from the thawing process; six sick, one dead. Midshipman James White.”

“Mark his name down on the rolls,” the Captain ordered, sitting in the main chair in the centre of the bridge, “then continue your report.” There was a brief pause as Carter complied with the request, then she continued;
“Merlin also says we've received a distress call. Audio and text. Sir, it's from Earth.” At this, the Captain's eyes widened.

“Play it on the bridge speakers,” he said. One of the Ensigns at the communications station pressed some buttons in response, and the voice of a young woman came over the speakers:

“ I am Leesh of the Mountain Tribe. I, and my friend Land, are being hunted by our tribe to be offered as tribute to the Sky-monsters, who destroy our mightiest war-bands and take our people as slaves. If you can hear this, please help us.”

There was a moment's pause. Then, the Captain spoke.
“Can we confirm that the transmission was from Earth?”

“Aye, sir. The text version came with annotations from the AI net for the south of France, and it seems they translated it for us. The original was in some hybrid language, apparently,” Carter replied.

“Any further details on these “Sky-monsters”?” the Captain asked, and the Lieutenant commanding the communications station turned to him.

“The annotations from Melchior, the analytic AI, claim that they're some sort of alien species – the exact term it used was xenos-gamma, sir,” the Lieutenant said.

“Standard Imperial term for hostile alien species.” The Captain steepled his hands in front of his face.

“It also says that there's only one ship in the entire solar system, battleship displacement but only destroyer-level energy emmisions,” the officer continued. The Captain nodded.

“Helm, what's our current position and where's the nearest highway access point?” he asked.

“We're currently fourteen light-years away from the nearest star system, Beta Arae. It's listed as explored, but with no plans for exploitation at this time. It should have a navigation buoy, and probably an access point too. At full speed, we should reach it by this time tomorrow Ship Time,” replied the Lieutenant at the helm controls.

“Then plot a course, and start running combat drills. I want us ready to fight these... “Sky-monsters”... if need be,” the Captain ordered. As the crew rushed to obey, he found himself reflecting on how he had fought one war for humanity, only to be thrown into another.

He dearly hoped that the cost of the last war would not have to be repaid to win this one.

_________

BETA ARAE, TRANSIT POINT
Union Scout-Ship Salvager's Joy:

The Scout-Ship Salvager's Joy was not having a good time.

Less than an hour ago – an hour relative to the rotation of the ship's homeworld – a massive, unidentified ship had rushed in from the edge of the solar system, using some sort of high-speed drive. The Joy was sent to challenge it. The commander of the ship, a Sky-Warrior as tradition (and law, not that such things mattered this far away from the homeworld) dictated, had sent it a message using the Joy's communications suite, ordering the unidentified ship to cut power to its engines and prepare to be boarded.

The reply came quickly. A voice came over the Joy's radio, in one of the languages of the Builders. The message was simple. “Break off and let us through, or be destroyed.” While in theory such a challenge could not be ignored by a Sky-Warrior, the commander was well aware of the size and firepower disparity between the two ships. He ordered the Joy to break off, and called in the Monitor ships that guarded the precious Transway gate.

On board the bridge of the Joy, the commander was forced to kill one of his officers – another Sky-Warrior – for questioning his decision. As he lifted his blood-stained talons from his rival's corpse, a bright light filled the viewscreen. One of the Monitors disappeared from the tactical display. The Lightning Smith at the sensor station turned to the commander, carapace lighting up in shock. “Warrior-Captain!” it shouted, “That was a Lance! A relic!”

“Get us out of here! We can't fight something like that!” the Warrior-Captain ordered. As he watched in horror, another Monitor was destroyed by the advancing ship. “It doesn't even need to recharge!” he said, terrified. The only other Lance the clans knew about was on the Lightning Smith homeworld, and could only fire after a lengthy recharging process. Nevertheless, it had held off an entire Sky-Warrior fleet during the Unification.

Even as the crew processed that information, another Monitor was destroyed, and another. Finally, three Monitors managed to get close enough to fight, and unleashed their Seekers on the ship. The Warrior-Captain watched with anticipation as the missiles drew closer, but before they could get close the space around the enemy ship lit up with fire. Some of them still managed to get through the point-defence guns, only to hit a shimmering orange shield.

In the time it had taken for the missiles to get that far, however, the remaining Monitors had been wiped out. Beta Arae belonged to the enemy, whoever they were. The Warrior-Captain transmitted a ritual surrender to the large ship, and waited for his fate.

[Argosh]

Looks like humans are the precursor race
Subscribed!

[VX-145]

Glad to know people like this.

I managed to get these two segments churned out pretty quickly (I am a very slow writer most of the time), so hopefully this might continue to get updated for a while.

Story:

BETA ARAE,
INS VICTORY:

Captain Jackson leaned backwards in his chair, breathing out the stresses of battle. He allowed himself two seconds, then leant forwards again.
“Report,” he ordered.

“All enemy warships eliminated. No damage sustained, but we've run our capacitor banks dry and Engineering says we probably won't be able to use the main battery again without risking a failure until they can take a look at it. Point-defence batteries are down to 87% ordinance stocks,” came Carter's reply.

“Status of the Field?”, Jackson asked.

“It seems to be holding steady. All emitters are still functional, and the core's readings are nominal,” the Systems officer said.

“Sir,” began the Communications officer, “We're receiving a hail from that picket ship from earlier.”

“Put it through,” Jackson ordered.

“I am Warrior-Captain Cthork of the Scout-Ship Salvager's Joy. In accordance with the 64th Clan Conclave's regulations regarding warfare, I hereby surrender my ship and crew to you on the condition of fair treatment,” came a voice over speakers. It was strange; more like a bird's voice than a human's, but clear nontheless. The most interesting thing, though, was that it was in English. Clear, precise English.

The Captain motioned towards the Communications officer, who patched in the microphones on the captain's chair.
“This is Captain Jackson of the dreadnought INS Victory. We accept your surrender, and request that you dock with us to be taken into custody. I assure you, so long as you do not try to resist, we will treat you fairly.”

A moment later, the reply came: “Very well, Captain Jackson. We will dock at a port you indicate. Salvager's Joy, out.”

_________

EARTH,
Southern France, the ruins of Lyon:

Leesh really knew she shouldn't be having fun. This was a momentous time in her people's history, what would probably be a glorious last stand if the help they'd been promised didn't arrive.

It didn't matter. She was having fun anyway.

The Magi (who'd taught her how to write in the manner of the ancients) had dug up some sort of flying machine from somewhere, and had let her have it. She'd not been enthusiastic at first, but it had proved to be very easy to learn; apparently one of the Magi had put part of itself into the machine somehow to make it easier to control.

Not to mention fun!

She made the machine do a half-backflip, enjoying the sensation this triggered, and lined up the gun-sight on a Sky-Monster flying machine much like her own. They'd been harassing the city with the occasional raid after the first few battles, presumably because they were running out of people to attack them with.

She pushed the button that made the weapons fire, watching as a small lance of light – not fire, as she'd originally thought – speared the Sky-Monster's machine in the centre of its cockpit. It tumbled away, trailing fire (real fire, this time), but another light-beam flashed past her own cockpit. She rolled the machine, losing some height, then looked into the rear monitor to see what had shot at her.

Another Sky-Monster flying machine, this one a lot bigger than the last, was approaching from the Flatlands. A War-Boat, by the look of it – the third they'd sent against the city.. She swore under her breath; she would have to let the city's defences handle this one. Apparently, the weapons on this flying machine weren't able to hurt a War-Boat.

Its escort, on the other hand, were another matter entirely.

While the city's defences started firing at the War-Boat, she closed the distance on the smaller flying machines ahead of it. She brought one down on the first pass, the other four scattering as she flew through the hole she'd made in the formation.

She fired the side-mounted thrusters, spinning the machine to one side and taking a shot at another Sky-Monster flying machine. This one missed, but she didn't have time for another try – the two on the other side of the formation had swung around onto her tail. She began to fly unpredictably, but the shots from the enemy machines started getting closer and closer.

Leesh grinned.

Two light-beams skewered the enemy machines, dropping them out of the sky like birds hit by a spear. Another flying machine – this one marked in the blue and white of the city (with the strange red logo) rather than the red of the Sky-Monsters – took up a position on her left.

“Are you going to make me have to do this every time we fly out?” came a voice over the speakers, a window opening at the same time with Land's face in it.

“I'm still ahead of you. I got four already, those were your first two today,” she replied. He laughed in return, then closed the window. They had more important things to do than talk right now.

He rolled left, getting a snap-shot on the wing of one of the last two enemy machines. She took the right-hand one, which looped as soon as it saw her. She followed it, easily keeping up, but rather than finishing the loop, she used her manoeuvring thrusters to point vertically downwards at the top.

It was a perfect kill-shot.

“Five-three,” she said into the radio. Behind her, the War-Boat had just flown into range of the city's cannons.

To give the ship's builder's credit, it lasted for a short while under a barrage designed to kill far larger targets. It even took a few shots from the medium-weight guns into the main armour belt and survived, but eventually one of the capital-class turrets hit its mark and the ship disintegrated.

The Fourty-Fifth Battle of Lyon (overall, and third in the past year) was over.

Leesh and Land brought their flying machines around back towards the city, keying in the sequence that gave the Magi full control over them.

[LadyTevar]

I'm enjoying this.

[Spekio]

I'm finding it quite interesting.

[Imperial528]

*Sees new chapter*

[madd0ct0r]

consider me hooked.

[VX-145]

Thanks guys.

Just for once, I've decided to post this before 2am. It's shorter than the last one, because I haven't had as much time to write today. Yes, I know I could just post this tomorrow but I got to a point that felt natural to post, so here it is.

Story:

BETA ARAE
INS Victory, Docking Airlock 19

A squad of marines was waiting at the airlock when Captain Jackson arrived. Their presence was threefold – firstly, it was to provide an honour guard for the first aliens to ever attempt peaceful communication with humanity. Secondly, they were there to make sure that contact remained peaceful. Thirdly, it had been too difficult to think of a reason to say “no” to them.

The Sergeant in charge of the squad saluted as he saw the Captain, who nodded back.

The seal indicators turned green, and the marines turned their weapons on the airlock.

The door opened.

_________

BETA ARAE
SS Salvager's Joy, Prize-Port 6

The first thing Cthork noticed about the relic ship was that it was clean. Cleaning had always been something for slaves in his culture, slaves which he had never been able to afford. It was almost like a homeless person walking into a mansion for the first time.

The second thing he noticed were the guns. Ten giants, clad in what looked like thick carapaces, much like those of a Lightning Smith, stood on either side of the doorway, weapons pointed into the ship.

It was several seconds before he noticed the slave in front of him, just like any specimen from thousands of worlds. Luckily, he had enough presence of mind to not take offence at such an insult, and instead asked; “Where is Captain Jackson?”

“That would, in fact, be me,” the slave said. “I assume that you are Warrior-Captain Cthork?”

Cthork masked his surprise well. “I am Cthork,” he said.

The slave – no, Captain (unless this was some sort of trick, in which case this slave wouldn't survive for much longer) – smiled and continued, “Then come this way. Unless you want to discuss things in the middle of a corridor?”

“What have we to discuss?” Cthork asked, “We have done as you asked.”

The reply shocked him more than the slave's initial revelation: “Captain, it has been over a thousand years since I went to sleep. I woke up a week ago. I want to know what's changed.”

________

INS Victory,
Conference Room 6

“Over a thousand years? Explain this. What happened? Who are you people?” Cthork really felt he shouldn't be asking questions at this point, but the opportunity was just too good to pass up. These people could be the Builders themselves! If they could share even a tenth of their secrets with him, he could usurp the King himself!

“I suppose I shouldn't be answering your questions, Captain Cthork, but I will allow you one answer before you start telling me everything I want to know. We're the reason your species is still alive today.” Jackson couldn't resist saying that. He knew just how many questions that alone would raise, and how much those would torment his counterpart.

“Now then,” he continued, “You are going to tell me why you were messing around with a Highway Access Point, and what – if any – damage you've done to it.”

It took Cthork a few seconds to think of a reply. The legends were true; the Builders had sacrificed themselves to protect everything else from... something. The stories always tended to be vague on what exactly they'd been fighting, even after a thousand years of religious discussion. Eventually, he managed to speak; “The Transway points are the main trade routes of the Clans. So far as damage is concerned... I don't think we even have the capability to damage them. We have been trying to keep them active – when one goes down it can cut a planet off from interstellar trade entirely.”

“That's good. They're a lot more sensitive than this ship,” Jackson said. “Now then. Have you ever heard of a planet called Earth?”

Cthork almost laughed despite everything. “Only in legends. The ancient home of the Builders themselves, covered in relics. We've never found it.” Although it seemed that he might be about to...

“That might be a good thing,” Jackson replied. “You see, that's our homeworld. And, about a week ago, we got a call for help from it. We intend to answer.”

That was not good news. If these people were actually the Builders, his people had been using them as slaves since time immemorial. He'd just witnessed the damage one ancient ship could do to a heavily-guarded system when impatient. If they were angered...

Cthork shuddered. It looked like there was only one way out of this.

“If that is indeed the case,” he began, “Then the Salvager's Joy will assist you in any way possible.”

[VX-145]

Hey people;

I'm sorry this one's quite short, but I couldn't resist leaving you on a cliffhanger.

As an aside; while I have tried to put some thought into an alien culture (several of them, in fact), I've used English terms for things rather than making up a language. There's several reasons for this:
1) I'm not sure I could make up a language at all,
2) Using English makes things a lot easier to understand
and 3) If I did put that much effort in, I'd have to explain each and every term anyway.

So for things like stars, ship names and so on, I've used English. If that breaks your immersion, then imagine it's because they're being translated after the fact.

Story:

Hawk Clan Fleet Base,
Gamma Cassiopeiae

Three full fleets of warships, each containing over a hundred vessels, stood ready at the huge, ancient space station that orbited the dual stars of the system. Like many relics of the Builders, no-one quite knew what purpose the station had served, but that mystery was irrelevant to its current owners.

The Hawk Clan had held onto the system for centuries, guarding the vital trade routes that were just a few hours away using the Transway Point included on the station. It had been very profitable; they'd been able to skim tolls and protection fees from the various merchants who came through, and there was never a shortage of slaves, which was rare for a military installation. The small-time pirates and occasional rebel band hadn't dared to openly attack the facility in half a century, but even so the clan remained on alert.

This caution had been justified two days ago, where all contact with the vital Transway Point at Beta Arae had been cut off. The clan's leaders were quite intelligent; they knew that this could not be the work of anything less than a full-scale attack.

So they had gathered the fleets.

_____

Hawk Clan Fleet Base
Battleship Mother's Talons

The Mother's Talons was the flagship of the right-wing fleet. As such, its captain, a Sky-Warrior by the name of Gork, was a fully-fledged Admiral, rather than a mere Captain.

He stared out of the window of the bridge – an actual window into space, as his status (and that of the ship) permitted – contemplating his next move. Commanding an entire fleet was a high honour, but it was not the same as commanding the central fleet which drove the attackers out of Clan space. He would have to think of something special if he wanted to be noticed after this battle.

His counterpart on the left-wing fleet, an Admiral Mork (commanding the carrier Mate's Nest), had confided his own worries on this matter to him over lunch an hour ago. Mork had promised him that he'd back him up in the next round of advancement if Gork could find a way to make sure that they got the credit for this battle, not High Admiral Chree on board the battlecruiser Father's Wrath.

After a few more minutes, he believed he had a solution. He ordered one of his crew to hail the Nest, patching it through to his personal rooms.

He arrived a few moments later to see Mork's face waiting for him.

“I think I have a way to secure us our just reward,” Gork began. Mork looked interested, so he continued. “The central fleet is mostly made up of fast-attack vessels; battlecruisers, attack boats and so on. They have a lot of firepower, but they can't stand up for long in a direct fight. That means that our dear Chree will use them as bait, and have us move in and close the trap.”

“A classic envelopment,” Mork said. “What does this have to do with advancement?”

“Patience, my friend. Knowing Chree, he will be in the first line of capital ships. That means that, if we delay just a little, we can look like we're pulling his feathers from the oil, and make him look foolish for putting himself in such risk.” Gork left the other implications unsaid; if they waited a bit longer, then Chree would be killed, and all glory would fall to the other Admirals involved. Saying such things over a communications channel, no matter how private, would be to invite death, however. The King had eyes everywhere, and the High Admirals knew how to access most of them. Plotting murder would be repaid in actual murder, but a plan to gain greater glory would go unnoticed.

“A fine stratagem,” agreed Mork. “After all, who's to say the enemy don't have a fleet just waiting for us to spring such a trap? We have to be cautious, after all.”

Gork smiled and cut the channel. Shortly afterwards, another channel opened, this time from the Wrath.

“It is time,” High Admiral Chree announced, “proceed into the Transway, headed towards Beta Arae.”

[VX-145]

I had this chapter written out last night, but the board went down before I could post it. Even I have to sleep sometimes

A couple of notes before we begin:

1) I've tried out a relatively new style with the second segment. Let me know what you think.

2) There's some bonus setting stuff below the actual story if you're interested. Just some stuff I haven't been able to fit into the actual story much yet, and it's not very important in any case.

Story:

BETA ARAE
INS Victory

The bridge was a chaotic mess. Each captain had retreated to their own ships after the meeting, and Jackson had ordered the Joy to proceed ahead of them to Earth. That just left the Victory in-system; waiting for traffic on the highway to calm down enough for it to admit the dreadnought. For some reason the highway was too busy to allow them through. The Joy, being about a tenth the size of the Victory, had been able to slip though.

That had been four hours ago. Now there was an enemy armada coming through the Access Point.

“Sensors picked them up about twenty minutes ago,” reported XO Carter as Captain Jackson walked onto the bridge; “We've got over three hundred confirmed contacts, mostly frigate-range energy emission. There are three capital-class energy signatures, though. Looks like a battleship, a battlecruiser and a carrier. They're staying out of range – it looks like they're bringing more ships through the Access Point.”

That wasn't good. Three capital ships, along with three hundred support ships, would be able to carve through the Victory easily, even accounting for the huge firepower disparity.

“So this is why the highway's been so damned busy,” surmised Jackson. “Alright. We'll withdraw for now, and try to string them out a little. If we can make a weak spot, we might be able to punch through to the Access Point. Launch fighter wings, have them harass the enemy a little if they start chasing us. Otherwise, keep them in formation until we're thirty k-klicks out, then reel them back in.”

A chorus of “Aye aye”s came from around the bridge, and the crew rushed to carry out his orders.

______

BETA ARAE

To an outside observer, the battle might look like a dance. One party pulls one way, and the other responds. The tide of ships ebbs and flows, and the Clan fleet splits into three wings, allowing the Victory to pull away. While this costs them the initiative, it gives them the time to become coherent. The Clans had learned, through many painful battles, that their commanders weren't able to deal with chaos very well. A calm, calculated approach serves them best, so most of their ships are long-range vessels. While an encirclement may be chaotic, it is controlled chaos.

On the other hand, the Victory – and the naval tradition which spawned it – has learned the value of chaos. From medieval cavalry charges, to early air combat and even the battles for which the Victory would be famous if their cost hadn't been so high, intentional chaos has served humanity well. Their preferred strategy is to get in close, break up the enemy formation and take out any command element they can find. The Victory's armament is not ideal for this purpose – the dreadnought being designed to take out large, single enemies – but it has enough secondary armament to make it work.

For a short while, there is a pause in the flurry of movement. The Clan fleet stares down the Victory, and vice versa. Each challenges the other to make the first move.

Three hundred ships, spread out in a formation that looks a lot like their namesake hawk, face one ship, pointed right at the Access Point, and incidentally the fleet in their way.

The tension is broken by the Clan fleet's fighter screen, which races towards the Victory. The dreadnought's own fighters respond, and the ancient vessel itself powers forward toward the centre of the enemy fleet. The ship's huge engine banks glow blue with the effort, almost on the verge of overheating. Point-defence fire lashes out from it, cutting Clan fighters into pieces or simply engulfing them in flame.

The initial skirmish was a victory for the Victory, but not without losses. A full quarter of the dreadnought's fighters were destroyed, with rescue craft already trying to save the pilots. Even the Clan's pilots were saved, rather than being left to die in the cold of space. The Victory herself took a few hits, which strained the defensive Field. The core which generated it began to malfunction, throwing excess energy directly into the dreadnought's sensors.

Regardless, the ship powered on, meeting the centre of the enemy fleet and blowing right through the initial screen of attack ships.

The second line of the centre contained one of the three Clan ships capable of standing up to the Victory for more than a few seconds. The battlecruiser Father's Wrath unleashed a volley of missiles, accompanied by the missile cruisers beside it. Each missile was capable of breaking a lesser ship in two, and the full salvo had been all that was needed in some recent battles.

The Victory took the full salvo in the front. Most of the missiles explode uselessly on the Field, but eventually the core is shut down by the Merlin semi-AI to prevent it from damaging the ship any more. The last three missiles fly right through the space where the Field had been. Two are intercepted by the dreadnought's point-defence, but because of the sensor damage it sustained earlier the last missile gets through.

Luckily for the Victory, the missile impacts on the armour plating just above the main battery, leaving it undamaged. Had it been a direct hit, the entire battery would have been destroyed.

In response, the entire weapon load of the Victory opens up at the enemy fleet.

For a few seconds, it is almost like they had been transported into a nebula. Missiles engulf Clan cruisers in balls of flame, the ventral and dorsal gun batteries lance out and spear Clan destroyers. Even the point-defence guns take part, with at least three assigned to each enemy ship. Those unfortunate enough to be targeted solely by those weapons are torn to pieces, the crew left alive to perish in the void.

And, of course, the main battery of the Victory, five heavy anti-particle beams, spears the Wrath.

The battlecruiser relied on speed instead of armour; the idea being that at the ranges it could engage at, it was far simpler to just move out of the way of incoming fire. To deal with enemy missiles, it had been fitted with an extensive countermeasures suite and point-defence battery. Its designers had accounted for enemy ships closing in on the battlecruiser, but the secondary armament it carried was designed to deal with smaller ships.

The Victory was twice the Wrath's size. The five beams punched right through the pitiful armour on board the battlecruiser, the anti-particles reacting at every level to leave no trace of the ship. As a side effect, the matter/antimatter reaction of the beams caused an explosion greater than all of Earth's 20th century nuclear stockpiles combined. The heavy cruisers clustered around the Wrath were obliterated.

After the Victory stopped firing, the centre of the enemy fleet – over one hundred ships – was gone.

Had the other Clan fleets decided to press the attack, the Victory would have been easily overwhelmed. The Field was still inactive, her sensor net was only half-functional, and all of her ready weapon loads had been spent. The only weapon still able to fire was the dorsal battery, and twelve heavy lasers would not be enough to hold out against two hundred ships.

The other Clan fleets did not know this. As far as they knew, the enemy ship was allowing them an opportunity to flee. The loss of High Admiral Chree also left a power vacuum; while Admirals Gork and Mork were trying to re-establish a chain of command, many individual ships were choosing to ignore them. Chaos reigned. Ships started fleeing the battle; in small groups, squadrons and even alone.

Eventually, Gork ordered what little of his fleet was still listening to retreat away from the Transway point. Mork ordered an attack, but was killed by a subordinate before it could be carried out. That fleet retreated too.

The Victory was almost oblivious to this. It had initially intended to allow the Field to protect it while it flew straight to the Access Point and escaped, but an engine problem had forced it to stop. The crew had simply returned fire as soon as the Field failed to buy time for the engines to be fixed.

And thus was the Second Battle of Beta Arae won by humanity.

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

Bonus content: an explanation about capital ships.

Capital ships in this universe are divided into four broad categories; dreadnought, battlecruiser, carrier and battleship. Most smaller ships have the same roles as these four, if only to promote fleet cohesion. For example, in looking at a Clan fleet you will find heavy cruisers (analogous to dreadnoughts), light cruisers (fulfilling the role of battleships), missile cruisers and carrier cruisers.

Dreadnoughts

While historically, the term "Dreadnought" refers to a ship that was better than its contempories in almost every respect, here it means something different. A "Dreadnought" in this universe contains a large number of fixed, forward-firing weapons - spinal mounts, in other words. Each of these weapons is more powerful than any weapon small enough to be mounted into a turret. While they do carry a secondary armament and a small fighter complement, these are often token at best. The Victory is a Dreadnought writ large - rather than two or three forward mounts, she carries five, and each one is able to annihilate a smaller ship with ease. She also has a larger fighter wing, and full laser batteries on the dorsal and ventral surfaces, not to mention the missile arrays.

Armour-wise, dreadnoughts typically have the same level of armour as an equivalent-weight battleship. Again, the Victory is a little different here; she has a little less armour, but carries the Field instead; a highly experimental shield device. The armour means that a dreadnought can close in on an enemy fleet, to the point where they can accurately use their weapons. This tactic can be devastating, as seen above.

To summarise, dreadnoughts are designed to kill single targets very quickly, while also taking fire from equivalent-weight enemy ships. The tradeoff is the relative lack of acceleration; even equivalent-weight battleships are capable of outrunning a dreadnought if they're willing to risk engine damage.

Carriers

Carriers are much the same as their real-life counterpart. Space fighters are incredibly deadly against warships, but only if the enemy's point-defence weapons are suppressed first. The full fighter complement of a Clan carrier is more than capable of bringing the Victory down when used en masse, but between materiel shortages, maintenance issues and combat doctrine, Clan fighters are rarely used in such numbers. However, even the reduced fighter swarms used by the Clans are capable of wreaking extensive damage onto enemy capital ships, knocking out sensor arrays, engine bells and weapon batteries.

While a carrier's main armament is its fighter wing, it also carries a single battery of capital-class weapons as well as an extensive secondary weapon suite. This is more than enough to deal with enemy destroyers, and anything heavier is likely to ignore any armour a carrier has.

Carriers also have a command and control suite capable of commanding an entire fleet. This is a necessary side-effect of having several fighter wings, and often means that they are used as command ships. Most Clan admirals, however, prefer the idea of commanding from a warship such as a battleship or battlecruiser.

To summarise, carriers are lightly-armed and -armoured vessels that carry several fighter wings. They are designed to hunt down and kill damaged targets fleeing from a battle, but they can also be used in an actual fleet clash. Their speed is slightly less than an equivalent battlecruiser's, due to the weight of the equipment necessary to launch and retrieve so many fighters, but they are still faster than battleships or dreadnoughts.

Battleships

Battleships are designed around several batteries of heavy turrets, with overlapping fire arcs. They are heavily armoured, to the point of being able to resist fire from multiple cruiser-weight enemies. This serves them well, because between their slow speed and relatively short weapon range, they are often the first target of an enemy fleet. However, if a battleship gets within range of the enemy, the results can be spectacular. Between the number and power of the a battleship's guns, one ship can engage and destroy multiple enemy ships of lesser weight, assuming all other things equal. Although the dreadnought Victory carries two battleship-type gun batteries of twelve guns each, an equivalent-weight battleship would carry eight batteries of sixteen guns each. A battleship that is able to get past a dreadnought's forward mounts will often be able to destroy the dreadnought before it can re-orient itself.

Most battleships also carry an extensive point-defence suite, to counter battlecruisers and carriers. In addition, because they are often employed in close-quarters combat, they often have a large boarding complement.

To summarise, battleships are slow, heavily armoured and armed ships designed to go into close-quarters combat with an enemy fleet.

Battlecruisers

Battlecruisers are a strange development in space warfare. Missile boats have existed since humanity first landed on Mars, but were always employed not as a main attack force, but instead as a harassment unit. This changed with the development of effective fighter-mounted weaponry. For a short time - both in humanity's history and the Clans' - battleships were deemed too risky to use. Newer ships were equipped with capital-scale missile banks, countermeasures suites and targeting arrays. These were designated as "Battlecruisers" - a term borrowed from human history. The increased range of the missiles meant that they could engage enemy fleets at long range; a battlecruiser in the rear of a friendly fleet could theoretically attack enemy carriers, although because of the sheer amount of point-defence fire the missiles would have to fly through this was never accomplished. The missiles themselves are capable of damaging ships of equivalent weight if they hit. Most battlecruisers also carry secondary missile banks designed to target enemy fighters, as well as a small point-defence suite.

The armour on these ships was also stripped down, to make room for the missile banks and the huge cargo docks needed to resupply them. As a side effect, battlecruisers became almost as fast as destroyers. In turn, more space was given over to engines, leaving battlecruisers very lightly armoured for their size.

To summarise, battlecruisers are lightly-armoured, missile-armed ships designed to attack enemy fleets at long range.

---

Like I said above, what you just read is not important to the story as a whole, but I thought it was interesting enough to share.

EDIT: Some spelling and some words

[madd0ct0r]

there's a slight disconnect where massive axial weapons are needed to take down main ships, but tiny fighters are also deadly to them?

typos:
Each captain had retreaded - retreated
Most smaller ships have the same roles as those for - these four

[VX-145]

Thanks, I knew I'd missed something.

The idea of fighters is that they're used in huge numbers; one or two fighters won't take down a capital ship quickly (although if the capship just sits there and lets them do their thing then they might eventually take it down), but en masse and co-ordinated properly they can kill a ship's sensors, engines and weapon banks. That's as good as being dead. Remember, most ships don't have shields (yet) in this universe, and even the ones that do can be taken down.

The axial weapons, on the other hand, are for targets that need to be killed very quickly; such as the oft-alluded to past enemy that kind of destroyed humanity's space capability. (as an aside I have to clarify something here in case people didn't quite pick up on it - humanity is still present on other words, in varying states of technological progression). Such weapons are rarely needed to kill a capship - a battleship's weapons are capable of doing the job - but they can kill a capital ship on the first or second volleys.

...Now I just need to edit that back into the summary above without making it look obvious. Hmmm.

If I can get around to writing it there will be an actual update later tonight. By which I probably mean 1-2am GMT

[cadbrowser]

I have to say, I was very intrigued by just the opening part. I will have to do some more in-depth reading; but so far I am sold on what you have here so far. Very nice.

[VX-145]

Thanks.

As promised, an update. I'm leaving you guys on a cliffhanger again

It's a shorter one, though, because I haven't had too much time to write today. Again, I do occasionally need sleep...

Story:

TRANSWAY SPACE
SS Salvager's Joy

Scout-Captain Cthork had seen Transway space hundreds of times, and yet it always seemed to hold his interest. He looked out from the observation bay's window, staring at the lines, swirls and other, indescribable, patterns that surrounded the tunnel the Joy was flying through. He noted with satisfaction that his pilot kept inside their assigned lane; the Joy had never collided with another ship in Transway space and he intended to keep it that way.

The blast door behind him opened with a screeching of gears. He instinctively turned around, reaching for his sidearm, before the visitor's identity became clear.

Master Lightning Smith Aether stood in the doorway, his carapace dimmed in contemplation. He was in charge of what could be called the engineering section of the ship, and it had been weeks since the two had last spoken. For a Lightning Smith, this meant that the two were close friends; the species was notoriously insular.

“Are you certain you want to proceed down this path, Captain?” Aether said.

Cthork thought for a moment. “That ship alone is more than capable of annihilating all life on every singe homeworld in Clan space,” he replied. “Only a full armada could stop it, and I doubt we'll be able to form one in time. The Hawk clan is probably going to try to hunt it down, but if it gets into the Transway...”

“Speaking personally,” Aether began, sitting in one of the chairs in the bay, “I would like to survive long enough to at least get a look at that thing's Lance battery. If Earth truly is under siege, and they called a ship that powerful back to defend it... what are the odds of us making a difference?”

“I spoke to their Captain about that, actually,” said Cthork. “He said that there's only one enemy ship in orbit. With the upgrades they've given us, we might be able to at least keep them off long enough for the Victory himself to get here.”

“That's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about, Captain.” Cthork knew where this was going; Lightning Smiths were perfectionists at best. “If we manage to actually fire a single shot against whatever's out there I will be amazed. Their missiles are barely compatible with our targeting system, and the gun battery they gave us keeps telling the ship's computer it's a crate of nursery supplies. That's leaving aside the cables running everywhere...”

“Look, Aeth,” Cthork replied, “we still have about a week before we get to the Transway point they've given us. So long as you can give me guns, engines and sensors for five minutes when we get there I can probably deal with whatever's there. And if we can hold out for a day or so, the Victory should be around to pull our feathers from whatever oil we've gotten into.”

“I hope you're right, Cthork.” There was a moment's pause. “It's not too bad,” Aether continued, “You've come out of worse situations fully charged.”

“I suppose I have,” said Cthork. He turned back to the window, and Aether walked out of the room.

Suddenly, the patterns seemed more threatening.

____________

LUNA

Breeder-Captain Thornek was starting to understand.

His salvage crew had found an extensive network of fortifications on the dusty moon below. Even the fortresses on the Great Roost weren't as extensive as these; it was quite accurate to say that the entire place had been transformed into one gigantic defensive station. He'd had to almost empty his ship of crew just to explore the first layer of tunnels, which would have been a great bounty in and of themselves if the side rooms hadn't all been locked off.

There was one anomaly, though. One area of the moon that wasn't a weapon battery, sensor array, access hatch or supply dock.

A small area of the surface, about a square kilometre, had been turned into some kind of preserve. A single primitive spaceship had landed in the centre, then taken off again. It had left several things – some footprints, an engine section, a flag. And a plaque.

Thornek, like many of his species, was fluent in the languages of the Builders. He could read and write in Inglish, Japhanese, and Rushan, and hold conversations in every other language. He had been the first to come across the plaque, and thus had been able to think about what to do about it before any of his crew could find it.

The plaque read:

“HERE MEN FROM THE PLANET EARTH FIRST SET FOOT UPON THE MOON JULY 1969, A.D.
WE CAME IN PEACE FOR ALL MANKIND.

NEIL A. ARMSTRONG, ASTRONOUT.

MICHAEL COLLINS, ASTRONAUT.

EDWIN E. ALDRIN, JR, ASTRONAUT.

RICHARD NIXON, PRESIDENT, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.”

There was a plaque very similar to it on the Great Roost's moon, where the first of his own people had stepped foot outside of their world for the first time.

He knew exactly what this plaque meant. “Earth” had a special meaning in his native language; it meant something akin to “Paradise”. This explained why there were so many relics in this system, why it had been so hard to get to, and why there were so many Slaves on the planet above.

The Slaves were the descendants of the Builders. They were, probably, one and the same. The planet he'd conquered had been Earth itself. This was their homeworld.

He pushed the activation switch on his communicator. “Thornek to Builder's Wisdom.”

The ship didn't take long to reply. “This is Wisdom, receiving.”

“Call off the bombardment on that fortress-city. Prepare all warriors for a ground assault. Orders are to not damage any of the structures; they're worth more than your life. Understood?” he ordered.

“Understood sir,” the voice came back, sounding worried. “Does that order apply to the Slaves within?”

“They can be replaced. Kill them all,” Thornek replied.

[LadyTevar]

Scary thought, to find your "gods" and realize you'd been enslaving them for generations

[VX-145]

Unfortunately, the Clan religion isn't exactly big on venerating their gods. They take a rather more... pragmatic... view.

Story:

EARTH,
France, Lyon ruins

It was night-time over the fortress-city when Thornek's subordinates started to carry out his orders. Most of the tribespeople who'd flocked to it were asleep, leaving a small guard to watch out for a sneak attack. Two-thirds of the Artificial Intelligence network known as the Magi were on standby, a state analogous to sleep. The remaining AI, Balthasar, was doing final checks on the various systems of the city before powering down itself when it noticed the incoming heat signatures.

For a moment, it was confused. The heat signatures were all land-based, and the enemy hadn't attacked with a ground force yet. While they had attempted a direct deployment from space in the first battle they'd fought, Melchior had promised that their psychology made them unlikely to try an assault over land. Shifting more processing power to the problem at hand, it pulled itself together, and responded.

Leesh was sleeping when the alarm went off. It had been the first time she'd been able to for two days, because the Sky-Monsters seemed to be attacking the city more often and with more ships. She yawned, and pulled herself out of the makeshift bed she'd found near the place where her flying machine was stored.

She climbed into the cockpit of the machine, and opened a channel to the Magi. “What's going on,” she asked.

“At zero-four hundred hours today, the infra-red sensor system picked up a large mass of confirmed xenos signatures,” came the reply. It sounded like Caspar; if the problem was serious enough for Balthasar to wake up another AI...

“Analysis of the incoming formation has been completed. Enemy strength is approximately eighty-six thousand individuals. No armour or air support has been detected as of this time. Distance from this city is twelve kilometres.” That was Melchior. All three of the machines hadn't been awake at the same time since the first few attacks; one was more than capable of running the entire city by itself.

“We should be able to fight them off,” Leesh started. “We've got the gun towers, not to mention the other defences.”

“Most of the defences currently active are meant for ground-to-air combat. While the gun towers can be used against ground forces, they will have a significant minimum range. Repair and re-activation of surface-to-surface defences is underway, but they will only be thirty-eight percent active when the enemy gets here based on current speed. Melchior's projections state that we can inflict fifty percent casualties on the enemy before they enter the city limits. After that, we will no longer be able to assist you.” And there was Balthasar. Leesh sighed; it seemed that the battle she'd been dreading since starting this rebellion was upon them.

“Very well. Put me through to the command centre,” she ordered. A moment later, the window on her screen changed to show a view of the ancient bunker, where her father was waiting. “Have the Magi told you the news yet?” she asked.

“Yes,” Alecks replied. The Magi had been adamant that the name was spelled “Alex”, but her father was a stubborn man.

“Have every single warrior we have stationed near the edge of the city. Send all of the elderly, sick and children down into the caverns. We can beat them, if we can stop them from getting into the city today,” she said. Her father nodded, and shut off the window.

A second later, Balthasar opened a channel to her; “We just received word from the dreadnought Victory. They have gained access to the Highway and will be here in just over a week. They have also sent out a scout ship ahead of them, which should be here a day or so before it.”

That was not good news. “Balthasar, we can't hold out for a week,” Leesh said. “If we manage to fend the Sky-Monsters off until tomorrow it'll be a miracle. They've always been better than us in personal combat, and they outnumber us-” The AI cut her off.

“That is untrue. The Captain of the Victory has given us authorisation to interact with the other cities. We have been able to ship new personal weapons in from the munitions factories in Switzerland and Germany. With those weapons, you should be able to engage the xenos in personal combat. If you can hold out until tomorrow, the heavier weapons we have ordered will arrive. In addition, the remainder of the city's surface-to-surface weapons will become active, and we will be able to hold off against any assault.”

For the first time in two days, Leesh smiled. Surviving until tomorrow would be difficult, but if they could...
“Tell my father where those weapons are, and have our warriors trained in their use. Oh,” she said, thinking of something else, “and spread the word. We will hold.”

_________

EARTH
France, Near Lyon

Warrior-Lieutenant Khai was regretting ever signing on to this expedition. The pay was terrible, the hours long and the bosses arrogant. She closed her talons around her rifle as she thought what she'd do if she got the chance.

First, though, they had to deal with these upstart slaves. The Wisdom had found that the vast majority of the enemy city's weapons were surface-to-air, and reports from the few who had survived the initial attacks said that the Slaves within were easy pickings. Considering she was equipped with the latest in personal armour and weaponry, she should think so. Primitive spears couldn't even scratch the paint on her armour.

So she was confident in victory as she lead her force towards the Slave city. There had been orders from the top to not damage the city at all, but her soldiers shouldn't need anything heavier than a rifle to take it.

Just as she finished musing on that, the front line of the army crossed into the weapon range of the city. These were expendable troops, a mixture of insane Slaves, criminals from the Clans and anyone who'd managed to piss Khai off in the past few hours. They were unarmoured and very lightly armed – some didn't even carry weapons.

The initial bombardment from the Slave city annihilated them. She had three more lines of such expendables, and if she'd gotten the timing right she should be able to get into the city just after the last line died.

It took five minutes before the next bombardment came. She smiled underneath her helmet. That was even slower than she'd predicted. She almost laughed as the bombardment sailed over her head, reaching the back line of his army. She'd put another line of expendables there, dressed up as command staff. It was a tactic she'd come up with after her service with the Raptor clan, and had served her well over the years. Her soldiers acted as they had been ordered to, spending a minute milling about in confusion, then advancing again.

It was then that the enemy fighters showed up. She'd thought for a while on how to counter them, then decided that she could justify using what was left of the Wisdom's fighter wing to distract them. After all, they weren't buildings, and thus weren't subject to Thornek's order.

“Now!” She ordered, and the fighter wing dove in from above; the Clan pilots were terrible in atmosphere – a side-effect of a century of emphasis on space combat – but eighty fighters against two was a certain victory. The enemy, realising this, withdrew towards the city. Her fighters couldn't pursue them, or they'd risk damaging it, but they had already done their job.

It was as they got through the last bombardment that the enemy finally surprised her. A torrent of fire came from the buildings on the edge of the city, wiping out the final rank of expendables. The rest of her troops fanned out, seeking cover and returning fire when possible. She brought up a display showing the enemy city from one of her soldiers who was brave enough to stick his head out, and counted twelve machine-gun emplacements and about a thousand rifle-armed enemies.

She smiled again. This would be a fight after all.

Then she ordered the charge.

[VX-145]

A short update for you today, just finishing up this land battle. Don't worry, there'll probably be another one. What is this planning thing you speak of?

Story:

EARTH,
France, Lyon ruins.

Chief Alecks stood in the gap between two buildings, watching as rank after rank of the Sky-Monster army came rushing towards him. He held the Godsplitter fragment in his hands, and wore one of the few suits of armour that they'd managed to retrieve. The ancient blade, which had always seemed huge in his hands, felt like a normal sword now. Not only that, but the Magi had repaired it. Now, it glowed orange and could cut through a building easily. He'd tested it already.

A knot of Sky-Monsters managed to get through the protective fire coming from the buildings to his sides, and charged towards him. He swung the blade, cutting through flesh and armour, and the first challenger was struck down. The others squawked something in their language, then tried to shoot him. The bullets simply sparked off of his armour.

He smiled, and took a step forward.

-

Warrior-Lieutenant Khai finally managed to get through the fire coming from the buildings, and slid into an alleyway. There were bodies in the alleyway, as was expected. What was not expected, was that the bodies were those of her soldiers. Standing above them, and blocking the alley, was a single Slave. It was clad in heavy armour, and carried a huge, glowing sword.

She let her rifle fall to the ground, and drew her own sword. The blade glowed purple as it charged, fighting the orange glow from the Slave's sword.

There was a pause, as the two warriors sized each other up. Then, Khai charged. Stabbing out with her blade, she managed to get through the Slave's guard, and got a glancing blow on its shoulder as it dodged. The armour was difficult to cut through, but the Slave gasped in pain. She'd drawn first blood.

The Slave brought its blade down, but she managed to block it. Barely. The duel briefly became a contest of strength; one armour-assisted warrior against another. While her suit was smaller, she suspected she knew how to use it better than the Slave knew how to use his. She locked some of the armour's servo motors in place, and overloaded others with spare power.

Even so, she was losing. She tried to slip under the Slave's blade, but it saw what she was doing. It lifted one of its legs and kicked her in the stomach, sending her flying backwards.

Before she could recover, the Slave charged. She barely managed to evade its first blow, then swung her blade towards its left side. She was counting on the Slave overextending itself in the charge, and she was rewarded as the orange blade came down to block hers. Too slowly.

That was when the Slave did something strange. Rather than attempt to dodge or step back, it reached out with its left hand and grabbed her sword. The purple glow faded as the blade's charge was disrupted by the Slave's gauntlet. Then, it pulled the blade inwards, dragging her with it.

It released the blade again, and she could smell the burning flesh even through her helmet. For a decisive second, she was paralysed with shock. The Slave took the initiative, and brought its blade down. There was a flash of orange.

Then nothing.

-

Alecks was silent as his enemy fell. It had been the first duel of a Sky-Monster and a human that he knew of, and he respected the importance of the occasion. Then, he turned away and switched his radio on. A babble of voices came through his helmet, and he smiled.

The enemy attack seemed to be broken, for now.

[VX-145]

Have an update.

For the record, there shouldn't be too many segments left in the story; there's three or four more battles at most. Yes, battles are a valid measurement of time, why do you ask?

Story:

MARS ORBIT
SS Salvager's Joy

The Joy pulled itself out of the Transway, the last few glimmers of indescribable colour sliding off of the ship's hull. Cthork was already on the bridge, and the entire crew was at battle stations.

“Sensors, report,” Cthork ordered.

“I'm tracking thousands of artifact signatures in local space. There is significant debris as well, it's going to take a while to sort through it...” said the Lightning Smith at the console. Cthork hadn't asked it its name yet, and wasn't sure it was the same one each time anyway. The damned bugs were hard to tell apart at the best of times.

“Load in the files Merlin gave us, let's see if this we're actually where we should be,” he said.

“Star readings check out, adjusted for movement. We're in an eight-body system; four gas giants and four rocky planets plus moons. The third planet is Green-class, looks like we found Earth,” came a report from the navigator.

“Alright,” said Cthork, “set course for Earth. Power down weapons for now.”

_______________

LUNA ORBIT
CS Builder's Wisdom

Thornek was getting rather annoyed with Earth. The first attack wave of ground troops he'd sent had been repulsed, and subsequent waves were being kept at bay by enemy artillery.

He had two options. He could retreat out of the system and bring in more Clan-ships, filled with warriors. Then, they would take the city... and probably turn on him the instant he asked them to give it to him. Or, he could deploy his own tanks and artillery, and risk damaging the city enough that whatever secrets it held would be destroyed.

He sat alone in his chambers, models of the ships he'd served on surrounding him. His eyes rested on the destroyer Roost's Shield, which had been assigned to patrol one of the corners of Clan space. He'd been a junior officer at the time, and had genuinely believed he'd become King within the decade. He stared at the Shield for a while, then made his choice.

“Warrior-Commander,” he said, opening a channel to the commander of his ground forces at the same time. “In light of the increased defences of the enemy city, you are now authorised to use armour support. Do whatever you have to, just take it and keep anything important intact. Understood?”

“Yes, Captain!” the voice on the other end said.

Another voice – his sensors operator – cut in; “There's an incoming contact from the Transway gate around the fourth planet. Ident says it's the Salvager's Joy, a Scout-Ship assigned to the Arae sector.”

“Send a hail,” he ordered, standing up and walking out of the room. “I'll be on the bridge shortly.”


A few minutes later, he was staring down some upstart juvenile across the depths of space. “Say that again, Joy, I didn't quite hear you,” he said, threateningly.

The Captain of the other ship cocked his head in aggravation. “You will break Earth orbit and withdraw whatever troops you have on the surface, or we will open fire.” The other's feathers puffed up into a challenge pose; “We will not ask again. There's a Builder Dreadnought a day behind us, if you want to take it up with someone else.”

Thornek kept his own feathers down through sheer force of will, and replied; “There's a Builder city on that planet. In fact, this entire system is full of their relics! This is Earth, you hatchling cretin! With the weapons here, I can fight off a thousand Dreadnoughts!”

“And yet,” the other said, “the city is not yours. How long have you been here, Breeder-Captain? Do you really think that you'll be able to unlock any of the secrets here before the dreadnought turns up? And that's only if you manage to beat us!”

Thornek exploded with anger. “I will not stand for any more of this! You will submit or die!” He turned back to his bridge crew, leaving the channel to the other ship open. “Power up the weapons. Launch all remaining fighters and Scout-Ships. Now -” He was cut off by the sound of the channel closing behind him, the other Captain's face replaced by a tactical display.

_______________

NEAR LUNA
SS Salvager's Joy

“I guess that means we're in for a fight, then,” Cthork said, cutting the channel to the Builder's Wisdom. His crew looked uncertain for a second, then turned back to their tasks. The object lesson he'd taught back in Beta Arae had not been forgotten.

To tell the truth, he was having doubts himself. Earth didn't look to be in immediate danger; he could probably justify retreating to an observation position. However, he'd backed down from too many challenges recently. He needed to meet this one, or the crew would band against him.

“Power the weapons. Launch missiles – target those Scout-Ships,” he ordered. On the tactical display, a group of missiles streaked toward the smaller targets, one per ship. That was all the missiles they'd been able to fit on board the Joy, and he hoped that the Builder warheads were enough to bring down the enemy ships.

Point-defence fire lashed out at them, but between the upgrades from the Victory and the lack of armament on the enemy ships only two missiles were intercepted. The others engulfed their targets in fireballs, and those ships disappeared from the display.

Cthork forced down his disgust. He'd killed fellow Sky-Warriors before, but attacking a Clan-Ship was an irrevocable act of rebellion. Each one had a mandate from the King himself, and people had been executed just for getting in their way.

“Enemy has launched fighters,” reported the Sensors Operator, “looks like two-thirds of a wing, incoming.”

“Set main battery to area fire”, Cthork responded. “Open fire in three... two... one. Fire main battery!”

The four laser turrets welded onto the top and bottom of the Joy opened up, lancing towards the enemy fighters. Their close formation, far out of point-defence range, was cut to shreds by the beams sweeping across it. The remainder, however, managed to get close enough to fire their missiles. The Joy shook with the impacts, and the bridge's lighting switched to the emergency backups.

“Damage report,” Cthork asked.

“Hull breach on the lower deck. Forward ventral turret is offline. Damage control is responding,” came the reply from the Systems Operator, calm as ever.

“Point-defence, take out those fighters. Keep us closing in with the Wisdom.” Cthork needed to finish this battle quickly.

“The Wisdom is launching landing craft, Captain,” said the Lightning Smith.

“Ignore them for now. Priority target is the Wisdom herself,” ordered Cthork.

Outside, the battle raged. The enemy fighters tried to come around for a second pass, but the point-defence fire from the Joy, combined with their reduced numbers, kept them at bay. And then the Wisdom came into weapons range. The three remaining turrets on the Joy fired, cutting holes into the hull of the giant ship. It responded in kind. Cannon rounds and laser beams lashed out towards the Joy, but the agility of the smaller ship allowed her to evade most of the incoming fire. The few shots that did connect did little damage; another hull breach and the destruction of a sensor array.

The battle had swung in favour of the Joy.

_______________

NEAR LUNA
CS Builder's Wisdom

The battle was not going well. Somehow, the Joy had found some cruiser-grade lasers, and had caused severe damage to the Wisdom. Thornek weighed up his options again. The ground forces he had dispatched would, hopefully, take control of the city. He couldn't kill the Joy without risking death himself; even as he thought another barrage carved through a cannon battery, and the Slave pen three decks above it.

There was only one option, then.

“Set engines to interplanetary manoeuvring. Lay in a course for the fifth planet – the first gas giant,” he ordered.

“We're retreating?” asked one of the bridge crew. Thornek stood up, and slowly walked towards them.

“Yes. We are retreating. We will wait until our ground forces have taken the city, and uncovered whatever weapons they can find. Then, we will smash that ship and whatever else comes through the Transway point. If you wish to dispute that,” he said, extending his talons, “Then feel free.”

The bridge fell silent, and the challenger looked away in submission.

“Well then,” Thornek said, “Navigation, get us out of here.”

The Wisdom's main engines fired, pushing her out into interplanetary space.

Behind her, the Joy sat in Luna orbit, licking her wounds.

[VX-145]

Again, we're getting close to the end. I think the next space battle might be the last one, then maybe some epilogues and I'm done.

Story:

EARTH
France, Lyon ruins.

“Okay, will one of you please explain what just happened,” said Leesh, walking into the control centre. It had been a week since the first ground attack, and just over two weeks since the siege began. The stress was beginning to tell.

“So far as we have been able to ascertain,” began Melchior, “A xenos patrol ship entered the system and engaged the xenos transport ship in Lunar orbit.”

“Yes, I knew that already. Can one of you tell me why? Was that the ship the dreadnought sent out ahead of it, or was this just some power conflict?” she asked.

“Unknown at this time. They are currently out of range of our communications network,” replied Balthasar.

“Try and talk to them. What's going on with those other ships?” Leesh said.

“They appear to be more troop transports. Mass readings indicate that they're carrying armoured vehicles as well as infantry,” said Caspar. She still didn't quite understand why the AI units had to take turns in speaking.

“Okay, excuse me for being stupid here, but what is “infantry” and what are “armoured vehicles”?” she said. Two weeks had not been enough for the machines to tell her everything, after all.

Balthasar answered; “Infantry are individual soldiers on foot. They have been deployed against us this last week. Armoured vehicles are large, multi-person crew vehicles designed to support infantry or force a breakthrough. I have analysed their tactics, and in this case you are most likely to encounter lighter vehicles designed to transport infantry.” Well, she had asked for an answer. That left only the question she'd been dreading to ask.

“Can they take the city with what they have left?” she said, already suspecting the answer.

“Without support from the Victory, or some other source, then yes. While we have been able to reactivate a significant number of defences, most of the heavy weapons have been destroyed or have degraded into uselessness over the past millennia. Therefore, aside from the anti-ship weapons, we have very little anti-armour capability.” And there was the answer, from Melchior. Dammit.

“Well, that dreadnought's supposed to be here today or tomorrow, if we can hold out until then...” Somehow, though, she suspected it would not be nearly as easy as last time.

_______________

MARS ORBIT
INS Victory

Just like the Salvager's Joy, the Victory came out of the highway with a trail of colour. Unlike the Joy, she was on fire.

Between the outer edges of the Clan fleet, and the sheer overload her systems had taken after such a long period of dormancy, it was a miracle the ship hadn't exploded. One of the three engine bells was a burned wreck, two of the axial mounts had been taken offline, and the sensor network was only working in one direction at a time. The sheer overload of potential targets in Mars orbit almost overloaded the system again, forcing the crew to take the entire network offline for an hour.

During that hour, they missed their only opportunity to intercept the Builder's Wisdom. The Clan-Ship wisely chose to ignore the dreadnought as it flew by on the way to Jupiter.

As soon as the sensors were working (for a given value of working), the Victory's remaining engines lit up, and powered it towards Earth.

For the first time in a thousand years, a human warship was inside the Sol system.

_______________

EARTH
France, Lyon ruins.

To say things were not going well in Lyon would be an understatement. The Clan forces had attacked as soon as they were organised, and had broken through the first line of defences easily. Even the fighters from the city, unhindered by Clan fighters, could only do so much.

And so, the battle turned into a meat grinder. A group of Clan tanks would advance through a street, with infantry beside them, to meet a group of human infantry. On the occasions where the humans were entirely unsupported, they were slaughtered. Sometimes, the battle was between humans with primitive spears and Sky-Warriors with powered armour, rifles and armour support. Those were one-sided slaughters.

Sometimes, however, the humans had powered armour of their own, or one of the few tanks that had been shipped into the city, or some of the worker robots. Those battles were more even, or in favour of the human side. Even so, it was not enough. The Sky-Warriors were taking ground.

By midday on the first day of the attack, the humans had been pushed back into the centre of the city. The access tunnels to the undercity had mostly been sealed, fortunately, but if the enemy took the city centre they could use the larger tunnels designed to harbour warships.

Leesh found herself fighting alongside her father, holding the last barricade on the main street just before reaching one of those tunnels. They'd concentrated whatever they could there, but even so...

An enemy tank fired its cannon, the shots ripping through the building on her left and killing the rocket team inside. One of the tanks on her side fired back, destroying the enemy vehicle. That was one of the few advantages they had; where they had armour support, theirs tended to be better.

It didn't work out to be much of an advantage, though, as two more enemy tanks rolled past the flaming wreckage of the first, combining their fire against the friendly tank. Within moments, it was gone. A tide of Sky-Monsters followed past the tanks, racing towards the barricade. Her tribespeople tried to keep them at bay, but between the tanks and the Sky-Monsters in the buildings in front of them they couldn't do much.

And then the tide was on them. Leesh found herself in the centre of a huge melee, fighting for her life. She shot the first few attackers, then had to draw the sword she'd been given, bringing it up to block the talons of a Sky-Monster leaping at her from above. Beside her, her father was swinging his own blade around, killing whole groups of Sky-Monsters as they swarmed at them. They seemed to be in some sort of fury, and she saw some of them discarding their rifles before they even got close to her people.

The Sky-Monster she'd fended off recovered, and came at her again, along with two more who'd noticed the fight. Instead of meeting their charge, she raised her rifle – still in her off hand – and shot at them. To her surprise, one of them kept charging even with several wounds on their body. She brought her other hand around, and decapitated the Sky-Monster.

For a while, there was calm near her. She looked around, and saw that the enemy were close to overrunning the barricades. She sighed in resignation, and brought her sword up. At the very least, she'd go out fighting.

There was a sound.

It was almost like thunder, but much, much louder. The sheer force of the sound stunned everyone in the battle area, and there was peace for a moment.

Just a moment, as fire streaked down from the sky. Huge balls of flame – comets? - streaked towards them. In a matter of seconds, eight of them had landed in the street, behind the Sky-Monster attack. They were not rocks. They were shells of metal, glowing red from the stresses of re-entry. They were painted white and red, and they had the words “ESCAPE – INS VICTORY” on their hulls.

They opened, revealing dozens of power-armoured humans, carrying huge rifles. As one, the newcomers opened fire. Within a minute, the Sky-Monsters had been annihilated.

Above the carnage, more press-ganged escape pods were streaking in, followed by the few dropships the Victory possessed. And, far above those, the mammoth form of the dreadnought herself sat.

_______________

MARS ORBIT
CBB Mother's Talons

The battleship pulled out of the Transway, along with the remaining ships of the Hawk Clan's fleet. Almost two hundred trails of colour streaked across space.

The ships were already in battle formation, and were ready for combat. The only thing left was to find the enemy ship, a task that took moments. The dreadnought was sitting in orbit around the third planet in the system.

Admiral – technically High Admiral now – Gork sat in his chambers, waiting for confirmation. As soon as it arrived, he gave a single order.

As one, the Hawk fleet advanced.

_______________

JUPITER
CS Builder's Wisdom

The Wisdom had barely made it to the gas giant. The ship's engines had failed twice, and at least a quarter of it was open to space. Thornek had had to kill several crew members, who'd decided that he was no longer fit to lead.

But now, they were sitting safely inside the planet's atmosphere, far away from any enemy ships and nearly undetectable. While that meant that they couldn't see past the atmosphere themselves, Thornek thought this was much safer. That was right up until the voices began.

Their sensors had picked up something big in the lower atmosphere, and Thornek had ordered them to close with it, hoping to find some powerful weapons or some advantage. As they got within about a hundred kilometres, things started going a bit crazy. At first, it was nothing out of the ordinary – crew talking of voices, going to the ship's doctor for sedatives, all the sort of symptoms expected in such a situation.

Then, however, the voices had started speaking to all of them. It was impossible to deny them now.

Thornek cowered in a corner as they spoke again; “WHO ARE YOU?” over and over again. Answering them was futile; they ignored anything anyone said. Perhaps more unsettlingly, the bridge crew had locked the doors and were refusing to turn the ship around.

In desperation, Thornek shouted as the voices spoke; “I am your servant!”

And then the creature had him.

[VX-145]

And here's a few linking segments.

Story:

EARTH ORBIT
INS Victory

To say that the crew of the Victory were pleased would be an understatement. The entire ship was in a state of constant party, with banners hung from the walls saying “WE'RE BACK” and “WELCOME HOME”, and the recreational areas were littered with detritus. There had been a conga line around the hangar bay for the past three hours, and even the Merlin AI seemed to be joining in as the lights flashed through every colour of the rainbow.

Captain Jackson had joined in on the celebrations, at least for the first few hours. Then, he got about to the work of rebuilding Earth and the Victory. He swallowed a stimulant pill as he sat down at the desk in his quarters – the bridge being used for a re-enactment of some old plays or TV shows or something – and opened a conference call with Merlin and the Magi.

“So,” he began, “how quickly are we going to be able to drag Earth back to its feet?”

One of the Magi (probably Melchior) answered; “Unknown. Estimates suggest that we will have space capability within the year, however it will take at least two generations for humanity to be educated enough to start being able to use those ships at full capacity.”

Merlin cut in: “STATE BASIS FOR ESTIMATE.”

“Based on current education status of the vast majority of humanity and using reasonable ethical means for education, two generations is the optimistic estimate. Were children separated from their families and given implants, this could be done in one generation,” replied another Magi unit – Balthasar, maybe? He couldn't tell.

“So, two generations before we become space-capable again,” said Jackson, forestalling any suggestion of following through on the Magi's less ethical ideas. “What about threats? There was an enemy fleet chasing us, will we be able to detect them? Are we going to have any of the orbital defences up and running before they get here? And can we repair the damage to the Victory before then, if at all?” He thought he already knew the answer to the last one, but he hoped the Magi had something in reserve.

“Orbital sensor network is currently restricted to within Lunar orbit due to damage of the reception apparatus. We can only get low-resolution images to analyse. Orbital defences can be restored to two point three five percent of former capacity thanks to the Victory's presence. If the Salvager's Joy assists, that number will rise to four point six percent,” said the remaining Magi. Definitely Caspar, he remembered that voice from the last time he had to speak to an AI net.

“DAMAGE TO INS VICTORY SEVERE. UNLESS DRYDOCK FACILITIES CAN BE PROCURED, IT WILL NOT OPERATE AT MAXIMUM EFFICIENCY. DAMAGE TO CENTRAL ENGINE BELL AND TOPMOST LANCE TUBES IRREPARABLE BY CREW,” stated Merlin.

“And we're not likely to get a drydock,” said Jackson, “Unless you Magi were hiding one somewhere and didn't tell anyone.” The Magi all emitted a “negative” tone.“Even if we did have one, it'd take too long to get us fixed fully.” He'd known that before, of course, but he was hoping that the damage to his ship was within his crew's capacity to repair.

He leaned forwards, exhaling and resting his head in his hands. This was going to be tough.

_______________

EARTH
France, Lyon.

Leesh was overseeing the delivery of some new food when the celebrations caught up with her in the form of Land.

“It's over,” he said, walking across the underground tracks carelessly, “You should go join in with the fun. The Magi can do this stuff, easily.”

She smiled a little. “They said they feel better if someone's around to make sure nothing goes wrong. Besides,” she said, “I don't really feel up to doing anything.”

Land sat beside her at the overseer's station. “Yeah, some of the others are feeling like that. You always get people like that after a battle.”

“It doesn't really feel like it's over, you know?” she said, partially ignoring him. “I feel like any second now, that alarm's going to go and we're going to have to do this all over again.”

“Well, yeah.” Leesh looked at Land, surprised. He hurried to explain. “We've been on high alert for the past two weeks. I don't think either of us have slept or eaten properly in that time, and I've been drinking those foul-tasting “energy drinks” the Magi gave us just to stay awake enough to walk. Aside from that last attack, we took the brunt of this whole thing. I'd be surprised if you weren't nervous.”

“I guess,” Leesh said. Being reminded of her hunger was not doing much for her concentration. “Hey, I'll tell you what. We'll finish up here, and we'll go get something to eat. There's got to be someone making hot food somewhere in this place.”

_______________

EARTH ORBIT
INS Victory

The party had finally died down in the morning hours the next day, and the crew began to get to work repairing what could be repaired. Scores of people scoured over the outside of the hull, welding new armour plates on, replacing burned-out antennae and checking the weapons that were still working. Some crew had also taken it upon themselves to repaint the ship, or at least the nameplates on the sides.

Even so, the ship itself was not idle. It had recovered some of the repairable defence satellites, and brought new ones up from the surface with its shuttles. On the other side of the planet, the Salvager's Joy was doing similar work. Already, a full ring of radar satellites was in orbit, searching for the Clan fleet. That had been the easy job, the sensor platforms much smaller than the weapons platforms currently being deployed by the impromptu fleet.

It was as the equatorial ring of weapon sats was just being finished that the radar arrays finally picked up the incoming enemy fleet, a few thousand kilometres from Luna's orbital path.

The second battle of Earth was about to begin.

____

Because this is a short segment, I'm going to do some bonus content. This time, about AIs. Again, this is stuff that I haven't yet been able to put into the story and doesn't need to be in there anyway.

As you might have been able to tell, AIs in this universe are "dumber" than a traditional AI, more along the lines of standard fiction AIs. That is to say, they're not exactly sentient beings who just happen to be mechanical, but are more like extremely complex user interfaces for a system. The exception to that is the AI network. Three AIs working together synergise to become a sentient entity. That's why the Magi follow on from each other's sentences, it's actually one mind speaking with three voices. Of course, the AIs are capable of functioning independently, but at a reduced capability. While Balthasar (for example) is capable of dealing with the day-to-day operations of Lyon - at least in its current state - it cannot make certain decisions without the other two thirds of the network being active.

The network itself is very loosely modelled on the human brain; there is a "right" side, a "left" side and a central area connecting the two. As such, AIs in a network tend to take on one of three roles: Analytic, Mediative, or Communicative. The Analytic AI is self-explanatory; it takes in whatever input it can find and analyses it so the whole mind can make a decision or so that any humans present can do so. For obvious reasons, humans tend to program AIs to be obedient to any human present, following certain laws. Digression aside, the Analytic AI does not often communicate with humans or other AIs outside the network. In the Lyon network, as well as several others, this AI has taken the name "Melchior".

The Mediative AI deals with any conflicts between the other two AIs. It is also responsible for communication with other AIs, in a network or otherwise. In addition, the Mediative AI seems to be the place where the network's "higher functions" take place, and appears to be the place where concious decisions are made. In the Lyon network, this AI is known as "Caspar".

The Communicative AI is the social aspect of a standard AI taken to an extreme. It communicates with humans whenever possible, and as such often copies their personality quirks. As such, it is often in conflict with the Analytic AI. In Lyon, this AI is called "Balthasar".

Each human city once had an AI network, as did various space stations. Few survived the fall of humanity; Lyon's network was spared because of the fortress-city above it.

As mentioned above, AIs are strictly limited in what they can and cannot do. Some of these are hard limits - the starship AI Merlin cannot run a city simply because the load would be far more than it is capable of dealing with. Most of these, however, are soft limits, which can be overridden either by a senior human official giving orders to over-ride them or by extreme circumstances.

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Next bonus content might be on FTL travel, I haven't figured it out yet. Sorry if I'm a little incoherent above, it's kind of 2am over here and I just wrote that bonus content.

[atg]

Just wanted to quickly say I'm really enjoying this story

[VX-145]

Thanks

No bonus content today, as... well, you'll see.

Story:

NEAR EARTH

The first shots of the battle were fired by the Salvager's Joy. The ship had run across two Clan Scout-Ships which had been assigned picket duty, and promptly annihilated them both. The Joy herself had been forced to retreat after a Clan cruiser squadron had come to investigate, however.

Admiral Gork had chosen to spread his fleet out, in order to prevent a repeat of the débâcle at Beta Arae. To an extent, it worked; the Victory had to make some hard decisions. Gork was hoping that the dreadnought would try to sally forth and attack any of the task forces making up the fleet, whereupon the rest of the fleet would surround and destroy it. However, staying in place also served Gork's purposes; with its back to the planet the Victory would have very limited room to manoeuvre.

Captain Jackson chose to hang back and wait for the enemy fleet, relying on the ring of weapon satellites to help thin their numbers. Each satellite was the equivalent of one of the Victory's capital turrets, along with missile armament and point-defence guns. With thirty of them in orbit, the battlefield was more level than Gork thought.

The opening phase of the battle complete, it becoming apparent that the Victory would not take the bait, Gork ordered the attack.

Again, the fighter screens of the two sides collided first, but the human pilots had an advantage over their Clan counterparts. Each had had two drone fighters, salvaged from one of Luna's hangar bays, slaved to them and acting as wingmen. In addition, the Salvager's Joy joined the fighter battle, sweeping large Clan formations out of space with its three turrets. The lasers, normally too cumbersome to use against fighters, worked wonders against the slow, lumbering Clan craft.

Even so, several squadrons of Clan fighters made it through to begin attack runs against the Victory. The ship's point-defence guns lashed out, catching a few more of them, but failed to break up the incoming attack.

That was when the second surprise of the battle showed up. The enemy fighters ran straight into a minefield, carefully seeded by the Victory's shuttles as the enemy fleet approached. While most of the fighters survived, they were sufficiently disrupted that they were effectively no longer a threat. For the rest of the battle, the two fighter screens weaved around the entire battlefield in a dogfight.

The Clan fleet itself kept closing, hoping to engulf the Victory before any more surprises could show up. The outer edges of the fleet, made up of destroyers and several cruisers, ran into the defence platforms on the edge of the battlefield. Laser fire streaked back and forth. A Clan destroyer, heavily damaged, maxed out the throttle on its engines and rammed one of the platforms. A few platforms down the line, a Clan heavy cruiser fell to a laser beam cutting through its engines, the stricken ship's particle beam slicing through several nearby Clan ships.

Behind the main theatre of the battle, the Clan carrier hung back, recovering and launching fighters. The Salvager's Joy swept in, cutting through the two destroyers escorting it, and loosed a full missile volley into the carrier's flight deck. Within moments, the capital ship was nothing more than a burning hulk, hanging in space.

The Victory herself, however, was having problems. She had been surrounded by nearly a hundred Clan warships, and the Field was barely keeping the incoming fire at bay. At any moment, it would fail and the ship would be destroyed.

She was fighting back, however. Her forward armament spat time and time again, impaling enemy cruisers and wiping out entire squadrons of destroyers. She let loose a volley of missiles, loaded with atomic weapons scavenged from bunkers on the planet's surface, and more enemy ships disappeared.

The capital turrets were locked in a battle with the Mother's Talons, the thick armour on the battleship soaking up and diffusing the incoming fire. So far, neither ship had taken much damage.

And then the Builder's Wisdom showed up. It brought a friend.

_______________

INS Victory

Captain Jackson was beginning to doubt he'd be able to pull this off. He knew that between the platforms and the Victory, they'd accounted for about half the enemy fleet. However, it seemed that more kept coming. He was trying to bring the dreadnought around for a shot on the enemy battleship, but its captain was smart enough to not allow him the opportunity.

Suddenly, the officer at the sensor station paused in their constant report, and stared in shock at the screen.

“Well,” Jackson asked, “What is it? Enemy reinforcements? Spit it out!”

The officer looked at him. “Sir... there's a confirmed Seraphim signature on the T-band. Incoming.”

Jackson went numb. “Double-check that.”

“Sir, I've quadruple-checked it. Merlin and the Magi both confirm. We have a Seraphim inbound.”

The captain exploded. “HOW ARE ANY OF THEM STILL ALIVE?”

The bridge crew looked on, shocked. He continued anyway, “We spent over a thousand fucking years in cryo because we had to take out their damned nest. We let the whole Empire fall just to get ONE SHOT at them! There shouldn't be any more of them!”

“Sir,” said Carter from behind him, “That just means we'll have to finish this one off.”

Jackson forced himself to be calm. Then, he nodded. “How long until it's in range? Do we have any idea of its classification?”

“Two minutes until it crosses the Lunar boundary. Classification... probably fortress-type,” said the officer in front of him. He turned to the communications officer.

“Get me a channel to that battleship. Now.”

_______________

CBB Mother's Talons

Admiral Gork had decided he no longer wanted to serve as a naval officer. It was probably for the best; the fact that one ship – even a Builder Dreadnought – had inflicted so many casualties on his fleet meant that his career was effectively over.

He sat on the command chair on the bridge, watching the battle unfold. The enemy ship seemed to have ceased firing, and he expected its shield to come down at any moment.

One of his crew came up to him. “The dreadnought is hailing us, sir.”

Hopefully, that was it trying to surrender. “On the main screen,” he ordered. A Slave's face filled the screen. For a moment, Gork was shocked, then he pushed all the questions and doubts into the back of his mind. There would be time later.

The Slave spoke; “I am Captain Horatio Jackson of the Imperial Naval Ship Victory. I am offering a cease-fire. We need to talk, and I need you to stop shooting at me while we do so.”

Gork smiled. “Of course, captain.” He motioned towards his bridge crew, and the fleet stopped firing. “Now then, what would you like to discuss?”

“There is an incoming enemy... organism. It is hostile to both of our races and will not stop until we are all dead. It is highly dangerous, and we need to engage it soon.” That was an inventive story, but he'd heard better.

“My captain, you can do better than that, surely? I am not falling for such tricks-” Gork was cut off by the tactical display lighting up. An enemy ship had breached his rearguard, and was heading right for them.

By the time he thought to react, it was too late.

_______________

INS Victory

Captain Jackson watched in horror as the Seraphim butchered the Clan fleet. Antiparticle beams lanced out, skewering dozens of ships at once and wiping out the flanks of the battle. Distractions dealt with, it turned towards the main body of the fleet.

He'd seen a fortress-Seraphim only once before, at the battle of Epsilon Eridani. It had taken three dreadnoughts and their attendant fleets to kill. That had been before humanity had figured out how to build their own antiparticle beams, but he doubted the Victory could take this one single-handed.

It performed true to expectations. The Clan fleet focused all of its fire against it, and it simply folded inwards and focussed its Field towards the incoming fire. When the interference cleared up, the Seraphim was still there. And now, it had folded into an attack position.

Jackson reacted, finally breaking out of his thoughts. “Activate the main engines, throttle to maximum! Bring us around the back of that thing before it wipes out that fleet!”

His crew complied; this was the sort of thing the Victory had been built for. Before they could swing the ship around, however, something moved to block them. The Builder's Wisdom, hull deformed into a parody of the creature floating beside it, intercepted the dreadnought.

The Seraphim's “voice” spoke from nothingness. “I AM THE LAST,” it screamed, over and over again. The intent was clear. It knew what the Victory was, what the dreadnought had done. It was going to destroy them utterly.

For the second time, Jackson snapped, “And here is where you die! Far away from your home, cold and alone and knowing that your entire existence was futile!” He didn't care that it probably couldn't understand him.

He turned to the weapons officer. “Fire all capital turrets and missiles at that ship. Save the beams for the Seraphim.”

For a moment, the screen went white. The Seraphim kept screaming, but aside from that no-one knew what was happening outside.

_______________

CBB Mother's Talons

The Clan fleet was barely holding together under the barrage from the creature. The voices had driven the crews of several ships insane, and some others had turned on the fleet entirely. All in all, only fifty or so ships remained under Gork's command. Luckily, the Talons had not yet taken a hit, thanks to the efforts of his destroyer screen, but it was only a matter of time.

The Builder Dreadnought seemed to be locked in a duel with a Clan-Ship, which was refusing all of Gork's hails. He let it go, for now – the thing attacking them was far more important.

Another barrage of lances tore through what was left of his destroyer screen. One of them glanced the side of the battleship, knocking it sideways and tearing an entire turret battery off.

He and his fleet responded, more fire streaking towards the fiend. It was just as useless as the first barrage, but he couldn't do anything else.

_______________

INS Victory

The Builder's Wisdom finally succumbed after the third barrage. Its return fire had been almost non-existent, allowing the Field to rest enough that it might take a blow from the Seraphim.

The destruction of its pawn, however, had drawn the beast's ire. What could pass as a head swivelled towards them as it folded into an extreme attack position, and several antiparticle beams lanced out towards them. The first few were blocked by the Field, but the last beam broke through, meeting the dreadnought in the centre. The beam cored through the ship, blowing apart whatever it found. The main reactors were destroyed utterly, and only luck spared the ship. Its engines sputtered, now useless, as the beam came out from the centre of the middle engine bell.

The Seraphim had left itself open, however. It had brought down its Field to send that attack at them. The last beam tube of the Victory sent a lance of antiparticles into the creature, aimed right through its head and into its body. For the Seraphim, the same shot it gave to the Victory proved to be fatal to itself. As the beam came out the other side of the beast, it hung in space, dead.

For a few seconds, Captain Jackson met its “eyes”.

Then, it exploded.