Astragius Calendar year: 7215.12
He felt cold and warm at the same time. The cold was slowly
invading his body, just as he expected. This would hopefully be
his last journey in a stasis pod. Chirico Cuvie could now rest.
She was with him now. She, whose face had haunt him these last
few years, was with him. Fyana was snuggled close to him.
Together they had chosen an eternal slumber.
Two lovers were floating in a sea of stars. Chirico could only
marvel at the irony of the situation. At the moment he could only
muster a weary grin. This wasn't the first time he had done this.
Minus one love, of course.
**************************************************
VOTOMS: 100 year war
Chapter 1: "The 25-year War"
by X. V.
**************************************************
A.C. year: 7123.5.9
To sets of eyelids began to slowly part. They refused at first,
but their owner won. It was hard at first. He wanted to return to
his deep slumber. Slowly, rays of light began to enter his eyes.
No, too much. His eyes were now orbs of glowing pain. Shutting
them was his only recourse. His body echoed the same. Muscles
weak from disuse screamed back in anger, as he attempted to rise.
His left arm rose from his side and touched a frosty glass
canopy. It failed him for a second, streaking away some of the
frost. Sounds began to echo in his head. Garbled at first, but
soon they began to form thoughts in his mind.
"Easy does it young fella," echoed a voice in his head. He
didn't recognize the source at first. It was near and that was
all that mattered.
"hmmm.mmmmm," he responded.
"No, don't try to talk," it echoed.
It was a good idea, since no perceptible words formed in his
mouth. It was dry for some reason. He didn't feel parched though.
After moving his tongue about, saliva began to slowly form. It
was a good first step. Time for a few more.
Slowly his mind started to work. It was like molasses at first,
nothing seemed to make any sense. But slowly, things came into
focus. His eyes were also doing better. The bright haze was
slowly lessening. He tried to open his eyes again, then closed
them rapidly. Still too bright. He soon felt that there was more
of him. The lower half of his body was also coming to life. His
legs were now making their presence felt.
His muscles were still aching. Some ached in places he never
knew he had. But enough of that, his mind bellowed. He now
remembered what and where he was. This was how it always felt and
it was time to get up. He sat up. His mind began to fade. It
blinked for a second. He began to feel the sensation of falling.
Quickly, his arm shot up and grabbed the canopy. Bracing himself,
he shook the feeling away. His heart was now pounding fast. The
lungs in his chest fought to keep pace. Damn he thought, why did
this happen every time?
He could now open his eyes. There was only a soft haze around
his vision. He could see his surroundings now. It was a standard
recovery bay. It was a long hall with medical stations lining the
walls. He knew exactly how many stations where along each side.
25 on each side, for a total of 50. Above each bed was a
rectangular opening. He had come from one such opening, to be
deposited on his station.
It was all so obvious now. He was in the recovery bay of an
orbital platform. A drop ship had docked with the station and
deposited his cocoon through the hatched. The doors would opened
and long arms would deposit their cargo, into the waiting arms of
the medical stations.
The pods held people. To be exact, they held people in suspended
animation. Space flight between stars took time and resources. It
might take several months to reach the next inhabited world. If
one was 'asleep,' they required no food. A ship, minus 3-4 months
supply of food for several thousand had much less mass. Resources
could then be allocated for more fuel, more cargo and more
passengers.
There was still a human crew though. Not a large crew, 10 at
most. A normal ship complement would include a Captain, first
officer, medical officer, astronometrics officer, chief engineer
and his assistant. Their task was to make sure nothing goes
wrong. From point A to point B, they watch over the ship and its
cargo. They spend months traveling trough empty space. Some liken
them to the early sailors that traveled beneath the oceans, in
ships of steel. Their cargo being dangerous nuclear weapons. If
those were to fall into dangerous hands, many could die or worse.
Much care was taken in selecting these early crews. Such as it is
now.
Modern space crews are entrusted with the lives of thousands.
>From the rich to the poor, many place their lives into their
hands. A "faulty" power connection could take care of any rival.
The pay is also good. But it had a great cost. They were always
under supervision. Psychological evaluations every other tour and
even a rumor could get you grounded.
An average ship was composed of three main sections: navigation,
storage and propulsion. The storage section was the largest and
was the centerpiece of any ship. All around it, the other
sections where arranged. On one end was the propulsion unit. At
the other end is the command module. It is easily dwarfed by the
other two sections. The propulsion unit is composed of three
sections, 1 minor and 2 major. Starting from the end, large
engines extend out. Next comes the fuel, several large spheres of
hydrogen in a row. All are linked together and to the engines,
providing sustenance. At the front is a small engineering
section. From there, the engines are monitored and maintained.
He didn't arrive at this point from such a ship. His was no
ordinary commercial vessel. Several large energy weapons adorned
the "San Mateo." He had boarded, more like loaded onto a
Guppy-class supply vessel. They carried everything from food to
ammo and including the occasional stasis pod. A drop ship then
delivered him to his current destination.
Only the military had any ships that approached the speed of
light. Even then, they were limited to battle ships. It was only
found in places where speed was essential. They had large engines
powered by jijirium. Most military fighters were fusion, relying
on slamming two hydrogen molecules together. Everyone else had to
settle with old fusion engines.
Most heavy supply vessels rarely approached a planet. It had
enough supplies for several bases. The average tour of such a
vessel was for about 12 months. It would sling shot around the
galaxy, dropping supplies here and there. If one were ever caught
within the pull of a planet, there would be hell to pay. With all
the extra mass, a heavy supply ship required an immense amount of
fuel to break free. Much more energy that it could produce with
its fusion engines.
The only choice is to unload all of its cargo. Thus disrupting
the supply lines. Smaller "tugs" were used to load and unload
supplies from afar. They usually reported to an orbital platform.
At such a point, crews were swapped to avoid boredom. It was
rumored that such a tactic was used to prevent crews from forming
any alliance between them. You never knew if your bunkmate was
from IA or not.
Several ovano-class light battle cruisers also rode shotgun.
They were their to protect against the enemy. They guarded
against enemy ships and pirates. Their job was to protect the
cargo and crew. Or was it to protect the cargo from the crew?
As soon as a "frozen-tug" docked, the medical unit would
interface with the pod and begin monitoring the health of its
passenger. The loading arm could now detach and retract back too
it's host. Whatever drop ship, that had done it's duty, would now
close the hatches. Before anything could begin, the room's
integrity was checked. If there were was a full company, several
medical officers in pressure suits would also be present. Each
would check the status of the passengers and give any assistance
if needed.
Sure, some people never wake up. But in his line of work, you
can't take things like breathing for granted. People could be
stored like cord wood. Some ships carried nothing but.
50 such transfers, could be made at one time. This was done in
batches. No one could enter or leave before the chief medical
officer gave the okay. This was to prevent the communication of
foreign diseases. The bay served as a mini isolation center.
People from other planets where checked for disease and
inoculated against local bacteria.
As far as he could tell, he was alone. All the other stations
were empty. Wait, what about the voice? He scanned the room
again, trying to find the source. It was definitely a 'he' tough,
but he was still nowhere to be found.
**********
Colonel Anthony Jones was getting along in years. He had passed
his 70th birthday, the usual age of retirement. But he was an old
war horse. He was one of the few "mustangs" that still remembered
the 2nd Galactic War. The Colonel was now 25 years into the 3rd
Galactic war. The damn Balarant Union was trying to take over the
universe again.
The current war has so far been long and tedious. Neither side
could claim dominance over the other. The Gilgamesh confederation
was slowly loosing ground. It was not as unified as every one
thought. There was no clear chain of command. There were two main
factions within it, the melkian command and the D'kar. Balarant
Union, on the other hand was a sole unified force. It was the
single dominant force in the galaxy. They were fighting for land.
They had started this third conflict in need for planets. The
Balarant union is faced with a large population explosion. The
need for habitable worlds was now at an all time high. Sure you
could go looking for more, but that took time. For every 100
solar systems explored, only a few had worlds that looked fit for
settling one. One couldn't just move in and expect everything to
work. There were ecological and biological surveys to be done. Of
those found some had an oddity which prevented colonization.
Usually the deposits of heavy metals were so high that the planet
itself was poisonous to humans. They called those "sucker-bait."
History was riddled with countless examples of lost colonies.
It was easier to just take planets from someone else. If done
properly, the local inhabitants could be used to repair any
damage caused during the invasion. This had forced the rest of
the galaxy to band together. The planets Melkia and D'ken had
lead the charge against a common foe, forming the Gilgamesh
confederation.
In a space naval battle, both forces were evenly matched. Each
matched each other, ship by ship. The ground war was another
matter. The Balarant union had a large population to send into
battle. They simply threw men at any situation. For 25 years,
they had thrown more and more men.
Colonel Jones had been born in war and if he had his way, he
would also die in war. But he was old and he knew it. The Melkian
command also knew it. Experienced officers were in need though.
Sure he had experience, but just to much of it. As such, he was
not allowed a forward command. Instead he had been placed on
firebase-1 on the 4th planet, in the Turrin solar system.
Turrin-4 was a dry, arid planet. It was mostly desert. There was
little fertile land. With out any moons around it, there was
little natural interaction. With no large bodies of water, there
was no large vegetation. The planet was at an ecological stand
still. It had only two seasons, hot and cold. To add to its
oddity, Turrin-4 had a circular orbit. Colonization of the planet
was out of the picture. But it was great for other purposes.
It was perfect for military research. The only vegetation was at
the poles. Firebase-1 was at the north and a small sub-station
was in the south. Dug into a mountain was the 12th Melkian
infantry research annex: section 0035. No population meant no
complaints when something went wrong. And, if it were a complete
disaster, the army could deny the very existence of the planet.
That was how colonel Jones was to complete his service,
babysitting a bunch of eggheads. It wasn't so bad, his wife was
with him. Pulling a few strings, he arranged for his wife to be
hired as an "assistant," by the staff at the research base. Even
though Julia was 10 years his junior, she did no work. How would
it look for the Colonel's wife, to be taking orders from an
underling?
Looking at the clock from his desk, he knew that the supply
vessel would soon leave. He wondered if central had finally
granted his request for another soldier. Even though this was not
a forward position, in incomplete platoon was still incomplete.
That would definitely not do. He had sent Dr. Sakai up to the
orbital platform to check.
The platform was unmanned for most of the year. All the security
satellites could be monitored from the base. They were strewn
throughout the system, keeping a watchful eye. From the console
on his desk, he could monitor every meter of space within a few
light years. A ship could not enter his sphere of influence,
without him knowing it.
Colonel Jones called out to his company clerk," Any word from
the doctor?"
"No sir," came back a young voice.
Mark Willows Jr. was the young son of one of the researchers.
The Colonel had taken him as his assistant. It was to keep him
out of trouble. He had come with Mark Willows Sr. at the age of
14. His mother had grown tired of Mr. Willows and divorced him.
Mr. Willows, being hurt, had chosen an assignment as far away
from his ex-wife.
Turrin-4 was far enough. Their first few months were sheer hell.
Young Willows would be in all sorts of trouble. Finally Colonel
Jones decided to intervene. He made decided that the child needed
some structure in his life. The army would give him that. So
after a mock enlistment, followed by a mock boot camp, Mark
Willows Jr. became sub-private Mark Willows Jr. His wife, had
even altered a uniform for him. After all, what was a company
with out a company clerk?
**********
"Cuvie. PFC Chirico Cuvie?"
"Y-Yes sir," croaked from his voice. It was still a bit rough.
The voice had returned but it knew his name. He could now sit up
and did so.
"A good, you're up. I'm Dr. Sakai."
Chirico could now see who was addressing him. It was a tall
slender man. He had a pressure suit on. Under his arms, he held a
helmet with a captains bars painted on top. Captains Bars...
Quickly Chirico jumped off the bed, coming to attention.
"Private first Class Chirico Cuvie, reporting for duty. Sir!"
Sakai managed a chuckle. He remembered his enthusiasm after boot
camp. "Calm down Cuvie, we're pretty relaxed here," he responded.
"Sir?"
"Well, you'll see. Now time to go planet side. Your gear is
already on the shuttle. Everything else is in the lockers to your
right."
"Sir?" It took just a second for Chirico to realize he was still
naked. At the moment he could only blush.
"I'll be waiting for you outside," responded the doctor as he
left the room.
Chirico quickly rushed to the lockers. He cursed himself, as he
reached them. How could he embarrass himself on his first
assignment. A quick check of the locker revealed several flight
suits and undergarments, all sealed in a protective plastic.
After finding his size, Chirico joined the doctor outside.
The hall outside was eerily quiet. Absent were the signs of life
he expected on an orbital platform. As far as Chirico could tell,
the doctor and himself, were the only ones on board. He expected
people to be going about their business. Instead all he saw was
emptiness. Chirico almost didn't notice the doctor.
Doctor Sakai was busy with the panel outside the medical bay.
Swift fingers danced over the keys. With a final push of a
button, that was more of an exclamation, Sakai turned to his
patient.
"Just locking up. Now follow me, we have to get you into a
pressure suit."
With that, Chirico followed the doctor down the hall. Before
long, they were in front of a large blast door. A few more button
pushes, and they parted. Inside were two rows of pressure suits.
They doctor quickly turned and studied Chirico. He then turned to
a row of suits. Picking one, he tossed to Chirico. Chirico knew
what to do.
First were the seals. Chirico's fingers followed the contours of
the suit. It was pounded into every recruit, checking your suit
meant checking your life. After being satisfied, Chirico quickly
slid the suit on. Doctor Sakai then handed him a helmet. That to
was inspected. The seals between the suit and the helmet were the
most important. That was the weak link in any suit. Where the
suit and helmet met, were a series of complicated seals and
bearings. They allowed you to turn your head. As with any moving
part, failure sometimes occurred. If you were lucky, you couldn't
turn your head. Chirico didn't want to think of the rest.
When Chirico looked up, Dr. Sakai had mounted an air tank onto
his back. He didn't seem to pay much attention to him. This was
bothering Chirico the most. He was thankful to be lost in the
ritual of checking ones suit. It was keeping him together. With
another scan of the room, Chirico found the tank storage unit.
Finding one that had a green read out, Chirico mounted it on his
back. He then checked the panel on his forearm. The panel had lit
up as soon as the tanks were locked and secured.
Chirico was familiar with the screen, that was glowing a calming
blue. The pack not only contained air, but had several other
functions. Attached was a battery, which powered the suit. The
suit had several micro jets which were used for maneuvering. From
within his gloves, he could fire them in any of 8 ways. The
battery also powered an air scrubber. It removed excess
carbon-dioxide from his air supply. A cylinder of water was also
standard with the suit. Chirico thoughtfully studied the display.
Oxygen, water and energy where at full capacity.
Dr. Sakai then opened an adjoining air lock. Stepping inside,
Chirico followed. Sakai then donned his helmet, also lowering the
primary face shield. Chirico followed his example, as he knew
what was to happen. He was a little startled when the airlock
behind him closed.
Chirico couldn't explain his nervousness. He had done this
repeatedly in his life. The Dr.'s silence was getting to him. But
he was determined to fight it. He felt a tap on his face plate.
It was Dr. Sakai. He was flashing some numbers with his hands.
Chirico nodded and punched them up on his control panel.
<<Can you hear he private?>
<<Yes sir.>
<<good, time for a little walk. The outer air lock on the shuttle
is busted. It couldn't dock with the platform. We have to enter
from the bay doors.>
<<Yes sir.>
<<Is that all you can say? 'Yes sir'>
<<Yes s..>
<<Hahahaha Ha. Good one Cuvie, you'll fit right in.>
Chirico cursed himself again. He had just embarrassed himself
again. In front of an officer no less. He was thankful when he
felt a slight tug on his body. It meant that the gravity was off
in the air lock. The magna-boots held him though. Chirico then
began to march in place. With his right hand he adjusted the
setting on the boots. Too much force and you couldn't move. Too
little force and you floated away. Each person had his own
settings. Chirico found his happy median.
He almost missed the most important part. The outer doors had
opened. This was the moment of truth. It was the point of no
return. Once beyond the doors, you were on your own. Again, he
checked his control panel. Every thing was go. Chirico noticed
the doctor was waiting for him. He gave the customary thumbs up.
It was time to venture out.
**********
Captain Augustus Pelin was tired. He Had just gone through some
of the worst fighting in his life. He was still breathing, but
that was all he could say. As captain of the "Black hawk," he
would show no weakness. His crew was depending on him. They drew
their strength from the ships captain. Captain Augustus Pelin,
commanding officer of a Balarant Mezz-class battle cruiser, would
not fail.
To much was riding for them. Their whole way of life was at
stake. He had a duty, to his children and to his children's
children.
The "Black Hawk" had taken heavy fire in the last engagement.
The 2nd Balarant space fleet had faced off with an equal
Gilgamesh fleet. The sortie had lasted for several weeks. Like
knights of old, both fleets had charged each other. The first
week had been the bloodiest. Both sides suffered heavily from the
initial barrage of missiles.
Half of all the combatants were lost. The battle was held in
open space. With no planets to effect repairs on, some captains
resorted to kamikaze runs. The "Primus" was lost by such an
event. A wounded Gilgamesh cruiser had rammed the "Primus." All
hands were lost. It was a crushing blow. The "Primus" was the
their flag ship. It was one of the largest Lesion-class destroyer
they had.
Every one blinked. All it took was a second for the Gilgamesh
fleet to take advantage. All major pushes had been coordinated
with the "Primus." With it gone, they could not muster much of a
battle plan. It was hell from then on. They were torn apart.
After heavy losses someone finally sent a retreat beacon.
Publicly it would be a shameful act. Privately, they all cheered.
Pelin had a decision to make. He had two options, retreat with
everyone else or go off on his own. Running with the fleet, meant
that the Gilgamesh fleet would be on his tail. They would pick
them off, one by one, all the way to the border. On his own, he
might be able to escape unnoticed. His chief engineer helped him
decide. The engines were threatening to fall apart.
Along with the "Reon," commanded by captain Osuna, the "Black
Hawk" charged at the Gilgamesh fleet. He had chosen a third
option. He would stay and fight. As a senior officer, Capt. Osuna
took the lead. They would help the fleet escape by delaying them.
It was decided that they would try for the big ship.
It was a Gilga-class destroyer. Although a Gilga-class ship was
not as large as a Lesion-class, it had more maneuverability. Two
burning slugs, had a better chance than one. The "Reon" would
take a direct course. While the "Black Hawk" would aim at a ship
just bellow it. If the "Reon" failed, the "Black Hack" would then
thrust up, into the belly of the beast.
This was all decided in a flurry of communiques. There was then
a brief moment of silence. Two lone ships then broke formation.
They had a meeting with destiny.
The Gilgamesh fleet commander had expected as much. Commodore
Andrew Mathaius knew what was about to happen, as two ships began
to charge his fleet. They were coming after him. The run would
serve two purposes, delay him and pay them back for their flag
ship. He would have none of it. This was his first major battle
since his promotion. He only lamented that without a major
landmark, a set of coordinates would adorn the battle's name. Who
remembered the battle at x,y,z?
None the less, all arms bore down on the lead vessel. It was
closing fast regardless. It was suggested that the rest of the
fleet should join in. That would not do. Commodore Mathaius
needed them to pound on the retreating ships. He would not loose
this opportunity. The trajectory of the second ship had been
calculated, it was headed for another vessel. All they had to
contend with was one damaged ship.
Captain Pelin had ordered ramming speed. The engines could be
heard complying. He was following the "Reon," just bellow its jet
wash. It was taking a severe pounding. From his vantage point, he
could see it's skin peeling away. It might not make it. He
ordered the engine cut back a bit. They would save fuel for a
final push. The pitch was raised just a bit. It was enough to
alter course if needed, but not enough for the enemy to deduce
his true objective.
The "Black Hawk" was receiving little fire. Most of it was
focused on the "Reon." Captain Osuna had expected as much. Most
of his crew was dead. He himself was injured and loosing blood.
It would be his final Testament. He might even get a ship named
after him. It was getting hot. Along with those that remained,
Captain Osuna was in engineering. The bridge had been destroyed,
along with most of the bridge crew. A missile had stuck them.
Most of the crew was thrown out into space. An ensign had caught
him and crawled into the adjoining hall. The ensign, correction
first mate, was now standing beside him with a torn shoulder.
There was nothing but dead silence in the room. There was not
much to say. Those that could, sent messages along with the rest
of the fleet. Everyone else was resigned to see this through.
They had lost friends and would loose more if they failed.
Captain Osuna Knew this and let them be. He only communicated
with what was left of the engineering crew. Half of them were
lost when a plasma conduit broke free. Those that survived bared
the scars of the event.
The report from the senior most member, was brief. No sensors,
no communications, no weapons, no navigation and no atmosphere.
The last didn't matter since everyone was in pressure suits. This
made the doctors job difficult. People were dying in their suits,
left and right. But what did it matter, they would all be heroes.
Commodore Mathaius was getting anxious. The Balarant vessel had
not ben yet destroyed. He then noticed something about the second
vessel, it was slowing down. He ordered a report on it. Yes, it
was confirmed, the second Balarant vessel had slowed and modified
its course slightly. How could he be so stupid, the first was
running interference for the second. Well he would remedy that.
He ordered engineering to reverse all engines on his mark. Every
on board braced for a severe change in course. All ships within
a few hundred meters were then ordered to destroy the lead ship.
A large orange sun filled the screens on board the "Black Hawk."
Several thousand meters before its target, the "Reon" had
exploded. Everyone was thankful communications with the ship were
out. The last thing they wanted to hear was the screams. Captain
Pelin then gave the order.
Commodore Mathaius knew it would be close. He had to time it
just right. "Distance till impact? ," he roared.
"100,800 meters sir," called back the astronometrics officer.
"Begin count down Mr. Aoki."
"Yes sir. 99,200 meters and closing.
"97,600 meters.
"96,000m.
"94,400m.
"92,800m.
"91,200m.
"89,600m.
"88,000m
"S..s..s.sir?"
"Please continue Mr. Aoki."
"yes. 83,200 meters and closing.
"81,500 meters. It's gaining speed sir."
"Please continue."
"Yes sir.
"78,100m.
"76,365m.
"74,550m.
"72,700m.
"70,800m."
"Reverse all engines... NOW!!!," roared the commodore.
Captain Pelin decided he had lived a good life. It would now
come to an end. He surveyed his crew, some had been with him
since the beginning. His only regret, is that he would not get to
know the rest. Some of them had young faces, too young if you
asked him. They were all approaching their maker. In a few
seconds, it would all be over. It was a shame that he could not
see the target, most of the power was diverted to the engines.
All his screens were dead, they were flying by radar only. To
think, that such a system was still in use all these centuries.
"Sir, the target is accelerating, " called out an officer.
"what?", Captain Pelin called back.
"Sir, its slowing down an incredible rate."
NO! That was all Captain Pelin could of. It was all wrong.
"Helm, alter course," he barked.
"YES, SIR!"
The ship began to shake. It was under a great stress. It was
impossible to escape it's cry. The ship cried out an immense
moan. Captain Pelin could feel it in the pit of his stomach. His
insides were also twisting. A large explosion rocked the ship.
Everyone was thrown.
"REPORT," called out Captain Pelin.
<<Sir, engineering reporting. Engine number 3 is out and 4 wants
to follow.>
"no." That was all Pelin could muster. Did their course alter
enough? Would they succeed? All these questions roared in his
mind. He could only look down. How could he face his crew? Had
they would have thrown their lives for nothing? Would the
"Primus" and "Reon" would go unavenged?
"38,800m.
"36,300m.
"31,000m.
"23,800m."
Commodore Mathaius was under great stress, both physically and
mentally. The reversal of the engines was causing an immense
amount of g-force. He had latched himself to the corner of a
panel. He didn't need to see his knuckles, to know they were
turning white. Blood was also rushing to his face. The great roar
of the engine was rattling every thing. Control panels were
popping left and right. The main display panels, had given away
some time ago. The ship could not take much more of this. It
wanted to tear itself apart, rather than reverse it's course.
That was enough, it had to be. Commodore Mathaius called for all
engines to stop.
With that there was silence. It was as if time itself had
stopped. The moment of truth would soon be upon them.
"12,500m.
"7,700m.
"2,900m.
"Minus 1900 meters.
"Minus..."
Cheers broke out the ship, they had survived. Commodore Mathaius
found that he had held his breath and release it. His next few,
were the sweetest he had tasted. He allowed himself a few more.
But soon he reminded himself of his duty. He decided to remind
every one else, "Engine at full speed."
"YES SIR," every one shouted. They were happy and wanted to show
it.
Captain Pelin did not have to see, what he already knew. They
had failed. He tried to console himself, at least they gave the
rest of the fleet some time. It was little consolation. The big
guns of the Gilgamesh ship, would rain death on the rest of the
fleet. He could just imagine them sending a couple of ships after
the "Black Hawk." They would be hunted like dogs.
He look over his crew. The life was gone from their faces. They
needed him now more than ever, and he would not fail again.
Captain Pelin had to restore their faith. His mind quickly took
stock of the situation. First, was to restore power to the rest
of the ship. He ordered the engines to half speed. Slowly the
crew began to move, doing what they could to comply with the
captains orders.
He knew that his next order would really get there attention,
"plot a course for Balarant space."
There was a stunned silence. Few had considered returning, not
after this fiasco. How could they face their friends and family?
The captain approached a communications panel. He would now
address the whole crew.
"I know what every ones thinking, we are all defeated. Well, I
say NO! Not as long as we breath!
"We have been given another opportunity. Before us is whole
Gilgamesh space. There is still a chance to redeem ourselves.
"Sill a chance for Victory.
"A chance to go home.
"To see our families.
"Hold them in our arms."
It had been enough, the bridge crew was responding positively.
He could see it in their eyes. It was in the way they held
themselves. They had given him another chance to lead and he
would not fail them.
"Well now, set a course for the nearest habitable world. We have
a mission to fulfill!"
**********
"Sir?" called out the astronometrics officer.
"Yes, Mr. Aoki?"
"Aren't we sending someone after the Balarant ship?"
"No, we need as much firepower as we can get. We're going to
pound the rest of the Balarant fleet into the ground."
"But sir, it's headed for Gilgamesh space."
"What is the closest planet it could effect repairs?"
"Sigma-3 sir. Wait, no there is a small military outpost on
Turrin-4."
"Turrin-4? Well never heard of it. Signal them and tell them we
sent them some scraps."
"Yes, sir."
*****To be continued*****
NOTES:
Welcome to my first FANFIC. I thought about writing a RANMA fic
but you know... So I decided on my favorite anime "Armored
trooper: VOTOMS." I hope there are fans of the show still out
there. If so, please forgive my heresy.
I have taken some liberty with the votoms universe. To begin
with, FTL travel has been lost. Fastest speed is .99999999% of c.
I did this to model the universe closely to our own history. The
dates of some events were also changed. While doing some
research, I found that some events collided with each other. I
would give examples, but that would give away to much.
C&C, Flames and the like are welcome. If there are enough people
willing to be my guinea pigs, then I'll continue with the
experiment.
Gloss:
AC..........Astragius Calendar(year).
AI..........Artificial intelligence.
AT..........Armored Trooper.
c...........Speed of light (3.00*10^8 m/s).
FTL.........Faster than light(travel).
g...........Gravity or gravitational units.
G...........Gravitational constant (6.67*11^-11 N*m^2/kg^2).
HUDS........Heads up display.
IA..........Internal Affairs.
MT..........Machine Trooper.
STOL........Short take off and landing.
VTOL........Vertical take off and landing.
Disclaimer:
VOTOMS and its characters are property of its respective owners.
This intended for non-commercial use. Any similarity to people
living or deceased is purely coincidental.
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