Flavorful
A TWILIGHT IMPERIUM 3^rd EDITION (Shattered Empire) PBeM

:: MAIN ::	:: MAP ::	:: SUMMARY ::	:: POLITICS ::	:: FLAVOR ::
:: CARDS ::	:: TECHNOLOGY ::	:: DISCARDS ::	:: RULES ::

:: PROLOGUE :: CHAPTER 1 :: CHAPTER 2 :: CHAPTER 3 :: CHAPTER 4 ::

:: PROLOGUE ::

Three thousand years have passed since the galaxy last recognized one leader, one emperor.  With the execution of the final Lazax emperor, the great races of the galaxy began a slow, inexorable spiral downward, shedding centuries of technological achievements in the process.  The daylight of the great Lazax emperors slipped into the Age of Dusk, which in turn became the Twilight Wars that brought about their extermination, which in turn devolved into the Dark Years, a time of reassessment and rebuilding for the once-powerful races of the galaxy.  And just as the hours and minutes before dawn are the quietest times of the night, so too, following the Dark Years came a period of great quiet and peacefulness, which of course, would be followed by the next period of daylight for the galaxy. But who would sit on the throne this time?  Who would claim the position that once, so long ago, belonged to the legendarily insane Mahact kings and subsequently to the Lazax Imperium? Of the many great races that made their descent during the Dark Years, a mere handful have reached a position that now allows them to bring about that long-lost daylight for the galaxy. The newest Baron of the Letnev, Daz Emmiciel Werqan III, is one of these with his sights set on grandeur.  The Letnev have, for thousands of years, sought to acquire the power and position that the Lazax once held; perhaps now is finally their time.  The fearsome Letnev army – the most powerful in the galaxy, since the decline of the N’orr Tekklar Elite – certainly lends the Barony a strong arm in his endeavor. The Federation of Sol is another race known for its fearsome army, for its ability to enlist soldiers like so much cannon fodder.  One of the youngest of the great races, the Humans nonetheless have great ambitions.  Their High Minister, Juan Salvador Tao – himself aware of the changes coming upon the galaxy – has precisely positioned his fleet and his army in order to fill the power vacuum that the Lazax left behind so long ago. Like so many of the other great races, the united tribes of the Yssaril also have a tarnished history with the other races of the galaxy.  It is in fact this shared tarnished history among the great races that brought about the long-ago Twilight Wars.  The Yssaril, now ruled by the Guild of Spies, have chosen an appropriate leader – the Cqaark, an assassin – to match their dreams of grandeur.  They long for the rest of the galaxy to gaze at them in fear. A “race”, mixed though it may be, that certainly has pulled itself up by its bootstraps is the descendants of the former penal colony on Moll Primus, the coalition that has taken its name from the man that pulled them together into a cohesive unit: the Mentak.  They have waited hundreds of years for an opportunity to exact their vengeance.  Now Erwin’s Hand seeks to lead his people in the glorious pursuit of revenge. Revenge is a feeling that is well understood by the Gashlai people.  Having been suppressed by the Hylar – impressed into servitude by the technological wizards – on their home planet of Muaat for so long, the Gashlai’s fiery rage had been unleashed upon their masters during the days of the Twilight Wars.  Since then, they have been making themselves stronger, fueled by the incinerating power of their anger.  Having already neutralized the Hylar with a display of force (rumors say they arrived in the Jol Nar system with a ship of unbelievable firepower), these powerful people – clad in their Ember suits – are ready to unleash their vengeance on the galaxy as a whole. But perhaps the biggest indication of all that a change for the galaxy in the offing is the mysterious, unexpected reappearance of the Lazax, only in new bodies.  Calling themselves “Elwonzewonex” (“L1z1x”), the cybernetically-enhanced descendants of the ancient emperors have cast a long shadow of fear across their neighbors.  Is it possible that a one-time councilor to the Lazax empire, Ibna Vel Syd, still lives to lead his distorted offspring?  And is the chill power of this mighty mechanized race something that the galaxy wants?  And do the L1z1x care? Three thousand years have passed since the galaxy descended into chaos.  But now, one race will enable the galaxy to ascend back into order.  Who will it be? Mecatol Rex - Antechamber of Supreme Galactic Council “I have been told by my sources that a new leader has seized power on Moll Primus,” said the Hacan deputy intelligence attaché. “A leader? You mean a warden, or do you mean to tell me that another one of those ragtag criminals has killed his competition and now sits atop the hill?” scoffed the Hacan chief ambassador. “Well, it’s not a hill, they call it the ‘Table of Captains’ and the actual proper title for their leader is ‘Ervan’s Hand’,” replied the younger Hacan. “Ervan’s Hand?  Ervan’s &#*!, you mean. They’re just criminals and worse: descendants of criminals! So what if they have another hotshot captain. I’m sure he’ll be dead soon enough.” “Well, I’m sure you’re wrong.” “Really, you can tell the future?” “Not quite. I am sure you’re wrong now." “How so?” “It’s not a he, it’s a she!” “A she?” “Yeah. And apparently a direct descendant, such as these things can be recorded on Moll Primus, of Ervan Mentak himself.” “And what does this ‘direct-descendant-of-Ervan-Mentak’ call herself?” “I guess we’ll find out. She’s planning to come here.” “Here? On Mecatol itself?” “That’s what I heard.” “Better lock up the warehouse.” When the Winnarans first started getting the strange signal from a region of space previously deemed vacant, it was dismissed as originating from a thus-uncharted spacial anomaly, and nothing more.  However, when the signal became more and more frequent, one of the Custodians noticed that not only did it seem to be originating from the same place, but that it seemed to be getting closer, and that its pattern was not random or chaotic. Just as this discovery was made, a small fleet of strangely familiar warships were seen making their way to Mecatol Rex.  When the scouts first reported this discovery, a chilling realization was made: not only were these ships familiar in that they matched the description given by a doomed Hacan captain before his ship was destroyed, but they matched the description in the old records of the Lazax's own battle fleet. Hastily working to decipher the communication, they finally cracked the strange, trinary-code based digital signal, but noted that had the mysterious senders done any form of encryption, they may still not known what they were looking for.  The message itself was short and distinct.  "The time has come.  What was ours will be ours again." When the fleet finally arrived on Mecatol and made their formal introductions, they immediately set up a consulate.  While not aggressive, their formalities seemed cold, and it soon became obvious that if these were truly the descendants of the Lazax, the former sympathy and benevolance that the Lazax once had was truly annihilated when the last emperor was destroyed. "Has the envoy from Jol returned?" "Yes, High Fire Warden." The news caused Sushon Azh's eyes to flare with anticipation. "Good. We will have need for the War Sun soon enough..." The High Fire Warden turned towards his cheif Scientist, Emnor, a Gashlai whose eyes smouldered with intelligence.  It was this Scientist alone who knew the secret to Azh's rise to power. "What of their stance?" "The Hylar were so awed by Diplomat Magmus's ... presentation ... that it is not thought they will even attempt to impede us." A sound like that of sap burning in a fire escaped from Azh's mouth.  "It seems the fish have lost their spines. No matter, I am sure that there will be others who will try to stop us." As the two Gashlai walked down an amber hallway, Azh made his way to an alcove with the imprint of a Gashlai hand on top of a pedestal.  Placing his hand onto the imprint, the unique heat signature produced by his body caused the wall in front of them to recede into the floor, revealing an orb that shone with the light of a star. "I shall commune with the solarius stone now.  I am sure it will give me insight on our next course of action once we have established an embassy on Mecatol Rex." "My lord, I still have not been able to determine what exactly the stone's function is ... or even what it is..." "No matter, it has not lead me astray so far... Ever since we excavated it from the great Lashaa Volcano it has guided us to this point, leading me to become High Fire Warden and you to be the foremost Scientist on Muaat."  Azh made his way towards the burning sphere, placing both of his hands upon it.  Soon his eyes were burning just as bright.  "You will be leaving soon, Emnor.  The solarius stone sees great things ahead of us ... great things for all Gashlai.  I have never been to the Imperial planet of Mecatol, but I see that when I do it will be for my coronation!" "Mr Rico...?" Johnny's head snapped up as he heard the muted laughter of a few of his classmates.  Mr. DeVries had caught him nodding off in Citizenship and Government class.  Again. Old DeVries went on.  "Johnny, the question is, What is the moral basis for restoring the Imperium?" Johnny knew the textbook answer of course.  "Restoring the Imperium will bring order to the galaxy and allow all the races to live in peace."  Sounded kind of stupid to him, who cared about all those other races scattered around the galaxy anyway?  The Letnevs and the Muwats or whatever they were called, and supposedly lots of others too.  Johnny had never even seen an alien before.  But that's what the book said. "Well, Johnny, there's more than that, isn't there?  Forget the other races for now and think just of humanity."  DeVries went on about how there were maybe ten times more humans than any other sentient race in the galaxy, living on far off planets Johnny had barely heard of.  But humanity could never get it together.  The other planets pretty much ignored the Federation of Sol and went on with their lives when they weren't fighting with Sol or each other.  Even Jord itself wasn't fully united. The Imperium was supposed to change all that, uniting all of humanity under the Imperial banner.  That's what the government textbook said anyway. As DeVries went on, Johnny started thinking about more important things like the basketball game that night or how pretty Carmen was and why she wouldn't go out with him.  Stuff that the typical high school senior thought about in Citizenship and Government class. But his mind did come back to that Imperium thing.  Maybe that was something worth doing after all. In the endless void of space a dark planet drifts, seemingly untamed by the celestial forces that hold sway over countless other worlds.  Ensconced within the cold, hard confines of this lonely world the Letnev continue to cling to existence as they have for thousands of years.  The Dark Years led to widespread famine on Arc Prime as the last of the freighters responsible for the transport of food from their colonies on Wren Terra fell into disrepair.  Despondent, the Letnev people endured – a shadow of their former selves. Centuries passed without note until, approximately 2700 years after the fall of the Lazax Empire, a new family came to power on Arc Prime.  With the elimination of the current Baron and his entire line Daz Emmiciel Werqan II’s claim to the Barony was proclaimed official by the office of the parliament.  The new Baron brought with him a full compliment of retainers, scientists and military personnel, all furiously loyal and highly competent.  The Letnev people rallied to the new Baron as he instilled within them the fervour, determination and pride that they once knew. Over the next 150 years the Baron drove his people relentlessly.  The Prime Letnev grew strong.  Military enlistment and severe training regiments were made mandatory for all citizens.  A strict and unyielding bureaucracy was enforced.  Contact and control was re-established on Wren Terra and food shipments renewed.  In subsequent years Daz Emmiciel Werqan III succeeded his father and, as interstellar communication and commerce begins its resurgence, continues to drive the Letnev towards fulfilling his ambitions.   “You may enter now,” the orderly advised. As the doors to the audience chambers were swung open, I strode forwards into the dimly lit room, sharply attired in full dress uniform. “Knight Commander Sir Urqan Zi`el,” announced the herald. The Baron stood as I snapped to attention in the centre of the room. “Today,” the Baron bellowed, “we advance Sir Urqan Zi`el to the position of Lord High Knight Commander of the Combined Letnev Exploratory Forces.” He paused for a moment to allow the applause to subside.  “Urqan Zi`el, we entrust unto you our military and task you with the exploration and re-acquisition of our former colonies lost to us these many years.  You are further tasked with re-establishing contact and managing diplomatic relations with any other races who have survived the fall of the empire...” As the ceremony continued my mind wandered.  I reflected upon how this ceremony was just for the benefit of the people and, more importantly, the Winnaran delegates who had arrived not two weeks ago.  I pondered and, yes, even worried a little at the full, greater, responsibility and duty I had been assigned in a secret meeting with the Baron and a select few of his closest advisers several nights ago.  The Werqans were not known for their tolerance or patience.  I shunted these thoughts aside and began reviewing and re-analyzing plans, star maps, troop compositions, production manifolds and the myriad other tasks that would engage the Letnev war machine as it embarked out across this shattered empire. Under Agent 3rd Class Os Doog examines the outfitting of a carrier. Not an engineer, he watches with ignorance as the technicians discuss their work. "Is it true what they say about these engines?" one tech asked. "I've heard that these XRD engines will allow our carriers to move as swiftly as our cruisers," the other tech replied. "What's the rush, though? It seems to me that the Colonel has a tog in his boots. Why the tight deadlines?" "I don't care, man. It's lots of overtime." Os Doog knows the reason for the overtime and the urgency: Yssaril agents have discovered that their neighbor, the Embers of Muaat, have mobile battlestations. No hostilities have broken out but one never knows... Colonel Talf De mentioned something weird to Os Doog during the briefing. It kinda "slipped" out of the colonel's mouth. He quickly covered it up by changing the subject but Os Doog still heard it: Mecatol Rex! Agents of the Yssaril Tribes have discovered its location.   The Grand Library of Adrea has many ancient tomes, some dating to the days of the Empire. Permission is required to peruse some of the tomes. Under Agent Os Doog does not have the appropriate rank but does have the appropriate roguery. He sneaks into the library's sealed area. In a long forgotten book, he discovers that beyond the Beta Wormhole lies the Tsion Trade Center. "That rings a bell. Where have I heard of Tsion before?" The tone sounds off that the library is closing. Under Agent Os Doog decides to leave. He'll ask one of his contacts in the Defense Ministry what the Tribes' strategy will be. Political? Warfare? Who knows...

:: PROLOGUE :: CHAPTER 1 :: CHAPTER 2 ::

:: CHAPTER 1 ::
:: PART 1 :: PART 2 :: PART 3 :: PART 4 :: PART 5 :: PART 6 ::

Much has been lost in the three thousand years that have constituted the Dark Years.  Technological achievements that once seemed commonplace now seem unattainable -- though, of course, they are not.  Territory once held by the great races, planets once considered to be under their thrall, have long since proclaimed their neutrality as to the affairs of the galaxy.  Yes, throughout the Dark Years, the great races have become shadows of their former selves. Thus, before they can attain the glory of galactic mastership, they must first reattain the glory that they lost so long ago.... Johnny got back from basketball practice in time to see his dad catch President Tao's State of the Federation address.  Tao was talking about how the Federation had to provide Leadership to human colonies on distant suns throughout the galaxy.  Johnny didn't know why his dad watched that stuff, dad wasn't even a Federation citizen anyway.  Besides, those politicians all were kind of the same as far as Johnny could tell. Only citizens could vote for the President of course, and you had to serve in one of the uniformed services to be one.  DeVries talked about that today, how the democracies of the 20th and 21st century were set up so everyone could vote.  DeVries said they eventually fell apart when people figured out they could just vote themselves money from the public treasury and saw the state as something to take from instead of something to defend and protect.  Those societies eventually became so decadent and infantile that they collapsed under the onslaught of various Islamic and socialist utopian ideologies, leading to the Second Holocaust. Now the theory was that only people who were willing to sacrifice for the Federation were allowed to be citizens.  But being a citizen didn't seem like such a big thing really, Johnny's parents were pretty well off and they weren't citizens.  Johnny always supposed he'd grow up to be a financial analyist like his dad, with a nice house and annual vacations to Rio.  That was a pretty good life.  At least, that's what everybody told him.  Kind of boring, maybe... The black silhouette steals across the sky, undetectable but for the blinking out of the stars as it interposes between them and the planet that lies below.  A city sleeps. A multitude of smaller objects are let fly and shoot towards the surface of the planet, marked by small bursts of light as they penetrate the atmosphere. A city sleeps on. Silent in their approach until, with a roar of sound, impact thrusters fire scattering dirt and debris. A city begins to stir. Crunch - giant ramps slam down and troops usher forth.  An explosion – the power station falters and dies.  A growl – the tanks advance.  A scream in the darkness – resistance is futile. A city falls.   “Lazar and Sakulag are taken sir.  The Office of Extraterrestrial Management report that full control will be established on schedule.” I nod acknowledgement, pleased that everything is going smoothly.  The Baron would be most displeased at any mishaps so early in this new venture. “Excellent, raise the Office of Reunification and report that the worlds Lazar and Sakulag have been welcomed back into the embrace of the Barony.”  I grimaced a little at the terminology but it would not hurt to cater towards the Government’s little quirks. The Yssaril carrier Dimensional Wolf slips out of hyperdrive. Under Agent Os Doog has been suffering from motion sickness for the long flight. He is barely able to stand and look out the view screen. Beneath the Dimensional Wolf lies the lush planet of Arnor. The Ministry of Truth has determined that Arnor has valuable mineral deposits on par with Retillion itself!  The general quarters alarm sounds and Yssaril marines scramble to make the mycetic landing.  EERK! EERK! EERK! The pod bay doors open and the marines board the Hexdarts. The landings begin. The Ministry of Truth has verified that Arnor and Lor are lost Tribes of Yssaril. The archeological digs confirm this. There is great celebrations on Retillion and Shalloq when news that these planets have been admitted into the union. On board the cruiser Dark Prowler, Captain Vink z Yib scans an intelligence report.  Just beyond the Arnor/Lor system lies a stable wormhole. Could this be what the Prophecies of the Preceptor foretold? Could this be the Shadows of Tartar? "Report General."  Azh's voice echoed through the mostly empty chamber.  Its spherical layout was designed to make even the slightest whisper audible, but the High Fire Warden was not whispering now. "Production on the fleet has been progressing on schedule.  We will no longer have to rely on our War Sun for all of our military directives."  General Umbat held himself with an air of confidence.  None of the Admiralty had distinguished itself enough to be put in charge of the fleet, so the burden fell onto his shoulders. "I assume that all of our troops have been properly equipped with Ember Suits by now, General? I am quite anxious to begin extending our warmth across the Galaxy..." "Yes, my lord; my troops are prepared and ready." "Good. Our opponents will have also had time to strengthen their forces, and preparedness on our part is a must.  You may go now, General." As Umbat strolled out of the chamber a smile split Azh's lips and his eyes burned brightly. The small group of colonists on the world of Torkan looked up in awe and fear at the shadows blotting out parts of the sky.  Though they had long ago accepted racial diversity among them, the band of Humans, Hacan, and air-breathing Hylar weren't sure what to think of the newcomers. Just days before, the small research base on the planet had picked up an approaching signal.  Not having had contact with the outside galaxy for some time, they were unsure what to make of it.  To the Hylar, it seemed oddly familiar, as if a shadow of their own past somehow linked to this strange transmission, but even they were at a loss to explain it. Soon thereafter, without warning the short-range scanners on the planet picked up an approaching warship.  Having no defenses for themselves, the colonists quickly holed up in the bunkers built long ago for a war that only legend remembered.  Some watched as several groups of shuttlecraft landed on the ground near their village.  Out of these ships marched an army of strange, humanoid beings covered in mechanical implants.  They seemed to have coordinated efforts, yet they didn't speak a single word to each other. Finally, sensing the vistors, while frightening, were not going out of their way to damage or destroy anything, the local leader, a tall and proud Hacan, came out to meet the visitors.  Trembling with fear, he raised his hand in a gesture of peace and inquired of them their purpose.  No response was given at first.  Then, a skeletal looking figure with a large cranial implant approached. "Greetings, inhabitant of this world.  We are the Lazax reborn.  We are come to regain our throne.  You will help us with this effort.  Those who support us will be given opportunity.  Those who resist will be deleted.  Your choice is only in your own fate." "What is it you want of us?" asked the Hacan. "Only your assistance.  I am 148S.  Your world is ripe with knowledge, and our databanks require this to be integrated with our own.  I am instructed to acquire this knowledge for the glory of our empire." "I must consult with my fellow colonists.  This is not a decision I can make on my own." "Very well.  Your race is known to us, but just as we are renewed and perfected, so we will renew and perfect our relation with you, if you join us." "Will we be required to . . . become like you?"  Unsure of how to word his request, he nevertheless feared the answer. "No.  Only those who prove worthy may be upgraded.  Others may continue to survive under our presence.  Harmony and exactness is required.  Choice is still yours to have, within the parameters we set." Bowing humbly, the Hacan turned away.  After meeting with his people, they decided to submit, but promised to remain watchful.  Some of the youth began talking about how much being "implanted" could help them become stronger and smarter, but the adults feared that this may be less "optional" if the intruders decided to change their mind. Ervana sat at the table lost in her thoughts. Long I have waited for this opportunity but long are the odds for success. She smiled at that thought. The Mentak always played the odds and more often than not went for the long shot. Well that was part of them, of their make-up such as they were, descendants of the guilty, the condemned, the have-nots.  Well, things could be different now.   She told her assistant: "The world is changing.  The old races are moving. It is time to act." "There is some talk of a claim to the Throne, Ervana," said the assistant.   Ervana felt herself blushing, but in rage rather than in modesty. "NEVER! Never again shall there be an emperor to enslave us. To treat us like animals, take our homes, and send us in exile! NEVER!" "But there are so few of us.  What can we do?" "Rally the people! We need to defend our homes, we need to defeat the oppressor before he sits on the throne." For the next few days, Ervana went all over Moll Primus and addressed the crowds, and the people enthusiastically responded. Merchants, laborers, firemen, people from all walks of life and all ethnic backgrounds answered the call and two brigades of marines were formed and named for their leaders: Rackham's Brigade and Blake's Brigade. There was even a batallion of planetary defense systems that were created to help defend Moll Primus. Never in Mentak history had such fever swept the planet. Mentak Table of Captains "We cannot wait for them here," said Ervana, sitting at the Table of Captains. "Wait for them? They'll never come here, whoever 'they' are,"  said Mig31, a courageous and daring captain who was always ready to risk difficult odds for the daring feat. "Don't be stupid and blind! Once there is an emperor sitting on the throne in Mecatol he will empty the galaxy of the undesirables, political prisoners, mad Jol-Nar scientists, Yin fanatics, Hacan profiteers and guess where they'll be sent." "But there is no room here, no water, and not enough food!" complained Jakouill.  "And what's wrong with Hacan profiteers? My ancestors were Hacan." Jakouill owed his place at the Table of Captains more to his greed and rapaciousness in what he called "trading" than his daring and courage. "We will not wait for them. You will go to them, Jakouill." "Moi?" Four weeks later, Jakouill could barely believe he was there on the bridge of his good old Transport ship.   Having 3 brigades of marines on board instead of the usual merchandise and contraband made him nervous but not as much as entering foreign space with a military force on board.  "Merchandising experts" and "portable weather-radar station" read the bill of lading . . . hopefully no one was going to ask about the Tekklar submachinelasers! "Approaching Rigel System," squawked the navigational computer.

:: PROLOGUE :: CHAPTER 1 :: CHAPTER 2 ::

:: CHAPTER 1 ::
:: PART 1 :: PART 2 :: PART 3 :: PART 4 :: PART 5 :: PART 6 ::

As usual, all Rob wanted to talk about was other planets and solar systems.  He was talking now about the Capha system, all the wars it had been through and the ruined ecology there he wanted to fix.  Rob was going to join up after school and wanted to be a planetologist.  Johnny was sure Rob could do it too; he was smart enough and he sure liked planetology. As they got to Rob's locker Carmen was there wanting to talk to him, which made Johnny pretty jealous.  "How'd you do, Rob?" "Passed.  How about you?" "Me, too."   Johnny was stunned.  Carmen was taking the civil service exams to get into the military.  She wanted to be a pilot.  That made sense to Johnny once he thought about it, Carmen was small and a good athlete to withstand those g-forces, studied hard and didn't have a serious boyfriend. "How about you, Johnny?  What are you going to do after school?" Johnny couldn't figure out why he said it afterwards, but he blurted out that he was going to join too.  Carmen smiled at him when he said it which was great, but Johnny felt like a crazy person had taken over his mouth and he was trapped inside his body.  What was he thinking?  And what was he going to tell his parents? It was clear that Bellatrix had been abandoned for many years, perhaps even centuries.  The streets were silent; a thick black dust lay over everything.  Buildings showed evidence of damage most likely wrought by the severe storms that now ravaged the planets surface.  Letnev troops carefully swept each city and industrial complex but found no signs of life; even the vegetation that the Office of Historical Events had recorded for this planet was not in evidence, so poisoned was the atmosphere.  This was a dead planet, long since exhausted of all its natural resources, the atmosphere callously mistreated as the population drove their industry to the utmost limits, profiteering from the war that had raged thousands of years ago, supplying giant machines of destruction to whomever could afford them.   “The planet is dead, Urqan,”  General Farran declared in the next communication.  “The Barony can gain no use out of this worthless husk now.” I was still looking over the detailed reports that had been uploaded.  “Do not be too hasty to write this planet off my friend.  It may not be as we had thought but I think we can still find a use for this planet.  I want the Offices of ‘Technological Development’ and ‘Engineering and Manufacture’ down there scrutinizing every millimetre of those factories.  Even if we can find no trace of documentation on the technology used and constructed there I believe we can extrapolate a lot from a thorough examination of those production plants.”  I smile.  “Remember also, old friend, evidence clearly shows we are the only people to have visited this planet in quite some time.  The Galactic Council need not know how little we know about the weapons once crafted here.”  We share a quiet chuckle. “What of the trade station?”  Farran asks. “They capitulated faster then we had thought.  We shall allow trade to continue for now but have made it clear that this is a privilege not to be taken lightly.  The Barony will do well out of the levies we will be enforcing.”  I can not help but smile again, thinking of how the station personnel and the millions of people living therein must have felt as our Dreadnought hove into view.  A shock reinforced when Ciel and his elite body guards emerged from the docking bays.  Letnev troopers always made a fearsome first impression when in full battle armour. The Yssaril Tribes hold the Sacred Scroll of Preceptor Nala to be the written word of the gods.     The Sacred Scroll of Preceptor Nala Book 1, chapter 1, verse 1 "Patience is a virtue." The shelter was easy to see in the distance.  The heat eminating from it caused the swirling snow that came near it to evaporate, wisps of steam trailing into the air.  The bulky Ember suits worn by the three Gashlai lumbered towards it.  Even though the shelter was more comfortable for them, the natural heat produced by the Gashlai body made them one of the few races that could survive on Bereg. The shelter was a patchwork of metal and superplastic, designed to conserve heat as much as possible.  As soon as they were inside, one of them broke away.  General Umbat retreated to his quarters. It was time to report to the High Fire Warden.  As the door to his private room closed, a hologram flickered to life on the holopad. "Report, General." Azh's image flickered like a flame as he spoke. "The governors of Bereg have turned over their indentured labourers to us and pledge to support us in our efforts." Umbat knew that would be the case.  Bereg's planetary forces were mostly untrained conscripts, and a War Sun hovering in orbit was a strong motivator. "Excellent. I trust the cold is not bothering you?" "It is uncomfortable, but not prohibitive." "What about Lirta IV, has it also capitulated?" "Yes, my lord." "Good! Diplomat Magmus and Head Scientist Emnor are also stationed on the planet. This system is of great importance General... I would be most displeased if we were to lose it."  Azh's figure faded out of view soon after. The slow, lumbering fleet of the Mindnet moved slowly toward the ancient Trade Station of Sumerian.  Soon after docking one of their lumbering Dreadnoughts, a small group of silent technicians quickly tapped into the main computer, easily slicing through security codes and protective systems.  A feed of data began to stream from the station towards [0.0.0], and the station once again began to see activity. The noble Hacan were reluctant at first to use the newly reactivated Station, but the L1z1x promised them a lucrative monopoly on the services provided there, if they would but serve as custodians for the station.  This offer was too tempting to pass up, and the activity only continued to grow during the coming years. On the great plain of Moll Primus lies a giant junkyard of space ships and various technical apparatus representing several hundred years of technology accumulated from Mentak exchanges with many other races of the galaxy. This desolate place of rusting metal and doubtful biohazard safety is also the main research facility of the Mentak Coalition. "Yes they’re still alive," yelled the assistant scientist. "All of them have survived the test?" asked the chief scientist. "Yes, all of them.  Here take a look at camera #8." The live-feed from camera #8 came in on the main display. Clearly seen coming out of the cruiser's modified cargobays were two monkeys, one Ewok, and one Yin missionary holding a cage with two rabbits. All had survived the test flight aboard the modified cruiser. "We will now be able to have marines on board our cruisers! This will be a charming surprise for our next raid," yelled the jubilant assistant. "What brigade will have the ‘luck’ to try it first?" "I’ve heard they will give this privilege to the newest recruits." "Ah!  Rackham's brigade and Blake's brigade!" "Yes, no sense in wasting finely trained brigades," said the assistant.   "Do you mean you don’t trust your Research & Development program?" "Euuhhh, I mean...yes&ldots;of course." "Better be! Otherwise you’ll walk the plank!"

:: CHAPTER 1 ::
:: PART 1 :: PART 2 :: PART 3 :: PART 4 :: PART 5 :: PART 6 ::

Johnny's dad had brought work home again.  His company had a government contract to help build bases in the Velnor system and there was a lot of work to be done to get the supplies and equipment sent there from Jord.  There was a lot of work like that going on.  The government was spending huge amounts of resources organizing the Federation's reconquest of the nearby planets under the Leadership of President Tao and his Imperium party. Johnny would tell his dad later.  He had enough on his mind without Johnny telling him that he was enlisting.  An extremely high gravitational pull and a thin atmosphere made the dense planet of Garbozia the perfect dumping ground for the Empire.  Over the long reign of the Lazax countless tonnes of refuse had been deposited on this dead and unproductive world.  Then came the fall and Garbozia faded into obscurity, alone in a system with no sentient life in a galaxy now bereft of interstellar travel, ringed by the accumulated debris of thousands of years of trade, battle and trash disposal. However, all was not still.  Millennia of biological waste and the inadvertent introduction of various bacteria and other life forms had begun a slow change.  As the new age dawned Garbozia had become a rich, vibrant, planet full of life and new, unexplored, potential just waiting to be discovered.   For the last several months something the Ministry of Secrets had revealed had been gnawing on my mind.  I had been told that something of great value had been hidden on a planet called Garbozia by the Lazax, apparently their primary garbage planet.  Unfortunately the Office of Historical Events did not have precise records as to this planets whereabouts and until recently I had been uncertain as how best to act on this knowledge.  The acquisition of the trade station Tsion changed all this, had opened up new avenues through which I could proceed. “Ciel, this is of the utmost importance.  I need you to use all of your new contacts on Tsion to discreetly locate a particular planet.  Then make sure that everyone understands that it is and has always been part of the Barony’s domain.”  I initiated a data transfer over the secure link.  “All relevant information has been uploaded.” Ciel had been provided with what little details we had on the planets various designations with the former galactic council members and anything else I felt was relevant to it’s discovery.  He did not need to know why this planet was so important, not that I was convinced he would not soon find out; he had many contacts in the various offices of the government.  Now I would need to organise with Admiral Unlenn to be prepared for the immediate launch of all available FTL deep space probes should Ciel be successful.  The Ministry of Secrets had made it clear that this was of great importance to the Baron. Admiral Sskril hears the report that 2 Class M planets have been located just beyond the Shalloq. Normally Sskril's duties are fairly routine. But something has been afoot recently at the Ministry of Policy, something that he can't quite put his finger on. The need to colonize other worlds has reached a fever pitch. And with the recent conquest of Arnor and Lor, the Yssaril fleet is badly divided. Master Agent Ssruu walks deliberately towards Sskril's office. He doesn't bother to knock. "Admiral," he says in a squeaky voice. "Our deep space vessel Xebec's Shield has detected that there are indigenous people living on the planets of Qucen'n and Rarron. We believe they will sue for membership in the Tribes if we install garrisons on their worlds." "I've already made the prepartions, Master Agent. You and Master Agent Thilinn will go. He will be your Political Officer. I need the two of you to oversee the conquest and defense of these worlds." "Are you staying behind, Admiral?" "Yes. I am supervising the construction of our new fleet."  Captain Sulfyr rushed to his personal quarters.  He had just been informed that General Umbat had requested a private audience.  As captain of the Nebulon it was standard precedure to report to a superior under controlled environments.  After securing the top priority security filters for his room, he activated the communication protocol to Bereg.  Soon, Umbat's face flickered on the holopad. "Captain, have the local Thibah forces been subdued?" "Yes, General.  Their space force was pitifully primitive and succumbed to our Fighter squadrons with no casualties to us.  With their military destroyed, the planet surrendered before invasion procedures were even underway.  The occupation has been bloodless." "Excellent.  I shall report this news to the High Fire Warden myself.  Maintain orbit around Thibah. The Nebulon is to hold position until she recieves further orders." The Custodian who was assigned to visit [0.0.0] after the L1z1x's arrival on Mecatol had been wary at first, worried about what might happen to him.  In the end, he decided that he should trust that the Winnaran devotion to maintaining the throne in the absence of the Lazax would ensure his safety. His first thoughts as he saw the Mindnet's home planet was a jumble of mixed emotions.  He was impressed with the high level of efficiency he saw, where every "citizen" had a role which they performed without flaw or complaint.  He was saddened by what the once proud Lazax had been transformed into: cold, emotionless, and almost unreal.  Even the few "children" he saw brought sorrow to his heart, as they, too, were completely transformed by the invasive cybernetic implants.  He was fearful, for he saw much of the L1Z1X industry was devoted to war; whether this was because they truly planned on conquering the throne by force, or to prevent them from being ravaged by treason again, he could not tell.  Yet he still felt hope, as despite the implants and the cold, almost zombie-like nature of the inhabitants of the planet, he sensed no open hostility toward him.  Perhaps deep down, they still had feeling, still remembered who they were? One L1z1x child in particular caught his attention.  Everywhere he went, this child seemed to watch him.  Whether with suspicion or curiosity, he could not tell, as the child's eyes had been covered with a strange visor implant.  Yet he did not yet have the courage to talk with the child.  This culture was still so strange to him. Filling up into the newly modified cruisers, the marines of Blake's and Rackham's brigades seemed upbeat, but the tension could be felt. Some of the recruits were noisily joking but their voices carried a pitch slightly higher than normal, betraying their nervousness.  A few looked skeptically at the modified capsules that were going to house them for the trip to the Vega system aboard the cruisers.  None of the comfort of regular troop carriers could be found on board and the smell was reminiscent of stale beer and sheep, no doubt remnants from previous cargos...or maybe something else thought some of them. The rings around Vega Major had long been refuge to all sort of space scavangers and smugglers acting on the fringe of the Coalition based in Moll Primus.  "No longer acceptable" had decided the Table of Captains.  "We must unite to fight the oppressor...."

:: CHAPTER 1 ::
:: PART 1 :: PART 2 :: PART 3 :: PART 4 :: PART 5 :: PART 6 ::

Lieutenant Bismark put away his journal and went to his station as the words, "Now entering the Mehar Xull system," blared over the intercom.  There was just never enough time to write flavor text in there with his current busy schedule!  But the ship's captain waited for no lieutenant to finish his journal entry!  It was time to land the expedition on Mehar Xull and annex it to the Federation. The fleet was small and hastily assembled with all the other frantic activity on Sol: just a few troop transports and escorting destroyers.  But it would be enough; the residents of the planet were expected to welcome the Federation. Tethered via enormous cables a massive sphere can be observed in geostationary orbit above the crater city of Feruc.  A constant flow of materials climb these cables, supplying the workers within the weightless environ the parts and tools they need to manufacture the mighty ships of the Letnev.  One such ship nears completion.  A new style, designed by the joint efforts of the Offices of ‘Technological Development’ and ‘Engineering and Manufacture’ to meet certain specifications required by the newly appointed Lord High Knight Commander.  Combining the swift manoeuvrability of the waspish destroyers with some of the firepower of the leviathan like dreadnoughts these new “cruisers” include automated micro construction bays designed to produce and deploy the unique phason mines, a pride of Letnev engineering.   I watch with great satisfaction as my vision, finally made reality, comes gliding out of the construction sphere high above Feruc.  Dark, thorn like protrusions extending in all directions – not just a sight to bring terror into the Baron’s enemies but filled with the latest anti scanners and weapon countermeasures developed to date.  The cavernous interior of Arc Prime reverberates with the cheers from the millions watching the birth of this, the first of a brand new class of ship for our people. The admission of Qucen'n into the Tribes of Yssaril was received with great rejoicing.  Master Agent Ssruu was successful in his counterintelligence aims to suppress any nagging doubters.  The Yssaril Sabbath is dawning once again. Ssruu decides to take a break and read from the Sacred Scrolls...   Book 1, Chapter 3, verses 9 through 16 "Though much is taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days  Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are--- One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." Captain Zelt checked the launch codes over one more time.  Work on the new Destroyer class ship, the Lavar, his ship, was finished.  The commodore had given permission to disembark and the entire crew was restless to get under way. The War Sun the Gashlai had built was much improved over the ancient Hylar design.  More than just a weapon of war, the new War Sun had a sizable production facility, capable of manufacturing ships on its own. As the bay doors opened to reveal the magnitude of space beyond, the docking clamps released the hull of the ship.  Giving only the slightest nod of the head, Captain Zelt signaled the helmsman to proceed. Shortly after the Trade Station at Sumerian began it's reconstruction, traders from around the Galaxy began preparing themselves to revitalize the galactic trade routes.  Many Hacanian captains began preparing themselves to take charge of these routes.  Shuttling between Sumerian and Tsion, a small contingency of contract negotiators began approaching each of the major races to encourage their participation in revitalizing commerce. Unbeknownst to them, however, were the L1z1x listening devices hidden within their ships.  While the Mindnet wanted to see the increased commerse themselves, they also wanted to make sure nobody made any deals without their knowledge. Captain Mig31 was not in a good mood.  It was late and they were having a good time in a drinking establishment lost somewhere on Moll Primus. One of those that the civic authorities prefer to have away from Main Street. Actually most of his officers and non-coms around him were having a very good time, but not him. While most of the Captains were focused on the trade negotiations at Sumerian he was left alone to keep things running in Moll Primus. "Hold the fort," The Hand had put it. He scoffed, "I'll show them! My crew will not respect me for sticking around Moll Primus...and respect from the crew is important if one wants to remain a Mentak captain for a while. There is no rank given by birth or money here... Well, maybe money.  A little." Mig31 was looking at a well-used map marked with dried blood a Hacan trader had "given him" as he died with Mig31's hands holding his neck to help him. "Mmmm, Lesab? I wonder if it's true that a powerful artifact is buried under all that fungus?" "I believe 'fungi' would be the proper term in this case," said the bartender (he was of Hylar ancestry and much too smart to be a barman on Moll Primus). Mig31 never looked at him, but with lightning speed grabbed him by the back of his neck and slammed his head on the bar. Undisturbed his mind started wondering: "If I take my ship there, and if I take control of the planet, and if I find an artifact, then my place at the Table of Captains will be secured." In that moment he made a decision.   "First Officer! Arm and ready the Reliant," The crewmembers moaned as they realized their night of R&R was coming to a brutal halt. "Men," said Mig31, "we're going for booty! And bring that passed out barman! You never know when we could need some brainpower." The crew cheered. You had to give it to old Mig31, life was never dull when he was "in the game".

:: CHAPTER 1 ::
:: PART 1 :: PART 2 :: PART 3 :: PART 4 :: PART 5 :: PART 6 ::

Johnny looked down at the instructions one last time and then up at the sign above the door.  This was the place all right, the Velnor recruiting office they had told him to report to.  Johnny got identified pretty early as a good candidate for the Terran Mobile Infantry.  Not everyone got assigned to the infantry, they told him.  Well yeah, not everyone was crazy! But Johnny said yes, maybe out of a desire to prove himself or to see those distant suns and all the planets out there other than Jord.  He wasn't sure.  All he knew is that once he stepped through that door he would no longer be a civilian.  He would be a G.I. - government issue.  For all he knew he would never see his family and friends back in Buenos Aires again.  It was a big step. Johnny took a deep breath, exhaled, and then opened the door.  He stepped inside... Mecatol Rex -- Chamber of Council  "...and now I shall call on the Ambassador from the Mentak Coalition," said the Speaker in his particular Yssaril accent. Gambrinus, the venerable Mentak scavenger slowly made his way to the podium. "The great news, as you all know, is the return of the Mighty Lazax. In the honor of this extraordinary event, we propose the building of a commemorative fleet. A fleet made of ships as mighty and powerful as the Lazax are. In this fleet, there shall be one ship for each race present at this council..." As Gambrinus droned on the other Ambassadors were thinking, How are we going to pay for this? Who will benefit the most? What's the upside? The downside? I hope there are some shrimp from Sakulag at the Ambassadors' buffet; those are good.

:: CHAPTER 1 ::
:: PART 1 :: PART 2 :: PART 3 :: PART 4 :: PART 5 :: PART 6 ::

Lieutenant Bismark looked out the viewport of the transport shuttle as it entered Jord orbit to admire the view.  The space docks above Jord were swarming with activity and new ships were supposed to be launching almost once a week.  Bismark admired the view of the massive Dreadnaught that right now filled up close to half the viewport.  That was the Mars, flagship of Admiral DeLewis.  But he was more interested in the sleek lines of the brand new cruiser just coming into view as the shuttle continued its orbit - the Lindsey Lohan. He had read about the name after he got his orders; it was really a pretty interesting story.  Lindsey Lohan was some actress back in the 21st century before going into a coma from a massive drug overdose.  When she woke up 3 years later her mind had developed incredible insights into math and physics.  Even now, hundreds of years later, Bismark could barely understand the math Doctor Lohan had pioneered that led to the discovery of faster than light space travel. It was going to be great being in the Engineering Department on that ship, much better than the rust bucket transport he was on for the Mehar Xull operation.  From what he heard through the grapevine, that ship was supposed to be fast! Admiral Sskril looks at the new dreadnaught which he will soon take command of. He is definitely pleased. The galactic agenda went as planned. The Mentak Ambassador was sure that he could push it throught the Council and he was right. A friendship has been born. But a lone dreadnaught is not suitable to a Yssaril with a rank higher than commodore. Sskril is overseeing the construction of the new Yssaril Defense Fleet which he will command... It had been a long journey to the planet Garbozia for the ten ellipsoidal probes, all that remained of the score launched by Admiral Unlenn those many weeks ago.  As they neared the planet these remaining probes, all in constant communication with each other, burst into activity.  Thrusters fired, panels opened, sensors were deployed, readings were analyzed.  Six of these probes set trajectories and entered stable high orbits around the planet, the front half of each peeling open as they established themselves.  Then began the lengthy process of mapping the planet and gathering and analyzing as much information as possible.  After some time enough information had been gathered to send in the remaining four probes, which sealed themselves tight and shot towards the planet, arcing towards the most promising locations.  Upon landing, somewhat heavily, small crawler droids scuttled from the protective shells into the rich ground foliage and initiated a more detailed search and analysis of the areas under the supervision of the orbital satellites.   “May light strike his eyes!” I roared to myself as I paced my chambers.  How could Ciel have let slip such important information on Tsion? I wondered.  It wouldn’t be long now before the other great races would hear about our discovery of the vast chambers containing, what appeared to be, the fossilised remains of the legendary Precursors that the Lazax had hidden away so carefully on Garbozia.  Worse then that, I was due to make a report to the Baron himself shortly. I cleared my throat. “Furthermore I must report that the other Galactic Council member races not only have the ability to build ships of similar capabilities as ours but there is evidence that some are more advanced.”  “What of this rumour of a monstrosity approaching from these Muaat?” one of the Baron’s advisors inquired. “We know little of the Muaat as they were not known to us until now,” I respond. “However one thing all the reports seem to have in common is that the Muaat have, or at least had, close ties with the Jol-Nar&ldots;.”  I allow the sentence to trail off.  It is well known to all that the majority of the former empire’s military advancements had come from the magnificent but twisted minds of the Jol-Nar. The meeting continued for some time.  I could only hope that the overall success of our early expansion efforts and the news of the newly formed trade agreements with the Yssaril would keep me alive a little longer.  I knew the Baron had a great fondness for the Menn root ever since tasting some Ciel sent back from Tsion. The Custodian continued to observe the L1z1x culture.  It was strange to him how familiar it all felt, yet how foreign at the same time.  The cybernetic youth continued to observe him, though by this time, the Winnaran was so used to it that it did not faze him. One day, the Custodian was sitting in a chair compiling some notes in a narrow hallway, the child seemed to be closer than normal.  Deciding to let his curiosity overcome his trepidation, he turned to the youth and smiled. "Hello there.  Why do you watch me so?" he boldly asked the child. "I do not know," responded the child. Reluctantly, he asked, "Have you been asked to observe me?" "No.  I simply require more information," answered the child in a voice that showed no emotion. "Do you not already know who I am and why I am here?" "I do not.  I cannot yet interface with the Mindnet.  I am still too young, and the deluge of data would overload my memory circuits." "I see.  Do you look forward to joining in the network?" "I do not look forward, nor backward.  My programming is simply to let my biological body mature, so that when the time comes, I will be ready to serve my role." "What is your role?" "I cannot say.  That data is encrypted, and you do not have proper authorization." With that, the youths visor turned slightly red, and the child retreated.  The Winnaran couldn't help but wonder if it was wise to question the young one, but he was sent there to observe; why not also observe the youth? He did find it unusual, however; he didn't see many L1z1x children.  Why was this one out and following him if it was not connected to the Mindnet?  Why did he leave so quickly when being asked simply what his purpose was?  Was it possible the child still had hints of emotion left within him? These questions continued to burn at his mind, but he knew there was still much observation to be done.  He would be returning to Mecatol Rex soon, and needed his report to be as thorough as possible.  For now, he would just wait and observe while the L1Z1X continued to make preparations for their plans.

:: END OF CHAPTER 1 ::
:: PROLOGUE :: CHAPTER 1 :: CHAPTER 2 :: CHAPTER 3 :: CHAPTER 4 ::