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Admiral Breetai

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  1. Admiral Breetai

    Conquest of Paradise

    John Rolfe; El visionario agradecido Those who aim at great deeds must also suffer greatly. - Plutarch; attributed to Marcus Crassus. December 24th 2040 Liberty Island New York City ....................................... They exited to cheers and fanfare, something Boone was never comfortable with and Captain Marquette handled with the grace of a born politician. There were people from all over the world cheering, raising banners with flags, many from nations that didn’t even exist anymore. Boone did his best polite wave and quickly made his way down from the landing platform and hurried towards the other cops, Federal agents and Protectors, Marquette rushing down behind him, having stopped to give a quick shout to the crowd. “How are your kids anyway?” “Not so much kids anymore!” Marquette smiled she was a grandmother now, but that was a common thing now. In the wake of the war most people were having children, there was a feeling of emptiness in a world where two billion people were wiped off the map. It helped that a lot of the corporations left in the world were paying people bonuses for raising families. It helped that the Companions also encouraged this and the world seemed to march in lockstep with their council. Ahead of them, a dozen members of SWAT stood at attention, both as honor guards and as an extra layer of protection. Boone wanted another thirty-armed officer’s present, but he was overruled. Thunder roared above them and Boone looked up, his eyes filled with alarm for a brief second until he saw that familiar wave of colors as a deluge of energy released and one of the grub shaped shuttles flew out seemingly nothingness, the crowd gasped. It took a buzz of the Island, circling once before landing to loud cheers from the crowd. The “front” warped, and a young woman exited the vehicle first, she was roughly thirty-six, though she looked closer to twenty. She had long golden-brown hair and copper colored skin, eyes that were an unnatural indigo and cold as ice. A cute face that wasn’t quite Asian, wasn’t quite Latin and wasn’t quite anything completed the look. Boone’s eyebrows arched slightly, he recognized that woman, he knew that woman! “Sandoval?!” his eyes flickered with shock. He met her during the fall of Shanghai, a child soldier in “Colonel” Liam Kincaid’s militia. The controversial “orphan” regiment became something of a topic among certain musical genres and some silly E-drama was made about their lives. His kids watched the show and always asked if it was accurate, he didn’t know, he’d only fought beside them once. Child soldiers and PMC’s always disgusted him, and Kincaid’s orphans were both. One thing was for sure, the show didn’t feature Elena Sandoval as per the woman’s request among other reasons. Exiting behind Sandoval was the tall, gaunt man with hard green eyes and thick white hair. Johnathan Doors, the man who “broke Silicon Valley” (which was a whole level of incorrect, Doors didn't just break it, he collapsed the entire economy of California out of a personal vendetta while he did it.). He’d started as a kid, working under the table for his uncle in a RadioShack in the early eighties and by nineteen eighty-eight he built a company that serviced powerlines and cables. From there, it was satellite communications, then logistics for mining. While Gates cornered the market on software and Apple fought Dell and Packer and IBM for domination of hardware in the nineteen nineties, Doors international was investing in mining, biosciences, medical equipment production and by the dawn of the twenty first century? Nuclear power. Then he moved into the “smartphone” market, then software, then into social media and everywhere he went, he came out on top. He made hundreds of billions while companies crashed and burned, when the world itself burned his experimental med tech saved over a billion lives. He was a success story, the worlds first trillionaire. A philanthropist, pioneer, prophet, the father of two deceased war heroes and three living ones. Doors didn’t care about class, race, politics, nothing. All he cared about was “opening doors, the world over”, both literally and metaphorically. There were Doors international facilities in every surviving nation on earth and beyond. To Boone, who knew him because his wife was one of his lawyers, Doors was the smartest (and meanest) Wolf in the forest. The crowd cheered, he waved but the cheering died into a reverent silence as the next passenger exited the shuttle. Tall, androgynous and bald, possessing pasty, almost beige skin that seemed somewhat scale-like and silver-blue eyes, he, she? It? Was adorned in a purple skin suit, that shimmered and glowed, flowing with what Boone always thought were some sort of space LED’s but apparently, they were a food source? The being walked slowly, its pace almost flowing. Its hands moved, almost in a ritualistic like dancing gesture, its head quirked in a way that was at once human and at once disturbingly uncanny. Natural and unnatural all at once, the coloring of its suit he would later learn denoted the fact that it was once a legendary War Master who abandoned carnage to pursue diplomacy and “to continue politics by gentler means, discovering the path to peace if I am blessed”. Da’an, the American companion and the first extraterrestrial lifeform the world had never seen. He was a harbinger of peace, a deliverer, a savior, a god like entity from the stars who spoke the first alien words ever heard. Then again, the Aztec’s thought thusly of Hernan Cortez. As it edged closer to the podium the crowd was tense, hanging on its every gesture. When it finally reached the podium, its hands twitched for the last time and it spoke, a rolling, hissing, whispery, emotional language. “Ah’ya’arahama Vyyyaasshhh’vyyyleeeeee” Whether intended or not, it sounded like a prayer. “I speak to you on this monumental day as I did ten of your years ago, in my native tongue. For there is no proper sequence of words in your languages to convey the intensity of the pride and humility that we Taelons feel as we observe the progress our two species have made together”. The crowd remained silent, hanging on every word, many nodding in unison. Boone edged closer to the podium, his instincts telling him to pay attention, telling him that nothing this monotonous was ever safe. Something was going to explode, he didn’t know what, nor did he know why. But William Boone’s instincts were never, ever wrong. An Island away a man pulled a small box about the size of an old gaming console out of the bag, a press of a button caused the cube to disassemble, coming apart into dozens of smaller tiles and then reorganizing itself into a long barreled rifle with a sophisticated scope, a visual of the target projected into the lawyer turned vagrant’s eyes. -I see you, sky demon, speaking in your demon tongue-, he leaned forward, butt placed firmly against his shoulder, finger on the trigger. “As easy as shooting an airsoft” the man said, it was, the gun was supposed to be a handheld artillery cannon. He’d always been a big supporter of the second amendment, the Sky Demons were as well. That was one more thing he loved that they robbed from him, his enthusiasm for firearms and firearm advocacy. He had to sell his collection before the war just to pay attorney’s fees for all the good that did him, he promised he’d buy them back but that never happened. One more personal defeat inflicted by those repellent bastards. “Sky Demons” he muttered in a hate filled voice. An island away, a being from the stars continued its speech. “When we first came to your world, a decade ago, we saw the scars from your horrendous conflict from space, we felt across the psychic void of mind-space the myriad deaths. We perceived the exhaustion in the air, the degradation not just of humanity’s cradle but of your noble spirits as well. In time, we learned of the calamitous social strife that contributed to your global conflict, we felt the yearning of your souls and came bringing with us understanding and hope.” The crowd erupted in cheers of gratitude calls of thanksgiving and prayers of well wishes. The Companion continued “In the intervening years between then and now, our two species have restored your atmosphere. Your forests which burned so in wars, are flourishing and green again and though much of Asia and Europe still lie in ruin our efforts have returned life the coast of what was once the ancient nation of China. We have been touched by the perseverance of your species, we have been inspired by your acceptance of our people into your lives and gratified by your friendship” As the alien spoke, Boone couldn’t help but notice the oscillation of the light patterns on its chest, it seemed as though they were congealing towards a certain point? Was that his pulse? No, Boone thought, those lights were supposed to be a feeding system but the more he observed the more he realized they were so much more. They reacted to the sun itself, feeding on the UV rays as Da’an stepped out of the shuttle, were they reacted to another light source now? Something in the old soldier’s instincts kicked in and he bolted forward, he barely had time to notice that Johnathan Doors had already grabbed the Companion and pulled it from the mic stand. There was a flash, a crack of thunder and William Boone’s world went black.
  2. Admiral Breetai

    Conquest of Paradise

    Martin Alonzo Pinzon: La Navegadora Confiada. Apó ta cheíli tou ta révmata ton léxeon étrechan pio glyká apó to méli - The Iliad. ………………. “That doesn’t look so bad” Boone conceded as the “bugs” bulbous head like front seemed to warp open, revealing six rather spacious chairs and spots for a dozen other people to stand. The seating arrangement and the seatbelts themselves did indeed like something out of a classic luxury car. “huh, whaddya know, Profacci got something right for once” “Oh I designed the layout with people like him in mind, in the early days of the Agency we were ferrying people all over the world for our “Second Genesis project”. I argued that comfort was essential, especially when a pilot was stuck in a cockpit sometimes twenty hours straight” She gestured one of her pale hands out towards the expansive back “For cargo, but also because we can put this baby on cruise control and stretch our legs” “So, it can pilot itself?” “Not really” Marquette answered “These things are a bit like elephants, they need a leader and they need a “herd” they get, sick when pilots aren’t steering them, or when they aren’t used very often or they're alone for too long. It's why we don't allow people to buy them solo.” The look in Boone’s eyes made her laugh “There are drawbacks to biomechanical type tech, I’ll admit. The ships sing to you too! Sometimes, it responds to its primary pilots “smoother” as well. I mean it’ll always obey but it’s sort of...I dunno” “Like a service dog?” Boone asked with a raised eyebrow and she nodded. “sort of, they’re about as smart as dogs too.” Suddenly, Boone didn’t want to sit down. Captain Marquette laughed again and punched his shoulder “If you don’t behave, you’re going to offend my ship and then he’ll misbehave” “He?” She shrugged “He reminds me of a mastiff I had as a kid, big boy, very dense but loyal and didn’t need much in the direction. He knew what you wanted him to do, Badger is the same way” Badger, right. Of course she named him Badger. As Boone took a seat, found the chair began to “shift” to accommodate for his seating needs and the man raised an eyebrow at that. “Really?” Marquette laughed again and Boone let out an annoyed sigh, fine, he’ll man up and put up with “Badger”. As the “front” warped back into place, covering them in a frontal mirror which shimmered into being as the shuttle’s carapace shifted its make up to allow for a viewing port as a series of holographic controls appeared and Marquette reached up and flicked a few different switches. “Universal layout, designed it myself.” Boone nodded slowly, if flyboys could understand this stuff that was cool, to him it just looked like a bunch of glowing lights. “So, what’s a General’s equivalent doing ferrying around a street cop?” Boone asked, trying to take his mind off the fact that the vessel was now off the ground fully and taking to the air, New York City resting below them now. New buildings rising from the ground denoting where the BDLC or Antifa turned whole sections of the financial district into smoldering ruins in their insane little gang war. It was easy to see why everyone loved the Companions, when they came mankind was on the verge of destroying itself. In ten short years, much of the environmental damage was reversed, cities that were ruins began to live again. Even the eco-system began to thrive in ways it hadn’t in a long time. Marquette, allowed the shuttle to hover in the air, suspended above the city for a bit before she turned the shuttle towards the harbor. “I wanted to pick you up myself when I’d heard the big guy asked for you. Besides, I like flying.” She was chipper as always, that sunniness had seen her through a fight behind enemy lines, a two-week march through the ruins of the Chinese countryside until they’d found her and then another nine days through the darker parts. Boone dusted off his father’s old bible, in memory if not literally and he did so to help keep his men from losing it as they passed through small towns where people had taken to eating each other. Boone secretly thought it was her disposition that carried them through the ordeal, her pranks and lighthearted teasing of him. “Benefits of their antiaging drugs?” he finally asked, breaking the silence with a deliberately awkward question that had her roaring with laughter. “Damn preacher, you know just what to say to a lady huh?” “S’what my wife tells me, she’s got me on the pills too” he grumbled that last bit out as if to say -damnit I’m not old- “Better to start taking them young and yes, members of the protection agency were the guinea pigs, I was actually a good deal older physically. Rad sickness didn’t help there. Too bad they didn’t come a few years earlier; I would have liked to have had another baby” He remembered her grumbling about that, Lily was one of seven siblings, but she’d only been a mother of two. Lily was probably chronologically approaching sixty, but she looked about his age. “gray streaks an aesthetic now?” The woman shook her head grinning “Naw, I’ve had them since I was twenty or so, family thing” “Funny, I don’t remember them when we walked through China” She barked out a laugh “That’s because I was covered in mud and dirt you tool” “Fair enough” Boone laughed. Finally letting himself relax, flying in “Badger” wasn’t so bad. Or so he told himself as they began their approach of the Statue of Liberty. Boone was still honored Marquette asked to be the one to retrieve him, someone of her rank should have been ferrying one of the Companions, not him. Companions, Boone allowed the word to roll about in his head. It was so benign; of everything they could have referred to themselves as. That was one of the reasons why he didn’t embrace the skepticism of some of his CI’s and friends in city hall. But it was also why he shared his wife’s reluctance to embrace them fully, as a family the Boones didn’t idolize them, not the way so many did. In his experience, the experience of so many who lived through the violent social upheaval of the early twenty first century knew well enough that those who smiled and talked of common good could be just as evil as the loud mouthed bigot, or more so. Things that smiled with a smile that never quite reached the eyes always bothered William Boone more than a smirk or a contemptuous sneer.
  3. Admiral Breetai

    Conquest of Paradise

    Adrian De Moxica: El visionario resentido. Ellis Island New York City: December 24th, 2040 “Merry Christmas” “Merry Christmas” “Merry Christmas” Godless heathens, they only said that because of the sky demons. He walked through the main registration hall, hands in his pockets, noticing the hundreds who’d packed into a building that had once served as a processing center for poor, destitute and lost. Those seeking a new life, those seeking a new world, those he’d been told his entire childhood and adolescence came here in hope only to have that hope dashed against a wall as foremen chained them to the press of exploitation. A couple passed him, he recognized the wife, in her youth she was a trans rights activist who’d been born Dianna but insisted on being called Darren. She’d taken, the hormones, grown the beard, cut her breasts off and was pivotal in pushing the “Parental compliance act” of 2022. The fallout from that legislative decision was almost as bad as the war itself. Reflexively, his left hand moved from his pocket and he reached up to scratch his shoulder, it itched again. Where the prosthetic met the flesh, it always itched. -One less thing to worry about after today- the man thought. “Merry Christmas” the woman, who once had been a woman pretending to be a man said. Funny, he remembers her wanting to criminalize that very phrase, arguing the first amendment didn’t apply when a public health concern overrode individual liberties. The sky demons must have fixed her, they’d fixed tens of thousands who’d been either pressured into transitioning during the “March forward” or groomed into it, or who’d had their bodies ravaged by the hormone drugs and surgeries and desperately wanted to feel “right” inside again.. She didn’t remember him, they never did. Or maybe she didn’t recognize him? They never do anymore, granted he looked very different now. Gaunt, feral, a near ash colored beard on a once clean-shaven face. Circles around his eyes black enough for him to be confused for a bandit from an old timey cartoon. Sometimes, he could see a glimmer of recognition in their eyes and then a hasty movement of said eyes to look away, to pretend like they didn’t recognize him. She’d changed too, in that she looked healthy, rejuvenated, she got her missing bits back. Ten or twenty years ago, he might have seen that as a good thing, as a form of deliverance. Hell, he had seen it that way! But then he noticed the signs, he began to study his scripture again. And he realized, they weren’t angels at all, and this false deliverance was merely the forfeiture of will, not its resurrection. Twenty years ago, he defended a little girl in court who murdered her lesbian parents because they were convinced, she was really “an egg about to hatch into the son they always knew she was”. One of them was a woman, who also, thought she was a man, she was also an anarcho-Satanist or a Neo-Pagan Communist or some such nonsense. The girl in a panic, slashed her “father’s” throat and set fire to the house. In the chaos her baby brother was burned alive along with her other mother. A once prestigious attorney, Nathaniel Sykes took the case (despite how frighteningly cold the girls’ eyes were). Because he firmly, ardently believed in free will, he fought for it during that trial. Ate a bullet for it after he got his client acquitted, he marched in the free speech riots and was disbarred for punching a police officer at a rally. When the US finally joined the war, he enlisted because he wanted to continue that fight badly and, because by that point his livelihood dried up. He still remembered the look on the recruiter’s face when he showed up, gramps; his DI’s called him. He wasn’t that old, only forty-five. He was almost sixty now, he might have been a grandfather, he wasn’t sure. The Sky demons took his children from him too, he’d given his life to the fight and lost an arm in the service but when the war ended, only the new heroes were honored. Only those, decreed from on high by the Sky Demons, those who bowed and smiled and pretended their supposed personal revelations were genuine and came from the human condition, the soul. Or those too ignorant to realize they were being manipulated, those puppets, the ignorant ones whom he could forgive for knowing not what they were doing. They still had to be martyred though, they still had to be sacrificed so. The veil needed to be lifted from mankind, they needed to see, and he would make them see. Cherry Christmas would be his funeral dirge, Moving towards a maintenance closet the man picked up what would have looked like a harmless suitcase, he’d taken it up. Someone smiled pleasantly at him, dressed in gray, the Companion “adepts” those wastrels, former atheists or former fanatics of one religion or another who’d found a “spiritual awakening” in these idols. This would be done, it had to be done, his chest hurt again, that was okay too. There was poetry in that, a man with a broken heart, breaking the hearts of so many. Once upstairs, the upper levels were indeed vacant, as the man promised they would be! Good, Sykes had been terribly anxious all the way up. There was even a nice, comfy chair prepared for him that would allow him to sit while he waited. Not that he’d be waiting very long, the ceremony was only a half hour away from beginning! A merry Christmas indeed.
  4. Admiral Breetai

    Conquest of Paradise

    So, I started this story, being partially inspired by the reboot trend and also having been a fan of Earth final conflict. I always felt the driving force behind EFC wasn't so much the sci fi element, but the intrigue, the implied lore and the seemingly enigmatic and Machiavellian nature of the Taelons. As a result, this story will be an ode...to the wondrous characters of the first and second season. Standard disclaimer applies, I own none of this, Roddenberry estate and the now defunct Tribune entertainment...yadda, yadda, yadda. Chapter One: Francisco de Bobadilla Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes – Virgil December 24th, 2040 New York City. Parade duty, Detective William “Billy” Boone thought to himself. Combat Veteran (then again so were three quarters of the cops on payroll), “Hero of the SI war” (Indo-Asian Theatre of the third world war). Trained in counter terrorism, criminal profiling, and a survivor of the “Siege of Beijing and the best damn detective in the NYPD but here he was, on parade duty. At least, that’s what he thought it was when the Protection Agency called Chief Pierce and asked (Re: demanded), Detective Boone take over security duty for the anniversary parade slash “grand speech”. It had to be parade duty, who the hell would try and assassinate one of them? In the ten years since they’d ended the Third World War with their arrival, they’d all but been deified. Ten years, had it really been that long? Boone felt old (which was odd, given companion tech had been able produce a whole generation of centenarians who were hitting the gym like they were twenty somethings), but then again maybe that was the true downside to surviving a calamitous war? Society changed so much that forty-seven (which was supposedly the new twenty) felt like eighty-seven? The baby boom certainly did make him feel old, he’d gone from a man who dabbled in anti-natalist nonsense in his adolescence to having four sons with a woman ten years his junior. But then again, a war that causes the death of two billion people has a nasty habit of snapping one out of youthful arrogance. Above him, an immense holographic projection with the odd, baby green and purple infinity symbol of Doors International manifested a tall, gaunt man in his seventies who began to speak about the wonders of the Doors data sheet. A plastic monstrosity that was paper thin and slowly replacing tablets (Funny, he remembered before the war how tablets were supposed to be replaced with holotabs). Boone used one at work, it was basically a supercomputer you could roll up and swat at your dogs’ nose with. It was also adaptive when it came to viruses and trojans and it made the cyber division of law enforcement seethe as the damn things had the unfortunate side effect of making electronic surveillance a nightmare. Old, old enough to remember the financial collapse of 07, old enough to remember his daddy’s church shuttering because the Coal plants were shut down and some dismissive loudmouthed politician who claimed to speak for “his community” told them all to learn to code. He didn’t say that, but he may as well have. Old enough to remember the, “secular cultist” nonsense and madness masquerading as social progress (And to have taken part in it), old enough to remember the consequences of such sanctimony and old enough to have been there and seen it. It all changed when they came. Which brought him back to the present, walking from one police plaza, hot dog happily in hand. Towards an elevated area raised a few dozen feet from the parking lot attached to a stairwell which looked like it had been “grown” out of the asphalt (It probably was). The new helipad for the rapid response units and, for the three purple and blue vehicles which rested seemingly floating an inch or so off the smooth plastic-steel alloy of the pad’s floor, those things were amazing. Affectionately called “grubs” since they sort of looked like a cross between a common house fly and larva, they were the shuttles used by the brass to get around city, to city, continent to continent for conferences or inter-continental law enforcement “operations”. Which was City Hall speak for “Our best Detective’s slum it in rat motels in another country while we get shitfaced in gentlemen’s clubs and look at us mystified when we tell them they’re jackals” the more things changed. Damn bug ships, Boone once said he’d rather row across the ocean like that little activist spaz claimed she’d done rather then get up in something that raped the laws of physics as a means of conveyance. Naturally, the third one was for him and Detective William Boone did his best not to eat his hot dog for a second time at the thought... Ahead of him, two uniformed Cops in their fifties were laughing and talking, Williams and Profacci “big and bigger” as they were called in the office. Who loomed like human zeppelins in front of him and were probably on their fifth lunch? Boone shook his head, five years ago Profacci was on the verge of liver failure due to his enormous weight. He’d been arthritic and suffered serious damage to his knees, had been riding a desk too. The technology they “gave” mankind, not only reversed his liver damage but ensured he now possessed the arteries, heart and cartilage of a man in the prime of his youth. So naturally Profacci lost just enough weight to qualify for street duty again and Williams soon followed. “Ey! Billy boy!” Williams called, laughter in his voice. “You’re really gonna ride in that thing?” “Fastest way to get to Liberty Island.” Boone muttered, doing his best to sound like he wasn’t being asked to commit suicide by jumping in a living, bug monster that zoomed across the stars. “Ah, they ain’t so bad” Profacci said with a shit eating grin “I rode in one once, it was really smooth, like driving an antique Caddy, one of those DeVille models” “Bullshit Profacci” Boone muttered. “As if you could fit in either” all three men laughed and Profacci slapped Boone on the shoulder “Boys I think he’s turning white! That’s quite a feat given ya look like Wesley Snipes” He did, Boone realized, which was amusing because his father was a sharecroppers son by a Cherokee-Irish mother even though his paternal grandfather came from freedmen stock and Boone’s own mom (and most of his sisters for that matter) looked like she belonged in a sword and sandal drama about the Roman conquest of Britain even though they were Haitian. He also realized; he was probably turning as white as his mom because he felt like he wanted to throw himself off the Chrysler building rather than jump aboard one of those damn things. “I heard they move seventy percent the speed of light” Boone griped “Its bad enough driving around with my wife in her Porsche” Boone, hated, hated speed. “Speaking of that, Rose got clocked doing 101 in that thing upstate, a new record” Offff ccouuurrsseee…Boone thought. “You big wuss! The damn things can’t go that fast, it’s impossible we’d get turned into soup” Williams lectured, as if he’d been piloting those flying maggots since he’d learned to walk. “Besides, wouldn’t the atmosphere catch on fire or something?” “Yes, it totally can reach those speeds and no, it wouldn’t do either of those things because of the negation fields around my handsome boy!” The sing-song voice took the three men off guard and both turned towards a tall woman with pale skin and the blackest pair of eyes Big and Bigger had ever seen. She wore an old-world war one style bomber jacket over the black and silver uniforms of the Protection agency officers and a badge signifying her current Rank (and below it, her former Air Force Rank). Her dark black hair was in a ponytail and it trailed down to her rear, it had some streaks of charcoal gray, the only thing that really defined her age. “Major?” Boone asked, surprised to see the woman not only alive but looking about the same as the last time he’d seen her some twelve years ago. Lily Marquette, the first female fighter pilot to make “ace in a day” and a double ace at that, during her first combat mission in the war. “Captain now” she grinned “oh? They demoted you” she laughed “more like a promotion really. Captains in their military are like Generals in ours. Well, the closest thing they have to a Captain any way” she explained giving the Detective a hug “Been awhile Preacher” “Preacher?!” Profacci asked with an amused smile. “It’s what I called him during the war. See Bill here, he rescued me from behind enemy lines when a transport I was in got shot down” her eyes sparkled with mischief when Boone muttered the oft repeated “shoulda let her fly the thing”. “Boone here’s a preacher’s son and apparently he flirted with not liking god for awhile and then found ‘em again during the war” “He didn’t?” “Preached to me the whole time his unit marched me back? Yeah, he did but it was sweet. It kept us inspired, especially when it came too messing with him” Both of the cops howled with laughter as Captain Marquette led Boone away towards the stairs. “Don’t worry, we won’t go above two hundred miles an hour I promise” she whispered causing the man’s eyes to go wide.
  5. Admiral Breetai

    Star Wars resistance discussion

    This show is an abomination...it physically hurts to watch.
  6. Admiral Breetai

    The Tides of History

    What I remember most about the first two years of the war was a feeling of godhood, we couldn't be stopped. Even when we lost the Starkillerbase, when those terrorists destroyed The Supremacy and murdered our Supreme Leader all we felt was rage, rage and a sense of power. We were an army of light fighting against the dark to liberate a galaxy from corruption and evil. Then we met the devil...there was fear in the halls of the gods then" - Jedi Master Brysseara "Bryss the hound/Bryss the bitch" Of the house of Kor. 2465 …………….. Ord Trasi – The Galaxy “We lost the Supremacy?! What?! When?!” TR-785 nicknamed “baby face” by the older soldier’s in his regiment. Not that they were truly much older, ‘785 had just turned nineteen but he doubted the oldest trooper in the fifth corps was a day over twenty-seven. All save General Tyrek Haskel’s inner core, the men and women of the old fighting one hundred and seventh Imperial Storm Trooper legion who were all battle hardened warriors and elite soldiers, all old enough to be their fathers and in the case of Joker, their grandfather. Baby face grew up on the supremacy, he’d spent his childhood running through its cavernous halls, attending lessons in the numerous education facilities and listening to the daily information service briefings about the corrupt and weak Republic, its crushing poverty and horrific misery. When they weren’t enmeshed in drills and conditioning, routine or rack time anyway. Two years ago, ‘785’s unit had been transferred to the fifth, which comprised mostly of “mud footers”, soldiers who had grown up either within the vast halls of the Starkiller base, or one of the dozen or so planetary training academies of the First Order. It was different, it was varied, it was diversity, each trooper with their own ways and traditions clashing at times while more oft than not being a source of friendly competition and stories. All things ‘785 grew up being told were an anathema to a proper, functioning government. Then again, over the last two years of warfare, ‘785 realized, much of what the first order had said was wrong, or at least embellished. Ord Trasi itself was a thing he could scarce imagine existing in the vast cosmic ghetto of the Republic that he’d been taught about in those education centers. A verdant, green planet, with vast healthy oceans teaming with life and orbital rings that were immense foundries, factories and assembly yards. The wealth in food and resources of this world alone, beggared the imagination and if the Republic was so resource poor and weak, he wondered why in every planetary liberation he’d participated in were they outnumbered nine to one. Sure, the equipment was inferior in terms of technology, but they had so much of it and the picket forces defending this sector outnumbered the entire fifth fleet twenty to one. They still lost though, the First Order’s Navy rolled over the pathetic security forces and militias that attempted to organize into a proper fleet in a matter of days. Technologically, they just weren’t up snuff, the First Order wasn’t pretty to look at (some of the vessels he saw in the first battles were absolutely beautiful), but its armor was thicker, its shield tech recharged at a faster rate and unlike the Republic, the first order understood, turbo lasers were for reinforcing ion weaponry and missiles. First order Star dreadnaughts exited hyperspace and saturated the heavens with more missiles than any Republic vessel they’d encountered knew what to do with and the meager volunteer forces that defended planets were usually cut to ribbons by troops who’d been training and preparing for a war their entire lives. They fought better and had better toys, but the resources? ‘785 was no technician, he was no engineer and certainly not a master of the force. He had no idea how the first order did it, fed them all beyond that they had some sort of resequencing and replication technology based off the wreckage of a vessel they’d found in deep space. He knew this technology was used to bolster their industry as well (though it had a great deal of limitations in that regard), he knew that without this technology they’d all likely starve. But here? The first time he’d ever seen a farm had been on a “minor agro world” and at once he knew intuitively that the stories of the Second Galactic Republic being riddled with starvation and hunger were all lies. A realization, ‘785 though ruefully, that had shattered some of their men who either mutinied or, worse put blaster bolts to their heads upon learning their entire lives were driven by lies. For ‘785, it didn’t make him feel anything but hunger! All this wealth, all this potential in the hands of self-indulgent, corrupt rabble. That thought, enraged ‘785 more than the lies and the propaganda did, it galvanized him and the men of the fifth. Traitors and fools killed themselves, animals, mindless brutes and hedonistic opportunists like that butcher “Finn” who helped destroy the Supremacy and the Starkiller base infuriated him more than anything. None deserved quarter, none deserved mercy and the Storm Troopers of the First Order deserved all of this. The news of the Supremacy’s fall filled his blood with rage. “how many were aboard when it went down?” he murmured; the answer paled his skin. Six million, so the vessel was loaded down, overburdened, transporting trumps when Admiral Akbar rammed the vessel and split it in half? “How many survived” Admiral Ackbar, the butcher of Endor, the tyrant of Mon Calamari. The only good thing that could be said about him was that he was now dead and with him the only threat to First Order Ascendancy. Oh sure, there was that maniac purple haired bitch in the Expansion region, who seemed to be able to hold off one of their most prestigious fleets and that senile former Grand Admiral who was supposedly organizing hit and run raids into their newly acquired territories in the inner rim, but none of them had fought and defeated the vaunted imperial forces of old, none had participated in the slaughter of the Emperor and half his legendary Grand Admirals, one had just endured long after his time should have come. He was the only threat, or so General Armitage Hux had always insisted. In this, ‘785 had no cause to doubt him as experience over the last two years suggested that even when their enemies had every possible advantage in their favor, they still fell like wheat being reaped by an industrial scythe. “We gave as good as we got though, General Hux and Kylo Ren stormed the planet they hid on and slew Luke Skywalker in battle and then butchered nearly all the rebel scum” LS-997 nicknamed oak, due to his monstrous size and the fact that there were times when one wondered if the dark skinned behemoth of a man even needed armor, ‘785 saw him take a blaster bolt to the side only to charge the man doing the firing and twist his head off in a rage. Oak hadn’t even needed time in a bacta tank after that, just a med patch and some tissue regeneration pills. One of the other troopers set a hand on his shoulder pads and despite himself ‘785 was grateful for the gesture. As gratifying as the news was, he’d lost his home and the younger cadets he knew from childhood. A feeling, every Storm trooper who grew up on Starkiller knew all too well. “Would you like us to talk to the Duty Sergeant and ask her to assign us some extra work?” ‘785’s blue eyes widened “Look brother, we grieve with you as a unit, none of us mind ending shore leave early so we can keep you company”. ‘785 smiled shaking his head “No, thank you brother, besides I kind of like being here in the capital, we get more intel on the goings on in the war and its better than the monotony of pacification duty” this made everyone groan and sigh and long for the fifth to be transferred off “consolidation and occupation” duty to the front lines. Fighting a war was glorious, they’d been trained to do that their entire lives and it was a thrilling experience, but holding occupied territory, the mundane, business of conquest was exhausting, tedious and involved way more politics and bribery than he would have liked. “I guess this is why the Galactic Empire had the Imperial Storm Trooper legions and the Regular Army huh? One for the hard fighting and one for the ruling” “Tell me about it!” LS-1027 known as Hound muttered in a voice that sounded more like the whining teenaged girl, she might have been had she been raised in Republic space. “Joker says that the Council is considering the levying of a regular army once we’ve occupied enough of the outer rim territories.” “Is that safe?” Oak queried which got a shrug from Hound “They say the Outer Rim is pretty much fed up with the Republic, The Empire at least ignored them from what I hear but both Republics allowed them to be pillaged and exploited and they’ve never really had structure or order, they’re receptive to us” “Makes sense” Oak conceded, they’d been conquering the Outer Rim for about a year now and more planets surrendered willingly than put up a fight, they’d been cheered more times than they’d met resistance. Damn, that part had always been disappointing, he liked a good fight and then found himself grinning “Regular army means no pacification duty, maybe they’ll even send us into the unknown regions! I hear General Hux has been pushing to conquer the Chiss Ascendancy for the last year and a half” Hound whistled as she took a seat on a crate of ammo, her platinum blond hair falling about her shoulders as she pulled off her helmet and then reached into her ration pack for some liquid. “The unknown regions and all the spooky legends out there, I wonder if we’ll find a new order of force users” “I hope we don’t” ‘785 muttered “Because then the Knights of Ren would be called in, we’d be no match for then” “Nonsense! Mandalorians killed thousands of force users and they’re undisciplined rabble, I heard the tenth order tore through a few clans in the Mid Rim! Speaking of spooky, you think those lizard men we killed came from the Unknown regions?” she asked with a frown. ‘785 suppressed a shudder, those things…With their built-in stealth fields and their odd pikes and those weird blasters that made you bleed and bleed. Two of his unit mates had been killed, one was split in half by a powerful blow and it had taken twice their number to subdue. Supposedly, ‘785 had been on pacification duty when it all happened, but he’d seen the corpses, they were savage looking, tall, broad shouldered and wore a stylized purple armor that reminded him of a serpents scale. There were only seven of them, they had been protecting some weird container when they were ambushed, had been guarding it with an almost, reverence. The story was weird and it was in complete, once the bodies were brought to the old civic center (which had doubled as their processing and medical center since they arrived) General Haskel had ordered no new information to be released on anything involving the odd bodies and the mysterious golden ooze that was allegedly within the container. “Don’t know” Oak muttered “But when ‘975 touched the liquid it supposedly turned into gas and entered his lungs.” “woah” Hound muttered, 975 had been placed in medical quarantine within Haskel’s forward base of operations, the capital building whose steps they’d all been haunting. Allegedly the Trooper was fine and had shown no signs of any kind of bacterial or viral infection, no chemical damage to the cells nor radiation and many believed he would soon be released to active duty. “Maybe we should go visit him?” “No new intel remember?” Oak barked “Yeah but...” Hound paused, she could be adorable when she whined, and it made ‘785 forget how young she really was. Hound was approaching sixteen and was just barely under the normal age for active duty in combat. However, at 14 she had been given special dispensation to enter the fray, being force sensitive enough that it enhanced her reflexes and her strength even if she wasn’t yet strong enough to join the Knights of Ren, she was deemed useful to the war effort and the combat experience would make her useful to the new Supreme Leader when the time came. She’d become the unit’s mascot, her tenacity and unrelenting perception earning her comparisons to a Mandalorian hunting hound, earning her the name and respect of her fellow soldiers. She’d become like their little sister; familiar bonds were supposed to be discouraged but war changed a lot of things and made for the toleration of others. “Worried about him Hound?” ‘785 queried which got him a nod “Hey! Maybe we can use that then? I mean, the one with the force is “worried” after all?” “I’m not force worried, well okay…Maybe I am” “What do you mean child?” Everyone turned to see a man in his late seventies, tall and martinet, spotless in his first orders uniform, his leather overcoat resting on shoulders that were still robust even in old age, a saber made of Song steel rested at his waist, a saber that was said to have challenged Luke Skywalkers Lightsaber in a duel thirty years ago. Everyone moved to stand at attention but General Haskel waved them off a look of urgency in his greyish blue eyes that caused Hound to look away “Well sir its nothing” “A soldiers’ instincts are hardly nothing child, especially a force users. Tell me what you sense?” She swallowed a look of shame passing over her face “I am sorry I didn’t say anything, I didn’t kno-“ “It’s fine child, tell me now..” “well, like a twinge in the back of my neck, anxiety? I can feel, anger, hate but it’s different, it’s hard to read, I thought I was just mad at the lizard people though!” “Hatred? You feel hatred coming from 975?” “No, yes, maybe, I don’t know, from inside him?” Haskel gripped her shoulders “Hound!” He whipped around with grim frenzy “Oak, Baby face to me now!” his voice cracked like thunder and he stormed off towards the interior of the facility, at a speed no old person should be able to make. Barking orders at any Trooper lazing about, followed by three very confused kids. ………………. "This is the first cornerstone not just of the first Federation built, building in the Andromeda Galaxy, but its first city. Let it stand as a source of inspiration, for us, for our children, and their children, for their heirs stretching in an unbroken line for the next half million years! Let it serve as a beacon, to light the way for our brothers and sisters in our home stars, let it guide them to a new life, a new way. Let it be for them a shining city on a hill, let it be the bastion that holds the line against the night"- Admiral Molly O'Brien, Omelos Andromeda Galaxy as recorded in Tales of the First Highgaurd Base of operations Ocampa orbit “So, let me get this straight. You want to send a fleet of one hundred and seventy starships, some of which will be our most advanced ships in the fleet and others retrofits and upgraded antiques into a wormhole that will dump them into a hostile galaxy in another galactic cluster?” “yes” Ruiz answered, straight faced and seemingly oblivious. “off the map no less” “Yes” John Rainbird answered, though his voice was clenched, apparently, he understood the significance and risk. “Commanded by Section 31” “This decision wasn’t an easy one to make Captain O’Brien” Fleet Admiral Akaar interjected his jaws clenched “Especially given the extenuating factors” No, you think?! O’Brien almost snapped, a hostile galaxy to chase after the Dominion which had evidently marshalled nearly all of their remaining forces and spent the last half decade heavily modifying them based off of stolen Federation tech. Who then proceeded to send an unknown number of these modified vessels into this galaxy to what purpose she could not say, though she dared to hazard a guess? “We’re not in the business of Empire building last I checked” “Funny” The Al-Aurian cut in “Is not your attaché here a former Romulan citizen?” “That’s different” Molly nearly answered before forcing herself to stop. “The Romulans joined us willing” She began “What you’re proposing is….To set up colonies in someone else’s backyard to convince the locals to join up and that…Violates the prime directive” “Not entirely” Akaar remarked with a sigh which caused Ruiz to laugh “No disrespect meant Fleet Admiral but I do find it odd the reluctance in your voice when we both know what will come of this if we do not act” Rising, the snake Admiral walked forwards the windows which suddenly morphed into a holographic display of the Galaxy as it was, and O’Brien blinked as she gazed at the vast sea of green and blue and purple. The purple shocked her the most. The Federation had grown in size, nearly doubling since the return of Voyager, when it had been determined that the Borg fell, dying nearly to the last from whatever plague the alternate Janeway had unleashed on them, both the Federation and the Klingon Empire had commenced a grave robbing spree that saw their technology advance nearly three centuries, the ruins of ancient powers they’d found out there and friendly relations with the Voth had ensured the Federation became the dominant technological hyperpower in the galaxy. But the Klingons weren’t that far behind, not in technology and not in size. “If you combine our assets in the Delta, Beta and Alpha Quadrants, spread out as they may be the Klingon Empire and the Federation span roughly seventeen thousand lightyears, contain eleven trillion sentients put together spread out over twenty thousand planets” The purple matched both stellar nations combined and then some “you’re saying the Dominion now control almost eighty percent of the Entire Gama Quadrant?” “No, I’m saying it always has and the Founders don’t control it anymore” O’Brien’s eyes widened “What?! Surely you can’t…They designed the Dominion to cease to exist if they did…” And for every power that threatened them as well. “The Founders no longer control it, because A clique of older, more powerful, more seasoned Changelings evidently seized control and cast them out” Molly paled. How did he know this? Oh, oh no…”You’ve given those animals sanctuary haven’t you?” “In a sense” Vice Admiral Dartanis said in a tone that left a lot to the imagination, way, way too much. She caught the flicker in his eyes, the implications were as nauseating as the thought of giving those soulless butchers a safe harbor. “That’s insane! They’re immortal killers’ sirs! They think we’re deviations that should be controlled or killed” “Their views on solids have changed a great deal courtesy of Odo and a few other Changelings who returned from their deep space missions. Our understanding is that their shared experiences motivated this, change of positions” Akaar muttered, though the tenor of his voice suggested that the old Fleet Admiral didn’t fully believe that for a second and his eyes were hard as he added the last bit, the idea that a species would be so arrogant would merely change their mind overnight. The fact that the Changelings insisted on maintaining the deception only enraged him further. Deciding not to feed his temper Molly allowed Serita to cut in “What of their victors? Surely a mere clique of changelings couldn’t have contested the will of the entire great link? I thought their species was incapable of acting against the majority once a decision was made?” “These Changelings are different” Ruiz remarked, his tone grim “They’re old, incredibly so and were born when the great link became their version of a collective, our understanding is that they alone can indeed contest the will of the entire link when they agree. They simply refused this time and ejected the Link from their home, the rest of the species was unable to stop them. Shortly after that happened, they moved hundreds of industrial vessels, probes, freighters, cloning facilities and warships through a wormhole deep in their space and vanished” “What?!” O’Brien blinked, astonished both that this had happened, and that Section 31 had been able to keep a tight enough lid on things to ensure none of this had leaked. “Who rules the Dominion assets in the milky way then?” “A Changeling, Odo tells me is called The Mother of sighs and Weyoun” Of course, O’Brien thought bitterly. Weyoun had survived after all, I’m sure my father would find amusement in that, so would Ambassador Worf if he still lived. The Mother of Sighs was just such a wonderful name for a changeling as well, evoking the image of some hideous crone. “A clique of younger, more aggressive changelings followed them as well, numbering about thirty. We can’t say for sure how many remain, but these Changelings are different, beyond the age and individuality they seem to differ to the Vorta more often. It’s unusual…unheard of” O’Brien was liking this less and less, when the Female Changeling asserted control over the War in the Alpha quadrant, the allied forced suddenly had a far easier time overcoming the unrelenting odds. Weyoun had been a formidable overseer and enemy commander, whereas the old bitch made a series of rather terrible blunders based on the dismissive arrogance of a would-be god. Founders and Vorta working hand in hand, sounded all kinds of bad. “We’ve received intel from various sources that we consider reliable. The Galaxy in question has boasted a civilization that spans a large portion of that galaxy and has for ages. While the Dominion don’t have a technological edge over us” “They do over that civilization” Serita chimed in, her eyes wide in wonder at the thought of such a mighty people. “And if the Dominion were to absorb the resources of an entire Galaxy, if these, imperialistic Founders were to bring that to bear against us” “I see” Molly murmured, the urgency of the mission becoming all too clear. Her black eyes focused on the holographic map, willing her conscious to accept the need for empire building, to prevent a calamitous war that would destroy everything she had worked her entire life to build, to swallow that bitter pill. Molly took a breath “I take it, project Hanno is given even more importance now? Should Vice Admiral Dartanis and Commodore Rainbird fail, our colonies might be the only safe haven left in the known universe” Ruiz nodded in assent and Akaar added “A Byzantium amongst the stars” “Given how Byzantium ended” she muttered before rising, needing to walk the room a bit, needing to bleed off some of the stress. “If you take V’less you must take Serita as well and I want her given her own ship and a Captaincy, it’s what I was planning to do with her any way” “Done” The Romulan seemed to let out a sigh and for the briefest of seconds Molly gripped her wrist, in reassurance. Family’s stayed together, they fought better that way. “I want Seven of Nine and Commander Paris” “Is V’less truly so skilled that she’s worth two of the premier slipstream and transwarp experts?” Vice Admiral Dartanis queried. “Yes” Molly answered without a second thought “and I consider seven her replacement and Miral Paris…Think of her as an annoyance fee” Both leaders of project Drake let out laughter, but only Rainbird’s felt warm at all. Admiral Ruiz nodded in agreement “Done, we’ll also have all information on this new form of FTL communication transferred to your office by days end” Rainbirds voice was hard as if he disliked haggling but there was no acrimony in his tone. Molly nodded her head in thanks “Any technology we find on our end will be sent over to help with your efforts in this, far away galaxy” “We appreciate it Admiral O’Brien, the same will come from our end. Your engineers in Andromeda will get first pick” Dartanis cut in, a wry smile on his features. Molly raised an eyebrow “My understanding is that I was going to be promoted to Commodore first, fast tracked over the next year” She didn’t like this, oh the rank was needed, especially if she was to be the commander of the fleet in the Andromeda galaxy, she knew, politically, it would put her in a position to groom and recruit new members to their faction and it gave the new blood a little bit more leverage over their rivals. There were times, where the morals of the federation, the principles Starfleet officers were supposed to stand for clashed with the cynicism of her mandate. But she couldn’t allow the Peace and Appeasement faction to gain any more power, none of them could and if using an Admirals chevron to deny them a chance to cripple the fleet would achieve that, it was worth the heartburn that came with compromised pride. -Bushido teaches honor in service, Starfleet teachers honor in action in the service of a higher cause, am I making a mockery of both to save one? – Was that why the casual disregard for even the appearance of playing within the rules bothered her so much? At the very least prior to this moment they maintained a pretense and to go into another Galaxy to extend old earth cold war politics. She steeled herself, it was necessary. “Things change, you’re about to create what might be the last bastion for the Federation, we’ll be looking to septuple the number of vessels and settlers you’ll be bringing over on your fourth and fifth voyages as well, given the fleet size we’re expecting there can be no question. You are in command, the galaxy is yours” And Odan’s she thought. The galaxy is yours, why hadn’t those words phased her? Akaar raised an eyebrow “Are we the Terran Empire now old man?” His voice rose in playful chiding towards the Al-Aurian Vice Admiral, one that contradicted the ice in his eyes. At once Molly felt ashamed, those words should have phased her. “Empire? No” Dartanis shook his head a reassuring smile on his face “Never, Republic though” Funny, O’Brien thought bitterly. The Republic had lasted roughly the same amount of time the Federation had before it became an empire.
  7. Admiral Breetai

    The Tides of History

    All rights reserved to Walt Disney and Paramount pictures..yadda yadda. No Discovery will not be used in this, nor will STO. Discovery might get name dropped as a cheesy historical holoseries or something but that's about it. Canon are the films and TV series and that's all she wrote. Now without further adieu The Tides of History-Volume 1: Calamitous first steps ........................................... Molly I “We embark today under a veil of secrecy; however, our task is monumental! Humans, Romulan, Bolian, Bajoran, Rygellian, Vulcan and Andorean. We are all, taking the first steps for our peoples into the wider cosmos. Though our first steps be in silence, they shall echo through eternity as the ideals of the Federation find purchase across the cosmos!” -Admiral Dartanis USS Sarmiento Galactic Edge, 2417 “I remembered that speech, from school, I remembered it over Coruscant”- Captain Dylan Hunt 2515 as transcribed in “Memories of the final Sunrise” A.D 4,321 2415 – Orbit over Ocampa. Starfleet Base of Delta Operations. “Are those forests?” “Yep! First seen on the planet’s surface in two thousand years” the response, exuberant and filled with the usual energy that emanated from all places, a rolling rock that seemed to pulse and glow, speaking in a voice that was both deep and yet oddly, youthful. It made sense though, Vice Admiral Tourmaline (She still couldn’t understand why he chose what amounted to a rock pun as his name) hatched roughly two centuries ago and by Horta standards that was positively childlike. “our terraforming efforts are coming along” The Horta continued “But the damage the caretaker’s people have done was catastrophic” She’d remembered that, along with a treasure trove of advanced technology, schematics and sensor data, the USS Voyager brought back a veritable library of dossiers, histories and even enthusiastically written (if slightly biased)essays on the hundreds of different species they’d contacted and clashed with in this region space. -The delta quadrant- the human female thought, she was tall, slender, in her late forties though she didn’t look a day over thirty-five. Martinet, immaculate and restrained, one might be forgiven for assuming she was a holonovel character out of a period drama. The stoic, if historically inaccurate Imperial Japanese admiral surveying the seas with the quiet, grim dedication to duty of a bygone era. A living relic, Commodore Tourmaline (His true name unpronounceable even with a UT) had to stifle a laugh. She was the antithesis of both her parents, the regal yet laid back Keiko and the disheveled eternally overworked head of the engineering school at the academy back on earth. Molly O’Brien, Tourmaline was given to understand. Resembled her great-grandfather Captain Hisashi Ishikawa who’d served aboard the Enterprise B and very nearly was given command of the Enterprise C and ultimately died heroically in battle against the Romulans. Romulans, the Horta thought. So much had changed and yet, so much had remained the same. “What of the planet’s inhabitants, the little people? The telepaths?” “You mean the Ocampa themselves? The Horta asked, his round, features, the crystalline growths that jutted out of the smooth almost marble like stone of his skin, shimmering in the change of light. Whether this had been a byproduct of his diet or deliberately grown as armored scales Molly could never guess, but it made him beautiful though she quirked an eyebrow at the reproach in his “tone”. Molly had known Tourmaline for nearly two decades now and she knew him well enough to understand his body language almost perfectly. “Forgive me sensei, I’ll admit I should recall those poor creatures more readily than their planet” The Horta “laughed” “It’s easy to forget them, truth be told they’re lifespans are so brief they struck me as a species doomed to extinction without extensive genetic engineering. I often wonder if their sentience was created as opposed to having evolved” Now that was interesting, interesting and arrogant. Molly said nothing as her comrade continued. “Still, it’s because of their nature that we should not forget them or dismiss them. As to the state of the species, the time the Caretaker had given them was nowhere near enough and they’d begun to descend into extreme measures by the time we got here. Of the original population only a thousand or so remained, here. The ones on Exosia seem to be thriving” “Can anything be done for them?” “We’re trying, they’ve begun to dwell in some of the greener areas, we’re working on using resequencing technology on their DNA, perhaps in twenty years or so, we can bring their lifespan up to forty years” “I see” The woman remarked, her black eyes shifting towards the window again. Several Nebula class starships exited slipstream, their nacelles glowing as they decelerated, heading towards the station itself to begin docking procedures in one of the many hangars the massive mushroom like Delta Station 1’s body. She was massive, Molly thought, larger even than the beast orbiting earth, able to accommodate fifteen starships in the size range of a sovereign and dozens of smaller ones within her frame and refit and repair close to a thousand ships outside of drydock in times of emergency. The forward base of operations for the entire Delta expeditionary fleet and Projects “Hanno” and “Drake”. The faintest, flicker of adventure danced over her features, project Hanno, the great expedition. She took a wistful breath allowing her otherwise, near statue like composure crack ever so lightly. Soon, she thought, her, her husband and their sons and daughters would take the first steps into a wider cosmos. As the ancient Carthaginian Navigator before her, she would fling her fleet of vessels into the vast oceans of uncertainty to reach the shores of mighty Andromeda or perish in the attempt. The prospect hadn’t daunted her nor her children. Her father and mother though and Yoshi, they all said they’d miss her fiercely. -It won’t be forever- once the journey was made and the colonies established Molly had every intention of returning to the Milky way to lead yet another expedition. Her husband Kinjer Odan, was to become the first Governor of Federation territories in the new Galaxy and while the Trill’s centuries of experience would be invaluable there, Molly was and would always be a Starship Commander. The Horta broke the silence to inquire if she cared to bet on whether those vessels had plundered the remnants of Borg space or if they'dsought trade with the Voth. The USS Roger Young glided passed the station and Molly allowed the faintest smile to trespass across her face. The Young was Nog’s vessel, he absolutely was off pestering the Voth and chasing other myths and legends and searching and likely acquiring lost technology. The Ferengi Commodore had earned himself almost legendary status in the Delta Quadrant, as a bit of a good-natured pirate, peacemaker, relic hunter, diplomat and general troublemaker. The Admiralty had a love/hate relationship with him, as did much of the Quadrant but it had been what made him invaluable out here. “You’re probably right, with any luck he’ll have found the ruins of an ancient cityship or something.” Tourmaline remarked causing O’Brien to look down an amused glint in her eyes “Our treaty with the Voth expressly forbids us from simply stealing their technology” After the words left her mouth, she could hear Nog’s voice in her head, the old adage “It isn’t theft its salvage, besides I always contact the Voth and make sure they retrieve their lost relics!” naturally, after getting ample scans, copies of their databases and anything that wasn’t bolted down. The door opened in that moment and a young woman entered, physically she appeared to be in her late teens to early twenties, auburn skin and thick long black hair with flecks of copper was done up in a braid that fell over her shoulder. Despite her appearance, she was close to forty and served in Starfleet these last seventeen years. A new breed of officer, in the same vein of her commander. She was young, she was ambitious. She was Romulan. “Captain O’Brien, the Admirals will see you now” The woman who’d been Molly’s XO for the last three years said, she bowed slightly giving her the traditional Romulan naval officers gesture of respect eliciting a grunt of disapproval from the Horta. -Old habits die the hardest in a soldier- Captain O’Brien thought. When the Romulan Empire’s home system erupted in cosmic hellfire, it left the rest of the Empire in disarray and the abruptness of it permitted the Klingons (who were seeking to avoid a civil war) to blindside the Empire. That, precipitated a series of brush fire conflicts that resulted in some four hundred Romulan worlds seeking Federation membership and, gaining it. Twenty-five years, she thought. Barely the tick of a clock in the lifetime of a Vulcanoid and yet, so much had changed for both their peoples. “Commander Serita, while my Captains no doubt believe they’re worthy of prostration I’d much rather not deal with the aftermath of such pandering to their already stellar egos” The “Younger” Romulan officer allowed a smile “But how do you know it's not a nefarious plot by us to conquer you from within! By coddling these fools!” The officer asked, doing her best impression of some, over the top master villain from one of those human pieces of old entertainment. “Convince my Captains of their divinity and then pick a fight with said Captains who now believe they’re godly? Yes, sounds like a Romulan plan!” Both women said their farewells to the Horta who seemed to “roll’ his way out of the room, heading to a separate turbo lift which would take him to the logistics offices as the two officers entered a separate hallway and began to make their way towards a much larger reception room, one where the briefings for Project Hanno ordinarily took place. Though, to Molly’s surprise, they passed the entrance to the hall and headed towards a more secluded, private lounge. An eyebrow raised before she could stop it and the Romulan beside her smirked ever so slightly at the oddly Vulcan display “Admiral DeSoto wanted this to be a more private affair” DeSoto would be there then? Good, she thought, he was director of Fleet operations in the Delta Quadrant and one of the supervisors on Project Hanno, the other was her husband and yet, he was away on Telar at a conference. As the doors opened, Molly noted the figures in the room and had to suppress the urge to gasp. Seated at the head of the conference table was a man with tanned skinned, a fine goatee and fierce green eyes, he was slender, serpent like and in his early fifties. Admiral Santiago Ruiz head of Starfleet Intelligence was man whose ascent was meteoric. Like Molly, Ruiz was considered one of the leaders of “The New Blood” faction, comprised of people who were either children, teenagers, or newly recruited to Starfleet during the Dominion War. A new breed of officer who, molded by the things they witnessed or experienced and came up in the aftermath of that war and the subsequent disasters. Were far more cynical, driven and determined to preserve and protect the Federation, to see it grow and flourish in a now constantly changing Galaxy, a faction dedicated to opposing the old “Peace at Any Price’ faction that was largely blamed for dragging the Federation into war with the Borg, Cardassians and Dominion due to what they viewed as their “century of appeasement” in the decades prior. While Molly was among the youngest of what many viewed as the faction’s leaders it was Nog and Ruiz who truly commanded the movement, both within Starfleet and without. But like any faction, it had its fractures. While Nog and Molly both wanted the Federation to become the preeminent power in the known universe, they firmly believed it couldn’t come at the cost of their core ethos. Ruiz and his group, however. They stopped short of being outright, imperialistic and while many beings found Santiago Ruiz attractive, to Molly O’Brien he always reminded her of a King Cobra, pretty to look at, dangerous to get near. Politics truly made strange bedfellows though and beside him sat Admiral Desoto and Commodore John Rainbird. Molly O’Brien blinked before she could master her face as she gazed at the scarred Comanche warrior who was said to be descended from an augment warlord (or possessed of the power of his ancestral gods if you believed Lord Im’pec Marshal of the Klingon Imperial armed forces), who regarded her with eyes that were an odd indigo color. At nearly ninety, he had to be an augment of some kind, the man looked barely sixty and his hands appeared more like industrial vices. John Rainbird, the only sentient being to defeat Im’pec The silver handed in battle (and indeed, had been the reason he was now known as the silver hand!) and who fought the famed Jem’Hadar first; Axlatan to a standstill during the fall of Betazed, before returning under Admiral Chekov to liberate the planet. John Rainbird who slew the Legate of the fifth order in single combat and whose fiery speech on the Warrior’s duty to peace was said to have caused the ruthless second order to agree to a ceasefire during the Federation-Cardassian wars. Among all the old guard, no one was more respected by the “New Blood” save for Jean Luc Picard. Elder, war master, healer, priest and peacemaker; Molly O’Brien couldn’t help but feel honored by his mere presence. Opposite him, sat the holographic visage of Admiral Janeway and Captain O’Brien only showed the same deference as a matter of protocol. The other brass in the room was none other than Fleet Admiral Leonard James Akaar whose giant frame loomed almost like an old statue of some colossus. Even now, nearing a century and half of life, he sat straight, unbent by his Capellan height. With the appearance of so much brass, her eyes flashed with an unease, why, why were they all hear? Was there a problem with Hanno?! Dread threatened to overrun her until curiosity silenced it in her mind. If the fleet Admiral was here, why was he not chairing this meeting? “Admirals, Commodore its an honor” “Molly! It’s good to see you nena!” Ruiz spoke, his serpentine features beaming with a charm that made it hard for a lot of people to listen to their own instincts regarding what they saw below the smiles. “Santiago” she said her tone a decent facsimile of warmth, she hated when he called her that. Not for any outdated notion of misogyny or any such nonsense, but because he knew she mistrusted him and still took such a brotherly tone with her. -As if he genuinely cared- she thought, mentally sneering. “Commodore Rainbird, Fleet Admiral Akaar this is a profound honor” her head inclined “Admiral Janeway” turning her attention to Admiral DeSoto she managed her the first genuine smile she’d sported since she arrived “Admiral” “Robert, Molly, no reason to stand on ceremony we’re among friends here take a seat” She did and tried her best not to feel like a little girl back at DS9, in her father’s quarters listening to stories of John Rainbird or Akaar. Beside her, Commander Serita stood at attention, ready to respond to danger at a moment notice. “I must say, we’re all suitably impressed by your diligence and the speed at which you’ve assembled your team and fleet” Admiral Janeway began, Molly nodded her head in appreciation. Though she vehemently disliked Janeway for what was done to Captain Wildstar, she admired the woman for what she achieved in the Delta Quadrant (even if those achievements poisoned as many wells as they made available) and praise coming from the woman who endured a journey as perilous as the one she would be undertaking in two years counted for something at least. “Thank you, Admiral, we’re all really excited. This has been the dream of every Starfleet Captain since the days of the NX Enterprise” Molly remarked, the faintest hints of giddiness in her voice, to colonize another galaxy to explore another galaxy. “We have found several planets at the fringe of what once was Kelvin Empire, probes indicate the radiation levels are normal and whatever disaster befell their old domain is over with” “Uninhabited?” Janeway inquired, that had been one of her biggest reservations regarding the project. The idea of stepping into someone else’s turf and provoking potentially another, hostile power. “For twenty thousand lightyears in every direction” O’Brien answered, her voice tense. Had she not followed the surveys and reports? They’d been able to get probes out there, including one with a soft AI that had the ability to assemble other Slip capable probes and while the returning data was sparse, it was enough to paint a general picture. They would be going into the unknown, a former stellar graveyard that had become verdant once again. All this was fascinating, and she knew the admiralty studied it at length or so she thought. “We’ll be going into Eden” -without the serpent, since Ruiz is staying behind- Molly thought before her eyes flickered to Fleet Admiral Akaar whose eyes seemed to flicker with the same annoyance. “Careful with your allegory Captain the last time a human spent any time in paradise it ended in disaster for your species” That voice caused her eyes to shoot to the right of her, behind John Rainbird towards the darkness of the room, near the windows, behind her. Serita reached for a phaser her green eyes narrowing to near slits as she searched the darkness, seeking the source of the voice only to realize it had come from the windowsill and the Romulan hissed under her breath. A man was sitting inside the windowsill, one leg resting on the ledge while the other rested on the floor, arms crossed over his chest which bore a Vice Admirals pips on its breast. The man appeared human, in his mid-forties with long somewhat wild light brown hair, wiry and seemingly scruffy. The man was thoroughly unremarkable. Except for his eyes, they were a really bizarre grey-blue mix that were cold but vicious as if something feral was pulling at chains below them. Captain O’Brien often compared Admiral Ruiz to a Cobra and to Serita the man sitting in the window looked like a Jackal. -He’s good- she thought, to be so thoroughly unremarkable as to be entirely ignored until you speak up and yet those eyes. He was a Vice Admiral, but she’d never seen him before, was he a new one? He was awful young for such a rank? At the sight of her hand on a weapon, the Vice Admiral chuckled and waved a gloved hand “Easy Commander, I’d hate for you to shoot at me, miss and hit something important” Despite herself, she smiled, his voice was easy on the ears, laid back and oddly wizened sounding which made him all the more dangerous. “Captain Molly O’Brien this is Vice Admiral Dartanis” Fleet Admiral Akaar began an inscrutable look over his features. Vice Admiral? Interesting, during the Dominion war there’d been a Captain Dartanis, she remembered hearing her father talk about bartering with him for supplies given that he too was in command of a space station. “They reactivated your commission?” She asked, her eyes flickering with a curiosity. Molly O’Brien was going to be given a promotion to commodore soon and then fast tracked to a full Admirals rank ahead of the departure, she’d achieved this both through her own merits and through connections. Molly had many of them and had a solid grasp on who each Admiral, Vice Admiral and Commodore were, even if she wasn’t on friendly terms with all of them, but she didn’t know this one. “And retroactively promoted him” The Fleet Admiral continued which earned a laugh from Dartanis. “Technically I was a full Admiral you know, in the United Earth Starfleet any way” he said shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly earning a look from Captain O’Brien. “You’re an Al-Aurian?” O’Brien asked doing her best to keep her tone neutral, the man had caught her completely by surprise moments ago and she wasn’t about to be blindsided a second time. “I am!” Dartanis said with an unusually chipper voice. “I thought you’d be in the El-Aurian colonies, it’s rare to see any out and about” fifteen years ago, Guinan had gathered together as many members of her race as she possible could find settling a system near Bajoran space, giving them a new home at last and a place to begin working to repopulate and heal as a species. When the Borg collapsed hundreds of thousands of El-Aurians were “awakened” those who could be saved were and were settled on a moon orbiting the main colony. Ever since then, they’d become almost a race of hermits. “I’m nearly one thousand years old, I’ve got seventeen children and forty grandchildren! I think I’ve done my duty to my species, now I’d like to do my duty to the Federation again, it is what I signed up for after all. That and a certain clause in the Constitution which allows them to reactivate my commission. They drafted me, but latitude is a constitutional clause after all!” Molly’s eyes darkened, Section 31. Ruiz you moron, she thought. No wonder his rise through SFI was so rapid, he’d made himself a willing pawn of that band of renegades. -Damn him- This put the movement at risk, it put. The woman took a breath, it didn’t matter, their achievements would drown out the muck and mud that their boots would end up tracking through the house. “S31 and SFI working together? Is my mission that important?” “It is” Ruiz cut in “But that’s not why you’re here, not exactly” O’Brien nodded -Project Drake then? - she thought. “We are asking you here, because we intend to commandeer one of your candidates for the upcoming mission” Ah damnit, here we go. “Which one?” She asked trying to keep her displeasure from being apparent. “Commander V’less” Molly flinched inwardly. V’less was one of the more experienced long-range explorers in the Federation. At eighty years old, the Vulcan had spent almost thirty-seven years in the farthest reaches of the Beta quadrant and had more experience with slipstream than anyone except the Voyager crew, Commander Paris and her own father. This loss was going to be costly, then there was the personal strife. Serita and V’less had been a couple and were to be bonded next week. Molly had insisted on couples and families for the same reason she insisted most of her crew be members of their faction. She wanted life in the Andromeda to be a fresh, assertive start. “Finding a replacement for V’less is going to be, difficult” “You have three years to find a replacement before the Mis” Admiral Janeway cut in. “With all due respect Admiral, I have six months.” Molly nearly cut in, her voice stoic but frigid. This was trying even her resolve and the woman mastered herself again after a measured breath. “It’s going to be very difficult to find a replacement as qualified as Captain V’less, experience wise there’s no one that compares as all her contemporaries are either retired or in this room with me and when it comes to technical skill with Transwarp and Slipstream there are maybe five people I can think of off hand who would have her level of expertise and it’s going to take them at least a year to finish the job V’less began, long range jumping the likes of which we’re attempting is an extremely risky prospect. A single error can result in our drives being burned out and either being smashed to pieces and scattered across subspace or trapped in the void between galaxies. Once we arrive we can begin construction of a transwarp hub that will make travel much safer” she paused here, realizing that the hubs success in that area was contingent on the Milky way receiving their telemetry data without too much delay and constructing the hub on their end without interruption. Transwarp hub was such a bad name she realized. It was more like a subspace bypass and she made a mental note to correct that eventually. “Our people will face similar logistical issues, but we’ve got a solution to enhance travel speed when it comes to data transmission” John Rainbird put in which made her turn regarding him with interest. “Your people?” She asked allowing a tone of recognition to enter her voice. Rainbird who’d remained silent turned towards Akaar who in turn gazed at Ruiz which in turn made O’Brien want to roll her eyes. Finally, the Chief of Starfleet intelligence shrugged “You’ve probably guessed what project Drake is” “Well” O’Brien began “You did name it after a legendary pirate who also happened to be an explorer and navigator while mine was just named after an explorer. The thought occurred to me you’d be planning a stealth mission to run perpendicular to mine, hidden behind the publicity” “Very good” Ruiz said grinning as Akaar and Rainbird both chuckled. “Except the Drake expedition isn’t going to the Andromeda Galaxy, in fact its not going to any galaxy we currently, have on any map”
  8. Admiral Breetai

    The Tidesverse

    So, back in 2012, I had a little free time to spare and inspired by some of the fanfiction done by the older generation of users in our corner of nerdom I decided to tell a story. It wasn't an overly ambitious one, nor a well written one. But it got a shitload of views and kept the interest of a few corer readers, with whom I began to keep regular tags and updates. I start the project, mostly because in looking at most of the SW/ST crossover fanfiction one thing came to my notice. It was always the empire feuding with the Federation, it was always also a one sided curbstomp one way or the other. I don't recall any solid stories that showcased what a titanic struggle it would actually be. I thought to myself, even with the technological advantages one side possessed over the other, mounting the conquest of an entire galaxy where you're outnumbered twenty to one, or repelling an invasion from said Galaxy would be no easy task. Each story, centered on the main characters as well..or self inserts, it was seldom a story of the Imperial soldiers, the Stormtroopers, Starfleet security or Klingon warriors. So I thought I would try, to do that, as best as I could, but I also resolved to throw a twist in. I've never found a fanfiction where the Empire deals with the one superpower from the Milky way that in many ways is its own..zealous, other. So I had the Dominion go to war with the Empire, I had the implacable, relentless soldiers of the Empire do battle with legions of cloned drug addicts, while a Vorta with over a thousand years of experience preached of a religion of order over the ashes. I had The founders, hateful, demonic beings that they were in DS9 truly cut loose...creating carnage, horror and lovecraftian bits. I had section 31 and a blood Knight of the Klingon Empire run their own little games. I did this for a little over half a million words and then real life happened...and I lost track. Then the Disney Sequels happened..and I had no idea how to proceed. On the one hand, I could have continued my story, on the other, opportunities presented themselves and the full picture of what I wanted to do with the overall saga I planned seemed to be more efficient to pull off with the new canon. Then I tried to read the aftermath novels, watch resistance and the like and holy shit is everything in the new EU god awful. The writing is an atrocity, the writers are miserable, preaching malcontents and..everything is so...one dimensional. But, The First Order represents an interesting potential..so..going purely by the films. I intend to begin my story again, one that will incompace about 2,200 years of history...in a tad bit more of am ambitious project. Book One: The Tides of History give the whole 'verse its name. And If you guys aren't put off by my writing, I'll begin work on this shortly.
  9. Admiral Breetai

    Welcome to the ASVS Grand Story Forum!

    "Oh? You think the Darkside is the only force out there you need to be afraid of? Let me show you, show you what true fear is. Let me show you what ten thousand years of hatred, hatred for you degenerate monoforms can conjure!" "Hah! Arrogant princling, What are you but the son of a common drug runner and the spawn of a demented child killer and his boy loving politician wife! Come! Come before my Bat'leth that I might give you the beating you deserve!" "Ah, well, his death was rather, predictable no? He fancied himself a wise man, many who claim to walk the path of a hobbled proselytizer often do. But tell me something General, what light can there be in the darkness? What sight can be gained from self mutilation? What order has there ever been in these silly superstitions?" These three quotes came to my head on reading this,.
  10. Admiral Breetai

    Thought I'd drop on by

    So, I've been an off and on lurker on this site for ages, I've been on SB, on CBR and a dozen other sites and I rather enjoy the fanfiction section both here and SJW. There's a great deal of talent pooled here and experience and I've tried to learn by observation and it has been humbling. some of you might have read an ambitious attempt of mind over on SFJ called the Tides of history, if any of it made you guys rip your hair out fury I apologize. In the interim I've been thinking of getting back into the game and writing stuff up here and there. I'll be doing a reboot of Tides and starting with my own little spin on Andromeda then going backwards, providing anyone here is even remotely interested,. Beyond that? Thanks for all the cool stories for so long!