Scifi Blog: Fleet Commander

32: Finding Aardwolf; Stahnke

2008-03-26T11:30:00.000-07:00

To find Aardwolf, I intend to get help from home. This is a bit awkward for me because the help comes in the form of one Bellamy Mesa, my old sweetheart. Not to long ago I entertained thoughts of descending upon Worthington Station in my highly modified starship, wearing my big-shot Fleet Commander pins, surrounded by combat drones and my personnel, and declaring to Bell that I was there to save her. Eh... I guess things are going the other way on this.

Although she was knocked up by my brother and outcast by most of the planet, Bellamy is my no means helpless or in need of help. She runs the only EMT service on the planet. She also runs the only taxi service on the main continent. And Bell has the only protosphere anywhere on Worthington. That makes her a highly respected and powerful outcast.

Since the Fleet communications is still hostile towards Aardwolf, I intend to use Bellamy as an intermediary. She uses a private and corporate network for protospace communications. I should be able to find Aardwolf through Bell.

I'm just about four hours away from Stahnke. From what my crew and I have gathered, I believe that the government had sub-contracted the care of the refugees to a company that is deliberately neglecting the company's duties to maximize profits. The corporation is providing slightly less than the basic needs with the refugees using ingenuity and hard work to make up the difference. The government itself is making matters worse by allowing the best, brightest, and most beautiful of the refugees into the cities where they are further exploited.

Intel sent me an infopack that was triggered by my search for information about Stahnke. The Viatece may have targeted the planet for a raid in the near future.

31: Aardwolf's Adventures

2008-01-13T19:32:00.000-08:00

Admiral Maynard had a security brief about Aardwolf. She shared it with me.

About the time that I was piloting the Grinder into formation with the 4th Fleet, Aardwolf was contacting the orbital facilities, requesting help to get the Salvation-class boat to a maintenance hanger so he could start working on it. Recordings and internal memos showed that Base Commander Truinton ordered zero cooperation with Aardwolf. In fact, my Chief of Engineering was ordered to the orbital base to help repair damages incurred during the brief attack by the Viatece.

Not only did Aardwolf refuse the order (which may or may not be legal, considering his status in 6th Fleet), he began to work on the starship himself. Within an hour, deliveries of maintenance and domestic robots and drones began to arrive. Security believes he bought every robot available on the planet.

As I deployed on the Viatece planet to engage in ground combat, Aardwolf had the starship at about 20% capacity. This is known because he managed to get it into the sync network, so the hub base could receive diagnostics from the old starship. At about the time I sent the three drones to sweep the main Viatece building for traps and last-ditch resistance, Aardwolf was piloting his project out of the atmosphere. Traffic control initially authorized Aardwolf to make several micro-jumps to the edge of the system. However, the BC Truinton ordered him back to the base.

Swearing colorfully, Aardwolf jumped to hyperwarp with no declared destination.

Because of the great amount of animosity towards Aardwolf by certain people in the Ten Fleets, all communications from Aardwolf to me have been blocked on all systems, from infopacks to Internet mail to protospace transmissions. Right now, Fleet Security is guessing that Aardwolf is not AWOL. He is either stranded somewhere in the old Salvation-class torpedo boat or is at a private hanger to work on it. Either way, he is probably safe.

I’m about to leave HB 2112 to inspect a small hub base that is only a few hours away. Aardwolf should be fine in that amount of time, and I can use some contacts of mine to help find him.

Moving on to Stahnke

Hub Base 2112 was on a planet named Brevitius. It has started as a human colony but began accepting alien immigrants in order to help with building up an infrastructure. It was a rare enough strategy because human colonists tend to be a bit xenophobic, not trusting members of their own species.

Brevitius was home to humans, Fodishig, and Abbersham. There were members of other species in small numbers, including a Tillian outpost. This proved to be a great combination for the Brevitius humans because the colony flourished with the help of alien hands and alien resources. Not to mention the protection of alien governments. As generally accepted, diversity helps groups perform better.

Conversely, there are those colonies that take an isolationist stance and wither on the vine. My home planet, Worthington Station, is an example of this. Although not particularly xenophobic the population tended to strongly discourage outsiders, human or not. A more extreme example of colonial failure was Stahnke Colony. This planet was colonized 155 years ago through an Earth States charter. Almost 67,000 people helped to start the colony. Even today most colonies start with fewer than 10,000 in the first wave. Through my research into Stahnke Colony I learned that since its inception, the average population growth has averaged 1.32% and is getting lower. A colony of Stahnke Colony’s size should have a population growth of about 3%. In a time when human beings are being killed by the millions, Stahnke is sitting on its ass and wasting away. It's not even letting people immigrate in these troubled times.

The reason I’m going there is because of complaints the Fleets received from refugees temporarily housed on the planet. Stahnke Colony volunteered to house 5,000 refugees who have been crammed into space transports or orbital docks. Reports are coming in that the refugees are being exploited and neglected. My orders are to investigate and call in an emergency evacuation if conditions are bad. Otherwise, I am to negotiate (Marie, that’s your job!) an acceptable situation until the refugees can be evacuated to permanent homes.

On the way, I have to figure out what the hell is wrong with George, the drone. Without Aardwolf it’ll take me, Marie, and Shiny a long time to fix George up.

30-A: Author's Note

2008-01-13T19:12:00.000-08:00

When I started this blog a few years ago my goal was to test out some ideas I had about science fiction. These ideas included the structure of the 10 Fleets, xenophobia, economic problems with internal and external concerns, population growth, freedom, and others. I was also getting sick of reading other people's works and finding one of "my" ideas. Not only an experiment, then; this blog is also a record of my ideas so I can claim dibs on the cool stuff.

As a student in college, my time became tighter and tighter so I figured the experiment was over. I was pounding out over 4,000 words a week in essays so there wasn't much left afterwards. I stopped posting what I've already written. I stopped writing. Then something strange happened...

People started reading Scifi Blog: Fleet Commander. People are actually reading my stuff!

So I'm going to post what I've already written. I also need to go back and read the blog because I had forgotten so much. Did I ever describe Marie's hair? Did I introduce Bellamy yet? And just where the heck did Toasty leave off?

I hope people continue to read, leave comments, and email me. A little encouragement goes a long way. I also want to know about other blogfic (blog fiction) out there. Tell me about yours or someone else's.

Next Chapter >> 31: Aardwolf's Adventures

29: Getting Ready for Admiral Inspection

2007-01-18T09:58:00.000-08:00

6th Fleet was being hosed. When I finally ascended immersed space, I asked for a full-service berth. Instead, we were ordered into a cargo bay that had no facilities. I wanted to get ready for an admiralty inspection by getting the Grinder cleaned up, inside and out, to project the best possible picture to Adm. Maynard. A full-service bay would have us cleaned up and ready for inspection in just a few hours. It would take days to do the same level of detail by hand.

We didn’t have formal uniforms. The outside of the Grinder displayed battle damage and was dusty. The inside smelled like sweat and industrial solvents and rusted steel.

Slickpea came to the rescue. Marie and I were scrambling like crazy, trying our best to do damage control. I was detailing the cockpit, and she was outside the ship hosing off the hull. Slickpea asked if he could be excused to return to his regular duty, and I emphatically replied “No!” Right then and there, I decided he was transferred to 6th Fleet to take up duties as a pilot.

Now, Shiny Slickpea had a good thing going on Hub Base 442. From the metal decks of the orbital Hub Base, he sent his greedy little tentacles all across the galaxies in black-market endeavors. Slickpea was ever the opportunist, and knew how lucrative it could be getting in on the beginnings of a seed fleet. Besides, he also realized that I held enough information about his dealings to have him locked up in the stockade for the better part of a century.

Using his TAK, that personal computer-slash-communicator, he started making calls. He informed me that he was cashing in on all the favors owed him. Slickpea was in peak form: arranging, haggling, threatening, cajoling, whining, and bribing. Within forty minutes, the cargo bay was filled with Fleet personnel- fifty at least- all working on getting 6th Fleet up to inspection status.

Inside and out, the Grinder was getting a thorough cleaning. So, too, were the Sergeant and myself. Somehow, Slickpea had a tailor in his clutches. This tailor was more than happy to repay whatever debt he owed Slickpea, and was fitting Marie and I with the latest approved Fleet formal wear. Slickpea was also getting fitted. Somehow, his uniform had lieutenant junior-grade insignia instead of the more appropriate ensign trappings. He asked me if that was okay. I answered that we’d have to wait and see, but for now he could keep is Lt. JG rank.

An hour had passed, more or less, when a Marine master sergeant showed up in the cargo bay. He was ordered by the base commander to get all non-6th Fleet personnel out of the bay. The four Marines with him looked more that ready to start physically tossing people out of the bay. I was irate, and threatened them in several languages. Marie pulled me away while Slickpea intervened. My Sergeant, while I was still cursing, was dragging me into my ship while Slickpea talked to the Marines.

Then time was up. Admiral Maynard’s aid contacted me, saying that he and the Admiral were on their way from the Hub Base’s command deck. I felt sick to my stomach.

While I was sweating buckets, Fleet Commander Moody Shepherd was dealing with a very unusual situation back on that nameless Viatece planet. His primary problem was what to do with the freed Viatece slaves. The slaves stated they wanted to be sent back to the Viatece. That was out of the question, of course. Giving the enemy more resources was counterproductive, after all. For whatever reasons, the ex-slaves did not want freedom. They somehow needed the refuge of mindless servitude.

Then there were the Fondishig mercenaries. By all rights, they should all be considered prisoners of war, but Moody didn’t have the time or resources to imprison them. The Fleet made it very clear to him that there was no help to be had in that situation. Right now, they were, quote- prisoners- unquote, but they had the run of the planet as long as they behaved.

Aardwolf. Godamnit, I needed to find him. There was a certain hostility rearing its head from the rest of the 10 Fleets towards 6th Fleet. I am really afraid that if he were found by anyone but 6th Fleet, he would be killed. Not imprisoned for going AWOL, mind you. I truly believed that he’d be shot while “‘resisting” arrest or “fleeing” to the enemy.

The reason: Aardwolf designed the automated killing machines that were responsible for the deaths of thousands of 10 Fleets and Earth Defense Fleet Marines. His creations took a heavy toll on those Marines in major battles around 5 years ago in the Narrow Sector. There were also thousands of civilian deaths that were blamed on his robots and drones. Never mind the fact that he didn’t work directly for the Coalition, and that he never deployed those robots. And it’s easy to overlook that fact that Earth bought products he designed. There was a personal grudge against Aardwolf, one that could get him killed.

Oddly enough, if I do find him, I’m going to cut him loose so he can find some nice safe place to hide until people either forget about him or forgive him. As Fleet Commander, I have authority to release personnel that I have recruited without prejudice. I’m going to use that authority.

Creation of Fleet Infantry

The inspection went very well. Maynard knew that we had been docked for only a few hours, and she was very impressed with the ship. She noticed the little touches, like the freshly painted SWYM codes on the port and starboard hull and the pineapple/coconut air freshener used in the Grinder. She told me that reports of my actions with Fleet Commander Moody had reached her, and she knew that it was a miracle that the ship was in excellent condition.

After the official inspection, we set up a small conference area in the forward storage area of the Grinder. Slickpea had managed to get a portable media table and some comfortable chairs for our use. He even served us drinks and snacks during the four-hour interview. I was extremely impressed with his formality and grace.

I was surprised that the Intel folks weren’t there. I was under the impression that some folks to really give me the 3rd degree would accompany Maynard, but only Maynard’s aid, Rickston, was with us: much to my relief.

Our topics started with some explanation of reports I’ve filed. Standard stuff, really. From there, things got a little uncomfortable for me. When I promoted Marie to Marine Sergeant, I started a large controversy. The Fleet Marines were an honored group, and it was a tough, hard road to get to be a Marine. I short-circuited that long-standing tradition. Fortunately, Marie had proven herself enough to calm down the grumblings. But because of this, there was a strict rule - law, actually - that no one could be promoted to Marine status without completing the training.

To this, I asked how in the world I was supposed to fill out 6th Fleet with the proper personnel if I couldn’t promote people to Marine ranks. Maynard already had the answer. On board large vessels, such as battleships and carriers, security provided most of the protection. The High Admiral Okayed the creation of a special sub-class for the seed fleets. Called Fleet Infantry, this class would take on many aspects of both security forces and the Fleet Marine Corps.

Fleet security uses the general hierarchy of command. That is, the ranks of ensign through High Admiral. Fleet Marines used corporal through general. The Fleet infantry (FI) would be composed of only four ranks: private, private first class, corporal, and staff sergeant. Unlike Marines, FI would not have overriding command capabilities. That is, a Marine master sergeant (MSgt) could actually assume command of fleet operations that occur on a planet or where personnel come face to face with threats. Essentially, FI would receive basic weapons and tactics training, with somewhat stringent physical and mental prerequisites. Training is supposed to mesh with Marine training, so that an FI corporal should be able to enter training to become a Marine sergeant.

Only seed fleets would have Fleet Infantry.

All in all, I felt it was a good idea. Ultimately, I wanted a full squad of people who could shoot and kill and blow things up. Using the FI model, I could do that. Of course, I had a long way to go. 6th Fleet had only one fire team, and it was mostly made of robots. With myself included, we were one over a fire team, but I would need three more people to complete a second. I couldn’t even think about trying to build the third fire team that would complete my squad.

Next Chapter >> 30-A: Author's Note

28: Hegel Would Be Proud

2007-01-07T16:07:00.000-08:00

Every time you solved a problem, the solutions would give rise to further conflicts. In reconciling these conflicts, further problems would arise. This was the Fleet Dialectic. You learn to expect it, and you learn to deal with it. Hegel would be proud.

A letter from home. Bellamy Mesa. Aardwolf AWOL. Potential recall to First Fleet. Catalians and Irarians. Shepherd Moody in deep trouble.

This is the condensed list of my troubles. I don’t even know how to tackle them all. For example, I can’t get home to Worthington Station while touring hub bases and meeting the Admiral of Second Fleet. It’s a matter of time. I don’t have enough.

My mom sent a letter via Fleet networks. It takes forever to get mail because the Fleets are always moving, as I am. The letter is shot into the network and copies are spread far and wide across the galaxies until I open it. The return receipt follows the copies and deletes them. That’s why it takes so long. What really makes me wonder is the fact that Mom doesn’t just use protospace messaging. It’s ten times faster and she could easily afford it. I guess pinching pennies is second nature to her.

The letter was more than a dozen pages long. It started with a rundown on local weather, production of the farm, some politics, and a lot of rumor and gossip. Final paragraph is what caught my attention. My younger brother, Jacob, broke off his engagement with Bellamy Mesa, sold 80 acres of my parent’s land, and left with a low-class floozy to another district. Worst of all, Bell was 4 months pregnant.

There’s a lot of background behind this; I’ll keep it as short as possible. First, my younger brother got the good looks, brains, and athletic ability. He was a man for all seasons, except he was an arrogant manipulator. Bellamy Mesa was a daughter of a housekeeper hired by my parents before I was born. Bell is a year younger than I, and a year older than Jake. We all grew up together, close enough to be good friends, but not so close as to consider Bell a sister.

Bell was blessed with brains, beauty, wit, and physical strength. She had all of Jake’s positive attributes, with none of his shortcomings. She was also social, likable, and very clever. That is, she also had all of my best attributes. For whatever reason, Bell chose Jake over me. I never begrudged her that, because I respected her too much. Oddly enough, I slept with Bell before Jake did- while they were dating. That’s a story for another time.

Now, she was pregnant and unmarried. This put her in a dire situation. Although Jake would take the social punishment for his actions, Bell would be seen as used goods. See, on Worthington Station, a man who marries a pregnant woman becomes the legal father of the child. In this case, if Bell became married before childbirth the child would not legally be Jake’s but the new husband’s. However, if Bell gave birth before getting married again, then the child would legally be Jake’s, but socially be fatherless- a bastard. That stigma would hurt Bell and the child.

I have to put this little family drama in the background. When I finally returned to the orbital Hub Base 442, the Fleet informed me that Aardwolf was missing and presumed to be AWOL. Because Aardwolf had once worked for the Coalition, it was also presumed he was a traitor. I didn’t believe it. There had to be another explanation. You could tell a lot about a man after getting drunk with him a few times. There’s just got to be something else going on.

All this, and the Admiral of Second Fleet was due to arrive in-system in just a few hours. Her aid requested a full inspection of 6th Fleet and an appointment so the Admiral (Maynard, I think her name was) could debrief me. Oh, and Fleet Intelligence wanted to be there during the Admiral’s interview with me. Fun.

I’ll just explain the problems the Irarians and Catalians are having with the Ten Fleets later. Suffice to say that I’m being blamed. And Moody is in over his head.

Next Chapter >> 29: Getting Ready for Admiral Inspection

27: Earth Defense Fleet

2006-08-20T14:02:00.000-07:00

The Earth Defense Fleet (EDF) is charged with providing protection for the Sol system and all systems directly under Earth control, such as Earth colonies and resource operations. When the First Fleet of Earth was originally formed, it was under the direct control of the Earth Defense Fleet. However, as the First Fleet slowly evolved into the Ten Fleets of Earth, EDF operations were placed under Ten Fleets command.

Today, the EDF provides protection for Earth State systems only. The reason is simple: the galaxies are much too big for Earth to spread resources to other interests. The smaller, more efficient Ten Fleets is charged with providing protection to all human interests. In this way, Earth is still involved on a galactic scale while maintaining protection for it.

The EDF stresses protection above all else. It strives to be in the right time and place to prevent attacks and to repel attacks. In order to do this, it must have large, permanent bases within protected systems. These bases drain resources like crazy, but also tend to supply much needed capital to newly formed colonies. Thousands of local humans are employed by these bases, giving a struggling economy a much needed- if somewhat socialist- boost.

When enemy forces are putting extreme pressure on EDF forces, they are strengthened with Ten Fleets resources. Since the High Admiral of the Ten Fleets is also the High Admiral of the EDF, there is very little infighting when this happens.

Twice in human history, there has been a total recall of EDF and Ten Fleets forces to the Sol system. This essentially left all of humanity scattered throughout the galaxies unprotected. But the first and foremost priority of both fleets is to protect Earth.

There are many reasons for this, but the most important reason is this: those species that do not control their home world are considered weak by other species; they are seen as inferior and often abused and placed into slavery by other species. Also, a home world contains the biological necessities to allow a species to survive. The genetic material of a home world can be referenced or exploited even if the species is spread across the universe. Those species that have lost their home world are at great risk for extinction because of a dozen biological factors, including nutrition deficiency, psychological decay, and reproduction problems due to bio-rhythmic or chemical factors.

Because the Ten Fleets and the EDF are run by the same High Admiral, there is constant sharing of resources and personnel. In order to reach the rank of Captain, Ten Fleets officers must serve for 6 months with the EDF (although such a requirement is not in the EDF). Unlike the Ten Fleets, the EDF has its own independent Marine Corps.

Next Chapter >> 28: Hegal Would Be Proud

26: Deploying with Marines

2006-08-13T12:37:00.000-07:00

The gunships were not very nimble in an atmosphere, and the Remington-class Bastard was downright awkward. It was necessary for the Grinder and Foray to lead the way. There were dozens of enemy positions, firing small to large weapons, surrounding the larger base that Moody wanted taken. The smaller ships zigzagged around enemy positions, and the gunships came behind to clean them up.

The targeted base was heavily shielded, which was the reason that we had to get in real close to hurt it. But the brute force came from the gunships, while I used my ship to confuse and harass any enemy movements in and around the base.

After a massive missile salvo, the base’s force fields came down. I moved right in, taking out any hardened defenses I could find. Although plasma cannons are relatively weak weapons in space combat, they actually use the atmosphere to gain power and momentum by burning the air. The farther I fired the plasma cannons, the more horrible the damage they wreaked.

Most of the outer buildings and defenses were wiped out when Moody gave the order for his Marines to deploy. I was rather surprised by the order, but didn’t question it. Fleet Commander Shepherd Moody had an excellent track record, and had proved himself a great leader time after time.

When hearing the order, Marie and I moved out of the cockpit. I ordered Shiny into the pilot’s position, telling him to keep the Grinder low and moving. He panicked. Shiny hadn’t actually piloted a real craft in years, and had never piloted a Liberty-class MSS. I told him to get a grip or he’d end up killing us all. I intended to join the 4th Fleet Marines, adding my own little squad to Moody’s.

Marie and I quickly helped each other into our armor. Of course, being Catalian, Marie’s armor was much more complex, being a hybrid of Catalian high-tech pieces with adequate Marine pieces. We double-checked the weapons Aardwolf had made for us and made our way to the fore loading ramp.

The three SAMD’s came to life with an order from me. We named them James, Arthur, and Charles after English monarchs. I then relayed to Moody that we were ready for deployment.

Ensign Shiny Slickpea brought us to a jilting, thumping landing. The fore loading ramp fell. I followed Sergeant Marie Du-tse into the battle zone with Jim, Art, and Chuck on my tail.

Assault on Viatece Compound

The Viatece complex was about a kilometer wide with a variety of structures surrounding a central, large building. It was that center building Moody wanted us to take.

There was surprisingly little resistance at first. A few automated guns and a couple low-grade drones were the only defense until we were less than a hundred meters from the central building. Then the fighting got vicious. A Fondishig mercenary group put up a terrible fight, stopping our progress.

We could see that innocent Viatece slaves, who were chained to the building itself, almost completely surrounded the structure. That chain of living armor hindered our fighting because we had to pick our targets very carefully. Several of those slaves were already slumping on the ground, bleeding from wounds.

In order to take the building, we had to get around the Fondishig mercenaries. Moody had some of his Marines cut across the enemy line. This allowed concentrated fire on targets without fear of hitting the slaves. It wasn’t long before the Fondishig mercs waved the red flag, asking for surrender.

The fighting stopped. I was extremely glad for that, because a particle weapon had grazed my left hand, melting away the glove and giving me pain that made me want to retch. Marie, who had taken several shots to her person- stomach, leg, shoulder- wrapped my hand. I was amazed that she was in such good shape, even with her armor. With three layers of armor, a direct hit from a slug or particle shot still hurt like hell, breaking bones and leaving painful bruises.

I volunteered to talk to the leader of the mercenaries. Walking casually across the ruins of buildings and equipment, I met the leader. He was still holding the red truce flag. The Fondishig used their blood to stain a flag as a flag of surrender. The leader, Clan Leader Havisnon, was badly wounded; it appeared that half his face was shot off.

I asked Havisnon some brief questions: what was his clan, what was his family and overclans, who was his employer, how many Fondishig mercenaries were surrendering, and how many would fight on. He told me his overclan was Shirasect, a mostly military clan group, and his family clan was a small, unknown group. He told me the Viatece commander of this base had hired his clan, Shirasect-Nor, to protect the base for an undisclosed amount of time. All of his personnel were surrendering, some 120 soldiers and support personnel.

I relayed the information to Fleet Commander Moody. Moody was knowledgeable of Fondishig customs, and knew that the Fondishig surrender was absolute. The mercenaries would no longer be a threat. He had me order Havisnon’s forces to an empty warehouse near the edge of the complex. But Havisnon himself would stay with me.

4th Fleet Marines were already freeing the slaves. Some of the freed slaves took up tools to help. There were over a thousand of them. They belonged to a Viatece slave race, known as the Bellingsar. They were stout, unclothed bipeds with tough brown skin, small black eyes, and no body hair. They all moved with slow deliberation, and talked with grinding, low voices.

There were many children among them, including infants. We shepherded them away from the main structure as they were released, making sure they were well away when we moved into the building.

Although he would not divulge any information that would be considered classified by his former employer, Havisnon did tell us that the Viatece personnel were not on the planet any more. I couldn’t imagine how they had escaped while the complex was being assaulted, but Havisnon assured us that there were no Viatece, or any other Viatece hired forces, on the planet. He absolutely refused to tell us how they got away. He did say that automated robots and weapons defended the main building. But the Fondishig mercenary leader didn’t think there were some sort of auto-destruct mechanism, or trap that would blow up the building.

(Half-truths and outright lies… I was ordered to doctor the report… secrets are so very heavy.)

I sent the three SAMDs into the building while we retreated a good distance away. Almost immediately, automated guns fired on the three drones, dropping from the ceiling of the narrow hallway just inside the entrance. The drones quickly went into action, taking out the automated guns within seconds. They didn’t receive much damage.

The drones moved deeper into the building, breaking down doors and avoiding traps. They found maintenance closets, offices, and an exercise arena. They also found a torture room that had a dead Bellingsar still on a table, horribly dissected alive. There were monitor rooms and a small armory that still contained weapons. There were five total levels, with a large sublevel that still contained small vehicles and supplies.

Fleet Commander Moody called for the Marines to move into the building, but dismissed 6th Fleet. I called Ensign Slickpea and had him bring the Grinder in. As the novice pilot landed my ship without grace or skill (I winced when the Grinder slammed into the ground), Moody came to thank Marie and I for our help.

”Done with us so soon, Fleet Commander?” I asked him, shaking his hand.

He grinned. “I can’t keep the whole of 6th Fleet away from its duty. You have 4th Fleet’s greatest appreciation, but it’s time for you to be a Fleet Commander again.” He shook Marie’s hand. “Thanks, Sergeant Du-tse, for your help. If anyone ever questions your ability as a Marine, I’ll set him straight. Master Sergeant Filings asked if he could swap three of his soldiers for you, but I assured him that Fleet Commander John would have a fit.”

”Got that right,” I responded. “I wouldn’t take his whole squad, Moody.” I looked around the complex, at the Fondishig mercenaries lounging around an empty hanger, at the Bellingsar tending their wounded, and the 4th Fleet personnel scrambling through the ruins of the complex, searching, guarding, working. “What’re going to do with this mess?” I asked Moody.

He looked towards the main building, his Marines carefully entering. “It’s a goddamn mess, that’s for sure. I imagine I’ll just cut the mercs loose, but I’m not sure what to do with a thousand freed slaves. And the planet seems to be unclaimed, so I might have to stay a while until First Fleet tells me what to do with it.”

Good luck with that, I thought. Seed fleets didn’t get a lot of direction from the lower fleets, especially First Fleet.

FC Moody checked his palmpad. “The Lancer’s going back in the DDC,” he said, then gestured to the Grinder. “Since you lost your hyper-drive, you can hitch a ride.”

Terms

Fondishig: The Fondishig are a species that quickly integrated with human societies 300 years ago. Fondishig have green, scaley skin, dark eyes, are bi-pedal, and tend to wear very little clothing. Fondishig shoulders and legs have an additional joint, a "second elbow/ knee," which gives an astonishing reach. Fondishig organize by family clans and trade clans. The current MSS starship concept was taken from the Fondishig.

Next Chapter >> 27: Earth Defense Fleet

25: Planetary Assault

2006-08-06T21:29:00.000-07:00

I can honestly say that I have nothing but the greatest respect for Fleet Commander (FC) Moody’s skill with strategy and command. His fleet, 4th Fleet, was comprised of three gunships that where deployed from a Diamond delivery carrier (DDC) and an Asp-class MSS. His little fleet was fast and dangerous.

The DDC was specifically designed to deploy gunships in a combat arena. It was nothing more that a hollow shell that could carry up to four gunships through immersed space because gunships did not have immersion drives. In normal times, a group of DDCs would stage near a battle fleet. When the battle fleet engaged an enemy group, the DDCs would come in from an advantageous angle, such as tangent to the enemy and friendly groups, to create a nasty cross-fire with the gunships deployed.

In Moody’s case, the DDC acted as a launch platform. When we ascended immersed space, the three gunships deployed with amazing speed. None lost momentum as the DDC accelerated in normal space.

Moody ordered the Asp-class ship, Foray, and the Grinder to burn fuel in doing a sweep of the closest planet to our position. The gunships would come straight on, with the DDC hanging way back to keep out of trouble.

I was rather satisfied, as was Marie, that the Grinder was much faster than the Foray. That was because the Asp-class ship was loaded down with weaponry and modules, where the Grinder was lean.

We were around ten thousand kilometers from the planet’s outer atmosphere when we met the enemy. Surface-to-orbit missiles and energy weapons came from widely scattered positions on the planet’s surface. A small group of fighters and some mobile defense platforms closed on us.

FC Moody ordered me to take down the defense platforms farthest from the gunship formation. I did a micro-jump through hyperspace near one of the platforms, giving it all three of Grinder’s guns. I didn’t stick around to see if it was disabled, jumping away again. When Marie scanned the platform and told me it was still operable, I jumped through hyperspace again. This time, I fired of a few more shots and was rewarded with the platform exploding quite grandly. The Grinder was hit with an energy weapon before the platform blew up, and I was seeing gauges and monitor screens go from green to yellow and red.

I ordered Ensign Slickpea to deal with the damage and micro-jumped to the opposite side of the planet.

The gunships were destroying enemy targets with impunity. The Cobra gunship had an ability to fire over 12 missiles per second, and the fighters engaging FC Moody’s gunships could be destroyed with a single hit.

While I engaged another isolated platform, the Foray was ordered to destroy launch sites on the planet. The Asp-class ship was as nimble in an atmosphere as it was in space. It was up against extremely tough targets, though, and was doing little more than distracting the surface fire away from the gunships.

The orbital platform I was attacking was firing proximity gravity-wave missiles. The missiles had only to get near the Grinder, then they would detonate, creating a crushing gravity event. One came close enough to damage the Grinder’s hyperdrive engines, ending my jump-in/ fire/ jump-out tactic. I slugged it out with the platform, dodging missiles and energy cannon shots. It seemed like an eternity before the damn thing blew up when I hit it with all three guns at the same time.

I thought, What I wouldn’t give for one simple, little missile launcher?

The planet’s orbital defenses crumbled under the pounding given by Moody’s gunships. One of the gunships, Lancer, was badly damaged. It was limping away from the planet to meet with the DDC. But Strike, Moody’s flagship, and Bastard, the Remington-class gunship, were in fine condition, and ready for an assault on planetary positions.

Ensign Slickpea, in one of the auxiliary stations behind the cockpit, identified the enemy weaponry and ships as being Viatece. There were some Pichamk elements, like the surface-to-orbit energy cannons, but most were Viatece.

Moody’s primary objective was a heavily defended base. Situated in a dense, hilly jungle, it was difficult for long-range assaults. FC Moody ordered the Foray and my Grinder to try a crisscross assault on the position to try to distract fire from the less agile gunships.

That meant flying just a few meters above the tree tops, using the hills and valleys to keep the Viatece from annihilating me. I love a challenge.

Next Chapter >> 26: Deploying with Marines

24: The Rat-man's Hanger

2006-08-03T10:18:00.000-07:00

HB 442 orbits the planet Don. The planet is a barely habitable pile of rock with a thin atmosphere and dozens of alien species managing to get along. In a desolated high-desert area, the Ten Fleets maintains a Marine base with training facilities and a supply dump.

Under that Marine base was a starship graveyard. A cavernous hanger, with rough-cut walls and poor lighting, this is the final resting place of outdated starcraft. Ensign Slickpea had come through, after all, but the value of his discovery remained to be seen.

There was a gutted Remington-class gunship, three beat-up Arnican shuttles, two Galaxia-class shuttles, and a craft that I’d never seen before. Four Craven Hunter starfighters were stacked on each other, with bottom one caved in from the weight. Boxes and barrels were stacked all around, containing unused parts, fuel, and weaponry.

I watched quietly as Aardwolf examined each ship, looking up information on his palmpad. His final analysis: “It’s all junk, except maybe that old thing.” The old thing to which he referred was an odd-looking craft that reminded me of the old TARV-class ships. It was slightly shorter than the Grinder, with long, thick “wings.” Two engines where mounted on each wing, and a large out-dated hyperwarp engine was on top.

Slickpea, consulting his TAK, looked up the vessel. It was a Salvation-class torpedo boat. It was over a hundred years old. I asked Aardwolf if we could make something of it. With a shrug, he told me that the technology behind the ship was archaic except for the armor. This ship was built before the use of triadiam armoring, and used a reactive armor made of a silicone/ ceramic hybrid. The armor was self-healing, like a gel, but hardened when impacted with energy. It was made of 3 meter-squared tiles, and looked shiny black when seen from an angel, but milky-white when looked at dead-on. As I walked around the ship, it looked as if it changed color.

Climbing inside alone (he preferred to be alone when thinking), Aardwolf spent a good hour inspecting the torpedo boat. When he came out, he said that the ship was useless. The shields where very weak by present-day standards, the computer was a joke, and the hyperwarp engine was big, slow, and an energy hog. There were no modern weapons, no proto-space communications, and the life-support system was trashed.

It was Slickpea, perhaps trying to gain some good points from me, that questioned Aardwolf’s assessment. Couldn’t the warp engine be upgraded? And the shields? Couldn’t we put in a more efficient power plant? Wasn’t it easy to install the Hubble sensor arrays? Was a proto-sphere comm system important?

Aardwolf rolled his eyes. Yeah, sure, if he had a year and a million credits and tons of replacement parts, he could make the ship useful. But it would be cheaper just to build a new ship, by his estimates.

I grinned when Slickpea started punching buttons on his TAK and started to formulate a plan. There were dozens of engineers on the orbital space station that would help, and they could cut the refit time down. As for the need of credits, anything needed could be requisitioned from Fleet stores. And spare parts-

Spreading his arms wide, Slickpea pointed out, “This hanger is one huge goddamn spare parts vault. Look, you’ve got a gunship and shuttles to cannibalize. You’ve got about 400 tons of extra parts, unused, in boxes all over the damn place. You should spend less time bitchin’ about problems and come up with some solutions... Chief Aardwolf.”

If he weren’t a criminal, a thief/ con artist/ numbers runner, I’d recruit the man right there? Hmm. I did need more crew if I was going to add a ship to my fleet, and Ensign Shiny Slickpea was technically a pilot.

Aardwolf promptly came back with, “Go screw yourself, you pasty-faced, slimy little maggot-“

I interrupted. “Chief, if Ensign Slickpea thinks he can do this project, then maybe we should turn it over to him. It seems he’s already got a plan in mind.”

Ensign Thomas Aardwolf, Chief of Engineering, 6th Fleet, creator of the SAMD military drone, father of dozens of robotics hardware and software innovations, a man whose importance was measured most highly by himself, was not about to let Ensign Shiny Slickpea, Rat-man of Hub Base 442, out-do him. I knew, and Slickpea knew it.

I left the hanger with Slickpea, leaving Aardwolf alone to do his Chief of Engineering duties. Marie had the Grinder ready to go, so we made our way to the orbital space dock. The Sergeant turned red with laughter with Slickpea’s account of Aardwolf’s reaction to the potential of being outdone by the Rat-man.

As we burned the atmosphere at escape velocity, an emergency command came through from the Hub Base: Command 14-10.

Defend and retaliate. The Hub Base was under attack.

Losing My Rank

The Hub Base was attacked by a Viatece battle group, represented by 3 destroyer-equivalent craft and a cruiser-equivalent craft. There were a dozen other craft that ranged from MSS- to gunship-sized.

"14-10" is a general action order that means "Defend-Retaliate." General action orders are extremely important to a space-based military because distance and time can mess with specific orders.

In this case, if the specific order hadn't come, I would have positioned the Grinder to defend the orbiting Hub Base, then followed the enemy to harass them and make them pay for the attack.

The specific order had me joining Fleet Commander Moody Shepherd in the retaliation effort. Instead of following the fleeing enemy forces after the Hub Base successfully repelled the attack, we were to backtrack. It was the Commodore's opinion that a large assault force would be waiting us if we chased the enemy forces into hyperspace. He was also leery of sending larger craft after the Viatece battle group, in case another group of Viatece ships attacked the Hub Base.

Tracking a ship backwards through hyperspace was much easier that following it. I had no doubt that we would find the beginnings of the Viatece battle group.

I was contacted by FC Shepherd and requested his orders. Although we were both Fleet Commanders, Shepherd's hierarchal rank was Captain, and I was just a lowly Commander. While working with 4th Fleet, I would no longer be considered a Fleet Commander until the mission was completed.

FC Shepherd ordered me to lead our little strike group, because he knew (rightly) that I was the best pilot in the group when it came to immersed space travel.

There was no time to let Slickpea off the ship. I put him in the Aux 2 position, behind me, and made him monitor communications and long-range sensors. He was very unhappy about being treated like a real navy-man. Sergeant Du-tse made him quiet his complaints just as I led our task group into immersed space.

Next Chapter >> 25: Planetary Assault

23: Shiny Slickpea

2006-07-29T22:05:00.000-07:00

He was mopping the deck on the orbital base when we found him. That right there confirmed my notions of this ensign. Robots were quite capable of scrubbing decks, but a man with a mop and a bucket could move around with a certain amount of freedom, finding opportunities for fun and profit.

Marie took the initiative. "What are you doing, Ensign?" she had asked him with a dramatic snarl.

"I’m just moppin' the deck, ma'am," Ensign Slickpea answered.

"Do I look like a 'ma'am'?" Marie growled. "I'm a goddamn sergeant, rat-man!"

"Y-yes, Sergeant!" exclaimed Slickpea, almost dropping his mop as he suddenly stood at attention. "Sorry, Sergeant!"

Marie stood in his face, glowering with great effect. I launched into a line of questions. "Ensign Shiny Slickpea, how come you haven't qualified for any specialty? How come you've been in the Fleets for six years and never tried to get into a department? Why is it that any transfer you receive is cancelled? How is it that an ensign makes 17 thousand credits a year, and you’ve got bank accounts totaling 350 thousand credits?"

Slickpea's face turned red, and a sudden viciousness appeared on his face. "I'm sure it's all totally innocent, sir-" he began, but Marie snarled, "That's 'Fleet Commander', rat-man!" I love my Sergeant. (Not like that- okay, maybe a little like that.)

I thought for a moment- a brief, insane moment- that Slickpea was going to take a swipe at Marie. I sort of wanted him to try; Sergeant Marie Du-tse was a colonist, hard as stone, tough as steel, and strong in will and body. Ensign Shiny Slickpea, on the other had, was a half-head shorter than my Sergeant and looked to weigh a third less than she. He was skinny, soft, and out of shape.

I told the ensign that Fleet Intel had uncovered all sorts of dirt on him, but he might stay out of the brig if he helped me out. "You see," I told him, "I need another ship. And a devious little rat-man could find me a ship in a fleet that was short on resources and long on enemies." I could almost see the wheels spinning around in his head.

"So, you'll leave me alone if I can get you your ship?" he asked, adding for the Sergeant's interest, "Fleet Commander?"

Oh, yes, Ensign. I'll go away like a bad dream, never to confront you again. And you best be at the Grinder by the end of your deadline, or you're going to have a long vacation (five to 10 years) in a little room with no windows and a toilet that is used for a sink.

Next Chapter >> 24: The Rat-man's Hanger

22: Expansion of First Fleet

2006-07-27T23:10:00.000-07:00

From The Ten Fleets of Earth: Primer, v2.1, pages 5-6:

As the Uruonti’d War wound down by the end of 3358, First Fleet grew in size, resources, and personnel. Because of this, and the need to quickly regain the confidence of Earth’s allies by diversifying First Fleet’s role, two new fleets were created. Second Fleet was given the task of guarding key human interests, such as heavily populated planets and space lanes. Second was also charged with helping allies develop their own navies by providing advice and training. Third Fleet was created to protect and serve lesser human interests. Since many of these interests were far-flung, Third Fleet also developed a strong diplomatic corps to enlist the aid of aliens and independent human governments, and to prevent turmoil.

It was at this time that Earth philosophers and political students began to think of the Sol system as being truly intergalactic. Earth has power, presence, and safety in the galaxies because of the strength, dedication, and ingenuity of the men and women of First Fleet. To realize the full potential of this view, Earth began to allocate more resources to First Fleet, which distributed them to the higher Fleets.

As 3361 came about, First Fleet was only a small part of what was now the Ten Fleets of Earth. The Ten Fleets of Earth was made of three parts: the lower fleets (First, Second, and Third), the ancillary fleets (4th and 5th), and the higher fleets (6th through 10th).

"Strap on Your Armor and Get to Work!"

I vocalized my concerns to my crew. We were in the forward galley, eating breakfast and going over the various reports that Rovsky was demanding.

My Sergeant was red-eyed and disheveled. My Engineering Chief had puffy eyes and winced at loud noises, grabbing his head in pain. Both had spent the night carousing around the space dock, and getting into all sorts of trouble. FC Moody had contacted me earlier, because several of his Marines mixed it up with Marie and Thomas. He wanted me to know that my crewmen were essentially innocent, being enticed to a rather spirited brawl. From what I understand, my crew held their own.

"What was I supposed to do about mankind's problems with my pathetic fleet?" I had asked, wallowing in self-pity. Marie stated simply, "You have to strap on your armor and get to work. Move forward, never look back, and never second guess yourself."

Aardwolf’s reply was as logical as the man himself. "Look, you have to look at this from a critical standpoint. Logically, you cannot save the universe by yourself. But you can help by taking your missions one at a time and utilizing your resources to the best of your ability. And, you can look at this problem like any complex system needing solving. Break it into pieces and conquer each piece, one at a time."

Yeah, okay. That was all fairly obvious. Good advice, I’d say. I was feeling a little less sorry for myself.

"How the hell am I supposed to grow this fleet when resources where so scarce?" was my second question. My crew didn’t have any ready answers, but they helped brainstorm a bit. It was Aardwolf who helped find a solution.

He was jotting notes on his palmpad, writing whatever came to mind. He was following some kind of problem-solving technique used by bloomin’ geniuses. There was one line of thought he was working through that caught my attention. He was comparing the Fleet to an old-time navy fleet, the kind that floated on water. In his thinking, when ships were made of wood and harnessed the wind, a captain could ask a boon of the Queen, if the captain could show a profit for the kingdom. He moved into another line of thought, where a duke or other nobility could grant a favor. Working his way through a fictional supply line, he came to the "scrounge."

In human militaries as old as fire and the wheel, there was always a slick-talking low-ranking enlisted man who would fetch things for the generals or majors or kings. The "scrounge" was the supply-line between the lines. There was a variation of this noble creature that I had encountered during training: the packrat; or just "the rat." Instead of fetching unique or illegal items for his superiors, the rat made a personal profit. In basic training, the rat was a handsome, smart, devious chap who somehow never got promoted and never took on any type of responsibilities. He was becoming rich by selling a little of this and a little of that, and some of "that" was official Ten Fleets property.

I brought up the personnel files for Hub Base 442. There were over 500 people on or around the base, from cadets to a Commodore. Scrolling through the files, I found what I wanted: Ensign Shiny Slickpea, AKA, the Rat.

Next Chapter >> 23: Shiny Slickpea

21: Getting There

2006-07-19T23:14:00.000-07:00

There are romantic, humanocentric types that foster the idea that human beings are the universe's most adaptable intelligent species. This is an outright lie. Humanity is not particularly adaptable when compared to other species. Nor do we have any claim to being an particularly intelligent species. There are intelligent races out there that are smarter, stronger, more adaptable, and much more advanced.

So how is it that we do so very well when compared to those "better" species? I for one have a biased answer: we get around very well. Yeah, you'd expect a pilot come up with that answer. Let me explain what I mean.

When we first started colonizing other solar systems, humans used a type of faster-than-light travel called a sling engine. We still use these today for enormous vehicles. The sling enigine worked with a fixed worm-tunnel called a Gelmer field that led to an alternate plane called slingspace. A permanent gate had to be set up on both sides of the field in order to make a round-trip. But one-way fields could be used to send drones to build a return gate, thus making intergalactic travel possible.

After a mere half-century, we came up with the hyper-engine. Faster than sling engines when used in lower mass spacecraft, hyperspace travel allowed humans to jump around the galaxy without the need for a Gelmer field. The side effects of gravity interdiction and time distortion were small enough to encourage the abandonment of the sling-engine.

Red-warp engines came next. At the time, humanity was the fastest known species because of red-warp. The use of red-warp, also called hex-warp ("hex" as in "curse"), was extremely dangerous and only militaries regularly used red-warp travel. Red-warp travel caused permanent insanity in one in a 100,000 humans, and the rate was much higher for other species. Starcraft with mixed crew could not use the hex-warp engine. Even today, red-warp is the fastest method of travel for large distances about a quarter galactic diameter.

Today the immersion engine is the most popular way for humans to travel. Immersed space was actually a sub-plane of hyperspace. But to work, immersion points had to be found. Here's the trick for finding immersion points: only human beings can sense them, and electronic instruments can only guess where immersion points exist. As safe as hyperspace travel.

Sensing immersion points can be learned to a certain point in some people. More often than not, good immersed-space pilots have an innate ability that seems to be genetic. People like myself can sense immersion points at a distance of a half solar diameter. Electronic instruments lead you in the right direction, but it takes a human navigator or pilot to find the immersion point's exact location. Really good pilots can sense the difference between different immersion points and pick the one that will facilitate faster travel.

So this is how humanity staves off extinction. We can get around the universe very quickly and very economically. No other species can travel through hex-space with any type of safety, and no other species can find the best immersion points. For this, we get to claim a future as a species despite the best efforts of aliens bent on wiping us out.

Next Chapter >> 22: Expansion of First Fleet

20-I: Gettin' Even

2006-05-27T20:09:00.000-07:00

From the journal of Fleet Commander Toasty Warren, FC of 7th Fleet.

So this is how I got even with that bastard nephew. First, me an' Liver took a trip back to the space port where I found a disreputable delivery service. I then made a real nice "thank you" letter for that ass that stuck me with Liver and asked for it to be discretely deilvered. I also said under no circumstances that the delivery service was to look at the message.

I knew the bastards couldn't resist. I made the the thank you note somewhat vague and put some confusing references in it. I then sent a simuliar message to the nephew's rival. When both messages were read together, it would look like the nephew was playin' both sides of the rivalry an' land him in hot water.

To seal the deal, I arranged for a taxi to arrive at the rival's house under the nephew's name so there'd be a record that looked like he was visitin' the bad guys.

Then, me an' Liver high-tailed it out of there, headin' for a nearby Hub Base where we could continue missions.

Next Chapter >> 21: Getting There

19: Humanity and the Fleets

2006-05-25T13:24:00.000-07:00

It was open season on humanity. Species once friendly to mankind had suddenly turned hostile. On colony worlds shared by multiple species, humans were being forced off-planet. Attacks were frequent. Ten thousand humans died on a far-flung colony when a formerly neutral species razed the planet. Thousands more died when civilian craft trying to flee the planet were shot down. On another colony, military robots wandered the streets of a city of millions, shooting anything that moved.

Acts of sabotage, outright attacks, even financial attacks were happening everywhere. The most obvious safe places for humans were the original nine Coalition planets and Earth. Knowing this, millions of people streamed to those planets, only to be turned away or captured.

There were other havens, though. I read that several planets in the Narrow Sector forming the loose alliance called the Range were holding up very well. Although Kambridge was almost 300 years old, most of the other planets were new. This meant they were taking refugees with open arms.

The Tillians, Fondishig, and Abbersham were sending military forces to help, where they could. Always allies to humanity, they were also under pressure from other species to back off, or suffer the same kinds of attacks. The shy and reclusive D’kims also sided with humans, though they didn’t have any resources or military might. I was relieved to hear that Dandem strongly favored mankind during these awful storms of violence and slaughter. The Irarians have gone as far as to provide escorts for human mass-evacuations.

The lower fleets were now holding their own. FFA was now at full strength, thanks to resources and personnel transferred from the Earth Defense Fleet. FFB and FFZ were also doing very well. Second fleet was still at bare-bones level. They spent most of the time patrolling areas of space most frequented by humans. And they were taking a toll of blood on those species doing humanity harm.

Third Fleet was in perfect form. They were exacting vengeance on those species that have done us harm. If it was not possible for the Fleets to be where they could protect humans, then Third struck back, exacting payment ten-fold.

The rest of the Ten Fleets, however, were in bad shape. 4th, under the command of Captain
Moody, was doing well. 5th Fleet exists only on paper. I’m 6th Fleet, with just my little Grinder and two people. Although 8th and 9th Fleet had several medium and large military craft, they were transferred to Mission Groups of First Fleet. Tenth Fleet was absorbed into FFA as a Task Group.

Rovsky told me about 7th Fleet. I was really surprised that Toasty Warren was the Fleet Commander of 7th. Toasty is well known by just about everyone in the Ten Fleets because he’s an instructor at the academy Argos in First Fleet. Just about every new recruit has taken his classes. Toasty specializes in Tucker vats, but also teaches trade, finance, and beginner classes on diplomacy and xenoculture. Toasty is physically huge, outspoken, and doesn’t hold back his opinion on anything. He’s well loved by many.

Once every five years, Toasty has to do a quick tour in another fleet like all instructors. This rule is supposed to keep desk-jockeys from becoming fat and complacent; they actually have to do real work in the fleets. Toasty’s story is much like mine in that he got the title of Fleet Commander because he was in the right (wrong) place at the time. His flagship is an Arnican shuttle. I wonder how old Toasty’s doing right now?

So, there you have it. I have given a general look at the universe for mankind. As a bonus, you have the state of the Ten Fleets of Earth. I just have a few questions, like: What the hell am I going to about this, with my pathetic fleet? And: How the hell am I supposed to grow this fleet when resources where so scarce that one of the Ten Fleets is a paper fleet, and another has a shuttle as the flagship?

Next Chapter >> 20-I: Gettin' Even

18: 4th Fleet

2006-04-20T11:05:00.000-07:00

I was filled with shame and pride. Standing in the large docking bay, I compared my little Grinder with the ships of 4th Fleet. Right next to my ship was the Cobra Gunship, Strike. She was easily twice the length of Grinder, and round, unlike my flat ship. She proudly displayed 16 large universal gun turrets, and four missile turrets. A pair of Winnow launchers flanked her, towards the aft. Strike’s mightiest weapon was the huge cannon fixed forward, right on her nose. Around this monster cannon was an array of fixed exotic weapons, for use on an enemy thinking himself well prepared.

On the other side of Strike was the Asp-class Foray. The Asp-class ships are MSS-types, like the Grinder. My ship was built with economy in mind. The Asp-class ships had the best of everything: better shields, better weapons, better armor, better sensors. Even the modules for this class were far and away better and more numerous than the Liberator-class ships. Foray had two massive weapons modules. Where the Grinder had two small plasma guns and a particle cannon, this ship had four universal turrets and a pair of 4-port missile launchers.

The Asp-class ships were wide with golden-colored armor. They were designed with stream-lined, graceful curves that made them look as if they could swim or glide through an atmosphere. The Liberator-class, though, was as graceful as a gray brick.

But I grinned to myself, because the Grinder was no typical Liberator-class ship. She wore a black mother-of-pearl suit of armor made of triadiam. She was also faster than any ship at HB 442, in both real space and faster-than-light. And, true, she didn’t have any anti-personnel defenses. But the two automated drones squatting under her belly more than compensated for that. And with Aardwolf’s help, she was smarter than Strike or Foray.

My shame was not of the Grinder, or her crew. It was of myself. Shepherd Moody, Fleet Commander of 4th, had grown his fleet beyond the two ships in the bay. He had a Diamond Delivery Carrier, another Cobra Gunship, and an Excalibur Gunship docked outside the orbital spaceport. He had enlisted a great crew, with 12 Marines, two Master Chief Engineers, and nine worthy pilots.

I made my way to a local dive of a bar on the spaceport, near HB 442's bays, and met up with Captain Moody and his command staff. I had Aardwolf with me, because I wanted Marie to finish a few things before joining us.

I compared notes with Moody, and found out that he had participated in 9 full-scale battles. His fleet took out two Pichamk bases, liberated a planet under Viatece control, and even defeated a Viatece battleship. On the other side of killing and blowing stuff up, Moody’s fleet also brought 3 alien species to Earth’s side of the war.

I was shocked when Moody told me how jealous of me he felt. It was probably the beer and bourbon speaking, but he was impressed with the work I had done on Cyprus Colony, at HB 2112, and the Catalian rescue effort. He had heard that I had something to do with Irarians pledging to help Earth and other human interests during the conflict. I found that a little amazing myself, but I’m not sure how I pulled that one off. Making a mental note to find out later (which was difficult because I had a really good buzz going), I excused myself and promised to catch up with Fleet Commander Moody on the morrow. In the mean time, I left Aardwolf in the bar and relieved Marie. She quickly dressed in her semi-formals and rushed to the bar.

I had a light snack and reviewed incoming infopaks. Bad news all over. Really bad.

Next Chapter >> 19: Humanity and the Fleets

17-I: An Interlude into Toasty Warren's Life

2006-03-08T21:55:00.000-08:00

From the journal of Fleet Commander Toasty Warren, FC 7th Fleet.

I keep gettin' updates from Rovsky about what her other fleets are doin'. She keeps tellin' me about how well Fleet Commander Moody is doin'. She keeps lettin' me know how good Fleet Commander John is doin'. Yeah, great. I wished she'd just shut the hell up. I didn't volunteer for this damn job.

I ain't no Fourth Fleet and I ain't no Sixth Fleet and I ain't got myself a fancy MSS or gunship to pilot. All I got is a banged up ol' Arnican-DE shuttle. Godamnit.

"Toasty," I says to myself every day, "ya just gotta hang in there and do your job and help the Fleets out." Okay, so I got a mission and a boat and a crew... Well, at least somethin' I'm callin' a crew right now.

See, my crew consists of one recruit from the Emerald States on the planet Thorvsky. His name's "Liver." Yeah, like "liver and onions." Okay, so here's the story 'bout Liver:

'Bout the time the Battle of Zulif was takin' place, I was running a firesquad of Marines from their Hub Base to a secure area on Thorvsky.

See, my Arnican-DE is made to pick up stray Marines and deliver tenderly into a nice safe place or a battlefield. This Arnican is built to take a lot of hits, travel fast, and to dump an' pick up crew with the speed of a cheetah. I ain't got no big guns on this boat 'cause she's not a fighter. I do have a nice assortment of anti-personnel guns to give cover to Marines runnin' like hell into our out of the boat.

Anyways, I made my delivery and Rovsky gets hold of me and informs me that I'm now Fleet Commander of Seventh Fleet. What a big, steamin' pile o' crap that was. Officially, I'm runnin' a "Seed Fleet." Bein' a Fleet Commander ain't as much a promotion as it is a major pain in the ass.

So, anyways, I'm stuck on Thorvsky 'cause the Hub Base is shut down. Seems the Earth Standard Credit took a dump and nobody's gonna take it. I send a message to Rovsky sayin' I'm stuck and I can get off the planet 'cause I can't refuel an' restock.

That's when a Duke of the Emerald States give me a call an' says he wants to help me out. He'll pay for the fuel and supplies and even give me some help with the crew. I don't trust these Thorvsky turds as far as I can throw 'em, but I was stuck an' took the help.

So Duke tells me to go to his continental estate where his nephew is takin' care of the household. He even sends me a shuttle to take me. When I get there the Duke's nephew is a total bastard, makin' fun of me and givin' me a hard time while his cronies are surroundin' him laughin' and havin' a great time. I couldn't punch him 'cause I'd get my fat ass kicked by the nephew's bodyguards.

The Duke ordered his nephew to allow me to take any qualified personnel from the household staff for my crew. So the nephew tells me his definition of "qualified" means stupid and ignorant. I'm presented with two indentured servants- Liver and a 90 year-old guy- an' the nephew told me I had to take them or face the scorn of the Duke. It would of been an insult to refuse the Duke's gift of crew members.

The asshole nephew's face showed his shock when I said I'd take Liver. The old guy was too old for Fleet duty (which is a lie 'cause there's no maximum age for Fleet service) I told him. So, with Liver in hand, I went back to my shitty little Arnican an' worked on gettin' my revenge on that asshole nephew.

Next Chapter >> 18: 4th Fleet

16: Resolution of Cyprus Colony

2006-02-26T22:22:00.000-08:00

The three-dimensional map of Cyprus Colony politics was awash with the filth of corruption. A nifty little program plotted the factions, interests, sects, companies, and various other groups that make up a society. Green forms showed thriving communities, made up of hard working folks who strove for the ever-elusive human ideals. Gray indicated self-serving sections. Black indicated those interests that worked against the health and welfare of Cyprus Colony.

The map was mostly gray. Most of the official government’s portion was either black or gray. Most of the locally owned businesses were green or yellow, as opposed to the mostly black Coalition corporations.

I sent a copy to President Mirk Brandholdt, the elected leader of Cyprus Colony. He responded within the hour, visibly shaken. I made my pitch, the first part of my master plan to save Cyprus Colony. Mirk agreed.

The government map was backed by hard evidence, with many revealing morsels of information provided by Fleet Intelligence. It was all provable. It was all factual. I purposely cut out the small bits of speculation that Fleet Intel put in the report. Even the most biased thinkers would have a hard time arguing with my report.

The plan started early in the morning with a little R&R. I parked the Grinder just a few meters from the emerald ocean, where the bluish sand was moist but not wet. It was a beautiful day on the beach with clear skies and a cool, gentle breeze washing over the sands. Aardwolf and I crashed into the surf, diving into the waves, and whooping like a couple of kids. Marie was more restrained, coming into the surf wearing the under layer of her Catalian armor. Her hood was pulled up, her faceplate on, and small rebreather was strapped to her hip. While Tom and I splashed about, the Sergeant went diving.

When out of earshot, Tom couldn’t help but comment on Marie’s armor. See, that final layer of armor was made of a very high-tech material that was water- and airproof yet allowed the skin to breath. It also could cool a person down by 10 degrees or warm by 25 by using the small battery packs on the shoulders. And the armor also protected from physical damage by hardening in the area of impact, then spreading the blow across a wide section of armor. Most of all, it was skintight. It looked like Marie had painted a glossy white finish on her skin; there was little of her body that was left to the imagination.

I warned Aardwolf against entertaining romantic thoughts about my second-in-command. He replied that romance had nothing to do with it- it was all lust. I suggested he satiate that lust on one of his drones, because the Sergeant was off-limits.

After a pleasant afternoon of sunbathing and swimming, we had to get to work. President Brandholdt was the first to arrive, because we had to go over some plans that would soon be launched.

The VP of Manibraus and official dictate for the Coalition, Resshire, arrived about the same time as the High Archangel of the Holy People of whatever. Resshire and the Higharch both read the report I had created from the government map, with the Coalition man unable to deny its implication. However, the technocrat declared the report as bullshit. He was denying the fact the Coalition had promised him Cyprus Colony after the legal government was overthrown. Then the Coals could come in, enslave the population (by converting everyone to a salary position and spiking up the price of living), and make a nice profit.

I then informed the High Archangel that he was under arrest. A transport from the EDF was now on its way, and would take him to a nice safe place for trial. He exploded with righteous anger, and threats spilled from him as Aardwolf crept behind him. I didn’t wait to see if the technocrat was going to use the weapons built into the plastic and metal parts of his body. I gave Tom the signal, and there was an explosion of electricity.

Blue fingers crackled and whipped around the Higharch’s body, coming from the 49er grenade that Tom had set off under the technocrat’s chair. The grenade was meant to take down military robots, so it did a nice job of stopping the plastic heart of the technocrat.

Things fell into place nicely after that. The Cyprus Colony president ordered all citizens away from the Coalition assembly plants, and the police were rounding up the terrorists (hired and volunteers alike). Work was already underway to get farming and mining interests back on tract, giving jobs to the displaced workers.

Resshire took everything in stride. I knew he would. There was little profit in a free Cyprus Colony. No doubt Manibraus and the other Coalition corporations would make a nice profit in selling back parts of Cyprus Colony to the inhabitants.

And so by nightfall, the Grinder was plying the starlanes on the way to HB 442 to meet up with the Fleet Commander of 4th Fleet, Shepherd Moody.

Next Chapter >> 17-I: An Interlude into Toasty Warren's Life

15: Up to a Week Ago

2006-01-13T19:25:00.000-08:00

It's funny how much trouble I can get into in a relatively short amount of time. Not "ha-ha" funny. More like a "look at that dead thing in the road" kind of funny.

About ten days ago, we landed in the capital city of Cyprus. Aardwolf proved to be the genius that I thought he was, because he had three effective weapons pieced together by the time we landed. That was fortunate as Ensign Du-tse and I were involved in a prolonged firefight on the steps of Cyprus’s Capital Building within three hours of landing.

Marie turned out to be such an incredible fighter that I promoted her to Sergeant. That's a Marine title that belongs in the realm of Department Chiefs. Essentially, as Aardwolf is a genius engineer thus Chief of Engineering, Du-tse is a warrior and thus "Chief of Killing People," i.e., a Marine Sergeant. This is part of the central leadership model that exists along side the Ten Fleet’s hierarchal system.

By the end of that day, I had offended the Coalition interests on Cyprus by pointing out the plethora of infractions of fair trade practices in which they engaged. Somewhere in the middle of the day after that, I lectured the leaders of the official government for wanting the money brought in by the Coalition companies, but not wanting the inevitable problems that come along with the cash.

Eight days ago, the "High Archangel" (or some crap like that) visited me. The self-professed savior of humanity was a techno-centric cyborg. The disgusting religion he preached held that human flesh and blood was imperfect, and that only by getting rid of the organic parts of the body can one become closer to God. The followers were not only butchering their own children by replacing parts of them with plastic and metal, but they were also buying slaves and forcing them to go through the same process. I strongly suggested to the High Arch-hole that he and his group of followers not bother me again or I would order a nuclear strike on their compound.

I didn't create the incident that happened a week ago. Sergeant Du-tse had worked her innate diplomatic magic and brought the Coalition companies and the local government to the table for peaceful talks. However, my Chief of Engineering decided to steal back some of the drones he claimed the Coalition had stolen from him. To make matters worse, a group of colonist extremists decided to attack the Grinder as is sat in on a launch pad. Aardwolf managed to reconcile the Grinder's combat synchronization ability with those of the combat drones. Under his guidance, the colonists were massacred.

So, that brings everything up to date to about a week ago. I'm still on this damn planet, even with my messages to Rovsky pleading that I be released from this assignment.

The Sergeant's Pretty Face

Both the Coalition and the Cyprus government wanted to get their hands on Aardwolf. The Coals charged him with theft, tampering with security, sabotage, and interference with official Coalition goals. The Cyprians charged him with 9 counts of murder, 4 counts of felony assault, and destruction of private property. I spent the greater part of two days unraveling the mess.

With the Coals, all I had to do was prove that the drones, three in all, were legally Aardwolf's property. It wasn't hard to do, as he had binding contracts and manifests issued by the Cyprus government proving that he owned the drones, and not the Manibraus Corporation. Therefore, he legally repossessed his own property. The Coals backed down as soon as I threatened legal action to have all of the SAMD's returned.

Surveillance tapes of the landing pad also proved that Aardwolf acted to protect the Grinder from an unprovoked assault. It turns out the attack was by some extremist group. They called themselves the Cyprus Liberation Organization, or some nonsense like that. They were terrorists.

The next day was a very busy day for the 6th Fleet. Marie had help from Fleet Intelligence to hack into the Cyprus Colony computers. She dug around for proof that the official government was sanctioning terrorist activity against the Coalition forces, specifically against Manibraus. The proof was surprisingly easy to find.

I had Aardwolf working on ship maintenance. I wanted to be able to blast off this planet at a moment's notice, and didn't want a glitch in the ship's system to get in the way. He also spent time undoing some modifications the Coals did to the SAMD's.

I put together a report that I hoped would stop the violence on the planet. Local extremist groups and Coalition military strikes were killing hundreds of people daily. And the techno-religious freaks seemed to be thriving.

During our hard work, Sgt. Marie Du-tse shocked both Aardwolf and myself. I was doing work in the ancillary stations in the cockpit of the Grinder and Aardwolf was tinkering with the co-pilot's station below me. Marie was working diligently beside me in the second ancillary station, when she suddenly stretched, yawned, and took off her visor and hood. It was the first time I had ever seen her face, and she was…

…nice looking.

I have to admit, I was afraid that she'd either be ugly or gorgeous. Both were equally bad. The chauvinist in me didn't relish the thought of working with a dog, and my higher thoughts knew I'd be distracted if my second-in-command was a goddess. She was pretty, for sure. She had a strong nose and chin, full lips, and big green eyes. A smattering of delicate freckles peppered her nose and cheeks. Her light-brown hair looked as if it was just a few weeks out of crew cut. I let out a sigh of relief.

"You were afraid I’d be ugly," she said, smiling shyly. Yeah, I admitted it. Aardwolf, on the other hand, said, "I knew she was cute. 'Could tell from her smile." I rolled my eyes, and ordered my crew to get back to work.

Old Troubles and a Day at the Beach

I knew I'd get nailed sooner or later. Rovsky was pissed off enough to contact me through protospace networks. This real-time method of faster than light communication is hideously expensive and unsecured.

It seems the High Admiral had Rovsky's fine young ass (I'm assuming about her ass, having only seen her from the neck up) because of several liberties I've taken with the Fleet's good name and recruiting practices. You know the story about the free repairs and armor for the Grinder courtesy of Schiavone-Tonlee Parts Company. It seems STPC is going full guns and advertising their status as the official supplier of 6th Fleet. Good for them, I say!

"You're going to get us both court-martialed!" Rovsky would say.

Then there was Sgt. Marie Du-tse's sudden promotion from ensign. Since "sergeant" is a Marine classification that has to be earned through years of specialized training, my decision to promote her ended up sending ripples through all ten Fleets (such as they are). I stood by my decision, and challenged Rovsky to let me explain it to the High Admiral personally.

She angrily declined, saying I would only make matters worse.

Of course, I knew that Thomas Aardwolf worked for Coalition companies for years. Before that he worked closely with the Earth Defense Fleet and the Ten Fleets. He is responsible for all kinds of advances in military hardware, with emphasis on automated drones. To me, it made perfect sense to bring him back over to our side. Fleet Intelligence was having seizures over Aardwolf's recruitment. Again, I asked Rovsky to put me in contact with the Chief of Intelligence; again she gave me an emphatic "No!"

So, what to do now? Go to the beach, that's what! My reports are all done, thanks to Marie's hard work and a lot of help from 10th Fleet's diplomacy squad. Not to mention some inside contacts I had with EDF (Earth Defense Fleet). I deserved some real R & R, and my crew wholeheartedly agreed.

Of course, I had a hidden agenda. See, I had to get the Coalition, Cyprus Colony, and technocrats together for an intimate meeting. I figure, after an afternoon in the sun on one of Cyprus's fine beaches, a sunset dinner would be just perfect.

Next Chapter >> 16: Resolution of Cyprus Colony

14: Cyprus Colony Mission Update

2005-11-10T10:27:00.000-08:00

Cyprus Colony, I learned, was a Pandos world. "Pandos" is a term that started in the Narrow Sector, where a world by that name became a hotbed of corporate intrigue and subterfuge. A world that becomes hot property to mega-corporations is called a Pandos.

From the mission brief I received from Rovsky, I learned that several Coalition companies were at odds with the local colonists. To stir the fires of violence and hatred, a zealous religious sect threw itself into the fray. Between the three forces, Cyprus Colony was turning into a battleground.

My specific mission was to gain an audience with the primary leaders and get the full story. I was not allowed to make any deals or act as arbiter. This was an information-gathering mission

About halfway there, I realized that my Ensign and I would need some weaponry. The colony was extremely dangerous, and not having a weapon would paint us as a target. I was hoping that the Grinder's weapon's locker would have some decent arms, but the locker held the usual crap: two palm-sized particle pistols and two Militiaman rifles.

Let me describe the Militiaman rifle: a 2.5' long white tube with a pistol grip and a crude firing pin; beaded sights, like what you'd find on a shotgun; a cheap rubber grip; and a built-in rechargeable battery. The Militiaman rifles were cheap, ineffective weapons. To quote an article in Modern Weaponry, a newsnet ezine, "The Militiaman rifle is a mockery to all military arms, and is so cheap that it would not make a good club."

I had Marie start delving into the ship's library looking for information about modifying the rifles. I remember seeing instructions in a Marine field manual on what to do if their real weapons were unavailable and all they had was some weapons from the ship's lockers.

While she searched, I dug around some boxes in the internal cargo areas. I had grabbed some random boxes from HB1322 on Al-Theta. I found some parts and pieces that might be useful, but no working weapons.

Luckily, I did have some Marine armor. That might came in handy.

Party on a Fondishig Freighter with Aardwolf

There was no use trying to put together any type of decent weapon from what we had at hand. Although a brilliant pilot and smart as a whip, En. Du-tse didn’t know enough about weapons to put the pieces together. I was absolutely no help. I just know which end of a gun to point at the enemy and what button to push to make it work.

So instead, we took a side trip when we entered Cyprus Colony space. The Grinder’s sensors quickly took stock of all the ships around the planet, and compared the readings with traffic control’s information database. It turns out that a huge Fondishig freighter was in-system. This particular craft was owned by the brother-clan of a group I did business with a few times. I hailed them, introducing myself. The Clan Father heard of me (luckily in a good way) and invited me aboard for a visit.

There are a few mysteries in this universe that we just have to take for granted. The fact that humans got along so well with the scaly, green Fondishig is one of them. There are very few things we have in common with them. The important ones are part of those few. So what if they have bizarre mating habits? So what if they have a strange religion? The Fondishig love to party, and that’s enough for me.

So I had Marie dock the Grinder in one of the massive freighters bays. Once on board, we where greeted with warmth. That was the Fondishig way, all friendly and open and happy to meet you.

Yeah, there was trouble a-brewing on Cyprus Colony. But I decided that could wait a bit as the Clan Father and I shared some premium brandy I brought, and some liquid fire the Fondishig enjoy getting drunk on. It was a good time, with camaraderie, boasting, and lewd jokes.

Now, I am a true believer that if you’re good to people and enjoy many strong friendships, then good things will come your way. In this case, another human traveler, by the name of Thomas Aardwolf, was the good thing. He joined the party late, having just come up from business on Cyprus Colony. To my good fortune, a Coalition company named Manibraus cleanly and thoroughly ripped off Tom. The security and military company basically highjacked Tom’s work.

Here’s the thing I learned about Tom: he’s the “Aardwolf” in “Aardwolf’s SA Military Drones.” The SAMDs were legendary for their toughness and efficiency. I had Marie get me some coffee from the Grinder while Tom bemoaned his sad state, broke and alone in the great big galaxies.

Then the Clan Father and I began to work on him. Tom wasn’t totally wasted on Fondishig liquor when he finally agreed to sign up with the 6th Fleet. He was even sort of sober when I had him sign the papers, registering him as Ensign Aardwolf, the newest member of the Ten Fleets of Earth.

I’m pretty sure the testimony of the Fondishig Clan Father and his family could get me out of a court martial if Tom ever got the notion to fight his 2-year tour.

Next Chapter >> 15: Up to a Week Ago

13: Resolution of HB2112 Mission

2005-11-02T21:25:00.000-08:00

I am debating with myself on whether or not to ask for a transfer to another assignment. Although being a Fleet Commander has given me a lot of freedom, so to it has given grave responsibility. I don’t feel I’m up for the task. I feel overwhelmed.

When we entered the Whannat system, two frigate-sized warships greeted us. Without provocation, they began firing anchoring spikes into the Grinder’s hull. Although a low-tech way of preventing a ship from going faster than light, it was effective. I was somewhat happy that most of the spikes struck the newly armored sections of the hull, deflecting uselessly into the void. But three struck the Grinder’s soft spots. That was enough to keep me from jumping out of the system.

I cursed and angrily tried to raise the warships, thinking of explanative remarks in several languages, when Marie reigned me in. Fortunately, she kept a cool head and contacted the Whannat government.

It seemed that their attack on us was a precaution to make sure we didn’t do anything rash while working out arrangements to release the personnel and equipment of HB2112. I took on a more diplomatic disposition in time to keep the situation from getting ugly.

It took a week of wheeling and dealing to solve the problem. In the end, I secured the release of the Hub Base by calling in favors from certain Irarian officials. The deal I worked out cost me a certain rare relic. That pissed me off to no end, because the dor’uom was grossly under-priced. I knew, from the deal, I could have gotten a half-million credits standard for it. But the Dandem government put enough pressure on the Whannats to get what I needed.

I looked at the Sadler 500 Index, and was quite happy to see the Whannats were dropped from it. In a month or two, they’ll be sucking up the Earth government to get in good graces again. It’s funny how some species want to believe they are independent of all other species, but in the galaxies, everyone was connected. For fifty years, the Whannats received a bounty of funds and resources for work done for Earth and human concerns. Yet, when Earth needed help, they decided to slap mankind in the face. I’ll bet they’ll get rated on the AB Index at less than 3. That’ll hurt them with some other species that look out for human interests.

I scarcely had time to congratulate my crew and myself when I got another priority message from Rovsky. A far-flung colony was tearing itself apart in a civil war. For some reason, the higher-ups believe I’m the one to handle the situation. I find that sadly amusing. It took a green Ensign to keep me from blowing the Whannat mission. How am I supposed to calm a civil war? I’m a goddamn pilot, a good one, but nothing else.

The navigation computer estimated 14 hours to reach Cyprus Colony. I’ll make it in seven. In the meantime, I need to finish my brandy and get some sleep.

Terms

Saddler 50 & Saddler 500 Indexes: These indexes measure the reliability and cooperation alien organizations and governments show towards Earth businesses. A normally hostile alien race could have an AB Alien Index rating of +2.00, but rate high on the Saddler indexes because the alien species has concerns that show good business dealings with Earth and Earth companies. The Saddler 50 rates the top 50 specific alien organizations while the Saddler 500 rates organizations, governments, and entire species.

Next Chapter>> 14: Cyprus Colony Mission Update

12: Triadiam Armor

2005-10-22T22:33:00.000-07:00

Marc made the ventral repairs on the Grinder and fixed the ship’s plasma gun. He also placed armor made from triadiam on key points of the ship. I am extremely impressed with his engineering skills as well as his sense of economy and business.

Triadiam is an alloy made from three types of exotic metals. The metals are assembled in long, single molecule strands and woven together. The result is a material so tough that it is difficult and expensive to modify after production. Essentially, the pieces of the materials have to be made to fit.

Because triadiam is so expensive to make (read: horribly expensive), all scraps and mis-sized pieces are stockpiled on the outside chance that a project might happened to need it.

Marc visited the triadiam stockpile kept by Schiavone-Tonlee Parts Company on Ohafia Neuvo. He selected dozens of promising pieces and brought them back to the Grinder for the local techs to place on the ship.

This is where Marc's engineering skills shone brightly. Because the Grinder uses a protective force field that is produced by elements in the hull, it would be a bad idea to simply slap on pieces of triadiam. Marc already had a plan in place to avoid problems of putting the armor on the hull. He used small pieces of carbon-spun ceramic to lift the armor off the hull, less than a hair's breath. The force field would be uninterrupted, and the ship would have the extra armor for protection. Since the ceramic is extremely strong itself, there wouldn't be a problem with atmospheric travel getting under the triadiam plates and ripping them off the ship.

Oh, and he stamped the STPC logo quite prominently on the armoring. Already taking advantage of the rights I put in the contract, he proved to have good business sense.

4th Fleet and a Work List

While digesting the enormous work list sent by Rovsky, I received an infopak announcing that 4th Fleet was now in Seed Fleet status, with one Captain Shepherd Moody officially given the position of Fleet Commander. I sent a message to Rovksy, asking for Moody’s IEC address so I could see how he’s handling his Seed Fleet. I’m also curious as to how he received the Fleet name “Shepherd Moody.” I can only guess, and it made some fun speculation with Marie.

My work list is officially titled “Priorities, Standards, General Mission Tasks, and Specified Missions for the 6th Fleet, Seed Fleet, Commander Dandem John as Acting FC.” Wow, that sure is one hell of a title for a laundry list. I really believe there’s an ops chief in First Fleet whose duty is to create long titles. I would’ve titled it “Stuff 6th Fleet Has to Do.”

Of course, my priorities are to keep 6th running as best I can without using Fleet Resources, and to seek and disrupt Viatece operations. General mission tasks include the inspection of Hub Base (HB) resources with reallocation of personnel, supplies, and equipment to First and Second Fleets, preservation of priority Hub Bases, and the “diplomatic decommissioning of non-essential Hub Bases with the purpose of consolidation Fleet resources, including credit, personnel, equipment, supplies, and other commodities that may prove vital to Fleet Operations.” That means I have to shut down bases without pissing off the locals because of lost lease payments and layoffs of civilian workers.

My first specified mission is to visit the planet of Whannat. Hub Base 2112, a normally busy and important HB, was been shut down. The Whannats, now indexed at +2.1, have demanded full payment for the lease on the HB, plus interest, plus lost revenue for the occupation of the hub, plus a rather hefty fee for the inconvenience of having to deal with the Ten Fleets. They will not, of course, take Earth credit. I’m to negotiate something with them to allow the release of the Fleet resources at the base.

I’m told that there are two Asp-class MMS’s and an Excalibur gunship being held hostage at the base. Also, a lone Fleet Marine has barricaded himself in the facility, threatening to blow the whole place up if the Whannats try to gain access. All other Fleet personnel tried to evacuate, but were arrested by the local government on the way out. I guess I’m supposed to save them also.

I charged Marie with doing research on the Whannats, to find out who they are. Not only will it better prepare us for the task at hand, but also teach her something about diplomacy. Well, that’s my excuse for having her do the research.

Next Chapter>> 13: Resolution of HB2112 Mission

11: A Night of R + R

2005-09-19T21:33:00.000-07:00

The nearest tavern was only a half-click from the simple Hub Base that housed the Grinder. Walking past isolated, metal hangers down a simple road, we entered the town of Farthings. It was near sunset and the weather was pleasant, with a cool breeze caressing us on our walk. Marie asked questions about dealing with societal taboos and I answered the best that I could. The advice I could give her, from dealing with many different human cultures, was simple enough.

First, if people from a different culture make fun of you and laugh at you, you smile and laugh with them. To do otherwise will only provoke them more, or make you out to be snotty and conceited. If you find yourself in a situation where people want to know why you broke some sort of cultural law, explain that you are a simple, ignorant traveler who hasn’t had the opportunity to learn how to do things the proper way. And if violence breaks out, don’t pull your punches- aim for the kidneys and face- and run like hell to the safety of the Grinder.

An important thing I have learned is you shouldn’t try to copy the locals until you’ve studied them intimately. I say this because sticking out like a sore thumb and claiming ignorance is better than pretending not to stick out like a sore thumb. That could seem mocking.

So, I wore my official Fleet ship’s uniform; navy blue pants, white shirt, blue vest, and heavy boots. Marie wore the same; only, she had on two layers of armor underneath and wore her hood. She finally took off her mirror-finish facemask, though. Her chin and lips were now visible. A smoky gray visor covered everything from the nose up.

I sauntered into the tavern with Marie nervously following and gave the barkeep a friendly greeting. Taking a seat at the bar, I made small talk while he got me the local version of a hard shot. Marie sipped from an elegant wineglass, seeming to enjoy the local red. The tavern itself was somewhat busy. Since the tavern was inside a large hanger, like the one my starship was in, there was a comfortable amount of room between patrons.

By my fifth shot, we were sharing a table with some young locals. They barraged me with questions at first. But Marie became the target of their infatuation and they left me alone. Someone handed me a cigar, and I simply relaxed. I needed this.

One thing I didn’t know about Catalians: they could hold their liquor. Marie was going through the many drinks the young men were buying her without much consequence. This seemed to make her even more popular. The youngsters seemed to be playing just fine, minding their manners and treating Marie like a lady, so I woozily moved to the quiet end of the bar and made sure, for the tenth time, that the barkeep was going to take my Earth credits for the night’s libations. For the tenth time, the barkeep assured me he would.

I started up a conversation with a gentleman named Marc Entwighn. He was an easy-going chap, planning on having just a few drinks to unwind after a stressful day at work. We both bitched about our jobs. I had a compromised starship with bad weaponry and no armor. My boss never talked to me directly. My entire crew was one experienced pilot who was also had strong military training but who was green in everything else.

Marc, I learned, was an engineer-turned-salesman for Schiavone-Tonlee Parts Company. He took the job to take a break from building mass-production lines for heavy machinery. His boss was on Mars and never answered infopaks. Since Marc’s company was the only company to sell parts for everything from lawnmowers to industrial-sized mining robots on the planet, he didn’t actually work. He just took orders for parts and equipment and sent them to Mars.

Several hours and several more drinks later, Marc excused himself to go home. Marie half-carried me back to the Grinder. She’s smirking at me right now; she probably forgot I could see her mouth. Well, it looks like someone’s on detail cleanup tomorrow.

The Grinder Gets Upgrades

Right now I'm watching techs hired by Schiavone-Tonlee Parts Company put the finishing touches on the Grinder. I'll be getting to work in around six hours.

Yesterday, En. Du-tse and I set up a table in the hanger, outside the ship, to do some work. Marie was going through some tutorials on the history of the Ten Fleets and some introduction to ranks. I was going through a rather long infopak that Lt. Cmdr. Rovsky had sent.

We wanted get out of the ship, and setting up a workstation next to it, in the cool hanger, was ideal.

In the early afternoon, Marc Entwighn showed up. We made some chitchat while I let him look at the damage on the ventral side of the Grinder. Marc pretended to think about the situation (I knew he had a plan all along) and made an offer to help me.

His company, STPC, would convert the necessary Earth credits to local currency, with a 2% processing fee, so the Grinder could receive the repairs. Of course, all work would be guaranteed and of the best craftsmanship.

I pretended to consider the offer. See, the way Marc set up the deal, STPC would end up getting the job of fixing the ship, plus make an extra 2% for the "processing" fee needed to pay the locals.

We ended up sitting at the table, sipping strong coffee, and got down to some hard negotiations. In the end, the deal went like this: the Fleets would pay straight credit, no processing fee, for the labor. STPC would cover the costs of all materials, including some imaginative upgrades. In return, STPC would receive the rights to 6th Fleet's name for one decade. That is, they can market products with the 6th Fleet name, and put the STPC logo prominently on the ships of 6th Fleet, if they had done at least 400k credits in fair market value to the ship.

Now, some people might think I was a little too easy with selling the rights to 6th Fleet. But you have to see this from my perspective. If Schiavone-Tonlee Parts Company wants to plaster their name all over the Grinder, they will probably want to use the best materials. Can't have a sponsored starship get blown up in combat due to bad product performance.

Next Chapter >> 12: Triadiam Armor

10: The Decommissioning Sequence

2005-09-12T20:13:00.000-07:00

From The Ten Fleets of Earth: Primer, v2.1, page 10:

The Decommissioning Sequence (DS) has rules that allow the Ten Fleets to rebuild itself. One way the DS ensures rebuilding is the Seed Fleet policy. Under this policy, higher fleets are seldom totally wiped out. A few ships are always delegated to higher fleets, even if the fleet is operating as a Mission Group of First Fleet.

For example, if 9th Fleet was dismantled because its resources were needed by higher priority fleets one or two craft would still be designated as 9th Fleet. This keeps the command structure of 9th Fleet in place for the day that more resources are available to rebuild 9th Fleet. Until the day comes that 9th can operate as a viable, independent fleet it would receive orders from First Fleet as FF:O (Mission Group Omega).

If a fleet is labeled as a Seed Fleet, the commander of the fleet can bend rules to keep the fleet running. One such way is to sell services or unwanted equipment for funds. Another way for the Seed Fleet to remain viable is to recruit personnel who are from friendly worlds. Minor breaches of ethics, such as bribery, blackmail, swindling, and privateering are often overlooked if the commander of the fleet had an immediate and compelling reason to break the rules. Creative interpretation of existing rules is often acceptable if the Seed Fleet has an immediate and compelling need.

Another Deserted Hub Base

Hub Base (HB) 436 on Ohafia Neuvo, a newer human colony, is totally deserted. Once again the personnel were called to serve in the field. Fortunately, the HB is dirt-down, so at least Marie and I could get out of the Grinder and walk around a bit.

We have plenty of supplies and fuel, but I don't want to engage in any dangerous missions with the damage we took. I need to have the outer hull fixed and one of the plasma cannons overhauled. I need some sort of temporary armor on the Grinder’s tender belly until extensive repairs can be made.

Ohafia Neuvo has some decent starship repair facilities, but they won't take any Earth credit. They want cash. I'm trying to raise Rovsky on the Internet, but the connection to this planet is horrible; an infopak would be faster. I can’t even think about sending a protospace message because of the hefty cost.

So what to do? I'm going to put the Grinder on auto-defense and take my ensign to a small town nearby. The AB index rates the colonists at +6, so we won't likely run into any trouble. A few hours exploring the town and maybe cooling our heels in a tavern will do us some good until I hear from First Fleet.

Terms

Protospace Communication: The earliest faster-than-light travel used by humanity was protospace sling-engines. The sling drive needed a stable and stationary portal on each side of travel and took enormous amounts of power. Communications can travel the same way through protospace. The portals are now interdimensional spheres (that are also used for hyperspace travel) that can establish almost real-time communication. The cost to use protospace communication is high on worlds or stations with low populations and small resources.

Next Chapter>> 11: A Night of R + R

9: Ensign Marie Du-tse

2005-08-15T19:45:00.000-07:00

The Catalian colony was settled almost 100 years ago, an offshoot of a French/ South African colony. It was attractive to settlers because of the huge resources in heavy metals, some exotic, that are abundant all over the planet. Despite the deadly environment, the Catalians managed to adapt and flourish. They developed a society and culture that helped them survive. The Catalians I have met are thoughtful, calm, and peaceful folk.

A colony’s success depends on its ability to expand resources and increase population. The French South African colony of Tsutu Prime did both very well, and is a vital colony even today. In order to expand more rapidly, it sponsored the colonization of Catalia. In 20 years, the Tsutu Prime ethic and culture proved so successful that Catalia asked permission to form a sovereign government. With economic and other concessions given to Tsutu Prime, Catalia was granted independence.

Because of the expansive resources in heavy metals, Catalia was able to create a strong economic base that attracted people to live on Catalia. Because the colony’s distribution and refining resources were limited, it never quite reached its full potential. Growth, however, was steady and riches were abundant.

In order to survive the environment, Catalians developed a cutting-edge environmental suit. With three layers of protective and adaptable armor, the colonists were able to survive in a biologically and chemically hazardous world. Even when the three great city-domes were built, the Catalians always wore the suits. As a survival trait, it became a cultural norm to always be covered from head-to-toe. This in turn created a societal taboo against exposing any skin. The only people that actually saw a Catalian uncovered in any way were spouses and very young children.

Despite this societal trait, the Catalians are very accepting of norms outside their culture. For example, they had no trouble working with myself or other Fleet personnel. And because the Catalians are so polite and thoughtful, it was easy for us to get used to them always being covered. I didn’t think they were making faces at me from behind their masks. Above all, Catalians are unfailingly honest (I can see how honesty would be so important to a society where nobody can see faces; lying would tear the society apart).

10th Fleet has arrived just in time. They are already giving much-needed supplies and help to the Catalians, and are scanning the planet for any survivors of the aguast swarms. I got to introduce myself to the Admiral of 10th Fleet as “Fleet Commander John,” which was an ego-stroker. Technically, under the Seed Fleet rules, I am the same rank as the Admiral. Cool.

I am preparing to leave Catalia to continue my earlier mission. The Catalians granted me two boons for helping. First, they gave me a Liberty-class particle cannon. Technically, it’s a Ganymede-class cannon. But the Liberty- and Ganymede-classes are exactly the same, and in fact there are thousands of the civilian version plying the space lanes. The down side is that I am not allowed to use the cannon by Fleet rules, but I’m ignoring the rule about using non-Fleet resources under the authority granted me by the Decommissioning Sequence and Seed Fleet regulations.

I love being a Fleet Commander.

I also have a crew, as a second favor from Catalia. Marie Du-tse is now officially an ensign in the Ten Fleets, and assigned to my ship. En. Du-tse helped me make the last three runs from Catalia to the moon base, allowing me to take short naps. She’s a professional Ganymede-class pilot, so she’s already completely trained and very competent. She has no training in starship weapons and tactics, but I can work around that. She has thorough training in personal weapons and combat, having served as part of a city militia and briefly as police officer. She’s also very friendly, although somewhat shy. I’m putting her on a weapons training simulator while in immersed-space heading to my mission objective.

I signed her up for a two-year hitch, and received approval from the High Admiral through Rovsky’s office. I also get a recruiting bonus for signing her up. Every little bit helps.

Second Successful Mission

We have completed the primary mission. Without the particle cannon given to me by the Catalians, there's no way my ship could have pulled it off.

In order to travel between stars, most species have developed a complex system of navigation beacons and communication relays. For reasons I don't quite comprehend, I was dispatched to destroy 3 Pichamk navigation beacons and a com relay used by the Viatece. Each was heavily armored and shielded. The com relay actually shot back at us, firing missiles. With the extra weight of the cargo modules gone, the Grinder is especially agile, and I was able to dodge most of the missiles. One did tag us on the belly, resulting in enough damage to warrant a trip to the nearest Hub Base.

Ensign Du-tse performed perfectly. Her piloting skills are top-notch. Although I insisted on taking us into immersed-space, she took over afterwards. She'll take us the rest of the way.

I've sent a report to Rovsky. I'm expecting a new set of orders soon; can't have the 6th Fleet wandering the galaxies directionless.

Terms

Liberty- and Ganymede-class Starships: Essentially the same starship, the Liberty-class has special upgrades unique to the Ten Fleets. These MSS-type ships were the most numerous in thier field until the production of the Asp-class MSS and the Providain Modular-class. However, both the Liberty and the Ganymede classes are still very popular, and are in fact still in production.

Next Chapter >> 10: The Decommissioning Sequence

8: Jacked on Pterizine

2005-06-29T21:38:00.000-07:00

I'm jacked up on pterizine, so I hope I'm making sense.

Because the Al-Thetans believe that all other alien races are inferior in all ways to themselves, the taboos of their society are easily forgiven. They believe a know-nothing hick from a backwards planet will not be able to act civilized. That made my trip to the art dealer so much simpler.

I would stop a passerby, and ask, "Excuse me, how do I find this place?" The Al-Thetan in question would give an impatient look, and then explain in a really slow, condescending tone the proper directions.

Fortunately, the shopkeeper acted the same way. The Irarian relic I sought was worth about 10,000 Standards on the black market; the bounty offered by Irarians was worth about 20k. I managed to act stupid and annoying enough to get the relic for 8.5k. While in the neighborhood, I tracked down three more, of lesser value, and underpaid for each.

When I finally got back to the Grinder, half an hour later than I planned, I found an infopak from Rovsky. She had an urgent message from the High Admiral. I was to proceed immediately to a human colony, Catalia, for a planet-wide evacuation of all inhabitants. 10th Fleet was on its way, but would take at least 36 hours to reach to colony. I, on the other hand, was only six hours away. I was to lend a hand in every possible way until 10th Fleet arrived, then high-tail it to my original mission objective.

Several problems presented themselves. The first is my extreme guilt for screwing off. If I had stayed at the Hub Base, I could have reacted sooner. This was a planetary evacuation; every minute that I wasted could represent deaths. I could have saved dozens of people in the three and a half hours I used to pursue personal interests.

Second, I'm not going to be able to upgrade the Grinder's weaponry. I have to hit no less than four hard targets. The light guns on the ship aren't up to the job.

Also, I'm being set up to get to my objective late. I have about 69 hours left, with at least twelve hours of pure travel time and perhaps 36 hours saving the Catalians. I estimate I have around twelve hours to spare; refueling and maintenance could eat that.

So I took a full dose of pterizine. This is an awareness-altering drug that hypes up the part of my brain that senses immersion points in space. I used it to find the optimal immersion point to get me to Catalia. I'll be there in slightly under three hours. In the meantime, my brain feels like it's being washed in static electricity- that's the only way I can describe the sensation. It's not only unpleasant but also scary.

Catalian Rescue Effort

It's been about 24 hours, and I've managed to evacuate almost 600 people; that's only four trips. That leaves an estimated 20,000 people on Catalia. I'm waiting for the Catalian techs to fix the damage the Grinder has accumulated because of the swarm of aguasts.

There were 50,000 colonists on the planet, but there's been a steady evacuation over the last few weeks. The Catalians have been hiring transports and buying any scruffy freighter for the evacuation. A base on a Catalian's moon is harboring most of the colonists right now, but supplies and life support are running out. That's why there's such a shortage of transportation. They've been moving people off the moon base to any other planet that will take refugees.

As some of the transports return, they are being used to rescue people off the planet, with the promise that 10th Fleet will arrive in twelve hours. The quality of some of the craft was atrocious. It's almost safer to leave the people dirt-down to face the aguast swarms.

The reason for the evacuation comes from the complex and deadly ecosystem of Catalia. Most of the planet's animals and plants have been involved in a toxic chemical war. As animals became more poisonous, the predators became more tolerant. So, the toxin levels went up to stave off the predators, who again became more tolerant. This has been going on for millennia. Eventually, the larger animals perished because the adaptation rate of the smaller animals outpaced them.

Now, only small insectiod animals are left. But one particularly nasty bug, the aguast, beat the competition by developing a winning adaptation: they have four sexes, instead of the two the other species have. This sped up the aguast evolutionary rate, resulting in an animal so successful that it can kill everything on the planet's landmasses including humans.

One adaptation the aguast has is the excretion of a highly corrosive chemical. That's why the Grinder is down for repairs. Although the primary hull is untouched, the insects managed to follow the Catalian refugees into the cargo modules. During the last trip to the planet, the cargo bays started to vent atmosphere. If not for the calmness of the refugees, they might have perished instead of working together to hold the cargo modules together while cycling into the main hull through the airlocks.

I've been given thumbs-up by the techs. Time to go and save more lives.

Next Chapter >> 9: Ensign Marie Du-tse

7: Searching for dor'uom

2005-05-22T21:30:00.000-07:00

It was suggest to me by Rovsky that I take time to fully supply the Grinder before continuing to HB 56. The Fleets have good credit for the moment with Al-Theta, but perhaps not so much on Murinae, the planet that hosts Hub Base 56.

I can afford to take around 3 hours while the Al-Theta dock crews continue fueling the Grinder. The order for supplies should be loaded by then. Not sure what to get, I simply ordered a little bit of everything. I made sure that it was clear that no one was to enter the inner hull of the Grinder; the supplies are to be equally loaded into the port and starboard cargo modules.

Now, that gives me 3 hours to find the Al-Theta public transport, learn the local taboos and customs, and locate a priceless Irarian dor'uon that I know is somewhere in a suburb of the planet's capital city.

Wish me luck.

Terms

Uruonti'd Invasions in 3358: Earth politicians began to support an isolationist stance in 3358, resulting in the recall of the Ten Fleets. Most of the Fleets were absorbed into the Earth Defense Fleet when the Uruonti'd began to raze territories formally protected by the Ten Fleets. Alien and human concerns accused Earth of treachory, inferring that Earth knew about the attacks in advance. As intergalactic hostilities mounted against Earth, the former High Admiral of the Ten Fleets was given full control of his former fleets and the Earth Defense Fleet. The combined force of Earth's navies pushed the Uruonti'd back to their homeworld, where united ally fleets bombed them back to the stone age.

Next Chapter >> 8: Jacked on Pterizine

6: Lt. Cmdr. Rovsky

2005-03-22T21:31:00.000-08:00

I finally received a response from First Fleet. One Lt. Cmdr. Marcia Rovksy has been assigned to me as the liaison to the High Admiral. She'll be relaying orders to me, and I'll be giving reports to her.

Seeing Rovsky's face sort of made me realize how lonely I felt. I haven't had a leave in months, and the companionship of a woman (or woman-like alien) in almost a year. And the orders I received will make sure that I don't have either anywhere near the immediate future.

I'm not a liberty to disclose exactly what my orders are- suffice to say that I have to locate and blow stuff up within three days. I've got one major setback already: the Grinder's guns might not be big enough to do the job.

There are two hub bases on the way to my objective. I've got infopaks already sent to them both, hoping that there are some Liberator-class upgrades for weapons. I'll need something with a good punch if I'm going to pull off my first official assignment as Fleet Commander.

Hub Base 1322

I made record time to HB (hub base) 1322, and actually beat the infopak I sent there. Unfortunately, the base was totally deserted. Everyone was called to active fleet duty because of the losses we're taking from the alien attackers.

We know that the Viatece (AB Index: -8) are leading the assault against the Fleets. They are a species of conquerors, having taken dozens of worlds by force and enslaving or eliminating the native species. Almost a hundred years ago, an alliance made of hundreds of species assaulted the Viatece home world, reining the marauding species back.

It now looks as if they are targeting the Ten Fleets because they know that an enormous cooperative counter-strike of different species will not result. Even Earth's closest allies (including independent human worlds) are keeping a distance. More than that, actually: I received a report that Earth's money isn't any good with many of our "allies."

I find it amazing that these so-called friends of Earth have forgotten the Hantrauband War in 2344. Without the sacrifice and leadership of the First Fleet of Earth, no less than 14 sentient species would currently be extinct or totally enslaved. The same goes for the Uruonti’d invasions in 2358. The invasions by that species resulted because the Fleets of Earth were recalled to Earth and were about to be dismantled.

There are scores more times that the Ten Fleets took heavy tolls to bail out aliens. Now, for the first time ever, the Fleets are the primary target of attack, and there's no help. That pisses me off to no end.

HB 1322 is located in a controlled space dock. The dock itself belongs to the species Al-Theta, which have never been really cozy with mankind. They will, however, take our money.

I docked and am now waiting for an Al-Theta crew to help me refuel the Grinder before I high-tail it to HB 56, which is the last stop before my objective.

Terms

Infopak: An infopak is an intelligent message that seeks out the receiver over several communication nets. It replicates itself and rebroadcasts itself until the intended receiver opens it. Then, the infopak backtracks and deletes itself from the nets. Infopaks are almost always text, sometimes with small, simple graphics. Infopaks are not considered secure enough for top-level information, although civilians are comfortable sending sensitive information through this method.

Next Chapter >> 7: Searching for dor'uom

5: Fleet Commander Dandem John

2005-03-20T18:36:00.000-08:00

The High Admiral ordered all higher and ancillary fleets to be absorbed into the lower fleets. That is, 4th through 9th Fleets are now in First, Second, and Third Fleets.

As the Admirals and Commodores of the higher fleets began to move resources and personnel into the new 10 Fleets configuration, there had to be some resources left behind to retain "Seed Fleet" status in 4th through 9th Fleets. Seed Fleets are necessary to carry on the independent operations of higher fleets, even if those Seed Fleets are…well…minute: as in, one man and one ship.

As far as I know, this was done in 6th Fleet by the "Last one there is IT!" method. The Grinder was the craft farthest from 6th Fleet's central position, having just delivered some diplomats back to their isolated home world.

I'm trying to reach the High Admiral's office to get orders. Some general direction would help, at least. I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to be doing as the Fleet Commander of 6th Fleet. The Decommissioning Sequence was no help. I learned a few interesting things about what I can and can't do as a Fleet Commander of a Seed Fleet, but the DS didn't contain any specific direction or priorities.

I don't even know if I should leave Diaphanous Run, the planet on which I dropped my passengers. Or maybe I’m supposed to high tail it to a nearby Fleet base, and wait. I hate feeling so damn lost! But on the bright side:

Hey, Dad, you know how you always said that I was too lazy and unfocused to attain much in the Ten Fleets? Well, guess what, old man- you can kiss this Fleet Commander's newly promoted heiny!

Next Chapter >> 6: Lt. Cmdr. Rovsky

4: Battle of Zulif XI

2005-03-18T21:28:00.000-08:00

4th Fleet recieved 90% losses at Zulif XI, including the death of Admiral Orchard. The alien coalition, lead by the Pichamk (AB Index: -8), rallied to the Zulif system after attacking First Fleet. The following information was taken from public information sources:

After the strikes against First Fleet, the Pichamk forces regrouped and tried to gain control of Zulif. There were estimated to be 10 battleship-sized craft and around 100 frigate-sized craft in the alien armada. Because 4th Fleet was in the system for full upgrades and refits, the entire fleet was present, along with elements from Third Fleet.

Admiral Orchard is given credit for leading the Ten Fleets forces to a victory that left 4th Fleet totally devastated. But, the Pichamk forces, which were around 10 times stronger, were also wiped out. The Battle of Zulif XI is where the alien fleet lost all momentum and was stopped.

Although elements of the enemy coalition forces are still scattered throughout the galaxies, it is believed that the bulk of the Pichamk forces of that coalition were destroyed at Zulif XI.

Well, now, that sure makes me feel better.

Decommissioning Sequence

There are two important things to know about the Decommissioning Sequence. First, it is extremely complex. Second, the name belies what it does.

The DS is a document that gives the master plan on how to keep the Ten Fleets running and how to rebuild the Fleets after a devastating event. The attacks by the Pichamk and their allies certainly fall into that category. With First Fleet at less than 20% and 4th Fleet gone, the DS is being tested.

The DS calls for all Fleets to support First Fleet. This includes equipment and personnel. That's why most of Second and Third Fleets are now officially First Fleet.

That is also why the "higher" fleets (6th to 9th) are being stripped of resources. As Second and Third are transferred to First Fleet, the higher fleets will take of the duties of Second and Third. This leaves the ancillary and higher fleets with nothing. Zilch.

Except for one quark in the DS. You see, as part of the rules of the Ten Fleets, there can never be less than 10 fleets. When an ancillary or higher fleet is wiped out, there must be at least a very bare minimum of resources left. This is called "Seed Fleet" status.

6th Fleet is now a Seed Fleet. And the Grinder is now the flagship of 6th. And I am now the official Fleet Commander of 6th; even if I'm the only person left in 6th Fleet. I can't wait to explain how all of that happened.

Terms

AB Alien Index: Similar to the UP Tier 1 Index, the AB Alien index measures the likelihood of an alien species to attack humans and human concerns. The AB index measures from –10 to +10, with humanity rating itself as +5 (there are alien species that treat humanity better than it treats itself).

Next Chapter >> 5: Fleet Commander Dandem John

3: The Grinder

2005-03-16T20:26:00.000-08:00

My ship, the Grinder, is an MSS-category starship. The MSS-type has been around since humanity first reached out to the galaxies through hyperspace over ten centuries ago. It's a modular starship, being able to swap out parts and components to fit specific needs.

The Grinder is a Liberator-class MSS. It's basic core is approximately 10 meters long, and consists of a 2-man cockpit, a small sleeping area, and a kitchen/rec room/medical bay, with a life support core. It also has a huge computer capable of adapting to the functions and uses of whatever modules the Grinder has strapped on.

I am currently running with two small cargo modules on the port and starboard sides. The internal module is a 4-room suite that I used when recently moving some midlevel diplomats around the galaxies. Now that the guests are gone, I am making full use of the suite, which also has a real shower and a kitchen in which you can stand upright.

The Grinder is configured right now to be fast, with two small cannons (really small), and two extra sensor packages for ferrying through space with heavy traffic. The armor is nonexistent, but there is a heavy, short-term skin shield for protection.

I've been searching the database for nearby hub bases that might have extra sensor or shield modules, with no success. I wouldn't mind having a Winnow-equivalent missile launcher, either.

Attacks on the Ten Fleets

I have just finished reading an encrypted infopak sent by the High Admiral of the Fleets. So much has happened in the last 12 hours that I am still trying to sort it out in my mind. I can recap some of the non-classified events here.

About 12 hours ago, a coalition of alien races launched an attack against First Fleet Mission Group Alpha. The attack used spatial weaponry, like subspace implosions and gravity-wave reversal. FFA took 80% casualties.

At the same time, Mission Groups Beta and Zeta were attacked by fleets 10 times their sizes. FFB (First Fleet Mission Group Beta) and FFZ took losses that may approach 90%.

Second Fleet is still reporting losses; however, since Second is scattered along the main byways of intergalactic travel, it should not have taken huge losses.

Third Fleet has not engaged the enemy on any prolonged levels. Since Third is in charge of so many isolated areas, it may encounter no more battles.

Fourth Fleet has yet to report in; it may be engaged in combat right now.

That's all I have, except that scores of hub bases are reporting direct attacks or acts of subterfuge.

I probably won't know anything else until after I emerge into real space in a couple of hours.

Terms

Hub base, HB: A hub base is a small transient point for the Fleets and other Earth State concerns that provide minimal supplies and facilities. Hub bases are usually staffed by at least one Fleet Marine, and local civilians are used for non-essential tasks. The smallest hub bases are nothing more than ship berths or landing pads leased from local governments. The largest bases include orbital facilities and marine bases. There are thousands of hub bases scattered throughout the three galaxies, each contributing in some way to the local economy, making them popular among Earth State colonies and allies.

Next Chapter >> 4: Battle of Zulif XI

2: Christopher Paul Johnson

2005-03-12T17:26:00.000-08:00

My real name is not Dandem John; that's my Fleet name. When you go through training and end up with a bunch of newbies in 9th Fleet, you keep your nickname forever. The tradition goes as far as having your permanent records reflect your nickname. By the time I got promoted out of ensign, I was known in the Fleets as Dandem John.

My real name is Christopher Paul Johnson. My nickname started when I was about to graduate from vocation school on Worthington. I discovered a wonderful alien world called (yup, you got it) Dandem. I fell in love with the stories, culture, and people of that alien world that I have yet to visit.

More on Dandem later. For now, let's just say that my obsession with Dandem had everyone around me calling me Dandem; or, Dandem Johnson. When my parents joined in, that solidified my nickname forever.

The training Commander that broke me into the Fleets shortened my name to Dandem John. I sort of like it. I'm going to keep it when I become a civilian.

Time Distortions and Iraria

I had a red light on the immersion drive, so I spent a couple days in hyperspace. When I re-entered normal space, the computer asked me if I wanted to get an automatic update on the internal clocks. Like an idiot, I accidentally hit "no," meaning I've been running like 3 days behind.

That's one of the major problems with hyperspace- the time distortion. You could feel like you've spent a few days in travel, then emerge in real space to find out you were gone for a month. That's one of the reasons I enjoy immersed-space so much. There's no time distortion at all. If you feel like you've been under for a day, the rest of the universe will agree with you when you ascend immersed space.

Anyways, the planet Dandem is how I got my nickname. The Iraria are the species of the planet. I got hooked on them when I was just a teen, mostly because of the stories about the planet.

The Iraria have a UP Tier 3 rating of 8.9. That is, they are extremely compatible with humanity. An index rating of 9 is possible only for human sub-species, so you see how well these aliens get along with us.

About a century ago, when the Irarians started traveling the universe, they had a major upset in their religious beliefs. Part of those beliefs was a custom of creating unique statuettes, called "dor'uom," for relatives that passed away. Over the span of a decade, tens of millions of these dor'uom were sold to off-world art dealers and collectors.

My side job is to collect on the bounty placed on these religious artifacts. It doesn’t pay a lot, but I get some money and get to interact with Irirans, even if it is over the subspace network.

Terms

UP Tier 3: rating system measures the compatibility of an alien species. For example, the Irarians are extremely hesitant to trade or have major dealings with the Earth States, or any human group. However, they have a basic comman view of the universe, including similar attitudes towards life, death, economics, religion, and ethics code. The UP Tier 3 is the most detailed and complicated way of measuring an another's specie's attitude of, and compatibility with, mankind.

Next Chapter >> 3: The Grinder

1: Worthington Station

2005-03-08T21:58:00.000-08:00

I will never understand why people feel the need to colonize far-off, primitive planets. My parents, for example, left Mars to settle on Worthington Station. They actually wanted to leave the height of human culture and luxury for the untamed, dirty little world on which I was born.

When I asked them about this, they told me they wanted to live some place where they helped build a strong, upright society- great place to raise kids. They had a passionate hate for the Sol system, and the Earth government, saying that the rules where so strict that they micro-managed people's lives.

So, what do my parents do? They helped build a government that adopted most of Earth's laws, and made some that would be considered worse. But instead of being safe and thriving in the cradle of mankind's birth, they're doing it on a hot, dusty dirtball on the edge of civilized space.

Don't get me wrong: I love my parents. I just think they're totally nuts.

I joined the Ten Fleets specifically to get out of Worthington Station. Now, my eight years are almost up, and I'm planning to move to Mars or even Earth.

An Unwanted Promotion

My "promotion" from 5th Fleet should have pissed me off, but it turns out that I'm doing exactly what I want. Some nameless Lt. Cmdr. had me in her office, and laid out for me my future in the Ten Fleets:

"You have lots of potential," she says. "But, unfortunately, you don't have the drive or ambition to attain any type of position in the lower fleets. According to what I've been seeing of your performance, you don't even belong in the ancillary fleets."

Okay, right now you might be thinking I was boiling mad. Truth is, I didn't care. And she was basically right. I purposely underperformed to keep away from any responsibility or hard work; and it paid off. However, I had no idea what she was going to hit me with.

"However-" usually beginning a sentence like this means you're going to deliver bad news- "you are an excellent pilot. Your skills and insticts with the immersion drive puts you in the top 20 in all the fleets in regards to actual, non-simulated performance." With a smile that was supposed to warm me up and make me feel real proud of myself, she gave it to me: "You're going to be promoted to Commander, and you are being assigned to 6th Fleet as an MSS pilot."

The MSS-type ships are among the smallest intergalactic ships in the Ten Fleets. Serving as light freighters, short contact combat ships, garbage scowls, and whatever, they are the little worker ants that keep the Fleets running. MSS-types are charged with making sure the big soldier ants have the food, personnel, and equipment to function.

"It's an important responsibility; especially since 6th Fleet is now charged with moving officials around the galaxies," the Lt. Cmdr. informed me.

That took place about 4 months ago, and everything turned out for the best. Being the only crewmember aboard the FFS Grinder is a great job, and the deck of my starship is a great place to wait until I muster out and move to Mars.

Terms

MSS-type: Small starships that serve a variety of functions. Usually crewed by one to four, they are not typically combat ships, built for economy and durability. Although shuttles and fighters fit the MSS-type description, they are considered to be unique types because they are built for short distances.

Next Chapter >> 2: Christopher Paul Johnson