OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Hey folks, I'm just working on a wee story at the moment. Thoughts and comments are welcome, as always. The story is set shortly after a massive Terran-Tauren War, in which both sides were decimated. That's about all the backstory I've come up with, so enjoy!




Almec Thrusian stumbled though the corridor, dragging a frightened girl behind him as he watched his world falling apart. A girder crashed through the ceiling, and the girl saved him from a particularly messy death by pulling him backwards with surprising strength. They pushed on through the narrow opening between the girder and the wall, rounded the corner and crashed into a suitably terrified Joss Maiken.
“Mr. Thrusian!” Joss exclaimed. “You're hurt!”
“Thank you for noticing, Mr. Maiken,” Almec replied dryly. In truth, he was far beyond just hurt. His right arm seemed to have a few too many joints, every agonizing breath reminded him of his broken ribs, and he was now convinced that there was more of his blood on his clothes than inside him.
“Take her to the jump-pod,” he said through gritted teeth. “Launch the pod and join me on the bridge.”
“We need to get you to Medical,” Joss stammered. “After that we can-”
“No!” snapped Almec. “Take her to the pod. There's nothing that can be done for me now. Either of us,” he added quietly.
“But-”
“I'm dead already, Mr. Maiken, my body just hasn't realized it yet. Now go.”

Joss took the girl by the hand and began hurrying down the corridor. After a few steps he stopped and turned.
“Mr. Thrusian!” he called. “The jump-pod is the only one left. She must go alone, I know, but what of the rest of us?”
Almec's mouth parted in a bloody smile. “Why, we die gloriously, of course.”
Moving as quickly as he could, he made his way to the bridge, stumbling and falling time and time again, each time wondering if he'd have the strength to drag himself up again. But again and again, he pulled himself to his feet, and arrived on the bridge in time to hear the frightened comm officer report the successful launch of the jump-pod. Unnoticed, he eased himself into a point-defense station and took over from the two lieutenants slumped dead at their consoles.

“This is the TNS Galahad,” the comms officer began speaking into her pickup. “Hailing any ships in range. We are under heavy fire. We've lost shields, the captain is-”
“Nobody is coming, Lieutenant,” Almec said sharply.
All eyes on the bridge snapped to him. The comm officer nervously cut the channel, and the navigator seated in the captain's chair rose quickly.
“Sir,” he said nervously. “As the ranking officer here, you should be in command, even if you are ret-”
“Shut up and get out of my chair,” Almec said quietly. The navigator gratefully retreated to his station, and Almec lowered himself tiredly into the command chair. “It's been a while,” his whispered, patting the chair affectionately. “What do you say? Once more into the breach, dear friend?”

“Sir?” Only the comms officer was seated close enough to hear him.
Ignorning her, he spoke so the whole bridge could hear him. “I know what many of you are thinking, and you're wrong. I can't get you out of this. I cannot pull off a miracle escape. I can only give you death.” He paused for breath, and ignoring his body's cries of protest, pushed himself to sit upright. “But I will not give you an ordinary death. I shall give you a death glorious enough to outshine the stars, a death that will be spoken of for generations. And most importantly, I will make damn sure that they-” he jabbed a finger at the tactical plot showing the three vessels chasing them “-aren't the one's talking about it.”

A quick glance at his chair's readouts showed that the Galahad's chase armaments had been completely destroyed. As had most of her broadside. But her forward guns, and most importantly, three of her forward launchers were still fully operational.
“Nav,” he snapped. “Prepare to bring us about.”

Aboard a small canister floating through space, the girl stared out as the Galahad turned with surprising speed to face her attackers. Her forward guns blazed in defiance of the withering fire pouring down on her armored hull. Three sparks of white light suddenly shot out from her, each heading for one of her attackers. At such close range, a missile made an unstoppable weapon, and two of the ships disintegrated into expanding balls of light. The third, heavily damaged, continued to close on the Galahad, who refused to relent, charging straight at her foe. Too late, her adversary realized she had no intent of breaking off and began to turn away. Seconds later, the Galahad slammed into her amidships. There was a bright flash of light that drowned out the stars- and with the crackle of discharging energy, the jump-pod's drive activated, and the girl was suddenly alone in the dark.

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

An interesting beginning. I await more. http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/happy.gif

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Oh man. I don't know wether to strangle you or shake your hand.

Oh well. I have two arms. I can do both.

...:D

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Well, Fyron, as the first person to post any sort of comment, you get a star system named after you. A nice one, even. The status of the Narf system is pending while I await clarification as to whether or not you like the story.

Admiral Angus McArthur eased back in his command chair and surveyed the tactical plot in front of him. His Command Fortress sat at the tip of a cone of fortresses that faced the Pellus System's jump nexus. The fortifications guarded the sole link between the Terran Imperium and the Tauran Sovereignty. This fact alone had kept it safe from the scores of demilitarization bills Congress kept thrusting under the Empress's regal nose. She fought them, McArthur had to give her that, fought them with a ferocity that belied her lineage. Yet even from hundreds of light-years away, he could tell they were wearing her down. Every battle won was another line etched in her face, and in the month between today and her last transmission, she seemed to have aged years. He knew it was only a matter of time before his command felt the cold blade of budget cuts, but still, the Empress had managed a few spectacular victories.

One of those victories flashed into existence at the system's main jump gate. Opening a rift between normal and null-space required astronomical amounts of energy, more than even the biggest ship's reactor could hope to produce, which was why most ships traveled using jump nexuses. The weakness in the barrier between the two allowed ships to make the transit with minimal energy expenditure. Unfortunately, a jump nexus was usually situated on the outskirts of a solar system, which meant ships using the nexus got to look forward to two or three days of sublight travel before reaching inhabited planets. Centuries before, some clever soul decided to solve this problem by building a network of massive bases near a system's core worlds that had the power to open a null-space rift. Thus, all authorized traffic arrived through the gates, and anything coming through the nexus itself was ensured an extremely warm welcome. McArthur tapped a few keys on his command console and brought up a detailed scan of the recent arrival.

The TSN Raezel, new flagship of the Terran Space Navy, named in honour of the Empress, was the single largest mobile platform of destruction ever created. Her firepower rivaled even that of McArthur's colossal fortresses, though she was only about a quarter their size. A smile spread across the admiral's face as her commander requested permission to come aboard for a private meeting. Admiral Ivanov Korjev would be certain to have a few bottles of proper Russian vodka. He keyed in an approval to the request, with an added apology that the ship's liquid sustenance supplies were running rather low, and his smile split into a full grin as the reply came back:
“Acknowledged. Will arrive in +4.00hrs. Liquid sustenance will be supplied.”

Five hours later, two very drunk admirals sat in McArthur's private quarters, two full shot glasses and an empty bottle of vodka sitting on the table between them.
“So, my friend,” Korjev slurred. “Have you heard the latest?
“Latest what?” McArthur asked, sounding genuinely confused.
“News, man, news!” Korjev exclaimed.
“No, no I have not heard the latest news, man, news,” replied McArthur.
Korjev shook his head. “I believe your ancestors were reputed to have a greater alcohol tolerance then what you are showing, my friend.”
McArthur stared at him for a long moment. “That's the latest news?”
“Yes, my friend, it's all over the Terran News Network.”
McArthur stared blankly at the glass in front of him. “By the Divine, my reputation. I'll be relieved of command. Or worse, they'll reassign me to some backwaters-” His drunken muttering was interrupted by Korjev's laughter.
“No, even those vultures at TNN are wise enough not to call your manhood into question,” he chuckled. “It's about the Galahad.”
McArthur's eyes snapped up at the mention of his first command. “What of her.”
“She's disappeared,” his old friend informed him. “Not a trace. Word is that SpecOps acquired her her for a very, very, very black project. She was supposed to arrive in Fyron's Star three days ago. Her flight plan was known only to her captain, so no one even knows where to look.”
“Damn,” McArthur whispered. “I hope she's alright.”
“I believe an illustrious former captain once said of her, 'If we don't show up as scheduled, we're never showing up.”
McArthur nodded slowly. “I'll drink to that.”
The two raised their glasses. “To the Galahad and her crew?”
“No,” McArthur shook his head. “To you pronouncing 'illustrious' with half a bottle of vodka in you.

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Nice, I like it. I like the pace, and also the element of intrigue. A lot of SE4 fic seems to lack that.

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Of course I like it. I wouldn't want to shake you gently by the neck if that first post hadn't produced a multiplicity of emotions. http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/laugh.gif

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

I like it. Especially the intrigue and things left hanging. Keep up the work fella.

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

i like it, but im still wondering whos going to play Steve McQueen's part.

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

I can do intrigue? Cool, I never knew. Anyway, here's Part 3, and hey, something big blows up!


The Tauran battlecruiser Zehkleck slipped unnoticed into the Narf Trinary System. Not thanks to any kind of stealthiness, the Taurans wouldn't know the meaning of the word, but due to the simple fact that nobody monitored the Narf System, because there was nothing left to monitor. There had once been a number of thriving colonies in the system, built in the ruins of a dead civilization. But in the dying days of the Earth-Tauran War, a colossal battle had been waged here. A Battle To End All Battles they called it. And when it was over, the Narf System was dead, every scrap of life extinguished from the surfaces of it's worlds.

However, First-Among-Fourths Plaetek had no interest in Narf's scorched worlds. It was far more interested in the wreckage it's ship's sensors had detected two light minutes out from the system's main star. The floor plates rumbled under its feet as its navigator brought the ship up to full sublight.
“Second,” Plaetek spoke to the officer beside it. “What do your eyes see?”
“Very little, First,” came the reply. “Distance still to great. Our ships, definite. Another, near certain.”
“Advise when near certain is definite,” Plaetek instructed.

Several hours passed before Plaetek's Second spoke again. “Another definite. Wreckage now. Survivability probability minimal.”
“Identity?” inquired the First.
“Transponder functional,” replied the Second. “TSN Galahad. Definite.”
Plaetek nodded slowly. “Destruction of our ships, most ungood. First-Among-Seconds will be not-pleased. Loss of target, double ungood. First-Among-Seconds will be double not-pleased. But destruction of Galahad, double double good. Redemption likely.”
The Second nodded in agreement. “Return?” it inquired.
“Return with haste,” the First instructed.
The Second returned to its station and began plotting a course back to the jump nexus. The First settled back on his hind legs to observe it's tactical plot. Tauran plots were a series of two dimensional screens, unlike the Humans 3D holographic 'tank'. Tauran minds did not function well when more than two dimensions were involved, and all their information about the three dimensional space around them was relayed via two dimensional displays. Noticing something odd, Plaetek leaned forward and tapped the tactical plot with a thick knuckle.
“Malfunction?” asked the Second, peering over the First.
“Probability high,” agreed Plaetek. On the tactical plot, the icons representing with the systems three suns were steadily growing larger, even as they moved further away. Plaetek moved to the primary command deck and requested the rest of its officers to report similar malfunctions.
“First!” one of the Thirds cried suddenly. “Malfunction probability zero!”
Plaetek's seven eyes whipped back to his plot just in time to see the three stars seemingly shrink into nothing, then expand again with terrifying speed.
“Flee!” the First ordered desperately, knowing already that it stood no chance of escaping the raging storm of destruction racing towards them. The Zehkleck was a third through her emergency turn when the combined fury of three supernovae ripped her to pieces a split second before ship was vaporized.

Two days later, James Thereaux, sleeping aboard the decommissioned assault cruiser Daedalus was woken from a most pleasant dream by the spectacular death of a star system.

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Wow. Most excellent story I must say. Keep it up!

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

YOU MANIAC! YOU BLEW IT UP! http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/laugh.gif

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

BLAM! Sweet, beautifull BLAM.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Wonderful

More please http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/happy.gif

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Sorry Narf, but you should take solice in the fact that the name Narf will live on forever as the official scientific term for a triple supernova: A Narfsplosion. More to come when I'm not so sleepy.

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Loving the story.

My my. Suddenly a plethora of phan phiction. (<--artificial alliteration... handy ain't it?)

I especially like the alien feel of the communication between the First and the Second. Mind your modifying pronouns in there though m'lad. Coupla slip-ups.

Excelsior!
Turin[img]/threads/images/Graemlins/icon42.gif[/img]

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Right, well I got myself nice and drunk and made a bit more progress on the ole story, so here it is. The following has been edited for language, and following segments will need to be edited for both language and content, but a complete version may get put up onto Spaceempires.net, as long as I don't get too naughty. Anyway, forward, not backward, upward, not downward, and always twirling, twirling towards freedom!

Two days later, James Kagan, sleeping aboard the decommissioned assault cruiser Daedalus was woken from a most pleasant dream by the spectacular death of a star system.

The shrill squeal of the ship's alarm brought him suddenly to full consciousness.
“Status report!” he barked before realizing he was alone on the bridge. Nonetheless, the ship's AI obliged him by activating the main view screen with the ship's cameras centred on the source of it's concern. Kagan,'s brow furrowed as he stared at the star field shinning in front of him, trying to establish what had caused the AI to rouse him from his slumber while he tried vainly to ignore his parched mouth and pounding headache. And then, suddenly, the cause of the AI's concern became blatantly obvious as the entire bridge exploded into brilliant white light. Kagan cried out in pain and pitched out of his chair.
“Filters to max!” he cried, writhing about on the deck in futile attempt to escape from the piercing whit light. “Filters to bleedin' maximum!”
“Filters already at maximum capacity,” the AI informed him emotionlessly.
“Then turn the damn screen off!” he shouted. “View screen off!”
Kagan released an almost orgasmic sigh as the bridge was plunged into blissful darkness, illuminated only by the faint light of command consoles. Slowly, he dragged himself back up to his command chair and activated a communications channel.
“Kaelan, you see that?” he asked, transmitting to the destroyer holding off his port side.
“Jasus, I'm still seein' it, mate,” was the groggy reply.
“So you didn't slip something in my drink after all,” Kagan replied with considerably more relief than he felt.
“Would I do that?” Kaelan replied indignantly.
Kagan let the silence drag out until Kaelan added, “Again?”
“I was hoping you learned from the last time,” Kagan replied with a small grin. “How's the arm, by the way?”
There was a chuckle from the speaker. “Well, I can amuse meself and abuse meself and let's just leave it at that, shall we?”
“So, what are your sensors telling you?”
“What are yours telling you?”
“Mine can't tell their arse from their elbow, that's why you're tagging along.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Got Me Own Assault Cruiser, and here I was thinkin' you had me along for my brilliant wit and unparralled sense of style.”
“I could have brought along a drunk chimp with a learning disorder that'd have more with and style than you, Mr. O'Shea, now make yourself useful.”
“Right so. Looks like the Narf System is after blowin' itself up.
Kagan paused, not quite managing to comprehend what he was hearing.
“What?” he asked. “The stars in Narf were all midlife, and none of them were big enough to go nova. Check your instruments.”
“There's nothin' wrong with me instruments,” was the displeased reply. “All three stars just went nova, and if they didn't do it themselves, then someone else did it for them. Few Nova Bombs and Bob's yer uncle if you ask me.”
“But there aren't supposed to be any nova bombs left,” Kagan replied, confused. “Let alone three of the Divine-forsaken things.”
“Well if you got any idea what would make three midlife stars go pop that doesn't involve Nova Bombs, I'd love to hear it,” said Kaelan. “Probably give you a bleedin' prize or a medal or somethin'.”
“I'm sure,” Kagan replied dryly. “Listen, you head back to Pellus with those sensor logs. I'll meet up with you at Fyron's Star, OK?”
“You sure you'll manage with them bolloxed sensors of yours?” asked Kaelan, managing to sound genuinely concerned.
“I'll be fine,” Kagan told his friend, “As long as I don't run into any anomalies in dire need of a good scanning.”
Kaelan barked a laugh. “Only you could make that sound filthy, mate,” he said. “Take care, and I'll see you in a few days.”
“Cheerio,” Kagan replied with a grin.
On his tactical plot, the small icon representing the destroyer Defiant pulled away from the Daedalus and accelerated quickly back in the direction they'd come from. After a moment's contemplation, Kagan brought his sublight drive to full power, and the converted warship thundered forward. If there were people around here blowing up stars, he mused, then around here was not a good place to spend to much time. Three hours later, he received a message from Kaelan informing him that he and the Defiant had safely made the jump to null-space. Eight hours after that, the Daedalus was approaching the jump nexus when the communications console began chirping insistently, the tone and pitch indicating an emergency message. Kagan hurried over to the comms console and attached the ear piece to the obvious orifice.
“-ello?” a female voice inquired. “Can you hear me big ship? This is little ship to big ship, can you hear me?”
“I can hear you alright,” said Kagan. “But I can't see you.”
“I'm over here.”
“Where?”
“Over here. I'm waving.”
“That's not going to do me a lot of bloody good, now is it?”
“Well, what should I do?”
“Does your ship not have a transponder?”
“Dunno.”
“You don't know? How can you not know if your ship has a transponder?”
“Well, it's not really a ship. More of a pod, I guess.”
“Like a life pod?”
“Dunno.”
“Were you on a big ship before?”
“Yup.”
“And you got shot out of it in a little ship?”
“Yup.”
“Then you're in a life pod.”
“Great.”
“You lookin' for a rescue or would you prefer I jump out and leave ya here?”
“I think I'd rather be rescued. Um, what does the transponder look like?”
“It's a square orange thing, about the size of your head.”
“How do you know how big my head is?”
Kagan pinched his nose in frustration. “An average person's head, OK?” he snapped. “You know most people try to make it easy to get themselves rescued.”
“Sorry. It's cold and I haven't eaten for a few days. I'm feeling a bit odd. I see the transponder thingy now, so what do I do?”
“Open the lid and press the big red button.”
“OK. Oh, and one thing?”
“What?”
“My head's not square.”
Any reply was cut short but the sudden appearance of a life pod icon on the tactical plot, and the corresponding shrill alarm.
“I see you now,” he said. “I'm sending out a recovery drone now. We'll have you nice and warm and fed in no time.”
“Thank you very much, big ship.”
“You're more than welcome. Although most people just call me James.”
“Thank you, James, then. My name's Alice.”
“It's a pleasure, Alice,” Kagan replied. “Now you'll feel a bump in a moment, but don't worry. It's just the recovery drone latching on to your pod.”
It took a total of thirty seven minutes to get Alice out of the life pod. Ten minutes were taken up getting the pod back to the ship. Twenty minutes were devoted to decontaminating the pod's exterior, during which James hastily showered, dressed in his uniform and administered himself a hefty dose of De-Tox. Five minutes were needed to to heat the pod's outer surface to an acceptable level, and the last two involved Kagan ensuring his hair was in order and all insignia were attached properly, just in case. The pod door opened, the girl stepped out, and Kagan was suddenly very glad he'd taken the time to clean up. In an age of life-extending therapies, it was impossible to determine her age, but chronologically she seemed to be in her mid twenties. She was petite, neither tall nor short, with shoulder length shockingly red hair and large green eyes that she cast about the hanger bay with great interest.
“This is a very nice ship James,” she said before pitching forward and landing face down on the hanger bay floor.

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

James T. Kagan, by any chance? http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/laugh.gif

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Hardley. An interesting side note, the character of James Kagan was created in the 1950s by Christopher Fletcher, for use in a novel he intended to write. Unfortunately, 40-odd years later he died without ever having written anything. Being a good friend of his grandson Craig, I was there to help him sort through Chris Fletcher's belongings after he passed away. I found the notebook that detailed Kagan, along with a few other colourful characters, and since Craig had absolutely no interest in writing, he let me keep them.

So big thanks to Chris Fletcher, where ever you are for providing the characters of Kagan, Empress Raezel and Kaelan.

More to come....

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Wow.

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Yup, it's official. Look: http://invirtuo.cc/phpwiki/index.php/narfsplosion

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Well, gee...Uh, thanks? http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/image...s/rolleyes.gif http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/laugh.gif

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Just read the latest installmet. Fantastic stuff, it puts my own meagre scribblings to shame. Thanks for writing AZ.

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Hey, the Malfadorica is the complete record of all SE4 lore. You have been immortalised, Narf- it's an honour. http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/image...es/biggrin.gif

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

...And I'd like to thank my mommy and my daddy and my sister and my brother and our cat and the cartoon show Pinky and The Brain and animaniacs and looney tunes and the road runner and mickey mouse and goofy and donald duck and speedy gonzales and ...

And special thanks to my dog, whereever you are.

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

*/me prints a hardcopy of AZ's story so far and submits it to a Balantine publishing agent.

j/k
Turin[img]/threads/images/Graemlins/icon42.gif[/img]

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

*<Bumpitty-bump-bump>*

More story please!!

Turin[img]/threads/images/Graemlins/icon42.gif[/img]

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

bump

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

i second that "bump"

and i still want to know who plays Steve McQueen's part. (though i can guess, with the last installment).

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Yeah, story.

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

I endorse this product/service

http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/laugh.gif http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/laugh.gif

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Sorry, folks, got kinda busy with other projects there, but I've still being finding a bit of time for the odd paragraph now and then. So, now that I've got something substantial done, here it is. First though, a little history lesson. It's not relavant to the following, but it will be very important later on, so I'm posting it now.

The Terran Imperium's history is made up of a series of Dynasties, each representing a significant period of time in the Empire's evolution.

The First Dynasty began with the unification of Earth and her in-system colonies and the discovery of interstellar travel. The First Dynasty lasted slightly over 15,000 years and was marked mostly by exploration, rapid technological advancement, the establishment of peaceful relations with other races, and only a few minor wars.

The Second Dynasty lasted about 10,000 years and represented the Empire at the very height of her power. To give you an idea, think of the power you wield in SE4 when you've researched the entire tech tree, control 99% of the galaxy's star systems and have colonized all the worlds within those systems. Now, multiply that by 100 and the Second Dynasty could have still whupped your behind with a single squadron of their dreadnoughts. Unfortunately, 9,000 years into the Second Dynasty, they ran into a race that was nearly as powerful as them, just as aggressive, and spoiling for a good fight. So began the Thousand Years War in which a sizable number of the Empire's worlds were wiped from existance, and the end of which saw both the genocide of the Imperium's enemy, and the end of the Second Dynasty.

This story is set about 5,000 years into the Third Dynasty. For the last 5,000 years, other races, and indeed other factions within the Imperium itself have being preying upon it, stripping it of resources, technology, even entire worlds. But the Imperium has just succefully fought back an invasion by the Taurans and managed to unite humanity's scattered worlds, though in terms of size the Imperium is only about 15% of the Second Dynasty's, and technologically it is several thousand years behind.

So now that you know, here's the next installment:


“Unscheduled tachyon spike at gate seven, Admiral,” one of the sensor techs reported calmly. “I'd put it at heavy frigate or destroyer class, sir.”
Admiral McArthur rose and walked slowly over the tech's station, using the time to work enough saliva into his mouth for him to speak. “Open a channel once they've made transit,” he said, hoping his voice didn't sound as rough as it felt.
“Transit confirmed, receiving IFF codes now. Sir,” the tech said as McArthur began to turn away. “You may be interested to see this.”
The admiral turned back and stared at the readouts on the tech's screen. ITS Defiant. McArthur crooked an eyebrow. So the Defiant was an Independent Traders Ship now? Interesting.
“Sir, the Defiant is hailing us,” reported the comms officer. McArthur's eyebrow raised itself a bit further. For a ship to hail a station was highly unorthodox, established protocol stating that any vessel was to hold position after making transit and wait for the local command station to challenge them. But not only was the Defiant hailing them, but a quick glance at the tactical plot showed that she'd pulled away from the jump gate and was blazing towards McArthur's station as fast as her engines would carry her. And the only time any ship did that was when something very, very bad had happened.
“Open the channel,” he ordered. “Full aud-vid.”
One of the communications screens flickered to life and the image of a man in rumpled, stained clothing who clearly hadn't indulged in basic personal hygiene in some time appeared before them. Upon seeing McArthur, the young man's face split into a broad grin.
“Admiral, sir, howya?” he said with a jaunty salute. “Don't suppose you have any Guinness?”
“Commander O'Shea,” McArthur replied, trying to repress a smile. “What's the bad news?”
“It's just O'Shea now, sir,” came the reply. “But that's the good news. Bad news is the Narf System has gone and blown itself up.”
It took a moment for McArthur to digest what he was hearing. “What?” he asked slowly. “Are you sure? Have you double-checked your instruments.”
Kaelan sighed irritably. “Why does everyone keep asking me that. I'm bloody sure and there's nothing wrong with my bloody instruments. You can check 'em yourself if you want.”
“Very well. You're clear to dock in bay one-four-seven. I'll arrange for some quarters for you while you're aboard. I hate to inconvenience you, but our tech boys are going to want to go over your ship with a fine tooth comb. It could be a few days.”
Kaelan chewed the inside of his mouth thoughtfully. “Well,” he said slowly. “You still allow fairer sex to serve aboard stations, no?”
McArthur cleared his throat uncomfortably and replied, “That much hasn't changed since you were with us.”
“And do you have any Guinness?”
“I believe so.”
Kaelan settled back in his chair contentedly. “Grand,” he smiled.

In the star system known as Fyron's Star, there orbits a planet known as Zellund, and on the planet's northern continent there is a city known as Portent, and in the city of Portent there is a district known as Keatchem, and in the district of Keatchem, there is a building that is not known by any name at all. Inside the nameless building, a group of nameless individuals sat around a marble table, which unknown to any of them, was named Ted.
The man at the head of the table spoke softly, his voice quiet but dangerous. “Agent Fourteen, what do you have to report.”
“Operation Severance has run into some... minor difficulties,” Agent Fourteen replied nervously. “Our transport was attacked and destroyed, along with those who attacked her.”
“And her cargo?” asked the man known as Agent One.
“Missing,” Agent Fourteen replied. “We received confirmation that it was jettisoned before the ship was destroyed, but it's current whereabouts are unknown. Ships have been dispatched to the area, and I'm waiting to hear back from them.”
“Wait until never-time,” Agent Twelve, the being sitting across from him spoke. “Ships were ours-that-are-not-ours and will be returning never. Destroyed.”
“Destroyed?” Agent Fourteen exclaimed. “By what?”
“The bringers of life brought death,” was the reply.
It took a few moments for human minds to translate the alien thought. Agent One realized it first. “Nova,” he whispered.
“Nova upon nova upon nova,” said Agent Twelve. “Destruction total.”
“But how?” wondered Agent Fourteen. “To cause a trinary star system to go supernova...”
“The how, the why and the who will be up to Agent Twelve to determine,” Agent One informed him. “Yours will be to find that cargo and ensure that it is disposed of safely. Understood?”
Agent Fourteen nodded gratefully. Failure within the organization was seldom tolerated. He began to rise from his chair but Agent One's voice froze him half way up.
“Wait.” Agent One amused himself briefly by watching to see how long Agent Fourteen could hold himself suspended above his chair before sliding a data pad down the table. “This may prove useful to you. Now go, and if you fail, well, Agent Fifteen is long overdue for promotion.”
Agent Fourteen hurried out of the room, trying not to notice Agent Fifteen grinning dryly at him from across the room.

The worlds at the furthest reaches of the Terran Imperium are generally referred to as the Outworlds, and are considered to be the limit to humankind's colonization of the galaxy. However, beyond these worlds are the Fringe Worlds, planets colonized not by the Imperial Bureau of Colonization, but by intrepid individuals seeking to forge their own destiny outside the constraints of Imperial law. There have always been Fringe Worlds, for thousands upon thousands of years, as the Empire continually expanded, absorbing the Fringers into the Imperium, often peacefully, sometimes at gunpoint, and as the Empire expanded, those seeking to live outside it were forced to move further and further away. Current IBC estimates state that the known Fringe Worlds will not be added to the Empire for fifty to one hundred years. This fact gave very little comfort to Captain Yolanda Powell. In fact, she mused as her destroyer squadron executed a tight turn, it would be really damn nice to have an Imperial Superdreadnought or two around right now. Actually, she thought as her ship shuddered under the firepower of their attacker, three would be nice. Three Imperial Superdreadnoughts. Was that really too much to ask?
“Sir!” her chief weapons officer called from across the smoky bridge. “Don't ask how but Engineering's got missile tube one operational.
“Well don't just sit there!” Powell shouted back. “Fire!”
The weapons officer relayed the message to missile control and a moment later the tiny destroyer lurched as a massive capitol-ship missile blasted it's way into space. Traveling at incredible speed, the missile sneaked through a gap in it's target's shields, slammed through a hole in it's armour and detonated right next to a heavy cruiser's reactor. There was a bright flash of light, and a split second later, the pirate cruiser was ripped apart in a cloud of nuclear fire.
“Yeah!” shouted one of the officers in missile control. “Choke on that, you bastards!”
Powell grinned. She shouldn't have heard that, but there shouldn't have been a large hole in the floor next to her chair either. “Nice work, everybody,” she said, deciding that if she shouldn't have heard it, then she hadn't heard it. “I think it'll be a while before the Scraghoppers give us any trouble. Lieutenant Liu, set a course for home, I think we've all earned a long bout of R&R.”
“Course laid in, sir,” reported the helmsman. “ETA is-”
“Sir!” interrupted Ensign Jones, who was filling in for their injured sensor tech. “Tachyon spike at twenty three point seven mark eighteen point nine, range fifteen thousand.”
“Size?” inquired Powell.
“It's- Holy Mother....”
“Ensign!” Powell barked.
“It's massive sir, completely off the scale. I can't get any sort of accurate reading, it's overloading the sensors.”
“Main viewer!” ordered Powell. The main view screen came alive just in time for the bridge crew to see an impossibly large section of space rip apart and something very big made transit from null-space into normal space.
There was a long moment of silence before Powell managed to find words suitable for the occasion. “Anybody mind telling me, what the hell is that?”

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Excellent addition to the story AgentZero. The drama is very well done. Keep it up!

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

A marble table named Ted? http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/laugh.gif

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Thanks, Ragnarok. And Narf, no, I don't know where the marble table named Ted came from, or if it will have a role to play in future events. It just seemed like a good idea at the time. And since the AO servers still seem to be down, I think I'll go back to a spot of writing.

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Yeah, that's what I thought too. Shape-shifting infiltrator maybe?

Anyways, great ?chapter?

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Yeah! Another vote for shape-shifting infiltrator. http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/laugh.gif

Good-guy shape-shifting infiltrator. Evil shape-shifters are a dime a dozen.

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Great stuff AZ. Glad you're back at it!

Turin[img]/threads/images/Graemlins/icon42.gif[/img]

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Hey folks! Between work, beta testing, AO, and the rest of a complete and balanced life, I haven't had much time for writing. But, having been a tad bit sick the last few days and the side-effects of medication including a strange groggy insomnia, I've found the time to put together a few more pages.
By the by, if anyone has any problem with me using your forum names for places and things, just let me know and I'll gladly change it. Well, not gladly, but I will change it without complaining. Much. http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/wink.gif

James Kagan opened his eyes slowly. For once, there was no sour taste of tobacco and alcohol in his mouth, but rather something a lot like... strawberries. It had been an eventful four weeks. The nav-computer had gone haywire and their last jump, rather than take them towards the relative safety of Fyron's Star, had sent the careening towards Tauran space along some of the highest hyper bands. The strain of an emergency crash jump to normal space had fused the hyperdrive's capacitators, and it had taken him and Alice the better part of three weeks to remove them, and another three days to fit new ones. Another week had been spent drifting aimlessly while they repaired the nav-computer, a task that should have taken a lot longer if not for Alice's intuitive knack for all things electronic. In fact, for someone who claimed to have never served aboard a spacecraft of any kind, she seemed to know a rather shocking amount about their inner workings. When he questioned her about it, she would shrug and tell him that it just made sense. Which was odd, he mused, since she'd re-tuned the hyperdrive by herself, and nothing about hyperdrives 'just made sense.' Still, despite all the interesting happenings, including an exciting trip through an asteroid field with no navigational drive, Kagan had to admit that the most enjoyable events had been those occurring within the last four days.
He ran his fingertip slowly along Alice's bare shoulder, down her forearm, and settled his hand in the curve of her waist. She shifted sleepily and closed her hand around his.
“You awake?” she murmured.
“No,” he replied quietly.
With a small giggle, she pushed herself up and kissed him softly on the forehead. “Big day, today, huh?” she asked as she swung herself out of the bed.
“Big day,” he agreed, dragging himself out of bed to join her in the shower.
“So, you think it'll work?” she asked.
“Should do. If all goes according to plan.”
“And if it all goes wrong?”
“We die.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Well, I was factoring in a reactor breach in it all going wrong,” he said, giving her a reassuring pat.
“So, if it all goes wrong but the reactor doesn't breach?”
“We still die.”
“Oh, dear.”

Up on the bridge, they ran through the pre-jump checks -three times, at Alice's insistence- then strapped themselves into their chairs and held their breaths as Kagan squeezed to leavers together. The whole ship seemed to jerk forward, backward, left and right, all at the same time, for a brief, terribly uncomfortable few seconds then subsided and on the main nav-console, a green light came on with a corresponding bing!
Kagan breathed a sigh of relief and unstrapped himself from his chair before he began entering commands into the nav-computer.
“Are we OK?” a meek voice inquired from behind him.
He looked back to see Alice, still strapped in her chair, sitting bolt upright with a fearsome death-grip on her armrests.
“We're fine,” he replied. “Now relax, I lent my Barclay's Widget to O'Shea.”
Alice didn't budge. “What's Barclay's Widget?” she asked.
“A mythological tool for removing fingernails from permaplast,” Kagan replied dryly.
Alice frowned at him, not understanding until her gaze traveled downwards to her bright white knuckles. Letting out a nervous laugh, she sagged into her chair, then unstrapped herself and joined him at the console.
“So, where we goin?” she inquired.
“The Edward's Gambit system,” he replied. “We're running desperately low on supplies, and Kolis Station is the biggest trading outpost in the Empire. We'll be able to collect everything we need, and more, once we're there. I've got us at the top of the Tigga Band, so we'll be there in three days.”
“Hmm... Any ideas on how to spend our time until then,” Alice asked with a mischievous grin.

Three blissful days later and the Daedalus and her crew of two arrived in Edward's Gambit. The Edwardians being a rather conservative bunch, Kagan had dug an old Merchant Corps. uniform out of storage for Alice. The top fit perfectly, but the bottoms were two sizes too big, and only agreed to stay up with the assistance of a tight belt. But, with her seated safely behind the nav-console, no one would notice.
“Daedalus to Kolis Control,” Kagan said crisply as he opened a communication channel. “Request docking permission.”
“Control to Daedalus, we acknowledge,” was the prompt response. “What is the purpose and intended duration of your visit?
“Daedalus to Control, we need to resupply. Intended stay is two to three days.”
“Control acknowledges, Daedalus. You are clear to dock in Berth 117A.”
“Daedalus acknowledges Berth 117A,” Kagan replied.
“Acknowledged, Control out.”
“Wowers,” said Alice. “That was sure formal.”
“Yeah, the Edwardians are big fans of the formality,” Kagan agreed. “So, you wanna take her in?”
“'K!” she agreed happily.

Two minutes later, and Kolis Control were back on, sounding anything but formal.
“Daedalus, clear current grid NOW!” the control officer shouted, the speaker distorting his voice from sheer volume. “Incoming crash transit!”
Kagan's military training slowed his perception of time to a crawl as his head whipped towards the nav-console and he began instinctively to rise from his chair. But even through his vastly dilated view of time, Alice's hands still flew over the control panel with amazing speed. He was thrown back in his chair as the ship surged forward, then nearly tossed clear out of it as Alice took the ship through a spiraling evasive maneuver that thew them clear of a massive hyperspace wash by a mere few meters.
“Bloody hell,” Kagan gasped as he pulled himself out of his chair, shaking his head to clear the lingering effects of psychological time dilation. “Where the hell did you learn to do that?”
“Don't know,” Alice replied quietly, her hands now deathly still over the controls. “Don't know.”
“By the Divine, the Navy's top fighter pilots would have had a hard time with that one and you just-” his hand came to rest of her shoulder and found it shaking. He drew her gently to her feet and wrapped his arms around her.
“That was scary,” she whispered.
“Well, when a four megaton freighter pops outta hyperspace right behind you, it's seldom very fun,” Kagan said wryly.
“Not that,” she said. “What I did. I don't know what I did, or how I did it, I just did. It's like the hyperdrive and the nav-comp. I don't know how I know what I know, and it scares me.”
“Hush,” Kagan replied. “It'll be okay. We'll figure this out together.”
He leaned down and kissed her softly, but was interrupted a second later by the insistent beep of an incoming transmission.
“Control to Daedalus, are you guys all right?”
Kagan sat back in his chair and flicked open the comm channel. “We're fine, Control, just a little shaken up. What the hell was that?”
“A freighter carrying refugees from the Turin System,” was the reply. “A lot of them are taking on too many people, then coming here too fast and crash jumping in. It's been like this for the last week.”
“The Turin System?” wondered Kagan. “That place was paradise last time I checked.”
“Then you need to read the news more often,” the controller told him. “Two weeks ago Turin Prime got hit by seven dirty nukes. We still don't know who's responsible, but Turambar and Eru were swamped within days and they've been shuttling everyone through here since.”
“Frak,” Kagan said simply.
“Control acknowledges and agrees fully,” came the wry reply. “Unfortunately, Berth 117A is the only one big enough to accommodate the freighter, so we're moving you to Berth 204C. It's a bit tight, but the best we can do under the circumstances.”
“It'll do fine, Control. Daedalus acknowledges Berth 204C.”
“Acknowledged. Control out.”

Kagan swung his assault cruiser out around to the far side of the station, and managed to dock in the not quite big enough berth without damaging anything terribly important. Minutes later, after clearing customs, they were in the enormous promenade that took up the upper two hundred decks of the Kolis Station. Kagan strode purposefully through the crowd of humans and aliens, traders, refugees, merchants, con-artists, criminals and holy men. Alice gripped his arm tightly as she gazed about in wide-eyed wonderment at all that lay before her.
“I've never seen so many- anythings!” she exclaimed. “You could spend your whole life here and only see a tiny little bit!”
“Some people do,” said Kagan. “But we're not here long so let's-”
He was cut short by a deafening roar that was followed a split second later by a great lurching of the deck that sent the crowd of humans and aliens, traders, refugees, merchants, con-artists, criminals, holy men, Kagan and Alice crashing to the ground. Kagan grabbed Alice and twisted as they fell, putting himself between her and the hard deck surface, although this did cause their landing to be quite unpleasant for him as most of her weight landed in his midsection.
“What,” he gasped as soon as he managed to draw a breath. “The. Hell. Was. That?”

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

yea! more!

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Well, folks? Comments, criticism, questions, guesses as to where I'm going with all this? Anything?

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

reminds me of the firefly girl.

edit: or of the girl in John Ringo's _When the Devil Dances_ who had memories and skills assembled from various "places"

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Interesting plot.

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Yeah, I'm a bit worried about that. I've never seen Firefly, but after watching the Serenity trailer, I see definate similarities between her and Alice. Especially after the bout of fisticuffs I'm getting ready for posting. Ah well, time will tell....

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Sorry folks, no addition to the story yet, but more is in the works at the moment. Just been playing around with Doga and made a pretty decent renditon of the Daedalus. Those of you with a bit more experience with Doga's texturing capabilities please don't hesitate to critisize (constructively) since I'm not 100% happy with it yet.

http://www.shrapnelcommunity.com/thr...Daedelustb.JPG

Edit: See the attatchment for bigger version

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Just caught up. I'd forgotten just how good this story is. More! More! More!

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Yep, looks like DoGA parts. lol

Hey, yell at Atrocities to email you his custom parts files; they're much more fun to work with. (Though some are decidedly proprietary, like SW and ST:TNG/OS stuff)

Nice lookin ship though; reminds me of a ship called Armageddon from some TV series,

T
<edit:typo>

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Kinda reminded me of the ship from Aliens. More story, please!

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Crap. Everything I do is really something else. My female lead is the Firefly chick, my spaceship is the Aliens ship, and aside from the fact that I created Alice before I'd even heard of Firefly, and I can't remember the ship from Aliens, I'm beginning to have doubts as to my own creativity.
Anyway, more on the story is forthcoming, I'm just home visiting my parents and it's very hard to get 5 minutes, let alone a couple hours to lay down some wordage but they're heading off on holidays of their own soon, so it won't be long until I have the requisite time.
And limitless alcohol. Oh yes, there will be writing.

In the meantime, tell me what you think of this lil fella. It's the Defiant, that wee destroyer from the start of the story. And hey, I even rememberd to tack on a sensor dealy on the front, maintaining congruity all the way!

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

Like the defiant pic. It looks like something that could be successfully piloted by one drunk dude, too.

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

I like the ship.

Re: OT: Hell is For Heroes.
 

ah, piss and moan. There are dozzens of other ships and adventure characters that your stuff reminds me of. its not because you copied it from them, its because adventure stories have existed since the dawn of the spoken-word. And modern(ish) space sci-fi has been kicking about for around 70 years now.

even if you didnt see alines or firefly, you were part of the same collective consiousness that the creators of those shows based their characters and art upon. its not that your not creative, its that you CANT create something that does not (at least vaguely) remind someone of something else.

I could just as easily picked dozzens of other characters or ships that those reminded me of. But yours fit together in a way thats refreshing and new, and thats why this is one of my favorite stories to read.

And I like the Defiant. It reminds me of...

puke ducks as everyone in the room throws a heavy object at him. there is a loud cacaphony of crashing noises, as puke is burried under heavy, flying, blunt objects