Chapter Two
Planning Stages
After conquering the Hachi star nation two hundred thousand years ago, the=
=20
Corron Empire saw the Kellar Federation as their next logical=20
target. However, the Terran and eventually Confederation influence in the=
=20
Jarao supersector ultimately seriously derailed the Empire's ability to=20
advance coreward. The diplomatic discourse between the Kellar Federation=20
and the UPC, leading to a formal alliance in 2172, greatly offended the=20
Imperial Government and helped set the stage for Corron-Confederation=20
hostility. The immediate cases of the First Corron Confederation War --=20
the Ca'poan entry into the UPC in 2175 and the Jaroa Supersector shooting=20
incidents in 2178 -- lay three years down the line, all subsequent wars=20
were driven by the Empire's need to remove the UPC as an obstacle to=20
attacking the Kellar Federation.
-Excerpted from "The Giovanni Buffer Zone," Volume 831 in the Revised=20
History of the Robotech Wars, Chapter XVII, pg 782. circa ET 2166 (ASG).
* * *
UPC Department of Defense Headquarters at the Pentagon
Arlington, Virginia
12 March 2170
Brigadier General Westphal Greene, UPC Army, sat on the couch outside=20
Director's office waiting for his appointment. His small yet formidable=20
frame betrayed his impatience as he checked his watch once again. Five=20
minutes. You'd think that giving thirty good years of your life away to=20
the service deserved a little more respect, or at least Green thought=20
so. Still, his boss had a three star lead and more than enough in this=20
life to justify making Green sweat for a few minutes.
"Here you go, Sir." Greene's adjutant, a full bird Army colonel=20
decorated with a gold apulette over his green and black uniform, took his=20
seat to the General's left. Thirty years ago, Greene might've mistaken his=
=20
Ca'poan aide's complexion with that of the enemy, a light blue hue well=20
within the range of Corron skin color, even though the aide hailed from a=20
relatively homogenous star nation represented in the Confederation=20
Congress. He presented the General with a paper bag, removing the breakfast=
=20
items he picked up from a quick raid of the building cafeteria. "Bagel?"
"Sour cream?" Greene tooked the bag and rifled through its=
contents.
"Er=85nah, Sir. I can go get some, eh?"
"Hmm," Greene's eyes shifted to the bagel. No sour cream, and=20
with quals coming up=85forget it, West. Shaking his head, Green turned it=
=20
down. "Just save it for now, Tal. We should be ready any moment now."
The colonel just shrugged his shoulders, reached into the bag and=
=20
took out some jam. Greene looked enviously at the paper bag, full of poppy=
=20
seed and blueberry bagels. He had to rush out of the house at five this=20
morning just to put the finishing touches on his briefing -- he and Colonel=
=20
Tal'ma were schedule to fill in General Military Intelligence's senior=20
staff on some Very Important Stuff=99. GMI -- the central nexus for all the=
=20
service and DOD intelligence agencies -- coordinated the flow of military=20
and defense intelligence into the national collection and analysis=20
system. From there, the civvies could pick and choose what they wanted=20
pass up the chain. Most everything else they simply circular-filed until=20
something interesting recalled their attention to it. General Greene had=20
spent a good portion of the last thirty years in the Business, assessing --=
=20
sometimes going out and gathering -- the secret intelligence with the armed=
=20
services need to make plans and successfully implement them. Having been=20
around the block more times than most, he also knew that a truly republican=
=20
society demanded that he acquiesce to individuals who flaunted their "big=20
picture views" and knew less about the significance of the information he=20
delivered than an Princeton academic locked in his Ivory Tower.
Greene shifted restlessly in his seat, a bad habit he'd picked up=
=20
as a kid. His hands gripped the datapad resting on his lap, covering the=20
handheld computer with a clear liquid crystal display and a touch=20
screen. Locked away in the memory of Greene's device was a presentation he=
=20
personally classified as Most Confidential, two compartments high and away=
=20
from Top Secret.
The doors suddenly opened behind him. A human yeoman -- he=20
couldn't have been a day older than seventeen - ushered Green and his=20
adjutant into the briefing room. It was darker in there than in the=20
hallway, but the General could see more than a few officers already seated.
"Morning, General Greene," the Navy captain closest to the door=20
stood to greet him. "Director Ghers isn't here yet, but I'm sure you're=20
familiar with the rest of the staff."
General Greene took his hand guardedly. This one was from Naval=20
Intelligence, once a proud institution now on the verge of bastardy. One=20
of Greene's own classmates from the Military Academy at West Point,=20
Francois Messeur had taken a route favored by no few officers -- one of=20
political patronage. Rear Admiral Messeur's family had a long tradition of=
=20
public service, often with a brief military career to augment their=20
bourgeois credentials to the voters. Messeur's father, a former Allied=20
Earth Federation Representative to the House for the European Union and=20
Armed Services Committee Chairman in the Confederation Congress worked hard=
=20
to ensure his son's patronage in the Democratic-Unificationist=20
camp. Greene had to refrain himself from baring his teeth as he=20
contemplated the unabashed political games that plagued the most modern=20
military establishments throughout history, but soothed himself knowing=20
that many of his colleagues and friends were now the competent leaders and=
=20
managers. Still, a few like Messeur -- and maybe this greasy young Captain=
=20
-- would continue to pile up in NavInt until somebody decided to do=20
something about it.
The Captain was friendly enough to show General Green and Colonel=
=20
Tal'ma to their seats before returning to his companions to discuss=20
something else of importance. In the meantime, Green decided to rest his=20
eyes. He had a lot of material to get through, and he hadn't had a bite of=
=20
breakfast or a cup of coffee to get his day started.
* * *
"I just want to thank you all for entertaining our little slideshow today,"=
=20
as he introduced his brief, Green felt his faculties fully snap back into=20
play just like they would if he were were waking up from a long nap. "I=20
need not remind you that the contents of this briefing are classified. As=
=20
most of you know, I am Brigadier General Westphal Greene, Deputy Director -=
=20
Operations, and my aide is Colonel Tal'ma Ohaan, Analysis Department Desk=20
Chief for Corron Studies. Today, we'll be briefing you on important recent=
=20
developments separated from the after-action assessment of the raid on=20
Ishtar-anai."
His introduction complete, Greene keyed his remote to trigger the=
=20
presentation. The entire wall behind him turned into a visual display, the=
=20
emblem of the Confederation flashed briefly, followed by the seal of the=20
Department of Defense. Within a few seconds, a list of dates and tags=20
appeared and scrolled up the wall display.
"Here we have a timeline of events to date. Hostilities between=20
the United Planetary Confederation and the Chorymi Nomads in the past ten=20
years have increased dramatically, and by extension relations with the=20
Corron Empire have worsened. On February 2 of 2169, a Chorymi raiding=20
force attacked Ishtaranai, supported by three small escort carriers and one=
=20
supermonitor, all presumably purchased by the Chorymi nomads from the=20
Corron Empire in FY2162-3 and weapons released on lease three years=20
later. The official report from State suggests that this purchase is=20
legitimate, although casts doubt on the Corron Empire's stated level of=20
involvement in the assault.
"Although the Government has formally accepted the August 2169=20
Communique at Calypso as the official, accepted explanation, Confederation=
=20
Intelligence and Strategic Services was directed to investigate possible=20
Imperial complicity in the attack, determined the level of support the=20
Empire provided to the Chorymi raiders, and make recommendations for=20
interdicting future attacks. GMI took on the task of coordinating military=
=20
intelligence operations along the Buffer Zone. I'm pleased to report=20
national and military intelligence systems performed jointly and=20
effectively throughout the investigation."
"But getting to the heart of the matter," Greene skipped=20
ahead. Somebody else could dwell on the platitudes. "our investigation=20
revealed preliminary, yet hard, indicators that the Empire was involved in=
=20
at least logistical support for the execution phase. As such, our analysis=
=20
is that given a hand in carrying out the attack in Ishtar-anai, the Empire=
=20
must have made significant contributions to proposing, planning and=20
supporting the operation. We have reason to believe that the Tringal-class=
=20
dreadnought used by the raiders against Ishtar-anai was under Corron=
command."
Greene picked up the Undersecretary for Military Intelligence's=20
sideways glance towards General Ghers. Everybody in the room had heard of=
=20
the man who skippered the Imperial dreadnought that had destroyed=20
Ishtar-anai's capital city -- known in the Confederation as the Foxtrot Two=
=20
Alpha. Twenty years ago, "the Butcher" -- a nightmarish figure from CCW-4=
=20
and an eccentric senior Imperial officer who wore aviator sunglasses akin=20
to those of twentieth century American fighter pilots -- slaughtered=20
millions in a mass ethnic cleansing campaign in East Asia during the=20
Empire's occupation of Earth. Greene and Director Ghers knew the Butcher=20
better than anyone in this room. Greene had led a thousand refugees out of=
=20
the "Valley of Burning Rain" after launching one of the greatest=20
intelligence coups -- a massive riot outside of Beijing that ultimately=20
ended the Empire's occupation of the century. However, he'd lost one of=20
his closest friends to the Butcher's savage retribution -- Ghers Kuthal,=20
son of GMI's Director.
After the war, the Butcher resurfaced into the Confederation=20
psyche only one more time. Eight years ago, the Confederation intelligence=
=20
community was embarassed during the infamous incident involving an Imperial=
=20
intelligence ship faking a distress call. The Butcher, commanding the=20
Romeo November Thirteen, had deliberately beached his ship on a moon in the=
=20
Rubia System after faking a catastrophic Kingspin failure. The Navy=20
initially played up the event as a humiliating blow to the Hwi'zhemal-orra=
=20
and a triumph for Naval Intelligence. Years later, CISS discovered the=20
Butcher's true intentions for showing up in the Rubia System. The Empire=20
had picked up three intelligence operatives who'd been surveilling the=20
defenses around the Hegerman hyperlane. In the meantime, the Empire had=20
supplied this intelligence to the Chorymi raiders, who made easy prey of=20
the merchantmen transiting the lane at that time while neatly avoiding the=
=20
power battle squadrons patrolling Rubia's sector of space. In fact, Ghers=
=20
ascendency to the the Office of the GMI had a lot to do with the=20
embarassment of his predecessor. The Butcher had humiliated the humans=20
once again and placed thousands of lives and more than five hundred billion=
=20
nuyen in trade at risk.
Greene ran through the intelligence brief in five minutes. To=20
summarize, the Confederation would meet the Butcher once again, but this=20
time they had the information to stop him -- maybe kill him. Well, as=20
Greene explained, they didn't exactly have the information. "We know=20
they're planning something, but we don't know exactly when or where they=20
intend to hit. We do know that our source has put the necessary=20
information to complete the puzzle within our reach."
And so it began. They could beat the Butcher, but first General=20
Greene needed to convince these people that they all they had to do was let=
=20
him get the information they needed. Unfortunately, nothing came without=20
risks. The Undersecretary was an old pro in the intel business, but no=20
operator. No, he'd save that part for later. Right now, all he wanted to=
=20
do was get the news out to the right people. Maybe later he'd talk to=20
Ghers about what his Operations people were cooking up. If he played his=20
cards right, Greene estimated he had about a fifty-fifty chance to pull=20
this whole thing off.
Not too shabby, he thought quietly as he and his aide sat down,=20
ready to field the multitude of questions his audience had thought up over=
=20
the last half-hour.
* * *
"How's everything, West?" The Director closed the door behind the last=20
officer to leave the briefing room. General Greene then followed his boss=
=20
back into the main office, where his secretary had deposited the promised=20
breakfast sandwiches. "It's been eight months -- a long time down under."
"Yeah, Bats," he refered to his boss by his well-tagged=20
nickname. Batamn, born of the humanoid O'mepec race native to the trinary=
=20
O'meeai system's diverse and habitable planets, removed his traditional,=20
dome-like head covering to reveal the prickly, bat-like ears his species=20
made famous. The O'mepec only did so in the comfortable presence of=20
friends, so anything less than friendly familiarity from "West" Greene=20
might be seen as a calculated insult. So much for the professional=20
relationship. "It's been a long time, but I think it helped. I got=20
through this okay, didn't I?"
"Yeah, and I don't need a PowerPlay Ranger right now. Talk to me."
Westphal Greene paused for a moment, retracing his memories back=20
to eight months ago. Standing on that barren rock, hoping to God that the=
=20
capital city of Katherine -- the most war-torned Terran colony in history=20
-- didn't fall to the religious zealots from a gifted and ambitious=20
outlying province before reinforcements arrived and relieved the broken and=
=20
tattered calvary regiment with which he deployed. At the time, he'd worn=20
the eagles of a Colonel. With current combat experience, his friends=20
higher up finally had their excuse to bump him onto the short list for=20
Brigadier General.
"Sir, I don't think there's anything more to say."
"C'mon, West," Ghers pressed on. "You know I trust your=20
judgement. I know you'd put your reputation on the integrity of this=20
take. Now, help me see why. How solid is this. What's your feeling?"
"Riker," Greene whispered as if someone was secretly listening in=
=20
on them. The room, both knew, was fully secure. Still, no reputable=20
intelligence officer made it this far in his career to fuck it up by=20
showing off the crown jewels.
Director Ghers's eyes narrowed in understanding -- Greene knew the=
=20
Director had already guessed at the source. "I suppose it doesn't get=20
better than that."
No, it sure as hell doesn't. Less than twenty people knew the=20
weekly code for the two most valuable human intelligence assets the=20
Confederation's national intelligence alliance had ever put in place. Even=
=20
Ghers had to be cleared on a case by case basis for that sort of=20
intelligence; the Director knew nothing specifically about the identity or=
=20
placement of the agents in question -- both known on a more permanent basis=
=20
as Yokkuri and Samson to a select clique consisting of Greene, Central=20
Intelligence's Deputy Director (Operations) and six handlers -- three=20
assigned to each agent. Yokkuri -- the political asset -- had been in=20
place for decades now, feeding valuable politcal-military intelligence=20
through a complex courier system that consisted of his handler and another=
=20
agent. Greene alone of the twenty people in on Yokkuri material knew the=20
man by face and voice, having once penetrated the Empire's homeworld in=20
disguise to clean up a potentially dangerous security leak. Samson also=20
had access to this courier pipeline, and although the professional intel=20
officer had know know idea about the younger agent's identity beyond a=20
scant and possibly dated psycological profile he had a good feeling Samson=
=20
was military. Anybody who could look at Samson's take unwashed could point=
=20
out the distinctly military feel to his language. Warriors throughout the=
=20
galaxy all appreciated terse and direct communications, where as Yokkuri=20
labored over each detail as if all were equally important.
"It's good, Bats," Greene added unnecessarily -- Ghers had been=20
sold. "Question is what are we going to do about this? It's not everyday=
=20
somebody drops the Butcher's itinerary for the next in our laps. We get=20
him, we kill the backbone for the raiding parties. Maybe even stop a war."
"That's a political question," Director Ghers cautioned more out=20
of instinct than concern. Greene pressed on.
"True," he confessed, "but one we can answer. The Imperial=20
Senate's dragging their feet -- they don't want a general war with the=20
Confederation. To be honest, it makes sense; after what they pulled last=20
time around who's to say we won't learn the same lesson?"
"Yeah, but that doesn't explain why they're backing the Chorymi."
"More like going out under arms with them, Bats," Greene=20
snarled. "But you're right. Why press anyway? Well, we've heard the=20
DDO's take. A cabal close to the Empress, interested in keeping the heat=20
on the Confederation until such time that they're ready to take us on=20
again. And the DDI thinks that our draw down over the past ten probably=20
encouraged the bastards to step up operations along the periphery, and I'm=
=20
inclined to believe that. The only thing keeping them in the shadows is=20
that quiet yet firm majority in their Senate. They don't want to commit=20
the resources for fighting a general war. At least not yet."
Clearing his throat, Green finally took a seat on the couch to=20
Ghers left, freeing the Director to throw his feet up and relax. "Like I=20
said in the briefing, we need somebody working close with DDO Rajiyna on=20
this one. We should have an official intelligence estimate on the Senate's=
=20
reaction to a more proactive stance on our side."
"Even if I could convince SecDef or Admiral Bryant to take this up=
=20
to the President," Ghers shooked his head, "the Palace isn't likely to=20
want to run with it. I assume that's what you were getting at during the=20
brief."
Greene let a long pause pass before continuing. "I wanted to run=
=20
it by you first, Bats. Operations cooked up an operational concept a few=20
months ago I think's worth looking into. It's straight up solid on the=20
military side, but we still need CISS to flesh out the possible political=20
reactions so we can trim the concept accordingly."
He took fifteen minutes to explain everything. More than once he=
=20
had to pull out a piece of chalk and run the numbers through for Ghers. By=
=20
the end of it all, the Director has flabbergasted and impressed all at the=
=20
same time.
"God help you if CINCWESTGIOV ever got a whiff of this," the=20
Director smirked.
"Yeah, I think Admiral Cannady said the same thing," Green turned=
=20
up the corner of his mouth deviously. "In any case, I think it's an=20
excellent concept looking for some good operations officers to make it a=20
great plan.."
"Even so," Ghers leaned back, sighing ever so slightly, "there are=
=20
are lot of places you can go wrong, West. Remember how Admiral Vara chewed=
=20
Mike Smith over Ishtar-anai last year?"
"Yeah, and who's idea was it to tell the President to wait a few=20
weeks before setting Trevayne on those Chorymi bastards?"
"Point taken," Ghers conceded, folding his arms across his=20
chest. Neither officer cared much for Vice Admiral Vanessa Vara, widely=20
known as a political animal and a patron of the intelligence community's=20
very own village idiot -- Francois Messeur. "All right, you sold=20
me. When I head down to Bravo Eight next week, though, I want something=20
more solid than this. I've got a meeting with SecDef tomorrow but I can't=
=20
attend. Sit in for me and you can run it past him directly."
"Thank you, Bats," Greene rose to his feet.
"I'm looking forward to a good write-up," Ghers reminded his=20
friend once more time before putting his head covering back on. From here=
=20
on until the next time he took it off, both would observe the strictest=20
protocol one could expect between two officers.
"Yes, Sir."
"Dismissed."
* * *
Office of the Secretary of Defense
Arlington, Virginia
13 March 2170
The office of the senior civilian advisor to the President on military=20
affairs had not changed since the Americans abandoned it two centuries=20
ago. The Pentagon once symbolized the military might of Earth's last=20
superpower. The Zentraedi destroyed the first complex in the early=20
twenty-first century, and the Invid did the same twenty years=20
later. Nostalgia compelled AEF to reconstruct the five-sided complex at=20
the end of the twenty-first century. Through this heirloom to a united=20
Earth, the legacy of the United States of America lived on, a triumph of=20
tradition that historians and social scientists agreed had greatly=20
influenced the rise of Earth into interstellar affairs.
"Good morning, Gentlemen," Heinrich Goer, the UPC Secretary of=20
Defense, stood from behind his desk and graciously received his=20
guests. The Marine guards stood at their post until each and everyone of=20
the SecDef's 10:30AM security briefing and discussion had filed in. Only=20
with a wave of the SecDef's hand did two of them leave the office. The=20
remaining two would make sure nobody flipped out and decided to put a=20
bullet in the SecDef. After all, he was in line for National Command=20
Authority.
The J-3 Operations Officer for Defense Council, Major General Aref=
=20
Moudi, was SecDef's audience, even though most of the people with him were=
=20
civilians from both inside and outside the Department of Defense. Most=20
were card-carrying national intelligence officers. Some were from the=20
State Department. Even more came from Central Intelligence and Strategic=20
Services. The DOD civvies and military types worked for General Military=20
Intelligence and the Moudi's Operations staff. The intel weenies were=20
delivering the briefing, but Moudi had been part of the putting together=20
the operational concept Director Ghers' representative -- Brigadier General=
=20
Westphal Greene -- would advocate today.
"Mr. Secretary," Westphal Green nodded. "I'm quite sure you're=20
acquainted with General Moudi, DDO Rajiyna, Deputy Assistant Secretary=20
Dallas MacDonald=85"
The acerb-looking Indian woman had aready taken the liberty of a=20
seat. Ms. Leanna Rajiyna's expression struck Greene as unexpressive, yet=
=20
it didn't exceed the point of disturbing severity. The Deputy Director=20
(Operations) was the senior member from the CIN present today. A career=20
intelligence officer, she had initially worked through the Department of=20
Treasury's Commerce Intelligence Analysis Board. A paper on commerce=20
warfare had brought her to the attention of her predecessor in CISS, who=20
had brought her in as a Special Assistant (Various Functions). As an=20
SA(VF), she had nearly unlimited access to numerous intelligence=20
complementing her research. With a doctorate in both international affairs=
=20
and a service certificate in diplomatic intelligence, her sheer talent and=
=20
political ties to the Harcourt Administration assured her ascendency to=20
some top post in CISS -- you can't do much worse than Deputy Director=20
(Operations). Over the past year, she'd gain in official Geneva as the=20
"Ice Queen" of the intelligence community. Those who worked under her knew=
=20
better. They appreciated her deft competence, uncompromising respect for=20
both the law and her nation's interests, and unwavering loyalty to her=20
people. A good chief looked after the interests and needs of her=20
operators, acting as the head of one big, yet very close family. With a=20
huge (and unknown) number of field officers and other department employess=
=20
reporting to her, she faced a monumental task. Fortunately, DDO Rajiyna=20
was as good of they come. Also, it didn't hurt to have a good executive=20
director to sort through the day-by-day mess.
Ms. Dallas MacDonald, Deputy Assistant Secretary of the Treasury=20
for Commerce Intelligence Analysis sat to DDO Rajiyna's right. Despite=20
SecDef Goer's close relationship to his counterpart in the Treasury=20
Department, he knew very little about the other people across the River=20
other than what his aides threw in their dossiers. From a glance, Dallas=20
MacDonald looked like a quiet, reserved woman like those like some gilded=20
princess from the Victorian age. But when she spoke, nobody could deny her=
=20
rustic, characteristically Texan slant on the English language. She'd come=
=20
up through Treasury Department with a reputation for being one of the=20
brightest computer modeling anaylsts anywher. Her knack for building=20
computer models and spotting trends caught the Secretary of the Treasury's=
=20
attention during some of her early work with the Bureau of Narcotics and=20
Firearms. MacDonald also earned a reputation for being a bit of a cowboy,=
=20
never afraid to go out on a limb to do what she thought was=20
right. Ultimately, she ended up heading up the joint intelligence staff=20
Treasury and Commerce set up to track foreign accounts and trade across the=
=20
Buffer Zone. MacDonald nodded softly as Greene's introductions continued,=
=20
her expression every bit as calm and collective as DDO Rajiyna's.
"=85Mr. Badrayn=85" Green nodded to the International Affairs=
Counsel=20
to the President and the senior government officer present. The unusually=
=20
youthful Iraqi standing next to Muscaen desk chief extended his hand. The=
=20
SecDef accepted it, noting that he had never met this particular NIO=20
face-to-face before despite Mr. Badrayn's widely known reputation. After=
=20
all, an IAC ranked only two grades below the National Security Advisor --=20
the most coveted staff post in the Palace short of Chief of Staff and the=20
President's Counsel. In a way, IACs and the NSA were a hell of a lot=20
closer to the Power, as their offices were in the Presidential Palace --=20
the Secretary of Defense had to fly halfway across the world to have a=20
face-to-face with his boss.
"I'd also like to thank Mr. Serx-shelex for joining us. He's the=
=20
desk chief for Corron Affairs for the Directorate of Intelligence."
The lavender-skinned Muscaen bowed deeply, his four compound eyes=
=20
reflecting a disturbing image of the SecDef as he courteously=20
responded. Goer noticed Rajiyna's eyes narrow as Greene passed by Mr.=20
Serx-shelex. It was no secret in Geneva that the two did not like each=20
other. Rajiyna hated how the DI always rounded down the DO's estimates of=
=20
the Imperial threat, one of the reasons that the DDO had pushed for and=20
gotten a small concession from the Palace to expand Operations independent=
=20
analysis section.
"Mr. Alan Dobson and Ms. Wei Lin Pao are with Mr. Badrayn=20
today. They're advisors to the President on Corron Affairs. Colonel Njube=
=20
Kwame and Major Kofi Jackson from the Office of National Technical=20
Means. They'll be discussing signal intelligence related to the=20
presentation. Also, Lieutenant Commander Hulous Garsell'je and Dr.=20
Chiro-ne Hellor from CISS. They're with Ms. Rajiyna."
The last two caught the Secretary of Defense's attention. Both,=20
at a glance, looked exactly like the blue-skinned enemy the Confederation=20
had known for seventy years, After all, they were of Corronoid=20
stock. However, Garsell'je was a Hachi, a Corronoid race from a world long=
=20
since subjugated by the Empire. His family had defected with millions of=20
others during the last war, and they'd learned to love their new nation=20
with a feverish loyalty that only refugees and immigrants could truly=20
understand. Because of their physical qualities, however, they often were=
=20
subjugated to various instances of discrimination. Local authorities=20
refused to enforce anti-discrimination statues handed down from regional=20
governments and even Geneva -- the Hulous family were three times turned=20
into homeless refugees, scrapping to obtain whatever residence they could=20
find and struggling to find a world where they could finally realize the=20
dream of democracy. His father died before that of his race's answer to=20
lymphotic cancer, but his mother and uncle pushed all eighteen of the=20
family's youth through the educational system. Three became Defense Force=
=20
officers, one a local politician on a rural continent on 183 Henrietta II,=
=20
five achieved doctoral level degrees in physics, medicine and law, and the=
=20
rest took to farming their large New Alexandria plot. Garsell'je was one=20
of the three who'd gone into service. He majored in military history,=20
defended his masters in Business Administration, and pursued a doctoral=20
degree in international relations and intelligence. He also received his=20
commission through the Navy Reserve Officer's Training Corps, pipe-lined=20
almost out of school into a high profile intelligence post with General=20
Military Intelligence. His name was on the short-list of promising=20
prospects the CIN's Deputy Director (Operations) sought to bring in from=20
GMI. It didn't take long for Rajiyna to find somebody she liked, even if=20
it meant kidnapping him or her from a colleague.
Dr. Chiro-ne Hellor had his doctorate in economic philosophy from=
=20
the Graduate School of Economics on New Munich, and for all intensive=20
purposes he should have gone into the Treasury Department rather than the=20
foreign intelligence community. Nevertheless, his undocumented expertise=20
with the Corron Empire's inner workings, developed after a tour there,=20
sponsored by Karbarra-Sekitan Industries and the Corron Empire's Imperial=20
Communications Corporation, made him an invaluable resource amongst the=20
CIN's Empire analysts. Eventually, he picked up on that task, and he=20
quickly moved up in the Directorate of Intelligence. Slated for a transfer=
=20
into administration, he willingly accepted an offer from the DDO to work=20
for her -- putting off his fast-track for a possible appointment as a=20
directorate chief off for almost a decade. More importantly, Chiro-ne=20
Hellor was on of less than twelve native Rubians in federal=20
employ. Indicating on numerous occasions and through a number of=20
postdoctoral papers his distinct interest in seeing Rubia graduate from=20
protectorate and ally to become the three hundred fortieth star nation to=20
join the Confederation, Dr. Chiro-ne was also one of the most adamant=20
supporters of a peace accord with the Empire based on mutual economic=20
interests, and in that pursuit had made a lot of enemies in the military.
Goer, the conservative player on Harcourt's generally liberal=20
team, didn't really agree with Dr. Chiro-ne's foreign policy=20
outlook. However, the Defense Secretary was professional enough to keep=20
ideological differences from clouding his judgement. Dr. Chiro-ne was=20
most definitely on the left of the foreign policy debate, but his=20
opposition based upon economic principle carried a certain truth about=20
it. There were benefits to enjoying a cooperative relationship with the=20
Empire. The fact that the intelligence analyst, who had filtered between=20
academia and bureaucracy for nearly thirty years, proposed his theories=20
with no political agenda warranted a degree of respect. However, Heinrich=
=20
Goer was no economist, and his reservations regarding Dr. Chiro-ne's=20
predictions for the "inevitability of peace" grated against his inability=20
to debate him on the many complex points involved. Maybe he would at least=
=20
check to see what the folks across the street at the Treasury Department=20
about Dr. Chiro-ne's ideas.
But that was neither here nor there. "General Greene, you may=
begin."
"Thank you, Mr. Secretary," the intelligence officer answered=20
graciously. On a center table, Lieutenant Commander Garsell'je set down a=
=20
small laptop computer and a holographic projector, plugging the peripheral=
=20
into the correct port before taking his seat. The Secretary ordered the=20
lights dimmed by fifty percent as General Greene produced a remote control=
=20
and pressed play.
The recording covered the pertinent aspects of the last Bravo=20
Eight conference; General Moudi had already secured the conference minutes=
=20
and published them the handheld datapads distributed to the audience. The=
=20
Secretary ran through a few left over questions before turning his=20
attention to the Greene's presentation. The whole affair lasted fourteen=20
minutes, and the lights returned to normal. Greene went on for a few=20
minutes more finished with the operations brief, turning to Major Jackson=20
and Lieutenant Colonel Njube for input when the material got to=20
heady. After thirty minutes, the floor opened up to discussion.
"Riker," Greene started. Everyone in the room cleared for the=20
source. "I presented to both Director Ghers and the Undersecretary the bulk=
=20
of this information yesterday. Ultimately, we need to know the political=20
ramifications of this intelligence."
Although the Confederation currently existed in a state of "peace"=
=20
-- a tried one, but peace nonetheless -- people like Greene understood that=
=20
warfare was a continuing state of sentient affairs through a variety of=20
outlets. Looking briefly at Chiro-ne and Dallas MacDonald, he could easily=
=20
point out that they were experts in their own 'variety' of warfare -- where=
=20
monies and commodities constituted the weapons and soldiers; markets,=20
banks, and international monetary relationships made up the battlefield;=20
the strategy manifested itself in the form of tax and commerce policy; and=
=20
where destruction manifested itself as tax hikes, falling interest rates,=20
and stagnating or receding growth. Real people lost their livelihoods in=20
these kind of wars; governments had collapsed when they ran out of=20
treasure. What was "regular warfare" anyway? Greene and many of his ilk=20
often asked themselves; the answer always readily dawned on him: a dream.
With the initial crisis planning already underway and a great deal=
=20
of intelligence picked up and assessed earlier, the only thing left to do=20
was to get the go ahead. To do that, they needed to sell put this together=
=20
for the President in such a way that he wouldn't be facing double digit=20
losses in the polls. That's why the overwhelming majority of this=20
briefing's constiuents were civilian. These people had their fingers on=20
the Confederation's political pulse, and the Secretary of Defense -- along=
=20
with the Secretary of State and the Confederation National Security Advisor=
=20
-- would ultimately bear the responsibility of advising the=20
President. Only through this lengthy, hierarchal process could policy=20
develop; just as he had learned to be patient on the physical battlefield,=
=20
Greene dealt with the frustratingly long waits that often puncuated=20
briefings like this and the Final Decision.
"That still doesn't cut it," Achmed Badrayn spoke up for the first=
=20
time. Nearly an hour had passed, and the specifics and associated=20
commentary were finally out of the way. They had finally arrived at the=20
grittiest and most important part of the meeting; which, ironically, would=
=20
constitute the shortest segment: conclusions. "The last time we dabbled=20
with something like this, it turned around and bit us in the ass. I don't=
=20
think I have to remind you what happened last December. That happened on=20
our side of the Zone, too."
The December raid on Jarao was light in comparison to, say, the=20
Ishtar-anai attack earlier in 2169. Greene noted that Badrayn stayed away=
=20
from that example, and applauded his maneuver. Of all the people in the=20
room, he was the most opposed to the retaliatory action half-favored by the=
=20
Defense Council. He also made some compelling arguments to back his=20
position. Badrayn continued: "From an operational perspective, the=20
concept's a whole lot cleaner. The intelligence is definitely a whole lot=
=20
better. From a political stand point, it's still retaliation. We're=20
talking about breaking a major campaign promise. Do you think the=20
President was kidding when he said 'peace in our time?' Granted, not the=20
best damned choice of words, but that's policy. After last December, I=20
don't think you can convince them to pursue this; it's just to=85well,=20
proactive."
"But look, Achmed," the DDO of the Central Intelligence and=20
Strategic Services spoke up. "Sure, we may tip our hand. But look where=20
dawdling around has gotten us. They've been calling our shots a bit too=20
well in the past year. Besides, we're not arguing about whether or not the=
=20
President should go to Congress and demand a declaration of war. We run=20
the Zone, get what the information we're looking for, and then get the hell=
=20
out. If the Butcher's moving across the Rift and we nail him on our=20
territory, then you can't tell me that's not going to be one hell of a=20
political payoff for the President. "
"And if we mess up, this will bury him!" Badrayn exclaimed,=20
exasperated. "What if the timing's not right? What if we do this, get=20
this information, and then find out we can't use it until after the=20
election cycle? There are too many things that can go wrong with this one."
The risks were high, Goer knew, but he needed to think about this=
=20
from all angles. "Serx, what do you think? How will the Empire respond?"
"Guessing like this, it's not easy," Serx, the octopedal Durexian=
=20
replied -- an artificially intelligent vocal apparatus rendering his=20
high-pitched, incomprehensible attempt at Standard English into a=20
surprisingly deep, mascuiline voice indistinguishable from that of a male=20
Terran. "Bravo Eight admits that at the rate we're going we won't be able=
=20
to stop the Chorymi from running the border. They have no incentive to=20
stop because we put on the impression that it's better to brook their=20
piracy than risk war with the Empire. In my opinion, that just encourages=
=20
the Corron to get more and more involved. There's basically three options=
=20
for them. Let's say we go forward with the operation. They can play it up=
=20
as a reason to increase their support to the raiders -- assuming they're=20
the ones backing the Chorymi -- " No one disputed the appropiate qualifier=
=20
-- it was prudent to remain diplomatic about such things. " -- and from a=
=20
tactical point of view, they might just be able to argue their right to do=
=20
so in the Druse Kingdom. You know, bad faith and all those other wonderful=
=20
catch phrases the State Department loathes so much. Still, they are=20
risking escalation by doing so. If we're reading their Senate right,=20
nobody wants to front a full-blown war -- not yet at least.
"The second thing they can do is reiterate their denial of=20
responsibility in the Chorymi raids and cry bloody murder. We looked at=20
this after the December incident. The political fall on our side of the=20
Zone out in that case would be tremendous. The Periphery would see the=20
President as weak, and the Core Worlds would look at the whole operation as=
=20
a cowboy's fantasy. There're not enough hawks who like Harcourt and not=20
enough doves willing to bend on this, at least that's what my assessment=
shows.
"Finally, of course, they can sit on it -- sort of a quiet,=20
diplomatic protest. This is worse, actually, than coming out and=20
denouncing the attack because it keeps us on edge just enough about their=20
intentions while still exploiting the policy quagmire on our side. They=20
got to get the message out that they don't like the Confederation sending=20
warships and Marines into their territory to attack their Navy, but only=20
enough to agitate those same domestic forces I talked about before. I=20
think this is probably the reaction we should expect. They don't want to=20
tip their hand, and in the past the Empire's been pretty quiet and avoided=
=20
denying involvement in cross-border incidents if they thought we might be=20
able to prove it. It's probably a relic of their intelligence services'=20
assessments of our political system. They're looking to incite confusion,=
=20
and they probably think playing the reserved, wise interstellar hegemony=20
ignoring the childish rants of a one hundred year old, immature confederacy=
=20
will keep us from acting resolutely. They've got a point, if you heard=20
what High Councilwoman Devereux had to say on the floor. Don't count on a=
=20
'we will bury you' speech, but if we go through with this you should expect=
=20
the silent treatment for a while."
Goer thought it made a lot of sense. Corron Imperial society=20
predated most civilizations in the Confederation by two-hundred thousand=20
years, and the Empire was colonizing its core star systems nearly a million=
=20
years before Homo sapiens sapiens learned to walk upright. Clearly, they=20
had to be doing something right. The Confederation's top political=20
analysts on Corron affairs, mostly from worlds with experience with lengthy=
=20
monarchial and totalitarian governments, were at a loss in constructing a=20
model of how Corron politics and society worked exactly. Serx's analysis=20
from last December, which he drew readily from in this meeting, was=20
probably the best out there, and even Goer knew that a lot of it was guess=
=20
work -- often substituting Mucean, human and even Hachi perceptions for the=
=20
mysterious, poorly understood perspective of the Corron.
"So you your sure they'll go third option, right?" Goer thought to=
=20
ask.
"It's definitely more likely, but I'm just simply more concerned=20
with the ramifications at home if they go that route," Serx-sherex=20
answered, his translator transforming his inaudible, clicking-like speech=20
into idiomatic Standard English. It was almost humorous, Greene thought,=20
to hear the octopus-like Muscaen's speech rendered into a North American=20
dialect -- albeit with a mechanical accent. Indeed, the AI involved in=20
such translating devices had expanded to the point where any species could=
=20
"speak" fluently in another, supposing a sufficient database of syntax was=
=20
available. Serx-sherex was more familiar with that aspect of the=20
translator; since they used similar machines to not only translate=20
recordings of Corron governmental proceedings, but also render the=20
translation in a manner that behavioral psychologists and political=20
analysts not familiar with the Hwi'thae language could use it to gain=20
insight into the way Corron politicians thought. That's how Serx-sherex=20
was able to find this disturbing trend in the first place. "We've been=20
analyzing for about five months the differences between the take we're=20
getting from the Imperial Quorum and how their Senate's behaved over the=20
twenty years. Moderation has definitely come back in a big way. The fact=
=20
we couldn't have started collecting raw data on their political activity=20
before, say twenty or twenty five years ago, makes the problem of=20
characterizing the divergence in behavior between the Quorum and the Senate=
=20
all the more difficult."
Serx-sherex, Greene knew, wasn't cleared for YOKKURI, but his=20
assessment was as correct as it was surprising. Without any hard knowledge=
=20
of intelligence operations conducted within the Empire, the desk chief had=
=20
used the common knowledge circulating about the Confederation regarding=20
those intelligence assets and actually estimated how far back they had been=
=20
in place. The General looked to Dr. Chiro-ne, who decided now was his=20
time to speak.
"I'm nervous about any idea that involves bringing us back into=20
armed conflict with the Empire," he began predictably, but Greene knew that=
=20
Chiro-ne was too much of a professional to allow his personal conflicts=20
interrupt or taint his input, "but it seems to me that we do have intact=20
histories of their interstellar trade records going as far back we=20
want. We might be able to draw assumptions around what we know of Corron=20
psychology and cultural convention at this point and see how those trends=20
correlate to our economic intelligence on them. I believe I presented a=20
report three years ago describing methodology."
Goer and Rajiyna both nodded in agreement, but the DDO spoke up=20
first. "That's all well and good, Doctor. We've been looking to adopting=
=20
your method for some time now, but there are still a lot of issues with its=
=20
value for strategic assessment. That's what we're interested in right now."
Before Chiro-ne could protest, Rajiyna turned her attention back=20
to Serx, "Serx, you always did have a habit of drawing us onto a tangent."
"Sorry, Ma'am," the Muscaen offered his species equivalent to a=20
sheepish smiled. Dr. Chiro-ne merely sank back into his seat, his face a=
=20
stone wall completely devoid of emotion.
"What about the commerce ramifications?" Goer picked up mantle,=20
but didn't come to Chiro-ne's rescue. The good professor was in a lecturer=
=20
mood today, and Goer didn't have time for that. His gaze landed on=20
MacDonald, who had patiently waited for someone to throw her the question.
"Well, our hands our tied over at Treasury," she began. "All=20
indicators point at a favorable rise in trade interests with all non-Terran=
=20
Confederation interests. The Empire's actually picking up three, maybe=20
four trillion nuyen in the balance at the usual hyperlane choke=20
points. However, we can't correlate the impact of the Chorymi raids on=20
trade yet. If anything, it's going up. I know, it sounds funny, but like=
=20
I said I don't have anything to explain it. Frankly speaking, we still=20
don't know what it is they consider to be their economic centers of gravity=
=20
along the rifts. Ogasho, maybe Samvo or Telmasa. There are not a lot of=20
industrial centers out there, and I find it difficult to believe when the=20
Empire says Ogasho's the hub of their agricultural economy when the=20
planet's changed hands half a dozen times between us and them in the last=20
fifty years."
"What do you know?" General Moudi asked impatiently.
"Sir," MacDonald turned to the general. "We spent three wars=20
trying to figure out how to run a commerce war against their merchantmen=20
and we still haven't really worked it out. I'd say we know very=20
little. Without that information, not only can't we identify targets but=20
we can't really anticipate what they want. Not unless they say it outright=
=20
or go running for it first."
"If I could add something," Commander Garsell'je spoke up. The=20
Secretary of Defense turned to the Hachi. "We know the obvious economic=20
interests along the Arm include Rastaban, Rubia, and Tital. These are the=
=20
three primary choke-points."
"But they aren't the primary transit lines for cross-border=20
trade," MacDonald pleasantly objected.
"No," Dr. Chiro-ne answered, "but they are the collection hubs=20
for Confederation-flag freighters headed along the Hegerman and=20
Manchuria. Those trade routes have been staked out for centuries before we=
=20
acquired them, and the Jaraoans and Titalians had absolutely no intention=20
of sacrificing their other trading partners, despite the Empire's ambitions=
=20
on their home systems. They were ready to accept limited autonomy so long=
=20
as they could maintain favored trade status with the Empire."
"And how does this relate to what we're talking about?" Moudi=
pressed.
"It's called 'Freedom of Interstellar Space,' General," Chiro-ne=20
explained. "It means that we can't tell our member nations and=20
protectorates who and who not to trade with when they move through=20
interstellar space, because those are essentially international free zones.=
=20
It was a good idea at the time. First, nobody would have signed up for the=
=20
Confederation otherwise. Second, 'FIS' would ensure the continuance of=20
trade in war, although the security risks that were pointed out were pretty=
=20
concerning. Third, interstellar space is very big, ships are very small,=20
and back then a lot of people think that FIS is just blatantly restating=20
reality. However, everybody recognizes it and our courts and the Empires=20
have upheld it."
That was something few people understood, Greene noted. The idea=
=20
of 'freedom of interstellar space' had, at one time, meant much more. It=20
meant that the enemy could park a battlegroup of warships outside of the=20
Sol System -- or some point reasonably distant from Sol -- and legally=20
argue that he had a right to be there. It was a situation that had been=20
codified in the days when interstellar space was 'free' because no one=20
could feasibly block off the expanses between stars. Today, that was still=
=20
true for the most part, but not around hyperlanes. Hyperlanes had distinct=
=20
choke points, for as wide as they were, and they could only be entered=20
through feasibly those points. One could move about interstellar space on=
=20
his own power, but hyperlanes were efficient in keeping both war and trade=
=20
within a scope of time mortals could grasp. So, with the development of=20
new sensor technology, both the Empire and the Confederation sought to=20
control as many entry points -- usually close to star systems -- as=20
possible. Soon, interstellar space became a relatively crowded area, and=20
Freedom of Interstellar Space became one of many other outmoded legalities.
It did allow us, Greene noted, to say that all space with of 'this=
=20
circle 'our space.'
It also meant=85
"There's no legal argument saying they can't cross the Buffer. We=
=20
just pretend there's a thirty astronomical unit demilitarized limit around=
=20
each star system."
The DDO shook her head and turn to the SecDef. "There is valid=20
international law regarding the Buffer Zone. It's not just some neat=20
little semantics trick with no legal pull. On the other hand, we'd be=20
hardpressed to argue that no Corron-flagged vessel is permitted within=20
space not legally defined by FIS. The 2150 Treaty only makes references to=
=20
the conduct of peacetime military operations.
"The issue at hand, Mr. Secretary, is that we have information=20
detailing how to obtain further intelligence on a possible attack against=20
Confederation territories. We need those plans, if they exist, as quickly=
=20
as possible. Our sources have moved heaven and hell to make sure it got=20
some place where we can grab it. The question is whether or not we're=20
willing to risk it. You have to decide whether or not to take this to the=
=20
President. I do implore you to consider how vital we think this=20
intelligence is and note our recommendation to acquire it as soon as=
possible."
"General Moudi," he looked at the Operations Officers for the=20
Defense Council.
"Sir, I'm in complete agreement with General Greene and DDO=20
Rajiyna," the career Army officer replied. His commanding voice was enough=
=20
to signal that the debate was over, leaving the final call to his immediate=
=20
boss -- the Secretary of Defense.
"Well," Goer looked around the room, considering briefly what this=
=20
gaggle of NIOs and other advisors had just told him. "Mr. Badrayn; I=20
understand you have the right to counsel the President against or for my=20
recommendation. How will you proceed?"
"I don't like it, Sir," the Iraqi replied softly, "but=20
Ms. Rajiyna is right. The gravity of this issue at least merits the=20
President's attention. I will inform the President of my reservations, but=
=20
I will not contest whatever recommendations you make. Still, the fact that=
=20
no coherent operation has been formulated as of yet will be addressed by my=
=20
report. If possible, I would like to speak to General Moudi and General=20
Greene on that point before I submit it."
"Very well," Goer replied. General Greene nodded as=20
well. Artfully done, he commended the IAC silently. Badrayn was a hard=20
man to sway, and he didn't cower despite the SecDef's seniority. That=20
combination of integrity and self-assurance, even though the General felt=20
the young advisor was charging headlong in the wrong direction, came with a=
=20
command of language and contemplativeness that tempered what might have=20
been a recipe of for youthful brashness.
Goer turned to his guests: "I will recommend to the President that=
=20
we consider any operation in the direction of confirming this report and=20
gathering further information. Given the sensitivity of this information,=
=20
I'm enforcing a moratorium on spreading out this intelligence for six=20
months. I hope our man in the Empire's right about this,=20
Rajiyna. Greene. If so, I want you two to personally oversee operations=20
planning."
He looked at the two senior intelligence operators=20
carefully. They nodded compliantly, although even they couldn't be=20
completely sure. Then again, no one ever was, not in this game at least.
Goer concluded. "I suggest the both of you get to the drawing=
board."
* * *
Interplanetary Space, 7.3 billion kilometers from Primary
The 181 Malique System, Jarao Supercluster
25 March 2170
"Fourteen minutes," the loudspeaker resounded through the hangar=20
bay. Nineteen-year old Midshipman Ensign Midshipman Manazya Joangu, UPCN,=
=20
wiped a drop of sweat off her brow as she slipped her flight helmet into=20
place. All around her, plane crews worked rapidly to make sure every=20
aircraft was ready to deploy; her own plane captain had worked around the=20
clock checking every flight system, electrical and engine component, and=20
even tapping manually into the fusion intermix to solve a harmonic=20
flucuation.
"Kid, you're all good." The plane captain locked down a hatch just=
=20
aft of the the cockpit and leaned over to Manazya. "Good luck."
Manazya and the aviation chief pounded fists, a good-luck gesture,=
=20
then hopped off the aircraft. As soon as the hangar bay was clear, Manazya=
=20
closed the cockpit. If she listened closely enough, she could feel the=20
Ulyanov's two gravity impeller toroids vibrating through the deck. It was=
=20
a slow, rhythmic, and relaxing hum, the only real indication of the awesome=
=20
power managed by those almost magical machines.
Even though she'd been on cruise for two months, she had yet to=20
see the Core for herself. Just fifteen meters aft of the Callant-class=20
frigate's small hangar bay, the tandem impeller drive array generated power=
=20
on the order of terawatts. A conventional fusion powerplant supplied the=20
energy, but by itself it could not produce the necessary energies to=20
manipulate space-time. Manazya knew from Naval Science 102 -- Introduction=
=20
to Naval Engineering -- that the toroids somehow tapped into the zero-point=
=20
energy of the universe, an immense power source underlying spacet-ime=20
itself. Gravity radiation eminated along a field generated by the=20
impellers and extending outward from the hull, curving the local inertial=20
frame of reference to propel the ship. The drive could accelerate the ship=
=20
to high fractions of lightspeed while simultaneously circumventing=20
classical notions of energy and momentum conservation. Volumes of books=20
and papers were written on the subject, enough for anyone who wanted to=20
know everything and anything the sentient universe knew about gravity=20
drives, but Manazya just thought of the whole mess as riding in a very fast=
=20
race car with infinitely soft cushioning surrounding you. Only instead of=
=20
absorbing the impulse of two disjoint bodies accelerating, the impeller=20
field served as a sump for the inertia, thus permitting fragile materials=20
-- and living beings -- to survive ridiculously high accelerations. You=20
had to feel it to believe it, but the effects of motion could not be felt=20
by any vessel -- hell, even the plane she would strap to her back --=20
mounting a space drive of some sort. The inertial compensation provided=20
naturally by the gravity impeller was perfectly reliable. The moment the=20
gravity drive field collapse, all acceleration imparted on the ship ceased=
=20
and the entire craft remained on its last instantaneous velocity vector.
So long as it works, Manazya sighed as she proceeded down the=20
pre-launch check list. Her fingers wandered to the collar of her=20
vac-suit. Snugged comfortably against her body, the suit solidified her=20
already voluptuous features. Tapping vainly against her newly polished=20
bars -- the insignia of a temporarily commissioned midshipman -- she closed=
=20
the checklist and closed her helmet's visor. Beyond the canopy, she could=
=20
see the hangar bay doors slide open, revealing an unabashed starfield=20
against the pitch black emptiness of space.
The Ulyanov began its deceleration run ninety-five light-minutes=20
beyond 181 Malique's final planetary orbit. Two smaller Dart-class=20
corvettes flanked her, standard practice in this sort of exercise. Manazya=
=20
heard the captain's order to cut the gravity impellers to idle a few=20
minutes later, and the Ulyanov settled at sixteen thousand kilometers per=20
second relative to 181 Malique.
Without adequate sunlight, you could barely make out SDFF 219=20
Ulyanov save for the ship's markings illuminated by the hot illumination of=
=20
the bow and beam lights. Four other bulbs flashed intermittently over the=
=20
embossed emblem of the Confederation Navy.
Every week, the strikefighter and attack squadrons of the Seventh=
=20
Marine Air Wing enthusiastically ran their warm up rituals, whether in the=
=20
orbital berths of Malique's inner system or in the cold wastes of deep=20
space. Five hours from their home base on Malique IV, the Ulyanov and her=
=20
two escorts opened their hangar bays to the vacuum. The Marine aviators=20
embodied the corps d'esprit of the armed forces, a point long recognized by=
=20
their training emphasis in both combat flying and infantry=20
marksmanship. Unlike the other services, the UPC Marine Corps traced its=20
history all the way back to its distant ancestor, sworn to serve the United=
=20
States of America; Terran Marines made up two-thirds of the present-day=20
Corps. The Earther capacity for ingenuity on the battlefield and the=20
historic code of honor of Terran Marines had been tested and proven for=20
nearly four centuries, from the plains of Europe to the worlds of the=20
Sentinels and in four interstellar bloodbaths with the Corron Empire. The=
=20
respect the Corps commanded from both the Confederation citizenry and her=20
sister services persevered through history. In the Marines, there were no=
=20
excuses for incompetence or bad character. That went for aviators,=20
groundpounders, and spacers alike.
"Get a move on!" The ground crews worked tirelessly to prep their=
=20
planes as the pilots locked themselves into their cockpits. Midshipman=20
Lieutenant Commander Manazya zipped up her flight uniform and tossed her=20
helmet, emblazoned in huge scarlet letters with the title "Jade," to her=20
canopy attendent. This wouldn't be the first time she had flown with the=20
Marines. With most of the Navy holding stand-off positions along the=20
Buffer Zone, the Marine Corps had trained up a lot of their pilots to=20
engage and hopefully board Chorymi pirate ships running the border. Senior=
=20
Marine-option midshipmen from the Academies were often drawn into early=20
service to get acquainted with the rough and tumble life in the=20
Periphery. Manazya had heard stories from friends returning from senior=20
cruise about the Chorymi. She didn't relish the idea of combat, and hoped=
=20
to God she wouldn't have to see it anytime soon. Still, the risk was out=20
there. 181 Malique was close enough to the Periphery Worlds to smell the=20
pirating bastards.
Color-coded catsmen rushed onto the lower launching deck the bay,=
=20
readying the magnetic launch units for rapid deployment. The frigate's=20
aviation complement wasn't very large, just enough people to service,=20
launch and trap fourteen Veritechs and three AWACS birds -- called=20
"Goonies" by their drivers.
"You ready, Midshipman?" Manayza turned to see her flight leader=20
-- a tall Black man with a collar device indicating his rank as Major --=20
offer her a "dap." She'd just recently learned the technique, and followed=
=20
the flight leader through the confusing exchange of hand gestures with=20
surprising ease. "I know this is your first time up this far from home,=20
but remember. It's just like a game of solitaire. You're pretty much on=20
your own with very little to do. Just stay close to me, don't mind the=20
scuttlebutt, and stay awake."
Manazya smilingly offered a quick "aye, aye, Sir," before making=20
her way to her plane. One of the plane crew testing the strike fighter=20
computer systems tossed her a small pack of discs. After climbing into the=
=20
cockpit, the midshipman removed the four crystal-discs and inserted them=20
into their respective slots to the left of the Veritech configuration=20
control board. Grasping the sidestick firmly, she watched as the VF-2S=20
Ultra-Valkyrie's internal systems came to life. On her screen, the=20
familiar ACS bootup logo flashed for about two or three minutes as the=20
ARRC-200d1 Combat Computer System completed its software bootup. Manazya=20
quickly punched her five-digit, three-letter flight alphanumeric. Finally,=
=20
she strapped the flight helmet over her olive-green mane -- neatly tied=20
into a bun. The helmet immediately signaled and resolved the main=20
computer, the systems display engineered into the helmet's transparency=20
whirred to life. No wonder they called it "crafting up." Manazya nearly=20
felt like she was one with her fighter.
She turned on her tac-net and switched off to a direct transit=20
route to the Control room. The face of the Ulyanov CIC's chief defense=20
controller, Marine First Lieutenant Kanuka McIntyre, appeared on the OLCD=20
right-hand screen, her permanent glare notwithstanding.
"Flights Hammerfist Romeo and Hammerfist Juliet, this is=20
Delta-Charlie-Mike. Your signal is five-by-five. Continue to points=20
Wyvern and Mystic, standard patrol formation. ETA, first waypoint:=20
one-hour, forty-five minutes."
"Roger that, Control," her flight commander replied over the=20
tac-net. Then switching to flight-band only, he began to spout off=20
launching orders. "All right. I want a tight, Double-Gee with Romeo Two,=
=20
Five, and Eight on Three's ass. Six, you awake?"
Manazya -- flying as "Romeo Six" -- acknowledged, "Sir, ordnance=20
report. Arming complete."
"Got that, Control?"
"Loud and Clear, Romeo One," the defense controller replied. "Op=
=20
Time is go for three hours. Ready Packs."
The vectored nozzles on Manazya's fusion turbines angled thirty=20
five degrees down as she waited for the launch order.
Five hours total, Manazya groaned in recognition of the=20
time-length for this flight. Once the pit crew outside secured her=20
FAAST-pack and jacked it into her control system, they quietly shut the=20
canopy, removed extraneous equipment and fixtures from the Valkyrie's=20
hardpoints and made their way out of the launch bay.
The launch order came, and one by one the Ulyanov released her=20
planes. Manazya felt a slight jerk as the catapult heaved her Veritech=20
into the vacuum. For a few moments or so, her Ultra-Valkyrie's engines=20
burned at twelve gravities. At the ten second mark, the engine burn cut=20
out, preserving valuable reaction mass for local maneuvering. Using their=
=20
vernier thrusters, the strike formed into a flat triangle arrangement.
Romeo Six, equipped with a specialized sensor palette, situated=20
where the main autocannon ought to be, trailed Five and formed the eight=20
o'clock vertex; this position allowed her the greatest operational coverage=
=20
of the situation without making her terribly vulnerable to tactical=20
surprise. To further confuse any untoward visitor, Romeo Seven, who formed=
=20
the four o'clock vertice, and Romeo Five were equipped with radio beacons=20
that intermittently flashed -- drawing attention away from Manazya's=20
vulnerable craft.
"All right, people," Romeo One blared over the tac-net. "Keep=20
tight. Check Waypoint One grav-boost in one-zero seconds."
Manazya gazed beyond her electronic displays and into space as she=
=20
counted down the seconds. The emptiness -- the cold, dark vacuum beyond --=
=20
remained so unwaveringly still. Although the reaction-mass burn had cut=20
out, the frictionless void permitted the flight of Veritechs to glide=20
freely along their current vector. Only minute changes made by the=20
attitude adjusters and variable thrusters situated in various strategic=20
locations on each Veritech's fusealage did anything to deviate their=20
present course. Of course, the outside void would remain unmoving. As=20
much as she hated thinking about it, relativity pretty much considered=20
their present velocity, in absolute terms, far closer to the lowest motion=
=20
limit than highest -- the "speed" of causality. Hell, the Ultra-Valk could=
=20
easily accelerate to into orbit from within an atmosphere, assuming it=20
started off on jets and conserved its reaction-mass for the final=20
leg. Still, with reaction drives -- even with the improved ion-fusion=20
powerplant, an pulse-plasma primary propulsion system, and exhaust=20
"gravitic energizers" -- and a maximum delta-v of little over=20
seven-point-five kilometers per second, a small craft like Manazya's=20
fighter had little or no chance of getting anywhere terribly fast. The=20
practice staging area lay nearly two standard lunar units (four-hundred=20
thousand klicks) beyond her maximum operating range. The solution, Manazya=
=20
noted, came in the form of the special dual-prong assembly looming over her=
=20
head, visible as a pair of distending, corpulent javelins on either side of=
=20
the canopy.
Manazya gazed at the weapons extensions on the forefront of the=20
pack's starboard protrusion, quickly testing the bay-ports at the last=20
second. Then, with astonishing, reflexive speed, her thumb flipped open=20
the safe-guard on her left-side throttle stick. Depressing the naked, red=
=20
button-key, Manazya felt the slightest disconcertion as the inertial=20
compensators kicked in. Only the low hum of her pod's drive warned her of=
=20
the accelerations she had just attained; the small power-plant the=20
"booster" pack's had just accelerated her at close to fifty gees.
The FAAST booster pack maintained its acronymic meaning since its=
=20
functional conception for United States Air Force -- two hundred years=20
ago. However, this particular arrangement -- the=20
Charlie-Lima-Victor-Zero-Three-Zero-Lima-Romeo-Alpha (the CLV-030-LRA) Main=
=20
Veritech Armor Assembly -- no longer mounted additional reaction=20
boosters. Instead, modern strike-craft mounted packs with small=20
gravitic-impellers, designed for long-range fighter operations. Certain=20
FAST Packs, particularly the CLV-044 series, were dedicated drive units --=
=20
primarily for the use of recon and ELINT craft. The -WRA variant of the=20
Forty-Four class pack also mounted a small Kingspin hyperspace translation=
=20
module. While a suitably modified fighter mounting a CLV-044-WRA could=20
execute a local, short-range fold (with a maximum range of just under three=
=20
light-minutes), the craft suffered a decisive lack of additional=20
armor. Even more so, the power drain of a warp pack allowed only for four=
=20
hyper-jumps between powerplant refurbishment.
To the chagrin of the Confederation military-industrial complex,=20
it remained a known fact that the idea had been borrowed from the Corron;=20
although the Hw'i-zhemal'orra "borrowed" the design concept of an=20
externally-mounted booster from the Terran aerospace philosophy. Still,=20
the innovativeness of Corron R&D reared itself in that unusual manner=20
(unusual considering that the Corron space-faring civilization ranked=20
humanity's existance as a sentient species by nearly one million years, yet=
=20
their tech-base had not even broken into gravitics until less than=20
twenty-thousand years ago). However, employing gravity drives -- albeit=20
with severely limited power capacitance -- instead of reaction-mass and=20
fuel opened a whole new world of small craft operational doctrine.
As the young Zentraedi midshipman remembered from her Basic=20
Strategic and Tactical History course, small craft operations had always=20
been limited to planetary assaults -- after the orbitals had been=20
secured. In fact, the concept of the space carrier, a CV for=20
extra-atmospheric warfare, was primarily an accidental offshoot of=20
battle-line warships that shuttled small craft from planet to planet; a=20
concept embraced by nearly three-hundred space-faring cultures within the=20
Confederation. Before Manazya's ancestors educated Terrans in the=20
realities of interplanetary warfare, the old Earth United Nations Defense=20
Force maintained a space navy that the carrier-concept dominated=20
absolutely. The fact that carriers had played such a large role in the=20
navies of Earth's last superpowers and the development of light,=20
transatmospheric aerospace craft had forced Earth into an unholy marriage=20
with the tool; a technically "ineffective" primary weapon that the Terrans=
=20
had managed to turn to their advantage.
The primary problem with fighters and other small craft was their=
=20
infinitesimally small range. As gravitic propulsion in an era of=20
long-range missiles, particle beam weapons, and fusion-pumped lasers gave=20
new credence to the space navy's battle-line, the same innovations spelled=
=20
doom for light, close-quarters mecha and strike fighter carriers as=20
feasible weapons. Carriers, mounting no real anti-ship armament or=20
defensive capacity, found that their only defense and offensive weapon, the=
=20
space fighter and attack craft/mecha, lacked the range and the=20
effectiveness of the tactical weapons mounted on a real battle-line naval=20
vessel. The Earth expedition mission to the Fourth Quadrant a century and=
=20
a half ago demonstrated this principle when they reintroduced the mollusk=20
Invid's carrier-oriented Navy to the coordinated striking firepower of a=20
highly mobile battleline. Before Earth's famous Expedition to the Fourth=20
Quadrant, Tirolians and Zentraedi proved that concentrated firepower=20
trumped small spacecraft and subsequently took control of the=20
Galaxy. Their immense warships, dreadnoughts and battleships of a=20
Zentraedi wall armed with nuclear weapons and plasma beams, did most of the=
=20
fighting while their screening ships kept the enemy from closing=20
safely. Those warships were built large enough to hold huge quantities of=
=20
mecha, ready to deliver against any enemy mecha formation both in space and=
=20
on planet. With the range of the farthest-reaching of a dreadnought's=20
armament over five orders of magnitude larger than that of a large,=20
reaction-drive space craft, the classical space carrier could never hope to=
=20
survive an engagement them.
Still, the most frustrating aspect of this sad story lied in a=20
single hypothesis: if a carrier could deliver its fighters outside of the=20
combat range of a dreadnought; then carriers would trump the=20
battleline. Both the Empire and the Confederation sponsored research and=20
development programs that, driven by their respective Navies' demands for a=
=20
viable carrier system, slaved over the problem of miniaturizing gravity=20
drives for small craft. However, the design philosophy both sides adhered=
=20
to called for an internal arrangement, resulting in a tremendous sacrifice=
=20
in both avionics, sensors, and weapons capacity. Fighters mounting the=20
new, massive armament to offset the battleline's firepower were=20
tremendously heavy and bulky as they still relied on reaction mass for=20
local maneuvering. The Corron first innovated the externally mounted=20
gravity drive "pod" after stealing the Confederation reaction-drive=20
FAAST-pack concept. The Confederation, on the other hand, never even=20
considered mounting the drives on existing turbine-propelled strike=20
fighters. Nevertheless, once the UPC Navy discovered that the=20
Hw'i-zhemal'orra were deploying their new strike fighters during the First=
=20
Corron-Confederation War, they immediately seized on the idea and did the=20
same. With the new impeller drive, the Ultra-Valkyrie could effectively=20
make a trip from Earth to Mars under its own power in a eighteen=20
hours. Whereas maximum attack acceleration usually cut off at about=20
fifteen gees, the gravity drive alone could accelerate a fighter up to=20
two-hundred gees. Not enough to outrun any real naval vessel mounting a=20
gravity drive, but enough to put their operating range beyond that of a=20
missile and beam offensive envelope. The strike craft and the carrier, for=
=20
the first time, had become a viable weapon of space warfare.
In addition to its function as a long-range "booster," the FAAST=20
pack also had the capability to support a number of ordnance loadouts,=20
including Hammerhead IV short-range, Diamondback medium-range, and the=20
Firestorm anti-ship missiles. Not to mention the pack could slave five=20
ordnance pods mounting their own gravity pods and controlled remotely. For=
=20
this current Shoot-Ex (Shooting Excercise), she was merely outfitted with=20
Diamondback Anti-Fighter Shoot-and-Forget missiles. Furthermore, the left=
=20
pod mounted a thirty-five millimeter light mass-driver cannon, capable of=20
firing up to 40 rounds per minutes, although the current outfit parameters=
=20
left her with only fifteen of the expensive, ribilium-coated, energized=20
projectiles. The modularity of its weapons system architecture left=20
Ultra-Valkyrie design a formidable contender on the strike fighter market=20
even after over a century of service.
Manazya broke off her historical digression and focused on the=20
ever-imperative present. Fifteen minutes ago, the flight disengaged their=
=20
gravity drives and proceeded along their current vector, coasting at=20
approximately five-hundred and seventy kilometers per second relative to=20
the Ulyanov. Midshipman Joangu switched her receiver to wideband neutrino=
=20
frequencies, setting the reception to pick-up ship-to-shore and=20
ship-to-ship transmissions.
After nearly an hour into the patrol's first leg, the scuttlebutt=
=20
finally began..
"Clear op zone," Romeo Seven announced to the group as they past=20
the first marker. The Oort cloud region surrounding the flight consisted=20
of eerily distinctive lines of debris, dust and an occassional=20
signifigantly large piece of cometary matter.
"Maybe your Troll scared'em, Seven."
"Bull. I heard some troop ship got her ass stuck out here for=20
three days. I think they it she belonged to the Fighting Thirty-Seven."
"Roger that, Seven" Romeo Four spoke up. "Check right bearing=20
forty-six, one zero two thousand klicks Took one straight up the=20
ass. Pirates. All balls, no brains."
"Brotha, it's all dead space," another voice rose up; harsh, yet=20
lacking unwavering confidence. Manazya swallowed hard.
"Ain't nothing out here," Romeo Three continued. Naturally,=20
Midshipman Joangu wasn't quite sure; still, she tried to suck in her=20
anxiety -- concentrating on anything but the dark void that enveloped her=20
canopy. The other flight consisted mostly of midshipmen like=20
herself. However, Manazya relished the privilege to spend the rest of the=
=20
day with the slightly less green officers of the VFMA-299 Firebricket=20
Squadron. And with a Shoot-Ex prepared for the second leg of the BARCAP=20
practice run, they had nothing to worry about.
"C'mon, everybody," the junior grade Lieutenant flying Romeo Seven=
=20
-- Manazya had formed her Veritech on his low, seven-thirty flank --=20
genuinely pleaded. "I've got enough to worry about than some spook Pariah=
=20
squadron busting out over our heads."
"Whazzup with that, Navelsky?" Romeo Five taunted. "You ain't=20
catchin cold nuts now, are ya?"
"Hell no!" Nalvesky stuttered. "What if it is true? I mean, we=20
should -- "
"Focus people," Romeo One interrupted; a sonorous, authoritative=20
rumble swelling in his throat. "Keep the tac-net clean. Six? What do you=
=20
see?"
"Clear, clean and naked," Manazya answered, her eyes darting back=
=20
and forth between information displays and her radar plot. "Check right --=
=20
debris at ninety nine klicks, sweep bearing three two two by zero one=
eight."
"What's our ETA?" Romeo One thought to ask
"We're at....." Manazya began, but suddenly she started to trail=
off.
"Six? Romeo Six? Jade? Hey, Manazya!"
Huh?
She suddenly froze, as if something cold had just swept passed=20
across her soul.
"Two hours forty six seconds; we're five-zero-eight-ten klicks=20
from first waypoint," Manazya downloaded a recall pack from her datastream=
=20
to the AWACS birds flying westerly and away. "AWACS-Greenclan recommends=20
vector -- come one three three and follow straight for long leg around the=
=20
dust."
"Babies," Romeo One laughed hoarsely. "Strike that recommend,=20
Six. Flight, maintain course."
"Rom -- "
"Don't worry about it, Six."
"Copy that, Romeo One."
"Very good," then switching to his OLCD display. "Romeo Three,=20
take your group and spread into V-stack formation parallel to present=20
position. I want all our asses covered going into this cloud."
The cold...The feeling rushed through her again, this time=20
provoking a shivering chill. "Romeo One -- Romeo Six. Caution, Caution,=20
Romeo One."
"Whassup, Six?" Romeo flashed off tac-net and onto her left OLCD=20
screen.
"I don't know, Sir. I just have a cold feeling about this place."
"Zentraedi voo-doo, don't sweat it," Romeo explained immediately,=
=20
confident in his answer regardless of how stupid it sounded. "It's just=20
lonely out here, that's all. You'll get used to it."
Manazya, "Jade," wanted to protest, but decided against it, and=20
continued to monitor their flight status. She called up AWACS Greeneyes.
The data transmission didn't log.
She tried once again, and continued to fail to connect to the=20
AWACS guidance systems. Checking her codes briefly, she tried one more=20
time, and still failed to break in.
"Commander, I've lost contact with Greeneyes. Trying Greenclan."
No response.
"No response," she repeated outloud. "Sir, I have no AWACS=20
contact. Please advise, over."
"What was that Jade? Confirm."
"Romeo One," Manazya breathed in. "I have tried to call up both=20
of our seeing eyes and I can't raise either of them. Please advise."
The commmander paused for a few moments before switching to=20
wideband tac-net. "Romeo-Three? Hey, Romeo Three?"
"Damn," Romeo One finally gave up. "Homeplate, this is Flight=20
Romeo-Green. Request positions of AWACS-Greenclan, -- Greenyes, and=20
Romeo-Bravo detach. Over."
"Yes, commander. We read you," a small, alien-toned voice of=20
feminine quality replied. "We have also lost contact with our birds. The=
=20
Hammerfist seems to also suffering heavy interference."
"Interference?"
"We're not sure, commander, but there hasn't been a single=20
indication of Corron activity anywhere in this sector. Captain Leharvey's=
=20
mandating the continuation of patrol patterns."
"Who am I speaking, too?" Romeo One gritted his teeth.
"He's my new victim, Spaceman Recruit Tokamura, Harb," the Defense=
=20
Controller shoved her way on screen, pushing her relief aside. "We don't=20
know what's happening out there, but the Hammerfist -- "
"Is also missing," Romeo One continued. "Yes we -- "
Romeo Six spotted it, but it was Romeo Two who first spoke up.
"Sir! Look out!"
But it was two late. Part of a small short-range missile barrage=
=20
penetrated the weak outer coating of the unshielded fighter. In moments,=20
Romeo One had disappeared into a blossom of exploding fuel reserves and=20
shrapnel. More enemy missiles struck Romeo Four and Three. Three managed=
=20
to escape with half his rear fuselage torn in half, and leaving enough=20
circuitry intact to jettison the forward life-support module. "What the=20
HELL is going on here?"
"Bandit! Bandit!"
"I've got no visual confirmation! Where the hell is Three?"
Manazya quickly vectored into a jink, burning out of formation=20
just as a second missile barrage struck Four and Five. "Four and Five are=
=20
down! No dice! Repeat, no dice! I have no bandit's on my screen!"
They're dying. My whole team! They're being wiped out! She=20
searched her screen desperately for any sign of Three or Five, the other=20
two midshipmen on this flight. Only debris stumbled into the path of her=20
neutrino-pulse sensors as she advanced aimlessly through the blackness,=20
occassionally squeezing off close range, kinetic fire at the spectre that=20
simply wasn't there.
"Battloid!" Manazya gritted her teeth as her Ultra-Valkyrie=20
barrel-rolled out of the path of Romeo Three's debris. The fighter quickly=
=20
morphed into a fourteen-meter gigantic mechanical soldier. Manazya brought=
=20
her autocannon to bear as her eyes scanned the emptiness and her equally=20
unrevealing cockpit instruments and displays.
"Six!" Romeo Two, came live onto the tac-net. "As soon as you=20
can, I want you to make a run back for home. Hammerfist is point-zero-six=
=20
from our -- look out!" Manazya saw it before Two could say anything. Three=
=20
missiles barely missed her as she and Romeo Two spiraled away from each=20
other.
Romeo Two quickly recovered and went to Battloid mode, sticking to=
=20
Manazya's flank like jelly on a roll. "Six, this is Two. I think whoever=
=20
these fuckers are laid out some thermo-chaff before we got here. I don't=20
think a high-band scan's gonna do shit. Switch to low-band systems and jam=
=20
everything. Fire at anything that moves -- not me!"
"Aye, aye, Sir," Manazya remained calm, despite the near=20
annihilation of her entire squadron. Debris was floating slowly by, she=20
noticed between heavy breaths. She loosened her helmet strap and gripped=20
both sidesticks tightly...waiting. The back-lit green screen, her old=20
style luminal based radar, remained empty without so much as a disturbance=
=20
outside. She couldn't quite make it out, except=85
=85the starfield seemed to flicker.
"Cloak," Romeo Two whispered over the remains of the=20
tac-net. "And that's thermo-chaff out there. Nothing gets in or out."
"What about Homeplate?"
"Homeplate can't hear us, and they've probably set up mirrors to=20
make sure they can't see shit. We're alone, kid."
It's so quiet.
"Where the hell is he?" Romeo Two broke the tense=20
silence. "Midshipman. On my count, go to Fighter mode and get ready to=20
get the hell outta here."
"Sir? You can't -- "
"Midshipman Joangu, I shit you not. That was an order. You do=20
know what an order is, right?"
Manazya silently conceded.
"I'm going to count to three," the lieutenant continued. "Then=20
you turn tail and run. Jump to gravs as soon as I'm clear of the=20
wake. I'll cover you, but -- just get the hell outta here, got it?"
"Yes, Sir."
Quiet...
"One..."
Too quiet.
"Two.....three!" Manazya threw her Battloid back into Fighter=20
mode, punching the throttle to max as soon as the metamorphosis was=20
complete. Her engines burned bright white as her craft hurtled forward,=20
the sudden jolt pressing her hard against her seat. Five seconds later,=20
the impeller kicked in, propelling her at fifty gravities back towards=20
Homeplate.
"Romeo Two! I'm away! How's my tail look?"
Nothing.
"Two? Two, this is Romeo Six. Come in Two."
No answer.
She didn't call a third time, switching completely off tac-net as=
=20
her fighter ran home. Her radar showed no sign of pursuit or any=20
bandits. Nothing, just like before. She didn't know if she would live or=
=20
die, just that if death came looking for her she'd never see it coming.
Manazya stared forward, her grief stowed behind shock and terror.
* * *
* * *
<REMIX and Platinum Playaz>---------------------------------------->
<Rev Prez aka Scriptchya the Seventh Disciple aka Deez Nutz>------->
<"...they come heavier from nigga to whore - Kool G Rap>
< Be a predator, dead in the morgue, a spread in the log... " >
<Personal>-----------------------<"It's The Militia" - Freddie Foxx>
<revprez@mit.edu>--------<http://web.mit.edu/revprez/www/resume.pdf>
<"I mobb deep, in cherry Cherokees I forever be - Shyheim>
> on some thug shit, runnin wild through New York City" >
<410 Memorial Drive, Cambridge, MA 02139>-----------<(617) 225 8420>
"Nickels and dimes...coke, crack and marijuana - Johnny Blanco
livin the life, sex, money and drama..."
<ThE fLoW>---------------------------------------------------------->
Platinum Playa Productions-------------------<Site Comin Soon, dunnz>
"TGR v.3"-----<http://web.mit.edu/revprez/www/mp3/revprez-trg-v3.mp3>
"TGR v.4"-----<http://web.mit.edu/revprez/www/mp3/revprez-trg-v4.mp3>
"Tight"--------<http://web.mit.edu/revprez/www/mp3/revprez-tight.mp3>
<-----------REMIX and the Central Region Freestylin Alliance-------->
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