Lynx Pherrett

::: DECODED ENCRYPTED BURST ::: SPECIAL CHANNEL ::: Query recieved. Cover secure. Investigation proceeds. Limited opportunities for contact. BTW, congrats to Cmdr Cloud on his promotion. Pherrett out.

Hey Gallion, I've found that using !destroyed ship,player ep_add 1500 broadcast "GOOD SHOW" will not work in the .ghq !resolve_todxmx event. It parses fine, but apparently because the ship was actually destroyed long before the resolve events runs, neither the message or EP award happens. To catch the DeD when it happens, then do the award in the resolve, the !destroyed ship,player needs to be in the ship's [ai] block. Use it to set a flag that then gets tested in the .ghq resolve event like this: -------------- [dynamic] terran insurgent,,ins1,aestrom.3dc,UNKNOWN_AESTROM [ai] .ins1,100,100,100,100,100,100,1 start inactive near moonrz^jmp-01a 500 genesis stop events 301 ... !destroyed this,player FLAG1 on this ... endevents ... .ghq events 301 ... !resolve_tod3m1 IF FLAG1 ins1 THEN ep_add 1500 broadcast "GOOD, YOU NAILED THE AESTROM!" ... endevents ----------------- What I'm experimenting with is something like this in a target ship's [ai] block !destroyed this FLAG1 ON this !destroyed this,bc FLAG2 ON this !destroyed this,player FLAG3 ON this And then in the .ghq resolve, awarding EPs based on who destroyed the target (an NPC, the bc in AI mode, or the player) IF FLAG1 this ep_add 500 broadcast "SUCESS, THE TARGET WAS DESTROYED" ENDIF IF FLAG2 this ep_add 1000 broadcast "GOOD, YOUR BATTLECRUISER DESTROYED THE TARGET." ENDIF IF FLAG 3 this ep_add 2000 broadcast "GREAT, YOU KILLED THE TARGET. WHO NEEDS AI?" ENDIF ------------------ Cmdr Pherrett GCV STRATOS, GALCOMHQ (EARTH) S16 Wing Leader - Prime Fleet, Alpha Wing Official Tester, Battlecruiser Series

QUERY TO: GALCOMHQ FOR DEPARTMENTS: CRAFT REGISTRATIONS, HISTORY FROM: GCV-STRATOS, PRIME FLEET CURRENT STATUS: BETWEEN ASSIGNMENTS - COMMANDER'S PREROGATIVE Have found what appears to be an ancient Terran spacecraft on Moon-3, Varan, Alpha Centauri while conducting ground operations. Weathering has obliterated all external identification and the design matches nothing in our databases. There are no lifesigns (not that any were expected) and the interior of the craft has been stripped of most equipment. Additionally, there is one semi-operational vintage robot that appears to be related to the ship. Unfortuantely, all it does is wave its graspers and intone "Danger, will rob...," which we assume has to do with who/whatever scavenged the ship. Full recordings of our investigation are attached for your further research. We plan to remain in the area for ground operations over the next few days should you need further information. If you can identify the ship, we would like to leave a suitable historical marker. ------------------ Cmdr Pherrett GCV-STRATOS Official Tester, Battlecruiser Series "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" -- George Santayana "You got to change your evil ways" --Carlos Santana [This message has been edited by Lynx Pherrett (edited 12-13-1999).]

I snagged one of the chairs closest to the door and watched everyone else straggle in and take a seat as the Fleet Commander headed to the front of the briefing room. The two ISS commanders sat together, the younger appearing slightly intimidated by the sea of Orion uniforms and grateful for the presence of his more experienced comrade. I saw Ben Somerset, currently loaned out to Wraith, stride into the room and find an empty seat. I would have tried to catch his eye, but just then the Fleet Commander started started speaking. . . Before the opening comedy act for the Orion Follies was half over, I realized I'd had about enough of this. I half expected to hear "Who's on first?" or "This is another fine mess you've gotten us in to," but doubted either of the two standing up there had any more clues about 1000 year old comedy teams than they did about the upcomming mission. So, while Orion's answer to Oliver and Hardy continued to rehearse their act for Amature Night in the Lounge, I slid out my data pad for a quick status check and got a pleasant suprise. Orion Command might be kind of flakey, but it seemed their logistics folks were first-rate. Cargo transfers had been completed 45 minutes early. The 5,500 units of ore had covered the supplies we needed with a few credits left over to fatten the old bank account. Two of the shuttles were already headed back to the Stratos, the third was just waiting on me. I sent a quick note to Kit, my Comms Officer: ]Back in 15, we leave ASAP. Have Ted and Celeste catch ]the mission brief if it ever starts, I'll review it with ]them later. LP And one to the waiting shuttle: ]Fire her up and get your clearance, ]I'm on my way down. LP "...be explained by the Supreme Commander when he arrives." I took a quick glance around the room and noted the puzzled looks on quite a few faces. Then, after a moment or two of silence, individual conversations began to pick up again and I slipped out the door. Let them think what they want, I chuckled to myself, besides, since I'm from Prime Fleet they'll probably assume I've gone to check on what's keeping the SC. As I strode down the corridors to the docking bays, I wondered, not for the first time, if the Stratos really needed a commander at all. The officers and crew were something more than just a cohesive team and I had long since given up any need to second-guess their decisions and actions. I might give the commands, but they were the ones who made it happen, and I was dead sure that they could figure out the appropriate way to handle damn near any situation without me. "Cleared and ready to lift, sir," said the young marine over his shoulder from the pilots chair as I boarded the shuttle and took a seat next to the systems engineer who grinned at me as he looked up from his manifest. "Got everything we need, Sanchez?" "And then some, sir." "Good." I turned to the marine. "Let's get out of here." I felt the shuttle sliding forward even before the crisp "Yes, sir," reached my ears. We hit vacuum and swung around the curve of the station to be greeted by an awesome sight. An arc of a dozen battlecruisers hung suspended in space, the occasional flashes as their thrusters fired mixed with the nav and anti-collision lights to create the image of a jeweled scythe ready to mow down the wicked. A tingle of anticipation tinged with fear ran down my spine. "Man, that's really something," said the marine as he deftly took us under the arc and then brought the shuttle around to docking position with the Stratos. "This is gonna be big, isn't it, sir?" "So it seems," I replied, trying to sound more casual and confident than I suddenly felt. A dozen commanders making smalltalk was one thing, but the sight of those ships brought home the magnitude of the situation. As we cleared the sill of the cavernous landing bay and came to rest I reached past the marine and thumbed the comms to the bridge. "Catch some rays." I closed the channel without waiting for confirmation, ducked through the shuttle's door and headed into the ship. Catch some rays was a standing order on the Stratos. Whenever we were in space and had no particular place to be, the Stratos would park 50,000km above or below the plane of the eliptic, oriented with her bow facing the nearest jumpgate and her solar panels gathering the maximum amount of energy. This served several purposes: her batteries would always be fully charged; it was outside the normal lanes of travel, reducing the chance of collision; it saved a few seconds if we needed to make a quick jump out of the system; and, most importantly, it gave us slightly better odds if a threat jumped into the system. I went to the galley to grab some coffee and a sandwich to take with me to operations. The Stratos would already be sunning herself before I took my first sip, but I wasn't in any hurry. I'd actually get more out of the briefing by missing it, strange as that might sound. Live briefings always contained too many distractions for my taste and the pace was controlled by the briefer. You couldn't fast-forward past the BS or replay and study anything of importance, and the question and answer portion was a waste of breath because if it wasn't covered in the briefing then the answer was invariably "We don't know, we'll get back to you when we have an answer." If I dawdled long enough though, the tactical and combat officers would have already prepared their summary along with any recommendations. Their work routinely put anything comming out of HQ to shame, but, of course, they had the advantage of familiarity with me and could tailor their presentation accordingly. Their summary would guide my review of the mission brief, keying me into what was important. In a pinch, I wouldn't hesitate to skip the briefing altogether and take action based solely on their report. Sandwich in one hand and coffee in the other, I set out for operations at a relaxed pace. The comforting thrum of the reactor, the hiss of air through the vents and the other normal sounds the great ship quelled the momentary trepidation I had felt viewing the assembled fleet. Everyone aboard knew something big was up, but I could feel some of the tension in the crew members ease as I passed them in the corridors with a word here and a nod there. Look, the Commander doesn't seem to be worried, why should I be? When I walked into operations I was glad I hadn't rushed. ------------------ Cmdr Pherrett GCV-STRATOS Official Tester, Battlecruiser Series "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" -- George Santayana "You got to change your evil ways" --Carlos Santana

SC, you might want to reconsider and do a live briefing in the Orion MISCON for the commanders who are present and pipe it out over secure channels to the ships that aren't at Orion. My post, and maybe a few other latecomers as well, was written as if I had been directed to Orion to attend a briefing. (In fact, before I edited it out, I had myself as the poor SOB that got stuck ferrying you over to Orion from GHQ so you could give the briefing. ) From a game mechanics POV, MISCON is available to the player both on ship and when docked. Besides, your own post fell into the same trap: quote: ..ok, Karen, I guess thats it, we'll resume this later. I'll probably see you at the briefing over at MISCON. Be careful out there With that, I walked purposefully out of the room to freshen up for the mission briefing scheduled to start in 30 mins. That sounds more like a meeting "in-the-flesh" than a secure videoconference. ------------------ Cmdr Pherrett GCV-STRATOS Official Tester, Battlecruiser Series "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" -- George Santayana "You got to change your evil ways" --Carlos Santana [This message has been edited by Lynx Pherrett (edited 11-10-1999).]

I heard the murmur of polite conversation spill around the corner as I neared the corridor to MISCON and I slowed my pace. Apparently I wasn't going to be late afterall; no need to appear to be rushed, especially if the Old Man was already here. I turned the corner and headed toward the group milling around outside of MISCON. Good, I didn't see the SC among them, just a half a dozen commanders or so. I might have glimpsed an ISS insignia, but most seemed to be Orion Fleet. Makes sense, I thought, it is their station. But how come everybody is out here? I wasn't in the mood for the standard "hurry up and wait" routine so prevalent in the military. I just wanted to get into MISCON, get briefed and get back to the Stratos. That didn't seem likely to happen. I suspected the Old Man was intentionally holding things up just to build the suspense. Well, whether he really had a flair for the dramatic or it was just my imagination, I couldn't see any reason for standing around out here making cocktail-party chit-chat when I figured there was a room full of chairs just on the other side of the door. "See me in my office after the briefing, commander," I heard a familiar voice say as I approached the group. I looked toward the speaker and saw that damned clerk from GALCOMHQ addressing one of the Orion commanders. He and I had gone round and round over 5,000 units of radishes that had shown up in the Stratos' fuel bay. I could still recall his cocky whine when I went to find out what the hell was going on. "Radishes, radine, what's the difference? Look, I've got more important things to do than worry about your vegetable preferences." They've finally sent some flunky down to open the briefing room, I thought. I certianly hope Orion has better luck with him than HQ, at least he won't be mucking up Prime Fleet anymore. I started to tell him to get his ass in gear and open the door when I was struck by his uniform. Not the fresh stains on it, mind you, but the rank--Fleet Commander. I bit my tounge and quickly looked down at the floor. Damn if I hadn't almost made a fool of myself over a case of mistaken identity. But he sure as hell looked and sounded like that miserable clerk. Oh well, no harm done I guess. Take a couple of deep breaths and break the ice you idiot, you're standing too close now not to say something. "Excuse me, Fleet Commander, Lynx Pherrett of the Stratos. Seems to be getting a bit crowded out here, would you mind if I went in and took a seat while we wait for the briefing to start?" ------------------ Cmdr Pherrett GCV-STRATOS Official Tester, Battlecruiser Series "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" -- George Santayana "You got to change your evil ways" --Carlos Santana

Aw, rats. Ya'll canned the "hyperspace inhibitors" and I was gonna come to Matt's rescue with a deus ex machina of my own. Actually, why waste it? Since this thread is about dead anyway, here's my alternative ending had Parias stuck with his original version. [Narrative ON] The Commander was in his cabin reviewing reports when he felt the faintest touch brush his mind like a ghost floating through his skull. His brow involuntarily furrowed and his shoulders gave a single serpentine twitch. His grandmother would have said, "Somebody just walked over your grave," but the Commander knew the source of this particular feeling. He left the reports displayed on the screen and switched the room comms and physical security from "admit" to "secure." This setting was beyond the standard "do not disturb" that was used when sleeping and could only be broached from the outside by an emergency override request. He also activated his special PERSCAN routine that would ignore what was about to happen. He slipped off his boots and crossed from his chair to lay upon the bunk. Resting his hands across his stomach and closing his eyes he began the process he had first learned many years ago. Within half a minute his respiration had slowed to such an extent that he could easily be mistaken for dead. A medical scan would show that his body was not only still alive, but that his brain was operating in a mode unknown to human medical science; thus the special PERSCAN codes, he didn't want the system to send an alert to medibay. His alpha waves smoothed to a slow undulation and slipped into synchronization with his deeper theta rhythms. Are you there? - yes/affirmation/positive, friend/short-lived-one/solid, we/i/gzun am/are aware/here/receiving - Did you call for me? - yes, our cousins/brothers/sisters/i/we have news/information/observation/sighting - There wasn't language, just the raw essence of communication, a nearly indescribable knowing. - the solids you call/name/identify as rebels/insurgents/traitors have disabled/impaired the gates/portals/relays - our voice/thought/contact becomes weak/faint/obscured from that region/area/system - we/i must/will destroy/eliminate/stop them/intruders/insurgents - the others/prey/victim/survivors will be/are untouched/unharmed/safe -we/i/gzun need/request your/friend's/solid help/assistance - Show me. The scene flooded into the Commander. Full spectrum data--a composite of IR, visible light, UV, radio, gravity waves and more--all combined into a single impression that replayed the incident leading to the destruction of the BlackStar and the disabling of the first jumpgate. The transition from past data to the current real-time information from the system was noticeable only by the slight degradation of the UV and radio spectrum components caused by whatever had been done to the jumpgate. But that minor loss did nothing to obscure the immense display of power by his "friends" the gzun as they took action to stop the other jumpgates in the system from being blocked. In the depths of the central star, the gzun compressed core material beyond the point of existence in this universe. The tremendous masses became denser and denser until space-time itself could no longer contain them; they crossed the threshold to become singularities, black holes. Propelled at hyper-light velocities by the gzun's manipulation of gravity waves, the small black holes shot upward through the star toward their targets, erupting from the surface in a wake of gigantic solar flares. In moments, each had outraced the slower flares and crossed the gulfs of space, unerringly finding their targets. The black shuttles and interceptors simply disappeared, each instantly collapsing and adding its minute mass to the singularity that had rocketed through it. Only the Insurgent battlecruiser itself was large enough to give a glimpse at the mechanics involved in its destruction. Although it was over in a microsecond, the details were sickenly clear. The black hole was targeted dead center on the intruder, approaching from underneath. As it neared, the intense gravity drew the closest part of the ship toward it; the belly of the ship distorted and flowed, sending a narrow tendril out 10 kilometers to meet the singularity. The black hole rushed up the tendril to its base, swallowing everything. As it passed through the bulk of the intruder the ship became an hourglass, two funnels quickly draining into a central point. The huge ship was gone, a final belch of hard X-rays as its last shredded atoms passed through the event horizon leaving the only testament it had ever existed to begin with. The black hole that consumed the battlecruiser, like the others, continued unimpeded out of the system. The gzun would probably round them up later, or steer them into harmless, decaying orbits around neutron stars or larger black holes. All the craft from the BlackStar were untouched. The remnants of light and other radiation from the immense solar flares would not reach the huddled collection of shuttles and interceptors at the disabled jumpgate for an hour or so. Even if someone aboard the ships noticed the flares, they would be unlikely to link the phenomenon from the star to the utter and instantaneous disappearance of their attackers. I'll come. Where? The image of the system quickly receded until it was just one flickering speck among thousands of other star systems, and a sub-current within the transmission pinpointed its location as if someone had overlaid a NAVITRON display. A spot known in the body-galactica of the gzun as "Left Armpit." The Commander was familiar with the system. - good/ecstasy/satisfactory, we/i/brothers need/want/desire you/friend remove/take the device/thing/interference from the gates/portals/relays - be/exist/live in/with peace/friendship/harmony - With that the connection was broken. As he brought his body back up to speed, the Commander shuddered to think of the power of the gzun. They normally ignored the doings of the "solids," as they referred to material lifeforms; but they obviously would not tolerate any interference with the jumpgates. The Commander considered what he knew of the gzun, the ageless entities that exist as sentient energy vortexes in the hearts of stars, simultaneously being individuals and clans. He had earlier learned from them that they did not create the jumpgates, but used them as vital communications relays. Before the jumpgates, their only real-time communication between the stars was by using gravity waves, all other energies being too slow since they are limited to lightspeed. When the jumpgates were created millennia ago, the gzun found they could use them as communications relays to converse in the complete electromagnetic spectrum. It was as if they had made a single leap from Morse code to the videophone. The increased bandwidth and constant information flow led those gzun living in systems connected by jumpgates to become something like a super-clan or single entity, the body-glactica. Thus, unknown to the ship of Insurgents, their disruption of the jumpgate had the same effect on the gzun that a minor stroke would have on a human. For that they paid with their lives. Undoubtedly the gzun knew exactly who had created the jumpgates. Little could happen in the universe that they did not observe and share with the whole. Certainly they would have taken a keen interest in their inadvertent benefactors. But that was knowledge they would not reveal to the Commander. They did not deny that they knew, besides, they seemed incapable of lying; instead they would just respond around the subject or ignore it altogether, that section of the image left an empty void. The impression the Commander gained was that the builders wanted their identity hidden and the gzun had vowed to keep the secret as a return favor for the benefits they received from the jumpgates. That they still kept it secret millennia later indicated to the Commander that, perhaps, the builders were still around somewhere. Likewise, the gzun knew the source of the Insurgent ship; but this they had no reason to keep secret. During his communion with them, the ship's image (like all gzun imagery except that related to the jumpgate engineers) contained within the composite presentation all of the information the gzun had observed since the ship had first entered space and come to their awareness. But the Commander doubted the gzun would take any preemptive action or revenge against the Insurgency as a whole. From what he had just witnessed, the gzun certainly could do so if they wished. But through him and the few other "solids" who could communicate with them, the gzun had developed a general appreciation for the material sentients currently in the galaxy. No, Sygan Starstation wouldn't suddenly disappear in burst of X-rays after being swallowed by a black hole--at least not over this incident. The Commander smiled to himself as he picked a destination that would require his ship to pass through the "Left Armpit." That way they could just happen to stumble across the BlackStar's support craft and he wouldn't need to explain how he knew there was trouble in that particular system. Additionally, he hoped the BlackStar's commander and crew would provide sufficient information to cover the search for a jumpgate disabler. Some of the bridge officers occasionally wondered what was behind all the coincidences this ship encountered, how they always wound up in the right place at the right time, and the less need for explanations this time the better as far as the Commander was concerned. He could just see himself leveling with the crew, "Yeah, it's really true; sometimes I go into a trance and talk with ageless beings that live in the depths of the stars." He chuckled and decided it best to continue to keep that little secret to himself. [Narrative OFF] ------------ I won't name the Commander or the ship. I, like the gzun, can keep a secret. Besides, it might make a good fallback position someday if I find myself needing to be rescued. ------------------ Cmdr Pherrett GCV-STRATOS Official Tester, Battlecruiser Series "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" -- George Santayana "You got to change your evil ways" --Carlos Santana [This message has been edited by Lynx Pherrett (edited 11-08-1999).]

Whoa, miss a couple of days and you never know what you're gonna find when you get back. I think I've caught up with the gist of what's goning, so... First, I'd like to thank those who suggested I be considered. While it would be an honor, being Orion Fleet Commander would be a responsibility I could not give the attention it deserves, therefore, I must respectfully decline. I think Thomas and Blades would both be fine choices. Additionally, I would like to throw Mano Faber's name into the ring, if he's interested. I think the GALCOM ACADEMY he and Andrew Vogel maintain demonstrate not only a high level of commitment to BC3K, but the organizational skills needed in a Fleet Commander (if actual roleplay is not a required prerequisite). Of course, whether it is something he would like to do is up to him. - - - - - The voting plan sounds fine. I suspect the SC would readily extend the deadline so you could leave nominations open a bit longer and have the balloting over the weekend since you have pretty much sorted it out procedures-wise. I don't know what the site traffic stats look like, but would guess that numerous members don't get a chance to visit until the weekends. ------------------ Cmdr Pherrett GCV-STRATOS Official Tester, Battlecruiser Series "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" -- George Santayana "You got to change your evil ways" --Carlos Santana

Flight Engineer #11, Eric Stylan Mission + 22 days 13 hours 6 minutes [RP ON] Found these scraps uesd used as packing for an IC laser [unreadable] and a micro-pneudralic applicator works ok as a pen, but the fluid smears pretty easy until it dries. I don't trust the ship's computers or even my personal datapad anymore; not since the murder, CO's video debut and the other wierd crap. It just keeps getting stranger. Now we've got a bunch of spooks running around the ship, and I can't even get on the flight deck to get anything done half the time. Harrison told me he saw the Commander wearing a blst blaster when he passed him in the corridor. And Mac's been acting pretty strange lately, ever since he got back from picking up the goons. Hell, he almost screwed the pooch launching this last sortie. If I hadn't pulled him off the launch and sent him down to inventory Vagrants, he'd have launched IC-2 with a CAP/SEAD loadout. And he didn't even put up a fight, just shrugged and wandered off. Hope whatever we're up against this time, we don't take the same pounding we did last time. [RP OFF] Mission + 22 days 13 hours 8 minutes

May not need to break the rest of it into parts, apparently this latest UBB upgrade will do it automatically when the thread gets long enough. I liked that last log from the GCV-Tsunami. It's a nice plot twist, Blades, and leaves several different paths to take from there. Good on ya. ------------------ Cmdr Pherrett GCV-STRATOS Official Tester, Battlecruiser Series "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" -- George Santayana "You got to change your evil ways" --Carlos Santana

[RP ON] Commander Pherrett thumbed the comm button. "Barnes here, sir," came the quick reply. "Sam, come up to my quarters." While he waited for the Chief Engineer to arrive, the commander of the Stratos turned to the small bar behind his desk and retrieved two glasses and a bottle Terran sour mash whiskey. The door to the cabin chimed just as he finished pouring. "Come." Sam Barnes slid through doorway as smooth and efficiently as the door itself slid in its tracks. He slipped into the chair across from his commander before the door had even started to close. As soon as he heard the "snick" of the door sealing shut he slouched down, swung one leg up on the commander's desk and reached for a glass. He knew from the way he had been summoned that was an informal visit, he and Commander Lynx Pherrett went back a long ways . . . a very long ways. "That was pretty quick, Sam." "Yeah, I was on my way to the galley when you buzzed. What's up?" Lynx spun a datapad around to face Barnes. "I suppose you've seen this?" Barnes smiled as he saw the report, "Yeah, most of the crew is laughing about it." Then he frowned, "Hey, Lynx, you're not thinking of doing anything because of this, are you?" "Actually, I am. That's why I asked you to drop in. Is your brother still an editor on the Terran Times?" "Yeah," said Barnes, a little confused by the change in direction of the conversation. "Do you think he would do me a favor if you asked him?" "I suppose. It would depend on what the 'favor' was." Pherrett snaked a long arm over the desktop and punched up another file on the datapad and grinned at the engineer. After a moment of silence, they both burst into laughter. "You know, Lynx, HQ is not gonna be happy about this." The commander smiled back at his long time friend, "HQ is going to be very unhappy with this, officially. Unofficially, however, they and my Dad will love it." "Alright, Commander, I'll see what I can do." The clink of two glasses comming together could just be heard over the two mens' laughter. - - - - - - - - Terran Times NewsBits Triton Mine Reopened [sNN] Saturn - 5M Corporation announced they were reopening a mining operation on Triton. According to the operations director, a new sensor technology being tested in a exhausted pit uncovered a rich vein of Iridium. "It's pretty exciting for us, everybody was sure this area had played out. [When] we finish developing this new sensor . . . we'll probably go back and reevaluate at all the old pits," said the director. ScuttleButt [uFNWR] Sol - There have been rumors over the past few years that the ancient practices of vendetta and bounty are alive and well. While unverified, here is the lastest rumor to be making the rounds at starport bars. It appears that the commander of the GCV-Stratos has personally guaranteed a bounty for the "pelt of any Insurgent rabble" brought to him, with added consideration for specific "ringleaders and other scum." The amounts of the rewards are as follows: quote: Any Insurgent rabble - 2 units of aluminium. Any self-styled Insurgent 'commander' - The above plus a half-eaten nutripak. Andergum, Finder1, and Rattler - All the above plus a freshly charged blaster powerpack. Akira - Nothing, we're much better off as long as he's in charge over there. The GCV-Stratos is assigned to GALCOM Prime Fleet and commanded by Cmdr Lynx Pherrett, son of UFN Senator Miles Pherrett (NA). While GALCOM had no official comment on the rumor, Sen Pherrett was more forthcomming. "I don't know, but it sounds like something Lynx would do," he said. "He was probably insulted by the paltry amount the Insurgent leadership recently placed on his head, a mere million credits. After all, Ri'gtl V'r put a bounty of 20 billion credits on his head after Lynx disrupted his smuggling operations and brought him to justice two years ago." Inner Sea Resort New Vacation Hotspot [uFNWE] Europa, Jupiter - Sony-Trump-Dahlmer-Paramount announced their Inner Sea Resort surpassed one million visitors last month. The resort, built over a period of two years, is anchored to the underside of Europa's 150km thick ice sheet. In addition to the standard resort activites of relaxing, dining, gambling and shows, guests have a continuous view of the suprisingly colorful indigenous flora and fauna. From the 1000 meter long kalidescope eel to the glowing clouds of microscopic lumonepheries, visitors are treated to a natural round-the-clock lightshow. Said one recent returnee, "I can't wait to go back next year, everything's so bland back here on Earth." [RP OFF] ------------------ Cmdr Pherrett GCV-STRATOS Official Tester, Battlecruiser Series [email protected] "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" -- George Santayana "You got to change your evil ways" --Carlos Santana [This message has been edited by Lynx Pherrett (edited 09-04-99).]

[RP ON] Ah, another sterling example of Insurgent logic. Three GALCOM ships are lost in Gammulan space, "never heard from again." GALCOM calls their crews heros, who died doing their jobs protecting Earth. But that was a lie. Why? Because you just recently found what was left of the GCV-Starsearch's databanks on a small uncharted moon near Gammulan space. Obviously GALCOM should have been more truthful about the loss of the ships and said "Well, they could have died as heros, or maybe they were just greedy, murderous traitors who tried to run off to the edge of the galaxy somewhere. We just don't know." I'm sure that level of brutal honesty would have made you feel much better about your father's death. And then, if you still joined GALCOM anyway, and fortuitously came across the Starsearch's databanks, you'd be happy knowing GALCOM hadn't lied to you. Of course, since GALCOM is such a lying organization, if I were you I would take anything they report, especially things like fighter pilot proficiency and "confirmed kills" with a grain of salt. Not that they necessarily lied about your father's combat record, but you know how bureaucrats like to inflate enemy bodycount statistics for the press. And somebody's gotta be given credit for those imaginary kills. It is interesting that your response to the past actions of a single greedy, murderous traitor is to become a murderous traitor yourself. No doubt the rest of the Insurgency exhibits such stunning rationalizations as well. [RP OFF] ------------------ Cmdr Pherrett GCV-STRATOS Official Tester, Battlecruiser Series [email protected] "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" -- George Santayana "You got to change your evil ways" --Carlos Santana [This message has been edited by Lynx Pherrett (edited 09-03-99).]

Flight Engineer #11, Eric Stylan [RP ON] Mission + 0 days 19 hours 55 minutes ***FLASH*** EMERGENCY DAMAGE REPORT ***FLASH*** ROUTE TO: TACOPS, TO, CO, ALL ICS, ENG ***LAUNCH BAY 4 HEAVY DAMAGE/DESTROYED*** ***LAUNCH BAY 3 LIFT DAMAGED/INOP*** ***FLIGHT DECK DAMAGED/OPERATIONAL*** ***ALL RETURNING IC MUST VECTOR TO LB1 OR LB2*** ***END FLASH*** -- -- -- Personal Log Entry Flight Engineer #11, Eric Stylan Mission + 0 days 19 hours 59 minutes Open Log Too bad I'm not gonna get a chance to play cards tonight, cause this has got to be my lucky day. Me, and everybody else down here on the flight deck. Bay 3's elevator had just started up with IC-3 when I thought I noticed the lights dim a bit then come back. I though it was a shadow from the lift at first, but by the time IC-3 got into the bay and the lift had sealed I knew what I was seeing--power drains, of a familiar and unwanted type. "Damn," I thought, "that and those odd vibrations have got to be the shields recharging after taking hits. So much for the idea of this Scramble being an exercise. I wonder who, and what, we're up against." I felt the familiar and strangely comforting thud as IC-3 launched. Across the way I could see IC-2 was ready to lift except for one thing, no pilot. The backseater was shouting into his comms, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. Probably telling his missing partner to quit chasing tail and get his tail in gear instead. Friggin' flyboys. "Shodan" did show up just as I was thinking maybe he should change his callsign to "Noshow Dan." Good thing it ain't my job to score their scramble times. Anyway, IC-2 went up and out without a hitch, though I was sure we were gonna lose power to the lift at one point. Four ICs, four launches, and four aces in the hole: namely, the four lifts sealing the launchbays off from the flight deck. That's what saved our hides when all hell broke loose. This place is like a cavern when all the birds are gone. Pretty much empty except for the eight lift mechanisms, stretching floor to ceiling like silvery stalactite columns. When the all-hands "Brace for impact" boomed out, everybody scrambled for what little there was in the way of security. I dove for one of the columns and forced my right arm between the pneudralic relief lines and the central cylindar. Grabbing my right wrist in a deathgrip with my left hand, I was locked down and not going anywere. That move kept me from rolling across empty deck, and nearly tore my arm out of the socket as I was swung counter-clockwise around the column, my back bending and pressing against the still warm metal. I don't know what we hit, or what hit us, but we sure as hell changed direction faster than this beast was designed to. I think I could feel every shudder and vibration of the old gal through the deckplates under my right hip. The keening screech of metal on metal made me crane my head to the left and look up at the underside of Bay-3's lift. The jerking shifts in the column at my back filled in the story, the lifts were straining in their seals to hold the entire superstructure together. If even one of them had been down, the flight deck and launch bays would have already slewed over like a house of cards, pancaking in on themselves and likely ripping the Chikuma in half. A explosion thundered above and to the right. I lolled my head back and could just make out the corner of Bay-4's lift, bucking and shuddering like a tin roof in a gale. But she held, and whatever hell was on the other side filling the bay was safely away from us. That was the worst of it and the last of it, at least for the moment. Like I said, our lucky day. Out of the 10 of us here on the bay, injurys were slight; bruises, sprains, scrapes, maybe a couple of broken bones. I called in the damage report, but had Sparks hold off on calling for medics, till we see what happens next. Eight of us are fit enough to get on with the job, and the other two shouldn't have a problem resting by the turbo lift. We've got birds to catch when they come back...if they come back. Close log Flight Engineer #11, Eric Stylan Mission + 0 days 20 hours 03 minutes [RP OFF] -------------------------- I'm with Ron; time to bust out a new one. ------------------ Cmdr Pherrett GCV-STRATOS Official Tester, Battlecruiser Series [email protected] "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" -- George Santayana "You got to change your evil ways" --Carlos Santana [This message has been edited by Lynx Pherrett (edited 08-21-99).]

IC-3 MAINTENANCE LOG Flight Engineer #11, Eric Stylan Mission + 0 days 19 hours 40 minutes [RP ON] Open Log TYPE ACTIVITY?..: Scheduled Maintenance DESCRIPTION?..: Check left strake for surface damage. SCHEDULE?..: Post-flight. Close Log Mission + 0 days 19 hours 40 minutes ------------------ Flight Engineer #11, Eric Stylan Personal Log Entry Mission + 0 days 19 hours 41 minutes Open Log Jackass pilots. Just saw some idiot backseater hit every NO-STEP area on the left strake climbing into IC-3. Probably twigged 3 or 4 percent off the damn armor integrity. Scramble or no scramble, that's just plain sloppy and a pain in the ass for the sys-engs. Well, I'll let Harrison see if he wants to bump this up to the CO. I'd do it myself, but she's probably in so tight with those prima donnas that I'd be the one to get the asschewing. Hope this exercise keeps them out there all day, that'd serve their sorry butts about right. Close Log [RP OFF] Mission + 0 days 19 hours 42 minutes

Flight Engineer Eric Stylan Personal Log Entry Mission + 0 days 0 hrs 0 minutes [RP ON] Log On Long day. The trip up on the shuttle with the other crew replacements seemed to take forever, I guess that was just anticipation. Should have taken a nap, but a couple of sys-eng and a medic started a card game. Damn! I hate dealer's choice. I was up about a month's on pay on draw, then the game switched to 7-card stud. Oh well, I still managed to come out a few credits ahead, so I shouldn't complain. Not like that medic, he's gonna have to take out a loan to buy breakfast. I'd swear there was something fishy with those two sys-eng, but I couldn't spot anything that would make an accusation of cheating stick. Besides, didn't want to get off on the wrong foot on my first day aboard. The actual arrival aboard the GCV Chikuma was a bit of a let down. Seemed to be a good size welcoming committee in the shuttle bay, the Commander and most of the officers and pilots were there. But they weren't waiting for us. The Commander barely glanced and nodded toward our shuttle before turning back to a conversation he was having with some stiff shirt. The Combat Officer came over and announced herself, glanced at a readout, looked at me and said, "Stylan, you're one of mine. Go down to IC Bay 3 and you'll find crew leader Harrison, he'll get you situated. Any questions?" I could tell from her tone that I wasn't supposed to have any, so of course, I didn't. She got a polite, "No sir," and the practice from the poker game kept me from even sub-vocalizing the "sorry to have interrupted your day..." Then she was gone, back over to the group by the Commander and whoever that high mucky-muck is. Funny, though, she spent a lot more time looking at the Commander than at the VIP. Of course, I could have spent a lot more time looking at her, too. Harrison seems to be an OK guy. He's sticking me on-shift with himself for a few days before shuffling me off to work with one of the other crew dogs. He certianly seems to knows his stuff. Before he took me to the personnel quarters, I watched him do a boresight alignment by eye-ball on IC-3's lasers. When he brought up the D&T, the pipper was perfect to three decimal places. Hell, I rarely get it that close on a first try with the full diagnostic suite. Maybe he was just lucky, but I doubt it. Personnel quarters are personnel quarters. I got my stuff stowed, then Harrison took me on quick tour of the Chikuma. The layout was familiar, so we called a knock-off when we got to the galley. We shot the bull awhile, then Harrison noticed me nodding off. He told me to get some sack time and be on his flight deck at 0500. I did manage get a message off to Mom, like I'd promised myself. Now if I can just keep doing it more than once every six months maybe she won't be so worried about me. Log Off ---------------------------- Message received by M. Catrina Stylna, New Chicago, Earth. 100010101010100100010101010100 CLEARED FOR TRANSMISSION BY GALCOM COMMUNICATIONS SECURITY DIRECTORATE ONE (GCSD1) Hi Mom I'm fine. How's everybody at home? Got my new ship assignment. Right now I'm on the [CENSORED GCSD1]. I left [CENSORED GCSD1] on [CENSORED GCSD1], and probably won't [CENSORED GCSD1]. I'm assigned to [CENSORED GCSD1]. The job [CENSORED GCSD1], but [CENSORED GCSD1] and [CENSORED GCSD1]. We really don't [CENSORED GCSD1], so I'll [CENSORED GCSD1]. Love Eric END TRANSMISSION 100010101010100100010101010100 GALCOM COMMUNICATIONS -- Making sure your message get's through loud and clear. [RP OFF]