StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Well I've got writer's block on PSW: Untitled at the moment and the idea's for this have been floating around in my head for a While.

So brace yourselves......

Inversion- Original Sci–fi by David “Crazedwraith” Cutter
Prologue

The universe is approximately empty. The specks of hydrogen fusing into helium, Life–less lumps of rocks and carbon–based biospheres are merely dots of the wall of existence and for mere dots they are highly active…

One Galaxy in particular as a highly improbable concentration of the dubious ‘blessing’ known as sentient (and most often humanoid) life. This galaxy was known to the Terrans as the “Milky Way” for some obscure reason known only to Astro–History buffs.

Contrary to the popular belief among 20th and 21st century authors of science fiction: Earth is only a very minor power in terms of galactic empires. Well in fact Earth has no role, Earth is a shit–hole but the peoples of Earth, the most influential of which now live on Mars and various colony worlds, are a minor power, a power which is known to the galaxy as the United Protectorate of Sol (or the U.P.S). In which of course earth is usually overruled by the other half a dozen races, the ones that they’re supposed to be protecting according to its title.

The U.P.S. is merely the intergalactic equivalent of No–man’s land as far as the two major powers of the galaxy are concerned. Two powers that have been at war since before Humanity could write. The entire U.S.P was once contested space. As the two great powers fought their differences out on these worlds, the natives got pissed at them and started fighting back. One would think that being vastly technologically inferior these races would be squashed instantly, but fate having a sense of humour let them succeed.

On Earth, it was always thought that war was an excellent way to develop new technology; it appears that they were to cosmic exception to the rule. The warring races were to busy throwing their young people out to die to try to find new ways of killing each other. It was this that was to bring about their downfall, while they were stuck in a technological deadlock the peoples of the U.S.P grew and grew until they were on a more or less even standing, technology wise. This led to the formation of the U.S.P and its declaration of Independence and Neutrality from the ‘Big 2.’ This neutrality doesn’t appear work out in practice. The Protectorate Space Navy (P.S.N) constantly has to pull their respective fleets apart and forcibly remove them from U.S.P space.
****

More to come I hope...

EDIT: I've re-proof read. Prologue and substitued a newer version hopefull with less painful misspellings and grammatical errors.
EDIT2: Rogue's Version added

Oh come on! 40 odd veiws and no comments? Feedback is welcome you know.
***
Chapter One

In space, just outside the Sol System, it started. Punctuated by Brilliant Explosions, a dance of death was taking place. An Ank–Sen Heavy Cruiser faced off against a pair of Ubeerian Light Cruisers. Aboard the Protectorate Naval Vessel Inversion Captain Ross Dallows shook his head, why did they have to do it on his patrol? Stupid Fuckers, they’d fought for several Hundred years, why the blazes did they need to continue here?
He motioned to his communications officer to open a general hail and said, “This Captain Dallows of the P.N.V Inversion. Your actions here are in violation of the 2657 Devlin Accords. You will cease hostile action and remove your selves from Protectorate Space or you will be fired upon. Is that understood?”

Outside, the ships just ignored him. At the heart of the storm is the Heavy cruiser: a massive 850–metre ovoid adorned with greenish armoured scales as well innumerable spikes, spines and small blobs protruding from its main hull. It was hurling compressed plasma bolts and antimatter explosives in every direction.

The two light cruisers were using their greater maneuverability to fly circles around the larger vessel, at 500 metres, the bi–wedged shaped vessels couldn’t completely dodge the enemy fire but they could and were stopping to heavy cruiser from landing any solid blows.

“Sensors” Asked Dallows, “Who were the Aggressors in the battle?”

“The light Cruisers, sir” Replied the sensor officer, a tall feline-oid from one of Alpha Centauri’s colonies.

“Good tactical? Blast the light cruiser please, then the Ank–Sen vessel.”

The three Alien vessels continued their battle oblivious to the other dangers swooping down on them. A blocky Sol Cruiser burst their bubble quite literally. The Inversion, its ion engines flaring at full power, took full advantage of the Ubeerian’s lack of particle shields. Although they compensated for it with one of the most advanced point defence systems known to the galaxy, this didn’t help them when a multi hundred ton Starship smashed into one of their light cruisers. It span helpless, sparkling, its silvery blue hull crumpled so it looked more like a mono–wedge than a bi–wedge. It span up until the moment when the Ank–Sen Cruiser melted its antimatter stores with compressed plasma bolts, then it vomited it self across space in to tiny metal giblets.

The other Light cruiser didn’t fare better. It caught a Broadside volley on its starboard nose overloading its energy shields and then the Inversion’s ion cannon batteries blew it apart.

The Commander of the Ank–Sen Cruiser was now worried. Yes, his aims in a battle had been accomplished but that had mainly been had the Hands of the Sol Cruiser who was just as likely to deliver the same fate to him. His thoughts were interrupted by a broadcast.

“This is the P.N.V Inversion, Your attackers and the Violators of the Treaty have been neutralized. You have 1 minute to get your asses out of this system before you are also violating the treaty. You have been warned.”

The Anc–Sen Vessel, wisely, turned tail and ran. Vivid sliver and white lines sprouted out of the nose of the craft and traveled down its length, the ship forward of the ring vanished. When the ring had ‘disappeared,’ the entire vessel it elongated along the vessel’s length until it disappeared.

The Heavy Cruiser had gone FTL and entered otherspace. It was gone.

***

Sol Ambassador Peregrine Toker was having a bad day. In fact for him almost every day was a bad one: mainly because of his job. He was Ambassador to the Anc–Sen/ Ubeerian Assembly and they shouted. A lot. Toker popped a few more aspirin and waited for Ubeerian Delegate to wind down and stop shouting.

The Ubeerian like most of his Species stood around 1.7 meters and although their length head to toe would be close to two and a half metres their reverse articulated knees meant they spent most of their time in a sort of half crouch. A long tail stretched out behind him for balance and he was dressed in deep red robes with a gold belt over his tan fur.

Finally the man stopped Yelling. Peregrin glared at him then briskly stated,

“Your Ships started a fight with the Sol System, this was expressly forbidden in a treaty over a hundred years ago. Thus your vessels have no excuse. The P.N.V Inversion was well with her rights.”

The Ubeerian Delegate blinked, twitched his tail and started up again:

“The Point is not whether, your ‘Captain’ …” and the Ubeerian laced the rank with an unhealthy doses of sarcasm, mockery and implied insignificance. “…Was within his ‘rights.’ It is about the fact the man was obviously a bigot: He mercilessly slaughtered hundreds of our citizens and let off the Ank–Sen without even, as you Humans might say, ‘a slap on the wrist’. It is due to this fact, that the Ubeerian Imperium is demanding a full formal apology for the incident and that the officer in question be relieved of duty pending an official independent inquiry!”

As the murmurs spread throughout the meeting hall, Peregrin wondered whether he was sweating. Talk about being between the devil and the deep blue sea! If he agreed he would have completely undermined both the P.SN and the U.S.P as a whole, and make them both appear weak in front of the two big empires. The U.S.P’s position as neutral territory depended on their perceived strength and without it they would be consumed with these monster’s was. However if he didn’t agree, he could very well push the Ubeerians over the edge, drag the U.SP into a full–fledged war and be remembered throughout history as the man who ruined the U.S.P’s one chance for peace and posterity. Grimacing he put the steel back into his spine and voice and spoke,

“The U.S.P will not accept the Ubeerian Imperium’s ridiculous demands. One has only to read the 2657 Devlin accords to realise the P.S.N’s actions were completely valid. The U.S.P fully supports Captain Dallows in his actions and will continue to do so.”

Toker stepped back down and wondered what he’d unleashed on the U.S.P
***
Once again Any feedback welcome.

EDIT: Re-Proof read by myself and corrected. Both this and prologue have been sent of to my ediotr, Rogue 9 so the well may be a third version soon.

Its good, a nifty concept, but you BADLY need someone to profread your spelling and grammar errors. Its not "Zor" bad, but its in the area.

Ok, then. Any volunteers? I need an editor. PM me , if your intrested.

Crazedwraith wrote:Ok, then. Any volunteers? I need an editor. PM me , if your intrested.

Like a grammar editor, content editor, or what? I can do the former, but I'm not the best person for the latter.

Rogue 9 wrote:

Crazedwraith wrote:Ok, then. Any volunteers? I need an editor. PM me , if your intrested.

Like a grammar editor, content editor, or what? I can do the former, but I'm not the best person for the latter.

Grammar/Spelling. That kinda thing.

Okay, I'll do it.

Here's my professional opinion:

Its a good story, human underdogs that don't want to be on either side of a war. Nifty concept if you can make it work. Now the bad stuff:

Problems: I don't know how old you are, but it reads very young. Alien races aren't usually "pissed off" in books; they can be angry, incensed, or outraged, but rarely pissed.

Also you have a problem I see in a lot of net-fics, and that's over-editing. This causes you to have captialized letters an words in the wrong places, and can also cause flow problems. Many of your sentences seem to start or end abruptly, and your tense changes in mid-stream.

Diagnosis: You love your story, maybe too much. You've been working on it for a long time, and it makes sense to you because you know everything about it.

Solution: Before you post, read your work OUT LOUD. If it sounds wrong to you, it probably needs a minor change, and it will take care of the spelling. Rouge9 will also help with that.

CaptainChewbacca wrote:Here's my professional opinion:

Its a good story, human underdogs that don't want to be on either side of a war. Nifty concept if you can make it work.

lol. In all likely hood i won't

Now the bad stuff:

Problems: I don't know how old you are, but it reads very young. Alien races aren't usually "pissed off" in books; they can be angry, incensed, or outraged, but rarely pissed.

Were are they "pissed" off. I remebr humnas being pissed off in the prologue. Most of them was meant half comicaly.

Also you have a problem I see in a lot of net-fics, and that's over-editing. This causes you to have captialized letters an words in the wrong places, and can also cause flow problems. Many of your sentences seem to start or end abruptly, and your tense changes in mid-stream.

Seems fair enough. I'll take another look for that kinda stuff in it.

Diagnosis: You love your story, maybe too much. You've been working on it for a long time, and it makes sense to you because you know everything about it.

Now I find this amusing. I actually Haven't been working on this for very long at all. I must have wrote the entire Prolgue in the few hours before I posted it. Basically I have a few ideas for the basic points of a chapter and make the rest up as a go along.
[/quote]

Added Rogue 9's edits of above chaptes. Enjoy.

Very interesting premise. I like where it's going. But write more.

Since Rogue hasn't got back to me after i send him the last chapter... here it is editor or no.

Chapter Two

Dallows sloughed back into his desk chair. His hair was tousled, his uniform stained and he reeked of booze. The P.N.V Inversion was in port over Earth and Dallows had tried to forget his tension and guilt by taking part in several drinking contests. He lost. Which wasn’t all that surprising since he’d been playing against 8 feet reptiods.

Then something rather strange happened. Dallows’ desk beeped. It took him three minutes to first realise this oddity was happening at all and then it took another minute to realise it wasn’t.

Dallows hit the Comm switch, and tried to look slightly less extremely inebriated. He failed at both. Dallows sighed, took a moment to viciously swear at his wall and tell them to stop moving around like that and tried again.

On the Comm screen the face of Vice Admiral Anders appeared.

“Captain”

“Admiral”

“We need to talk about the Incident, Dallows.”
“And which Incident would that be, Aaadmmmiral?” Dallows slurred but it was more the statement itself that raised the Admiral’s eyebrow than Dallows’ obvious drunkenness.

“The incident in which you destroyed two Ubeerian ships, Captain. The incident which has severely strained our diplomatic relations and sent any chance of last peace with the Ubeerian Imperium and The Ank–Sen Alliance down the crapper.”
“Oh that one, what about it?”
“Well Captain, I was calling to reassure you that The Admiralty has complete confidence in your command ability, judgement and action in said incident. There will be no official inquiry and we’re not going to let any Ubeerians to lay their paws on you…

“Do I deduct a but, Admiral?” smirked Dallows who’d been around long enough to know that even though there would be no Official inquiry or reprimand, he’d embarrassed the Admiralty and now they were going to do everything in their power to make his life hell. And they had a lot
of power.

“…But We feel we need to take you out of the public and interstellar eye for a while,” said Anders referring to the best selling tabloid in the Protectorate, “and therefore are assigning you a long term patrol out in the Tetchen outback.”
Dallows fought to repress a snarl, the Tetchen outback had replaced Protectorate space as No–man’s land in interstellar power–plays, although technically Protectorate space, the Outback was ruled by vicious pirates, smugglers and other violent criminal groups not to mention almost constant Ank–Sen/Ubeerian skirmishes. The Outback wasn’t so much life being hell as a sentence to a very slow death.

“You will now return to Earth naval yards for a full refit for long range operations.” Dallows, his teeth gritted to keep the cussing back, merely nodded mechanically and killed the transmission.

***

Admiral Anders sat in his office, contemplating the fate of the man, he’d just offered re–asurance to. Although from the look on the man’s face he already knew the Admiral’s opinion of him. That man had just thrown the Protectorate from a political mild simmer to a boil. The Ubeerian Imperium had been moving its assets from positions able to quickly by pass Sol’s space and move deep into Alliance territory to Locations that facilitated easy movement into key positions on the protectorate.

And it was that testosterone-poisoned idiot’s fault. The fault of a captain so eager to get his ion cannons warmed up that he point–blanc refused to think further ahead than the present skirmish. He’d likely killed entire races with his political ineptitude and for this it was only right he died.
Anders turned to face the man who’d been standing next to him for the last couple of hours. A man who did not exist. Which was could because what Anders wanted him to do was highly illegal but considering Dallows had done was Moral. He was dressed in a black suit, and by that it is meant that every think was black, his jacket, his trousers, his tie, his sunglasses and his shirt were all jet. The only colour on the man was his pale white skin and a silver tie–pin wrought in the shape of a Greek Omega. He was a Horseman named after figures in ancient religion that were said the herald the Apocalypse itself. The modern versions were just that the apocalypse to the enemies of the Protectorate. An agency that was dedicated to uphold of the U.S.P at any costs. To this formidable gentleman, Anders said four words:

“I want Dallows dead.”

***

The colony of Juna had been peaceful once. It was a mining settlement with only a token military presence. Generations of Humans and others had lived there in complete peace only mining Juna’s modest resources. It took no part in the quarrels of greater organisations. That’s hadn’t spared it. It’s streets ran with blood now, it’s buildings a flame, its surrounding once beautiful grasses lands were no nothing more than a muddy battle field.

Explosive mortar shells landed all around Major Kenith Aabis, swearing all the while he dived headfirst into a makeshift trench that was serving as a rallying point for his men.

Kenth was a Major in the Protectorate’s Special Naval Service. (S.N.S) It was a supposedly elite service that handled difficult military functions aboard Starships such as boarding and defending against such boarding. They were experts in deploying from orbit and were as good as regular infantry and regular infantry tasks, they were quite simply the best. He’d come down here with a platoon of them when the troop transport Titan had picked up a distress call from the colony. He was now in direct command of only two Squads of them and was under heavy jamming.

“What the bloody fuck is going on, Sir?” Yelled some asshole corporal.

“What the fuck to you think, fucker?” Aabis back, “Are fucking Intel is wrong and we fucked.”
Smoke washed over them effectively ending the conversation. The battlefield was thick with the stuff.

“Damn it” muttered Aabis to himself, “This was supposed to be a cakewalk.” Intel had told them this couldn’t be more then a few mercenaries and pirate out for a quick hit. Instead they were facing an well-armed, well-organised force.
Sighing, he gripped his CCS–9T (Compact Combat System–Nine Tee) assault rifle and took stock of the situation. Thermal scans and IFF transmitters told him who was who in the thick of this battle and his helmet was telling him where the thickest amount of the enemy were; at the main entrance to the colony. The appeared to be trying to set up heavy weapons around it to set up a more permanent kill zone than the thugs with assault rifles were creating now. If he let that happen every protectorate troop here was dead. There really was only one thing to do barring some mortars of his own magically appearing, charge and shoot the bastards. He flipped open; a wide Comm broadcast and said:

“Alright every one this is Major Aabis in t–minus Te–“ but at that point there was a large bang and some of the jamming was lifted. A loud gruff voice came over the Comm.
“Major Aabis, this is General Havers what is you position?”

“I’m huddled over in a trench, sir. Just about to vaped by some heavy weapons if I don’t charge the enemy, unless you can bring in some orbital support, sir.”
“I’m sorry Major I can’t authorise either action, just hang tight until full communication has been restored and proper Combat Intelligence Co–ordination had been enabled.” Pompous ass, Kenth thought. He’d been riding a desk to long. He had no idea what the situation was here. That’s what Kenth was here for. The General gave him goals and he accomplished them, the general couldn’t mange the battlefield from orbit.

“Negative, Sir. I’ve got to go now or I’m dead.”

“Major!” said the General shocked that anyone would give him back talk. “That constituted a direct ord––” but Kenth had already flipped back to the troop’s channel. “Let’s try this again…Every one charge!”


Major Aabis coupled his words with actions. He flicked off the safety on his CCS, jumped out of the trench with a hoarse battlecry and ran towards the enemy.

The battlefield was obscured with fog and the mercenaries weren’t paying much attention. They were caught as surprised, as it was possible for combat veterans to be. Three were struck down before anybody could reaction two more went down under Kenth’s fire before the return fire started and by then the rest of the troops were charging to.

One of the two heavy weapons guys: Corporal Mark Kent Sheppard was being especially exuberant in the good old’ fashion infantry slugging match. He was sprinting past in his power armour. Only heavy weapons specialist were equipped with this, it was big and bulky but is servos and artificial muscle enable a man to with stand the great recoil from his 12.5mm automatic in one hand and the 20mm in the other. Screaming an incessant war cry the man shaped block of armour slammed into the enemy, fire form his left hand dropped three men to the ground with Swiss–cheesed armour and vitals while a bolt from his right, efficiently demolished the tripod weapon they were trying to start.

A second later however Sheppard’s yells of joy became screams as he was caught by three blood–red plasma beams. His chestplate vanished leaving only superheated shrapnel, that hamburgered Mark’s chest.

The battle was quickly becoming very bloody; the rapidly shrinking space between the two groups was a dense latticework of death. The S.N.S forces were filling the air with the small blue darts, that were ‘Eesap’ (Energy sheathed Armour Piercing E.S.A.P) rounds. The enemy was firing whatever they could lay their hands on, old fashioned red eesaps, blood coloured plasma, silver bolts of lightening flashed from power blasters and the whine of ion streamers filled the air with azure death. Soldiers from both sides fell quickly, the air was filled with smoke, blood, and steam from partially vapourised bodies.

At the centre of the storm, Kenth’s gun clicked, his mag emptied into the nearest trooper. Swearing he grabbed the mag and yanked up off the top of the gun. It stuck. The power plug jammed solid in the socket at the front of the gun. Kenth looked up a massive furry merc was lunging for him. Kenth did the only option left to him, an option that only gave him a slight better chance of surviving this, that doing nothing. He gripped the CCS’s under–slung grenade launcher and fired. At point blank range.

The battlefield was quickly converted into Kenth’s own personal hell. The explosion easily ripped straight through the canine and reached out hungrily. Luckily it had been a Penetrator grenade its blast concentrated forward. The backwash still knocked Kenth flat on his back. He laid in the mud, halo–ed by the corpses of his men and theirs.


Author's notes:

*For the CCS-9-T, Imagine a P-90 made for 7.2 ammo and with a modified underside so it has a 40 mil grenade luancher.

*Yes, I slaughtered the millitary scenes, I make no excuses.

EDIT: Chnaged the word clip to mag. As Clip is not synomnous with mag

very nice. The battle kicked ass!

Chapter 3

Major Kenth Aabis, soon to be former Major Kenth Aabis or even Former Major Kenth Aabis (deceased), sat in the sterile courtroom. The Court martial was over. The outcome had never really been in question only the sentence.

The Judge walked into the court, followed by a man dressed in an all-black suit. He walked and sat down in the high chair.

“Major Kenth Angus Aabis of the Special Navy Service’s 13th Regiment. You have been found guilty of the following charges: Disobeying direct orders given to you by a superior officer, behaviour unbecoming to an officer and of willingly and knowingly ordering men under your command into a suicide mission for no appreciable gain.

“It is my opinion that you have the most flippant and disregarding attitude to your crimes and that any form of rehabilitation would be wasted on your obviously twisted mind. I would have liked to given you the harshest sentence possible.” Here the Judge’s eyes flicked towards the man in black, the Horseman’s eyes narrowed at the judge, obviously annoyed that the judge however subtly had admitted his interference.

“But other…factors have come to my attention. Thus you are merely being demoted to the rank of Captain and assigned to P.N.S Inversion. You lucky Bastard.”

***

27th Century Earth is undeniable a shit hole, once described as the blue planet its is now about the colour of cement, badly made greyish cement.

A shit hole, yes thought Protectorate Flight Corps. Lieutenant Tessa Reilly as she walked through the alien quarter of London, But it does have some good bars…

She sauntered into a drinking establishment, many eyes turn observing her full figure. Revelling in the attention she walked up to the bar and was just about to order when a large furry man next to her turned his cat–eyes on her and growled,

“They don’t serve your kind here. This isn’t your place Terran.”

Tessa blinked. Faking confusion she said:
“Excuse me not my place? Whatever do you mean? How silly of me think terrans are allowed on terra.”

The felinoid was not amused.

“You heard we get that ass moving.” And he had the nerve to spank her.

Predictably she slapped him. Slightly less stereotypically she didn’t use her hand. Thunk The sole of Tessa’s boot smacked the alien’s chin. He dropped to the floor stunned.

The effect was instantaneous. Half a dozen of the jerk’s drinking buddies had decided not to drop the issue, regulars dived for cover and the Barman kept yelling for them to stop but no body paid him much attention.

Tessa grinned and loosened up her body, if there was one she liked more than excessive drinking it was applying excessive force to some poor spa’s head in the middle of a smoky, dingy or wrecked bar and this one could already tick to “all of the above” box.

The first loon to reach her was a short stocky leather skinned man with pointed teeth and horns. He swung for her, the most basic brawler’s technique left–right. With contemptuous ease, Tessa blocked both, smashed a palm into the man’s chest and swept his ankle out from under him. By this time two more thugs and reached her range, one a tall slender man how looked almost human, when one discounted the fact his skin was jet black and his eyes were completely silver and the other a bald piss coloured Reptilian female.

Black struck at here, a straight punch, and Tessa side–stepped and punched for his head. She managed only a glancing blow without even registering this fact she stepped in and roundhoused an elbow into the thing’s solar plexus. The blow barely made him take a step back. Astounded by her failure to inflict any lasting damage to her opponent Tessa was distracted long enough for the scaly bitch to tackle her lithe form and send them both rolling in the dust ‘n’ dirty off the bar floor.
Both women exchanged a flurry of punches from a half crouch. Tessa bounced a couple off scales head and caught the corner of the bitch’s fist in her chin, still barely up–right she staggered over a table piled with empty beer mugs. Both her active opponents moved in for the kill, Scales especially angry leapt at her. Tessa groaned this wasn’t turning out as much fun as she hoped. Time to finish these oddballs off. Tessa gripped on of the mugs and met Scales leap, swatting away scale’s reaching fingers with her right hand she smashed the reptilian full in the face with the mug. In a shower of glass cubes the reptilian lost control and smacked into the floor sliding straight through table and into unconsciousness.
The Onyx Man was standing right in front off her, remembering his previous ability to shrug off punches, Tessa did the only thing she could think of, the one thing that was almost generated to work whatever the specifics. She kicked him: very hard, between the legs. The onyx man dropped like a sack of potatoes: a sack of Potatoes in a lot of pain.

While all this had was happening the last trio of the furry man’s drinking buddies had been watching. They glanced at each other to see if they were all in agreement. Then they swarmed Tessa.

Eight minutes later the police finally responded to the bartender’s distress call.

Eight and a half minutes later Tessa finished pummelling the thugs into unconsciousness.

Half an hour later Tessa arrived at the Police station and was charged with half a dozen offences.

Forty minutes later a man in an all black suit arrived.

41 minutes later Tessa was released to her new assignment aboard the Inversion …