Chapter 1:
Recruitment Dreams
Thirty years after the Great War, at the beginning of the Neo-Terran Front's rebellion.
---
Life at the Vega Board of Recruitment was fairly dull, as one could expect from
such a posting. Yet Sergeant J. P. Malloy would not give it up, as to do so would mean
to give up Military Service, forever.
It was the only remnant of Malloy's life that she could still hold on to. She had
been here for over a decade now, each day unbearably like the last. But she could still
wear that uniform with the rank stripes, and see her name under the GTVA's Active Duty
roster. And to her, that was all the world.
She had lost the use of both of her legs serving as a fighter pilot during the Great
War. The War that had ended over thirty-two years ago, the Shivans having been
vanquished for half a lifetime.
She had been flying a Hercules-class fighter under Zeta squadron of the 42nd
Hawks, and had just barely flown away from the fighter bay on the GTD Athena when the
beam from the SD Lucifer had penetrated the destroyer's hull. The shrapnel from the
explosion had hit her fighter, and sent her craft spinning away at speeds the fighter's
artificial gravity could not compensate for. The acceleration had snapped the lower
portion of her spine.
It was these wartime memories that suddenly flooded uncomfortably back to her
when two men approached her booth. One was fairly young, good health, dark hair and
eyes, but the other. she couldn't place him, but he looked familiar somehow. He was
also in fairly good health, although older with gray, disheveled hair and a wild look in his
eyes. "How can I help you gentlemen?" she asked the same thing she asked everyone else.
"I'd like to register for service in the GTVA military," the younger one said.
"Welcome aboard," Malloy smiled, "I'll need your name, first and last."
"Richard McKnight." Malloy asked him how he spelled that, and typed the name
into the records database program.
"I'm sorry, we don't have your name on record as a civilian, or anything at all."
"I know, I'm from a frontier moon nearby Deneb. They don't always keep good
records."
"Okay, but you'll still have to see Ensign Palo over there for DNA
identification."
McKnight nodded, and strode in the direction that Malloy had indicated. The
older man stepped forward. "And you, sir?" she asked.
"I'd like to reenlist in the fighter pilot program."
"Reenlist? Very well, and your name?"
"Remmington. Douglas Remmington."
She went through the routine of typing, and frowned at the database results. "The
name Douglas Remmington is listed as KIA, sir. Perhaps."
The man cut her off. "Sergeant Malloy, I am Douglas Remmington."
Malloy raised her eyebrows in suspicion. Name-tags were not a part of the
Military Uniform, so there could be no way for this man to know her name, unless...
Her thoughts trailed off as she finally recognized the man before her.
Her eyes widened.
---
"Okay, Richard McKnight, your DNA has been checked and you are cleared for
recruitment. Can I ask we division you wish to apply for?"
"Starfighter piloting."
"Deathtraps, 'eh?" Ensign Palo finished entering the database additions.
"Okay, McKnight, registration will be complete once you take the GTVA oath." He held
out a book, it was a condensed version of the history of Terran space travel. "Repeat after
me."
Richard followed through with the motions, although secretly in his mind ignoring
them.
"Okay, there will be a shuttle leaving to the Space Facility Port MacArthur
tomorrow at 0450. The GTVA will happily provide accommodations for you at the Hotel
Sierra Vega until that time, if necessary."
"I'd like that, thank you."
"Okay, the reservations have been set up, and will be waiting for you when you
arrive. You'll be on the GTVA Recruits level, which is floor 5. You'll be staying in room
545."
McKnight nodded, and turned away. He noted with interest when he was leaving
that the desk Remmington had been at was abandoned; Malloy had deserted it. He
suppressed a smile, and then left.
---
There was a knock at the door.
Richard McKnight paused. He was reviewing again the history of this time.
quite different then anything he was used to. Of course, he had gotten practice before, but
it was astounding nonetheless. Virtually everything in this room was run by computer,
down to the interactive entertainment video-feed channels.
The knock come again. Richard glanced at the bed-side clock. 0134.
He got up, and walked softly towards the door. "Who is it?" he asked.
"It's your next-door neighbor," replied a sarcastic voice.
Richard opened the door slowly, but did not let the man in by carefully blocking
the entrance with his not-so-small body.
The visitor seemed to be in a rather surly mood, he had dark rings under eyes
shaded by disheveled brown hair. Richard could detect a noticeable hint of alcohol on his
breath. He raised an eyebrow in inquiry.
"Yeah, hey, the apartment that these Vasudan bastards gave me is dysfunctional.
The can doesn't work. You mind if I use yours?"
Richard did not budge.
The man hesitated, then nodded as in silent accord with Richard. "Oh. I see. I
know where your coming from. Here," he pulled something out of his jacket. "I'm not
some jackass robber, I'm a recruit like you, pal." It was an ID card with his picture, and
labeled "RED JEFFERSON - GTVA FIGHTER PILOT TRAINING - GTD
AQUATAINE." It was nearly identical to Richard's own card.
"Yeah, okay," Richard finally acceded, "it's over there."
"I know. Hey, thanks, pal."
Richard merely nodded, and shuffled back to his chair, and flipped the news
programs back on, watching Jefferson carefully as he entered the washroom. He put his
headphones back on, and returned to his program.
"...the GTVA security council had no comment. And this just in, it turns out
that the evacuation of Epsilon Pegasi was not in vain. As the Vasudan Emperor had
predicted, Admiral Bosch's Neo-Terran Front launched an all-out attack against GTVA
positions in that system. Casualties were not overt, they were a mere 3%, as Centaur
Yukosi of the GVD Psamtik pulled his fighter wings into an early retreat after an
overwhelming NTF force arrived through the Sirius jump node."
"Regrettably, however, the GTVA did lose the GTCv Olympia to the NTF forces.
The GTVA security council has authorized the deployment of the GTC Trinity and the
GVCv Ishtai to the Epsilon Pegasi system. This system's condition has been changed
from Friendly to Contested."
"For Admiral Bosch's Neo-Terran Front, this represents yet another gain on the
Civil War battlegrounds. The Neo-Terran Front is currently entrenched in Polaris,
Regulus, and Sirius. NTF warships are also engaging GTVA military forces in the battle
for Contested systems Deneb and Alpha Centauri."
The voice changed from a female to a male. "The Neo-Terran Front continues to
demand the Revocation of the Beta Aquilae Convention. The BETAC treaty centralized
the GTVA as the sole authority in known space. The rebels are ignoring the entire treaty,
and with that, among other things, the clause for the protection of civilians during
wartime. The NTF has targeted both military and civilian vessels, especially those civilian
vessels under Vasudan ownership. Civilian casualties of the Civil War are now listed at
over 90,000, pinning NTF leaders with inescapable war crimes."
"Critical to Bosch's ideology is the theoretical government of Neo-Terra, a utopian
society where the lost grandeur of Earth will be restored. Neo-Terra would oppose any
alliance with the Vasudans as the death warrant of the human race. Such flagrant racism
has existed since the Great War forced our two peoples together, and the rebellion appears
to be the sad result. TVN news time is 0141, or 21:23 Vasudan Galactic Time."
Richard signed off the news video as the washroom door opened again. Red
Jefferson closed the door silently behind him. "I can't thank you enough. what was your
name?"
"Richard McKnight."
"Yeah, well, thanks, Richard. Hey, maybe we'll run into each other during
training!"
Richard said nothing.
"Yeah, okay. see you around." And he was gone. Richard locked the door
behind him, and finally turned out the lights.
Time to sleep.
---
The civilian cruiser, registered under the name Siren's Call, floated swiftly through
the vacuum. Douglas Remmington knew he was going to have an interesting job ahead of
him.
The Siren's Call, despite all outward appearances, was very heavily armed, and
more then a match for even a Deimos-class warship. But it was armed with a kind of
weaponry that Remmington had never seen nor heard of, not until he had met Richard
McKnight.
It had been, of course, Richard McKnight, and the Siren's Call that had finally
rescued Remmington from the surface of Deneb's habitable moon, after thirty-two years of
isolation and exile. And by rescuing Remmington, McKnight had charged him with a
sacred trust for the responsibility of this ship. A responsibility Remmington was not
prepared to sacrifice.
Ahead lay the jump node to the Epsilon Pegasi system, a system now contested by the
NTF. A sizable GTVA blockade was present at the node, preventing any ships from
entering or leaving. Remmington sighed, and punched the record button on his chair, and
began speaking.
"This may be the final log of Lieutenant Junior Grade Douglas Scott Remmington,
now retired. Ahead of us lies the GTVA blockade we must break. After I finish
recording this log, I will eject a copy into the vacuum, in the hopes that if this ship is
destroyed, those who find it will understand the reason behind my chaos." He sighed, and
looked towards the node, illuminated in colorful computerized graphics on his screen.
"The history of our tortured culture, the history of fact and date and battle, is something
every dullard Alliance-wide can recount with ease. Truly understanding it, though, can only be
achieved by living through it. The motives of my seeming treachery are rooted in this history,
and it is just possible that only through understanding it can any sense be made of my betrayal."
"Thirty-two years have passed since the Great War. The Shivans having been
vanquished half a lifetime ago. And now we live in the mausoleum of history." He got
up, and walked slowly towards the tactical screen, reflecting on the tales he had heard of
the history he had missed during his exile. "The Elders call us the Lost Generation."
"And yet, at some point we must remember what we are fighting for. Back when I
was young. I remember. I remember Earth. I remember stories of a glorious
civilization. Of cities with spires that reached the sun. Of a blue planet, with vast seas."
"Of a people who created myths of humanity everlasting. Of children, who, when
they looked into the embers of dying suns, saw the future of their race."
Remmington paced back and forth, lost in thought, then cast his eyes once again
on the blockade. "And they hurled themselves into the void of space with no fear."
"They say our people have no future. Only a past filled with horror."
Remmington's eyes flickered from ship to ship, from Terran to Vasudan and back. "And
now, we forge a new Alliance."
"A new Alliance to guard the tomb of space. For the hope that within its cold
expanse we may find the salvation of our race."
"It is for the hope of preserving this Alliance that I must now act against it. To
future observers, if there are any, it was not my intent to defect my ship to the Neo-Terran
Front. I cross this boundary for reasons other than the obvious. The history of the GTVA
has already been written. now we must act to preserve it."
He tapped the Stop Record button, and sat down in the closest chair. "Sergeant
Malloy?" he asked.
"Standing by."
"Proceed towards the jump node. We will answer no transmissions, we will accept
no orders. Tell all decks to brace for heavy damage."
Recruitment Dreams
Thirty years after the Great War, at the beginning of the Neo-Terran Front's rebellion.
---
Life at the Vega Board of Recruitment was fairly dull, as one could expect from
such a posting. Yet Sergeant J. P. Malloy would not give it up, as to do so would mean
to give up Military Service, forever.
It was the only remnant of Malloy's life that she could still hold on to. She had
been here for over a decade now, each day unbearably like the last. But she could still
wear that uniform with the rank stripes, and see her name under the GTVA's Active Duty
roster. And to her, that was all the world.
She had lost the use of both of her legs serving as a fighter pilot during the Great
War. The War that had ended over thirty-two years ago, the Shivans having been
vanquished for half a lifetime.
She had been flying a Hercules-class fighter under Zeta squadron of the 42nd
Hawks, and had just barely flown away from the fighter bay on the GTD Athena when the
beam from the SD Lucifer had penetrated the destroyer's hull. The shrapnel from the
explosion had hit her fighter, and sent her craft spinning away at speeds the fighter's
artificial gravity could not compensate for. The acceleration had snapped the lower
portion of her spine.
It was these wartime memories that suddenly flooded uncomfortably back to her
when two men approached her booth. One was fairly young, good health, dark hair and
eyes, but the other. she couldn't place him, but he looked familiar somehow. He was
also in fairly good health, although older with gray, disheveled hair and a wild look in his
eyes. "How can I help you gentlemen?" she asked the same thing she asked everyone else.
"I'd like to register for service in the GTVA military," the younger one said.
"Welcome aboard," Malloy smiled, "I'll need your name, first and last."
"Richard McKnight." Malloy asked him how he spelled that, and typed the name
into the records database program.
"I'm sorry, we don't have your name on record as a civilian, or anything at all."
"I know, I'm from a frontier moon nearby Deneb. They don't always keep good
records."
"Okay, but you'll still have to see Ensign Palo over there for DNA
identification."
McKnight nodded, and strode in the direction that Malloy had indicated. The
older man stepped forward. "And you, sir?" she asked.
"I'd like to reenlist in the fighter pilot program."
"Reenlist? Very well, and your name?"
"Remmington. Douglas Remmington."
She went through the routine of typing, and frowned at the database results. "The
name Douglas Remmington is listed as KIA, sir. Perhaps."
The man cut her off. "Sergeant Malloy, I am Douglas Remmington."
Malloy raised her eyebrows in suspicion. Name-tags were not a part of the
Military Uniform, so there could be no way for this man to know her name, unless...
Her thoughts trailed off as she finally recognized the man before her.
Her eyes widened.
---
"Okay, Richard McKnight, your DNA has been checked and you are cleared for
recruitment. Can I ask we division you wish to apply for?"
"Starfighter piloting."
"Deathtraps, 'eh?" Ensign Palo finished entering the database additions.
"Okay, McKnight, registration will be complete once you take the GTVA oath." He held
out a book, it was a condensed version of the history of Terran space travel. "Repeat after
me."
Richard followed through with the motions, although secretly in his mind ignoring
them.
"Okay, there will be a shuttle leaving to the Space Facility Port MacArthur
tomorrow at 0450. The GTVA will happily provide accommodations for you at the Hotel
Sierra Vega until that time, if necessary."
"I'd like that, thank you."
"Okay, the reservations have been set up, and will be waiting for you when you
arrive. You'll be on the GTVA Recruits level, which is floor 5. You'll be staying in room
545."
McKnight nodded, and turned away. He noted with interest when he was leaving
that the desk Remmington had been at was abandoned; Malloy had deserted it. He
suppressed a smile, and then left.
---
There was a knock at the door.
Richard McKnight paused. He was reviewing again the history of this time.
quite different then anything he was used to. Of course, he had gotten practice before, but
it was astounding nonetheless. Virtually everything in this room was run by computer,
down to the interactive entertainment video-feed channels.
The knock come again. Richard glanced at the bed-side clock. 0134.
He got up, and walked softly towards the door. "Who is it?" he asked.
"It's your next-door neighbor," replied a sarcastic voice.
Richard opened the door slowly, but did not let the man in by carefully blocking
the entrance with his not-so-small body.
The visitor seemed to be in a rather surly mood, he had dark rings under eyes
shaded by disheveled brown hair. Richard could detect a noticeable hint of alcohol on his
breath. He raised an eyebrow in inquiry.
"Yeah, hey, the apartment that these Vasudan bastards gave me is dysfunctional.
The can doesn't work. You mind if I use yours?"
Richard did not budge.
The man hesitated, then nodded as in silent accord with Richard. "Oh. I see. I
know where your coming from. Here," he pulled something out of his jacket. "I'm not
some jackass robber, I'm a recruit like you, pal." It was an ID card with his picture, and
labeled "RED JEFFERSON - GTVA FIGHTER PILOT TRAINING - GTD
AQUATAINE." It was nearly identical to Richard's own card.
"Yeah, okay," Richard finally acceded, "it's over there."
"I know. Hey, thanks, pal."
Richard merely nodded, and shuffled back to his chair, and flipped the news
programs back on, watching Jefferson carefully as he entered the washroom. He put his
headphones back on, and returned to his program.
"...the GTVA security council had no comment. And this just in, it turns out
that the evacuation of Epsilon Pegasi was not in vain. As the Vasudan Emperor had
predicted, Admiral Bosch's Neo-Terran Front launched an all-out attack against GTVA
positions in that system. Casualties were not overt, they were a mere 3%, as Centaur
Yukosi of the GVD Psamtik pulled his fighter wings into an early retreat after an
overwhelming NTF force arrived through the Sirius jump node."
"Regrettably, however, the GTVA did lose the GTCv Olympia to the NTF forces.
The GTVA security council has authorized the deployment of the GTC Trinity and the
GVCv Ishtai to the Epsilon Pegasi system. This system's condition has been changed
from Friendly to Contested."
"For Admiral Bosch's Neo-Terran Front, this represents yet another gain on the
Civil War battlegrounds. The Neo-Terran Front is currently entrenched in Polaris,
Regulus, and Sirius. NTF warships are also engaging GTVA military forces in the battle
for Contested systems Deneb and Alpha Centauri."
The voice changed from a female to a male. "The Neo-Terran Front continues to
demand the Revocation of the Beta Aquilae Convention. The BETAC treaty centralized
the GTVA as the sole authority in known space. The rebels are ignoring the entire treaty,
and with that, among other things, the clause for the protection of civilians during
wartime. The NTF has targeted both military and civilian vessels, especially those civilian
vessels under Vasudan ownership. Civilian casualties of the Civil War are now listed at
over 90,000, pinning NTF leaders with inescapable war crimes."
"Critical to Bosch's ideology is the theoretical government of Neo-Terra, a utopian
society where the lost grandeur of Earth will be restored. Neo-Terra would oppose any
alliance with the Vasudans as the death warrant of the human race. Such flagrant racism
has existed since the Great War forced our two peoples together, and the rebellion appears
to be the sad result. TVN news time is 0141, or 21:23 Vasudan Galactic Time."
Richard signed off the news video as the washroom door opened again. Red
Jefferson closed the door silently behind him. "I can't thank you enough. what was your
name?"
"Richard McKnight."
"Yeah, well, thanks, Richard. Hey, maybe we'll run into each other during
training!"
Richard said nothing.
"Yeah, okay. see you around." And he was gone. Richard locked the door
behind him, and finally turned out the lights.
Time to sleep.
---
The civilian cruiser, registered under the name Siren's Call, floated swiftly through
the vacuum. Douglas Remmington knew he was going to have an interesting job ahead of
him.
The Siren's Call, despite all outward appearances, was very heavily armed, and
more then a match for even a Deimos-class warship. But it was armed with a kind of
weaponry that Remmington had never seen nor heard of, not until he had met Richard
McKnight.
It had been, of course, Richard McKnight, and the Siren's Call that had finally
rescued Remmington from the surface of Deneb's habitable moon, after thirty-two years of
isolation and exile. And by rescuing Remmington, McKnight had charged him with a
sacred trust for the responsibility of this ship. A responsibility Remmington was not
prepared to sacrifice.
Ahead lay the jump node to the Epsilon Pegasi system, a system now contested by the
NTF. A sizable GTVA blockade was present at the node, preventing any ships from
entering or leaving. Remmington sighed, and punched the record button on his chair, and
began speaking.
"This may be the final log of Lieutenant Junior Grade Douglas Scott Remmington,
now retired. Ahead of us lies the GTVA blockade we must break. After I finish
recording this log, I will eject a copy into the vacuum, in the hopes that if this ship is
destroyed, those who find it will understand the reason behind my chaos." He sighed, and
looked towards the node, illuminated in colorful computerized graphics on his screen.
"The history of our tortured culture, the history of fact and date and battle, is something
every dullard Alliance-wide can recount with ease. Truly understanding it, though, can only be
achieved by living through it. The motives of my seeming treachery are rooted in this history,
and it is just possible that only through understanding it can any sense be made of my betrayal."
"Thirty-two years have passed since the Great War. The Shivans having been
vanquished half a lifetime ago. And now we live in the mausoleum of history." He got
up, and walked slowly towards the tactical screen, reflecting on the tales he had heard of
the history he had missed during his exile. "The Elders call us the Lost Generation."
"And yet, at some point we must remember what we are fighting for. Back when I
was young. I remember. I remember Earth. I remember stories of a glorious
civilization. Of cities with spires that reached the sun. Of a blue planet, with vast seas."
"Of a people who created myths of humanity everlasting. Of children, who, when
they looked into the embers of dying suns, saw the future of their race."
Remmington paced back and forth, lost in thought, then cast his eyes once again
on the blockade. "And they hurled themselves into the void of space with no fear."
"They say our people have no future. Only a past filled with horror."
Remmington's eyes flickered from ship to ship, from Terran to Vasudan and back. "And
now, we forge a new Alliance."
"A new Alliance to guard the tomb of space. For the hope that within its cold
expanse we may find the salvation of our race."
"It is for the hope of preserving this Alliance that I must now act against it. To
future observers, if there are any, it was not my intent to defect my ship to the Neo-Terran
Front. I cross this boundary for reasons other than the obvious. The history of the GTVA
has already been written. now we must act to preserve it."
He tapped the Stop Record button, and sat down in the closest chair. "Sergeant
Malloy?" he asked.
"Standing by."
"Proceed towards the jump node. We will answer no transmissions, we will accept
no orders. Tell all decks to brace for heavy damage."