- CHAPTER 39 -
- Terra, Sol System, The Octagon -
The massive underground warren that was the wartime nerve center for all of Starfleet was abuzz with frantic activity. Every sensor and weapons system in the entire Sol System was online and itching for a target to blast from the face of the Galaxy. All commercial and private traffic into and out of Sol had been halted. No one dared try, for a few had panicked when the massive fortifications and weapons emplacements had come online and began targeting their vessels. Panic wasn't something that was conducive to living in a situation like Starfleet's First Fleet and Sol's Orbital Weapons Platforms and Battle Stations found them selves in. Any deviation from orders caused the offending vessel to be instantly vaporized. After seeing six of their fellows disappear as an avalanche of phaser lances slammed down on them was enough to ensure that even those who panicked didn't do anything suicidal. While some of those panicking ships could have housed follow on attacks, most of the Starfleeters were thinking more of revenge than taking prisoners that could lead them to the root of this plot. Loosing close to 2.4 billion people in a single strike tends to cloud even the most levelheaded officer, and most of those in command were far from level headed. They wanted blood, and they didn't care if a few innocents got caught up in their search.
Even now, massive boarding parties transported over from the hovering starships and battle stations were sifting through all of the vessels now holding station in the "safe" corridors into and out of Sol. The largely unarmed, and even in the rare cases when they were they were at a distinct firepower disadvantage, crew and passengers on the halted ships were held at gunpoint by power armored Fleet Marines. While a few of them were doing this, the rest were ruthlessly and unswervingly searching the ship from top to bottom. Only a few were naive or dumb enough to try and argue with the faceless Marines as they proceeded to search through everything. Those that did argue ended up puddles of meaty goo as the hypervelocity flechettes tore apart flesh and bone alike. Their deaths, like those of the errant and unlucky starships before them, served as a cold example to those left living. No one questioned the Marines after seeing the ghastly crimson sprays thrown up on nearby bulkheads. Images from Marine Squad Leaders was transmitted back to Terra and the Octagon, where it was added to the steadily growing flood of information that was rushing into the Terran Empire's military nerve center.
Spaceborn sensor array data was combined with on the spot Marine observation and sensor data to give the military brass safe in the Octagon exacting pictures of what each ship in Sol was carrying. It was soon apparent due to the sheer number of Marines and sensor platforms available in Sol that the single cargo vessel that had launched the attack was the only ship that had been carrying hidden weapons. This was good news for the military commanders, for it meant that the attack was possibly an isolated incident. But the bad thing was that there was currently no political entity to report the news to. The political leadership of the Terran Empire had been vaporized along with the rest of San Francisco, so till another election could be called, it was the military that was in charge. That power was to be short lived.
While the aftereffects of the mauler attack on San Francisco were still being felt, like global earthquakes and avalanches, massive tsunamis crashing in on coastal areas throughout the Pacific and huge fires burning out of control throughout most of California, Jack Chambers had not remained to watch his handiwork. He had beamed to one of Sections orbital stations and picked up some friends. He then transported to the top secret Octagon with a heavily armed entourage of Section 31 bodyguards. No one alive other than a select few and those who lived in it knew the precise location of the Octagon. Built over 8000 stories underground with virtually self-sustaining resources and extremely limited covert contact with the surface, it was designed to keep key military staff safe in the event of a surprise attack, allowing for an unbroken chain of command if there was a crisis. As such, it was the most logical place for Jack Chambers to come to.
While the transporter operators were a bit surprised when they received a diplomatic transport signal from a Section 31 station, they had little choice but to accept, for they used all of the right pass codes. And even if it was some plot to introduce a strike team into the Octagon, they could only transport over 12 people at a time and only after the operator on the Octagon's side entered in his authorization and password. With the close to 200 Army Power Armored soldiers housed at the base, plus the automated defenses and the transporters own biofilters and sensors, there was no harm in letting the transport request through. There was the usual half hum, half whine as 12 figures materialized on the pad in the relatively Spartan transporter room over 17 km underground. Seven were power-armored figures with Section 31's crimson and black markings. They encircled a human that was clad in the cowled pale gray robe of a Terran Council Member. The synthetic muscles of the power armor suits whined softly as grav guns with under-slung grenade launchers and two Pulse Phaser Heavy Carbines swung to aim at the two transporter techs. There was enough weaponry in front of him to chew through the reinforced wall behind him like a hot knife through butter, let alone the mere flesh and blood bodies in front of it, and the minds behind the weapons would be perfectly willing, possibly even eager, to fire. The two transporter techs blanched, but the arrayed firepower that was now pointed their way was only very small part of the reason behind it.
Regular Section 31 goons were bad enough, but they weren't what sent shivers of terror deep into the techs soul. Two of the party were humans clad in different style armor. It wasn't designed so much as for direct combat, though it did that job as well as a normal armor suit. It was styled more for imposing terror and fear in others, with knife and spine like projections coming from the shoulders and arms. With its cammo skin could change its pattern and color to match any surrounding almost seamlessly, it was usually set to a bottomless black except for the area around where the human's eyes would be. There it showed two red flaming orbs. Two remaining beings that completed the party weren't even human. They were mostly canine, resembling a cross between a Japanese bear hunting Akita and a Wolf, but that was hidden beneath specially designed armor suits that matched their partner's in styling and cammo pattern. They were Furies, enhanced and modified humans psychically bonded to enhanced and modified canine partners. They were, if the story's could be believed, experts in all forms of combat and infiltration and pursuit. They tracked their targets for weeks on end, never resting, never eating or drinking, and they possessed telepathic and psycokinetic powers that boggled the mind. Where the others combat suits were general combat variants, the Furies were specially designed to give increased strength, power, sensor ability and stealth capabilities than the normal suit of power armor. It was even rumored that the canines were every bit as smart as their human companions. Section only used them for special assignments, and they had never failed in a mission tasked to them. Anyway you cut it, the two Fury pairs were very, VERY bad news for anyone that crossed the Terran Empire.
"C.ccouncil Member Chambers!" one of the techs gulped out past the icy fear that gripped his throat. Wiping sweat drenched palms on the legs of his uniform, he continued. "It is good to see you alive sir! We thought that the entire council had been wiped out when they took out San Fran." Had to say "they" because as of yet the true perpetrators of the dastardly sneak attack remained unknown.
"Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated." Chambers said, his usually Vulcan like passivity giving way to a ghost of a wry smile. Despite the non hostile response to their arrival, the armored body guards that Chambers had procured from somewhere never dropped their guard. Even in the transporter room in the Octagon itself, they kept searching the room and peering through its walls with their suit's sensors. "Lets go to Ops Frank."
"Yes sir!" came the computer-generated sounding voice through the suits external speaker. Two of the body guards strode cautiously yet speedily out into the corridor. Their sensors peered down the hall and through nearby bulkheads, searching for anything that could pose a threat. Only after they decided that the path was clear did they send the go ahead back to the rest of the party via scrambled subspace coms. Where the normal power armored goons and even Jack Chambers boots themselves made sound when they hit the carpeted deck, the Furies made no sound at all. One would think that close to 400 pounds of armor and equipment would generate some noise when it moved, but the seven foot tall Furies and their Hellhounds that came up to the armor suit's waist were silent as wraiths. The party fell in around Jack Chambers, with a Fury pair in front and one behind him and the rest englobing the five of them. From their body language, even the Section 31 goons were leery of the Furies. That spoke volumes for Section 31 goons never showed no fear in any normal situation. Then the transporter room doors closed and both techs nearly fell to the floor with relief.
The party moved down the hall till they came to a double set of transparent aluminum doors emblazoned with the logo of the Terran Empire surrounded by an octagon. The two guards on point entered the room, sweeping their sensors throughout the heavily staffed Ops. Many of the junior officers and ratings that staffed the command center looked up in alarm as two heavily armed power suited Section 31 operatives searched the room. High Admiral Gabriel Hayes, his dark black skin contrasting drastically with his graying hair and brilliant white and gold Flag uniform, noted their entry into his command. Gabriel Hayes had risen through the ranks of Starfleet, distinguishing himself as one of the best military commanders in history. That was why he was CO of the Octagon. It was his responsibility to find military ways to put the Council's directives into actual practice, and in an emergency or time of war, direct the vast fleets of starships so they succeeded in their objectives.
It was fortunate for the transporter room's staff that they had already commed him as to just who was visiting. As a result, he was not as surprised as the rest of his staff. Just the same he was irritated, though he didn't show it, that he now had to hand over control back to the politician. He was of the opinion that what had just occurred to San Francisco was due in large part to political meddling in what were rightly military affairs. Knowing who was to come in next, Gabriel lifted his slightly paunchy figure out of his command chair and stood at attention in front of it on the raised daisies in the middle of Ops facing the main entryway's transparent doors. Through them would shortly enter the most powerful man in the galaxy, for due to the fact that the rest of the Council was destroyed, all of its collective power fell to him as the lone surviving political entity in the Terran Empire's government. But that wasn't the true extent of it either. Due to the method of the Council's demise, the Empire's constitution granted special powers to any surviving Council member for the duration of the conflict.
Originally, when the Terran Empire was still a republic with democratically elected Councilors, this rule had been meant as a method to ensure that there would be no disruptive internal power struggles till an outside threat had been satisfactorily dealt with. But like most laws from that time, the Council had changed them to better suit its aims. Being under near continuous war footing almost since its inception, the Terran Empire's Council had found it surprisingly easy to modify the constitution to its own ends under the guise of better defending the Empire. Thanks to creative propaganda and her enemies own aggressive, xenophobic and expansionistic tendencies, the citizens of the empire were all to willing to give the Council its way if it meant better defenses for them. Only a few looked deeper and actually deduced the reasoning and true implications of the new amendments to the constitution. They were quietly dealt with, either through being paid to keep their silence or through more direct and final means if that didn't prove enough of an incentive.
As a result, the current Council was a ghost of the bastion of democracy and freedom it once was. Instead of being democratically elected by all Imperial citizens, the Council members had made their post hereditary and subject only to the approval of the rest of the Council. Over the years, the Council had also steadily brought the reigns of power and control farther into their grasp, adding internal police to weed out "traitors" to the government and creating various organizations who's sole purpose was to keep the populace from learning the truth. Starfleet, basically the sole organization that could possibly oppose the Council was made subservient to it, with head strong commanders that chose to ignore the Council's wishes punishable by death. A few well placed propaganda campaigns featuring insane or power-hungry commanders unleashing their devastating fire power on defenseless planets was enough to ensure that that amendment would pass with nary a hiccup. In the end, the Council had become greedy and corrupt, serving its own self interests more than the Empire's. That was why it continually entered into wars, especially ones on grand scales. It kept the populace's attention focused on external threats which both kept their attention off of the Council's excesses and actively encouraged them to go along with the Council's wishes for more control. The police state that now was the Terran Empire hadn't sprung up overnight, but been created by a continual erosion of power from her citizens on the part of the Council.
Among themselves, the Councilors were equals, with the Chairmanship position merely a first among equals. It was rotated through the members every four years, with names of those eligible for it selected at random by a computer. Votes on major issues were decided on basis of simple majority. Abstention wasn't allowed, and there were always an odd number of Council Members to prevent ties. Even though they were technically equal, both in power and voting ability (one per Council Member), there was splits along certain lines that a savvy Councilor could use. Greg Betare had used one such split between the core world Council members and their colony counterparts in order to keep a thorough investigation of the recent ship disappearances from occurring. Now the Terran Council's vast power base had been concentrated and expanded for two individuals, and both of them had set up the current crisis for just such a reward
- Terra, Sol System, The Octagon -
The massive underground warren that was the wartime nerve center for all of Starfleet was abuzz with frantic activity. Every sensor and weapons system in the entire Sol System was online and itching for a target to blast from the face of the Galaxy. All commercial and private traffic into and out of Sol had been halted. No one dared try, for a few had panicked when the massive fortifications and weapons emplacements had come online and began targeting their vessels. Panic wasn't something that was conducive to living in a situation like Starfleet's First Fleet and Sol's Orbital Weapons Platforms and Battle Stations found them selves in. Any deviation from orders caused the offending vessel to be instantly vaporized. After seeing six of their fellows disappear as an avalanche of phaser lances slammed down on them was enough to ensure that even those who panicked didn't do anything suicidal. While some of those panicking ships could have housed follow on attacks, most of the Starfleeters were thinking more of revenge than taking prisoners that could lead them to the root of this plot. Loosing close to 2.4 billion people in a single strike tends to cloud even the most levelheaded officer, and most of those in command were far from level headed. They wanted blood, and they didn't care if a few innocents got caught up in their search.
Even now, massive boarding parties transported over from the hovering starships and battle stations were sifting through all of the vessels now holding station in the "safe" corridors into and out of Sol. The largely unarmed, and even in the rare cases when they were they were at a distinct firepower disadvantage, crew and passengers on the halted ships were held at gunpoint by power armored Fleet Marines. While a few of them were doing this, the rest were ruthlessly and unswervingly searching the ship from top to bottom. Only a few were naive or dumb enough to try and argue with the faceless Marines as they proceeded to search through everything. Those that did argue ended up puddles of meaty goo as the hypervelocity flechettes tore apart flesh and bone alike. Their deaths, like those of the errant and unlucky starships before them, served as a cold example to those left living. No one questioned the Marines after seeing the ghastly crimson sprays thrown up on nearby bulkheads. Images from Marine Squad Leaders was transmitted back to Terra and the Octagon, where it was added to the steadily growing flood of information that was rushing into the Terran Empire's military nerve center.
Spaceborn sensor array data was combined with on the spot Marine observation and sensor data to give the military brass safe in the Octagon exacting pictures of what each ship in Sol was carrying. It was soon apparent due to the sheer number of Marines and sensor platforms available in Sol that the single cargo vessel that had launched the attack was the only ship that had been carrying hidden weapons. This was good news for the military commanders, for it meant that the attack was possibly an isolated incident. But the bad thing was that there was currently no political entity to report the news to. The political leadership of the Terran Empire had been vaporized along with the rest of San Francisco, so till another election could be called, it was the military that was in charge. That power was to be short lived.
While the aftereffects of the mauler attack on San Francisco were still being felt, like global earthquakes and avalanches, massive tsunamis crashing in on coastal areas throughout the Pacific and huge fires burning out of control throughout most of California, Jack Chambers had not remained to watch his handiwork. He had beamed to one of Sections orbital stations and picked up some friends. He then transported to the top secret Octagon with a heavily armed entourage of Section 31 bodyguards. No one alive other than a select few and those who lived in it knew the precise location of the Octagon. Built over 8000 stories underground with virtually self-sustaining resources and extremely limited covert contact with the surface, it was designed to keep key military staff safe in the event of a surprise attack, allowing for an unbroken chain of command if there was a crisis. As such, it was the most logical place for Jack Chambers to come to.
While the transporter operators were a bit surprised when they received a diplomatic transport signal from a Section 31 station, they had little choice but to accept, for they used all of the right pass codes. And even if it was some plot to introduce a strike team into the Octagon, they could only transport over 12 people at a time and only after the operator on the Octagon's side entered in his authorization and password. With the close to 200 Army Power Armored soldiers housed at the base, plus the automated defenses and the transporters own biofilters and sensors, there was no harm in letting the transport request through. There was the usual half hum, half whine as 12 figures materialized on the pad in the relatively Spartan transporter room over 17 km underground. Seven were power-armored figures with Section 31's crimson and black markings. They encircled a human that was clad in the cowled pale gray robe of a Terran Council Member. The synthetic muscles of the power armor suits whined softly as grav guns with under-slung grenade launchers and two Pulse Phaser Heavy Carbines swung to aim at the two transporter techs. There was enough weaponry in front of him to chew through the reinforced wall behind him like a hot knife through butter, let alone the mere flesh and blood bodies in front of it, and the minds behind the weapons would be perfectly willing, possibly even eager, to fire. The two transporter techs blanched, but the arrayed firepower that was now pointed their way was only very small part of the reason behind it.
Regular Section 31 goons were bad enough, but they weren't what sent shivers of terror deep into the techs soul. Two of the party were humans clad in different style armor. It wasn't designed so much as for direct combat, though it did that job as well as a normal armor suit. It was styled more for imposing terror and fear in others, with knife and spine like projections coming from the shoulders and arms. With its cammo skin could change its pattern and color to match any surrounding almost seamlessly, it was usually set to a bottomless black except for the area around where the human's eyes would be. There it showed two red flaming orbs. Two remaining beings that completed the party weren't even human. They were mostly canine, resembling a cross between a Japanese bear hunting Akita and a Wolf, but that was hidden beneath specially designed armor suits that matched their partner's in styling and cammo pattern. They were Furies, enhanced and modified humans psychically bonded to enhanced and modified canine partners. They were, if the story's could be believed, experts in all forms of combat and infiltration and pursuit. They tracked their targets for weeks on end, never resting, never eating or drinking, and they possessed telepathic and psycokinetic powers that boggled the mind. Where the others combat suits were general combat variants, the Furies were specially designed to give increased strength, power, sensor ability and stealth capabilities than the normal suit of power armor. It was even rumored that the canines were every bit as smart as their human companions. Section only used them for special assignments, and they had never failed in a mission tasked to them. Anyway you cut it, the two Fury pairs were very, VERY bad news for anyone that crossed the Terran Empire.
"C.ccouncil Member Chambers!" one of the techs gulped out past the icy fear that gripped his throat. Wiping sweat drenched palms on the legs of his uniform, he continued. "It is good to see you alive sir! We thought that the entire council had been wiped out when they took out San Fran." Had to say "they" because as of yet the true perpetrators of the dastardly sneak attack remained unknown.
"Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated." Chambers said, his usually Vulcan like passivity giving way to a ghost of a wry smile. Despite the non hostile response to their arrival, the armored body guards that Chambers had procured from somewhere never dropped their guard. Even in the transporter room in the Octagon itself, they kept searching the room and peering through its walls with their suit's sensors. "Lets go to Ops Frank."
"Yes sir!" came the computer-generated sounding voice through the suits external speaker. Two of the body guards strode cautiously yet speedily out into the corridor. Their sensors peered down the hall and through nearby bulkheads, searching for anything that could pose a threat. Only after they decided that the path was clear did they send the go ahead back to the rest of the party via scrambled subspace coms. Where the normal power armored goons and even Jack Chambers boots themselves made sound when they hit the carpeted deck, the Furies made no sound at all. One would think that close to 400 pounds of armor and equipment would generate some noise when it moved, but the seven foot tall Furies and their Hellhounds that came up to the armor suit's waist were silent as wraiths. The party fell in around Jack Chambers, with a Fury pair in front and one behind him and the rest englobing the five of them. From their body language, even the Section 31 goons were leery of the Furies. That spoke volumes for Section 31 goons never showed no fear in any normal situation. Then the transporter room doors closed and both techs nearly fell to the floor with relief.
The party moved down the hall till they came to a double set of transparent aluminum doors emblazoned with the logo of the Terran Empire surrounded by an octagon. The two guards on point entered the room, sweeping their sensors throughout the heavily staffed Ops. Many of the junior officers and ratings that staffed the command center looked up in alarm as two heavily armed power suited Section 31 operatives searched the room. High Admiral Gabriel Hayes, his dark black skin contrasting drastically with his graying hair and brilliant white and gold Flag uniform, noted their entry into his command. Gabriel Hayes had risen through the ranks of Starfleet, distinguishing himself as one of the best military commanders in history. That was why he was CO of the Octagon. It was his responsibility to find military ways to put the Council's directives into actual practice, and in an emergency or time of war, direct the vast fleets of starships so they succeeded in their objectives.
It was fortunate for the transporter room's staff that they had already commed him as to just who was visiting. As a result, he was not as surprised as the rest of his staff. Just the same he was irritated, though he didn't show it, that he now had to hand over control back to the politician. He was of the opinion that what had just occurred to San Francisco was due in large part to political meddling in what were rightly military affairs. Knowing who was to come in next, Gabriel lifted his slightly paunchy figure out of his command chair and stood at attention in front of it on the raised daisies in the middle of Ops facing the main entryway's transparent doors. Through them would shortly enter the most powerful man in the galaxy, for due to the fact that the rest of the Council was destroyed, all of its collective power fell to him as the lone surviving political entity in the Terran Empire's government. But that wasn't the true extent of it either. Due to the method of the Council's demise, the Empire's constitution granted special powers to any surviving Council member for the duration of the conflict.
Originally, when the Terran Empire was still a republic with democratically elected Councilors, this rule had been meant as a method to ensure that there would be no disruptive internal power struggles till an outside threat had been satisfactorily dealt with. But like most laws from that time, the Council had changed them to better suit its aims. Being under near continuous war footing almost since its inception, the Terran Empire's Council had found it surprisingly easy to modify the constitution to its own ends under the guise of better defending the Empire. Thanks to creative propaganda and her enemies own aggressive, xenophobic and expansionistic tendencies, the citizens of the empire were all to willing to give the Council its way if it meant better defenses for them. Only a few looked deeper and actually deduced the reasoning and true implications of the new amendments to the constitution. They were quietly dealt with, either through being paid to keep their silence or through more direct and final means if that didn't prove enough of an incentive.
As a result, the current Council was a ghost of the bastion of democracy and freedom it once was. Instead of being democratically elected by all Imperial citizens, the Council members had made their post hereditary and subject only to the approval of the rest of the Council. Over the years, the Council had also steadily brought the reigns of power and control farther into their grasp, adding internal police to weed out "traitors" to the government and creating various organizations who's sole purpose was to keep the populace from learning the truth. Starfleet, basically the sole organization that could possibly oppose the Council was made subservient to it, with head strong commanders that chose to ignore the Council's wishes punishable by death. A few well placed propaganda campaigns featuring insane or power-hungry commanders unleashing their devastating fire power on defenseless planets was enough to ensure that that amendment would pass with nary a hiccup. In the end, the Council had become greedy and corrupt, serving its own self interests more than the Empire's. That was why it continually entered into wars, especially ones on grand scales. It kept the populace's attention focused on external threats which both kept their attention off of the Council's excesses and actively encouraged them to go along with the Council's wishes for more control. The police state that now was the Terran Empire hadn't sprung up overnight, but been created by a continual erosion of power from her citizens on the part of the Council.
Among themselves, the Councilors were equals, with the Chairmanship position merely a first among equals. It was rotated through the members every four years, with names of those eligible for it selected at random by a computer. Votes on major issues were decided on basis of simple majority. Abstention wasn't allowed, and there were always an odd number of Council Members to prevent ties. Even though they were technically equal, both in power and voting ability (one per Council Member), there was splits along certain lines that a savvy Councilor could use. Greg Betare had used one such split between the core world Council members and their colony counterparts in order to keep a thorough investigation of the recent ship disappearances from occurring. Now the Terran Council's vast power base had been concentrated and expanded for two individuals, and both of them had set up the current crisis for just such a reward