REPORT A-137
SUBJECT: PLANT 12-1555
RICH MINERAL DEPOSTIS LOCATED. POSSIBLE VEIN OF VESPINE GAS EXTENDING
ACROSS SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE. UNATURAL COLORING POSSIBLE EFFECT OF
ATMOSPHERE. NO CIVILIZED LIFEFORMS DETECTED.
Clark read over that last sentence again, sitting within the confines of his office aboard the Battlecrusier. It was the report sent in from the scouting party sent months before the "invasion fleet" as he liked to call it. It is an invasion fleet he thought to himself, as he put that document down and picked up the latest report.
HOSTILE HUMANOID LIFEFORMS ON PLANET 13-1555. SEVERAL SETTLEMENTS LOCATED AROUND CC LZ. REPORT OF AN ENGAGMENT BETWEEN MARINES AND LIFEFORMS AT GRID GAMMA 12 ARMED WITH PRIMITIVE LIFEFORMS. ONE CAPTURED PRISONER.
Below that passage was an image of one of the creatures, most likely the prisoner they captured. He was lying on a metal medical table, stripped of his armor that was laid next to him, his left shoulder bandaged up like a mummy. His features were very striking, especially his flaming red hair that was woven into a single brad that fell across his chest. The purple lines that started on either side of his neck extended down to his hands, though the forehead line stopped right at the tip of his nose, while the rest of his body was a creamy color, just like the general's skin.
Clark wanted some answers, and he knew the son of a bitch that'll give him those answers.
"Mr. Pollock!" It took Clark only a minute to storm into Mr. Pollock's quarters/office from his own. He was sitting at his own desk, looking over his own reports and documents, and looked up at Clark in a composed, calm manor.
"Would you mind explaining the meaning of this?!" He threw the two reports on top of Mr. Pollock's work, knocking some of the papers off the desk. He gave them only a glance, knowing full well what they read and what the General wanted.
"Why, General Clark, I was as surprised by this revelation as you-"
"Don't give me that crap, Mr. Pollock. You were in charge of the scouting party, you knew what they discovered, and you held back that information on purpose. Why?!"
Mr. Pollock made a frown at the General, and they were again locked in a mental clash that was renewed from earlier. Pollock broke their engagement, and scanned the room as if aware of some unwanted eyes. Satisfied they were alone, he turned to the empty space to his right and spoke "Alright, you can come out now."
That empty space began to waver, like paper blown by the wind, and the image of a Ghost appeared in the room. He was wearing the standard Encounter suit worn by all physic agents of the Confederacy, his face masked by the elaborate goggle system with its multitude of eyepieces.
"I'm sure you're fully aware of the top secret Ghost program, General Clark, and I trust you know that this information cannot leave this room," said Pollock, to which Clark nodded in approval.
"The scouting party did detect the intelligent life forms on planet 12-1555. The Confeds took great interest in them, and immediately dispatched a team of Ghost agents to observe and report their findings." Pollock turned to his Ghost friend, as the unnamed agent spoke to Clark.
"We've been analyzing their language, culture, and other aspects of their life for months. They call themselves the Tal'el, and believe that they were chosen by their creator to one day ascend to the level of gods and meet 'Him'. That seems to be their only religion, as anything else besides the worship of 'Him' would be labeled as heresy and wiped off the planet. While some of the middle and upper class are only religious for religious sake, the poor peasants are fanatical in this belief. There is also evidence that they were once ruled by a great empire that controlled the western hemisphere but dissolved a standard century ago through infighting. They're currently divided into city-states ranging in size and military power, though they do send representatives to a 'Council of Elders', a sort of United Nations assembly from Old Earth."
Wow, he knows his ancient history thought Clark, to which the Ghost replied "Thank you, sir." He would have seen the Ghost crack a smile if not for his mask.
"What is really surprising is the size of their population, currently on the order of twelve billion. The average adult requires very little food on a weekly basis, and their non-industrial status keeps them from outstripping the planet beyond what it can take. As far as weaponry goes, we're talking Medieval Earth, though the recent discovery of a black powder- like substance has brought about crude cannons."
Clark found the information about the population rather disturbing. A division of Marines against 12 billion people? He was about to ask a question when the Ghost beat him to the answer.
"We believe their reaction to the Marines is in part with an ancient legend of theirs that tells about Balkmor, or 'He Who Will Not Be Named', launching an assault upon their homeland and starting a great war against and between the city-states. Strangely enough, his soldiers seem to dress like your Marines and are armed with "weapons of fire and brimstone", which accurately describe the Gauss rifle they carry. It also tells that, should the Tal'el keep their faith in 'Him' during this trying time, 'He' will come down and help them in their war against the Evil Ones."
"Great, so we're going up against 12 billion fanatics who believe God is on their side," retorted Clark with a snort.
"All we have to worry about is that 'He' won't come down from on high and strike us down with lightning bolts, General," spoke Pollock sarcastically, a smug attitude to that whole "God" thing. "As our Ghost as said, I doubt they could even ruin the paint on a Goliath, much less punch through the armor of a Marine. Besides, that is what this fleet is for, incase your boys just aren't 'up to the job'."
Clark barely took that insult without standing up and ripping his head off the little man's shoulder, but decided something with more tact was required.
"My boys are more then up to the job, Pollock. I just hope they have enough ammo to take on a whole planet." The Ghost didn't need his powers to see the hate between the two men. "Who else knows about this?"
"Just you, myself, and the Commodore. No one else knows about the Ghosts, and no one else needs to know about the Ghosts."
Clark again nodded in approval, and got up to leave as Pollock returned to his paperwork, and the Ghost faded into nothingness.
Clark read over that last sentence again, sitting within the confines of his office aboard the Battlecrusier. It was the report sent in from the scouting party sent months before the "invasion fleet" as he liked to call it. It is an invasion fleet he thought to himself, as he put that document down and picked up the latest report.
HOSTILE HUMANOID LIFEFORMS ON PLANET 13-1555. SEVERAL SETTLEMENTS LOCATED AROUND CC LZ. REPORT OF AN ENGAGMENT BETWEEN MARINES AND LIFEFORMS AT GRID GAMMA 12 ARMED WITH PRIMITIVE LIFEFORMS. ONE CAPTURED PRISONER.
Below that passage was an image of one of the creatures, most likely the prisoner they captured. He was lying on a metal medical table, stripped of his armor that was laid next to him, his left shoulder bandaged up like a mummy. His features were very striking, especially his flaming red hair that was woven into a single brad that fell across his chest. The purple lines that started on either side of his neck extended down to his hands, though the forehead line stopped right at the tip of his nose, while the rest of his body was a creamy color, just like the general's skin.
Clark wanted some answers, and he knew the son of a bitch that'll give him those answers.
"Mr. Pollock!" It took Clark only a minute to storm into Mr. Pollock's quarters/office from his own. He was sitting at his own desk, looking over his own reports and documents, and looked up at Clark in a composed, calm manor.
"Would you mind explaining the meaning of this?!" He threw the two reports on top of Mr. Pollock's work, knocking some of the papers off the desk. He gave them only a glance, knowing full well what they read and what the General wanted.
"Why, General Clark, I was as surprised by this revelation as you-"
"Don't give me that crap, Mr. Pollock. You were in charge of the scouting party, you knew what they discovered, and you held back that information on purpose. Why?!"
Mr. Pollock made a frown at the General, and they were again locked in a mental clash that was renewed from earlier. Pollock broke their engagement, and scanned the room as if aware of some unwanted eyes. Satisfied they were alone, he turned to the empty space to his right and spoke "Alright, you can come out now."
That empty space began to waver, like paper blown by the wind, and the image of a Ghost appeared in the room. He was wearing the standard Encounter suit worn by all physic agents of the Confederacy, his face masked by the elaborate goggle system with its multitude of eyepieces.
"I'm sure you're fully aware of the top secret Ghost program, General Clark, and I trust you know that this information cannot leave this room," said Pollock, to which Clark nodded in approval.
"The scouting party did detect the intelligent life forms on planet 12-1555. The Confeds took great interest in them, and immediately dispatched a team of Ghost agents to observe and report their findings." Pollock turned to his Ghost friend, as the unnamed agent spoke to Clark.
"We've been analyzing their language, culture, and other aspects of their life for months. They call themselves the Tal'el, and believe that they were chosen by their creator to one day ascend to the level of gods and meet 'Him'. That seems to be their only religion, as anything else besides the worship of 'Him' would be labeled as heresy and wiped off the planet. While some of the middle and upper class are only religious for religious sake, the poor peasants are fanatical in this belief. There is also evidence that they were once ruled by a great empire that controlled the western hemisphere but dissolved a standard century ago through infighting. They're currently divided into city-states ranging in size and military power, though they do send representatives to a 'Council of Elders', a sort of United Nations assembly from Old Earth."
Wow, he knows his ancient history thought Clark, to which the Ghost replied "Thank you, sir." He would have seen the Ghost crack a smile if not for his mask.
"What is really surprising is the size of their population, currently on the order of twelve billion. The average adult requires very little food on a weekly basis, and their non-industrial status keeps them from outstripping the planet beyond what it can take. As far as weaponry goes, we're talking Medieval Earth, though the recent discovery of a black powder- like substance has brought about crude cannons."
Clark found the information about the population rather disturbing. A division of Marines against 12 billion people? He was about to ask a question when the Ghost beat him to the answer.
"We believe their reaction to the Marines is in part with an ancient legend of theirs that tells about Balkmor, or 'He Who Will Not Be Named', launching an assault upon their homeland and starting a great war against and between the city-states. Strangely enough, his soldiers seem to dress like your Marines and are armed with "weapons of fire and brimstone", which accurately describe the Gauss rifle they carry. It also tells that, should the Tal'el keep their faith in 'Him' during this trying time, 'He' will come down and help them in their war against the Evil Ones."
"Great, so we're going up against 12 billion fanatics who believe God is on their side," retorted Clark with a snort.
"All we have to worry about is that 'He' won't come down from on high and strike us down with lightning bolts, General," spoke Pollock sarcastically, a smug attitude to that whole "God" thing. "As our Ghost as said, I doubt they could even ruin the paint on a Goliath, much less punch through the armor of a Marine. Besides, that is what this fleet is for, incase your boys just aren't 'up to the job'."
Clark barely took that insult without standing up and ripping his head off the little man's shoulder, but decided something with more tact was required.
"My boys are more then up to the job, Pollock. I just hope they have enough ammo to take on a whole planet." The Ghost didn't need his powers to see the hate between the two men. "Who else knows about this?"
"Just you, myself, and the Commodore. No one else knows about the Ghosts, and no one else needs to know about the Ghosts."
Clark again nodded in approval, and got up to leave as Pollock returned to his paperwork, and the Ghost faded into nothingness.