It goes without saying that Sierra are the only people allowed to make any money out of this. A couple of characters from Reflections In The Garden are used with the author's permission, which I shall repay by warmly recommending the story to anybody who reads this. Anybody wishing to employ technologies, ship designs and modifications devised for this story does so with my blessing. There is some dispute how the name of the destroyed ship in Mission 2 of the original game is spelt, but I'm going with the one from the Cataclysm manual (see Ship Descriptions, specifically the bit about the Turanic Carrier).
Kheran Somtaaw had always maintained that he was not a remarkable man. 'Mediocrity,' he had once remarked, 'is very much an undervalued personality trait.' Somebody who had seen his combat record might well ask what the hell he knew about mediocrity.
He was the nephew of the Kuun-Lan's CO during the Beast war, and a member of a highly placed family within his kiith. A suitably well paid sinecure could have been his by virtue of his family's connections, but his family hadn't obtained said conections by taking that kind of attitude. Kheran had departed for the Sobaan Academy of Strikecraft Warfare, where rank and bloodline meant nothing, and distinguished himself as a fighter pilot. As one of the first to be born on Hiigara (exactly three months afterwards, his parents having been forced to make their own entertainment during the long periods in hyperspace between uncomfortably exciting bits), he had completed his training by 15 AHL, just in time for a mysterious distress beacon to very nearly cause the end of civilisation as we know it.
It had been six months of the sort of war when people who didn't die got promoted rather hastily, and Kheran had finished the war a squadron leader before his 21st birthday in Kushan years; flying the ECM run that had stranded the Naggarok in the middle of a large crystal field to get blown sky-high by the Command Ship's seige cannon hadn't hurt at all [Author's note: I'm pretty sure the designers had this in mind when they put that in, though I personally never brought it off- a Soban salute to anybody who did!]. In the intervening two decades he had continued to gain steady promotions, having become commander of the Kuun-Lan's whole fighter wing four years earlier. He was on an equal pay grade with the ship's legendary Tactical Officer, Maala Kenrac.
By all rights, Maala should have got the command position after Afras Somtaaw retired, and Kheran was more than a little shocked to recieve word that he had been given the job instead. He hadn't just been shocked, in fact; he'd been bloody furious!
"For the love of Sajuuk, uncle, why me and not her?" he had demanded over a secure comline. "She's got twice as much service time and much more command experience. I've always sworn that if you gave me any special treatment I'd transfer to the Faal-Corum or one of the Shaman-class carriers, but I can't do that now. What I can do is transfer to another KIITH, which is precisely what I'll do if you don't give this promotion to somebody who actually deserves it!"
"Whoa, calm down kid. It's not how it looks," Afras had reassured him. "Maala doesn't want command; I already asked her. I could move some Dreadnought skipper up in her place, but they'd most likely never listen to a word she said. My only option is to promote somebody that she can bend to her will but who'll take the flak if she screws up- you and I both know that the odds of that are one in ten to the power of my overdraft, but that's how she thinks."
"Now that's what I call tactical thinking!" Kheran laughed. "Does she know that's why I'm getting the job?"
"Probably, but if you even hint that we've had this conversation then I'll tell your mother who won the All-Ranks Erotic Fiction Championship three times running!" This had been one of Afras's sillier morale-boosting exercises, though there had been times when morale had needed all the help it could get, from which Kheran had retired undefeated. Afras had not been on the judging panel [he'd come fifth], and Kheran had taken great care to ensure that nobody knew who he was related to, so this dubious honour was won solely on his own merits.
"It's a deal. It goes without saying that I'd infinitely prefer to stay in Acolytes, but out of a sense of duty I shall accept the promotion." //And Sajuuk help you if I find out that she really DID want the job,// he added mentally.
Two days later, Kheran was sitting in his command chair for the first time. "I have to admit," he remarked to Maala, "this is a lot better than an Acolyte cockpit." Somtaaw's primary fighter design had originally been fitted out for short defensive jaunts into space, with standard doctrine leaving them at ready in the hangar bay rather than patrolling alongside the Command Ship, so litle attention had been paid to crew comfort. The pilot compartments were unpressurised and unheated, and the artificial gravity systems were just powerful enough to remind one that the seat padding wasn't all it might have been. Despite the radically different role played by the Acolyte in recent times, this had yet to be rectified. In Kheran's opinion this was the only area in which the rather more plushly appointed Blade scored over the Acolyte.
"I couldn't comment, sir," she replied. "I've never commanded anything smaller than a resource collecter." She eyed the bag of boiled sweets on the arm of his chair with some suspicion. "Those aren't good for you, you know."
"So my mother tells me," Kheran replied pointedly. "Healthier than smoking, though." They had been part of a successful effort to quit earlier that year, becoming a habit in themselves.
"So, what have they dreamed up to keep me out of trouble while I learn the ropes?" he asked, offering her the bag. Maala declined.
"We're to rendezvous with a detachment from the Third Fleet, and proceed via a recently discovered slipgate to Kharak. We want to find out if anybody's left." Her voice faltered slightly. Kheran knew that she'd lost virtually everybody to the Imperials. She rallied magnificently, however. "The ecosystem may well have recovered by now, and we know from declassified shiplogs that many orbital settlements went undetected by the Imperial fleet. Somebody must be alive, and they may even be back on the surface."
"Let's hope so, anyway. Is this a Somtaaw only thing, or are the other kiithid sending ships?"
"Just us. Nabaal blocked a joint mission in the Diamaid; reading between the lines I'd say they don't want the status quo upset." Nabaal had been steadily trying to outshine all other kiithid by numbers and military might since the Mothership had landed. Legislation had been hastily passed forcing all kiith mergers involving the allegiance of more than 1000 individuals to be subject to a council vote to try and level the playing field a bit, after Nabaal threatened to become more powerful than the Kiith Council itself.
Kheran sighed deeply. "Ah, kiith politics. You know, half the reason I decided to become a fighter pilot was so that all that crap wouldn't be my problem. Until now it's worked."
"That, sir," Maala said with a slight smile, "is life. You might as well get used to it."
"True," he admitted. "Well, at least I've got a few weeks to make all my mistakes where nobody's going to notice."
This was a statement that Kheran was to reflect upon somewhat later, and he came to the conclusion that the only thing he said that was more wildly inaccurate was this:
"Nice gentle learning curve, anyway."
Kheran Somtaaw had always maintained that he was not a remarkable man. 'Mediocrity,' he had once remarked, 'is very much an undervalued personality trait.' Somebody who had seen his combat record might well ask what the hell he knew about mediocrity.
He was the nephew of the Kuun-Lan's CO during the Beast war, and a member of a highly placed family within his kiith. A suitably well paid sinecure could have been his by virtue of his family's connections, but his family hadn't obtained said conections by taking that kind of attitude. Kheran had departed for the Sobaan Academy of Strikecraft Warfare, where rank and bloodline meant nothing, and distinguished himself as a fighter pilot. As one of the first to be born on Hiigara (exactly three months afterwards, his parents having been forced to make their own entertainment during the long periods in hyperspace between uncomfortably exciting bits), he had completed his training by 15 AHL, just in time for a mysterious distress beacon to very nearly cause the end of civilisation as we know it.
It had been six months of the sort of war when people who didn't die got promoted rather hastily, and Kheran had finished the war a squadron leader before his 21st birthday in Kushan years; flying the ECM run that had stranded the Naggarok in the middle of a large crystal field to get blown sky-high by the Command Ship's seige cannon hadn't hurt at all [Author's note: I'm pretty sure the designers had this in mind when they put that in, though I personally never brought it off- a Soban salute to anybody who did!]. In the intervening two decades he had continued to gain steady promotions, having become commander of the Kuun-Lan's whole fighter wing four years earlier. He was on an equal pay grade with the ship's legendary Tactical Officer, Maala Kenrac.
By all rights, Maala should have got the command position after Afras Somtaaw retired, and Kheran was more than a little shocked to recieve word that he had been given the job instead. He hadn't just been shocked, in fact; he'd been bloody furious!
"For the love of Sajuuk, uncle, why me and not her?" he had demanded over a secure comline. "She's got twice as much service time and much more command experience. I've always sworn that if you gave me any special treatment I'd transfer to the Faal-Corum or one of the Shaman-class carriers, but I can't do that now. What I can do is transfer to another KIITH, which is precisely what I'll do if you don't give this promotion to somebody who actually deserves it!"
"Whoa, calm down kid. It's not how it looks," Afras had reassured him. "Maala doesn't want command; I already asked her. I could move some Dreadnought skipper up in her place, but they'd most likely never listen to a word she said. My only option is to promote somebody that she can bend to her will but who'll take the flak if she screws up- you and I both know that the odds of that are one in ten to the power of my overdraft, but that's how she thinks."
"Now that's what I call tactical thinking!" Kheran laughed. "Does she know that's why I'm getting the job?"
"Probably, but if you even hint that we've had this conversation then I'll tell your mother who won the All-Ranks Erotic Fiction Championship three times running!" This had been one of Afras's sillier morale-boosting exercises, though there had been times when morale had needed all the help it could get, from which Kheran had retired undefeated. Afras had not been on the judging panel [he'd come fifth], and Kheran had taken great care to ensure that nobody knew who he was related to, so this dubious honour was won solely on his own merits.
"It's a deal. It goes without saying that I'd infinitely prefer to stay in Acolytes, but out of a sense of duty I shall accept the promotion." //And Sajuuk help you if I find out that she really DID want the job,// he added mentally.
Two days later, Kheran was sitting in his command chair for the first time. "I have to admit," he remarked to Maala, "this is a lot better than an Acolyte cockpit." Somtaaw's primary fighter design had originally been fitted out for short defensive jaunts into space, with standard doctrine leaving them at ready in the hangar bay rather than patrolling alongside the Command Ship, so litle attention had been paid to crew comfort. The pilot compartments were unpressurised and unheated, and the artificial gravity systems were just powerful enough to remind one that the seat padding wasn't all it might have been. Despite the radically different role played by the Acolyte in recent times, this had yet to be rectified. In Kheran's opinion this was the only area in which the rather more plushly appointed Blade scored over the Acolyte.
"I couldn't comment, sir," she replied. "I've never commanded anything smaller than a resource collecter." She eyed the bag of boiled sweets on the arm of his chair with some suspicion. "Those aren't good for you, you know."
"So my mother tells me," Kheran replied pointedly. "Healthier than smoking, though." They had been part of a successful effort to quit earlier that year, becoming a habit in themselves.
"So, what have they dreamed up to keep me out of trouble while I learn the ropes?" he asked, offering her the bag. Maala declined.
"We're to rendezvous with a detachment from the Third Fleet, and proceed via a recently discovered slipgate to Kharak. We want to find out if anybody's left." Her voice faltered slightly. Kheran knew that she'd lost virtually everybody to the Imperials. She rallied magnificently, however. "The ecosystem may well have recovered by now, and we know from declassified shiplogs that many orbital settlements went undetected by the Imperial fleet. Somebody must be alive, and they may even be back on the surface."
"Let's hope so, anyway. Is this a Somtaaw only thing, or are the other kiithid sending ships?"
"Just us. Nabaal blocked a joint mission in the Diamaid; reading between the lines I'd say they don't want the status quo upset." Nabaal had been steadily trying to outshine all other kiithid by numbers and military might since the Mothership had landed. Legislation had been hastily passed forcing all kiith mergers involving the allegiance of more than 1000 individuals to be subject to a council vote to try and level the playing field a bit, after Nabaal threatened to become more powerful than the Kiith Council itself.
Kheran sighed deeply. "Ah, kiith politics. You know, half the reason I decided to become a fighter pilot was so that all that crap wouldn't be my problem. Until now it's worked."
"That, sir," Maala said with a slight smile, "is life. You might as well get used to it."
"True," he admitted. "Well, at least I've got a few weeks to make all my mistakes where nobody's going to notice."
This was a statement that Kheran was to reflect upon somewhat later, and he came to the conclusion that the only thing he said that was more wildly inaccurate was this:
"Nice gentle learning curve, anyway."