Young Writers Society

Anog Ramshaft.

I woke to the sound of bustling of large crates being moved about.

I got up stretched and walked to toward the command deck about 100 feet away from my sleeping quarters.

When I got there I saw that none except for me and a man at the control panels and even he was half asleep, the cool night was very nice I could even feel a space breeze coming through the ventilators, wait there is no such thing as a space breeze I walked quickly toward the great window and saw a planer looming by us then I recognized it, it was my home land.

At the sight I bent over and a single tear trickled down my face onto the dark black floor.

I stood there until the planet could be seen no more I could tell that the ships alarm would be going off soon to wake the sleeping crew but it did not go off.

I decided that this was a strange thing to have happen so I got up and walked over the the man who was supposed to push the button to set the alarm off but when I got to him I saw that he had a hole in his back.

My senses tingled I jumped onto my face a bullet whizzed over my head and hit the ten inch glass bouncing off, I got up and pressed the alarm button it went off, then I went over and turned on the ship lights, I saw a large bunch of men.

They all wore coats and clothes of our men then the crew and all the fighters of the ship came rushing in and overwhelmed them in less than a minute.

We saw that they were of our crew but had evidently had abandoned us a betrayed us.

There were no survivors so we threw them into the burn hatch and their ashes were spewed out.

Ariannis Shadowlight, Goddess of the Redeemers

I arrived on the flight deck in the middle of a scene of disaster. Men with and without weapons ran frantically about the deck, shouting conflicting orders at one another and adding to the chaos. Once the airlock doors had closed and I had exited the ship, I was able to take it in and size up the situation. The Council steward stayed on the gangway and remained there, uncertainly milling in the doorway. No one noticed me standing there in the midst of it all, not yet. So obviously, something more had happened in my absence since Ramshaft's mysterious call and the attack on Retrial-one. Suddenly I had had enough.

"Ten-SHUN!" I bellowed at the top of my lungs. All activity ceased at one moment as crew members looked my way. Then clatters resounded about the landing deck as people dropped what they were doing and came to swift attention. Icy silence reigned for a few moments. Then I strode forward between the ranks, examining each face as my boot heels rang on the plasmetal floor. I stopped in front of a man who displayed First Sargent colors. He swallowed nervously as I looked down on him, for I was a bit taller than him. "Report," I said quietly in a flat voice. He gulped again, then spoke hurriedly.

"Um, well ma'am, uh, there's been some commotion around The Hero..." he began.

"Well I can see that, you numbskull, but tell me what the HELL happened!" I retorted. A snicker was heard. He gulped again, then launched into a brief explanation of the multiple situations and what was being done about it. I shook my head at the finish of his report.

"All this mess to clean up, and only 575,000 to do it with. Can I not leave this faction alone for a week without it being overrun?" I muttered to myself. The First Sargent opened his mouth to reply but I cut him off impatiently. "That was a rhetorical question, you idiot," I snapped. I resolved to demote him first chance I got. But before that, I had to mop up The Hero. I strode up the stairs to the mission control in the landing bay. A thoughtful technician removed his headset and handed it to me so that I could use the microphone on it. I turned on the mic on the headset to broadcast speaker.

"Attention, crew of The Hero. This is Arianniss speaking. I have returned to take command in the absence of Captain Raines. I understand that there have been multiple emergencies right now and I assure you that it will be handled. Here are my orders, they are to be followed without question. All technicians, return to your stations and continue form there. Emergency services and repair units, as you were. I will require a full briefing on the casualties and the condition of the ship, sent to my office, please. All troop units who are not on duty will remain confined in their barracks until further notice. All individuals of Major rank or above shall report to my office ASAP. Transmissions received will not be answered unless they are urgent or important, and no transmissions that are not of the utmost importance will be replied to. No one is to leave The Hero until further instructed. I will be in my office. No one shall be permitted into my office unless they are of Sergeant rank or above. And unless I request your presence you will not disturb me! This ship is officially on lock down. You have your orders, follow them well. In this time of crisis I will not stand for disorganization and panic. As you were. Over and out.

It was not long until I had been fully updated by my commanding officers. They received their orders. I sent them to the transmission rooms to get in touch with their Council probation officers, then to resume command of their duties. I was pleased to see that the work had resumed and the chaos depleted. I watched the wall of screens behind my desk. Each screen represented a sector of the ship, and the screens changed every two minutes to show different passages and rooms. The cameras were smart and could zoom in on flurries of activity if I turned that setting on. They automatically focused on events that could present a danger or that were suspicious. From the high-backed, padded chair in my office, I watched the ship's work with one eye and read the progress report with my other eye. I frowned at the progress report. The technicians and specialists were rapidly repairing damage to the ship and the computers. A specialized group was analyzing the enemy ships from the first attack, identifying the manufacture piece by piece. It was a slow process, and they had no conclusive results for me so far.

The casualties were worse. No one from either attack had survived, besides that one boy from the first attack. He'd gone into traumatic shock and we would get no information out of him for some time. The first attack had produced thirty-two casualties on our side, all two-hundred and fifty-three on their side excepting the boy. The second attack had resulted in no casualties but the one technician who had been shot in the back. They had all died, for those that we captured had crunched a suicide pill at the last moment. Classic spy suicide. They had not been made of cyanide like the old days, but of an equally deadly substance that was also undetectable to scanners.

I'd already sent as elite unit to Retrial-one, to make a surprise attack from the Guardians' rear. They'd gone into warp only two minutes ago, and though they had come out of warp already, we'd received no word from them yet. I expected the technician to send a message any second now. He would give me a running commentary from the nuclear-sealed bunker he transmitted from. If the whole unit was wiped out, he alone would survive to tell us what had happened. That was why he was sealed in a mini bunker on the ship.

Another four units of standard troop ships would follow the elite one, to provide backup. They had not left yet, but they were minutes away from launch. That left... i did a quick calculation in my head. That left 2,555 units that we were allowed to deploy. A unit was 201 men, two sets of ninety-nine and each a commander, then another commander for the whole unit. I slammed the report down on my imitation wood desktop with a resounding slap. We had to keep at least 1,500 units on base for our own protection, considering the recent attacks. That left only 1,055 units left to deploy. I sighed. We had 67 planets to protect. Seven were large enough to need twenty-five units for full protection, and that was cutting it close. The other sixty only needed ten. More calculations, and I came up with a depressing number. If we were to offer minimum protection to each of our planets, then we would be 528 units short. We had the troops to do it. We were only allowed to use a fraction of what we had, and even that was not enough.

"Computer" I said. The room dinged to let me know it was listening. "Take notes, calculate, make a list" I instructed it with a set of commands. It dinged again to let me know it was ready. I rattled off a list of planets, small ones that were worth less than the others. They had been poor in the first place and easy conquests. They would have to make do with the troops they had, for reinforcements would not be able to help. The computer finished the calculations and asked me which to correct. it took a few planets off the list, then spit out another paper from the wall printer. I picked it up and read it. With a weary groan, I wheeled my chair over to the mic in the wall. I held the button down and ordered a large mug of coffee from the kitchens. I began to turn away, but as I did, a thought struck me. Pressing the button again, I asked them to throw a shot of brandy into the mug.

Alejandro Storm, God of the Paladins.
New York City, Earth

The restlessness was becoming unbearable. I paced back and forth in my sleeping quarters, dagger in hand. I lovingly stroked the flat of the blade with one finger as I thought. I hadn't killed or even wounded anyone in weeks. This was unacceptable. I was Lord Alex, ruler of the Paladin's, and I couldn't even manage to get my hands on a filthy Redeemer or Guardian ship to slaughter? Argh.

I punched the wall in fury, barely feeling the pain before the bruises faded. My healing factor had been working doubly hard lately. I think it was because I had failed to be in battle for so long. This could not continue. If I could not find some scum to kill, I may just have to kill a crew member, just to keep me sane.

I grinned. If you even have a shred of sanity left.

I flung open my bedroom door, stopped when I saw the guards posted outside. I pondered whether it would be worth it. I decided against it. They would live.

I began to walk aimlessly about my mansion. Pulling my Vid-Communicator from my jean pocket, I watched as the face of the captain of the Paladin ship, The Savior, popped up on the holographic projector. His name was Captain Bermuda, and he may have been the closest thing I had to a friend. He came from the planet Xeissune of the Omega Centauri galaxy.

"Mornin', Alex." he said, his accent clear over the Com. "What can I do fer ya today?"

"Get the ship and crew ready. I want to leave, fight, do something. Today."

Bermuda nodded knowingly. He tipped his hat and grinned.

"As you wish, Lord. The crew will be ready 'n an hour's time."

"Make it half." I barked.

"Of course. And what destination do ya have in mind, sir?"

I thought for a moment.

"Let's say...I got it. Captain, locate the Guardian, Redeemer, and pirate ships. Whichever one is closest."

"Aye, sir." Bermuda's face wobbled and blinked out.

I rubbed my hands together, grinned. I loved games like this. It was just like tag, or hide-and-seek. There was always a winner.

And the winner was always me.

John "Racer" Moore--Location: Orbit over Retrial-One

As we approached Retrial-One, a red light started to blink on the screen in front of me. It was a standard warning beacon. With a quick look at the radar, it was clear that the beacon was coming from one of our own ships. The frigates were in the formation of a ring.

It was a blockade.

A call came on the holo-communicator in the dashboard of the ship. It was from the Captain of the capital ship. "Trion, answer the call."

"Yes sir," he said as he pressed a green button underneath the screen. A slim man with a trimmed beard appeared on screen.

"Identification?"

"It's me, you idiot," I said. "You knew I was coming. What's with this blockade?"

A scowl was written across the Captain's face. "Just military precaution, sir."

"Let us pass."

"Why? So you can undermine this entire assault. Let's check your ship first..."

At that, our small transport was being dragged into the hangar of the capital ship. A tractor beam. Clever.

But not clever enough.