Endgame

Posted on Dec 19, 2015 @ 9:30pm by Captain Michael Turlogh Kane & Selyara Chen
Edited on on Dec 19, 2015 @ 9:31pm

Mission: Civil War

"ENDGAME"

(Continued from "Second Star To The Right")

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Captain's Log, supplemental - as an armed confrontation appears to be imminent, all our hopes are riding on our away team aboard the Century...

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Location: USS CENTURY, facing off against the Phoenix and the Demeter
Stardate: [2.15]1220.0130
Scene: Captain's Quarters


Dexter Juraj Marxx stood before his viewport, looking out into the endless gulf of stars. Off to starboard, the blinking lights of the Phoenix and Demeter marked the location of the rebel fleet, and beyond them hung the beautiful blue waterworld of Elandipole. But the stars - they stretched out into infinity, a vast black curtain that swallowed up all the myriad feelings that churned inside him.

Betrayal. He'd been betrayed from the very outset. Admiral Richard Edgerton had told him only what he needed to know when he assumed command of this fleet, and no more than that. He'd given him all this power, bought with the blood of Bolians and Starfleet's Neutral Zone fleet, and told him to go and kill the people who were fighting to restore freedom to the Federation. His stomach lurched - it was monstrous. For the past two years, the Federation had been ruled by a totalitarian maniac who was determined to tear it down by the roots and rebuild it up into something unrecognisable.

How had he not seen it? A Human governor was in charge on Kesir-Tosharra, an outsider appointed through the emergency powers granted to Edgerton by a duped Federation Council. No, he corrected himself. A Neo-Essentialist governor. A scenario repeated all across the worlds of the Federation - Neo-Essentialist governors replacing the Federation's administrators. The Federation Council superseded by one racist, fascist organisation led by one dictator.

Dex caught a look at his shadowy reflection in the viewport, saw his dark red skin that matched his red admiral's uniform, saw the golden Admiral's rank pips standing out against them. All tainted. The rank no longer held its lustre, and for a fleeting moment, Dexter Marxx wanted nothing more than to return home to Tenagra City.

"Admiral," rumbled James Barton, "we don't have much time."

Barton. Kane. Reardon. Ghosts from his past life, all come back to haunt him. The last time he had seen James Barton was when the USS Odyssey was gasping out its last breaths, and her command crew was evacuating a shattered bridge. Marxx had had a mind to go down with his ship, but circumstances changed. Circumstances always changed. If Ronald Heydrich and Thoris P'Trell were Neo-Essentialists, then they would have to be put down.

"Admiral," said the red-haired marine in a warning tone, "we've got us some Borg nanites that my people are placin' all over this here ship. We'll use 'em to reduce the Century ta slag if ya don't make up yer mind." She held up a cylindrical trigger rod. "Make up yer mind, huh Admiral?"

Dex turned to face Barton and his two companions. "They can't all be Neo-Essentialists," he said.

"They're not," said Barton. "The Neo-Essentialists don't have the numbers for that. Likely most of your officers are, but the vast majority of the crew are just enlisted people doing their duty."

"It's how they work," said the other man, the younger blond one. "It's what they did to the Discovery, how they infiltrated Starfleet Command. It's been going on for years."

Dex shook his head. "How do you expect to prove all this? There are over a thousand people aboard the Century. Even I manage to have Heydrich relieved, how do you expect my fleet to react?"

"You're still Edgerton's Admiral," said Barton pointedly. "They'll obey you."

Dex hesitated. So much could go wrong, and if it did, there would be a bloodbath worse than any Kem D'Neel attack, worse than any Romulan incursion. Starfleet would be tearing itself in two.

"Admiral," pressed the red-haired marine again.

"Alright," snapped Dex. He looked at the three of them. "I believe you. We can do this, but seizing the Century won't be easy."

"Just give us an order," said Barton.

Dex nodded. "I can lock out the command functions with my voice command, but that will just be temporary since I doubt I'm truly in command of this ship. It should buy us enough time to get to the bridge, where we'll arrest Heydrich." He shot a glance at the red-haired marine. "Captain... Thytos, is it?"

"Aye, Admiral."

"Get to Engineering. If Heydrich doesn't capitulate, release your nanites and melt the ship down. That ought to give Captain Kane the advantage in a fleet battle." He set his jaw. "You realise that the chances of us getting away with this are minimal."

"That's why Ah volunteered these here two to come along," she said, throwing a thumb at her companions and activating the communicator stud on her armour's forearm. "Nelumbo?"

[[Here,]] came the sudden reply.

Dex frowned. He shot a glance at Barton. "There are more of you aboard?"

"Marine infiltration team," explained Barton. "Planting more nanites."

The red-haired marine officer was giving her orders to her subordinate. "Change o' plan, Sergeant. We're makin' a beeline fer Engineerin'. Ah'll be joinin' ya."

[[Yes, ma'am. Transmitting location tag now.]]

As one, the four of them emerged from Dex's quarters into the corridor. The yellow alert bars still flashed on the walls, keeping the decks clear of all non-essential and off-duty personnel. The marine officer turned one way, the rest of them turned another.

"Hope we see you soon," the blonde man quipped at her as she walked off, but she just shrugged and made for the nearest bulkhead, activating her armour's chameleon field so that she blended into the background.

"Which way to the nearest access tunnel?" asked Barton.

Dex thought for a moment, but remembered it clearly. The Century was his ship - they might have put on a new coat of paint, but underneath she was the same vessel that he had made his own all those years ago. He indicated down the corridor. "This way."

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Location: USS Phoenix, facing down the Century
Scene: Bridge


Michael Turlogh Kane was pacing back and forth on his bridge like a caged animal. Behind him, Aerdan, Byte and Mackenzie Procter continued to pore over the sensor data feed at the Tac station. The USS Monarch, a Sovereign-class battleship, was still coming on, bringing with it an arsenal of sixteen phaser arrays, a pulse phaser cannon, and ten torpedo tubes that fired quantum torpedoes. On top of all that, she was carrying a shield system that both randomly shifted frequencies, but was also capable of fast regeneration. She was an impressive war machine.

But so, Kane knew, was the Phoenix. Phased energy was an effective shipboard weapon, but the Phoenix's phased polaron beams would quickly shear through the Monarch's shields and impact upon her superstructure within the first few hits. Likewise, the Century's firepower was no match for the Phoenix's arsenal. It was whether or not they could do enough damage to the Phoenix before they were destroyed that mattered.

"Any sign of that shuttle that launched from the Demeter?" he asked to no-one in particular. Selyara was still out there somewhere, a minnow in the shoals surrounded by giants.

Aerdan shook his head.

{{Five minutes to Monarch's weapons range,}} reported Byte.

Kane wondered what the hell was going on over on the Century. On the one hand, it might be prudent to attack. A first strike to cripple the Century before the Monarch's arrival could give the the Phoenix an advantage, but would likely trigger a fleet battle.

The tension was eating him alive. History hung on moments like this - whatever happened in the next few minutes would chart the Federation's course for the future. Was it to be a peaceful resolution, or was it to be civil war?

"Incoming message from the Century," reported Aerdan. "It's not Admiral Marxx, it's his first officer, a Commander Heydrich."

Kane shrugged. "Put him on screen."

Procter activated the vierscreen, and the backdrop of the stars disappeared. In its place was the Century's bridge, somewhat changed but still basically the same layout from when Kane had served on it thirteen years ago, and hijacked it one year ago. There was a Tellarite at the Tac station, a blonde Human standing to the fore, and in between them, with a triumphant smirk on his blue-skinned face, was Thoris P'Trell.

Kane stepped forward, ignoring P'Trell. "You are Commander Heydrich?" he asked the blond man.

{{I am.}}

"Where is Admiral Marxx? If you are contacting me to negotiate, I'd prefer to deal with him."

{{This is not a negotiation, Captain Kane. It is your final warning.}}

"The ten minutes aren't up yet, Commander Heydrich."

{{"I don't care,}} came the succinct reply. {{We have the chronoton artifact, we have your so-called president. We hold all the aces. Order your fleet to stand down.}}

"It's not my fleet," snapped Kane, trying to think how best to play for time. "It is the fleet of the United Federation of Planets, an organisation to which you have usurped - "

Heydrich held up a finely-manicured hand to ward Kane off. He cut the air smoothly but rigidly, with an almost staccato movement. {{Spare me, Captain Kane.}} He threw a glance at Thoris P'Trell, and turned back to the viewer, smiling with the sympathy of a victor. {{Endgame, Captain. Stand down and surrender. Your starships and their crews will be treated well.}}

"And the Phoenix's crew?"

The same maddening smile grew wider. {{There is a price to being the leaders of a rebellion, Captain Kane. I think you know what it is.}}

Kane squared his jaw in a sudden flare of anger and panic as he thought about a suitable reply. Edgerton meant to kill them all, he realised, but that initial fear was quickly followed by sardonic resignation. Why wouldn't he? He'd marked them all for death as soon as he'd found out about the Discovery's destruction eighteen months ago. They'd all been living on borrowed time since then.

Eventually, he came to a decision. "Commander Heydrich? I'm ready to give you my answer."

{{Yes, Captain Kane?}}

"You, your leader, and all of your fellow Neo-Essentialists can all go fuck yourselves."

There was silence for a moment. Beside him at the conn and ops, Anna Pierrepoint and Rr'llk looked up at Kane in shock. Aerdan, Byte, and Procter all glanced at each other. Kane's face was darker than a thundercloud.

Heydrich's smile disappeared, and his lips pulled back into a snarl. He was just about to snap a retort when, in the background, the Century's bridge turbolift doors opened, depositing Dexter Marxx, James Barton, and Russ BaShen onto the Century's bridge.

Kane watched as Heydrich and Thoris P'Trell turned around to see them.

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Location: USS CENTURY, as before
Scene: Main Engineering


Kassandra Thytos led her infiltration team down through the arteries of the ship, alighting on J deck - Main Engineering. As the tan-coloured doors opened into the expansive room, she took a quick look around. Her sensor nets instantly translated their data into letters and numbers, interfacing with her armour's HUD and projecting an image through her ruined eyes and directly onto her retinas - 46 life-forms spread in several work areas around the warp core.

She gestured forward, and the sensor nets of the infiltration team projected the order onto the HUDs of the each of the team's full-face helmets. As one, the infiltration team spread slowly through the deck, taking up firing positions to cover a majority of the engineering crew. The Century's personnel were busily preparing the ship for combat - their torpedoes had been loaded and the power networks was standing by to flood energy to the ship's phaser arrays.

The Century's Chief Engineer - a tall, thin black man, was giving orders to one of his underlings when Kassandra put the barrel of her pulse rifle to his temple and deactivated her chameleon field. As she appeared in a fizz of colour and shape, the Century's Chief Engineer froze as he felt the cold steel against the side of his head.

"Howdy," said Kass nonchalantly. "Don't none o' y'all make a twitch, else y'all wanna see what yer boss's brains look like spread all over the floor."

She gestured again, and the rest of the team dropped their own chameleon fields. Before the astonished eyes of the entire Engineering deck, ten heavily-armed marines appeared out of thin air, pointing the business ends of their rifles, covering everyone.

The Chief Engineer's brown eyes widened in shock. "What do you want?" he gasped in a low voice.

Through her sensor net, Kass watched as Nelumbo deployed a nanite canister against the warp core. The marine set the dampening field timer and magnetised the canister's shell, sticking it in place. He nodded, stepping back from his work. "Nothin' much," she said. "Jus' a lil' suicide mission if'n things on the bridge don' work out. Y'all don't mind, right?" She punctuated her words with a shove of the rifle barrel.

The Chief Engineer was sweating. "No," he stammered. He looked around at his people. "Nobody do anything," he said.

Kass tried to keep her voice light, but in her head, time was ticking. "Good o' ya," she said. "Now why don' y'all sit yore asses down on this here deck plate while we wait?"

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Scene: Bridge


Dexter Marxx led his small group onto the Century's bridge. Whatever was about to happen, it was going to going to end this confrontation. These Neo-Essentialists needed to be put down hard, but getting past the fleet's cadre of corrupted officers was also going to be hard. But he had to try.

Beside him, James Barton and his companion pointed phasers at Heydrich and P'Trell. The crew on the bridge, taken by surprise, didn't react. With a dangerous look, Marxx warned the Tellarite tactical officer not to even think about going for a weapon.

Ronald Heydrich was staring in shock. Behind him, on the main viewer, was the bridge of the Phoenix, where Kane and the rest of his command crew were looking on.

Heydrich found his voice. "What," he said dangerously, "do you think you're doing, Admiral Marxx?"

Dex looked around at the bridge crew. "I know all about the Neo-Essentialists," he said in a loud, commanding tone, watching the sudden panic flare up in the eyes of the guilty. "I know that my command crew are all Neo-Essentialists, who have subverted the Federation and Starfleet. I know that many officers of this fleet are Neo-Essentialists." He stared hard at Heydrich. "It all ends now. Your plans to destroy the Phoenix and this fleet will not succeed."

Barton moved forward, gesturing with his phaser for the Tellarite to move away from the Tac station. "Deactivating shields and weapons," he reported, inputting the command overrise code that Marxx had given him on the way up from his quarters.

"What makes you think you're going to get away with this, Admiral Marxx?" shrugged Heydrich. He didn't look concerned. "We're everywhere. Every single captain in this fleet is one of us. Many of their first officers, too. Even more departments heads. We're careful about where we place our people. We were careful where we placed *you*."

"Go to hell," snapped Dex.

"I don't think so," said Heydrich. He spread his arms wide. "Flattery got you back aboard this bridge. All we had to do was play to your vanity, give you one last chance to be the great hero of the Federation. And you took it." He chuckled. "Dexter Marxx, hero of the Romulan Incursion. Dexter Marxx, captain of the USS Century and the Vigilance Platform." His expression changed, hardened like diamond. "Dexter Marxx - an old man whose time is long past. We're the next generation. Better get out of our way."

Dex stepped forward angrily, balling his fists, filled with the urge to wring Heydrich's neck, but the younger man wagged an admonishing finger at him.

"An empty victory if you do it, Admiral. Of the eighty thousand personnel aboard our fleet, how many of them do you think even known about us? Nobody is going to believe you. As soon as the other captains get an inkling that something is up, they'll open fire on the rebels and blow them out of the stars. And as for you - well, who knows? If you co-operate, a hero's funeral and a legacy that will be remembered in Starfleet forever. If you don't - well, you'll be too dead to care either way."

The Tac station beeped insistently. Dex and Heydrich looked at the hulking form of Barton, who was frowning. "There's a message being transmitted," he said. "It's coming from a Runabout near the Demeter - it's on every channel, every frequency." He looked up in confusion. "It's - "

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Location: USS PHOENIX
Scene: Bridge


"... Selyara," Kane breathed, and then the screen split in two, as her transmission over-rode existing comms traffic and imposed itself everywhere.

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Location: Space - two fleets standing off against each other


It went out across every subspace frequency accessible to Federation technology - short-wave, medium and long, and even the full range of highs, beaming outward from the tiny shuttlecraft, reverberating around the system like a clap of almighty thunder.

Across the two fleets, almost one hundred thousand Starfleet personnel stopped what they were doing and activated their nearest monitors. Some watched from their quarters, other from their mess halls, others still watched in fearful surprise from the bridges of starships that would soon no longer be under their command.

In time, nobody would remember how it had all started, but this was the moment.

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Location: Runabout USS Athena, dwarfed on all sides by giants
Scene: Interior


Selyara's eyes flickered erratically between the Athena's console and the three ships outside. They were enormous by comparison to the Runabout- she felt like a freeway driver being surrounded by trucks on a slow-moving exit ramp. The file transfer was going painfully slowly, and every second she was here increased the chances that someone would notice her and take a few shots. But even her worry was not great enough to eclipse her elation at a shot at regaining her freedom. Rawyvin Seth was dead, and in the impending chaos of battle she could slip away somewhere, anywhere, and disappear into the shadows again. She could go anywhere she wanted, be anyone she wanted to be. Michael wouldn't follow her or allow anyone else to follow her.

If the loyalists won.

Her fingers paused over her console, a lump forming in her throat. A creeping panic began to creep into her chest, and she couldn't decide whether the feeling was due to the idea of Edgerton and P'Trell sending more of Rawyvin's ilk after her, or if it was the thought of Marxx's fleet returning to Earth, leaving the derelict corpses of the Phoenix and the loyalist fleet floundering in space until they were pulled into the gravity wells of one of the planets or even Elandipole itself, burning up as they did so. Ashes to ashes.

But it wasn't the destruction of the fleet or the Federation that was causing her to react to the thought with such dread. She didn't care much for the lives of thousands of people she didn’t know and even less for a Federation that had betrayed her, but she couldn't ignore the fact that her entire universe was contained within the ships in front of her. Her father, her mother, her sister, her niece.

And Michael.

The panic clawed its way out of her chest and into her mouth, filling it with the metallic taste of fear. A wave of loneliness followed the panic as she thought of a galaxy where she was well and truly alone, where no-one remembered who she really was. She cursed inwardly, not sure whether this ever-widening crack in the walls she'd built around her heart was a step forward or back.

She stared out the window at the Phoenix, her mind racing as she tried to calm herself, to think of something, anything, she could do to tip the scales in the favor of the loyalist fleet. She blew out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and hesitated. She had an idea.

Her hands flitted over the console as she worked at cracking the communication software of the Neo-Essentialist fleet, forcing her next transmission to be broadcast on a wide subspace range of frequencies across the system. Hacking the Demeter's comms system through the backdoor program she had used to escape, she boosted the signal, took a deep breath, and cast her words forth into the void.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen of Starfleet. You may call me the Shadow Master." Selyara quickly queued up media for her transmissions. "You don't know me, but I know you. I know that you are pawns in a game you don't even know you're all a part of. I know you are good people being fed lies by people you trust so that you'll betray everything you believe in, and I know who they are."

Selyara began to transmit her data packet of Neo-Essentialists within the fleet, making them flash over every console and screen through every starship within range. She looked out into the gulf of stars, wondering what was happening on all those blinking lights as the information disseminated through the fleet. "I know that you won't take my word for it, but I can prove that the most recent Romulan incursion was planned, that it was all designed to scare the sheep of the Federation into turning over their freedom to Richard Edgerton and the Neo-Essentialists, and allow him to institute martial law, turning the Federation into his personal empire instead of what it should be - a union of people who find strength in diversity, who refuse to live in fear, and who respect their neighbours as friends."

She pulled up graphic representations of the movements of Starfleet ships, supplies, and Federation assets in the months prior to the siege of Bolarus by the Romulans. It painted a damning picture when put all together- all the Federation's tactical assets were slowly but surely drained from the sectors along the Neutral Zone border, and the stream of supplies and goods belonging to the Federation heading into the areas the Romulans would eventually conquer dried up to a trickle, while the flow of goods away from it reached a crescendo unprecedented in fifty years of history. Heavily armored and weaponised ships were withdrawn and replaced with sacrificial corvettes and light cruisers, weakening the Neutral Zone fleet, thousands of lives destined to become martyrs that Edgerton could hold up as symbols to garner support for his twisted version of the United Federation of Planets.

Finally, she broadcast the names, assignments and service of every single Neo-Essentialist in Starfleet, along with date and time stamps from every single piece of incriminating communications to and from Starfleet Command. Hundreds of names and faces and messages, many of whom were present in Marxx's fleet.

When her transmission ended, Selyara activated her navigation console. If Michael wanted to, he would have put a tractor beam on her by now. She spoke her last words into the ether, a rallying call to one hundred thousand men and women who, at various stages of their lives, had sworn the same oath - to defend the United Federation of Planets from all enemies, foreign and domestic. "You have a choice now. You can either continue to be pawns and choose not to see, or you can rise up and excise the cancer within your ranks. You can join the fight against the Neo-Essentialist threat, and live up to the ideals the Federation was founded on. Choose wisely."

The console beeped urgently at her, indicating that her download had finished. The Pendragon's entire databank on the future timeline was hers. An almanac of nineteen years of a defunct and dead future history. She looked at the Phoenix again, torn between watching to see what happened next, and being too scared to.

The fear won out. She set a course to Earth, and engaged best warp speed. It would take her months to get that far, and she would have to be careful, but whichever way this went, she still had one score that needed settling. She may have also been a pawn at the beginning of Edgerton's game, but in the great game of thrones, even a pawn could become a queen. Richard Edgerton was going to be very sorry he'd ever set Rawyvin Seth on her. If the loyalist fleet triumphed she wanted to be there to see his face as everything he'd worked for crumbled, and if they didn't, then she would exact bloody revenge for her father, her mother, her sister, her niece, and for Michael.

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Location: Space


The Athena turned on its axis and snapped into warp, a burst of light splashing white fire in the black void of space as Selyara disappeared into the long night.

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Location: USS Monarch
Scene: Bridge


Commander Nwakame Mwembe, ExO of the USS Monarch, looked incredulously at his captain. Julian Hadfield's service record was plastered all over the main viewer alongside messages to and from Richard Edgerton, revealing him as a Neo-Essentialist.

Hadfield looked at him. The man was sweating. "You don't believe any of that, do you?" said Hadfield. He looked around at his bridge crew. "It's a lie! I'm not one of them! I'm not - "

Mwembe reached for a phaser. "Captain Hadfield," he said, "you are relieved of command of this starship."

Hadfield's lined, downcast face said it all. He nodded in resignation, and put his hands on his head in surrender. It was all over.

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Location: Space


It was a scene being played out across the Neo-Essentialist fleet. ExOs relieved their captains, department heads relieved their commanders, and in several cases, dozens and dozens of enlisted personnel marched en masse to the duty stations of Neo-Essentialist officers, seizing them and throwing them into their brigs.

Commander, USS Monarch to Commander, USS Phoenix - ship secured. Awaiting orders. Commander, USS Imperial to Commander, USS Phoenix - ship secured. Awaiting orders.

And almost eighty more.

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Location: USS Century
Scene: Bridge


Dex looked around the bridge. There was no face that was not stupefied in amazement at what had happened. It was all true - the Neo-Essentialists, the Century, all of it. The Federation had been betrayed by a shadowy cadre of criminals who had sought to usurp the very heart of her, had sought to poison her with their own twisted ideology.

Ronald Heydrich was one of them. Dex wanted to kill him. Instead, he spoke the same words that were being repeated across his sham of a fleet. "Commander Heydrich, you are relieved of duty. Mister Barton, escort him and Mister P'Trell to the brig."

Barton advanced on Heydrich and P'Trell, who thought for a half-second about putting up a fight, but then quickly realised the futility of it. Without a word, they were led away to the turbolift.

Barton's companion - BaShen was his name, Dex remembered - looked at him in askance. "What now, Admiral?"

Dex thought about for a moment, and joined the hubbub. "Get that chronoton artifact back to the Pendragon and contact the Phoenix. Tell them the ship is secure. Tell them we are awaiting orders."

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Location: USS Phoenix
Scene: Bridge


Michael Turlogh Kane watched as the Athena jumped to warp. Selyara was gone again, in and out of his life like a dream that appears and disappears over the years. This time, she had left behind something that had changed the world.

Mackenzie Procter was looking in amazement at her data stream. "Captain, there are reports coming in from all over the fleet. I can barely keep up."

"Our fleet?" asked Aerdan.

"No, the Neo-Essentialist fleet," she replied. "Fifty-three starships and counting. The Neo-Essentialist ships are standing down all over the system."

Kane turned to her. "Commander Jos is correct, Lieutenant," he said thoughtfully, watching in the main viewer as the Monarch and her escort destroyers maneuvered to take their place alongside the Century and the Phoenix. "It is our fleet. It's Starfleet, united once again for the first time in nearly three years."

All across the system it was happening. The battle lines fell away, and starships that had their guns levelled at one another minutes before were falling into new squadrons, lining up across space like a gigantic parade ground, clustering around command vessels like the Phoenix and the Century.

After a long struggle, the beginning of the end had been reached. Kane took a moment to remember the crew of the Discovery who had perished in system K-60, recalled the courage and sacrifice of both Thomas Varn and Solomon Arn. There were now one hundred and thirty starships and ninety-nine thousand Starfleet personnel in-system, one fleet with a new purpose that was just being born. With such numbers, Richard Edgerton and his fascistic movement were doomed. Now, truly, the fightback could begin.

He rubbed tired eyes. He and his entire command staff had been awake for almost twenty-four hours, but sleep was the last thing on his mind now. He shared a look with Aerdan - new resolve, new hope. There was much to be done, much to be built - fleet logistics, a new operational command structure, a grand strategy to formulate, and, he remembered, three fine officers on the Century to recall.

He looked around at them all, feeling like he was shining with pride. "Let's get to work," Kane said.

As one, the bridge crew fell to their task.

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NRPG: The Neo-Essentialist fleet has been overthrown, and Starfleet is united for the first time in years. Now we are no longer on the defensive. With the Romulans back on their side of the Neutral Zone, and the peoples of the Federation chafing under the rule of Neo-Essentialist governors, a terrific blow for freedom has been struck in the Elandipole system. Now we are no longer on the defensive. From now on, we're on the offensive.


Jerome McKee
the Soul of Captain Michael Turlogh Kane
Commanding Officer
USS PHOENIX


"He speaks an infinite deal of nothing!"
- Shakespeare's "The Merchant of Venice", Act 1, Scene 1.117

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