posted 12-21-98 11:21 PM ET        

MikeH II<Picture>posted 11-25-98 09:12 AM ET��
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I put all the entries from the chronicles of Pre-Unity together here so we can continue in an unbroken thread

MikeH II

The Club of the future was a great success. Now here's your chance to join in the story of the build up to the Unity launch whilst we await the return of the other chronicles.
Rules:
as the old Flowing Chronicles there is really only one rule which is to respect what others have written. Post away.
Journal of Ecology Co-ordinator Mike Hefferan
It was the biggest I'd ever seen. That phrase would have caused a few laughs in the pub back home. The Starship Unity. Wow. A starship. I was here to help with the environmental systems. "We are attempting 98% closure" They had said at the interview. "I can do it" I had replied but looking at it now I was less confident. I had worked on closed systems on the moon at first then mars and we had good results there. Up to 90% on mars now but they still had water locally (not much but enough) and regular resupplies from Earth. This ship would be out on its own and not only would it require a good closed system on board but the basis for several others when the ship arrived. It was going to be an exciting challenge.
I went to my room to prepare my Unity model on my computer. We would be recieving the first bacteria tanks and plants in a couple of weeks and I would have to start work with Diedre Skye the biologist on closing the system. My responsibility would be to tell her what we required from her biosphere and get the recycling facilities in to complement them. It was going to take all of the year we had and maybe longer.
Journal of Ecology Co-ordinator Mike Hefferan
24th June
It is getting difficult to focus on the evironmental systems problems on the ship. the tensions in the outside world are getting too close. There is open revolt on Mars against the mining authority which has sent share prices crashing and Earth manufacturing is suffering. The funding for the Unity is suffering badly. Parts and shuttle trips are getting hard to find. There are rumours of a big private company taking over more of the project but I don't believe it. It is a world project, I can't believe the governments would let it slip away like that.
25th June
I met Captain Garland last night. He seems pleasant enough although he doesn't seem to know much about closed system engineering which is a bit worrying. I think he should at least know a little bit about the ship's systems. I can't really tell how well he'll act under pressure though. Maybe when we get to know him better we'll find out he's a great leader but I doubt it, his appointment was too political.
26th June
Garland gave his first chat to the crew today. Pretty dull, I think he is probably just a figurehead but I can't figure out the real power behind the ship. He just seems so ineffectual as a leader. Then again maybe it's just me I haven't heard any other talk in the mess. There aren't many crew here yet though. Most of the other scientists and engineers arrive today. I'm looking forward to meeting some of the new people. It's been hard here with the last of the construction crew supervising the changeover.
I think I'll go for a workout in the centrifuge later the zero G is really getting boring, at least I haven't been spacesick yet.
Journal of Ecology Co-ordinator Mike Hefferan
The rebel encampments on Mars have destroyed one of my domes. What can I say. I spent 5 years on that project.
Here on board ship things are starting to get very strange. Yesterday our external news coverage was knocked out so we can't see what is happening in the rest of the Solar System and today the communications failed. There are hundreds of rumours and speculations going round the ship. First there are supposed to be subversives aboard trying to sabotage the Unity. Then someone said a big conglomerate is sabotaging stuff to spiral up costs and try and get in on the project. It's all ridiculous you expect these teething troubles in an engineering project of this complexity but to be honest I am getting a little edgy. I don't know what it is but there is something wrong on the Unity. It feels unlucky. I'm not normally supersticious but this ship has a strange aura about it. I've been asked to go on the trip and I have got a couple of days to decide. They think my expertese will be extremely useful on Planet but I am not sure I can leave the Solar System. I left Earth 20 years ago and have only been back a couple of times but forever? I am going to have to think hard about this one. The challenge is amazing and I have to admit I am very tempted.
Heckler
Walking down the hall checking that the marking strips were correctly layered and lead to the right rooms Dave heard a pair of hushed voices.
"Look I don't care what orders are that would be murder!"
"I'm only going to tell you one more time all we do is cut power to the core for a few minutes at most a handfull of people outside would die proabably only get scared, and when the smoke clears no one will notice our little indescretion."
"It is still murder perhaps we could check the schedule for a time when no EVA is planned for a while?"
"Fine lets do that but if we don't muddy the water and someone finds out that we cut those wires they would proabably shove us out an airlock."
By now Dave was approaching the voices it turned the corner and continued with its computerised scan of the floor.
"YAAH!" yelled a man in the light blue uniform of an exterior construction tech.
"Relax its just one of the remotes that make sure all the direction strips are layed out correctly." replied his companion who was in civillian dress, but had a pilots wings on one shoulder.
"Yeah but it sure is quiet." the other responded.
Dave continued on its way down the corridor.
Yo_Yo_Yo_Hey
Journals of Lt. S Johnson.
June 25th.
It seems the Mars rebels are going through the land destroying small installations, & killing some minor scientists. Though this means little to me, it is cowardly on their part, & is sending everything on earth spinning to hell. Massive inflation, I've heard something of 400%! I sometimes think it's a good thing my fiance died in the Connecticut riots of 2058, I wouldn't have to struggle through all this with a family. But then I just think of all the good times we had together, & wish I could still be with her. I will join her again one day, I'm hoping soon. I am nothing near suicidal on the field. I mean, I'm daring & all, but I gotta platoon looking up to me for advice & guidance, I can't just give up my life, & let them die on the Martian landscape, millions of miles away from their families.
June 27.
It seems a large group of rebels are advancing on our position. General O'Connor has ordered me & my platoon to dig in here & wait for reinforcements. He is an arrogant man, I don;t know how the UN could of put him in charge of an army. We are well trained & all, but our morale is pretty low. Most of these men know they're gonna die, away from their families, alone, on a cold, barren surface. Sometimes I begin to depress myself.
June 28
Damn, intel has just reported the size of the rebel force closing on our position. About 1000 men, 1 division, closing on my 50 men! ETA 2 days. our closest reinforcements, a company of about 100 men, is still 5 days away in FTV(Fast Terrain Vehicle). Sometimes I wonder why I'm so loyal to everything, then I just think back to my generations behind me. My great, great grandpa died leading an old fashioned charge on a German machine gun nest in WWII. My great grandpa was a crack sniper, racking in over 50 kills in Vietnam. My dad, my dad, he earned the Congressional Medal of Honor for him & his company's rearguard action at the Battle of Brittany, they credited him for saving the entire division from collapsing & turning into a rout. Sadly he died defending, at bayonet point, his part of the line. I was 5. I got someone waiting for me in heaven, sometimes our path is chosen for us. Perhaps I should just face destiny & die like so many generations before me. Sadly, I am the last generation in my family.
Possibly the last log entry of,
S Johnson III
MikeH II
Journal of Michael Hefferan, USS Unity
I have decided to go to Alpha Centauri. It wasn't an easy decision to make but I think it was inevitable. This is not a normal voyage. I have got the oportunity to be part of the first human expedition out of the Solar System, one of the great challenges left to Humanity. I have to be part of that. If I didn't go I would spend the rest of my life regretting it, so I must go. It will be an enormous challenge. I am the leading expert on recycling and waste recovery on the Unity. There are some great biologists and genetecists on board. I can virtually specify a bacteria or algae to them and they will build it exactly as required, like ordering a part from a precision engineering lab. The structural engineers are superb as well. We have cut gas and vapour leakage in the ventilation systems to 0.1% per year so far and although this is a huge improvement over the initial value we still have some way to go. I am really enjoying the work it is hard and tiring, we work 16 hour days and sleep the rest of the time but the enthusiasm is amazing. We are at the cutting edge of Human achievement and the motivation is superb.
The communication systems are still out except for an emergency transmitter that the bridge crew are using to talk to Earth. Still no word from Mars although the rumours suggest that the Rebels are doing extremely well. All the analysts who said you can't expect to put 10 million people on a new world and expect them to be ruled from another planet are probably appearing on every news and talk show grinning smugly. I'm glad I can't see it.
The spare part situation is ridiculous. We can't get a screw without filling in ten to the six forms. It's crazy. If the situation does not improve I am worried that the whole mission will fail.
Rumours about sabotage are still rife. Aparently there was some kind of reactor 'incident' yesterday but I don't know what it was. The reactor team won't talk about it and the official line is that there 'was no incident in the reactor' the official denial seems to make it more likely that it did occur. I don't know what to believe. We've had two environmental engineering toolkits go missing in the past two days. I had to order a complete scan of the ventilation system to check they weren't left behind in a tube but nothing. One I would put down to carelesness but two? I can't imagine any other department or person wanting a hand held Air Moisture And Gas Spectometer (AMAGS) let alone two.
Imran Siddiqui

Tech Scientist Imran Siddiqui:
I don't know if I want to leave home. I mean I have a huge job with Intel. I won't be able to see the Pentium 4 - 5000 Mhz chip launch. Oh well, the Earth needed me. If we were successful on this, imagine the possiblities. The first colonized planet outside of the solar system. Unreal!! Bill Gates the forth wished me luck today. I feared for our company. Morgan Industries seemed to be closing in, but that's business. All I have to worry about now, is checking the ship, for technical errors. Man what a beaut! The ship was probably the greatest wonder of world to date, and I get to go onboard! Maybe leaving Earth isn't such a bad idea after all.
Jsorense
Greg Treestock looked down on Australia from one of the Perth Space Elevator gondolas as it rose to geo-synchronous orbit to meet the Quantas Earth/Moon shuttle. Many emotions flooded through him as he gazed down and identified his native Sydney: nostalgia for a happy youth, pride in a successful career, deep sadness over the current conditions of the Earth. It was time for humans to start a new world; a world where the history of war, exploitation and pollution would be left far behind.
He was on his way to a cryocell aboard the U.N.S. Unity which was now parked in Moon orbit taking on fuel, supplies crew and colonists. He looked down at his U.N. Peacekeeping Force Colonel's uniform and smiled. He had Ph.D.s in psychology and pharmacology as well as the Nobel Prize in Economics but receiving the honorary commission in the U.N. was his proudest achievement. Now he was on his way to start a colony on a planet in the Alpha Centauri system. What an adventure!
As the terminator slowly engulfed the view below turning the landscape from yellows and browns to black strung with treads of lights, he looked for the name of an unofficial contact on the ship. He had been led to believe that given a little consideration a certain Quartermaster by the name of Specialist Fourth Class Arsinio Rivera could help him with a little some things over his allotted personal baggage mass. He was taking a risk, a rather expensive risk, bringing these things on board. But you never knew what would be valuable and useful, if a little illegal, within the context of a new society.
Only time would tell.
Outlyr 242
Personal log for Dr. Renwick
Visiting Assistant Professor of English
University of Edinburg, Scotland
[logon]
June 29
The news had sent a lot of people away from the big cities. Edinburg and Glasgow had to shut down the trains that left town because riots were breaking out at the departure stations. Well this was one good thing about taking my vacation early this year. Most of the people I have talked to up here expect more widespread riots to break out with in a month. I ask them why. Why does everybody want to riot? What's to come from it? Everybody is scared. Scared that they won't have any food, that their savings will disappear in the network, that the government will collapse. They have heard the stories about the ganglords in South America. I even heard my own story told back to be yesterday, only much of the details were missing and Amy seemed to have disappeared from the plot. It reminds me of the old medieval ballads. What the stories lack in historical facts are compensate for by use of emotion and dramatics.
The situation in Brazil was bad. I was there when the first riots broke out. I saw the monuments fall on the violent throng. I know what could happen but these people can only fear it. The sad part is, we all can stop it. It is the fear that motivates this self-destruction. But leaving the cities will not solve their problems. They leave the cities but the fear does not leave them. Like a contagion it is slowly spreading across the lands and boundaries of our planet. Sometimes I think that I have suffered enough of a loss already, that there is little left for me to hang on to. When I think about what is going on around me it just seems like a macrocosm of my personal suffering. I can't feel sorry for these people. Sometimes I can't even feel at all.
[logoff]
JB
Jonathan Sagan
Medical Officer Aboard the UNS Unity
---------------------------------------------
The Sickbay on the Unity was expansive. Just about every known medical device could be found here. And they were needed. With the Unity nearing completion, the Sickbay had been called into activation for the construction crews. It was taking to long to get seriously injured people to the Lunar Hospital, and the Med-Trans didn't have enough supplies for serious injuries. I remember when I got here, with the ill-equipt hosptals, watching those with serious trama having to be shipped to Earth in a cryo-tube. I knew that 90% of them wouldn't make it in time, their bodies destroyed by the ancient freezing systems. But now we cold save them.
---------------------------------------------
"ALERT-- MED-TRANS APPROACHING; ETA-4 MINUTES. ID ALPHA-32" The computer screens shot to life, showing a countdown. I looked at my Med-Comm: It was flashing red, with the words ALPHA-32. I was assigned to this one. The details popped onto the Comm:
MALE
WHITE
2.9 METERS
DOB- 1.26.15
ENGINEER
SEVERE RADIATION BURNS COVERING 50% OF BODY- TYPE DELTA
BP- 101/53
HR- 60 BPM
The Comm continued to show information. I knew his chances were slim- Delta burns were serious. He would most likely need hours of surgery, plus a Preventive Cancer Program. New info showed up:
# ASSIGNED: 10
DOCTORS: 5
NURSES: 5
TRAUMA 2
RADIATION SPECILIST CALLED
BURN SPECILIST CALLED
REQUEST MORE? YES NO
I didn't think we would need more, and hurried to Trauma 2. The room, like all Trauam rooms, was transparent in places on the circular walls, translucent in others. The automatic doors slid open as I walked in. Two nurses were already there. 20 seconds. The rest of the nurses and doctors hurried in at once, seemingly in chorous. The doors slid open once again, bringing in a grotesquely shriveled body on a strecher. The strecher locked into place on the table, and we began...
Two hours later, the man was on his way to the OR. We had just barely stabilised him. My Med-Comm signalled it was time for my break. I happily obliged.
I found later that there were fifteen radiation burns at once. Maybe those rumors about the sabatage in Engineering were right...
Outlyr 242
Personal log for Dr. Renwick
Visiting Assistant Professor of English
University of Edinburg, Scotland
[logon]
June 31
It has been an interesting past couple of days. Amy is staying with me now, the situation in Edinburg is getting worse and I can allow her to stay in schools any more. A small group of protestors managed to get into a police armory. There has not been any violence. The protestors now call themselves the Citizenship for Survival. They promise no one will be hurt and claim they are motivated by a lack of appropriate actions from the Scottish National Government or the EU. They are asking that the EU or the national Government take steps to protect the property and well being of their citizens. In an e-bulletin they announced that similar groups are active in most of the major cities on the continent.
All this reminds me of the War of the Roses when "overmighty subjects" could rule the standing government. They had paid standing armies that could threaten juries and officials to get the outcome they wanted. Today roving clannish gangs look to be doing the same thing that these "overmighty subject" did over 900 years ago. They will drive our nation- no, our WORLD into absolute and total war.
I have often talked about fear and how it has motivated people to make stupid but seemingly life-saving choices. This is the end result of that fear. The arming of the world will cost in lives and livelihoods. I thought I had lost hope when the terrorists bombed our house and killed...
I don't know what to do anymore. Amy is upset too, she was really close to her mother and we both would like to have her back right now. Such a loving and calming voice is just what we need right now.
[Loggoff]
MikeH II
Journal of Head of Life Support Systems Mike Hefferan
This ship is insane!
I hate this bueracratic nonsense. I have to fill in 100 forms for a damn moisture detector then they send to earth for it! We've been delayed for 2 days for a �5 item which I could have made myself except we are not allowed to use non standard equipment.
I am beginnning to hope the rumours of a corporation takeover are true this operation is so inefficient that it is costing us weeks. Every week we go by we are losing days on the completion date.
Oh I got a promotion. Now I am the head of life support systems. More work more responsibility, same pay. Never mind it's only a title. I love the work and only the logistics are annoying me. If I am honest I needed those two days off.
We are still leaking moisture in the system somewhere. I can't figure out where. The only other trouble I've got is how to collect the sweat from the crew efficiently. I am helping with the design of the crew uniforms but we need some kind of collectors out on the ship. The air conditioning is fairly efficient but there is moisture lost on the walls and floors.
Journal of Head of Life Support Systems Mike Hefferan
1st July
Well my job description has changed again. Apparently now none of the crew are going to be awake for the whole flight. The UN finally listened to the reccomendations of the Skye report and apparently there are enough redundant systems to wake the crew if anything should happen. Hmmm. I would be happier with at least one crew member being out of Stasis even on a rota but the psyche reports suggest that even in short bursts this would be detrimental to the crew member's mental health and regularly going in and out of Stasis is a very bad idea. It took a lot to get the council to believe robots could do the job and I have to admit I have reservations. Anyway this means that the system is capable enough as it is. It is good for a 1/2 journey with all the crew awake. This will allow us to get to earth or AC which ever is closer if an emergency should arise. The plant ecosystem is strong enough to survive the whole journey without a human drain on it's resources so I am now working on the regulation of the Cryogenic chambers.
Jsorense
The Quantas Spacelines Boeing 70001 Lunar Shuttle smoothly braked and entered moon orbit. Greg Treestock felt the pressure of his flight harness as the shuttle decelerated. He would have to meet the U.N. representative on Tyco Base before he could take the Moon Bus up for his first visit to the U.N.S. Unity.
Tyco Base had grown a lot during these last 10 years. The Morgan Conglomerate logo was everywhere. It seemed like a steady stream of lighters were taking off and landing. The traffic control was almost like New LAX during rush hour.
Ten years Greg had been to Tyco Base. At that time he had been called on by the Morgan Conglomerate to investigate an outbreak of SMACA II.b among their staff at the huge mining/refinery complex they operated to support the construction of additional lunar colonies and, of course, the Unity herself. They had been lucky. The outbreak had been caught early and the affected patients had been returned to duty, albeit, in positions where their access to MS.AI was limited. Greg smiled at the bonus he had received for that job. He had bought himself a nice little vineyard outside of Melbourne with it. And he had actually met the man himself, C.E.O. Nwabudike Morgan. What Greg remembered most about the meeting was the incredible "presence" Morgan brought to the room. He was more like a force of nature then a man. Well, since he was the most powerful private economic power on Earth, maybe he was more akin to a force of nature. Musing to himself Greg wonder if Morgan was more like a typhoon or the El Ni�o Southern Oscillation.
SnowFire

Most people thought success bread contentment. And yet some of the greatest revolutionaries of the world were succesful people. So is there anything odd that a man who was an important executive of the Russian department of Space building the greatest ship ever, the Unity, would also be involved with those tearing the world apart around them? Nothing whatsoever. This man actually worked for Morgan Industries now, since the takeover of the job by them from the Russian government. It also meant that now many of the silly restrictions put on the wages and control of government workers would be lifted. Good news. And his "other" side, as regional head of the "Citizens for Survival," was that a sort of merger was rumored in the underground. The Spartan Confederation has apperantly contacted us, and since I am flying to New York on business with the UN tommorow, I will be one of the represenatives to meet them. With any luck the Citizens, the Eurasian group, and the Confederation, the PanAmerican underground, will meet an "understanding."
So, Alasair Legrand went to the first order of business. The UN rules that had been placed to insure that pension plans and generous accident insurance plans would be preserved in the switch from government to contrator would have to be bent. He couldn't directly cut their salary. But Morgan Industries did own the cafeteria that the workers used. Prices there would definitely be adjusted, and soon the exact same effect as a pay cut would ensue. If the workers wanted to eat, they would sign a pay cut.

MikeH II <Picture>posted 11-25-98 09:14 AM ET ���
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Sorry lost some formatting in the cut and paste there. Hope you can all read it OK.jsorense <Picture>posted 11-25-98 02:59 PM ET ��� <Picture: Click Here to See the Profile for jsorense>��<Picture: Click Here to Email jsorense>�� ��
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MikeH

posted 12-21-98 11:23 PM ET            

"Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for this warm welcome. I had no idea that my arrival would cause so much trouble. I am flattered but I know how busy you all must be now that the project deadline has been brought up another two weeks. Because of conditions back on Earth this mission must be launched as soon as possible. Please return to your duties and I will now attend to mine. God bless you all. Good bye and good luck."

After a few last hand shakes and personal farewells Greg was ready for his next destination: the Unity medical dome where he would start the therapy that would prepare him for a cryogenic state. This treatment would, theoretically, preserve him for an almost unimaginable future.

"OK Ensign Holloway, I am ready to be led into the lion's den of medicos. Lead on!" "Aye, aye, sir." she said with a crisp salute. And so she escorted him down tunnels, along people movers, up elevators and through a labyrinth of office cubicles. At one point they had to wait for a squad of U.N. Security to go through their P.T routine. A tall Latina with lieutenant's bars was talking to a sergeant.

"Keep them moving Sgt. Junack. We can't afford to loose any muscle mass in moon gravity. We'll need everything we got to insure survival once we get to A.C. Are you sure you put enough extra weight in their packs?"
"Yes, ma'm! You heard the lieutenant! Move out you grubs!" barked the sergeant as he double-timed the sweating soldiers up a seemingly endless flight of stairs.

The lieutenant then noticed Greg's colonel uniform and stiffened to attention, saluted and drilled him with a smolderingly angry glare. Greg returned her salute surprised by her reaction. "Carry on Lieutenant , ah, Santiago." murmured Greg after reading her I.D. badge. Reluctantly he turned his back on her in order to followed his guide to the entrance of the medical dome.

"Here we are Col. Treestock. This is as far as I go. See you in about 40 years."

"Thank you Ensign. See you soon."

MikeH II <Picture>posted 11-27-98 07:55 AM ET ���
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Journal of Michael Hefferan Ships Life Support Systems Officer.

The great Greg Treestock is on board. I met him once before when he was helping with the SMACA epidemic. That was good work. I am looking forward to working with him on the ship's medical filters. I can't think of a more impressive crew than we have got already.

It is interesting the UN have gone for the best in their fields. They haven't followed the more standard practice of picking a team who have worked together before. I blame the new Group Dynamic theory. Ha. To be honest I can't really buy into any theory that suggests violent group dynamics produce the best results but if the UN buys it I guess I have to.

jsorense <Picture>posted 11-29-98 07:39 PM ET ���
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The pneumatic doors of the United Nations Medical Center (Centre) on the moon's Tyco Base whoooshed open happily to allow Greg Treestock to enter. Greg noted the colored stripes on the and spoke clearly to no one in particular, "Cryogenics please." A cool blue line instantly lit up showing him the way to his scheduled appointment with his cryocell. He had only been following the line for a couple of minutes when his comlink began to vibrate. The instant he activated it an apologetic voice chirped in,

"Col. Treestock? Thank goodness I reached you in time. Your orders have been changed. You will not be given the cryogenic treatment at this time. The Director General wishes to speak to you right away! Please allow your escort, Ensign Khosa, to lead you to his desk."

As if on cue, Ensign Khosa popped into view, saluted, and said, "Follow me sir, there isn't a moment to loose."

Fifteen minutes late Greg was shown into a small office with an incongruously large and imposing desk in it. Behind the desk sat The Director General of U.N.S. Unity Engineering Coordination Committee furiously typing memos on his executive console. Despite his fatigue Greg grinned and said,

"G'day mate! You know, all work and no play makes Raymond a dull boy!"
"Jeus H., Greg! You know better than to sneak up on an old marine like that. I cudda taken your head off!"
"Sure, Raymond. You tried that once, remember."
"Oh yeah. I guess you mean that time in Hong Kong. And, no, I really don't remember. What was her name anyway?"
"Her name was Cindy as you know very well. And she liked me best any way. Now stop B.S.ing me and tell me what's up. I'm tired and I need a drink."

Shaking his head Raymond opened the lower left-hand drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle of Kentucky bourbon and two glasses. He poured them both generous shots and toasted,

"To lab assistants everywhere."

"Amen, Brother Raymond. Now what's so urgent that you needed to pull me our to cryogenics?"
"Well, Greg, I got the request from his holiness Commander Prokhor Zakharov himself. The science officer of the whole Unity Project wants you to assist with the final preparations of the ship. With the count down shortened by two more weeks they are really scrambling to get all the environmental systems on-line and working within perimeters. By the way, and off the record, there have been rumors of sabotage and other unexplained goings on out there. So you be careful."

"Yeah Raymond, I've heard some rumors too but I never took them seriously, until now that is. Just tell me one more thing before you beam me up. How's the lab assistant situation on board?"

SnowFire <Picture>posted 11-29-98 10:19 PM ET ���
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From the Memoirs of Alasair Legrand, not to be published for a long time. He kept these as notes and wrote them up but never tried to sell them. In a later age they would be uncovered and tell much about the time period they came from. An excerpt:

I sat in a small New York cafe looking over my documents, furtively trying to better prepare.

With only 2 weeks left to go in the project, I had been assigned to go to the Unity itself and conduct business from there. A moon shuttle to Tyco Base was leaving at 10 PM- I hated the military times on all the flights and I will resolutely cling to familiarity on this count. But first there was the meeting with the Spartan Confederation Representative. This would be tougher than I expected: The other 2 Citizens for Survival reps were suddenly "unavailable" and I had not been fully briefed on the meeting, since I was the most junior member of the three and was there more as an observer. So I was going over everything the SfS knew on the Spartan representative. I knew then that the Spartans had been largely responsible for the trouble in Brazil, and had done some evil things in Atlanta too. Not that there was any conclusive evidence, of course. The Spartans were clearly professionals and adding them to the Eurasian CfS would be a great coup for me. I had arrived half an hour early for the 8:00 meeting, as to better prepare. Much to my dismay, a man fitting the Spartan representative walked in at 8:10, interrupting my hasty research.

He walked over to my table. "I hear the Mets are to merge with London's new baseball team."

"Yeah, if the cow jumps over the moon."

The replies completed, I set out to business. "I'm sorry, but Monsieur Dumas and
Frau Weinenberg are unable to attend. I will be conducting the meeting."

"Good. We will get straight to business then."

I learned that this was indeed Mr. Aemora from the Spartan Confederation. He headed up the Spartan activities in the Western Half of the United States, with agents from San Diego to Vancouver. His companion was also unavailable, but refused to say why. Then he got to the conditions of the merger.

"It's very simple Mr. Legrand. We like you, and some other members of your higher up leadership. You will merge with us, and the new entity will be called the Spartan Federation. Notice the lack of the Con before Federation. It will be headed by one person, our new leader. There will be no more squabbling between individual cells of organization. The only similarity will be that there will be 3 general leaders, who we're calling Chancellors, directly below our new leader: one of American Operations, one of Eurasian Operations, and one of Colonial Operations. I will be Chancellor of American Ops, and you will be Chancellor of Eurasian Ops."

I was shocked. Did he just say that *I* would be the leader of the Eurasian Ops, which meant the CfS?

"But.... what about your higher-ups in the Spartans? What about all my leaders? They will certainly want those positions."

Aemora was unnaturally cool. "They have been... taken care of. The times, they are a-changing. Fortunately, our new leader likes you. And likes me as well. I was the one who sent you the message that your other associates would not be attending this meeting, by the way. You will be head of the old CfS power structure and explain to the lower downs the new way on how things work: I will be doing the same to the old Spartan Confederation lads and their new leader. The Spartan Federation will be three times as powerful as the old Confederation and CfS."

I was still reeling. It's like being told that you had won the lottery, but all your old friends had been butchered to do it.1

"I still have an appointment on the Unity that I have to go to today. How will I administer operations from there?"

"You will have a contact there. She will explain everything to you."

"Who will be my contact on the Unity?"

"A colonel in security. Name's Corazon Santiago. And I'll warn you right now, er, don't treat her as just a contact. She's a tad higher up in the organization than that. Just as you are in the middle of the Morgan Conglomerate, and yet high in the true power structure of our new power."

"Oh? How much higher?"

Mr. Aemora simply laughed a little and said "You'll understand when you meet her. Organizations like ours promote on terms of skill, unlike so many bureaucracies that claim to represent fairness."

I looked at my watch. I had time to reach the spaceport, but with New York traffic being what it is...

"Okay, nice meeting you."

I had become the Leader of the CfS, but only as a Spartan puppet. I now had far more power than before, and yet I also had far less- this mysterious new leader had all the power it seems. I looked over the mass of documents I had received on my flight to Tyco Base, where the Unity was moored at. I no longer had time for the MC business I had originally intended to read now: I was too busy reading about how the Spartans secretly supported the rebels on the colonies like Mars, and the profile of Chancellor McBride, the head of Colonial Ops. I wasn't going to be getting much sleep these next two weeks.

Imran Siddiqui <Picture>posted 11-29-98 11:41 PM ET ���
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Morgan Industries - Unity Check
Journal Entry of Lyle Rogers

As builder of the Unity spacecraft, It was Morgan Industries's job to make sure everything was in working order. The vice CEO's were around looking for spinoffs, which could make great profits for the company.

We were suprised in the inspection procedure when Mr. Morgan himself arrived. He seemesd to be a little more than interested in the cryocells pods. I guess he thought that a profit could be made by freezing termanally-ill patients until a cure had been found for their diseases. It would be a a great project. Hopefully the University could see it to make some more cryocell pods for us. They've been overworked as it is. Well, this could be the dawn of a new era in Morgan Industries.

Lyle Rodgers
Director, Unity Project, Morgan Industries

jsorense <Picture>posted 11-30-98 06:04 PM ET ���
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After leaving The Director General's office Greg Treestock felt restless despite the bone weary fatigue that seeped through his body. Maybe it was the bourbon but more likely it was the unsettling knowledge that someone was interfering with his great dream, the human colonization of another star system. He needed to sit down with a nice pint of bitter and relax. What kind of place would be open at Tyco Base at 01:30 GMT? Greg consulted his comlink and discovered that the main cluster of entertainment slots was adjacent to the administration block. "My, how convenient," thought Greg. As he turned the corner his vision was assaulted by one garish brightly lit sign after another promising everything imaginable both legal and otherwise. The total affect was like a miniature Old Las Vegas. Smiling at some nearly forgotten memories of that city Greg strolled down the lane looking for a comfortable pub. There was the CC Club advertising garlic bretzels, The Future Club promising the best holo-sports, and finally, at the end of the lane, the understated The I Club.

Greg was first attracted to the old style saloon swinging doors and his curiosity was further piqued by a small battered sign that read, "No Weapons Allowed Beyond This Point." Looking in he saw an unusual configuration with a long bar to one side and, several tables, each with a lava lamp, and a huge antique juke box to one side. However, the distinguishing feature of the main room was that there were a large number of small private corners with mirrors set up to create the illusion that there was an infinite number.

The room was almost empty. One individual was concentrating on a dart game with eyes so red that he must have been at it for days. Off in one of the corners there was someone else fondling what appeared to be, in the dim light and despite the no weapons rule, a relic from WWII. There were two other men sitting at the bar drinking beer and conversing in German seeming about the recent World Cup fiasco. One was wearing a "The Who Live at Leeds" tee shirt and the other wore a "Salzburg Mozart Music Festival '55" Security leather jacket. They glanced up at Greg, nodded welcome in his direction and order him a beer.

SnowFire <Picture>posted 11-30-98 07:08 PM ET ���
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From the memoirs of Alasair Legrand

I arrived at Tyco Base around 3:30. It was the equivalent of a 4 hour jet lag, since they ran on GMT here. I picked up my baggage and was ready to head over to the wing that had the Unity flights when a tumultuous boom sounded. I ran over to a window, only to see a giant transport filled with supplies for the Unity in flames. That would set things back another week, probably, knowing that it probably had the rarest and most valuable materials on board. Worse... it looked like the logo of Morgan Industries on the side. Sigh. This didn't look like sabotage from a cursory inspection, more likely tired mechanics missing something important. Plus if my new organization had done the deed, it would have been with more style than that.

Well, it seems that all the flights to the Unity were temporarily suspended from that. I now had a 4 hour stopover here at Tyco when it should have only been half an hour. I decided to head over to "The Strip" at Tyco base, infamous for its many businesses styled after old Las Vegas. While such things held little attraction for me, I knew that there was one place that had the best damn chilled orange juice in the solar system.

A few minutes later, I got out of the taxi and stepped inside the I club. I hadn't been there in awhile, but a few of the regulars I recognized. One brandished an old World War II rifle. I think his son, Lt. S Johnson, was a member of the troops enforcing order on Mars. One drunk was tossing darts at a wall, and missing wildly. I hear he used to be an enforcer for the old IIIS, and he dispatched his enemies with poisoned darts. But I suppose he had fallen on hard times after the IIIS officially was closed by the government, though there are still rumors its work continues underground.

In any case, I stepped up to the bar and ordered the classic chilled orange juice. I noticed a tech in the background typing on a computer with "JCN" emblazoned on the bottom. Impressive that they still had a model of those, after the numerous unverifiable incidents associated with them. Yes, the I Club was a treasure trove of thought provoking things, but I was too busy with my orange juice to notice much more. Only 2 and a half hours left 'till I have to be back at the Base.

Imran Siddiqui <Picture>posted 12-01-98 05:08 PM ET ���
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In a suburb of Toronto 3:00 AM:

"Ring, Ring"

Garland wakes up and reaches for the object which distubed his sleep.

"Hello?"
"Garland?"
"Yes, what is it?"
"This is Richards from the Unity Division of the UN."
"Oh, yes. Does this mean I got the job?"
"Yes, Captain it does. It was just decided this morning."
"Yaahooo!!"

The scream of joy by new Captain Garland echoed across the suburb.

"Captain, we have an airplane waiting for you at the airport, to take you to Geneva for a briefing, and the presentation of Captain's bars of course."
"I'm on my way."

Captain Garland collected his clothes and packed them into a light blue-suitcase with the UN logo on the side. He exited his home for 4 years and hopped into the Ford Taurus he owned. It was interesting that a UN Captain would drive an American car, especially because of American hostility to the UN lately.

That led Garland to remember the events leading to the leaving of the most powerful nation on Earth from the UN. It amazed him that so many Americans had applied to positions on Unity. At least some hadn't thought the United Nations to be "evil", as the latest American President stated. This caused Garland to think maybe the UN shouldn't have demanded the dues do forcefully, causing the United States to leave. He hoped a war wouldn't break out between the US and the UN. Of course that couldn't happen, could it? The US had many friends still in the UN: Canada, Germany, Austrailia, etc. Maybe even the UK will come back. They had left protesting the treatment of the US.

Garland though was glad that the US and UN hadn't come to war during the Sino-American war of 2069. The UN refused to back anyone in the war. France exercised its Veto. They might not have liked the US, but they were smart enough to know not to go to war with them. Russia also used its Veto. It was getting peaceful with everyone, even mass butchers! Especially after the Civil War, when US-backed Democracy forces beat back the Communist revival. With the US's defeat of China, Communism was finally wiped out in the world. Instead of making the States happy, they became angry with the UN, for not helping. Garland feared the splintering of the UN. The US seemed to be leading NATO off from the UN, and other reagional alliances started getting more powerful. Secretary General Bernard was assinated last year in Manchester, England (probably by American extremists), and it seems that the new Secretary General is afraid of doing anything to upset anyone.

But, better days were coming for Captain Garland. He was to be the Captain for the first colonization of another system. He was so happy, he could hardly contain his glee. A smile was on his face all throughout the drive, and he just arrived at the airpost with it. It was going to be hard to knock it off.

Imran Siddiqui
Patriot

jsorense <Picture>posted 12-01-98 06:31 PM ET ���
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The wail of warning alarms and emergency sirens jolted Greg Treestock out of a deep sleep. For an instant he had no idea where he was. No, he wasn't in Sydney any longer. Remembering the weird patrons of The I Club helped to focus his brain on the present. After a couple of pints there he had left the bar to find a public sleeping pod and sealed himself in for some long overdue sleep. The cacophony of alarms meant some major accident had happened. With a groan Greg reached for his cloths intending to volunteer his medical skills at the scene.

He was too late. One of the larger Morgan Conglomerate freight lighters had apparently crashed causing the hull to breach and decompress. Its crew and passengers were now lined up in a uniform row of body bags along a wall just inside the Auxiliary Airlock 17B. Two people stood out among the crowd of exhausted and shocked emergency response crews. One was a smallish red headed woman who was comforting a sobbing corpsman with such empathy that she seemed to glow. Everyone around her drew strength and calm from her aura. The other was a young man slowly moving from one body bag to the next giving each a somber blessing. Walking up to the young man Greg noticed the insignia for a U.N.S. Unity chaplain and a nametag that read, "T. Stobie." Not wishing to disturb the short but dignified rituals Greg turned his attention to the woman hoping he be able to help any of the injured.

Lt. Commander Godwinson turned from the now comforted corpsman looking for any hurt to heal.

"Commander Godwinson, I have some medical training, is there anything I can do? Where are the injured from this accident." Greg gasped after his long run to the scene. For the second time in two days a pair of eyes transfixed Greg. This time they communicated piercing anger, profound sadness and unbreakable stength.

"Thank you for your offer Colonel. But I am afraid there are only the dead. And this was murder, not an accident."

outlyr242 the rebirth <Picture>posted 12-01-98 06:50 PM ET ���
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Professor Richard Corum met with Amy and I before we left. I knew that he was sad but He put on a strong face for us. About two weeks ago today, he did something for me that will change our lives in more ways I can even comprehend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"She was not just my wife, for 30 years she was my best friend," Richard said.

"We will all miss her Richard. She was an honest and good friend. We will all miss her," I said.

"I know," he said wiping the start of another tear from his eye. Richard and Lynn lived as I always wanted to with Kim. I never knew them to raise their voice against one another. Lynn would grace any conversation with a wide smile. Yes, she will be missed.

"You know I am set to go on the UN deep space trip," Richard said with a start.

"Yeah, It leaves in about a week right?"

"Yes. I was thinking about it and, and I can't go. I can't leave this planet knowing I'm leaving Lynn behind. I know you lost Kim too so I can understand if you don't want to go. But I want to offer you Lynn and My seat on the ship."

"me?"

"Yes. I know it is a bit sudden, but you are the best person I know who could take the trip. You can take my place and Amy could take Lynn's. I'll tell you everything they told me, you will get the best treatment"

"You're right it is sudden. I mean this is not just a trip to Mars, it's a one-way bullet that never comes back."

"I know but you will have to make your decision soon"

"how soon?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Richard gave me a day to decide. Kim and I wanted to take this trip but after the stories came out about the construction mishaps and all the budget constraints we pulled our applications. Those problems seem to have been fixed with the help of a corporate sponsor. Now was our chance to actually do it but Kim was not here anymore. I know she would want us to go, but I could not make the choice myself.

Amy was the one that convinced me. She said this was not about what mom would want us to do but what we should do for her.

posted 12-21-98 11:24 PM ET            

My brief foray into town over, I returned back to the spaceport.

The debris had been cleaned up some. There were now body bags being lined up and being sorted by place of origin. Of those whose relatives were already there, a few chaplains were consoling them. I reached the ramp agent's booth, and found out that there was still another half hour before the next ship would leave. "Disasters make for poor scheduling," she said wryly. Sigh, there were still things to do.

I found an engineer on the site. I asked him what happened. "Um, we can't say yet sir." I reminded him of my position in the Morgan Conglomerate, and that I could insure that a bad report would be filed on him even though he worked directly for the UN. He opened up a little bit more after that. "Well, as I said, we're not sure. It looked like an accident at first. But then this pushy chaplain came around and kept on insisting it was sabotage, she could "feel" it. Well, we looked a little closer, not that we wouldn't have done that anyway in a few days of course, and we seem to have found trace quantities of an explosive in the engine designed to create a crack that would appear as normal wear and tear. All highly inconclusive, of course, but it's a definite possibility."

I took a moment to be be amazed at how fast today's engineers discovered things that would take a lab visit and weeks in my childhood. Then I realized that this did have a certain style to it, maybe it was the Spartan's work. Maybe this Santiago would know.

I caught my flight to the Unity, at last. It was packed, as usual, with 160 passengers in the upper bay and tons of freight below. Mostly builders on leave, but up in first class were some other executives like me and an engineer or two returning from leave. I hear from some gossips behind the seat that a new captain to replace McFarlane's unfortunate death two weeks ago, a Canadian named Garland. Also some debate on whether Vishinir Travedi's role in bringing the US and UK back into the fold of the UN, as well as the drastic strengthening of the UN with the elimination of the veto, deserved all the acclaim it got today, considering it allowed the Unity project to survive after the Russian economy failed. The one thing they were able to agree on was that the forecasted "New World Order" of dominate rule by the UN was avoided, if anything by too much, considering the constant civil unrest of today. I couldn't catch their names completely, but I think the conservative one was named Goldwater and the liberal was a researcher into strand Z-anthrax who was coming to the Unity to test for contagious diseases hiding on board.

After the flight came docking. This was my first time, so it was twice the pain. First we had to wait while the freight was extensively scanned and checked to insure we didn't contaminate the Unity with vermin or diseases, not to mention unauthorized weapons smuggled aboard. While we waited, I processed some withdrawals from panicked passengers in the wake as well as transfers of new passengers. One case awoke me from my rubber stamping trance: a scientist and his daughter were taking a husband and wife's slots that had been vacated since the wife's death. I looked at the cryocells originally marked for them: D5-A348 and D5A249. I looked at my master schematic of the Unity. My memory had proven right, it had some special markings on the D9A hall, straight from Morgan. I decided to transfer the couple to a recently vacated cell in slightly... safer grounds in the D9B hall.

I had scarcely finished that when the scans were finished. Now it was our turn. We got out of these seats at last, which while they were 1st class, 1st class in a military shuttle where space is precious didn't mean much, so we were still happy to get out. People walked around with hand held scanners examining us non-intrusively.

Finally, we were let out into the Unity. There was a brief speech on not getting lost, but while I had technically never been on the Unity before, I knew the place quite well from my work back on Earth. First order of business: my quarters. I wanted to set that up, then my Morgan Industries bosses could be tended too, as well as this Colonel Santiago.

I reached my quarters, and soon after entering I realized a presence in the room. I turned around and noticed a lieutenant in security at my door. I had been told that Santiago would find me, that I would not need to find her, but this was only a lieutenant, from the salad bar. Except... the nametag read Corazon Santiago. Ooops.

Yo_Yo_Yo_Hey <Picture>posted 12-02-98 12:24 AM ET ���
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I was walking the streets of New York. The place was totally insane. I could literally smell the dead, rotting bodies as I walked pass allyways. The smell was noxious, overcoming, but I feared to report it to anyone. The mob controlled the city now, not the police. In fact, if I did report it, the bribed police officers would most likely tell the mob bosses, like Fox, & Jarns, the lead ones, & I would end up on of those rotting bodies in an alleyway. I feared that, I had more important things to worry about than my own skin. So I kept to myself, & tried to piss as few people as possible off. This was hard, but I did a rather good job at it. But, someone's bound to always hate you, no matter what, so I always kept my shredder pistol right here inside my jacket, just in case.

I arrived at UN HQ, which strangely enough was still in New York. I couldn't believe this, the US had left the UN 3 years ago, because of some crap about the commies taking over the UN. I didn't care, I didn't pay much attention to politics. The place was literally a fortress though. It had a 8 foot stone wall surrounding the complex, topped by barbed wire, & armed guards in their usual blue helmets.I walked up to the gate, & showed my ID card to one of the 3 guards who approached me.
"Rich Junack III ehh?" The rather tall, unshaven guard asked me
"Yeah, I work on the UNS Unity Project. Ground crew." I replied
"Ok. Steve, letim in" the tall guard said to one of the other blue helmeted guards.
So I preceded to walk in. There was a complex series of gates, 3 of them actually. I looked at the sign on the first on:
"100,000,000 volts, DO NOT TOUCH"
Hmm, they are protective. The electric gate opened, & I gingerly walked through to the second gate. This was a tunnel really. I could tell some of the guards were pointing their guns through small holes, ready to shoot me at the first sign of danger, so I just stood there co-operative. They did a scanner sweep, to confirm my identity. Then they did a weapons sweep, & the alarm went off. My shredder pistol! Crap.
The guards starting screaming orders, & cocking their guns. The openings in the gate both shut, locking me in pitch black. Then a red light came on. I looked to see a Un soldier in a side window.
"Sir, please surrender your weapons." The blue helmet said.
"Damn, I was using this for protection, you know how these damn NY street can get!" I replied. I was scared, who knows what they'd do to me. They were pretty sensitive of attacks since 34 delegates were killed by an American southern religious fanatic 4 years ago.
"Yeah of course, hand the gun over!" the blue helmet said.
I said nothing, but I obediently obeyed. I took the gun from out of my coat, & put it into a slot near the blue helmet, who was still pointing his gun at me. The red light then turned off, & I was in pitch black again.What were they going to do to me?? Then the large doors in the openings of the tunnel opened & a squad of armed guards rushed in & captured me. They held me, as I struggled to get out of the hold. They held on to me tight as one of them administered a drug of some sort into my left arm. I struggled some more, but I eventually died down, & slipped into darkness....

NOTE: I am changing my charachter, the Mars one had no direction.

Your faithful & hell-bent NIMadier general,
YYYH

outlyr242 the rebirth <Picture>posted 12-02-98 06:34 AM ET ���
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The meeting room was lit by lowlights and had no windows. The security guard at the door stared at me like I was some painting, I couldn't look at him for too long. I have never been one for intimidation or mind games. Truth is the better weapon than trickery. This man knew that I was smarter than he was and he saw that as a threat. He looks at intelligence as though it is always being used to beat him. His weapons and stare are all he has a naked and scared little child on the inside. I tried to not let him bother me but I had to keep calm. If I were to get out of this mess, I would have to keep calm.

I though of him as a scared little child because i needed him to seem vulnerable in some way. I needed to think I had the better of him somehow because he has me in this room, and Amy might be in another, I don't know.

The guard coughed.

"You need some water too?" I asked hoping not to sound to desperate for a drink. He just stared at me and made no gesture to respond.

Then the door opened. A tall and skinny man, dressed in casual work clothes entered.

"Don't worry Dr. Renwick, your daughter is safe. Is there anything I could bring you?" He asked

"Some water would be nice," I said trying to hold my voice from cracking. He said something in Italian to the guard at the door who left the room in that style of military quickness that my dad would often use.

"I assume you have heard of the tragedy," the tall man asked?

"no," I responded.

He went on to describe the bombing and the deaths. As he talked it all seemed so surreal to me. I had almost forgot of our trouble on Earth. The whole flight over, I was dreaming of the new world. It was so peaceful. Amy and I were escorted to this room after we landed. I thought it was a UN welcoming committee.

Bruno returned with a bottle of water as the tall man finished his story of hand gestures and mouth spray.

I sipped on the water glass and asked the talker why I was locked up.

"Well, the ship has been delayed," he said as if I could not add.

"Should we go home then?" I asked.

"I'm sorry sir, but you will have to stay with us. It seems that your friend, Dr. Richard Corum was involved in the planning of this incident. We think he had intentions to frame."

The though froze me. I knew someone was lying to me. I would have to figure out who. I wanted to get to Amy and tell her to not say anything. It had been a long time since I had to deal with a situation like this but the instincts kicked in immediately. It was like Brazil all over again, I had to protect myself first and worry about the rest of this later.

"Can I see my daughter?" I asked purposely not saying her name, just in case.

"Yes, she is in the food court. We can go see her."

I left my water on the table and followed the tall man out the door. Bruno in turn followed me. I though to myself, I won that battle.

Amy was happy to see me, they hadn't talked to her yet but she knew what was happening. With the two of us together, they had no chance of getting something from us. Amy and I always worked best this way, we were the best poker team in the university. I looked at the tall man as if to as "your deal."

jsorense <Picture>posted 12-02-98 06:14 PM ET ���
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Three hours! Three whole hours! That was how long U.N. and Morgan Conglomerate security teams had interrogated him trying to sweat, who knows what kind of, confession out of him. It finally took a personal call from The DirectorGeneral to spring him. It served him right trying to get involved with helping people after the "accidental" crash of the freighter. Greg Treestock knew he couldn't help himself but jeezus, he had missed his flight to Unity again. Zakharov was going to put his butt in a sling if he didn't report soon. Now he had to cool his heels for another six more hours until Raymond could bump him onto a shuttle. At least he didn't have to spend it in the presence of those security goons.

Walking down one more of Tycho Base's sterile corridors Greg began to think that it was time to find something to eat. The I Club was too far away, but the XXXX on tap was awful tempting. He saw a group of Unity officers, mostly female, enter an establishment called, "Daughters of Gia All Natural Fruit Bar" and decided to keep on looking for someplace that served some substitute of grilled meat. Before he could find a place to eat he heard the beep beep beep beep of a VIP electric taxi. It appeared down the corridor leading a small caravan of cargo movers. Riding the taxi was a distinguished looking middle-aged man in an expensive Italian suit who practically oozed the attitude of an elite diplomat. Greg Treestock was a hard man to impress but he gave a low whistle when he read the labels on the hundreds of crates that made up the cargo. The label said, "Private Property of Mr. Jeremy Allan Borodino, POB: Bar Harbor, Maine, NAF. Special Delivery to U.N.S. Unity, Tyco Base, Moon." Greg knew his allotment for personal property was exactly 100 kilos. Who was this guy who was taking approximately 2 metric tons of baggage to Alpha Centauri?

SnowFire <Picture>posted 12-03-98 12:49 AM ET ���
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From the Memoirs of Alasair Legrand

Santiago and I soon agreed in confusing talk to decoy any bugs to talk in the lunchroom. I finished packing up and went on down.

Entering the lunchroom with, I was surprised to find the Morgan Foods lunch counter with not nearly the business I expected after raising prices at the standard one. Maybe some UN beurocrat actually noticed what I was doing and stopped it. But no, that was not the case. The prices at the "real" lunch counter were as exorbiant as ever. Then what were the people eating? It's not like they could bring food from home here, though some who were working on the flight HAD already brought their possesions. Sure enough, I found where the people where eating: at a Daughters of Gaia All Natural Fruit Bar and the Daughters of Gaia All Healthy Grill. What to do? Eh, a problem for another day.

I bought my synth burger from the Morgan Foods stand and sat down with Santiago. Soon I found another reason why the workers weren't buying from us: it tasted awful. Though I knew that it helped deter overgrazing and increased the food supply, it must be truly terrible for the common man who has to eat synth meat all the time. Sigh.

JB <Picture>posted 12-04-98 12:16 AM ET ���
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The X-31 class shuttle AVENGER streaked across the blank of space. It's cargo hold contained one ton of explosives. It's pilot, Jeremy Patterson, stared, cold eyed, at the Unity. He fired the thrusters again. Reletive speed to the Unity, controls read, was 12,000 kph. 13,000... 14,000. He typed in some adjustments to his course, and brought the shuttle nose up, so that the ablative armor on the bottom would be pointing twards the Unity. Behind the Unity, he could see the MoonStation Alpha, one of the construction bases for the Unity. His mind was clear- destroy this UN project. The UN must pay for their betrayal to the Communists. At several hundred kilometers, the guns started fireing. His ablative armor held up to the onslaught. The Unity rushed up at him. Then his shuttle jerked suddenly to the left. No! he saw the Unity move away from him, and saw the MoonStation coming up. He closed his eyes.
---------------------------------------------

The guns couldn't stop it in time. The small shuttle deflected slightly off it's course, veering to the left. It missed the Unity, but MoonStation Alpha, with 300 people on board, was right in the path. The shuttle barreled into the Station at 20,000 kph, tearing the delecate lattuce of steel bars, then detonating. The Station disintegrated in seconds, it's frame wrenching blasting into space.

Brother Greg <Picture>posted 12-04-98 02:08 AM ET ���
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Sitting down flicking through the holovid channels, Cindy Crawford noticed her namesake from the 20th century, the famous fashion model cum lab assistant in an old movie from the 20th century. That brought a smile in reminiscence of her father who had raised her on her own after the death of her mother in childbirth, and given the name of the famous lady to his only child.

A beeping on her vid-o-phone brought her from her memories, prompting her to mute the htv, and caused a small pout of irritation to cross her features as she answered the call. A face instantly recogniseable flashed up on the screen, that of her boss, Pravin Lal.

"Cindy" Pravin said warmly, "I hope that I did not interrupt you..." he trailed off, noticing the slightly piqued expression on her face.

"Oh, sorry Gramps" Cindy quipped, her face instantly brightening at the view of her close friend and boss, "just caught me reminiscing is all. What's up, Prokhtor giving you grief again?".

"No my daughter, nothing like that, just that I need that medical and psychological report on the personnell first thing tomorrow morning. Garland wants to go over it with us first light tomorrow, what with the riots occuring on Earth." At this, a brief flash of disquiet flashed accross Pravin's face. Few other than Cindy and his beloved Pria would ever have noticed. Pravin was a closed man to most people, but not those that knew him like Cindy.

"Sure, no problems. I was going to get it together for you first thing after I ate. Foods processing now." Cindy felt sorry for the man, that his great love for humanity would cause him such grief at the troubles on Earth. In fact, Pravin was one of the few that had access to such information, and it showed how much he trusted his assistant that he shared it with her.

"Okay then Cindy, I'll see you first thing in the morning. Which means that you'll have to be up at midnight making yourself look good. take care."

Pravin's little jokes rarely failed to bring a smile to his assistant's face, and this was no exception. "You rascal," she retorted, "you had better make sure you can drag yourself away from Pria for long enough to attend the meeting. Anyway, goodnight Prav."

The vid-o-phone flicked off, and Cindy grabed her meal out of the processor. The pre-processed food sure tasted like cardboard, but it had all the requisite vitamins and minerals necessary to sustain a human in health. Sitting down to eat, her mind wandered to the first time she had met Pravin Lal. The man she considered to be the most gentle, caring person in the world. Probably the main reason that she never had many lasting relationships, because no-one measured up to him.

Not that she felt anything other than respect and a love born of friendship for him. Some had inferred before that what she had was something more than that, but frankly, she saw her boss as a friend, and nothing more. Didn't mean that she couldn't compare her lovers to him though. She strived for perfection, and expected noithing less of her lovers. It could be a hard act to live up to. Greg Treestock had been one, and a rather painful one at that. She heard that he was going to be involved in the Unity project, and wasn't sure how that made her feel.

Pulling her mind back from that painful memory, Cyndi remembered when she first met Pravin in the aftermath of the Twelve Minute's war along the Indo-Pakistan border. Cindy was newly assigned to a UN medical team, fresh out of University at Oxford. In fact she was little more than a child, she thought to herself, full of ideals, and naive as to the ways of the world.

With a smile she thought to herself that she was still full of ideals, just hopefully a little less naive now.

Her dovotion to the sick, and her selfless attitude to saving the radiated survivors had caught Pravin's attention, and soon she was offered a junior job on his private staff.

That was many years ago now, and she had quickly raised herself in his sights.

With a sigh she realised that she had finished her meal, and then thought that maybe it was for the best that she didn't taste too much of it after all.

Off she went to start compiling that report for the chief medical officer of the UNS Unity...

jsorense <Picture>posted 12-04-98 05:45 PM ET ���
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Specialist Fourth Class Arsinio Rivera of the U.N.S Unity's Quartermaster's corps was a long way from the open garbage dumps he grew up on in his native Dominican Republic. The SMACA induced world depression had ruined his father's Internet sales business and they had been forced to take up residence in cardboard shack salvaging recyclables from a municipal dump. It had been a difficult youth but Arsinio had learned how to be independent and how to improvise. At the age of 16 he was forcible "drafted" into the army. At first he thought that it was the end of the world but he soon adapted to the superficially structured society and learned how to use it to his advantage.

One of Arsinio's greatest talents was spatial organization. A talent he first showed while loading trucks. He could fit more of anything in a given space than anyone else. Soon he was loading helicopters, and finally transport planes. The Dominican Quartermasters Corps rewarded his talent with promotions and education, especially language school. English, after all, was necessary if you wanted to cooperate with the North American Federation. While on the surface Arsinio was the model soldier, like supply sergeants immemorial, he made sure that his army salary did not limit his income. Cigars from Cuba, drugs from Columbia, black coral from Belize, tropical fish from Jamaica, etc, etc., etc, all found there way into nooks and crannies that only a load-master would know. Access to free transportation all over the Caribbean had made Arsino enough money to get his family out of the recycling business and back into a safe barrio.

In some unexplainable administrative whim Arsinio had been assigned to the U.N. Peacekeeping forces and eventually found himself stowing supplies aboard the Unity. Arsinio was as happy as an overworked NCO could be. He may not know where all the skeletons were buried on the U.N.S Unity, but he knew exactly where they were in his realm: Light Industry Modules Landing Pod XL52. Over the last year of Arsinio had studied the schematics and cargo manifest designing a more efficient use of the volume. The U.N. planners were overjoyed that Arsinio's reworking of the configuration which allowed a 5% increase of payload. Arsinio did not think that it was necessary to tell them that he was retaining 1% for himself which he had been secretly auctioning off to selected crewmembers and a few affluent colonists. Life was finally being good to Arsinio.

SnowFire <Picture>posted 12-04-98 07:55 PM ET ���
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From the Memoirs of Alasair Legrand

"So, you see, this right here taps into the entire computers system. If we try and change anything, alarms will go off everywhere. But we have enough so that we can look around at stuff all we want... which is all we should need."

Santiago was sitting at a desk with a laptop plugged into the computer. Santiago wanted answers on the destruction of the floating Construction base that had been attached to the Unity and was finishing constructing along the outside. Estimates were that it would take only a few more days of construction, and then a final week period of massive rechecking every system for stability and to insure they worked.

Finally we found the channel of the executive meeting rooms cameras. A tall Asian man, who still looked young but had the age and wisdom in his eyes that betrayed him, stood up.

"Friends, we have seen the dire threat to our security by the madman who was allowed to pilot a shuttle, when his background report showed that his grandparent had been in one of the old nationalistic militias of the United States, and he had lived with him while young for 7 years before his grandfather died, and he went to an orphanage where he learned a life of UN service. A first year psychology student could tell that the grandfather was probably the most important man in his life, and his perfect record in the UN when some disputes with superiors would be expected in this sort of case is only more proof that he was specially playing along, while waiting for his revenge. If I had been in charge, this debacle could never have occurred.

Speaking of that, I have other bad news to report as well. Current security chief Myers suffered... an accident today. The autopsy report will be in soon and will confirm that, I'm sure. As second in command, I will be assuming control of the security of this ship. I will correct the mistakes of my predecessors and insure that no more incidents will occur on this trip. I have just the idea in mind, as well. A certain group of people I know have been trained in a certain art that will help us detect the traitors among us. There will be no where for them to hide..."

As if to drive in the point, suddenly the screen went blank. While making my heart skip a beat, it came back on in a second, clearly an accidental line failure. But the man, who upon later knowledge I would find out was one Sheng-Ji Yang, had already sat down while the leaders rubber stamped his proposal. We both had the same question: "What was this art that he thinks will smoke us traitors?" Except Santiago thought she had an answer.

"Yang may have studied psionics," she said.

I thought about it for a moment. Widely disbelieved due to the unusual number of crazy people claiming God or Aliens were possessing to them or that ghosts talked to them. But there always were a few accounts that were hard to disprove, and in those the supposed psychic always denied the event, and claimed they were just a normal person. This contrasted sharply with the traditional "I'm psychic! Pay me money and make me famous!" attitude of many charlatans.

So I suppose it could be possible. But why would Yang bring it out into the open? If those accounts were true, then it would seem that "magicians" had been staying quiet about their powers ever since the Inquisition. Revealing that they existed would only bring on a new wave of persecution.

"That's an interesting idea. But we'll need some more information to back it up, of course," I replied.

"Of course. And that's your job now, to find out if that's true. And I have a security detail in 10 minutes, so have fun giving the orders. Here, take this. Bye."

I sat there quietly for a moment. I never really got a chance to talk with her in the cafeteria, since the MB Alpha blew up. And we were too busy watching now to talk. What was it she was supposed to tell me? It seemed odd for a contact not to have any special information. But she was definitely a smart cookie. If a tad bossy, by telling me to go check on Yang's strategy as new security chief. I'm sure she'll go far in our organization. That reminds me, I need to check up on that dead Security Chief Myers, as if I can frame Yang for his death in the name of job advancement, that would solve one of my problems. In fact, from the look in his eyes, I may not even have to frame him. He looks like he might have actually done it.

posted 12-21-98 11:30 PM ET            

Mike stayed for another hour to give Santiago time to get back well before him. He sat and nursed his pint of Pride and his, slightly bruised, pride.

BigER <Picture>posted 12-07-98 01:43 PM ET ���
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Zen Budachi, known As �Brick� by his co-workers at Morgan Hull Construction ltd., BigE by his peers and as Death from above by his �competitors�, stood with vacuum cleaner in hand while the engineers discussed the different merits of �grown crystalline fibre mesh� and standard woven metal for the �skin of the hull of Unity. Zen never appeared to be not working while going about his janitorial duties. No one paid him much mind. After all, this was just a janitor with probably no education to speak of or ambition.
He could move about without people �shutting up� as he walked by cleaning. In fact most of the Engineers simply didn�t notice him. Although, One day when some highly sensitive data was �touched� on the Engineering server, everyone was being looked at, including the janitor. Zen pretended a lack of Standard English. This however did not stop the Black suits from bringing in interpreters to question him. He knew his cover was very very good but even flunky security people could get lucky once in a while. So, Zen played the poor uneducated �Gaijin� who grew up in an orphanage in the worst part of Tokyo and never learned English. Well, some of this was the truth- Sensai always said tell as much truth as you can; it will make the lies harder to find. Zen was born the son of a Japanese/Hindustani/Russian prostitute and a Caucasian father, whom he did not know and his mother not wanting to take care of another gaijin simply sold him to the Yakuza. The difference was that although the orphanage was real and it was in the worst part of Tokyo. It was also very well funded by the Yakuza and that group of wise guys knew just how valuable a Caucasian could be for their organization especially one with raw talent. Since Zen was a very fast learner and also knew how to make himself inconspicuous. He was given the chance to advance in the ranks of the young thieves of Tokyo, but more importantly he learned how to survive and prosper. It was at this time in his life that he was introduced to the master. The master was a very stern looking man of about four foot nine and all of about one hundred pounds. Zen remembered Sensai being about the oldest person he had ever seen and ever would.
BigE woke up after the immersion brain scan and realized his cover was blown. He could see the little man sitting in the chair behind the glass looking for all the world like a smug house cat that had got it�s mouse.
He laid back and began to think of a way out of this. There are always ways out of every situation you just have to find them. He just couldn�t remember agreeing to the scan or anything about the last four hours for that matter.
Sensai was never mean or abusive he always had a soft spot for Zen, no one knew why after all he was gaijin. But Zen was good at this line of work, some said he was a natural. So, at the age of 13 Zen became a member of the very secretive organization the Ninjas. He learned everything he could and by the time he reached 19 years old many considered him a Master.
�No, no, no, I want more current information. I want you to access his short term memory you dolt.�
�Yes sir, sorry sir� �Ummm sir, if we do this now there could be cortex damage- he has been under for awhile.�
�What of it, do what I say or you will find yourself working gate duty in Anchorage.�
Zen submerges again.
Ah, kathy you have a very nice body�..she giggles.
jsorense <Picture>posted 12-07-98 05:33 PM ET ���
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The "departure lounge" for the U.N.S. Unity orbital bus was a grim box of a room. There were portholes where you could watch the loading of cryocells, each sarcophagus sheltering its human charge, and a computer game recess featuring "Sid Meier's III Virtual Gettysburg" by MegaFiraxis International, Ltd. The squad of Peacekeeps that Greg had seen before was happily reliving the battle for Little Round Top. The tough-looking sergeant, Junack was his name, was having a grand time ordering a bayonet charge in a last ditch attempt to route the forces of private Kurn.

Greg was not looking forward to his first trip to the Unity. While he was greatly anticipating his tour of the ship he would first have to report to Commander Zakharov. He knew him from he early days of the project when Greg funded the Unity Study Group. Zakharov was a gifted engineer, but his people skills left a lot to be desired. He was then scheduled to have a curtsey meeting with the new captain, a Canadian by the name of John Kenny Garland. Greg had never heard of him, and was apprehensive about this last minute replacement. Finally, he had to find the time to quietly meet with Arsinio Rivera to finalize their, ummm, agreement.

The lounge began to fill with other passengers on their way to Unity. Greg nodded to Ensigns Halloway and Khosa, but felt a chill as Lt. Santiago entered. The squad immediately dropped their Civil War reenactment and formed up next to her. At last the flight crew came in escorting no other than Borodino. The air lock hissed and they all got up and walked aboard the bus. Gone were the luxurious comfort and service of Quantas Space Lines. This was more like a subway car that happened to fly. Everyone quickly strapped in, the hatch was closed, the umbilical lines retracted and the thrusters ignited. It was a bumpy 30-minute ride because the pilots cared more about fuel consumption than passenger comfort. The bus moored to the main passenger companionway, the hatches again hissed and swung open. Greg followed the other passengers single file down a long access tube until they entered the actual hull of the Unity. Greg smiled as he heard the familiar piercing sheik of a boson's whistle as the passengers were piped abroad. Greg stepped through the airlock, saluted the U.N. colors and asked the officer of the deck, "Permission to come aboard."

SnowFire posted 12-07-98 08:00 PM ET ���
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From the memoirs of Alasair Legrand

Well, whaddaya know. I had the print out of people going back down to the surface, and one Lt. Corazon Santiago had been on it. So that's why she had been in such a hurry to leave. There were some other names on the list too, including a Micheal Heffran in Life Support. That name seemed familiar. They were both scheduled back from this "shore leave" in about... 2 minutes. They were coming on the 9 o'clock shuttle, she probably had had dinner down on the moon surface as well. Well, I needed to catch her. I began walking over to the Incoming entrance. I wanted to tell her all I had found out while she was taking a vacation and I was doing hard work.

As I walked toward the gate, I went over what I had found during the day in my head. dAfter viewing Yang's speech to the brass, I did some work on pisonics to see if it could be what he had been refering to. I also did a general backround check on Yang. He was an active participant in the Chinese Republic politics before leaving in a huff. He then studied in Tibet for 8 years in his youth before reemerging in the Second Glorious Red Revolution. But he became dissatisfied with the return of the communists for some reason, and moved to Brussels to work for the UN. I did some workups on the place in Tibet and found it a haven for mystics and ancient documents supressed from the world. I had done some more things as well, but I had moved and faster than I thought, and just up ahead...

Ah, the entrance hall. Just in time too, the people are streaming off the inspections area and look glad to have gotten off the shuttle to the Unity. In fact... was that nobel lauterate Greg Treestock that just went by? I think so. Now where was Santiago? Aha, over there.

"You'll be interested in these things... By the way, how come you went down to the surface?"

"I'm sure I will be. But no time right now. Sorry."

And just like that she pushed on past me. Who did she think she was? The leader of the Spartan Federation?

Actually, that's a possibility...

MikeH II posted 12-08-98 08:36 AM ET ���
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Please post any further posts in Part Two

MikeH II<Picture>posted 12-08-98 08:35 AM ET���
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Mike was really buzzing when he got back to the Unity, the meeting with Santiago had finished prematurely and they hadn't had the chance to discuss the next phase of the operation. He strolled through the security checkpoint at the shuttle door and onto the Unity. Legrand was standing by the door and Mike spotted Santiago pushing past him. Damn, why didn't she get the earlier shuttle? That was sloppy work, something must have come up. As soon as Mike spotted Santiago on his shuttle he knew something must have happened on the planet. Santiago gave him the all clear signal so it wasn't anything that she considered dangerous to the mission but still. Sometimes the Need to Know policy was infuriating but you just have to accept that it is for your own safety.

Legrand didn't recognise Mike because of the extensive facial rebuilding he had undergone. Had to look like the real and recently deceased Michael Hefferan after all. But Mike smiled as he considered how Legrand might have been surprised to see his old instructor strolling onto the Unity in an officer's uniform. As far as Legrand was concerned he was the second highest ranking Spartan on the Unity. Technically he was right. Mike's official rank in the Spartan Federation had never been specified officially in fact Legrand and Santiago were two of only 4 Spartans who knew of his existence. There were rumours of a "Shadow" in the Spartan organisation but most Spartans would never know he was on their side. Hopefully that would change when they got to the Planet. Of course The Shadow's unofficial rank was high, he only took orders from Santiago.

Legrand had been a good pupil. His specialisation wasn't in the same sort of areas as Mike's but more in the management, economical infiltration and sabotage. He did it well though, well enough to be a member of the Unity expedition which included only the cream of the Spartan network. The only top Spartan not yet involved was Venom, his kind of muscle might be useful later in the project but at the moment he was clearing up some crew in New York who thought the Spartans were the sort of people you could rip off. "I wonder if the entrance to his safe house is still through that dumpster?" thought Mike.

In any case he had to force himself to relax as he came on board. He lowered his heart beat and body temperature as he passed through the sniffer. Those things could detect excess tension, amazing the developments in artificial noses. It forced operatives like Mike to need to have hormone balancers implanted in their bodies. Which meant a fairly painfull operation every 6 months.

The next stage of the Unity project from the life support point of view was to check all the cryotanks. Mike was greeted with the surprised exclamation that one of the cryotanks had been stolen. Unbelieveable! That wasn't a Spartan job, there were altogether too many seperate interest groups on this ship.

BigER <Picture>posted 12-08-98 05:41 PM ET ���
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A tall trench coat walked into the room as if it's Human inhabitant was made of old dry sticks. The little man behind the glass turned a lighter shade of pale. The assistant simply fell off his chair. "Trevor please leave us." said the stick figure. trevor picked himself up and quickly removed himself from the room. Stick man cleared his throat as if something wasteful was about to come out. "Did you, Mr. Jameson, check current intell on our opperatives reasently." Jameson knew he was in trouble, he knew for instance that the Spook, as they called him, never made direct comments when he was going to dress down subordinats. " Uh, Yes sir, Yesterday I scanned the posts." "I see, and Today?" " No sir the Intell server was down"
"And you could not check the hard copy post."
"Sir, I...." "I see"
"Umm sir...this man is..." "That will be all Mr. Jameson,...thank you. Please send Trevor in on your way out." Jameson knew he no longer had a job. The question was did he still have a life. It all depended on that man on the table. Of course he was under a long time but didn't the Spook always say to be thorough there wouldn't neccessarily be brain damage? And did he acctually say this man was one of our opperatives?"I got to get out of this biz" thought Jameson just as the microfine single micron edged dart slipped past his cheap sunglasses. His last thought was I wonder if they are hiring down at Merc inc. "Trevor please wake our friend here before he slips away from us." "Yyesss sir immedeately sir." jsorense <Picture>posted 12-08-98 05:50 PM ET ��� <Picture: Click Here to See the Profile for jsorense>��<Picture: Click Here to Email jsorense>�� ��
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"Col. Treestock, Col. Treestock, Sir!" Greg searched the crowd of people in the U.N.S. Unity's main personnel embarkation airlock for the person calling his name. He finally picked out a young man in green engineering coveralls waving a small sign with his name on it.
"Hello, sir. My name is Ensign Mullen. Commander Zakharov sent me to escort you to the bridge."
"Thank you ensign. I know just as well as you that it doesn't pay to keep the Commander waiting. Show me the way."
The actual distance from the air lock to the bridge wasn't very far but all the passages of the Unity were filled with U.N. and Morgan Conglomerate security, techies, testing equipment and partially assembled instruments. Mullen and Treestock slowly wound their way around the hundreds of work parties trying to meet the fast approaching launch deadline. The bridge was no refuge from the chaos. In fact, it seemed to worse because the department heads were all here issuing orders trying to exert order on confusion. Greg recognized many of them. There was Dr. Lal running simulations on his medical boards; Dr. Yang was quietly lecturing some sweating lieutenants the need for tighter security; and Dr. Skye was reviewing hydration systems for the greenhouses. And there was Commander Zakharov impressing on a MC official the NECESSITY of on time deliveries and SHAME of deteriorating quality control. Neither was looking very happy.

"Col. Greg Woodstock reporting as ordered, sir." Zakharov cut off his harangue in mid-sentence to look at Greg. A huge smile burst on his face and he gave a surprised Greg a huge bear hug and kissed his cheeks.

(think Boris Badinoff accent)* "Greg, Greg, Greg, I tought you vould never get here. Come widt me, we must talk in private. You! You Morgan capitalist robber! Yes, you Roland! I vant no more excuses. Get that fuel loaded at once. I know your boss is gettink a huge bonus for the accelerated deliveries, that thief. Do it at once. You are endangerink the mission." Roland grits his teeth, gives Zakharov a stiff formal bow and leaves the bridge.
Greg and Prokhor retreated to the relative quiet of the command center and sat down.
"It is good to see you again, Prokhor. I met Andrew Kasantsev and Oleg down at The I Club and they send their respects." Greg hands over a liter flask of some colorless liquid.
"Ahhh, tank you Greg, tank you Andrew, tank you Oleg dis is a very good tingk. But first the business, da? My team of Environment Systems engineers has been fallink off schedule. I need your help to back up on the systems installation checks. You vill be working with a talented, though frustrated, engineering officer named Michael Hefferan. He, and his assistant, Lieutenant Sparkatron, (what kind of name is dat?), have run into some problems. Maybe even the sabotage. You will help, da?"
"I've got a bad feeling about this, Prokhor." Greg replied.

*An open apology to all Russians for this blatant caricature.

MikeH II <Picture>posted 12-09-98 07:51 AM ET ���
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Mike was pleasantly surprised when Greg Treestock arrived in the life support office. Greg was carrying a level 4 air filter. "Great, let's get that beauty in place," he took the filter and handed it to Lieutenant "Sparky" Sparkatron. Sparky and Mike had developed an incredible rapport in the short time they had been working together. Sometimes it was as if they both operated from the same brain. This efficiency was helping keep the Life Support group on schedule. The only department to be able to make that claim, and then only because of the recently revised time budget. The new captain was working out well. His man management might not have been the best but his new team and the operations guys from the Morgan conglomerate were helping the project no end.
"Hello Mr Treestock, I'm Michael Hefferan, this is my assistant Lieutenant Sparkatron."
"Please call me Sparky, everyone else does."
"And you can call me Mike."
"Thanks guys you can call me Mr Treestock."
Mike and Sparky looked puzzled for a split second before Greg laughed, "Only joking, call me Greg, At my last assignment they called me Brother Greg but that's a long story."
Sparky made his excuses and left to set up the air filter in the gardens.
"How did you get your hands on that air filter? We've been needing one for weeks but the requisition just would not come through."
"When I was working with SMACA one of the first patients to be cured was the daughter of the shipping coordinator down on earth. When I was reviewing the problems you've been having up here I realised that Spares and part shipments were the things that were hindering you most so I had a word. You are now top priority on shipping. Unofficially of course."
"Of course."

Mike smiled but inwardly he was evaluating Greg. He was very resoursefull and well regarded for his logical and analytical skills. He was regarded as one of the best of the new breed of trouble-shooting scientists. Having him around was going to seriously cramp Mike's style. This had been the best place in the ship as a base for the type of skulking and hacking Mike had been engaged in but with Treestock here it was going to be a lot more difficult.

JB <Picture>posted 12-10-98 12:51 AM ET ���
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I had an odd dream last night. Not that I haven't had this dream a million times before, but this time it was so REAL. I was at the driving to the Oceana Federal Building, as always. I'm a block away, as always. I round the corner. Then it begins. The flash. The sound. The car smashing into the wall. Me stepping outside, unhurt. Seeing the Oceana Federal Building, at the faw end of the street, collapse into itself. Me calling out for Denise. Sirens...
---------------------------------------------

Jonathan Sagan put down the diary for a second, wiping a tear from his eye. His nine year old son, James, appeared in the door.

"James, you should be in bed now."

"Daddy, I miss mommy."

jsorense <Picture>posted 12-10-98 06:00 PM ET ���
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Leaving the Life Support office in the Environmental Engineering bay after dropping off some spare parts Greg Treestock was thinking how weird the encounter with Mike and Sparky had been. First there was the uncanny resemblance between the two, even though they were from different countries. And there was that funny feeling Greg felt. Had he met Mike sometime before? Some of his mannerisms seemed so familiar. And that forced smile. It was strange enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck.

"Col. Treestock, sir." The voice from behind him caused him to jump. "The Captain wishes to speak to you, sir. Now, sir." Spinning around Greg was confronted with one more of the seemingly inexhaustible supply of young ensigns. His red shirt and shredder pistol established that he was part of the security detail and his I.D. badge indicated that he was Rang Lieu.

"Oh, Ensign Lieu. I completely forgot about the Captain. I hope being late isn't a fogging offense." The attempt at levity fell flat in the presence of such a serious young officer. "Please follow me sir." Was the only response.

Captain Garland was sitting in his Ready Room studying an array of commlinks and dictating orders. Expecting to get chewed out by an irritated superior officer Greg was relieved when Garland, while still giving orders, offered him a chair skipping military formality.

"That's right Lt. SnowFire. I want the scaffolding around the fuel cells dismantled yesterday. The last MC tankers will be finished at 20:30 and I want this ship ready to depart ASAP. Garland out. Thank you for waiting Dr. Treestock. It is my honor to meet such a distinguished scientist. Your treatments were able to rehabilitate my parents after the '48 SMACA outbreak in Vancouver. I never thought I would have the chance to thank you personally."
"Thank you, Captain Garland. The terrorists that planted the virus on the Home Shopping Network were truly evil. They never caught the culprits, but I heard it was the Provisional Wing of the Spartan Federation."
"Please, Dr. Treestock, call me Kenny, ehh? I do not intend to enforce codes of military conduct on this ship where there are so many distinguished persons, such as yourself."
"Thanks Capt�.., er, Kenny. Please call me Greg. I only used that Dr. stuff to impress lab assistants."

BigER <Picture>posted 12-11-98 02:50 PM ET ���
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Something wasn't right. Zen couldn't feel the left side of his head, it was as if someone took a laser saw and simply sliced his brain in half. He couldn't keep a thought in his head either. He just couldn't concentrate at all. After a while he just gave up and went back to sleep. Later, as he began to wake he opened his eyes. pain lanced though his right eye. Closing his eyes only diminished the pain slightly.

There was a voice coming from above and to the left-if he could only make out what it was saying. No just a voice-"can't understand what it is saying". Sleep.

posted 12-21-98 11:32 PM ET            

Garland had given him directions to the Light Industry landing pod and, thankfully, didn't ask Greg what he wanted there. Walking through the food concession bay he noticed a number of Morgan Conglomerate types hanging out just inside the company owned food counter. He recognized Roland from Zakharov's chewing out and there was Legrand too. The guy who had paid Greg off for the consulting work he had done for MC a decade earlier. Unity sure was a small world.

Greg froze in his tracks at the sight of a woman's back entering the "Daughters of Gai All Natural Fruits Bar." It looked just like his old lab assistant, Cindy Crawford, the woman that nearly caused a fight between Greg and his old friend Raymond back on earth in the Hong Kong CC Club. She and Greg had a great thing going. Why did it end? The woman disappeared into the gloom. Greg knowing that it was impossible for Cindy to be on board just sadly shook his head and continued his search for Rivera.

"Get that bleepity bleep container dogged down, pronto!" came roaring out of a pressurized viewing balcony. The pod was being loaded from space side and was in a vacuum. "Oh, bleep! Be careful with that bleepin' thing. If you break anything I'll have your bleepin' bleep!" Arsinio yelled into his headset helpfully encouraging the careful loading crews of the light industry modules.

"Chief Rivera, may I have a word with you?" asked Greg. Arsinio turned to him ready to unload some more colorful expletives when he saw the colonel's eagles and the ID.
"Col. Treestock, I was about to give up on you." Replied Arsinio. The two men connected their comlinks allowing detailed information concerning a transfer of funds to an account in Zurich and instructions concerning a certain package pick up. "That's OK chief, I'll find my own way to the moon bus." With that Arsinio's account was enriched and Greg would double the amount of personal property he would have on Chiron.

***** Ironic footnote. Arsinio Rivera is actually an IIIS Unorthodox Special Agent. The money he collects goes to a secret IIIS account which has been trying to pay down the bar tab run up by IIIS staff in the flush years of the organization. The tab is at the Hong Kong CC Club. After sixty years the bill still rivals the national debt of a small country.

SnowFire <Picture>posted 12-11-98 10:47 PM ET ���
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From the Memoirs of Alasair Legrand

I was still nervous. I had finished up my research, but I couldn't find Santiago for the life of me, and she didn't seem to want to find me. And I was far too busy with other MC business to really mount a good search for her, and I already had other "homework" that I had to do instead. I will do my sleeping after this is done.

In my research I find out about Santiago as well. She surfaced in Los Angeles from Latin America as a gang leader, where she quickly moved up the ladder. She made her gang the most profitable in the city and was smart enough to "retire" (taking a lot of the dough with her) with a head still on her shoulders. Since then she had supposedly been in involved in several similar organizations, but the UN was a fairly new one. She had risen pretty quickly up the ladder in that one, too. And as for the Spartans... well, she had been a sectional chief before as well, like Legrand. Far higher than an operative. And considering she survived the coup, she was probably his new leader. The question why was why was Santiago holding all this back and keeping things secret? Why had she killed off the other section chiefs in the CfS and kept him? Questions fell down like the rain in my head and had no easy answer.

I had put together a conclusive display of evidence against Yang for his superior's murder. The scary thing was that half of it was true. Not enough to be sure, but enough that this could be used as more than a bargainig chip. Also, I noticed one quirk about psionics. If the victim of a psionic attack realizes what is happening, he can disbelieve the illusions / resist the temptations/ or whatever the attacker is trying to do. This is of course assuming that Yang's "technique" is psionics, as if it's metal detectors we're all going to feel silly for getting worked up.

I continued waiting. Someone knocked on the door. "Come in," I said, too busy to follow protocol and check the peephole. "It's locked." I then realized how lost in thought I was. I checked the peephole and let a Lieutenant come in. "Much obliged. Just delivering a request that you meet with Commander Yang sir. Do you know the way to his office?"

I looked at the lieutenant carefully. He had "SnowFire" in his labels, and the hint of a smile seemed to be on his face. Like he knew everything about me and enjoyed the fact that I was about to meet my arch-foe. This was one creepy guy.

"In a moment," I said. Immediately followed, as I went into the bathroom, of "Can I have some privacy?"

I wanted to make sure I was up to date on everything they might try- if they even knew anything at all. I had heard that they had been cycling crew members out to be randomly checked. This was bad, did I just get unlucky or had everything been found out? Maybe this was the cause of Santiago's absence, maybe the caught her and tortured me out of her!

Now I was thinking irrationally, a dangerous thing. If they were sure I was who I was, I'd have found 3 security teams chasing me through the Unity. The reason why they only sent one officer and expected me to come quietly was that they either weren't sure, or just doing a random test.

I gave up, any new injections just might give me away anyway. Besides, people with suspiciously normal psych tests often find more suspicion heaped on them from what I read of Yang's style.

"I'm ready now." I came out of the bathroom and walked with Lieutenant SnowFire down to the A deck where Yang's office was.

Yo_Yo_Yo_Hey <Picture>posted 12-11-98 11:16 PM ET ���
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A bright light shines into my eyes. My eyes open up, and are nearly blinded by the shining bulb. I find myself tied up in a chair, feet & hands both bound to the legs. Struggling to get out, I nearly break one of the chair legs, but suddenly a man comes into the light. The man is a big man, tall, muscular, obviously one of the UN's many thugs.

"Ahh, what the hell's goin' on here!" I demanded while turning my head to the ground to avoid the light

"Well, Mr. Junack. You entered UN property with a concealed weapon!" the thug said to me in a thick Italian accent. I could tellhe was a mobster. They had practically taken the UN over, using it as a front to get rich. Who knows how many billions they've stolen from various countries paying thier annual UN dues. They get understandably angry when "President" Gitana doesn't pay the dues he owes to the UN. That's exactly why one man can't have all the power in a country.

"A concealed weapon!! Bah! I was bloody defending myself on the streets. You know how dangerous those bastards can get. Mobsters & all" I screamed.

The thug punched me across the face, & said to me, "Don't raise your voice with me son!

I shook the hit off, and said, in a kind of delirious voice, "Why the fu.ck did ya hit me!?!"

He punched me in the head again, "Don't fu.ckin' swear at me jackass. I'll break your face!"

That punch hurt more, but I took the pain. I had scored extremely high on the Alterholt trauma test. Then I heard footsteps come up behind me. The man's heavy feet barely tapped the floor, but it made my heart jump. The man came in front of me and said, "Do ya know who I am??"

"You...you're Nicky "The Dog" Vossbrinck. I knew this place was dirty!" I replied.

"Yeah, you're right, I am. Now Richie-" He started.

"Call me Rich" I snidely said.

"Ok, Rich. Rich, I need you to do a little job for me." Nicky said.

"What?" I asked

"I need ya to go on a little mission to the UNS Unity for us."Nicky said in his thick Italian voice, while lighting a cigarrette.

"The Unity?? That damn spaceship, I work on the ground crew! I hate space!" I screamed back to Nicky.

"Junack, you will go to space, & plant this here bomb on the Unity before it goes off to Chiron" Nicky said.

"What?? Why would ya wanna do that??" I asked hysterically.

"Simple, it's wasting our money, & I need some public sympathy. What could be better than a ship, the you put your heart into, suddenly blowing up??"

"Well Nicky-" I started

"Call me the Secretary General" Nicky said quickly.

"Secretary General, I can't do this. My sister works on it!" I tried calmly to say, but the fear was visible in my voice.

"Listen Richie! You will blow that damn ship up, or I have Alessandro here bring you out back, where you will spend the rest of your short life in agonizing pain!" Nicky screamed at me angrily

I stood silent. Nicky pulled out his shredder pistol, & pointed it at my groin area.

"Decide Junack, five, four, three, two-" Nicky starting counting down.

"Ok, I'll bloody do it!!!!" I screamed from fear

"I thought you'd see it my way. Now, you set sail to the UNS Unity in 5 days, along with a bomb, & a pistol. The job will be explained in more detail tomorrow. In the meantime, you stay here. You're not gonna jump ship on me" NIcky said.

I just stood silent after Nicky left the room. Alessandro, the thug, untied my ropes, & escorted me to my quarters for the enxt 5 days.

To be continued

Your faithful & hell-bent NIMadier general,
YYYH

Octopus <Picture>posted 12-13-98 05:52 PM ET ���
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"Steven. It has been a long time," Sheng-Ji Yang greeted his old friend on the vid-phone.
"Yes. A long time indeed," answered Steven Zale, assistant director of the Atherholt Group.
"As you may know, I have been promoted. I now have the authority to bring some new people to the security team aboard the Unity. I trust you are interested in this position."

Zale was stunned. He had long given up hope of getting on board the Unity. The psych-chaplain corps was filled with religious fanatics, and his own philosophies differed strongly with theirs. He could put up a good front, but those psych-chaplains weren't incompetent. He knew he'd never get aboard that way. But this way. Yang's methods didn't always sit well with Zale, but he was an effective leader.

"Why me? I've don't know anything about security."
"Ah, but it is the things you DO know about that interest me," Sheng-Ji smiled. "I don't wish to discuss this further over an insecure line. Do you accept my offer?"
"Yes. Yes I do."
"Report to me as soon as you are aboard."

As the communicator screen went black, Zale thought about the situation. His life here on Earth would be over. But what an opportunity! A whole new planet. A chance to build a new society that wouldn't make the same foolish mistakes that this one had. Yes, this was a very satisfying development.

Zale stood up and walked over to his aquarium. He picked up a small crab from the food tank and dropped it in. He watched as his pet octopus lashed out with its tentacles and immobilized it. "Maybe I can find a spot for you on board too, eh Stanley?". He tapped on the glass and the octopus shifted its color pattern.

Octopus <Picture>posted 12-13-98 09:44 PM ET ���
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Zale stepped into Yang's office. "Ah, Steven, excellent timing," welcomed Yang. "This is Elijah Gordon, he was about to summarize his report to me about the security situation on the Unity. You should hear this as well."

Gordon shook Zale's hand as Zale sat down. "The problem," Gordon began, "is that there are several subversive elements active aboard the Unity. First, there is the Morgan Conglomerate. Analysis of their financial reports indicates that they are losing a lot of money on the Unity project. They may attempt to sabotage the project to remove the financial drain and collect the insurance. However, it appears that Mr. Morgan has taken a personal interest in the project. We suspect he has some grander scheme, but the true nature of that hasn't come to light yet.

"Then, we have the so-called Spartan Federation. These thugs are better organized than our initial reports had suggested. We know that there has been a change in leadership recently. They seem to be operating far more effectively than before. However, the organization is an inherently unstable one. When one element gained power, another must have lost it. We must be prepared for a split in that organization, or at least rogue operatives who are not comfortable with the new power structure. This makes the Spartans more dangerous than before, since they will be harder to predict.

"Finally, there are reports of people who are determined to destroy the Unity at any price. These may be somehow affiliated with either the Morgan operation or the Spartans, but until we have conclusive evidence, we should be ready for the actions of an organization or organizations unkown to us at this time."

"And what can we conclude from this?" asked Yang, testing his subordinate.

Gordon responded quickly, prepared for the question. "Regardless of their political affiliations, I believe we should regard the potential security risks as members of two different groups. First, there are those who seek to control the Unity from within, people who wish to secure special conditions for themselves during the voyage or after planetfall. Second, there are those who seek to destroy the ship, either before it leaves or once we are in cryo-sleep. The second group is clearly more dangerous, and should be our primary focus."

"And what do you think, Steven?"

"Well, I think he's correct in his analysis of the situation, but doesn't go far enough in his conclusions. The members of the first group have a vested interest in the completion of the Unity mission, so their efforts will be directed against the second group as strongly as ours will. By not interfering with them now, we increase our chances of making it to Alpha Centauri in one piece."

"Interesting," replied Gordon. "But then we will have to deal with these 'first group' conspirators once we arive at our destination."

"Yes," Yang stepped in. "But once we are there, we will have a definite advantage. Here in earth-orbit, these subversive elements have access to the full resources of their earth-bound organizations. Once we arrive at Alpha Centauri, however, they will have no resources to draw on, no reinforcements to back them up, and no political strings to pull."

"Political strings?" asked Zale.

"Yes. Many of my actions have been resisted by the entrenched forces of politics. I have been unable to remove some undesirables from the ranks of the security forces. It appears that my... predecessor... viewed a job in the security force as a commodity to be sold to the highest bidder or traded for a political favor. As such we can only trust a small number of them. That is why I've brought you in, and promoted Gordon to his present position. Both of you are trustworthy and capable."

"Thank you, sir," Gordon accepted what he thought was a compliment.

"No thanks are necessary. I merely state the facts as they are before me. Now go and begin work on finding the members of this 'second group'," Yang directed.

After Gordon left, Zale turned to Yang. "You made those same conclusions yourself. Why did you bring me here?"

Yang smiled. "You have knowledge and expertise paralleled by very few in the field of psychology. In some respects you are better than even myself..." Zale smiled to himself. That one really was a compliment.

SnowFire <Picture>posted 12-14-98 01:48 AM ET ���
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From the Memoirs of Alasair Legrand

Lieutenant SnowFire left me there outside the door to Yang's office. He still creeped me out with that look like he was God or something, controlling everything. I never saw him again, and after I checked the ship's roster he did not appear on it. This remained to this day the creepiest and haunting person I ever met.

I entered the office. Yang was lounging on his chair comfortably, but he not seem to fit in the large expensive chair his predecessor had. I got the feeling he would have been just as happy in a plain wooden chair. A man with a notepad was standing off to the side, with the nametag "Gordon" on it. Gordon had a hard and compotent face, and he looked like someone who could find a needle in a haystack and yet not notice the obvious thresher coming at him. Physiognomy, the art of telling personalities from faces. Silly, but fun. Continuing my look around the room, there was a man in the opposite corner (it was a fairly large office) sitting at a computer, typing away. There was an aquarium near him with an octopus in it.

I was still standing rather nervously in front of the door. "Please sit down, Mr. Legrand" Gordon said.

I complied, and sat in the fairly nice seat facing Yang's desk. Yang was keeping a watchful and observant eye on me this entire time. Rather unsettling. The man in the back of the room continued to type away, but he still seemed to be listening. Gordon stayed standing up behind Yang to my right with his notebook, and began to ask me questions while occasionally glancing down at his notebook.

He started off with some fairly basic questions, and it looked like this was going to be easier than I thought. It was obviously just a random check, or a very well-rehearsed impression of a random check. The man in the back seemed just as uninterested as ever.

Gordon shifted his feet a little bit. "Have you ever heard any crew member mention anything that might suggest they wanted to destroy or otherwise damage the Unity?"

"No."

Yang turned at me directly and gave me a long, hard, look. I stared right back at him. It was one of the longer 3 seconds of my life, but Yang was the one who looked up- and smiled slightly. I think I had won, but if my research was correct, he might have gotten a few glimmers. I felt immensely better after he looked away, like a weight had been lifted off of me. I noticed that the man in the back had turned and had been looking at me as well.

Gordon started to ask another question, but Yang cut him off. "Thank you Mr. Legrand. Please continue helping out on the ship. By the way, though I know you were scheduled to return to Earth tomorrow, it seems that you have a cryocell now. If you have not already been informed, I offer you my congratulations and wish for your successful trip to Chiron. That was the original purpose of this meeting. I will insure that the person who suggested the additional questions is dealt with properly."

"Thank you." I turned and walked out of the office and back to quarters.

After I returned to my quarters, I found Santiago waiting for me. At last I would be able to get and receive the information on the Spartan master plan, now. I would not be denied.
------------------------------------------
NOT from the Memoirs of Alasair Legrand

Yang continued sitting in his chair.
"Interesting... very interesting. Not quite what I expected. This man... he has unusual abilities. We may want to look into this one more carefully- for several reasons. He spoke the truth in his response, though."

posted 12-21-98 11:34 PM ET            

Mike was in trouble, Yang wanted to see him. Yang had been bringing in his own staff of late and there was a lot of talk about Yang going on on board the ship. Mike knew a lot about him from the Spartan files but luckily they had never met, if they had Mike would have been transferred off the ship as soon as Yang was appointed. Even with his disguise and plastic surgery he would have feared recognition. There was some speculation about Psychic powers because of a couple of operations Yang had broken. Mike blamed bad luck and stupid operational errors but he wouldn't underestimate Yang. Santiago had given him sole responsibility for collecting information about the ship but now his focus was to change to concentrate on Yang's team. If Yang found out about the ship's saboteurs then the Spartans wanted to know about it. They had a lot of methods of dealing with them which weren't open to Yang.

Yang had already questioned Legrand which made it even more important that Legrand be left unaware of Mike's presence on the ship. Mike would only contact him in the most extreme circumstances.

He turned back to the filter he had been fixing. It was amazing what the accelerated learning chips could do. The real Mike Hefferan had had to be sarificed to dump his skills into Mike's Bio-Digital Data Connector but he had died for a good cause. Maybe someday the scientists would find a way of extracting the data when the subject was asleep or sedated. It could be quite disconcerting lying on a table hooked up to someone who screamed that much. Still at least the cruelty involved with the process and the eventual death of the subject meant that few organisations were prepared to use the technology. Weaklings. A lot of countries still banned the type of BDDC that Mike had fitted. Which meant that he had an edge. Ironically the BDDC could provide Mike with a way of beating Yang's interrogation. he could feed it fake information then let it take over his answers. Technically that was an extremely dangerous thing to attempt and could result in double memories which typically led to madness. Mike had been practicing though and as long as he kept a written record of what he did he should be able to bring the memories back to normal later.

Octopus <Picture>posted 12-14-98 12:01 PM ET ���
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Alasair Legrand walked casually down the corridor. From a side passage an attractive young woman carrying several file folders emerged. Not looking where she was going, she bumped into him and dropped the folders.

"Excuse me," said Legrand.
"Oh, it was all my fault. I'm sorry," she replied as she bent down to pick the folders up.
"Let me help you with those," said Legrand leaning down to assist.
The woman looked at Legrand. "Do I know you from somewhere? You look sooo familiar. I'm sure I've seen you somewhere before."
"No, I think I would have remembered you," laughed Legrand.

------------

"Notice that his irises contract, and the increased tension in his facial muscles here, and here," Zale indicated on the vid-screen. "Definite fear reaction at the suggestion of being recognized. He's connected with some sort of clandestine activity, that much is certain now. The only question is who..." Zale pondered. The security tech running the monitors replayed the encounter again. Increased tension? Either this Zale guy was good, or he was completely full of it. "The problem," continued Zale, "is that Legrand has an amazing amount of control if he is able to prepare himself. Continuing this investigation won't be easy. We can't keep manufacturing situations like this one. He's be sure to catch on. He's no fool..."

BigER <Picture>posted 12-14-98 01:16 PM ET ���
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BigE tried to expand his awareness again. Frustration mounted as he realised his "speacial talent" was gone. All the years of relying on this "second sight" and now nothing. He would have to retire from this way of life..that is if they would let him! In fact why was he still alive? He should not be. Something beyond his knowledge was going on and he needed to find out if he wanted to survive. Then all of a suden there it was the awareness was back...but it was different. It was to clear to be....and what are those grids. The voice. "situational awareness uplink process on line" standard query" grid: a unit of measure, also a range finder and optional targeting cursor. All options installed- currently linked to four intelsat satellites in geosync orbit. Program in place for minisats and configurable uplinks. continue? "No" shut the f**ck down. query accessing language database. query unrec. com. please reissue com.
"oh shi*"
"Mr budachi"
"yes"
"As you can see the sitrep 4000 can be voice activated or a mental command will work just as well."
oh shi*"
"Ummm yes. Shall we continue?"
"all right"
"Good, since you are aware of the loss of your psionic abilities you are entitled to know why."
oh shi*"
"Yes, quite. Anyway, as you are probably aware(umm sorry) There are people who have this same ability as yours, and in order for you to be "safe" from mental attacks from these people we have taken the liberty of installing our software-since you seem to had lost most brain functions and we felt your psionic abilities would, more then likely be removed by this "accident"" So, as you see, Mr. Budachi, we have given you state of the art software. Ummm, you of course are free to use them as you see fit. We ummm, however would hope that you would see your way clear to joining forces with us- I mean since the people who did this to you are the same people we are trying to prevent from destroying the Unity project.
Cold chills running down my spine., and I know my life is not my own any more.
"Go on I am listening."
"Excellent, let me give you what infor mation I have so far"
"Go ahead"
"Ummm, I have already it's in your short term data net.
"Oh"
"Please feel free to go over this info and let us know what you think. Remember, we are not requiring you to do this job-we believe in freedom of choice. Either you will or you won't that will be your choice."

query: report sumary follows. standard encrip code alph nine. Morgan industries.
"Oh shi*"

jsorense <Picture>posted 12-14-98 03:37 PM ET ���
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Greg Treestock's ears were ringing from the deafening music disseminating from an antique jukebox in a bar on the moon's Tycho Base. It was karaoke night at the I Club and the place was really jumping.
Greg had arrived early and treated some of the regulars to a round before the crowd showed up. There was YYYH, Venom, Roland, MikeH, Sparky, Imran, SnowFire, Jimbo, BigE, Octopus and outlyr242 the janitor each in their respective corners watching the lava lamp on their table. Greg knew it was going to be an unusual night when the entire bridge crew of the U.N.S. Unity walked in and claimed a table in front of the stage. Over the next hour the bar filled up with other merry makers and the drinks flowed liberally to all corners. At 20:00 the crowd got restless and started their chant: KA RAO KE! KA RAO KE! KA RAO KE!
Mike Ely, the I Club M.C., jumped on the stage and announced, "Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight is 20th Century oldies night. Who will be our first contestant? Yes, you sir! Come right up here. Everyone, give him a hand. Let the entertainment begin!"
Captain Garland climbed onto stage looking a little in his cups and launched into a tearful "Universal Soldier." In an effort to liven things up Lal took over the microphone with an old favorite, "Lola." The crowd was now ready for Lady Skye's rendition of "Black Magic Woman." No one knew what to expect from Miriam Godwinson but her voice did R&B justice to "Stairway to Heaven." Next up was Yang with a chilling version of "I Put a Spell on You." Finally from the Unity table Zakhrov lurched onto the stage and, slowly swaying, belted out "Back to the USSR" to everyone's wonderment. The riotous crowd hushed as they recognized the next contestant to ascend the stage. C.E.O. Morgan gazed out at the multi-cornered room and crooned, "If I Were a Rich Man."
Greg had lost count of the number of pints of XXXX he had consumed. All he wanted now was to give the I Club his favorite song. He accepted the microphone from Morgan and started the long version of "Waltzing Matilda" including a number of R and X rated verses rarely, if ever, heard outside the shores of Australia.
Brother Greg <Picture>posted 12-14-98 07:28 PM ET ��� <Picture: Click Here to See the Profile for Brother Greg>��<Picture: Click Here to Email Brother Greg>�� ��
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Cindy Crawford, personal assistant to Pravin Lal, wandered into the I club just as Colonel Greg Treestock was belting out his version of Waltzing Matilda. A small, sad smile passed the lips of Cindy as hearing her old beau's vioce again brought a dull ache to her chest. "Amazing," she thought to herself, "after all this time, it still hurts..."

Pulling herself together, she wandered up to her boss' table, and with quick gestures of welcome to the mostly inebriated leaders of the UNS Unity, and a quick dodge away from the groping hands of Captain Garland, she settled into a crouch next to Pravin.

"Prav, there's been an anomoly in the psych profiles of some of the Unity crew. Some people's profiles are just not available, and despite my best efforts, it seems I don't have access to them. Someone VERY high up has locked them, and we can't get in."

Pravin Lal looked at her with a slightly unfocused look, very unusual for him, and mumbled something about looking into it in the morning, at which point he gave his appologies to his fellow commanders and stumbled off home.

Cindy followed him to the door, then stopped as Greg's song reached a kind of crescendo, with a lot of fellow Aussies belting out the tune to the delight of the crowded bar.

Watching Greg stagger off to the urinals to thunderous applause, Cindy decided that she had worked enough for one night, and deserved some time to let her hair down.

Stepping up to the bar, she ordered a Tequila Sunrise, which she downed quickly, and headed off to the stage. Never considered a great singer, she was nonetheless accomplished, and she quickly gave her erquest to the DJ.

Just as Greg walked out of the WC, Cindy started singing the old favourite ballad of hers, the Bon Jovi classic, "This ain't a love song". Greg, rather inebriated, and kind of caught off guard, could only stop and stare, wide eyed at the unexpected sight of his ex lover singing the song they had last made love to, so many years ago, on the night they broke up.

And as the song wound down, Cindy looked straight into his eyes as she finished:
"If the love that I've got for you's gone, if the river I've cried ain't that long, then I'm wrong, yeah I'm wrong.... This ain't a love song... Then I'm wrong, yeah I'm wrooo-oong. This aaa-iin't a love song..."

She trailed off to near silence, the audience spell-bound by the gorgeous vision belting out a rock love ballad, then erupted to cheers, whistling and calls for an encore...

JB <Picture>posted 12-14-98 08:15 PM ET ���
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There has been a dreadfull outbreak of K-121 on earth. Apparently, the geneticaly-engineered virus was stolen from Dark Storage on Luna. How it was stolen is still a mystery. Fortunatly, vacination programs are working well, and the casualty level is expected to be low.

Yesterday, I talked to the Captain about possible outbreaks on the Unity. We agreed that sterilisation must be preformed before entering. Steri-Lights will be set up today.

I also had a quick chat with Greg Treestock while I was in the pharmacy. He seems nice enough. Not the boring, strict, fun-hating guy the papers displayed him as.

Jamie is still sad. I don't think she'll ever quite get over loosing her mother so early.

NOTE: James is now Jamie. I thought a female character would work better.

Octopus <Picture>posted 12-15-98 12:03 AM ET ���
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Gordon looked over Zale's latest report on the Legrand situation. He had to admit that this guy was good. He was going down avenues Gordon would never have dreamed of. But Gordon was good too. His methods weren't as fancy as Zale's, but they got the job done.

An explosive charge from the latest sabotage attempt had been recovered. The chemical composition had been analyzed, and the chemical tags had identified the source as Morgan Mineral Concerns, the mining wing of the Morgan Conglomerate. Never satisfied with the results of the civilian labs, Gordon had ordered a second analysis. His suspicions were confirmed, the chemical tags didn't exist in the proper proportion to the explosive material. The group responsible must have spiked black-market tagless explosives with this particular marker in order to cast suspicion on the Morgan operation.

Tagless explosives were an expensive commodity, and few organizations had the resources or the connections to procure them. The largest supplier was a black-marketeer named Gunderson. No one had ever been able to pin anything official to Gunderson, but most of the law enforcement officers in Europe knew him as the primary arms supplier for the Citizens for Survival. The last confirmed sighting of Gunderson was in the city of Sarajevo.

Gordon cross-referenced the shipping report that detailed the means by which the sabotaged equipment had gotten to the Unity. Sure enough, the train in which it had been transported had stopped in Sarajevo for some emergency maintenance on its way to the central European spaceport. The engineer who had ordered the maintenance stop was one Ferdinand Rodriguez. A quick check into Rodriguez's dossier revealed that his wife, Maria, was believed to be a compulsive gambler, deeply in debt to one Zoran Gajic, a prominent figure in the European underwold.

Alarm bells went off in Gordon's head. Gajic had been one of the top men in Citizens for Survival. Gordon checked his database. "...believed dead following a car crash in Brussels. Extreme burns prevent positive ID of the corpse... ". It seemed that reports of his death had been greatly exagerrated. Things seemed to be falling into place.

"Why would Gajic want to blow up the Unity?" pondered Gordon, "and how do I stop him from doing it?" Gordon finished compiling his report and transmitted it to Yang and Zale. Now, that he had a solid theory to work on, Gordon was sure he'd begin to make progress on the sabotage problem.

MikeH II <Picture>posted 12-15-98 07:40 AM ET ���
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Mike withdrew the miniature camera from the air vent. He had good copies of all the notes on Gordon's desk. Shame he had to do it when he was reading them. He slipped back down the vent to the filter he was checking.

--------------------

Gordon felt a chill go down the back of his neck. He got up and closed the air conditioning vent behind him. "I hope they get round to fixing that filter today" he muttered to himself.

jsorense <Picture>posted 12-15-98 06:12 PM ET
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Meanwhile, back on earth:

The Michael Moore Militia was one of the more extremely paranoid isolationist separatist movements in North America. And that is saying a lot! They even thought the Spartan Federation was an international appeasement conspiracy. The 3M had effectively taken over the Upper Peninsula of Michigan as their own independent country, collecting their own tolls at the Mackinaw Bridge and Ste.St.Marie as well as other gateways to Wisconsin and Minnesota. The one entity that 3M hated the most on a long, long list of hates, was the U.N. The U.N. was the source of all poverty, pestilence, godlessness, and the nerve center (centre) of the movement to absorb the USA into the North American Federation and then into a unified World Government. The U.N. must be destroyed! To further this end 3M had "acquired" a missile and nuclear warhead from the Islamic Kingdom of Greater Afghanistan. Not exactly an ideological ally of 3M, but a government willing to sell surplus out of date armaments. The missile was launched from a secret site inside an abandoned copper mine near the city of Hancock. The air bust over NYC, while causing just fewer than 1 million casualties, the EMC temporarily obliterated most of the world's communication networks.

Deep Space Orbital Command Station: OFFLINE
NATO Command Crystal Palace: OFFLINE
Christian States Heavenly Sword Main Diocese: OFFLINE
FOX Broadcast Worldwide Main Feed: OFFLINE
EBS North America: CRITICAL FAUL
NBC/MS Integrated Optical Network: ABORT RETRY FAIL
NAOL Consumer Courtesy Warning Web: OFFLINE

jsorense <Picture>posted 12-16-98 05:51 PM ET ���
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Totally transfixed by the open, questioning, longing look from Cindy, Greg Treestock could almost hear the pop pop pop of alcohol molecules disappearing from his blood system. The surprise of hearing that voice, the deadly pang at recognizing "their" song and the shock of seeing her in person on the karaoke stage of the I Club was sobering him up fast. As Greg stared open-mouthed at his vision, Cindy relinquished her grip on the microphone to someone, vaguely familiar, that proceeded to completely mangle "Born to be Wild." Greg's heart was racing as Cindy tried to force herself through the admiring crowd towards him.
Suddenly there was nothing but total darkness and total stillness as all power in the I Club failed. After a moment of stunned hesitation the drunken crowd headed for the exits; one mob taking Cindy out the front door and another carrying Greg back past the WCs. When the crowd hit the alley only emergency lights illuminated Tycho Base. A siren howled in the background while loudspeakers blared the news:

"ATTENTION U.N. AND MORGAN CONGLOMERATE PERSONNEL. ALL COMMUNICATIONS WITH EARTH HAS FAILED. REPORT TO YOUR DUTY STATIONS IMMEDIATELY. TYCHO BASE AND U.N.S. UNITY ARE NOW UNDER MARTIAL LAW PURSUANT WITH U.N. STATURE 77B92-A. GOOD LUCK AND BE CAREFUL." (repeat endlessly)

"Oh, oh, it looks like the crap has really hit the fan this time." Exclaimed Greg as he tried to remember where the heck his duty station was. Squads of red shirted U.N. and black shirted M.C. security personnel were efficiently setting up checkpoints and were already asking for I.D.s and detaining people.

"Time to go check in with my old friend The Director General again. He'll know what this is all about and I bet he knows exactly where I can find Cindy too." Thought Greg as he ducked up a passage in order to avoid a squad of black shirts.

Octopus <Picture>posted 12-17-98 12:19 PM ET ���
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Yang perused restrictions in UN Statute 77B92-A with a scowl. You could always trust the UN to take something nice and simple like martial law and screw it up. Things were almost as difficult for Security as they had been before, only now people were tense and on edge because of the increased restrictions placed on them. Outbreaks of fistfights and other petty disputes had increased seven hundred percent, distracting Yang's men from their real tasks. "I wonder if this will begin to pay off before they decide to switch back again", Yang asked of no one in particular. "Politicians," he said, venemously. "Being a politician should be an arrestable offense." Yang stood up and left his office. Maybe some personal attention would help move things along.
SnowFire <Picture>posted 12-18-98 01:14 AM ET ���
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<this has happened a little prior to the events recently posted, specifically the nuclear explosion, and the night at Tyco Base>

From the Memoirs of Alasair Legrand

I had previously bumped into a unfamiliar woman before, so my nerves were already tense when I saw Santiago. We got to business immediately, after moving to an area not covered by bugs, cameras, the works. And checked too, with the finest in equipment.

"We have... a situation here on the Unity. I have recieved a message from the Secretary General of the UN. I have some old connections, you know. In any case she was calling from a phone booth in New York with someone else's credit card. She claimed that an imposter had taken her place-"

This was interesting. Scary that it was so possible, though I knew that Santiago probably had used the technique herself and had some people on board the ship who were not what they appeared to be.

"and was now plotting to destroy the Unity."

Now THAT really got my attention. We had been involved with some sabotage of the Unity awhile ago, but that had abruptly ended after the CfS merged with the Spartans. And with the tickets I got for the Unity voyage, it became quite clear to me that Santiago was going to seek her fortunes in the new world of AC. A fake Secretary of the UN trying to foil it?

"But here's the thing. This group doesn't have any real control over the UN. Otherwise they would simply cancel the proejct and scrap it. Not that there's any reason too, it'll launch within a week and there's only double checking to do now. They can't even send the imposter into UN HQ, the extensive DNA scans would flush her out. But they do have her credentials, which they're using to hire as many hitmen and mobsters as they can to infiltrate the Unity."

I responded now. "That's dumb. Trying to substitute quality with quantity? As soon as one's caught, security will go up, and pretty soon they'll all be caught. They'll 'fess up to who hired them and then the UN will do a blood hunt on the false Secretary General. And what is the real SG doing in New York? Why didn't they kill her?"

"Because they were using voice and hair samples from her to try and get the imposter into position where she could enter UN HQ without getting caught, and keep suspicions off why she never goes to work to do work. But she escaped... somehow."

"That sounds fishy. She might not have told you everything."

"True. In any case I am going to let the UN handle this one themselves. I know how a certain idealistic head of medicine will react to the news that the Secretary General is an imposter. Just a small scent to get him looking in the right direction, and he'll figure it out soon enough. Then he'll feel so smart for saving the Unity. His name is Pravin Lal, I believe. And the goons won't come until the last minute, in about 5 days. By then security will be doing full body cavity searches and passive X-ray so that any weapons they think they can smuggle in will be found, immediately. And who knows, they might even be dumb enough to put bombs, etc. in their baggage which is already heavily checked now. This is close to a non-issue."

"Yes. It still doesn't address whether this person claiming to be the SG is telling the truth, though." I had not talked as much as I wanted to. This was almost a briefing.

"First of all, it was the SG, thanks to my handy voice analyzer. It matched her pattern and yet didn't have the perfectness of a computer copied voice.
Second of all, there was some real fear in the voice from the analyzer. It could be she was coerced to say this by someone else in an attempt to embarras us, but by letting Pravin Lal discover its authenticity or lack thereof we take no blame. So that's a non-issue as well."

"Good point.

"Now, for a more important task. With your wits, while a bit slow in conversation, one of the reasons I picked you was because you tended to figure lots of things out eventually. So you probably know that with any luck, we will rule on Chiron."

"Yes, I'm familiar with that."

"Well, you have one of the more important jobs in this. I would do it myself, considering its vast importance, but in all honesty, there's a small chance of getting caught, and I'm also heading the final security detail that insures everyone is in their cell."

I was both scared and impressed. I might get killed, but she was clearly trusting me with something important.

"I'm going to send a certain team down there to check your cell block. That team will be nothing but Spartans and they'll ignore the fact you're not in the cell, and report everyone as there.
Then, you're going to use this."

She handed me a CD.

"A rather compact program, that will arrange for all of us to be awakened early. It will also will not trigger the auto-wake up alarms from our current tests on the system. It will however leave a record. That's why you need to put it in after everyone, even the bridge crew, is in nap-time. The idea is that we will wake up slightly before everyone else, and they will all wake up to find us with the weapons and their own leaders in a private prison. It all depends on you putting that program in when the time is right."

"Okay. Where shall I hide it?"

After hiding it in a place that no one could possibly find it, we set back about our duties. I had given her all the information I had collected, which I won't bore you with again here, and she had given me all the above information.

I got out the files I had downloaded on Yang's psionic abilities. I was now rather curious on them, and decided to study up and some of the more basic exercises I found. This would be interesting...

SnowFire <Picture>posted 12-18-98 01:18 AM ET ���
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<current time>
From The Memoirs of Alasair Legrand

Sigh... talk about a tough day. I was just leaving the I Club when the news of the nuke came in. There went the Secretary General, both the real and the fake probably. But much of the UN was located in other places or right here on the Unity, so this mission, the last important thing Earth could provide, would not be affected. Another shuttle delay, oh boy. And after the shuttle-from-hell, it'd be good old inspections again to insure I'm not taking bombs onto the Unity.

Octopus <Picture>posted 12-19-98 01:41 AM ET ���
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TO: Command Staff, UNS Unity
FROM: Prokhor Zakharov, Chief Science Officer
RE: Final Preparations

I am pleased to report that construction is now officially complete. We now enter a period of final tests before we commence our mission. It is only a matter of time before we are on our way.

ATTACHMENT: Completion checklist

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Yang was pleased with the report. Once the Unity was away from Earth, no more saboteurs would be able to get on board. Lately they had gotten very sloppy. Most had been stopped by routine checks for weapons at the departure point. Things seemed to be falling into place.

A line in the checklist caught Yang's eye. "Cryo-Control Computer Security Enhancements -- staus: waiver". Yang punched Zakharov's code into his vid-screen, and the Russians face appeared. "Commander Zakharov, explain your waiver of the security enhancements for the cryo-computer," he stated flatly.

"I required the services of the engineer responsible for that task in order to fix some irregularities we discovered in the fusion control system. Captain Garland approved my decision. In a few days, we will be leaving this solar system, going to sleep for forty years, trusting this ship to get us to our destination. My intention is to make sure that this ship gets us to Alpha Centauri. You are worried about hackers? If you knew as much as I do about the dangers involved, you would realize that there are much bigger things to worry about." Zakharov cut the communication, and Yang's screen went black. HE considered contacting Garland about this irregularity, but Zakharov had final say on all technical matters regarding the Unity.

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TO: All Security Personell, UNS Unity
FROM: Commander Yang
RE: Final Preparations

The UNS Unity is nearly ready to depart. Do not allow the celebratory atmosphere to distract you from your duties. Agents hostile to this mission and this vessel are still at work, and will be stepping up their efforts at sabotage and infiltration. We will have time enough to rest in cryogenic suspension. Until then, remain vigilant.