posted 11-26-98 07:05 PM ET        

Phoenix Rising, Part One

None of the constellations were the same in the Koprulu Sector. Where an inhabitant of Earth would expect to catch a glimpse of the Little Dipper, or the Pleiades Cluster, or the stars glittering like jewels in Orion's belt like a cosmic necklace against the ancient backdrop of the night sky, they were missing, invisible. Rather, Koprulu's dark held a smattering of glowing orbs in a totally random arrangement, in constellations which seemed positively alien to a non-Kopruluer. One of these radiant disks was the shining star of Korhal.
The fourth world of the system, also named Korhal, hung on the stellar velvet like a sandy gem. Once a clement, thriving world, Korhal's golden age had abruptly ended years ago, when a salvo of a thousand Confederate nuclear missiles reduced it to a cinder, exterminating all four million inhabitants and surfacing it with radioactive glass.
But like the phoenix, the legendary firebird in ancient Earth mythology, Korhal seemed to recreate itself out of its own ashes. It had been generally ignored during the war between the Terran Confederacy and the dissident group known as the Sons of Korhal, but after the Confederacy had been vanquished with the destruction of their capital world of Tarsonis, the new Terran Dominion, which had been forged out of both the conquered worlds of the Confederacy and allies of the Sons of Korhal, raised their flag on the scorched desert world. The Dominion's best engineers had been working nonstop for months, and they had finally managed to decontaminate a small portion of Korhal's surface, and it was there that the new Terran emperor, Arcturus Mengsk, had placed his capital.
Silently hovering over this turbulent world was an immense intertwining of metals of all types. It was Korhal Prime, the largest space platform in the Terran Dominion. Built upon a series of asteroids which were rich in both mineral crystals for construction and Vespene gas, lifeblood of the Galactic Rim, Korhal Prime was a metropolis unto itself. Homes and businesses were constructed inside the platform's superstructure to insulate them from enemy attack or meteoritic debris, while the airless vacuum on the surface of the platform was the abode of heavy industry. Here, the pollutive manufacturing centers did not have to worry about the large quantities of toxic wastes they produced once they were jettisoned into the endless night.
The largest of these industries, which had people in its employ from as far away as Tyrador IX, was the manufacturing giant of Korhal Drive Yards. The Terran Dominion's largest and richest military supplier, KDY was responsible for the construction of everything from the Dominion Navy's massive Behemoth-class battlecruisers, to the Air Force's highly maneuverable Wraith fighter, and even the Army's Goliath walker-mech. However, KDY was much more effective when it designed and built prototypes in-house, rather than using twenty-year-old designs scribbled on a napkin by some nobody on Tarsonis.
The most notable of these designs had been the Advanced Dropship. Armed to the teeth, with a faster cruising speed and an increased cargo capacity than its predecessors, the new Dropships would have been able to run circles around their slower cousins, cary an entire battalion of Marines, and take on a Terran Gunship and win. But the Dominion government, citing excessive costs without enough results, ordered KDY to scrap the project. Thus bereft of a major new product line, the KDY technicians turned their attention to the pride of the Navy, the Behemoth battlecruiser.
While the Behemoths were more than sufficient for attacks on the Terran enemies of the Dominion, their ineffectiveness against the technological edge of the Protoss or the ravening hordes of the Zerg were made quickly and perfectly clear in dozens of engagements from one end of the Koprulu Sector to the other. The Terrans realized that they needed a new-generation warship and needed it fast. The answer was eventually unearthed in the files of KDY's top-secret Project Firebird.
Firebird was relatively simple in its mission statement. Its goal was to extensively modify a standard Behemoth battlecruiser, converting it into the ultimate fighting machine. However, due to the recent uphevals in Terran society, Project Firebird had only recently come to fruition.
It had taken the form of the Behemoth II-class battlecruiser Phoenix, which at that moment was secured to its moorings on the underside of the platform.
And Exile, the famed Dark Templar, ExileMart proprietor, and infamous black marketeer, had come all the way from Earth to steal it.
Disguised as he was, hidden in the shadow of the personal cloaking device which were issued to all Dark Templar, he was both invisible and inaudible as he crept through the dimly lit, labyrinthine corridors of Korhal Prime. There wasn't really much reason for him to be creeping around in the shadows, as he was fully concealed by his cloaking device, but it didn't really feel much like a covert raid on an enemy installation without doing it.
Exile looked around him and saw...not much, possibly because he was in the shadows and had difficulty seeing out. When he exited the shadows, he took stock of the situation. He was in a large, shadowy corridor deep inside Korhal Prime. It was mostly deserted, owing to the fact that this place was pretty much remote from anywhere else in or on the platform. Occasionally, a Terran would walk into his field of vision, but would dart down a side passage a few seconds later, likely heading for an altogether more wholesome place.
Confident that he wouldn't be detected, Exile released some oxygen and headed down the corridor. He didn't notice the hidden, retractable floor turret until he felt a bullet glancing off of his personal shields. As he turned towards it, he realized it was a detector, with radar capable of penetrating his cloak. Foregoing all semblances of stealth for the moment, he charged towards it and quickly silenced it with a few strikes with his warp blades. But it was too late. Cursing to himself, Exile realized that the damage had already been done. A floor gun had fired, been destroyed, and detected a Dark Templar within the platform. Exile knew that the Terrans, primitive as they were compared to the Protoss, were still very strict in security procedures. There was likely a team of Marines en route already, probably with a portable detector.
Exile pulled down on the brim of his Houston Astros cap, maybe believing that it would give him good luck. "It's time to do some serious black marketeering," he muttered, and then sprinted off down the corridor, just as his sensitive Protoss hearing detected the sound of a group of Marines approaching from behind him.
"Jansen, you take the corridor that branches off here," one of the Marines said, which Exile took to be the squad leader. "Carroll, go up ahead and see if you can see him. Everyone else, stay in a group. Watch the detector, and if you see a weird disturbance in the air, fire at it."
"Sir, yes SIR!" Exile heard their metallic boots tramping on the floor as they redeployed. He knew that he would have to eliminate these Marines somehow, because if he didn't, they'd be followed by plenty more. He also realized that he had to get out of sight somehow, to mask his presence from the eyes of the Terrans, and possibly buy himself a few more seconds against their detector.
Carroll came around the corner and gave a sigh of relief. Despite what his brain had been yelling at him, he didn't see any ferocious Dark Templar blocking his path readying to drive its warp blades into his skull, or a disturbance of air which would betray the presence of said Dark Templar. Thankful at his survival against this enemy which he supposed was no longer in the area, he faced towards his fellow Marines. He was about to call out to them when he felt himself being pulled backwards, very fast. Landing on his back with a distinct metallic THUD, his last sight was that of Exile, the uncloaked Dark Templar wearing a Houston Astros cap, bringing his warp blades into his skull. After only a few more slashes, Carroll was no more.
The rest of the Marines had heard Carroll's horrible death throes, as Exile finished butchering him and recloaked. They cautiously approached the corridor junction where Carroll had breathed his last breath, their Gauss Rifles at the ready. They waited with their backs against the wall, as the squad leader hesitatingly investigated the passage, with his rifle ready to seriously tear through some Protoss flesh and bone. They all gave a sigh of relief when he directed his attention towards them.
"All right boys, it's clear. But keep your guns at the ready, and fire at anything that moves and isn't a Terran."
"Sir, yes SIR!" Cautiously, they entered the corridor, their heads swinging back and forth in a search for something that would betray the Dark Templar's presence. Private Benson, holding the squad's portable detector, was bringing up the rear. If you had asked him at that point what he was feeling, he would have replied "I am a soldier in the Dominion Marine Corps, and I do not show fear of any kind!" But even despite his neural implants, there was an unmistakable terror flowing through his veins.
The detector beeped on at its steady pace of one pulse per second, the standard rate when no cloaked units were obvious in the area. It was a reassuring feeling, knowing that that little device could see things that were invisible and inaudible. If it wasn't for that detector, for all Benson knew, their Dark Templar quarry might be standing right behind them and playing "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" at full blast on a hyperstereo.
Exile wasn't doing that. Rather, he was skillfully hanging onto the dangling outcrops of metal on the corridor's roof, waiting for the Marines to travel further down the path. Why his presence hadn't set of the detector yet, he couldn't say. It was likely an older model, running low on batteries and getting close to breakdown. He did know, however, that he couldn't hide from the detector's omniscient gaze forever. Suddenly, Exile realized that something was slipping out of his pocket.
"Uh oh, not the keys to my Corsair!" He fumbled around, trying to get them securely back in the pocket, but his efforts only jostled them more, and they tumbled out towards the floor.
It was rather unfortunate in that if Exile had been standing on the floor, the drop of the keys would have been inaudible. But due to the limited radius of Exile's personal cloak, the keys re-entered the Marines' threshold of sight and sound while they had only fallen about half of the distance to the floor.
*CLANG!*
The Marines, their enhanced hearing easily detecting the impact of the keys against the floor, whipped around and armed their rifles. One of them cautiously stepped forward, investigating the sound of the disturbance. He noticed Exile's Corsair keys, and picked them up.
"What did you find, Private?" the squad leader asked.
"I dunno, sir," the private replied. "It looks like a set of car keys or something...the label reads 'Exile: World Famous ExileMart Proprietor, Black Marketeer, and Dark Templar.' Dark Te..uh oh." The private looked up, and the last thing he saw was a Dark Templar-shaped ripple of air descending on him.
The remaining Marines quickly brought their Gauss Cannons to bear on the Dark Templar, but their fate had already been sealed. Like he had been trained in the Dark Templar Academy of Killing Terrans, he killed them two at a time by jabbing a Warp Blade through their necks, cutting through their protective armor and spinal cord like a knife through something that's really soft. Fifteen seconds later, nothing was left of that group of Marines except for some bloody Marine Powered Combat Armor.
Exile looked among the carnage and saw the little portable detector, shrieking like a banshee. He picked it up and brought it close to his face, which caused it to shriek even more. And then, with one movement, he crushed the detector and threw it aside, its death shriek echoing through the corridor. Now, free of all pursuit, Exile could press on towards his goal.
The Phoenix.

Deep inside Firaxis HQ, the walls were clattering. Well, not the walls, but the ventilation ducts. This was louder than their normal clattering, yes, but it was still quiet enough to be undetectable to anyone who wasn't specifically looking for it. The two people inside the vent were determined to keep it that way.
"Forksy, tell me again why I agreed to go with you and crawl through the very dusty vent shafts?" Freerunner asked.
"Because, we need to get video evidence that Firaxis has the retail version of Alpha Centauri finished," Fjorxc replied. "To everyone else, we don't have a case, and are just a bunch of weird commando crackpots from Irvine." He gently thumped the video camera he was carrying with him. "And this is how we're gonna blow Sid's cover. We distribute this tape to the proper channels, there'll be more SMACA sufferers in these halls than there are bordellos in Washington."
"I guess I can't argue with that logic..." Freerunner murmured, as she followed Fjorxc down the dusty vent.
Fifteen minutes later, they came to a grate in the wall of the vent, which would allow them to peer into the room below. "All right, I think this is the one!" Fjorxc said excitedly.
"That's what you said the last seven times," Freerunner said. "And I don't really have much interest in seeing their Torture Chamber...some of those things were pretty cool, though..."
"Freerunner!" Fjorxc said, raising his voice, as he gently hit her arm. "Stop thinkin' about that torture chamber! We've got a job to do here!"
"Oh, right. Sorry." Freerunner jostled for a position behind the grate as Fjorxc started recording the scene with his video camera. It was a fairly nondescript room, with a few potted plants, a shiny wooden desk, and a desktop computer sitting on top of it. Totally normal-looking, it was. Fjorxc was about to turn off the camera and head towards the next grate when he heard a door open and saw two figures enter the room.
"Who're they?" Freerunner asked in hushed tones.
"I can't tell from here," Fjorxc replied. "But if we're lucky, it'll be people who know a lot about Alpha Centauri and talk about it a lot."
"Well then, Sid, how goes work on the SMAC retail version?" one of them asked.
"Most excellent, Brian. We've made five copies of the retail, and are transporting them to our secure location."
"Yes, we're in luck!" Fjorxc whispered. "Brian Reynolds and Sid Meier...we'd just better hope they mention where they're sending it."
"Hey, what're they doing?" Freerunner asked, pointing. Fjorxc looked, and saw that they had turned their backs towards the camera, and were walking away from it. "Damn!" he cursed. "They're going away, we can't hear them!"
"Keep recording anyway," Freerunner said. "Colin or Eddie will probably be able to reconstruct what they're saying when we get back to HQ." Every so often, a snippet of the conversation between the two men would fly up enough to be audible to Fjorxc and Freerunner.
"--leave in sixteen hours--"
"--concessions from the--"
"--the Athena Plateau, just north of--"
"--think we can rally some other support, just in--"
"--testing on Alpha Centauri will continue indefinetely--"
After the two men apparently finished their conversation, Fjorxc pulled the camera back from the grate and turned it off. "Well, I think we've got plenty of info here. Let's go get it decoded."

After his previous encounter with the now-dead Marine squad in the labyrinthine corridors of Korhal Prime, Exile's presence had neither been detected nor suspected by any of the Terrans he'd encountered in the hallways. He glanced at his watch and realized that he had to be on the Phoenix's bridge in ten minutes, before the Terran emperor Mengsk officially unveiled the new battlecruiser. Muttering an ancient curse under his breath, Exile increased his rate of motion in the direction of the Phoenix's airlock.
After a few minutes of navigating through the mazelike halls, Exile finally reached the corridor at the far end of which was the Phoenix's airlock entry point. While it was plainly visible to him, and he started striding towards it, his thoughts drifted back to just about a week before, when Fjorxc had asked him to undertake this assignment, "for the good of CWAL Hunt Valley."
He was fifteen meters away from the airlock.
"What's in it for me?" Exile had asked, his arms folded over his chest.
"Whaddaya mean, what's in it for you? You're a CWALer, remember that. Sometimes there isn't anything in it for you specifically, but if you do this, it would help us immeasurably," Fjorxc had replied.
"I'm a black marketeer and ExileMart proprietor first," Exile had said adamantly. "I expect my operating costs to be fully reimbursed when I return, assuming that I actually agree to go on this raid."
"Well, you're the only one that CAN go, Exile," Fjorxc had said. "You're a Dark Templar assassin with a cloaking device, remember? I can't ask Freerunner or Sofielisk to go, I need them here. And Aura would just waste her time in the commercial areas. Don't you get it, Exile? I'm counting on you, we're all counting on you."
"I still want to be reimbursed."
"Okay then, if that's your attitude...how about I cover the cost of the fuel it took you to move ExileMart to here from Houston, I'll see if I can put your application for President of the NRA through, and I'll renew your subscription to Playprotoss. Deal?"
Exile had thought about Fjorxc's proposal for a moment. Finally, he spoke. "All right Forks, you've got a deal. But remember, it's only because you're a friend of mine. Oh, do me a favor and don't tell anyone about the Playprotoss."
And so, once that issue was resolved, Exile was ready to liberate the Phoenix from the tyrannical oppression of its Dominion masters.
The airlock door was ten meters away.
The only thing that upset Exile about this mission was that he'd probably be forced to cover the price of this expedition himself. He'd recently given his Corsair a major modernization and overhaul, which had cost a rather large amount of U.S. dollars. Coupled with the fact that ExileMart didn't have as many walk-in customers as usual, due to the fact that the location it had occupied in Houston was now nothing more than an empty field, his cash flow was pretty low.
The airlock door was five meters away.
Even though he did get the occasional weapons order from a government wishing to modernize its military, such as Canada during the War with Yimot, he didn't have nearly as much capital as he would have liked to have. He blamed this on the Republicans, who he also blamed for the Great Depression, the fall of Aiur to the Zerg hordes, the Ford Pinto, and Howard Stern. It didn't help matters much that there were very few places on Earth that had the technological ability to manufacture antimatter, and despite recent advancements in the field, they still charged by the milligram. While he could have used the Corsair's Khaydarin reactor for a power boost, there weren't that many Khaydarin crystals outside of Protoss space with which he could replenish his fuel once it ran out.
The airlock door was right in front of him.
Unhesitatingly, Exile pulled a disk-like device out of his pocket. After making sure there were no Terrans in the vicinity, he unlocked the door, waited for the airlock to cycle, and stepped in. As he made for the bridge of the Phoenix, thankful that it would be devoid of Dominion personnel for the moment, a realization struck him. "Mengsk'll be starting his speech soon..." he observed. "I wish I'd be able to see the look on his face when he realizes that he's been robbed by Exile, galaxy-famous black marketeer!"

Exile was correct. For only about a level away from where the Phoenix was berthed, Emperor Arcturus Mengsk of the Terran Dominion was standing at a podium and banging on the microphone.
"Testing, testing, hello! Can anyone hear me?" he asked. He tried breathing into the microphone to see if it was activated, and was greeted by a rather large and loud amount of feedback. Having thus gotten assurances that the microphone system was working, he started into his speech.
"Fellow citizens of the Dominion, it is with great honor that I unveil to you, for the first time, a weapon which has the ability to drive back the legions of the Protoss and the Zerg hordes. Now, with this weapon, our destiny is assured.
"For the entirety of this war so far, we have been on the defensive. And as any scholar of warfare knows, a defensive nation is generally a conquered nation. We, the Terrans have been on the defensive for far too long. Now, finally, with this weapon, our true goal is realized! For we will drive the Protoss back to their world of Aiur, and raze their jungles until such time as they surrender. And we will force the merciless Zerg back, out of our systems, to where they came. And we shall not stop until they are destroyed forever! Ladies and gentlemen of the Dominion, I give you...the Phoenix."
Mengsk depressed the large red button on the podium, and a large screen descended from the roof, almost as tall as the room itself. It activated with a slight hum, and displayed a perfect view of the area of the platform where the Phoenix was docked.
Or, more appropriately, the area of the platform where the Phoenix should have been docked.
Because while the platform was there, the Phoenix was not.
A door at the far side of the room burst open, a breathless aide ran up to Mengsk. "Where the hell is my battlecrusier, Private?" Mengsk asked through clenched teeth.
"Emperor, platform scanners detected the Phoenix cleared its moorings some fifteen seconds ago. It's heading out into open space."
"I thought you said that the Phoenix didn't have a crew aboard, and the first flight wasn't scheduled until tomorrow."
"It wasn't! Someone must have stolen it. We found a dead team of Marines down at the intersection of corridors Alpha Tango Seven and Alpha Sierra Nine."
"Theft of Dominion property, right out from under our noses..." It was an unthinkable act, especially from within visual distance of Korhal itself. "Do you have any leads on it? Was it the Umojans? The Kel-Morians?"
"It wasn't the Umojans, or the Kel-Morians, Emperor," the aide replied. "It was a Dark Templar."
Mengsk stood silent for a moment as the information sank in. "A Dark Templar, you say? He'll probably be making for Shakuras then. Launch a wing of Wraiths immediately, we need to disable the engines and weapon system. He's not gonna get away with our Phoenix, not on my watch..."
Barely a minute later, twenty of Korhal Prime's Wraiths raced out of their docking hangars, and into the coldness of deep space. Their target, several hundred thousand kilometers away, was the battlecruiser Phoenix.
"Squadron, we're coming up on the target fast," said the commander of the Wraith squadron. "Lock your Geminis on his engines, and prepare to fire." The fighters roared through the vacuum, coming ever closer to the fleeing Phoenix.
"All right, we're in range! Squadron, fire all missiles!"
The flurry of missiles cut loose from the launchers of the Wraiths like bullets out of a gun. They each sped towards the Phoenix, some of them missing, but most of them impacting on its stern section. As the Wraiths closed in to the wounded battlecruiser to finish it off with a combination of lasers and missiles, something happened. Its engines seemed to be powering up, but that was a near impossibility to the Wraith pilots. After all, they had just seen fourteen missiles detonate at that quarter.
"Uhh, Commander, is it just me, or does the Phoenix look like it's about to go to hyperdrive?"
The squadron leader didn't have time to answer. The Phoenix seemed to stretch slightly, then it rocketed forward and disappeared into the silent void of hyperspace.

ONE WEEK LATER

"Forksy, come here and look at this. I think we may have something on that recording we got in Firaxis HQ."
"You mean, you think that I have something on that recording," Eddie said.
"Yeah, whatever," said Freerunner. Fjorxc walked up and leaned his hand on the back of her chair. "So, what did we get?" he asked.
"The signal quality wasn't that great, but Eddie did manage to clear it up a bit. Here's what we could get." Freerunner activated the monitor, and Fjorxc saw the previous conversation they'd recorded between Sid Meier and Brian Reynolds, only from the eye of the Camcorder.
"So then, is everything prepared?" Brian asked.
"Yes, it is. We're ready to depart in sixteen hours for the new facility."
"Ah, that's good. Did you get the concessions from the local factions to build the facility?"
"I did indeed. They're setting it up in the Athena Plateau, just north of a Spartan military facility. It should be online by the time we get there."
"Did he say Spartans?" Fjorxc asked, wide-eyed.
"Shut up and listen," Freerunner said.
"Do you think we could rally some other support, just in case the other factions get too suspicious, or in case of some unforseen circumstances?"
"I don't see why not. But remember this, that once this plan is put into place, testing on Alpha Centauri will continue indefinetely. Oh, and one more thing...once these CDs arrive at our facility, they shall never leave Chiron intact." The two men were then replaced with random static.
"That's the end of the recording," Freerunner said.
"Whoa...are they planning to do what I think they are planning to do?"
"That depends if you think they're planning to take the retail CDs to Chiron in the future and have a legitimate excuse to not release Alpha Centauri."
"That's not what I thought they were planning to do," said Fjorxc. "But your idea sounds better, let's go with that."

posted 11-26-98 07:07 PM ET            

As usual, replies are appreciated. And if you've forgotten about the disclaimer, please go back and read it again. Thank you.

Fjorxc the Maniac(CWAL Hunt Valley)
May the Fjorxc be with you and a happy new year.

posted 11-27-98 09:42 PM ET            

Sped #1: And now we are going to show you what happens to Bergling when we have him play in this pool of gasoline and we set fire to it...

*The pool catches fire and Bergling burns in a column of flames that are more then 5 feet taller then he is. Shortly afterwards Bergling comes walking out of the port-a-potty which was set up nearby, on stage. The crowd cheers. Then the Speds continue to demonstrate various forms of firey death on Bergling. Focus moves to a back corner of the room.*

Alellan: About time someone from COTS command thought about paying attention to what is going on over here in Hunt Valley.

Deamon: Well, CWAL moving a portion of it's group over here had a more then just a little bit to do with our coming over here. It was decided that I needed to come over here and see about assessing the situation first hand and make a recommendation on what we want you to do.

Alellan: That is a little unfortunate, I'm surprised you guys didn't try to do something back when we sending you those reports on IIIS activities.

Deamon: Considering what your reports indicated about the IIIS, the best course of action was to continue to observe their activities, as some of their research may come in handy later on in dealing with Firaxis.

Alellan: Not my place to make calls on your choices, but it does kind of stink that it seems the only way to see action in COTS is to get yourself into the command cell, which happens to be dealing with Blizzard.

Deamon: *looks Alellan over* Dealing with Blizzard in that kind of manner is not something they wanted to do. I wasn't there at that time, but from my understanding, the combination of OEEP, CWL, CWAL, and Blizzard forced them into the making the decision to bring their operations there somewhat into the open, even if they are the command cell. I'm sure the same call would have been made, even if they were not the cell involved. You have no clue how fine a balancing act operations are over there. Having recently lost our Base of Operations near Irvine, and at a few other locations further points that out. Slip ups can be very costly, if we can avoid direct action, that is what we are going to do. It is much better to have certain information "fall" into their hands that will more then likely have them take the course of action we want taken.

Alellan: That could work, how exactly do you guys work that out?

Deamon: Very carefully, your situation here is a little more unique then what we have going on in Irvine. I shall have find out what exactly we want to have done here.

Alellan: I think that may be an idea, I don't think we can remain completely passive in this fight between CWAL and BoS, if we remain passive, CWAL is going to have an uphill fight they probably won't win. If we get involved on CWAL's behalf, then we have to worry about BoS, on the double edged sword of possibly wiping them out, or them coming after us instead.

Deamon: Now that you mention is, what can you tell me about the status of BoS, and/or the IIIS since CWAL decided to drop in here?

Alellan: Near as we can tell, IIIS has largely gone underground since CWAL's arrival, with some parties apparently moving over to the Brotherhood of Sid. Brotherhood of Sid has taken it upon themselves to eliminate anyone who might be a threat to the timely release of SMAC. However, they seem to have just turned their defense of SMAC into a grudge match where they are constantly throwing everything they can at CWAL to try to get them to leave.

Deamon: Let me make a guess, BoS is trying to keep CWAL from delaying the release of the game. BoS claims CWAL is accomplishing this by raiding Firaxis and causing Firaxis to divert most of their resources towards defending themselves from CWAL. This of course further delays the yet to be completed game. That is the line they are using right?

Alellan: Yes, it is.

Deamon: Not a big surprise, amazing how similar our agendas are in that regard. We want it out in a timely manner, and we want it balanced. CWAL wants that too, they just aren't known for patience, besides CWAL does have its uses.

Alellan: They do?

Deamon: Well, for starters, if it wasn't for CWAL, you wouldn't be here. The whole reason COTS exists is to maintain the balance of the many aspects in the gaming community. CWAL was one of the variables that was recognized as a entity we needed to keep around when COTS was commissioned by our sponsors. CWAL may cause things to be delayed slightly, but they are not that big of a factor in games being delayed. If no other reason can be found, they are useful when their blundering around leads us to finding out about something going on that needs to be corrected. That and their presence is supposedly more likely to keep us from having to reveal ours. The secrecy part is kind of blown now though. The Gaming Companies know we are around, they just don't know where. Anywhere CWAL is, we may have to use less then subtle means to accomplish our aims, but it helps keep us from running into other problems. Like us having to interfere to fix something CWAL could just as readily do for us, albeit unwittingly, it also gives the gaming companies something to focus their attention on rather then simply us.

Alellan: I didn't know we were that lazy.

Deamon: Lazy? You have any idea how hard it is to get hold of the information to find out about a problem, and find a way to get CWAL to go after it without drawing attention to ourselves?

Alellan: Alright, that could be a pain.

Deamon: It is, now anything else on this BoS?

Alellan: They have a good sized army, rivaling that of Blizzard at some points in time. They recently had a civil war break out that was resolved in very short order. Their primary drives seem to be preserving Democracy and keeping anyone from delaying the games release, with them considering CWAL the prime candidates for delaying the game, they have made it their mission to destroy CWAL HV.

Deamon: Sometimes having the game delayed can be somewhat helpful. I will see about finding out what course of action we want you to take. I'm sure you wouldn't mind being activated for no other reason then you would get to stop answering to me, and instead to answer to Magni.

Alellan: Well, you know, it is much more interesting working out how we are going to do something. Sitting around waiting for field agents to report in with their results and filter through it may be your bread and water, but I would like to get out and stretch my legs once in a while.

Deamon: Can't blame you there, you don't have all that much going on. Though, I must warn you, be careful what you wish for, the results are not always what you think they will be.

Alellan: I still want more to do.

Deamon: You shall get it, I'm sure. Now, if you don't mind, I am going to see about conferring with the command cell, the recommend will be for activation sometime in the very near future.

Alellan: Well then, I guess I better go take care of some other business.

{Several Minutes later, Deamon walks into the room that Alellan is working in}

Alellan: So what is the word?

Deamon: The decision has been put on hold for a while.

Alellan: Why is that?

Deamon: It seems that someone managed to abduct Dark Nexus from the room he was staying at while we are building a new HQ to replace the one we recently lost in the Irvine area. No decision is going to be made on this until we find out what is going on with his absence.

Alellan: *sighs* Well, I guess another week of waiting can't hurt too much.

Deamon: I figured as much, I intend to depart as soon as the Speds and Bergling are done with their show.

Alellan: I will see about getting someone to work on making the necessary preparations.

Deamon: Thank you.

---

COTS is an abbreviation for Circle Of The Shadows. For the most handy analogy to what COTS objective would be somewhat akin to what the Second Foundation does in Isaac Asimov's Foundation series. Only COTS is working with objectives that are more short term, months instead of centuries, dealing with the Gaming Industry more then they are with anything else, their objective is to deal with events within the Gaming Industry.

COTS currently has not activated its group in Hunt Valley for anything other then information gathering, interference on the part of COTS will come sometime in the (hopefully, providing I manage to get it done soon) near future. While comparing it to the Second Foundation in the foundation series, keep in mind that their forecasts for future events are only as reliable as their information, and it only covers months not years. They just happen to be a little more informed then everyone else, otherwise, their forecasts are just as good as the next guys.

COTS HV is accepting recruits, but would prefer it be a little more controlled then the process used by the BoS or CWAL HV. While COTS can be exceptionally flexible, there are some things that COTS simply will not or can not do. Contact with me can be made on ICQ at account # 14975490, or via e-mail at [email protected].