DISCLAIMER: Space Federation: Galactic Conquest and related articles (c) Stephen Yong. Everything else (c) Aaron Lillicotch (WarMonger07_KoA/warmonger11)
AUTHOR’s NOTE: The bulk of the material up to this point was penned years ago when the Knights of Avalon were very much active and a sort of family of mine. As such, many of their names are in the story (including my own). I’m not changing it.
YEAR: 9493
The dial read zero fuel on the control panel of the old Viator I class scout. The United World Council was supposed to be sending him money for a new ship, now all he hoped for was an interception before the batteries ran out on his practically antique transmitter. It distorted his voice to a more robotic sound just like all light-speed transmitters, but he sounded like one of those robotic aliens all the rumors speak of than a human...
"Hello? Is anyone out there? This is Ensign Jason Kihota of the Viator I ship number five-five-nine-seven-two-three-four, anyone copy? I'm out of fuel and am drifting on a linear course through sector one-three-two. I repeat, anyone copy?" The radio spattered and died when the batteries seemed to run out. He leaned back in his seat, enjoying his final view. As he entered the nearest bi-solar system, a huge eclipse seemed to come into his view screen. “Odd, I didn’t remember plotting a course this close to any planets…”
What was left of his sensors told him that he was in fact at the plotted distance; some quick math told him the real size of the planet. It contained approximately ten-thousand standard land units! This was no ordinary day for Jason as his Viator was drawn into the gravity well of this enormous planet!
* * * * *
“We are receiving a distress signal, sir!” The bridge of the fleet’s newest destroyer class ship, the F.Broadsword, was quite a sight to behold, boasting over thirty decks and humming with sensors, screens, and sirens. It had everything a top-of-the-line destroyer could want! “It’s coming from sector one-hundred and thirty-two. About a quarter of a light year away…”
Everyone knew the captain to be reserved, trigger-happy warrior, and that’s how he got his name, Warmonger, or War for short. “Fire up the fusion reactors and get us there as fast as these new engines can go! Let’s see what she can do…” He proceeded to his chair with a grin on his face. He addressed the crew via the intercom built into his head, all captains had one, and it interfaced directly with the ship and allowed for faster tactical relay as well as order transmissions. “This is our captain speaking, grab a hold of the nearest bed post folks cause were leaving Kansas faster than a Jew at a sausage festival!”
One of the deck officers nudged his comrade, "Someone has got to tell him to stop trying to use ancient quotes, or at least teach him the right ones. I don't know how much more of this I can take!"
"I hear ya'," he replied, capping it off with a solemn nod.
The engines began to roar and the ship heated up as the fusion created massive amounts of heat diffused throughout the hull to keep the back from melting off. Everyone not in a seat quickly found one as the ship began to violently shake and rattle. One of the deck officers started to comment, “All the money the dump into one of these, you think it would go a little faster.” Just as he stood up to leave, the ship experienced an unnatural acceleration. He was forced to the rear of the bridge and crushed to death under his own weight.
Warmonger, now firmly in his chair, all of which were built to sustain the body at the immense levels of gravity, only chuckled at the fate of his thirsty comrade. He thought to himself, "It's a miracle we've made it these long years so far. More people die from stupidity than the weapons they pilot."
AUTHOR’s NOTE: The bulk of the material up to this point was penned years ago when the Knights of Avalon were very much active and a sort of family of mine. As such, many of their names are in the story (including my own). I’m not changing it.
YEAR: 9493
The dial read zero fuel on the control panel of the old Viator I class scout. The United World Council was supposed to be sending him money for a new ship, now all he hoped for was an interception before the batteries ran out on his practically antique transmitter. It distorted his voice to a more robotic sound just like all light-speed transmitters, but he sounded like one of those robotic aliens all the rumors speak of than a human...
"Hello? Is anyone out there? This is Ensign Jason Kihota of the Viator I ship number five-five-nine-seven-two-three-four, anyone copy? I'm out of fuel and am drifting on a linear course through sector one-three-two. I repeat, anyone copy?" The radio spattered and died when the batteries seemed to run out. He leaned back in his seat, enjoying his final view. As he entered the nearest bi-solar system, a huge eclipse seemed to come into his view screen. “Odd, I didn’t remember plotting a course this close to any planets…”
What was left of his sensors told him that he was in fact at the plotted distance; some quick math told him the real size of the planet. It contained approximately ten-thousand standard land units! This was no ordinary day for Jason as his Viator was drawn into the gravity well of this enormous planet!
* * * * *
“We are receiving a distress signal, sir!” The bridge of the fleet’s newest destroyer class ship, the F.Broadsword, was quite a sight to behold, boasting over thirty decks and humming with sensors, screens, and sirens. It had everything a top-of-the-line destroyer could want! “It’s coming from sector one-hundred and thirty-two. About a quarter of a light year away…”
Everyone knew the captain to be reserved, trigger-happy warrior, and that’s how he got his name, Warmonger, or War for short. “Fire up the fusion reactors and get us there as fast as these new engines can go! Let’s see what she can do…” He proceeded to his chair with a grin on his face. He addressed the crew via the intercom built into his head, all captains had one, and it interfaced directly with the ship and allowed for faster tactical relay as well as order transmissions. “This is our captain speaking, grab a hold of the nearest bed post folks cause were leaving Kansas faster than a Jew at a sausage festival!”
One of the deck officers nudged his comrade, "Someone has got to tell him to stop trying to use ancient quotes, or at least teach him the right ones. I don't know how much more of this I can take!"
"I hear ya'," he replied, capping it off with a solemn nod.
The engines began to roar and the ship heated up as the fusion created massive amounts of heat diffused throughout the hull to keep the back from melting off. Everyone not in a seat quickly found one as the ship began to violently shake and rattle. One of the deck officers started to comment, “All the money the dump into one of these, you think it would go a little faster.” Just as he stood up to leave, the ship experienced an unnatural acceleration. He was forced to the rear of the bridge and crushed to death under his own weight.
Warmonger, now firmly in his chair, all of which were built to sustain the body at the immense levels of gravity, only chuckled at the fate of his thirsty comrade. He thought to himself, "It's a miracle we've made it these long years so far. More people die from stupidity than the weapons they pilot."
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