gclurk

Join Date 07/2007

Apocalypse

A Love Story

Caveats:

I) The following work is based on DA Apocalypse scenario played out to a sucessful conclusion. Extensive head scratching, references to the game log and way too few saves were resorted to in order to stay true to the plot.

ii) This work is protected by all the applicable copyrights. Any plagiarism, stealing etcetc will not be tolerated. Yeah , this means you David Weber , and you John Ringo

iii) This work contains mature situations, sex , extreme violence and not so nice language. If you can't deal with it, shut off your notebook and get out of the bathroom.

iv) Negative critique will have the desired effect. I will stop posting further updates and start a prolonged sulk.

Apocalypse

(A Love Story)

Prologue

Alan Bradley stood at more or less attention, while fighters rumbled overhead in parade formations. He, along with a couple of hundred other dignitaries of all races was on a reviewing stand while the parade sloowly ground on. He felt good though. The sky was spotless without a cloud in sight. The gentle breeze cooled many a fevered brow, or some equivalent part (in case of of some of the allied races), and best of all, the Dread Lords were gone. Every single one of the bastards was blown to bits , killed, spindled, mutilated and most definitely dead.

The long nightmare was finally over.

Chapter 1

Feb 8, 26 Outpost 3

After a month of frenetic activity, fourteen hour days, bad food and little or no sleep, Colonel Alan Bradley manage to free up a precious few hours to meet up with his baby brother Jack.

They were sitting in a ramshacle bar in the starport, drinking beer while trying to catch up. The planet, officially Outpost 3, had nothing save the initial colony, couple of xeno labs and a starport, but starports always had bars. While talking, they were idly observing the bar scenery. In Jack's case, the scenery was also observing him. Jack was a captain in TSN and looked every inch of it. Tall, bronze skin, square chin and steely glare in his blue eyes all conspired to to activate the scenery attack reflexes. The blonde two tables over seemed to be affected particularly badly, much to her dates' disgust. Alan felt only mildly exasperated. Not that he had not had his fair share. But ever since his wife Becky died, he just had not felt the urge to date. Instead, he worked.

“I don't get it. Why can't we build some real ships. Mount some disruptors, or quantum drivers, Hell, I'd even take phasors. Couple of fleets of those and we will pound those bastards into oblivion. We have the technology, so what's the problem?”

During his little speech, Jack got quite animated, which seemed to inflame the blonde even more.

Alan knew what bugged Jack. A captain without a command is like , to put it crudely , tits on a boar.

“Well it's like this Jack” he started his standard speech.

“Yes we do know how to build phasers, and warp drive, and even disruptors. But we can't build them until we have the machines that can build them. And to build those machines, we have to build machines. And so on and so forth. The bottom line is it's gonna take couple of years before we are there”

“And in the meantime, we do nothing. We sit on our thumbs until the Dread Lords come and pound us into dust?” was Jack's sarcastic rejoinder.

“No, of course not” Alan was trying to be reasonable (and calming)

“What do you think I've been working on for the past month. We've launched four colonies because all the projections indicate we'd need resources of at least five planets in order to deal with Dread Lords”

“So where are they going, anyway?” Jack asked, somewhat mollified.

“Thindor, Weber and two to Markus ”

“Seems kind of silly colonizing Markus and Weber when there are closer inhabitable systems”

That was still a sore spot for Alan. He'd argued long and hard to colonize Cassius instead of Weber. Cassius was much closer and less exposed than Weber, but the powers that be decided otherwise. It appears that Torians felt that Cassius belonged to them and PTB's (Powers That Be) in the interest of keeping their little alliance going, agreed.

“Yeah, I agree, but I did not make that call” was Alan's only reply. He really did not want to get Jack all foamed up about the so called Allies. For one, he wanted to finish his beer in peace and quiet and he feared that if Jack got excited, he'd have to rip the blonde off of him. Beer flying all over the place. Nooo way.

“On a more positive side” he continued. “We are mushrooming labs and factories all over the planet. Within a few months we'll start building the Eye, and then..”

“We can start the Dance” Jack finished for him. Jack's face took on a dreamy expression, at the thought of having an Eye of the Universe backing him up. Unparallaled visibility afforded by the Eye, would permit any Terran ship to see the Dread Lords way before being seen. That same visibility would permit Terran hunter killers to intercept the Dread Lord troopships and then deftly “dance” away.

That was the theory at least. Practice was somewhat different in that the hunter killer crews had lifetimes measured in weeks. Dread Lords were not totally stupid and sometimes clustered around their troopships. When that happened, the hunter killers went in for that final run.

“I am going to volunteer for HK duty” Jack said abruptly “And I'm going to get it”

Alan only watched him in dismay. “Jack , that is a very bad idea. You will be needed for the push after we build up” he tried with a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Hell no, that won't happen for years. You said it yourself. In the meantime, I'll be killing Dread Lord troopers.”

For the rest of the afternoon Alan tried to talk Jack out of it, all the time cursing himself for opening up his big fat mouth. It did not work, of course.

Thus ended the afternoon, with Jack cheerfully sauntering off ( with the Blonde in tow), and Alan slinking off to his quarters.

aars

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Chapter 2

Jul 1, 26 Outpost 3

Alan was interrupted in hs work by an urgent comm chime. It was his boss, General Boris Medved.

“Alan” growled Boris.

“Yes, sir”

“President Broderick wants military presence at the upcoming Allies summit. I can't go, so it will be you. Go to the palace and get your instructions from the President. Now!”.

Alan sighed. As if he did not have enough on his plate. He tried to argue, but Medved had already hung up.

Trip to the presidential palace took less than fifteen minutes, screening for weapons another five so it was twenty minutes later that Alan was standing in front of the president's office.

It appeared that the President liked music, as notes of an old melody issued from it.

His musings were interrupted as the music cut off and a pretty intern ushered him into the office.

President Jamal Clinton Broderick, sure enough , was just putting away his sax.

“Ah, Colonel Bradley, good of you to make it on such short notice. Please sit down” he beckoned

“Mona, you may leave now.” he addressed the intern.

“Sweet girl, looks great in blue don't you think?” he continued fondly as the intern carefully closed the door on her way out.

“But back to business. No rest for the wicked etc..”

Alan was relieved, as he was not sure where this little detour was going. President Broderick did have a rep, after all.

“Here's the deal, Alan” Broderick was all business now.

“July 15 we have our first quadrant wide summit. All the allies will be there. Torians are hosting it on Primus. I was hoping to go but cannot. I must stay here and ride that herd of cats we call our political parties. Warchiks want to build ships, Techies want to contemplate navels, Universalists are all over the place, and Traders have lost their tiny minds and want to build trade ships“

President was saying nothing new. Alan knew very well about political infighting that was constantly going on. It was somewhat surprizing that Broderick felt he had to stay at home. As far as he knew, Broderick's political base was secure. Or perhaps he did not think the summit would produce any useful results and was not worth attending. Hmm?

“Ambassador DeChance is heading our delegation” President continued “and will be doing most of the heavy lifting. Our brave allies are pissed at the prices we are charging them for the tech transfer. They'd prefer to get the tech for free, so they could build more of their crap ships. But the bottom line is we need every damn credit to build our infrastructure”.

“Your job Alan” President Broderick finally got to the point. “is to sell them our military policy. Razzle dazzle them with the Eye, mesmerize them with the Knife Dancers, lie if you have to. Do what it takes, keep them off my back, buy me time, for God knows we need the time”

At this last, Broderick looked exhausted. Alan was tempted to sympathize, but instead crisply replied.

“Yes sir, I understand precisely. Can I tell them about the Defender construction program?” Alan was in charge of a program to equip each planet with a very modest defence force. Nobody, in the know, expected that the Defenders would actually work. The ships were being built mainly to reassure the populace, and buy time until the hunter killers were ready.

“Yeah, throw them a bone if you have to. Now, you better pack your kit and head for the starport. The delegation is leaving tonight”

As Alan was saluting he added “On your way out please tell Mona that I'm ready for her now”

“Son of a bitch” Alan thought as a smirk tried to form on his face.

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It's a good read,i'm enjoying it so far..keep it going.

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Glad you like it so far. Here's some more.

Jul 6, 26 Outpost 3

Ellena Whitfield, Director of the Technology Transfer Ministry was grimly staring at the Corx comm codes provided by the TAS Voyager . As if she did not have enough on her plate. The Terran labs were pumping out the tech at four times the combined allied rate. All of it , had to be transferred (i.e. sold) to anybody that Terran's were not actively at war with.

Despite her reservations about selling tech to Corx and Drath, directives from PTB's were clear. She glanced around the room at her team to ensure they were all ready, took a deep breath and activated the Corx code.

“Here we go”

They were expecting her call, as a holo of a Corx native appeared immediately.
“What a pleasant surprise, to receive a call from such a beautiful example of Terran womanhood. I was expecting a call from Terran trade office, but must say that your appearance makes an already agreeable job positively enjoyable”.

Ellen tried to maintain her composure while Kralix, which turned out to be Corx representatives name, trowelled it on. She knew that she was anything but beautiful. As a matter of fact she knew that she was short and dumpy, with mousy hair. But that is not how she became the TTM Director. Besides, Kralix gave her the willies.

Finally, after fifteen more minutes of drivel, she had an opportunity to outline the carefully selected tech portfolio.

Kralix visual organs did light up so she knew he/it was interested. Of course, Corx were interested in trade. They always were, trading was was in their blood or whatever.

“We might be interested in some of these items, provided, the price is right. As a matter of fact, our treasury is kind of low these days. Dread Lords and all , I'm sure you understand. So I am wondering whether you might be interested in various goods and services we might be able to provide. For example, our crop of sleen is coming along nicely and we might be able to spare few dozen tons”

Even if she had not be given explicit instructions to sell the tech for cash only, Ellena would have rejected Kralix's proposal outright. Sleen was perhaps the most addictive drug the galaxy had ever known.

She then proceeded to nix all the subsequent Kralix offers: body jewellry, sexbots (satisfaction guaranteed), drug variety pack (only “mildly” addictive), even pickled Corx eggs (Bleh!).

Once Cralix ran out of geegaws , she proceeded to milk every credit that Corx were likely to have. Not without refusals, pleadings, protestations of poverty , bluffs and every trick written and unwritten in the holy book of trades. The process took the rest of the morning. Finally , the deal was done, and the call terminated.

She breathed a sigh of long overdue relief, feeling as if she had just swam through a sewer.

Her staff appeared as worn out as she felt so she decided to give them a break.

“I see it's almost lunch time. Why don't we take an hour, grab a bite and get ready for the Drath session. I want the legal team and logicians especially sharp this afternoon”

The vaguely reptillian Drath were known as masters of manipulation, innnuendo and fine print. It was said that when striking a bargain with Drath you had to check alll your teeth to ensure you still had them.

Jul 15,26 Primus

Alan parked himself near the refreshment table glumly sipping his coffee. His powerpoint was not the biggest hit of the summit. To be honest about it, half of his presentation was bit of a flop. Terran Distant Defence strategy did not impress the allies nearly as well as it had impressed the Terran population. The questions were pointed and entirely too numerous. What if the Dread Lords start escorting their troopships? What if they develop fleet capability ? What if Dread Lords start deploying super fast ships able to cover gazillion parsecs per week? What if? Well if all of that happened, Alan was tempted to tell them that they were all collectively screwed. End of discussion.

Eye of the Universe powerpoint went a bit better. Any way you looked at it, the Eye was an impressive capability, tripling ship sensor range. They all wanted it, and Alan had to spend an hour explaining why they could not have it. He knew they were still not convinced but decided to let ambassador DeChance deal with unbelievers.

Speaking of which, DeChance seemed to be making a beeline for the refreshment table and Alan. He did not look happy. The second he got in range he started

“That pompous ass.” DeChance was almost spitting as he tried to pour himself a coffee. He's got the nerve to give me a two hour lecture on duties and obligations of allies.”

“Archean ambassador Lord Vega?” Alan had a pretty good idea who DeChance was talking about. Archeans were infamous for their pompous manners.

“Who else” DeChance replied as he finally managed to pour the coffee.

“Lord Vega, you see, does not believe that we should be selling any technology to Corx and Drath. Any such action, according to Lord Vega, is a traitorous action, betrayal of the alliance, blah blah blah. What seems to have escaped Lord Vega is that both Corx and Drath even though neutral, are first on the chopping block. If Dread Lords take over their planets then what?”

DeChance's venting seemed to have helped him a bit. At least his hand holding the coffee cup no longer shook. Taking another large gulp, he squared his shoulders and headed back to his conference room.

Alan shook his head. DeChance was a seasoned diplomat. For him to vent like this, the Archean drubbing must have been brutal. He checked the time and decided he had two minutes before heading back to his conference room. Besides, it looked like the Altarian rep Elleys Mue was heading toward him. Altarians looked very much like humans, to everyones amazement. In Elleys Mue's case she looked very much like a pretty brunette . The only thing that distinguished her from a most Terran women was a blue tattoo over her right eyebrow.

“Ah, Colonel Bradley, what is it you are drinking?” she asked, peering into his cup.

“Looks like that strange Kaff you Terrans like so much” she continued.

Alan did not care too much for that remark, but hey “Different strokes for different aliens”

On the other hand, the view of her cleavage, as she leaned over, was not entirely unpleasant. In the interest of better interspecies relations, he decided to be gallant.

“Can I get you anything else, perhaps some juice?”

“Mmm, let me see....” while checking out the refreshments Elleys Mue was leaning on the table and showing off her butt. In all honesty, he had to admit that it too did not look half bad. As a matter of fact..

“Ha, I knew they had some. Can you hand me some of that geera juice ?” she indicated.

Alan managed to hand her the juice without spilling a drop.

“I hope we can compare some notes later” she announced after taking a delicate sip.

“Sounds good to me” Alan agreed as they made their way to the conference room.

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Feb 6,27 Outpost 3

Jack and Alan Bradley were sitting in their favourite starport bar. Jack was in a great mood as he finally got command of TAS Fidelis, Terran Space Force newest pride and joy. Alan was not happy for the same reason.

“She is a beauty Alan, I tell you. She is big, bad, and fast as stink. I can't wait to kick some Dread Lord's ass”

Alan tried to inject some common sense into his brother's thick skull.

“Jack, listen to me! You know that we had to cut corners to put her together. Yeah, she is fast, but she is not a true warship. Even though we managed to squeeze in the warp drives, we had to use a freighter hull to do it”

“So what? She's fast, she has weapons, and now with the Eye getting ready, she's ready to hunt. She is a warship.” a hostile note crept into Jack's voice. Nobody, not even his brother was going to talk badly about his newest love.

“She is fragile, Jack. Any sort of dustup , I mean any, and she's toast” and so is my brother Alan thought.

“Yeah, yeah I know that. Don't worry. we'll just swoop and poop all over the troop”

Jack's tone had brightened as he demonstrated with table utensils just how he was going to kill Dread Lord troopships.
He was interrupted in his lecture , by a mixed but very drunk gaggle of marines. It seems they recognized Jack for a commander of Fidelis and being marines immediately tried to appropriate him. While the guys stood around yelling “Semper Fi” and “More Beer!” , the gals took hold of Jack and started promising him “ A Very Good Time”.

As they carted his brother off to better, i.e. rowdier climes, Alan had a hopeful thought. “Perhaps he'll get arrested by the MP's. And perhaps, they'll relieve him of his command”

Then he squashed that line of thought as stupid and drained the final dregs of his beer. For some reason they tasted unusually bitter.

Jul 15,27 – Primus

After nearly a full day of briefings by the allies, Alan thought he had a pretty good idea of the way the conflict was shaping up. The Torians were mixing it up with Yor, while Iconians, on the other hand, were fiercely glaring at the Drengin. The fact that both Iconian and Drengin best ships were about two hundred times less powerfull than the Dread Lords seemed to have escaped both parties. Archeans appeared depressed by the latest Dread Lord raid which almost cleaned them out . Altairians also, were not doing much, although Elleys Mue at least appeared alert.

Alan looked around the room and started his presentation.

“For once, I have some good news. Distant Defence strategy is working. Our fast hunter ships have managed to destroy two Dread Lord starbase outposts and four troopships that were threatening Yor and Drath systems”

As he was describing the actions that resulted in a first measurable win against the Dread Lords, Alan felt pretty good. Proof of the pudding etc.

After the initial hubub of excitement at the revelation, some of the gathered allies proceeded to nitpick. Torian representative got in a first shot.

“Excellent news, Colonel Bradley” he started

“We have finally struck a blow against that particular evil. Dread Lords, however, have allies which we must fight on all fronts. Would it not be better to concentrate our forces further south”

He really did not appreciate the Torians' use of we and our in this context but tried to parse the statement anyway. Let's see now. Torians are trying to take the Cordilia system from the Yor. Cordilia system is almost due south of the current hunter ship staging. Corx and Drath planets that the hunters were protecting could go hang while Terrans supported Torian invasions. That seemed to sum up the Torian innuendos pretty well.

Alan projected a quadrant map and started pointing out the relevant features.

“Dread Lord troopships are coming in from here” indicating northeast corner of the map.

“Cordelia system is here. And the Drath and Corx systems are here and here”

“Our hunters are intercepting troopships as close to the point of origin as possible.

Strategic Analysis believes that Dread Lords will concentrate on Vizzard and Iversonia sytems before proceeding further. If we can stop them there, Cordelia and the rest will be safe”.

Judging by the grumbles and croaks coming from the Torian, his little exposition did not fully satisfy. The whole concept of Distant Defense did not sit well with Torians. Alan attributed this to their semiaquatic origins. Apparently, fighting in the swamps got close and personal.

Alan sighed. His job was not to sell the allies on Terran strategy. That would be asking too much of anyone. His job was simply to keep the lid on.

After half an hour of mostly desultory and sometimes simply inane questions, Alan got off the stage and made his way to his seat.

Archean ambassador, fully awake by now, took the stage and proceeded to bore the rest of the assembly with his ponderous but no doubt (in his mind) inspiring monologue.

Alan was pretty worn out by the time Archean finally wound down and the assembly was finally finished for the day. It was getting late, so he wasted no time in beelining for the door. Where he was stopped by Elleys Mue.

“Colonel Bradley, I have so many questions. Do you think we could talk?” as she took possession of his elbow and started walking with him.

Alan glanced at the time

“Well, I have a debrief with Ambassador DeChance in about half an hour. How about you give me a call in couple of hours and we can arrange something”

“Perfect. That will give me time to debrief as well. Talk to you later” with a cheerful wave she flounced off.

Two hours later, Alan was back in his suite debating whether to order something to eat. He did not really feel hungry as he was munching throughout the day. Finally he decided, a good drink was in order and the suite's minibar was simply amazing. You could tell this was a good hotel, Torian or not. In addition to the suite being fully programmable, the bar could reproduce drinks from all over the known galaxy.

He was interrupted by a gentle chime of the suite's door. Wandering who could it be he opened the door to Elleys Mue.

“Remember, our appointment Colonel Bradley?. I know I was to call ahead, but since I was just passing by, I'd thought ..” she was babbling.

“Please call me Alan” he replied automatically as he let her in. Maybe she was a spy,or extremely dedicated, if so she was in for a rude surprize. He dismissed the other possibility. Despite Terran and Altarian physical similarity, there was no record of..

“I was just about to make myself a drink. Would you like one as well”

“Oh, that would be nice. Anything except that nasty Kaff you Terrans like so much”

There she goes again, Alan thought. Nice looking girl, really hates coffee.

While Alan busied himself at the bar, Elleys Mue was inspecting his suite.

“Is all Terran décor so dark, so edgy?” she was asking.

The suite was set to resemble his house back on Outpost 3. Thanks to the programmable furniture and walls Alan thought it looked pretty homey.

“Terran décor is all over the place, this is just what I'm comfortable with” he admitted.

“What about Altairian furnishings? What are they like?”

“We prefer light and airy surroundings. Something to make our souls soar. Do Terran souls soar?”

Wow!, He really was not expecting a religious interrogation.

“Some do, sometimes” he tried.

Apparently that was good enough, as Elleys Mue continued her inspection.

Alan generally travelled lightly. The only things he brought with him on trips was a holo of his dead wife Becky, and a player of their favourite music, so aside from furniture there was not a lot to inspect.

Sometime between the first and third sips of the champagne Alan handed her, Elleys Mue activated her homing instinct, and ended up before Becky's holo.

“And who is this? Someone you care about very much?”

Alan explained wearily. It was a long time ago, but her holo still brought him comfort.

“Me too” Elleys Mue was saying, now in front of him. “ My bondmate's name was Har Lel, He died a hero, defending the planet, and now he's with the One. We were planning on having a daughter.. “

Her voice faltered for only a second

“That was a long time ago. But now I'm ready for another drink”

Couple of drinks later they were sitting on the couch listening to music with Elleys Mue being very quiet. She looked good and smelled better so Alan thought “Why not?” and went for it. After that sucessful foray, thinking was not an option. The only thing that Alan recalled for certain is that no spying took place. Exploration, close contact, a lot of probing most definitely, but not a smidgeon of spying.

Despite having only half an hour of sleep, he felt really good next morning. Judging by Elleys Mue's giggles, so did she. The only vaguely troubling thing about the whole experience occurred as they were leaving the suite.

“So who is Mays Rue?” he asked at the name he thought he heard Elleys Mue mumble as they were drifting off to sleep.

“My daughter. I thought I told you that I was bonded” she smiled uncertainly.

“So you did” Alan replied “ We'd better hurry or we'll be late”.

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qrtxian

Join Date 03/2010

+30

Looking solid. I must say the subtitle throws me a little (love stories aren't my thing) but certainly there promises to be enough scenes of Dread Lords "blown to bits, killed, spindled, mutilated" and otherwise spectacularly terminated to make up for that. Certainly your writing skills are excellent. I have only two complaints - one personal and one nitpicky - which will nonetheless dominate my post because that's just the way I am.

The nitpicky complaint - "Colonel Bradley" in the campaign is not actually Alan Bradley but the protagonist of the original stories GalCiv's backstory comes from, one DL Bradley. As best as I know they are not related in any way except for their last names; although it may be possible that DL was renamed Alan for the games so as to have more then a pair of initials for a name.

The personal complaint - I am beginning to be tired of human/Altarian relationships in AARs (if that's where this is going). This is mostly a subjective thing; do not take offense.

P.S. - Speaking of personal, do you have something in particular against Weber and Ringo?

Edit: Incidentally Eleys Mue is spelled with one L. Also, Korx is spelled with a K.

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Thank you for the feedback. Both the kind words AND the complaints.

You are right about spelling of Eleys Mue and Korx, mea culpa. Alan, on the other hand, is the Col. Bradley in the DA campaign.

My whole intention was to dig a bit deeper into more personal aspects of the story. The game is played at such a vast scale I wandered: "What about the little people (beings)? Do they go to the bathroom? Do they, you know..?". Hence, the connection between Alan and Eleys. I also have a rather corny TOE that I could not resist (see next installment). As far as battles etc go, there WILL be DL deaths on a vast and terrible scale , as soon as I wrap my head around the planetary invasion bit.(This aspect is bugging me no end as the numbers are way off)

BTW I like both Weber and Ringo. Very different in style but both good solid writers. My comment was really a warning to the prospective readers about my skills (or lack of).

Once again thank you for the feedback. Please keep it up.

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Aug 30,27 Outpost 3-

Alan was sitting in his office having just completed final design review of fast frigates that were planned for the next generation of hunters. He figured he deserved a five minute break as the design review had dragged on for five hours. So, he allowed himself a few thoughts about Eleys Mue.

It's been six weeks since their encounter on Primus. That was very nice, and so were her subsequent messages. She could be a spy but he did not really think so. There was another possible explanation for her attraction. She was bonded to a hero which Alan knew he was not. Everyone knew that Altairians were good (y 2 shoes) , which made Terrans look somewhat bad. So..., Alan nearly inhaled his coffee.

“That makes me a bad boy, at least in her eyes” was his first conclusion and

“The laws of the universe ARE constant” was his revelation.

The call came in while he was wiping spilled coffee off his uniform. It was Medved's office.

“Colonel Bradley, General Medved would like to see you at your convenience” lieutenant announced sweetly.

Alan decided that his convenience better be now and replied that he was on his way.

General Boris Medved was sitting at his massive desk glaring at some sort of communique in front of him. Without lifting his eyes from the flimsy, he started.

“I've just received a message from our Korx liaison on Iversonia”

“They've managed to beat off an invasion force” he continued grinding out the words

“Heavy casualties, half the planet is in ruins and..” he finally looked up at Alan.

“they also report that two hunter ships were destroyed while attempting intercept. They got two transports, but the last two were heavily armed.”

“Oh Jack” Alan thought helplessly. His brother was dead.

General Medved continued as he brought out a bottle from his desk and proceeded to pour.

“They knew that the transports were armed. They went in anyway, despite the standing orders. I will be recommending Order of Valour for all the crew”

“Alan, I'm sorry” Medved concluded as he handed him his glass.

Alan spent the rest of his workday in a daze. By the time he got home he was starting to get angry. He was not the kind to scream and shout, but he did have his moods. As he proceeded to demolish a bottle, he cursed. He cursed Jack for being a damn fool and not listening. He cursed Dread Lords for being evil bastards that they are. He cursed the whole goddamn universe for not giving a shit. He was still cursing when he finally passed out.

Alan started a new day with a groan as a nasty ray of sunlight was boring its way into his skill. Last night he had passed out on the couch and now the sunlight was streaming through his living room window. Alan slowly sat up and held his pounding head. He had not tied one on like this since Becky died. And now, Jack, the damn fool, was also gone. He was alone.

After several minutes of feeling sorry for himself, he decided that he could manage a trip to the bathroom. It was either that or pee on the couch, and he was not ready for that. While inspecting himself in the bathroom mirror, he had to admit that he looked like shit. Not quite as bad as he felt, but pretty bad.

Colonel Alan Bradley sneered at his own reflection. Very competent, very smart, promotable (all his evaluations said so). Except for one small detail, he cannot protect anyone he loves.

“Liason, project manager, staff officer, REMF, that's me. A real waste of space.” Alan continued heaping scorn at himself and his life. Gradually he got angrier and angrier.

“Fck it, I need to kill something” and if the so called Dread Lords needed killing, he'd be glad to oblige. He formulated the plan while getting ready.

Three days later he was sitting in Medved's office.

“No!” boomed General Medved.

“No, no, and no” while pounding his desk for emphasis.

“I will not permit you to take a hunter command. There are plenty of young fools lining up for that. I need you with me to win this war.”

Alan was determined. He had explained why the new generation of hunter frigates would also need new tactics. He explained that he was the man who could develop the new tactics. He also tried to explain that he had to be on the front lines and not some REMF while doing it. He tried being reasonable and now he had one card to play.

“General Medved, I feel strongly about taking command of a hunter. I feel so strongly that I will do anything to get that command. Anything!”

Medved was trying to intimidate him with his best gimlet eyed stare while wandering whether to call a possible bluff. On one hand, the media had gotten hold of Jack's heroic last stand and were now running with it. GNN specials on the hunters deluged the frightened populace. If it should come out that a certain General was blocking a voluntary transfer by a hero's brother, there'd be a major bruhaha. On the other hand, all the points Alan made previously were valid. General Medved was not at all stupid, so he conceded, for now.

“Six months only, once they are built. In the meantime I want you to join the team that's working the invasion logistics”

“I was not aware of any planned invasions” Alan was surprised.

Medved proceeded to explain the facts of life.

“Korx just managed to beat off an attack. They are vulnerable. Hell, we are all vulnerable. If the Dread Lords decide to hit, I want to be in a position to retake that planet. Right away, before they have the time to dig in. Administration agrees and I've been given go ahead to form an invasion force capable of taking back a planet.”

That was risky, Alan thought. Invading planets without protection of the new frigates was asking for trouble.

“Insurance?” was his half question.

“Exactly” Medved replied as he turned to his paperwork.

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