Paksos, Eastern Macedomonia

22^nd November 2234

The old man shuffled forward holding onto his younger friend tightly as they made their way through the throng-the whole village had turned out for the Pan-Colony Address delivered earlier by their victorious Archigos.

'You must be very proud Alexandro...to have two such sons.'

The older man smiled but said nothing. In truth the pride he felt was tinged with some sadness-he knew that he had lost his sons both; one to the Starfleet and the other to politics.  They were both being acclaimed as twin architects (along with Dr Zeus, of course) of the victorious end to this interminable war. For not only was their three year conflict with the Torians finally at an end but it was their allies, the humans, that the Torians had surrendered to.  In some senses it was the best possible end-in other ways it was a disaster given that Exile fleets and transports stood ready to invade two key Torian planets: Ireland and Andromeda III when the ceasefire was announced.  Maybe the Torian High Command had planned it that way-who knew? One thing was for sure, the politicians and the Diplomats rejoiced for now their only ally, who had themselves been hard pressed by other races, were handed a rump of star systems many parsecs from their own that gave them a lifeline of survival.  It also meant that finally these two races, so alike and yet so different, could be  joined more closely in galactic amity.

And his sons had been the architects, the one pressing the Torian home-worlds with his fleet and the other weaving his webs of intrigue and planning with the Great Leader-it was a scenario that he would scarcely have imagined a few years previously but one, nonetheless, that was upon them and one in which he, like all of the citizens in their burgeoning race, would revel in.

'And this in a year when the boys are only nineteen and in which we have lost both the Drath and the fearsome Korath-the Gods are fickle methinks my friend.'

'They are-they are Andreu' The old man said as they reached the haven of the younger man's dwelling-it lay at the eastern edge of the village and was a modest place boasting only three chambers in total. It would do, however, given the serried ranks of the press corps camped outside the Ohirides household.

'You do me a kindness that I will not forget Andreu-taking me in like this.'

The younger man blushed-he was a self-effacing type, not used to compliments.

'Think nothing of it sir-the least I could do for a man that I have always admired-you and your sons...and your good lady, whilst she was alive...' An awkward silence hung in the air.  How could either broach the matter-that terrible secret that they had both carried for all those years. In some ways the untimely death of Delilah had only served to accentuate the awful mystery of a misguided night of passion that now hung so heavy between them.

It was Alexandro that spoke: 'Well at least I can console myself with the thought  that my sons are safe-can you believe that Pollux is a Fleet Commander and not yet twenty-we all knew he had skill but...'

Andreu nodded 'yes truly a thing of wonder-and marvellous that in spite of the terrible losses that the Fleet took two years ago that he survived. You have been blessed Alexandro..'

'Aye son, blessed or accursed maybe.'

'They are safe Alexandro-that is surely all that matters?'

Alexandro could only grunt 'for now maybe. What say you of the Drengin-think you that it will be war?'

Any optimism they had been feeling quickly evaporated.  It was true that they were finally at peace but the situation with the powerful Drengi meant that their situation was precarious.  They could only console themselves with the thought that, by surrendering both their worlds and their still powerful Fleet to the humans, the Torians had made the Terran Alliance and transformed them from being amongst the weakest powers in the galaxy to being the fourth behind the Arceans and the Iconians with the Drengi reduced to third.  They would think twice before attacking the Terran's ally.  That was the hope of the ISA anyway....

He had spoken to Castor only two days previously-the young man, normally so serious, had been almost giddy at the thought of the upcoming reunion ceremonies with the Terrans on Toria-no less than ten feast days had been decreed by the Leadership for all to celebrate.

'I will get to meet my counterpart in the Human milieu father-think on it!' the boy had exclaimed excitedly.  'A man called Alan Bradley leads them-they don’t have daskalos and mathitis like we do here but they have apportioned much greater autonomy to their worlds thereby greatly strengthening their productivity and prosperity-think father: it is just what the Good Doctor has tasked me with looking into now that the war is over!'

Alexandro smiled at the memory-it was amazing how grown up and yet so young his sons could be all at the same time.

'Son-all that matters to your old man is that the two of you are safe and well and I can only pray for that day when I can feast my eyes on you both again.'

Castor had become serious again-adopting that stern mien that he used amongst the political avenues of the Agora.

'Aye father-myself too-it will be arranged-count on it'

Little did either of them know that they would never set eye on each other in the flesh again....

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8^th January 2235

Aboard ESS Crius

Hyperspace

Pollux Ohirides had just ended a secure call to his brother where amongst other things he learned that despite the strengthening of their hand by the surrender of the Torians to their allies and the depositing on their left flank of numerous Terran worlds, the Drengi ambassador had recently delivered a demand for 333BC to the Exiles. It was staggering that the arrogant Drengi still felt that they had the whip hand when everything had changed. Would they not learn-one would think that the example of the Torians would serve as a stark reminder of the folly of challenging a race that was stubborn as it was resilient-and now they had their allies, their fellow humans, in close proximity. Of one thing he was sure, he had assured his brother, he and his commanders would be ready if war with the war-like Drengi came. Their possible future foe were already engaged in wars against the Iconians, the Arceans and several minor races and would learn very quickly that their own was not some weakling to be pushed around.  The great Archigos had told the Drengi Ambassador that they should remember the lesson they had just meted out to the Torians before trying to extract money from them by extortion and menaces.

But this was not what really vexed the young commander as his battle-group and the three others in his fleet raced towards the pre set RV he had set at somewhere equidistant between the Torian (now Terran) worlds they had just been harassing and the Drengin home-worlds to their south-east.  What really vexed him was the information he had just been provided about his First Officer.  She had been a particularly able deputy and one to whom, in spite of himself, he had been attracted to despite his better judgement.  It was sometimes difficult to resist urges that were only natural for a young man of his years.  Yet no man of his age had endured so much or taken on such responsibilities, or such cares.

A knock on his Ready Room door.

'Come!'

Siriana Drew entered unsuspecting, theirs was an easy, relaxed relationship.

'You needed me boss-what's up? Not those ammunition tallies that you wanted?' Even now her piercing green eyes transfixed him, choking his throat, quickening his desire and stirring up his loins. Rather than the matter at hand all he could think of was the rise and fall of those fulsome breasts.

'Boss?' It was she who brought him out of his reverie.

He knew what he had to do:

'Lochagos Drew I have been provisioned with information that comes from the highest sources that indicate that you are and have been a Torian spy for some while-it is my duty to arrest you immediately, secure you and transfer you into the keeping of the Central Security Directorate. What say you?'

The junior officer's face crumpled and tears followed, 'May I-may I sit sir?'

Pollux nodded, 'Drew why? You realise that this will be a death sentence?' He searched her face for signs of defiance-all he found was the deepest misery.

'You wouldn’t understand sir-by the time I wanted out I was trapped-people from my past and a spy-master who knew just how to manipulate me.'

She looked into his eyes and for a moment there was a flash of understanding of how he really felt about her.  Maybe, just maybe she could turn this to her advantage...

'Sir-please I cannot stand the thought of a trial, disgrace and execution. Please allow me to end it myself-I will open my veins in my own quarters-it will allow me to keep some semblance of dignity.'

And in that instance the lithe, beautiful young man was all over her, kissing, fondling, passionately thrusting, all pretence at composure or continence gone as the two fell to the floor, the room echoing to the sounds of their passionate and frantic lovemaking....

its doing that thing again where its taking my sentences and turning them into web links..

This forum does appear to be truly quiescent but for those of you still reading I intend to posts the next instalment of my story this wknd and it should be a long one  

1^st December 2236

Aboard Drengin Frigate Ahs-kra, Lead Ship in a fleet of 3

1.75 Parsecs between Exile held Dionysion and Drengin held Hilfheim III in what has become known as the 'Central Sector'

Baron Jengi Satwa-Tun settled back in his Command Seat and contemplated the mess that his father and the other cretins on the High Council had managed to get them all into. Obedience to the diktats of Lord Kona was one thing-unswerving sycophancy in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary was something else. At their last meeting the younger Drengi's blunt and outspoken words had almost caused a Trat-huk, from which, once their ceremonial swords had been drawn, there would not have been any backing down until one of them, was dead. As he had turned his back on his sire and proceeded for the exit, face mottled with yellow Earl Shuna-Tun had shouted after him: 'You say give up the worlds in our Central Sector and I say to you, whelp, that Lord Kona will never give up a single grain of sand on a single planet to either the Exiles or their slavering Terran allies-NEVER DO YOU HEAR ME!'

Instead what The Council had issued was another threat to the Exiles, delivered by their Ambassador on Olympus Prime, demanding peremptorily, a paltry Bc143-what was the point, the young Frigate Commander had raged aboard his bridge whilst deck hands and his flag officers cowered: whilst the young Lordling was even-handed by Drengi standards, it was not unusual for an angry ships Captain to decree a Ba-Untu: or a 'meeting between space and Drengi' whereby some hapless character was jettisoned from the nearest airlock-their suit mic on so that all aboard could hear their screams of agony as they died.

Their ship and its two escorts, also Frigates, had been ordered to patrol the space between their three worlds, Hilfheim III (nestled right up against Exile Dionysion not more than two parsecs to its south-east), Paulos and Cygni II.  The map that he had thrust in front of his First Officer was crude to say the least but it conveyed the claustrophobic situation that all Drengin Fleets in this Central Sector now found themselves in hemmed in on all sides by Terran and Exile space and massively outnumbered ever since two small Terran Frigate Fleets had literally decimated the massed ranks of Super-Dominator Corvettes that had been the staple Drengin defence in this area. Of the seventy odd craft that were operating before not one remained-the Drengin High Council, or more pertinently, His Dread Excellency, Lord Kona, had seen, too late, that it was capital ships that were needed here not heavy fighters. The one bright spark was that the Corvettes had not sold themselves lightly and had managed between them to take down all of the Terran Frigates...that was eight less of the enemy craft to worry about!

But there were other Terran fleets about and that was not to mention the Exiles themselves. For a whole year there were many of the younger Officers and Aristocrats that advocated strongly keeping the Exiles from joining the war on the side of their human allies-they must be very, very careful not to provoke them. These fears seemed to be borne out as they watched the Exiles ramp up economic production by transforming themselves from an Interstellar Republic into a Star Democracy where each planet was quasi-sovereign and therefore allowed to vote on which parties made up the Senate on Olympus Prime. The net result was massively increased productivity and there were rumours that their neighbours had built up a war-chest of some Bc30 Trillion! It was an astonishing sum of money and surely proof, if any were needed, that The Exiles were preparing for something. At this point some of their faction went even further and advocated the seceding of their Central worlds to the Exiles: they were, after all, essentially a 'good' race that believed in the rule of law and would surely not attack without good reason? And now the ridiculous and unnecessary threat from Lord Kona. If anything was to give them an excuse to pre-emptively declare war this was it and the Exiles were not a people to be underestimated...this was a race that had, after all, seen off the over-mighty Torians and one that even now was amassing several new fleets of heavy cruisers-their 'Deity Class' warships. Such was the word from Drengi Intelligence. There had also been rumours of a fleet of Exile controlled Precursor Ranger-class ships that were insanely powerful, as one would expect from ships designed by the Ancients. But how on Drengi had the Exile monkeys been able to master the technology! This was the secondary aspect of their orders: to locate this fleet, if it existed, and shadow it. And in the meantime someone in High Command had clearly been listening as he had received word only yesterday that several brand new Frigate Fleets were now being diverted from the Drengi-Terran war in the south-east outpost and sent to reinforce them-they should be with them in several months...

'We don't have several months Voner!' he growled to his trusty lieutenant, 'we may not have several weeks at this rate!'

And now these words were coming back to haunt him as red alert was sounded across the ship. He and his number two rushed back from his Ready Room to the Bridge.

'Report!' He shouted above the clamour. 'And QUIET you dogs!'

The Duty Officer, one of Clan Vire's whelps, turned his green face wet with the sheen of fear 'Sir we have three craft, unknown origin-they-they are very powerful...sensors detect-erm, five-maybe six Quantum Drivers...'

'Dastu's balls Ensign! What two per ship? Those are long odds!' His First Officer exclaimed taking his station below and to the front of his Captain.

'No Captain-each ship has six and they are targeting us...'

The Baron's blood ran cold-he had found the Ranger Fleet and it seemed to be sporting Exile insignia,

'Hail them!'

'They are answering our Hail Sir-patching it through.'

All eyes were rooted on the flickering view-screen as it came to life-on the other side a boy human, impossibly young. Was this some sort of joke?

'Exile fleet, identify yourself-and your reasons for locking weapons on an Imperial Drengin ship in our own space! Where is your Captain boy?' the Baron grunted, the universal translator smoothly keeping pace and morphing his guttural Drengi dialect into the rather more lilting exile tongue.

'I am the Captain and Fleet Commander-you are addressing Hipparchus Pollux Ohirides of the Exiles Ranger Ship Erebus. I have a message for you direct from our Leader, Dr Zeus.' The boy observed him with narrowed, hard eyes: this was a boy only in looks, the Baron had thought with a rising sense of unease-that name! It was the one person that every Drengi Captain feared-that boy who had been the scourge of the Torians and who he mightily wished had been sired of Drengin parents.

'Would you like me to read it?' It was clearly a rhetorical question,

An almost imperceptible nod,

'To the Drengi High Command I have entrusted the delivery of this message to this young Captain who, maybe more than any other, represents all that you should fear of our peoples. We have told you time and again that we do not take kindly to threats and yet you still provoke us with your extortion and your bullying. We, the Exile Senate have, for a whole year, abstained from joining our allies in their mighty struggle against you: we have, after all, not had any good reason. And this in spite of a sizeable number amongst us who advocated joining the Terrans from the start. With your last threat of extortion, however, the Senate now feels that situation has changed irrevocably, that there will never be a lasting peace between our races and to that end we now Declare war upon you and formally consider all Drengi assets hostile.' The boy put the note down and fixed his opposing Commander in the eye 'It will be my pleasure, Captain, to destroy you and your fleet...'

Even as the view-screen dimmed the Baron was barking orders:

'Evasive! Scale all armour to forward banks! Lock missiles and fire free-all ships-DRENGI HA!'

All around him missile trails showed as all three Drengi ships set off a volley of Kiklar-Ti nuclear tipped Harpoons, splitting up to try and confuse the Ranger gunners. The volley from the Quantum drivers hit first,however, and the first one obliterated completely the flanking frigate. Their own missiles were now striking home in white hot flashes.

'Damage report number two!'

'We haven’t even dented their armour my Lord!' The despairing response as their ship lurched violently to the right almost throwing the seated officers from their chairs.

'Then we are damned! DRENGI-HA, DRENGI HA! DRENGI HA!' And all on-board took up the cry as the second and third salvoes from the Ranger craft impacted them and blew them to oblivion....

I'm still reading it, but so few people post in the AAR forum these days that I haven't felt like posting a response longer then "mmkay, good stuff", which isn't a terribly helpful response.

Dude dont stop..im still here and reading it..ive in fact read it all over again as well as your General memoires..i may not be a regular poster but i check nearly everyday for your updates as well as Admiral maximus..its all good.your a good wirter..dont stop.lead exiles to glory and munchies

Aww hey Chancellor-thanks a bunch mr-appreciated 

Hey Echelion i would have had I had a bit more feedback-no man is an Island and all that...

No worries pal-nice to hear the feedback however late. I keep thinking that I will go back to the game and finish the darn thing off but every time I am tempted I just think 'too much effort' to get my head back into that space