The following events happened on a skirmish on Yerrot Mountains.
My friend and I were sharing the commanding job and we were Core.  We
had two Arm enemies, although one was in a constant struggle with our
allies, so they couldn't spare any units.  This is only about our
struggle with one AI.  The other AI and our allies do not play any
major role  in this story, thus they are not mentioned.  We had just
finished weakening our allies' enemy with an attack, so we had few
units.  Some of the figures are estimates, pulled from my memory.
Also, this was several years ago, so we weren't very experienced.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
 

   The Core Commander stood in the middle of his base, watching the
Goliaths pump out of the production facility.  He turned as his
Construction Vehicle began nanolathing on a Punisher.  Then, his
superior visual processing powers picked up a faint sign of movement
on a distant plateau.  The Arm were mobilizing a gargantuan attack
fleet approximately 4 kilometers away.  He moved swiftly, helping with
the Punisher, and then a second one, even though metal was nearly nil.
   "All Goliaths," he radioed, "report to coordinates 353.441," That
was about one hundred meters ahead of the Punisher.  Several minutes
later, another Punisher had been created, making two of them.  In
seconds, the first wave of enemy Kbots began pouring over the nearest
ridge.  While the Goliaths tried to turn their turrets fast enough to
hit the oncoming PeeWee rush, missiles and rockets did quite a number
on the Goliaths, destroying several and criticalizing another half
dozen.  The Commander needed all available attack units on the front,
however, due to the fact that dozens more enemy tanks began surging
over the ridge.  The Goliaths continued to get pounded, taking heavy
losses.  That was unacceptable in the eyes of the Commander.  Their
units numbered many, too many for even the Commander.  He could not
risk himself or the Core would have no backup defense.  For the
greater good, he chose not to enter the fray.  Meanwhile, two
additional Goliaths had come, providing desperately needed support to
the battle.  Unfortunately, the Commander noted, they would be of
little use as over a dozen heavy tanks and artillery began their
attack run.  Never had the Arm coordinated their attack so
efficiently.  The small, maneuverable, fast units sped in circles
around the Goliaths while Merls had inflicted considerable damage.
Then came medium units, the level one artillery and rocket launchers,
and finally, a nearly endless wave of assorted tanks, artillery and
rocket units.  If this onslaught did not end soon, the Core would be
vulnerable on many fronts around the planet.  Then a Bulldog entered
range of the Punishers.  Naturally, it was a pile of scrap metal in
mere seconds.  The Commander dismissed the battle from his immediate
attention and then realized that during this time, several Shadows had
been produced.  He ordered them to bomb a Hammer in the middle of a
large mass of units.  The units would take heavy damage, buying the
Core units time, though meager, enough to regroup and possibly repair
the most heavily damaged Goliaths.  The bombs hit their mark from
several different angles, damaging nearly every unit in the mass, and
destroying several of the level one Kbots.  The Commander had
overlooked one detail, and that was the wave of rocket launchers and
anti-air units behind the mass.  The Shadows were shot down, though
their sacrifices would be noted.  The Bulldogs were finally
exterminated, and the Core took the precious seconds to regroup. The
Commander strode to the smoking piles of wreckage and the damaged
Goliath, the only one left.  He repaired it back to operational
status, up from critical, and reclaimed several thousand metal from
the destroyed Goliaths.  He hoped that the production facilities made
good use of it, as they may not be supplied with that amount of metal
again for some time.  As the Arm also massed on the opposite side of
the ridge, Goliaths surged from the Advanced Vehicle Plant, and they
all joined the front lines, bringing the total number to eight.  The
oncoming assortment of units paled in comparison to the Goliaths, as
not one was lost, and the Arm lost 17 units in that wave.  The
Commander again strode to the front, repairing and reclaiming his way
until all the Goliaths were operating at maximum efficiency.  The Arm
sent at least twenty heavy tanks and more assorted light units.  All
the Goliaths were destroyed over the next few minutes.  More Arm tanks
surged toward the Core base.  The two Punishers dug into the wave, but
rockets got their revenge by nearly destroying one, regardless of the
fact that the Commander was repairing it.  Two Gaat Guns and several
anti-air towers destroyed all tanks that attempted to get within
range.  Once the threat to the Punisher was neutralized, the Commander
ordered all six Goliaths to push through the Arm legion.  They came,
uncaring about what they destroyed.
   GL-44897 led his five other Goliaths into battle, proudly and
efficiently.  A PeeWee jogged up and attempted to hinder the Goliaths.
 He did not live long.  The six massive tanks pushed on.  They
proceeded to destroy the entire Arm battalion.  Once all Arm units had
disappeared from radar, they returned to base, awaiting orders.
   During this time, four more Goliaths and six Crashers had joined
the front, and the Commander ordered all but three Goliaths to advance
west, toward the Arm base.  The Advanced Vehicle Plant turned its
attention to some artillery, before it resumed nanolathing Goliaths.
The minutes seemed hours to the Commander.  The ensuing clash was sure
to be a tough one.

The Offensive

   After winding their way around wreckage and insignificant patrols,
the Goliaths began to approach the outskirts of the Arm base.  Rockets
and artillery shells rained down, although missing their intended
targets.  As the attack wave closed in on the Arm base, they faced
increasing resistance.  While they were attempting to regroup their
heavy attack units, level one Kbots entered the line of fire and most
were lucky to get off a shot before plasma ate through the hulls of
their armored suits, making short work of the organic components of
the Arm soldiers inside.  The Goliaths pushed on.  A Guardian loomed
in front of them.  The lead Goliath ordered all others to attack
defensive structures first, then attack units, and last, production
facilities.  Slowly, but surely, the Goliaths got pounded and one by
one, they succumbed to damage and fell.  Eventually, all were
destroyed, and with the images sent to the Commander by the last
Goliath, he noticed the Arm were organizing a counterattack.  Eight
Goliaths and five heavy artillery were operational, but by the time
they could get their forces here, three more Goliaths would be up and
running.  Over the next 20 minutes, the Goliaths and artillery fell,
although the Arm took heavy losses also.  The Core resumed their
former defensive posture.  Metal once again became a rarity; the Core
would have to make do with what they had.  The Arm were relentless.
They continually sent units, and the onslaught seemed endless.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
 
The battle continued in this pattern for six to seven hours (game
time).  They attacked, we were on the defensive.  Their forces cease.
We attack and heavily damage them, and they counterattack.  We go back
on the defensive.  After about seven hours, our allies severely
cripple or destroy the other AI, and their remaining forces weaken our
enemies.  We began to prosper.  We built up a force of forty to fifty
Goliaths and perhaps two dozen other units.  Under the protection of
our allies, we had also massed about twenty to thirty Goliaths in the
bottom left corner of the map, and they also were moving out in a
clawlike formation.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Armageddon or bust!

  The Core Commander focused his attention on coordinating the coming
offensive.  Nearly fifty Goliaths lined up in formation, with rocket
launchers and artillery close behind.  If the Arm could withstand this
assault, the Core would have to rewrite their battle tactics.
  The call came from the Commander.  "All units, converge on the Arm
base.  Any unit that gets through doesn't stop until the Arm are
exterminated from the vicinity."
 
   The Goliaths revved up and took off in a wonderful formation,
looking like a hand.  The palm was led with some Goliaths, and was
aimed to hit the Arm base directly.  The upper portion of the hand was
the fingers, going to trim off the top of the base, then swoop down
and plunge right through the heart of the base.  The bottom was the
thumb, and had basically the same purpose as the fingers.  It was
designed so that the palm would hit the base the same time as the
fingers and thumb.  The Arm would have no choice but to surrender or
die.
   The Arm attempted to break through the ‘Claw of Death and
Destruction' and get to the Core base.  They had no chance, but if
they could weaken the Core squadron, it was worth the loss.  The Arm
continued building units, hoping to repel the Core and take the
planet.  The first PeeWees hit the Goliaths, desperate to buy
themselves a few more vital seconds.  Needless to say, the PeeWees did
not last long.  There wasn't even any wreckage left to hinder the
Goliaths trek into the enemy base.  Seconds later, the two claws met
and enveloped the Arm base.  The Arm drew first blood; three Guardians
ate right through two Goliaths.  The Core soon made up for the loss.
The rest of the Goliaths began a ruthless bombardment of the Arm.  In
minutes, all that remained of a once great  and powerful base was
nothing more than smoldering debris.

   The Commander moved swiftly, taking hundreds more Arm units hostage
and destroying thousands as the planet fell under Core domination.
The Core would prevail.
 

Arm HQ 48 hours after the fall of the planet:

   Admiral Jeb Falco sighed, pacing his spacious, but crowded office.
   "General, we can't keep losing planets like this.  If we don't hold
our current positions, we will fall under Core control.  That cannot
be allowed, but I feel it is inevitable."
   "I know how you feel, but this isn't up to me.  The President of
Military Operations believes we will sufficiently weaken the Core's
defenses so that we may launch an offensi-"
   "Well the President is a fool.  Do you know how many times he has
commanded troops or done any sort of front line duty? Huh, do you?"
   "Well, uh . . .  No."
   "None.  Absolutely none.  He has no idea how intense it is out
there.  The recon videos and orbital surveillance readouts don't cut
it.  If he were out there on the front, he might come to his senses.
What do you think?"
   "It's a good idea, but how in God's name do we do that?  Uh . . .
tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking."
   "I am.  How many troops under your command will obey you to the
very end?"
   "Probably all of them.  But we'd need many more."
   "I've got friends in high places.  I'll manage it."
   With that he began signaling his closest friends and relatives.
Anyone who was smart would have to join him to ensure the survival of
the Arm Empire.

Backfire!  Part 2

   Admiral Jeb Falco and General George Matrin stood before a large
force of over sixty-five thousand soldiers, and this meeting was being
broadcast to forty-one warships in this sector of the galaxy.  The
meeting was also being broadcast to the President of Arm Military
Operations.  No one knew what was to be announced.  Some speculated,
others didn't care.  Falco and Matrin took their places, side by side,
heads held high.  Falco began his opening speech.
   "To the galaxy, we are gathered here today to ensure a new era of
the Arm Empire.  With one hundred, eighty-nine thousand soldiers under
my direct command, I will seize control of the Empire, or the
President will surrender it to me.  Together, General Matrin and I
shall eliminate the Core once and for all.  We will restore peace to
the Galaxy and no God-damned contingency of theirs will interfere.  I
have received complaints from thousands of our front-line troops,
expressing their opinions on the war.  They pretty much state the
facts.  Engage, retreat.  Engage, retreat.  We cannot win this war by
launching half-hearted, pathetic strikes.  We must invade Core
territory and crush their military population.  To bring down a
military power you must crush their military capabilities!  To
annihilate their outer defenses and storm right through to Core Prime
is the only way.  Observe."
   With that, he tapped a panel and a large projection appeared on the
wall behind him.  It displayed a battle plan for taking Core Prime.
Warships destroyed orbital defenses of key planets, and upon reaching
Core Prime, orbital weapon platforms would be destroyed, and troop
transports would ferry over ninety thousand ground troops, including a
Commander, to the surface.  Convoys would arrive daily, bringing more
and more troops until the Core could be decimated to the point where
ground troops could wipe out remaining Core forces on weakened
planets.  Within twenty years, Arm would colonize the entire galaxy
and rule indefinitely.
   A cheer came roaring up from the crowd.
   General Matrin took the stand.  "I will lead the invasion.  My
ships can outmaneuver and outgun all Core orbital defenses.  With over
forty warships in the first wave alone, no planet can withstand our
bombardment.  Also, we have designed a new Orbit-to-ground heavy
laser.  It's accurate to within two meters of any ground target.  It
can penetrate the armor of underground bunkers, and can slice off the
head of an enemy Commander from sixty-thousand kilometers away.  This
weapon, nicknamed the Devastator, is the most deadly weapon ever
developed.  The laser can also be modified to carry a biological or
chemical weapon.  With a certain type of acid, it could eat through
the armor of any Core unit.  Victory brings freedom!"
   The crowd responded.  "Victory brings freedom!"
   "Move out!"
   With that, dozens of troop transports screamed through the lower
atmosphere, landed, and began taking on legions of soldiers.  In
twenty minutes, not a person remained of the tens of thousands.  Arm
warships began moving out in attack formation.
   Meanwhile, Admiral Falco led forty thousand troops of his own to
Headquarters.  In three hours, Headquarters was now in the hands of
the AIDF or Arm Imperial Defense Forces.  The President ordered all
soldiers and warships to stand down and follow Falco and Matrin in
"their devilish, fiendish conspiracy."  Most reluctantly agreed,
although others attempted to band together and engage the mammoth
fleet.  Needless to say, they didn't do much damage; they were
outmanned, outgunned, outnumbered, and outmaneuvered.
   Falco uncorked a bottle of old-fashioned champagne, and poured a
glassful.  "To the conquerors of the Core Empire!"
   The President smirked in the corner.  "Aren't you being a bit
premature?"
   "I don't think so, not with twelve hundred ships standing by.
Besides, what Arm command officer has had more combat experience than
I?  Matrin, of course.  That's why he's leading our forces into battle
and I'm here, enjoying your nervousness.  Ha, ha, ha!  It's just
hilarious watching you cower over there.  My God, you're trembling!
Champagne?"
   "All right.  You know, for a dictator, you're not half bad."
   "Ha, ha, ha.  I've been called worse."
   The President slowly reached into his pocket while Falco was
conversing with his aides.  He pressed a button on a small control.
The lights throughout the compound darkened.  Alarm klaxons wailed
everywhere.  Falco whirled around, but it was too dark to see
anything.
   "Get the President!"
 
   Matrin sipped some champagne of his own, oblivious to what was
happening at Headquarters.  He peered at the viewscreen, and smiled
upon seeing nothing but battlecruisers.  The raw power could blast a
tunnel through a planet in seconds.
   "Sir!  Reading Core warships on an intercept course!"
   "Steady as she goes.  Patch me through to the rest of the fleet."
   Seconds passed.  "Done."
   "All ships, you should be picking up Core ships dead ahead.
Maintain course and speed.  They are not a threat. Repeat.  They are
not a threat."
   "The fleet has responded and acknowledged, sir.  ETA of enemy
ships: forty-four minutes."
   Those forty-four minutes seemed like forty-four hours as different
tactics flashed through his head.  How could he keep damage to a
minimum?  How could he most efficiently and most quickly destroy the
Core cruisers?  He entered this into a computer console next to his
command chair.  Hopefully it would have an answer by the time those
ships got here.
   "Sir!  Thirty more enemy ships just appeared!  ETA: twenty-nine
minutes!"
     "What!  Our sensors are longer range than that!"  Matrin leapt
out of his chair to inspect the sensor readouts at the aft terminal.
"My God!  They came out of nowhere!  What?  Twelve more just appeared!
 What is going on?"
   "I--I don't know, sir.  I've never seen anythi-"
   "We are the Core.  Turn back now, or forever lose your
consciousness."
   The mechanical voice sounded cold, ruthless, dark, and evil.
Matrin could feel the bridge crew shudder and the mood.  The mood was
confused, terrified would be a better word, maybe even distracted.
Distraction could be fatal in space.  The bridge crew snapped back to
attention as Matrin jumped from his chair and whirled around to face
them.  "Good.  Now stay this focused!"
   An engineer strode onto the bridge from the auxiliary power control
room adjacent to the bridge.
"Sir," he whispered to Matrin, "I've just run a diagnostic on the
shields and weapons systems.  I found a cascade virus in the system.
If we try to raise the shields, the entire main computer will shut
down, effectively crippling us."
   "Lieutenant, why can't you simply remove the virus?"
   "Well, sir, it's been placed in a file junction that interlocks the
shields, weapons, sensors, and life support.  Without shutting down
all those systems for at least four hours, we can't remove it without
risking killing everyone aboard this ship."
   "Since when was there a junction that interlocks all four of those
systems?"
   The Lieutenant began to explain.  "The shields are set on a certain
modulation.  The weapons have to have the same modulation and energy
signature to pass through our shields, and the sensors work on
basically the same principle.  A portion of the power for shields and
weapons is ‘borrowed' from life support during combat situations.
It's a miracle we haven't been shut down already just for adjusting
the humidity and temperature controls to accommodate the Rulian crew
members on bridge duty during Gamma Shift."
   Matrin pondered this for a few moments.  "I wasn't aware we had any
Rulians on board."  The gray-skinned Rulians joined the Arm three
years ago, though not many had been accepted into the academy.
   "They transferred over two weeks ago after four months of field
duty defending the Cabrel system."
   "Cabrel?  Oh, yes, the G-type star with the two L-class planets.
Didn't the Core have a base there once?
   "Yes, sir, but the virus?  What do we do?"
   "Ensign Gates!  Contact the fleet.  Tell them to run a full
diagnostic on data block . . . Lieutenant?"
   "Data block three-four-seven Omega." The lieutenant finished.
"Tell them they should find . . . ‘irregularity'."
   Yes, sir.  Contacting the fleet!" responded the young
communications officer.
   The lieutenant strode back to his post, walking gingerly, obviously
terrified.
   Matrin confided in his console, personally scanning the data block.
 Sure enough, he found it.  Right smack dab in data block
three-four-seven Omega.
   "Sir, the fleet's responded.  Eight ships say they've found an
anomaly in data block three-four-seven Omega."
   "Put them on the main viewer.  Eight-way split-screen."
   "Aye, sir.  Split-screen."
   The eight faces of worried Generals appeared.  Matrin addressed
them.  "Gentlemen.  I assume you've found the same abnormality
interlocking four key systems."
   "General," said one, "This isn't simply an abnormality, this is a
cascade virus!  We've come to the conclusion that we would have to
evacuate our ship for four hours to fix this thing!  Four hours is not
acceptable!"

Backfire! Part 3

   The confusion and chaos at Headquarters continued, unbeknownst to
General Matrin and the fleet.   Admiral Falco proceeded to run toward
the nearest computer interface and secure the main computer.  He
activated the defense fields and sealed all off-planet launch
platforms.  The ex-president Granson could not be allowed to escape.
He tapped another panel.  "Security alert!  Find the President and
throw him in the brig!  Keep him alive at all costs!"  He grabbed the
nearest EMG pistol, pulled on a PeeWee's blast helmet, and ducked into
a crawlspace leading directly to the Central Communications Matrix
(CCM) at the center of the compound.  As he crawled, he drew a mental
map of the entire compound.  Granson couldn't be more than two hundred
meters away, and he couldn't be outside the compound.  A fiery
explosion behind Falco sent shrapnel shrieking toward him.  "Thank God
for this blast shield," he thought.  His backside was ripped up, and
blood soaked his shirt and black uniform pants.  As he visually
inspected the damage to the crawlspace, he noted the hole in the metal
grid and realized a power relay was ruptured.  Raw energy could
electrify the grid and fry Falco alive.  He quickly crawled to the
nearest ladder and up to Level 4: Military Intelligence and Strategy.
He emerged in the main meeting chamber.  Since main power was off-line
or inactive, emergency power filled in, but not enough was funneled
into the automatic doors.  Falco raised his EMG pistol and blasted the
door.  He soon came upon a readout of the compound.  Level four had
crap.  The only worthwhile spot on the whole level was an emergency
weapons locker.  Suddenly, a red light began flashing by the locker.
It was just broken into!  Falco caught a whiff of burnt circuits and
heard a scraping down the corridor.  "Halt, or I'll shoot!" he yelled.
 He heard a clatter, and a dark figure froze.  He stepped closer, and
realized it was Commander Halloway.  They both breathed a sigh of
relief.
   "We should make our way down to the CCM or MPDZ [Main Power
Distribution Zone].  If I were the President, I'd probably restore
power to the launch pads," Halloway offered.
   "MPDZ it is, then."

   The Generals glared at each other via the viewscreens on their
ships.  Matrin tried frantically to calm them, even though a cascade
virus wasn't something you could be calm about.  "Sir!  More enemy
ships!  Intercept in eighteen minutes!"
   Matrin cursed.  He turned again to the viewscreen.  "All right.
All eight of you, fall back out of harm's way.  After these ships are
obliterated, we'll evacuate our ships and fix this thing."  He turned
around again.  "Ensign, tell the fleet to cover us at all costs."
   "Aye, sir."
   "Also tell the fleet to retreat to the last system we passed . . .
Hojug, I believe."  He pressed a pad on the arm of his chair.  "Matrin
to engineering.  Rogers, tell me our shuttlecraft are not ‘infected'
with this virus."
   "No sir," came the response.  "The shuttles are fine."
   "Good.  Equip the shuttles with industrial nanolathes and oil the
cargo hold doors.  He, he.  We're gonna barricade ourselves in until
we fix this virus.  Meanwhile, I want all nonessential, on-duty
personnel working on how, where, and when we contracted this thing."
   "Ensign, tell the fleet to prepare some shuttlecraft.  Lieutenant
Narra, you're gonna pilot one of those shuttles."  He gestured for the
young lieutenant to follow him.  They made their way to the docking
bay.  Several crew members were already in the shuttles, awaiting
final orders.  Matrin took his seat in Shuttle one.  Tapping a
control, he said, "All shuttles, make sure you have two people on
board to complete this mission.  We will be laying mines in a
spherical formation around our fleet until this virus can be removed
from our ships.  Begin nanolathing mines with thrusters, proximity
sensors, sensor jammers, and Litrium explosives.  Lay them at least a
thousand kilometers away from our ships.  That way, they won't fire on
our ships and accidentally destroy the mines."
   He turned around to complete the pre-flight checklist, and caught a
glimpse of Ensign Prale joining him.  The two were good friends,
graduated high school together, and lived next door for ten years.
"No need to say it, sir, I'll handle the mines."
   "You know me too well, Mike."  He gave the order to launch
shuttles.  "Shuttle three, you have the runway."
   "Sir?"
   "Just a phrase from ancient Earth history.  Launch."
   "Yes, sir."
   Finally, all the shuttles but Matrin's had launched.  "Hang on,
Mike!"  He hit the thrusters, then the instant they cleared the
shuttle bay, he throttled the throttle and the shuttle sped off.  "How
are you coming with the mines back there?"
   "I've got six ready."
   Matrin acknowledged.  He looked out the front window.  More than
three hundred shuttles were readily deploying mines.  A huge field of
small dots loomed in front of them, and Matrin knew it was the mine
field.  He piloted along one of the rings of mines already encircling
the fleet.  "Ready to deploy the mines, Mike?"
   "One second . . . there.  Open the cargo hold doors."  Matrin hit
the button.  A faint BOOM sounded, but it was just the quick
decompression as the mines were swept out into space.  The mines'
thrusters worked in conjunction with the proximity sensors to guide
them to position.
   "Mine field twenty percent complete, General," the flagship reported.
   "Acknowledged, Ensign.  Captain Fredericks, you there?"
   "Yes sir.  Anything we can do?"
   "Yes Captain.  Anything on the origins of the virus?"
   "Yes, sir.  All affected ships say they have been ‘infected for'
approximately two weeks.  They have not been in combat during that
time."
   "Good.  Start working on where they were during that time, and any
similarities.  Anyone who has been in contact with them, any location
they have all been, etc."
   "Aye.  Anything else?"
   "Begin offloading personnel from the affected ships.  Coordinate
your efforts with me."
   "Affirmative.  Fredericks out."
 
 

   Energy blasts crackled all around.  Holes were blasted in the
walls, and the circuits underneath fried.  The entire compound stank
of electrical burns and smoke.  Admiral Jeb Falco inserted a power
pack into his EMG pistol.  A long stream of EMG's whizzed overhead,
frying the controls to the only escape route for Falco and his men.
Falco peeped through a space between two crates of cargo.  More of the
President's loyal officers poured out of the turbolift shaft.  He
leapt up and let loose a heavy barrage of EMG's.  Several Loyalists
fell, gaping holes opened in their chests.  "Ahhh!"  Commander Hale
crumpled in his spot, dropped his laser pistol, and bled.
   "And to think," thought Falco, "we just replaced the carpet a month
ago."  He checked Hale.  Still alive, but fading fast.  "This is for
you, old friend."  Falco grabbed the laser, gripped his EMG pistol
tighter, stood up, and drained the power packs of both weapons.  Over
ten Loyalist soldiers collapsed with their heads or arms or hands
seared off, or hanging on by threads.
   "Admiral!  What are you doing?  You're gonna get yourself killed!"
   "Whatever it takes," he countered, "to eradicate the Core!"
Admiral Falco grabbed an ensign's EMG pistol as well, and sent more
Loyalist soldiers to the great beyond.  Just then a laser grazed his
shoulder.  He ignored it, for it was negligible.  A little blood shed
for a huge cause.  His life could eventually save billions.  More
lasers whizzed by his head and torso.  Some reinforcements and a
triage team hurriedly cut a panel out of the ceiling to reach the
troops.  They dropped out of the ceiling  and began covering Falco
while the medic attempted to bandage his shoulder.  As the
reinforcements continued to lay down a barrage of EMG's and lasers, a
medic wrapped his shoulder and the President's soldiers fell back.
Falco's troops pursued them, knowing they had to push through and
recapture President Granson.
   "Come on, Admiral, we've a gotta to get you to the infirmary."  The
medic, whom Falco recognized as Nurse Trenel, helped him up after
pumping him full of painkillers and a mild stimulant.
   After several minutes of checkup, Falco was allowed to go back to
fighting.  He led a security detail to Launch Pad four, the closest to
the MPDZ.  Also, from there, they could use the Sentinel and Guardian
stationed there to destroy the other launch pads around the compound.
They could be rebuilt in a few days.  All that mattered was that
President Granson stayed on the planet.
   They reached Launch Pad 4 just ahead of a squad of Granson's men.
Falco crawled inside the cramped control room of the Sentinel and
began frying the men.  They retreated.  "Lieutenant Briggs, get to the
Guardian and destroy the other launch pads!"
    She turned instantly and headed to the Guardian.  In a minute,
shells began streaking in all directions.  Falco ducked as shrapnel
whizzed past his head.  The President would not escape now.

Core Warship Brishan
Flinlek Sector
Coordinates 476.9: Klin'hap System

   "Commander, Engineering reports ARM rebel fleet is attempting to
barricade themselves with anti-sensor mines.  Action, sir?"
   "Maintain course and speed.  Conjure up a few more ships, too."
   "Making adjustments now, Commander."
   "The rebels are launching more shuttles.  The mine field will be
completed in three minutes.  More sensor decoys are completed.  They
appeared in the Farnjas system."
   "Very good."

   Ensign Mike Prale continued to nanolathe mines as fast as possible,
rolling them into the cargo hold, and letting General Matrin hit the
button that sent the mines to their destination in the spherical mine
field surrounding the Arm fleet.  "Captain Fredericks, report."
   "Sir, the mine field is eighty-three percent complete.  Eight more
Core ships appeared in system 7582.  ETA: sixteen minutes.  Personnel
offloading is coming along nicely.  Forty percent of all personnel
have been shuttled to other ships.  Our shuttle bays have received
more use in the last twenty minutes than they have in the last two
years."
   "Excellent.  Carry on."
   "Sir, we've also found a correlation between all the infected
ships.  They all have been at Orbital Defense Outpost forty-six for
repairs or upgrades in the last two weeks."
   "Do anything you can to further your investigation.  Try running a
full DNA analysis in the crawlspaces where it could have originated."
   "Affirmative.  Oh, one more thing sir.  The Core warships are due
to arrive in fourteen minutes."
   "Thanks, Fredericks.  See you on the Malinche."
   Matrin and Prale continued laying the mines as quickly as the
industrial nanolathe could produce them.  The Core would have to
sacrifice quite a few ships to the mines to allow enough ships through
to do any damage to the Arm fleet.

   "General!  Good to see you.  We've found someone you might want to
have a little chat with."  The young Lieutenant gestured to the door
of the shuttle bay as a team of security officers led a man by the
arms.  "Meet Ensign Frank ‘Traitor' Honnok.  His DNA was found in the
crawlspace.  He's confessed to attempting to sabotage these ships."
Matrin took the ensign aside.
   "You wanna tell me why?"
   Honnok remained silent and defiant.  He squirmed uncomfortably.  "I
would be if I were in his place," Matrin thought.
   "Well then Ensign, looks like you're going to be spending this
invasion in the brig.  Take him away!"

   "Enemy ships entering visual range, and they've slowed their
approach.  Now at four thousand kilometers per second."
   Matrin cursed under his breath.  "They're waiting for the rest of
their friends.  I've got it! Sir!  Enemy ships approaching the mine
field!  The mines' proximity sensors have detected them."
   Matrin strode onto the bridge of the Malinche.  "Raise our shields.
 Power to forward lasers.  Move us to ten kilometers from the mine
field closest to the Core fleet."
   "Aye sir.  Sir, the mines are moving to intercept the Core
ships...and blowing up empty space!  There's nothing there!  I'm
reading no wreckage at all!  It's--it's a hoax!"
   "Contact all ships!  We've got to destroy any real ships that break
through!"
   Matrin seemed unusually calm considering the fact that one hundred
ten thousand troops' lives were in mortal danger.  He rested his chin
on his fist as though contemplating reality.
   "Sir!  We have visual confirmation of eight Core ships."
   "Move to intercept!"
   Matrin knew what they were doing.  The sensor decoys fooled the
mines' sensors and the mines detonated, leaving a large hole in the
mine field.  The Core ships could then enter the mine sphere and blast
the Arm fleet.  Core ships were considerably larger, thus more heavily
armed.  Also, the mechanical nature of the Core meant that fewer
soldiers were required to run them.  A Core victory was a severe
setback to the Arm, but an Arm victory was negligible to the Core.
   The Malinche rocked with a Core laser impact.
   "Fire at will!  Any damage?"
   "Forward shields damaged.  Nothing major."
   The ship took more laser blasts.  A power relay exploded under the
helm controls.  The young ensign manning that console was propelled
backwards, breaking the seat and giving Matrin's shin a painful
bruise.  Luckily, there was a backup station in the aft section of the
bridge.  There was no time to see if he was dead.  Matrin continued
barking orders.  The Core ships' hulls buckled under the strain of so
many Arm lasers.  The Core were still able to inflict severe damage on
the Arm fleet.  An explosion shook the ship and bits of hull from
other ships flew past the viewscreen.  Yet another good ship lost.
   "General, more Core warships - real ones - are coming through!"
   "Continue firing!  Damage?"
   "We've lost atmospheric force fields on Levels five through twelve.
 We've got two hundred good people down there!  Main power is
fluctuating.  Emergency power is stable for now.  The hull is buckling
on Levels six and fifteen!"
   "Dispatch rescue officers in atmospheric suits to those levels!
Transfer auxiliary power to force fields on those levels, too!"
Captain Fredericks responded, seeing Matrin busy helping the
now-conscious ensign that was attempting to take her post again at the
helm.
   The ship took another hit, and another explosion destroyed the
entire aft section of the bridge.  Acrid smoke filled the bridge.
Lasers lit up the viewscreen as the Arm fleet opened a deadly barrage
on the Core ships.  Another explosion.  This time it came from the
floor.  The bridge and deck two were now just deck two.
   "Sir!  We've lost main power!  We've also lost communication with
Levels six through fourteen!"
   "The fleet is diminishing," thought Matrin as he looked over the
sensor readouts.  "Down to twenty-three ships."  An idea jumped into
his head.  "Lieutenant, do we still have shuttles out there?"
   "Yes, sir.  They are making hit-and-run attacks on the Core fleet."
   "Have a couple give the ships affected by the virus a little
push...right into the heart of the Core fleet."
   "Affirmative, sir."

The Brig

   Ensign Honnok held on to the cot in his cell to keep from being
thrown against the bulkhead.  The officer on duty monitoring the
prisoner gripped his console tightly as well.
   "AK-5904, it is time..."  A deep, dark voice seemed to call him.
"AK-5904...you have your orders..."
   Honnok touched his left hand to his ear.  "Acknowledged."
   He moved towards the forcefield keeping him in this Godforsaken
cell.  The officer outside reminded him not to touch it, and that it
carried a fifty megajule current.  He ignored the puny mortal and
touched the forcefield.  Hundreds of megajules of raw energy pulsed
through his body.  Normally, one or two megajules would send him
flying to the back wall of the cell.  But this time, the forcefield
flickered, then fell.  The ensign on duty fainted in amazement, but
not before alerting security.  Honnok again touched his body, this
time in a seemingly random pattern.  His body became distorted,
morphing into something.  A security team strode through the door just
in time to see a fully-suited A-K staring at them.  They fired their
lasers, but were unable to penetrate its armor with mere laser
pistols.  It fired its lasers, and sliced through all four officers

Backfire!  Part 5

   Admiral Jeb Falco led his security team through the smoldering
wreckage of Launch Pad two.  The remains of several men were clearly
visible, and Falco urged his team not to look down.  He knelt and
picked up a shred of an Arm Rebel Troop patch.  It was complete with a
piece of an arm as well.  Yuck!  Falco continued to lead his team
around to inspect the damage to all of the launch pads.  All the pads
were totally destroyed.  Mission accomplished.  Loose wires fizzled
and crackled all around.  Now, with the full PeeWee chassis, he was
much more maneuverable over this rough, torn up terrain.  Some of
President Granson's soldiers appeared over the next mound of wreckage.
 They took a few potshots, but being without any form of chassis, they
retreated.  A cannon shell exploded a few meters away from Falco.  A
Big Bertha, he noted.  A Bertha!  "Fall back to Launch Pad four!  Run
a zig-zag pattern to avoid shots!"  Falco scrambled to hit the right
controls.  "Arm Rebel HQ?!  Give us a few Fidos, pronto!  We've got a
Big Bertha in range of us!"
   "Acknowledged, Admiral.  Deploying Fidos.  Do you have a bearing on
the Bertha?"
   "Approximately one hundred sixty degrees.  Expect heavy resistance!"
   "We'll get some fighter planes out there, too.  Would you care to
lead a bomber wing, yourself, sir?  We can get some Bulldogs to defend
Launch Pad four."
   "That would be excellent.  I'll meet the wing two hundred meters
north of the Launch Pad.  Falco out!"

Five minutes later...

   Under the escort of ten Hawks, Falco's Phoenix wing released a
payload of bombs on a Flakker before it could inflict any damage on
the wave of planes.  The computer targeted an L.L.T. with the pitiful
laser and fired a few shots before the Phoenix veered out of range.
The Hawks finished it off.  A rocket nicked the edge of Falco's port
wing, causing the bomber to shudder violently.  No wonder!  It had hit
one of the bombs that was ready to be dropped!  He was missing half of
his wing!  "Falco to Arm Rebel HQ!  A missile destroyed my port wing!
I'm attempting to make it back to the Repair Pad.  Get out a
Construction unit in case I don't make it!"
     "Affirmative, Admiral."
   Falco couldn't believe this was happening on lovely Empyrrean.
This was paradise.  Lush, green forests and crystal clear oceans.  No
time for reminiscing.
   Nose up, cut power to port engine, try to make it on inertia.  The
war would have little chance of success if Falco were to die.  A
Freedom Fighter rushed up from behind the crippled Phoenix, and fired.
 Falco fought to regain control.  The Phoenix dove, and everything
went dark.

Pnx-980:17:40 hours Combat log:
Lieutenant Jackson recording:

   Today we made a bombing run on one of the President's Big Berthas.
Chalked up three kills.  Admiral Falco, leading our attack wing, was
hit by a stray Jethro missile, and to add insult to injury, a Freedom
Fighter downed his bomber, Pnx-1107.  He was found, but any
information on his condition has been withheld, pending confirmation
of his future, life or death.  The whole base is worried sick, for we
know that if he is lost, the war is lost.  If that happens, quite
possibly all of us rebels could spend life in a military prison for
treason.  Tomorrow's assignment is to patrol the area we destroyed
today with a squadron of Brawlers and Hawks.

   "All ships, fall back!  Rendezvous at the Chentaul system!  Send a
general distress call!  All power to shields!"
   General Matrin barked orders around the bridge.  The Arm fleet was
down to twelve ships.  Twelve against twenty, and the twenty had
superior everything.

Shuttle R5-76DF5

   Ensign Rebgi piloted skillfully around Core warships.  He targeted
a damaged exhaust port.  He fired, and the electrical fires there
erupted into a full-fledged inferno.  Ha!  One less cruiser to worry
about.  The fires sucked up the little air on the ship, but the heat
had melted a small hole in a bulkhead.  Everything on the ship was
slowly sucked out by the vacuum of space.  The ship folded in on the
exhaust port.  Then, it erupted into a fireball for a few seconds.
Rebgi turned to lock onto another ship.  Three other shuttles were
following his lead.  They fired almost in unison.  The shields on the
Core ship flickered, but returned to operational status.  The shuttles
fired again, all hitting the same spot.  Rebgi spotted a small
explosion.  He checked his sensor readouts.  Yes! A shield generator
had overloaded!  He fired again and again until he had to pull up.
The other shuttles followed him, and blasted a hole in the hull of the
gargantuan cruiser.  Lasers whizzed past the shuttles.  On the next
pass, they targeted the same spot, and this time, were able to blow it
to shreds.  It caved in like the last ship.  A few lasers came from
the stragglers of the Arm fleet.  The seven shuttles still left
fighting were slowly inflicting heavy damage.  Regbi took a few
seconds to examine his sensor readings.  The Core ships' engines were
not as well shielded.  Strange, for a mechanical, perfectionist race.
"I guess they don't consider that area to be in much danger," he
muttered.  "Regbi to shuttlecraft.  Target the engines on the
cruisers.  I'll explain later."
   He noticed the shuttles immediately swooping around the monstrous
ships, firing as they went.  When they reached the other end of the
ship (which seemed like forever), the shuttles banked hard and aimed
for the purple glow of the sub-light drive.  Space seemed to glow
orange as the lasers formed an almost constant stream.  The Core fleet
suddenly focused their attention on the shuttles.  Three were knocked
off-course in seconds.  Rebgi took a hit, but only one.  He kept
blasting, but swerving to make himself harder to hit.  They weren't
going to get him without a fight.

   AK-5904 prowled the corridors of the Arm Malinche battleship.  He
eradicated any mortal he saw.  His mission, while unable to destroy
all the Arm ships, had still forced the Arm to abandon nine warships
in the heat of battle.  The ship shuddered and his external sensors
confirmed that the ship was losing atmosphere.  He could hardly fit
his full chassis into a turbolift, but he managed.  In a moment, he
charged onto the bridge.  Unknown to him, bridge officers were armed
with EMG pistols as opposed to the lasers he had seen everyone else
carrying.  He was able to kill the young ensign manning
communications, and an engineer repairing some damage to a console.
The EMG's ate through his armor, though, and his chassis flickered and
disintegrated.  There stood Ensign Honnok, as normal as ever.  His
mission, to infect Arm ships with a virus for the Core, had failed.
   Matrin ordered two burly officers to throw him out an airlock
before he could kill anyone else.  In the heat of battle, he
understood, they could not take the time to interrogate him or throw
him in the brig again (mainly because he had already been able to
break out).  The officers were rough with him, and before they sealed
the airlock, he recorded a short message to his wife, and apologized.
He explained his mission out of guilt.  His last words were: "And to
my wife, I apologize.  You will find a stash of credits in my quarters
on Orbital Defense Outpost forty-six.  That should last a year or so.
I love you, and goodbye."

1 week later. . .

   Empyrrean was finally won back by the Arm Imperial Defense Forces.
The President had been captured, and his followers were sitting in
military prisons, twiddling their thumbs.  Falco had made a full
recovery.  The fleet had been all but destroyed.  Six ships out of
forty-one had survived.  Matrin's ship had been destroyed, so Honnok's
message was never heard.  Two shuttlecraft, those of Ensign Rebgi and
Ensign Annowa had also survived.  They had disabled four of the ten
remaining Core ships, and the fleet, with reinforcements was able to
destroy those who had been able to make the jump to FTL (Faster Than
Light) speed.  They had been given a commendation, and ten weeks shore
leave.  They also got a promotion and were congratulated by Falco
himself in a special heroic ceremony.  The invasion had been a
failure.  The war continued.  The Core captured two more systems in
the next week, but had suffered heavy casualties in the Arm invasion.
The Arm victory would have to wait.  Another day, perhaps, but not
today.
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