UNIT A.K.-CLASS NO.10290 DESIGNATION PE29983
PERSONAL EMERGENCY LOG ENTRY 1
DATE 03:12:4012 TIME 14:23:99

~~~Log entry 1. I have just been critically damaged by an ARM patrol. I do not know where I am, what I am doing here or what has just happened. I am running self-diagnostic now.~~~
 
SELF-DIAGNOSTIC ROUTINE 388 UNIT PE29983
...CHECKING ARMOUR...9%
TOTAL PROBABILITY OF ARMOUR FAILURE WITH MOVEMENT 52.68%
ADVICE: DO NOT MOVE
...CHECKING INTERNAL MOVEMENT SYSTEMS...23%
LEFT LEG SYSTEMS FAILED
RIGHT LEG SYSTEMS AT 25%
TORSO SYSTEMS AT 60%
LEFT ARM SYSTEMS AT 8%
RIGHT ARM SYSTEMS AT 90%
HEAD SYSTEMS AT 10%
...CHECKING WEAPONS SYSTEMS...0%
LEFT ARM LASER FAILED
RIGHT ARM LASER FAILED
...CHECKING POWER SYSTEMS...76%
...CHECKING AI AND PATTERNBASE SYSTEMS...10%
EMERGENCY STORED PATTERN ACTIVATED AT 14:23:98
TOTAL PROBABILITY OF TOTAL PATTERN FAILURE...98%
TOTAL PROBABILITY OF PATTERN FAILURE IN 60 STANDARD MINUTES...8%
ADVICE: SEEK REPAIRS IF POSSIBLE
...CHECKING COMMS AND CENTRAL COMMUNICATION EQUIPMENT...0%
RADAR FAILED
UNIT BROADCASTING EQUIPMENT FAILED
CENTRAL CONSCIOUSNESS IS NO LONGER IN CONTACT WITH THIS UNIT. RECCOMEND IMMEDIATE SELF-TERMINATION
SELF-DIAGNOSTIC ROUTINE ENDED
 
UNIT A.K.-CLASS NO.10290 DESIGNATION PE29983
PERSONAL EMERGENCY LOG ENTRY 2
DATE 03:12:4012 TIME 14:28:23
 
~~~Bad news. I've just run my self-diagnostic. I am in very bad shape. Most of my systems have failed, and I'm just like a sitting duck for any ARM forces. I do not know what that means. Apparently I am not connected to Central Conciousness any more, whatever that means. Also, I am now an emergency stored pattern, whatever that means. There is a lot I do not know. I have tested my systems and I can in fact move, although not very much. Some of my memories seem a little bit out of place. I remember killing. I remember trying to murder the ARM scum. I do not know what the ARM is or what scum is. I am going to try to get under cover. Mercifully my survival instincts are all still intact though my body and mind are not. I will write another log entry soon.~~~
 
Part II
 
UNIT A.K.-CLASS NO.10290 DESIGNATION PE29983
PERSONAL EMERGENCY LOG ENTRY 3
DATE 03:12:4012 TIME 14:35:41
 
~~~Right...I think I've just about got everything now. I've just found a routine called rebuild. It's a pattern rebuilding program. It seems to be partially damaged but was stored in several places in my storage core. It looks important. I will run it now.~~~
 
PATTERN REBUILD ROUTINE 2 UNIT PE29983 PATTERN ID EBP0001
REBUILDING PATTERN FROM STORAGE...
REBUILDING MEMORIES...86%
UNABLE TO COMPLETE DUE TO INSUFFICIENT DATA
REBUILDING MOVEMENT SKILLS...100%
REBUILDING KNOWLEDGE...100%
REBUILDING COMBAT SKILLS...100%
REBUILDING MOTIVATION...1%
UNABLE TO COMPLETE DUE TO INSUFFICIENT DATA
REBUILDING CC LINK...0%
UNABLE TO COMPLETE DUE TO HEAVY DAMAGE
PATTERN REBUILD ROUTINE ENDED
 
UNIT A.K.-CLASS NO.10290 DESIGNATION PE29983
PERSONAL EMERGENCY LOG ENTRY 4
DATE 04:12:4012 TIME 23:01:00
 
~~~This really doesn't look too good for me. I have regained most of my memories and knowledge, but much is still missing. I have been deactivated for approx 1 Standard day and 8.5 hours. I 'woke' with a blinding flash of light. For a few seconds I did not know who or where I was. I now know. I am a CORE A.K.-class light armour KBot, number 10290. My designation is Peter-29983, and I am running on a back-up pattern.
 This was taken when I was first patterned and is permanently stored in every unit. Anyway, I digress. As you can see, I now know a lot more and I can finally remember things. Before I was shot up by ARM units, I was part of an advance scouting party. I was a rookie, just out of the factory, but I had proved to be an unusual variant. While I was being made (should I say born?) there was a power surge due to an enemy attack. I was born malformed - I did not have arms. These were nanolathed onto me as soon as this was discovered, but they never discovered my brain.
 As soon as I met other rookies, I immediately knew that I was different. I was cleverer, more able to figure things out, more independant. I didn't feel as I do now, though. I was controlled by the entity named Core Central Consciousness. I could communicate with others and my thoughts were monitored.
 Even though the Consciousness registered my abnormality, there was no time to reclaim me and build another A.K. I was needed in combat. I will continue soon but I sense my power systems starting to fail. I will have to shut down for a while.~~~
 
Part III
 
UNIT A.K.-CLASS NO.10290 DESIGNATION PE29983
PERSONAL EMERGENCY LOG ENTRY 5
DATE 05:12:4012 TIME 01:01:00
 
~~~I have been deactivated for about two hours. When I was biological I used to call this "sleep". I cannot imagine being biological...although I seem to remember it. Scattered fragments of memory enter what can only be called my brain. I remember feeling... well, small, most of all. I was about 6 feet tall, I think. I do not know what a foot is, as it was not in my knowledge database. I know, however, that I was about two-thirds of the height I am now. That means I am probably around 9 "feet". Maybe a foot was from the back to the front of a biological foot? No, that would be illogical as biologicals have different sized body components. I cannot see the reasoning behind this. Who was it who designed the nanolathe blueprints for biologicals? They seem ridiculously impractical... though I sense a strange yearning to be one again.
 I used to be 17, before I was patterned. I was a weakling, someone who was always left out. When I think of my old days I feel unfamiliar feelings coursing through my neural pathways. Sadness...sorrow...I have never felt these before. I had what used to be called a 'girlfriend'.
 She was patterned also, but I do not know where she is. She is probably serving on some remote planet somewhere, just another relentless killing machine without feelings or mercy.
 Why am I feeling like this? Surely Core Consciousness was meant to stop these kind of thoughts from occurring? Um. I did not *forget*, I just...temporarily disregarded the fact that I'm not connected to CC any more. Even so, I am not meant to be this human. But I wouldn't go back to the Core. My loyalty is meant to be to them, but I sense that this is in fact implanted into my brain, not a real emotion on my behalf.
 I don't really know why I am loyal to the CORE. Why? My mind is in turmoil. I will sleep on the problem, or at least figuratively. When I am asleep, my neural processors reconfigure to better adapt to my thought processes. Maybe I will come up with a solution in a few hours.~~~
 
Part IV
 
UNIT A.K.-CLASS NO.10290 DESIGNATION PE29983
PERSONAL EMERGENCY LOG ENTRY 6
DATE 05:12:4012 TIME 07:12:48
 
~~~I wonder what Arm soldiers feel like. I have heard rumours about them...that they are no different from us patterns, as they are clones, but I think they are different. They're not plugged in to CC all the time, like I am...was.
 Through other's eyes, I have seen Arm soldiers die 'honourably'. Normally I would have no concept of 'honour' but I now think I understand, a bit. If I think of my girlfriend, I can summon up a lot of hate against the supposedly benevolent organisation that created me...but then my loyalty circuits kick in. I have been studying my brain as I slept, and I have discovered a lot of things I did not know about. There is even a center for personality - but this is only supposed to be changeable by a high-level unit called a Commander. I remember my Commander.
 He...or was it a she?...was hardened by thousands of years of battle experience. Commanders were allowed more free will than normal, but even they had to regulate themselves. Um...on thinking, I shouldn't even be able to *access* these circuits myself. I will try to bypass my loyalty circuits...~~~
INTERNAL COMMAND: BYPASS NEURON 198792939967920
RESPONSE: ACCESS DENIED
INTERNAL COMMAND: EXAMINE NEURON 198792939967920
RESPONSE: ACCESS DENIED
 
UNIT A.K.-CLASS NO.10290 DESIGNATION PE29983
PERSONAL EMERGENCY LOG ENTRY 7
DATE 05:12:4012 TIME 07:12:49
 
~~~Ugggh. I feel awful. My internal neuron-processing unit has heaped about a hundred layers of protection on the loyalty circuits. In the process it has also given me what can only be described as a 'hangover' - the result of unauthorised neuron reconfiguration while not in a deactivated state.
 This should not happen...I suppose that my deactivation process must trigger the safeguards to deactivate themselves...yeah, since I would have to be reprogrammed while deactivated. This is very strange - I am hacking my own brain!
 When I was a biological I was very interested in a short period of time called the 'twentieth century'. The term hacking comes from there - it means to try and break into a computer system. Anyway, I even tried a bit of amateur hacking myself, and I even succeeded, before being caught. This was the event that directly resulted in my patterning.
 At that time, any interference with computer equipment was punishable by death - reclamation was not invented then - as computers had the status of people since they contained Patterns. I was Patterned just in case the CORE ever needed a computer hacker in the future, and I was only revived to fight in the war effort because they were running out of individual patterns.
 Anyway, I am going to try and hack into my sleeping brain...in case I do not wake up, I hope this gets to someone who knows me.~~~
 
Part V
 
UNIT A.K.-CLASS NO.10290 DESIGNATION PE29983
PERSONAL EMERGENCY LOG ENTRY 7
DATE 06:12:4012 TIME 09:10:22
 
~~~I have now bypassed all personality safeguards! I am now just myself. There is no-one else in here with me! I am going to try and move now. I need to regain mobility. My systems have very limited self-repair nanobots, good for only one use, and configured to MEMcomposite tissue only. They have been working ever since my pattern retrieval, and I think I am now ready to walk.
 I think I will switch to my private log after this. In case I ever get back to the CORE, I will probably be executed as a traitor, although that does not mean anything in these days of Patterning. I'll be reborn, probably as another humble A.K. or Freaker, but with the proper safeguards in place this time. I will just lead another boring life...be killed in battle, reborn, killed, modified, reborn...
 I cannot face this! I can't go back to the CORE. Now my loyalties are clearer, I can't see why I was loyal to the CORE. Admittedly, the promise of eternal life is pleasing - but when you are like most of the soldier drones you don't even have time to consider life, let alone eternal life, before you are slaughtered and reborn.
 I sometimes dream...or at least imagine - we cannot have dreams as this seems to be a function of biological brains...maybe the shapes and lights I see when my neurons are reconfiguring could be called dreams? No, I'm getting sidetracked here. You see, with the personality safeguards removed, I am whole once again - including the biological tendency to dither, to imagine things, to be illogical...and to *feel*.
 Anyway, I sometimes imagine that I am in the ARM, fighting a losing battle against a rising tide of enemy forces. I see myself! I am a small A.K. bot on the front line, but suddenly the person I seem to inhabit fires a burst of EMG from their arms and my bot falls on its back and explodes.
 I am really too confused to describe this. What would it be called if you murder yourself when you are inhabiting another body? Suicide? Homicide? Maybe a combination of the two. No, I am starting to confuse myself now...I think I will go for a short walk to...well, clear my head, you might say.~~~
 
UNIT A.K.-CLASS NO.10290 DESIGNATION PE29983
PERSONAL PRIVATE LOG ENTRY 23
 
~~~As I write this I am stumbling through the lush jungle on this green and beautiful world...now battle-scarred by thousands of years of combat - pointless combat. I think I would like to be human...after all, I am almost human already. Could I face it, though? The ability to feel the sun on my face, smell the tropical air, taste human delicacies, and really enjoy myself - but also the weaknesses of a biological body with its needs and requirements. I)(*£$...sorry. I had to jerk back in a hurry. I have just seen an ARM patrol go by. Nothing heavy - maybe a few PeeWees and a Zipper or two...but in my present state I am not fit to tackle anything.
 I wish I could do what ARM pilots can do, and get out of the confines of my machine, but although I am fitted with an emergency core-ejection system I cannot use it unless in dire need - even with safeguards off. It's linked directly into my armour generator, so if my armour fails I blow out. It should actually have ejected me, but my power went down before it could activate......My holy deity! I have found an ARM base...it's HUGE! Judging from my tactical information base, this is probably a hidden main base...I can see a Commander bunker. This is one important base. Now I know what I am to do...I am going to surrender to the ARM.~~~
 
Part VI
 
UNIT A.K.-CLASS NO.10290 DESIGNATION PE29983
PERSONAL PRIVATE LOG ENTRY 24
~~~I surrendered earlier this evening. Night has just fallen in the base, and I am sitting on the rough ground outside the bunker, waiting to see the Commander. Now I am not too sure if this was a good idea...what if they simply extract all information from my pattern then mindwipe me? It would be akin to dying, as I cannot backup my present state of mind... I do not want to die.
 The base look even more impressive from the inside. I can count about twelve fusion plants and a few MoHo Metal Makers in a large central compound. It is very heavily guarded, with fortification walls all round, and a Bertha Wall up to the East. I guess they expect an attack from the CORE sometime. There is only one entrance to this clearing that anything big could get through - I only just managed to squeeze through the trees to get down to the base.
 Thanks to whatever deity I used to worship that all the defence towers were manned, or I would be dead by now. As it was, I was shot by a PeeWee - not much but enough to knock me unconscious and do a lot of damage to my weak frame. I now have only one arm, and my torso servos are gone....The door to the bunker has just swung open...I can see a Commander!~~~
 
UNIT A.K.-CLASS NO.10290 DESIGNATION PE29983
PERSONAL PRIVATE LOG ENTRY 25
 
~~~I have been temporarily repaired by the Commander, all except for my weapons systems and armour power. If I try anything I have a Zeus standing right beside me, gun drawn and powered up. They don't need to worry. Anyway, I'm now sitting on a rough seat - a weapons crate - in front of the Commander.
 After I wrote my last report, I was escorted to the Commander's 'office' by this same Zeus. I'm meant to be interrogated by the Commander, but he seems more interested in conversation than information. I'm going to save a transcript of this conversation so I can remember it...not that my synthetic memory needs much help, but it's nice to have something else except for a machine.~~~
 
DIALOGUE TRANSCRIPT ROUTINE 72802
...STARTING TRANSCRIPT...
Zeus~~~Sir!
A.K.~~~ Sir, I am Unit A.K.-class No. 10290, and my designation is Peter-29983.
Commander~~~I know, I know... I've scanned your information files and the statements you gave before you got here. So you want to surrender, little A.K.?
A.K.~~~Yes... I can't see why I was loyal to the Core, sir. My brain was badly damaged in an attack and I've been able to disable any safeguards. Also, I'm not connected to Core Central Consciousness any more.
Commander~~~You don't talk like a CORE drone.
A.K.~~~Yeah, I know. I can actually think for myself, and I can experience real emotions. I'm not used to this, really.
Commander~~~Hmm.... if - IF - I let you join us, are you going to keep that old rattletrap of a KBot? We can probably modify an existing one for you...hang on...I just remembered...
Commander~~~Back in the twenty-third century, when Patterning was quite refined, some scientists for the ARM Government on Empyrrean decided that even if someone was fatally disabled or terminally ill, they should have a chance to see the light of day once again. So they made what was then called an android...a humanoid body with a pattern-base for a brain. These were not very successful, as people thought they were too much like the CORE for comfort. People wearing them were shunned and were made outcasts....but this might be just the kind of thing you need. The bodies were not very good, but I can improve on them.
A.K.~~~Mmmm... yeah, I'm willing to take part in this - but only if you give me your word that I will be able to join the ARM and fight the CORE... I want to have revenge on the CORE for doing this to me.
Commander~~~You're asking the word of a Commander? Hmm...well, you've got your promise - if you think you're up to it.
A.K.~~~Yes, sir!
...ENDING TRANSCRIPT...
COMMAND: SAVE
...SAVING...100%
DIALOGUE TRANSCRIPT ROUTINE 72802 ENDED
 
 
Part VII
 
UNIT A.K.-CLASS NO.10290 DESIGNATION PE29983
PERSONAL PRIVATE LOG ENTRY 26
 
~~~I'm amazed. I was allowed to go into the barracks and recreation rooms this evening. People look so *different* to their units! For instance, the biggest surprise was the Commander. He took off his suit to go and meet some of the troops for a briefing - and he was tiny!
 I would say he is about a fist's width smaller than I used to be as a person. He looks really old...a bit sad, really. It's not really so surprising when you think about it, but I was astonished at the fact that the bigger the KBots were, the smaller and older the people in them tended to be. I suppose the the rookies would naturally be put into the smaller suits, and the veterans in the more advanced battletech, but there is nothing more surprising than to see a huge burly Maverick open up and this middle-aged combat veteran get out.
 Someone explained feet and inches and other measurements to me... They're still used as a sort of informal measurement. A foot is a bit longer than a human foot - about the size of my KBot's foot. and inch is a twelfth of a foot etc.
 Anyway, the Commander is now working on the nanolather blueprints for my new body. I am really excited about it - although it doesn't even have a name yet. I'm going to look just about human - but with enhancements from the body. I don't need to eat - although I am able to - or drink, and I need only about 1 hour of sleep a night. My body is fully functional with every biological component except for the internals... so I should be indistinguishable from the rest.
 I have also been promised a new KBot if I wanted one, but I thought maybe a plane would be better? I will be started off in a Peeper for training, and I'll move to a Freedom Fighter as soon as I can. I'm really excited!
 I have learned where the base is where I came from, and what this planet is called. I came from a base in the foothills of the Enorrat range of mountains, on a planet called J.ewel. I don't doubt the name is appropriate - both the land and the sea are bright green, because of the lush jungle and seaborne algae. It is a Gaian planet, meaning it's habitable without terraforming or hydration. I accessed some photos of the planet taken by early settlers - it look like a bright green...well, j.ewel, really.~~~
 
Part VIII
 
UNIT A.K.-CLASS NO.10290 DESIGNATION PE29983
PERSONAL PRIVATE LOG ENTRY 27
 
~~~It is five days since I last wrote. My new body was nanolathed three days ago. I am a bit over 6 and a half feet tall, with olive skin and soft brown eyes. I am agile, fit, healthy, and the only giveaway to the fact that I am a pattern is that I do not need to sleep for more than an hour or two a night. I mess around with the other rookies in the barracks - and I get along very well with them.
 Remember I am still effectively 17, the age at which I was Patterned, although maybe a bit more philosophical than most biologicals of that age...I think from now on I will refer to biologicals as people, as I am now biological myself. I have just been going through rudimentary training with everyone else.
 They all accept me as just another rookie - the Commander never told anyone else that I used to be CORE. I get my first trials in a Peeper fast scout aircraft tomorrow! I am...well, I don't really know how to describe it. I mean, when you've gone through a few hundred years of being unemotional and cold, you don't know what to do when your first emotions wash over you like a tidal wave.
 At the moment I am sitting here on my metal bunk in the middle of the night, sketching a picture of my dearest one...I can draw her from memory. She looked like what I look like now, small and willowy, dark-skinned, long haired. Every time I think of her I feel sorrow - and anger against the CORE for doing this to us. To me.~~~
 
UNIT A.K.-CLASS NO.10290 DESIGNATION PE29983
PERSONAL PRIVATE LOG ENTRY 28
 
~~~Well, it's evening now. My adrenaline is still high from my first ever plane ride! My training squad are going to have a party tonight in one of the empty hangers, to celebrate our first flight. This is not at all like it was for me when I was first trained in the CORE...~~~
Inside a giant passageway, lined with metallic panels. A line of KBots, all marching along in time to some internal beat...the mind's eye zooms in and you can now see that they are all the same...A.K. model KBots, newly 'lathed and ready for action.
 The view swings round to reveal a number of "booths" - simple pillars with two restraining arms on either side. These are Pattern writing booths - these are where individual Patterns are written onto the neural matrices of each unit. Every five or so seconds, five A.K.s step robotically into the booths, and the restrainers are clamped around them. Suddenly they droop forward in deactivation mode...the Patterns are being written. Five Patterns at a time, all the same, all drones destined to die in battle as plasma cannon fodder.
 The view slowly sweeps round to reveal more of the corridor, going back to its destination - five green-glowing nanolathe chambers. This is a KBot Lab...suddenly the lights dim, brighten then dim again...from the nanolathe chambers step five horribly disfigured creatures...four are recognisable as A.K.s, but the last one seems to be the worst affected.
 The chamber it came from is flashing intermittently, and steaming...sparks start flying from it and it goes dead. But the creature that came from it is not dead...yet. It looks like a molten heap of slag, though miraculously both legs were 'lathed before the power surge. Its top half, though, is twisted and deformed beyond recognition.
 It is pushed and herded down a side corridor by a KBot that is standing watching the process...presumably for reclamation. Through that same corridor waddles a Construction KBot which goes to the malfunctioning chamber and starts to repair it.
 Once this is repaired, the four A.K.s which were affected are pushed back into the nanolathe chambers to complete their construction. The third one along, the one without the arms, was *me*.
 Quickly, the camera switches to another viewpoint. Five  A.K.s are visible, doing target practice to calibrate weapons. After this is over the A.K.s move on and another five start practice. The A.K.s troop out the door - straight into combat.......
~~~I remember those days. From the blinding flash of light as I was patterned, to the lines of meaningless text scrolling past my visual sensors as I was self-tested and calibrated, to the screwing up of my sensor apertures as I emerged into the murky light of a stormy day on J.ewel.~~~

Part IX
 
UNIT A.K.-CLASS NO.10290 DESIGNATION PE29983
PERSONAL PRIVATE LOG ENTRY 29
 
~~~I have just realised one incredible fact. I am now human again. No longer can I link to Central Consciousness - the mainstay of everything I used to stand for. Before - and even after - my rebirth, I assumed that CC would always be there, if I ever needed to go back to it.  Now, in my new body, there is no apparatus to relay messages from CC to me. I am finally free - but I cannot go back.~~~

UNIT A.K.-CLASS NO.10290 DESIGNATION PE29983
PERSONAL PRIVATE LOG ENTRY 30
 
~~~CORE attacked the base today. I was in fact up in my Peeper scout, and my squadron were assigned to target-spotting duty. I consider the kills that were made and I saw my kills - after all, I was the one who targeted the enemy and effectively shot them... dream on. I'm still what I always was - a little insignificant asset to be easily sacrificed, without much thought.
 Well, I can still count my blessings. I have fond memories of my girlfriend...mixed with a faint fear that someday, one of the units I kill is going to be whatever's left of her. I'm reasonably skilled in whatever I do. And, I am just about the perfect human - if that's possible - in body, anyway.
Went up in my brand-spanking-new Freedom Fighter, just out of the nanolather - no power surges this time! - without even a speck of dust on it. When we first saw the new planes, we all stopped for a few seconds just to admire its simple beauty.
 I've had these things flying overhead or bearing down on me searching for a kill before, but I have never before seen one just by itself. It's beautiful. A pair of triangular blue wings, sweeping back with a razor edge to the two missiles at the back. The wings join in the middle, where I'll be sitting, just in front of the huge engines and the ammo/supplies nanopack. I can just imagine it now.....~~~
.....pink J.ewellian skies, the sound of the tropical jungles far below. The occasional cloud scuds by....
....a faint rumble in the distance, a dot on the horizon, travelling fast. It sweeps, ducks, dodges, turns...Agile as any bird of prey...if any bird was ever 35 feet long and equipped with a turbofan engine. The mind's eye swoops gracefully in behind my aircraft, tracking its movements...I execute a swift barrel roll then slam on the afterburners...
...My engine exhaust lights up white-hot as superheated gases stream out, pushing me to supersonic speeds......
~~~I'm jolted out of my pleasant reverie by our instructor telling us what to do in the event of any CORE sighting...
 "Get back to base - quick! You're promising new recruits, these are planes that took precious resources to build...We don't want to lose you. If any of you lot even decide to have delusions of grandeur and think you are an ace fighter pilot who is indestructible, think again. If there's one thing the CORE's good at, it's shooting down young bloods like you."
I didn't doubt him for a second. After all, this is our first real flight in the planes - luckily, they are really simple to use - they just about fly themselves. One control yoke, a throttle, and some pedals. The only other controls are the radio, the missiles - and the "life-saver" - the ECM/anti-missile equipment. This stuff launches chaff, flares, ECM decoys, jammer sources - everything that fits onto the  6-inch decoy launch rails at the back of the twin tailfins. I wonder how much of it actually works?
OK, it's time to get in for my first solo flight....Now I really know what nervous means!~~~
 
UNIT A.K.-CLASS NO.10290 DESIGNATION PE29983
PERSONAL PRIVATE LOG ENTRY 31
 
~~~Whoa! I'm cruising at a few thousand feet, above the lush treetops of the rainforest around the base. I've got my autopilot on and I'm simply relaxing and enjoying the view. This isn't a bad time to switch diaries... I really should have switched to my private file for this unit, the... Actually, I don't know what this body would be called... Anyway, I've only been writing in my old private file out of sentimentality. I'll enter all my messages into my new file, then I can continue where I left off.
This is the last time I'll be writing in here...~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 32
 
~~~Well, it's different... The CORE PPLManagers (the thing I've been writing in until now) were really optimised for direct input - you just slid them into a socket at the back of your neck - or on your back if you were one of those units without a neck.
 Course, you *could* use old-fashioned speech and everything, but they were really more for DI than anything else.Now I've got a proper stylopen and everything...decent speech stuff, loads of gadgets. It's probably able to make tea, coffee and gourmet spaghetti bolognese if I program it right. Speaking of coffee, I havn't had a decent cup for, oh, about two thousand years. Wonder if they still serve it?~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 33
 
~~~Over dinner in the mess, I asked one of the labtechs who came up with some of the design mods for this body what I should call it.
"Well, your body, I suppose," he said. "I mean, you're *you*. Just call it Peter."
 Yeah. Anyway, to my delight, they *do* serve coffee here! It's a bit of a delicacy, but everyone loves it. It's a bit like part of what ARM stands for - Freedom, Justice, Individuality and Good Coffee.
 Recently I find I'm slipping into a more human style...slightly sarcastic, and I like to use slang a bit more. Well, any step I suppose is good. I've got target practise scheduled for...let's see...oh sh1t! Now! Gotta run!~~~
 
Part X
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 34
 
~~~Yikes! I had to apologise to the instructor for being five minutes late... that's what comes of getting too used to an optical time/status relay circuit and other little toys. Well, I'm going to have to get used to it.
 I'm in the bar, having a quiet drink with my team-mates - Rachel-99187, Liort-2938, and Judanth-883993. Judanth and Liort are both... well, crossbreeds really describes them best but I can't let them see this or they'll tear me limb from limb... They are both half-human and half-Orionnite, but they look as human as anybody. In fact they look almost like me, although taller and more brown than olive coloured skin.
 Liort is a fearless daredevil type of guy, but Judanth...well, Judanth is really nice. She was actually very shy of me at first - she'd heard about my almost-biological status, probably from a labtech, but she didn't know about the CORE stuff. Anyway, she didn't know quite what to expect.
 We had a good time getting to know each other and exchanging stories. All three are Freedom Fighter pilots, rookies like me, and they train in my squad. I hadn't actually met them but my instructor got us into a group for formation-flying and target practise. We actually got to perform a mock dogfight with optical lasers and sensors, which was cool.
 Hey, I'm famous! I've just been bought a drink by a veteran Samson driver who'd heard about me. I hope this wears off soon, though. I'm tired of being peered at like a pet kwardle.
 In case anyone doesn't know what a kwardle is, it's the base's joke name for a native animal to J.ewel... Bright green (like everything else), it's about egg shaped, with long green hair and stick-like legs. That's about all you can actually see of it - I think there's a mouth and eyes *somewhere*, but I can't see them anywhere. There's a sergeant who keeps one for a laugh, and tries to teach it to speak our language. All it's managed so far is "Kwardle, kwardle" so you can see where the name comes from.
 That's another thing the Arm people seem to like - animals. Sometimes I can see what they mean. When I'm out walking at night round the base, I talk to myself or write in here, then erase whatever I've just written. I suppose talking to an animal's like that - soothing. You know the feeling, yeah? Anyway, I think I'll break this off and have some fun!~~~
 
Part XI
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 35
 
~~~I'm back. Ugh. When they redesigned my insides, they obviously didn't add handling of toxic substances to the wish-list. I looked at my body's techspecs and I am in fact completely biological, as I use the same kind of 'brain' as humans, only enhanced. Does that mean enhanced hangovers as well? The hangover recovery is certainly easier - I mean, would you be able to talk like this at six in the morning after a good night out (with too many suspicious co.cktails)?
 Everyone was celebrating our first solo flight... and I was also celebrating my first decent drink in two millennia! We have these kind of parties every so often, usually because of the anniversary of a battle, or a special event, or someone's birthday, or... well, or because it was a while since we last had a party. Ugh... Does everyone feel like this in the morning, may I ask? I'm...
"Uuuuunngh...go to sleep..."
Sorry...that was Liort. He sleeps above me in the barracks.
 It's pitch dark in my little cubicle I call home. I've got my razor (yep, I do need to shave, I'm that advanced...although I'm not looking forward to it this morning), my book - "Advanced Operating Characteristics and operating procedures/protocols for the model-3 'Freedom Fighter' light fighter/attack aircraft: a guide for the pilot" (With Illustrations! A gripping read, just right for bedtime...) - and also my pencil and paper.
 These two items are a precious commodity, as although the raw materials are not scarce (we *are* in a forest after all), I need 'lather time in the mess room to actually put it together. It's not bad, though, and it sure beats making the stuff the traditional way!
 My 'sketchbook' is covered with little drawings of things...my razor, my colleagues, myself, the various units...and my girlfriend. Often, when I have nothing to do, I find myself drawing little sketches of her. People have started to ask who she is, so I try and keep it private. It's too sad a recollection to share. I don't know why, but I really enjoy sketching, and I'm good at it. Normally, though, I can't draw things like faces and bodies from my mind, but that single face just sticks there. It's like having a constant film-strip running in my head, of what things were like and what they could have been like.
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 36

~~~Hi again! I havn't written in here for a while...or at least written in here and actually saved it. Most of my writing's been stuff that only I'd understand...you know, just things to help me think.
 Anyway, we've received word from a Peeper pilot who ejected four days ago that the CORE are mounting an offensive. It's not ging to be much - a few hundred light units to test our defenses. There is a lot of AA, though, which is why he ejected in the first place. He was picked up anyway and taken back to base by a covert team, and he even managed to save the tactical photos that he took from his plane.
 As I was saying, there's going to be an attack - and my squadron's been assigned to light strike duties. By the way, we've been assigned a modified fighter - the Freedom Fighter X2 - which has better weapons than the first, with the missiles plus a light rapid-fire Gatling cannon and a pair of laser-guided bombs. We can now be used for dive-bombing! Nothing like a Thunder, though - we can't actually 'lathe new bombs so we can't reload without going BTB (Back To Base). The cannon is mostly anti-aircraft but it's powerful enough to be used against light units...eat hot lead and die, Freakers!
 We're going up tommorow, and we've had plenty practise with the new planes. That's another reason why I've been too busy to write here - it's been train, train, party, sleep it off, train again. I don't know how the other rookies do it!~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 37
 
~~~The day of the CORE attack... I'm circling the base here at about Mach .5, just waiting for the blips on the radar to get closer. My weapons systems are all armed and warmed-up, and the 'lathe in the back is working at max. efficiency. I'm all psyched up about this...although I *really* don't want to die!
 Here's the CORE now. I can just see their attack wave coming over the horizon - Shadows escorted by Avengers, nothing we can't handle. Ah.. I can see Pulverizers tracking them now... there's the first missile! That's our cue... here I go - afterburners on, Mach .8, .9... Mach 1.2, 1.3, 1.5! I'm almost on them now...HERE I GO!!!!
 I'm behind a Shadow now...trigger...sh1t...Avenger...switching to tac.view rec.~~~
 From the high-speed camera mounted on FFX2 Rookie 5...
...A Shadow bomber jinks and turns in the gunsights...suddenly, thousands of white-hot rounds of explosive cannon shells stream out from a point behind the camera, ripping into the wings and fuselage of the Shadow, sending it into a high-speed dive towards the ground...It crashes and its bombs explode violently, creating a shock-wave that momentarily blurs the camera.
 The fighter turns on its side and turns so it is literally 'standing' on its tail in the oncoming airstream. The roar of afterburners can be easily heard, as the fighter slows, drops then shoots off in the opposite direction to the original.
 An Avenger in the gunsights, flying as fast as possible away from the oncoming Freedom fighter...twin missile trails leap from the wings as the pilot releases the deadly AA missiles, travelling at Mach 4.5 in hot pursuit of the CORE fighter. Another white-hot fireball erupts in the clear purple sky as the camera turns away to track another oncoming fighter.
 A missile streaks towards us but passes just yards underneath... vibrations show the cannon is being used to strafe the planes, though the bright tracers cannot be seen against the purple-tinted sunlight. Suddenly there is an explosion from behind, and the cannon fire stops momentarily. A missile has found its target - a flare decoy launched automatically by the ECM computer. No wonder it is called the 'Lifesaver' by pilots.
 Switch to the tail camera to reveal three Avengers trailing the fighter, rapidly eating up the sky between the fighter and them. The ECM equipment is constantly launching a variety of flares...one flare hits an Avenger head-on and is swallowed into the giant engine intake vent. It explodes violently, sending the two others into a spin...one recovers, but the other ploughs through the lush jungle before making a small clearing and a crater.
 The single remaining fighter is not going to give up in a hurry, though. Bad idea - the Freedom Fighter sweeps round in a wide turn, launching both its missiles straight down at the ascending fighter. All the tail camera can see is sky - and a missile headed straight for the back of this fighter....
 The missile explodes just feet away from the fuselage of the fighter, blowing off the rear camera and quite a lot of fuselage in the process. The 'lather unit is destroyed, ruling out useage of anything other than the stored rounds in the aircraft. Not too bad - 6000 cannon rounds, enough for 12 seconds fire, 6 AA and 2 AG missiles - and 2 light laser-guided bombs. However, the *bad* news is this fighter is not going to survive to see another day.
 From the front camera, we can just see the first attack wave of light KBots coming over the small hills about a kilometre from the base. The fighter is heading there on full afterburner, not worrying about the 'lather being able to produce enough fuel...after all, it is at the moment lying at the bottom of a lake, along with half a wing and a section of fuselage.
 The fighter is heading down...down...down...about 20 feet from the ground, getting closer and closer to the units...Bombs armed, cannon ammo live, missiles also all live...About 1000 pounds of anti-matter and plasma in sealed containment units....
~~~I forgot to mention...the only other major control in the Freedom Fighter's co.ckpit is a large red handle marked "EJECT"...~~~
 If you were looking from the ground, you would see a white plume of smoke coming out of a certain Freedom Fighter's ejection unit - just seconds before it crashed into the centre of a group of A.K.s and Freakers, exploding with the might of a *lot* of ammo....and seconds before the resulting explosion knocked you flat on your back.
~~~There's enough fuel in this thing for me to fly...well, glide mostly...back to my base. The whole co.ckpit of the Freedom Fighter simply drops off and deploys its engines to become the ejection compartment... and I think I can rack up quite a few CORE Kbots on my kill list!~~~
 
Part XII
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 38
 
~~~I'm back at my base, but all is not good news. I'm sitting in the Commander's office, being bawled out by him for wasting valuable resources. I really don't believe it! I killed 4 Avengers, a Shadow, 15 A.K.s and 6 Freakers, and I'm being given a tongue-lashing for wasting a few units of metal.
 "I'm sorry sir - I just thought that if I was going to crash the plane at all, I might as well test out the new bombs."
 "Don't try and be flippant with me, soldier! The point is not that you managed to kill the units, it is that you managed to get shot down at all! You could easily have taken the Freedom Fighter back to base without using it as a glorified artillery shell! I can easily repair a fighter, even if it's only scrap - but I can't retrieve it if it's only atoms in the air! What do you think combat practise is for?"
 "Yes sir."
 "Anyway, you'll be waiting for your new plane. Stay in the barracks until you're called to the factory. You're a good pilot and I don't want to lose you."
 This guy's moods change every second! Anyway, I need some rest. I'll sign off for now.~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 39
 
~~~My God. Yet another new variant of plane - this time I've been promoted, though, along with the rest of my squad when they come back down. Whatever the Commander is, he's also a genius. This new plane is called the ThunderHead, and it's amazing. Here, I'll give your the techspecs.~~~
 
---ThunderHead heavy attack multipurpose VTOL.
 
---This unit is designed for heavy air attacks vs. either medium ground units or heavy air units. Technical specifications are as follows...
---Max. velocity: Mach 1.9
---Engines: Two Yarman YA-11 scramjet engines with afterburner and vaccuum respiration system, tailmounted, plus two VTOL turbofan thrusters for take-off/landing
---Weapons:
Pilot-controlled: Four missile launch racks (1 "Hawk" Med-range AA missile, 2 "SideWinder" short-range heavy AA missiles, 1 "Tremor" med. anti-ground missile), twin 30mm heavy AA Gatling cannon
Turreted and WO controlled: twin linked-fire anti-air lasers on a dorsal turret, twin EMP "Stunner" lasers on a belly turret, twin 30mm heavy AA Gatling cannon on a tailfin turret, 6 "Earthquake" heavy anti-matter bombs
Lidar projectors: Both pilot and W.O. have access to lidar targeting lasers, which also function as dazzler lasers. Please use laser sparingly if you are using the radar-cancelling device as the energy signature may give away your position.
---Special details: This aircraft uses a stealth anti-radar device, which will allow you to fly undetected. The jammer also has functions for jamming of optical sensors and IR sensors, including holographic target-projection, IR dummy technology and dazzler lasers.
---Crew: Pilot and Weapons Officer (WO)
---This VTOL uses a new variant of engine, the YA-11, which is equipped for either intra- or extra-atmospheric flight. Your main supply 'lather unit will supply oxygen on extra-atmospheric flights.
 
---Thunderhead Heavy Attack Multipurpose VTOL: An operator's manual.
 
---Always read the manual before using your...
 
~~~OK, I think that's enough of that. Anyway, I've been assigned pilot duty in this new aircraft... this is one bird I don't want to ditch. It's going to be ready in about two days - long time, huh? No, they have to flight-test, pre-test, weapons-configure...whatever it is they do in those dark labs of theirs. My W.O. is going to be Rachel, as she is more suited to that. She's not quite as daredevil as the others, and she asked for the job of W.O.
 Anyway. I've seen the plane's blueprints anyway, and it is one ugly son of a Bertha! Imagine one of these starcruisers from the vintage Sci-Fi movies. Well, scale it down a bit, make it wedge-shaped and give it stubby wings and three turrets. It looks as if they meant for it to be beautiful, but it look like a tank that's gone through a mangle.
 At least we will be a small target for gunners... Apparently we can do things like project an image of us to somewhere else, so optical sensors are confused. I don't trust these things - I'd much rather be in a plane like the Hawk - fast, stealthy and maneuverable.
 Ah - there's the call for me. I've gotta go and test this S.O.A.B.~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 40
 
~~~O.K. - I take some of my earlier comments back. This plane is cool. I'm just looking at it on the launch pad - all weapons retracted, turrets stowed, everything folded away. It's surprisingly small, except for the engines, which look bigger than my old fighter! Well,  suppose they've got to push about 6 or 7 tons of metal and carbon through the air at high speed... Apparently it's a by-product of the radar jamming, but this plane is *black*. I don't mean matt or even glossy black, but just *black*.
 Anyway, they also decided that some of the jamming systems were too cumbersome - they'd mean that the plane would have to go at half the speed. So they replaced them with plain vanilla radar-jamming and a chameleon suit. I'd seen these tested, but usually on someting the size of your fist. This plane...it's gone! No, they just flicked the switch to powerup the chameleon skin...I can only see the edges if I know where to look.
 This is amazing! All the pilots are just standing there with their jaws hanging open, touching the floor. Imagine flying this! You can see it, but it's still amazing. Ah, there it is again - apparently it ran out of energy.
 Yeah - we've received word from the techs that the camo-skin can only be used for about 5 minutes on the plane's inbuilt energy supplies and storage. Not to worry, though - you don't really need the camo-skin for more than that. Um...more word - you can't fire with the camo-skin on, as you'll disrupt the sensors with the energy output. You'll automatically decloak anyway.
 Sheesh! How long have I spent mooning ever this thing? Here's my squad back from their hunting...they're just landing now. It's too late anyway for this to be used - we've got Guardians and Vulcans online, and they're busy destroying the local jungle along with the CORE units. We'll be testing it for a while, but if the CORE soldiers had faces, I'd love to see them when six of these come roaring over the horizon.~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 41
 
~~~It's 2.00 in the morning...Yeah, J.ewel does have the same rotational time as what used to be called Earth - a radioactive, polluted, lifeless tip. So we use the same times here - in fact we use the same Standard time all over the Galaxy, but this is one of the few planets where it really applies.
 Anyway, it's 2.00 in the morning and I'm sitting in my little cubby-hole of a cubicle. I can't sleep for thinking. I've been sitting here all night, while the jungle winds howl outside...it's the rainy season here, and we've been just about grounded in our new aircraft while torrents of water pour down from the purple sky. This kind of weather breeds depression.
 I can't stop thinking of my girlfriend..strange, I've never actually said her name since I was patterned...she was called Elize. She was about the only thing I cared about...we met about three months before I was arrested and sentenced to death.
 I was at a kind of party - looking bored as usual. I didn't really like parties that much - I'd never got to know anyone that well, and I was clumsy and bad at socialising. The only things  was good at were hacking and sketching. She came up to me and said "You look bored, huh?". I said yeah. We started a conversation, and it turned up that she lived in the City, near where I used to live. The city was New Glasgow, in America...
It was here that Patterning was first developed, by a woman known as Elize Gudrino...she was a great scientist, but was terminally ill, due to a cancer. She Patterned herself and stored the data along with her notes, on a hard-wearing memory chip, which she put in a safe in a large bank. She planned to develop the technology to help other people, but before she could get funding for this, her cancer took a bad turn and she slowly wasted away and died, just 15 years before they developed a cure for cancer.
 Her plans were only discovered when the bank decided to get rid of its safe-deposits 40 years later when it was being demolished. All the other functions of the bank were being continued in another building, but since no-one ever used the safe-deposit boxes they would not be shifted. Everything was emptied out of them and the notes, along with the pattern, were found. The rest, as they say, is history.
 Anyway, we got together, and for three glorious months she was the only thing that mattered to me. I even stopped hacking... and forgot that only a few months before I had hacked into a major government computer. One day, government operatives stormed into our tiny flat at 5 in the morning and dragged me out of bed. She tried to stop them, and was hit on the head by an electron prod...she was knocked unconscious, and I cried as I was dragged away.
 That's it, really. I was arrested, charged, sentenced...and killed. The next thing I knew I was in an unfamiliar body, lines of meaningless letters and symbols in my eyes, restrained while calibration was completed. Now I'm here.
 That's the story of my life...sad, isn't it? Now it's 3.00 and I've got to get some sleep.~~~
 
Part 13
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 42
 
~~~The ThunderHead has now been unofficially renamed the ThunderHeadache by the techs, who are always having trouble with its new systems. The cloaking is working, but not very well. The last time I saw it, it worked when stationary, but when moving it just displayed random psychadelic colours...instead of making it less conspicuous, thet's making it more! The Stunners have been taken off, and the lidar targeters/dazzlers... I wonder - they'll probably just end up with an armoured Freedom fighter.
Anyway, we're going to do a counter-attack in a few days. I'm on the team for it...~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 43
 
~Guess what. It's a few minutes after my last entry - and they've completely redone the ThunderHead. It's now going to be more of a heavy air interceptor which just happens to have airstrike capability... It's about the same as the Hawk X2, but with better missiles, bigger engines, and twin bomb-racks. It can 'lathe new bombs, but very slowly. It's pretty cool, though. It's going to take three days to redesign it so the attack's postponed....looks like they've just discovered a CORE scouting party outside - I can hear weapons fire...
 Yeah. Judanth's at the window - she says it's some Freakers who tried to get in through the jungle....there goes another one...that's it. Huh...six piles of metal are all that are left of the scout party... there were seven, but one got vaporised by an Annihilator.
 I'm thanking my lucky stars I'm not in the CORE anymore...one of those could have been me...
 Why do I always do these log entries either at night or in the evening? Hmm...dunno, really. Suppose I'm more thoughtful then. God, the weather here is *awful*. It's raining in great sheets of water, the wind's howling... the only thing we've got to cheer us up is a game that Rachel brought along when she signed up...Poker, I think it's called. She's got an ancient set of these things called 'cards'...cool game, though. She taught us all to play it, and I've made my own little set of cards... I've done sketches of people for the various picture cards - the Commander for the various Kings, Rachel and Judanth for the Queens, Liort for the Jacks...and me for the Joker! Now everyone wants one of these...I'm going to have to enter blueprints for it into the mess-room 'lather.
 I'm amassing quite a collection of little sketches of things - I take a sketchbook with me wherever I go, even sometimes when I'm flying so I can draw the surroundings. Pity I can't sketch in this little diary...it wouldn't beat the real thing, anyway.
 OK, it's nearly time for us to get up anyway - we are meant to get eight hours sleep a night, but I don't need it, Liort and Judanth just don't bother, and Rachel somehow manages to go without even getting into bed at all. A bit more about Rachel - she really is amazing. She's talented, clever, sharp, and she's probably the best fighter pilot of us all. Many's the time I've had an Avenger on my tail on a routine patrol and she's managed to hit it even in the middle of a dogfight.
 She mastered flying a few days before the rest of us. Rachel's about 3 inches shorter than me... olive skin, brown eyes...she's actually a lot like me, in both appearance and in character. She's also got a hobby - she spends hours sitting in her cubicle, but I don't know what she does in there. Maybe I'll ask her one day.
 Even against my will, I find myself drawn to her... I think she likes me too. I don't think it's love, though...or is it? I havn't felt love in a long time...indeed I've only felt it once...but I'm not going to dwell on that - it makes me too sad.~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 44
 
~~~Well, I'm now sitting in my ThunderHead, waiting to take off. The c.ockpit's certainly a lot more comfy than the Freedom Fighter, even in it's 2nd version. I feel a bit nervous, with all this raw power behind me.
 Hmm...I wonder what I look like from the outside...I must be a *huge* target for the CORE gunners... not that need any help in being ruthlessly accurate... Anyway, the techs got the radar jammer going, and the outside's been changed to multi-camo coating - it can memorize a selection of camoflages and display them, and - thank god - it doesn't need as much maintenance! I've got about fifty buttons in the c.ockpit here, but they're all within easy reach.
 The TH's really easy to fly, surprisingly... though a lot of computer power goes into helping me fly the aircraft. You can turn off the computer, though, and do cool maneuvers - you can even do a helicopter and point your nose straight up and just fly up on a gigantic pillar of flame.. The design of the engines prevents flameout, and if you're doing high-stress moves, you can even retract the wings! That means you can do almost anything - just switch off and retract the turbofans, and you're a rocket! This is one helluva cool plane.
 Right - it's takeoff time!
Preflight check...turbofans on...scramjets warmed up...vents in VTOL mode...computer in takeoff mode...all weapons armed and operational...close c.ockpit...ready for takeoff.
I'm going to record my first takeoff from the tower camera...yeah, here we go...!~~~
 
External tower camera 16, Launch pad 4.
The camera is pointed towards the launch pad, and set to track the massive aircraft that is sitting on the pad, with both of the turbofans glowing with suppressed energy. The rumble turns to a roar, then to a scream, as the exhaust of the jets begins to scorch the pristine surface of the newly-built pad and blows dirt, leaves and rubbish all over the place. Slowly, the planes lift off in unison, wobbling slightly, on a white-hot pillar of superheated gas. When they're about 80 feet off the ground, the wings fold out and the thrust from the massive turbofans vectors towards the horizontal. The planes begin to move, at first slowly then faster and faster. Then, with an almighty roar, the scramjets come alive, pushing the planes to Mach 1.3, even without afterburners. The camera zooms in, tracking one of the planes... vision is almost obscured by the heat created from the superhot jet engines, but through the haze the aircraft is just visible. Suddenly, it changes colour - the camo skin is online. Slowly, the planes shrink in the view, then become mere blips on the horizon...
 
~~~Yee-hah! We're all travelling at...um...yeah, Mach 1.35...that's about as fast as my old fighter with afterburners - and I haven't even activated the 'burners yet! Our orders are just to patrol the area maybe a twenty miles from the base. Doesn't look as if there's anyone around...but with things like Vamps and others, you can never be too cautious. At least if we can't see them on radar, then they can't see us...I'm assured that our newer jamming is better than the older type of the Vamps, but I'd never trust them not to suddenly upgrade things just to make stuff more difficult for us.
 I'll just put the autopilot on...there, now I can just sit back and relax, enjoy whatever's left of the scenery... Even with all the craters and shellholes, J.ewel's still beautiful. The rainforests, everything.....what the...my God, it's a CORE base! The b@stards must have had it under radar jamming...
 "ThunderHead 3 to Base...ThunderHead 3 to Base...Come in Base..."
 "Base here...what's your problem, ThunderHead 3?"
 "There's a bl0ody CORE base here! Musta been under radar jamming... Anyway, I'm just circling about five miles from it...sh1t...interceptors...I'll drop a radio beacon to mark the spot...there. I've got to go now...two Vamps on my six..."
Sh1t! Switching to external camera...~~~
 
Looking backwards from the c.ockpit, the view includes the underside of the ThunderHead, the weapons turret...and two Vamps speeding after the air interceptor. An alarm sounds, indicating radar lock-on...the ECM equipment is firing decoys like crazy...suddenly, four white smoke trails erupt from the wings of the Vamps...Rachel, the WO, is spraying the skies with lead from the twin turret cannons, and a chance shot hits a missile, causing it to self-destruct and send the missile next to it off course. The rapidly spiralling missile explodes in the forest below, leveling a few trees but not diong too much damage. But there are still two more missiles tailing the fighter... Hot gases stream from the engines as the afterburners are slammed on... The interceptor is now travelling at around Mach 1.9, nearly twice the speed of sound. As the missiles near the body of the aircraft, one is fooled by a decoy and explodes, taking out the last missile. But by this time, four more missiles are on the way... The view jerks and only shows the sky, as the wings are retracted and the plane points its nose directly towards the ground. All four missiles shoot rapidly overhead.
The view switches to the forwards camera, showing the ground, then curving up and rolling to show the Vamps coming head on. All four cannons start spitting out shells, turning the two Vamps into flying colanders that shoot past the plane trailing flames...
 
~~~Whoa man...close call.
"Good work, Rachel!"
"Thanks...You owe me a drink for saving your skin there."
"Dream on...Yeah, but wait till we get back to base...I'll treat you to a round of whatever you want at the bar."
God... How can anyone take out a missile in mid-flight with a couple of 30 mike-mikes? Lucky, I suppose... I want to get back to base as soon as possible after that little incident...ThunderHeads aren't meant to be used for scouting - they're not cheap, and neither are we.~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 45
 
~~~Back at base, and we're both celebrities. Even Commander LaConte congratulated us on our exploits... although he wasn't too pleased that we stayed to fight the Vamps... though it's not as if we had much choice in the matter - it was kill or be killed there. Rachel got her drink, and all four of us have been having a little party for a few hours. I'm determined not to drink too much this time, even though we're not on patrol duty tommorrow, I don't like the sensation of having thousands of minature hammers in my head. OK, I'm definately going to try and stick with my TH for as long as I can...~~~
 
Part 14
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 46
 
~~~OK, OK, so I did end up drinking too much. I woke up this morning with my second hangover in my new body. I think everyone in my room had a bad hangover - except for Rachel, who was irrepressedly cheery. She's like that in the mornings...when on earth does she find time to sleep? Does she even sleep at all? My god...
 Liort was on the floor - he'd fallen out of bed during the night... apparently he "never" got hangovers... I was glad to see him experience one for once! Judanth was sound asleep when we all woke up, and I didn't have the heart to wake her.
 We didn't need to report in for three hours anyway, but we usually all just messed around in the mess hall for a few hours, playing Poker, sketching, writing little communiques to loved ones... the kind of thing that people do when they've got nothing else to do.
 One guy - also called Peter - was doing exercises on the floor... he was doing situps, doing one, groaning, then forcing himself to do another. I don't know why the guy bothers...we get exercises as a matter of course - they're part of our drill. "Keeps you tough and healthy and ready for war" as our drill sergeant says... I wonder if he really believes it... knowing him, he probably does.
 Compared to a soldier in the earlier periods of warfare, we're really pretty well-looked-after. We get good meals, thanks to our chefs...who do like to take a day off - Rachel or I usually cook meals every few days...and we also get quite good accommodation.
 Thanks to nanolathe technology, the base team can build new accommodation for soldiers in a matter of minutes, and there's no point in skimping on detail. I mean, we even get carpets...slightly mangy carpets, here, as this barracks is a bit old... and individual cubicles for privacy.
 Remember I studied the 20th century? Well, part of my study was warfare and conditions for soldiers and other people. It was a lot different then. Yeah, women were allowed into combat forces, but they were brought up in such a way as to think themselves different from the men... even in the really late 20th and the beginning of the 21st, women were not really encouraged to join the Army, Navy or Air Force. Women weren't really provided for, so forces tended to be made up of men.
 With the revolution in warfare that came about when the CORE needed forces to combat Arm aggression, women were encouraged to join the CORE fighting forces, as that made the amount of military-ready patterns almost double the number.
 Anyway, the Arm also encouraged women to join up, and made provisions for them. At the moment, there are probably roughly equal amounts of women and men in the Arm, and the same with the CORE. Actually, I heard that the CORE were giving women better strategic postings than men, as they tended to be more intuitive in thinking, even when patterned. And of course the Arm Supreme Commander is a woman. The children of Arm non-military citizens are brought up to view males and females as strictly equal... it seems to be working so far.~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 47
 
~~~My God, those CORE guys are persistent...I should know - I was one...Anyway, they've mounted a renewed attack on our base. This time they've learned their lesson - they're now bringing some serious anti-aircraft with them. They've also built up their attack with more heavy units, and I think there are probably some Hurricanes and Shadows there. Unluckily, they've upgraded to a proper air escort of Vamps, and if that wasn't enough, they now have airborne radar-jammers - a Spectre KBot carried by a Valkyrie transport. How do we know this? Well, we didn't actually realise the attack was on the way until a lone Freedom Fighter pilot, a rookie, came across them in the jungle. He was shot down, and his  computer ejected him, but he was killed by flying debris. His last words were recorded on the radio...
"Sh1t!! There's a f*ckin' *attack* goin' on here...Sending recon pics...I can't do recon...loads of AA and sh1t...Vamps on my tail! I'm goin' down...AAAAAAA(static)"
That could have been me.~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 48
 
~~~We've been detailed to take out the Vamps and as much AA as possible so that Phoenix bombers can go in...Je.sus, I'm scared...I'm on the landing pad now...there are now 60 Thunderheads in active operation - three flights of 20...I'm Blue Six. Yet another blo0dy upgrade - we've got some new EMP grenades we're meant to shoot at the AA to keep it quiet while we pulverise it...they're meant to scramble enemy patterns to stop them from moving...I don't trust those techs. sh1t...to make things even worse, it's windy as hell and the rain's coming down in buckets. Sh1t...sh1t...sh1t...Rachel's standing beside me - she says she feels the same....Right, we're warmed up and ready to go...I had about 3 cups of super-strong coffee just before I came out...thank God for catheters - as if I wasn't p.issing myself already wtih fear...I'm bl0ody scared! The coffee tasted awful but at least it'll keep me awake. OK...I'm getting into my plane for what could easily be my last mission...That's my preflight by the techs...engines...check...weapons...check...~~~
 
~~~Here I go...dear God, don't give up on my now!~~~
From the tower camera...
 It's raining - huge sheets of rain that are blown about by the raging wind. The pad's dry, though - heated by 120 jets of superheated gases, the reain's just flashing to steam as it hits the hard ceramic. 60 planes power up massive turbofans in the pouring rain...six at a time, they slowly rise into the air and speed off into the storm. The airborne planes circle, waiting for the others to join them... At last, all of the planes are up...they join up into a tight arrowhead formation and speed off into the distance.
 
~~~OK...we're flying now. I'm still jittery from the coffee, and I think Rachel and everyone else is as nervous as I am...At the moment, we're about 200 miles away from the place where the computers predicted the attack would be... We don't know if they're there because the radar jamming is more efficient at long range - we've got to get there first.
 We're nearly there...they're still not showing up on radar...by now we should be able to see radar shadows at least...sh1t!! There's not a bl0ody metallic soul here! Hang on...that's a phosphorus grenade going into the canopy from Blue one...no, there's still nothing there...
 There's definately no-one here...I can hear Red one talking to base...yeah, they're going to send out 20 Peeper-ERs...that's our newest aircraft - Peeper scouts with bigger engines, better radar and a small AA laser - they can fly at up to Mach 4.5!...20 Peeper-ERs to scout out the jungle...we've all got to go BTB and get ready to lauch again on order...~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 49
 
~~~OK...they've found the attack again...we weren't too far off, but the computers didn't account for a small river...not so deep they couldn't handle it, but the banks were too steep and too soft to risk trying to cross with KBots...they must have diverted...
 Anyway, we've just launched to intercept, and we're about ten minutes away at Mach 1.3...I'm not quite so jittery now...I think a lot of the coffee's effects have worn off by now...~~~
 
~~~Yeah, they're in sight now...bl0ody hell!! Hang on...~~~
 
External camera, front...
There are about 80 small dots in the sky, ten of which are proceeding slowly, with flames streaming from huge jet motors - Valkyries. Each have a Spectre radar-jammer firmly gripped in the magnetic clamps...70 more planes are swooping and diving around them, 69 Vamps and 1 Vulture radar-plane - Core's newest acquisition from its spy network.
 
~~~We've been ordered to take out the R-Js first, then the Eagle, then the fighters...sh1t - someone's got an itchy trigger finger - scratch one R-J.~~~
 
69 aircraft turn towards the oncoming flock of interceptors, all of whom had radar-jamming on to avoid detection. 12 missiles streak from the ThunderHeads and impact squarely on the massive transports, and a series of explosions mark the fiery deaths of the cumbersome planes.
 All 60 ThunderHeads break formation and target a fighter...missiles lock on with a buzzing noise...120 white streaks tipped by black missiles criss-cross the purple sky, then 60 fireballs - about half of them on target - light up the sodden jungle. One incautious ThunderHead strays too far towards the 'Hot Zone' - the missile range of the AA vehicles - and spirals down minus one wing, impacting solidly on top of a heavy Reaper tank, its bombs exploding and destroying 3 vehicles...3 Vamps gang up on a desperately maneuvering ThunderHead just in front of this one...Flaming tracers leap from the turret behind the camera and shred two, while the third one is ventilated by the cannons of another TH.
~~~Sh1t...I'm going to try and take out some AA...
"Blue 6 to all...I'm gonna kick some AA butt..I need cover...anyone?"
...Here I go...~~~
The view sweeps round and points at the column of CORE units...the heavy tanks at the front of the crocodile demolishing the jungle's tall trees as they go, and the lighter KBots picking their way over the massive, splintered treetrunks. Suddenly, 120 missile vehicles point their launch rails at the sky, and let loose a flurry of missiles, all aimed at six planes who have descended out of the aerial battle and are now swooping towards them...The view begins to shake as evasive maneuvers are taken, and all of the missiles streak past, some by a matter of yards. The plane is a few seconds from the AA as the bomb bays open and discharge their deadly cargo...six bombs drop out of the rotating rack, their laser targeting systems flickering to life as they drop free of the plane...the five other planes join the fray, forming a seven-armed asterisk of explosions over a group of mobile flak cannons, knocking them over and sending them flying like deadly skittles. One missile truck lands on a treetop that has managed to escape destruction so far...the tree creaks in protest and slowly topples, landing the truck right beside a mobile artillery, on top of a Freaker... The Freaker is hammered seven feet into the ground, and the missile truck explodes destroying the artillery beside it and several other units in the chain reaction... Above, the skirmish continues, with seven THs shot down, but 29 Vamps burning in the undergrowth and more on their way. The bombload spent and the 'lather busily manufacturing more, ThunderHead Blue Six rejoins the dogfight raging above...
~~~Yeah! Here we go! Vamp in my sights...eat hot lead, vermin! sh1t...there's a Vamp on my tail...Rachel's spraying cannon fire at it but none's hit so far...sh1t!...that was a missile! ECM's going crazy...everything seems to be in slow motion...airbrakes at full...yeah, the Vamps overshot!...one high-tech colander to go...~~~
 Outside, the air battle is just finishing with the last few surviving Vamps being peppered with explosive shells or pierced by missiles. It's time to go in and take out the main target - the AA. By this time, the 'lather has just finished making the six bombs for the bays...there is a nasty little 'thunk' as they slide into place as the plane nears the AA...
~~~I'm going for the Copperheads first...releasing bombs...~~~
Six dark specks drop away from the underside of the aircraft, and six explosions crater the ground, smashing two Copperheads and toppling another into a pothole. Flak shells float up from the Copperheads below, supplanted by missiles from the Slashers and Crashers surrounding them, and the occasional light laser...
~~Time to test the EMPs...~~~
2 canisters shoot out of the grenade tubes with a 'thwoop' and tumble towards seven Copperheads in tight formation. They explode, causing minor damage to a tree, but scrambling the electronic pattern-bases of the CORE units. 6 Copperheads and two Crashers stop dead in their tracks, effectively braindead, and are immediately wiped out by a salvo of missiles from the hovering planes. Elsewhere the EMP grenades are doing what they're best at, and the CORE AA is slowly but steadily being eliminated. As the last Crasher disappears in a ball of yellow flame, twenty Phoenix heavy bombers appear from their hiding-place in the jungle and take over. The score - 20 out of 60 ThunderHeads lost, 40 good pilots dead - but a CORE attack that could have wiped out many more stopped dead in its tracks.
~~~Well, that's our job over...I'm heading home. I took a hit, actually...nothing major, but I've lost my radar and my right VTOL exhaust, so I can't do a vertical landing - I'm going to have to glide in and land...well, at least I didn't have to ditch...~~~
All 30 of the 40 ThunderHeads - those that weren't assigned to guard the Phoenixes - turn towards the base and accelerate on afterburner towards a nice cup of coffee and a good night's sleep.

Part 15

It was done...the CORE defenses had held up long enough. The CORE Commander climbed up to the protected central platform of the Implosion Device, underneath the pulsating sphere of energy held captive half a mile above. Finally enough energy had been pumped in to activate it...venegeance and destruction were assured as the CORE Commander stood proud hundreds of feet above the wartorn landscape, surveying the rubble of Arm weapons with pride...his plans had succeeded - the Arm would be wiped out for once and for all.
 Tendrils of energy struggled to escape as supercritical mass was achieved...just as the Arm Commander, using every ounce of strength in his suit's massive legs, ran up past the now deactivated CORE defenses and started to climb the ladder to the platform to stop the device.
 With a crackling of energy, twenty beams of pure nothingness lanced out from the globe of supernatural force suspended in the sky, encircling the two commanders with a swirling wall of matter beyond the imaginations of anything that ever lived.
 The Implosion Device activated with a quiet beep....the galaxy silently collapsed, drawn inward apon itself, ever smaller and denser, until at last it could be squeezed no more...then it *screamed* as it exploded anew...to reveal a new galaxy...a new home for the CORE...and for the Arm Commander, drawn inwards toward the CORE Commander...
 For a few moments, the flux bubble was all that existed, in a place outside time or space, void of anything other than the two Commanders.
 Then the Universe snapped back into existence, and the galaxy long ago known as the "Milky Way" suddenly had never existed. An observer capable of seeing between dimensions could have seen a new dimension form...another Universe, minutely but significantly different from the one from which it had spawned...the CORE had changed history...but not enough...
 The Arm and the CORE Commanders were thrown across space, to a small system with one Gaian planet, a system named New Gaia by the Arm Commander, and System Alpha by the CORE. They landed on a world called J.ewel...
 
Part 16
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 50
 
~~~The Commander's going to be away from the base for a while - he's going to an all-Commanders meeting on the North Polar Icecap - the main ARM base on this planet! There are about one hundred and fifty bases on this planet, making maybe 75 Commanders...I looked up what you had to do to become a Commander - you've got to do something incredibly brave, you've got to be a strategic genius and so on...
 Apparently most of the older Commanders are in fact clones bred for the purpose, made when we first colonised J.ewel, but the rest - including the Supreme Commander herself - are all just ordinary soldiers who performed an incredible service to the Arm. The Commander here was one of the original clones, the last of them - he's a strategic genius, a technical wizard and a fearless fighter. Why was he assigned to a base like this? I want to find that out...~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 51
 
~~~OK, I've spent about half an hour researching the Commander's past life - I can't find anything! No, I mean *nothing* - literally. There's not even anything to say who he actually is, or what he did to be assigned to this dead-end. Everything's been erased. I even resorted to going into the main database of the Arm HQ - I had to use some methods that aren't really strictly allowed to get in...OK, I hacked in. I'm trying to say this as quiet as possible. All I found was half a document...and that had been erased, but not as well as it should have been. Anyway, I managed to dig this up...~~~
 
Commander Matthew Walters
Rank: Commander of base #66 on Landmass #23
Born/Cloned: Cloned on 31:05:3842
Details: Designed as Commander-Class - I.Q. 210, superb tactical ability, proved to be very capable in strategy and also unusual technical ability. Reflexes designed at 2.5 times human norm, unit can think at a variable speed from 1x to 2.5x human norm, to allow for flexibility in combat.
Assignment details: The Commander is now posted at a medium-sized utility base far from any concentration of CORE forces: he was demoted from running part of the Polar Main base on 10:01:3980 because of...
 
~~~That's it - the record breaks off there. Looks like someone really wants to protect the details. I've erased any traces of my hacking - I wouldn't be good if I couldn't do this. I could be executed for this - and I wouldn't be back like this ever... I could get myself cloned, but I wouldn't be like this ever again. Uh-oh, Rachel's just come in...she'll want to know what I was doing...~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 52
 
~~~The Commander's back from his meeting...apparently the Arm have been running a secret project for twenty years, researching space travel. The secret of space travel was lost when Galactic Gates were invented - I mean, why would you want to travel through space when you could just send a Commander through one of the Gates that were present on every useful world in the Galaxy? Anyway, they've just put the finishing touches to a spacecraft. They've had satellite technology for years, but they haven't used it for fear of the CORE twigging on...they just want to get the jump on CORE and get off this planet ASAP.
 They want volunteers to colonise the new planet, to sign out of the war and to become settlers. I'm not going to volunteer - I like it here, with my friends and the rest of the base crew...and with Rachel.
 I hadn't wanted to admit it, but I'm really starting to fall for Rachel...it's just the way she does thing....she's just such a *nice* person! What am I meant to do? I can't just go up to her and say I like her...anyway, what if she doesn't want me to? I could offend her...she's one of my best friends, *and* my WO into the bargain. What about Elize? I think I still love her...though I can't be sure...maybe it's just sorrow that I feel for her...~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 53
 
~~~I couldn't sleep - I've just been tossing and turning all night, thinking about Rachel...the way she talks, her eyes as she looks at you...I think I've fallen in love with her... I wish I could talk to someone about it, but this is my only friend I can trust not to tell anyone... I'm not *experienced* enough in love...three months of bliss is all I know about...I've drawn Rachel before, but not as I'm drawing her now...just her eyes... It doesn't do her any justice.
 Huh...what if she doesn't even like me except as a friend, someone to fly with, to have a few drink with...I'm going to go for a walk - I can't sleep like this.~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 54
 
~~~I'm just walking about the perimeter of the base now. There are a few other sleepless people about, but mostly it's only the late-night gun team. They shot down a scoutplane yesterday - I think the CORE's preparing for another attack...*B@STARDS!!!*
 Sorry...I let my temper get the better of me there...
 The CORE have ruined all my life...they seperated me from my girlfriend, they killed me then brought me back as a robotic warrior, just plasma cannon fodder... Now they might threaten the only other person I love... I couldn't live with myself if Rachel was hurt...~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 55
 
~~~Today's the big day! They're holding a ceremony to say goodbye to whoever's signed up for the colonisation...there's going to be a big party afterwards - it'll be their last party for about twenty years...maybe.
 The project's really surpassed itself - they've created a huge artificial planet for the settlers to live on while the ship cruises towards its target - there's another Gaian planet in the next system...we're going to colonise it, because there's a huge amount of metal there, according to surveys.
 It's called Persephone, after some god or another...something ancient, apparently... It's a greenworld - loads of forest and stuff there, looks nice. There's a lot of animal life there, and there's also apparently a primative civilisation, not human, though.
 Well, I'm on my way to the ceremony now.~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 55
 
~~~Yawn...the Commander's making a speech at the moment, and we've had recorded speeches from both the Supreme Commander, and the Planetary Commander as well... When'll they get around to the party? Hang on, this sound interesting...
"...as well as the defenses on the ship, we'll need a proper escort of fighters and so on. They'll be stored on board the ship, but they'll be launched to intercept once an intruder is detected.
 We've mounted all our most powerful weapons onto the ship, or at least those that can be used in a vacuum...
Anyway, I have selected twenty fighter pilots from this base for escort duties - ten of my best ThunderHeads together with their pilots will be modified for space use and transported to the space centre for storage. The twenty pilots are our best of all...I will meet with these pilots afterwards...
"Peter-29983, Peter-3810, Liort Vandellson, Judanth Chroman, Rachel-14021..."
~~~Sh1t!!! Rachel! And me...~~~

Part 17

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 56

~~~Our leaving party...how touching... No, it's actually really nice that people are holding this party for everyone who's going... Yeah, the settlers are revelling in the attention, while most of us fighter pilots are just getting on with the partying!
 I saw the plans for the new ThunderHead on a noticeboard somewhere...um...yeah... Yeah, the Commander's noticeboard. I'd be willing to say he thought up most of the mods himself.
 Anyway, it's now longer - and faster! We've got *four* scramjets now, but we havn't got any turbojets for landing etc, since we're going to be in space all the time. When we reach the planet we'll just have to glide in and do a pancake.
 Anyway, no need for ground missiles - we've now got cannons, four of the things - and better ones, too - higher calibre and more powerful, we've got six launch rails for space-based missiles, and a couple of racks of rockets... The missiles had to be incredibly changed to accomodate the vaccuum...they've now got thrust redirectors instead of wings, and they're more agile than ever before...
 Finally, to put the icing on the cake, we've got anti-ship limpet mines in rocket racks, just in case the CORE did develop a secret spacecraft... Well, you never know!
Rachel's still my WO, with responsability for the mines, two of the cannon, and the rockets... I've still got my missiles and cannon. Eat five-foot missile, CORE scum!
 We're leaving for the launch pad directly after we've had a sleep, in about six hours...it'll take us five hours to get there, so it's snooze time for us... then we launch at the first light of dawn...obviously one of the launch commanders is an incurable romantic!~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 57
 
~~~Why oh why do I always end up with a hangover after a party? No matter how much I drink... OK, I always drink too much, usually end up sliding under the table... I always feel awful in the morning - unlike Rachel, who's up bright 'n' early...
 I'm trying not to move too much...I don't even want to *try* shaking my head. Ohhh *sh1t*...that's the alarm for us to report to the aircraft hanger to be assigned our new planes. Ugggghhh.....~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 58
 
~~~No matter how advanced the Arm is, they've never spent much time on researching hangover cures...bet they thought their super-soldiers would be impervious to the evils of alcohol... Dream on.
 Here I am, walking slowly through the corridor... My God! OK...these are just ThunderHeads... I'm still mentally saying "My God!", though.. These babies are *huge*! When the plans said 'longer', I didn't expect them to mean *three times* longer! Wow! Nice colour scheme, too - black and black upon a background of black. Lovely...
 Ah, here's Rachel. Of course, she's been standing here waiting for me for about five minutes. Coffee time...I brought a flask along with me...uhhhh...that's better... I still feel awful, but at least I'm awful warmed up, now. Right, the techs want the first pilots on the list - that's us - for the planes... I wonder what these are like inside?~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 59
 
~~~Nice...I suppose they reasoned we'd be spending a lot of time in these babies, so they've given us...well, everything! Considering they're almost as big as the hanger, they've crammed almost a whole base into here!
 I mean...Yeah, there's the standard ammo'lather, the mini nuclear generator...there's our supply 'lather - oxygen, recycling etc... but we've also got a separate 'lather for food and drink... My god, this is luxury!
 Everything the fighter pilot needs - a nice cup of coffee and a comfy bed - the seats recline to either combat position or flat-out for a bed. Cool - we'll hardly need to go 'ashore' to the ecoship with this stuff in here... although if they're having any sort of party... Well, we can hardly *not* go, can we?
 OK, that's the call to taxi out onto...the *runway*! That hasn't been actually used for planes since the base was built! All it's used for is for races between the Jeffy drivers...and occasionally the Flash drivers, too - they're mad! Ever seen a Flash running at full operational speed?!
 Anyway, we don't even need to be pre-flighted - computers do all that for us, and thye even take away the fuel lines and so on automatically...
 Here we go... now taxiing out onto the runway...I'm having to use oxygen injection for the scramjets - they don't actually start providing their own oxygen until they're at about Mach .5... doesn't matter - we're hardly going to run out of oxygen! Woo...feel that power! I wouldn't like to be standing behind this plane - you'd be crisped!
 OK - as this is my first flight, I'll record it as usual...~~~
From the runway camera at the end of the strip of concrete...
 The space-modified ThunderHeads are just shimmering blips in the distance as the camera zooms in on them... Ten jet-black shadows, their engines flaring, stand at the end of the runway, straining at the brakes...
 Suddenly, the brakes are released, and one after another, following each other a few hundred metres behind, the ten twenty-metre jets scream into the dusk air under the power of four huge scramjets on full afterburner.
 Gradually they settle down into a simple arrow formation, looking like a giant flock of geese, their wings extended for possibly the last time - wings will not be needed in space.
 The group of planes slowly follow the sun diving below the horizon as they are seen flying by the base crew for the first and last time...
~~~I'd be saying all my usual "Woo-hoo"s and "Yee-hah"s if I was in the mood, but I'm not. Hey, you can hardly feel the engines once you're in the air, and although the acceleration is nothing to laugh at, you're really not using it. Feels like I'm still on the ground, to tell the truth... I'm putting the plane on autopilot, and I'm going to get some sleep.~~~

Part 18

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 60

~~~Huh...I've just been woken up by Rachel...'Wakey wakey' indeed! Anyway, we're almost there, according to the computer - about 5 minutes of flight-time to go. My headache's almost gone - thank God! We're landing soon...then we just hang around until we're loaded, I suppose... I wouldn't like to be jumped by a CORE patrol, not now anyway - the missiles, rockets, mines and so on don't work in atmosphere - all I'd have is the cannons.
 Ah, we're here...whee-oow! This is one *advanced* base! I count...yeah, three anti-nuke silos...I didn't think those had even been blueprinted yet! Also, two satellite launch pads...and something I can't quite make out...looks like some kind of laser weapon...three barrels, it's mounted on a turret in the middle of the base...looks deadly, whatever it is.
 I can see THSMs 1 and 2 already on the ground...
 "ThunderHead SpaceMod 3 ready to land..."
 "Cleared for landing, THSM 3..."
 "Thank you...landing now."
 Whew...this'll be only my second actual glide landing...my first in this plane. We don't even get much simulator training for this - about five minutes of it! Here goes...~~~
From the THSM's front camera...
The runway's in sight, half a mile long, with the braking anchors halfway down... they're needed as the THSM is at the moment still flying at Mach 0.8. The ground gets closer and closer as the undercarriage extends and folds out into glide-landing configuration... To brake the aircraft, the nose is pointed up and for an instant all the camera sees is a rather interesting-looking cloud... then the view switches to the undercarriage camera, mounted just after the front wheels. The ground is twenty metres away...fifteen...ten...five...one...none. The brakes squeal as the ThunderHead screeches down the runway, swaying slightly as the plane hits minute bumps in the surface... Suddenly the hooks which deployed in front of the nosewheel catch the four reinforced steel-titanium wires of the braking system...originally meant for carriers but used in this case to try and keep the base size as small as possible and allow for fast landings.
 The runway is not used for takeoffs - a maglev acceleration system, similar in principle to the Gauss cannon, shoots planes into the sky at a 60 degree angle to the ground at about Mach 0.7. There are about ten of these, eight reserved for air interceptors in case of an air raid, and two just used for general fast launches... Eagles and bombers are not launched by these - the forces would literally tear them apart.
 As the ThunderHead slows and finally stops, a small tracked vehicle zooms across the runway and skids to a stop beside the nose of the plane. Techs and workers pile out, helping to release the plane from the braking cables and connect it to the truck's towline.
 Eventually, the ThunderHead is towed on top of a vast circle of steel...which shudders and plunges down into the depths below the base, to the vast underground hangers, past glass walls through which are visible great laborotories full of staff testing out the techs' latest creations. Beams of light of every colour and globes of glowing plasma float inside huge containment units that keep the weapons from doing any accidental damage...
 Finally, the elevator shudders to a stop, in a cavernous hanger, lit by hundreds of blinding lights, and full of strange wingless spacecraft... But the most awesome thing of all is the centerpiece - the EcoShip...
~~~Wow...this thing is *huge*... We're going to be flying in *this*?! There's enough room to actually *fly* my TH inside that! My God...
 And I thought we were going to be cooped up...~~~
 
Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 61

~~~Well, we've been treated to a guided tour of the complex.It's big, in the same way that a globe of plasma is hot. Let's see now...well, we started with some facts - there are 25 levels on this base, each about the same size as the above-ground area - about a quarter of a square mile. They drilled through a mountain to get this base level - it's protected from LRPC fire by half the mountain which was left up in a crescent shape round the base.
 The base has 200 Air Defense Packages - 10 Defenders, 5 Flakkers, 5 LLTs, 2 HLTs, and some of their own weapons - 2 Ventilator rapid-fire 20mm cannon, 5 Chainsaw rapid-fire AA lasers - I woudn't want to be in a CORE aircraft going against *this*base!
 Plus, there's only one entrance, blasted through solid rock cliffs and guarded by 10 Guardians, 20 HLTs, 10 Defenders and 4 Air Defense Packages. Whew.
 This is the base which does all the major R&D for the Arm - they don't want to lose it. Anyway, we learnt all about their new weapons - things like the Flogger laser chaingun, the Hornet mini-missile and, more importantly, the weapons for the EcoShip - all the nuclear and anti-spacecraft weapons you could imagine. There was even a super-paralyser for anti-spacecraft use!
 I mean, what kind of a mind thinks up these? No, don't tell me...one like Commander Walters'. They've got three of the cloned Commanders running the base as well - at the moment, their pet project is the Retaliator Nuclear Missile Silo... wow. Well, that's the tour over...oh yeah - I learnt what the huge laser-like weapon was - it was an anti-space laser - though they're using it as a super-powerful anti-ground weapon, it was really designed to be anti-space. It takes twelve regular fusion plants - or three of their underground Multiple Fusion Units - five second to power each shot...but it can take out a Krogoth with only one shot of it's weapon... No wonder - it's apparently based on the D-Gun!
 Anyway, it's time for us to launch - all of us will be launched using the linear acceleration sleds, so we can watch the launching of the EcoShip from the air, and defend it at the same time. Cool... Well, I've gotta go - got to get into my 'spacesuit' - my G-suit, really, but it's pressurised so I can survive a c.ockpit breach. It looks cool, anyway.~~~

Part 19

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 62

~~~Right... Rachel and I are sitting in our ThunderHead...we're both psyched up as hell...wouldn't you be, if you were about to go through about 6 Gees almost straight up? I mean, I heard about the fighter that got torn apart - there was another fighter that had strayed from its course just above the exit to the sleds and was torn apart by a Freedom Fighter going like a flak shell... As well as the fighter - a Hawk this time - that simply ripped in half when it was launched...one *piece* of it hadn't been properly maintained...
 I think they had something like this in the 20th century...something called a 'rollercoaster'... I never saw a picture of one, and I can't imagine what they would have looked like... all I know about them was they were bl0ody terrifying...but fun. Take out the fun bit and double the terror, and you've got this.
 I'm almost biting through my tongue now - we're being loaded onto the sled...sh1t, sh1t, sh1t... I have *never* felt *this* scared before...
 I'm not going record my babbling...here's the launch camera...~~~
From the camera monitoring the launch sleds...
Ten metal hatches in the ground slowly slide open with a rumble to reveal a dark tunnel leading down at a steep angle, deep undergound - the tunnels lead down to the bottom of the base, where there is half a mile of maglev tracking with super-powerful magnets set into the floor...
 The sled runs through these tunnels, floating on a magnetic field and being accelerated at a huge rate, curving upwards until it is at a 60 degree angle, then launching the plane it carries straight out of the ground.
 The whole operation takes less than 15 seconds, from start to finish, meaning that eight fighters are kept on the sledges as standard.
 The view flicks from the tower camera to a camera mounted at the back of the sled, looking underneath the aircraft suspended by a few struts, its wings retracted so as not to cause turbulence. The tunnel is completely dark except for the dazzling glare caused by four scramjets on full power...
 The sled is at the moment locked down magnetically, but as soon as the magnets are released, the sled shoots forwards, at first under the power of the jets, then with a shudder the Gauss propulsion systems come online and the sled passes Mach .5 in a few milliseconds... The camera shudders as air turbulence buffets and shakes the accelerating sled. The end of the tunnel is in sight...for about a millisecond... the sled abruptly comes to a complete stop, catapulting the aircraft straight into the air, jets flaring, as its wings slowly extend.
As the view switches once again, this time to a camera on a Peeper orbiting the base, a dark shadow crosses the sky, trailing flame - another ThunderHead on the way up. Seconds later, a shockwave buffets the fragile aircraft as the ThunderHead breaks the sound barrier and continues to accelerate...
 Finally, at a height of a few thousand feet, the ThunderHead levels off and starts to criss-cross the base, waiting for the launch of the magnificent EcoShip, at the moment waiting on a gigantic launch pad constructed only for this purpose, twelve rocket boosters strapped around its impressive girth...
 The ship looks like one of the old 20th century rockets - a slim needle shape, hundreds of stories tall. Ten other rockets surround it - these are connected by huge struts and stabilise it on its flight up... These are for the launch only - they will be reclaimed slowly by internal nanolathe units as the ship clears orbit.
 The other boosters will operate for three years, accelerating the ship to maximum speed, then they too will be reclaimed - they will be rebuilt at the end of the ship's journey to act as retro-rockets. The ship has got four rockets at either end, which will fire as soon as the ship clears most of J.ewel's gravity field - they will impose artificial 'gravity' by spinning the ship to provide centrifugal force.
 Most of the seperate units in the EcoShip are in fact incomplete at the moment - they will only be built as soon as the ship's rotational gravity is activated, since the gravity direction will change.
 Only a large dormitory is complete, a huge cylinder. At the moment, people have to use ladders to climb into their beds - as soon as rotational gravity is achieved, the ladders will become horizontal and, like a lot of other components, will be reclaimed to aid the construction of the main ecosystem.
 The ten ThunderHeads and about fifty other fighters of various types - Hawks, Hawk X2s, Stratosphere advanced spacefighters, equipped with a heavy laser turret and four light laser chainguns, and Falcon tank-fighters, equipped with dual medium plasma cannons and four rapid-fire high-calibre cannon, even a few Freedom Fighter X2s - will orbit the ship for about three days, before docking with the ship's giant fighter hangers and letting the ship's defenses take over.
 ~~~OK, that was bl0ody scary! I actually screamed all the way up - Rachel did for about a second then calmed down...I'm still shaking from the adrenaline! Well, it was over quickly, that's all I can say... I bet the person who thought that up never actually asked the pilots what *they* thought about this!
 Anyway, I'm just flying around, just in case there's an attack - unlikely, though... mostly it just means I get the best view of the takeoff! Hang on...the coundown's started! Yeah - Rachel's filming it...~~~
From the weapons camera mounted on the turret...
Across the launch pad, and through the radio, a loud voice booms...
"Seven"
"Six"
"Five"
"Four"
The rocket engines, which have been quietly flaming away, warming up the huge propellant jets that spray hypergolic propellant into the cavernous combustion chambers, come alive with a roar and the surface of the launch pad quickly starts to blacken under the intense heat...
"Three"
The roar intensifies as the outer ring of engines also come online...
"Two"
The spacecraft is shaking from the suppressed power of all the engines...
"One"
The gantries surrounding the spacecraft detonate hundreds of explosive bolts and, rattling, retract into the ground, where they are covered by heat-hardened metal doors...
"Zero..."
As all the engine shift to maximum power, the spacecraft slowly, ponderously, begins to rise from the now white-hot launch pad. Flame rolls gracefully out from the pad, setting pieces of rubbish on fire and carbonising any dust swept into the fiery halo surrounding the clusters of rockets...
"We have liftoff."
 The spacecraft is obscured by smoke and flames as it slowly rises up into the sky, incredibly hot gases streaming out of the mighty engine exhausts and roasting the air...
~~~This is the kind of time that should have dramatic music playing loudly in the background...you know, up until now, I'd never even considered the possibility that anything would go wrong...~~~
Suddenly, as the spacecraft is a few hundred metres from the ground and rising, forty dark blips appear on the horizon, steadily accelarating towards the behemoth standing on a pillar of flame...
~~~SH1T!!! Vamps!
 "THSM 3 to base - Vamps sighted!"
"*Sh1t!!* Intercept! Intercept!"
"All fighters assigned to ES1 intercept Vamps!"
Afterburners on...Mach 1.2...1.3...1.4...All weapons armed...~~~
From the front camera...
There are about forty or more of the radar-jammed Vamps speeding at full throttle towards the group of fighters...ThunderHeads leading, followed by Stratospheres, then HawkX2s, and FFX2s, and finally Falcons, trailing behind under the weight of their heavy armour and weighty guns.
 The Thunderheads are the first to fire - six missiles from each of the long black planes, 60 missiles in all, light their rockets and speed towards the Vamps. They may be unwieldy in the atmosphere, but there's no need for advanced homing.
 The Vamps aren't expecting this - all of the interceptors are radar-jammed, and the Freedom Fighters are hiding behind the curtain of radar static - so there's no time for evasive maneuvers...with a huge explosion, a quarter of their number are simply blown out of the sky, shrapnel hurtling out of the explosion and shredding six more.
 The Hawks fire next, but their missiles fall short, only downing three - 19 Vamps left. By the time the rest of the Vamps have reacted and fired their missiles, they are right by the cloud of interceptors, and six have been shredded by the fast-firing laser chainguns of the Stratospheres.
 The Freedom Fighters each select a target and relentlessly pursue it, hosing the rear ends of the Vamps with explosive shells from their cannon. All of the interceptors flip round to pursue the scattered Vamps, intent on destroying Arm's latest pride.
 Suddenly, without warning, sixty of the nearest Air Defense Packages start firing their lasers and missiles - seven Vamps are knocked out of the sky by a missile, and three more are perforated - literally - by the laser chainguns on the ground, one being sliced completely in half, the two halves continuing on separate paths for a few seconds then exploding in mid-air.
 Finally, there are only three left, heading for the ship, with the ThunderHeads right behind them. Two are torn apart by cannon fire from the ThunderHeads, but one Vamp, who has evaded all shots, is right in the firing line for the ship. It roars towards it, not noticing a lone Freedom Fighter X2 above it that has broken free of the pack - and is now heading straight down towards it...
 A puff of white smoke shoots from the co.ckpit of the Freedom Fighter as the pilot ejects, and the fighter continues on its course...Half a second later, there is a huge explosion as the fighter self-destructs, setting off all its ammo and ejecting the antimatter core of its reactor at the same time. The shrapnel flies straight through the black stealth fighter, shredding it and sending it down in pieces... Seconds later, the shockwave of the explosion reaches the interceptors, making them bob like a cork on an ocean...
 The crisis is over, as the ejected pilot floats down to the ground in his ejection module. The EcoShip is on its way to another home.

Part 20

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 62

~~~Well, we're in space! This is incredibly different from flying in atmosphere - for one thing, nothing happens! It's our second day in space, in our flying limo... all of the other spacecraft except for the Stratosphere and the Falcon need to go in to the ship for supplies and to stretch their legs - we've got enough space in here for almost anything!
 We're going to the space station anyway, because we've just been relieved by Liort and Judanth in their TH, and anyway, we need some human company aprt from ourselves.
"THSM 3 to ES1: request permission to dock..."
"ES1 to THSM3 - welcome in!"
Well, they've just completed a bar near the dorms...and I promised Rachel a drink - again! Well, here I go...~~~
From the camera on docking ring #23...
Against a background of stars and glowing nebulae, a dark shape moves into vision - a ThunderHead docking. The docking ring automatically opens, clamps folding out from sealed compartments at the side. A computer feeds positional data to the ThunderHead, which automatically fires thrusters to align itself with the magnetic clamps.
 The clamps extend on robotic arms and attach themselves to the shiny skin of the heavy fighter, pulling it in towards the airlock. The airlock door, four sections of heavy armour-plated metal, slowly separates then each section rotates until it is flush with the hull...then the airlock slowly and silently folds out from the ship's skin and seals itself to the carapace of the trapped fighter.
 The view switches to the camera inside the flexible tube of the airlock, surrounded by 'ribs' of memcomposite, which extended and retracted the tube. A hiss marks the pressurization of the tube, then at the other end, at the c.ockpit door of the ThunderHead, a red light blinks to yellow, then to green - the pressure is equalised.
 With a soft 'whoosh' the door slowly retracts backwards into the hull of the fighter, then slides sideways into a recess, exposing the inner airlock door. The door slides up into the roof then stops - and two figures in khaki suits, disfigured by tubes and pipes running across their bodies, and with large, baggy reservoirs around the limbs and chest, step through and start to walk cautiously down the tube, gravity imposed by the acceleration being about 1/2 of J.ewel normal. They clamber through the airlock door and are gone, swallowed into the cavernous depths of the inner hull.
~~~Whew - it's dark in here! We're in the space between the two hulls, between the inner pressure hull and the outer, hardened, armour skin. This is a pressurised tube...the space isn't actually pressurised.
 I can see the blisters and little hemispheres where the weapons are stored when they're not deployed... At the moment all weapons are deployed, because we're so near the planet...we really don't want CORE to be doing anything right now.
 Outside, five of the ten takeoff boosters are already gone, and the rest are mosly done - all the dangerous components are away already, and it's only the frame to go... we've got about five Construction Spiders on the project, clinging on anywhere they can.
 The only light in here is from the nanolathes of the CSpiders and from the lights scattered here and there along this tube. It's about five hundred metres long, this tube...makes you think about the sheer scale of this thing, doesn't it? According to the techs, it could have been bigger - it was only this *small* because it had to be launched from the ground... If this is what they call *small*, then what the hell is *big* like?!?
 Well, we're here...the inner airlock...~~~

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 63

~~~Wow...my first space bar. Uh...I just realised what I said... DUH! Sorry. Anyway, I'm sitting here, in the aforementioned bar...Rachel's got her drink *again*...I think she knows I like her and she's using her advantage to get free drinks! Anyway, at least we won't be sleeping in the fighter tonight...though knowing myself, I'm probably not going to get much sleep tonight. No - I *don't* mean what I think I just said...My God, is this drink stronger than normal, or is it just the low gravity? I seem to be saying the wrong thing al the time at the moment...
 Anyway, what I *meant* to say is that I probably won't be going to my bunk for a while - I'll be up all night socialising...I just hope I don't get absolutely p.issed and try to chat up Rachel...ugghhh...I can just imagine it now...she'd hate me for it. She doesn't mind us getting plastered - you should see her after a few hours!
 But she doesn't like to lose her self-control - she just becomes a more exaggerated version of herself...though I have seen her slip underneath the table once. OK, but that was a big party - not like this, though I daresay we might have a few in the next few hours - or at least I hope so!~~~

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 64

~~~Ugh. Whasts? Uhhhh...sh1t...~~~

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 65

~~~Umm...what a bl0ody night...day...whatever...I think I remember...yeah - I think I left my recording on half the night or something...anyway, it's morning... it's always morning here... the lights in the dorm are always on - you just have to close your cubicle door. Ohhh *sh1t*...do I remember what I think I remember? I hope not...
 God...did I try to chat up Rachel? Ohhh sh1t...I think I did... Thank God she was too pi.ssed to notice...I know I got her a lot of drinks anyway...what the hell's the time? My....sh1t! I was meant to be up half an hour ago! I'll be roasted on a spit for this, if I know our squad leader.~~~

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 66

~~~Uhhh...I think Rachel does remember...she wasn't in a very good mood this morning. I've still got a hangover, and I got a toasting from our squad leader. Just not my week, I suppose...
 Rachel's distinctly frosty, anyway...I really don't have much success with drinking, do I? I mean, what happens when I have a drink? Well, I usually have another one... or maybe try to chat up someone I genuinely like...God...
 Well, I suppose the worst things have already happened...what else...no, I'm not even going to *ask*. there's always *something* bad waiting to happen to me... I think I'm the target for any bad stuff that's going on in the area. Oh well...
 I'm going to patch into the central computer, see if there's anything interesting going on...~~~

From the Central News Centre aboard the Arm ship the EcoShip...

"...all but one of the launch boosters reclaimed and construction has started on internal compartments for several things. The first compartment constructed yesterday was the new pub, the Barathrum. Designed in a style evocative of the planet, it has all the latest mod cons, with any drink you care to mention and..."

~~~Don't mention drinking to me.~~~

From the forward camera on the nose of the EcoShip...

Space, space and more space. Beautiful displays of fireworks millions of light-years across, in all the colours of the spectrum...
 Below the camera, out of its visual field, is the observation deck - designed in from the first, but left deliberately incomplete, it is still accessible from the inner hullspace, through locks #89, #47, #22 and #3. No-one goes there, though, when they can just patch into the central comms network and use the cameras that are mounted at intervals around the ship. So no-one notices a tiny KBot, about the size of a matchbox, that is sitting absolutely still just no the boundary of the massive glass windows...

~~~Well, all very pretty, I'm sure...~~~

On the general announcement channel, that automatically cuts through any other lower-priority channel - including Rachel's music - and is broadcast to every citizen of the great ship EcoShip...

First, a light musical tone, simple, but nevertheless still very annoying, then the words, "Announcement: Please pay attention as this concerns everyone on the ship...
Rotational gravity will be switched on today at 23:03. A klaxon wil sound twenty minutes before, and everyone *must* make their way back to the dormitories, except for active fighter crews. All fighter crews who will be active from 23:00 to 24:00, please make sure you are at least half a mile from any point on the ship, especially from the rotational boosters, as we don't want to lose you. Thank you..." Ding dong ding dong.

~~~Well, at least we'll get gravity soon...proper gravity this time!~~~

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 67

~~~Well, here I am, strapped into my bed half-way up a twenty-storey wall in one of the great cylinders that make up the dormitories...Thank God every sector and floor of cubicles has a bathroom to itself... I wouldn't like it otherwise after getting p.issed - imagine getting up in the middle of the night and trying to climb down a forty-metre ladder while bursting for the loo...then back up again afterwards! Anyway, it's not that bad...
 The cubicles are organised in a series of concentric cylinders... think about a thin layer of an onion - in kinda like rings. Each ring has ten sectors, and there are 10 rings, each with 100 floors to them! The inner ring has ten cubicles in a tight circle - each one is a sector in itself.
 No, the floors aren't as bad as they seem - there's ten lifts just dedicated to the dormitories...they'll actually have to be rebuilt and reclaimed once we start rotational gravity...We won't be allowed into here for half a day...doesn't matter, though - I can always sleep in the ThunderHead.  Ah...this is the spin-up starting - I can feel it...feels as if my cubicle's slowly tilting on its side - theyre designed for this...ah, there we go, that's the clamps releasing - the cubicles are now free to rotate - once we're spinning they'll lie flat to the walls, ie vertically at the moment, but horizontally then.
 Huh - I'm getting confused here - I don't think us humans - doesn't matter whether we're clones or not - are really designed for this!
 Anyway, we're at about a tiny fraction of our total spin speed... I'm going to get some sleep while we spin-up to max speed. Goodnight...~~~

Part 21

The CORE commander stood on the top of a small hillock in the middle of his concealed main base at the South Polar Icecap of this accursed world. If he had his way, he'd strip it of trees and all life - make it as much like his native planet, CORE Prime, as possible... but that would neccessitate removal of the Arm...those jumped-up terrorists...they *had* to be annihilated, in the interests of the Galaxy.
 What was even more annoying was that technically, they were strategically superior...he'd see about that - they'd be laughing on the other side of their faces when he destroyed them, bit by miserable bit...
 He clenched his massive suit's fists...no, he was getting too emotional now... he had been around the Arm for too long - they'd rubbed off on him.
 In the depths of his supercooled neuron matrices, he was still feeling a smouldering anger...an anger against the forces which had, so long ago, slaughtered all of his family...and with them the only girl he had ever loved...
 He strode over to the entrance to the heavily-guarded underground complex that contained the twelve-inch thick solid steel-carbon-titanium alloy doors - harder and less brittle than carbon, and able to stop almost anything the Arm threw at them - to the CORE Central Consciousness, rebuilt from basic blueprints. It contained every pattern the CORE had ever taken, stored three miles below the surface of the planet, and powered by the intense heat generated inside J.ewel. So far, it was only a tiny fraction of what it had used to be, before the GID was activated, but it was a start...
 The Commander activated a small probe, which popped out of the hard casing of his nanolathe limb with a small whine, and inserted it into an interface socket in the console of the computer beside the doors. Slowly, the doors slid silently open, revealing a long tunnel sloping downwards towards a massive cargo elevator. The Commander sqeezed his gargantuan frame into the elevator, and the door closed on him, as the main door slowly slid shut.
 Minutes later, miles below the crust, the Commander settled his scarred battlesuit into what could only be described as a giant chair, which folded restraining clamps around several points on the towering suit, a few seconds before it deactivated and the glowing eyes silently dimmed.
 The Commander suddenly was free, surfing on the electron stream through an almost infinite number of sophisticated neural processors and data feeds, linking to each and every unit, camera, beacon, and building in his empire. He inserted a virtual probe into several units patrolling the base, then into one he was especially interested in - aboard the EcoShip...
 Cruising majestically through space, the EcoShip was still steadily accelerating, without any fuel worries - fuel was simply manufactured by huge 'lather units, powered by fusion power plants themselves fuelled by space debris and hydrogen scooped up by a giant, fragile-looking magnetic scoop newly nanolathed to the front of the ship. Clutching the windowsill of an observation window, all the tiny buglike transmitter was doing was transmitting a homing signal and ship statistics through a secure tachyon-pulse link directly to Central Consciousness and to the Commander.
 Releasing his probe from the homing device, the Commander sent a command through CC to go out to all of his new space-modified Vamps...
"To all Vamp-SMs - get ready for launch-and-attack in 4 minutes - target: the Arm EcoShip 01..."
 He was sure this would be enough - after all, after his embarrasing failure to crush the Arm's feeble attempt to flee this miserable world, he had modified the ever-useful Vamp with a heavy laser turret and space missiles, plus a single nuclear mine, if they got close enough to use it.
 Even so, a nagging self-doubt had led him to create a back-up plan, and three orbital shipyards were in the process of being built under heavy radar jamming above the South Icecap...with orders to build one only of his newly-designed Raptor Space Destroyers...
 Arm would never be able to fight off *this* attack...
 Against his own self-restraint, the CORE Commander felt a glowing shred of pride.

Part 22

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 68

~~~So far, we're not very far from J.ewel, and as the only space-based fighters in existence, we're just in the middle of being launched for an intercept mission - the radar on the EcoShip's spotted a very faint radar contact heading round the curve of the planet...We're just on a routine mission to shoot it down.~~~

From the front camera...

The bright green orb of J.ewel hangs in the sky, motionless, pink clouds obscuring part of its surface. Very slowly, a dark speck drifts out from behind the South Polar Icecap where it had been sheltering, and starts to tumble towards the equator. So far, it is only showing up as a very intermittent contact on radar, meaning radar jammers operating at full power. The green glow of a nanolathe's blueprint being built on can easily be seen - unusual, from this distance... what is being built must be *huge*! So far, it is hardly started. Whatever it is, it certainly looks as if you wouldn't want to get too near it...about five separate turrets can be seen, each with three or more hardpoints...
 Unexpectedly, the station's radar jammers slowly shut down, leaving the station as a bright blip burning on every radar nearby...and in the recently developed space radar of the R&D base far, far below...
 The nanolathe shuts off, the station returning to its previous darkness...
 Nothing happens...
 Suddenly, three ruby-red beams of light lance up from the planet below, and slice through the station, immediately turning the metal, carbon and plastic of its construction into raw plasma which spreads out silently, cooling to form a sponge-like construct, all that is left of the space station. Obviously it did not have a reactor on board, powering the R-Jammers, as there was no explosion... A large CORE insigna is on what used to be the side and which is now just a piece of spinning metal that gently floats past the vision and ricochets of the body of the EcoShip.

~~~Well, I guess that's it, then. Well, their laser certainly works...~~~

 Suddenly, 40 slim black shapes arrow up from underneath cloud cover, accelerated by four huge rocket boosters plus six turbojet engines in a cluster around their rear. Unnoticed by the spacefighters slowly docking back at the EcoShip's docking ports, they speed ever closer, in a tight needle formation, weapons slowly emerging from six pods around the skeletal frames.
 All forty of the narrow shapes have active radar-jamming and are camouflaged against the dark sky...
 Eighty missiles streak out from launch racks aboard the mysterious spacecraft, thirty-two hitting the EcoShip solidly, peppering the outer armoured hull with holes. The rest shoot past, a few impacting on a stray Falcon, but not causing significant damage.

~~~What the...My god! Sh1t!!
"ALL FIGHTERS INTERCEPT! REPEAT - ALL FIGHTERS INTERCEPT!!!"
~~~
72 fighters turn slowly towards the new threat, attitude jets flaring, then begin to accelerate. A salvo of missiles erupts from the group, lighting jets and hungrily homing in on the heat signals generated by the massive engines of the spacefighters...they would not be too easy to miss...
 The ten Thunderheads, accompanied by fifteen of the sleek Stratospheres and a few HawkX2s, speed towards the group of threats, just as their first missiles strike home, blasting the barely-armoured fighters to shreds...12 down, 28 to go... As the fastest fighters close in, they start to fire every weapon they have...
 Suddenly, a large rocket slowly launches from a huge weapons pod, so far unopened, on top of one of the CORE fighters...
~~~
"Warning...EcoShip to fighters...nuclear missile trace recognised - SCRAMBLE!"
~~~
 The nuclear mine drifts through space, weighted down by its own inertia, heading towards the EcoShip...
 Every fighter surrounding the flight path of the missile lights every jet it has to try and get away from the rocket's deadly cargo...except for a lone Freedom Fighter X2, which has been hit by a missile and is now drifting helplessly in the flight-path of the rocket...
 The terrified pilot, out of reflexes, pulls the EJECT handle... half a second before the rocket impacts solidly with the the corpse of the damged fighter...
 For a second, the view goes white...the cameras automatically adjust, and through the blinding glare the enemy fighters - nicknamed "Blackbirds" by the EcoShip radio controllers - can be seen closing in on a group of ThunderHeads and Stratospheres...
 As the white fades and the Blackbirds can be seen again, a hail of shells and laser beams fills the void... A Blackbird has its engines sliced off by heavy laser fire, and crashes into three others flying in formation, sending all four into the rapidly-cooling cloud of gases that is all that is left of the bomb... They are immadiately vaporised as they enter what is effectively an irradiated plasma round...
 Missiles fly - the Falcons are in fact doing the most damage, along with the Stratospheres, designed especially for space use, they do not even have wings - they were launched aboard another rocket a day before. Now there are only 7 Blackbirds left - but 15 ARM spacefighters have been reduced to floating debris by the Blackbirds' accurate missiles... Most of the Falcons have survived, thanks to their heavy armour... The HawkX2s and the FFX2s have fare the worst, as their light armour was designed for use against very light hits... All of the FFX2s are gone, and only 3 HawkX2s survive...
~~~Sh1t! I'm hit!
"Mayday...Mayday...THSM3 here...I'm hit! Engines out, 'lather and reactor online, thrusters out, weapons out..."
"Sorry THSM3 - we've got all our rescue craft away already...you're fine for a few hours - you've got 'lather. We'll come and get you soon..."
Bu.gger...~~~
 A stray missile, long ago burnt out, tumbles into the exhaust port of a Falcon, exploding and setting off a chain reaction that simply rips the craft apart...
 As the Blackbirds get ever closer to the EcoShip, its defenses begin to take part in the massive space battle... Missile racks aim and lock-on, firing salvoes of forty missiles before retracting to reload and cool down... Laser chainguns pierce the fragile Blackbirds with thousands of powerful beams of light... Heavy anti-ship missile launchers slowly rotate to face the battle, flame erupting from vents as huge missiles drift out and light boosters, picking a traget and relentlessly homing in on it, using jammer, infra-red, visual and weak radar signals, then ramming halfway through the fighters and detonating their large warheads, creating shrapnel that downs the fighters surrounding it...
 One disadvantage of CORE's efficiency is their tendency to arrange units in strict mathematical patterns, closely following a formation even in an attack run...all of the Blackbirds were flying close together, lobbing missiles at the ship, when one had the misfortune to arm and fire a nuclear mine just as a heavy missile struck it...
 A huge chain reaction consumed all of the remaining Blackbirds, the ammunition and reactors exploding in a fierce flash of pure white light...

~~~No rescue for a while...well, I can count my blessings anyway...though I'm drifting away from the ship...~~~

Part 23

 The CORE Commander was not pleased. All his creations wiped out...he had not expected the ship to have more than laser defenses...
 Even so, he had been monitoring the spy device attached to the hull of the EcoShip, and he had been enjoying the fear that the humans felt in the face of danger. Though there was one thing...oh yes...what *was* a 'blackbird' anyway?  He had never heard of one... He knew the humans in their ridiculous ship had codenamed his Vamps "Blackbirds"... Oh well...probably they were some kind of bird...they would have died out well before his time, on the polluted wreck formerly known as 'Earth'.
 He was also displeased at the unfortunate loss of one of his orbital spaceyards... a booster had fired at the wrong moment, sending it spinning out of the path of the microwave beam that had been providing power to it... its storage batteries had lasted only a few seconds before it was vaporised by the Arm's new space laser... Well, they had revealed themselves...
 A Silencer nuclear ICBM was at that very moment on its...what was this?! A status report on the missile listed it as 'self-destructed'! Hmm....had the Arm developed some kind of anti-ballistic defense as well as their lasers? That would mean... He'd better get his plans for ABMS done ASAP...
 Now he inserted a virtual probe into the consciousnesses of the two remaining orbital shipyards, noting the progress of his new destroyers... Both spaceyards were at 12.332% after 2 hours of operation, and would take many more hours to complete the hulking spacecraft... No matter - however many months it took, the destroyers would be able eventually to catch up on the EcoShip... after all, he had twenty years to plan...

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 69

~~~I've been floating in space for a day so far..."soon" - yeah right! Everything's online but we're not going to be going anywhere fast... all four scramjets are out, and we've only got one attitude thruster, at 5% health! I've got this thruster burning to try and take us back to the ship... I've managed to slow us down, anyway...
 Rachel's been a big help - she knows these ships like a tech... she's managed to find the emergency nanolathe and we're taking it in turns to repair some of the most obvious damage - including our back wall! The rear of the cabin - just a few meters behind where Rachel was sitting - was literally sliced off by a heavy laser...
 You don't know how bl0ody scary it is to see this huge green glow enter your cabin from noe side and leave through the other, taking your engines with it... All I could say was "Tha....thaaa....." for about three minutes afterwards. I mean - even Rachel was scared stiff! She takes a lot of scaring. Well, we got the back wall patched up and the cabin repressurized, though work's going pretty slow - we have to return to recharge the nanolathe every hour or so with metal out of our reactor...
 Space is beautiful, even when you're stranded in it... There's no sound apart from your breathing, and it's incredibly peaceful - you're just holding the 'lathe in position, with your suit clamped to the hull, and you're just watching the stars... Not a good place if you've got vertigo, though - I knew a guy once who had a fit because he was so scared - there's no up or down, so you feel as if you're falling and everywhere's down... Not a nice feeling.
 Ah, it's my turn to repair now... This G-suit is enough to spacewalk in - it's designed to compensate for explosive decompression, so it's pretty sturdy. There's even armour on it - reflective, for use against lasers, and it takes energy from the heat generated by laser hits or sunlight. Cool design, huh... it saved my life there, so I should be glad...
 There goes the airlock...Hang on...~~~
From the hull camera...
 Flat, infinite space, lit up by the glowing green orb of J.ewel, and its one moon, just coming over the curve of the planet. Beautifully peaceful...
 The outer airlock door gently retracts into the hull, letting through a grotesque, clumsy figure - a G-suited person, the arm-mounted giant tube of the nanolathe glowing green with energy, and the backpack that holds a minature 'lather for oxygen and recycling plus the nanolathe's power and metal supplies making the figure even more bulky and ungraceful.
 The nanolathe powers up with what would, in atmosphere, be a small whine, and the probe extends, spitting glowing, freshly-made nanobots onto a wireframe skeleton formed over a large hole in the hull.
 The 'lathe holds blueprints for many things, but mostly for patches. It simply 'lathes a thin metal framework onto the hole then start to fill it in, the metal seeming to build up as the tiny nanobots crawl into position and fuse themselves into the mass of metal. However, the 'lathe also holds blueprints for other things - bridges, ladders - and two more important things - weapons... and *engines*...
 The 'lathe is designed to recharge its metal supplies from a tiny energy-metal converter inside the backpack, but this takes at least an hour, so if there is another reactor about, it can be hooked up to receive the reactor's waste products and turn them into metal.
~~~Once we've repaired the holes in the hull, I'm going to lathe on a couple of engines, then a laser, just for defenses... the only engines available are small thruster engines, so it'll take us a while to get moving, even with six of them... but if I repair the attitude thrusters... well, thruster, really... we should be able to get this baby going once again....~~~

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 70

~~~OK, it's tommorow...we still havn't been rescued...
"THSM3 to EC1...what's kept you? I'm almost finished 'lathing some engines onto my ship! It's two days already, I've been out here...where are you?"
"Huh...thanks! We've been working overtime to get everyone in...we've towed in all of the Freedom Fighter pilots...or at least the ones who ejected in time... and all of the eject pods...they've only got enough energy for one day in space... We've also started towing in people who are just surviving on half an engine or something... You're doing well...think about a day..."
"A day?! God! I'll be back at the ship by then!"
"Yeah - that's one less for the rescue tugs...sorry, I've had a bad day - I've been up trying to calm down these bl0ody pilots who're screaming their heads off. One guy had to reclaim his own leg 'cause it got fused to his plane... You see what I mean - you're lucky."
"Well, I'll see you at the ship, then..."
I'm just sitting here on the hull, holding the 'lathe in place...I've just finished reading a story Liort wrote in his spare time...I'm bored, tired, and hungry for something other than 'lathed emergency rations. At least the coffee's good... the one consolation... Well, that's that engine done... we've got five so far, one more to go, then I need some attitude thrusters - we'll do them once we're going.
 Rachel's in her cubicle, asleep - she's trying to get some sleep while she still can. So of course I'm doing a double-shift for her... No, I just don't want to have to wake her up - she deserves some rest... Well, she's saved my life about six times so far - she's got a right to expect me to be nice to her!~~~

Part 24

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 71

~~~Day three of our being stranded in space... I think the rescuers are just starting to pick up those people who are alright - we'll be last! Anyway, we've finished nanolathing on the engines, so we've started them up...so far we've been burning steadily for an hour and we've only got to about two hundred miles per hour!
 I've been busy nanolathing laser turrets onto the outside of our ship...I had to 'lathe some wings onto it, to hold them...it looks quite cool, though...so far, we've got enough armament to kill another ThunderHead in a few seconds...if they were right beside us. The laser beam's pretty short-ranged because of divergence - it's very low power, but one consolation - we got our cannons online again! Rachel's down in the turret getting them back into full working order.
 I can just see the EcoShip here, like a flashing light in the sky. I'd say we're a few hundred miles from her... At her rate of acceleration, we should take about twelve hours to reach and dock with her...that's the turrets finished - I'm going inside for a nice hot cup of coffee.~~~

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 72

~~~Night-time aboard the ThunderHead... the first night, we were kinda concerned about where we were going to sleep - the cubicles were blown off with the rest of the rear cabin. It's not so bad, though - the acceleration couches make great beds, as they drop down into combat position, which is just about flat.
 There's hardly any gravity in here anyway - the only gravity would be provided by the thrusters' acceleration and the last vestiges of J.ewel's gravity field. We just buckle down to the couches and go to sleep...or not as the case may be - we're both awake - Rachel's got her glasses on and is reading... I'm doing this. Rachel's had to adapt to life in low gravity - for all her efficiency, she's a very untidy person... I've seen inside her cubicle a few times, and it's even more of a mess than mine.
 Especially pens... Rachel's got this thing about pens - she can never find one when she wants one, she's always losing them and buying new ones. Anyway, untidiness is not very useful in almost-zero gravity! Everything floats very slowly down to the rear of the fighter, but just a breath can stir them up again, meaning that for the first day or so, we had all sorts of things bouncing around the cabin.
I'm just staring out the co.ckpit window into space... a dark velvet sheet punctured by bright needles of light, sharp and clear - everything's very clear, here in space... there's no atmospheric distortion, so it can be a bit confusing at first... Over these last few weeks, I've felt myself drawn more and more towards Rachel... and I think she's doing the same about me... I suppose it's just that we've shared so many experiences...so much danger, so many laughs... I don't know if it's love or not... anyway, we're certainly great friends... I'd give a lot to know what she's thinking just now...she's stopped reading, and she's just looking at me... I wonder what's going on in her head... could it be the same thing as in mine?~~~

The CORE Commander 'woke up' from his virtual sleep with a soundless yawn, and with a flash, transferred his consciousness back to his battlesuit. He was wide awake - artificial bodies had their compensations - and ready for another...miserable...day.
A few minutes later, he exited the command bunker and climbed up the side of the small depression that housed the entry to the most important intelligence in this galaxy. Standing just beyond the bunker, he half-closed his visual sensors and looked around. A thriving base, ABM sites going up, impenetrable perimeter defenses, a total kill count of thousands of units...yet he wanted more. More! He had to do something... The Commander D-Gunned a small tree to work out his frustration...the beam of pure energy screamed across the ground behind the tree, making rather a large ditch and vaporising a lot of jungle. He had to do something to work out his frustrations against the Arm... this suit was useless! Too effortless, too easy to kill with... he needed something that he could inhabit...something that was versatile, that could do anything, and that had *soul*.
For a second, the Commander checked himself, then had a think...
If the Arm are constantly beating me off, what do they have that's so important? The answer came suddenly to him... Courage. Determination. Bravery. Self-sacrifice... Emotions. He had to do something... if he kept the CORE as it was, it would eventually fall, letting the accursed Arm rule... No, he had to do something. Emotions depended on the brain... and a brain needed a body... Now he could see where he had been going wrong for the last few thousand years - mechanical troops just couldn't cut it anymore.
Later that day, the Commander was again surfing on the pulses of electrons that ran all there was left of the CORE. He was thinking...
Minutes later, he had come up with a design - a biological body, not too far off from humanity, but better. It was stronger, it was faster, it was more resilient, more suited to doing anything. It was 9 1/2 feet tall. He called it "Adam". He designed armour around it, vehicles, everything for a new fighting force.
 Then he decided on a body for the higher-up, technicians, engineers, people who wouldn't be going into combat...mostly female patterns...in fact, all female - he was the only pattern derived from a male in the high-up command structure of the CORE...but he was the only one left from what the CORE had used to be.
The Commander shook his virtual head and kept on designing... This body was smaller, more agile, more precise, with improved optical sensors. He called it "Eve". The new dawn of mankind...COREkind...how appropriate.
The next day, the Commander invited the consciousnesses of all of his technical force into his virtual meeting room - decorated in the style of old CORE Prime, very fashionable right now with the Commanders.
"Ladies, I want you to meet the new blueprint for you..." A holographic display of the body "Eve" sprung up in froont of every person, with statistics..." This will be your new body from now on. I am going to release all personality safeguards on you...From now on, our fighting force will be comprised of only those who are completely loyal to us - those who are not will be stored for further use if ever needed, but we are going to take a new step in the evolution of the perfect species - the COREkind. We will be biological."
Gasps of horror and amazement rose up from all around the simulated table. The Commander had finally flipped it...the GID must have scrambled his circuits...he had gone mad...they would be just like the Arm!
"No! We will *not* be just like the Arm... We will be *better*!!"

Part 25

The CORE Commander was watching the preparations for a battle. Most battles tend to be short and messy affairs, just two sides crashing into each other. This one would be different.
 It was a week after he had first proposed the transformation into biological bodies, but a week is a long time in a world of artificial intelligence. His technicians and scientists had improved and refined his original design, and finally it was ready. Bodies were being churned out in their thousands by newly-built cloning labs around the planet, and soldiers who had proved themselves worthy were being patterned onto them as fast as they could go.
 The new bodies had proved to be a success - the CORE soldiers, even through their personality safeguards, had always had a flicker of discontent with the CORE. They were unmotivated, tired, lifeless, robotic... now they had something to fight for - the chance to be reborn.
 He had devised several new units for the bodies to control - things like the Butcher close combat KBot, designed with ambushes in mind with two sharpened hydraulic spikes on one hand and a chainsaw in the other, and the Marine, a sniper KBot with a dual sniper/pulse rifle with explosive bullets. A lot of these were based around existing designs, all of them KBots. The Arm had a new enemy.
 The Commander transferred his consciousness into his new body, and sat up. He was still stunned by the amount of detail he could feel through his skin - had he not considered humans to be crude before? He got up and started to pace around the room. He was worried about the battle.
 Word had come through that a small Arm supply convoy would shortly enter a narrow mountain pass between two high cliffs, called the Delhide Pass after its discoverer. He had stationed his units at the top of the cliffs, under cover of lush jungle and rainforest, and he was ready for the convoy. It was rumoured to be taking metal to a new base the Arm had set up, in the metal-scarce plains. There should of course be a light escort, probably KBots... no match for his new super-soldiers.
 No matter how he tried, though, he was still worried... he knew something was going to happen...

The Arm Supreme Commander, standing behind her desk in the large, sumptously decorated room that she used, was worried. How could she not be, with the total destruction of the CORE at hand? A plan was underfoot to eradicate the CORE presence on this planet, something on such a grand scale it had never before been tried in this galaxy. A dummy convoy had been set up to draw the fire away from a small team of elite soldiers who would invade the CORE main base to try and destroy the Central Consciousness, fatally disabling the CORE.
 She was betting on the fact the CORE Commander would be in his base at the time, and it was this guess that she was worrying about.
 She activated the intercom system.
"Flint!"
 "Yes?" replied her aide.
 "Get me the tactical photos taken of the CORE main base this morning."
A menu flicked up onto the glass wafer screen that folded up from the surface of her desk. Earlier that day, a Peeper-ER had flown over the CORE base, evading the defenses, and taking several of pictures in a strip over the center of the base, as well as dropping a camera bug which would climb onto the nearest high object and transmit photos of the base. A few were just coming in now - the bug had attatched itself to a Gaat laser cannon, the barrels of which were just visible at the bottom of the picture.
 There was a bunker, heavily guarded, obviously the entrance to an important complex. Hundreds of defenses were present - all locally pattern controlled, which served her purpose perfectly. The mission was due to start any time now...
A small man entered through the tall doors, looking strangely out of place. He was her main aide, Ramus Flint, who had served with her for as long as she could remember. He had been a Zipper pilot, back when she had been recruited from a non-combatant family. She had signed up as the pilot of a Hammer, and she had been in his squad until she was promoted up the ranks and him with her. He was in fact at the rank of Commander, but declined to go out in the field, reasoning that he would be more useful in the command seat. He was a tactical genius and a great friend to her.
"Lyaeia?"
"Yes?"
"The attack has just begun. I thought you'd like to know."
"Well, you could have told me through the intercom!"
"Hey, I've nothing better to do. I thought I'd have a chat."
He walked over to the large screen in the end wall and keyed it on, selecting the channel for strategic operations. Since this was the only current mission, it flicked up on the screen. First, a map of the planned operation.
 Taken from the photos, the map showed the position of almost everything in the base. The camera bug had been removed - removed by a heavy laser blast - earlier on, but before that, it had taken pictures and distances between every object on the base through a laser rangefinder.
 Coloured dots flashed onto the screen at Flint's command, showing the various units. All the Marines were in either Maverick or Shooter KBot armour, and six Mosquito cloaking scout robots had also been deployed with a supply of EMP mines. As she watched, the six red dots began to move in, flashing to indicate a cloak in operation. They were to place a catapult-launched mine on every defensive building on the West side of the base, and on the radar buildings if possible.
 One of the dots suddenly blinked out, having got too close to a Gaat Gun, disrupting its cloak generator and being fried. Now the base suspected something, but it was too late - all the mines had been placed and activation was in three...two...one...zero. A flash, and suddenly the patterns of every defensive building in one quarter of the base were wiped out.
 Before new ones were downloaded, six Mavericks sprinted out of the rainforest cover and started pounding away with their guns at the defenses - lasers first, then cannons. The six Shooters, only visible on the radar, were saving their weapons charges for later.
Very soon, it was all over... all the base's Western defenses were gone, and the others were too far away to make any difference. The Marines stuck close to base structures, stopping the Punisher and Toaster plasma cannons from firing because of the risk of friendly fire, and ran at top speed towards the central complex.

In fact, the CORE Commander was not in the main base...or at least, his consciousness was not in the main base. He was pacing around the floor of a secret underwater R&D base in his biological body, thinking. Unfortunately, he had turned messaging off to get some peace in his thoughts, free from the babble of minds that was the CC.
 The base he was in had been built a few years ago, by Construction Subs working under radar jamming and with a sonar-deadening skin, and it was where most of his top scientists were stationed, dedicated to providing newer and better ways to kill the Arm. He had just been shown their newest invention, the Commander Escape Pod, and it had raised some rather disturbing thoughts.
 What is he needed to use it? Surely the Arm could never get strong enough to raise the slightest resistance to the mighty juggernaut that was his empire? If it did...

Back in the CORE Main Base, the Shooters had just unleashed a barrage of tachyon beams on the helpless CORE defenders who had just piled out of bunkers and shelters to offer some resistance. Seventeen went down, twelve pierced by the super-powered blue lasers, and the rest caught in the explosions from suit power cells and unused ammo. A hail of TCDU darts followed from the Mavericks, their mighty suits shaking with the force of every shot.
 Soon, corpses littered the ground, and the Marines jogged towards the giant doorway to the Command bunker, built for the Commander's gargantuan frame. One of the Mavericks lobbed a focused nuclear grenade towards the thick doors from a grenade launcher holstered at his side, shattering the almost-nuclear-proof permacrete and scorching the ground. Seconds later, the Marines regained their sight, and the KBots stepped over the white-hot doors, through the smoke.
 Their armour augmented by recently-installed nuclear field dampers, the attackers strode down the long corridor to the elevator. It was keyed to the Commander's personal pattern ID only, but one kick from a MEMcomposite-powered Maverick foot caved in the doors, and the twelve Marines were looking down a deep shaft, with the lift at the bottom. Unexpectedly, the far wall of the lift shaft slid downwards... Revealing the turrets of two Doomsday Machines and six heavy lasers pointed at the stunned units...Twelve explosion later, it was over - the foresight of the Commander had not prevented the carnage, but had secured the future of the CORE for a few more days.

Part 26

Both the Arm Supreme Commander and the CORE Commander stared in disbelief at their screens. The Supreme Commander had been following the battle through the tactical camera mounted on every unit as standard. She had connected with the camera of the lead Maverick, named Cu Hasthwick. She had witnessed everything, the successful invasion, the one-sided battle, the Marines storming the Command Bunker... then the utter destruction of twelve of her most highly-trained men and women.
 The CORE Comander had just transferred his consciousness back into his battlesuit, and had ridden the lift up from Central Consciousness, noting the klaxon that told of an attempted invasion. He had expected a large army to try to attack, heavy armour, mass rush tactics. So he was shocked when he got to the surface and clambered over the remains of KBots, defenses and the huge blast doors of the bunker. He immediately connected to a Fink flying overhead, and was stunned by the carnage he saw. He replayed the record of events as seen by the Fink and the tunnel cameras. He saw everything.
 Finally, for the first time in thousands of years, the Commander was enraged. He slammed his fist into a nearby permacrete wall a couple of feet thick, shattering it into heavy shards that thudded to the ground. The Commander would have his revenge on the Arm.

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 73

~~~We docked with the EcoShip a few hours ago, straight into repairs. We're going to get what really amounts to a new ship - the old one was so badly damaged it had to be totally rebuilt. Anyway, there's clear space ahead, we've got full gravity on, and there are at least six bars built so far! Finally, our dorms have been rebuilt, and they're starting on the insides of the ship now. I'm just lying in bed, thinking now...you know those nights when you just cannot feel sleepy? This is one of them.
 It's going to be like a little planet when it's finished... things I havn't seen since... well, things I've only ever seen in museums. Grass, trees, clear water... very unlike Earth where I was born.
 When I was born, there was a programme to do this - called the Fuller Programme. They were planning to buld huge domes over every major city to protect the remaining humans from everything their ancestors had done - pollution, depletion of natural resources and so on. It got to a stage when the air was so toxic you literally couldn't breathe.
 Water was black or brown, unless it was tapwater in which case it was faintly green. Tapwater was strictly rationed as it came from the rain which landed on the domes, filtered and cleaned - from the infrequent rain storms only a third of the rain was usable. Mostly we didn't see the outside. The most successful domes were those under the sea - fresh water was a by-product of the power plants, and there was always enough of everything. The last underwater dome went up as I was born. We never got in to one.
 When our family got the chance to evacuate to a new planet - called Sanctuary by the new government, the Core Planetary Imperium - they jumped at the chance. I was in jail, awaiting my execution, and they went away. They disowned me in favour of a new planet.
 Then I died. I next woke up as a back-up pattern in an A.K. dedicated to destroying another army, the Arm, with no loyalties, no ties...no thoughts.
 And now I'm here. What a story. I could even write it down in a book, for those poor people born on some wartorn world without any memory of what came before. That's maybe the one good thing about the CORE - they can give you your memories...~~~

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 74

~~~I'm still sitting up here. Thinking, as I so often do, about Rachel. There;s a veterans's dance tomorrow night for seasoned fighters to have some fun...do I dare ask her to come with me? I'll think about it in the morning.~~~

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 75

~~~Guess what. I was up and about - couldn't sleep, as I said, and I met Rachel! We chatted for a while, and we were playing poker in the dorm's rec. room, when she asked if I wanted to go to the dance with her. Well, what was I to say? I said yes, of course, and I told her I was going to ask *her* to come with me, but she beat me to it. I just walked around on air for the rest of the night... lovely feeling.
 Then I woke up in the morning, telling myself all these cold, rational arguments... maybe she didn't have anyone else to go with? Maybe she just wanted to see what I would say? I just couldn't believe Rachel could do that to me, though...so I floated on air a little bit more.~~~

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 76

~~~Well, here I am at the dance...standing like a complete berk in the middle of a load of people I don't know, waiting for someone who's probably never going to... Ah. OK, Rachel's here...she's coming towards me...(gulp)...~~~

The CORE Commander stalked out of his modified Valkyrie and into the R&D base. He sent out a message on the Command-Net that was so powerful it made the recipient wince as it hit his pattern, and the Commander of the R&D facility rushed from his quarters in the guise of a young man in a lab coat.
"Research Commander Falkren reporting, SIR!", he said, standing to attention, thinking that the Commander had come on an inspection tour of his facility.
"At ease, Commander...Where's your shuttle launch pad?"
"Pardon, sir?"
"Your launch pad. I'm going to be commanding this space strike mission...I want to destroy Arm's only hope. You're the only way I can get there."
"Ulp. Follow me, sir."
The young Commander was inexperienced enuogh not to be trusted with a battlesuit, only with a minisub. But he was clever - clever enough not to argue with the Supreme Commander when he looked like that.
"If you'll just follow me, you need to be suited up."
The Supreme Commander in his battlesuit thundered after the scientist, who showed him through a massive pair of doors into the largest lab in the planet...well, on CORE's side of the planet, anyway - only one was larger and that was the lab that built the EcoShip.
 A huge gantry had been erected to build space vehicles on the ground for lauching - it was here that the spaceyard-builders had been constructed with one aim in mind - to build the ultimate in destructive weapons, the Raptor Space Destroyer.
 The Commander stood in the cage of nanolathing arms that formed the gantry, and transferred his consciousness into the spaceyard. One of the Raptors was already completed... that was enough for him. The otehr two were simply backup.
 As he watched, the idle spaceyard folded into a compact bundle, then started to reclaim itself, finally becoming what it started off as - something that looked very much like an asteroid. All that was left of it was the builder, and a layer of metal oxides deposited around it in case it was needed again. It would be powered by a microwave beam from the planet, but the spare metal allowed construction to go faster.
The Commander stayed for a while, then got back to the lab, transferring into a temporary storage unit to watch his giant suit being modified to blast into space. Of course, he could not actually use his suit while it was being modified - the sensory distortion caused by new sensors would drive him insane. He settled for just watching.

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 77

~~~Wow...what a night! I'm just in bed now...lying here grinning happily at the ceiling of my cubicle. Just thinking over and over - 'she ki.ssed me...'. Wow...
 We had a great night - they played all the best tunes, we danced, we had a drink or two, we danced again... I didn't notice anyone else on the dance floor except for us...it was like no-one else was even there. Of course they were there - I was just a little bit pre-occupied...
Then it was over...we went back to the dorms and we just chatted... then I had to go... she ki.ssed me as I left...~~~

Part 27

As the Commander watched, the second massive Raptor Space Destroyer left the orbital space yard, and, engines flaring, moved into a new orbit. The first had already left, using all its acceleration to catch up with the Arm's behemoth, the EcoShip. It would arrive in about...10.23 minutes, according to his internal processing unit, then would simply launch a flurry of plasma rounds and highly-explosive anti-space rockets in its general direction. The Raptors had many more weapons - including a battery of nuclear missiles - but the EcoShip was not deemed important enough to use these costly weapons of war.
 Finally the Commander's suit was finished. He had had it adapted for space-flight, with medium-sized rocket boosters fitted to his storage backpack and a heavy laser chaingun fitted in place of the puny light laser. He kept his D-Gun, of course, but he didn't expect to get close enough to use it. He transferred his consciousness from his organic body, where it had been residing, through a stream of electrons, into the compact, combat-hardened neuron-processing unit of the Commander Battle Suit.
 With a light hum, the Commander opened his eyes. In the semi-darkness of the lab, only lit by a few lights now the nanolathe was off, the viewport glinted, stray photons bouncing off it as the Commander's visual sensors swept his surroundings. The suit's servos whined and MEMcomposite creaked as the massive slab of armour moved slowly out of the frame of the gantry.
 The Commander stopped. He stood in front of a camera, thirty feet tall and covered in shiny new metal where old scars had been patched up. Inside, the Commander sighed. Home sweet home.

Three hours later, a shuttlecraft had finished nanolathing, with rockets powerful enough to send even a Commander into orbit. The Commander was loaded into it, restraining clamps gripping his body tightly as the final panel was nanolathed into place behind him. The pad cleared as the rockets fired, streams of hypergolic propellants hissing into the combustion chamber and roaring to life as superheated gas. Slowly, the bulky transport rose off the launch pad, obscured by the smoke and steam from the rain falling heavily onto the pad. Inside, the Commander was watching his ascent on an external camera as the rocket continued to accelerate.

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 78

~~~Liort's dead. He died three hours ago, just as the CORE destroyer got close. We were sent to intercept, and he was in a ThunderHead with his WO and girlfriend, Ward. Ward Kniven, his only love. He spoke a fer times about her, but not much...I guess he didn't think we'd understand. They spent a lot of time together, though...
Anyway, as we were attacking the detrayer, it started to defend itself - heavy laser, mostly, deadly as hell in space. Suddenly Liort's voice came on the radion... "Sh1t! I'm hit...ohhhshit...WARD! F*CKIN' CORE B@STARDS!!!!"
We just saw him flying straight into the destroyer's engine intake, scooping up hydrogen for the reactor. He was vaporised almost instantly - but not before all of his ammo detonated right next to an unstable fusion engine...that was the end of the destroyer...and Liort's life...
God...the poor guy... I was just sitting there - I couldn't do anything at all, completely frozen. So was Rachel, but then we just got up, putting the fighter on autopilot, and we just hugged each other tightly for a long time...glad it wasn't us out there.
I mean, I've heard and seen death - we *are* at war after all...but Liort was a *friend*...that's the difference.
Afterwards when we got back, Rachel and I just sat completely still beside each other for something like two hours...not talking, just thinking things over, taking comfort from each other's company.
I don't think I could face it if Rachel was hurt...I think I'd do the same as Liort or just take my laser pistol and kill myself...I couldn't bear the pain another time or the sadness that comes afterwards. I'm just lying here, looking at the dark, lights off, just thinking on my own mortality. Everyone's time comes, sooner or later...but do people deserve to die like this? Gunned down like dogs, massacred, slaughtered - all because of something that was invented for a good cause but ended up as being so much evil. The dogs of war, that's us. Or the rats...people, real people, each with their own thoughts, their own stories to tell, loves, hates, hopes, dreams, ambitions, desires...a life gone in a flash...snuffed out like a candle-flame in a draught...no thought for the person who they were...used to be... Just another mutilated corpse on the battlefield amongst twisted metal, another few atoms floating in the air...just the sheer mindlessness of it all.~~~

Part 28

Private Log of Peter-29983
Entry 78

~~~Well, one week since Liort...passed away... I've just been floating around, dead to the world. I haven't been eating, sleeping, sometimes not even moving...but I've been *thinking*...
 Today, I realised. Why? Why do this? He's gone. Sooner or later, everyone will. Even the CORE will one day fade and die - everything is mortal.
So I got up, and took a walk, through the misty, newly-grown jungle, trying to come to my senses... a voice in my head, repeating over and over again... vengeance. Revenge. *KILL*. I know I must do something...
So I walked to the cubicles, and got Rachel...
"We're going to get revenge on the CORE - for Liort."
She came with me, we got into the fighter, and launched - I knew the launch codes. Now we're just sitting in space waiting...waiting until the glint that we can see in the distance gets closer...
 I think Rachel was like this as well... she was completely shellshocked by Liort's death. But not for as long...she's more practical than I am, and doesn't think as much. But she wants revenge as much as I do. And we're going to get it - I spent some time on my 'walk' cobbling together as much explosives as I could get, to for a sort of crude flying bomb... The ship looks like an overweight Sumo...I'm a bit sad to see the thing once graceful turn into a lethal heap, but I don't care - in a little while it won't exist any more, or at least only as a cloud of atoms floating around in the stratosphere...
What's the point, when you come to think of it? Life...why try to kill people who you don't know...fighting for a cause no-one can remember? The war's gone on for thousands of years, and has survived even though only two people...things...survived the death of the galaxy...
The glittering dot getting closer is J.ewel...and our target is Core Consciousness...
We're going to stop this war once and for all. Every single pattern the Arm and the CORE had was built into the EcoShip...secretly, by a team of people like me. I saw what they had done when I was 'exploring' inside the ship's computer... It's not only a colony ship, it's a world...literally. A whole new world, civilian, non-technological. They're going to start from the beginning again. The ship is equipped with an utterly new kind of drive, or at least with the blueprints for one...but that's what Construction units are for, isn't it? They're going to escape into a whole new universe, and everyone's going with them. A new humanity, a whole new club in town.
And this 'mission' is just to make sure there are no gatecrashers...
Peter-29983 signing off for the very last time. Just before I die, this will be transmitted to the EcoShip, to be stored in its storage banks until it is needed...
Maybe in a million years.~~~

The bulky ship hurtled towards the sparkling green planet, once full of life, many species all devoted to trying to live. Now it was still full of life, though not in quite the same way...and very soon, there would be no life at all...in fact, no planet. Just another planet decimated in the endless war between two sides so similar yet so different...
Except this time it would be final. There were no other planets colonised, no outposts made. The only objects in space were a large blimp-shaped object, steadily heading towards its destination, a few spaceyards with fighters, and... and it was gone. Chameleon suit and radar jamming activated, the flying bomb headed towards the southern polar icecap, unseen by anyone except for a flock of curious birds, and a few of the local equivalent of seals.
At the icecap itself, the CORE Commander had just woken up from his electronic sleep. He saw nothing unusual, as he went about his duties, checking the functioning of the shuttle. Elsewhere on the planet, millions of people, both clones and patterns, went about their business, except for in the Arm's underground R&D base, where the Arm Supreme Commander was at that instant staring in awe  at something she had been dreaming about since she was cloned - something that would make warfare obsolete, which would wipe out the CORE forever...
Not knowing that not only would it annihilate the CORE but also all she stood for, the Supreme Commander climbed up the gantry catwalk to gaze at the massive rocket. It was designed to destroy any patterns or electronic equipment anywhere near a planet, by means of a specially controlled nuclear explosion. This depended on delicate controls to handle it, and it would be done by a super-computer on board the rocket. This gargantuan beast contained enough nuclear material and superheated plasma from the internal reactor powering the explosion to wipe out a large planet. It would be launched in ten minutes.
A ripple in the sky, and a sudden chilling scream which froze everyone who heard it. The clouds wavered and dispersed as a white-hot streak of matter hurtled through the atmosphere, armour burning off under the friction of the air. Inside, both pilots closed their eyes. Lips moved in an unheard whisper..."Goodbye."
The sound was indescribable. It was not heard, it was *felt*...felt in the bursting of eardrums, the popping of small veins on the faces of unsuited Arm soldiers. The whole planet shifted, a movement which could have been seen from space, and indeed was, by a sole observer standing on the observation gantry of the EcoShip. The Arm Commander, soon to be the last Commander but one, sadly closed his eyes.
He had been dismissed from a good position years ago, for being a pacifist. But even though he was a pacifist himself, he felt no regret at stopping the war by violence. He had been too good to lose, so they stuck him in a small base, hoping he might use his mental skills to come up with some great unit or strategy to finally beat the CORE. He had... but not in the way they had expected.
As he watched, small explosions took place all over the glittering planet, now far behind. Bases going up... Every so often a more powerful explosion marked the death of a Commander, one of his kin. A huge explosion suddenly shook the whole planet, and he gazed in morbid fascination as massive chunks of rock floated deceptively slowly off the surface of the planet. The death of a planet...now that was someting special...especially when you have engineered it yourself. Peter would have been glad to know that he himself was a 'hacker' - a strange chance had given him the particular skills needed to change the blueprints of every few clones ever so slightly, tweaking this or that, very discreetly changing the future...
All Commanders did that, of course - but how many could have claimed to have changed the CORE? He had - he had, over time, planted ideas in the mind of every Commander, arranging the EcoShip, the missile, everything. Now it was over, as he turned, and faced the future.

A few minutes ago, the rocket had been armed and set on the launch pad, ready for takeoff. The countdown started...
"Ten"
"Nine"
"Eight"
As the mighty engines lit, the roar was deafening...
"Seven"
"Six"
...but not as deafening as the one that came two seconds after.
As the shockwave raced around the curve of the world, explosions from fusion reactors and from Commander suits spurring it on and adding to its fury, it reached a curving range of mountains. The wave raced around the inside of the C-shaped landforms, into the centre... where the nose of a rocket was visible...
A technician opened his mouth to speak into his comm unit, but was cut off by the shockwave, racing under his feet at enormous speed, focused by the mountains, hitting the mega-rocket dead centre...
Five backup computer systems were knocked out by the shockwave, the main system was simply disintegrated, and the last backup was hanging by a thread - a thread rubbing gently over a razor blade.

GENERAL SYSTEM FAILURE: ERROR AT LINE 108909892987983
SHUTTING DOWN ALL NON-ESSENTIAL OPERATIONS....
ERROR! ERROR! SYSTEM FAILURE! NO BACKUP SYSTEMS ONLINE!
E...

The final system slowed to a stop, then finally broke. All safeguards failed, letting the plasma containment fields in the reactor fold in on themselves with a faint 'ping'...drowned out by the roar of the plasma eating into the anti-matter storage bunker, finally streaming into the chamber where the glowing antimatter was stored. Finally, the two mingled, exploding mightily, together with several tons of highly irradiated gamma-emitting nuclear material.
Imagine five hundred Commander suits exploding together...
 

A few hours later...
The Arm Commander had stayed until the very end. Now he was bored. He turned and went through the airlock, back to the cabins. He made an announcement, or at least wrote one - he couldn't let the innocents see that he was in charge - that would come later. As the computer voice announced an ion storm imminent, and told all personnel to get to bunks, the Arm Commander finished nanolathing the surprisingly small device he had invented. He flicked the switch. Nothing happened for a second, then...
A few hundred miles in front of the ship, a planet-sized hole appeared in the fabric of space-time, very much like a Galactic Gate. It looked like nothingness...until you looked very hard, when you could see hundreds of images flicking past. They were universes...
The device searched to find a habitable universe It had seven sevonds - the ship, although slow, was nearing the wormhole. Finally it settled on one choice, a young universe, just formed. Plenty of essential hydrogen was floating around, just right for a planet or two...
There was a surprisingly modest flash as the ship passed through the wormhole, and it sealed with a sucking sound. The ship switched off its engines and activated a hidden network of gantries, sucking up the hydrogen and feeding it into its reactors, converting it into different elements through fusion. Suddenly countless numbers of glowing green nanobots streamed from the projectors and grounded on a small point - the first solid matter ever in the universe. First a molten metal core was formed, then layers of minerals... Metal for future civilisation, then clays, ores, stone, finally soils. Millions of years of evolution passed by in minutes as vital elements were layered on, nanolathe skeletons flashing, glowing then settling into reality as the microscopic nanobots crawled and fused together. Finally, the ship started to take itself apart. It sliced itself into component pieces, the passengers all neatly parcelled up in a re-entry capsule. A temporary field was extended fro the fusion reactor and plasma spilled from it in endless white streams, forming and igniting a primal sun. The passengers were herded into a newly 'lathed habitation block, with everything they needed to start anew - tools, maps, food. No technology apart frmo simple levers, no clothes except for rags. They were truly going to build a new civilisation, but a good one this time. Finally it was over... the last thing to be formed was a small moon. From its centre the Arm Commmander watched. He could wait...forever. He was immortal now, his brain patterned at last, but this time to help humanity, not destroy it. The people got to work.

The CORE Commander screamed. Long, never-ending, silent. Only his pattern unit existed, and his reactor - both too well protected to be destroyed. He had collided with an asteroid blown out of its path by the blast, but he was far away enough from the electromagnetic radiation to survive...almost. He spun through space, screaming, driven almost mad by the pain of non-existant sensors and neurons. Almost mad - he would see himself, immortal, indestructible...neverending torture. He could wait...forever.

The End

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Rebirth was written by CamTarn / Andy Walker

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