*Suggestion* No. # 2489428709

[Kraftwerk]

how about a creative writing Forum. I have been known to be quite prolific as it is also my job in a sense. Would be good in here I see a lot of guys with latent talent here abouts. Just a suggestion. Could be used for Fan Fiction etc..... I know I should shut up now. Sorry for the can 'o worms I may have opened here.


:drink:

[MVB]

Heh; we actually have one, but it's in the private forums.

Lately we've been working on a TLSC publication for the greater gaming community, with creative writing to reviews to whatever ... we lack at the moment a quality individual as far as writing goes who has the drive to spearhead this project.

You can certainly contribute any creative writing you want as a "contributing writer" or something, I'm sure. Maybe stealth can be convinced to make a public writing forum; we'll see, but thanks for the suggestion nonetheless.

[Justice]

Post anything you got; here's a preview if you want one, from the old forums:

THIS IS PART I OF III (the part's name is ambush at antares). This is ONLY the first chapter, not the first part, so don't be complaining that it's too short.

Chapter I

The guns had been blazing on Antares for two hundred forty-seven years. Now, they had fallen silent. Captain Nina Chatfield stood besides the bridge deck windows, a small frown on her face. The two ethnic sides in the conflict, the Nor Liberator Front and the Nog Collective Party, had conducted a massive civil brawl that left much of the planet in shambles. Entire cities fell and entire populations were eradicated as chemical and biological weapons rained down on the planet. The Diamid, the highest ruling body on Hiigara, had voted to give both the Nogs and Nors economic and humanitarian assistance if they declared a ceasefire and maintained stability on the planet.

That was three and a half years ago. Captain Chatfield and her carrier, Inexorable, part of the Hiigaran 7th Tactical Battle Fleet, escorted by several frigate-class vessels, endured the two week voyage to Antares just to hold up the Hiigaran end of the bargain. However, Chatfield had been hailing the planet for nineteen hours, and there still hadn’t been any response.
Pacing impatiently on the bridge, she abruptly stopped and nodded at her communications officer. “Is it customary for the Antarreans to make us wait this long?”

A grin came onto the communications officer’s face. “Well, sir, it’s a matter of perspective. If threatened in any way, the Antarreans empirically have been known to react swiftly, usually through military means. However, their ruling body usually takes several months just to process a single routine policy.”

Chatfield sighed. “Very well, Lieutenant, hail the planet again and wait for a response.”

Although the captain already knew what the answer would be, and no etching of surprise came into her face when her communications officer replied, “No answer, sir.”

A voice drifted from the portside crew pit. “Captain Chatfield, sir, I’m getting strange readings from the planet’s surface.”

Hurrying over, Chatfield ordered, “Explain what you mean by ‘strange.’”

“Well sir,” the bridge officer responded, “According to our sensor readings, there is no a single person alive on Antares.”

Chatfield’s blood ran cold. “Confirm the readings, Ensign. I want a full spectral analysis of the planet’s surface with a full sensor scan of the system.”

The officer’s fingers fluttered across his terminal. “Yes, sir, I’m reading no life signs of any kind on the planet’s surface.” His voice broke for a second, and then continued, flabbergasted, “In fact, even all signs of bacteria have disappeared. There are no other ships within the system except for our taskforce.”

“Explanation for all of this?” Chatfield asked her second in command, who was now scowling in his chair.

“Science Department, run a full scan of the planet’s surface, I want to know what happened down there,” was his answer.

“You suspect something?” Chatfield whispered, taking her seat next to him.

“It’s just a hunch, but there have been rumors about this sort of event happening elsewhere in other systems, too,” he replied.

“Sir, sensors are detecting massive amounts of proton radiation located all along the planet’s atmosphere and surface.”

“Enough to wipe out the entire population?” Chatfield inquired.

“Yes, sir, that’s more than enough radiation to kill everything on the planet and make it stay that way for several hundred thousand years, sir,” was the reply.

“Is the radiation too high to sustain a trip down in a shuttlecraft?”

“Yes, sir, the radiation would rip through our armor in seconds.”

Chatfield turned her head incredulously to her first officer. At that moment, all hell broke loose.

On the right flank of the Inexorable, one of the escorting frigates disintegrated in a cataclysmic explosion of incandescent fury.

“Report!” Chatfield barked, jumping to her feet.

“I don’t know sir, there was just a massive energy discharge that hit the Sage Aven. It must have been fired from a cloaked ship; sensor reports cannot match weapons with any known species.”

Two more frigates simultaneously exploded into bright firestorms and then disappeared. Through the chaos, the ship finally decloaked. Chatfield squinted at the viewscreen out at it; there was no record of any ship quite like it existing.
All she got was one good look before the ship finally turned on the Inexorable itself.

“Polarize armor plating!” Chatfield yelled to the tactical station. It was no use; the opposing vessel’s pulse cannons easily cut through the Inexorable’s engine section. A massive shockwave rippled throughout the ship, and the resulting shuddering of forlorn steel bending threw Chatfield halfway across the bridge. As she picked herself up, drops of red dripped down from her head onto the cold metal deck below.

“Report!” she ordered, ignoring her injuries.

“We’ve lost all our engine power, sir, we’re completely separated from our engine core, and the gravity of Antares is pulling us in. We’re going to hit the atmosphere at a perpendicular angle, sir,” the voice came back, slightly panicked now.

Chatfield watched in horror as the bow of the Inexorable plunged into the hazy brown atmosphere of Antares. A massive shockwave ripped apart the bow, shattering half the ship and leaving debris skittering and skipping off the upper atmosphere. The bridge section was completely environment shielded, so they would survive the descent down the planet’s surface and the deadly radiation that waited below. Chatfield said silent prayers for the hundreds who perished elsewhere aboard the ship.

The middle section of the carrier, now burning and smoking profusely with debris trailing it and fluttering outwards like confetti, fell at reckless speeds towards earth.

[Justice]

Chapter 2


Panting in an exerted effort, Colonel William Hessler clenched his teeth together tightly and grimaced as a spasm of pain shot up his arm. Sparks flew as two swords flashed by and a metallic clash echoed eerily around his surroundings. For a
brief moment as the swords collided, a shower of sparks lit up the darkened landscape, allowing Hessler to catch another glimpse of the bright blue eyes of his opponent.

Lieutenant Jason Flaherty smiled to himself. His commanding officer had finally made a mistake. Feinting a blow to the underside, Flaherty instead delivered a strike to his opponent’s chest armor, just below the neck. The computer detected a hit and shrilled a loud whistling caution. Defeated, Hessler took off his helmet defiantly and tossed it away.

The Colonel grinned at his taller first officer. “Well, it seems you beat me, Mr. Flaherty.”

“No sir, I just get lucky,” was the response.

Hessler snorted out loud. “Come now, Lieutenant. Five losses on my part in the past three days? It’s either I’m getting worse or you’re getting better.”

“Computer, end program,” Flaherty called out, and the dark mountainous landscape suddenly disappeared. Instead, a large white-walled room took its place.

“You know, Lieutenant, we still have that interview to conduct with Sergeant Leonard Jacobson. We need an engineer for Platoon Hiigaran Star, and I think he would do the job nicely.”

The double doors leading out of the room now opened noisily and allowed the two of them to pass. “Yes, sir,” the Lieutenant replied, “I looked into his service record and it has been excellent. There isn’t a better person who knows our equipment in the rest of the fleet.”

They stepped out into the slightly cramped main hallway. “I wish they fixed the décor around here,” Hessler pronounced for the umpteenth time, “It feels like I walk into a prison each time I enter this blasted corridor.”

“Well sir, it is a marine frigate; would you expect better?”

“No,” Hessler conceded, “But I’ll tell you one thing – those Fleet designers snoozing happily at Hiigaran Naval Command sure didn’t design these things with much creature comfort in mind.”

Flaherty chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Well, sir, I’d like to see the day you knock heads politely with Fleet Command; either they’ll give you a promotion for being intelligent or just shoot you on the spot.”

Before the Colonel could respond to his first officer’s comment, Hessler’s command communications transceiver tooted an emergency pitch. Throwing a significant glance at Flaherty, Hessler detached the comtran from his belt and flicked the power lever with his thumb.

“Colonel Hessler here.”

“William,” a grave voice hailed him back. “This is Vice Admiral Michael Brandt. There’s a situation developing that requires our immediate attention – please join me aboard the Emancipator. We’re assembling all the squadron leaders for an emergency meeting.”

“Roger, I’m on my way.” And with that, he clipped the comtran back onto his belt.

Flaherty walked up to the nearest ship communications relay and palmed the transceiver. “Shuttlebay, prepare Shuttle Three for departure.”

The Colonel spun around to look Flaherty in the eye. “You carry on and conduct the interview with Jacobson, Lieutenant; I’ll go see what Brandt wants of us.” Hessler hurried to the nearest lift, taking him to the shuttle bay beneath the crew quarters on Deck 2, all the time wondering what exactly the Admiral was so worried about.

The shuttlebay doors opened raucously as Hessler stepped in front of the motion detectors, grimacing at the stench of mechanical grease and engine coolant that nearly bowled him over. One of the officers in the Shuttlebay wearing an Ensign’s insignia paused his welding of the ion engine nacelle of a shuttle and popped open his protective head shield. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Yes, Ensign; is Shuttle Three ready for departure?”

“Aye, sir, Shuttle Three is at your disposal.”

“Thank you, Ensign. As you were.”

The ensign nodded smartly, then continued with his repair work.

Hessler entered the shuttle through its portside door, primed the necessary startup and functional systems, and then radioed the ship’s bridge through the shuttle’s private comtran. “Shuttle Three to Bellicose, requesting permission to depart.”

“Colonel Hessler, this is the bridge. The light is green, have a safe flight.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Cohler.”

The whole room was thrown into a crimson mist color as warning klaxons sounded a depressurization was immanent. Bulkheads rose from the floor so that the other people working in the shuttlebay would not be exposed to the vacuum of space. Guide lights engaged on the floor in the blanket of red, feeding data to the shuttle’s onboard automatic pilot.

The shuttlebay control room released the docking clamps holding down the shuttle pod, and the oxygen was sucked out as the third shuttlebay door opened. Hessler checked to make sure all the systems were go, then gently eased power into the main maneuvering engines.

The shuttle smoothly cleared the launch ramp and eased through the shuttlebay doors into space, where the ventral section of the Bellicose’s bow could be seen. Hessler slid the shuttle through the two prongs at the front of the marine frigate, and when clear of the ship itself, he fired up the main sublight ion engines.

With a roar that shook the tiny craft, the shuttle accelerated rapidly shot to cruising speed. The 7th Tactical Battle Group was currently in the Palomin system conducting training maneuvers, so Hessler could see the majority of the fleet as he looked out the viewport. The shuttle passed the cloud of frigates surrounding the central formation of super-capital ships. The running lights of dozens of warships and carriers became more pronounced as Hessler steered the shuttle nearer to the armada of ships.

The flagship of the 7th Tactical Battle Group, the H.N.S. Emancipator, came into view as the shuttle cruised over the hull of the carrier Intrepid.

The shuttle’s comtran abruptly beeped and a modulated female voice filled the cockpit. “Shuttle, this is Emancipator launch control. Set your computer transponder frequency to 311.11. Prepare to power down and follow all landing procedures.”

“Roger, Emancipator launch control, changing transponder frequency to 311.11 and preparing to follow all landing protocols.”

“Copy that, shuttle, have a smooth flight in.”

The enormous Emancipator loomed in front of him. A new class of ship devised after the Vaygr Wars, the battleship combined elements of technology from the mighty H.N.S. Sajuuk, along with new advances in weapons, engines, and armor. The result was a ship three times as long and twice as wide as the standard battlecruiser, with over eight times the firepower and roughly the same speed. The 7th Tactical Battle Group, being a first-response group, maintained a healthy contingent of five of the uncommon titanic ships.

The docking bay doors of the Emancipator opened, and the shuttle passed through the magnetic field into the heart of the ship. Ten squadrons of pulsar corvettes were docked in the wall spaces, and a lively army of technicians swarmed over the ships. Azure blobs of molten metal sprayed over the deck as the technicians busily conducted repairs, patching up battle scars and upgrading new systems.

Several other shuttlepods were arrayed on the floor of the docking bay. Hessler assumed these shuttles came from the other officers in the fleet that the Vice Admiral had requested to attend an emergency meeting, and his intuition was confirmed as he set the shuttlepod down.

Scowling at the rancid mechanical odors once again, Hessler hurried over to the lift that would bring him to the officer’s observation lounge.

I still need to work on it more; two chapters out of like 60, dear god. I have my work cut out for me. There's about 3-4 more prolific writers participating in our creative writing program.

So there's your sneak peak.

:thumbsup: