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Pakkrat

Net-7 News Lead Anchors [N7LA]
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  1. Wolf's Daughter - Ch.II by Pakkrat II. The echoes of her clicking heels followed Joo Li, or 'Julie' as her friendlier peers like to name her, into the docking hangar of Swooping Eagle Planet's Yasuragi Station. She walked briskly, her heart swelled with the mission. It was an opportunity to rise in the ranks and perhaps enter the inner circle of the charismatic Du'Shao Silva. The transmission had been sent to active Shinwa everywhere. The mission was live, its directives clear. Julie recalled the final words of the Du'Shao. *Bring Wolfsdottir to Androzari where she can be kept safe and out of reach of the Sabine Order Reclaimers until we can urge the Jenquarum to call once more to the Progen Republic to pay for what they did to our beloved Jove City, show the galaxy that justice will be done, stop the jihad of the Mordane and bring home the Malefari. Then we will rise again as a true power in the galaxy.* No more hiding behind the protections of Sol Security or flying hidden under cloaking fields, appealed to Julie. With the capture of this girl, this AWOL Wolfsdottir, the Progen would not be able to deny the atrocities and war crimes. With the galactic public opinion swinging back to the Jenquai, bolstered by SolSec and splattered across the news nets, the Progen would be forced to halt their warmachine long enough to pay for their heinous sins. Ken'shao Joo Li addressed the Shinwa Jenquai Defenders who waited in a line for her orders. She was dressed in form-fitting leathers, feminine lamellar armor, and a light tunic of shimmering black silk. Her black hair was rolled and pinned with very sharp pins. A short-sword *wakizashi* curved along the small of her back horizontally just above her hips and hanging from her utility belt. She straightened to full height in formal and official declaration. "Shinwa! Defenders! Our mission is clear, peaceful, and will have wide-ranging effect across the galaxy if we are successful. And succeed we shall. Yet we must proceed swift and silent or lose our prey. The capture of the AWOL Defender, Wolfsdottir is top priority. She is a security threat until returned home. The entirety of the Shinwa are mobilized to this directive. We shall not fail." There were salutes, vows, and cheers as the pilots responded each to their liking. Julie let them bolster their patriotic and racial pride. Then she clapped her thinly gloved hands and pointed to the array of docked Jenquai Defender craft in the hangar, "To your ships! Honor to the Shinwa!" There was movement and soon entire wings of Defenders were undocked and issuing from Yasuragi Station into the skies above the lush and green of Swooping Eagle Planet. Leather on leather creaked as Ken'shao Joo Li settled into her own Defender's cockpit bridge. She whispered to her ship's computer which was keyed to listen to whispered commands. "Reactor online, engines start, engage devices and exit." * * * Across the galaxy and above the fiery rivers of flowing magma stood the towering Porvenir Mons on Endriago Planet. It was a spaceport station and home to the Progen Sabine Sentinels. From its red metal towers issued many Progen men and women running swiftly across the tarmac platforms to lines of docked spacecraft. Power umbilical lines were being detached by platform crews. One man watched as the Sabine Order mobilized. Magister Caius Hellstrom, Reclaimer of the Sabine Order walked from the observation deck as ship after ship of Sabine Sentinels unfurled their armored sails, lit their engines and swung about to make for the gate to planetary orbit. He was a huge, muscular Progen man, of quite a few iterations since his first birth during the Scouring of Terra. He had in each life served with distinction as a soldier, a diplomat, a scientist and a weapons maker before the cessation of the disenfranchised Collegia Forgemasters. Now in this iteration, due to a weapons mishap at the Romulus Cannon in Mars sector, he had answered the Call Forward to serve as a Reclaimer and Caius meant to distinguish himself to Vinda and join with her Magisters Magna. Hellstrom recalled the orders handed to him on a data tablet by Magister Constantinus. *It has been confirmed that there is a theft of high-security genes from the Progen Republic. We have a confession from an inmate of Detention Center Onorom. A Jenquai Defender who goes by the name of Wolfsdottir has them. She is to be captured and sent there for processing. Should she fail to surrender, the Defender is to be Reclaimed however you see fit. Now go.* Thus, Caius Hellstrom made for his vessel, the Helldiver, a Sabine Sentinel craft same as the others before his departure. It was a proud Progen red with angry orange and yellow flamed hull and wings with copper sails. Against the flowing glow from the rivers of fire, the vessel looked a spawn of Earth's mythical Hell itself. As his vessel powered up and its engines revved up, he mused as he slugged Pro-Vod vodka, "I hope I am there when she refuses to surrender, the little bitch." Hellstrom wanted the kill. He wanted to be the one to slam the girl's head on the desk of Constantinus and in front of Vinda. It was Vinda he wanted to impress, not just her right-hand man. If this girl were so important, why did Constantinus not lead this force himself? Bureaucratic coward. Caius then decided that he could rise the ladder and stand beside the one woman in the entire Progen Republic that Hellstrom found worthy of applying for procreation permissions. He lusted for Vinda. * * * Pakkratius knew that she had spotted him following her sectors of space ago. His freshly-painted, glossy-white and sailed ship was not easily missed in the inky black of Blackbeard's Wake. It then stood out like an advertisement outpost against the drab Inverness sector. She was leading him into Terran space on purpose to confirm that he was following her. Even a scan-blinded Centuriata could spot his *Culler* contrasting the nebulous green of Aganju, 61Cygni. The Sentinel was at the apex of his career and the engines and systems modifications he had collected over the years would allow him to overtake the girl's Defender. She had to be into her second career trimester, as fast as her ship was moving. At warp she still hugged nav 'corners' like she was in a race. Pakkratius asked himself, could she be testing him? With such a remote locale, she might turn on him with those DigiApogee beam weapons out here where none would care that a Sentinel and a Defender tangled, so long as the rest of the Crystal Age was not upset by a solitary altercation. But the *Warchild*, the girl's vessel, swerved and continued at its maximum warp. It's warp cone was a proud pink and purple as it bent space around it. His own *Culler* merely hummed along behind her, the engine calmly awaiting orders to go to maximum warp. But the Doctor did not want to overtake the Defender. She was behaving just as he wanted. Though this was Terran space, it was a frontier and that's how Pakkratius wanted it. Over his shoulders in the bridge-like cockpit's darkness, the many systems and devices glowed, pulsed, and even to some extent lived in their cradles, conduit attachments, and mounts. The darkness of his cockpit was in opposition to the sterile white of the ship's exterior. The deck floor was swath with cables, power conduits, connectors, network lines, coolant tubes. In all and in the dimness, they made the vessel look as if serpents lived in the Sabine Sentinel. Each device was an ornament to the darkness, a decoration to the inhumanity each represented. As strange and alien each was to the pilot and to each other, captured and coupled to the Progen vessel, the marriage was a technological nightmare. Yet it worked and he made sure it worked well. Each ancient artifact, AI-designed device, necromantic bio-weapon, and prototype system from various corners of the galaxy had been gathered with care and secrecy by many who had no clue what they brought to the thankful Sabine Doctor of the Call Forward. The collection was an unholy temple to inhumanity. In this arcane way, Dr. Pakkratius was quite sure he could hold his own should the Warchild stop and turn on the *Culler*. Here in Aganju, 61Cygni A, a battle would be glossed over by the local Terran authorities as just another battle between some Psis and Terrans, a hunt for nommos biologicals, or another challenger to the presence of Warship Genesis, the ever-present Progen captial ship of none other than Trimarch Anjuren Kahn. Yet that day the girl looked at his offered hand, refused with a sneer and picked herself off the deck of Paramis station, he admired her for self-sufficiency and determination at such a young age. The *Warchild* was deep into Aganju sector when it slowed to impulse and turned to face the following *Culler*. The Defender ship trained its weapons on the incoming Sentinel. Pakkratius was almost caught over-shooting her position, but he had dis-engaged his warp drive just in time to put the two vessels bow to bow in space. His short range communications lit up. She was hailing him. Putting on his best news anchor smile, Pakkratius answered the hail, "Dr. Pakkratius of the Sabine Order Sentinel ship *Culler*. How can I help you?' Her voice was young, clipped, and she chose small words. "What are you doing, Progen? Are you following me?" the image of Wolfsdottir asked. "Oh," Pakkratius tried to act surprised. "Was I following too closely?" "For three whole sectors, Progen," the girl answered. "You itchin' for a fight or something? Can't find a better target for your explorer ship?" "Far from it," answered the Sentinel. "I am a correspondent for Net-7 News. I'd like to interview you as you seem so interesting." It was a half-truth, but he had very little time to think of how to approach her properly. "Pakkratius, Anchor for Net-7 News, how do you do?" "I don't watch the news," she said, her face betraying impatience. "Well, the news watches you and the rest of the galaxy," said Pakkratius. "Can we find a station where I won't have to pick you up off the deck so we can have an interview?" The girl seemed to consider the Reporter's offer for a few seconds. Just as Pakkratius was becoming hopeful, the Jenquai said, "No." Somewhat dejected but not put out entirely, the Sentinel asked why. "I'm busy." It was a lie given what Pakkratius had gleaned about her. "Come now," he pleaded, "surely there's something very interesting about you that I could learn, yes?" Wolfsdottir's smile was not one of a girl who had just been complimented. It was a smile that held an idea to shake off the white Sentinel following her Defender ship. One of her hands came up to wave goodbye to Pakkratius while the other engaged a control off-screen in her cockpit bridge. The computer's voice came over the comm connection, "Cloaking engaged." The *Warchild* began to shimmer into reflectivity, fading from view as it bent all light and radiations about its hull. The effect made her vessel at first a visual distortion before melding with the depths of emerald Aganju space behind it. Fully cloaked after a few seconds, it was gone from sight and sensors. He assumed Wolfsdottir would creep away at impulse, so Pakkratius had time to react, "Oh no you don't. I've never lost a good story yet." The Agrippa Technologies Skirmish Omega, though always active was passively sitting ready in the back of the bridge, connected to the promethean Unabating Fire engine and awaiting activation of its full capabilities. Pakkratius, a graduate of Agrippa Tech's strange curriculum and maze-work of bureaucracy, had built this signature defensive shield himself as a final exam to the Collegia-backed research and development company's core systems courses. He had ground down months of applications, testing, gopher transit many times across known human space to enter Agrippa's line of prototype technologies. The coursework was a maddening trek through the minds of not only Imperator Agrippa, but also the subordinate female clones called the Architechti. But in the end, the shield, its plans and lesser variations were his to use. Now it sat in a shield cradle-mount on the bridge of the Culler. The Doctor reached back and levered the switch corresponding to the Skirmish Omega. Power flowed from the reactor through the *Culler* to the shield core system. Instantly the hex-grid view ports of his ship glowed along their lines a deep red, meshing in synchronicity with the shield matrix. He scanned his immediate area again and found the *Warchild* already several clicks and leaving. Though the Jenquai Defender's cloaking systems were impressive, its neutrino fields bending all radiation around its sleek hull and hiding it from all visual, aural, and electromagnetic bands; it could not deny that still had mass. The new gravitic calibrations of the Skirmish Omega to the ship's sensors picked up the tiny gravity well of the small ship and its space-bending wake as it retreated from the Sentinel ship. Pakkratius wheeled his sailed vessel around and impulse thrust in order to catch up with her. "You don't get to sneak off from Net-7 New-..." Pakkratius was cut off from finishing his declaration when his ship's shields lit up from several direct strikes from various beams. His proximity alarm rang and he silenced it to check his radar. Another volley of beams struck his shields, rocking the *Culler*. Having to turn from the *Warchild* to defend himself, Pakkratius faced the threats while counting their number. It was quickly clear it was seven to his one. The strangely-modified Terran designs darted at the Sentinel from the frozen ice asteroids floating this deep into Aganju sector. Perhaps, he thought, these Terrans wanted to break up the standoff between him and Wolfsdottir? He had little time as the bogeys fired a third time, testing his defenses from different angles. "Um, a little help here, Jenquai," Pakkratius called as his ship's Repulsor Field came online to serve up some retribution to the attackers. He began thrusting his own impulse maneuvers to single out a target. His mix of projectile weaponry hammered, spat, gauss-ed, and blazed its ordinance at the first target. * * * Dot saw the ambush in her rear view monitor. The white Sentinel was in some danger though her sensors showed that the Culler's shields were still holding for now. If only he would just freewarp away, though the ex-Defender. *Might be good sport*, thought another part of Wolfsdottir. *He needs help*, answered the former Sev Tushnim. The girl scanned the attackers with her Sundari Telescopium device. Details on the attackers soon arrived. Coupled with her tactical training as a Jenquai Defender, her term of service with the Sev Tushnim, and seeing the analysis on her targeting monitor, Dot was able to identify the darting ships assaulting the Progen. The database called the former Terran drones 'Outlings', mysteriously similar to mining-robot ships. These however were emitting something she knew the Pakkratius in the *Culler* was ignorant. These drone ships were speaking to each other mentally. They used no radio nor tight-beam communications. They were thinking to each other! In her education, though she had no gift of it herself, Dot had learned to be sensitive to telepathic Jenquai who thought first and spoke afterwards. No telepath was she, but many times she had conversed with telepaths contacting her politely. By holding thought answers in her mind, Dot had learned to listen and communicate after receiving telepathic sendings, much as she had done aboard Paramis Station recently. The synchronicity of all the telepathic minds in the seven drone Outlings was unnerving and inhuman. They thought and communicated as one. Glancing at her scanners again, Dot registered no signs of heartbeat nor other signs of human physiognomy. Yet these drones were telepathically communicating in a neural network of thought! The Progen was in danger. These drones, weak as they were individually with mere focused mining lasers, were acting in perfect coordination as they swarmed his ship. Wolfsdottir's first reaction was one aligned with the We Who Serve In Silence, that is to help unconditionally those in need. But Dot had done her time, served her fair share. Now that she was Kaojin, this should not matter to her. It was simple law of the black depths of space that this Progen would fall prey somewhere, sometime. Besides, this was unreal and *maya*. She should remain detached from others' plight. In addition, this was her chance to fully escape the Reporter if she just kept quiet and moved on. A stargate was nearby. If she stayed cloaked, the drones might miss her and she could seek egress to the next connected sector of space. Wolfsdottir found herself torn on what to do. Would he let her go her way if she helped him? He had asked her for help. He could have broadcast a request for aid,but did not. He did not want help from the sector's Terran population. He wanted her help. And the Progen was polite enough to say 'please'. Dot had never before hesitated this long in deciding between her experience in the Sev Tushnim and her new found freedom as a fledgling Kaojin. She was still a Defender, despite her quitting the Shinwa. She sighed in resignation. It was the remembered offer of his helping hand back at Paramis that won her. Dot swung her cloaked vessel around and engaged in the battle with the Outling drones. As she approached the swarming ships, she focused her will through another onboard system in the *Warchild*. The system responded by channelling that will through the ship's shield projectors with a boost of energy from the reactor. A dodecahedral field of blue, shell-like energy expanded outward from her ship and enveloped it completely just beyond the Defender's shields. This not only spoiled her stealthy cloak, but the psionic energies caught the attention of the Outlings. The first and nearest Outling to turn on her got a full dose of her ship's prototype plasma beams. The smoking lines of plasma lit up the smallish drones with energy that then behaved like matter upon striking their shields. Energy crackled and rippled over the Outlings. As her beams cycled to recharge for another volley, Dot took time to check on the Progen. The white, sailed vessel's attackers swung to face the new psionic threat, a Jenquai Defender. She assumed they must have been attracted to psionic-focusing systems to suddenly be interested in her. "You're not going anywhere," came the voice of the Pakkratius. A black and brown, dissonant pulse emanated from his Sentinel ship's sails to culminate into a thick beam that lanced outward to strike the nearest Outling bearing down on the *Warchild*. Instantly a gravity well paralyzed the drone in a field of immobility. The amplified mass of the drone's hull was too much for its engines to compensate and so the drone merely drifted where it was. Though it could spin on its axes, the main engines for the Outlings were temporarily useless to push the bulk of its mass. The white Sentinel ship continued hammering the drones that had turned their aft sections to him in interest of the psionic shell over the Jenquai Defender. "So you are hungry for the gifted, yes?" Dot asked the attackers who were flexing their claw manipulators and firing their mining beams. Her third set of beams tore into the first paralyzed attacker and it melted instantly at the touch of too much plasma in contact with its engines already at maximum impulse. The engine tore loose from the molten hull and shot off past the Defender as she spun to target the next Outling. It was then she felt the mind inside the Outling 'die'. Its mental sendings merely ceased in mid-thought as its hull broke down at the molecular level throughout its structure. Its presence in the neural network of minds was hardly missed as the others continued to close. Mining beams flashed as she listened to their sendings. *Psionic mind detected. Liberate it at once and add it to our own.* That directive did not conceptualize well as she saw their intentions to remove her brain to a preservation case and implant it into a newly created drone. That is what the network of minds meant by 'liberate'. The sending concept was fast but it, in translation to Dot, unpacked itself into a full meaning. Considering the intent behind it, the Defender did not like that one bit. *Save it, preserve it, liberate it.* Before the last drone could fire a second beam at the Defender's Psionic shell, its aft shields collapsed and was penetrated by many impact rounds of the *Culler's* huge projectile cannons. Dot had seen more than a few times the devastating power of Progen weaponry. But this Sentinel was not using Progen technology in its guns as far as she could tell. The Pakkratius was sporting four very non-Progen projectiles. As they tore into the Outling and ripped at its hull, she marveled at the power behind them. Rather than stopping to cycle, the Sabine merely swung the arcing trajectory of ordinance over to the nearest drone target. The varied plasma rounds, caustic chemical rounds, and slamming impact rounds began work on the next victim. Two of the cannons on the *Culler*, for she had read the white ship's name, were strange amalgamation of flesh, scales, bone tube materials, and repeatedly spat an amber globule surrounding a dart-like crystal tooth at its target. Another weapon hissed black and purple rounds from its fat and short muzzle. On its side was a skull and crossbones motif image, the classical symbol of pirates. Last of the four weapons was a multi-barrelled machine that streamed an eager line of crystal shards coated with a thin, streaming haze of purple plasma. The variety of weapons coupled with a mix of ordinance was utterly with out pattern in Dot's eyes. This Progen was hardly using Progen systems at all as far as the Defender could tell. The combination was alien to the ex-Shinwa. To her it lacked all symmetry, form, rhyme or reason. Yet the weaponry tore into the second drone in seconds and shattered another 'dying' Outling. Just as the swarming few drones left began to shatter her Psionic shell, Dot's beams spoke again, a screaming and searing tear of energy-matter called plasma. Her weaponry did not rely on the need for ammunition. They were powered directly from the onboard reactor. By now, she was passing through their incoming stragglers and advancing to the Pakkratius' ship. Nimble and deftly she dodged the grasping appendages and the lines of the searchlight beams. Lasers went wildly into the night of space. The five remaining swung about again to come face to face with the largest demonic holographic ever projected outside of a Nova Gladiator Games arena. "You remember fear?" yelled the Pakkratius in questioning challenge to the attackers. Dot's mental listening caught the emotional surprise, jolted fear of the projection, and a renewed, almost forgotten experience of panic poisoning the neural network of the five remaining minds. *Flee! Re-group and gather reinforcements!* The mining drones turned as one and sought escape from the menacing projection from the white, sailed ship that had no psionic signature. Towards the fields of ice asteroids they flew in desperate attempt to escape the fearsome space *daemon* that now threatened. Dot noticed that the Reporter ceased his weapons fire and turned on her. "Are you okay?" the Pakkratius asked her over the still-open signal. "Fine," Dot answered now wanting to be quit except for what she knew of the drones' eagerness to return in force and harvest her psionic brain. Watching her shield matrix regenerate, she said, "They're coming back. You need to go." "Smart girl," said the Reporter. "After you, my dear. They did seem to like you more than I after you re-appeared." He was only intending to follow her more, she told herself. He could see her cloaked ship, keep up with her warp speeds, and could withstand far more damage than her *Warchild*. He was not going to leave her alone, Dot decided. Sighing, Dot said, "Annoying Reporter, you can have your stupid interview for all it's worth, if you promise to leave me alone after you do it." "Agreed," came the reply from the Pakkratius. He began to gesture over the image comm, to his right wing position, but Dot cut him off. "I drive," she said flatly. The Pakkratius shrugged and smiled warmly back to her. It was the first time in a long while that anyone had genuinely smiled at her. When his white *Culler* pulled up beside her sleek vessel, she transmitted the signal that 'sung' the nearby stargate to open and activate its wormhole. As the hexagonal rings slid, spun, and flipped into place, Dot spotted another, larger swarm of Outlings issuing forth from the ice asteroid fields. They were closing fast. But then the blue, artificial wormhole fields illuminated the Defender and the Sentinel ships. Slipping into the space-tunnelling fields, the formed vessels left the Outlings swarming the closing rings in Aganju sector, unable to follow. * * * Pakkratius liked not having to 'drive', the act of piloting the lead position in a formation. It allowed him to lock his piloting controls with Wolfsdottir's ship and sit back to watch. She let them through the gate into a sector of 61Cygni named Moto. Moto, as the Doctor perused the sector's history in his onboard computer, was a newer territory within the binary solar system of 61 Cygni. It was much closer to the Cygni B star and hindered with dense nebulae and hazardous, naturally-occurring gravity wells. However, the sector was the corridor between the two halves of the system and a vital passage between the two stars. InfinitiCorp had long laid claim in the name of Terrans to the entirety of 61Cygni, but had yet to completely stake out and make good on their frontier. The megacorporation's chief Terran rival, the Good Earth Trading Company, or GETCo for short, had been quietly left out of any opportunities to expand into 61Cygni. Thus, to settle the score, GETCo had built, using InfinitiGate technologies, a sector gate into Cygni B. They then decided to spice up the system by inviting the Progen Sabine Order to explore that end of the solar system ahead of InfinitiCorp who were still setting up shop in mineral-rich Aganju. Naturally, when the Sabine Order came into contact with InfinitiCorp in Moto, both were surprised to find the other present in what was thought to be a Terran-claimed system. There was fighting which drew in the military wings of both races, namely EarthCorps and the Centuriata. After much failed diplomacy, the corridor zone of Moto became a contested battleground which only seemed to benefit GETCo. InfinitiCorp lost potential territory and never wanted the conflict as did the Sabine Order Sentinels. Now the sector called Moto was a demilitarised zone with entrenched forces still conflicting and pouring more fuel to the fire. Today, neither Terrans or Progen could take advantage of the resources Cygni B had to offer because neither the Centuriata or EarthCorps would stand down. InfinitiCorp kept its stance that the entire system belonged to them, yet saw no profit in retaking and losing a corridor sector repeatedly on a daily basis. The Sabine in turn looked to other interests such as far off Aragoth system at the behest of their leader Vinda. Still the Terrans funded EarthCorps under the flag of the "Terran Alliance". Similarly, the Progen Combine was formed to meet the challenge. The two subsidiaries continued to clash for reasons Net-7 had grown tired of covering on the galactic broadcast. It was rumored that a third party, called the Glenn Commission was drafting a peace compromise proposal. As the *Warchild* and the *Culler* approached the rear camps of Terran fleets, Pakkratius signalled to Wolfsdottir, "You do know where we are, right?" "Moto," Wolfsdottir answered uncaring. "Terrans fighting you Progen. Neither cares about us so long as we don't start shooting too." "Yes, but that is a war-zone, Jenquai," Pakkratius tried to explain. "We can still get hit unintentionally." "You might," the girl answered as she gunned her vessel into higher speeds afforded by the engines and devices in his repertoire. Pakkratius returned to stare ahead at the battling fleets of the Terran Alliance and the Progen Combine. The conflict had already been given a name: the Cygni Wars, though only locally as of yet. The formation was closing fast on the Terran front line. She meant to do it, the Wolfsdottir. Showing no signs of slowing or diverting through the many gravity wells of the spatial corridor, the Defender girl meant to dive right through the ongoing battle. Pakkratius looked at his active devices installed and empowered while the formation came closer and closer. While he was well equipped to handle quite a bit of abuse, his current configuration was skewed for speed of travel, not combat. She could drive a paternal unit to drink, thought the Doctor as he reached for a half-empty bottle of Pro-Vod Vokda. He had started drinking more often after the adventure his clone brother, Pakkrateus had undergone. The first sign of true danger were the streams of projectiles issuing from various classes of ships from the opposing Progen line. It was likened to seeing a living web of ordinance sailing across the distance to pelt Terran ships. Next was the spectacular explosions of huge missiles upon the Progen fleet. Fleet maneuvers were tried as capital ships slid by each other and swarmed by fighters of all classes. *She's trying to get me to break off and turn around*, thought the Pakkratius. "You sure you want to fly through this, girl?" he asked. On the visual link, the white-haired girl looked dead ahead and worked her controls. "I am the folding fan," Wolfsdottir said seemingly more to herself. Ancient oriental music, which could be heard over the comm, played in her cockpit as she began the first of many evasive maneuvers. The Sentinel could only drink and watch with white knuckle grip on his controls as the formation shot through the first areas of the Cygni Wars. As a safety precaution, the Sentinel re-routed some of his reactor power to his Jumpstart capacitors. Probably the only vessel in the sector that could come back online from dereliction, Pakkratius was not in any mood to take chances should the *Culler* become incapacitated. He prayed to Vita Theodora, the Progen mother-in-spirit, that he would not need the precaution. Dives, curving circles, hi-gee swerves, loops, jinking, and Immelman maneuvers shoved the Sentinel every direction in his chair harness. Though in his career the Doctor had added extensive modification to his ship for speed and combat ability, it never ceased to amaze him how maneuverable the Jenquai Defenders were. Unable to go to warp through the battlefield for fear of hitting a capital ship or get mired in a gravity well, the formation had to navigate the conflict at impulse speeds. They had no business in this sector and the battling ships on both sides signalled to the Defender and Sentinel such again and again. The Sabine tried to shrug his shoulders at the vid-comm apologetically, to no avail. Two intruders were likely to become bystander casualties of either side's weaponry. Still, Wolfsdottir flew past the Terran and Progen ships as ordinance exploded all around with tremendous force. One such missile blast, while its ejecta splattered over his vessel's shielding, rattled the plated sails of the Culler. He winced as he looked over to his defensive panel to his right on the bridge. It would take many precious seconds before the Skirmish Omega shield generator could recover and renew its matrix so long as no more hits as big as that one happened. And still the girl drove the formation onward with maniacal turns, swerves, corkscrews and power-dives. Though he had many tangles with space fauna, pirates and entities across the galaxy, the Pakkratius never felt himself a warrior. Far from it, the explorer-class Sentinel saw far more use breaking up asteroids in mining. Thus the combination of maneuvers, watching the battle at the same time and not being fully at the helm was sickening to him. Had he been prepared with the right combination of devices, the Sentinel might weather this maddening passage better. A huge explosion filled the Doctor's view as it illuminated his darkened bridge area. Wolfsdottir did not swerve or pull up and out of its cloud. The Sentinel took a last look at his shield matrix before the formation dived into the billowing plasma. "Warning: Shield matrix at twenty-five percent," came the computer's simulated female voice. Next heard was a crackling and sizzling about the entire ship. Large globules of the plasma shook the hull. "I don't need impress-," the nervous Progen man was cut off by the formation's emergence from the bright purple cloud to a wall of capital ship just beyond it. There was no time to turn, pull up or stop at this speed. His ship's NOS device was boosting the two ships' impulse far too much to slow before the formation would collide with the huge red armor of the Pax vessel. The Pakkratius gritted his teeth as his entire iteration flashed before his eyes on the crimson hull ahead. His muscles tensed. At least he had his boots on and a shot of vodka in him at the time of this death. It was his last thought as- "Fold," came the calm voice of the Jenquai Defender beside the Sabine Sentinel. Pink and purple energies erupted from the Defender class vessel and enveloped the entire formation. Instantly, the two were nowhere as space was folded, just a little, then unfolded just as quickly. The formation re-materialized several clicks on the far side of the Pax capital ship. Conservation of Momentum laws kept their promise and the two tiny ships rocketed away unharmed. The Doctor had not looked away. Progen, via gene immortality and out of habit watched their impending deaths. Thus the Pakkratius saw the pink-and-purple flash of the teleportation. One moment, he was seeing his ship's reflection in the wall of hull armor. The next, he saw the open space, almost as if he had speedily passed through the Pax to the other side. Still in shock and surprise, he looked out his bridge viewports at the *Warchild*. The Pakkratius could almost feel her grinning at him. Wormholes both natural and temporary, acceleration gates, Ancient gates and constructed gates, the Sentinel had been through them all. But never before had he been the recipient of teleportation. The fabled space-folding abilities were so rarely seen in Jenquai Defenders, that it was almost a myth to Progen. Twice in one week the Jenquai race had frightened him halfway to his next iteration. He imagined the Reclaimers standing over his dead form, putting in their report, "Died of Fright". The Sabine steeled himself from chastising a young, teenage girl, thus fully admitting he was surprised, impressed, bewildered, and a slew of other emotions the Reporter in him kept feeding into this amazing scoop he was now entangled. Instead he smiled a relieved smile at her and said, "Nice touch." Wolfsdottir beamed over the vid-comm back at him, the same cunning and feral smile of a Jenquai girl caught with her hand in a dessert dispenser. Having broken through the Progen line of battle, something not easily done, the pair continued from the main battle exchanges toward the Progen rear. The Combine paid little attention though they did verbally protest the presence of a Jenquai well out of its element here in Moto, 61Cygni. Of the white Sabine Sentinel, they commented little having read his ship's IFF transponder and press agency neutrality beacon. It was as always, the disdain for media-types and the Net-7 News Reporter was no exception, even if he was an anchorman in the field. Still wet with Progen apathy, the formation continued to the distant InfinitiGate that leapt across the galaxy to connect with Progen space. They passed the Combine command ship, the fearsome Pax Remar, under the command authority the famous Anjuren Kahn of the Centuriata. Silent dismissal greeted the two small ships as they glided over the length and width of the massive capital ship. Ahead lay the exit from a war that showed little sign of letting up any time soon. * * * Caius Hellstrom received the signal as he was the closest Sabine in-the-know. It was a Sabine-coded masercom beam that he had answered from the unlikely Pax Remar. He had answered it with mild reluctance. The Signifier that was attached to the Combine warship appeared and gave report that a Jenquai Defender similar configuration to the wanted Wolfsdottir had penetrated the demilitarised zone of Moto and was soon to enter Altair III. The Sentinel Caius did not forward the masercom. Rather, he pocketed this new tip and thanked the Signifier attache. With his squadron so close to Altair system, he decided to let the majority of the Sabine Order to continue to spread its search perimeter in other directions. The system gate to Altair was just ahead here in Endriago. His patience in letting other eager Sabine rush forward to glory was about to pay off. In his new rush towards Altair, he had cut off the last of the Signifier's report rudely. Hellstrom missed that the Wolfsdottir was being escorted by a white Sabine Sentinel with the logo markings of Net-7 News. * * * The Shinwa had spread out from Sirius system to nearly encompass Capella system and the many memorials of Jupiter sector, Sol. Ken'shao Julie had been systematic and thorough as she stationed her Defenders just off key navigation points, hidden under cloaking fields and passively scanning the space-lanes. If the deserter showed her hull in Jenquai space, the Defenders were to tail her until enough numbers were gathered to overtake and capture her. She led the search pattern's front edge. The Ken'shao wanted to be the first to spot Wolfsdottir. Currently she was spreading further into Saturn sector. Soon there would be nowhere the AWOL girl could go through neutral Sol that the Jenquai could not spot her. The search was not without hurdles. Covering Saturn sector from both Jupiter sector and the system gate to Beta Hydri attracted the attention of the galaxy's most trusted news source. Net-7 News was very difficult to slip past and Julie was thankful that at the moment Wolfsdottir was not present. A news frigate pulled up and signalled Ken'shao Joo Li. "Hailing the Shinwa Defenders, this is anchorwoman Zona Mason of Net-7 News." Ken'shao Joo Li of the Shinwa put on her best public face before the media with, "Ken'shao Joo Li. Salutations to Net-7 News. What can the Shinwa help you with, Ms. Mason?" "Oh, we were just in the sector, ha-ha," said the anchorwoman, "and noticed the increased presence of Defenders in Net-7 News home sector of Saturn. Care to make a statement on that, ma'am?" "We Shinwa are mobilised to further be of aid to the galaxy," Joo Li half-lied, knowing that Mason would dig and dig for at least a statement. "Oh, interesting that there are so many Defenders available, ma'am," noted Mason publicly. Ken'shao Joo Li looked at the woman on the vid-comm. The Terran woman was dressed in her on-camera best suit, her hair up and proper. She was making notes and pressing controls rapidly on a data-tablet, no doubt to Joo Li that she was inputting spin and sensationalism to the encounter despite the verbal aspect. Though the Jenquai had personally never met the famous Zona Mason, anchorwoman on every galactic broadcast, Mason was known for digging for gossip and social stories. Mason, to Joo Li's mind, must be seeking some foothold on the Jenquai arm of the galaxy. To date, there was only one Net-7 News correspondent put forth by the xenophobic Jenquai race. Terrans talked too much and most of what they said was a waste of mental energy to the Ken'shao. "Rest assured that we Shinwa are often available to lend aid when and where least expected," Joo Li gave her best mission statement to the press. "Now, I must be off. Thank you for your time." "Can you tell me-," Zona Mason to extend the interview, but was cut off by the disappearance of the Shinwa. Some Jenquai ships slipped into invisibility of cloaking fields while others were Summoned by the space-folding abilities from across the sector. Julie's Defender craft merely folded space just beyond the huge Net-7 News frigate. Before the frigate could swing around, she was well into a warp cone and speeding away. She could hear over sector broadcast channels as Mason concluded the interview. "All of the Shinwa are out on helpful maneuvers across Jenquai space and Sol. For Net-7 News, this is your anchor, Zona Mason." The musical jingle of the newscorp played before the commercial broadcasts began.
  2. Wolf's Daughter - Ch. I by Pakkrat I. Magister Magna Dr. Pakkratius walked about the space station, looking at everything as he found its correlating feature in the data tablet he carried. Though the construction was superb and the exotic location was interesting, it was the history of Paramis Station that he studied. As he moved through the docking hangar and into the commons section of the station, he read the history of the former pirate facility. Using Sho'ta'kan technologies, Paramis Station was built in the ominous vicinity of nearby black holes in what was later named Smugglers Run. As the station changed hands from the Sho'ta'kan to the Red Dragon pirate tongs, the station saw much traffic. But over time, better smuggling routes were chosen and the station was in jeopardy of neglect. Though it was under the table, the station was bought, or at the very least licensed, by NET-7 SOL and its newscorp, Net-7 News. Now the station was a communications affiliate with the parent entity. Though still mainly used as a waystation to the Aragoth system, Paramis sector was slowly eroding in traffic as more communications gear was imported and brought online. The news source wanted a staging point for reporting the goings-on in pirate space. Pakkratius looked up from his data tablet. The history of this station was unique, but it was rapidly becoming boring. This would be nothing worthy of putting on the headlines of Net-7 News. Paramis Station, though interesting, was a waste in sensationalising. The viewers would be sorry they turned on the news program if they saw this. With a sigh, Pakkratius shut off the data tablet. Looking about the commons area for something better to do, Dr. Pakkratius saw a Talon pirate speaking with what must have been a very young Jenquai girl. He was rejecting some request of hers. It was most likely another pirate hopeful who wanted to join with the criminal elements of Smugglers' Run. The Talons were a splinter group off the mainstream Tongs of the Red Dragon. They believed in a more draconic and merciless view of the galaxy's piracy. They held the beliefs and worldview of an ancient Earth sea pirate Edward Teach, or the infamous Blackbeard, to be sacred. The Talons had taken up a psychological and brutal means of operations. It appeared now that this Talon speaking with the young teenager Jenquai, felt that little girls had no place in piracy. "Be off, girl!" he told her, his voiced raised to better shun her. "This is no place for the weak and the young." Pakkratius looked again at the Jenquai girl. She was dressed in obvious Progen red colors, a top that bared her shoulders and midriff while a wrap skirt was belted on by a utility belt housing two wicked knives. The girl's only jewelry was a platinum metal collar that did not fit her and sat on her collar bones. Her wild silver-tipped white hair was nothing of the styles of the Jenquai women the Reporter had ever seen. She stood barely above five feet, her short boots lending her perhaps two inches. With her back to Pakkratius, he could not see her face. It was her stance that showed anger. She continued to protest that she was ready for piracy in Smugglers Run. The pirate, a rogue Progen by race, shooed her again, "For the last time girl, begone." To accent his rejection he shoved her away with a large hand. It shoved her harder than the pirate had intended causing the girl to stumble and fall to the deck. Pakkratius stepped over to the fallen girl. She was beginning to pick herself off the deck as he extended a hand down to her. The girl saw the offered hand up and sneered with a little girl's growl. Refusing the help, she stalked off after standing and brushing off her long red sleeves and skirt. Pakkratius shrugged and turned on the Talon who had already ignored the girl for other matters. Scowling at the now disinterested pirate, the Doctor decided that a Talon was not worth making a scene. Life was harsh and crude here at Paramis Station. Pakkratius left for the hangar again to check on his ship, the *Culler*. His Sentinel ship was parked in the drydock of the hangar. Upon his arrival earlier, the Net-7 technicians had produced orders for field Reporters' ships. The newscorp had mandated new modifications for their frigate fleet and all other ships of field correspondents. Pakkratius watched as the aft sides of his Sentinel ship's sails were coated with a layer of white paint mixed with manes essence. The new lining was developed to turn the backside of the sails into a dish-like antenna so as to receive and transmit immense masercom beams to the nearest starbase, Net-7 beacon, another news frigate, or directly to NET-7 SOL in Saturn. With the sails' concave shape and folding nature, the Progen Sentinel was an excellent candidate for the new systems being loaded onboard to better communicate with the newscorp no matter how distant from Sol system the ship travelled. The upgrades in communication were taking longer than the Doctor wanted. He was impatient to be off again to find a better scoop for the news feeds. After his younger clone brother, the now-Imperator Pakkrateus had his adventure, the news coverage of the story had vaulted Dr. Pakkratius from a run-of-the-line Reporter and field correspondent to the new heights of Anchorman on the nightly news transmission. This of course put him in direct competition with the Terran anchorwoman, the famous Zona Mason. She loathed his climb to a seat beside her on the nightly news. It was written in her face every time she had to introduce him for a story. The two were polite on camera, but he felt her ire after each show. Pakkratius noted that Mason's reporting style was geared for social gossip and sensational entertainment. She focused on various famous personalities, the movers and the shakers of the galaxy. An incurable gossip, Zona Mason flit from various upper echelon starbases and planets to come in contact with the upper crust of galactic society. This was in sharp contrast to the Dr. Pakkratius who to her was a peasant among Net-7 News employees. He seemed to repeatedly eclipse her exposes with reports of violence and daring heroics that spanned humanity's galaxy. He was a champion of the common citizen with his grass-roots reporting. Thus, while his career was climbing the ladder as a Reporter and Anchor-'rat', it put Dr. Pakkratius in direct competition with Zona Mason. This struggle with her made for a challenge yes, but in the Progen Sentinel's eyes, it need not be so masked in on-camera politic and pomp. She hated him and he knew it. Other Net-7 correspondents seemed to find the adversarial production amusing, a story unto itself. Now the Doctor needed a new and fresh scoop on a story or else she would be the one to eclipse him on the next broadcast. The Sabine Sentinel Dr. Pakkratius rounded the ramp's corner to have a better look at the modifications the technicians were installing on his vessel. Just beyond his *Culler* was another Sentinel ship, parked with its armored sails folded. Pakkratius was about to continue past his own ship to have a closer look at the second Sentinel when a Progen woman, eyes reading a display on her vambrace personal data assistant, ran into Pakkratius. The two Progen bounced off each other but remained standing to recognize the other. Pakkratius immediately connected the mysterious Sentinel ship with the woman. It was Zyrith Sky, a somewhat short Reclaimer colleague in the Sabine Order. She had black hair and a gentle face, but an expression of disciplined challenge to the collision. She was very short for most women. The Doctor had noted that Sky had mustered for the Centuriata Warriors, but for some reason had been denied, the details classified behind reports of her altercations with a few that had landed her in the Reclaimers arm of the Sabine. The two Sabine Sentinels had last encountered each other on a paired safari of sorts in the Aragoth sector of space named Varen's Girdle. There the two had been beset by crystalline space fauna. The hunt ensued and afterwards Pakkratius had thanked her with a gift, a crystal device, gleaned from the creatures, to install in her ship when she was ready. The two had become friends though he was a Versatile and she a strange mix of potential Centuriata, Versatile, Reclaimer,....and something else he could not quite place. Such was the mystery of Progen women at times. She was now dressed in Progen red armor and deep and dark blue uniform. "Apologies," said Pakkratius automatically. Then he added, "Sentinel Zyrith Sky, what brings you to Paramis?" * * * Zyrith Sky rebounded off the larger Progen Sentinel, the famous and infamous Dr. Pakkratius, Sabine Sentinel Versatile and Anchorman for Net-7 News. So that was the *Culler* she had passed before she ran into him. Her gauntleted hand came up absently to touch the gem-like, crystal device gift on the necklace at her collar bone over her uniform. Though she instantly recalled their last encounter, she recovered immediately at his apology. The Doctor, so called as he was a graduate of the Call Forward interpolation disciplines of the Sabine Order, looked down at her short form. She smiled up at him with a fondness. He had been the only other Sabine to take note of her and showed curiosity about her career. When they had last parted, he gifted her with the crystal medallion on two golden conduit chains that clasped together like a necklace. She admired the Doctor, but knew that their careers were destined to touch only on occasion. She was a Reclaimer, tasked with the First Charge, to restore fallen Warrior-caste Centuriata gene-maps to the Gene Repository. He was a Reporter and freelance Doctor of the Call Forward, based out of Saturn, Sol. Thus, while there was some unnamed attraction to the Pakkratius, it was tempered with professionalism and her own personal drive to meet her goals. "Excuse me," she answered immediately. Then as he took recognition of her, she smiled up at him. "Oh, Dr. Pakkratius, a pleasant surprise to find you here in pirate space," Zyrith answered him. *He's happy you still wear the gift he gave you.* came her own mental voice from over her left shoulder blade behind her. She was now quite used to her vocal "intuition" that rode alongside her mind. Zyrith had made occasional use of the crystal device gift in her own ship. But now that she, in time since, had upgraded her Sentinel ship, she no longer needed it installed. So, she wore it again as a keepsake from her time with the Progen man now before her once more. "It's my first time to Paramis Station and pirate space in general, Pakkratius," Zyrith declared dropping to informality with her friend. "I had just arrived and parked next to another Sentinel when the call came." Zyrith pointed to her vambrace's PDA to indicate the downloaded and encoded message the starbase's comm system had received and distributed to all Sabine Sentinels galaxy-wide. The mission was marked Sentinels-only and looked both important and secret. Then she had collided with Pakkratius. Pakkratius gazed briefly at his own armored forearm PDA then looked back to her, "The call..." His voice sounded friendly to her and more pleasant in person than on the news feeds. "Yeah, this Sabine call to the mission," she explained, stepping close to him in order to display her PDA. "It seems the Sabine are mobilized to find and capture a gene-thief. Do you know how hard it is to steal from the Reclaimers and Restorers, Pakkratius?" He looked at the mission on her PDA and the image of the gene-thief. It was a Jenquai girl with white-and-silver hair, pale blue eyes, and dressed in Progen red. Pakkratius' demeanor changed slightly. And then something clicked in Zyrith suddenly. *He's ignorant of the call to the mission*, declared her inner insight voice. She looked at the Pakkratius, her friend. Did he not receive the mission as well being he was a fellow Sentinel? Zyrith grew wary at the declaration of her intuition. This was her friend, the Pakkratius, right? "What is wrong, Z?" he asked in familiarity, as she stepped from him. Doubt filled her. She asked him inquisitively, "You did receive the mission, right?" Then she glanced quickly at his vambrace PDA at his side. It was not lit up with the encoded call. She had just tipped off Pakkratius the Net-7 Reporter of this secret mission and he had let her do it. She backed away from her friend. "Um, I gotta go," she said hurriedly, wanting a quick reason to be away from Pakkratius. "Stuff to do, yeah. Bye!" Zyrith then turned and ran back down the ramp to her vessel without giving him any chance to further ask questions. If she was lucky and quick, she could deny ever running into the Reporter here in pirate space. He let her go with surprise on his face, yet a strange and enigmatic smile played as she saw him last before entering her Sentinel ship to undock. *Way to go. You just blurted a secret mission to your friend, a member of the press. The Order didn't give it to him on purpose.* Her inner voice chastised her as she pulled from the starbase's hangar. * * * Pakkratius was left standing on the hangar deck as his friend Zyrith Sky retreated in a full run to her vessel. As he analyzed the situation, the Reporter half of him congratulated in finding a new story to dig into. A secret mission out of Porvenir Mons, Endriago for Sentinel eyes only had been denied to him. The Sabine Sentinel in Pakkratius protested his exclusion from this mission and complained at the Reporter half. Still he smiled at his exiting friend's craft hastily leaving the hangar of Paramis Station. As a field correspondent for Net-7 News, Pakkratius had trained himself to take in any details of a situation, especially if it meant a scoop to a story for the newscorp. His education in the Sabine Order only served to hone that skill to cut to the meat of the truth. When Sky's Sentinel was gone from the starbase, he turned to face his docked ship, the *Culler*. The notes, details, orders and the image on her PDA had been speed-read, noted, and remembered. He recalled what she had inadvertently revealed to him. The Sabine encoded call to Zyrith's vambrace alerted the Sabine Order to find and capture the "gene-thief", a Jenquai Defender girl named Wolfsdottir. She was listed as having possession of stolen Progen genes and thus warranted for capture for genetic espionage of Progen genetic secrets. The orders were simple: capture the thief or destroy her if she failed to surrender. Pakkratius noted that the secret mission was not to be shared with the Centuriata, the Collegia, nor any other non-Sabine. The mission was focused upon the Reclaimers though all Sabine Order Specialists, Versatile, and Restorers were to be on alert. *Just how special were the genes this girl had allegedly stolen?* Pakkratius asked himself as he continued to recall the orders he had read. Then the image was remembered. She had silver-tipped white hair, inhumanly crystal blue eyes, and wore Progen red-. It was the same girl from the commons area just minutes ago! Pakkratius had not looked too closely at the girl because of his general distaste for Jenquai. However, now that she was listed on a wanted notification, her details were fully brought to the fore. Then a deeper detail unpacked in his trained mind. The eyes, the sharp chin, her stern expression and those cheekbones! The Doctor of the Call Forward then spoke to Pakkratius. In his time as a practitioner of the interpolation disciplines called the Call Forward, Pakkratius had seen many patient-clients of the service he provided out of his office at NET-7 SOL in Saturn. He had treated many Progen, Terrans, and quite a few secretive Jenquai, all the races of humanity to answer the Call Forward. It was the Sabine Order's specialty to the galaxy. Warriors could be revived to serve again. Unwanted traits could be interpolated out. Desired aspects could be inserted in the genetic matrix. Humanity could be slowly and carefully perfected through the discipline. But this girl in the picture, who was before him some minutes before in this very station, had more in her family tree than Jenquai genes. She was part Progen! In all the histories of genetic annals, in only a handful of incidents had the Progen Republic's Tribunal and Presidium allowed the natural cross-breeding of Progen citizens with other members of humanity, the Terrans and loathed Jenquai. It was so rare in fact that the cloned race of Progen had grown to a distaste of procreation by natural intercourse and gestation. It was feared that any intrusion of weaker genetics might taint the Progen Republic and lull it into weaknesses. Even in the rare occasion of cross-breeding, the offspring were thus noted and blacklisted for their genetic impurity, subsequently shunned from the mainstream gene pools of the Republic, from further procreation. The girl, this Wolfsdottir, was truly being hunted for being half-Progen, half-Jenquai by the encoded orders of the Sabine. They had just lied to the Order at large that she was a gene-thief. But her face, eyes, and her gritted teeth half-smile had just told the Doctor the hidden truth. And more was coming forth from her image alone. In his career as a Versatile in the Sabine Order, Dr. Pakkratius often came into contact with many different Progen of the Republic. He had worked alongside Centuriata, the errant Collegia, the Sabine Specialists, Reclaimers, a very few Restorers at the Gene Repository, and had recently heard rumors from his clone brother Pakkrateus of a new warrior, the Sabura. But once or twice, Pakkratius had run across a secret from the past buried under the histories. The Dog Soldiers, genetically bred for combat and brutality, were a cultured creation of sub-human Centuriata that had been used by generals of the Gate War as obedient shock troops to quell the Jenquai. Their subsequent war atrocities had political ramifications that caused the Dog Soldier program to be mothballed into history, hopefully forgotten by all humanity. It was the girl's eyes and the pegged lateral canine incisors that gave her image's demeanor the clues Pakkratius needed. His brother's adventure had caused a curiosity in him to look into the genetic lines and functions of the Centuriata, the new and ultra-secret Sabura (which netted him almost nothing), and the dark tunnels of stored information on the Dog Soldiers. Pakkratius had seen and learned much of the program. He had even gone so far as to learn about what had happened to the remaining Dog Soldiers that had not been put down after the Gate War, rehabilitated, or Called Forward back to the ranks of the Centuriata. The girl had traits of the Dog Soldiers. She was not smiling, this Wolfsdottir. She was baring her teeth in aggression. The crystal blue irises in her eyes were ringed with black borders, a trait only found in the ranks of the primal warriors of that program. How had this girl inherited Dog Solider genes? She was Jenquai! Dr. Pakkratius remembered the last and very few times he had spoken with a Dog Solider. The interview at a neutral border starbase named Orsini Mining Platform, a distant subsidiary of InfinitiCorp, was where the Reporter had met Growlz. She was a Dog Soldier female who had turned rogue and was on the run from what she called the "gene wytch", a hateful term for Sabine Order leader Vinda. He had interviewed Growlz dangerously up close and at much risk to himself personally and professionally. That day, Pakkratius noted that Dog Soldiers had names reflecting the *canis* genus nature of the Earth dog and wolf. The Sabine Reclaimers hunted down the genetic castoffs of the Dog Soldier program. At the end of the Gate War, many Dog Soldiers escaped into the deepness of space with Jenquai Mordana, the Malefari, hot on their trail in murderous vengeance. Many were found and killed. Less than that were captured and rehabilitated. Fewer still were Called Forward to new lives as returning Centuriata. Pakkratius' brother had met one such example in his adventure. Those Dog Soldiers allowed to live were either under house arrest at the station named Arx Ymir in far-off Jotunheim sector in Aragoth, or they were incarcerated at Detention Center Onorom. To this day, the Dog Soldier program was a distasteful and embarrassing subject even to the Progen Republic. Now Pakkratius understood why this girl, aptly named Wolfsdottir, was hunted by the Sabine Order. She was both heretical in her cross-breeding and politically hostile to the Republic in that she had Dog Soldier traits and perhaps mannerisms to boot. And he had offered her his hand to rise from the deck under an hour ago! She might have bit him if she could. That she was trying to enter the pirate Tongs, specifically the Talons of the Red Dragon, said she was seeking some form of aggressive employment. The call orders listed her as a Jenquai Defender, perhaps a former member of the Shinwa, the modern day Jenquai warriors who defended their race's people and interests. Such a mix of Progen traits and Jenquai training would be an abomination in the eyes of the Sabine. This was a turning out to be news bubbling in a pressure cooker, ready to spew over if allowed. Pakkratius decided then to find this Wolfsdottir again and make her aware of her hunted status. He walked back towards the hangar doors entry to the main commons of Paramis Station. He had to find her before any more Sentinels docked here. Thus, in his concern for a Jenquai girl, Pakkratius missed that he was being followed. In the long hall tube connecting the Paramis Station docking hangar and the commons room, Dr. Pakkratius felt his forward, weight-bearing knee kicked from behind causing him to fall to his knees. His combat training, a requirement for all Progen, kept him from pitching forward, his body remaining upright. Though he went for his sidearm pistol, a slim and wiry black-clad arm slipped around his weapon arm, pinning it while the second brought a slim blade to his neck. The long knife, a Jenquai *tanto*, threatened to open his arteries. But the monomolecular blade stopped there in a clearly vulnerable mercy to Pakkratius. A male, Jovian-accented voice spoke gently in his ear as his assailant spoke, "If we were still at war, bud, you'd be dead, quick and quiet." Then the Jenquai man hauled the Progen Sentinel up to stand and pushed him against the corridor bulkhead, the monomolecular blade still threatening him. Then Pakkratius saw the face of his attacker. The ShadowWalker, for so his operative moniker went, slowly removed the threatening blade. The Jenquai man, another friend of the Doctor, had found him in the solitude of this hall. Pakkratius breathed a sigh of relief. He took his free hand off the chemical grenade he had grasped at his utility belt. ShadowWalker was one of very few of Pakkratius' friends, an ex-Shinwa assassin who now ran a weapons crafting business on the fringes of controlled space. The man released Pakkratius and put away the deadly blade. The two had greeted this way many times, each trying to get the drop on the other. ShadowWalker was only surprised once by the Progen Sentinel Doctor in the past. "Shadow," sighed the surprised Pakkratius, "you nearly scared me to my next iteration." "You were pretty much halfway there, Pakk," answered the ShadowWalker, using his shortened nickname for the Sentinel. He smiled a deadly smile, but relaxed and leaned back across the corridor and against the opposing bulkhead. Pakkratius recovered his composure and dignity. The Jenquai weapons dealer was shorter than the Progen Doctor, dressed in black leathers, boots and light poly-carbon armor. A straight-bladed *katana* rode in a scabbard at his back. It was easily assumed the short-haired former assassin would have other deadly trinkets hidden on his person. The lean man was a quiet death incarnate should he choose. The fact that he was ex-Shinwa meant that Shadow could more easily choose to slay someone if they warranted it. Pakkratius wondered at the man's remnant morals now that he had nobody to call his superior. Dr. Pakkratius had worked with the ShadowWalker before in the realm of ancient artifacts. The two had exchanged services, builds, weapons, ammunition; the sky was the limit. Having resigned the Shinwa, the ex-assassin had his own rumored dark history into which the Reporter avoided probing for good reason. Thus he merely stood there and waited for the explanation for his surprise visit from the Jenquai man. "No doubt, bud, you've heard the *ahem* news?" asked the ShadowWalker. "I am the news, Shadow," answered Pakkratius. "You will have to be more specific." "I'm referring to the um-, so-called secret mission your girlfriend back there was leaking." "How did you-?" asked Pakkratius. The ShadowWalker merely nodded and in answer, brought an index finger of his gloved hand to his temple. Psionics. He had read Zyrith's mind or at the very least read her body language from afar visibly. The Jenquai race had long ago embraced the psychic disciplines now called psionics. The mental powers developed by the race had been later intertwined with their technologies almost to the point of religious doctrine. While the Terrans might have members of their race randomly or heredity 'gifted' and named Psionics, or 'Psis', the Jenquai openly and purposefully studied the mental disciplines. Each Jenquai developed according to how much they could open their perceptions, focus their conceptions, and execute their realizations in the mental realms. Thus each Jenquai had powers differing in individuals and sects of the race. The difference was that while Terrans segregated their Psis apart from un-gifted citizens, the entire race of Jenquai embraced psionics openly. Pakkratius was ignorant of psionics because the Progen branch of humanity had long ago deemed psionics to be too varied to be reliable, untrustworthy, and inapplicable to the might of Progen genetic manipulations, cybernetic enhancements and demeanor. The Progen shunned and eventually bred out any potential for psionics in favor of tried and true methods and augmentations. While Jenquai became proficient mentalists along with their physical development, the Progen threw their lot with physical perfection, genetic manipulation and skills education, without metaphysical mumbo-jumbo. Pakkratius still occasionally wondered what it would be like to be cognizant of another man's thoughts, just touching on telepathy as an example. "So you were spying on us then?" asked Pakkratius more in the declarative than inquisitive. "Helps to keep one's ear to the ground, even here, Pakk," answered Shadow, indicating the newscorp-run pirate base. "But I have more than what your girlfriend brought you by accident. By the way, when did you start getting excluded from your Order's doings, bud?" "Perhaps when I started interviewing dangerous assassins." "Cute. Listen. There's more to that than just some Sabine Reclaimer hunt." "Oh?" "Shinwa-side of things, Pakk." Shadow grew serious then. "Though I left them long ago, I still listen to their battle lines of communication. Battle-lingo hasn't left me entirely. The Defenders are mobilizing on this girl too. Seems she's *ahem* AWOL from the Shinwa, Pakk." "So the Shinwa want her back," said Pakkratius, "and right around the time that the Sabine have clued in on her as well." "Neither of us believe in coincidences, do we?" "The Sabine are calling her a gene-thief," said the Doctor. "Do you know how hard it is to steal genes from the Restorers, Shadow? I mean the genes already in storage of course." "But she ain't a thief, is she, Pakk?" the ShadowWalker corrected. "And the Shinwa don't go all-out for a little girl, even an AWOL Defender." "There's another catch, assassin," said the Sentinel. "If the Sabine can't have her, they'll kill and destroy her so nobody else can." ShadowWalker's eyes came to lock with Pakkratius' eyes. The Doctor knew that "thousand-meter stare" from many previous meetings with the ex-Shinwa. "I walked out on the Jenquarum for good reasons. This girl is good and fed up with their bull too, I'll reckon. As far as I care, she should have that freedom. Your Sabine should do the same, Pakk." Pakkratius did the causal math. One half-breed girl. Two Factions who want her. Capture and-or kill orders. Secret missions. His exclusion from the Sabine side of the hunt meant only that Vinda did not want the press to get wind of it. It was a race and the two Factions could not stand to lose. The fact that the entire Shinwa sect had mobilized had to mean that their higher command knew of Wolfsdottir's genetic significance. And true to "need-to-know", neither Faction had told their subordinates the reasons. They merely gave orders to be carried out. "What will the Shinwa do to her if they get to her first?" asked Pakkratius to the ShadowWalker. "I hear tell," answered Shadow, "they will whisk her to that cozy, cush pen they call Androzari, no doubt until they can make some use of her aside of her skills as a trained Defender. What's so special about a little girl, Pakk?" "Shadow, think," directed the Doctor. "Two Factions of governments that used to be at war now want a so-called 'gene-thief'. Politics. This has to be about post-war What Can I Get Out Of This. She's half-Progen, Shadow, a war-child of the Dog Soldiers of the Gate War; she's a result of war atrocity." "A bargaining chip." "Evidence to be erased. History to be forgotten on purpose." The two men paused to think more on their governments' motivations. Each came up with an endgame result. Shadow spoke first being quick on the draw, "The Shinwa want revenge and perhaps more for the Gate War atrocities." Pakkratius answered with his own revelation, "The Sabine see an opportunity to lay claim to Jenquai genes and research them for interpolation within the Progen matrix. Genes are just as much weaponry as guns are." "Pakk, don't let her be harmed," warned the ShadowWalker. "I'll try to help from the outside, but you're still on the inside of the Sabine, bud." Pakkratius had never before been asked for help by the ShadowWalker in such a serious tone. He thought of the parallels between the ex-Shinwa assassin and the girl. She was here earlier to find a life in which to hide. But the longer he delayed the closer the Order and the Shinwa came. He had to move her to the frontier and fast. "I promise," Pakkratius said as the two clasped forearms in the gesture of agreement that Progen often displayed. Then the two men parted company, Shadow towards the hangar and Pakkratius further inside the starbase. * * * So, the pirates were not taking in young women. Fine by her, thought Wolfsdottir as she stood in front of a mirror, re-finishing her hair. She called the coloration she had chosen 'silver-ish', a white with a sheen of silver when the light caught it at the correct angle. She was sure that her style would present her in a light other than some idealistic Shinwa Defender. 'Dot' scowled at the rejection. She had tried last month, to look into working with the reclusive Cenovar Artificers, the self-exiled Warlock Engineers. Dot figured the disenfranchised scientists would want a warrior like her. However, they wanted more crafting of their strange technologies. She did not like making systems. The teen had heard plenty of tales of the warriors and the battles in space. Dot wanted to prove -to someone- that she now had what it took, beyond the playground that was the Jenquai Defender training facilities of Europa. The Cenovar were turned down after they made their pitch. Dot had done what she considered duty to humanity and was displeased with the results. The mandatory term of service for all graduating Shinwa Defenders was to give unconditionally to all humanity as a Sev Tushnim, We Who Serve In Silence. Those were three quiet years that Dot felt wasted and non-refundable. She did her work quietly and to the strictures of the Sev Tushnim, but longed for action besides hauling in some Seeker caught in a docking bay door. Neither was there thanks that she used a tractor beam from cloaking to direct a lost Terran towards home. There was nothing to say about the term as nothing really happened. Nothing she had done since training felt real. Thus, Wolfsdottir ventured for the first time into pirate space for a taste of the frontier and a shot at some tangible action. What she found first was Paramis Station and a bunch of grown-up bullies. If this is what the galaxy truly had to offer, Dot would reject and reject until she found the truth. Stepping back into the starbase's bazaar from the lavatory, Dot saw a black-robed Jenquai man leaning against the bulkhead. His veiled face was hidden as he spoke -no, thought- to her mind. *The truth, young Wolf-girl, is that there is no truth. Everything about you here is **maya**; it is all illusion.* Dot had experienced telepathy psionics on occasion, but this man's sending was dark and bereft of passion. His mental projection, called a sending, was without emotion and heedless of care. She confronted the man in the robes. "Are you a priest then?" she asked. "Some Sha'ha'dem to show me the path? The Way?" *Oh no, my dear. Rather the inverse. I need but to let you know that none of what you see here matters. It is all unreal and false.* The man bowed politely and produced a long strip of black cloth, a hair-tie or obi for a small person. He offered it to Dot. *Look at these people, scurrying about with useless, materialistic wastes of energy. See their passions of anger, vanity, greed, lust, and attachment. My, how they waste their lives on such anchors.* Dot looked at the various peoples coming and going from the bazaar. Each was in a hurry to spend credits, sell looted treasures or stolen goods. No one seemed to show any redeeming qualities other than the petty passions the man's mind described. The black-clad Jenquai man leaned in and dropped the cloth strip into her hands. *But you, Daughter of the Wolf, know better. You know how false this world is and how it needs to be jolted into new vibrant life again, don't you?* The mental sending was gentle yet fatalistic. Its voice called her to what she desired deep inside. Somewhere at her core, a tiny wolf, a hunter was loosed. "They have to be put on the edge of survival," she answered, giving in to that inner desire. "They must taste destruction," suggested Wolfsdottir with a finality. "Only then will they change and adapt, grow and become enlightened." *You see? You already know the truth. There is nothing on the Outer that is real. So destroying it will only hasten true reality's arrival. The Kaojin know this as well and dance the Dance of Annihilation. Soon, young wolf, you will too. Join us after you have had your first taste.* The man then ended his psionic sending and bowed again slightly and retreated into the crowd. Though Dot felt held at arms-length from the robed man, this Kaojin, he was very formal and polite as possible with his telepathy. She looked at the strip of black cloth, then tied her hair in a silver-ish, spiked plume back from her head. It made Dot feel like she had a tangible revelation she could grasp. While the man's telepathy was impressive, it was his demeanor and calm that attracted her. Logical, controlled, and full of ennui for these people. She too would show them why she had long had a disdain for her teachers, peers, and the rest of the galaxy. It just no longer mattered. Everything was as the man thought to her. It was false. Dot stalked, reborn to a predatory nature dredged up by the Kaojin's suggestion, from the bazaar back towards the commons area of Paramis Station. She was done with pirate space. She would find this Dance in an empirical, warrior's quest for her self-actualization. This was why she shunned crafting, ignored classes of useless skills the Shinwa felt were necessary. This is why she left the Shinwa. They were indoctrinating her to their petty worldview and mindset. Wolfsdottir wanted to seek her own truth. To do so, she would become the Wolf, and learn this Dance. People, all taller than Dot, were crowding her and making her have to slow her stalking pace. It was another indicator of overpopulation and furthered her distaste. To bypass the herd, the Wolfsdottir used her own developed psionics. Though not a master-class 'jaunter', Dot had found her skills quite handy. Her particular inner discovery allowed the young girl to temporarily fold space in short teleport jumps in a clear line of her sight. This had been demonstrated to her Shinwa teachers who immediately saw her future as a Shinwa Defender. Though Dot could only jaunt a meter or so at first, her masters trained her by focussing her powers through their signature class vessel, the Jenquai Defender. Through the systems onboard a Defender, Wolfsdottir's psionic jaunting enhanced the Fold Space capacitors, allowing teleportation over several clicks distance. The girl naturally knew the powers of the Defender's Fold Space ability before ever climbing into the bridge cockpit. This had pleased her immensely. Now she merely drew sharp, surprised breaths from the adults as she repeatedly jaunted pasted them in quick hops. It was taxing and made Dot hungry over time. Her psionics used energy to dodge the heavy foot traffic in the busy station. But her encounter with the Kaojin gave her a purpose and a goal though she knew not where to find this Dance of Annihilation. In her eagerness to search for this path of existence, Wolfsdottir missed that she was being followed.
  3. Wolf's Daughter - Prologue by Pakkrat A building down the street was collapsing. Even as her assailant was focused upon her, she chose to tilt her head to look at the crumbling building and hear its grinding structure fall. It kicked up a huge, expanding cloud of dust, debris, and sound. She watched with a logical dissociation as Jove City crumbled in its death throes. Such was war. With detached mental calm, she returned her pained gaze to the insignia lapel on the uniform of the Dog Soldier who was using her. Pain registered repeatedly in multiple places upon her body, but through her psionic training she was able to retreat from the physical and the emotional aspects into a walled-off kernel that was mind. From there she watched as the Dog Soldier used her body in his own primal madness. Around them, the city's pacification was without order and its beauty was war-torn, its spirit fading rapidly. She noted the name on his lapel, obviously some given nickname. This "Wolf" was enraged, maddened, and totally given over to his id, the primal aspect of fulfillment of desires. Right now his desire to rape her was at the forefront. Yet try as he might, despite the violation of her flesh, she would not give him any satisfaction of her use. She had already partitioned off her mind from body and emotions when the Dog Soldiers attacked the domiciles of the hiding citizenry of Jove City. She decided to remember this one's designation, this 'wolf'. He had left her for dead, having spent himself and seeing no suffering come forth. A radio call had come to move to the next section of the orbital city. Jupiter's angry eye storm gazed down upon the orbital space city, watching the carnage, destruction, and wild abandon. Citizens died, structures collapsed and any resistance had been broken. The Dog Soldiers continued to expend ordinance, maim simple citizens of the Jenquai race, and stalk through the city streets for more prey. Such was war. Through her psionic training allowing her to partition off her mind from body, the Jenquai woman had appeared paralyzed to the Dog Soldier, Wolf. So, when he had used her and heeded the call to more destruction, she slowly allowed the pain and injuries to register. Excruciating agony, emotional suffering, and utter sorrow for fellow citizenry poured in and were felt. She felt again. Crying and sobbing, the woman slowly began to test her physical body for capability. Her blood was soaking her tunic. She had taken a round of gunfire. She could still move even though the 'wolf' had bitten her neck and drank her blood. His red teeth she would remember. Now that she could feel again, fear and violation spoke to her. She had been shot, bitten and raped after the blast that threw her body into a corner of the domicile. Before she could give up and succumb to death, she would fight. Another emotion registered. It was anger. It was not the anger of rage nor of vengeance. It was more controlled and focused, purposeful, giving impetus for her to move and take action again. She lay there in the corner and began to administer first aid with what she could reach or tear off her flayed clothes to tie tourniquets and makeshift bandages for her neck and projectile wound. Her apartment was, by standard building codes, equipped with a first aid kit. If she could crawl to the closet, perhaps she might have enough physical energy to save her life. Dignity and perhaps retribution could come later. Psionic prioritisation was her particular gift. She could detach and partition her psyche into mind, causality, emotions and the physical to compartmentalize each and take actions in each realm as needed. It was this sort of focus that allowed her into the medical fields of the local Jenquai med-surg center, her occupation. Arm over arm, she dragged her body through the apartment to the closet. Pain bursted through her body and crashed upon her emotions. Wave after wave of violated sorrow for herself, her family, the neighbors, and the Jenquai of Jove City fed her anger-focus. When she reached the apartment first aid kit, she was fully in the moment and determined to live through this. She had made a decision to survive. Her hands worked methodically with trained precision even through her physical and emotional pain. She was the physician and the patient. No questions were necessary. A painkilling drug was first administered. Then came a drug used for keeping shock at bay. The psionic training she had could sustain her for a while, but only as long has her will held. Thus, the drug pushed her forward, further into the here and now. She continued to work on her wound. Her training used what was at hand in the first aid kit. The impact projectile was extracted after the local deadened the area. A coagulant foam stopped any further bleeding. Jenquai medicine was far advanced than the likes of Terran or the barbaric Progen. Humanity, it seemed, had taken three separate paths in the realm of healing. Slowly and more humanely, the Jenquai woman stopped the entropy that was her death. Weeks later, the Jenquai woman, Juna Wa, was extracted by resistance fighters and put aboard an outbound ship full of refugees. Juna was the only physician left on that last vessel and she worked nonstop on the injured even as the ship left Jove City, never to return. She fought the Progen occupation through her skill-set, as a med-surg tech. Keeping her people alive was her battle. Life was too precious now to the Jenquai race. The Ashanti Maru had escaped to the far side of the Jovian moon, Europa. For months Med-tech Juna Wa worked as a ship's physician until too pregnant with child for duty. A daughter was born aboard the Ashanti Maru. "Wolfsdottir," breathed Juna, when the nurse asked her the female infant's name. "Her name is Wolfsdottir."
  4. One has only to consider that the Collegia at Nostrand Vor split from the Sabine Order on purpose. Led by Theodoric Cassel (a skeezy used car salesman archetype), the Collegia has left to do business, retro-engineer rival technologies (via the Privateer signature skill Dismantle [we haven't forgotten it]) and finally to put the hurt on piracy. The Collegia isn't a mining or a refining operation. They are a manufacturing operation with a focus on gleaning technologies of the Jenquai and the Terrans. Badass geneticists and superior warriors may come from the hearty Progen race, but the Republic is actually behind the curve in many aspects aside from nanotechnology, chemistry, genetic engineering, and the more-personal applications to their ideal humanform. The Collegia, perhaps in their desire to fully partition themselves off from their parent Sabine Order, have chosen not to have refining terminals at Arx Bursa, Arx Emporos, and Nostrand Vor City. They do enough to have one at Arx Ymir in Jotunheim. Theodoric Cassel, according to storyline, is trying to bring down Magna Vinda by attempting to turn in reports of her creation of the Sabura Warrior project to the Centuriata's Anjuren Kahn. It stands to storyline (as opposed to player preference however much pull or push they muster) that the Collegia eschew the dirty job of mining and refining, leaving it to the Sabine Order. Then Cassel is tapping Imperator Agrippa's Agrippa Technologies in Research and Development of the top-of-the-line technologies gleaned from the above mentioned reverse engineering. This sub-contracting of Agrippa Technologies comes chronologically AFTER the Collegia split from the Sabine. How would Cassel predict that he'd need refining terminals at Nostrand Vor or Arx Emporos? He's a skeezy used car salesman, not a scientist. In the end, however 'sadist' you claim the Agrippa mission lines are, we all go through it. We all eventually graduate with the systems, our embroidered straightjacket, and have a padded cell at Detention Center Onorom waiting for us. The Developers may have given us leeway to express our displeasure and suffering over Agrippa. But they may also fire back at us by saying "Working As Intended". Warning: Incoming Editorial You know, while the rest of you pilots were leveling your Jenquai Explorers, racing to OL150, getting the hot drops from the Raids, there were a few of us, (e.g. KenPP, MightyPS, Plex, myself and a few others) felt the lashing sting of Agri- that mission line. We did the missions through the front door while others shelved their Progen toons and bitched. "We can't level our toons because we are being held back by Agrippa." Working As Intended, when you consider the storyline that the Progen are behind the technology curve when compared to InfinitiCorp, GETCo, Sundari, Nishido, etc. "We want a backdoor post-HU135!" Byakhee provided. But then the Project went Live and then the server started its instability issues. Story halted as the crews went to work on your feedback. Now the backdoor into Agrippa for "uber unz" thanks to Kenlz and the rogue Progen is held up since Der Todesengel isn't yet opened. I've written about this myself. For those of us who can say to the newer students of Agrippa, "Grow up. We did it. You can too," thank you for answering questions, guiding the next generation of students and providing by-mouth walkthroughs. There have been hiccups between the front door missions and the backdoor missions, yes. But GMs like Blacklung have found them and they have had me, as your Anchor-rat, report on them. (I don't just get on the news channel to run my mouth.) Repeatedly, those of us who have completed Agrippa suffered the mission lines with dignity. You can too. /end Editorial Live from Nostrand Vor City, this is the Pakkrat.
  5. Awww. That's part and parcel. Par for the course. Stocks breaking even. Lil challenge never hurt no one. Like a suggestion of mine in another thread. B obviously meant to do this purposely. On location at Nostrand Vor, this is the Pakkrat
  6. It was suggested that I post this idea even if it goes nowhere. Here goes. Do you remember how being attacked with satellite and trash in your hold can cause you to lose the job? I propose this: some refined, second (and third tier) materials become unstable, volatile or corruptible if the vessel transporting it takes a hit to its hull and a "damage a system" result is rolled. Add a check for presence of refined catalysts, alloys, etc. If they're in the cargo hold, let the incoming damage, especially plasma, chemical, explosive and in rare cases EMP destroy or slag a refined stack ( of whatever size). The slagged substance could turn into Debris I or slag of some type. The end result I leave to imaginative Devs. Those refined ores are in their pristine and factory ready states. A hull penetration could taint or otherwise make impure the stack. This could cause anywhere from devaluating the stack, causing it to become radioactive, corrosive, explode, or downright derelicting the vessel. Perhaps the damage could be staggered up the tech level I through IX. A level IX refined Kronosium could derelict a vessel if it was set off by a direct hit. The reason for this post is that refined ores are not in use much in the game. Also there is no value to them other than what they can be used in manufacturing. An element of danger in their transport makes them valuable in terms of hazard pay. Mining in Real Life is dangerous. Refining in Real Life is also dangerous depending on what the mined substance is. My suggestion is to make having these refined tiers of ores dangerous to transport. We already see the effect that Wormhole skill has on trade goods. Perhaps some trade goods could be just as delicate if the transporting vessel takes hull damage and a "damage a system" is rolled. "Your Nanobots have become bathed in plasma from that last hit suffering 5% loss of value." "The chemical damage you suffered has corroded the Construction Equipment and is now worth 5% less." "Explosions have ripped through the refined catalysts onboard causing an eruption cascade. Brace for further hull damage." The idea is sound and made more realistic in that some game items are dangerous to move around. "That last energy blast killed your passenger(s) when it penetrated the hull. Mission forfeited." This in turn could be an addition to better dynamics in trade runs, mining and transport of refined ores to a fellow pilot at a nearby station. It may add some value in the game's economy. Lastly, put in a chance of failure for refining. Say 1% (level I ores) to 9% (level IX ores) chance of failing at the refining terminal. This makes the resource more valuable, a chance of lost time and effort. It could also make mining more valuable in terms of Explore or Trade Experience. Sound off if you have more ideas along this line of thinking. Live from the Economy Department at NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.
  7. Tease me more and you might get more than you wish for. Around the clock (except when I sleep) news from Net-7 News? From my phone or Android tablet? Sign me up! From the Situation Room of NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.
  8. 1. Immersion 2. A dynamic economy of trade and its supplimental partner mining. 3. Wider variety in character customization, class/role specialization OR focus and role-playing interaction with the story metaplot a la Choose Your Own Adventure. Sandbox worldbuilding. Cats love it. My wishlist live on th lap of Santa's Helper in the hangar of NET-7 SOL, this the Pakkrat.
  9. Congratulations, Epic Gamers from Net-7 News! Live from the situation room at NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.
  10. Check out this link that originated in the Earth & Beyond Timeline thread.  Now this document does do some timeline spoiling.  So read at your own risk.  But I used it for research on my book and short stories that you will also find the Roleplaying sub-forums.    http://web.archive.o...oads/ebbook.pdf          I hope this helps.  The role-play that occurs today is quite conversational and limited.  As a banal player told me, most of the playerbase are too old and 'grizzled' to return to Massively Multiplayer Online Role-playing Galaxy.  They're just in this for powerlevelling and Winning(TM).   There is a little divergence with the newer ideas and mission pathing ouf our volunteer Developers, but the going is slow due to server issues.   I hope this helps.   From the Archives of NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.     
  11. Hi there and welcome. Post a bio of your role-play toon in the thread "Roleplaying Community - Post your Character Bios!" and give us something to work with. You will find a template you can used to fill out or modify to your liking. To role-play in game you can chat by using the command /rp before any role-played text. Welcome again. From the galactic registry at NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat
  12. Note again that each Dragon, Wind, Season, Flower is territorial of its suit. The Wind can never blow in two directions at once. It can never be more than one Season at a time. And a pilot should not wear conflicting boutanier flowers. Thus each suit will only allow one of its kind. Now the Developers could get really stingy and say you can have only one special Mahjong Tile from any of the special suits, but that remains to be seen even if this idea were given some thought. A lil clarity from your Anchor Rat, mistakenly incarcerated at Detention Center Onorom. "You're up for review, Dufresne!" "Grown men are talking!" "It doesn't concern you, Dufresne!" "Where's that coffee, boy?!" "Damn you, Dufresne!"
  13. Excellent. My suggestion has prompted research into the game of Mahjong. If there is no Black Dragon Tile, then drop that aspect from the idea. Four Winds might allude to speed of Engine, Reactor Recharge, Shield Recharge, Turbo Weapons..... Four Flowers might be four modifiers to Beams, say adding on a second type of damage or changing the damage type of a pre-existing beam weapon? More insanity from the Pakkrat at Detention Center Onorom.
  14. It's time for another one of Pakkrat's insane ideas, so bear with me for a while.... You know how the Red Dragon covets the Mahjong tiles because they like to play and collect anything from ancient Chinese culture of Earth? Here goes.... "White Dragon" Chan - Wing Chan is a sub-leader hero of the Red Dragon and has made his home in the Shodakan Nebula as its guardian. He is a master pilot and warrior of the Tongs. Security of the sector from pirate hunters is his duty. His ship is nigh-impervious and his gleaned technology and psionics of the bitter White Dragon unparalleled. He flies about the Nebula, but whispers tell that he secretly longs for an intruder into pirate space from Paramis, Smugglers Run. Annually he brings with him the only known "White Dragon" Tile from the ancient Chinese game of Mahjong. It is rumored to have been a gift from the Ancients or some other alien race to the Chinese astronomers who were vigilant of the night skies above them. Only when this tile and three other Dragons tiles are brought together can the Tongs engage in the expanded version of Mahjong with the Dragon Suit. Pilots rumor that the tile has taught Chan something mystical or esoteric that makes him undefeated and that the source of such power is the White Dragon Tile. Could the recovery of such a relic be truly blessed? What bonus could the tile confer? If it were ever lost, the Red Dragon Tongs would pay dearly in credits and reputation to see it returned to their criminal organization. "Red Dragon" Lu Wong Fei - Lu Wong Fei has been tasked with active piracy on the high space lanes. His dreaded ship is feared by all the races and only Sol Sec has yet to stand up to his menace. So fearsome is he that many ships have been shot down in flames even as they cowered or turned tail running. Rumor has it that Fei was once a Sabine Order Sentinel Specialist who gave his secrets and technologies over to the Red Dragon Tongs. His Menace and Repulsor Fields are the worst and most insidious of his firepower. But worse still is the whispers of an ancient relic from China, the Red Dragon Mahjong Tile. The last of its kind, this tile has been rumored to be the core source of Lu Wong Fei's power. Should the Progen-turned-pirate ever be defeated and the Red Dragon Tile be recovered, its new owner may find new found bonuses. It goes without saying that the Tongs would pay dearly for the return of the mystical Tile. "Green Dragon" Chiang Lung - Chiang, fed up with the few numbers of the Kaojin Jenquai "The Destoryers" and their inability to mount a full movement for a cause, has left them for the Red Dragon under Shou Tzu. He carries with him the high-tech abilities and psionics of the Jenquai race. His stealth is legendary. From the shadows he pounces and laces his victims with deadly chemical ammunition. For Chiang Lung is a user of Projectile weapons. But fiercer still is the rumored jade treasure he carries, the Green Dragon Mahjong Tile. Legendary is this relic and whispered to be a shard of a heartbroken princess of ancient Earth China. So poisoned was her heart that the shard turned into the deadly Green Dragon Tile, conferring deadly power to its owner. Chiang Lung is the current bearer of this broken heart Tile. He brings it with him annually and garners tears and sighs when he places it upon the table for the tournament then. Silence reigns until it is shuffled into the tiles deck and play begins. "Black Dragon" T'ien Kang - Kang the Terran pirate who was a Talonite devotee of the legendary Edward "Blackbeard" Teach until pirate space was commercialized with the purchase of Paramis Station by Net-7 News. His void missiles are deadly and reaching. His ship shatters hope as he recharges his shields often, stagnating any assault upon his ship or wing of Veteran Dragons. It is his duty to lay siege to 61 Cygni A and B and plunder its treasures from both the Terrans and the Progen. But still from the darkest reaches come the secret of his power: the Black Dragon Tile. Last transmissions from victim ships under fire from Kang's void missiles report a deadly and acidic mix of Dark Matter and Singularity that give his void missiles their name. When the hero Kang arrives at the annual Mahjong tournament with the Black Dragon Tile, many player contestants lose their nerve and bolt from the gathering. The Dragons Mahjong Tiles are game-wise classified as Devices. They can be installed for a bonus of some kind. However, the Dragon Tiles are territorial and will brook no other Dragon Tile upon the same vessel. Thus the legendary four have been divided and scattered across the galaxy's Tongs heroes. The criminal Tongs of the Red Dragon will pay credits and Faction reputation to the pirate who returns lost Dragon Tiles to them via Wu Zing the Collector at Mercury Station, Glory's Orbit. Each Dragon Tile is Unique, Non-Trade, and cannot be looted if any other Dragon Tile is in possession of the looting pilot. No pilot can possess more than one of any of the four Dragon Tiles. Each confers a bonus to its possessor. Rumors persist that that pilot is also hunted by the various governments in hopes that they will recover the Tile and put some real pressure on the criminal organization. The Quality of the Dragon Tiles is always 100% and cannot be damage or lose quality. They are galactic absolutes. Constructive comments or suggestions? From the Archives at Net-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.
  15. My first step, as I don't know the mission off the top of my head, is to slay every rogue Progen and see if the mission will accept any of those present. But that's my nuke-it-all approach. I'm not online at the moment but would like to help later if you still have trouble. As my main is a Sentinel, Endriago interests are a focus of mine and I'd like to see more details about missions concerning Sabine, Collegia, and Endriago. Live from Detention Center Onorom, this is the Pakkrat.
  16. From: Magna Vinda To: Greater Sabine Order --Progen Encryption Nidus^4-- <Begin Transmission> Loyal Sabine Order Sentinels, This is a priority alert to seek and Reclaim the fallen Centuriata known as Stanig. The MIA Warrior's gene-map is to be delivered to me at Porvenir Mons and I will personally see to Stanig's Call Forward. This is a secret misison and not to be shared with the Centuriata nor the Collegia. All transmissions to this topic are to be encrypted and sparse. This is my will. Magna Vinda Sabine Order <End Transmission>
  17. This intrigues me along the same lines of my earlier thread topic of Class Variations (though I misspelled Variatoins, sorry). It put in-game names to some of the archetypes that are further suggested here. Can we merge the two? This would further build on both ideas as they might synergize. Just a thought to contribute to a good idea. Live from Detention Center Onorom, this is the Pakkrat.
  18. Yesterday (07/28/2013) in the Developers Q&A session, I asked if the other classes were due their own special class skill to be earned upon attaining Overall Level 135. Two examples that come to mind are the Sentinel's Call Forward and the Explorer's Compulsory Contemplation. Well, in delving into the lore and notes of the Earth & Beyond Storyline Resource document, I found a third special class skill that was next in line for release but never saw Live before Sunset. The skill is called Impervious Haven. It is for the Terran Tradesman. What it does or how it is implemented was not in the notes, but only in name. At least two other classes were scheduled for special skills after the Tradesman starting with the Progen Warrior then the Jenquai Defender. Now when I asked Elrick about if the classes were to eventually get these hinted-at class skills, he replied that there was no room in the PDA to add them without removing a skill. Given that and the original six classes are expanded to nine, how can we re-distribute the skills out a little so as to allow each class for that new, special skill learned at Overall Level 135? I took a look and saw that the Build skills could be best re-shuffled about with minimal damage to each class. But what should be moved and where? Part of the answer is what each race cannot generally build. Terrans don't build reactors. Progen don't build engines. Jenquai don't build shields. By that initial process of elimination, how can we move the skills about to allow for the single special skill learned at Overall Level 135? I know that there are issues with Compulsory Contemplation. There may be issues with a skill named Impervious Haven. Who knows? But with each class getting a skill at that level the mystery is killing me with curiosity. So here's my challenge: What skills in each class' PDA can we move around to allow for the special 135 skill? My first vote was to shift the Build Skills. I know that this might anger the pilots who love building and will tick off the Tradesmen the most. But with a skill name like Impervious Haven, I'd be willing to drop a Build Skill just to have a gander. We know that some of the newer classes have skills that are not right. Privateers are missing Dismantle. The Seeker is suffering. The Skill points system is heavy on the warrior-types and inadequate on the explorer-types. If we were to re-work the skill-sets, to allow for the 135 skill, how might this also help those deficient classes? From the Careers department desk at NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.
  19. Answering #2 When a skill is reset via the Progen Sentinel skill Call Forward, the rating is reduced to one dot on the character information page. The first dot was free and so will always be present. Any skill points spent on the skill after that first free dot are refunded by the process. I have an article "How To Answer The Call Forward" on the Progen tab of the Net-7 News at www.net-7.org Have a look and make a trip out to Arx Spartoi, Endriago to purchase the biostructs you need. Answering #1 There are small terminals in certain stations that will, for a credit fee, allow you to modify the look of your ship or your toon avatar. Each costs credits to use so be sure you're happy with the changes before hitting the Accept button. From Arx Spartoi, the Place of Life, this is the Pakkrat. Pakkratius Sentinel 150 Pakkrateus Privateer 146 Pakkrat Tradesman 95
  20. I am not defending Agrippa nor advocating the mission lines, but..... His signature line says "If you are looking for challenging missions, you've come to the right place." I recently was privvy to an interview with him. Agrippa could have been far worse, but for the limitations of the Emulator. The Agrippa lines of systems and weapons COULD have been geared to lose efficiency based on the pilot-user's current Centuriata Faction. As a pilots becomes more pirate and less loyal to the Republic, the Agrippa systems would lose efficiency, firing less often or less accurate. But that loyalty determinator was squelched at the Republic Decemvirate level and the Collegia had to reluctantly put pressure on Agrippa Technologies. Now that's a nice story-based reason, rooted in what I was assured in the interview that Agrippa is Working As Intended. Now, I'm no Developer, but I get passed things, that I try to put into a storyline format. Agrippa works. I have a Sentinel that went through the normal curriculum. I have a Privateer that's in a holding pattern, having gone into Agrippa through Kenlz' modus operendi. Because of the freeze on our timeline progress (due to server stability, crashes, lag, etc, ad infinitum, ad nauseam), which is no fault to Agrippa, some missions in the "X Fer Kenlz" cannot currently be completed. We pilots will have to be patient until a time when certain sectors of space become opened, (e.g. Der Todesengel, Roc, Aquitaine, Maelstroms and Shears, etc.) If you, the player or pilot, want to do Agrippa, my advice is this. Roll up a Progen of your choice. Enter Agrippa through the front door by starting the curriculum before HU135. With so many pilots who have graduated Agrippa willing to advise, help and assist you for your bravery and loss of sanity, the Agrippa line of missions should leave you with a palpable sense of accomplishment, less sanity baggage, and systems that are worthwhile to own, use, manufacture and sell on the Market Channel. You will join the alumni who have embroidered straightjackets and padded cells at Detention Center Onorom. I was told once in an interview that similarly difficult missions may be in the future for the other two races, filled with storyline, competitive systems and weapons, and just as challenging, difficult, tedious, and bureaucratic (Terran anyone?) or religious (For The Jenquai Hierate!). So, non-Progen players, count your lucky stars that the Developers did not start an Agrippa-like line of missions with your favorite race first. From the Living section department of NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat. p.s. I still don't get a Net-7 Shield like they did back in 'retail'.
  21. This sounds similar to the OL135 skills that are learned after a long mission line is completed. Examples include (but may not be limited to): Call Forward, Compulsory Contemplation, and others that I suspect were intended for release but never saw full Development back in Westwood/EA Live. But it is good to see that others are thinking about stuff to do post-OL135. Why not write up an Event geared for those who have nothing to do at OL150? How about a Sponsored treasure hunt? Or maybe a scavenger hunt? A massively-multi-grouped mining Raid expedition to clean Lagarto out? Hide and Go Seek with a toon on the run? The Developers are quite busy with an itinerary of stuff that needs doing. However, we pilots can amuse ourselves with the game by setting up goals, conditions, and other activities that might spice up that endgame environment called OL150+. If you enjoy your toon's class, ask yourself what can you do with it upon attaining OL150. How can a pilot at the apex of their career make use of their skill-set to enliven the endgame environment? From the writers' desk at NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.
  22. I totally agree with you, Yusagi. I always pronounced it Zee-pay Toh-tek by using the Portuguese pronunciation. Here's a few others that I hear wrong: Endriago (END-ree-Ah-go) Kailaasa (Kie-LAH-sah) Dahin (dah-HEEN) Yasuragi (Yah-sur-AH-gee) Jotunheim (Yo-tun-hym) Vishao (vee-SHAOW) Yokan (YO-kun) or (YO-kan) Gallina (Ga-LEEN-ah) Tarsis (TAR-sis) Primus (PRY-mus) or (PREE-mus) Lagarto (La-GAR-toe) Kinshasa-Mbali (Kin-SHA-sa Mu-BAH-lee) Tokai Saikutsu (Toh-Kye Sy-Koot-soo) Freya (Fray-yah) Ragnarok (Rag-nah-rock) Shou Tzu (ShaoW-Zoo) Merjan Kethrada (Mer-zhan Keth-RAH-da) Cenovar (Sen-o-var) Mordana (Mor-DAH-na) or Malefari (Mal-ay-fah-ree) V'rix (V-rix) or (v'RICKS) Just some of my vocabulary pronunciations. Try not to tease others for they come from other backgrounds that have their own individual pronunciation keys. Don't make me go Bogeril (BOH-ger-Ill) on you. From the nomenclature department at NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat (PACK-rat).
  23. Five Privateers with a Tradesman backing them up. Everyone fights, everyone heals. You don't do your job....... From the Tactical Ops Department at NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.
  24. I answered Vitaes privately with some help. No need to advise further. From the Cartography Department of NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.
  25. Your Anchor-rat here, I'd like to take this time to offer some Republic security advice. The strange Progen woman who offers this so-called "back door" is hoping that pilots will keep her secrets off the main traffic forums and chats as it could compromise her position. If we could instead spread the helpful and appreciated news individual pilot to individual pilot, the Republic may not come down on the rogue Progen by alerting "der gene wytch" into mobilising the Sabine Order to a full-scale pogrom. If we lose Kenlz and the strange Progen woman Not-To-Be-Named, then we also lose the post-HU135 entry into Agrippa Technologies. Please instead utilize your Guild chat channels, race channels, class channels, and corporate/Guild forums. In other news, I have it on authority by a coded message disc, (of which I will be disseminating post-censors shortly) that the post-HU135 is indeed Working As Intended. I was correct in another thread that galactic issues have delayed the availability of certain wish-list items wanted by Kenlz and the covert woman. Please do not rush NET-7 SOL nor any of its affiliates with those medieval pitchforks and torches at this news. Net-7 News maintains it neutrality in all aspects as your most trusted news source. For Net-7 News, this is the Pakkrat. And now a word from our sponsors......
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