Pakkrat

Ask yourself, what level IX ore is a silicate?  Then go buy, mine, or break a component down for some silicate.  Don't know what is a silicate?  Time to do some research.   From the Geology Department at Nostrand Vor, this is the Pakkrat.

[attachment=2477:Wolfsdottir.jpg][attachment=2882:s.jpg] (Reader's Advisory: this entry contains PG-13 material.) [spoiler] "Warchild" by Pakkrat Wolfsdottir "Dot" Race: Jenquai Gender: Female Date of Birth: Unknown, but estimated in the latter Gate War conflict, during Jove City occupation and before armistice Homeland: Ashanti Maru medical bay (after falling back to Europa from Jove City) Class: Jenquai Defender Sub-sect: Kaojin-Kokura (unconfirmed, see article KK-11 classified) Current Duty Assignment: Shinwa deserter, whereabouts unknown. Wanted by the Shinwa and sought by Sabine Order Reclaimers (article SR-071 classified and encrypted) Medical. (article classified and encrypted Okami^9.....password: wolf....Accessing: Subject is a product of a Jove City woman's rape by a male Progen Dog Soldier during the Gate War. The mother misrepresented the fetus' lineage, thus the child was born en route to Swooping Eagle, Sirius via Europa aboard the Ashanti Maru. At a compact and wiry 5'1", the female displayed during physicals a heightened strength and agility. Partial color-blindness detected, (red-green variation). Psych eval revealed a deficiency in mental and social skills. While the child shows almost prodigy-level placement in all martial disciplines, social and academics have been below average. Label: Feral war-child. No emotional or mental pathologies detected at entry examinations.) Personality. Though martially focussed, subject displays only a nihilistic disdain and animal-like ferocity. Uncontrollable temper tantrums in early development. (Encrypted Note- Is she aware of her true lineage?) Inquiries to mother and teachers have yielded silence. Subject shows antipathy for humanity in general. Suggest further study under extremely passive observation. Social. Antisocial. Her use of language is clipped and guttural often using Jenquai slang and figures of speech. Keeps no journals or recordings. No group memberships or affinities detected. Skill-set. Combat-oriented with extreme focus on Beam Weapons. Non-crafting. No social skills or displays of interactions with other pilots as of the time of this report. Recommend a mentor capable of unfolding this walled enigma. Career. One mandatory term of Sev Tushnim, then resigned the Shinwa entirely, disappearing from Sirius. Suspect she was recruited by the Cenovar or the Kokura. Subject showed disdain for the Mordana. Label: Gone Native. It is doubtful that the Cenovar Warlocks could hold this one down for very long. They may have contacted her but were ignored or turned down. Loyalty. None. AWOL deserter and possible pirate or terroristic activity. Warrant for arrest/capture. Affidavit-plea for leniency and reform by mother. Unlikely that the subject can be restored to Jenquarum loyalty. -For Silva's Eyes Only- Special notes. (Encrypted Okami^9 cypher....password: azure.....Accessing: "This is a prime example of the atrocities of the Gate War. This war-child hopefully can be saved and returned to the fold. I don't care what the report says. Find her. -Silva") -End of line.[/spoiler]

Rat's Nest Sphere of Annihilation for Repulsor Field Any other names for bubbles that we can come up with? Jumbling terms at NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.

As my Forum profile hints, I also draw in pencil & ink. I have a scanner and often archive my drawings. I have an illustration that is meant to go alongside the novel, Second Chances. Is there a means of setting up a Gallery of submitted artwork? My area of focus is character sketches and the toons that I have rolled are begging for artistic representation. From the Graphics Desk at NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.

Departure from Humanity by Pakkrat His ship was almost safely back inside Progen space with them. While Dr. Pakkratius had gathered them whether by incurious or ignorant discard, dark purchases under the table, or by doing the dirty work himself, the collection was a worthy one. He stood in the bridge of the *Culler*, looking at the various systems, devices, and weaponry that awaited use. From various exotic locations across the frontiers of the galaxy they had come from Terrans and a few Jenquai. Some arrived out of a promise for monetary credits. A few came of the Doctor's involvement with incidents. Lastly, some were smuggled from the findings of other Factions' hard-earned efforts. The first of the changes came from the sanity-testing, maze-plowing, tedious back and forth of the Collegia Forgemasters-backed Agrippa Technologies. Imperator Agrippa at Arx Emporos in Altair III, had signed off on the final examinations that Pakkratius had taken and passed. A graduate of the R&D corporation's shields and devices program, Pakkratius now possessed the highest and most secret lab prototypes. The Sabine Sentinel had to smile at each of the long names given to the prototypes. Names like "Security Optimal Override Alpha", "Aspectus Limo Quinque", "Skirmish Omega", and "Tactical Advantage Omega" resounded their Latin language roots to the ears. Each system and device was a nightmare of gathered technologies, put together by the Architechti clones based out of Nostrand Vor City. But each final product was light years ahead of Terran systems. Next were the alien, biological, and at first seemingly cybernetic weapons of the strange, piscene space 'fish' calling themselves the "Ten-Gu". The two Ten-Gu Bile Cannons were a necromantic amalgam of flesh, ossified skeletal structures, teeth and ribs of the slain creatures, and the almost magical bile humors of the strange species. The weapons were not on the table but rather already mounted on the *Culler* in the first and second wing hard points. They pulsed with living eagerness to shoot deadly bile-infused teeth at any targets acquired. Not nearly as alien, but just as inhuman were the systems and devices inherited from errant, AI-built, master controller drones out of the blackness of Smugglers' Run. Amid the space-warping singularities and black holes, the rioting and rebelling drones had been given many systems to respond to pirate attacks. The Drone Shield Amplifier, various reactor cores, and system foci (one, the Deadly Grasp sat on the table), were just a few of the AI-designed or upgraded technologies that were not man-made. It would be a Turing nightmare to try to reverse engineer the designs of the machines in revolt. Dr. Pakkratius remembered a former system that was no longer in his repertoire of arcanoi. Man-made, but surely no longer remotely human, was the Vindis Damage Focus, a shield developed out of the outlandish Vindis. The Vindis were a failed attempt to meld Progen clones with machine out in the mad reaches of the Nifleheim Cloud. At that failure, the Republic had pulled back out of the Cloud and denied ever setting up shop there. But the abandoned Vindis had continued to grow and modify themselves to hideous mutations and cybernetic upgrades using the derelict station's equipment and the Cloud's vast resources. It was a skeleton in the Progen Republic's closet. Was it some renewable, Promethean fire that kept the odd engine system constantly aglow? The Unabating Fire it was called, sat bolted to the output jets and vector vanes of the *Culler*. The engine was a constant hum and vibration in the deck plates of the Sentinel vessel. It was, for an engine, an aberration that seemed to infect the nearby shield system, the Skirmish Omega with conduits and cables. It was an unholy union, the Doctor mused. It tried to whisper its malevolence to him as he slept in his bunk inside the ship. It was the Cube of the Leech, found in some Unknown Galaxy that the Tada-O Gate Incident had accidentally allowed into the Milky Way Galaxy. It's eerie, green vibratory emanations could only be described as "black magic" for lack of a better term. The Doctor had been forced to lock the dangerous cube in a cargo container to keep the evil thing from being seen or heard. The belted ammunition for the Fury of the Ten-Gu projectile launcher glinted. The Ten-Gu shards begged with their crystalline beauty to be shot by the multi-barrelled gun that had been used by the monstrous space fish as they entered human space to feed upon ships they had interdicted. Yes, thought the Doctor, their fury was indeed terrible to behold. Then at last, Dr. Pakkratius had come to them. Classified contraband under the label "aa" for Ancient Artifact, the crystals lay out in an ascending array before him. Smaller shards on the left lay next to progressively larger lattices to the right. The Doctor had studied long hours over the first of the crystal specimens he had been given. Some swarthy Terran Trader had dropped it in the lap of the Sentinel. The British-Earth Terran, for some reason call-signed "Dutch" just discarded the huge Ninth-Power artifact out of disgust that the crystal did not cooperate well with his own ship's systems. The crystals had to be nano-scanned to discover their strange names. They had alien names all. Only one line seemed to have a single Earth Japanese name of "Daimyo" hidden in their lattices. The smaller ones of the left were hand-sized, growing in size gently as they went from Fifth-Power to Ninth-Power. Pakkratius had no specimens of smaller size and nothing higher than Nine had been unearthed as of yet. The crystals were of varying crystal structure, partitioned off by their alien names. Some were monoclinic, others triclinic, cubic and onward up to hexagonal and even orthorhombic. Their interfaces were gold-plated electrodes attached to their polar ends or plane convergence points. These electrodes had superconducting conduits that for reasons unfathomable were compatible with space ships of varying classes. The Doctor's collection seemed most compatible with the Sabine Sentinel with perhaps a deviation to other explorer-class vessels. But the miniaturization of the technologies was the riveting detail! The mechanisms, crystal in form, were embedded and tightly packed in the lattices of the crystals. Furthermore, the programming code architecture was written into the quanta level of the devices. The Ancients had certainly mastered miniaturization to the infinitesimally small scale. Codes for the functions of the Ancient Artifacts were sub-atomic and went further into quantum activities. To this day, no human had ever deigned to delve so deeply as to reverse-translate, let alone reverse-engineer the Ancients' works. Eventually, all these inhuman additions to the *Culler* took their toll on the ship, and on the ship's pilot. The *Culler's* white, glossy hull, wings, and sail plates took on a more sinister appearance with the massive weaponry of alien design. The devices made the interior of the ship appear as if a pilot had stepped into a landscape not meant for a humans or human logic. Cables, conduits, system connections of all types were strewn about the bridge and adjoining compartments as if the deck was layered in a sea of serpents. If his younger, aging clone brother, Pakkrateus, was to see this departure from humanity, he might be further estranged from the Doctor. It would have to remain a secret for the Sabine's eyes alone. How many others would do the math and realize the span of what they had stocked the *Culler*? Each might remember their contribution, but to see them gathered might turn the stomach and shatter their sanity. While the Sentinel ship might look a clean, sterile white on the outside, the darkness was just underneath. What might other citizens of the Republic, yea the entire galaxy think of the "mad wizard-scientist" with such forbidden and arcane knowledge? Would there be the cliche of pitchforks and torches at his office door of NET-7 SOL if this nightmarish amalgam were scanned and discovered? Other than the Progen Sentinel, Dr. Pakkratius, there was one thing that anchored the bridge to humanity. Aside the data-tablet library in the aft of the compartment was a single book on the console. It was opened and its paper pages were kept by a frail red velvet bookmark. A passage was marked with underlining. It read: "Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you." Nietzsche was warning the Sabine Sentinel. The Earth and Beyond was an infinity to explore and the Doctor had better beware.

Pakkratius   [spoiler]NET-7 SOL Correspondent Roster Name: Dr. Pakkratius Class: Progen Sabine Sentinel Versatile Gender: Male Homeland: Arx Prima, Mars Beta, Sol Education: Advanced placement in Mathematics, Higher Mathematics, Astrophysics, Quantum Physics, Genetics, minors in Human History and Journalism; Doctor of Call Forward; Graduate of Agrippa Technologies in Device and Shields systems Assigned duty: Headquartered at NET-7 SOL, Sol system as a Net-7 Reporter and field correspondent; Doctor's house calls frequently when on journalism assignments Details: Medical. A successful Progen matrix iteration from the so-called "Pakkrat Master Genome" (details classified, see article PA-*glitch*). Subject is a prime specimen of Sabine Order genetic engineering, meeting all pre-set criteria by class leader Vinda. No physical, emotional, or mental aberrations detected. Personality. Curious and intuitive, the subject shows a willingness to reach out to other castes and races. Very high attention and listening skills. Label: Explorer. A Doctor's objectivity mixed with creative license of a journalist. Possible leakage of Sabine Order sensitive materials detected. A subtle guidance to maintain the Order's confidentiality may be in order. Social. Objective and curious. His racial pride lends him some bias to the Republic. Enjoys the attention of others, (recent auditions for anchorperson for Net-7 News), but shows more willingness to listen and journal his discoveries, interviews, and research. Small antipathy for Jenquai race, though if asked, he does not say why this trait is so. Skillset. Mediocre devotion to crafting of Shields, but a higher placement of interest in Devices. The subject goes on to advertise, in a loud and vulgar manner, his freelance services of the Call Forward interpolation processes. Label: Loudmouth. Eager to form groups and take on group roles disliked by other castes and races. Favors exotic locales as a Sabine and explorer. Career. Shows remarkable motivation for his career and pride in his class. Some pride in his employment with Net-7 News. Breaks with tradition in that he has set up a Doctor's office at NET-7 SOL rather than an Arx or Mons station. Disliked by anchorwoman Zona Mason at NET-7 SOL. Corporation/Affiliation. Thus far, Vinda seems satisfied with the Sabine Sentinel and his work as a Reporter, but she has yet to produce any statement of merit or distaste. Recommend further study of the subject's desire to learn by environment over selected vault-traits from iteration bank. Loyalty. His loyalty is to the Sabine Order, to the Republic (tainted with idealism), and yet remains objectively neutral in his role as a Reporter for Net-7 News. Is this a conflict of interest? Seems to value the errant Collegia Forgemasters Faction. (Is he aware of his younger gene brother, Pakkrateus?) Secret Details: (Encrypted Nidus^4 cypher......password: bishop -Hail, Vinda-....."I am quite happy, though I cannot say so in closed company or in public at how well the 'Pakkrat Master Genome' is coming along. The Terran Trader donor, as far as I've heard, still sleeps, oblivious to his clone sons' work for me. Though the Privateer seems to have an axe to grind, I am pleased for now.") -End of Line.[/spoiler]

[attachment=2479:Pakkrateus.jpg]Registering 1 of 3 Roleplaying characters, (the other two being Pakkratius and Pakkrat.) [spoiler] Progen Privateer designated Pakkrateus Homeland: Olympus Mons, Mars Education: Arx Bursa, Mars Gamma, (still under construction, see article AB-031) Inception Date: (classified Collegia, under article CO-112) Iteration Tree: third generation Pakkrat Master Genome (classified Sabine, under article SA-Vind) Gender: Male, Alpha caste Current assigned residence: tour of duty based out of NET-7 SOL Special Notes: Medical. Pakkrateus, though his iteration seems stable, suffers from a mild form of Methuselah's syndrome. Though the youngest of the detected (so far) iterations of the Pakkrat Master Genome, this Collegia Privateer appears to have aged faster than the previous iteration and the original Terran, Pakkrat. Career. The Privateer refuses to enlist with Agrippa Technology program early in his career for reasons unknown. Will attempt to recruit him post OL 135. Skill Concentrations: Pakkrateus seems to have inherited more of the economic aggression traits of the Pakkrat Master Genome in that he has, for his own reasons, focused his attentions to haggling through Negotiation. Though his vessel class seems capable, the Privateer refuses to engage in combat unless provoked. His bio suggests a curiosity in crafting system, but no clear concentration detected. Assets: The Privateer's selections of skills suggest he prefers support roles, due to his early selection of support skills. Will conduct tests to see if Pakkrateus favors groups or not. Republic Loyalty Degree: Dutiful citizen, not too given to immediately volunteer for tours in the name of the Republic. Seems equally given to freelance activities across the greater Progen Republic Factions. -For Vinda's Eyes Only - Encrypted with Hex^64 cypher.....decode Vinda-16 Alpha. Accessing: The Sabine Order suggests activating this sleeper mole agent sooner due to the onset of Methuselah's Syndrome. Operative may not be viable beyond a decade or so. Vinda has final authorization to 'awaken' this pawn. See article VA-09 for conditions. Should the Collegia discover Pakkrateus' true function, recommend immediate Reclamation. -End Transmission-[/spoiler]

[quote name="GenghisBob" post="75538" timestamp="1363790361"]I still can not understand why there are so many players that want everyone to play exactly as they do.  Different players want to play differently.  The game allows that but many of the players can not accept that.  It's play my way or I'm gonna whine until you do.   Grow up.  Everyone does not have to play by your rules.  They have to play by the rules of the game, not YOUR rules.[/quote] Would you, sir care to back that up with an accurate, complete list of all of your toons? From the galactic registry at NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.

Hello, This is a post to inform those not-in-the-know that your favorite rat Reporter is on Teamspeak3 often. If you want to chat or ask for a past report, or just to vaporize clouds (shoot the breeze), join us. I am a member of Builders Inc, but will heartily meet you in a lounge, guild hall, or other channel. The only thing I discourage about Teamspeak is roleplaying there. Somehow I doubt I can listen to you portraying your female character when you're male. See you online! From the highest comm-tower at NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.

I would like to Second the suggestion of Zyrith's, to have or set up a [Roleplayers] channel in-game. /Tell is useful but is one-on-one and can often lead to mistells, spilling unwanted roleplaying onto other channels. Heaven forbid we get Fanboy all over the "grizzled veterans" of the server or be mistaken for a player's opinion or position when we are chatting from the viewpoint of the character. Furthermore, a sub- sub-Forum for In-character postings from the characters could be fun as long as a set of Guidelines was at the header to give pilots a neutral grounds to put up posts to each other, rather than player to player or player to community. Let there be a community of toons, rather than player-pilots who are "WTB, WTT, LFG, RAID,WTF,BBQ,LOL-ing". Lastly, in the realm of developing a Roleplaying Guild, I would like to offer up some concepts gleaned from the Earth & Beyond Storyline resource to better aid and give flavor: 1. The time period of the Earth & Beyond storyline is called the Crystal Age. Let me suggest a Roleplaying Guild based on Sol Security (SolSec) in the Crystal Age, where registered (translate: characters with full bio-dossiers) citizens of the SolSec galaxy can meet on common and shared grounds. 2. Expanding on the 'Crystal' of "Crystal Age", may I put forth these Guild ranks: 0 Mote, 1 Sliver, 2 Shard, 3 Lattice, 4 Conduit, 5 Pylon, 6 Geode, 7 Prism (nine of these, one for each class), 8 Focus (three of these, one for each race), and 9 Monolith (the SolSec Guildmaster, sworn to uphold the policies and mission of SolSec). 3. Fun Events: Hunt the Pakkrateus for Credits and Systems: 1st, 2nd,3rd Place. Pin the Buff on the Rat. Trivia Night. News and Gossip from the Galaxy. Auctions and Mutual Growth Saturdays. Hide The Dev Sundays. 4. I Know A Guy: Interactions with non-Roleplayed toons. Nothing wrong there. 5. Connections: Want to tie-in your Roleplayed toon with another's, either current-times or in your backstory? Doable! 6. Hunting, Themeparking, and Raiding. As the Roleplaying Guild grows, this could be a timely and fun activity with story to back it up. Hell, I'll even write a blurb in the sub-sub-Roleplaying Forum and give the event some motivation. Alas, as I have a busy Real Life(TM), I cannot be the Guildmaster for the above. As in earlier post, I can give impetus, momentum, backdrop, encouragement, and help set up affinities, rewards, and other draws to stepping onto the stage of Roleplaying. From the lounge of NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.

Phor, Your Multiboxing suggestions make the assumption that Multiboxing in general is in the majority. Try to remember that the solutions should first involve a single pilot-single vessel player. Next, the "Safety in Numbers" still does not stop the intruding claimjumper from pulling up and cherrypicking the exact ore he wants to make off with. Neither can an entire armada of "Safety in Numbers" halt or even slow the claimjumper. Not a miner? Then sit down, over there in the corner, until you are mining level IX ores and hulks. Only then will you be qualified to understand the plight of the miner. Earth & Beyond, both original and Emulator were designed for the single pilot-single vessel setup. You Multiboxers broke that and shattered the game entirely. Just my opinion, but look at the effects of your actions. Before I run back into that tangent, let's get back to the issue. You can say, "But, Pakkrat, we were forced to Multibox because of low player population as we fought and struggled to get this Emulator up and running. Respect us." Fie! Stanig has already posted the estimated population of players. I challenge the continuation of that mindset. I don't buy that at all, this day in Live. There are enough of us to play this game single pilot-single vessel style. Competition is mentioned in the www.net-7.org website description of the game. "Cutthroat commerce" comes to mind. This can cut back upon the cherrypicking claimjumper in that his name can be splattered over the channels, Forum boards, and ostracism can set in as they are put back into the penalty box of being forced to Multibox to get anything done. Meanwhile, the rest of us, having put the repeat offender on /ignore, can return to enjoying the game, get some Content, enjoy the game world and establish meaningful experiences. Stop breaking the game. Show some mutual respect. Enjoy the Content. Compliment the Staff and help them help you. Compete if you have to, but only if you have no other recourse. Hey, who took my soapbox? *transmission static*

As in my short story Thieves and Treaties, if the field is an Asteroid Clearance job field, I believe the hired pilot should have exclusivity and a responsibility to clear it or Forfeit the job. We are seeing another case of Competition versus Cooperation. Competition is the harsh, Darwinian approach. It is that the weak or elderly shall be culled in favor of better iterations (evolution) down the line to strengthen the herd, flock, troop, society, etc. Cooperation is the other end of the spectrum. Examples include beehives, ant mounds, the Borg (you will be assimilated) and the hive-mind mentality. That way lies the risk of loss of individuality and free will. Somewhere between these is the pack mentality, i.e. Pack Alpha, Beta, members, and the Omega. Further towards the Competition arm of the spectrum is Pecking Order, e.g. Rooster and flock of Hens that scratch out their daily sustenance. Which is the correct course? Shall we strengthen the few, the strong, and grow the population from the best? Or shall we grow the entire population via cooperation? In the Earth & Beyond game, pilots are asked this question. They are asked to explore one or more of those above choices to see what the causalities are. Is the game a true Player versus Player environment? No. Can competition still occur? Yes. Can humanity (the pilots in particular) progress under either banner of Competition or Cooperation? Let's find out. Honorable behavior, is an element of human condition and human consciousness. Earth & Beyond asks the individual pilot if he or she can rise above both and Ascend (as is the case with Merjan Kethrada and a few others). Can we share the galaxy? Is it merely in-character that we race to claim the treasures of the Beyond? One can say, "But, Pakkrat, this is only a game." Really? Is your behavior really just a game? Is how you play the game really just an illusion? Is the person who is mining that asteroid field being territorial by wanting exclusivity to its clearance? Is the intruding pilot portraying his race/class with gusto and in-character? The intruding pilot will ask the first pilot, "Do these 'roids have your name on them, Pakkrat?" If they are marked with the holographic blue swirlies, then they sorta are. That still does not make them immune to claimjumpers and cherry-pickers. Can I stop the intruding pilot? No. But then what causalities are in store for the intruding pilot? The first pilot now knows your name, race/class, guild (if any), and the details of the encounter. In claimjumping, you are writing your own reputation and character into the heart of the first miner. Afterwards, that pilot may choose to never chat, do business, render aid, or other Cooperation to the offending claimjumper. They may go so far as to air the dirty laundry over the channels, releasing names, encounter details, and malinger the Guild that the claimjumper is a member to. This of course will spark retributions onto the whistle-blowing first pilot. Escalations may ensue. Rather than the above, perhaps the second, intruding pilot could make contact with the first mining pilot. "Say, can I help you with this field in return for the very few Level IX ores I need badly?" is a good way to start. Odds are that the first pilot may not have such a need for that particular ore, being that they are calmly and lazily taking their time with the field. Some miners may already have swept the field for the higher level asteroids and clouds and are just mopping up the last. "Sure, you can have that ore if you can help me sweep up the last of this field then trade the other ores to me." And here's a forgotten, but added bonus: Try grouping. Perhaps the group buffs will be enough to promote more efficiency to the clearance of the field. Competition, given human consciousness, has causality (cause and & effect and the compensation therein). Cooperation has such as well but less of the negative aspects. It is up to how you, the pilots wish to portray your toons' behaviors. Because this is a game, those actions are really reflective of the player. Is this how you act, player? From the Psych Department of NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.

Second Chances - An Earth & Beyond Emulator Novel, Acknowledgements by Pakkrat This section is to express my thanks to the following: To Lirethion or Reth, the player of Reacher, thank you for offering up your stories, experiences, and military take on life after service. I listened to you on Teamspeak more than you might guess. Reacher's adventures continue, so "there's no time to ride the line." My thanks goes out to ShadowWalker for his advice on how to make the first action sequence work without bending the canon too harshly. Rather than Hacking the Fenris Obervatory, Shadow pointed out the Jenquai Defender's skills of Energy Leech and Summon as a means of aiding the Privateer. He is a go-to source for the Shinwa Defender's crunch (game mechanics). To Stanig and Freak, thanks for hearing out my outline synopsis and your encouragement to write this space opera. I hope I did not snatch any aspects of your own projects out from under your repertoire. A note of thanks goes to Magoo, who provided my ship's porny rat-girl ship decal that only he and I can see, (unless he's distributed it elsewhere). Though the Net-7 News decal must go on the Sentinel, the she-rat will adorn the Privateer eternally. A rat's gotta dream, right? Thanks to Shaddex, Ryle, and the rest of the Emulator teams for taking me on as a Net-7 Reporter. The job's been entertaining, fun, and was probably the crack in the dam that allowed this work to channel through. Zyrith needs mentioning as she was partly responsible for logical, believable responses from Siobhan. Though Zyrith came to me mid-way through the novel, her own request for idea-bouncing gave me some insight to the mind of the Progen female. I look forward to see what she will write or share in the adventures of Zyrith Sky, Valeriya, and Serendipity. Thanks to the Builders Inc, and the entirety of the player-base of the Earth & Beyond Emulator Sunrise server for their comments, critique, and compliments for this space opera opus. 30

Second Chances - An Earth & Beyond Emulator Novel, Ch. IX by Pakkrat IX. "Tonight on Net-7 News, we have a Special Extended Report from our very own Dr. Pakkratius, NET-7 SOL's Progen Reporter and field correspondent. We take you to an alcove of our station lounge where the two will clarify the epic and stunning events that have taken place these past few days. Doctor?" Zona Mason fingered her glasses back into their proper place on her nose with her middle finger. The gesture was hard to miss and obvious to whom it was intended. The cameras cut to a remote camera stationed in the lounge of NET-7 SOL for the interview. "Thank you, Zona. Jenquai, Progen, and Terrans, 'lend me your ears'," half-quoted the camera-clean Reporter. "Tonight I have with me my younger genome brother, the Collegia Triumvir Pakkrateus who has his story to clarify to the galaxy....." Thus, using the public sensational retelling under truth-oath and lie detection, the Pakkrateus cleared his name and confessed a few things she would have liked kept just between the two of them. * * * She continued to watch the Net-7 News feed as she recalled their last moments together as he brought Siobhan the Sabura to her new home on Porvenir Mons, Endriago planet. They had arrived at the landing platform to the high-security detail, Sabine Order's Reclaimers, Specialists, and a few interested Versatile. At the head of them was an anxious Vinda. So, it was true, Siobhan had guessed as they walked down the tarmac in the oppressive dry heat of the volcanic planet. Siobhan could very well be the first of the Sabura Project. Vinda would be champing at the bit to see what had come of the unauthorized, ultra-secret, and covered-up experiment. She had turned to the Pakkrateus as he asked her, "Is this what you want, Siobhan?" He had smiled at her and hugged her when she stepped into his arms a final time. The Privateer may look old but his hugs were vibrant and powerful as any younger Progen male. "I will forge what I want of this thing they call Sabura Warrior, Pakkrateus," she said as she smiled, plans in her mind. "I shall be a mother to the Sabura, not that egotist woman over there." He had stolen a look at Vinda across the landing pad. The Sabine leader stood with her arms crossed and her boot tapping with expectation. The two of them had Vinda's backing so long as the Sabura Project remained veiled from the public eye and a secret of the Sabine Order. It assured that no more Reclaimers would be seeking Siobhan and the Pakkrateus in the future. There was also a sizeable reward for the return of what Vinda called "Sabine property." Siobhan had smiled at that statement. She would make Vinda pay for everything Siobhan might not like coming from the Sabura Project. In his powerful arms, she stood taller and kissed the Pakkrateus before all of the Sabine. It was a Terran gesture. Vulgar to the Progen race, it meant that the male and the female still remembered their genetic origins in opposition to the vat-grown, gestated, and re-iterated copies that the Progen had become in the Crystal Age. Vinda had frowned, but kept silent. No doubt it would go into her personal journal, a musing of what being kissed might be like. It was a long, passionate kiss. A Warrior's kiss was shared with a Privateer's kiss, was the initial impression. But then as the exchange lengthened, it became Siobhan's kiss embracing the enfolding kiss of the Pakkrateus'. When the observers were well enough shocked by such a gesture, the two parted to merely holding hands. "Will I find you out there in the Beyond?" he had asked her as Vinda's impatience grew. "Earth and Beyond, Pakkrateus," she had answered. "But for now, I crave more of my kind. I need to keep that gene-witch from going hog wild with the Project." The authorities were towing her ship, the Kitten, to Endriago for an overhaul and refit to better reflect the up-and-coming skill-sets in the Sabura Warrior genome matrix. It would be good to have her baby back in her hands. "We have been given a second chance, Siobhan," the Pakkrateus had said. "Thank you for your time with me. I hope it won't be the last." He looked into her amber eyes. She smiled. "You haven't heard the last of Siobhan the Sabura, Privateer," she had said, turning to face the waiting Sabine Order. "I will forge my own destiny and you better watch over your shoulder for us." "I will be glad to contract my Collegiate services to the Sabura anytime," he promised. As the heated wind pushed on the Progen standing on the platform, Siobhan had walked calmly and with a feminine Warrior's swagger towards Vinda and her Sabine. The Pakkrateus had watched her gait with more than interest before she took her place behind the Order's leader. With a last, friendly gaze, she had nodded to Vinda. Vinda had nodded in return respectfully to the First Sabura, a ranked title in the new genome matrix. * * * Vinda stared across the tarmac that day in the heat just outside the climate controlled city-station, Porvenir Mons. She acknowledged the salutatory nod of the First Sabura, this woman, Siobhan. There was much study to be done and very little time. While her Sabine explorers were combing Aragoth system Varen's Girdle, she was going to see what this girl was made of. But right now, her attention was on the Pakkrateus who watched Vinda's pet Project concede allegiance with the Sabine. *Very well played, my Pakkrateus. You and your estranged brother, Pakkratius have served me well these past several days. More than I could hope for, you two have done two services to me without me having to lift a finger or dirty them in any way. The Sabura Project is born and another potential enemy of the Sabine Order has been forever eliminated. In addition, you have shown us that cooperation, rather than competition, will better serve humanity in the grander scheme of the implicate order. Well done. I believe I shall extole your genome from behind Andronicus Kerr as repayment for this service. For it was I, in the beginning, who left the file on the warlord where the fool Rex would find it and pour over the records with growing interest. Now re-iterated to the servant-caste, he will make an excellent ship's mechanic for this new Sabura girl to boss around and have no time nor the breeding to try to challenge me for the leadership of the Sabine Order. Again, well done, my pawns.* With a curious look at the Sabine leader, the Pakkrateus had frowned at Vinda. The rift between the Order and the Collegia Forgemasters was still wedged apart, yet she, Vinda would smile upon this one Triumvir. * * * Across the galaxy, on the rim's frontier, a Jenquai warrior breathed a sigh in quiet meditation. His half-lidded gaze took in the exotic view of Fenris once more. The ancestor ghosts of his people could smile upon his service, the unconditional love for all life of the Sev Tushnim, We Who Serve In Silence. Though he was under no oath of silence concerning the Sabura Warrior woman, Reacher nevertheless decided to honor her humility and apology for the atrocities of war committed against his people. The Jenquai Defender forgave her. He, in expansion, forgave those Progen who had no part in the Torment of Jove City during the Gate War. The emotional cauldron under his nexus of being was at a low simmer for now, though it would stay warm for the rest of his life. There was a metaphysical magic in that forgiveness, a second chance, that Reacher decided to continue with his life as a Sev Tushnim and not fall from grace into the likes of the Mordane or the nihilistic Kaojin (the Kokura). He was happy again. * * * "Welcome aboard the Maze Runner," announced Pakkrateus to his full cargo hold of tourists in their comfy passenger pods. "In your pods you will find a copy of my recent adventure. Feel free to peruse it at your leisure as we enjoy the view of Glory's Orbit and its shared memorials." The passengers chatted among each other, excited that they had the first run of the Collegia tours by the Progen man that was featured on Net-7 News. Terrans, Progen, and even a Jenquai couple rode in his vessel. They did not complain, nor did they fear his Privateer, the Maze Runner. Pakkrateus took a long gaze down the length of his ship's hull. The hull upgrade was only slightly accented by the tiny, sleek missile launchers. With his credit account, honor, reputation, and name restored, the Privateer decided on a new approach to doing business. Hindsight may be a bitch, but the second chance to move forward was key. He reached for a bottle of water and a couple of analgesics to head off his hinting headache. That last forgotten bottle of Pro-Vod vodka was still slowly emptying into the latrine of his ship as he pulled away from the berth of Friendship 7 station in Glenn sector of Beta Hydri. He'd give these tourists a run for their money. * * * It was in the Kuiper Belt of Sol System that the unmanned probe found the derelict pusher-hauler frozen in ice. Its distress beacon still flared its call over the region. The probe registered the radiations, the beacon, and a single faint life-sign. Like a shot into the night, it's sensor telemetry was signaled to Earth Station's InfinitiCorp office. A Terran was in need of rescue. De Wynter signalled her authorization with a touch of her stylus implement to a request document on a data-tablet. *The Pakkrat Master Genome continues....*

Second Chances - An Earth & Beyond Emulator Novel, Ch.VIII by Pakkrat VIII. Pakkrateus had ridden his engines their hardest in the flight to Mars sector. If he got clear of this mess, a hull and engine upgrade at the very least was in order. Never before had he drove his ship this hard for such an extended period. Looking out at the Defender in formation beside him, he guessed this was hardly a jog for the sleek Shinwa vessel. But first a dog had to be put to sleep. Siobhan had taken the helm of the Maze Runner for the first two sectors as Pakkrateus again tended to his graze wound. Pulling on his boot for he intended to die with his boots on, the Privateer then grabbed a new bottle of Pro-Vod vodka from the mini-fridge and went forward to the bridge. Asteroids of the Gamma Belt flew by like a barrage of massive hail stones as the Maze Runner plowed along. Siobhan was leaning forward at the helm, trying to cut any corners she could in the mad dash for Mars sector. This was rather futile as the gravity wells of nearby Detention Center Onorom stood in direct line from the gate to Saturn sector and the gate to Mars sector. It forced any ships to go around the huge interdiction fields, generally encouraging the use of the line of navs. Still she was intent. Rounding the last nav before the gate to Mars sector the Warrior changed seats with the Privateer. With a kiss to his wrinkled forehead, the Sabura said "For luck in battle, Pakkrateus." Then she sat down and buckled in to monitor the ship's shields, armor, and reactor capacitors. He smiled at her and then buckled in as well at the helm in time to transmit to the gate the command to open. The gate to Mars sector opened and the unlikely duo of a Progen Privateer and a Jenquai Defender entered the space over Mars in a flash of unfolding blue light and space-time. In the distance was the Red Planet, like a hungry and hellish stone waiting to pull down anything unworthy. Before it was the capital space station, Arx Magister, home to the Progen Republic's three arms of space operations. Centuriata, Collegia, and the Sabine Order came together here when the Republic was challenged. The Factions would drop their differences and loyally served without question here. In the distance were two huge asteroids webbed with Progen structures, armor, and various other construction. On each end of Mars sector so as to not interfere with each other's action, the asteroids were named Romulus and Remus. Through the center of each asteroid were the zenith of Progen weaponry. The Romulus and Remus cannons were the singly most massive cannons ever built, powerful enough to be unstoppable once their ordinance was fired. Each weapon's damage output was so tremendous that a line of Pax capital ships could not halt their discharge. They were testament to the readiness of the Progen for any threat, human or otherwise. Pakkrateus noted their size as Remus came into scopes range first. He had seen the inactive cannons many times in his passage through Mars sector. To most Progen, it was accepted that the asteroid weapons would never see action and might as well be museum pieces for tours. Now as the formation moved further into the sector his scopes detected lights, normally dim, bright and flaring. Reacher's voice came over the communications console. "Progen, I detect energy build-up in the Remus cannon. The Tormentor means to do this." There was a crackle of static as a incoming transmission overpowered the Jenquai's connection. It was a male, Martian-accented and powerful voice. He spoke with confidence and with an edge of feral bestiality, "Puny Collegiate! You might stop one of the cannons, but you cannot stop both in time! Ha ha ha! If even one fires the Gate War continues. Fool! Welcome to your doom!" Pakkrateus swung his scopes around to target the distant Romulus cannon. It too was lighting up. "Vita Theodora." "He must have given the codes to his Centuriata escort," suggested Siobhan behind him. "They mean to fire both cannons at the same time." "I may not be able to stop both cannons, Siobhan," declared Pakkrateus who was looking out at his wingman, the Sev Tushnim Shinwa Defender Reacher, "but we can." At that the Defender broke formation and swung around to blur into invisibility as it made for the Remus cannon. The Maze Runner kept her route to the Romulus cannon. The computer voice of the Privateer spoke next, "Warning: Romulus cannon energy levels at 55%. Evacuation advised." The sensors knew that if the giant weapons were to fire, at this range any ships, no matter their size would be vaporized from the concussive discharge of the ordinance alone. Pakkrateus furrowed his brow but kept the Maze Runner on track to Romulus. Ahead, on scopes but just out of scan range, was the singular Centuriata Warrior vessel of Dahaka Khan. Pakkrateus guessed that the Khan must have commandeered one of the ships at Arx Ymir. Would the warlord still be combat capable if engaged so soon from answering the Call Forward? The vessel was remote-interfacing with the huge space cannon. The Khan was setting the commands to acquire a target: Jove's Fury in far off Jupiter. The cannon's discharge would take an unstoppable time to reach the station. But upon connecting with the unsuspecting Jenquai, the station would be obliterated. The Gate War would flame anew. Mankind would end in mere months. He had no doubt that Reacher had already intercepted the personal guard escort of the Centuriata the Khan had brought with him. There were tiny flashes seen before the Remus cannon. Over the sector broadcast channel came the voice of the Defender. Rather than some Progen battle-cry or Terran hooting, the Jenquai veteran master was calmly counting down his kills in reverse. "Six....," he called over the channel as sounds in the background of his voice were beam blasts, sustained hits on his shields, and the warnings of his vessel's computer. Pakkrateus smiled at the distant battle then faced his attention forward as his ship fell out of warp speeds. He gunned his impulse engines straight for the Khan. If the Centuriata Warrior was going to defeat the Privateer, the Procurator meant to ram his enemy. There was no kiting, no cloaking, no psychological tactics or Psi defenses against the Khan. The Centuriata Warrior was already rotating his vessel to face the incoming, bulky Collegia Privateer. This was a standoff of sheer firepower, shields attrition, nerve, and determination to go to the end. The Centuriata Warrior was already locking on it Gravity Link to capture the Privateer in its dance to the death. Pakkrateus felt his ship slam down into a crawling speed. There would be no escape from this battle. For his part, the Privateer thumbed off the safeties of his weapons. Taking the initiative first as his launchers came into range, he fired the first volley. Swarm after swarm of missiles and torpedoes cruised the gap between the two Progen ships. Then the flashing of the Khan's six projectiles started hammering. Ordinance flew by each other. There was no dodging, no dogfighting nor room for second thoughts. "Five.....," came Reachers' call. The Maze Runner was thundered by the hail of impact, plasma, chemical, and explosive rounds. The Khan liked variety in his choice of ammunition. The Privateer's fire was already clouding the Warrior with plasma and concussive explosions. The two vessels faced off as Progen fought classic toe-to-toe. As the two ships came within point blank range, the cloud of ordinance exchange grew volatile and deadlier. Then as if to make things even deadlier, both Progen unleashed their Shield Inverters upon each other. The nearby surface of Romulus was lit up with the energy storm of exchanged bolts of pure energy. The two ships were taking hits and draining their respective shields as weapons against their adversary. The storm could easily be seen from Arx Magister's scopes. Two Shield Inverters were locked in a storm of attrition! "Four.....," again counted Reacher. Siobhan heard the Pakkrateus talking to his adversary again, "Fine! Let's play chicken!" She looked at the reactor readings. Already both ships's shields were beginning to buckle as they thundered at each other. Computer warnings called out, "Warning shield matrix critical." The Pakkrateus hammered his fist on a large button at the helm. The dwindling reactor sang its shunting action to its shields a final time. "Three....." *RE-VAMP!* went the shield recharge as the Privateer again stormed the Inverter upon the Khan. The Khan was laughing maniacally over the sector broadcast channel. Both ships rocked, buckled, and shuddered at the tremendous firepower each was delivering on the other. Sparks flew in the bridge of the Maze Runner. Smoke issued from the aft of the Warrior ship. It was a dance to see who died first. And still both ships did not move or try to dodge. There was nowhere to go but to oblivion. "Two....." Then the shields on the Maze Runner failed, the last of their matrix shredded by the Khan's six projectiles' onslaught. Nothing could stand for very long under the punishing and critically targeting weaponry of a Centuriata Warrior. Smoke threatened to choke Pakkrateus and Siobhan in the bridge. But as the hull of the privateer was rippling with incoming fire, Siobhan turned her console to scan the Khan's vessel. The Warrior was already suffering hull damage. It was the thick armor of both vessels that would determine this conflict. "Fool!" yelled the warlord, "I am Khan! I cannot be defeated! I am Khaaann!" "Nice doggie," answered the Pakkrateus, "now play dead." "One...." Surprised at the Collegia's calm, Dahaka Khan looked at his ship's readings. As a Blacksun Ogun plasma missile struck the bridge to eat away at the front of the cockpit, Khan reacted. It was ingrained in the deeply-embedded training of all Centuriata. If a battle was going badly, the protocol was clear: take the enemy down with you. Thus the Khan's training took over the ego of the raging fury of the man. He absently reached for the Self-Destruct console button. He was about to lay his palm over the button when the front of his cockpit breached into molten crystal shards. He snarled once and tried to press the button. He never got the chance to fully depress the Self-Destruct. An Evoco "Fist of the Merus Milia" torpedo, the last one in the Privateer's arsenal, slid through the front of the cockpit. It caught the warlord and his chair on its front cone before exploding from inside the Centuriata Warrior ship. The explosion set off all the vessel's remaining ammunition and ruptured the central reactor. The resulting miniature nova lit up the night sky and was easily seen from the surface of Mars. The energy storm went wild and discharged any ammunition from the hull. The repeated fireworks threw the Privateer back several clicks. The Maze Runner floated away slowly from the waves of force. Blasts and explosions continued for some minutes as the Privateer was front row for the pyrotechnics. Pakkrateus rotated his chair to look at the status of his ship. The Privateer ship was sorely damaged as fire controls spewed flame retardants throughout the cargo hold, wings, engines, and the reactor. He would be lucky if she started her impulse drive after this tussle. Unbuckling his belts he went to Siobhan. She was using the ship's damaged scanners on the wreck of the Centuriata Warrior. The tractor beam thankfully still worked on the Maze Runner as Siobhan hauled in the almost-forgotten Cenuturiata gene-map cryo-cartidge of the fallen Dog Soldier and warlord-general, Dahaka Khan. The gene-maps' cartridges were designed to survive such dereliction and Siobhan was reeling in his. Pakkrateus went to the retrieval port and with a heavy gauntlet produced the still-hot cartridge. Outside the Maze Runner, the Romulus cannon had powered up fully, but never received the final command to fire. It was facing the distant planet of Jupiter, ready to unleash its hellish discharge. After the heat exchanger units on the cannon grew too hot, the fail-safes triggered and the cannon powered down slowly by numbers and sections. Without the fail-safe measures, the weapon would have self-destructed by its own ordinance. In the distance, Remus was already powering down. Reacher had done it. He had taken out six Centuriata Warriors to stop them from firing the Remus cannon at Earth Station. It was sometime later when Reacher's ship uncloaked before the drifting but still active Privateer. With some ginger and judicious use of the Defender's tractor beam, the Maze Runner's engines came online, the warp drive somewhat repaired yet ready. "The Tormentor?" asked the Jenquai. "In hand," answered Pakkrateus. "To Sirius," said Siobhan after the two men detailed their original plan to banish Dahaka Khan, the "Tormentor of Jove City", from the universe via the Continuum Wrinkle. During the journey she mounted the cryo-cartridge inside a missile. With plenty of backup batteries, the Khan's gene-map would last a very long time outside this reality, banished for what could be an eternity. The Privateer had let her do the duty as she seemed to be the one to properly send kings to their rest, like the romance novels telling tales of ancient Earth. The missile was fully readied, locked and loaded when the blue and indigo skies of Sirius were seen from the bridge of the Maze Runner.

Second Chances - An Earth & Beyond Emulator Novel, Ch.VII by Pakkrat VII. Though the warlord was again dressed, armored, rearmed, and stood proud once more on the grounds of the ruined Jenquarum grounds, his demeanor was anything but rapture of victory. The Centuriata warlord stood, his long polearm glaive in a hand and upright as he struggled against the Iteration Haze. His muscles were tense and his senses were heightened even as he stared at his decade-old, decapitated body on the floor of the ruins chamber. "You see, General Khan," offered the Sabine, Tervanus Rex, "that while your campaign ten years ago was a success, an armistice had been reached and the powers stopped short of mutually assured destruction." Dahaka Khan, general of the assault forces of the siege of Jove City looked back at the gene-witch to whom he had answered the Call Forward. Such shoddy workmanship given, he was still reeling from the Haze. He sniffed derisively at the Sabine Reclaimer. His grip on the glaive tightened. "The Gate War is ten years past, great Khan," consoled the Sabine. Khan did not like being patronized or lulled into passivity. He favored action and decisive action at that. This worm of a Sabine was beginning to be an itch. He turned from the decade-old scene in his throne room and posed one question. "Do you know who slew me, the Khan, Sabine?" asked Dahaka Khan. Nervously as if the answer might ignite deadly ordinance, Rex answered as carefully as he could, "The records state that then-Primarch Tyr entered this building to speak you, Khan alone. I have pieced the clues together that you and he did some form of melee combat. He was then witnessed leaving the building with your blood still on his weapon. Tyr must have slain you in a gesture to the Terrans and Jenquai to end the Gate War." Rex did not want to mention that the Primarch had been disgusted with the atrocities of the occupation, not to the Khan before him. Khan, breathed in, his heart felt betrayed by the Republic. "Damn the weakness of the Jenquai, the foolishness of the Terrans, and the betrayal of the Republic. I Khan, have never lost a battle, never caved into bureaucratic diplomats, never showed mercy. I did what I was sent here to do! I followed orders! I pacified this city. I completed my mission! And the Primarch betrayed me." His anger was boiling. "Great, Khan," said Tervanus Rex, "the Gate War has been over for ten years and a tenuous peace has been in effect under treaty. The gates are now a shared asset to humanity." "It's not over," declared Dahaka Khan growling absentmindedly. "It will not be over until the Jenquai are exterminated from the galaxy, the Terrans repaid for their idiocy, and the Republic attains the apex of humanity!" He saw it then. In his mind, the Progen could continue where they left off and crush the hated Jenquai mystics and their puny cities and stations. Earth could be again assaulted as it had been during the Scouring of Terra long ago by the Republic. And Khan was the general to do it. Failure was not an option. He was immortal. He was Centuriata. "Please try, Khan to see that there are other means and avenues we could try," Rex soothed. Khan breathed inwardly again. There. That was the weakness he hated. The softness of weaklings that he detested. With his eyes closed, Khan began the Combat Trance, further heightening his senses, reflexes, and automatic training ingrained in every Centuriata Warrior. This was added to the underlying fury of the predatory rage that he could not identify now that he had answered the Call Forward at Arx Ymir instead of the Place of Life. So be it, he thought. When he opened his eyes again, he saw that Rex' body language was placating and submissive to the Khan. Weakness. The Progen had let themselves become lax and weak. This must not continue! "I have my orders, Sabine," he said with grim finality as he flashed his teeth, his elongated canines threatened though the Reclaimer now disgusted him with his presence. "What ord-?" Rex tried to say before he was cut off by being impaled by the thrust of the glaive's serrated blade through his midsection. He looked down in surprise that the newly-Called Khan could move in such a blurring speed. Blood flowed from his uniform and anointed the weapon which seemed happy to be of use once more. "I shall win this war, by Jericho and Vita Theodora, by Romulus and Remus, and by the might of Centuriata superiority!" growled Khan. Rex managed to look up from his impaling wound, hearing the words of the warlord-general. "The cannons...." was all he could say before losing consciousness. Dahaka Khan, the Tormentor, warlord of Jove City mercilessly withdrew the weapon from the weak and collapsing Reclaimer. Then he turned with finality from the scene, plans forming in his primal mind. He left the Sabine to die there where he had found and reclaimed the fallen general. The Khan was long gone when Rex managed to regain a moment of consciousness. Weakly, he spoke to his forearm PDA as the last of his blood ebbed out his wound. ".....by hook or by crook," he finished before dying among the death-wail lament heard in the Ruins of Jove City. * * * Over the rings of Saturn sector, in NET-7 SOL, Dr. Pakkratius the Sabine Sentinel fumbled about the wires and connections of the communications systems. He was performing surgery on the receiver that was aimed at the gate to Akeron's Gate sector. This dish was tasked to catch any masercom beams out of the system he had agreed to squelch for his clone brother, the Privateer Pakkrateus. He had just about exhausted all other avenues until now. He had clandestinely authorized data dumps as the feeds arrived, citing that the radiation storms had garbled the news from Aragoth and were unintelligible. His lies only lasted so long before he tried other means. The news of a planet-side battle out of Progen space was just Endriago-hot enough to turn heads from Aragoth system. That news had panned itself out in time. Pakkratius had tried to order a maintenance detail upon the receivers of the Aragoth system news. That lasted all of five minutes as the Net-7 crew foreman produced a log of last week's calibrations of the antenna. What with the galaxy's most connected News source centralized location, the Doctor found it very hard to keep a good newscorp in downtime. The show must go on, it seemed. He was still pulling plugs and disconnecting conduits to the dish, when a female voice piped up in inquisition from behind Pakkratius. "What the hell are you doing, Doctor?" demanded Zona Mason, anchorwoman and his rival in Net-7 News. He bumped his head on the low clearance of the system he was trying to sabotage. Surprise and embarrassment was on his face when he extracted himself from the receiver. A master interviewer, and proficient interrogator media-wise, Zona Mason put the pieces together fast. It as her gift to sniff out intrigue. And catching the Progen Reporter red-handed reeked of something fishy. He tried to lie, "I'm trying to get this damned thing working again." Mason hated bullshit and was not buying it, given the recent silence of Aragoth system. She tried again with her arms crossed and standing in an accusatory pose. The two were alone in this lofty part of the space station. "Out with it, Progen," she said, "this time with feeling and integrity." Now fully-exposed, the Sentinel was forced to come clean before the galaxy's worst and incurable gossip. "Okay, okay," Pakkratius conceded defeat and hoping to hold onto what cards he had left. "I'll tell you if you agree to let me keep this scoop as its main Reporter. You can lead in for me but it's my story." "I'm listening, rat," she answered. * * * They were leaving Jove's Fury station after having consulted Master Sevti, the historian of the Gate War in Jupiter sector, when the news feeds leaked their adventure in Aragoth system. Pakkrateus walked faster with Siobhan behind him back to the hangar where the Maze Runner was docked and being repaired. The bill from Jove's Fury was going to take its toll on the Privateer's credit account. Now that the feeds were active and declaring the murder investigation, a fugitive Progen, a planet-side battle on Endriago and a space battle before Arx Ymir in Jotunheim, Pakkrateus' goose was cooked and ready to eat. His accounts would be frozen and he now had only what was in his cargo hold. The Sev Tushnim had already deduced their findings in the histories for he had read them many times in disgust at the glossed memorial treatment that spoke of the Jove City he remembered, because he was there. He was waiting for the Privateer and the Sabura near the abandoned black-and-red Sentinel ship, the Apotheosis. It was dark and still docked. The Centuriata escort that had delivered Khan to the place of his death were long gone. Entering the Ruins, albeit illegally (Reacher, true to Jenquai tradition would not step foot inside), the Privateer and the Sabura Warrior used their gleaned map copies of the city to track down the Reclaimer, Tervanus Rex. It would be morning in a few hours. The two had to move quickly to avoid the Ruins squatters and transients. They found the Jenquarum Council Chamber and immediately spotted the lake of blood surrounding the body of the Sabine Reclaimer Tervanus "Wrecks" Rex. Siobhan noted how he died, by an impaling strike to the abdomen by the remembered warlord's signature glaive. Secretly, she hoped that the deathblow was painful and that he suffered as he bled out. The Pakkrateus knelt down and found the Sabine's gene-map cryo-cartridge in the body armor of the corpse. He ejected it and handed it up to Siobhan. She took it reluctantly as if it were some armed and live chemical grenade. Then the Privateer tapped the blinking button on the forearm guard PDA of the dead Reclaimer. A deathwatch recording played. It was time-stamped just hours before Siobhan and the Pakkrateus had pulled up to the Ruins. The prone image of Rex resolved and spoke in a coughing and stuttering voice. "I....believe I've erred. The Khan wouldn't listen to reason....he wants to win the war for the Republic." More coughing came as he spat up blood and wheezed, "How can he fire the Romulus and Remus cannons? Only the generals and the Primarch had the codes?" The image was about to play his death, but he spoke one last time, "I beg forgiveness of my people, my Order and my Republic." Then the image died, the recording de-resolving and cutting off. Siobhan looked at the gene-map of the man who had committed such heresy upon her. Now he was the restrained one. Now he was at her mercy. Now she would see justice. Then a quirk of the Sabura matrix spoke within Siobhan. Rather than pure vengeance, as the Centuriata might desire, she had considered justice. She would need advice as to the How of dealing with this gene-map. It was then that the Sabura woman decided she needed to consult Vinda, the creator of the Sabura Project. What did she know about the warrior genome that was giving her these second thoughts? The Pakkrateus was the one pulling her along this time. "C'mon," he said. "We have no time to ride the line." "You heard what he said," she told the Pakkrateus. "How can he fire the cannons without the codes? Unless..." "He was one of those generals," answered the Privateer as he guided her from the Jenquarum Council building. "Tyr retired as Primarch to live out the rest of his life. He had to give the codes to his successor, but he had no cause to change them at the end of the Gate War. Then his successor, the new Primarch suffered an 'accident' at one of the huge cannons and was utterly destroyed. Did he get a chance to pass any new codes onto General -and later Primarch- Anjuren Khan, Dahaka Khan's brother? I doubt it, Siobhan. No, the Khans are the only ones that I know of who have the codes to power up, acquire a target, and fire the Romulus and Remus cannons! Anjuren Khan is still too far out in 61Cygni to help us to change the codes. We have to put down the dog ourselves." Siobhan asked as they reached the Maze Runner, "The cannons can't destroy a planet, Pakkrateus. They're not that powerful." "Dahaka Khan need not destroy planets to re-kindle the Gate War. He only needs targets that can be destroyed and that will spark conflict anew." The Sabura warrior went down a list of potential targets. The cannons could at most fire once each. Two targets then, she decided. What two hubs of the Jenquai and the Terrans would infuriate and ignite the Gate War? She had the answers immediately. "Jove's Fury and Earth Station," she said with fatalistic revelation. The Pakkrateus relayed their discoveries and their conclusions to Reacher who was cloaked nearby in his Defender. "To Mars sector then," Reacher said with his own fatalistic calm riding his voice. Over the com-link could be heard the Jenquai changing his device modules in his Sev Tushnim vessel. The Privateer and the Defender ships shot for the sector gate to Saturn in a final dash to intercept and hopefully interdict an Armageddon.

Second Chances - An Earth & Beyond Emulator Novel, Ch. VI by Pakkrat VI. During the night-flight, sector through sector, Pakkrateus managed a fitful nap as the Maze Runner hummed with Siobhan at the helm. He had never before slept as his own ship travelled. The Sabura woman had said she had slept what seemed an age during her deathly interim and would not rest until Rex was intercepted. Likewise the Defender next to them, in whatever psionic discipline that sustained him, refused repose as they raced again through Aragoth system. With the sunspot activity and flare storms dying down, communications lines were opening again in-system. This forced the pair of ships off every navigation buoy relay route. In order to avoid being spotted by alerted patrols and the stealthy and wary Sha'ha'dem Explorers, the two had to freewarp on the sector borders. This was time and energy consuming lest they be discovered. Thus Pakkrateus caught some badly-needed sleep. He awoke some unmeasured time later and entered the cockpit bridge. The Sabura woman was there at the helm. She was turned to the right of the console and leaned over, her head in her hands in introspection. "What am I now, Pakkrateus?" she asked having heard him coming up the steps. "I don't understand," admitted the Privateer in hopes of gleaning more context from Siobhan. "I mean, I have no means of identity even if I've been forced to eat my entire past in one table setting. What the hell am I, Pakkrateus?" He had to pick his words carefully as he saw the Athanor on the console within her reach. The Privateer did not want it pointed anywhere near him having seen what it could do to a human skull at such short range. "I can say this, Siobhan," he said with a gentle voice. "You are a warrior of the Progen race and Republic." He went on as he sat in the chair she had occupied yesterday. Stars rolled by in the forward view port as the two ships slowly crept by Odin Rex, a gas giant planet of the Aragoth system. "I am Centuriata no longer," she said. "I can never be one again." Pakkrateus stroked his gray and pepper beard which was in sore need of a sharp trimming. Seeing again the deadly pistol, he offered, "See that gun, Siobhan?" She raised her head to look at him then the Athanor, "What of it?" "Strip it," he half-ordered. "Don't ask. Just strip it." In under a minute, the Sabura woman had the gun in pieces on the console before her. Her hands had worked automatically and with precision. The weapon's components were laid out and in an impressive, organized array. "Now assemble your weapon," he ordered. Faster, as if putting the thing into cohesion were more preferred, Siobhan assembled the gun. He smiled at her, leaning forward with his chin on his fist, "Again. Strip it faster this time." With a determination as he watched her, the woman field stripped the Athanor heavy pistol in seconds. Her hands flew from the again-arrayed pieces. "Re-assemble." In seconds, the gun was again whole and ready for use. She looked up at him. He had been watching her with rapt, almost perverse curiosity before standing and approaching. "I see a Sabura Warrior, ready to do battle for the Progen Republic...." he leaned in to whisper, "..or whomever you choose to do battle, Siobhan. I once picked up one of those romance novels out of Earth Station. It was entitled *Romeo & Juliet*." He smiled as he continued in a whisper for her ears only as a hand covered his vambrace. "What's in a name?.....that which we call a rose...by any other name would smell as sweet..." He was making a parallel to Siobhan, a warrior, Centuriata or Sabura, the names be damned. "I could not have done what you did just now," he said. "Even on my best day, I bet you'd out-gun, out-fight, and I bet credits to the Codex that you can quite possibly out-love me." He smiled to her for emphasis. He finished, amazing himself with, "Overcome the partitioned worldviews, Siobhan, and forge your own." She stood up to him and looked up into his eyes full of sincerity. Her face slowly curled into an appreciative smile. "Aren't you a little old to be in the Collegia?" she asked, changing the subject with a tease. He smiled back at her seeing the change in her demeanor. Then he confessed, his hand still covering his vambrace com-link, to Siobhan about his diagnosis of mild Methuselah's Syndrome and what that meant. "I'm much younger than I look by about ten years." She kissed him, like they did in the romance novels. "Prove it, Privateer." It was some time afterwards that the two ships group-gated into Jotunheim sector of Aragoth system. Located near two other gates was the space station Arx Ymir, red and sinister even on a sector map. In order to arrive at the station, travelling vessels were forced to take one of two routes around the mineral rich Jotunheim planet and its drab rings of asteroids. This was a resource sector, contested by the Progen Republic, pirates, and the nearby Terran outpost of adjacent Ragnarok sector. Upon reaching Jotunheim, the communication channels in-sector were alive with alert signals. The local Centuriata were already warned to be watchful for a Collegia Privateer and a Jenquai Defender. Lies had been told to the Centuriata that the Privateer was packed to the bulkheads with enough explosives and concussive to destroy the space station if it managed to dock. Again the duo had to take the very edge around the sector's borders , freewarping out of active scan range of the Centuriata patrols. It took some time but eventually, the Privateer would have to come into view as Arx Ymir loomed ahead. Surely Tervanus Rex, as he had with Siobhan, was rushing the Call Forward to the warlord, Dahaka Khan. The warlord would be lethargic and suffer also the Iteration Haze of such a rush job. Given the neglected facilities at the station, some of the time had to have been taken in preparing the equipment and systems. If only the Privateer and the Defender could breach the blockade of Centuriata. It was Siobhan's verbalized concept, but Pakkrateus expanded upon a dogfight of humans against humans before an audience of Dog Soldiers somewhat incarcerated at Arx Ymir. The idea was not given too much further thought as the Centuriata spotted the two vessels and Progen fought Progen, spiced with Jenquai tactics. "Your targeting sucks, Pakkrateus," complained Siobhan as she watched from her chair behind the Privateer. "Look at that," she pointed out. "One of your missiles just missed entirely." The battle before Arx Ymir's inhabitants weaved around the station and through its superstructure. Over com-links the Dog Soldiers called out to their Centuriata brethren with cheers. The six Warriors that were on hand to meet the Privateer and the Defender pressed the two into the nearby field of hydrocarbon shard asteroids. The battle made such a glittery mess of the field! The Warriors pounded the Maze Runner with their projectiles until their pride got the best of them. It was rare, if ever that a Centuriata had to tangle with a Privateer. He may be out-gunned by firepower, but Pakkrateus again had the Progen surprised with use of missiles, a 360-degree firing arc, a faster ship and kiting out of range of the many projectile weapons. Once out of their range, the Privateer merely recharged his shields, shunting power from his reactor and then loosing volley after volley thus surprising the Warriors. They assumed, as the Sabine Order before them, that a Progen Privateer preferred the widely used front-facing guns. Missile swarms came wave upon wave over the Centuriata ships. Reacher performed his signature surgical strikes as he emerged from cloaking fields to rip into the Warriors pursuing Pakkrateus and Siobhan through the asteroid field. Soon the field was so shattered that even their targeting computers were having trouble locking onto the Privateer. This effect had caused a missile to miss in trade and prompted Siobhan's critique. Those that got too close to the Privateer either were stormed by the Inversion energies of his shields bolting to the assaulting Warrior or they were shunted far distant by the space-folding capability of the Jenquai Defender. In this way, the Warriors, lacking the variety of skills and systems levied against them were destroyed one by one over time and their derelicts were strung out in the shattered hydrocarbon field. The two were not without their own scrapes. The Maze Runner suffered a hull penetration from a sharp hydrocarbon shard when Pakkrateus failed to recharge his shields in time. The shard was ripped out of the near-empty hold by automatic repair robots when the the Privateer at last made dock. Reacher, suffering only a shattered Psi shield and a bruised ego veered off once more and into cloaking. His scanners spotted an anomaly near the sector gate to Freya. He gave chase as the larger Progen comrade docked. Dejected at the loss of their wagered credits, the inhabitants reluctantly allowed the ship to land once it was determined that the Maze Runner was actually empty of the reported suicide bombs and volatiles allegedly in its hold. The Progen man and woman were greeted with uncharacteristic warrior-like respect now that they had seen such a show outside the station. Such apparently was a rarity for the units of incarcerated Dog Soldiers that they had been given orders not to hinder the two arriving Progen. Some wanted to meet the hated Jenquai with a knife but said nothing to the pair. Thus the two raced through the station to pats on the back, offers of Yum-O-Beer, and questions of all kinds. Siobhan led Pakkrateus through the bowels of Arx Ymir to a place only she remembered. For the inhabitants, not being Sabine Order scientists had left the locked facilities alone and forgotten; the two made way to avenues empty. Siobhan pulled up short and nearly tripped the Privateer who was huffing and puffing behind her. Her sleek and wiry form, enmeshed in her hexagon-mesh jumper and light armor slid to a halt. With her newly clarified memories, the Sabura woman turned and opened a final door. The systems had been left online. The medicines and nutrients spilled on the now-slick floor. Computer monitors were still lit up and registering nothing. The slab restraint table was already vertical and empty. The scene was obvious. "We're too late," said Siobhan who still had not broken a sweat in the sprint through the station. Leaning over to catch his breath, Pakkrateus asked, "They could not have gotten far, yes?" The Call Forward normally took an ordinate amount of time according to Siobhan who had answered it quite a few times. But Tervanus was pushing the envelope by cutting corners with both Siobhan and the Progen who had awakened here in Arx Ymir. "They could have gone to Freya, Ragnarok or backtracked through greater Aragoth system," answered the Sabura warrior woman. "C'mon, old man!" she said as she yanked the Privateer upright and dragged him along behind her. With a purpose, she and Pakkrateus ran all the way back to the hangar bay, to the Maze Runner. Seated once more in his ship, Pakkrateus panted with stars in his eyes. Outside his ship, the Dog Soldiers were on the hangar deck taking more wagers and passing around crates of Tada-O's Yum-O-Beer. More Centuriata were outside itching for another fight. Exiting the station, the Centuriata hesitated to fire immediately at the Privateer. The did not want to land in hot water for shooting the station by accident. Pakkrateus took the hesitation time to break departure protocols and charge up his warp cone and dart at warp speed to the sector gate to Freya, much to the frustrated Centuriata chagrin. They had hoped he would stand and fight again with his curious missile kiting techniques they had observed from the first chase. Pakkrateus did not want to be caught in their adapted tactics, especially where the warp-interdicting Gravity Link systems of the Centuriata were concerned. He gave them no chance to power up the debilitating systems and so left them eating his warp wake. A mad minute of warp and a call to the gate to Freya permitted the two Progen egress, away from the hornet's nest of warping pursuers. In the adjacent sector of Aragoth, named Freya, the pair emerged from the gate near to the middle of the sector. There was no rhyme or reason to the Ancients' positioning of the star gates. Thus, the two had a chase after Reacher's Shinwa Defender. The Sev Tushnim had spotted a fleeting ship signature and hounded after it, through Freya and to the distant and alien Akeron's Gate. Arriving at the whispering Akeron's Gate, Siobhan received a strange tingle as she noted "someone stepping on her grave", to the tune of its opening. Then they entered the site of the greatest space battle of the Gate War, Akeron's Gate sector. Here, during the war, Jenquai Mordane battled Progen Pax battleships, and Terran EarthCorp dreadnoughts. Battles over the gates littered the entire sector prompting SolSec to spend untold funds to clear sector nav paths to route traffic between Aragoth and Sol systems. It was here they found Reacher wing-deep in a new battle. Reacher's message came over the communication console rather than Pakkrateus' vambrace this time. "No time to ride the line, Progen," he insisted. "A little help here?" Reacher was engaged with a new blockade, but not by Progen or ex-Jenquai ships. It was inevitable that the Terrans would catch wind of something ultra-valuable coming out of Aragoth system. The line of Terran trader Q-ships, merchantman vessels armed to the teeth with hidden missile launchers, looked at first glance to be no more than a convoy of transports. Then they had turned as one and assaulted Reacher with swarms of missiles. Thankfully, the Shinwa could cloak and fold space with the strange Jenquai technologies. Missiles lost their targets or found the Defender clear across the immediate battlefield. The Terrans were trying to use their signature kiting maneuvers to force Reacher to chase them while trying to stay out of range of his beam weapons. Then they could pelt him at will with their fire-and-forget weaponry. This did not work out so well against a Shinwa Defender. With his ship cloaked and performing guerilla strikes from cloaking, the Q-ships knew not which direction to try and kite Reacher. Their missiles lost their trajectories as the repeated disappearance of the sleek black Jenquai ship. Lastly, the Defender had proceeded to break up the blockade by folding space on each ship, putting them out to pasture just after draining their reactors with his Energy Leech system. Though this combination kept the Terrans at bay, the odds were still twelve against his one. In disarray, the Q-ships tried to keep erecting their shields by recharging them even with largely depleted reactor-shunts. Thus one veteran Jenquai master had the dozen ships in a chaotic disarray when the Privateer arrived on the field of battle. While Reacher kept renewing his reactor to keep this fleet at bay and in disorder, he could not keep it up indefinitely. His lasers, plasma beams, and disruptors were powerful and could easily assault the Terrans, it was not long before the Q-ships would effect repairs on themselves or coordinate their reactive techniques to undo Reacher's deadly attacks. The stalemate was broken as the Progen Privateer tipped the scales. "On my target, Progen," ordered the stealthy master. "I will set up your targets. Tear down their shields and I shall be their deathblows!" One by one and slowly, the Privateer's swarms of missiles shattered the shields of the InfinitiCorp traders, immediately followed by the Defender's finishing strikes with his five beams. The two rang one incapacitation after another in this fashion. Because of Pakkrateus' and Reacher's critical and exact targeting, their weapons were causing far more damage to the enemy than they could inflict in return. The Maze Runner suffered hits from InfinitiCorp missiles, but he too would renew his shields with his own shunting action from the reactor. But in difference to the Q-ships, Reacher's surplus Energy Drains were dumped back into the Maze Runner's reactor capacitors, making the duo a deadly and very unlikely combination. Ship after ship was rendered derelict. Twelve vessels went into dormancy by this tactic, the Terrans never having assumed the two could work so well together. The battlefield was a mess of Terran components, ripped hulls and smoking systems. "I saw the Sabine and Centuriata exit into Saturn sector and overheard their transmissions before the arrival of the Terrans, Progen," announced Reacher. "Where did they say they were headed?" asked Siobhan who was next to Pakkrateus in the Maze Runner. "Jupiter sector," answered the Shinwa. "Full circle," the Sabura noted out loud.

Second Chances - An Earth & Beyond Emulator Novel, Ch. V by Pakkrat V. It was pitch black of night as Risco Moon faced away from Gallina's primary, forcing Pakkrateus to fly by radar assistance. Using his com-link connection to Reacher, he soon found the Defender. His ship was parked at one of the ruined colony towers on a tall, prominent rock near-center to the dead valley. Debris of the destroyed colony littered the canyon floor as the tower stood an eternal deathwatch. The Defender's ship was docked with the decaying structure. Pakkrateus did not want to meet Reacher face-to-face uninvited so he merely pulled up to the tower and set the Maze Runner to hover and maintain position. It was Reacher's calm and meditative voice that spoke though the Privateer's vambrace again, "The Sabine never meant to let us live, Progen." Pakkrateus bristled, "Yeah, I gathered that." "Do you have any idea where this grave robber may have taken the Tormentor?" asked the patronizing Jenquai. "None, unless our courier here can remember something useful." Pakkrateus swung his chair about to face Siobhan. "I can't remember anything but a few months, the job and up to when I supposedly ejected my gene-map at Fenris Observatory," admitted Siobhan. "Maybe Rex and his Reclaimers did something to me, y'know...to block or keep me from freaking out after answering the Call Forward." "So his name is Rex, huh?" noted Pakkrateus. "Now we have a name at least. What else can you remember?" Siobhan remembered the short months of her career as a Centuriata courier, leading up to being hired by Tervanus Rex. She relayed her memories to the Privateer and the Jenquai Defender on the com-link. Beyond those memories was the Iteration Haze, a side effect of being re-iterated so quickly via the Call Forward. She then told the two men that she what Rex had done to her, calling her a Sabura and then seeing for herself the changes Vinda's new compound had wrote upon her. It was emotionally difficult, admitting that last part, to come to call herself a Sabura now. No longer was she Centuriata. However, Siobhan would not show any emotional weakness. Pakkrateus was about to offer some verbal comfort or solace but had yet to form words when Reacher spoke up over the com-link. "I think I know of a way to help us," he offered in a zen-like calm. The Privateer thought of Reacher in some archetypical fashion gleaned from his perusal of ancient Earth stories of the Oriental ninja assassins. He imagined Reacher sitting in some meditative pose inside the tower, speaking to him and Siobhan. "How do you mean?" asked Pakkrateus. "It will take her consent and an opened mind, Progen," said Reacher, "but I may be able to unlock her memories." Siobhan got up and walked over to Pakkrateus and spoke to his vambrace while looking out the view port to the ruined tower outside. "How?" she asked. "My gene-map is now defunct. Useless. I have only what I can now recall." "Progen always seem to think on physical terms," said Reacher. "If you can do something to give us a clue to where Rex escaped with the gene-map-" Pakkrateus was cut off by Siobhan leaning in to speak again. "Do it," she said. "I need to remember." "Are you sure, Sabura?" Reacher asked. "Some may value your opportunity to forget things they have experienced, seen, or done. To them, ignorance is bliss." Siobhan appeared to consider the words for a few seconds. Then she nodded to herself, thinking inwardly. Somewhere inside her may be a clue to tracking down Tervanus Rex. "I consent," she said to the Jenquai on the com-link. "What must I do?" Reacher's voice became even calmer, "Sit down and mentally welcome me into your mind." Pakkrateus had a question then, "Have you done this before, Jenquai?" "No, though I have been trained by the masters and we have no time to ride the line." Reacher was suggesting using his Jenquai psionic disciplines upon Siobhan, delving into her and somehow either unblocking her vaulted memories or probing her depths even deeper. Pakkrateus had heard stories of various specialties, but this one went beyond some ancient black-garbed assassins of Earth. * * * Siobhan the Sabura sat back down in her chair and tried a Warrior's trance, the Combat Trance. From what she could remember of it, the trance allowed her to open her senses both outer and inner. With its focus, the trance could give her clarity to put her attention on this Jenquai Reacher and permit him whatever entry he espoused to be capable. There. She felt it. Felt him. It was imagined as a shadowed male Jenquai at the door to her home domicile back...back in another life. She mentally imagined reaching for the sliding door and opening it for him. Though the Iteration Haze made details of Reacher's entry fuzzy and difficult to make out, she stepped back and beckoned him inside from the unformed mists of her conscious mind. Reacher stepped into her area of focus, this apartment in which she felt at home, the most peaceful He looked around once. How she knew he smiled gently, she doubted she could say later. There were no words passed between the two. This was a realm beyond need for speech. Siobhan gestured around her, indicating a wall of data-tablets, electronic books, holo-photos and even paintings. They, to her eyes represented what memories she could muster. Reacher nodded in acknowledgement. He pointed to a comfy chair that had been Siobhan the Centuriata's favorite. She sat down. Kneeling before her and closer than she normally would have allowed, Reacher looked with his shadowed eyes deeply into hers. Within this conscious realm, the elderly Jenquai reached deeper inside the Sabura. He probed with what felt like dreamlike and warm hands. As he worked, she caught a realization in this dream venture. The doors to their connected minds swung both ways. As he delved into her unconscious mind and Akashic records, she found she could see through the link to his. Just as Reacher began unlocking partitions and opening doors of her past, Siobhan saw his past. A family at Jove City, recruitment into the nameless warrior elite of the Jenquai, battling Progen during the Gate War, vainly trying to draw out the Progen ships one by one in deadly space combat. Destruction, chaos, and war played out before her from Reacher's past. Vengeance and resentment were written everywhere even as he tried to make up for his past as a Shinwa Defender and Sev Tushnim, We Who Serve in Silence. Siobhan saw the ruination of Jove City through his eyes. She cried tears that he could not that day, so stoic and disciplined was he. When the halls of his past became too painful for her undisciplined mind, she backed down the way she came in disgust and horror. Reacher had sublimated all that pain, shielded off by duty, service, and salved by unconditional love for all life after the Gate War. It was his catharsis and she saw the wounds re-opened with the news of the possible return of Dahaka Khan the Tormentor of Jove City. Underlying his nexus of being was the brewing emotional cauldron of anger. It was lidded tightly by his psionic control. The Sabura turned and ran down the way she had come. Metaphysically exiting the two-way connection back to her apartment, the Sabura warrior was once again in her comfy chair curled in a gathered ball even as she stared still into the eyes of the Jenquai Defender in her mind. Slowly his left hand gathered her right hand at the same time his right hand's index finger slowly rose to her forehead just above and between her eyes. When the index touched her, he twisted his finger, as one might try to pick a mechanical lock of a door. Then he moved away slowly and still smiling gently. The Defender then stood up. Holding up the extended fingers of both hands, he began wordlessly counting down by folding finger after finger.....9..8..7. Siobhan saw him backing out the sliding door of her domicile. His retreating mental image faded as the unformed mists of her concentration started to obscure him....4..3..2..... One. Siobhan woke with a nightmarish scream and howled into the cockpit bridge of the Maze Runner. Memories flooded in upon her. She could now put words to what Reacher had done. He had performed some form of Jenquai hypnotic past-lives regression, psychically Summoning her Akashic record directly from all of her lives as a Progen alpha-caste citizen of the Republic. Wave upon wave of forgotten or vaulted memories crashed upon Siobhan the Sabura. All emptied their contents into her conscious mind. She strove to keep afloat by pushing as many as she could back into some semblance of storage where she could examine them at will, not this forced onslaught. "Progen! Progen! See to the warrior! She is awake." The Pakkrateus came up to the helm of the cockpit from below. He grasped her and held her trembling form. She fought like a tiger on adrenaline as she surfed the waves to some semblance of stable shore. Crashing upon her own coherent thoughts once more she calmed a bit and regained control of her body. The Privateer released her. "Siobhan?" he asked trying to reach to her attention. She remembered him now. She knew not how, as she distinctly remembered ejecting her gene-map before ever entering the bar that night. He, the Pakkrateus had been there. He was staring at her with interest. She was frustrated by the communications interference. She saw his interest in her, the only other person left in the establishment at that hour. She had frowned in her technical denial and had given him her Not A Chance, Boy look. Then she had tried to get up to leave. Then all had gone black as she hit the deck. An acrid aroma was her last sensory input. Finally, she had awoken to a new life as a Sabura before Tervanus Rex. The Iteration Haze was lifted by Reacher's psionics and so much more. Whatever was deeper, more subtle than could be contained in a gene-map had remembered. She remembered the Pakkrateus. Siobhan stood up from the chair. Twisting her torso and snatching up the nearby Athanor heavy pistol, she pointed it square at his head. Cocking its hammer back, she spoke. "You were there that night," she recalled verbally. "Is this the gun you killed me with Pakkrateus? Is it?" Her warrior's adrenaline rushing and still under the effects of the Centuriata Combat Trance, she kept the barrel of the weapon deathly steady. The Pakkrateus was caught completely unaware by the speed of her motion. The first thing he could register was that the barrel of the Athanor was at his head. She had moved with a speed he never knew. It took a mental instant replay to translate her movement. That replay was the hesitation that most Centuriata took advantage in combat. The Privateer was pinned by the weapon and had to speak slowly. "I swear by Artemis Jericho and Vita Theodora, Siobhan that I did not kill you." His hands rose slowly and were empty. "Please believe me," he pleaded. "That night in the bar, I too must have passed out because the next thing I remembered was waking up in a rented room at the Observatory and finding your body dead in bed beside me." The Pakkrateus went on to recount his tale, omitting nothing. He even went so far as to spill his emotional responses to her deathwatch log, how Siobhan the Centuriata looked and how her smile had touched him. By the time he was done with his confession, fear of death had paralyzed even his tongue. He swallowed hard and dryly. "The Pakkrateus speaks the truth, Sabura," said Reacher who had by now returned to his Defender craft. The Jenquai's psionic discipline was now known to her. He even knew how she mentally addressed the Privateer. The Shinwa then went on to supplement his involvement with the Pakkrateus' tale. Lives upon lives then dumped their shares of guilt and remorse upon Siobhan the Sabura. She set down the heavy pistol and collapsed in to the Pakkrateus' arms. Then she unleashed her emotions in the mother of all nervous breakdowns. She cried, sobbed, sniffed and repeated the cycle for each life that was too painful to go on recalling. Yet recall them she did. He held her the entire time, letting her cry it all out. "I am so very sorry," she choked up, "so very sorry......" Memories of her lives as a genetically engineered Centuriata Warrior in space evidenced. Later, she was renewed as a war-bred Dog Soldier at the siege of Jove City under Dahaka Khan. She was present and took part in the atrocity, the occupation, and recalled the fleeing DG Fleet being pursued by the Jenquai Mordane from Jove City. She was re-iterated after being slain by the Primarch's personal guard, reformed and re-trained as a new Centuriata to serve the Republic, until finally as Siobhan the Centuriata courier, her previous life just before Siobhan the Sabura. And now, due to Vinda's Sabura Project, the treachery of Tervanus Rex' heretical use of the Call Forward, Siobhan could never go back. Re-iterated to the beta-caste, into the Sabura, there could be no more glory as a Centuriata for her. He had branded her for the rest of this life and any to come. She hated him. In her crying, she also seethed with fury at him. She saw places, peoples and events like one looks at a card catalogue and is able, with clarity, to select any memory of all those lives and look at it independently for all its happiness or utter pain and the spectrum between. She recalled everything perfectly anew in that moment of weakness. "I know where he went," she finally spoke up through her drying tears. "You know?" asked the Pakkrateus. "Rex wants to resurrect the warlord general Dahaka Khan," she declared through gritted teeth. "He almost admitted it directly to me. Money means nothing to Tervanus. This is about power and the glory of self-actualization. He thinks that Dahaka Khan is his chessboard pawn to it." More memories hit her. Breathing faster with a rage, Siobhan said, "Since he won't use the Sabura Compound now, will be denied Arx Spartoi, the Place of Life and cannot use Arx Prima, the Place of Death; he must seek another route." The Sabura woman looked into the eyes of the Pakkrateus' eyes with animalistic rage. "He will take the gene-map to the only facility left forgotten by history. Rex will Call the Khan Forward at Arx Ymir, the home of the Dog Soldiers. I know that place. I was, in a previous life, one of them." With the Privateer's help she stood up, anger building in her heart. "But Rex is making a critical mistake," she said. "Even if he gets that aging facility working again after the Dog Soldier program was ended, the being that steps from the slab will not truly be Dahaka Khan the Tormentor of Jove City. It will be worse. Much worse." Reacher spoke next out of the silence that followed, "I saw the Dog Soldiers of Jove City as I helped escort Primarch Tyr into the docking bay, Progen. She speaks the truth. They are little more than savage animals." "I know the history, Jenquai," said the Pakkrateus. The Collegiate finished for the Defender, "They slaughtered mercilessly, hunted repeatedly, tortured, and even ate the citizens of Jove City." "Their ghosts wail to this day, Progen," finished Reacher. "Khan will answer the Call Forward," said Siobhan. "Failure is not in his vocabulary nor mindset, even if he has a human mind after being Called Forward to Arx Ymir's Dog Soldier systems. Vita Theodora, Pakkrateus! Khan may not think the Gate War is history. He could re-kindle its holocaust!" "To Jotunheim then," said a grim Pakkrateus as he turned to fire up his ship's engines. The two ships fell into a formation and shot into space over Risco Moon.

Second Chances - An Earth & Beyond Emulator Novel, Ch. IV by Pakkrat IV. Pushing one's engines to streak again through the galaxy's politically neutral solar systems and their sectors over a dead girl seemed notoriously boyish now that Pakkrateus thought about it. Nevertheless, it was that small and short smile her deathwatch log entry gave him before it winked out. It made up for the scowl she had given him in the bar at Fenris Observatory. It more than made up. It was a smile that was worth being framed for murder and transporting the most dangerous gene-map in the galaxy. The Privateer and the Defender had back-tracked through Sirius, Beta Hydri, up through neutral Saturn sector of Sol, and returned to Aragoth system. It was quite a journey as the pair detoured from Odin's Belt in Aragoth and into one of the most curious sectors in Progen space. With its gravity wells, the collapsed and irradiated Appian Gate, and the tragic wreck of the ECS Sierpe, Lagarto sector was still a hotbed of activity on the edge of Progen territory. Gallina solar system was widely used by all races at the pleasure of Sabine Order leader Vinda, but not without its own security checkpoints. "How will you bypass the Centuriata, Progen?" asked Reacher. He was familiar with just about every Jenquai, Terran, and neutral system, but the Progen systems were too unwelcome to the Defender. Thus he yielded to ask the Privateer. "Would that we had taken a wormhole directly to Endriago sector," complained Pakkrateus. The journey felt like it had taken too long. He feared that the girl's gene-map might already sinking in lava on the planet's surface. "No, Progen," answered Reacher. "The Sha'ha'dem have lines of communication other than technology. They will without a doubt be watching the known Wefts for anyone matching your description. They will fall upon you swiftly and cripple your ship's shields and slowly tear it apart." "The Centuriata," added Pakkrateus, "will not let anyone through these sectors without a search thanks to Vinda's recent security measures concerning Endriago sector." The two vessels rounded a nav from the Aragoth star gate as Pakkrateus considered each route and found them too risky. He was about to give up and think of something outlandishly stupid, when the moons of Lagarto planet came into view. He was touched by a memory then and snapped his fingers. "Eureka, Jenquai!" exclaimed the Privateer. "There is no Eureka sector, Progen," puzzled Reacher. "No no," answered Pakkrateus. "There. See that moon? Risco Moon of Lagarto was a site of a failed colony. The dead moon of Risco is our ticket to Endriago planet, bypassing the patrols of the sector. "I do not understand, Progen, but I sense your confidence." "Trust me, this going to be exotic." In his career as a Collegia Privateer, Pakkrateus had found many a strange route in running goods for the Forgemasters of the Republic. Sometimes his cargo was sensitive, or worse hazardous and needed clandestine delivery. As the pair of vessels dove down to Risco Moon's entry orbit, Pakkrateus had a plan in mind. Perhaps it was in the genes, the aging mused. Risco Moon was a dead moon of deep canyons and deeper impact craters. It had once been the chosen site for a colony that had failed around the same time of the mysterious assault on the ECS Sierpe. Ruined towers and abandoned structures were all that was left of anything man-made there. Only a couple of space fauna species could be found in the vacuum of the Lagarto satellite and they were no threat. The duo had descended to the canyons in hopes of avoiding being seen by the nearby observatory half a sector away. The canyon walls were solid and blocked all transmissions. All seemed quiet until the proximity alarms detected a small formation of ships turning to spot them. "Sentinel ships," called Reacher. "I count six and their scanners have spotted your bulky trader, Progen." "They must have been told to look out for us," said Pakkrateus. "I'll handle them. You get us to the coordinates I had plotted on Risco." The two ships changed places in the formation with Reacher's Defender guiding them. The Sentinels gave chase as their signals called for them to heave-to and be searched. At the hard burn of the Defender and the answering Privateer, the red, sailed Sabine vessels pursued. The formation shot through and weaved around canyon walls. Risco Moon may have been solid but it was also treacherous. At full impulse burn, the engines' wakes threatened to call down rockslides and natural formation collapses. Rocketing though gulches, crevices, and defiles the formation and their followers traversed over deep craters. Freed from navigating, Pakkrateus spun his chair around to target the chasers. He armed his weapons and kicked off their safeties again. The Defender, locked in formation synchronization looked less the center and lead and more of a satellite or side car of the Maze Runner. As they rounded a bend in the canyon, their speed was threatened with the far rocky gray wall. "Your ship turns like a pregnant Nagifar, Progen!" said Reacher through his teeth as the ships leaned into the turn. "Shut up and drive," said Pakkrateus as he let fly an entire volley of his ship's missiles. He did not have a line of sight on the Sentinels yet to appear from the bend, yet he knew where they would be. The missiles took a track for the Sentinels, guided by the Privateer's targeting skills. "Why have they not put up their Repulsor Fields?" asked Reacher. "Because they know Jenquai can't fire behind them," answered Pakkrateus, "and feel the same is true about most Progen with projectiles. I however am not most Progen!" Just as the Sentinels rounded the bend, they were instantly caught by the missiles that had flown to meet them. With no time to dodge the illegal Blacksun Ogun plasma-charged missiles and the very-criminal "Fist" torpedo, the Sabine ships caught the missiles on the nose. Explosions erupted and highly-charged plasma sprayed everywhere across cockpits and forward guns. The concussions loosened huge towers of rock from the canyon sides. One Sentinel panicked and pulled up only to be slammed back down by the falling gray stone. Another red-sailed vessel was blinded by the splattered plasma eating into the cockpit and veered widly catching a third vessel and tangling sail plates locking both in plummeting death roll. Their crash into a crater lit up the darkened landscape seconds later. The fourth had strayed behind a way and fired its four projectile launchers towards the Privateer. The fifth had to dodge the first by climbing back from a dive under the falling first. By the time the first volley of missiles had done their havoc upon the Sentinels, Pakkrateus' second volley was already underway and half way down-range. The second volley caught the fifth, dodging Sentinel trying to power up its Repulsor Field as its weapons worked upon the weaving Privateer's shields. At last the sixth and final Sentinel rounded the bend and caught the "Fist" Torpedo as it too tried to power up its Repulsor Field. In two volleys, six Sentinels were sorely pressed by one Privateer being guided by a shadowed Defender. With one ship flattened by falling rock, two incapacitated at the bottom of a crater, and the last three dodging wildly, (something Sentinels do not do very well), the pursuit was cut off in favor of rushing to render aid to the casualties. The Sabine Order were not warriors and knew when to cut their losses. They left the pair alone to continue down ravines and dodge angular rock outcroppings. Through precision piloting, and innovative weapon choice the two, Pakkrateus and Reacher shook off their pursuit. Swinging his cockpit chair back around to face front, Pakkrateus saw his goal. It was the swirling natural wormhole of Ricso Moon. Rather than the greenspace, artificial and temporal wormholes created by the Sha'ha'dem to instantly traverse the galaxy, this one was black with violet to ultraviolet whorls. It sat in the middle of the final canyon, bending the space-time continuum. "Where does it lead, Progen?" asked Reacher who had never before beheld such a phenomenon not man-made. Pakkrateus explained as the formation flew to the wormhole. It had been discovered by the Sabine Explorers just before their abandonment by those who left the Order to become the Collegia, the Forgemasters. They took with them the knowledge of many Sabine secrets. This was one of them. The wormhole was still being studied and analyzed to this day. It reached through Gallina system and opened on the surface of Endriago planet's fiery lava canyons. It was an enigma and Specialists of the Order continued to observe the phenomenon. The Collegia went on with their business, but a few like Pakkrateus still made use of its 'tunnel' like a back door into Endriago, eschewing the gates and Brendan's Weft in Endriago sector. "With this back door we can bypass all the checkpoints and avoid tangling with the Centuriata," explained Pakkrateus. Reacher had listened and stared at the wormhole's beauty with wonder. The universe never failed to show the old warrior something new. As the two approached the wormhole, Reacher noted that unlike the artificial Sha'ha'dem wormholes, this one stayed open perpetually. Normally, a pilot would request a wormhole service to one of several Wefts discovered over the galaxy. The Sha'ha'dem, either altruistically or for a fee, would then activate their systems and psionically reach out to the destination Weft. There would be a cloudy, fade to green that came over the vessel and then when it cleared, the pilot would find themselves at the destination across the galaxy. It was the Jenquai Explorer's claim to fame and won them much acclaim across all humanity. Reacher had a different experience as he felt Pakkrat's confidence via his own psionic empathic senses. The Privateer had used this 'natural' wormhole before. Smiling, the Shinwa noted that he was about to be the student for once. There was always time to experience some new wonder of the universe, he thought in enrapt reflection. The violet-and-black swirl of the Risco Moon wormhole to Endriago planet welcomed the two tiny ships into its maw. Space bent and twisted and there was a small feeling of gravitational pull. Then, rather than some instantaneous green flash as was expected, the wormhole tunnelled through space and time at speeds onboard computers could not register other than 'infinity'. The two flew down a warping tunnel of violet and black, Risco Moon swiftly distant then gone entirely. The effect lasted only a minute as ahead a red-orange glow began to evidence. The pair of vessels emerged from the natural wormhole at the same speed they had entered, restoring Conservation of Momentum to normal space and Newtonian physics. The Privateer and Defender were in the skies above the fiery planet of Endriago. Lakes and rivers of molten magma separated mountain ranges of volcanic rock. It was a planet that was still forming in its early infancy. Gaseous fumes clouded the skies as the landscape was punctuated with lava spouts ejecting pyroclastic stones into the air. Pakkrateus fed the embedded message coordinates into his navigation console as Reacher broke formation, initiated his cloaking and stayed behind to watch for Sabine Sentinels they had left stranded on Risco Moon. The Privateer did not have far to travel across the planet's surface before encountering the Ancient ruins also discovered by the Sabine Explorers. It sat upon a permanent volcanic mountain and was lit and accented by a lava river. A parked black Sentinel ship with folded sails, floating adjacent to the ruins awaited Pakkrateus' arrival. Scanners revealed a single human on the grounds of the ruins. The Privateer set down opposite the Ancient ruins. The Collegiate exited his ship to stand on the hot grounds. The air was hot and very oppressive. The man, a Progen and a Sabine by his dress stood calmly and welcoming in demeanor. "Ah, Privateer, you came and I thank you," said the Reclaimer as Pakkrateus appraoched. He was armed with a slug-thrower pistol but it was kept holstered and seemingly forgotten. "The girl's gene-map," said Pakkrateus who had just about enough of Sabine today. "Let's see it." "Ah, well I thought to sweeten the deal for your timely arrival, Collegiate," said the Reclaimer. "She's already answered the Call Forward and is alive and healthy. We had to accept a few minor changes unfortunately as the facilities were quite beyond our normal parameters....." "Where is she?" demanded Pakkrateus. She was alive! He tried not to show his enthusiasm before this Sabine Order. For all the Procurator knew, this was Siobhan's murderer. "Ever to-the-point. By hook or by crook, eh?" asked the Reclaimer. Pakkrateus produced the gene-map cryo-cartridge of Dahaka Khan in his hand and showed it to the Sabine before him. Its green diode light still blinked healthily. This brought a smile to the nameless man before him. "She's just in the next canyon at Vinda's secret Sabura Compound. She will be waiting for you. My men will not interfere your retrieval of her." Pakkrateus's vambrace spoke quietly to him. It was Reacher listening in again. "He is not lying, Progen. His voice speaks the truth." Was Reacher that proficient at Jenquai psionics even over a com-link? "Who is that?" asked the Reclaimer. "You were to come alone, Privateer." "Just as you sic-ed your Sabine Sentinels on us at Risco?" "Ah, that was a misunderstanding of orders," back-tracked the man. "The gene-map please." Pakkrateus' set down the cryo-cartridge and backed away. Retreating to his ship was in order now so he could board quickly. The Reclaimer seemed unhappy that he was forced to advance and lift the gene-map but was satisfied once it was in his hands. By then, Pakkrateus was already boarding the Maze Runner. His vessel lifted from the Ancient ruins as the Reclaimer made for his own Sentinel vessel, the Apotheosis. Pakkrateus' in under a minute was descending into the next canyon. Coming into view was the grounds of a scientific compound decorated with minimal Sabine symbols. A computer voice, recorded message played on his communications console. "Attention pilot, you are entering Sabine Order controlled aerospace. Please divert now." Pakkrateus ignored the warning and descended further into a docking maneuver before the compound. There, on the docking berth, stood a woman. Her ponytail was blown by the hot winds of Endriago planet. He landed and exited the Maze Runner. She was dressed differently now as Pakkrateus approached the woman. A black mesh of tiny hexagon plates made up her jumper suit. Over this was a light warrior's armor though not in the style of the Centuriata. She was unarmed and stared at the Privateer as he approached. It was Siobhan, and yet it was not the Siobhan Pakkrateus remembered from the bar. The courier's complexion was tanned as if she had lived a lifetime under a glaring sun tanning her skin a light brown. Her hair was lighter than he remembered, being a mix of dirty blonde and light brown. Pakkrateus had the impression that coloration had been balanced somehow between her hair and her skin. Her frame, face was the same. She even had a female warrior's stance and gait as she began walking toward him. * * * Siobhan had been dressed and armored under guard by Rex' Reclaimer subordinates in this new style of Sabura dress. She hated that she was not in her remembered Centuriata armor, but there was no alternative here a the compound. Yet, there seemed to be a comforting upgrade feel to the hex-mesh jumper and the armor. She could not place it, but it felt right on her even if she had never worn it before this iteration. The heated wind whipped at her ponytail, helical hair as she saw the ship land. It was a bulky, armored, and flat black vessel that had sections for cargo between its huge engines. At least the wings gave away its Progen affiliation. Only a lewd painting of a female anthropomorphic rat-girl in a provocative pose decorated the hull. Men. The man was a Collegia Privateer, though she could not remember meeting him. Perhaps it was the Iteration Haze still affecting her. Though he stood straight, muscular and youthful, his face and hair betrayed an aged quality conflicting with his gait. He seemed to know her in some way as his facial expression seemed to be giving off a sense of familiarity. "Siobhan?" asked the Privateer. She straightened and grew formal out of self-respect. Siobhan did not know this man who knew her name. "I am, and you are?" she asked. "You don't remember me from the bar?" he asked. Of course. He was Collegia and was unaware of the Iteration Haze. "Name's Pakkrateus. Can we depart? There's an agenda and we're about out of time." Rather than staying on the surface of Endriago planet, Siobhan reluctantly agreed to go with this stranger who knew her. As they walked to his ship, she saw the name on the hull. "Maze Runner". How fitting, given the traders of the Progen Republic. She missed her own ship, the Kitten. "At least it's a Progen ship though it looks like a scrap heap," she said more to herself than to the pilot. "She's not much on the outside but she can take a beating and give one out too," answered the Pakkrateus. She decided to call him that as if he were unique and singular, using "the Pakkrateus". The two were soon seated in the cockpit bridge of the Privateer. Yes, it looked to Siobhan like a man flew this space jalopy. The ship's interior even smelled boyish. She sat down and looked out the forward view in silence as the Pakkrateus boosted the vessel up from the fiery surface. The ship was slow and not as maneuverable as the Centuriata Warrior. Siobhan was unimpressed with the ship and the pilot. Much like other pilots in the Centuriata, a Progen's ship was an extension of the pilot. It spoke its and the pilot's personality, system choices, weaponry, and lifestyle. This Privateer was nigh a slob in comparison to the sterile Sabine and not very patriotic as the proud Centuriata. Seeing the rather illegal missile launchers, likely gutted from pirates, (the Pakkrateus was a Privateer after all), she began to piece his ship's logic together. The Maze Runner was a missile boat similar to the Terran merchant trader vessels. She wondered if he drove like Terrans. "I have her," said the Pakkrateus as he spoke into his communication console. "Were on our way back to you." A Jenquai-accented and male voice answered the Privateer, "You have been betrayed, Progen. While you were playing nice with the girl, the Sabine witch has called for reinforcements." "I saw that coming a thousand clicks away," said Siobhan to the Pakkrateus. "It was the only way," answered the Privateer. Ahead, a swarm of six Sentinels challenged the Pakkrateus. Their Repulsor Fields were active as greenish-yellow bubbles about their sailed vessels. Any attack upon them would bring swift and unavoidable retribution. The Collegiate did not seem to care. Siobhan watched the pilot work. Six against one was how a warrior liked it. Was this Pakkrateus up to a good brawl? "Six more here, Progen," said the Jenquai voice. "Deal with it, Defender," answered the Privateer. An aerospace battle ensued as a chase through the superheated mountain ranges of Endriago. The Pakkrateus dodged only minimally as volley after volley flew from the pirated weapon mounts. Rather than making for the star gate to Endriago space from the planet surface, Siobhan noted that the ship was bound else where on the planet. "Where are we going, Privateer?" she asked, watching the battle over his shoulder. "A rat-hole, Warrior," answered the Pakkrateus. "Hand me that bottle on the console." He pointed to a nearly empty bottle of Pro-Vod vodka. She reached over to grasp the bottle. That was when she saw the Athanor heavy pistol sitting freely on the console. Handing him the bottle, she marked the weapon's location. The Pakkrateus tilted the bottle back to slug down the last of the alcoholic liquid as he fought. Drinking and fighting? This Pakkrateus was surely a maverick to take such chances. Outside, the Sentinels pounded their projectile ammunition upon the shields of the Maze Runner as it weaved through the mountains and over lakes of fire. Every time the computer warned the Pakkrateus of buckling shields, he would thumb a button on his helm. *Re-vamp!* went his shields as they recharged from the shunting action of the Maze Runner's reactor. Siobhan studied this form of combat with interest though it would not be how she chose to do battle in a Centuriata Warrior vessel. With the Privateer's 360-degree missile firing arc, the ship could do battle while forcing the Sabine Order to chase through the region. Often their targeting line of sight was spoiled by the volcanoes and sulfuric clouds, allowing the Privateer time to renew his bulwark defenses. The fire-and-forget missiles were not forgotten by the pilot. He, true to all Progen, used superior critical targeting skills to guide the trajectories of the weapons to the Sabine Sentinel ships. The one thing she found curiously familiar and similar between Siobhan and the Pakkrateus was that he talked to his targets rhetorically. "Oh, you want some more?" he asked to a Sentinel trying to close the gap between them and into range. The Maze Runner was out ranging the Sentinels' guns in a Terran combat maneuver called *kiting*. Forcing the Sabine to chase him, they closed the range gap, but only so his missiles could concuss them repeatedly. The only true damage taken by the Pakkrateus was from the retribution of the Sabine Sentinel Repulsor Fields and that was almost trivial given the sizeable shields the huge Collegiate trader mounted. Siobhan found it humorous and familiar at the same time. In that, she found the Pakkrateus interesting in their shared parallel monologue. She decided to study him, given she had not much else to do besides watch his ship's shield matrix integrity rise and fall. Siobhan watched as Sentinel after Sentinel fall to this kiting maneuver as their tenacious and stubborn pursuit was futile. Sabine were, after all not Warriors. She also grew to respect the Pakkrateus in that he was merciful. As a hostile ship fell to incapacitation in the skies over the planet, he did not try to finish it off. Instead he systematically progressed on to the next active threat. Like the Centuriata, (and whatever she was now...this Sabura-thing), the Pakkrateus was honorable in combat. This intrigued Siobhan to learn more about the Privateer at the helm. Soon a large black-and-violet, swirling hole in the valley space of a canyon came into view. It was some sort of space-time phenomenon, Siobhan guessed. Slowly descending to the surface were burning Sentinel ships. She then assumed it was a Jenquai Defender, presumably cloaked and invisible, that had made short work of this squad. But it was the huge spatial vortex that captivated her attention. Shiobhan had never known in her travels that this phenomenon existed here on Endriago. And the Pakkrateus was flying straight for it. "Um, what are you doing?" she asked the seemingly middle-aged Progen Privateer. "You're not actually going in there are you?" She had no idea what the vortex was and it did not initially look welcoming. "Yes," was all the Pakkrateus said. Siobhan was wide-eyed the entire minute-long ride through the natural wormhole from Endriago planet to Risco Moon.

Second Chances - An Earth & Beyond Emulator Novel, Ch.III by Pakkrat III. Many gates later and crossing a great expanse of the galaxy into Jenquai space was a full spectrum of colors and vistas to Pakkrateus. The Maze Runner and Reacher's Defender entered at last the exotic sector named Xipe Totec in the Sirius system. Immediately noticeable across a vast expanse was the Inztlan Line, a shield that bisected this sector of space. It had been erected by Jenquai technology to protect Jenquai territory and assets. Though passable, the hazardous radiations from beyond towards the bright white Sirius sun was ruination and dangerous frontier. On arriving through the sector gate, the Procurator and the Ken'shao, (he had asked finally), registered a state of alarm on the communications channels. The Shinwa space station, named Prasad Station, was on full alert and using coded battle-language. Reacher translated for Pakkrateus as they turned towards the Inztlan Line. "They are on defensive from a Mordana forward raid group, Progen," said Reacher. "We will not be welcome at Prasad for some time until the excommunicated retreat from this sector." Pakkrateus listened, but was more focused on the cryo-cartridge in his hand. Internecine conflicts of Jenquai were of no consequence to the Progen and only a mild interest to the Privateer. He gunned his vessel's warp drive as the two sped past navs and onward to the looming space shield. The pair of vessels penetrated at Inztlan Line One, a nav that monitored the state of the sector barrier. Passing through the seemingly infinite border, sensor alarms went noisy. "Warning: Extreme Radiation detected," said the onboard computer of the Maze Runner. It immediately followed with "Warning: EMP drain occurring." The solar radiations of Sirius were slowly draining the shield and reactor power of the formation. It was a slow burn but given the two would only be across the Line long enough to banish Dahaka Khan's gene-map, neither said anything. Reacher saw them first as his scan range far outreached the Progen's. Ahead was a squadron of Mordana. Their ships registered on his scopes. Sleek, arrow-like and almost alien were they. The excommunicated Jenquai Mordana had promised just after the Gate War that they would return and commit jihad up on their own people who had shunned their blood-fueled xenophobia and hatred of the Progen and Terrans. Now the Mordana had added the Jenquarum to their list of vendettas. Once hailed as heroes of the Gate War, the Mordana had been on the verge of pulling the trigger to decimate Mars from behind Progen warship lines when the call for armistice came. With the unsuspecting Progen homeworld in their sights, the followers of Mordane were denied righteous retribution against the genetic aberrations known as the Progen and their rigid and warlike Republic. Now the Mordana threatened to return with the modified and darkened fleets they had taken with them into excommunication to the depths of space. Ahead, a small squadron of advance ships was probing the Inztlan Line. Their position was before the coordinates of the Continuum Wrinkle, the destination of the duo. "They will not merely let us pass, Progen," said Reacher who alerted Pakkrateus of their presence. "The Mordana will see us as opportunity for glory to their jihad." Pakkrateus looked up from his scanner which he had linked to Reacher's detections. "Let them come at us if they wish," he said, "but we have work to do." Weapons were charged and safeties came off. Reacher then performed another strange Jenquai miracle. Focused through the magnifiers of his Defender ship, his psionics came into play again as two barriers, called Psi Shields, erected themselves in geodesic shells about each ship. Added to the shielding compliment of the duo, the defenses were set as they raced for the Continuum Wrinkle ahead. The Continuum Wrinkle looked like a cross between a black hole singularity and a created wormhole similar to the Ancient gates. There were no structures to mark where it began its event horizon. It swirled and ate all forms of energy, emitting only detected x-ray radiation in two cones shooting forth like a black hole. Sensors that swept the Wrinkle did not bounce back and could only be registered as bending to empty down the Wrinkle's infinite iris. Where anything entering the Continuum Wrinkle went was a given unknown. Then the Mordana spotted the two racing ships. Battle cries over the communications channels erupted as the ex-Jenquai ships turned to intercept a hated Progen and a despised Shinwa vessel pair. There were no words. There was only action at this point. A space battle occurred. It was full of miraculous maneuvers, space slicing beam weapons, cloud bursts of charged plasma, concussive explosions, and energy storms of shields deflecting and splattering ordinance over their fields. Maneuvers of every style were tried. Acrobatics were the purview of the Jenquai Defender and the Mordana as Pakkrateus' Maze Runner calmly made directly for the Continuum Wrinkle. His vessel returned fire with swarm after swarm of missiles, unorthodox to normal Progen armaments. Any Mordana that came too close felt the storm of his shields' inversion for the Progen had their own technology that turned a defensive shield inside-out and into a short-range weapon in its own right. The battle raged as the Wrinkle came closer. Pakkrat's Maze Runner took hit after hit upon its shields. But each time his computer warned him that they were buckling, he pulled another trick of the Collegia Privateers. With a surge of power from his reactors barely touched by the autonomous volleys of missiles, Pakkrateus recharged his shields. It was a reverse-shunting action that his Privateer class had gleaned from Terran tactics long ago. With a loud *Re-Vamp!*, his shields were a strong bulwark again. Thus, in this way he powered through the squadron of Mordana, determined to make the Wrinkle ahead. Reacher's Defender glided smoothly as he danced with the Mordana. Both the Defender's and the Mordana came from the same technologies of the Jenquai race. So it was a swirl of cloakings and de-cloakings with screaming beams. The acrobatics of the veteran master Reacher kept most beams from testing his Psi shield. To any other race, it might have looked like the Shinwa Defender was madly out of control of his careening and dodging vessel. Those beams that did connect were glancing blows at best. Whirling and twisting through space, the Defender laced the night before the Wrinkle with his own beams. It was a multi-colored light show and a dance to the death. Soon, wounds began to show. It was inevitable as the pair fought the Mordana. Coupled with the harsh radiations from the Sirius primary and the space battle, ships' shields began to fail or were sorely tested. But soon the Mordana lost heart and either turned tail or were left as derelicts on the field of battle. Pakkrateus was sweating as his ship's reactor and shields slowly regenerated. He had castled with Reacher once to give the Defender time to re-erect a new Psi shield in time to allow his normal shielding a respite. With Modana derelicts slowly falling to the pull of the Wrinkle, the two rallied before its event horizon. The aging Privateer was about to load the cryo-cartridge into a missile to be fired into the Continuum Wrinkle when a masercom beam was received by his communications system. It was an interstellar call synced to his Information Friend or Foe transponder. Someone was calling him. Was it his older clone brother Pakkratius, he asked himself. Pausing to load the missile, Pakkrateus answered the buzzing console. The transmission was voice-only and thus had no visual component. Only a static field on the monitor lent identity to the voice that spoke. It was a Progen voice, male and Mars-inflected. It addressed Pakkrateus as a recording instead of a direct call. Rhetorically it gave terms: "This message is hopefully being received by the one Progen in the galaxy who has our property. Know that the Sabine do not normally allow gene-maps to become bargaining chips, but the courier regrettably forced our hand. You, Collegiate have what is rightfully the jurisdiction of the Reclaimers. We offer a trade. Your stolen gene-map for the courier's. Yes, if she is restored, she can clear the air concerning her death and your besmirched name. Being hunted by the galaxy is no small thing, Privateer. There are worse fates. Bring us the stolen gene-map to Endriago planet or else hers goes into the fiery lava right outside Porevenir Mons. Rendezvous coordinates are embedded in this message. Do not fail to show alone or your life will become far more interesting, Privateer. End transmission." There it was. The conundrum of justice versus humanity. When it hit Pakkrateus' heart, he could only think of her, the girl from the bar. It was akin to murder to destroy a gene-map and these Reclaimers were willing to forever destroy the girl for a gene-map. "I feel your heart weight, Progen," offered Reacher. The Defender went silent again as Pakkrateus took the hard road. To elect for life over justice or revenge, tugged on Reacher. This was the only way to save the girl, clear Pakkrateus's name, and only then could justice be done upon the Tormentor. Seeing this in the dilemma of the Progen he was aiding, it renewed Reacher's faith in the Sev Tushnim over the racial anger of the Jenquai. Even he could step back from the abyss, having seen so much of war. It was a hard road the Privateer was taking. The Defender respected that. This Progen had honor. Forming up once more the unlikely pair shot again into the azure painted night of Sirius system.

Reader's Advisory: This chapter is probably Rated PG-13. Read at your discretion. From the Editing Office of NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.

Second Chances - An Earth & Beyond Emulator Novel Ch.II by Pakkrat II. "I'm pushing her as fast as I can, Jenquai," protested Pakkrateus over his com-link with the still-nameless pilot in the Defender vessel in formation beside his Privateer. As the two raced their ships sector after sector across Aragoth system, the Jenquai had become insistent. "You wish, Progen to arrive ahead of the news and security bulletins," warned the Jenquai pilot, "then you must push with all your so-called genetic might." It was true that Progen ships were not known for their warp speeds. The Maze Runner, Pakkrateus' home in space, was just under 5000 warp, her engines pressed and boosted by his shunting reactor and the turbo-warp device, the "Roadrunner Plus". And still the Shinwa complained. "News travels fast," said Pakkrateus. "And you have no time to ride the line," answered the Jenquai. As the gates permitted them entry and egress into the next sector, Pakkrateus looked out his starboard view port. He saw the mysterious Defender's ship. It was a sleek vessel, aerodynamic and dart-like. It's swept and curving wings were like a ceremonial knife in the dark. Its hull was flat black for stealth and there were no external lights. It made the Privateer think of the stories he had read of ancient Earth assassins of the Eastern Hemisphere, 'ninja' they were called. Though it was known that Defenders were to defend Jenquai interests and their star systems, this Defender ship looked more like an assassin out of the blackness of space. There was nothing to identify the ship, not even a name anywhere on its hull. It was an enigma, a cypher on purpose. It was assumed that a pilot's vessel was an extension of the pilot, so Pakkrateus decided that this Defender, whomever he was, was not going to answer questions of who, why and how over his aid to the Privateer. In turn, Pakkrateus did likewise with the Shinwa beside him. There was much bad blood between the Progen race and the Jenquai. Too much war. Too many unforgivable atrocities. When the pain in his leg had become too much to bear, the aging Privateer finally lifted his medical kit, a cheap version, and performed some wound care on the graze he'd taken as a souvenir from Fenris Observatory. Every Progen was expected to be trained in battlefield first aid and Pakkrateus was no exception. He had never been shot before personally. He unstrapped his leg armor and unbuckled his boot to better access the burning wound. Then the anesthetic foam hit his shallow wound and he sighed a relieved breath. A quick bandaging would keep the wound clean. Ahead was Akeron's Gate sector, this was the site of one of the most fiercest space battles of the Gate War. Akeron's Gate was the first discovered star gate and heralded humanity's exploration of the galaxy and humanity's battle for control of the "Ancient" gates. Man had learned to give commands to the gates via transmitting signals in certain frequencies and using harmonics to 'sing' the gate open permitting passage through their created wormholes to the connecting sector. Humanity, in its partitioned worldviews battled with itself over the proper use or restraint over the gates. It had escalated into the Gate War with Jenquai suffering the worst of it. Upon armistice and the peace treaty called Sol Security or "SolSec", the three races: Jenquai, Progen, and Terrans agreed to share the use of the gates under the joint buffer of SolSec, a peacekeeping force funded, supplied and equipped by all three superpowers. Pakkrateus hoped, somewhat a long-shot in his reckoning, that the seasonal sunspot and radiation storms of Aragoth system's bright white star would garble any masercom beam transmissions. Thus he had to race to Sol system and into Saturn sector, the home of NET-7 SOL and headquarters of Net-7 News. If he could persuade his estranged clone brother to help him, the news could be given a supplementary data dump, never to be transmitted and the Doctor could provide other answers the Privateer badly needed. The Procurator, his rank-title in the Collegia, picked up the cryo-cartridge from the console next to the half-empty Athanor heavy pistol. Gene-map preservation had come quite a long way from when the Sabine Order first assured the Centuriata iteration immortality. Back then, gene-maps were kept in larger pouch-sized cryo-canisters and had larger components. Over time the preservation technology had miniaturized somewhat to the fist-sized cartridge he now held in his hand. As a Collegiate, Pakkrateus was not given to know the secret techniques the Sabine Order kept in order to perform the Call Forward. He turned the cartridge over in his hand. The happily blinking green diode assured the viability of the gene-map inside. *Who was this?*, asked the Privateer. What was so important about this gene-map that a curious Centuriata Warrior had to be killed? His brother could tell him. It was a widely-advertised service played over the Net-7 News commercial blurbs and his clone brother took advantage of his news correspondent position to make it known that he had graduated the Sabine academy and was then a Doctor of the Call Forward. At first, he had kept it exclusive to the Centuriata as per the Progen mandates and privilege of the Alpha class Warriors. It was they who fought for the Republic and they who died, repeatedly. This repeating cycle of reiteration had inflated the egos of the Centuriata into believing themselves immortal so long as a Reclaimer of the Sabine Order performed his duties and recovered a fallen gene-map. Beyond that, Pakkrateus knew not how the process was undertaken to restore a fallen Warrior. But his older clone brother had moved out to Saturn and started his own business on the side of his employment with Net-7 News. The income was enough to set up an office there in the station, a flight above their lounge and tucked away like a dirty little secret of a newscorp known for exposing others' closet skeletons. Was it a function of their powerful transmitters that NET-7 SOL's transmissions were the loudest and most easily-receptive in Saturn sector? When the two ships gated into Saturn space, the news was already blaring across the communications channels. Still nothing out of Aragoth but solar weather blackout, explained the news blurbs. News from other systems of the galaxy was coming in normally. As the Privateer and the Defender rounded a navigation beacon, a 'nav', Pakkrateus saw the face of Dr. Pakkratius once again on his monitor. Slowing to approach the station, the Procurator felt a shivery twinge climb up the left side of his spine. The Collegiate was never one for metaphysics or other such mumbo-jumbo. Nor was he a reader of genetic sciences and abnormal psychology. The closest thing he had picked up on this sensation whenever he came into proximity of his older clone brother, Pakkratius, came from ancient Terran lore. And that was because he had been only mildly curious to see what Terrans thought of twins interactions. They had called it 'twinness'. It was rumored that identical birth twins (birth?), could sense each other when near. Some Terran studies in the realm of psionics claimed that there was some unseen connection between birth twins. Tests on Psionics who were born as twins were run. The same tests were given to non-psionic twins. Nothing conclusive was discovered, save that Psionics went on to further develop their talents and to be unjustly be segregated from mainstream Terran society. Non-Psi twins just shrugged and went on with the lore-based explanation and called it 'twinness'. How this phenomenon managed to infiltrate the Progen Pakkrateus and Pakkratius was an unanswered quirk that perhaps genetics could answer if only the Privateer could get a Sabine to open up about it. The Progen race had long ago and on purpose bred out any psionic talents as distrusted and unwanted traits. It was a testament to purging impurity from the Progen of Mars Colony and the eventual Republic. The Progen it seemed compensated instead with cybernetics and genetic engineering, topics and education forbidden outside the Sabine Order. It was their version of a monopoly on genetic immortality. The Defender veered off before the two could dock and wavered into invisibility under its cloaking capabilities. Pakkrateus guessed that he might never see the strange Defender again. It seemed unfair to be the beneficiary of such aid and not know who the Shinwa was. "You got a name, Jenquai?" asked Pakkrateus over his vambrace's com-link. It was still in connection to the benefactor. "I am but a voice in the dark, Progen," replied the voice. "'Reacher' will suffice. Yes, you may call me Reacher." It was punctuated with a fatalistic silence too thick to breach even as the news station blared its transmissions to the galaxy above them. "Well met then, 'Reacher'," said Pakkrateus. "My name's Pakkrateus-" he was cut off by the Jenquai's answer. "Collegiate Procurator Pakkrateus, captain pilot of the Privateer Maze Runner," named the Defender Reacher. "Your ship class mounts five (currently four) weapon hard points, extensive shields, heavy armor, sluggish engines, poor maneuverability, and is aging." Pakkrateus bristled at the run-down of his identity and his ship's specifications. This Reacher, in such a short time had studied his beneficiary. His voice was not judgemental, but rather matter-of-fact. A vessel could truly be an extension of the pilot. "However," continued Reacher over the tight connection, "your heart and mind is young and vibrant. What has aged you so physically?" This Jenquai was very perceptive of the Privateer. Almost nosy in fact. "That is none of your business, Shinwa Defender Reacher," answered Pakkrateus in his turn to be cryptic and mystique. Two could play at that game. He did not know the Jenquai's rank-title as they came in "Shou-something-or-other". Most times, the Privateer glossed over such entitlements. He did not like his own rank, uncaring what others thought of him. Until her. And now she was dead and he was the most wanted person of interest in this mess. The Maze Runner pulled into the hangar of NET-7 SOL and docked, the hangar robots attaching umbilical power and air conduits to the Privateer vessel. Exiting his ship, Pakkrateus felt the cryo-cartridge in his pocket as he walked swiftly towards the media lobby of the newscorp. As he went inside, he tried to turn his face from studio cameras and avoid eye contact with all present. In the main lobby he tried to bypass quickly was some of Net-7 News most prominent reporters, anchors, and a small horde of production crew. Here was Zona Mason already coaching an interviewee as the two made ready to be on camera. The Privateer was thankful that his clone brother was not present here. He wanted to meet Dr. Pakkratius in private. Turning left and through some hissing airlock doors, Pakkrateus walked quickly down the tubular corridor to the smallish and spartan bar in the station. Hoping for another drink, the Procurator was foiled by colliding with another Progen who was not looking where he was going. The Privateer had only split second of clue to whom he was about to stumble at the door with. Sabine uniform of black cargo jumper accentuated with an orange-gold light armor. When Pakkrateus looked up to the face of the Progen, he saw a younger version of himself. When the two bounced off each other equally repulsed, the Privateer recognized his older clone brother, the one that was to eternally look younger than he. Surprised and yet inwardly disappointed at his own plight, the Privateer thrust out his hands and caught two data-tablets that he had dislodged from the Doctor's grasp. "Apologies, Sentinel," said Pakkrateus to his clone brother. He had seen him before in this very bar, but never this close. It was like looking into a mirror and seeing his own youthful past. "May fault-...," answered the Sentinel Pakkratius who now studied the Privateer's face. Fast conclusions ran through his eyes as he did the causal math. The Sabine took the initiative to break the ice. "You must be my rumored clone brother." "Yes, older brother, I am," answered the Privateer. "I had heard whispers that there was another me out there." "I am not you, Doctor." Picking his physician's kit he had dropped in the collision, the Sabine Order Sentinel said, "I doubt somehow this is a coincidence that we have come together finally." "I need your help," admitted Pakkrateus. "How bad is it?" asked Pakkratius. The Privateer produced the cryo-cartridge in his free hand and held it up for the Sentinel to see. "It could potentially go to the top." Dr. Pakkratius immediately recognized the cartridge and lowered his voice, "In my office." The two Progen then went back into the bar and up a side ramp to the next deck up. They entered a door that was labeled with the Sentinel's name: DR. PAKKRATIUS, NET-7 SOL REPORTER The Privateer noted the proud capital letters of his older clone brother's positions as he entered behind him. Inside the Doctor's domicile was clean, orderly and in the mini-lab, sterile. Despite the naysayers of protesting physicians and public safety interest groups malingering the Call Forward process, his older brother's equipment was immaculate. Pakkratius did well for himself. The two clone brothers entered the lab's work area. Though the Doctor lacked the funds to have his own re-iteration chamber for the full Call Forward of fallen Progen, his lab did come equipped with a scanner. With the Reporter's connections with Net-7 News, he could easily compare the scanned gene-map with Progen databases and produce an identity for it. As the Sabine went to work on scanning the gene-map, Pakkrateus spoke up, "I need a favor as well." The Sentinel continued working on calibrating the scanner upon the contained gene-map. "Oh?" he asked, more interested in the scan results. "I need you to squelch any news coming out of Aragoth system for as long as you can," requested the Privateer, worry in his voice that the Reporter might turn him down. "In finding this gene-map, I was set up as the killer of a Centuriata courier." Surprised, Pakkratius let the scanner continue working autonomously as he looked back to the aging clone brother. He had to hear this story and how it connected with the gene-map. Pakkrateus told his story of his encounter with the woman in the lounge at Fenris Observatory, omitting nothing and making sure he was clear that no indecency was perpetrated on the victim woman. Pakkratius listened with scientific analysis, withholding his judgement until the Privateer finished. But before the Sentinel could give his take on the events put to him, the scanner ringed its results and displayed them on the smallish screen to be read. "Mother of Progen Vita Theodora!" swore the Sentinel. "Who is it?" asked Pakkrateus his nerves ramping up. This was confirming how deeply he was in hot water to say nothing of the murder for which he had been framed. Pakkratius ejected the gene-map cartridge from the scanner and held it up almost reverently. "This was the warlord general Dahaka Khan, brother to our former Primarch Anjuren Khan, the very "Tormentor of Jove City" himself. How was this Reclaimed after these many years?" "Somebody other than I knows and killed a Centuriata courier for her curiosity, but she got them first." "Then, brother Privateer, you are now that hunted man." There was a silence. The Doctor looked again at the cartridge holding the gene-map of the most heinous Progen warlord in recent history. "Credits to the Codex," offered the Sabine Sentinel, "says that whomever reclaimed this gene-map wants to see if the warlord will answer the Call Forward. Do you know what that will mean?" The younger but aging Privateer stepped forward and snatched the gene-map cartridge from his brother's hand and said, "Worth billions of credits, billions of lives, and billions of survivors' hatred should what's in here be Called Forward, brother." Pakkratius, made the causal calculations instantly and nodded grimly. There it was. His Collegiate younger brother was wiser than most of his Faction. The return of the savage warlord would re-ignite the Gate War. Governments would want him for any number of reasons and would kill for this gene-map. No amount of money was worth the terror and horror the warlord's return could bring. "You are a hunted man, brother," declared Pakkratius. "It must be destroyed," answered Pakkrateus. "That was the will of then-Primarch Tyr," recalled the Doctor. "So be it," decided the Privateer. He would see to its permanent destruction. But how to do so with zero-failure, absolute certainty? Pakkratius assured his aging brother, "I'll do what I can, but this could put me at risk too, brother. This is a big favor." "Name your price." "An exclusive." Puzzled, the Privateer wrinkled his brow inquisitively at his brother. The Reporter answered the unspoken question, "Since this favor you need from me could get me fired and ruin my accreditation and integrity, I want an exclusive interview, on camera, on record after you have dealt with this mess." "If you'd have simply asked for bribe credits, Sabine, I'd have been disappointed," said Pakkrateus. "Done." It was uncharacteristic between the Sabine Order and the Collegia, but the two estranged clone brothers clasped forearms on the deal. The Privateer then turned and left his brother planning how to sabotage the feeds to NET-7 SOL's reception of Aragoth's news. Shortly afterwards, the Maze Runner pulled out from the hangar of NET-7 SOL and into Saturn sector. Pakkrateus had no clue where to go next. Then his vambrace again spoke. Rats! In all this time he had left it the connection to Reacher active while inside speaking to his clone brother. He was about to cut the damned device off when it spoke with Reacher's voice. He was still nearby! "I have an idea how to help you with the final destruction of the vile Tormentor, Progen," offered Reacher's voice of the com-link. So, he had been listening, thought Pakkrateus. When was he, Pakkrateus going to learn? "Yeah?" asked Pakkrateus guiltily. "Though I would love to see the Tormentor suffer eternally in pain for what he did to my people," admitted Reacher, "I can think of a way to get final justice upon the warlord." "I'm listening," answered the Privateer. In truth, he wanted Reacher's input now that he had confirmed his eavesdropping on the encounter with Pakkratius. Dahaka Khan was both an infamous general and hero, but also reviled villain of the Gate War. Progen were not savages as the Dog Soldier units had led the galaxy to believe of all Progen Republic citizens. If the brutal Khan were re-iterated by the Call Forward, it would only paint the Progen in more negative colors once more. History might repeat itself. There was an uncomfortable pause before Reacher spoke, almost as if the Jenquai Defender was weighing the same thoughts as Pakkrateus. "There is a one-way exit from this time-space continuum, Progen. Banish the Khan's gene-map forever from our universe through the Continuum Wrinkle in Xipe Totec." "Sounds poetic, Jenquai," described Pakkrateus. "Never heard of it." Reacher explained, "The Continuum Wrinkle was discovered in the Sirius system shortly after Prasad Station was completed and was partially responsible for the erection of the Inztlan Line, the shield that holds the radiations of Sirius at bay. It is a natural wormhole, Progen, but it does not open up to any known point in our galaxy or our universe as far as the Sha'ha'dem have discovered." "So, we toss the gene-map of Dahaka Khan down the deepest garbage chute in the known universe forever, right Jenquai?" "It is a fitting and immortal punishment for an immortal Centuriata fiend such as Da-....for the villain," explained Reacher with an edge of impending justice to his voice. "Form up," said Pakkrateus. "Let's boogie." The two ships, one huge and armored and the other black and almost invisibly sleek came together and shot into the night bisected by the rings of Saturn. * * * Across half the known galaxy, on Endriago planet, Tervanus Rex pounded a console for the fifth time in frustrated anger. Five times he had scanned the gene-map that his Reclaimer subordinates had brought him. Five times the scanner had told him that he had the gene-map of the Centuriata courier, Siobhan. He had been betrayed by the Centuriata woman! He needed to know what happened. Thus, the Reclaimer, Tervanus Rex had to delay the resurrection of the Khan for the revival of the woman. He had questions to ask her. Here on the superheated lava planet Endriago, he had found Vinda's ultra-secret compound for her project that was under the strictest of security to non-Sabine. But Rex was a Reclaimer and had found it from within the Sabine Order. He and his men had stolen into the Sabura Project Compound in hopes of receiving the Khan's gene-map here and in secret. The newer techniques of Sabine Order leader Vinda were unknown to Rex, but her equipment and supplies for initiating the Call Forward were already here. He meant to resurrect the warlord locally and away from the public eye. He would have the most valuable Progen in the galaxy to himself and see where such fame and power would take him. No longer would he be just another repulsive grave robber of the galaxy. Lava plumes punctuated his anger and frustration at the scanner's news. Rex' assistant, a subordinate Reclaimer asked cautiously, "What now, sir?" Rex lifted the cryo-canister that had disguised Siobhan's gene-map. With a grim and ominous determination, he answered, "We ask her." "You mean to Call her Forward, sir?" asked the subordinate. "What if she doesn't answer the Call?" "Oh, I believe she wants to answer it," answered Tervanus Rex. "She was murdered by us. She'll want revenge. Centuriata are like that. Begin the process. I'll take full authority and responsibility." Thus, as a Privateer raced across the galaxy to his brother in Saturn, the Call Forward began to beckon to the gene-map of Siobhan the Centuriata courier. Genes, personality and memories were re-iterated slowly into the comatose mega-grown female Sabura body. Even the Reclaimers were silent about the metaphysics of the Call Forward, preferring not to think beyond scientific logic over the process. If the woman "answered the Call" the cloned body would awaken with all the memories and personality contained in the gene-map. This process of course rendered the left-behind gene-map useless and no longer viable. The Call would be a success and the Progen subject would live again. The Sabura Project Compound was the newest, most advanced collection of re-iteration systems to date. Vinda apparently had spared no expense here in secret. Rex admired the efficiency of the new techniques the class leader had developed. The minutiae aside and the schematics be damned, Rex needed those answers from the woman soon to awaken! He waited impatiently as the woman's body, forged from her genes as a Sabura, the first Sabura, accepted the answering woman's metaphysical presence again true to the Centuriata archetype. There was an electrical jolt as the body's heart was started. Every muscle in the woman's new body flexed and tensed in tetanus. Then breathing began, eyes flew open in shock, surprise, fright, pain, and myriad other reactions. She moaned through the cushioned bite gag meant to keep her from severing her tongue with her teeth at the jolt. Systems whined lower and lower as the Call Forward completed. Medicines and other nutrients flowed. The woman was stabilized even as she panted for more air. Coughing, the woman spat out the bite guard and cried in the safety restraints of the table. She struggled in fright, pulling on the bindings. Rex stepped up to the naked woman, newly Called, and spoke in a gentle but firm voice to the Sabura woman before him. "Siobbhan? Siobhan, do you understand me?" he asked her as she spotted him. The geodesic dome over the small and secret facility was not Arx Spartoi, the Place of Life. It was not the expected location for Centuriata to answer the Call Forward. She panicked for a time but focused on the man's voice. Rex. He was Tervanus Rex, the Reclaimer who had hired her to deliver..... Her memories were still piecing themselves together. "It is called Iteration Haze, my dear," Rex tried to calm her. "It will pass in hours. But I need to talk with you, Siobhan." He waved his Reclaimer assistants from the lab. Alone with her, he continued. "Siobhan, this is important. I know you are waking up from the Call Forward and suffering Iteration Haze, but please; can you tell me what you did with the gene-map package you were to deliver to the rendezvous point?" She looked about as her body still tested the restraints at her wrists and ankles. Why was she still bared before him? Normally, female Doctors and assistants were already dressing the Called patient. What was Rex up to? He was a Reclaimer by Vita Theodora! He was not a Specialist. This was an unauthorized Call Forward she realized. She suddenly felt sick and somewhat violated were it not for her experience with her fellow male soldiers of the Centuriata. Her last memories before her loss of consciousness were hazily piecing themselves still. She remembered trying to make contact with Centuriata Command. Rex had discovered the gene-map of Dahaka Khan. In a fit of curiosity, Siobhan had had the cryo-canister scanned and learned its identity. With the revelation came a marked need for orders from Command concerning the highly-illegal reclamation of the warlord-general's gene-map assumed from the Ruins of Jove City. But her call from Fenris Observatory had been foiled by the Aragoth sun's sunspot activity and radiations garbling the connection. She had broken the courier's code and was embroiled in the nature of the gene-map's political sensitivity. In fear for her life, she had swapped the gene-map with her own in case Khan's was stolen. And now, here she was alive again having answered the Call Forward, but not at the usual Arx Spartoi station, the Place of Life. Rex had Called her Forward illegally and without authorization in this strange planet-side place. Endriago! This was the fiery lava planet Endriago right under the noses of the larger Sabine Order. Such arrogance and violation! Rex read the montage of emotions across the new Siobhan's face. Did she know? He tried honey talk again. "Siobhan, please, tell me what you did with the gene-map." "Go to hell, Rex," she breathed through angry clenched teeth. "No such place," answered Rex dejected yet calm. "The gene-map, warrior." "You would raise the Tormentor again, Rex?" she asked in protest. "I had given that thought," he half-lied. In truth he had thought, a little, of selling the gene-map on the black market to the highest bidder for billions. But the prospect of seeing the warlord live again was far greater a socio-political prize. "You're mad," she seethed in frustration at her inability to throttle the Reclaimer senseless. "You should not have opened the box, Pandora," he blamed her in trade and using the ancient Earth parable. Seeing her struggle against her bonds, Rex drew a cart on rollers near to the restraint table and Siobhan. "You will not have Khan's map, madman," declared Siobhan. "I will." he answered as he picked up a charged pain-stick, an electrical prod device used in quelling rioters. "Tell me what you did with the gene-map, Siobhan." "Death first!" she screamed at him. "You had that chance, warrior," he said as he thrust the active tip to her ribs and gave her a crippling shock. Muscles tensed and she screamed in surprise, anger, and some small hidden fear. The interrogation reiterated itself again and again as Rex tortured the information from Siobhan. She had been brave and trained to resist torture, but that was in another life. The Reclaimer eventually won out after having to change the battery in the pain-stick only once. Breathing hard and in painful aftershocks, Siobhan had confessed she had swapped the gene-map with her own hours before her death and that it had been left in her vambrace disguised as her own armor's receptacle. This was bad news to the ears of the Reclaimer. "Damn you, Siobhan," he spat at her. "You have nearly ruined my plans. Thankfully not all is lost." "I am Centuriata," she seethed, recovering her wits. "You will not further dishonor us, you grave-robbing vermin." At that and out of spite as it was a touchy moniker oft-aimed at the Reclaimers, Rex shocked her again. Then he activated a control on the table's machinery to angle Siobhan upright and vertical. Moving off as she hung there weakly, he wheeled over to her a tall mirror and aimed it at her. In her reflection, Siobhan saw her naked form still restrained to the table. But then she beheld differences in the reflection she was familiar with. She had changed! Instead of dark, chocolate-brown hair and pale smooth skin, the image of her had lighter, dirty brown hair, and a tanned complexion over her entire body and was uniform in color. At first, it looked as if the Call Forward had erred by pulling hue from her hair and colored her entire skin. Her frame was the same and her face was familiar, but now there was a change in her coloration. Immediately her fear heightened as she realized she was looking at her new self and inwardly quested for any inner changes that felt different. The Iteration Haze still plagued her and she cursed Rex under her breath for this violation. "No, Siobhan," answered the Reclaimer. "You are no longer Centuriata. Let me explain." Rex detailed the Sabura Project as far has he had probed and understood personally. Vinda had plans. She meant the Sabura Compound for some future project that only she knew about. From what Rex had gleaned in the schematics and other minutiae, the Sabura were to become the new Progen breed of warriors, with a few subtle changes only Vinda was privy to. Rex was pressed for time and needed a secret facility to resurrect the warlord Khan, and the Sabura Compound was ideal except for the now-revealed changes he saw in Calling Siobhan Forward. What these changes were internally was some matrix Rex was unsure of, so he had tested the facility. On Siobhan. "You arrogant, irreverent bastard," Siobhan glared at Rex. "Laughable, since all Progen are technically bastards," he answered. "How dare you!" she was mollified by his sacrilege against the Centuriata and the Progen race. "I'll dare much more.....Sabura." He said it with a finality in his voice. "I will kill you and come back as a Centuriata once more," she tried to be brave. "That is where you are wrong, Siobhan," he explained further. "You see the Sabura Project is a one-way door. The gene-maps can only be re-iterated into equal or descending caste. The Sabine cannot make a beta-caste citizen of the Progen Republic into the higher alpha-caste. They can only be Called to beta- or lower castes. Vinda feels this bite every time she looks in her pretty mirror as well. She will re-make the warriors of the Progen from the idiot savages of the Centuriata. Welcome to the Project, Siobhan the Sabura." He walked away, leaving Siobhan with only her mirror reflection as company. Stepping outside, he left orders to his subordinates for the woman's preparations. "I have to make a long-distance call by hook or by crook," he said.

Okay, I've broken it up further by adding lines between paragraphs to better partition them. The Forum still won't acknowledge paragraph indentions. I am writing this book on an android tablet and in .txt format as I do not have Word. Still, I hope this makes it less a Wall Of Text and more comfortable a read. From the Editing Office of NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat

I can't change how the Forum receives my posts. Thus, I broke the novel into chapters. I don't like that the post is not indenting paragraphs, but have tried and tried to get it right. Whatever. This is a labor of love, a feedback response to the great work the Developers, GMs, and other staff are struggling with in Calling Forward the Earth & Beyond universe. I challenge no copyrights to the intellectual material featured. My sources were the Earth & Beyond Storyline document and interviews with EA Live players, Emulator Live players, a cooperation with the player of 'Reacher', and supplemental advice and overwatch of the Progen Development team. You all know who you are. I may go ahead with a completed list of Acknowledgements at the end of the novel. But for now, please enjoy the story I wrote. I am aware that each post is an aircraft carrier of text. Please be patient with me and take your time reading it. From his desk at NET-7 SOL, this is the Pakkrat.

Second Chances - An Earth & Beyond Emulator Novel, Ch. I by Pakkrat I. Pakkrateus opened his eyes to pain, thirst, and a blatant desire to return to the oblivion of sleep. His head pounded to the tune of one of his occasional headaches. He rediscovered that he'd been drinking and had the urge to drink a gallon of water. Against every muscle in his body's better wisdom, the Progen sat up on the side of the large bed he found himself in. He found he did not remember choosing a sleeping quarters with such a huge bed. Looking down with his fingers rubbing his temples, Pakkrateus spotted his uniform, Privateer's armor and other sundry gear that belonged to him. He pressed a button on the bedside light to have a painful look about. He needed water for this hangover from whatever it was he was drinking last night. Oh. Last night. What had he been doing? Pakkrateus ran his fingers through his graying military hair buzz. It was getting longer. Last night slowly unfolded from his memories and played itself back through the haze of the hangover. Yesterday's haul from Somerled Station in New Edinburgh sector along with the noisy tourist passengers seeking passage to the Aragoth system was less profitable than his expected payout. With most of his ship's cargo hold full of trade commodities, (Nano-bots weren't they?) and some space left over for passenger pods, Pakkrateus had taken it upon himself to make the long haul to Fenris Observatory. The passengers had complained just about the entire journey at the slow warp speeds of his vessel, the Maze Runner. The Privateer had been reduced from a Progen para-military vessel to a tour vehicle for humans and nano-bots. Well, at least the microscopic Nano-bots did not complain about the bumpy ride the Maze Runner gave them. It was a Progen ship after all, not some Glenn Commission pleasure cruiser out of Beta Hydri. Though the crates had piled high in his ship's cargo hold, Pakkrateus had failed to fill all the rented passenger pods with tourists. Pakkrateus had tried to put on his best Collegia face for the tourists. But when they beheld his Maze Runner, they balked thinking it was some weapon-bristling warship. While it was true the Progen Privateer class of vessel was originally intended as a marque-ed hunter ship with an eye for trade, Pakkrateus had never been one for heavy combat. But it was the huge, mounted missile launchers that turned a few tourists away in disgust of a warmongering vessel. If he had only mounted the smallest of weapon systems, he might not have frightened the tourists away. Hindsight. Pakkrateus' head swam with dizziness and he put his head over the side of the bed as he rubbed his scalp. What a hangover! Memories of arrival at Fenris Observatory, Fenris sector in Aragoth system were the most pleasant. His ship regurgitated the tourist passengers first upon docking at the Jenquai station. They had been very happy to see the comfortable blues and calming grays of the space station as opposed to the heavily-armored and flat black of his Maze Runner. Then came his delivery contact to off-load the huge shipment of the nano-bots crates. Monetary credits were exchanged after a little session of his favorite pastime, negotiations of commodity price. Pakkrateus was cloned and raised by the Progen Republic, more specifically the Collegia, to be a greedy son of a bitch. He'd never rival the downright market bastards of the Terran Alliance but he did okay. The payout was still less than he wanted given that he had made the mistake of taking on passengers. He could have filled those passenger pod spaces in the hold with more crates of nano-bots and had less complaints for the trip. Hindsight is a bitch. So too was his pounding headache a bitch. More memories unloaded on the Privateer as he rubbed out the crick in his neck. Where had that come from? Pakkrateus had immediately made for the prissy Jenquai lounge to see if Pro-Vod vodka was on the menu. His ship had arrived late in the evening much to the complaints to the wealthy and snobbish Terrans out of Somerled Station. He had watched the population of the lounge patrons drop as he ate a meal and watched the news with disinterest. There was his older clone brother, Dr. Pakkratius the Sabine Sentinel, running his mouth on the monitor above him. The Sentinel was a field correspondent for Net-7 News, the galaxy's widest source for keeping in the know. The Sentinel and the Privateer were never fully acquainted nor brotherly friends beyond their shared Progen heritage. Pakkrateus had learned first of his older clone brother due to the fact that the Reporter had become an expected face in the media, soon to try out for anchorman on the nightly masercom broadcast. Estranged by iteration, career, and missed opportunities to get to know each other, Pakkrateus had let his older clone brother do his thing until he someday would discover his 'younger' brother. It was a base reminder, despised by the Privateer, that he suffered a genetic one-in-a-million odds that activated a quirk in the genome from which he was iterated. He ran his hands over his face, feeling more of the wrinkles and crows feet. Pakkrateus suffered from what the geneticists told him was a very mild appearance of Methuselah's Syndrome. His body, though younger than his clone brother's, was aging slightly faster than it should have normally. This made the Privateer appear a full decade older than the Sabine Sentinel Pakkratius. It was a mild case after all. Methuselah's Syndrome was genetic in nature and inherited. No gene therapy had been found to reverse the symptoms, even with anagathic drugs. The physicians and geneticists had told Pakkrateus that it would be easier to just be Called Forward to a new life with the greater chance of the genetic flaw failing to activate, than to battle the flaw. Unwilling to be slain and Called Forward by the geneticists of the Sabine Order, Pakkrateus was stuck with looking and somewhat feeling older than his clone brother Pakkratius. It made him envious at times to see his brother on the monitors, spouting the galaxy's latest dirty laundry or lately the sunspot and radiation weather coming off Aragoth system's solar primary. He looked younger and was probably groomed to be the best Progen face on Net-7 News. Hence, Pakkrateus had never took it upon himself to befriend his clone brother. It seemed that the imagined encounter scenario would be plastic and false and the Privateer disliked masks that society put on before each other. The two were merely brothers, cloned from the same genome, the so-called Pakkrat Master Genome, (whatever the hell that meant). The Sabine would let no more about his genome out as he was a Collegiate and not given to know. The Privateer might tap his clone brother who was a Sabine Versatile, but it was a case of the chicken or the egg and Pakkrateus did not have the time to climb his family tree with the Doctor. Progen were supposed to make the best of who and what they were, here and now, for the Republic. At least that was their line of thinking. Pakkrateus reached for his vambrace, not to put it on his forearm, but merely to check the time. It was early morning. Cripes, he had not had four hours of sleep! Normally, the Privateer was given to sleeping in, especially after a long haul like yesterday's trade and passenger run. More memories unlocked when he put down the forearm personal data assistant. It had been very late and the lounge for all its round-the-clock service was good for, had emptied. The music still played, the monitors had cycled the feeds from the rest of the galaxy three times and were about to start a fourth. The Privateer had eaten and had nursed six vodkas to again drown down his mediocre career. He had looked about to try one more time at people-watching. At least they did not come sensationalised as the talking heads of the media channels. At that hour, he panned around to find himself alone in the lounge with only one other patron present. The station employees were probably asleep. It was a lull time for Fenris Observatory being so late at night. He had spotted her from the bar to the low table in the rear. She was hunched over the table and making use of its communications terminal linked to the Net terminal nearby. Pakkrateus had turned slightly to his left at the bar to watch her trying to make a connection call. She was a Progen and Centuriata by the looks of her uniform and armor. She had a lithe yet wiry frame under the light armor. Her skin was lighter than the Privateer's and there was a hint of femininity under the frustrated looks she was shooting at the table before her. Her hair was a dark chocolate brown and cut two different ways but both in the style prevalent in Progen women. The main style was of the Centuriata, trimmed to a crisp line just below the ears and such that it meant business. Then there was the gathered ponytail that streamed up and behind her that reached in a gentle helical spiral down her back almost reaching her hips. To the Privateer, the ponytail resembled the helical spiral of DNA, a statement of racial pride. She was unarmed but not untrained, thought the Privateer at the bar. Centuriata Warriors were not to be pushed. But she was not the typical brutish woman that he had come to see in most Centuriata females. She was lighter, slender and her muscles did not overpower her frame. She could definitely be a model for the latest Progen fashions if Progen indulged in fashion. The Centuriata had sparked -no, kickstart- something in the Privateer. It was quickly spoiled when in frustration she looked up from her table and scanned the lounge to spot Pakkrateus watching her with more than interest. At seeing him, this aging Progen male gawking, her frown deepened and she flashed that look. It was familiar to him so many times from his past. She gave him the Now's Not The Right Time, Boy look. It was accentuated with a slight shake of her head which was beautifully accented by her spiral ponytail. Dejected yet again, the Privateer finished his last vodka and was about to leave if only his arms and legs would move. Across the bar, the woman seemed to be stumbling to stand from her own chair. He too had tried to get up, but fell off the stool immediately. Stunned on the floor in what must look like a drunken stupor, surely in full view of her, he tried to push up from the floor. Then he saw her trip and fall just as flat. Then all went dark and sleepy with a remembered acrid aroma in the lounge. Next thing Pakkrateus knew, he was waking just now in full hangover bloom plus a sleep-deprived dehydration. Whoever she was, she at least tripped beautifully and with trained grace, unlike his drunken stupor. Now, in the sleeping quarters of Fenris Station, Pakkratius looked about the room and noticed there was someone in the bed with him. He got up and stood away from the person on the other side of the shared bed. Had he gotten somehow lucky? No. He did not bodily feel lucky just now, hazy as he was with the pounding hangover. So, he carefully and quietly rounded the bed to see who he had shared the bed with. The outline of the covers, a single thermal sheet framed a female frame. It was a woman in his bed. Or her bed. His memory was now refusing him answers. He did not want to wake her, but his better mind needed to know if and how he had scored. He tried to lightly tap the sleeping form on the shoulder as he pulled on underclothes instead of greeting her in his birthday suit. There was no answer or movement from the female form. Her clothes were on her side of the bed in an orderly and folded pattern so ingrained in the Centuriata. The light armor was also nearby and looked familiar. Pakkrateus hazarded to pull down the thermal sheet and reveal the face of his bed mate. He was greeted with red everywhere under the sheet. Blood soaked her side of the bed and she was not breathing. She was dead! The Progen almost stumbled as he backed way from the dead woman from the bar last night. Her hair was matted with dried blood. The face of the Centuriata was calm but for the huge bullet hole wound in her forehead. She looked fully asleep save for the dried lake of blood and the gaping wound in her skull. There was no hope in waking that. Panic and fear gripped the Privateer. He had never seen a dead Centuriata up close and personal before. Such was the purview of the Reclaimers of the Sabine Order and outside his worldview sphere. Just last night she was alive. Now she was dead and he had been asleep beside her dead body. Sobriety fought with hangover in Pakkrateus' head. His breathing raced as did his heart. He needed to know what happened. Against better judgement he picked up the woman's PDA vambrace computer and looked in her journal. Almost immediately, a tiny holographic image of the young woman winked into view above the forearm armor. It was her making a recording of herself. Then the tiny woman's voice came through the little speaker on the PDA. Her voice was like honey given sound, mixed with jalapeno of a Warrior's attitude. It warmed the Privateer's heart bitterly now that she was dead on the bed before him. He listened to the recording. "If you are reading this recording," the recording spoke, "then my PDA is not registering my vitals, most likely meaning that I am dead. This is a deathwatch recording and I make it a habit of updating it as often as I can. My designation is Alpha-class Centuriata Warrior Siobhan. I am a courier by occupation for the Progen Republic." The recording went on calmly, "I have every confidence in the Sabine Reclaimers and fully intend to answer the Call Forward. But there is an issue. My most recent courier package mission may be to blame. Let me explain. I was tasked with the unlikely delivery of a discovered gene-map, but not to the Sabine Genetic Repository as is customary. Instead I was ordered to deliver it directly and secretly to Endriago planet-side. I have made the messenger's faux pas in that I looked at the package I was to deliver." "The gene-map was very old and looked very important; I cannot say how important. My employer set the highest priority to its delivery. I can only assume that this mission was far more volatile than I am usually willing to accept. I will try to make contact with Centuriata Command for advice on this matter. I would have forfeited the mission had I known, but now the error is done. I, Siobhan should not have been so curious. My apologies. Yet, this mission has jeopardized my life." "I have taken steps to ensure that if killed, as I suspect I am in danger, that the package is not lost." Another pause as the woman's image looked like a confession was in order, "I have exchanged my own Centuriata gene-map with the packaged gene-map and put it in my own vambrace cryo-cartridge. Thus you, whomever you are, now hold what I was to deliver. Things may have "gone south" and I ask you, reader for your aid." The image tilted her head and smiled a little in a quiet plea then faded away. Pakkrateus needed to help her. He wanted to help her. He went back to his gear and began dressing when he stubbed his toes on the heavy pistol slightly under his side of the bed, a gun that the Privateer did not own. * * * The prismatic colors of the comet's tail flared at a refraction angle from the light of Aragoth system's sun. He watched the comet's path and spectral light show as it passed between the solar primary and his vessel. Like the ancient Earth sailors upon the oceans and seas who gazed longingly at the horizon, the Jenquai similarly appreciated the calming vista before him. On purpose, the pilot had turned his sleek black vessel away from the teeming humanity behind him. The traffic was at a lull and the communications channels were at their quietest. It was the dead of space night outside Fenris Observatory out on the furthest reaches of the galaxy thus far explored. All was calm and peaceful. It was why he had come out this far and away from the rest of civilization. It had been some time since his last active duty mission as a member of the Shinwa Defenders, but in the interim the Jenquai had found outlets of action as a secretive member of the Sev Tushnim, literally "We Who Serve In Silence". His life as a soldier, a veteran, a warrior-mystic and an unsung hero was the subject of his contemplative solitude here in Fenris sector. Time after time, in active duty as a Defender and between missions, the pilot had served without question and with dutiful humility. He had long lost count of those he had fought against, fellows trained, and those in need aided. Now, out here on the fringe, he was in rapt reflection of his career. He came this far to let down his hair and meditate on his next chapter of his life. Many Shinwa Defenders did not serve this long as a member of the Sev Tushnim, freely giving of their aid, service, and under the quiet and stealthy veil of anonymity. Most beneficiaries often never knew they had been aided from the dark. The Sev Tushnim gave their aid regardless of race, caste, class, profession, or affiliations even to the point of self-sacrifice if the need was so great. Thus, many Defenders served their term and then transferred to other callings. Never had the secretive sub-order of the Defenders asked for reward. It was their philosophy and lifestyle to singly or in very small groups to render aid to humanity selfishly and unconditionally. One might call it unconditional love for all life. As a veteran of the Gate War, the Jenquai Defender was no stranger to conflict and battle, the horrors of war and the soul-scarring loss of humanity that wrote itself upon the heart. Perhaps it was penance from war that brought this pilot out to the fringe of civilization and to this edge of the frontier. It was quiet here and it was a respite for a time. Hence, for all the peace and quiet, the Sev Tushnim Defender was blindsided by the psychic emanations of surprise, fear, remorse, and horror that brought him to full alert as he spun to face Fenris Observatory. From the bridge of his sleek Defender vessel, he felt the waves of negativity and suffering from a lone human somewhere in side the station. The emanations stank of blood and death. Someone, a male by the polarity, was in need of aid. His mind was an innocent faced with loss and panic. The Defender 'reached' with his mystical senses and pinpointed which wing of the Observatory the one in need was located. He meant to help this one, by the Sev Tushnim, for loss of innocence was metaphysically equivalent to a miniature death. He spoke to his ship. "Engines online and engage cloaking," he calmly spoke with confidence. "Impulse and warp available," answered the ship's computer with a neuter voice, neither male or female. "Cloaking engaged." The Sev Tushnim thrust his ship closer to the station. At this time of night, it was quite easy to let the traffic control ignore the comings and going of those who serve in silence. He pulled his vessel up beside the station and accessed the station's docking registry, looking at names and com-numbers. When the name and the number 'reached' synchronicity with the psychic resonance, he placed a call. * * * "This is not good," said Pakkrateus, still panic-stricken as he examined the pistol in his hands. It was an Athanor brand weapon, a top of the line gun. Its caliber seemed, to the Privateer's eyes, to match the death wound on the woman's skull. He did the causality calculations in his head. Dead and beautiful girl, aging Progen male, recently-used weapon, alcohol, shoddy career record, the list went on. He was being set up. But by who, he asked mentally to the room. Per her deathwatch plea, the Privateer snatched up the Centuriata woman's vambrace labeled Siobhan and ejected the gene-map cartridge. The recharged green diode blinked steadily as he pocketed it. Fully clothed now, Pakkrateus was stunned in fright by the station's klaxon security alarms bursting into a blaring clarion. Then his own vambrace's com-link rang. He answered the call. He did not initially speak so the caller took the initiative, "I know you are innocent of the death around you. If you wish to clear your name and make it out of there alive, you must follow my instructions exactly." It was a male voice and its accent was Jovian. A Jenquai had called him and offered to help him. Hesitatingly Pakkrateus answered, "W-what must I do?" Even in the blaring alarms and security announcements of imminent lock-down, he could hear his own blood pounding through his head, the adrenaline clearing his mind of his hangover. "Security forces are closing in on your location," said the Jenquai voice. "You must take a roundabout route through the station to make it to the hangar and your own vessel. Go when I say go. Stop when I say stop. Understand?" Pakkrateus could only nod mutely. He gathered up the last of his gear and stood at the door to the room. "I'm ready." "Put away the gun and get ready to run." Vita Theodora! He meant to have Pakkrateus run his ass off to the hangar bay. The Progen had not run since training in the Collegia. He had never had cause to move faster than a jog. He hoped his adrenaline rush would sustain him. He holstered the Athanor and unlocked the door. A short moment of doubt in this new voice on his com-link infected his gut reactions. As if to answer such hesitation, the voice spoke again, "There is no time to ride the line, Progen." Was he in Pakkrateus' head? He had heard from his training and education that the Jenquai had not eschewed the psionic disciplines distrusted by the Progen race. Was this "Jenny" reading his mind telepathically or emotions empathically? He had no further time to think when the voice spoke again. "Go now," said the Jenquai voice. "Down the hall, to the left and take the stairs down." In the hall the alarms were much louder and yellow lights mated to violet black lights flashed in time with the noise. An automatic female Jenquai voice calmly announced a security lock-down and advised patrons, staff, and visitors to shelter in place. Pakkrateus ran, his heart thumping and his breathing keeping him going. He hit the stairs and to his surprise took the steps two at a time. The was thankful to Jericho that the voice on his vambrace had said to descend the stairs. He emerged from the stair well. To the instructions from his benefactor, the Privateer crossed the station through the bowels under the main floors. Conduits and power transformers marked blocks between bulkheads as he ran past. Ahead as Pakkrateus ran was a sectional blast door marked with yellow and black stripes. It was closing slowly. "Run faster, Progen!" ordered the imperative voice on his com-link. "I only got two speeds, Jenquai!" puffed Pakkrateus in retort. "You risk much and force my hand, Progen," was the reply. The Privateer heard a beep sound over the call and a neuter voice, a computer, say "Energy Leech charging." "Fire," ordered the Jenquai male after a second to two. The station shook as one and all power left the capacitors en masse. Everything that required energy from the reactors was depleted from the station batteries. All went dark and silent. Even the life support was temporarily knocked out. The effect forced Pakkrateus to activate his vambrace's flashlight. Ahead in his beam was the blast door open just enough for the Progen to squeeze through. On the far side still more darkness reigned. There were muffled screams of panic in the halls behind him. Still he ran on. He emerged from a service stairway and into the hangar bay, but Pakkrateus was spotted by a standing guard of Sha'ha'dem Jenquai station guards. They called out to him, "Halt!" They drew pistols and one even drew a katana sword. It was after all a Sha'ha'dem Explorers-owned Observatory. "Make for your ship, Progen!" called the voice. Pakkrateus held down a smallish button on his forearm armor, and called to his own ship, the Maze Runner, "Systems start: reactor online, engines start!" He was nearly winded now from running through the station. Floating next to a glowing berth was his flat black Privateer vessel. Its lights came on and the engine's intake and vector panes flexed. The bridge lit up. "Stop that Progen!" yelled the guards' sergeant. Shots pinged off the force walls and dug into the blue, patterned carpet. "Give them pause, Progen," suggested the Jenquai voice. Pakkrateus spun and leveled the Athanor at the guards, not truly intending to hit any of the religious nuts the galaxy called the Sha'ha'dem. He fired twice and kept the gun up as if to fire again as he backed quickly to his waiting ship. The engines began to hum loudly. Guards hit the deck behind the force walls of the hangar berths for cover. However the sergeant was braver and his single shot grazed the Privateer in the leg between armor plates. The graze burned, but his adrenaline gave him a buffer from the pain just now. Then he was inside the bridge of the Maze Runner; Pakkrateus tossed the Athanor pistol on a console and sat in his pilot's chair. "Exit," he ordered his ship's computer. The huge Privateer pulled away from the berth and began to come about, making way for the hangar field. This time the Observatory was ready with manually actuated controls. The huge hangar blast doors threatened to cut off the Progen vessel's escape. There was no ramming such heavily armored doors. Instead, Procurator Pakkrateus of the Collegia armed his missile launchers, an unorthodox choice of weaponry on most if not all Progen vessels. Small arms fire continued to harass the Maze Runner's thick, Progen hull. He thumbed the safety off. Power re-routed through his ship as the Maze Runner's four launchers came online. There was no time to target the doors, so the Privateer used the targeting reticule normally reserved for projectile launchers or the rarer beam weapons. "No time to ride the line," mocked Pakkrateus as he squeezed the Volley trigger. The launchers spat their ordinances which echoed throughout the hangar loudly causing the angry guards to recoil and fall to the deck. In the air-filled hangar, the three missiles and a fat torpedo screamed across its length. The two Blacksun Ogun plasma missiles spilled their contents over the blast door and turned the metal doors into molten mess much like a fractured jigsaw puzzle along weak molecular lines. Then the smaller, explosive missile struck and its vibratory and concussive wave rattled the door. But it was the highly-illegal Evoco "Fist of the Merus Milia" torpedo that blew the doors into huge shards outward into space. The Maze Runner took a few scrapes as the door's debris shards signed mementos on the armored hull. Then the vessel was clear of the station as it passed the environmental shield which kept air inside the station and Aragoth's primary solar winds out. Not expecting an answer, Pakkrateus asked his vambrace, "What about the patrols?" "Not a concern," answered the Jenquai voice over the com-link. * * * After he had Leeched the Fenris Observatory's power and collected it in to his own capacitors, the Sev Tushnim had thrust under cloaking to the nearest stargate in silence. As the Progen battled his way through the station, he had pulled up next to the waiting gate with his free hand on the button to transmit the command to open its wormhole. Then he had waited for the launch of the fleeing Progen ship. About the Observatory, patrol ships fell into an arrayed formation to cut off all escape. Communications channels flared as the station's 'tower' called out commands to them. Then the Privateer vessel, the registered "Maze Runner" came into view. Targeting was called and weapons came online. "Summon Progen Privateer Maze Runner," ordered the Sev Tushnim calmly. Bands of pink, space-warping waves flashed before the cloaked Jenquai Defender, thus causing his ship to evidence its presence. Though his concealment was ruined for now, the pilot saw the pink ribbons yank on the Privateer and the funnelling effect took place. The huge Progen vessel merely vanished before the station much to the surprise of the patrol array and the tower. Half a sector away, the armored Privateer appeared before the Defender. "A Defender!" called the Progen whom he'd saved. "Do you have a problem with that?" answered the Shinwa. "No, let's boogie." There came a wave of energy over his hull as the Progen tasked his reactor with a shunting action to his engines. With the patrol ships wheeling around to charge up their warp cones, the two ships, Defender and Privateer gated together from Fenris sector.