Nobody Knows, the Trouble I'll Cause - A Beryll DiD

[eldyranx3]

| 772-5-1 | 18:02 | Chapter 004 – Pentest |

While the unexpected bit of fireworks in Perdition's End does sooth the soul, it does little in the way of producing equitable salvage. No matter. There is much to prepare for.

Rome was not razed in a day.

The first order of business is to smooth over those perceived indiscretions I am accused of. Though I see no need to directly rebut these libelous and baseless accusations of petty thievery, I do understand that it is in my long term interests to placate my accusers. And the Boron seem quite forgiving in this matter, asking that I perform several rounds of light mineral surveying on the Queen's behalf. The Teladi seem more shrewd about the affair, and only after a Stazura of looking for risk free jobs do a find a few taxi missions.

There is still a small matter of transporting the Chip Plant. Currently, I lack the labor and means to acquire such a transport. While a missile frigate will no doubt be required in the near future, hijacking such a large military asset may expose my shadowy intentions quite far ahead of schedule. Instead, I find myself coming once again to the brute force arm of our tightly organized syndicate, the Yaki. While the Ryu is quite imposing, well armed, and fleet, it is not exactly free.

Once again, factor one of my pertinacious system of checks and balances comes back into play.

In an effort to expand the satellite network, I send a small scout about to find other pirate bases. While it seems no one feels brave enough to run satellites for mercenary guilds, preliminary recon does turn up another abandoned Eclipse. And though it would relieve the sting of a recent loss, I find myself in desperate need of credits rather than material assets. I keep close watch on the satellite network, patiently biding my time until a suitable target reveals itself.

And with over 1.5M credits worth of corvette class weaponry stashed in its hold, this Chimera proves too perfect to let slip by. 'Docking Bay 94' performs a well executed gate ambush, and I release my own fighter drones to counter the Weapon Dealer's own. As our autonomous fighters tangle in the cold recesses of space, the Split in question starts bellowing out his prestigious linage. Not overtly impressed, I cut his life support.

It was rather interesting to note that his death rattle sounded little, if any, different than his bloodline.

After loading the Chimera full of scavenged high tech goods, I barter it off to the Yaki in return for the newly commissioned, if aptly named, 'Modus operandi'. Now that I possess both the labor and means to forcibly acquire a Chip Plant and appease the Beryll, all I need now is a suitable target. One where police or military patrols are scant, where sudden jump-capable reinforcements are unlikely, and one where the sector has historically been under lawless oversight for some time. After scouring the data-nets and performing penetration reconnaissance into their laughable security, two sectors become prominent targets:

Bala Gi's Joy and Acquisition Repository.

[eldyranx3]

| 772-5-2 | 00:01 | Chapter 005 – Gone in 10 Mizura |

With all conceivable preparations in order and my fluid equity all but depleted, the time has come to strike.

Again, the two most likely candidates for securing a Chip Plant with minimal military reprisals lie in Bala Gi's Joy or Acquisition Repository. After some slight deliberation, I realize that it would make life for the Unaffiliated Pirate Clans more difficult in Acquisition Repository should police patrols increase. And considering the sector houses the only shipyard that will deal with shady characters like myself, why make things complicated?

Bala Gi's Joy it is.

The combat hacker I’ve assigned to this mission knows her job; let the meat shields pave the way to the stations core and get out before any rapid response corvettes show up. I lack proper jamming equipment on any of my vessels, so its going to be a sure bet that the Queendom of Boron will hear our disintegrator rifles going off all the way over in Nishala. If I jump 'Modus operandi' in before 'Stiletto' docks to the Chip Plant, it might tip off the sector to my felonious intent. The same ancient Earth tactician also said: All warfare is based on deception.

Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near.

I take up position alongside 'Stilleto' just outside auto-docking range. Communication traffic in sector seems largely unconcerned about a lone Yaki TM. For all they know, I'm looking for salvage or even some spare energy cells. This will prove to be a good dry run for more daring station raids later.

Start Operation Clock. Initiate Operation: All Your Chips Belong to Us.

Chianna hacks the station's traffic computer, and 'Stiletto' moves in. I stay in constant contact with the boarding team, watching the chaos unfold through a shoulder mounted camera. Almanckagtek has to set a demo charge to break into the hanger bay, and in the process, the flying remains of the bulkhead takes out the security team that had been sent down to investigate.

Ohh that's got to hurt!

The station goes on Red Alert, locking down all corridors. Chianna does a quick hack of a nearby control panel; no sentry guns seem to be active or present on station. The team could bypass using maintenance hatchways, but it'd take too long, and time is a factor we can't afford right now. It's two Mizura into the operation, and we are still on level one of four. Almanckagtek plants another demo charge on a stairwell hatch, and before the smoke clears, rolls a stun -granite- down the way. A fire fight breaks out over the comm. Soon after, Boron innards splatter across the now slippery foot wells.

Watch your step; 2x2 formation and keep it tight people.

Four Mizura. Level Three. I remain calm despite the concerted arcs of tracer fire panning across the video feed. While the bulk of my invading forces are only two star fighting, Almanckagtek seems to be taking most of the defender's attention. One fool hardy Boron rushes forward to put the kibosh on his feinted advance, only to be cut down by two marines who have set up flanking positions.

Six Mizura. Level Four. All that’s left of station personnel is that one guy who likes to hide in the server closet and eat take out. After taking him out, Chianna breaks out the Smart Frame I loaned her and lets it bury through the firewall. Uplink to the Core established. System coming down. We are in!

Eight Mizura. I hastily dock 'Docking Bay 94' and offload as much left over silicon that I can manage. I'll worry about the logistical nightmare of feeding the plant later. 'Modus operandi' jumps in and makes a lazy loop around the SSP's in sector before I threaten to decompile its navigation VI. I really need actual pilots to do this sort of work. After transporting the last of the station's hold over to the TL, I shut down the station's production and load it up.

The Ryu jumps out. End Operation Clock. Gone in Ten Mizura.

[eldyranx3]

| 772-5-2 | 00:34 | Chapter 006 – 'Impacts of Non-Chordate Physiology on Perceived Gullibility' – Amoral Psychology - Quarterly Review |

With 'Modus operandi' jumping back to Senator's Badlands, 'Stiletto' jumping to the Pirate Outpost in Brennan's Triumph, and 'Docking Bay 94' jumping out to Gunne's Crusade, I hope to baffle and confuse any followers who might seek to have a less than agreeable word with me. After confirming I have arrived at my destination of choice and powering down the jumpdrive, I wait for the Advanced Satellite in Bala Gi's Joy to pick up police corvettes jumping in at any moment now …

… And nothing.

Still, I bide my precious time waiting for some hint that the Queendom of Boron has written me off their courtier list. I wait a Stazura before marshaling my shadowy forces back to Weaver's Tempest. After deploying the Chip Plant, I dock back to the Yaki EQ dock and hail Lady Gaga Li. She seems genuinely surprised at the magnitude of the gift I have absconded on the Beryll's behalf. I courteously offer to give her a personal tour of this magnificent prize, in exchange for that promised meeting.

She coyly agrees with a sudden wiggle of no less than four of her appendages, pending inspected of course. Another Stazura later, after walking numerous catwalks suspended over idle microchip assembly lines, Gaga Li dispatches a communique to my old business associates. I'm informed that it may take a while for them to confirm such a daring feat; apparently even the Queendom aren't aware that they are absent one high tech fabrication facility.

Such is my burden; a victim of my own success as it were.

In the meantime, Gaga Li suggests that I start production at once. Fair enough. And then the logistical nightmare begins. While the constituents of the microchips can be made readily available, free even, there is just the slight issue of illicit procurement. I find myself unsuccessfully stalking Bofu shipping lines in Farnham's Legend after a Thresher shows up to investigate sudden reports of pirate activity in the area. Oddly enough, the ship's commander accepts my meandering and disingenuous tale of malfunctioning fighter drones misreading the freighter's IFF transponder.

Instead, I turn my attention to a more fortuitous target, and deploy its cargo to help secure recently acquired assets. For reasons that are quite unclear, the Argon take great offense to this. It might also play prominently into the reports of another missing Eclipse, but I assure you, that was none of my involvement. It is common knowledge that the Argon Government is quite apt at misplacing such things as carriers.

Still, it takes me quite some time to make up for this perceived indiscretion. Once I ferry enough troops to make amends, a malfunctioning navigation computer forces me into Reservoir Of Tranquility. The result of this leads to an unfortunate traffic collision with a Bofu carrying super freighter. I attempt to re-engage the ship's life support remotely as the shields regenerated, to no avail.

The Queedom of Boron however, lauds my well meaning, if ultimately futile, Samaritanism.

[eldyranx3]

| 772-5-2 | 8:41 | Chapter 007 – Gluttire forente |

A brilliant bio-engineer once said: The light that burns twice as bright burns for half as long. And that, I fear, will undo me. Not hubris. Not principalities. But my own grasp.

Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, or what's a heaven for?

And since I do not fancy returning to a mag-locked prison cell, it would do me well to pace certain subversive goals and seditious ambitions. It's a hard temptation to resist though, when seemingly unrelated circumstances play into this deliciously vindictive game of cloak and dagger. I had considered the ease how I acquired the last major acquisition a fluke: Not a marine lost. Not a credit wasted. Not a pinch of priceless reputation squandered. One does not simply shrug off the loss of a multi-million credit high-tech fabrication facility. But that is exactly what the Queendom has done.

I can't help but admit a bit of sullen disappointment.

So, when a band of rabble-rousing thugs knock on the doors of its twin, still sitting in Bala Gi Joy like a despondent, orphaned brother, I predictability lose to overwhelming temptation. I sneak 'Modius operandi' and 'Stiletto' back in to the sector while the hooligans dart about the second Chip Plant, pecking at it's shields. At the very least I can deflect blame to these half-wits if anything goes sour. As soon as ' Stiletto' makes its docking run, oddly enough, the pirates' IFF all turn blue and they call off their miscreant attack. This station proves no more difficult to snatch than the last.

I even stay in system for several Mizuras baiting any authorities. When its clear the Boron aren't interested in petty games of cat and mouse, I jump the TL back to Weaver's Tempest and offload the second Chip Plant right above the other. All I require now is a complex construction kit, and I can actually make a business out of supplying the Beryll instead of just a backwater trickle of second rate goods. It's a pity that the Construction Foreperson at Teladi Shipyard in Ianumus Zura won't sell me such a thing because of my unsavory repute.

She will consider overlooking such a small matter, however, if I return her prized Split M5 scout.

For reasons I do not know, nor care, at this juncture, it seems the Argon have stolen it. Regardless the how or why, with the contract for complex construction firmly in hand, I decide to expand into Quantum Tube production as well. Again, with surprising (and not altogether anticlimactic) ease, I commandeer one and then two. It's only now that I notice a small, miniscule leak in my perceived Boron acclaim. 'Modus operandi' jumps back to Weaver's Tempest as I begin to scour the space lanes for more Bofu.

A few Mizura later my VI chirps in with a warning that makes my heart race: One of your ships is under attack; Weaver's – Tempest. Is it the Argon? Have they finally back-traced my steps all the way to my illicit sanctuary? Have the Boron finally wised up from their gullible ways? Is it the mob boss of the hooligans that I stole from earlier, now back with sufficient reinforcements to collect with compound intrest?

Imagine my confusion when I discover a rouge Xenon P attacking my unguarded and by large toothless TL.

How exactly did a lone Xenon corvette manage to slip by three sectors of Yaki patrols? No ship that small has a cloaking device. Again, its stellar conjecture. I jump in and let 15 MKII fighter drones do my speaking for me, forcing it to retreat. After that bit o' malarkey is over and done with, I put the finishing touches on the High Tech complex just in time for the heads of the Beryll to arrive for that long overdue reuniting.

Lady Gaga Li doesn't seem to care much that their new complex looks like an Argu's bastu.

[eldyranx3]

| 772-5-2 | 11:23 | Chapter 008 – Fall of the Colossus |

Ah, yes. The remaining heads of this rabble state are all here; 'Lady' Gaga Li, 'Pig Faced' Joe Marino, and last and most certainly least, 'Sluice-Box' Ssuphandros VII. I guess the rest all found the wrong ends of Paranid side arms or Argon police patrols. There are also a few new faces here too, mostly new local syndicate bosses and consultants, the most important being Mr. Terran Popsicle himself, Dr. Marteen Winters. He seems an odd fellow; not quite thawed if you ask me.

Distant and calculating at the same time.

The meeting goes pretty much by the book. Sluice-Box brings up the numbers for last Mazura, and by and large, the Beryll have expanded their tampered microchip base. Our gray market dealers have offloaded these babies to several military contractors at discount prices. What they don't realize is that they contain back door hard-codes. Any user with these codes can shut down that particular chip's function, or in some cases, collect data and transmit the string to a specified Satellite Relay network. Now that the Beryll has Quantum Tube production capacity, we can manufacture engine components with the same kill switch function.

And as one can imagine, the Beryll will charge a high price for those access codes.

Well, this type of prank is all well and good, but it doesn't exactly fit my idealistic vision. What I am interested in is what Popsicle has to say. It seems that this 'Advanced Technology Embargo' that the Community of Planets have placed on Earth is starting to fracture the diplomatic ties between the Terran and Argon. Winter's states that there is an untapped technological market on Earth. A market ripe for the plucking.

Sluice-Box's beady lizard eyes light up the possibilities. Even Lady Gaga Li seems amicable to the idea. Pig Faced Joe, well, he isn't known to be the brains behind this little tech smuggling operation in the first place. I keep quiet on the matter. When I coyly ask how Terra is going to let her death grip loose on said technology, Winter's dark eyes turns shark-like.

Terra's military might, he said simply, must fall.

Finally, a man with a plan. A plan that I can get behind. A War between Brothers. A … Terran Conflict.

It will be that fire so bright that the Ancients will notice us again. I keep that little bit to myself; no reason for anyone to know but Nobody. After the meeting ends I plant a little bug on board Winter's personal Iguana. Its not that I don't trust his admirable intent, I just think he's holding out some real privy motivation for returning to Earth.

The heads of the Beryll scatter to the four winds, each with an assignment. Mine happens to be expanding our data relay network to compliment those compromised microchips. I was looking for a few more Nav Sats anyway. Why not break into the production market? The only issue I have at the moment is that I've about exhausted my supply of hacker chips on botched hijacking attempts. Looks like I'll have to find a way to manufacture those as well.

New Primary Goal: Secure a Satellite Factory
New Primary Goal: Secure a Computer Components Factory

Only after sending 'Eyes and Ears' out to the far reaches of the Boron frontier do I eventually find a Computer Plant that isn't guarded by a Ray or Shark. That doesn’t mean the neighbors are any less amicable. 'Eyes and Ears' catches the attention of the Q and leads it and its escorts 250 km straight up. Meanwhile, 'Stiletto' jumps in system with 'Hit and Run', making an early beeline for the Computer Fab.

While 'Stiletto' offloads her troops into the station, I notice another Boron Super Freighter docked just above my TL's imposing broadsides.

As soon as my troops muscle their way to the station's core, I have Chianna release the docking clamps to that freighter. I scan it eagerly. It only confirms my suspicions; that its pilot was carrying a full load of Bofu. Once again, my remote hacking attempts are thwarted, so I'm forced to be the brute and demand the cargo outright. I recall 'Eyes and Ears' without a moment to loose. Looks like we overstayed our welcome. That other Q comes barreling down from above as well.

While I'm busy supervising the TL load procedure, the Boron pilot in that super freighter enacts revenge by ramming my Fujin scout. Not much I can do about it with two Q's heading toward me. I jump out, cargo safely stashed aboard 'Modus operandi'.

[eldyranx3]

| 772-5-2-05 | 12:01 | Encrypted Communique Intercepted by Newly Rebuilt Paranid Communications Facility – Priest's Pity | 

Sender: Eagle One, this is Hatchling. Contingency Roost has been confirmed. Over.

Receiver: Hatchling, this is Eagle One. Confirmed status. Instigate Operation Cuckoo Egg. 

Sender: Confirmed Order. Beginning radio silence … 

[End Transmission]

[eldyranx3]

| 772-5-2 | 13:43 | Chapter 009 – Chain Gang |

When one produces high tech, black market goods, the base for any such manufacture is the ubiquitous element Si. And though I do liberate a Vulture SF XL in Hatikvah's Faith chocked full of the mineral, it only fills a thirdof the complex's storage bins. This illicit operation requires a steady inflow of silicon, and the current means of supply acquisition is hodgepodge at best.

While securing a stationary mine would be the long term solution, the Beryll (and by corollary, the Yaki) tend to move about quite a bit as a matter of habit.

So, I think its time to acquire a mobile miner. As fortune would have it, I reclaimed the one in the whole universe that did not come pre-stocked with a Mobile Mining Drill. One would think this specialized type of mining equipment could be found second hand in any market, but alas, it seems to be quite rare. Rare enough for me to patiently stalk about in PTNI Headquarters for any inbound merchants.

And though the Split do not appreciate the loss of a weapon dealer and one of their fast Camian SF XL's, the 3M of PPCs stashed in the weapon dealers cargo hold offsets this temporary loss of esteem. Now that I am fully outfitted with mobile mining capacity, all I need is a dim witted follow who doesn’t mind blasting space rocks ad nauseum.

Standard pay is 100 cr per Stazura. No Benefits. Must be willing to work with a diversified work force in a slow paced environment. Criminal record a plus. Apply at the Pirate Anarchy Base in Hatikvah's Faith if intrested.

The previous, spacewalking pilot of the aforementioned Vulture mineral transporter need not apply.

[eldyranx3]

| 772-5-2 | 17:32 | Chapter 010 – The Cuckoo Egg Hatches |

Somehow, I have been elected to administer this extrajudicial manufacturing complex. I was neither informed of this, nor was I present for this peripheral nomination. I suppose there is logical merit in this; with most of the former heads of the Beryll displaced, incarcerated, or otherwise disintegrated, the methodical task falls on those with seniority and mathematical aptitude.

Under most circumstances, this sort of endeavor would be more fit for a thrifty Teladi. Despite my ambiguity on the subject, I assure you, I am nothing like our scaly accountant. In most circumstances, she would be the perfect fit to manage our recently acquired motley of stations. 'Sluice-Box' however, is busy securing more lucrative contracts in Ianumus Zura.

Her expressions are more personable, and my slender visage is regrettably known across the great expanse called the Community of Planets.

Right now, 'Sluice-Box' arranges a transport to collect a scheduled drop off of our complex's products. All told, its 3.5M worth of modified high tech goods every two Stazura, not taking into account the energy required for station upkeep. The Bofu, while problematic to acquire, is nonetheless free. With the covert acquisition of more mobile miners, our base mineral needs are also a non-factor.

My particular aptitudes may not be unengaged for long. There is another Teladi who may take over my secondary assigned task should ill befall me. She remained quiet throughout the last meeting, staying mostly in shadow. I surmise that her presence at the meeting was in no small part to do with her skills in covert surveillance. My recent incarceration with the Argon has not allowed me to follow the rise of her shadowy career, but rest assured, I plant a bug on her ship, the FL Incubator, as well.

Still, I could attest that I had overheard the name Reolisas Yliminas Elemones II mentioned somewhere on the Argon Military Outpost in Elena's Fortune before.

No matter. I will be working closely with her on my original assignment; getting that Intel and and Relay Satellite network produced and distributed. Once I acquire an advanced satellite factory, 'Hatchling' as I have dubbed her, will disseminate our prying beauties throughout key sectors.

And it is unfortunate that the Boron only manufacture standard navigation relay satellites; wholly inadequate for the Beryll's insurgent needs. So, I turn my attention to our reclusive holy warriors and their technological superiority. First concern is that with the Paranid Communications Facility just a few hundred kilometers away, a jump capable rapid response Frigate detachment would put the kibosh on my Tazura in short order.

Fortune favors me this day; not only do I abscond with the station without incident, the docked trader also happens to be filled to the brim with majaglit as well.

The local Duke does demand a small amount of reparation to offset this infraction, and I acquiesce without hesitation. I admire Paranid mathematical abilities, and I see no reason to run afoul of them at this juncture. Male Split, however, have always required an elegant touch to curb their barbarous natures. It is not easy to regain esteem with them unless you unload a disintegrator rifle's full clip in the midst of a raging battlefield.

Instead, as tradition dictates, I will direct Split aggression from a support role. What is the Ancient Terran Proverb?

A mind is a terrible thing to waste.

[Zaitsev]

Yay, another chapter in the Beryll saga

Y'know, these stories of yours are quite addicting. Keep up the good work

[eldyranx3]

Yay, another chapter in the Beryll saga

Expect some minor slow downs as the Holiday season gets closer, but hopefully there wont be any major hiatus for this part of the ongoing story.

| 772-5-2 | 21:15 | Chapter 011 – The Blitz |

With mining operations fully underway, Ive regrettably reached the point where petty thievery of certain curdled foodstuffs no longer will meet the Beryll's increasing demand. This might be easier if the Yaki let local crime bosses pirate Bofu in key Boron border sectors, but alas, we Beryll are considered bit players in the organization at large.

One Tazura, they will see. I will make them … all … see.

But enough reflection. The time is right. And Nobody's targets would not expect a blitz of raids right after one another, striking in rapid succession from extreme ends of the galaxy. The same Ancient Earth Tactician also wrote:

Appear at points which the enemy must hasten to defend; march swiftly to places where you are not expected.

Our forces will be like a ghost. Appearing and disappearing at will. The first targets will be Bofu production itself. Once those facilities are secured, it is only a small hop to Crystal production. Closing off the loop will be securing a Solar Power Plant. One might surmise that I bear a grudge against our chordate lacking chums, but I assure you, this course of action has followed the straightest logical line.

Our forces jump into Light Water without warning. 'Stiletto' guns for the station, full of fresh recruits waiting to cut some teeth on their first boarding operation. The rest of my elites are back at base, undergoing a rouge's medley of special forces training. The fresh meat hits the hanger deck running while the sector's customs patrol is still reacting to the sight of 'Modus operandi' popping through the South Gate.

My fresh meat stalls on deck two, and for a moment, with four interceptors barreling my way, I wonder if I have surpassed my means. They force me to deploy a small detachment of ten Mk I fighter drones, and they provide adequate distraction while I concentrate on the fierce fight on deck three. In the cold, silent vacuum of space, PAC bolts slam into my assailant’s shields as the gnats zip around me, unable to overcome my drone screen and shielding. 'Modus operani' takes light fire, and its turrets automatically engage what remains.

Before the Queedom realizes what is happening, they are sans one Biogas factory, and we are no where to be seen.

Less than ten Mizura later the Queendom receives conflicting reports of an escalating conflict in Ocean of Fantasy. The reports are sketchy, some referring to a marauding Split corvette detachment coming in from Family Rhy, others calling for backup against a rampant Xenon Q, and a single dispatch decrying a daring station boarding attempt from unknown factions amidst the three way chaos. Again, before a Thresher contingent from nearby Hila's Joy pops through the West Gate, we are long gone.

Five Mizura later Boron sector patrols in Rolk's Legacy respond to the Crystal Fab's sudden distress calls. Hostile forces are currently attempting to breach the inner doors to the hanger bay. Though Lucky Planets is just one sector away, my gravidar shows only one M3, one M4, and a single M5. By the time my dissidents clear deck four, my grav picks up two more M3's on an intercept course, maximum burn.

Well then. This may get a bit tricky.

I immediately order in 'Modus operandi' into the East Gate. Just as the interceptor and scout close to weapons range, I hear my ship's VI warn me that my TL is under attack. Perhaps the Atreus transport recognized the Yaki TL from earlier reports, or the TL's turrets decided to fire on Boron indiscriminately. Either way, fighter drones are now forcing my ponderous TL to duck and weave with all the poise and grace of spawning Chelt. The situation is rapidly deteriorating.

When the first of my my dogged pursuers attempt to cut my escape route off, I am forced to destroy the interceptor and scout. Very well then. If this is the game, then expect some dirty pool. I lead the three heavy fighters on a merry chase through some of the densest parts of the sector's asteroid field. When they cant see me, I drop a smattering of Squash Mines. Amongst the rubble, the mines are indiscernible. The resulting shock wave flings jagged flechette of frozen rock into the tight fighter formation approaching from behind.

Minced squid anyone?

As one can imagine, the Queendom is none to happy with this,. Within the Stazura, they beef up patrols across the territory. Everything looks locked down. I bide my time from the shadows, waiting for the perfect oppurtunity to strike. Half a Stazura later, a contingent of Boron heavy fighters leaves from the military outpost in Hila's Joy to reinforce the OWPs under Xenon assault in Menelaus' Paradise. Once the last of the heavy fighters leave Bluish Snout, a small Yaki raiding party moves in to exploit this security gap. It proves perfect cover to capture one of those Solar Power Plants.

With the Boron staggering from the blitz, I return to Weaver's Tempest and the expanded Beryll operation. Regrettably, its complex connections are causing gross production inefficiency.

Looks like its time to ponder a Boron Orca.

[Zaitsev]

No worries, GoD gave me lots of patience
I'm just excited to see how Nobody's doing, that's all. Just don't get yourself killed, ok?

[the_chalk_outline]

Superb story and a unique way of telling it.

Love it. Keep it coming!

[eldyranx3]

Just don't get yourself killed, ok?

While this DiD's rules are more liberal than my previous ones, I'm having some frustrating setbacks. As Nobody suggests, its going to be greed and recklessness that causes him, her, or it to bite the big one.

| 772-5-3 | 01:45 | Chapter 012 – Adrift Among a Sea of Stars |

Procurement of an Orca is no small feat. Nobody cringes at the thought of how many hours it will take in training, how many credits worth of equipment, and how much planning will be involved. TL hulls are extraordinarily thick; in some cases thicker than even destroyers. One can not simply waltz up to said TL with a fusion torch and the best of intentions.

A missile frigate however allows for supplemental aid through the use of boarding pods. These devilish little imps bore through the densest lays of hull plating, facilitating ease of capture. Any other use of said frigate would be overkill at this current stage of the overall game. It is nonetheless a key step in this overall strategy, and one sadly, that Nobody has yet attempted.

Until now.

New Primary Goal: Board a M7M
New Primary Goal: Board a TL

I have sufficient numbers of warm bodies to hurl at such an obstacle. The problem therein lies in how exactly I have trained these expendable dissidents. Boarding a ship floating in vacuum is wholly unlike boarding a station through a hanger bay. There is a well designed portcullis built into stations. In free floating ships, not as much. And as such, marines need to create their own while under heavy fire from external ship defenses as well as its escorts; a dangerous proposition indeed. A certain skill in all things mechanical is required.

Something that the vast majority of my marines lack.

I do scout out a few M7M on long range patrol from all main races. A Kraken. A Minotaur. An Ares. But all the ones on patrol are fully escorted, stocked to the brim with all manner of high yield ordnance, and have at least one form of anti-boarding defense. Eventually my search takes me back to Hila's Joy, where a lone, unescorted Kraken meanders aimlessly. Not only does is it empty of ordnance, it is also free of bothersome static defenses. What more could any megalomaniac desire?

I pick through the best of my idle marines, sprinkling in a few non-combat mechanics. All in told, I have twenty to throw at the Kraken. A swarm of ants can even overtake the largest giant. The trap is sprung, and the operation commences. A smattering of Mk II fighter drones bring down the Kraken's heavy shielding in slow, but controlled manner. It takes a small amount of micromanaging, but Nobody excels at multitasking in a high risk environment. The Kraken's shields buckle, but the Barracudas in system seem content to remain on station guarding their small OWPS.

Probably owning in no small part to the threat next door.

I signal both troop transports to begin boarding procedure, at which point things turn into a cluster-FLAK. The vast majority of my marines sit there floating adrift among a sea of stars, picking their nasal cavities. Only a quarter of my crack troops even attempt capture. The Kraken avoids their highly paid thrust by simply moving away. Nobody is not prone to unjustified racial slurs.

But in this case, the comm is filled with the likes of which even the Ancients have not heard.

Three marines eventually latch on, cut the hull, and promptly impale themselves on the jagged edges of the crudely made portcullis. Seeing the imminent failure looming, I did have common sense enough to begin extraction on the free floating ones right away. And it is a good decision, as several more Barracudas launch from the nearby military outpost, heading for the transports. The tide of battle has turned.

He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight.

Once safely back in Weaver's Tempest, I send those with clean nasal cavities back to pirate primary school. The Paranid and Teladi donate eagerly to their education, but the Boron seem curiously hesitant. Come now. Think of the children. And speaking of Hatchlings, when I ask Elemones II to begin distribution of the Beryll's Sat Network, she graciously hisses out that she is unable until FL Incubator undergoes refit for such deep space operations.

It requires no less than 3.5M credits to cover refit, supplies, fuel, charts, sensor re-calibration, seat warmer, cockpit bobble head …

Always the Entrepreneur.

[eldyranx3]

| 772-5-3 | 08:56 | Chapter 013 – Kraken XT5 |

Never let it be said that long term commodity logistics is my fortis.

In anticipation of breaking up the Beryll's complex, I have allowed it to wind down in all but some essential stocks. This will put a crimp in the scheduled deliveries of our tampered high tech goods. It also puts 'Sluice-Box' in a rather awkward bind. Those gray market military contracts are a sensitive affair it seems. I do, however, continue to procure majaglit when the opportunity arises.

I keep my eyes on the Sat Network that 'Hatchling' has disseminated so far, mainly across key Boron and Pirate sectors. The majority of Krakens on patrol are well stocked, save for one I accidentally bump into in Ceo's Doubt coming in from the South Gate. Upon closer investigation, it appears to be heading to the Military Outpost in Great Trench for a refit. It must be newly commissioned, lacking any boarding countermeasures.

I hold my breath for the next half a Stazura, keeping tabs on it remotely. It undocks some time later, heading for the Military Outpost in Hila's Joy. While it has taken on a smattering of flail ordinances, it is more the regrouped escort that concerns me more. I peak into Xenon sector X347. A Xenon Q swivels around near the West Gate and makes a beeline for me.

This simply will not suffice.

I had hoped that I could ambush the Kraken and escorts here at the North Gate. If the M7M did not report out the other side, blame would befall the Xenon.

This requires a deft touch, a surgeon's precision. So it is fortuitous then that I happen to possess an old Terran relic, a Hammerhead. I load it on to one of my replacement capture M3+'s, and jump it out of Ceo's Doubt after it delivers its immense payload. It wipes out half the opposition in one fell swoop. A quick transfer of a few Cyclones into the other M3+, and it strikes from afar In New Income, taking out the interceptors. Spent of long range ordnance, I resort to more personal measures to deal with the usurp Skates.

The lone Kraken, stripped of its escort, carries on through Ianamus Zero without incident. I see no reason to run afoul of the Teladi Condor paroling in system.

Eighteen Billion is where the gambit plays out. With 'Docking Bay 94' blocking the East Gate, I let loose my PBE equipped fighters to drop the Kraken's shields, which thankfully, are not fully outfitted. The Kraken fires off a flail intermittently, more in deterrence than defense. The shields go down, and with the M7M twisting about but going no where fast, I jump my TP's in together and make a run on the beakless Missile Frigate.

Though not all marines leave, seventeen converge on the near motionless M7M.

They latch on and within moments my mechanics cut into the M7M's thick hull. The eerie sound of pried back hull plating echoes from over the comm. They are in!

Its no surprise that the majority of the mechanics perish or re-embrace vacuum. The fighting is fierce. Several times I hear the sickening squish of disrupted cephalopod splattering against the inner bulkheads. Only four stalwart dissidents make it past deck four, but they happen to be skilled hackers. The law of averages lean in my favor. While my bloodthirsty commando's take control, I have my TP's scoop up the remaining space walkers.

I jump back to Weaver's Tempest with my well earned prize.

[eldyranx3]

| 772-5-3 | 11:18 | Chapter 014 – Deep Thunder Rolled Around Their Shores |

One could offer up the question: Why an Orca?

Simply put, it is a thing of Elegance. Graceful. Fast. And quite Spacious. It is the latter factor that primarily motivates me to procure one for my own ill-gotten agenda. Breaking up and rearranging the High Tech Complex could be done with just the current Ryu, but that as well, would lend itself to gross inefficiencies. An ounce of prevention, as they say, could have spared me this dilemma, but alas, I have never had a nature for such things.

The difficulty is finding one that is unguarded, unarmed, and free of irritating anti-personnel accessories. There are, as circumstances have it, TLs that lack weapons. They roam some core sectors under the guise of hospital ships and large mobile entertainment arenas. Unfortunately, when stalking about race core sectors, it is very common to come under large caliber guns of sector patrols. Suffice to say one such as myself is perfectly willing to bide some time, waiting for the perfect series of unlikely events to come to fruition.

In this case, a Boron Casino milling about the opposite side of the sector from a Ray.

Knowing full well I may never have this choice opportunity again, I rush my felonious forces into action. There is … another saying … from another Terran philosopher; quite apt for this situation ...

Fools Rush In Where Angels Fear to Tread

Under the chaos of a chance pirate raid, I call in XT5 and wait until the Ray is sufficiently far enough away to spring the trap. 'Raiders of the Lost Cargo' I & II chew into the Orca's 1 GJ of shielding. For some peculiar and calamitous reason, it takes a lot longer to bring down the Orca's shields than it did the Kraken's. After dispatching the last of the Pirate Raiders, the Police in system turn and burn our way. Unlike the ponderous Ray, the Mako interceptors close with worrisome haste.

Options and time dwindling, I swap the PBEs in my two M3+ for PACs. The Orca's shields buckle, and XT5 sends four pods into its ponderous rear end. In my haste, I recall the two fighters back to 'Docking Bay 94', knowing full well they have a penchant to mill about before moving in to dock.

As if in portent, the Boron miscreant leading this operation reminds me to keep the shields down.

What? These sensor readings can't be correct. The Orca's shields are 5% and climbing rapidly! Fighters, reengage at will!

I watch in shock through the shoulder mounted boarding camera as the viewfinder zaps out without warning. My marines splatter in the cold grip of space as the ionizing radiation of the Orca's shields reach lethal levels. Boarding operation failed. Twenty marines dead. All because Nobody's reach exceeded a certain megalomania driven, six fingered grasp.

Quick to recant this epic failure, I profusely apologize to the Casino owner for this grievous and regrettable error. This seems to sate the police for the time being, long enough for me to recapitulate in earnest to the Ray, still on a intercept course. I jump back to safe harbors, muttering curses to Those Who Came from the Sky. While I have twenty elites still in training, this tactical blunder has set my incisive ambitions back several Tazura ...

Burning with the fires of Orc ...

[Zaitsev]

Ooh, exciting!

You write some very compelling stories, eldyranx3. It makes me want to grab the ol' Logitech and join the fight myself

[eldyranx3]

It makes me want to grab the ol' Logitech and join the fight myself

At the rate of which Im burning through marines, it'd be a suicidal enlistment. Fresh meat for the grinder is always welcome.

| 772-5-3 | 15:02 | Chapter 015 – Enemy of the State |

It would be unseemly of me to suggest that Nobody is slowed down by outmoded ethical reflections on what just transpired. Twenty marines. Zapped out of existence in a most gruesome fashion. All because Nobody came under a little pressure.

No. Nobody will not be swayed. Tools break. Code corrupts. Regimes fall.

Nobody will make due with what Nobody has. The Orca, while more efficient, is not essential to the current task at hand. I break up the High Tech Complex bit by bit and rearrange the stations into something a bit more efficacious. Not maximized mind you, but an arrangement that boasts a bit more streamlined resource flow. 'Lady' Gaga Li reinspects the facility and seems overjoyed at its redesigned layout.

As far as Nobody is concerned, the layout of slave mines boast the best production capacity. But I digress. 'Sluice-Box' has sent a communique all the way from Ianamus Zero indicating that tensions are mounting. The Beryll have obligations to meet and contracts to fulfill if we expect to become bigger players in the bleeding edge technology markets.

So be it. Resuming production.

This regrettably leaves me with idle hands at the moment. Which according to another ancient Terran proverb, Make for the Devil's Work. I turn my wayward attention to outward perceptions, and with languid zeal, attempt to improve my transient esteem with the Split. I find myself in the mists of a unaffiliated mercenary raid on the Split shipyard in Cho's Defeat. I sit there for several Mizura, watching the Panther patrol frigate in system meander about as the interceptors henpeck the Shipyard. I skirt a dangerous game and attack the M8 while on its attack run.

While unaffiliated, libelous scuttlebutt has a nasty habit of coming back to closer knit pirate clans. Despite the risk, the Bomber pilot bails. This accelerates the next stage of the grander strategy: securing long range ordnance for the Kraken and now, a Peregrine. It is not a challenging leap afterward to manufacture scarce disintegrator rifles. The Yaki have already sent numerous lackeys implying that I should procure our parent organization an illegal weapons complex, in much the same way I have already done for the Beryll.

As a bonus, they imply I get to keep my sixth finger.

Very well. As a programmer, loss of said digit would put me at a competitive disadvantage. And while my best marines are still in special operations training, securing a Tomahawk missile facility should be a trite task. For some odd reason, only the Split manufacture certain banned weapons systems: Tracker Mines. Disintegrator Rifles. The like. It is with great reluctance that I am forced to prey on them. While I do not hold myself to any arbitrary honor system, certain traditions are hard to shake.

Rhy's Desire boasts few major sector patrols, as well as harboring the three facilities that will form the cornerstone of this new banned weapons complex. My shadowy forces slide into position without incident. Marines. Ready your weapons and stand by. Docking hack, instigated …

Klaxons go off the instant the station's traffic computer is tampered with. Not a good sign. Half a Mizura later, the team blasts open the inner hanger door, and a torrent of blaster bolts sail through the smoking hole. Man down! The troupe regroups and pushes forward when they catch the two part time Split security personnel reloading. Deck one cleared.

Some odd garbled transmission crosses the feed when my forces reach the entry to deck two. Green smoke. Coughing. A sudden light show opens up as five Split military veterans pop up behind noisy factory machinery and execute a perfect ambush. The feed tilts a crazy ninety degrees before tumbling to the grated floor. A Split boot appears in frame moments before it steps up to crush the lens with a sickening, final crunch.

Boarding Mission failed. Marines … eliminated. With no less than extreme prejudice.

Before I can even jump the Ryu out, the Family Rhy's single Raptor sends some interceptors through the south gate, making a beeline for us. That Raptor can't be far behind. A moment later, the Progenitor General for Family Rhy pops up on my vidscreen, thanking me for this opportunity. It seems he hasn't been able to crush a single irritating bug since Operation Final Fury ended many Jazura ago. His expression is stark but genuine; I am now marked for extermination by the entirety of Family Rhy.

To add salt to the wound, the Yaki have confiscated the M8 and have offered it up to Family Rhy as a bargaining chip for their non-involvement with this event.

And to think Nobody thought this Tazura would be an uneventful one ...

[kgkosio]

The Random Number Generator seems quite vengeful at the moment. Possible payback for some of your early success?

[eldyranx3]

The Random Number Generator seems quite vengeful at the moment. Possible payback for some of your early success?

You know it. And while the Board Station Script is rather quirky, if I'm going to take the ease of earlier successes, I should take my lumps with equal poise.

Besides, like how Rana Banks inadertenly sent Terra to war with the Paranid, being hunted merclessly by an entire Split family just adds spice to the story

| 772-5-3 | 17:23 | Chapter 016 – There Are No Atheists in Foxholes |

Nobody finds oneself in an odd juxtaposition.

On one hand, an entire Split family has marked me for death over the slightest of infractions. On the other, large schools of Boron still hold me in high esteem despite repeated crimes against the Queendom. As irrational as it may be, this is my self made predicament. While quite ironic, all things considered, it is nonetheless an irrefutable state of affairs.

Nobody can either adapt, or become outmoded.

Very well. I must modify the current agenda. And while loss of banned weapons system manufacturing capacity will vex the Yaki greatly, at least for now, Nobody will not be producing Disintegrator Rifles, Tracker Mines, or even Raster anytime soon. And since the Yaki have disavowed even peripheral involvement on the last operation, I can no longer expect the Akuma patrolling Weavers Tempest to intercede should a Family Rhy Strike Group jump in with bleak demands of extra-judiciary extradition.

Instead I am now forced to acquire means of producing high yield ordnance not for offensive measures, but rather defensive ones. Nobody may also be required to seek safer havens somewhere else. Perhaps an unclaimed sector somewhere off beyond currently charted systems. Somewhere perhaps, off the proverbial grid. And while the Yaki have disavowed my past actions, I'm confident they still expect weapons manufacturing capacity in some form or another.

So be it. The kid gloves have come off.

And I suspect our military contractors in Ianamus Zura will be none to jubilant when the upcoming dust settles. I risk losing a fence there, but losing Yaki backing will set my incendiary aims too far behind for my personal satisfaction. First off, I set about boosting my temporary acclaim with the reptile patsies. Transporting their military personnel allows for covert remote infiltration of classified patrol schedules, located conveniently on military issued PDA's. Yes. As far as the Teladi NCO's know, Nobody is a shadowy outline seen through frosted taxi cab divider glass.

Featureless. Genderless. And most important of all, Anonymous.

I study the assigned patrol patterns for some time, looking to exploit possible weaknesses. Nobody expects the Teladi Company Security Forces are more concerned with convoy protection that stationary assets. This may prove to be the chink in their armor. With fewer heavy frigate and capital assets guarding core assets, luring a single asset away from a core sector may cause more disruption than anticipated.

This raid will prove risky, no doubt. But my back is against the wall. My continued existence is tenuous and in immediate peril. And while invoking Those Who Came From the Sky implies weakness, rational belief must have a first cause. Without their epochal interventions, the Gate Network would not exist. The Terran Watchmaker teleological argument may seem superficially fallacious, but I assure you, it is not.

Time then, to start this party with a bang.

I load my remaining Elites into 'Stiletto' and have the newly acquired Toucan 'Dead Men Walking' scoot about for fresh meat for the grinder. Nobody jumps into Two Grand with 'Stiletto'. As expected, there are no patrols on station. No one blinks as a lone Toucan Prototype slides into docking range of the Hammer Facility. All seems quiet on the Eastern Front.

Teladi Station security gets a rude awakening one Mizura later as my dissents storm the hanger bay. It is rather unfortunate that the Teladi invest more in automated defense measures. I watch with grim detachment through a shoulder cam as well placed sentry cannons mow down two of my marines on deck two. 'Modus operandi' jumps in system as two of my hackers attempt to break into the computer core. One Mizura later a Condor jumps in close behind, tailing the faster Ryu. One marine goes limp as intrusion countermeasures fry her frontal lobes. Three marines down. Station secured and loaded.

Acceptable Losses.

Normally, this is where we retreat back to the implied safety of Weaver's Tempest, offload the goods, and regroup.

Do not repeat the tactics which have gained you one victory, but let your methods be regulated by the infinite variety of circumstances.

'Modus operandi' and ilk jump to the East Gate of Ianamus Zura. Without hesitation, our remaining marines assail the Flail facility. And with the Ianamus Zura patrol Condor still in Two Grand, it is the perfect sneak attack. I monitor system response as my gimped boarding team stalls on deck one, encountering heavy resistance. I throw out a few fighter drones to distract the local police interceptors, continuing to monitoring the fierce battle raging across the station. My forces break through the stalemate and have to reboot the computer core just to gain access.

The situation complicates as the Condor jumps back in system. I strip out all the remaining stock out of the factory and jump the freighter out of the fray. The only issue is that the current station production cycle can't be remotely canceled because of the system reboot. Only idle stations can be re-loaded into TL's. I have roughly five Mizura before that infuriated juggernaut comes within weapons range of my new immobile facility.

ETA on full factory shutdown is seven Mizura ...

[eldyranx3]

Announcement: December 10th, 2009 - December 10, 2010. This marks the 1 year point for this spanning narrative. Thanks to everyone who has read all of its five parts thus far!

| 772-5-3 | 23:34 | Chapter 017 – The Blitz II |

Have you ever though about the nature of Causality? The series of temporal events that result from physical and non-physical interactions between one or more forces? Drop a stone into lake and the stone finds its way to its bottom, without fail. Unless an outside factor or force intercedes, it is certainty. Weight. Gravity. Buoyancy. All can affect this outcome in negligible ways, but by and large, the rock will drop to the bottom.

Was it Fate? Was it Circumstance?

Nobody can contest certain, more immediate issues of Causality. I steal from the Teladi. The Teladi Condor now only 2km away hurls PPC fire in my general vicinity. Cause. And Effect.

And how exactly I am able to dodge these bolts in a slow moving, ponderous TL is a mystery that I'm sure tacticians will argue the finer points of well after my untimely, but altogether predictable, demise. Still, I transport back to the Chokaro because it is a much smaller target, and as far as I know, there are no FLAK guns on the Condor.

A quick jump to the East gate pulls me out of harms way. Nobody would rather lose 35M in credits at this point in TL, Marines, Training, and Station than risk my own, precious slender neck. Oh call it cowardice. Call it self preservation. Call it by any name you wish to. But Nobody has so much to accomplish before I give myself up to the final ends of oblivion.

And yet the Condor ignores my immobile factory and TL and swings around to give chase to … me.

This gives me the time needed to wait out the Flail's current production cycle, and once that is done, poof goes the station and Ryu. After a bit of parley with the bamboozled Condor, I jump back to Weavers Tempest and offload the cornerstone of the Yaki's new Boomplex. Rather than wait for nasty rumors to disseminate throughout the Teladi Space Company and risk spoiling the element of surprise, I embark on a another series of lightning raids.

A crystal plant. A solar power plant. A flower farm. A sun oil refinery. They all disappear off the sector charts in less than sixty Mizura. By the time word gets out in PTNI Headquarters, not three sectors away, the Yaki have another largely self sustaining complex under their control. The Teladi require small reparations, but by and large, they are nearly as forgiving as the Boron. Still, with recent events the political waters grow murky. With the Yaki marginally satisfied, who can Nobody still trust?

But it is just as well. It is time for Nobody to seek A New Home.