WAR TALES OF VICTORY AND LOSSES

somewhere on the colonies of the BYSS-emperium

beep beep beep beep -klick- "daim wake up calls, i'm on vacation" Baron Grizzly turns toward his wife, but only finds a cold empty spot next to him in bed. "Honey, you there"? the room is dark, the window's open to let the fresch night summer air entre's the room. suddenly a shim closes to the bed, with no face or legs touching the ground, suddenly a cold shivver strikes the Baron. Then he hears the voice of the shim touching his innersence."beware, beware, beware" it slowly vanishes in the void of the room. The Baron want's to reach his panic button, butt the more he try's to reach it, the more the button seams to float further than he can reach. Then the shim winks hem "come"

The baron flicker's his eyes and suddenly finds himself at a warroom. He deosn't recognizes the chambre, so he presumes it must be part of the ship he has ordered to research and build. then suddenly he spots a mark ha'd rather see burning in flames than waring high in a banner. UFP!!!! What's this all about, i'm dreaming this? In the warroom he see reports on the holo-screen of battles fought against many systems nearby his own. "Ow my god, those are vnv-members. has the war began again? "next to the Baron the shim re-appears. "you should return to your homeworld, and rebuild it!!". Baron Grizzly wonders, "rebuilt m... oh no. let me go back to my world, let me go, let me go" The shim disappears in a bright white light, while the chambre fills with the same light, brighter and brighter.

" We have a pulse" someone shouts, get him directly to the med-vessel, we have to operate him quickly quickly!! He hears people shouting, but can't see anyting. His vision seems to be blocked by some sort of liquid. at a moment he tastes blood.Is this my blood? THEN the pain appears, resulting in heavy screams and ewakening him from his paralized condition. Grizzly remembers his (dream) the shim, the warroom, the warnings. Then he realizes that he's been, he should have cept the diplo-channels open while he was on vacation on one of his colonies. "We have conousness"," someone yells "sir you alright"? What happend here", he shouds, while his vision is recovering," what's going on". please stay still and stay at your bed. When his vision recovers completely, he finds himself in the middle of a chaotick place, carcasses everywhere, buildings reduced to ruins and the sky turning dark and red, as a result of burning facilyties and other buildings.

Oh no, it's already begun

It seems like forever ago when the first attack colonies appeared just a few systems away--forever on the run staying one step ahead of their fleets, but according to our chronographs, it's only been a few weeks. Those that can't fight have gone underground. We've suffered surprisingly few casualties, but much of the surface is a cratered wasteland. Only a few scattered defenses remain. They're little more than a statement of our tenacity. The enemy capital ships come away with barely a scratch. Our techs are still at it trying to put together something that can punch through their heavy shields and thick armor.

House Xulub had the foresight to build most of our military installations far enough away that much of our classic architecture still stands, so some of our ancient heritage survives with us if we ever get the chance to worry about such things. I never cared much about museums and history before--I'm a soldier, but now that the future of our race hangs in the balance, I'm developing an appreciation for them. Isn't that always how it is?

Our admirals know their craft. The officers tell us we haven't lost a single ship since our surprise attack on their vanguard when they first arrived. Morale remains high for now. They're keeping our families safe, and that's all most of us care about--those who have families outside of their outfits.

Once we began exploring other star systems, some people were shocked by how dangerous the rest of the galaxy turned out to be. Why would life out there be any different than on our own planet? We lost two task forces in as many days. Half our strength turned to rings of scrap around their respective planets. Those that lamented our fate were a bit myopic it turned out. Our failures then prepared us for greater challenges to come. Our duke began preparing for something of this scale not long afterward. The underground bases are massive. I visited my cousin, Norel, who's stationed in one of them this last cycle during the Peace. They fit whole cites of people down there. Ain't no holiday, but it's better than dead.

We're fighting a guerrilla war slinking through the night from rock to rock while our enemy searches in vain. Mostly we run and hide. After our fleets escape with anything of value, the enemy comes anyway to pound away with an obscene waste of ordnance. But today we were able to strike back. We were patient. The enemy had begun to break up their fleet to hit multiple targets simultaneously which left some groups vulnerable. The fastest ships in the Battle Fleet were able to surprise and destroy one such task group in the skies above here on Coba. That was a sight to see. Nicely played, but how many times are they gonna fall for that? Their shipyards just build more. There's talk of moving the Battle Fleet to another galaxy where it might be able to do some good. Maybe they'll leave us alone, but I doubt it.

Well they're at it again. Missile strike inbound. Time to do my little part.


(excerpts from the remains of a journal found in the rubble of a Coban defense platform)