The Final Countdown by Kevin "Shaker" Brown
	He looked at the report again. Slowly, his eyes taking in every word of it, a look of utter disbelief written in darkly. This report was one of the worst ones he had seen since he had come to power over two years ago. "Lieutenant," he looked at the officer who had presented the report to him, "I want you to take this report, file it away, and tell the Commander of the 233rd to shove it. I'm getting sick of reports, all these bloody reports, that are coming to me daily. Every Day they are getting worse and asking for this, that, and the other. Understand?" "Perfectly clear, Sir." The officer saluted, did an about-face, and walked out of the Command center, surprise now finally showing on his face. "This is going to get worse before it gets any better," he muttered to himself. * * * The year was 2582, and chaos was running rampant throughout the known universe. Planets, each controlled by one person, whose population had elected them (well, it was the world senate on each planet that had elected them, the population only put the senators and representatives in.) Each planet worked feverishly to build up their military strength, to increase their resources of metal, crystal, and the ever important but highly radioactive eonium. Many ships were created by different worlds, each of different sizes, strengths, compositions, but all with one goal in mind: domination and survival. By 2593, numerous problems continued to occur, the least of them being the low standard of living. The highest were the widespread rioting, death, and destruction happening on each planet across the universe. On some planets, men and women came to power by sheer strength, creating a military dictatorship and crushing opposition wherever they found it. On just as many planets, however, peace and constant, long negotiations proved just as effective, with better results. Production and productivity slowly increased from the crawl, or in some places dead-stop, that had existed for over five long years. Businesses increased, the standard of living, along with the world economy, slowly increased as well. Terrorism across the peaceful planets came to a halt. Peace and security slowly became realized, something that for years, too many years, had only been but a figment of a dream in the minds of the people. Then, in 2599, a group of over 13,000 people, one representative from each peaceful planet that wished to participate, came together at Valderaz. The topic was how to deal with the outside planets, the ones on which military strength was the determining factor. During this two month conference, many believed that the military dictatorships would slowly die and wither away, as had ones such as Hitler and Stalin on Earth over 600 years ago. But during the second month, intelligence reports detected high fleet activity on the dictatorship planets. They were preparing for war, and no one was going to stop them. Ideas quickly became talks, talks became negotiations, and negotiations turned into alliances, non-aggression pacts (NAPs), and similar agreements. In the far background was a man named Conen. A former military General who had seen the horrors of war, Conen knew that the only way to truly fix this problem was to bring the strongest members together, and pose such a threat that the enemy planets would either be too frightened to fight them, or would die in their stupidity. Finally, decisions were made. A system of organization would be in place, based on the composition of planets in near vicinity to one another. Galaxies would be labeled off, with a minimum of 5 planets per galaxy, up to a maximum of 25. There were small exceptions, with one galaxy only having 3 planets and being over 12 hours travel time from any other planets, but for the most part, it stuck, and no one could go over the max for any reason. And then, on the second to last day of the conference, a man in the back who had kept quiet the entire time stood up. "Ladies and Gentlemen, distinguished members, I have a proposal to make. For the past two months, we have sat in these meetings, talked with other planetary heads, and made decisions. We are still, however, separated. We have created galaxies, but for what purpose? Just so that we can give them a number designation for us all to know and understand? That is all it seems to me. "I call that each galaxy vote, between the head members of each planet, one person to be the Galaxy Commander for them. I also move that, due to the hostilities, planetary resource, negotiation and communication needs, the Galaxy Commander is to appoint one planet head as the Minister of War, the Minister of Development, and the Minister of Communications respectively. Thank you." He then sat down. The man's name was never known. Ten minutes after he gave what was probably the longest speech in his life, at the age of 92, the man got up, walked out the door, took 43 steps to a sleeping room, and passed away quietly in his sleep, no identification on him at all, his last act in life probably one of the most influential of the session. Five minutes later, not knowing of the man's death, the Universal Convention voted three votes short of unanimous to adopt the resolution. The true organization had begun. Each representative left the conference with a specific set of instructions. During the next six months, the planet leaders all met, in their respective galaxies, to decide who was in charge of what section. Another thing discussed were the plans, all combined, of each type of ship that the planets could make, as improvements had been combined and tested. Immediately, each planet made the necessary factory modifications, building new ones where needed, slowly constructing fleets solely for the defense of themselves and their brothers-and-sisters-in-peace. * * * And here they were. Over 30 years since that time of hope, and all that happened was that things were now going downhill. True, production and teamwork still stayed up there, coherence and dedication a definite plus, but military attacks continued all throughout the universe, some people even attacking those with whom they had attended the conference with, had become friends with. Alliances, however, were still as much an absolute necessity as ever, and the General shook his head as he thought over again the report he had just received. There was only so much that he could do for his galaxy. Having been elected as the Galaxy Commander was a high honour, but it had a price along with it. Three days after he had started his job, fourteen fleets had found their way to his doorstep, and had decimated his ships. Less than a week later, while trying to get his fleet built back up, some overzealous Colonel from another galaxy, one built on the foundation of war, deceit, and suppression, had launched a fleet at him, saying he was a member of a feared alliance called VANX. After seven long hours of negotiations, VANX themselves was pulled into it, and the Colonel was found to be a liar, one who then pulled his fleet back after retaliation threats by the VANX High Command. This small incident brought the General into probably the most important alliance of his career... and now, it was for his membership in that alliance that his galaxy was again under attack. "Sir!" a voice called from behind. The General turned. "Our Intell boys just picked up activity just outside the galaxy. Sir, it's the Colonel again. Jumpgate into the area will be opening in two hours." The General nodded. VANX wouldn't be pulled into this one... he had a score to settle with the Colonel, and it would be settled here. It pained him to think of his officers as pawns in this "game". It was almost like a game, he thought. Except this "game" ended up in more "We regret to inform you..." letters than could ever be wanted. * * * "Sir, I still think that, for your safety, we should send you back with a few of the ships. I don't feel that you are safe being with the fleet on a mission like this." The Colonel silenced him with a glare. "Commander, if I ever hear you disagree with me again, I will personally escort your half dead carcass to the nearest airlock. Have I made myself clear?" The Commander nodded in silence. "Good. I already told you. Today, we will end this conflict once and for all." The Colonel grinned evilly, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. "And this General will pay as he deserves... after he watches his beautiful wife's life end in his arms." The entire bridge crew on board the massive Dreadnaught became nothing more than a hushed silence. They could not believe what they had just heard. Destroying a fleet, stealing the asteroids on which materials of metal, crystal, and eonium were mined around the planet with their advanced drones, that was their job. Not personal vengeance upon a person. Not carrying out a vendetta. Still that final decision would not take place for many hours. The automatic door to the bridge swooshed open, and in entered the Commander of the fleet's War Frigates. His face was always a rough looking one, cleanly shaven but obviously one belonging to a man who's living conditions were less than desirable. Of course, the fact that those conditions were designed to fight against any type of ship didn't exactly help matters much. Crew comfort and minor accommodations had been sacrificed for efficiency, and even with continued attempts, it was still well below standards. The cost, however, of building these vessels made them quite popular in many fleets, especially in the Colonel's. The Commander walked toward the Colonel and snapped up a salute, which was returned almost immediately. "Colonel," the Commander began, "I just got word from Central Command. VANX has started their attack." The look of despair coming from his Commander stopped the Colonel from making any moves against the man, because he could tell it was no trick. But the next person to enter wasn't so lucky. Coming in only to ask the Colonel a question, the woman only took two steps inside the door before her life was ended with a single blast of the Colonel's sidearm. Of course, it wouldn't have been so bad had the woman not been the Colonel's wife of 13 years. The action would haunt him for the rest his life. Total silence enveloped the bridge, so thick you could almost cut the air. Not a soul moved. "Get back to your posts," the Colonel growled at the bridge command crew. They obeyed immediately, fearing the same fate as had just befallen their commander's innocent wife. * * * "Enemy ETA is now 1 hour, Sir," a Lieutenant junior grade spoke up. "And Sir, get this. Military scans don't show a thing. A new kind of encryption algorithm, I'm guessing." The General only nodded. He slowly rose from his seat. 34 years of military service had made a big impression on him. Looking at all the people in the room, the General couldn't help of thinking about all those who had dedicated their lives to freedom, to the betterment of his planet, to the betterment of the galaxy, as well as those in the ships at that very moment, working feverishly to get everything just right, all systems working just perfectly. He thought to himself how much this really didn't appeal to him. The art of war was just that, an art. But people like the Colonel had made it a way of life, and seemed to enjoy it as well. Hopefully, after this day, that would change. Now was the time to go talk to his wife. "Sir.." the Lieutenant jg started to say, but the Major in the room shook his head at her. After the General had left, the Major explained. "Something that you will understand after you have been around the General for a while, is that he has been through a lot in his life. This incident is not something that he takes lightly. He doesn't even look at it as something that is his job to deal with. He looks at it as an atrocity toward humanity. You have been lucky enough to be in a field of service where you haven't actually seen combat up close and personal. He has." The Major stopped for a second, and took a deep breath. "He served as a fighter pilot for years, then quickly moved up all the way to commanding Spectres. Commanding the biggest cloaked ship of all time isn't the easiest thing, and you have to plan what you are doing hours in advance before you do it. Also, he has looked out the window all too often, just in time to see a best friend he went though command school with die as their ship disappeared in a ball of fire and light." The entire room was silent. Many had never heard of these stories of their General and only two in that room had ever seen the tears in the General's eyes after a battle. The Major was one of them. The other, an enlisted man, who's father the General had served with. "Major," the JG spoke up again, softly, "they've started." The major looked at her, slightly confused, knowing that the battle was almost an hour away. The next words out of the officer's mouth made his mouth drop. "VANX has started their attack." * * * The attack on the Colonel's own planet could not have started out any better. In the first twenty minutes, over thirty-five thousand of the nearly forty-two thousand interceptors of the Colonel's personal defense had been wiped out. The astropods, who's only purpose was to capture the asteroids used for mining resources, had methodically latched onto their targets, their AI having taken complete control. Each pod turned itself in the direction of its own home planet, and the chain reactions started. A wormhole, just large enough for the asteroid attached to fit though, was created by the central core reaction, and then a split second before the hole closed, the pods would each envelop in a small nuclear reaction as their engines thrusted the droids to their new homes. The sight of hundreds of wormholes opening, the blue aura surrounding the entire event, was a breath-taking sight... for those who had time to look. On the bridge of a Spectre vessel, General Conen, original creator of VANX, stood there, arms crossed. He knew that all throughout this galaxy, the same thing was happening. The enemy was being conquered, and soon peace would come, but the price at which this peace would occur would be sent back home every hour, added up, and recorded for future analysis. "Well," Conen looked at the Commander of the ship. "this is interesting. Seems we have just removed a few more souls from the gene pool, eh?" The Commander looked at the General. The look on his face was that of acknowledgment and sorrow for this having to be as it was, but at the same time a small grin crossed his face. Today would be a day for victory. He turned and looked out the port side, seeing a few more wormholes light up the darkness of space. This was definitely a sight to behold. * * * It was only thirty minutes before the enemy fleet arrived, and the Planetary Defense Systems, or PDS, were already coming on line. First the Mesons with their rapid-fire laser systems were poised for launch into space, ready to deal with the astropods that were sure to accompany the fleet. Then, the Hyperon turrets, with their improved targeting systems were brought online and aimed towards the heavens. Many other types of PDS systems were brought online on the spot as well, including jamming systems, mines, and electromagnetic pulse systems. Interceptor crews jumped into their cockpits, which were then lowered into the pit section of the ship, latched into place, and given the go ahead. Minutes later, the ships were launched, slipping out into space from the mammoth carriers that housed them at home. The massive turrets of those carriers were turned in the direction of the known position of the expected wormhole, waiting for authorization to fire their first shots. Swarms of other ships slipped out of dry-dock and into space, their crews positioned and waiting for what they were trained to do. It is said that there is no such things as an atheist in a foxhole, and nearly every pilot, crew member, and soldier up there said some sort of a prayer. Last minute jokes were traded via the inter-ship communication channels, something of a morale booster before the hell that everyone knew would ensue. * * * There was a knock on the door, and the General got up from the couch, wiping the tears from his eyes. His wife, sitting next to him, was still worried about him, wanting to hold him some more and try to make things better. "Come," he said as firmly as he could. The door opened, and the Major took two steps inside. "Sir," he said to his long-time friend, "It is time." * * * The sight that slowly opened before their eyes was one whose picture had been seen by many, but only the actual witnessing of it could do it justice. First, there was a slight blue glow in one part of space. Slowly, it grew bigger, spreading in slightly zigzag lines, staying in a central area. Then it was as if a tornado were emerging from out of nowhere, a blue-white glow spread out over the entire area. Suddenly, all around the General's fleet, little wormholes opened , all growing as massive ships slowly moved out, smaller ships zipping toward the planet in an attempt to catch the defenders off guard. On board the home team's carriers, the Admirals gave the word, and each of the guns on all 743 carriers opened fire. At the same time, the astropods slipped though, homing in on asteroids and moving towards them. At that same moment, the Meson cannons, on board small satellite-like ships, jumped into space from the ground, their cannons slipping into ready position, their shots intercepting the pods one by one. One pod made it to its target, latched onto it, only to be blasted into nothingness by an interceptor pilot who happened to see it out of the corner of his eye. * * * The General looked out into space, seeing the small flashes of light, knowing that each flash was the end of someone's life, someone's father, someone's son, someone's daughter. Each flash hit home, reminding him of way back when he was an interceptor pilot, knowing that each moment in space with the enemy could very well be his last. From the couch across his quarters, the General's wife spoke soothingly to him. "Come here, love. Looking at that horror is only going to make you hurt more." The General looked at his wife, her hair hanging down her back instead of the usual up look she had it in when around others. He felt his head shake slowly from side to side. "I feel as if I should be out there. I remember back when I was one of them. I remember when it was me that was up there, and I never realized what my commanding General must have been thinking, been feeling. Maybe I'm too weak now, maybe I've let myself grow weak from all the caring, and allowing myself to get personal with this. But its not something that I can help." His wife got up, and walked over to him, putting her arms around him and her unconditional love clearly coming through. "My love, you are not weak. Just because you have feeling for the people up there, just because you care about what happens to them, doesn't mean anything bad, it means something good. It means that you are one of those that knows what it is like. When we lost our son 9 years ago up there, I didn't know how you were going to take it. But you handled it, and because you handled it, I handled it. You comforted me when I needed you most, and you were there for me. And you are there for them too," she said as she motioned up into space, small flashes of light appearing and disappearing in the night sky, "and they know it. "Remember the speech you gave at that graduation ceremony for those pilots? It is things like that that make them say, 'It matters not what we have to go through to win and succeed, because the man who could care less about us as individuals actually took the time, took hours of his time and effort that could have been used working on some problem in this vast universe, to meet us, one by one, to get to know what our wants and needs were." She held him close, as he did her, and they looked out into the deep black, praying to God Almighty that the soldiers would not die in vain, and that their souls would be safe from harm in the life beyond. Neither one of them knew the location of the Colonel, nor did they care. Neither of them knew that the ship he was on was targeted by over half of the defense fleet. Neither of them knew the help they received from numerous alliances in those hours of need. Neither witnessed the Colonel's command ship, as the adaptive armour and breech-shielding gave way, as the ship slowly broke apart, finally ending in a marvelous and fantastic display of light and color, filling the sky as would a fireworks display. Neither of them would know exactly what it felt like up there in those moments to those men and women who were willing to give their lives to the ideals and dreams of freedom, honour, unity and strength. All they knew was, today was going to be a day of rebuilding, of comforting, of strengthening. Today was a day of victory. The Final Countdown had begun.