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Kallanagh Tellen
Royal Fleet Auxiliary
Collegium Amarria
Posted - 2003.12.17 15:20:00 - [31]

He muttered to himself, regarding the word with new eyes as a wave of annoyance flowed over him. He wasn’t going to admit he was wrong.
“My Lord…” the advisor interjected, “There are serious concerns throughout the administration…”
“About what exactly?” said Kallanagh as he turned away from his wonderings, a threatening tone of authority in his voice.
“Well… Sire… our cash flow is greatly depleted, our actions have not yet created viable results and by each passing day draw closer to bankruptcy… perhaps we should… rethink our position?”

A long pause followed.

“Go on, I’m listening” said Kallanagh resentfully, he felt too tired to instill fear into his subbordinate.
“Sire, we have at the moment approximately 200,000 ISK in the accounts. This will keep on average a ship of the line operational for bare essentials, excluding ammunition for approximately a week. The recent loss of both clone and resources has meant that we cannot afford to leave spacedock. If we were to purchase you a clone adequate enough to retain your knowledge and abilities, it would mean we would have to strip the Cromwell for parts… Sire at the very least we would have to sell on a Tachyon beam, plus small components.” The advisor picked up a datapad from a delicate glass table, examining momentarily the data being displayed. “Quite frankly Sire, we may need to sell the HMS Cromwell to continue the mission, if that is your order of course.”
Kallanagh stared out of the port window, watching as the warp tunnel revert once more to the twinkling of stars, the Emperor’s Station coming into view. It was a magnificent sight, the immense structure exquisitely wrought, the very pinnacle of Amarrian crafting and design. A flash of light signalled the arrival of a ship from warp, the equal bulk of a PIE battleship coming into view as it lined up for docking.
The advisor walked to Kallanagh’s side, nodding to the ship as he gazed out of the window. “That would be the TES Broadsword under Admiral Golan, they escorted the Cromwell to space-dock here, I believe they’re here to drop off some ammunition and supplies we desperately need. Shall I give the order to strip down number 3 Tachyon turret Sire?”
Kallanagh nodded sadly, “I cant do any good dead, inform Terron when we disembark. I want a new clone ready within the hour.”

The advisor bowed his head and headed for the communications room, the engines dropping to the steady thump as the docking computer began to tow the shuttle to the hangar. Kallanagh stared one more at the last glimpse of starlight before the heavy reinforced doors of the shuttle dock came into view, he dearly hoped that the next few days would bring more luck.

Kallanagh Tellen
Royal Fleet Auxiliary
Collegium Amarria
Posted - 2004.02.10 08:58:00 - [32]

The Emperors station in Amarr was alive with the hustle and bustle of daily life, the result of the driving force of galactic commerce. The streets and passageways were alive with a surging tide of people, each going about their purpose under the watchful gaze of the station security officers. Since the passing of the previous Emperor a number of precautions had been taken to ensure the safety of Imperial citizens, both in the depths of space and the relative safety of the Empires stations. The introduction to open stations of provost officers (a term given to military law enforcement personnel) had created a slightly oppressive atmosphere in their very presence, an unpopular side effect with the various station traders on the habitation decks.. With the average provost officer on duty being encased in distinctive black and white mechanised armour that reached over 8 feet in height, and carrying a wide range of stun batons, gas grenades and assault rifles, only the most fool hardy would ever dare engage a provost in a fight. Not even the Ammatar marines were intoxicated, foolhardy or downright insane enough to risk a brawl with a ‘Provi’.
The otherwise calm yet steady pace of movement along the shopping promenade of the outer deck areas was broken only by a flutter of commotion, coming from the entrance of one of the many restaurants that served the never ending cycle of resting travellers.
"Move along!" barked the Provost as he shoved a group of inquisitive civilians away from a motionless figure on the decking plate, no doubt the receiver of the Provosts wrath. A squad of local security arrived, dressed in the fatigues of the Imperial security forces as they examined the scene in front of them, displaying an obvious mix of caution and fear. The provost picked up the ragged body of what used to be a man of Gallente origin, flinging the broken body towards the slightly worried security group.
"This filth has been charged under accordance with Imperial law regarding petty theft" boomed the provost from the depths of his armoured suit, "See that he is prosecuted further then disposed of in a manner fitting his station."
The security group looked down at what was left of their charge, unsure exactly how to prosecute an individual who had by the state of his injuries long departed this world.
"Lets chuck him out the airlock and be done with it" said the leader of the group, hefting the body as he strode towards the docking bay. The others didn't protest, to them it was a daily occurrence with the provost on guard, and whilst many of their profession viewed the punishments as severe they were more then aware of why such treatment was dealt. You never know where the next terrorist would strike, in their eyes all foreigners were fair game.

Kallanagh Tellen
Royal Fleet Auxiliary
Collegium Amarria
Posted - 2004.02.10 08:59:00 - [33]

Across the street, a group of Imperial Officers viewed the drama with interest, sipping tea as they looked on with cold fascination at the macabre image in front of them.
"That was a bit harsh wasn't it?" commented a young officer, his uniform identified him as a member of the engineering profession. His long hair and shoddy appearance definitely indicated a life of menial work.
"Nah not really" spoke another junior officer, most likely a security officer by the dark olive uniform in which he was dressed. His short dark hair doing little to hide the metal plating that adorned his brow, no doubt the trophy of some long forgotten conflict. His angular and rather severe looking face was the epitome of the Amarr servicemen. "If the little tealeaf thought he was smart enough to steal and not get caught then he deserved to get everything he got".
"But to beat him to death with a stun baton?!" said the Engineer, a turn of revulsion in his voice.
The security officer sat back in his chair, pondering as his took another tip from the porcelain cup that held the dark aromatic green tea, "Yeh, sounds about right".
"Hang on" the engineer replied, "all he stole was some bread from the restaurant right?"
"Well it's the principle of the thing. If this creature for example gets away with his crime, how can we allow any other individual to commit the same act without retribution, for we haven’t punished the first. By making an example of any given criminal, we show that Amarrian values still play a strong part in our daily affairs. Hence, the punishment of the thief was harsh to ensure that the souls of others are brought to salvation by seeing the consequences of such actions."
"I see", said the engineering officer.
With a loud clang a large datapad was tossed onto the table in which the group encircled as a figure in the white dress suit of a medical officer sank into a nearby chair, uttering a long, drawn out sigh. The hours of work were clearly shown by the large dark rings that encircled his eyes, his white receding hair telling of a hard and trialing life.
“Apparently the Captain is still receiving treatment for the effects of the clone activation sequence” he said with little more then a whisper, “we’re under orders none the less to prepare to get under way, which will make the men happy at least.”
“About time!” said the security officer in a cold and rather annoyed tone, “Gods speed to the return of health to the captain but… Any more time on shore leave and I’m going to go nuts!”
“What do you mean GOING to?” grinned the engineer, “must be all that expose to ‘dangerous enemies of the empire’. Hah! I bet you haven’t fired a gun in nearly a year!”
“Oh smart talk coming from the grease fedo” groaned the security officer, giving the now s******ing engineer an accusing stare, “when was the last time YOU did any work”.
The engineer pondered as he took a drink from his teacup, giving a final shrug as he shrugged in a manner of factly kind of way “Nothing needs doing”.
“Where are we going?” asked the engineer.
“Don’t know, rumour is that its something to do with the Kehour system. Apparently something big is happening in House Tellen” replied the Security officer.
The engineer shifted uncomfortably, “We haven’t seen Terron about much in engineering recently, all we’ve heard from him was an order to remove the Amarr Conclave insignias from the ships comm system and hull mountings. I’ve been hearing whisperings that the Captain’s scrapped the entire project.”
“Back to killing terrorists?” the security officers face brightened, a look of happiness suddenly replace the near permanent frown.
“I don’t know, but I’d imagine that it would have to be something big for something on that scale to be simply chucked away. He’s lost a lot in this endeavour.”
The security officer’s face suddenly darkened, “Haven’t we all, stuck on one of the biggest warships in the fleet without the drive to use it. What a waste. Its been hard on the marines most of all, they’ve been turning on each other since we hit the week mark in space dock.” The security officer suddenly grinned, “keeping the provosts busy most of the time, its been turning into a game with them to see which one can bag the most Ammatar in a single day.”
“Going back to a SENSIBLE conversation” the Medical officer stated bluntly, “we’ll here more when we get our orders through today. A group of officers of the fleet are apparently in a meeting regarding our situation, I have a feeling we have a little job to do for the Empire first.”

Kallanagh Tellen
Royal Fleet Auxiliary
Collegium Amarria
Posted - 2004.02.12 13:27:00 - [34]

Edited by: Kallanagh Tellen on 12/02/2004 13:28:35
Deep within the bowels of the station, the obsidian walls of the Imperial wardroom held the interior in an oppressive gloom, shrouding all in the dimly lit sombre lighting reminiscent of older days. The large oval desk that dominated the room was jewelled in the centre by a large holographic display, accompanied by a multitude of smaller displays dotting the circumference. At each console, some 20 in all was seated an assorted dignitary of the Empire, a selection of men from the Admiralty and Houses from the Throne worlds region. Seated at the head of the table was a robed and hooded man, a pair of dark of piercing eyes darting to and from between the seated individuals.
“Gentlemen” the hooded figure rasped, closing his eyes as his words were uttered slowly in order to give full effect and meaning to his captive audience, “There is an…. issue of concern that has come about of late. Koress Forn was a man of some standing within the halls of the Ministry of War, rumoured to have friends in rather high places. His reputation as a man of conviction was almost legendary amongst the men and women of the Imperial forces who knew him, those that failed him were often seen to be unfit of the honour that command had given them, most usually promptly executed. He waved a hand leisurely over the control in front of him, the central display springing to life as a beautifully modelled representation of the Galaxy phased into view. The swirling image was dominated by the Imperial Sigel of the Amarr Empire, a vast chunk of the Galaxy model illuminated by a reddish glow. A flash of light and the image dropped down into the South Western realm of the Empire, a sea of yellow lights depicting no doubt patrol ships in the region. Beyond the reddish hue that depicted the Amarr domain, a singular yellow light floated alone in the darkness of lawless space. Koress turned his attention once again to the audience, relaxing back into his chair with his hands clasped together in meditative thought. “Imperial Traffic Control reported unusual activity with a number of jump gates along our southern border. Reports of a dramatic surge in warp reactor activity similar to that of an entry into the region has been detected, and has to yet be explained.” A white cross encircled the lone yellow light, as criss-cross of white lines erupted from it and joined to the jump gates within its vicinity. Incomprehensible strings of data appeared to the left of the display, the telltale signs of a ship transponder code. “All affected jump gates have been reporting… intermittent contact with a vessel of the very same transponder signal as displayed here. Jump gate personnel have moved to acknowledge an approach to grant usage of the gate, with the requesting vessel seemingly “disappearing” from the vicinity. We have only recently been able to pinpoint the exact location of the target’s current whereabouts by way of reports from a passing freighter, leading us to believe that there is a strong possibility that it has just emerged from warp. The transponder code has been confirmed as Amarrian, but with a code dating back a………. substantial amount of time”
“If I may be so bold, how long is... a substantial amount of time?” enquired an individual in what appeared to be a Commanders uniform.
Koress nodded in approval, he valued diligent officers. “Indications within Imperial Navy archives have shown that the code in particular dates to approximately the end of the Jove conflict, although the exact ship name and class has yet to be determined. I find it hard to believe that a vessel would not have been through an engineering check since that time, and as I’m sure you are all aware of the constant update of communications systems due to set regulations.”
“Has the vessel been hailed?” spoke another audience member, this time what appeared to be an Admiral of the fleet. “She should be recalled at once”.
“Apparently the vessel has not responded to hails, we are unsure at this time whether this is simply a communications fault of if the vessel is operating under communications silence. Her movement slowly at sub-warp speeds suggests possible heavy damage. We have as of yet no confirmation of a realistic destination at her present course”. Koress lowered his head for a moment, a tone of sadness creeping into his voice. “The Bestower-class rescue ship Deliverance was dispatched to deal with the stricken vessel. We lost contact at approximately 19:04 EVE standard time yesterday when she rendezvoused with the anomaly. We have since received word that wreckage has been found floating in space that corresponds with the Deliverance.
Another Admiral emerged from the gloom of his seat and into the glow of his console speeking immediately “We must assume this vessel is a hostile threat and terminate it!”

Edit: Cropping to correct size

Kallanagh Tellen
Royal Fleet Auxiliary
Collegium Amarria
Posted - 2004.02.12 13:28:00 - [35]

“Brother, we have no idea what happened!” said another, we mustn’t be so rash as to fire on what appears to be one of our own vessels…”
Koress nodded “I agree. We must investigate this occurance, but I am sure that I am not alone in feelings of concern for sending an unarmed science ship on such risk. That is why I would like to… investigate the possibility of dispatching a capable warship. What is currently available in the fleet in that area?”
An Imperial Advisor spoke up as his hands danced across his own console, his personal holographic display showing a torrent of logs, facts and figures. “It appears that much of the fleet in that area seems to be engaged in the ongoing pacifying of systems in regards to the recent change of Emperor. The majority of our reserve forces are carrying out standard patrols across our border systems…..”. His gaze rose from the display in front of him and levelled upon Koress, “I would recommend outsourcing the issue to one of the loyalist support groups in our area. We would certainly have trouble sending anything larger then a frigate, and it would keep the area Commanders in that region happy. In that part of the Empire with all the recent activity from large groups in deep space, they are crying out for support ships.”
Koress looked somewhat unhappy, but nodded his head in a show of conceit. “A fair assessment, what vessels are available in the area here that can be utilised?”
“A number of PIE and assorted warships are on standby, but are currently on defensive duties to combat the terrorist threat. Other groups such as House Androconius and the Dark Seraph have minor forces in the vicinity but have been unavailable at this time. The Apocalypse Battleship Cromwell under Kallanagh Tellen is in dock but he’s receiving medical treatment and they are vastly under gunned. I would advise against... ”

“Send it” said Koress abruptly.

“But…. My lord the vessel is ill equipped… and without a Comma..”
“Do I have to repeat myself?” uttered Koress in a low and distinctly threatening tone.
The Imperial Advisor bowed his head immediately, not risking to anger the man further, “My apologise my Lord, I shall send the dispatch order immediately. Koress grunted as he lifted himself out of his seat, his extreme age showing briefly in his movement before he began to stride towards the door, all hint of humanity hidden behind the his hooded robe. “Send them adequate supplies and rations; I expect them to be underway as soon as possible in order to deal with the situation.” He gave a sideways glance to the Adviser; a look of fear spreading across the poor mans face. “Find them a temporary Captain.”
“At once my Lord” the advisor swiftly replied.

Posted - 2004.02.12 13:57:00 - [36]

Once again a very entertaining story. One wonders why it's not yet been moved to the library, along with all the other entertaining stories.

Quis moderat moderatiens?

Kallanagh Tellen
Royal Fleet Auxiliary
Collegium Amarria
Posted - 2004.03.31 14:04:00 - [37]


The vast expanse marine barracks 3a was swathed in the deep, unyielding darkness of lights out, the gloom illuminated by the faint blue lights of the gantry walkway. The room was little more then a long corridor, a central gantry flanked on either side by row upon row of bunk beds, each containing a restful figure. There were many restful figures indeed. Beside each bunk bed, piled neatly in the same regimented order was each mans clothing, pressed clean and cared for meticulously in the manner instilled with fear by the ships warrant officer. The Ammatar marines soon learned the manner in which the ‘warrant’ liked his men to conduct themselves on duty.

It is interesting to note at this stage that within the endless ranks of men that serve in the Emperor’s armed forces, beyond the respect and command of his officers and commanders it is actually the Warrant officer who holds the greatest sway. Taken from the ranks of veterans that prove themselves on the field of battle, the Warrant Officer is ordained with the task of readying his subordinates for the services that are required. Special emphasis is made in regards to the state of each mans equipment and personal hygiene, with humiliating punishments being the punishment of choice for careless servicemen.

‘Poet’ Stared up at the inky blackness of the barracks ceiling musing at the imaginary shapes he could discern that were forming in front of him. Shadows cast by a multitude of system panels and equipment gauges created an entire vista of silhouettes, from dragons of myth to old friends long since passed. Such he thought was the strange side effect of warp travel, his mind never seemed to quell the near constant surge of creativity.
“Your still awake, aren’t you” sounded a deep, booming voice from the bunk below. Sergeant Gorek, an Ammatar of no small stature had been tasked with watching over the young Amarrian, and despite his irritable temper and unsettling visage was known to be a man of his word, a man of great respect among his peers. “You know you should really get some sleep, we’ll be arriving at our target location in 9 hours.”
“I know” replied Sarran, a tinge of uncertainty in his voice, it’s just…”
“You’re concerned about this being your first possible battle, correct?”
Sarran sighed and stared into the blackness of the barracks for a moment, his mind wandering as he looked upon the countless rows of his fellow marines. “I’m concerned that I don’t truly know what I’m doing here.”
“You are doing YOUR duty” replied Gorek in a stern and unyielding voice “and you’ve done well. Everyone here has had the same thoughts before their first time into conflict. Most of us still feel the same way before we go in even now. The tasks that we carry out aren’t supposed to be easy, in fact we do as much work as any ships captain I’ve ever heard of, INCLUDING our current captain. We don’t hide behind sensors, bulkheads, shields and gun batteries, when we go out to do a job there’s nothing but a flack jacket to keep us from the Lord himself.”
“I… suppose that’s true….“ whispered Sarran as he relaxed back into his cot, unconsciously fidgeting as he tightened the straps that held him in place, “Perhaps this is not going to be as bad as I think it is…”
“Yeh don’t worry about it, most we’ll probably do is stand around on the shuttle deck, whilst ‘im upstairs whines at some freighter captain for using the emergency channel. Some lads on Deck C were told that this mission wasn’t going to be more then a simple cargo inspection run, nothing to it. In this job I’ve spent more time betting on Mekken chips with my squad then I have on combat runs, just one of those things.”
“So you don’t know what the missions about?” said Sarran in a surprised voice.
“Nah, not usually” muttered Gorek, “not that I like the fact mind you, but in the grand scheme of things…… you get the idea. Go to sleep, we’ll fid out what’s happening soon enough.”


Kallanagh Tellen
Royal Fleet Auxiliary
Collegium Amarria
Posted - 2004.03.31 14:05:00 - [38]

The sombre lighting of the captain’s quarters reflected Captain Verann’s mood as he reclined back in his reading chair, the subtle crackling flecks of glowing embers from the open fire cast long shadows over the sumptuous furniture. Open fires were a sign of wealth or substantial rank aboard star ships, as their heavy usage of oxygen as well as increased pressure on oxygen recycling systems. As a result, nearly all command quarters had a fireplace, particularity in adjoining wardrooms for captains to demonstrate their dominance. Verann’s stature was often remarked on as being unusual for a naval officer. His broad features were carried on a frame more built for ground warfare, often nicknamed ‘the giant’ by the men who served with him. Verann’s reputation as an unrelenting, by the book commander hadn’t made him many friends in his 98 year long career, though there were few questions on the results that his work produced. Rumours of the execution of entire bridge crews due to incompetence by his command were not unheard of, leading much towards almost legendary increases in effort by his subordinates. Be it the lowest of slaves to the highest of bridge officers, everyone feared Verann. His captain’s appointment to replace the ailing Captain Tellen had been a somewhat unpopular but necessary move by Imperial high command, with many of the ships crew viewing the move as an insult to House Tellen to which the vessel belonged. None felt most about the issue then the ships marine population, whose disdain for weakness had been instilled for generations through the House’s strive to offer better troops for the Empire. Still, results had been made, with the ship underway in record time (a mere 3 days to load, repair and equip the vessel for manoeuvres), the vessel was little more than 8 hours outside of the target system, someone little known void that few even cared to remember about.
The walls of the quarters were decorated with countless framed awards and trophies, with tasteful frames outlining passages taken from ancient Amarrian tomes. Verann appreciated Kallanagh’s taste in decoration, very apt for a commander.
Verann yawned as he drew his eyes away from the ships status reports he had received earlier that day, taking a moment to sip from the crystal goblet that contained a dark and aromatic pool of brandy that he had taken from space dock. The task that was set to him, this ‘lost’ ship that had returned to Amarr space had indeed been a puzzling mystery, how could such a vessel be hidden from the all seeing eyes of the Empire? He had seen the reports issued to him shortly before the Cromwell had left port, the almost laughable intelligence that the target was a relic from the Jove war, what a poor excuse for a test. If this was a simple exercise so soon after gaining temporary command of a vessel, heads would certainly roll upon his return. He furrowed his brow in annoyance as the answer to this issue continued to be elusive in his mind, his attention turning once more the sanctity of sleep. He was never happy about changing ship, strange surroundings were a distraction from the purity of work. At least some small consolation was the opulence of his surroundings. “Fire off” muttered Captain Verann as he wearily made stood and strode towards the captains bedroom, the strain of almost constant ship inspections since his arrival on board 3 days ago playing across his face. Whatever he was destined to find he would encounter in the next few hours. He hoped that the team would be ready.



ISD Interstellar Correspondents
Posted - 2004.03.31 14:14:00 - [39]

Movin to the library

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