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Forum Index » » Fan Fiction » » The Complete Gallant Adventures of R. S. Pear, Part 1 & 2 & 3

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The Complete Gallant Adventures of R. S. Pear, Part 1 & 2 & 3

Juxtapose
Grand Admiral
Sundered Weimeriners

Joined: May 11, 2002
Posts: 1308
From: Give me your bullets!

Posted: 2004-02-05 14:01

Chapter I Birth of a Legend

Quote:

As conflict again stills us with fear,
As blood darkens and clouds the stars,
Remember the lessons of R.S. Pear,
Whose courage destroyed the Farstars!

Roger Smythe Pear was born to a poor family of no real regard from southern Texas. His forbearers had been scratching a living from the hard infertile land for generations and his family followed suit and scratched a living out of the hard earth as best they could. But things had changed. Now his family picked at the barren scrub brush beneath the shadow of progress and fortune. That shadow was cast by The Jovian Orbiter and Space Erections Factory, a mammoth facility against which the Pear Family’s hovel-esque trailer-home bordered in near perpetual twilight. You see, rising into the sky a hundred yards away from the Pear home, across the flat and arid ground, was the Jovian Orbiter assembly factory. This monolithic building, at the time the largest single structure on this world or the next, rose three-quarters of a mile high and stretched a full three miles across the Pear’s eastern horizon. To make matters worse, 130 yards to the west sat the main building of the Space Erections Factory, a close second in sheer enormity. Each year, on the day of the Summer Solstice, the Pear household and the 30 square yards that languished beneath them, received a record full hour of direct, blinding sun. The rest of the year, their home, like their future and fortunes was dark.

As fate would have it, Roger S. Pear was born on the day of the Summer Solstice. Braying like an ass, and looking like a bloated pink worm with limbs, Roger S. Pear was brought into the world, his eyes barely able to perceive the warm glowing sunlight streaming into the room.

The fates were less kind the following year and the decades that followed. For a record 22 years in a row, southern Texas received a day long soaking on the day of the summer solstice. Each year, young Roger S. Pear would sit on the cracked concrete steps of his home, under the rust streaked green awning, staring at the sun-blistered and now rain sodden picnic table in the front yard, red paint chips floating in the shallow pools of the benches where he should have been sitting. No cake. No party. No sounds of friend’s laughter.

After a while as records were shattered and Roger S. Pear grew older, plans for the big day’s celebration were less thought out. A few years later, by the time Roger S. Pear had entered High school, birthday celebrations were all but forgotten. But not by Roger S. Pear.

No.

The soft patter of rain drops against the rusted corrugated roof of his home served to remind him, year after disappointing year.

When Roger S. Spear turned 18 he did as most young men and women did in his town, he began working for the Jovian Orbiter and Space Erections Factory. Deep within the bowels of the enormous structure, Roger S. Spear was responsible for applying the sealant that would ensure that the interior paneling for all H-Class bathrooms remained fixed in place. It was not a very prestigious job but it was also not very demanding. That was something everyone agreed, behind his back and to his face, was important.

After a grueling day on his knees, back tired from ramming caulk into any hole or crack he could find, arms aching from squeezing every last drop of the creamy sealant out of the caulk gun, Roger S. Pear would shuffle back to his family’s home to collapse on his bed. Though many of his classmates he had graduated with stayed and worked in the Jovian Orbiter and Space Erections Factory, he was the only one still living at home. Though difficult on his already stagnant social life, Roger S. Pear never thought of leaving his home and striking out on his own.

So, everyday he would crawl through the deep caverns of half built star ships, caulk gun in one hand, sealant tanks on his back, never really thinking about the importance of his role as a cog in the company’s massive machinery. Unfortunately, though, someone else was.

On the day before his 23rd birthday, Roger S. Pear was summoned by his supervisor to an important meeting in the office the Shift Manager, Dean Morian. Standing in silence, hat in his hands before him and wearing the usual, slightly slack-jawed expression, he listened to Mr. Morian explain to him why he was being volunteered to serve in his nation’s navy in the on-going struggle against the rebellious Farstars.

Honor, adventure, new horizons and opportunities were concepts Roger S. Pear had really never thought of before, so he stood and he listened, a little more closely than usual, to the droning voice of Dean Morian. He stood, on tired legs and he listened as best he could, and occasionally, as the excess saliva would begin its descent down his chin, he would catch it in time before it added to the pool growing by his foot.

Bags packed, good byes said, Roger S. Pear departed his small Texan town the very next day aboard a company rocket. Not surprised at all, Roger S. Pear gazed down upon his sun drenched house through a porthole as the rocket roared through the cloudless summer sky.

To be continued

[ This Message was edited by: Juxtapose on 2004-02-11 10:52 ]
_________________
I type with the tongues of my enemies, ascend from the backs of my friends, ignore the plight of innocents, and dance on the graves of my gods

-Ashiya-
Vice Admiral

Joined: October 21, 2003
Posts: 204
From: The United Kingdom Of Great Britain And Northern Ireland.

Posted: 2004-02-05 14:10

rofl.. rouge spear and demorian, spoofed already! Hope Fully Rachel cant and wont be spoofed.. lol oh wait.. Ra Chel.. damn..
_________________
Shii's Song

Bad_Skeelz
Cadet

Joined: October 18, 2002
Posts: 359
From: The Lobby

Posted: 2004-02-05 14:13

Genius.
_________________
I didn't say they were lobsters, I said they reminded me of lobsters.

-Excerpt from Vice Admiral Skeelz's court-martial regarding the malignant boiling and eating of K'luth prisoners of war.

Eagleranger
Admiral

Joined: September 26, 2002
Posts: 342
From: Ozark mountains

Posted: 2004-02-05 14:14

good start wheres the rest

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I FIGHT THE BATTLES EVERYONE ELSE FEARS
---------------MERCENARY FOR HIRE---------------------------------------------------

[ This Message was edited by: Eagleranger on 2004-02-05 14:15 ]
_________________
never test the depth of the water with both feet.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Flandres
1st Rear Admiral

Joined: June 29, 2002
Posts: 209
From: California

Posted: 2004-02-05 19:06

R. S. Pear continues humanity's conquest of the stars.

_________________
Cellar Door.

[ This Message was edited by: Achilles de Flandres on 2004-02-05 19:06 ]
_________________

JackSwift
Cadet
Sundered Weimeriners

Joined: October 30, 2002
Posts: 1806
From: Where the Sun dont Shine (Seattle-ish)

Posted: 2004-02-06 01:06

Best piece of fan fiction I've read in a long time. Kudos to u Jux.

_________________
(too lazy to rehost that old sig)

\"Errare Human Est.\"

Dimorrow
Grand Admiral
Galactic Navy

Joined: September 25, 2003
Posts: 94
From: West Midlands UK

Posted: 2004-02-06 06:18

good story bud, keep em coming

Ash

_________________

60% Of All Statistics Are Wrong.........

[ This Message was edited by: Dimorrow on 2004-02-06 06:18 ]
_________________

Juxtapose
Grand Admiral
Sundered Weimeriners

Joined: May 11, 2002
Posts: 1308
From: Give me your bullets!

Posted: 2004-02-10 13:04

Chapter II: The Training of a Legend

The days of weightlessness that followed Roger S. Pear’s first trip to the heavens were days spent in a cloud of stomach fluids and half digested food. Though not an incredibly insightful nor intelligent person, Roger S. Pear recognized right away that weightlessness was not something he enjoyed. To make matters worse, once he had boarded the rocket and was stowed in his compartment, it was then sealed and locked. The safety precautions behind his incarceration were all well documented on the hatchway door that barred his escape from his small quarters. The list included such humorous dangers as: Rapid decompression, Exfoliation, uncontrollable bodily fluid ejections (not exclusive to anal leakage), blunt impact trauma, Psionic telecommunication with hostile intelligence, and the all encompassing ‘Space-Madness’; reasons that anyone, other than our witless protagonist, Roger S. Pear, would have laughed out loud when reading.

Roger spent these days as he had spent most of his life, as misery was not an alien concept to Roger, nor was living in his own filth, enduring it in a slightly slack-jawed, saliva moistened, silence.

When gravity finally returned, some days later, men came, cleaned Roger S. Pear up and handed him a gray jumper to wear. Clean and finally able to keep food down, Roger was taken off the company rocket, through a series of airlocks, down long corridors and into a medium sized auditorium that was half filled with similarly dressed people. Told to find a seat and given a pad of paper and a pen, Roger did as he always did and quietly obeyed.

It was quickly and efficiently explained to him by a no nonsense soldier of an indeterminate rank and affiliation that he was now located well beneath the lunar surface of the moon in a relatively secret Galactic Naval installation. It was also explained to him that the assignment he had volunteered for, a Naval steward aboard a supply ship near the Delta Pavalonis System, had been altered due to a more urgent need.

“You men have been acquired by the Navy’s Marine Assault Division to become the needed manpower in our new, elite force known as the: Forward Operating Detection and Demolition Extravehicular Rangers.” The shaven head soldier barked out at them. “I don’t expect you bunch of slack-jawed yokels to understand what the hell that means, and I don’t give a damn. You were specially chosen for your ability to disregard comfort, safety and regard for self preservation. Three things that are frowned upon in this department.”

“You!” The soldier screamed while pointing to a dark haired, grey jumper wearing man sitting several rows down from Roger. The man looked around for a moment as if just waking up from a dream, confused by the sudden attention.

“Yes, you! Get down here right now!”

The man clumsily removed himself from his seat and made his way down to the front of the auditorium, walking with a visible limp. When he got close enough, the soldier grabbed the man by the shoulders and made him stand straight.

“Son, we will make a soldier out of you!” He shouted, inches from the deer-eyed, witless man. “We will make soldiers out of all you and you will serve your Nation, even if it is only once, you will serve it well!” He belted out hoarsely as he shoved the man off the stage and then strode out of the room.

Roger S. Pear watched the man wander aimlessly around the auditorium, looking for where he was sitting, and waited for the soldier to return. Hours passed. Finally, the doors in which Roger S. Pear entered the room opened, letting in a half dozen men and women. They roughly escorted Roger S. Pear and the other newly volunteered recruits to the Naval Processing center.

The next few days went by in a blur for the dazed Roger S. Pear. He was first fitted for a new uniform. Then he was given a whole battery of tests, written, oral, aural and even invasive. After that, he and the other recruits were moved from their assigned seats in the auditorium, where they had been staying for several comfortable days now, and given proper barracks.

There was drilling and exercise. Weapons initiation followed by explosive training. Hand to hand combat training. More weapons training. Just when Roger S. Spear thought his brain was going to burst from learning so much, the soldiers let them go back to their bunks for their food, pills and some needed sleep.

Once, when Roger S. Pear woke up, half-way through his allotted sleep cycle so he could use the head, he was met by several men in white suits. They questioned him, how he was sleeping, how he was responding to orders given to him. They wrote down each answer with puzzled curiosity. They spoke with each other using words the Roger could not understand, like dosage and Alpha-waves. Finally, they led Roger back to his bunk where they gave him more candy colored pills to chew on. The next ‘wake-cycle’ he wasn’t sure if the whole thing hadn’t been a dream or not.

One morning after more explosive training, Roger and the rest of his group were led deep into the center of the base. Down long white washed hallways, through metal clad gates, and then boarding a massive elevator that dropped for almost an hour. Off the elevator, they were brought to what looked to be a naval command room. Each of them were issued special Marine Assault Division, Armored Space Suits and shown how to wear them. They were then led into the adjoining briefing room.

One whole wall of the room was a single plate of glass. This window looked into the vast spherical Zero-G combat Simulation Arena. Their commander did not go into specifics except to say that the room was a perfect sphere and that it was more than 3 kilometers across. Roger S. Pear believed it, because right in the center of the room was a space ship.

For days they practiced falling onto the space ship in the center of the arena. The first three times Roger S. Pear, in control of a small, hip mounted, Inertia Pack, zipped right past the pitted hull, missing it by meters. After a while, and some intense and abusive education from their instructors, they were sent back out to try again.

Roger and six others of his team spent the next week in the medical bay. Three others, including the man who was singled out the first day by the angry soldier, were not so lucky. When they impacted against the hull at 50 k/p/h, either they lost their suit integrity by impaling themselves on one of the various sensors, or they shattered the diamond coated face plate.

The next week saw another three deaths.

The week of training after that there were only two. The instructors were impressed by the learning curve.

During the longs weeks of Zero-G training, each recruit was given a stack of cards, not much bigger than baseball cards, but held together by a ring in the corner and attached to their armored suit. Each card was a picture of various ship components, close up details of hull plating, structural weak-points, location of choke points found of various Galactic and non-Galactic vessels. Before each assault, the trainers chose one unique card for each of the trainees. They would then pour out of the air-locks, speed towards the ship, cut or force their way into the ship, and find the particular component, support beam or location on the card. Once they found it, they were then to rip the special cord that was attached to special vests they wore over their Armored Space Suits.

One morning, after weeks of training, hours of fighting mock battles against real and simulated Space Marines and days in the infirmary, Roger S. Pear woke up from his medicated nap to the announcement that all Forward Operating Detection and Demolition Extravehicular Rangers were to report to the mess hall for a graduation ceremony.

Graduation! He thought, strangely unable to feel much emotion about the word. Dim and hazy memories of his high-school graduation nearly bubbled to the surface of his memory but were quickly trod over by the crisp face of his instructor barking orders in his mind.

The ceremony was brief. Each of them shook hands with their nameless instructors. Each of them, as a certificate of their graduation was issued one of the many pocketed, black nylon battle-vests. Roger S. Pear held his up, feeling a twinge of pride. On the breast was the name: R. S. Pear, on the shoulder were the insignia of the Marine Assault Divisions, Armored Space Squad, Forward Operating Detection and Demolition Extravehicular Rangers.

“Tomorrow you will board transports for the combat zone near Tau Ceti.” The instructor bellowed. “Even though the lot of you barely equal my mental capabilities, you will remember your training and you will complete your mission!” He screamed in a vain attempt to convince himself.

“Even though I still think you are more a danger to your fellow country men than you ever will be to the enemy, I will still wish you all God’s Speed.” He bellowed before turning and leaving the newly minted soldiers in the care of the waiting technicians.

Roger S. Pear, wearing the battle vest of a Forward Operating Detection and Demolition Extravehicular Rangers, then marched off to his transport and to glory.

To Be Continued in the next exiting Chapter

_________________
I type with the tongues of my enemies, ascend from the backs of my friends, ignore the plight of innocents, and dance on the graves of my gods

Bad_Skeelz
Cadet

Joined: October 18, 2002
Posts: 359
From: The Lobby

Posted: 2004-02-10 13:54

I sure hope Roger doesn't pull that "special cord" in the next chapter, I don't want to see this masterpiece end anytime soon.
_________________
I didn't say they were lobsters, I said they reminded me of lobsters.

-Excerpt from Vice Admiral Skeelz's court-martial regarding the malignant boiling and eating of K'luth prisoners of war.

The Monty
Cadet

Joined: October 07, 2002
Posts: 967

Posted: 2004-02-10 15:51

Marine Assault Divisions, Armored Space Squad, Forward Operating Detection and Demolition Extravehicular Rangers

So, my question is, does the vest actually read MAD ASS FODDER?
_________________
Obesa cantavit. Diabolus fecit, ut id facerem.

Jim Starluck
Marshal
Templar Knights

Joined: October 22, 2001
Posts: 2232
From: Cincinnati, OH

Posted: 2004-02-10 19:28

*falls out of chair laughing*
_________________
If at first you don't succeed, get a bigger space battleship and try again.

Juxtapose
Grand Admiral
Sundered Weimeriners

Joined: May 11, 2002
Posts: 1308
From: Give me your bullets!

Posted: 2004-02-11 10:50

Chapter III The Legend of R.S.Pear

Roger S. Pear leapt through the hole blasted in the door, phase cannon blazing green death across the bridge. Men toppled from their perches high atop the gantry ways as Roger’s expert marksmanship picked them off one by one. The captain, sensing all was doomed, cackled maniacally as he pressed the plunger on the ship’s self-destruct panel.

“You can’t win, Spear!” He laughed.

“You are dead wrong, Mellan” Roger hissed as he snapped his rifle up and let of a tight stream of green plasma.

The explosion ripped the front panels off the bridge, exposing the dead and dying to the hard vacuum of space. But it could have been worse, Roger had, in the nick of time, sliced the main cable of the self destruct, allowing only the bridge charges to detonate.

Secure in his Armored Assault Suit, Roger S. Pear leapt over the fallen foe dashed to the ship’s control console. Flames tore at the fringes of his suit, but he shoved the dead and slumped crewman off the chair and furiously began entering a new heading.

“Roger!” A voice crackled over his suit-com. “Roger, the Chancellor has just ordered the execution of the Diplomats! What do we do!”

“Never fear, Admiral, everything is under control. Pull your fleet back,” Close up on the hard jaw as he whispers, “I got me a plan.”

Cut scene to the bridge of the Super-Station Fortuna, in high orbit over the enemy’s homeworld, where the evil Chancellor Keating orders the immediate execution of the Terran Hostages, including R.S.Pear’s fiancé, Rachel Spear!

“Chancellor Keating!” A timid, but proper and trim crew man shouts, “The Golgotha is coming back from battle and headed this way.”

“Excellent,” Keating grins maliciously, “Raise the Golgotha. I would like to personally congratulate Admiral Mellan on his stunning victory over the decadent and corrupt Terrans.” He turns slowly and looks into the communication screen where a distressed, yet beautiful women valiantly tries to regain her composure.

“Your foolhardy friend failed, your highness and now is dead. The Terrans must submit to the might of the Farstars!”

“Never! We will fight! And we will win! You can never stop the freedom lovers of Earth.” She cried bravely.

Keating grinned. "Such spirit. Maybe I will delay your execution just long enough to break it!"

“Message from the Golgotha, sir!” The crewman shouted.

“Good, put it through the main planetary viewer. I want everyone to witness the moment of our Triumph!”

The view screen reception was full of static, but one could just make out a figure hunched over the controls, glaring at the camera.

“Clear that picture up!” Keating demanded. Suddenly, the room gasped. “NO! It can’t be!” Keating cried.

R.S.Pear, framed in dancing green plasma fire, wrestled with the controls of the mighty Farstar DeathDealer Golgotha as he grinned into the camera.

“Can’t be, but it is, Keating! Your time is over. It’s time the people of the Farstars lived in freedom!" said Pear. "Now learn the price to be paid for messin’ with Earth!” R.S.Pear cut the channel

Chancellor Keating raced towards the navigation system. The Golgotha was heading directly towards the Super-Station…on a collision course! He looked around, panicked, desperately searching for a way to escape. But there was no time…

“Admiral, patch me through to my fiancée” R.S.Pear ordered.

“We got her on the line now, son. I just want to say…Thank you. Thank you for everything. You will never be forgotten.” The Admiral’s voice crackled in R.S.Pear’s headset, dripping with admiration.

“Thanks, Sir. It was fun.”

“Roger!” A women’s voice cried. “Roger, oh, I knew you would come back for me.”

“Sorry, Rachel. But this is a one way trip for me. I just wanted to say…well…” The man whose speeches rallied an empire, whose voice caused enemies to cringe in fear, was now at a loss for words.

“I love you Roger!” She cried.

“I know you do, darling. And I love you.” He whispered. “Tell the boy…tell my little Rogue that his daddy died so that you could live. That everyone could live under the Freedom granted to us by the UGTO! Will you tell him that? Will you teach him to be a good citizen like his father?!"

“He will never forget! I promise!! ” She sobbed.

R.S.Pear cut the com channel and leaned back in the charred command chair. Before him, the massive Super-Station filled the view port. He nodded that all was good, relaxed and laughed at it all.

Seconds later, the two ships collided. Ending the Farstar Empire's Evil ambitions.

. . . . At least, that is how Hollywood made it happen. History has a way of changing to meet the needs of the present…the reality is far less glamorous…

Gravity was dead, so was the captain, the security detachment and most of the bridge crew. Roger S. Pear stood in a wash of drifting blood, bone, metal and plastic, secured to the deck by the magnetic boots of his Armored Space Suit and entranced by the beauty of scene outside the gaping hull plate. Casually he dismissed a globular of blood that obstructed his vision with a wave of his armored hand; a moment later he nudged the body of a white clad medic out of the way. He was an island of life amid the lazy swirl of drifting carnage.

He stood in the forward bridge of the enemy’s flagship, the Heavy Cruiser Golgotha as it sped away from the battle it had all but won. Before him were car sized puncher wounds in the nose of the ship, as if a giant shotgun had blasted its way out of the ship. In a way, that was the truth, except instead of buckshot, it was his companions that caused the damage, detonating themselves moments after forcing their way on the unguarded bridge. Through one of the jagged holes, the blue green planet of Cincinnatus slowly swelled and grew. Most of the planet was in darkness, but a brilliant shimmer along the right edge of the atmosphere illuminated its silhouette.

Cities sparkled where stars could not be seen. The capital city of the FarStar government, Olympia, shown the brightest of them all. Its lights re-lit in the growing celebration over the defeat of the UGTO forces who even now were being pursed out of the system by the FarStar fleet.

Roger S. Pear had no recollection of that, of anything really. One moment he did not exist, the next; a blinding light, a crushing blow and all around him was silence and death. But there he stood, on the shattered bridge of a speeding Cruiser, racing towards the Super-Supply Station Fortuna in geosynchronous orbit above Olympia.

In 2114, several year into the Second Interstellar Conflict, a Galactic Naval Battle Group, under the direction of the UG Trade Organization, made a desperate push deep into FarStars space, to strike at the very heart of the budding Republic.

The previous war, the first real interstellar conflict in human history, had taught both sides a great deal about space warfare. By the time of the second conflict, space vessels had grown substantially in both size and in numbers and so had their diversity. The Farstars proved early on in the conflict to have both superiority in numbers and in captains.

The UG, growing desperate and fearing that another loss would mean the war, had developed, in secret, Special Forces equipped at boarding the lumbering space vessels as they pounded each other’s thick armor and wrestling the control of them from the inside. The Farstar were taken completely unawares and scores of their vessels, filled with unarmed and non-suited crew members were overwhelmed.

But even that was not enough to stem the growing power of the Farstars. In 2114, a large diplomatic delegation was dispatched to Cinncinatus from Earth to discuss peace. Midway through talks, the delegation was seized and placed under arrest after several of the delegation members were spotted at locations that, soon after, suffered from terrorist attacks.
The Galactic Navy, stretched to the breaking point, dispatched its remaining reserves in lightening raid on the Farstar homeworld in a daring attempt to free the diplomats. UG Intelligence had placed the bulk of the Farstar’s Heavy Cruisers, the largest of the battle vessels of that time, in the distant CD*36 system. They were deceived.

A large battle group, led by the Flagship Heavy Cruiser Golgotha, jumped the UG Raiders as soon as they came out of Jump space. Outnumbered, outgunned and overwhelmed, the Galactic Navy was quickly decimated and routed.

Which brings us back to our hero, Roger S. Pear…

“To the Airlocks!” The Seargant screamed over the wailing emergency Klaxons.

Roger S. Pear pressed into the cramp space with the rest of his squad. The doors sealed, the green light changed to yellow and then red. On cue, the blast door slid open.

“Out! Out! Out!” Cried a disembodied voice in his headset.

He pushed forward, propelling himself off the back wall, pushing his squad members ahead of him and into the blackness. Above them was the target. A massive, dull grey hull was sliding past. The skin was smooth and new, not pitted and old like many of the other ships that Roger S. Pear had seen. Occasionally a weapons blister or laser turret could be seen, blasting away at the Galactic Naval ships and all that moved around it.

He propelled himself towards the craft. Below him, the ship he just left was being sliced across is axis. Fire and men spilled out of glowing red wounds, freshly made by the Golgotha as it cut its way through the Galactic Navy’s rearguard.

Newly mounted, anti-personal cannons took notice of the approaching swarm of armored Marines. To his left, a squaddie from another company, was suddenly engulfed in flame and blew apart. Suddenly, his companion in front of him exploded as well, showering Roger S. Pear with debris.

Then it was over. Without thinking he had braked and touched down on the ships hull. To his right, several Marines were already cutting through. Roger S. Pear, carefully crawled hand over foot to reach them.

The hole wide enough, the first Marine pushed himself in. A few seconds later, the metal around the small hole ruptured. A jet of debris and atmosphere shot away from the ship. Roger S. Pear held on.

Another Marine made for the hole and then another. Though hundreds had not, dozens had made it to the Golgotha and were now streaming into the steaming wound. Roger grabbed a hold of the jagged edge and pushed himself through, against the flow of air.

Fire, Smoke, flashing red and yellow lights, darkness and chaos greeted him. He pressed on. He passed through the wreckage of a stateroom and into a hallway. He dove back through the hole as he saw one Marine, twenty meters down the corridor, and badly wounded, pull his cord and detonate in a flash and a roar.

Roger and his companions pushed on. Laser fire twinkled through the smoke. Projectiles glanced off his armor. Somewhere along the route he took, his battle vest was torn off. One moment it was on him, the next it was gone. He did not care.

His vision and thoughts had been squeezed down to a pinhead, the rest was reaction. Pulling himself out of a tangle of twisted metal after being blown across a room when someone detonated prematurely. Squeezing his rifle, spraying a room full of dazed men and women with green fire as they scrambled to find cover. Another room, choked with smoke and the cries of wounded, shooting anything that moved beneath the rubble. Tossing shape charges down access tubes, smashing in consoles with his rifle butt. He had no control, his actions and reactions came unbidden.

Then a blinding flash, a roar that could be heard through the suits insulation, weightlessness and being pulled across an open room…to where we first found him, alone on the gutted bridge of the Golgotha, speeding away from the battle towards the Super Station Fortuna.

There was no communication from the bridge of the Golgotha during it’s final minutes. 95% of the crew had survived the frenzied assault on the ship and were able to warn the Fortuna that control had been lost, but there was nothing that could be done on either ship. After this, all stations were to be built equipped with Jump Drives, but only after.

The Fortuna’s shields held back most of the blast damage that incinerated Roger S. Pear and the crew of the Golgotha. The shields, however, could not transfer the inertia the ship was carrying and the crew of the Fortuna found themselves falling towards the planet, towards the heart of the Capital.

The impact of the Super-Supply Station Fortuna, fully laden with ammunition, radiological, chemical and conventional, on the capital of Cinncinatus was devastating. Live feeds captured the image of the Fortuna breaking through the thin cloud cover over the suburbs of the city, it’s shielding keeping the core sections intact. A massive fireball lighting the night sky, streaking towards the city center. No one survived the next seconds devestation. Impact Nukes and chemical bombs ignited. Armor piercing rockets, whose skins survived the initial nuclear blasts, fired and boring deep beneath the city’s mantle before detonating. Six million died in an instant. By dawn, over one billion, a full third of the population of the planet would be dead.

The loss of the flagship, the capital and the utter destruction of their home world broke the back of the Farstar fleet pursuing the surviving Galactic Naval forces. FarStar vessels sued for peace fearing the same genocidal wrath would befall their other worlds.

Though the Peace Delegation that the Galactic Naval Raiders were sent to free were killed instantly in the destruction of Olympia and the Galactic Navy’s force was all but destroyed, the UG Council claimed a tremendous victory that day and was able to consolidate final and total power over the failing Earth nations, enslave the outer worlds for decades to come and become the dominated power in the human galaxy.

Sensor Scans of the last moments of the Golgotha that showed young R. S. Pear standing on the bridge, the sole survivor, exhibiting the mental power of a chimp were quietly doctored. His past record in the Marine Assault Division, top secret F.O.D.D.E.R. Brigade was tailored to match the strong jawed, silent hero that Earth wanted.

His home in South Texas was purchased by the Jovian Orbiter and Space Erections Factory and turned into a very profitable shrine to the Victory of the Common Man. The Pear family of Texas, through an agreement with the Jovian Orbiter and Space Erections Factory and UGTO officials was also quietly ‘disposed’ of, to avoid any embarrassment. And finally, the young bastard child of a pigmy leper from the frozen wastes of Canada was ‘procured’ to be the orphaned son of the hero. Rachel, the daughter of the Jovian Orbiter and Space Erections Factory’s founder was cast in the part of the boy’s mother and R.S.Pear’s grieving widowed fiancé. Her tearful interviews painted R. S. Pear as a gentle giant, driven to greatness by the greed and tyranny of a few. His commanding officers all agreed that Captain Pear was a brilliant tactician who single handedly orchestrated the events that led to victory; down to the ultimate sacrifice.

Rachel and her new son, in a clerical oversight by a nearsighted record’s bureaucrat who failed to see the . between the S. and Pear was given the name Spear. By the time the error was noticed, it was too late.

In the years that followed, the horror of that days events; the death of a billion innocents, the sterilization of an entire planet; was slowly eclipsed by the messianic greatness, the rise of the immortal institution of R.S.Pear. To this day, darkened by the threat of renewed war, pilgrims still flock to the tomb of that legend.

Quote:

R. S. Pear 2089 – 2114 Loving husband to Rachel Spear and father to Ralph “Rogue” Spear. His self-sacrifice inspired a nation and gave birth to an Empire

A recent excerpt from the UGTO Daily Telegram:

Quote:

Ralph “Rogue” Spear, son of the Legend was recently and unquestionably accepted into the swelling ranks of the revitalized Galactic Navy. Still recovering from the double blow of an unfortunate addiction to Horse tranquilizers and the Creeping Rash, young Spear will be shipping out amid great fanfare next week. Though his time in the Galactic Navy is just beginning, “Rogue” Spear’s star is sure to sky rocket!

The End

[ This Message was edited by: Juxtapose on 2004-02-11 11:02 ]
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I type with the tongues of my enemies, ascend from the backs of my friends, ignore the plight of innocents, and dance on the graves of my gods

Drafell
Grand Admiral
Mythica

Joined: May 30, 2003
Posts: 2449
From: United Kingdom

Posted: 2004-02-11 11:27

An absolute masterpiece...

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It's gone now, no longer here...Yet still I see, and still I fear.rnrn
rnrn
DarkSpace Developer - Retired

Chosen of Chaos{Dictor Lord}
Cadet

Joined: July 13, 2002
Posts: 153
From: chosen of chaos

Posted: 2004-02-11 11:35

Sweet =D a great work of art

well done jux
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Silence
Cadet

Joined: November 09, 2002
Posts: 9

Posted: 2004-02-12 08:32

Huh...not bad.
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I live to serve

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