The Tiacken Tribune

The Rescue

“Hello, hello…” the static laced transmission jolted me from my slumber. “Is anyone out there?” Moving quickly, I opened up my outbound communication lines and tried to trace the signal. I was in Aya, finishing upgrades to Military Fortifications, and had barely slept in the last 3 days. The slaves needed constant attention or mistakes would be made. Mistakes in that wall would cost good pilots their lives. A message link appeared. The signal was faint, but had originated in Dubhe.

I checked my galactic map. Dubhe was close. If help was needed, I could go. I responded. “Eldritch here. What do you need?” The radio crackled for a few minutes while I waited for a reply. With the sorts of creatures that roamed Dubhe, it was entirely possible that the initial call over the radio had already ended badly. I was reaching to click off my comm. lines when the radio once again crackled to life. “This ..s….Admir….wer….requesting….tance.” I looked at my radio and fiddled with a few switches. I wished fervently that I had paid more attention to my jury-rigging class back at the Federal Academy. “Say again please,” I responded.

The radio hissed at me malevolently. “…..sss…s miral Shwabrer. Copy?” “I hear you Admiral,” I replied. I launched a news search on Shwabrer to see what the problem might be. The results surprised me. While it was rare for any doomstar to call for aid, Admiral Shwabrer had recently killed his 10th Lucidi Squad. I’m not ashamed to say that I gulped a bit at this point. Had the Admiral found a rogue Lucidi Warship? What was he going to ask for?

His transmission came back. “I’m being jammed by the Lucidi Squad. I’m low on armor, but can survive a little longer. Do you think you can help?” I looked at my boost cables. It was a good day to die. “I’m inbound Admiral.”

Upon arriving in Dubhe, I noticed that the rest of the rescue force was noticeably absent. I scrambled Shwabrer. “Who else is coming?” The list was impressive. Nebulosa, Atrellium, Liquid, and 1 pilot who’s name escapes me were all inbound. All told, 3 Doomstars, 2 gauntlets, and a Night Hawk Deluxe would be mounting the attempt to free Shwabrer from the grip of the Lucidi squad.

Several tense minutes later, we were in position. Well, almost all of us. Atrellium had managed to find an Imperial ambush led by Romanu, and was languishing back on Sol as a result. We would have to press on with one of our big ships down. “On my mark.” Came the garbled transmission. “I see the shield bots retreating now.” “GO!” Every ship engaged at once. Missiles and laser fire of all types flew straight at the Lucidi Squad. We watched, awed, as the shield fell, then the armor dropped into the red. After a solid 5 minutes of fighting which exhausted the local missile supplies entirely, the Lucidi Squad’s ship floated broken through the vacuum.

None of the brave pilots involved were killed. Kudos to those brave federal officers who were willing to lay down their lives to save Shwabrer. Your commitment and service is an example that should be taught in the Academy for years to come.

The Nusakan Affair

The entire universe has heard of the deeds perpetrated in Nusakan, border system of the East Pardus Rim, this week. Loyal followers of the Empire and the Union have each related substantially different accounts of what actually occurred that fateful afternoon. The Tribune has made a substantial effort to untangle the mess that resulted and present an unbiased account of the days events. In passing, this writer feels compelled to note that he was present in Nusakan during the hostilities, and so has a well-earned perspective.

A great number of questions have been raised over this affair. What constitutes aggressive actions? Who fired the first shots? Ultimately, the whole situation boiled down to this: the Empire claims that they erected new farms to send Broccoli, a delicacy produced only in Sol and in a few Gaia class planets, to the Emperor’s dinner table. The Union appears to have wanted the same zone in space for the erecting of an MO wall. Both sides claim to have filed paperwork with the proper authorities. Logic suggests that this cannot be true. In this case, logic is wrong. The Tribune has discovered that, true to the bureaucratic form that pervades the Neutral Zone governing bodies, two identical sets of forms were filed AND APPROVED for those zones months ago. The fact that an agricultural and military zone cannot coexist was a simple legality. The secretary who took the forms filed them in the proper manner, which involved sealing them in non-waterproof canisters and jettisoning them over the planet Yildun.

The Empire, due to their heavy influence in Nusakan was able to round up materials and build shortly after a building was destroyed to pave the way for the construction. All the while, the Union operated under the assumption that they were legally entitled to those zones! We can only imagine the Union’s surprise when they arrived in Nusakan, ready to construct their wall, and found buildings already in place.

What happened next is the thing that nightmares are made of. An Imperial Guard trader, intent on bringing the special broccoli seeds to the farms noticed that a number of Union fighters were crossing into Nusakan. She messaged the on call Guard, and they began to scramble friendly pilots for security reasons. It should be noted at this juncture that life in the border sectors is fraught with security concerns. After all, when war hits, the borders get hit first. Anyhow, some relatively new union officers took it into their own hands to remove the obstructions from the Union’s legally acquired space and so opened fire on the precious broccoli plants.

The ringing of the Guard combat alarms could be heard for miles. Most of the Guard ran to their ships. EvilPenguin, among the most feared Guardsman, had had one too many pints and couldn’t be roused, perhaps thankfully. As the Union construction and pirate security teams set themselves in place, the Guard unleashed chaos. Senior Union veterans watched, dismayed from the relative safety of the wormhole as their junior officers launched themselves blindly into oblivion. Nearly 20 pilots were killed in the first 4 minutes of the exchange. All of them were Union. Who knows what devastation would have been wrought had the absent Guardsmen been there, or if Conglomo had not shut down the Outposts in the Northern Nook for routine cleaning, trapping in 1/3 of the defending force. Still, the destruction was terrible.

This reporter is left with one question. Are the diplomatic overtures enough? Have tensions between the Emperor and the Don arrived at the point where only war is an option? We don’t know, but think that the coming weeks will certainly be interesting.

Another Blow to MERC

There are few crimes in the universe worthy of the Pardus Secret Police. Occasionally, speech of such vileness is uttered that the speaker has to be picked up for questioning. It is rare that that person speaks out in such a way again. If it does happen, they are removed from the universe. Erased. Gone. The more common crime, the one that the PSP really takes seriously, is the problem of illegal cloning.

Oftentimes, in fact, one might say most of the time, the police don’t even give a warning. There is no rushing in, no breaking of doors or windowpanes as entrance is forced. The Tribune has discovered that the PSP have been bred to develop certain genetic anomalies that aid them in their quest to erase corruption from the universe once and for all. The stories told by the fireside to inspire fear of the PSP suddenly appearing, and then melting away into shadows with their quarry might not be so far fetched.

The Tribune attempted to win an interview with a PSP employee, but were blocked at every turn. Most of the governments deny knowledge of the existence of any such organization. The Tribune knows better, however. The proof, as they say, is in the pudding.

Take, for example, MERC. Months after their home system of Paan was decimated following the mysterious disappearance of their founders, the alliance finally felt as though it was back on its feet. Operations were beginning to proceed smoothly again. The sector was secure. Then, last night, BAM! Romanu, a pilot famed for his bravery and prowess in combat, vanished. With his went a fully equipped MO, and a Starbase. The initial rumors ranged across the spectrum. Some claimed that Romanu’s meditation had finally caused him to achieve enlightenment, and that the Gods had taken him home. Others made vague speculations involving rubber duckies and nuclear reactors. The Tribune knows the truth. The PSP struck again. That is the only force in the universe capable of such brutal efficiency. Romanu’s life and holdings were all erased in one fell swoop. Nothing remains.

Perhaps the most damning piece of evidence is this: as Tribune insiders watched the galactic court inbox, we saw a piece of mail tied with a black ribbon. Written on the scroll, in high Keldanic was the statement, “illegal cloning. Guilty. Sentence has been carried out.” The Tribune informant carefully replaced the ribbon, making sure that the knot was exactly duplicated. After all, mail fraud is another offense where the PSP gets involved, and nobody wants that.

How MERC recovers after yet another blow in this series of events remains to be seen. The Tribune wishes the alliance much luck in rebuilding their home sector one more time.