The Rebellion - Short Story Series

[DarkPhoenix141]

Author's Intro Note: Remember me? That guy who wrote the terribad fanfic set in the Engi Conspiracy Alternate Universe? I'm still working but to prove I am NOT dead, I have decided to write a short series of short stories set in a closer to canon FTL AU.

In the meanwhile, I'm working on some original works. They won't be posted here, but they'll be posted somewhere. Expect a link at some point. These will all be short, flash-fiction like stories so don't expect much of substance.


2843, the Fourth Week of Rebellion.
The Federation vessel floated in low orbit, the warfare on the planet below but a distant event of no interest to the small cruiser. The captain, a short and stocky man with dark brown hair and grey eyes, sighed before slumping back into his chair. A few soldiers were in the cargo hold, wounded from the war against the rebelling colonists below. It was worse than just a few angry jerks in the colonies who needed bread, it was everywhere. Hundreds of planets threw down their allegiance and sided with a growing, xenophobic rebel force. The captain took this into painful account as he reviewed the tactical map, civilians and soldiers alike were target for the military alliance of the rebellion.

Weren't the rebels supposed to be the good guys? The captain sighed, longing for a less complicated war to fight in. He remembered the long ago conflicts with the Mantis or those weird giant-human-eating-alien-spider-things. Ah, the good 'ole days. Now they were fighting against other people, and he didn't like that. Aliens didn't have minds of their own, they were just animals pretending to be sentient. Sensor Officer Harris's portrait flicked onto the screen in front of the pilot console, his look stoic but a hint of panic always visible in his eyes. "Commander Davis," The officer began "A Rebel cruiser is coming up from the conflict below, looks like Horizon City fell. Your orders sir?". The captain sighed, looking at his crew roster. A slimy, holier-than-thou Zoltan occupied the shield room. He never much liked them... "Prep the Jump Drive, we're getting out of here. Take us to Mason Base." Davis ordered, clearly not afraid of any stinking orange loving jackasses. The drive spun up quickly, already spooling up after they jumped into orbit. A flash of light occupied the entire ship, and then it appeared around Mason Base. The crew looked out their viewports and gazed at the base. Orange, rebel colors.

"Captain..." Weapons Officer Lisa Walker started, stuttering over her words. She never liked combat, pansy "That's... t-that's a rebel station...".

A sly grin formed on the captain's face "I know.".

He locked the doors and prepared to speak his last words to the crew as Federation Captain Alexander Davis, and speak his first words as Rebel Commander. "To all crew of the IFS Galactic, this is Commander Davis. We are acting under a new title, the GRS Galactic, under the First Rebel Fleet. I implore you to throw down your arms, I've already deactivated them remotely.". He piloted the ship in to dock with the station, sentry drones orbiting it with their weapons charged. He opened the necessary doors, leaving his poor crew screaming and clawing at the blast doors as he moved to make first contact. Not with some brain-dead primitive species that could do with some cleansing, but with the Rebels at Mason Station. The door to the dock shifted open at his command, and he got first glimpse of the ragtag bunch of political adversaries. They wore cloth masks and old, surplus white armor. He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture, but smiled nonetheless "Don't shoot, I am Captain Alex Davis of the former IFS Galactic, I... sympathize with your cause." he said, trying not to break into either a joyful cry or an angered growl. The soldiers, baffled, lowered their guns, "Why are you here, Federation scum." they growled unison. Davis, offended, tossed the Federation insignia off his chest and stood at attention "I want to join" he cried out for all to hear. Men and women inside stared at the dock, shocked at the prospect of a Fed turning to their cause. "My crew consists of two human males, a human female, a female Zoltan, and a male Mantis. Also four or five injured troops in the cargo hold." He once again spoke, nonchalant and matter-of-fact as if not caring that he betrayed those he considered friends. "... Alright, Captain." A soldier uttered, walking closer to the Galactic's door at the dock "What should we do?". Davis looked at the floor, contemplating before the other rebel cut him off "No no, not you, Captain Jenkins".

An old, scarred, rust-bucket of a man sauntered down the hall, a smile growing on his bearded face as he looked down on the short traitor "... Cut the oxygen from Mister Davis' ship then clear the rooms." he uttered, his voice causing the second rebel to shake a little bit. The rebel close to the Galactic's door went inside, heading to the Captain's console. A few more followed, weapons poised. Jenkins stared at an angle at the floor, smiling devilishly. "Uh... Mister Jenki-" Davis' words were interrupted by a blaster shot through the throat, Jenkins held the smoking weapon.

"Apologies, Federation scum".

The sounds of the soldiers shooting and his friends screaming was all he heard as he drifted into darkness.

[DarkPhoenix141]

Short one for now.

29th day of the Rebellion, outside Fleet-Dock Theta

Tully's fleet sat in orbit around the dock, waiting for the next round of Dreadnought evacuation ships. "Join or Burn" was the new Rebel motto, and they repeated it as the Vagrant Guard burned Stronghold Omega.

The Federation had underestimated the rebels, and Tully knew. He had heard the words himself "Our sophisticated military can tackle any ramshackle angry colonists!", well they couldn't. A whole fleet had retreated and joined his at Fleet Dock Theta. But Tully wasn't dumb, he stared outside and saw the flashing beacon that served as a signal for FTL jumps. The massive Vagrant Guard Fleet was closing in, could they handle them? "Admiral, the IFS Lonesome, Titan, Spider and Vanguard jumping in. E.T.A. Thirty seconds, your orders?" Ensign Brand questioned from his position at the terminal, a viewport not far from his screen. There is a mystifying beauty of the endless black void, and it can do wonders for a man's stress if he can see it at any moment. "Order all ships to hold fire but keep weapons charged. I don't want friendly fire" The Admiral barked, authority piercing his voice and resonating pleasantly with the crew.

The "friendly fire" part would be crucial.

[PiratedChaos]

Looks pretty damn good for now. Add more to it, I'd like to hear what happens more in sector 8.

[DarkPhoenix141]

Looks pretty damn good for now. Add more to it, I'd like to hear what happens more in sector 8.

Good to see someone likes it!

Kestrel Origin Story plotline time! This is a bit of a prequel to everything, a sort of "How we got there". If this gets enough support I'll write into what happens DURING an FTL game, and let people vote on good or bad endings.

31st Day of the rebellion, an escape pod around Sector 01-D.

Walker sat in her pod, barely escaping her vessel with Harris and one of the injured Federation soldiers from the conflict at Horizon City. She had been piloting the hunk of metal on nothing but caffeine and optimism, morale was low but they stood a chance if they could reach the Pirate Enclave at one of the Mantis border-worlds. Their FTL drive was running on one final battery, they had to make this work. "Harris, can you get over here?" Lisa questioned, leaning back in her piloting chair and looking back at the demoralized masses of men in the hold. Harris was inspecting the batteries in his personal defense blaster, they had a backup plan if the jump couldn't take them to the Enclave.

Nobody liked it much though.

Sensor Officer Harris got up, dreary eyed and morose and made his way to the cockpit with a sort of swing in his arms as he carelessly sauntered over. Harris was the only one even remotely qualified to pilot the thing. Sensors are a vital part of any ship. Biological Scanners could scan for enemy crew, higher level visual sensors were less prone to anomalies and electrical activity could be monitored. Even if the sensor system itself was damaged, the rudimentary visual sensors would still work (Unless the sensors themselves are damaged). The skill overlap for a pilot and sensor officer was quite a large one, in certain areas at least.

But in Harris' depressed state he was more likely to crash it into an asteroid or floating wreck.

Which, of course, brings the floating wreck of a Federation evacuation ship to attention. Others had tried to make it to the Pirate Enclave, but the Mantis and opportunistic bandits had no care for the squabbles of a dying government. But right now the Rebellion was at it's weakest, their Brigades (Fleets that cover swaths of space, the largest of which is the Vagrant Guard) were running on fumes. If the Federation could strike back, then maybe they could turn the tide of this war.

"Harris can you work the sensors and power up the FTL drive?" Lisa asked, getting only a somber nod in response.

The cockpit was cramped, meant for only one skilled pilot who could take the ship to the nearest dock on as few cells of fuel as possible. Harris worked the calculations and spun up the drive, setting the course for the nearest beacon close to the Enclave. They could use their impulse engines to make entry to the planet and hopefully find their way to an actual ship from there.

"Brace for warp jump!" Lisa shouted.

[DarkPhoenix141]

Short Tully subplot goin on here.

31st day of the Rebellion, Federation Retaliation Strike in progress.

The lack of unification was killing the rebels, with no centralized command hub there was no record of who was doing what. Battlegroup after battlegroup charged into the unknown, wandering into the patient Federation and only to run off. They had lost any preliminary advantage they might have.

Captain Ken Jenkins knew this fact.

Fleet Dock Theta hummed with activity. More retreating forces, the Vagrant Guard pressed their advantage with all due haste to force the Federation back. The Galaxy ran orange with rebel colors, and a million souls cried out in anguish and support for the newly established regime. The Federation still had it's bulwark of the First, Third and Fourth fleets. Tully's fleet was the Fourth Fleet, raised from many systems to coordinate a defense against the Rebellion in these sectors. Tully sighed and tapped the console in front of him "Officer Andreas!" he called to one of the technicians in front of him "The Tac-Map!".

The map shot up from the console, a holographic representation of the current tactical situation. To prevent a situation like the New Veronica massacre, all ships using Rebel hardware had been registered as hostile. Normal Federation devices could be destroyed by remote.

The scan reached the planet Bastion two jumps away. That was where all the retreating fleets had come from. They weren't the large, megalithic 1st, 3rd and 4th fleets. They were little ones, dispatched to ward the enemy off and evacuate civilians. What had they to show for it? Men and women gone, dead. Gods know how many children would have to grow up without parents as a result of this conflict. Federation desperation at it's finest.

The ground combat was a lost cause, Tully sighed as the thought of losing another planet slipped into his mind. The one below the Fleet Dock was a mega-city, would the rebels burn it too?

"Admiral! Vagrant Guard jump signatures at 200 and increasing!"

FTL drives spinning up emit an energy that is simply called "Jump Energy". The drive continues to emit this until the warp charge is expended. The charge is expended when the drive is activated, folding space, light and time briefly and on-board jump control systems direct the ship toward the beacon. Excess energy is shifted into FTL sinks, typically placed close to the reactor. Should the reactor get damaged, all this energy could be expended and a ship will be torn apart.

"Five hundred sir! Still counting!"

Beacons are necessary as they lessen the load on on board calculation systems, making it so smaller ships-

"Over a thousand sir!"

-can warp as well without the "Oh gods we've warped into an asteroid" factor. However, since scanners scan the energy emitted from a drive there are ways to fool the scanning systems. One of which is to sit your ship dangerously close to a star and hope and pray it all works out in the end for you.

"S-sir they've... dropped off... only four signatures now..."

The entire crew sat, stunned. Tully's lips curved into a frustrated snarl and he looked as if he was gonna pop a vein and drop dead right then and there. But as he analyzed the map that look of a frustrated admiral turned into an evil smile. "Ladies, gentlemen, aliens of all races and species..." He started, speaking into the ship's intercom. The crew of the IFS Monolith stared at the closest speakers as they went about their daily business. "I think we're well and truly fucked if we stay here. The rebels are docking their ship outside Bastion Port, the damn thing's on the wrong side of a star right now and we can't read their warp signatures. We're dead meat in a tin can." The leader laughed into the microphone, and everyone felt worried "But don't worry, because we're gonna give those bastards a fight. And I guarantee, by the end of this..."

People stared in anticipation.

"We'll be legends."

[DarkPhoenix141]

Short one, just to keep this alive and remind everyone that I'm working.

Vagrant Guard Command Ship

They escaped.

Three dumb bootlickers somehow managed to evade a squadron of angry rebels and are now going off to gods know where in an attempt to regroup with the Federation proper. Jenkins sat in his command chair, a red universe map his view of the world as it was now. The rebels were scattered about the galaxy, battle-groups here and there and wherever. They needed to present a united front, a single unified force that would give the alien-hugging Federation scum a run for their money.

They had to send a message.

[DarkPhoenix141]

The Pirate Enclave, two hours later
Crash landings are deadly.

Pirate worlds are deadlier.

Crash landing onto a pirate enclave in Mantis territory during a galaxy-wide rebellion? Something likened to outright suicide.

Such was the fate of Lisa Walker's escape pod, piloted by a depressed sensor operator and the house of a rookie marine. The pod of the once glorious Federation scout crashed into the large pond at the center of the Bazaar, the focal point of Pirate-politics on the fringe Enclave. The pod crashed into the bottom of the pond/sewage dump, filthy water spraying onto the nearby huts and ragtag residents and sending the pod itself to the bottom.

While the armed residents couldn't honestly care less, and the two men within the pod simply wished it would flood already, Lisa shook herself out of her haze and regained conscious. The persistent beeping of the central terminal ignored by the suicidal sensor surgeon, but not by the blonde weapons officer with an insistence in surviving long enough to see her family again. She stared at the terminal's screen which flashed red "OXYGEN AND GENERAL LIFE SUPPORT SYSTEMS DAMAGED. CREW SURVIVAL STATUS: COMPROMISED". Her eyes widened and she suddenly lost the desire to take a deep breath until she was out of the tiny vessel. A gaze at the cracked but unbroken frontal window confirmed the established theory: They were underwater. No, not under water, under shit, piss and general refuse in the form of water.

Good god she wanted to puke and break that glass. For her sake, and the sake of her crew, she did not. The soldier regained consciousness next, gradually stirring despite the wound on his head. Harris followed, gradually groaning and grumbling something about missing morning coffee and having a Zoltan wife. The now-awake trio cursing their luck in the languages of their planets, then sharing a look that almost psychically said "Welp".

Welp indeed, underwater people, welp indeed.

[DarkPhoenix141]

Refugee Ship IFS Exodus, beyond Horizon City

Days since the city fell.

One of the largest bastions of the Federation ideology, preaching tolerance and acceptance to our alien brethren.

Now smoldering ashes and charred remains, human and alien alike now molded together by the scorching flames of hatred.

The dreadnought Exodus was not told of this when they made their last ditch extraction from the warring city, they were told they would be able to come back. And they could but...

What was there to come back to? The charred, melded remains of human and alien on the streets? The husk of a once grand city on the planet? They left three days before the city fell, and the rebels had already scarred the planet for life.

Captain Taylor inspected the scars remotely, drones constructed by the Engi roving the sector under his control. He stood, mouth agape at the evacuation center: Charred corpses and burn marks left the main entrance sealed shot as if welded with the flesh of terrified beings. Mantis, Rock, Zoltan, Engi and man alike were all butchered by the Rebellion. There was nothing left.

"I don't know what to do..." Taylor mumbled

"But we need to get out of here."

[Stormbringer]

nice one. keep up the good work!!!

I wish I could be as good as you... *blushes madly*

[DarkPhoenix141]

nice one. keep up the good work!!!

I wish I could be as good as you... *blushes madly*

It's all in practice my friend, just gotta keep writing.


The Enclave

"They're in the cesspool! THEY'RE IN. THE DAMN. CESSPOOL.

I don't get paid enough for this job."

Static interrupts the rebel's angered speech, no communication methods were perfect after all.

"Flush 'em out!"

The roar of laser bolts against the steel of the Federation escape pod tore into whatever pleasant atmosphere the civilians had bred on the outlaw world, men in red and white stormed through the streets. Nobody was allowed to remain loyal to the tyrants.

Not even an injured soldier and two crew from a ship long since scrapped.

The demoralized trio in the ship swam from the escape hatch and into a massive gaping round hole in the side of the cesspool, the preoccupied (And almost blind) gunmen continued ripping into the ship with their weapons. Intelligent leadership cannot override grunt stupidity, and when the backbone of your army consists entirely of angry colonists one would expect this doctrine to be taken into account.

"Everyone okay?" Lisa questioned, adjusting herself with displeasure at the feeling of being wet in refuse. Her question was greeted with coughing and nodding, and they moved away from the entrance as the gunmen refocused their efforts. The injured soldier the trio had brought along turned around, toward the entrance. He grasped a small personal defense weapon, a ballistic SMG. A relic.

"Go!" He shouted "I'll cover you!"