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I found some of my old unfinished fan fiction I did so very long ago now. It must have been 2002 or thereabouts. I remember starting it when -=MACK=- was still at the CEF forums. Then published it on JOSSH but the story and much else was wiped when they archived and lost so many posts. That was a shame how THEMIS lost so much stuff, or deleted it if you will.

I think the reference to this fiction is the only thing that turns up for the name JumpDemon when searching the Planet Jumpgate Archives. My 15 seconds of fame in the Jumpgate community. I no longer have the actual final version that had more developed and complete chapters. I found this in the remnants of my old failed fan fiction website. I figured I would post what's left of these earlier drafts for any bored folks with nothing better to do than read a cheesy and half baked unfinished tale of nothingness. Enjoy it but don't sue me if you puke on your keyboard and fry your elite gaming rig.

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This is basically a story about JumpDemon. The date is forty years in the future and Jump is in his eighties and about to begin the most important endeavor in his long life of service to the Empire. The Reconstruction Initiative is long complete, and the focus for some time has been on post reconstruction expansion. Jump knows the task ahead is of great importance and will be an exciting and rewarding experience. Though it may fulfill many years of his life, Jump is aware that because of his age, this will most likely be his last contribution to the Empire. He has completed all preparations, and has some time to relax before he becomes overwhelmed with activity in the years ahead. Yet he is trapped in his home by the constant deluge of hypnotic rainfall that is normal for the springtime on Amanra.

As he faces the epilogue of his career, Jump reflects on the fading memories of a time long ago when he was just beginning his service to the Empire, or TRI as it was known then. A part of him looks forward to the challenges ahead, while another part dreads the conclusion of his usefulness and wishes to return to a time long ago, when the end seemed so far distant. The constant rainfall seems to inspire soulful reflections into the fading memories of a time long ago. He had saved old TRI news releases from those early years and they seem to be the focal point of his memories and his writings. I hope you enjoy the story.

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PROLOGUE

This rain has been falling nonstop for ten days now with no end in sight. Often I find myself standing at this window gazing out to the garden while my heart listens to the drops play out their songs on the roof. My eyes are delighted by the drops that set down upon the stones in the courtyard and explode like fleeting flowers of liquid splendor. Like old memories of times long ago, their ending comes before my mind can capture their form. The sights and sounds of the endless precipitation are like a tranquilizing hypnosis that subdue the events of my daily toils and refocus my thoughts to another time and place. It's been thirty years since I accepted my professorship at the old Sorian School of Trading. We were a small school then at one hundred thousand students. Since that time the school has grown to over three hundred thousand students and the Sorian University of Interstellar Economics and Trading is a self-sustained city with many schools and institutions as well as its own Star Port. That the most storied and celebrated educational institution in all of the empire would select me to chair its new School of Exploration and Frontier Economics comes as quite a shock to this old cargo hauler. The Empire has been expanding at such a great pace and her far-flung settlements are in dire need of leaders with the skills to survive outside the normal space lanes. In the early days of post reconstruction expansionism, retired reconstruction pilots would fill these leadership roles. That resource of experience was running out as time passed and it would be our responsibility to impart the knowledge and skill of those great pilots who built this empire into these eager young minds.

My proposal to the University to build a massive simulator complex for the school had been approved wholeheartedly and final construction was almost complete. Building a simulator for cadets to learn piloting skills before they ever left the planet had been a dream of mine for some time. I never understood why the former TRI Council, or the current post reconstruction empire would send recruits into duty with no pilot training. After so many years, I finally had an opportunity to end that foolishness, I'm sure the empire will be better for it. Our simulator will be the most advanced of its kind in all of the empire. The goal of the simulator project was to create an environment indistinguishable from reality and I believe we have achieved this goal. Our students will spend a minimum of four hours each day as reconstruction pilots in a simulation of the original TRI universe, complete with Conflux invaders and pirates of course. That of course is in addition to the normal academic curriculum. In their final year of study they will spend much of their time in a simulated colony, on the outskirts of the frontier. They will learn to finance and supply the exploration and discovery of a suitable location as well as the founding and sustaining of a colony. I'm quite confident that our graduates will be knowledgeable and well able to handle the situations they will be faced with, but only the trials and tribulations of deep space will season them to perfection. My days and nights will be consumed with this endeavor and free time will become a rare commodity to me. So it is with great pleasure that I enjoy these empty days as my preparations are finished prior to the completion of construction and prior to the beginning of our first academic year.


My position here at the University affords me many luxuries. All the creature comforts are mine and money is never an issue, thanks to the fortune I amassed, first as a cargo hauler, and later as a station master. I enjoy the luxurious accommodations of this beautiful Villa on a hill overlooking the new campus. I'm but moments from Alexios the capital city here on Amanra. I have the respect and admiration of the faculty and the students. I have a beautiful wife and four outstanding children who are out amongst the stars making their own stories. Yet, there is an emptiness in my soul that consumes my enthusiasm as I embark on the greatest achievement of my life. As if the constraints and complexity of my world creates a yearning for a much simpler time. When I find myself standing here by the window, my hand is usually drawn to this old telescope. I've had this old thing since I was a young boy with dreams of exploring the Jumpgate's and reconstructing the Empire. It seems like yesterday that I would peer through this magical device into the mysterious world of The Reconstruction Initiative. Each night, with boyish anticipation, I would plan out my future through that little telescope. As a boy I had no doubts that I would someday travel beyond where that little scope could take me. There were many nights that I would spend hours watching ships docking and launching at Cornea Station. I had loved to watch the Jumpgate to Tribular Canal. Battle scarred, ships would just suddenly appear in the gate seeking repairs at the station. They would fade in and out of sight as they gyrated in the glistening glow of the gate to line up with the station. They were like aery apparitions in my old telescope and would eventually inspire my call sign as I referred to them as demons of the Jumpgate's.

Though my body has become too old and feeble and my genetic alterations have been long since reversed, my soul still yearns to pilot a cargo tow and fight the Conflux invasion in a heavy fighter. I can still feel those glorious days of The Reconstruction Initiative. My experiences as a reconstruction pilot are the bones that support the body of my life's work. When I close my eyes, my heart pounds rapidly as I see the approaching Jumpgate with three Eels in close pursuit, my armor all but gone, my ammo spent. Covering my ears I can still hear Hurricane, that great founder of -=MACK=-, calling out the launching orders for a fleet of tows. Opening my hands I can see new mission orders from TRI or a news post of great discoveries. These visions of my past haunt my dreams each night, they call unto me, beckoning for my return. Though my feet rest upon the ground here in Alexios on Amanra, a part of me will always be traversing the Jumpgate's. Now my days are spent amongst the young and eager minds of our students. But when the night falls, I once again become a pilot of the reconstruction. The recollections in my dreams have supplanted my boyhood telescope as my vessel to the stars.


The rains continue to beat out their melancholy songs upon my rooftop. It seems like it has been raining forever. That is a strange feeling as I seem to remember a time long ago in deep space at what was then the farthest reach of the empire, when I couldn't even recall the feeling of rain. The memories of planet side life fades away as time in space grows long. You become so consumed with survival in the hostile environment of the Reconstruction that old memories become surreal and lose their clarity. Like old photos you pack them away in a box and store them in the closets of your mind. After having been on Amanra, these many years, I fear that my cherished memories of those glorious years as a reconstruction pilot are being packed away into the dark recesses of my mind.


It is becoming more difficult, as time passes, to reconstruct the memories of my adventures as a reconstruction pilot than it had ever been to reconstruct the empire. As my memories fade with the passing of time I find myself spending hours reading old news releases that I have saved from my years of service to TRI. These tattered printings are like doorways into the dark rooms of my past and it is my desire to bring light into that darkness. So I have decided to record what I can remember of those days long ago before they are lost forever. One day I will reach the end of my journeys and the time will come for me to take that last pod ride home. When the winds have settled my dust amongst the fields of Amanra, it is my hope that someone, somewhere, will see what my eye's saw and feel what my heart felt. The rain beats on incessantly as I reach back into the closets of my mind. With the eagerness of a child I look at those old pictures one more time.

[Jump]

Out of Darkness Comes Revelation

My remembrances begin with a time of great tribulation, a time when our vast empire was not much more than the aspiration of a farseeing and venturesome few. It was a dark time, a time of chaos, a time of disorder and discontent. A time when despondency filled our hearts and degeneration swept like an evil storm over our fledgling young empire, threatening to abort the dream of accomplishing our former glory. The pursuits of fame and fortune, which filled a young pilot's heart, were overcome by an emptiness of purpose, and a foreboding sense of futility. It took great effort to find a reason to launch our ships, knowing that whatever we set our hand to would accomplish nothing. Had it not been for the fortuity of fate and the determination and dedication of its pilots, TRI would have most surely perished. I still cringe at the thought of what would have risen from the ashes to fill the void left behind.

TRI seemed aimless and without sound leadership in those days, as if guided by a whimsical decree. Those of us remaining pilots, which continued to work toward the reconstruction, wondered if TRI had outlived its usefulness and feared that the reconstruction effort would fail, leaving us to succumb to the cold desolation of space. Had proof of a safe, legal, and guaranteed method of reversing our genetic alterations been afforded us, as there were no retro-virus treatments during that time, there's no doubt that TRI would have crumbled. Many desperate fools traded in their fortunes to have their genetic alterations reversed in secret underground labs, never to be heard or seen again. Even if they survived the process, many suffered deformities, and many others were murdered and robbed by the very pirates they had hired to smuggle them to planets of refuge. If you searched for these pilots, some would show up on planet side listings, most though, simply disappeared and their files would become TRI Classified. It was assumed that these poor souls had become casualties of their own desperation. I feared that the despair of the pilots, would eventually turn toward TRI itself, if something wasn't done soon to spark new life into rebuilding the empire we take for granted today.

For the most part, there was no reconstruction getting done during this dark, foreboding time. Most of the pilots that remained refused to launch their ships and spent their time drinking and fighting in station pubs and passageways, turning vital facilities into squalid saloons. For many of us, Wake Station had become nothing but a flyblown bar on the edge of Solrain space and could have easily been mistaken for a station in deregulated space. If you were able to make your way to Wake Station, and dock without being pirated or sent back home in a pod, you would have been wise to watch your cargo closely. For the swindlers and thieves of Wake were more notorious and ruthless than the pirates that plundered the space lanes. There were many times that I had returned to my ship, only to find that I had been looted by the very individual I had paid to guard my cargo. It was not in your best interest to leave the area of your ship unless you had secured heavily armed and trusted squad mates to watch over it, station security could not be trusted. Even if your ship's hold had been empty, whatever equipment looters could steal would bring a good return on the black market. Some young recruit would spend a week's wage in credits to have your engines and never ask where they came from. During the time of massive equipment shortages, due to manufacturing shutdowns at Amananth and Hyperial stations, this became an insufferable problem for many traders and cargo haulers.

Many of the pilots that continued to launch their ships were caught up in continuous squad and faction wars. While some would fight with great honor in glorious battles, sending one another home to their faction stations in pods. Others, who knew nothing of honor, were sneaking cargo tows into enemy stations, stripping them of their useful commodities and equipment. This in turn would give cause for another battle, and more station stripping in response. Station strippers moved the goods back and forth among stations so many times, no one really knew who the merchandise belonged to anymore. Any attempt to retrieve the stolen items would be considered another act of stripping, which demanded another battle, which led to more stripping, and so forth. It was a senseless waste of time and resources, yet it went on unabated, and without condemnation from TRI. I suppose, since the station strippers paid exorbitant amounts in taxes for their purchases, it was all well and good to TRI. We often joked that the strippers belonged on the stage, in the station pubs, and not in the marketplace. Nevertheless, they continued to wreak havoc on the marketplace, it took an exacting toll upon the reconstruction efforts, and diminished our spirits and our will to carry on.

None of us really understood what TRI was trying to accomplish during this dismal time. Ridiculous missions to build ore depots in unregulated space were issued without explanation. The only ones that could conceivably benefit from such facilities would be pirates as they lied in waiting for young and foolish pilots to drop off their ore, after a long hard shift. Though even the pirates might not have capitalized too much on these barren facilities, as the arrival of new recruits, were infrequent events during this time. What fool would seek to join TRI when so many would risk suffering deformity or even death to abandon the reconstruction effort. Many pilots wondered if pirates had taken over TRI or maybe the Council had been drinking too much Octavia Lite. Either way, the reconstruction effort had languished and the repercussions were felt by everyone throughout the empire. The idleness and unrest that plagued the reconstruction effort were two opposing forces that were ripping the Empire apart, and giving birth to anarchy.

As for myself, I sought to avoid these troubled times by forsaking my cargo duties and focusing my anguish and despair on destroying the hated Conflux. It all seems so surreal, now that so many years have passed, but I can remember the constant flow of ammo streaming from my Barrak's, piercing the enemy as they exploded magnificently before my ship. I fought on and on, day after day, night after night, even in my dreams I was besieged by the Conflux menace. I was so absorbed by this mission of destruction that I lost any sense of reality and ventured deep into a world of bloodthirsty passion. My spirit had become so completely obsessed with the destruction of the enemy that I turned my back to everything else in pursuit of its eradication from TRI space. My ship had become soaked with the blood and flesh of the enemy, to the point that the crews at Hyperial Station refused to service it without extra compensation. Other than to fulfill my need for fuel and ammo, I avoided stations or any contact with others, as I felt dirty and covered with death. I stopped answering hails, or responding to messages on my comm system, I had become a ghost, wandering endlessly, seeking to end my torment. Then suddenly, one moment, after I had exterminated some Manta's in Inner Cloud, my eyes were drawn to the comm panel that I had been ignoring for so long, what I saw completely paralyzed me. KTRI was reporting that I had been awarded my Unity Stripe IV medal, as the congratulatory hails on my private channel began to scroll across my screen.

My ship drifted slowly through Inner Cloud, for what seemed like days, as my mind grasped desperately for a reality that had been lost to it for some time. Suddenly I had no idea what I was doing there or what my purpose was, I was subdued by a numbness that filled my whole being. I noticed my hands, clenched tightly around the controls of my ship and my flight suit was completely drenched as sweat was streaming from my pores. I struggled to disengage my hands from the controls, they were shaking violently as I brought them up to my face. My hands were covered with bleeding sores and calluses, they seemed so aged and emaciated. Quickly, I returned my hands to the controls as I had realized I was drifting into a jump gate, a pain shot up my arms as I grabbed hold. Quickly, I hit the jump switch, and T&P filled my vision as a feeling of normality washed over me. Had I gone completely mad, or was this some tormented dream? I asked myself. Slowly, I made my way toward Fargate and on to Hyperial, as the numbness subsided and the pains of malnutrition and sleep deprivation set in. As I made my way, monitoring the news and communications, I heard of embargoes and war in Hyperial. My ship passed through the melee of the battles and destruction, occurring in Hyperion Space, as though invisible or oblivious to it all. The Station itself was a mess from the attacks played out on it, but I did not care as it was good to be out of my ship. Confused and staggering through the debris strewn corridors, I had no idea where I was going. Suddenly the station began spinning around me as it slipped from my vision. The last thing I saw was a Hyperion woman looking at me from down the hall, then blackness and a sudden sharp pain as my head hit the floor with a loud and echoing thud.

I awoke still hearing the echoes of my head hitting that floor, and the piercing pain was proof that it was no dream. Opening my eyes, I saw a painfully blinding light then closed them quickly again. Squinting, I adjusted my eyes and could see that the entire room was white, all white. Tubes were coming from my arms and entering some sort of machine, and wires coming from my head entered another device, which was beeping annoyingly. Then suddenly I understood that this was indeed a nightmare of the most horrifying kind, I realized that I was in a damn hospital. I hated hospitals, I hated the food, I hated the pricking and poking, I hated the smell and most of all I hated all that clean white. I sat up with a jolt, intent on getting out of there, but as I stepped onto the floor, a hand touched my arm and I became paralyzed once more. There stood that woman that had filled my vision as I collapsed in the corridor, she was a beautiful apparition to my sore eyes, and apparently, she was my doctor. In the days that followed I got to know that doctor fairly well, and even more so during the many years we have been married. Fate is a strange thing indeed. After my release from the hospital, I spent a long time in Hyperial Station recuperating, and finding myself again. Rarely did I launch my ship after that, for what seemed like eternity, until that great day that inspired so many to rise from their doldrums and reach for the stars once more.

The troubles that plagued TRI continued for some time until that eventful day when the great discovery was revealed to all for the first time. There was no revelation in the fact that TRI harbored many secrets, but this time, the deception was lost in the importance of the message. This discovery had been known for some time by leading TRI officials but had been kept secret while they studied its implications for the reconstruction effort. The research into this discovery had taken all available resources at the disposal of TRI's research labs. All other research, projects and development had been put on hold in order to focus all efforts into this fortunate discovery. Everyone finally understood why the reconstruction efforts had been halted and why we had been kept busily working on useless missions. Even so, I still hold a certain contempt for the leaders of TRI for their secrecy as I think of the many who suffered or vanished because of their concealment. Could I ever forgive a decision that brought me to the brink of madness? Time could only tell.

The discovery that had been made would forever change the course of the reconstruction. Once more, recruits would seek to join TRI and the idleness and unrest of its veterans would be replaced by a new sense of duty. It was indeed a great time of excitement for me and the squad, as missions of reconstruction were our sole reason for being. We didn't know it yet, but we were going to be extremely busy for some time to come. Everyone canceled their leaves and returned to duty within days after the news release. The once darkened, -=MACK=- squad room, deep down in the lower levels of Wake Station, was bustling with activity again and filled with excitement as we gathered to prepare for that first mission. I still have that first news release that so shocked the empire and inspired us all.

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News

102.07.20.0:2.32


Secret Documents of TRI Mission revealed
by Jephara Mis'cl, TRI News Network


All Sectors (TRI-FP)-
Sources have discovered that during the previous TRI scanning mission that exposed the creation of new anomalies in Vorgus 2, Tranquillus Minor, Long Walk and Hook of Roh, many other new anomalies had also been discovered, all of which have been kept secret until this time. TRI has been adamantly denying such reports. However, under tremendous pressure from faction leaders, a news conference was held today by the Ministry of Technology and some startling information was revealed.

Attending this news conference was Solrain Premiere Christofore Parce, Quantar Tahir Queliar Neamru and Octavian Emperor Clements IV. Though full access to the knowledge gained during the TRI mission was denied, what was revealed stunned those present as the room fell silent for a moment that seemed like eternity. It was revealed that a great research effort had been launched to study these anomalies and to compare their data to the "Memoirs of Time That Was" by Desigrey Hettir as well as other ancient documents. The Ministry of Technology revealed that through this research the long sought location of the Planet Solrain, the former seat tribunal of the four systems, was believed to be known. Since remote communication with the planet's massive informational database was never lost, it is believed that many facilities must still be intact.

Efforts will begin immediately to explore these possibilities and all available pilots and resources are to be committed to this operation. It was revealed that a secret Jump Gate was built in The Fields. Missions to explore the other side of this gate will be assigned immediately upon completion of the destination gate by the auto constructors. This new Jump Gate is positioned at a great distance from the normal lanes of travel, therefore, TRI recommends that all pilots use their new Hyperdrive engines to reach this new gate. It is believed that the exciting possibilities of this discovery will inspire many pilots who have abandoned the reconstruction to return to active duty.

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Into the Unknown

What we witnessed, that day the mission orders were issued by TRI, was truly the most amazing sight any of us had ever seen. Hundreds of ships of every class, every faction, and pilots of every rank, were heading for The Fields sector, friend and foe flying together side by side. Squads sworn to kill one another flew as allies in hope of great discovery. All was strange and unusual that day of the great revelation. I saw many pilots that I had not seen in sometime take to their ships once more, with hopes of adventure, with hopes of discovery, they had returned to active duty. There was a feeling of excitement that overcame even the pirates of unregulated space. The hails that went forth were so numerous I thought my comm systems would overload. The thought of finding our home world had replaced every other thought or desire. At long last we might be going home.

Thanks to the newly developed Hyperdrive engines, the great distance to the new gate was of no concern and I was excited to have a real excuse to test them out. I entered the coordinates of the new gate and engaged my Hyperdrive. I was sure that I had left my stomach behind as my ship accelerated instantaneously to maximum velocity. Even though the inertial dampers were most likely working fine, I made a mental note to have them inspected on return to Wake Station. The thought of moving at such great speed, with no control of my ship, both exhilarated and frightened me. There was no way of knowing if my ship was heading toward the new gate or was simply hurtling into deep space, as my visual relationship with the universe around me had become severely distorted. Before I could even adjust to this new experience, the ship came to an abrupt halt as the familiar universe suddenly reappeared outside my ship. Unfortunately the contents of my stomach failed to recognize the stop order, when it arrived shortly after. I made another mental note never to eat before engaging Hyperdrive engines, as I watched the maintenance robot clean up the mess. As I stood up and pressed my face to the canopy and looked out to see what had caused my ship to drop out of Hyperspace, I was stunned by the view before me.

My ship was not the first to reach The Fields, nor was it the last, the middle of the pack is where I was and where I preferred to be. The squad had agreed that it would be best if we assembled in the gate after jumping through, rather than trying to find one another in The Fields. As I surveyed my surroundings, I was sure that was a good decision, as the sheer number of vessels in my vicinity, would have made any search through the targets in my radar screen a real chore. I had never seen such a fleet amassed in my whole career before that time or since, even the great "night of experience" paled in comparison to the number of ships present that day. Hundreds of ships were within view, just sitting there poised and waiting, with more dropping out of Hyperspace every second, as well as untold others outside my visual range. All of them pointed directly at the same goal, the new Jumpgate, the new hope. The darn thing didn't even have a name. As if by some mass consciousness created for such times we all began calling it "The Homeward Gate." Suddenly, as if orchestrated by some natural order of events, as the automated gate constructors jumped in from the new sector signaling the completion of the destination gate, every ship began approaching the gate at the same instant. I cannot describe what a spectacular sight it was to see all those ships, moving in harmony.

While I was accelerating my ship toward the gate, I noticed that many ships appeared to be jumping back into the fields from this new gate. It seemed odd that pilots would jump back out so soon after jumping in. What terror had they found on the other side that would cause them to jump back and make haste for the nearest gate? Had we been duped by some master plan of the Conflux? Could we be foolishly jumping into a trap, set to ensure the ultimate death of TRI? When at last I approached the vicinity of the gate, I realized that those were not ships at all, rather, they were escape pods. As many ships as there were jumping through the gate, at least half as many pods were coming back through it. My heart pounded within me as I envisioned the danger I could be approaching, what peril awaited me on the other side. Surely this was a trap, and we were being slaughtered as we jumped through the gate. I switched on my weapon's systems and armed my missiles in anticipation, as the glow of the oncoming gate filled my ship with an eery light. For an instant my mind thought of turning back, but my heart would not let go of that gate. I jumped.

My senses were at their highest alert as the adrenalin pumped through my veins and I listened for the sounds of battle. There was not a sound, other than the gate, and the rapid beating of my heart. Sweat was pouring down my face as I tried to calm myself, fighting my finger poised over the jump button on my control panel. After a moment I realized my eyes were tightly closed. I had not had this much fear since my days as a recruit, when I had entered unregulated space for the first time. When finally I opened my eyes, I looked out at what lay before me and saw a horizon that I had never seen before. There was a majestic beauty to the desolation that reached across the celestial horizon as far and wide as my eyes could see. Untold numbers of asteroids were moving across my view in a calm and orderly precession. It was an astonishing and beautiful sight to behold, "a symphony of rocks" as many pilots would call it. An "asteroid belt" as the scientists back at TRI research labs would certainly call it. I just sat there for some time, mesmerized by the immensity and beauty of what I saw before me.

As I calmed myself down and waited for the arrival of the rest of our squad, I continued to be spellbound by the silent procession of the asteroids. My radar system was being taxed beyond its original design specifications, trying to track the thousands of steadily moving asteroids within its range. They were not moving awfully fast, just enough to be a perilous deception to the unwitting traveler. Though they moved with a distinctive unity, there was no symmetry to the asteroids themselves. They were as varying in size and composition as were the stars that lay beyond. A dark shadow filled my ship and my view as what appeared to be a massive Semifluxor passed by, it must have been ten times as big as any I had ever seen before. It was so huge I thought for sure it was going to hit the gate as it silently moved passed and continued its journey. I laughed as I saw several shards of ice following in the wake of the giant Semifluxor, like little children chasing their mother, they scurried along. The Quantar pilots must feel like they're in miners paradise, I told myself jokingly. Of course, the Octavian pilots probably weren't thinking of paradise when they saw all these rocks. As for myself and many of the Solrain pilots, we wondered what profit potential would come from this asteroid belt, little did I know then how lucrative it would become for me and many others.

I watched as a steady stream of ships kept arriving in the gate, some continued out into the asteroid belt, without stopping, some, like me, watched and waited. Most of them smacked into roids almost immediately, their escape pods outpacing the expanding fireball as they hurtled back toward the gate. These pilots instinctively turned to miss what they falsely perceived to be a stationary asteroid. It was simply a matter of chance whether a pilot's habits caused them to turn their ship into an asteroid's path or its wake. Of course those chance encounters only applied to those young pilots who had the unfortunate habit of not cutting their engines as they entered a gate. It was obvious from my vantage point, parked safely in the gate, that new habits and tactics would have to be learned to survive in this new sector. My emotions ranged from pity to laughter as I hovered there in the gate, watching that spectacle of destruction. I wondered how long it would be before I to entered that stage and performed for the amusement of others, I was sure it would be all too soon.

Just then I looked at my comm channel and I saw a private communication from someone I hadn't seen in sometime. I knew many old friends would return to duty once they had gotten news of the great discoveries. In fact many had reported to the squad room as we made our plans, others had sent word of their imminent return. However, this was more than just an old friend, it was Hurricane, the founder of our squad who had gone on personal leave and had never returned, until now. I hailed him with a "hola Hurricane." As was my customary greeting for him. "It's about time you got back to work," I continued jokingly. He replied with "Hey Buddy, how many times have we told the young pilots to cut their engines before jumping?". "Too many times my old friend, too many times." I replied. "What brings you back? I haven"t heard any announcements regarding new medals being issued for this mission," I added in jest. "You know me, I was never one to pass up the chance to earn another shiny medal." He replied while laughing. After informing him that the entire squad had agreed that we meet in the gate, we joked and talked of old times and what great adventures we might find in this new sector and we waited and laughed together, watching in amazement, as ships came and pods left. This was truly going to be a great adventure.

Our inter-squad comm systems began to heat up as the rest of the squad began to arrive, and everyone joined the ongoing debate. There were many opinions of how we should continue through the asteroid belt as we began our search for planet Solrain. After all, no one in all TRI space had ever seen one before, let alone navigate a ship, or for that matter an entire squadron safely through one. Of course, no one had ever navigated a ship unsafely through one before today, either way, we would be subject to new experiences on this mission, and a suitable plan of action needed to be mapped out. The noise and flash of the many pilots' jumping through the gate began to become a real annoyance as we congregated there in an attempt to develop a plan of action. It was suggested by a squad mate, jelomadnes, that we move to another position some distance above the gate, and perpendicular to the plane of the belt. Thus, sparing us the turmoil of the gate without having to enter the belt itself. "Ok, I've had enough of all this flashing in my HUD and the noise is starting to drive me mad. I'm moving to a location that is a little less stressful to my senses," he blurted across our BCOM system as he continued out of the gate. I can only guess, but I'm sure we all shrugged our shoulders, as we followed jelo to a position some distance from the gate. We followed patiently until he suddenly turned his ship full around, fired his engines and came to an abrupt stop. I had wondered why he had stopped so dramatically but quickly dismissed it as I let the sights and sounds of the gate fade from my mind.


"This is much better." I said with relief. Everyone agreed that it was a good move and began to send their approvals to jelo, but he never replied. "It was a great idea to move to this position, good job jelo," I said. Still, no reply from him, I began to worry a little. "Jelo, is everything okay?" I asked. "Look" he shouted with excitement. "Look where?" we all asked in a chorus of replies. He then turned his ship until its nose pointed toward the asteroid belt, "there," he said in a tone that suggested that we were either blind or stupid. As we all looked in the direction that jelo's ship was pointing, it became obvious that we were all blind and stupid. What we saw as we looked into that belt was a whole lot of nothing, and nothing, was exactly what we were looking for. We could see a plane of asteroids above us and another below us, but in front of us was nothing, no asteroids, just empty space. Apparently there were gaps that would allow us to navigate more quickly and safely through the belt. The gaps were narrow but sufficient to maneuver our squadron through safely. "I guess we gained more than the piece and quiet, from your suggestion to leave that gate." I said to jelo, wishing I could give him a big pat on the back. Everyone was filled with excitement as we all promised to buy jelo an Octavia Lite on return to Wake. The time had come to begin our adventures in this new sector, so we formed up and headed out, or "in" I should say.

As we began the difficult task of moving among the planes of asteroids, in our search for the long sought planet Solrain, we noticed that even the mass of rocks passing above and below us had gaps in them. I can only describe it as one would describe a station or a building on a planet's surface. The empty layers were like the different levels or floors that one could move horizontally through. While the gaps would be stairways or elevator shafts that one could move vertically through to reach a higher or lower level. Once the long and tedious task of mapping these gaps and layers was accomplished, it should be simple to navigate through the belt. Theoretically that is, as it also became apparent that though the gaps were empty, there were occasional roids that would pass by our ships. The mapping and cataloging of these "rogue roids," as they would become known as, would be a project for the far distant future. Meanwhile, we would have to maintain a vigilant watch as we traversed this sector.

We had several close calls with those rogue roids, we all kept one eye on our HUD and one on the radar screen. Even though the going was slow, we still made good progress that first day. Though many of us would go home in pods in the coming days, we all came through that first day with nothing more than the few, scratches and dents. The dangers of the asteroid belt and the tedium of moving slowly through it were of no matter to us that day. Everything was new and exciting, we had hope of great discovery, we were flying as a squad again and we were ready for any challenge that we might face in the days and weeks to come. After searching for a day that had seemed like many, we found a cluster of large asteroids to hug our ships to and got some rest before moving on. I have no idea how the rest of the squad slept that first night, but I slept like a baby and my dreams were filled with rocks, moving rocks.

[Jump]

The Perilous Search

Many days passed with no sighting of Planet Solrain as our mood changed from anticipation to anxiety. We pushed on, despite the tedium of our random search through the asteroid belt. The search covered vast tracts of that belt, though we stayed within the gaps for safety. Despite the army of searchers, there was no end to that rocky maze as it paraded through the heavens, marching to a celestial beat not tuned to our mortal ears. Knowing that the belt itself was enormous and completely encircled a star, we sought to cover a great distance in the shortest amount of time. If a planet was anywhere near that belt, it should not have been too difficult to find. Had it not been for the Hyperdrive engines the task of searching something as extensive as an asteroid belt would have taken years to complete. We would have simply been two swarms of ships moving in opposite directions around the belt. Instead we were able to fly directly to different points in the belt and begin searching. The only thing missing was a long range radar system. We had been petitioning TRI to develop such devices for years to no avail, so I wasn't expecting them to suddenly appear on the market.

Though it was obvious to all of us that an object the size of a planet would be easily spotted from a great distance, many pilots grew impatient and took unnecessary risks. Out of frustration some would head into the roid clusters in search of more clues. The destruction of ships escalated as the frustrations grew among the searchers. So many pilots went home in pods, returning to search again and again, that insurance premiums were sure to increase soon. My first opportunity to take the dreaded pod journey came as the result of a chance encounter with a rogue roid. I had become too comfortable traveling through a very large gap and let my attention drift away from the events around me. As I became engrossed in searching through public databases, and known historical records, for more clues to the location of Planet Solrain. I was oblivious to those many hails of forewarning on my comm screen, as my headset dangled uselessly over the arm of my seat.

A moment too late I heard the screams coming from the headset hanging from my seat. Pulling frantically at the cable, I put it on my head as Chicod was shouting, "Hey Jump, what the hell is going on over there?" I wasn't sure what he was referring to, as he continued screaming. "Are you too busy reading that Swimsuit edition of Solrain Illustrated to save yourself? He snickered, as I heard others laughing in the background. "It's a little too late but you might want to look out your port side and meet your new friend." He said, as though holding back laughter. I looked out and saw nothing but blackness, pure and total blackness. "Better get your hand on the other stick and get the hell out of there Jump." He said, laughing out loud. With a sudden realization of what that blackness could only mean, I brought my seat to the upright position, my HUD screen flew out of the way as my face smacked it on the way up. I threw my key pad aside as I grabbed the controls and looked out the port side of my canopy again. The dark black matter of the giant Semifluxor was almost on me. I turned hard to starboard as I pushed my throttle all the way forward. The sound was unmistakable as the roid impacted my ship and pushed it out of existence like a giant bulldozer, clearing a path for the other roids. My ship rolled over, shaking violently, as fires erupted from the instrument panels. I began thinking of my next move, but those decisions were out of my hands now. The last thing I heard was Chicod with the rest of the squad laughing in the background. "It's ok Jump, we know you were just reading the articles." Nothing like flying with a bunch of wise guys, but that was ok, I would have a chance to laugh in the coming days.


No matter how many times I had the misfortune of traveling by pod, I never got used to it. Being whipped around in every direction at once, was not my idea of a good time, even if my life depended on it. If you have never had the thrill of being carried to safety in an escape pod, then my words will not do justice to the experience. Barely a second before my mind could even accept the impending doom, as warning lights flashed and various alarms screamed throughout the ship that was breaking up around me. My seat would be jerked down into the pod, with the whine and howl of seldom used machinery being called into action, even as the pod was fleeing from the destruction of the ship. Simultaneous forward and downward motions would turn my stomach with forces more powerful than the explosions around me. The launch tube was a dizzying blur as it raced by the open hatch of the pod, my lungs gasping for breath as the air rushed out through the opening hull of the ship. The hatch plucked hairs from my head as it quickly sealed with a loud clack. Then I was spinning all about as the pod was hurled away by the final explosion of my ship. Then silence, as I held my breath, teeth clenched tightly, partially from the low oxygen level, but mostly to keep my stomach in check. Suddenly the subtle hum of the life support systems, and the sound of the pod filling with air broke the eery silence. Along with the horrifying sound I would make, as I unclenched my mouth and sucked in a great volume of air. Then exhaling with the many expletives that my mind had formed back in the ship at the realization of the imminent destruction. I never felt assured of my survival until the attitude thrusters began to compensate for the tumbling motions of the pod. After the pod settled its course and made haste for the gate, the ride was not so bad, other than the cramped quarters. I don't even want to describe what it felt like when the situation demanded the pod be launched from the stern instead of the bow, anyone who has had the pleasure of meeting Emma will understand.

My dreams were filled with tiny closets while I slept for most of the trip back to Wake Station. The sound of the pod being coupled to the guide rail after docking woke me from my nightmares. I unstrapped myself from the seat as my pod was shuttled to the platform next to the TRI Medical Recovery Center. I guess it was good that they checked us out after such an event, but it still seemed like it was meant to prolong the misery, a shower and a stiff drink were the only medicine I needed. To my relief the pod came to a stop, I was eager to get out of that thing, as any part of my body that was not in pain, was numb. Carefully, I crawled from the pod and struggled to my feet, stretching as far and wide as I could possibly reach, my head spinning wildly. I could hear my heart pounding and the blood rushing through my veins in its effort to awaken the extremities of my body. The numbness was replaced by tingling and pain as I shook my arms and legs, as if my misery would end sooner by doing so. Though the SolSaver Stasis Ejection Pod was a lifesaver and I wouldn't trade it for the universe, It was a bit cramped inside. Standing there, gathering myself together, I watched as my pod resealed its hatches while being carried off to the maintenance hangar, where it would be installed in my new ship. Although the post trip recovery was a pain in the ass, literally, I was always relieved on exiting. It was actually a remarkable piece of equipment, I had not heard of one failing in all my years in service to TRI. That such a timed and precise chain of events could happen so often with no casualties, none that we knew of anyway, was a testimony to the engineering of its designers. The pods would have been more cozy if not for the equipment installed by TRI and those unauthorized amenities we pilots like to add.

When Tens and Piney Systems developed the first reusable escape pod, they realized that Sorian pilots would live out their lives in space, and need some personal storage area that would survive when their ship was destroyed. With great foresight, T&P made the pods larger than was needed to hold necessary equipment. You would be hard pressed to find a Sorian pilot who didn't appreciate that. The material that the pods were constructed out of was listed as "Top Secret" in every known database. Rumor had it though they had secretly rediscovered the makeup of the composite used by the pre collapse empire to build the indestructible Trans. Tubes that were found on Sorian worlds. Before the arrival of privately owned stations, or POS, as we called them, this personal storage in the pod was where we kept most of our personal articles. Leaving personal items at station quarters was like an open invitation to thieves. I never trusted the Solrain SDS to keep anything other than equipment in my storage, anything of value stayed in my pod. My storage space had grown over the years, and contained a lot of items that will remain significant while I live. My personal storage area consisted of several sturdy lockers that occupied the entire starboard side of my pod, as well as much of what had once been leg room. In them were the small treasures from my early life on Amanra as well as items I had picked up during my service to TRI. My old telescope was in there, as well as some cherished books, and many data disks with communications from friends and family that I had left behind. In one locker I kept all the TRI Medals that I had been awarded, as well as my complete library of every news release or mission order that had been issued. I was a sort of pack rat, I'm still one for that matter, but no matter how much I crammed in that pod, I never seemed to exceed the mass limit.

The port side of my pod contained the basics, life support, waste disposal, food supplements, medical supplies. And of course my own custom alterations, which were frowned on by the manufacturer, produced a cooling unit filled with Octavia Lite, Solrain Stout, and some Lime Soda that I had snatched from Zaal's secret stash. Also placed there were the ship's communications systems and the automated flight computers necessary for a safe return to station. The stern was mostly taken up by the engine needed to make the trip back to station. There was a small area above the engine that contained an area called the "sleeper," where we crawled to when we needed rest on long missions. However, it was inaccessible when the hatch was closed and the seat was down, and from what I had heard, a miserable place to be when the engine was operational. That escape Pod had been the only secure personal space that I could call my own until I became a station owner sometime later. I guess you could call it home, or at least a bedroom closet, as I often referred to it as my "drop-in closet."

Making my way to the market computers in Wake, I noticed a lot of new faces in the corridors, I also noticed that equipment was scarce due to the recent surge in refits. I did a quick search on my commodity tracker and found the same conditions prevailed on every station throughout the empire. Most trained pilots' had left for the new sector to join the search for Planet Solrain, few had remained to haul production supplies or stock equipment. The realization set in that we would need to be extremely careful, from then on, while navigating that belt. The task of refitting our ships might become a greater adventure than the search for Planet Solrain. Luckily, our squad kept an old abandoned tow full of equipment at Wake, and I was able to re-equip my ship with ease. But, I couldn't help think, even the storage tows would soon be empty, forcing us to remove some pilots from the search to replenish our supply of equipment. "Perhaps we should assign some pilots to a duty rotation of resupply immediately to forestall any cargo shortages for our squad," I thought to myself. I made a mental note to call a squad meeting when I returned to the search and bring it up for discussion. After supervising the removal of my new equipment from the storage tow, I resealed the hatches and reset the booby traps that we had place on all our storage tows to greet would be thieves. I arranged for the installation of the equipment with the necessary station personnel, paid the appropriate fees, added in a little bribe to speed the process, and headed for the public area of the station. A hot shower, a good meal, and a few stiff drinks were a must before launching again. I wasn't going anywhere till my ship was finished anyway, and there was no way in hell I could sleep after that long pod ride.

Many new recruits were reporting for duty in Wake while I was there, of little use they would be to our shortages. While they adjusted to a life in service to TRI, they would be spending their time learning to dock and run transports, hauling commodities to make equipment was a long way off for them. Still it was encouraging to see that the training camps were in operation again, providing us with new recruits, even if they weren't training the recruits in the fine art of re-supplying stations. The training camps were found on all the planets of TRI, they were really just indoctrination camps. There was really no pilot training in these facilities, mostly just mental and physical torment, to break down a recruit's individuality. They were no different from any military boot camp. Those that made it to graduation were quickly taken to an orbital facility where they would be tested for compatibility to the genetic alterations. If they were compatible, they would be treated immediately and then, after recuperating from the long and painful process, assigned to a station for duty. If they were incompatible, well, they could get a job at the station or go home in shame. Once at their assigned station they were assigned a shuttle and on their own. The smart ones would follow the advice of their camp instructors and hone their skills in the simulators and seek out a mentor, or join a squad. But many would stubbornly jump into their poorly fitted shuttles and launch into a strange world unimaginable to them, their ignorance would cost them dearly.

It was a strange sight seeing recruits outnumber the veterans in Wake. I couldn't walk more than a few paces, before I would be stopped to answer a question, which I was happy to oblige. Maybe I just looked like an old-timer and they presumed I had the answers to their million questions. I helped them as best I could, gave them -=MACK=- squad brochures, and moved on toward my objective, the nearest bar. The bars were especially strange during that trip to Wake, the inexperienced pilots having no stories of great adventure to entertain me with. After having heard Rix spin his yarns about the adventures of the EEA, as well as the many other adventurous tales, that pilots have told. How could I stand to hear the dribble of these young land lovers? I grew tired of tales of training camp antics and I was eager to leave Wake before I did something awful. It was exciting to see these new recruits fresh from the camps, and of course I didn't mind all the questions, but the next one that mistakenly saluted me and said "good morning Sir, "as we passed in the hall, was definitely going to get shot. I downed few glasses of Solrain Stout and left the bar. After my shower, I stocked up on rations, had a good meal, and quickly made my way to my new ship

The first thing I did after arriving at the new ship, was the same routine I performed before every launch, as did most pilots. I walked around the ship and inspected it carefully, not that I ever found anything wrong, but to set my mind at ease. Holding the purchase order in my hand, I checked off every piece of equipment as I verified its installation on the ship. The ordnance technician protested, as I opened each ammo cannister to verify the count. When he became really persistent in his protests, I pulled out an old list of recalled serial numbers and started inspecting each round more closely. Usually the old timers would leave a pilot alone while inspecting, knowing it was a sacred process to ease the mind for the insanity of space travel. The young ones, like the one that kept pestering me that day, needed to be indoctrinated into off planet culture. Many of those, young station personnel, held some form of resentment toward the pilots, since most were genetically disqualified from receiving the necessary enhancements for gate travel. They get over it in time, but until they did, we had our fun with them. I especially loved his startled reaction when I kicked the missiles to "test for premature triggering of the proximity fuses." After pulling and kicking everything on the list, I tippe