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It would be great if someone could plug these numbers into an automated function or app. Here's a link to the formula, chart and graph explaining time dilation. Fourmilab's chart only goes to what would be the equivalent of FTL 1 in our community but someone more mathematically literate than I could probably do some interesting things with his.
Billi cautiously poked his head around the corner into Heet street, it seemed unoccupied which wasn't a surprise at this time of night. Quietly he slipped down the street making his way to Kris' apartment. If anybody could get him out of this mess, she would be the person to do it. It was inevitable, he knew there was a limit to how many times he could slip his sticky fingers into Hobur's Wedge before someone would try to cut them off. He was actually surprised he had gotten away with it as long as he had. Unfortunately Hobur had divined his escape plans and cut off his only chance to get out of the city intact.
Two more buildings and he was in front of Kris' apartments. The city was still quiet, even the fetches weren't howling or barking their midnight songs to each other. Billi slid his key into the apartment lobby door and quickly slipped inside. A dimly lit wall lamp threw off just enough light to keep him from driving his legs into anything hard and painful as he quietly made his way to the stairs. Kris was his ultimate fall back plan. Hobur didn't know about her, Billi made sure to never mention her to anyone and he never came or went to her apartment by a direct route. She was his secret sanctuary.
Now which was the squeaky step? The fourth step, yes that was it, avoid the fourth step and he could be up the stairs and in Kris' apartment in just a moment. Billi made sure to step over the fourth step and winced as the fifth step cried out in woody protest. Damn! Its the fifth step! Billi's heart started to pound, calm down Billi he thought to himself, Hobur's thugs aren't everywhere, they don't have x-ray eyes or super sonic hearing. Billi relaxed a little and climbed the stairs, he slipped his key into her lock and gently turned the knob. The door opened quietly, he slid inside as quickly as possible while gently closing the door behind him. Quietly he locked it again. The apartment was dark except for a bit of light peeking from under Kris' bathroom door. Billi sighed and began to tremble in relief.
"Hello Billi." Hobur's whisper shot through his head like a demented lightning bolt.
The alarm sent Trilleck's heart racing. A Zombie Missilehad circumvented the defense field and was headed directly for the home planet. He quickly searched for a definition for this previously unknown type of missile and learned a Zombie upon entering the atmosphere would immediately start a chain reaction and the planet would becaome a fire ball within seconds.
Trilleck loved the excitement for as far back as he could remember, day after day he had been challengefd by the many attacks launched against the planet. He smiled and felt smug in knowing the Supreme Master always had the right answer as to how to destroy any weapon that endangered the planet or his ship. So he waited patiently for the Supreme Master's instructions to flash across the screen, and soon was rewarded with the exact coordinates for taking out the threatening missile using the Isellian ray cannon. He quickly engaged the necessary procedure for releasing the ray cannon's deadly load and fired.
Some three light years away, Aurugilla slammed his thick gray hand against the console and sighed. He had lost again. He did not wait to see the planet burst into a fiery hell. He cursed aloud while chastising himself for making such a stupid mistake. He should have known the Zombie Missile had to be traveling at a slower speed in order to get around the defense field. He had miscalculated, and it had cost him the game. Ah, Trilleck had been the best game piece he had ever created and to lose him was bitter-sweet. Well, he shouldn't be too hard on himself, after all he had reached the Supreme Master level, certainly a personal best for him...and the game had indeed lasted for 5,731 years.
The first ship dropped into normal space and immediately broke into a thousand pieces, which scattered away from the central FTL engine. This was by design, not only to avoid the inbound antimatter projectiles that had been launched by the enemy ship at the first sign of an FTL drive, but also to ensure maximum survival for the Neim taskforce, each member of which was now piloting his own craft on a pre-planned fractal path. As these first projectiles expended themselves on the unmanned engine turned drone, charged particle beams began lancing through space, but with too few cannons and too many small targets, they were mostly ineffectual. Within a few tens of seconds, the small ships had started attaching themselves to the outside of their much larger foe. Cutting torches in the smaller ships quickly burned through the outer hull and, after venting the interior atmosphere to space, sealed themselves against the vacuum and opened their hatches. For those in these areas still conscious, the last thing they would see was the sight of 3-meter tall, armored Neim pulling themselves from one ship to the other, orienting to the strange gravity, and opening fire.
By the time the second ship had dropped into normal space, some one hundred seconds after the first, 994 Neim were working their way through the enemy ship, killing everything in site. This second ship split into several large pieces, which began moving to cover all sides of its target. X-ray lasers began lighting up, identifying and destroying the communications antenna and weapons emplacements littered across the enemy ship's surface while rail-gun fired kinetic projectiles picked off any escape pods that had managed to be launched. Within one thousand seconds, the enemy ship was blind, toothless, and nearly completely under control of the Neim. The few strongholds the defenders established were either isolated to be dealt with later or subjected to a hull breach with everyone inside spaced. The occupying Neim that ended up on the bridge quickly worked to override the ship's computer systems and impose their own command and control structure on top of it. The orbit sub-ships collected the bodies of the six Neim killed turning the initial battle and re-assembled themselves into their original configuration. Just under two thousand seconds after they appeared, the Neim disappeared with their captured prize.
The Anisian trooper ducked down behind the ruins as the alien shot a load of bullets in his direction. He heard one of his fellow troops die in a wet splat as he did not duck soon enough. And the trooper cursed his fate. He armed his own machine gun, and returned fire, keeping his profile as close to the ground as possible.
Anisians were a race of lizard like aliens, similar in size to those of most races of the galaxiki. They had 2 pairs of arms and 1 pair of legs, and their skin was mottled, often in parts of the spectrum of light not visible to most races. Their eyes, large on their heads to take in what little light was provided by their neutron star sun and the gas giant their planet orbited.
The trooper, whose name was Hek-Nim, watched as his and his comrades fire scattered the advancing enemy. The aliens were strange. Their weapons seemingly a mishmash of differing types. They were skilled in war though, and already many of the Anisian nations had fallen. The first few had surrendered. When the others saw the genocide that had happened to them, their resolve had been stiffened.
The question of why the aliens were here was another. Obviously, this was a planet they could live on, and neutron stars were rare according to the Anisians own scientists, yet the aliens seemed to be unable to see in the darkness cast by the lack of light without their technology.
Hek-Nim forced himself to stop thinking, and just shoot. Ahead of him, an alien soldier jerked as Hek-Nim’s bullets shredded through him. Another alien returned fire, and Hek-Nim ducked back into cover.
This was a war for the survival of the entire race, and everyone knew it. There could be only one solution, them, or us. Hek-Nim and the army he was part of had held this part of the line for 3 days now. And would continue to hold as long as it took to kill all the aliens.
Hek-Nim ducked back out, the alien who had shot at him moved on to other targets. Then Hek-Nim’s heart stopped as he saw the great big tank rumble out of the ruins of the city ahead of him.
The mark of the enemy upon its great turret, that of an alien head and the strange symbols. Yet the white paint was flaking, and beneath it was another symbol, painted over. This seemed to be of some kind of shield, and more marking beneath it.
Hek-Nim knew that it signaled the end, for this tank was far beyond any technology the Anisians had ever developed, and one of the most powerful weapons the enemy had fielded against them.
Hek-Nim dives for the floor as the powerful gun fired, blowing away a huge number of Hek-Nim’s fellow soldiers. Hek-Nim’s heart further dropped when he heard another, similar blast to the east; the aliens had brought more than one of their tanks to the battle.
Hek-Nim died a second later, when the Anisian nation of Tu-lon high command launched its last desperate attack to stop the enemy; it launched a pair of nukes, sliding them under the pair of advanced alien tanks, and detonated them.
The tanks, for the most part, were relatively unharmed. A product of a bygone age, when nukes used on the battlefield were common. Their crews, and the soldiers around them, were another matter.
The crew of one tanked were killed instantly as the entire tank flipped upside down, and slammed back down. The inertial compensators that would have saved them a few centuries ago long since failed.
For the other tank’s crew, it was worse. The bottom of this particular tank had been blown out long ago, when destroying tanks like this was still the norm, and it’s bottom had been replaced by a much weaker steel one. This blew out, and the blast was channeled into the tank, and vaporizing the crew and many of the delicate and irreplaceable equipment inside. Yet this had happened before, the the damage repaired with inferior parts. It could be done so again.
Yet the damage had been done, for those tanks would take time to recover. The Anisians had delayed their end, and perhaps would be able to save their race from destruction.
As the tank settled, the paint of Sir Hreeos el Tavor ee Green Groves, Canthin mercenary for high, was now stripped, revealing the hardy paint of the 156th Children Armored Defense Brigade, which had long since outlasted the empire it represented.
Hreeos himself was furious. Two of his too few tanks had been put out of commission, and a large number of men killed in the battle.
Hreeos had black fur, supposedly a mark of royalty on the Canthin, yet it had splotches of white, showing he was probably a bastard. He had been born to the Baron of Tavor, in the Princedom of Green Groves. The third son of the Baron, he could not go into the priesthood, nor could he inherit his fathers position. Instead, he would have to make his own way in the universe.
So he had done what most noble Canthin who would not inherit had done, and become a mercenary captain. He had joined a large company, and worked his way up to the top, being given the leadership when the former leader had died, and Hreeos had bribed or killed the other officers to accept him as Leader.
“Report” he demanded from his immediate subordinates, slamming his fists down on the table.
“We think they came up with some sort of new way to deploy nukes” said Wreeo.
“Any damned fool can see that. What I want to know is how?”
“We think that they may have come up with some way of maneuvering them under the tanks” Jreeow cautiously said; Hreeos could be ferocious when in a bad mood.
“They bloody mission killed one of them!” Hreeos screamed at them. “Those tanks are supposed to be the most advanced things in the universe right now” That was an exaggeration, everyone knew they had been rear area units, not front line. Yet the statement was mostly true; no one could build the material the hulls were made of. At least, not anyone willing to sell it to a Canthin.
“That one was always weak to attacks under it. It will take some time to repair, but the hull is intact, which means it will be able to be used again” Jreeow said. There was a murmur of agreement from around the table.
“I don’t care about that. I care about them being able to do this! We cannot use dirty nukes on this planet as part of the contract, which means we have to stop them from doing so as well. So get out there and figure some way to do that” Hreeos screamed, spittle flying from his mouth.
The meeting dissolved as the men fled out the door, and Hreeos turned and glared after them. Then the buzzer buzzed in his office, indicating that his employer wanted to speak with him.
Hreeos turned and walked into his office, whose door was open and was behind the meeting room. There he composed himself, before sitting down and answering the buzzer.
One the screen in front of him, his employer appeared. The employer preferred not to leave its quarters on the ship, preferring to use intercom for communication. Hreeos didn’t care, as long as it stayed out of his way.
Hreeos studied his employer. The form was familiar. It had been around a thousand years since the events history had come to know as the Core War. Since then, the figure of his employer had been rarely seen, and it maintained an air of mystery about it.
The Umbran was surrounded by the darkness it preferred. Darkness almost exactly the same as below on the planet.
“I hear that the natives have detonated a nuke, polluting our new colony world” the Umbran said. Hreeos had no idea if it was male or female or what ever the fuck the sexes of the Umbrans were.
“Indeed, I apologize. We thought that they had none left when we neutralized them in the initial strike. We will attempt to hunt down all remaining nukes to make sure it does not happen again” Hreeos replied.
“Do not try, do. And hurry along the removal of the local pest species. The fate of the entire Umbran race depends on it” the Umbran replied. Hreeos doubted that. He was pretty sure that this Umbran had no connection to any Umbran governments. Probably a rogue; there were a lot of them around these days of all races since the collapse of the Children and ascension of the Ale-Turans. Perhaps left over from the Ascension and having to make do on stations around the universe. Desperate for a planet.
“Of course, I will endeavor to do so. Is that all, sir?”
“Yes. But please hurry up. We wish to move in our new colony soon”
The screen went blank.
Hreeos turned and went back to the bloody business of Genocide. Not a care in the universe. He did not think it odd that a race that barely a thousand years before had been attacked and almost been wiped out would order the same upon another race. That was not how his mind worked. It made perfect sense to him. Such was the life he lived.
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