THE AGE OF TITANS

A Chronicle of the Sirian Civil War

By: ww2jacob


Introduction

Heroes often come in unlikely packages. They always arise in our times of greatest need. “Why has the human race flourished for so long?” many ask. Look at our heroes, and you will find the answer.

Heroes are not always what they seem. Many are ugly, others are stupid, and some are even weak. They are not a breed of perfection. In fact, most are so far from perfect that many ordinary people will nearly laugh at them, until they are the ones who pull through and save the day.

What is it in these misfits that makes them so great? What turns an ordinary person into a shining hero?

The answer to that is very clear. Heroism is not about the people or the acts themselves. It is about the times. The times are what give a person the spark of necessity, and that is what triggers the reaction that turns a normal man into a hero. That necessity is the true key to heroism. When things go bad, you can guarantee that someone will become a hero to pull the rest of the people through. Rarely is it as showy and dramatic as a mutated flying man rescuing the screaming lady from the terrible monster, but it is mostly people who are quite heroes, those who do what they know to be right to save everyone else from pain and suffering. Those selfless acts of heroism are what has saved people and nations dozens of times over, and will again over and over in the future.

You see, our heroes only come forth in our darkest hours. It is the necessity of the times that make the heroes come out of obscurity to commit their selfless acts.

And this was one of those dark times. A time where heroes were needed. A time where nowhere was safe from marauding factions in a gigantic war that rages across an entire sector for over a decade. A war in which millions died over one square kilometer of space. And out of the ashes of this war, heroes would arise, dozens of them. They would come to be called Titans, and there were many of them. Some were mighty and powerful leaders of factions, some were lowly pilots. All were heroes in their own respect, and they shine on still today.

So, learn about these Titans. Learn from them, in fact. Read of their successes and failures, and use their acts, as well as the times, as a lesson for you. You will learn much from them.

Part I- The Dawn of a New Era

“For so long, we were ignored and hated by the rest of Sirius. Considered pirates by most, and killed because we fought them for a chance at life. Now, we are fighting back! This is our chance to get revenge for our centuries of suffering! We will finally break free from the holds that they have put on us!”
-Outcast Don Chavez
Speech on Planet Malta


The next Outcast Don, Leon Chavez, walked into the gathered hall on Planet Malta. The hall had been only used for this solemn ceremony for the past two centuries, and it felt oppressive. There were nearly a hundred of the most important people in all of the Outcasts gathered for this. The previous Don had died, and now Chavez had been elected the next Don of the Outcasts. It had been his dream and goal in life, but now it felt hollow and empty. Well, he had big plans for his office, and he planned to tell the assembly, when he felt the time was right.

The new Don was a tall man, over six feet tall, and he barely fit into the cramped cockpit of his personal Sabre. He had been telling the mechanics for years to fix it so he could fit better into it, but they had ignored his request for the most part, being too busy with more pressing matters.

He had dark brown eyes, and messy mat of brown hair, and he made a point to never get a ceremonial tattoo, as most of the other Outcasts had. He felt that they were dirty, and that a tattoo would hide his face too much when he gave one of his trademark rousing speeches.

He walked up to the front of the hall, where the High Priest stood, clutching the ceremonial necklace of office for the Don in his hand.

Without speaking a word, the priest draped the necklace around Chavez’s neck, and began softly chanting. The spectators knew the chant as well, and they joined in. Chavez went through the chant’s words in his head, remembering the significance of each to this ceremony.

The chant went: “Never forget the atrocities. Never forget when justice was not fairly given. Never forget the fight we must make. Acquire the golden ring of revenge, and the silver ring of war. Acquire them together, for this is your test. Lead us to them, and you will be rewarded. Slay our enemies, for they are evil. Slay them all, and the people will have peace. Peace is our goal, and never forget how to get it for us.”

The office of Don required this. That chant was said to every Don in the past, and would be said to every Don in the future. It outlined the requirements of the office, and by agreeing to it, the Don was then bound to it.

The priest spoke to Chavez. “Do you solemnly swear to uphold your office, as outlined?”

“I do.”

The priest turned to the audience.

“Behold your new Don!”

“Even the tiniest spark can set off the bonfire. Such is true with war. The events that start wars can be small or large, it all depends on the reaction to them. If the reaction is big enough, then the fire starts.”
-Guardian Master Vorian Francis
Reflections on the Sirian Civil War


The squadron of Titian Very Heavy Fighters moved silently towards Freistadt Station in Omega-7. They were one of several squadrons attacking the three stations in Omega-7. High Elder Mendez had planned the attack as a quick but deadly strike in which they would attack and overwhelm Freistadt, Elbich and Brisen stations. Any defenders were to be killed, and then the fighters would dock with the station and take the rest of the populations prisoner.

The lead Titan in the squadron was piloted by the young commander Jorge Mendoza, who was a skilled enough pilot to have gotten promoted to Squdron Commander a mere week ago. The squadron, Iceblade, was made of many pilots at least as skilled as he was, because the squadron was based out of Cadiz, and they regularly fought battles against Hessians there.

The IMG station appeared before them, and seemed to have not detected their presence as of yet. The squadron got within 1 k of the base, when it came alive with activity. Docking bay doors opened, comlines buzzed with frenzied orders, and small fighters began to launch from the station.

Mendoza squinted ahead, and managed to identify the ships coming out of the station. They were wings of Hawk Light Fighters, led by Falcon Heavy Fighters. The ships were no match for the advanced Titans and their skilled pilots. Mendoza opened up with his Salamanca cannons, and his squadron did the same.

The IMG ships tried to dodge, but the overlapping fire from the Corsair ships caught them all, dead in their tracks. The hapless fighters scattered, some fleeing the scene of battle, others desperately trying to regroup.

The Corsairs streaked past them, thrusters roaring. They passed over the station, and Mendoza targeted it, and launched one of his Starkiller torpedoes at a defensive emplacement. The turret went up in flames, and was no more. His squadron targeted other turrets and blew them to smithereens as well. The Corsairs had wanted the base to be taken with minimal damage, but Mendoza knew that only bad things could come if those turrets were left active. Besides, the Corsairs could always replace them with better ones once the station was taken.

The squadron turned, and came back over the station, firing at the remaining fighters. They effectively dispatched several more of them, and the survivors fled, knowing that they had no choice.

The squadron banked again, but then stopped. Mendoza raised the station on the comm.

“Freistadt Station, your pilots are dead, your defenses destroyed. Give up now, or we will destroy the station!”

The voice of a frightened man came on the comm.

“Please! Don’t hurt us! We give up. Don’t shoot!”

“Then prepare to be boarded.”

“Alright, docking ports one and two are open for you and your squadron, noble Corsair.”

Mendoza smiled. Another good hunt.

“We have allowed piracy to run rampant throughout Sirius! Like a festering sore, it slowly grows and spreads, and soon it will have run so far out of control that we will have no hope of stopping it.”
-Chancellor DSQrn
Speech to New Recruits


Young DSQrn walked through the halls of the Gutenburg Building on New Berlin. The day was frigid, and he was glad to be inside. He was headed to the eastern wing, where he was going to be giving a speech to the Rheinland Parliament, or the Reichstag. He was nervous, since this was his first speech since being elected Chancellor of Rheinland last week. He had won the election by a narrow margin, and had even had an attempt on his life a month before the election day. The populace of Rheinland had been bitterly divided over the election, with his opponent, Luther Dodonhoff, the Union Party candidate, bitterly opposed to all of DSQrn’s good ideals.

DSQrn was by no means the young man’s real name, but he requested that everyone call him by it. It was like a codename, and everyone respected his wish. In fact, the “Vote for DSQrn” campaign had been very successful, and it was most likely because of his codename.

The young man was average height, but thin, with brown hair and bright blue eyes. He usually wore a Police or Military uniform, but today he wore a suit, because the occasion was so important. It was his “State of Rheinland” address, in which he gave a detailed report on the current position of Rheinland and how he planned to make it better. He had been up all night last night preparing for this, but he was still very nervous.

His plan for the future was simple. He had one goal in mind, and that was to stop piracy. He had made that very clear throughout the entire election, and major pirate attacks in Omega-7 right before the election had only made the necessity of it more clear. He had good reason to hate pirates, having spent the last five years of his life combating them as the Chief of the Federal Police. Now, with his new position of power, he planned to strike the pirates hard and fast with a coordinated strike. He had a few targets in mind, but that was still classified, so he couldn’t say anything about that during this speech.

He was planning on either attacking the Farmer’s Alliance in Kusari, the Outcasts in Omicron Alpha, or the Corsairs in Omega-7. He couldn’t reveal any information at this speech, but he did have an important meeting with his advisors after this, and they would discuss the various options then.

He strode down the last hall, and two guards pushed the doors at the end of the hall open for him. He walked into a huge room with over a hundred people in it. He then walked up onto a set of stairs, and then onto a stage in front of the men who were the Reichstag. They were a difficult group of people, and they would be hard to please. Many of them hated the young chancellor because of his party, and others hated him because he was young. Nearly all the members of the Reichstag were at least double his age, and the young chancellor must have seemed like an adolescent to them.

DSQrn took a sip of water, said a silent prayer, and began his speech.

“I hate those who claim that they are lawful and fair to those who are powerful, and then turn around and kill those who were once their friends for sport!”
-Outcast Don Chavez
Private Logs


The Bounty Hunters of Freeport 9 would die today.

They were the only non-Outcasts in Sirius who knew where Omicron Alpha was. If they weren’t in Omicron Theta, then the Outcast’s home would be far safer. But with them there, making occasional raids into the Outcast home system, and constantly killing Outcasts who dared go into Theta, the Outcasts had to pull many of its best men from the front back to Malta to protect against attacks.

So, as his first act as Don, Chavez decided that the Bounty Hunters at Freeport 9 had to die, and so he had proposed a daring plan to a group of his officers. They were to virtually empty Malta of every single fighter and pilot, and send all of them in a mass strike on Freeport 9. The Don was to lead the attack in his personal Sabre.

So, now he was sitting in the cramped cockpit of his Sabre, waiting for the rest of the strike force to assemble. Nine squadrons of Sabres, seventeen of Stilettos, and thirty of Daggers. The force was huge, so big that no Bounty Hunter group could stop them. And if the Zoners joined the Bounty Hunters in fighting the Outcasts, then they would die too. However, the Don wasn’t planning on the Zoners fighting. They were strong pacifists, and even if their home was being attacked, they probably wouldn’t fight against such a huge force.

Finally, the last squadron arrived, and the Don activated his engines and blasted away towards the jumphole to Theta. The rest followed, and they were soon at the hole.

They went through, and popped out in the Omicron Theta system near a gas giant. Freeport 9 was only a few kilos from here, and they could go about half the way under cover of a cloud. The rest of the charge would be in open space, and they would have to blast in as fast as they possibly could with engines maxed out, and hit the station and it’s defenders hard before they could react.

The ships reached the edge of the cloud, and blew into open space, engines at full. The station was a small dot in the distance. Every second counted now.

They got closer. Chavez thought that he could make out small ships launching from the station now. They knew that they were coming. He concentrated on getting to the station as soon as he possibly could.

When the huge force was only a kilo from the base, Chavez shut off his cruise. The rest of the Outcasts followed suit, and the entire fleet engaged the two BHG Hammerhead squadrons that had launched to defend the base. Chavez opened fire, and the fleet followed suit. Before they could even react, the BHG ships were utterly destroyed, their shields overloaded after several of the shots hit them. A second wave of missiles finished the ships.

The base surrendered right after that awesome show of firepower, and Chavez walked aboard the base, a triumphant victor. He checked the station’s logs, and cursed when he realized that half of the BHG contingent had been shipped back to Deshima yesterday. Chief among them was their leader, ww2jacob, who had led several daring and successful raids against Outcast forces in Omicron Alpha. Chavez had been itching to remove ww2jacob and his Ghost Squadron, who were considered to be the finest pilots in the BHG, and possibly the best fighter group in Sirius. But the Outcasts had missed ww2jacob and his Ghosts by one mere day. Chavez suddenly had a strange feeling, a realization that letting the Ghosts live would come back to haunt him.

Well, he figured that this had been a good day, nonetheless. They had captured Freeport 9, and they hadn’t lost anything or anybody. This would boost morale back at home a ton. Yes, a success, indeed.

“Whenever someone tries to kill me, I take it as a personal compliment. For what reason other than that they fear me would they go out of their way to make such an attempt?”
-ww2jacob
Memoirs


At last, he had returned to Deshima, the headquarters of the Bounty Hunters. It had been over a year since he had returned here, to the place of his training. This station was where he grew up, learning the craft of flying a fighter. He had trained at the stick of a Barracuda here for years. Years of flying, but flying was his one true love, so he had been happy. Happier than he had ever been, in fact. An orphan of the stars for years, he had wandered between the care of many of his parents’ old “friends” for the first ten years of his life. He had been helpless, as his custody had been transferred between dozens of different guardians. He was worthless in the eyes of everyone, which is why no one would keep him around for more than a few months. He recalled that all he had ever done back then was work. He had grown up without any enjoyment in his childhood, just a never-ending cycle of work and movement.

Finally, he had been orphaned for good at Deshima Station in Shikoku, Kusari. He had been left, and not expected to live for long, but he had survived long enough for an old Bounty Hunter to find him. The man, Tio Gordon, had taken the cute little ten-year-old kid in, housing him and feeding him in the small apartment he owned on the station. The man was a Bounty Hunter Ace, and was reaching the end of his career. The young boy didn’t even know his own name; having never had his actual name passed down. He didn’t know what happened to his parents, or where he was, or who had brought him there.

So, Tio named the boy Jacob, after his own father, and gave him his own last name, just so the boy could have a full name. The other hunters had made fun of the old ace at first, but eventually softened up to young Jacob, teaching him the tricks of the trade of bounty hunting.

Jacob grew up quickly, and learned even faster. By the age of thirteen, he could beat old Tio in a race around the system. At fourteen, he could beat any man on the station in a race. And at the age of fifteen, he went on his first hunt.

Now, at age twenty-one, Jacob, now called only by his codename ww2jacob, was quite possibly the finest pilot in the Sirius Sector. He had completed countless missions, and had so many kills, that the hull of his personal Hammerhead, the Lightning, was covered with the hundreds of silhouettes of ships he had shot down. He had checked the current kill records for pilots throughout Sirius on the station’s main computer one day, over a month ago, and had been surprised to discover that he was currently on top for the most kills in Sirius. The Outcasts and Corsairs, the Liberty Rogues, the Mollys, and the Red Hessians feared him. Every pirate was afraid of the rumors of the Bounty Hunter Ace that hunted pirates like a lion to a gazelle.

But, no pilot is anything without his squadron, and that was true for ww2jacob as well. His squadron, the Ghosts, was an excellent group. They were fine young men, and their piloting skills were unmatched. And, as a group, these men worked together very well. There was no “best pilot”, they were all equal in each other’s eyes. They were all honorable, the kind of Bounty Hunters who always took their opponents alive, whatever the cost. To them, life was the most important thing that they could have, and they respected their enemies, while their enemies feared them.

So, as Ghost Squadron, led by ww2jacob, approached Deshima, they were well greeted. The title of most successful group in the history of the Guild worked wonders, and they were given the finest apartments and accommodations. They were there along with representative squadrons from every station and planet that had a Bounty Hunter group. The meeting was called because old Boss Rodrigez had died, and the Guild had to gather to elect a new Guild Boss. In a few hours, the nominations would be given, and then the leader would be elected the next morning, and the squadrons would then begin the long journey back to their front-line posts that afternoon. In all, it promised to be a relaxing, easy break from the rigors of front line hunting.

The twelve craft docked with the station, and the group of loyal friends made their way down to their rooms. They were all itching to get a chance to spend their hard-earned credits from their recent hunts. Their success led to tremendous wealth, and every man in the squadron had at least five million credits to his name. They could never spend a fraction of it here, but ww2jacob was looking to buy some of the new Longbeam assassination weapons that were only available here. While Freeport 9 had good Zoner weapons, and the squadron had many of the high-powered pirate weapons that they had as trophies from their various kills, the Longbeam was a new breed, which while it fired very slowly, had a very long range, and tremendous power. It was perfect for assassinating targets at a distance.

As he settled in for a nice nap after his long journey, ww2jacob couldn’t help but speculate as to who would be elected the next Guild Boss.

That's all I have for now.

More chapters will be forthcoming, so be ready!

Excellent, i think i am very well portrayed in this. My hat is tipped to you jacob. good good good job

___________________
"Anyone who suffers at a injustice is already a comrade of mine" Che Guevara

That is very clever, well-written and most perceptive.

Good work!

ttfn

Oh my god! I love this!

I'm already riveted, and I like the inclusion of certain denizens of this fine message board. (Well, I know it's based off a CYOF, but still. Inclusion of handles is a bonus)

Edited by - Hahukum Konn on 1/31/2005 6:44:12 AM

So many new names wow... i gotta get more free time and come back fully

___________________
"Anyone who suffers at a injustice is already a comrade of mine" Che Guevara

MUST HAVE MORE!!! AIEEEEE!!!!



more...

This story is awesome jakob! Can't wait till the next chapter!

It will be better once i'm in it

Come on Jacob, where is the next chapter. I'm allowed to be lazy your not!