The Beginning of History Admiral Cortes strode back to his personal cabin, using the maze like corridors of the Gore that he knew so well. Cortes was old even for Grox, now in his late Eight Hundreds, Cortes was finally offered the job of his dreams, to become Prime Minister of all Grox. But, a long standing Grox condition says , before he can take the throne, he must accomplish something great. And what greater accomplishment, than to destroy the Alliance of Planets to their southern border.
Cortes thought of all those before him, he had lived through the lives of three different Prime Ministers. Dafim, was on the throne when the Grox and Blue Galaxy Alliance first met. A peaceful old Grox, he had already chosen his predecessor to the throne. Grand General Felet, was fighting a war with large insectoid race, that was on the Grox'es north border.
It is this war that would prolong an attack for so long. Felet's war would drain the Grox to a point of Civil War. After a mere one hundred years on the throne, he was assassinated. A young Grox who lead for the rebellion, stepped out of the darkness for the throne. At a mere two hundred twenty three, Prime Minister Feller was ruling to this day. It was at the Prime Minister's 1227th birthday when he stood and toasted Cortes to the throne.
Cortes knew that it was this process of war and peace that, over millions of years, allowed the Grox species to develop such a "Grand Empire". But, this thousand years of peace, had allowed the Grox to build their armed forces to be larger then ever before. And he intended to use them.
Cortes rounded the corner to his private compartment, and entered. Though some would wonder why he didn't have more security on board this warship, with the reason being that he hand picked his crew. Cortes trusted each of them with his life, from the cooks, to the Major's, all of them with his life.
Back on the Grox home world, Intel was a buzz. After launching spy planes deep into BGA territory, the Grox realized that they may had made fatal error. The BGA actually controlled more space area than the Grox, thus giving them more resources to draw upon. Groxian strategist theorized that this war may go on for around a hundred years. Astounded Intel tried hard to get a channel open to Cortes before the attack began. But, when they got no answer, they knew it was to late.
The Ninth Grox Battlegroup emerged from warp speed just inside the Grox boundaries, to a planet of lavender sky's, and two moons. As the dim blue light of warp speed faded away, it was replaced by the red light of laser blasts and flames. To the amazement of the Grox crew, an alien fleet roughly half their size was attacking their homeland.
As Cortes prepared to sleep in his sleep tube, a loud crash and screech, forced him out of bed. Suddenly Collision alarms were sounding and the alert came over the speaker, "General Quarters, man your battle stations! All staff to the bridge. Repeat, General Quarters to battle stations!" And with those words, Cortes still in dress robes, fled his cabin for the bridge.
Meanwhile, on Juno 1, a small backwoods depot planet, the 64th Commando Corps was still attempting to hold off a major Grox fleet. The Grox plan to occupy the planet had failed to be completed. When the attack began few of the Grox expected resistance, when the 64th began to repel them from the surface of the planet, Grox command was distraught.
Since the beginning of the attack, early that morning, two waves have been successfully repelled, by roughly ten thousand Arka, the only victory of the war so far.
The Orange sky's of Juno 1 were beginning to turn red as the sun sank low onto the horizon. Dotted among the red sky was the large grey silhouette of Grox ships. From the ground, fires burned like stars in the sky, as men cried out in pain and agony. The streets ran with blood, as the bombardments began again.
Near the capitol, several of the Arkan command are gathered around a small fire in the town square. Commanders of the 64th were discussing politics, strategy, and their options. The grassy green served as the command center during the extremely hot Juno summer day.
Few of the men jumped as another bombardment began across town, Grox fighters were flying overhead, and the stars were beginning to show through the night red sky. Slowly, out of the darkness, an Arka and a Grox approached the fire...
"Sir, I'm telling you, one third through tonights rotation they will launch a third wave!"
"Look, I know you were part of their military for some time, but, either way, we don't have much time. We must regroup, and reorganize."
Suddenly one of the men around the fire stands to attention and yells, "Commander on deck!" Several of the Arka jump to attention and salute.
One steps forward and begins a melancholy attempt to look important.
"Commander Andrew and Major Cortell, welcome to the command center."
Commander Andrew, never breaks stride, passing the man, and giving the order "At ease." Major Cortell, a Grox born immigrant, following suite, joins commander Andrew at a near by table, and begins to continue their previous conversation.
"Sir, I will break this information to you, that isn't a battlegroup up there."
"What do you mean Major?" Andrew snaps back in shock.
"They're not using Battlegroup formations. It's a fleet. On'y about half a battlegroups size, and judging by the frequent fly overs, running low on a supply of men. Which does make our job a bit easier." Cortell returns thoughtfully.
"Well, I guess that does aid to our situation. How many men do you think they have left Cortell? I mean, according to the reports we've took twelve of them to every one of us!" Andrew smirks out uselessly.
"The fly overs are key. They're 'econ missions, the more fly overs, 'he less men. The're looking for a hole to exploit. That 'ay, they can use what little resourses thy 'ave, effectively. My g'ess, about eighteen thousand sir." Cortell allows quite a bit of his accent to slip, causing his red skin to deepen even more with blush.
"We are spread across this whole damn planet, is there any other key area's of resistance to draw upon, any more resources? And by the way, what's the casualty count?" Andrew exclaims trying to grasp the validity of their current situation.
"Sir, out of sixteen thousand in the corps, only six thousand can carry a weapon. Ten thousand two hundred twenty eight dead, two thousand three hundred forty two wounded. But, I got that report an hour ago sir." Cortell adds solemnly.
"But, what about other parts of the resistance?" Andrew retorts. By now the sky had darkened, the six hours of light had passed. Balls of fire rained down from the Grox ships on the city, as the pink moon arose in the dark red sky.
The hue of the night cast a sense of fear among the small camps throughout the city.
"Fort Godall, and Terence Port are the only other cities with an established chain of command that we know of." Cortell confesses, "But, their may be more."
"Inform communications to recall all groups to the capitol. Our men are low on supplies, if we're gonna' fight, let's make it worth it." Andrew begins. Suddenly the bombardment stops, and all the men in the square look up to the Grox ships.
"One third through the rotation, sir." And with that Cortell turns on his heels and walks into the consuming darkness.
The space above Levia Five was etched with battle cruisers, corvettes, battleships, fighters, and bombers, all with the intent to destroy one and another. The entire Arkan line was in retreat, upon the sudden Grox advance. But, the Admiral of the Third Fleet, believe the best way to beat a charge, is with a charge.
Admiral Sintellie was also an old Arka, who had been in many more wars before. He was a master of tactics and strategy, and decided to play the wild card in the first days of the war. On board the deck of the Command Ship, 3SF Luna (Third Star Fleet) Admiral Sintellie was covering all aspects of the battle.
"What the hell? Reinforcements! Captain Smith, pull the ship around! Redeploy the fleet to formation B. And tell the Cruiser's Love and Lest to cross our bow!" Sintellie urges the commands threw the radio channels.
"Sir, we are out numbered this is a slaughter!" Captain Smith exclaims. "We must fall back!"
Blasts and bright light were clearly visible through the view ports of the command bridge, suddenly an on deck officer cries out, "The Decent was just rammed by one of those ships coming out of lightspeed!"
"Damage report on the Decent?" Captain Smith yells out.
"47 percent, they had just enough time to readjust course before the collision."
Suddenly, through the front view port of the bridge a flash of light and flames explode in front of them. "Come in Love, come in Love!" Admiral Sintellie yells out.
Suddenly from one of the side computer's an officer yells out "She was hit by an Ion Cannon sir! She's gone."
Looking up with a new light in his eyes, Sintellie remarks, " All ships, prepare to..." A long pause strafed the radio command channels. " Execute Plan E6." Sintellie then turns to Capitan Smith and retorts, "Why retreat when victory is so, near."
Back on the Gore, Admiral Cortes had just arrived on the bridge. Outside the view port he could see the battle raging. "What happened?" he yells out in disbelief.
"Whenever we came out of warp speed, we collided with a ship, sir!" an officer cries out.
"Where are we!?!" Cortes remarks, unsure about what was going on. His mind was racing, how could they be in a battle!
"Levia Five sir, as you ordered." another officer responds.
Finally gaining a sense of direction, all bet vague, Cortes begins to take in the field of battle. This fleet was half their size, an easy victory for his troops. Cortes knew it, he moved to the command table, and began to methodically plan his strategy.
Meanwhile, in dead space near Levia Five, another snake was laying in the grass. Admiral Sintellie's trump card. The Fifth Fleet was in idle just outside the range of enemy scanners. They would wait for Sintellie's order to enter the battle, then make a grand appearance.
The Fifth fleet was a unsung hero of wars past. The fleet had been paired along with the Third Fleet during the Arkan conquering of the arm. The fleet had been in countless battles, and had numerous victories under its belt. But, the Commander of this fleet was not experienced, and was not even Arkan. The Greep were a small, "cuddly" species that sided with Arkans long ago. Mixing shades of blue, green, and grey, they were an exquisite site to see.
The Commander was Greep, about Two and a half feet tall. His name, Jerry. Few understood the importance, Jerry had of his command. He had earned the respect of his men during the war games, for his cunning and unpredictable nature. And now his high pitched, squeaky voice rang over the loud speakers of his ship, the 5SF Lightening.
"Few of us, remember the hardships of wars past. Or rather, few of us choose to remember. We have been forced to engage an enemy twice our number. And it is because of those who choose to remember, that we will succeed. Because of the values they place before themselves we shall succeed. Because of the courage that they bestow to us, we shall succeed. And because of our ancestry , our heritage, and our fathers fathers before them, the sacrifices that they gave, we shall succeed. Troops, man your battle stations."
And as his men manned their battle stations with a renewed vigor, the war was beginning to look dim for the Arka. The grand council, had retreated from Lunared to Leored. And after mere hours of debate, the council had just one question left to answer; Surrender or fight?
The twelve elected members of the council began a long debate. The council argued back and forth for several parts of the Leored rotation. One Council member to another, a very personal fight. And as the council argued, they realized that every second, had come to matter at this point. The council was in dead lock, no decision could made. So, then the council made a historic move, to pass the decision to the senate.
The Senate consisted of two members from every species in the Arkan Empire. All were elected by their respective species. Kanians from Atleron, Opiums for Pomius, Asters from Jade Black, and many more countless species began yet another debate. Every species was there, even a Grox representative, who chose to remain neutral in the argument.
Some groups, like the Asterons, chose firmly in their belief to fight. While the peaceful Fortens chose to disband their arms and surrender. And the profitable Larion race, drifted back and forth from side to side, looking for the profit. And these were just a few of a countless number of species arguing this large and unclear topic.
And out of these arguments many questions arose; what would happen to them, if they did surrender? How long would they be able to fight? How large was the Grox Empire? Why us? How shall we fight them? Needless to say, many of these questions would remain unanswered.
Finally, tired of all the arguing, the Greep Senator Jalanoss took to the floor. He was shorter than most Greep, only about a foot and a half. And due to his old age, all of his fur was a white grey. Giving the aspect of a ghost. He was a firm believer in the heritage of his species. And his species had proven, even the small can conquer. And as he stepped onto the floor he began his historic speech.
"My fellow Aliancees, a great and horrific event has occurred. We have been invaded by an armada twice our strength, or more. And as we begin to relies the challenge that awaits before us, most will run in fear. Because their enemy is over powering. Each of us here, come from different star systems, with different pasts. But, none of us would be here, if it wasn't for some man, who battled the odds. If it weren't for some man, who lead a small band of brothers on a suicidal mission and over through some tyrannical king."
"So, now, why are we tempted to run instead of fight, to allow our great Alliance to be over thrown as though we never existed? My species is often looked down upon because of our size. We are small, and seen as weak. But, few remember that we, as our small and weak selves, conquered a planet. And then went on to conquer the space beyond."
"And each and every one of you know your history better than I. And you know that there is a man who raced the odds. Who took a chance. Who won the unwinable battle. Who beat the unbeatable foe. And know I am asking you all, to unite our history, and add to that great book another tale!"
Suddenly the room bellowed out. Cheers and hurrays filled the room, Jalanoss had tempted the beast, and he himself, had became victorious. His words would mark the begging of the Inter-Galactic War.
The room began to fill with the sounds of ecstatic men. And in a unified voice that could be heard for numerous blocks around the Leored senate hall, cheered "Fight, Fight, Fight."
The men on Juno 1 had fallen into a lapse of constant work. Two divisions were being moved to the capitol, wounded and dead bodies with them. It was about half way through the rotation, and the men knew an attack was near.