By UNS Eagle GM until July 13th (Forgotten) on Sunday, July 14, 2002 - 04:10 am:

It didn't take long for the battle cruisers to figure out what was happening. They had come to buy nuclear grade weapons from rebel smugglers, and the sight of a UN Spacy Stealth Frigate told them that they weren't going to get them without a fight.

"They've powered their shields and weapons systems, Sir!" Captain Hudson took the news calmly, beginning to immediately issue orders that spread throughout the ship like wildfire. His mind whirred with the facts. They were outnumbered, plain and simple, and there was very little he could do when faced head on with the numbers. Attacking would be futile and hiding in the asteroids would be suicidal; there were still unknown forces hiding in the rocks. His only hope was evasive maneuvers and tactical retreat.

"Hawks, Mithril, return to your hangars immediately."

"Black R.A.I.N., stand down and prepare for fold."

"Ghost Squadron, return on the double!"

Having secured the cargo and the prisoners, the Marines heard the orders filter through their personal transceivers. Locking down the cargo and the crew of the shuttle, they stood ready for the fold procedures about to commence. The prisoners were kneeling down on the floor of the hangar, their legs crossed and their hands held on top of their heads. The Marines stared down in cold disdain, their muzzles trained on enemy heads as their fingers rode the hairline triggers. Their job now was to watch and wait.

Meanwhile, the Hawks and Mithril Force began their retreat to the hangars, slipping cleanly and efficiently into the safe haven of the UNS Eagle. More than a few of the pilots cast hurried and nervous glances over their shoulder, wondering if they would make it to safety before the guns began to blaze.

The Ghosts returned in short order, flying at top speed to return to the Eagle before the festivities began. They would be the last to return.

Seconds had passed on the bridge. Precious seconds that slipped away with each tock of the analog clock above the door to the bridge. Captain Hudson waited in anxious anticipation, knowing that every moment counted. Even now, the computers were calculating the first and most important fold which would clear them from the field of danger. Hudson stared at the overhead projections, watching the micro-seconds tick by in slow motion. Just a little bit more... And then it was over.

The Eagle didn't stand a chance.

Laser batteries unfolded, pouring out barrages of light that spattered and melted the Eagle's armor. Wave after wave of missiles poured forth from the battle cruisers, a veritable wall of explosives. The return fire from both the Eagle and the Corsair were pitiful in comparison, doing nothing more than disabling one small ship and scoring the armor of another. Battered and shredded by the beams of energy that lanced through darkness of space, both the Eagle and the Corsair initiated the first fold.

And things went horribly wrong. Again.

Jarred by the impact and flames, the fold computers shorted and never completed the entire fold. Rather than jumping to safety, both ships folded into the field of fire, and wave after wave of missiles slammed into the hull of the Eagle. The Corsair, set adrift by a malfunctioning engine, slammed head on into the Eagle's flank, shredding the personnel decks as it forever merged into the heart of the Eagle.

A spark flickered across a circuit board, triggering one last fold.

For a second, the world paused. Pilots and grease monkeys lay sprawled across the hangar, bleeding and broken. Marines were knocked to the floor, their guns erupting in a spray that hammered the ceiling. In the hallways, scurrying officers stood frozen, staring in wide-eyed horror as the ceiling collapsed upon them. It was a second of fear, horror, despair, pain, and suffering. And then the Eagle winked out of existence.

By UNS Eagle Head GM (Foreman) on Monday, July 22, 2002 - 05:20 am:

Be not afraid of greatness: some men are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them.
-William Shakespeare, 'Twelfth Night'

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bridge Bunnies have been and forever will be ridiculed, stereotyped, and terrorized by pilots, the public, even their own command staff. Their gentle spirits have been and will be dominated, even destroyed by the bravado and blustering of overzealous and oft times horny top guns. Proud Captains and Commanders have and will tend to their own self-inflated egos rather than offer up any thanks or compliment for years of unwavering loyalty and self sacrifice. All anyone has seen and will see is a beautiful, empty-headed toy.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“That’s it Sir! Everyone’s in!”

“Initiate fold.”

Captain Hudson stood stock still, much akin to the way an aged oak stands alone at the crest of a hill, defying the heavens and its fury on a wet, stormy day. For centuries it stood against the elements: hail, snow, rain, wind. Nothing could overcome the tree. Hail would mar its surface; break its branches, but the trunk stood firm. The wind would carry away the oak’s leaves and rend its limbs, but it was all for naught. The mighty oak would only grow back stronger than before. Snow would blanket the oak, weigh it down, sneak its icy grip deep into the tree, but the heart would beat on, lending strength and warmth to continue its defiance.

The storm was different this time. The elements were more confident that ever before. Instead of attempting to uproot or drown, the wind and rain caressed and sprinkled. A contented sigh lovingly embraced the oak, and tears fell from above.

The wizened oak waited.

Lightning struck; and with it, the fully fury and hatred of the storm.

Missile after missile rocketed into the hull of the Eagle. Laser batteries rained down their deadly cascade, melting the armor of the Stealth Frigate. The Eagle winked out, then back into the full fury of the storm.

Hail and wind and rain and sleet. Bludgeoning and ripping and melting and collapsing.

Anti-Ship missiles did their job as puncture after puncture forever scarred and maimed. The loss of pressure and numerous hull breaches were to massive to contain as those who were not instantly destroyed were sucked out into the void of space as leaves carried away by a bitter, relentless autumn wind. The armor of the Eagle was quickly stripped away as energy blast after energy blast poured down in a monsoon of light, stripping away the bark and exposing the soft pulp of the Eagle.

Lightning struck again. This time striking the young birch. Being no match for the storm, it quickly succumbed, toppling headlong into the weakened oak.

The massive oak shuddered, and gave in to the unyielding torrent. Leaves were torn from the oak’s clutches as its strength finally gave out.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Time had seemingly frozen, stopping all action, if only for the blink of an eye.

A surge in the fold system had caused the Eagle to blink out of existence before the final volleys of the assault could obliterate any remnant of the Eagle and Corsair.

On the bridge of the Eagle, frozen chaos reigned. The body of Ensign Heines slumped silently over his destroyed terminal. Third degree burns had consumed the entire left half of his body, melting it away into an indistinguishable mess of flesh and skin.

Reina Kuramitsu, the civilian Council Designate, was frozen in a huddled position towards the back of the bridge. She wore a mask of pure, unbridled terror upon her otherwise lovely face. Sparks from the paneling behind her sat patiently for time to resume so they could shower Reina in an incandescent glow of molten plastics. With time stopped momentarily, Reina seemed almost an angel with her own personal aura.

Leaning down to assist the Designate was Colonel Colin Craig. With slight burns across his face and body, he stood frozen in a half stooped position. His uniform was ragged, as were most of those of the bridge officers. He wore a look of grim determination, but deep inside was a sense of panic. He understood what was happening and had almost come to the point of accepting his fate.

Lt. Commander David Weiser of the SSF was the worst of the bridge crew. He was suspended in mid air and in the process of being thrown back from an exploding terminal on the far wall by the lift. His hands were raised to shield his face, but nothing could prevent the heat from causing his skin to bubble and peel away from the bone.

Jenny Clark suffered little as she lay silently against the far wall. A look of calm on her plain features and the far off look in her eyes indicated that she wasn’t gone yet, but would be soon.

Most surprising however, was the fate of Captain Hudson. Surprisingly, he was caught in the process of what looked like shoving Commander Dax. The Captain’s two arms were outstretched and the Commander was frozen in the middle of stumbling back into the open door of the lift. There was no bad blood between the two officers, and neither was the type to lose it and just start fighting at the end of things. So then why?

Everyone and everything lurched forward. Time had started with a bang, literally. The bridge was engulfed in an enormous fireball. Captain Hudson had sensed its coming and had shoved Commander Dax into the lift. The doors sealed just as the heat wave and then the actual flames consumed the Captain in rapid succession. He didn’t even have time to scream as all the air was ripped from his lungs to feed the hungry flames.

Everyone on the bridge was consumed. No one of any import survived. No one survived that could do anything that would matter. The only one that had managed to escape the flames was the crimson haired bridge bunny: Bryan Hutchinson

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Eagle wasn’t destroyed. She defolded somewhere in the middle of some galaxy. She was hurt. She wasn’t taking any more fire, but she was breaking up. Her internal structure, as advanced as the design is, was beginning to fail. The ship was bleeding to death as deck after deck systematically lost power, which was then followed by depressurization and a quick ride into deep space. It would only be a matter of moments before the entire ship and crew were lost.

Thankfully, that would not be the fate of the Eagle. Long ago, her partner, the Aerie had suffered a similar fate. They assumed to this day that she is a floating sarcophagus in deep space. The Eagle wasn’t that lucky. She was caught in the gravitational pull of a planet.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On the Bridge, the soft sound of muffled weeping could be heard. Tear-stained cheeks burned hotly from the heat. She was all alone. There was nothing she could do anymore. Bryan could only wait for death. It wouldn’t be long. In a few moments the Eagle would enter the planet’s atmosphere and begin to burn up. With all the damage to the hull, there would be no way anyone could possibly survive reentry. The ship would disintegrate and it would be all over.

Deep inside, something stirred. Without even thinking, the seemingly mentally misplaced Bridge Bunny was acting. Fingers flew across her terminal; rerouting power where needed, sealing off decks, bypassing systems. It was all a blur as she methodically prepped the mortally wounded starship for a crash landing.

The heat continued to rise as the Eagle made contact with the outer atmosphere. The angle of entry was perfect. The temperature continued to rise and sweat poured down her back and formed a thin sheen across her forehead. The heat continued to rise. Bryan felt like she was being baked alive. Chunks of the Eagle broke away and were quickly consumed due to the intense friction. The main body however, was holding up and would surprisingly make the reentry without totally disintegrating. Forcing down the panic that continually threatened to overcome her, Bryan even used the last of the power to slow their descent and set up some sort of landing. The Eagle was headed towards a large body of water; a lake of sorts, if any of the extremely limited scans could be trusted. The heat abated as the Eagle broke through the upper atmosphere and plummeted to the earth below.

With nothing left to do but wait, she sat back and waited for the end. Deep down she knew there was no hope of saving herself, but she took solace in the fact that she had done her best to save what little of the crew remained. Hopefully her death wouldn’t be in vain.

The Bridge Bunny sat back, content. Taking a deep shuddering breath, she shed one last tear and waited. Bryan didn’t feel a thing as she was thrown through the front wall when the Eagle crashed right into the heart of the lake.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Life isn’t fair. If it were, each and every crewmember aboard the Eagle would bear witness to the heroism of Bryan Hutchinson.

It has been said that the difference between a hero and a legend is notoriety. A legend is nothing more than a hero who has lived to have their story passed on.

Resting upon the soaked and freezing ground lay the entwined forms of the oak trees, both young and old. Naked branches extended to the sky like hands in supplication. Only after careful inspection could one see a single, dead leaf hold fast to its branch, defying the elements even beyond the grave, proving its greatness for all eternity.