Discovery Gaming Community

---Incoming Transmission---
---Max DeVirgo, Guildmaster---
---Alabama Shipyard, Omega-56---

TO: All BHG Guildmasters

(The sound of a sigh is heard as this voice only transmission begins.)

I'm calm. Really...

Otherwise I think there would be someone out there bringing a head - or two - back to me in a box.

To say that I'm disappointed is somewhat of an understatement. To say that we as the Guild are now somewhere up a small stream of fecal in a thin wooden convenience without a handheld means of propulsion is probably closer to the truth of the situation.

I came here to Alabama so that I could be on-hand to greet our victorious troops as they returned for repairs, replenishment, and yes, to supervise and watch as our scientists studied that materials that we were to bring here after the successful completion of our combat operations. This ... operation ... was to be the culmination of years of work by our brave men and women. We have those operating in House space to help provide us with a useful cover for our REAL work. Our support team of shipbuilders, weapons designers, and transportation workers who have toiled to build and now upgrade our facilities so close to the home of the Nomads. Our financial and material supporters in ALL of the Houses, who were counting upon us to provide both substantial return on their investments as well as new technological breakthroughs. Even one of our own, a member of the Guildmaster Council, enlisted as a volunteer to serve as a liason between us and those who technology we need. Lastly, our brave men and women of the our Armed Core, who as our right hand have fought ceaselessly, courageously, and valiantly always to fulfill our destiny.

Instead, what do I find?

Two badly damaged battlecruisers, a destroyer, a smattering of fighters, bombers, and gunboats.

(Anger can be heard in DeVirgo's voice.)

Three thousand of the finest assault troops in Sirius - dead! THIRTY Battleships destroyed! Forty-two battlecruisers - DESTROYED! Fifty SIX destroyers - Three hundred bombers, fighters, and gunboats - DESTROYED!

(There is a loud slam of a hand hitting a table.)

We had WON! What in the name of all that is HOLY happened out there?

ALL GUILDMASTERS ... no exceptions, every last one of you ... are summoned NOW to Capetown. We must have council. Leave your deputies or other administrators in charge of your current operations and get back here, NOW!

To paraphrase ancient Terran history - Varus, where are my FLEETS?

(The transmission abruptly ends)

:: Incoming Transmission ::



message begins:

I got the call DeVirgo. I am on my way to Capetown.

I got some scarce reports about the debacle in Minor. Don't tell me that all the backstage work I did, all the money I accumulated and all the recources I sent your way were blown to hell. Mi dios, what the hell have you hombres been doing out there? I was told it would be an absolute victory. I was promised hybrid weaponry for my hunters and inovative ship technology. And what do I get? A crushing defeat and a request for more dinero?!

Oh, I will attend the council allright. And someone is going to explain to me where my money has gone.

*Cracker disappears off screen*

* the sound of someone rumaging through a chest can be heard*

'Laura! I'm off to 56. It's an even bigger lio than I feared.'

'...'


'Si, si. The baseball bat is required. You take care of things here, entendido?

*the signal is cut*