text: The Garavan are warriors who fight for honor. They're not professionals. There's exceptions, of course. I've seen Antimites charging into the fray to defend against boarding parties, I've seen Moogli getting chunks blown out of them as they try to drag injured Probiscans out of there, I've even seen a Chosen topple a Brain Bug tank. I support the Alliance. I do. But the military system is broken."
  
  The Admiral orders two more shots, and looks at you.
  
  "Care to have a toast, General?"
  
  The Bar-Keeper, a Tarn Drone, slides over two shots. You grab one and raise it in the air.
  
  You quickly survey the room. There's an open seat at the dining table. You also notice Probiscan Admiral Yarcal sitting alone at the bar. The Moogli Tactician Doet is enjoying a cigar in the corner. There's a Tarn Drone leaning agaisnt a railing, holding an assault rifle.
  
  > talk to Doet
  You walk over to the Tactician, Doet. She has a massive cigar clenched in her teeth, and wears no clothes, her entire body covered in thick black fur, different from the usual brown fur.
  
  "Greetings, General. Have you tried the cigars? I've heard you're a fan of cigars. I would recommend the Moogli-brand Hearthfire Cigar. They warm your body and put your mind to sleep."
  
  She offers you a cigar, which you glady take. She lights it, and you take a puff.
  
  "So, General. I've heard you're a tactical genius."
  
  "Thank you. I've heard great things about you, too."
  
  "Out of interest, are you an advocate of using good training and equipment to get an elite force, or use mass recruitment to gain a larger army?"
  
  > Gaining a larger army
  "Ah, you follow the Probiscan method. Not my own choice, but I guess it would allow for more soldiers spread out to take more land, though more deaths would worsen morale and mean that the heavy deaths would mean you'd need to commit a larger force to completing objectives. What do you think of using indigenous people as soldiers?"
  
  You walk over to the Tactician, Doet. She has a massive cigar clenched in her teeth, and wears no clothes, her entire body covered in thick black fur, different from the usual brown fur.
  
  "Greetings, General. Have you tried the cigars? I've heard you're a fan of cigars. I would recommend the Moogli-brand Hearthfire Cigar. They warm your body and put your mind to sleep."
  
  She offers you a cigar, which you glady take. She lights it, and you take a puff.
  
  "So, General. I've heard you're a tactical genius."
  
  "Thank you. I've heard great things about you, too."
  
  "Out of interest, are you an advocate of using good training and equipment to get an elite force, or use mass recruitment to gain a larger army?"
  
  > Using an Elite Force
  "Ah, so you've learned from the Alliance's mistakes. The mass death of cheap, badly equipped Probiscan soldiers constantly damages their morale. Elite forces are great for propaganda and allows them to succeed in raiding and striking against enemy lines and complete special ops missions. What do you think of using indigenous people as scouts and soldiers?"
  
  > say "I agree, they know the terrain."
  "I agree. A local unit knows the terrain. Many great armies have been wiped out by terrain. The Coalition invasion of the Bug Catacombs on Rio-6. The Human invasion of old Earth's Russia on multiple occasions. The Sciartt invasion of my homeworld. One must know the terrain to win the war. Well, I hunger. I'm going to go eat. It's been good talking to you. Goodbye."
  
  "Ah, so you've learned from the Alliance's mistakes. The mass death of cheap, badly equipped Probiscan soldiers constantly damages their morale. Elite forces are great for propaganda and allows them to succeed in raiding and striking against enemy lines and complete special ops missions. What do you think of using indigenous people as scouts and soldiers?"
  
  > say "I disagree, they can't be trusted."
  "I can see your point, but isn't knowing the terrain important? Many great armies have been wiped out by terrain. The Coalition invasion of the Bug Catacombs on Rio-6. The Human invasion of old Earth's Russia on multiple occasions. The Sciartt invasion of my homeworld. And not trusting the locals would lead to friction among the soldiers and locals, and perhaps even a Guerilla campaign would start up. Well, I'm going to go eat. It's been good to talk to you. Goodbye."
  
  You quickly survey the room. There's an open seat at the dining table. You also notice Probiscan Admiral Yarcal sitting alone at the bar. The Moogli Tactician Doet is enjoying a cigar in the corner. There's a Tarn Drone leaning agaisnt a railing, holding an assault rifle.
  
  > leave and return to the shuttle
  You finish the night and head back to the shuttle so you can head home. It's been a long night.
  
  > Continue
  Corega-12 is a small chunk of ice floating around a white dwarf star. Though it has little resources and doesn't have a good environment for colonization, it holds a tactical position for attacking multiple trade routes in the space after they leave the worm-holes they mainly travel through to achieve FTL, but before they arrive within distance of planet defenses. Thus, multiple pirate crews have taken hold in the area and set up a base and port in the massive abandoned Scairtt military base situated on the planet. The pirates have began attacking trading fleets, including multiple Coalition-allied fleets. It amuses you that the pirate crews, including Garavan Warriors, Brain Bug Assault Ships and Human pirates, are actually a massive representation of equality among Aliens, this still presents a massive issue. These pirates have began interfering with trading, and it's your choice whether to mobilize and wipe them out.
  
  > wipe out the Pirates
  You decide to mobilize a military strike-force to eliminate the enemy. You send several Leviathan Battleships to blockade the planet and wipe out any ships attempting to leave, and use dropships to deploy several groups onto the planet to capture the base and wipe out all military capabilities of the pirates. The pirates are captured or killed, eliminating the threat. This leaves you with a new issue. The pirates have left behind a massive Scairtt base outfitted to allow for land-based species to survive, as well as having an automated defense system, several anti-space cannons capable of attacking invading spacecraft, a large dock for spacecraft and even has a large cache of surprises, no doubt taken from trading fleets. This would provide the perfect set-up for a Coalition military base to oversee the trade routes. This would require using a base that's been made through the exploitation of Moogli and Garavan Slave labor, provided by the profits of piracy. You could easily just destroy the base to end the piracy and stop any other pirates from taking the area.
  
  > take over the base
  You quickly have the base repaired to full potential and add defenses to protect against the cracks in the defense that you used to capture the base. Coalition forces are posted there and you quickly establish control over the trade route and fighting off several other pirate crews.
  
  > Continue
  The Garavan are a divided species. They are made up of many different tribes, including the Thar'Garavan, the Fai'La Tarrn, a tribe that forsakes ground and air vehicles for tamed animals, the Bian Want, a tribe of Garavan who use cyber enhancements to become Cyborg warriors and the Ton Kailisha. The Ton Kailisha are the tribe that's recently gained your attention. Unlike most Garavan Tribes, they've forsaken the concepts of honor, sacrifice and personal glory for success, survival and the sake of the group. This has led the tribe from becoming closer to soldiers than warrior. The Human military attitude has influenced them greatly, and they've began looking up to humans, even replacing the names of their soldiers from Hunter, Honored Warrior and Supreme Hunter to Private, Sergeant and General. They've taken the nickname Tommies, both in honor of the nickname from the army grunts and for easier pronunciation. The Ton Kailisham, or the Tommies, revere humans so much that other Garavan tribes have began targeting them as traitors to their kind. The Tommies have requested that they're allowed to join the Coalition. Though many Tommies have joined the Coalition through the Immigration Department, which is out of your hands, this is the first time the entire Tribe has requested to join, mostly as soldiers, which would count as a mass recruitment, putting the decision in your hands.
  
  > allow the Tommies to join
  You decide in a situation where war with the Alliance could begin any day, you don't need to start getting rid of allies. Massive amounts of Tommies begin joining, most taking rolls in the military and navy. They quickly adapt to using coalition equipment, and give you a massive boost towards your military capabilities.
  
  > Continue
  You're woken from your sleep by Blaze Goud.
  
  "Sir! We've found an abandoned ship."
  
  "What do I care? Send a Salvage Crew aboard to take what we can, and leave me to my sleep."
  
  "The Ship is of Ancient origins."
  
  You rise slowly out of bed, and quickly shower and get dressed. You make your way to the Command Bridge, where dozens of officers stand by scanners and monitors.
  
  "What do we know?" You ask, as Blaze lights your ever-present cigar.
  
  "Scans have revealed no signs of life, though their could be abandoned security systems still active." One of the officers says. "Should we send a team on board to investigate?"
  
  > send a team
  You decide to send a team onboard. You watch on a monitor as a Boarding Ship departs, and makes it's way to an airlock on the ship. The Monitor's feed is replaced by feed from a camera mounted in one of the boarding party's helmet mounted cameras. You watch as a group of men and women slowly make their way aboard. The ship's hallways are dark, lit only by a dim flashlight beam. You watch as the group slowly makes their way down the hallways, checking every room and doorway slowly. A man walks slowly into a massive room. Massive racks fill the room, holding curled up humanoid machines. You watch intently as a soldier investigates one of the machines. It's the size and shape of an adult human male, and looks eerily similar to humans, with two eyes and five fingers on each hand.
  
  "Keep searching. I want a team of egg heads and scientists on board to investigate."
  
  > continue monitoring the situation
  You continue watching as the boarding party continues searching the ship, finding tens of thousands of the machines. Eventually, you give clearance to a team of scientists and technicians to go aboard and begin investigating. After a few hours, the Head Scientist finds you and begins his report.
  
  "General Achilles, we've discovered the purpose of the machines. They're clearly of Ancient Design, but they were made to be part of the Remnants. They were designed to police Earth after the main Remnants force captured it. Officially, we need to give this ship over to the Remnants. Officially, this ship's full of their... people, and we need to give it back."
  
  "And unofficially?"
  
  "Unofficially, given time and equipment we could do a lot of good with these. We could further the defense drone project, we could improve military exo suits, we could do a hell of a lot, sir. But of course, it's your choice.
  
  > give it to the Scientists
  You decide it's best for humanity's interest to keep the machines. The Head Scientist nods and lets out a small smile.
  
  Over the next few weeks, the scientists make great progress. The machines are used to develop a new exo-suit that can be used by marines, the weaponry is used to design a new Human Rifle. Every small aspect of the machines are used to advance science and technology.
  
  > Continue...
  You sit in the Council Room, a massive room used to kept the Twelve Council members who lead humanity and the fleet. To your right is Mistress Chang, to your left is Jaric Gray. You're meeting to discuss recent rebellions among the Mundar Dwellers, an alien race of miners in the Alliance. Still, not all of the Council Members have arrived, so you decide to talk to one of your fellow Council Members.
  
  > talk to Jaric
  You turn to Jaric, a dwarf of Jamaican heritage. Jaric was raised in a religious community that was anti-Genetic Engineering, leading to Jaric being born with dwarfism. Due to his charismatic attitude, he quickly became a population with the support of the religious communities, and became the Council Member in charge of Human Colonies.
  
  "General Achilles! How are you? I heard you were attacked by pirates. Thank God you're alright!"
  
  "I survived the Thar'Garavan, I can survive against some pirates. How are the colonies?"
  
  "Ah, the Colonies. I've been trying to negotiate getting the Human Colonies turned into Coalition Colonies, shared by us, the Remnants, the Clones and the Chosen. But it doesn't go well."
  
  Jaric pauses, and points to the last of the Council Members to arrive.
  
  "There's Augustus Cabana, commonly known as the Half-Breed. Cabana's mom was infected by an alien parasite, which mutated so rapidly that it gained the ability to get her pregnant. Despite what every bit of science we know says, Cabana survived and grew up. He's the only product of interplanetary breeding among sentient beings known to humanity, and only one of two products of interplanetary breeding of anything, the other being the Red Tortoises."
  
  You look at Cabana. He has cracked, sickly green skin, lips curled up to the point you can see his constantly bleeding gums, a series of sharp, carnivorous teeth and an unnaturally skinny frame. Despite all expectations, Cabana survived his birth, and even became a politician. Cabana notices you staring and smiles, a horrific expression as his gums let out a fresh wave of blood and his skin crinkles and cracks in some places, allowing mucus to ooze out from the cracks. You return the smile.
  
  > Continue
  Cabana makes his way to the center of the room, where a stand has been prepared for him. He gives everyone a godawful, abomination of a smile.
  
  "Members of the Council. The Mundar Dwellers have appealed to us to help them in their civil war. The Mundar Dwellers, to those of you who don't know, are in civil war. While the majority are staying loyal to the Alliance, a group has decided to attempt to leave, and join the Coalition. This turned into a debate, which turned into riots, which turned into a full on civil war. Now is our chance to strike a blow against the Alliance, while gaining a new ally! I propose we give supplies to the rebels and send some light ships to help. Though many have suggested we send our full forces, I believe this would be seen by the Alliance as an act of war, and escalate a full scale war. My main argument is towards General Achilles.He's the leader of the military, and military support is what the Mundar People need. General, we need military support. If we leave these people to fend for themselves, we're condemning them to death. That's something we can't do. They've asked for humanity's help. They've asked for the Coalition's help. Are we strong enough to give it to them?"
  
  You sit there, mulling over the idea. You had many options. You could, of course, leave the Mundar People. There's no real reason to waste human, or Coalition, lives on helping some dirt-digging Alliance members, even if they're rebelling.
  
  Then again, you could do as Cabana wants, and provide support to the rebels. You wouldn't need to commit many men. Give the Mundar some supplies, such as weapons, ammo, food, medicine and equipment, which would help turn the tide of the battle for the rebels. Send some Falcon bombers to damage the loyalist's war efforts. A couple of Special Forces units to eliminate enemy objectives, maybe. That could help the rebels substantially, without incurring the wrath of the Alliance.
  
  Finally, you could fully commit, and launch a full-scale war against the Loyalist Mundar Dwellers. This isn't the time for weak moves done in fear of Alliance Retribution. This is the time for action.
  
  > Full-Scale War
  This is the time for strength. The Council Members seem unsure, but you've never been more sure of anything in your life. Within a week, the Alliance Navy and Army begin landing on Mundar Dweller planets to assist the rebels. The loyalists are quickly forced out, which prompts the Alliance to respond in kind. In only a few weeks, the situation has turned to full scale war with the Alliance, as well as the Mundar Dwellers.
  
  > Continue
  War's broken out. Coalition Ships begin engaging Alliance vessels, and Alliance and Coalition troops begin fighting planet side. There's two cases that interested you and gave you an idea. A Alliance Warship was destroyed by pro-Coalition pirates, and a Prison Colony was invaded by Alliance Soldiers, but the invasion was repelled by the prisoners. This gave you an idea. These Pirates and Prisoners could be recruited as a penal force, to fight back against the Alliance and giving you a fresh wave of reinforcements to join the war. Of course, it would involve pardoning and reducing the sentences of many terrible criminals.
  
  > do it
  You need the extra forces, and maybe you might even redeem a few lives. The Prisoners and Pirates quickly reinforce your main force and begin fighting against the Alliance with extreme efficiency, though there is a sharp increase in the amount of war crimes being committed.
  
  > Continue
  It's time to see the war council that's being formed with you at the head. You walk into the War Room of the Leviathan Battleship named the Hellstorm. Sitting, or floating, at far left is a small metal drone with a single blue eye. It introduces itself.
  
  "Hello, General. I am Admiral Kane-44. I am head of the Coalition Star Navy. Of course, this is only a small part of my body to help me interact. I am actually a massive warship floating a great distance away. It's a pleasure to meet you."
  
  Next is a grey haired, elderly Clone who quickly rises and shakes your hand.
  
  "Commando Griffin-Tango, Sir. I'm in charge of Coalition special forces, Sir."
  
  Next is Tarn, or a Tarn Drone.
  
  "Hello again, General. I am a Military Advisor, due to my countless years of experiance."
  
  Next is a large Chosen, who stares at you.
  
  "I am Kayn the Lesser. I am in charge of the Medics."
  
  Next is a Human with a balding head and a wrinkled, scarred face.
  
  "Greetings, General. I am General Farley, head of the Coalition Army. The grunt army, rather than all Coalition Armed Forces, which is, of course, your position."
  
  Next is a massive Remnant Soldier, painted dark red and black.
  
  "I am Delta-1, General. I'm head of the Marines. I can't wait to kill some xenos."
  
  Next is another Human, a tall, slender, black-haired man smoking a cigarette.
  
  "I'm General Maximov, of the Air Force."
  
  Finally, there's another Clone.
  
  "I'm Admiral Kevin-Tango, Sir, of the sea-based Navy."
  
  These are you lieutenants and the heads of the Coalition Military under you. You're ready to do some work, but that starts tommorow. For now, you need to head to bed. You excuse yourself and walk off.
  
  > Continue
  You lie in bed, listening to your wife snore softly. You get up and walk over to the kitchen, where you find an opened bottle of scotch and poor yourself a glass. You take a sip, and take a seat in your armchair. Just as you begin to relax, you hear a burst of gunfire from the door. You grab the pistol that you keep and the nightstand and quickly load it. Bullets fly through the door, and you dive towards the ground. The door is kicked open, and Blaze Goud and Connor Murphy, your two bodyguards, fall through the doorway, dead. Two Probiscan Commandos enter the doorway, followed by a Creator, a Moogli Black Heart and a Garavan Hunter from a tribe you don't recognize by the Garavan's tattoos.
  
  "Come out, General. We'll let you live if you surrender."
  
  They start searching the room, and you realize you only have a few seconds to react. You need to strike now, or surrender.
  
  > strike now
  You stand up and fire your pistol. Two Probiscan heads explode, and bullets deflect off the Creator's armor. You roll to avoid bullets, and you aim you pistol and take another shot, downing the Black-Heart. Your wife manages to rush to the living room and grab the antique Luger pistol you keep in a small chest. She fires at the Creator, distracting him enough for you to land the killing the Creator. The Hunter takes advantage of this, and charges at you with a Garavan Hunting Sword. You turn to fire on him, but he dodges and swings his blade. The blade travels through the air and in one quick movement, severs your arm from your body. Blood begins soaking through your clothes, and you collapse onto the ground.
  
  > Continue
  You awaken. You're lying in a bed, wearing a hospital gown. Your wife stands at the side of the bed, watching you.
  
  "Oh thank God! You're awake. I've been so worried."
  
  "What happened?" You ask, groggily.
  
  "We were attacked by a group of Alliance assassins. A Garavan managed to attack you with a blade and... Well..."
  
  You turn to see the damage the hunter did to your arm, and panic quickly. Where you arm once was is now only a fleshy stump.
  
  "The doctors didn't manage to save your arm. I'm so sorry, dear."
  
  You try to stay strong, and your wife updates you on the situation with the Alliance. You've only been unconscious for three days, but a lot has happened. Operation Snake-Kill was an Alliance operation to kill you and get rid of the head of the Alliance Military. A famed Moogli Assassin, a Garavan Mercenary, two Probiscan Commando's and a Creator Veteran were tasked to assassinate you. A costly diversion attack took place, and the assassins managed to sneak on through unknown means, which the Fleet Defense Force is struggling to find.
  
  "What happened to the Garavan?" You ask.
  
  "I shot him. I'm sorry I didn't do it quickly enough to save your arm."
  
  "You saved my life. I love you."
  
  "I love y..." She begins.
  
  Cabana bursts in the door.
  
  "Hey, Achilles! I heard you were awake! Jesus, you look bad. Better than I do even at my best, but you still look pretty bad."
  
  Cabana flashes his trademark cheesy, yet terrifying grin, as his skin cracks releasing a fresh wave of blood, which Cabana dabs with a napkin.
  
  "Sorry 'bout that. Well, I'm sorry to say this, Mrs Achilles. But I'm here to discuss urgent war matters with your husband, and you're not of high enough clearance to hear it."
  
  "She's staying, Cabana. There's never been an issue with her hearing before." You growl.
  
  Cabana frowns.
  
  "We've had to increase security among everyone. We've found the way the assassin's got in. They were assisted by a spy. The only people with enough clearance to smuggle them on board would be Council Members, or their close family. Not that I'm accusing anyone, I just have rules and regulations to follow."
  
  Your wife smiles.
  
  "It's OK. I'll leave. I love you, Achilles."
  
  "I love you too."
  
  Your wife quickly leaves the room. Cabana scratches his head, and several bloody hairs fall out.
  
  "What is it, Cabana?" You ask. "I'm tired."
  
  "We've had some issues arise in your absence. The Council Members have become suspicious and paranoid. They've all hired much more security, and we've lost all trust. On the bright note, Maximov has promised to give you a new robotic arm, the latest model. You'll be a cyborg. We've aso had to remove most of your stomach and intestines, so you neither need, or are able, to eat again."
  
  You bolt upright, but Cabana only laughs.
  
  "Relax. I'm joking. About the stomach and eating, you'll still be getting an arm. I thought a bit of humour would cheer you up, because I have some more depressing news. A lot of bad stuff has happened."
  
  You sigh.
  
  "I'm gone for three days, and everything's screwed over?"
  
  Cabana shrugged.
  
  "If you want to here pointless, feel-good stories, read a tabloid or some other crap. I heard a Remnants Razor-Hawk rescued a group of puppies from behind Alliance lines. A famous Thar'Garavan warrior fell in love and ran off with a Clone Commando. The Moogli singer Haggart said in an interview that she wants peace between the Alliance and Coalition. The..."
  
  "Alright. Shut up, I'm sick of feel-good stories. What's the bad news?"
  
  "We've had a lot of attacks. The Thar'Garavan have increased their amounts of raids, the Alliance has begun increasing in their assaults against our territories. We've also had a several hits on colonies, bases and small fleets."
  
  "By who?"
  
  "We don't know. We know the attacks came from the direction opposite to Alliance and Thar'Garavan territory. There's rumor that the traitor among us used private forces to do so, but I doubt that."
  
  "Cabana, it's been three days. How could so much go wrong in three days?"
  
  "How? I don't know. But you really need get back to work soon."
  
  > Continue
  Your "arm" closes around the door handle and you yank it open, entering your office. You take a look at the cyborg arm that comes from your shoulder, a sleek metal device that allows you to do nearly everything that you used to. You quickly make your way to the desk, and look at the newest file of many of a new situation that you have to deal with, about a planet where the Coalition forces requested military guidance to eliminate an Alliance-allied Garavan Tribe.
  
  The Fai'La Tarrn, a Garavan tribe that's forsaken military vehicles for tamed animals, has become a massive part of the Alliance defense of Ignit-1, a small planet with suitable conditions for colonization or farmland. The Fai'La Tarrn makes up a large defense, using mobile units to attack and harass Coalition forces to prevent them from quickly ceasing the planet. These raids are fast and ruthless, damaging your forces but avoiding heavy losses for the Fai'La Tarrn by avoiding the heavy battles your soldiers are best at, with only the Battle of the Cracked Canyon taking place, which led to a massacre for Fai'La Tarrn forces. This convinces you that you need to draw the Tribe into open conflict. You have several options to do so.
  
  A massive attack could be used to deliver deadly gases to the surface that would devastate the Tribe's organic mounts that they favor while your own troops could be given gas masks to survive, though this would result in massive amounts of damage to the local wildlife and environment.
  
  Another option is using a mechanized assault