Chronicles are an important thing. They tell us stories from the past. Things that have happened in the past. And we have to learn from these events, otherwise we are doomed to repeat them. The chronicles of SIDUS BELLA are therefore also important, because they tell us about a great galactic war. It was a shame when the alien forces disconnected from the Chronicle database. We were able to restore it. The connection is there, but the battle is far from over.
A fight is never a cause for joy. When it comes to war, it means that all logical arguments have failed. It shouldn’t get that far. We didn’t want this fight. But the Praetor Scurra and his armies force us to do so. From Cybernia we lead the resistance against the fighters who keep trying to take the area of Azerim. The fight is far from over. And not all allies are liberated yet. Only then will we be able to act with power. But we won a stage – we struck down one of the bosses.
It’s still incredibly exhausting. We managed to get the CHEZ FRASHOKERETI department up and running again, but not completely. The fight against the enemy is difficult. That wears people down. It’s like a jigsaw puzzle with too many pieces. And then there is always the fear that an action will not work. We don’t know what the enemy is planning next. Will he close our channels again? Stop communication? Recharge the Ift? I dont know. But at least the department is back. Everything else has to be shown.
Report on CANALIS TREMENDUM COLLABORATION, reported by Dozon Rasun
It was exhausting. Hard. But we did it. At this point I can announce that the CANALIS TREMENDUM COLLABORATION is running again. A detailed report will follow. Perhaps. Maybe not. The important thing is: we are back!
Reported by Jena Leyre, Officer of the USS BOURGOGNE
Tired. I am tired. The fight is exhausting and I have no idea whether it’s even worth fighting. The Ift gives us big problems, but now we have also been able to reconnect the artistic department CLEF, PEN AND BRUSH to the communication. What are we actually doing here? The Praetor of Lokubani is getting lost in omnipotence fantasies and the future looks really bleak. Perhaps it is all the more important that art stay alive in these times. And I hope we can do our little bit to help.
Report by Lieutenant Commander Emile Lecreux, Chief Science Officer of the USS BOURGOGNE and Professor Ostap Yefimov, Curator of the ASTROCOHORS ACADEMY
The operations of the ASTROCOHORS Academy were also affected during the attacks by the Foreign Power and the activation of the Ift. Professor Yefimov and I are still trying to make the lesson possible. In the current circumstances, however, that is extremely difficult. Part is already up and running again, we don’t know when we will have finished the task. Until then, the academy continues with reduced capacity.
Reporting: Pierre Bourdain, Head of Diplomatics, USS BOURGOGNE
We had the task of getting the ASTROCOHORS CLUB embassy going again. In the course of the attack by the unknown enemy, various communication channels were affected. I want to make it clear here what part my team had in the whole matter, so that we can now announce that everything is as it was before. The members of my team that I would like to highlight in particular are:
Lieutenant Commander Harry Trost looked around. That had just gone well again. But there would have been a catastrophe by a hair’s breadth. Trost stood on the wreckage of his shuttle. The shuttle should have taken him to a secret meeting. Nothing will come of it now. Well.
He looked strange with the shorts and white shirt. But actually he should have been incognito. The meeting. Yes. That was the mistake the BOURGOGNE officers had made. You shouldn’t have gotten into it. Indeed, after all the difficulties, it sounded like a gift that the crew of a fast cruiser of the Praetor Scurra’s army wanted to defer to ASTROCOHORS. The people at BOURGOGNE accepted it. Harry scratched his head. How did this Latin saying go? “Timeo danae, et dona ferentes”, or something. Beware of the Danaers, even if they bring presents. With these words Laocoon, the high priest of the city of Troy, is said to have warned the Trojans about the wooden horse that the Greeks had left behind after their apparent escape. The Trojans did not listen to him and needed the wooden horse to go to their city. And that night Odysseus and his companions, who had hidden in the horse, came out and Troy was conquered. That was how it was for BOURGOGNE. They wanted success so badly that they became carefree. As a result, they were ambushed by the Lokubami. Trost pulled out his communicator. He heard white noise on the radio. Yes, that’s what he thought. The ift was active again. Communication was disrupted. Although Scurra seemed to be losing the support of his people, he carried out his plan steadfastly. “Lieutenant Commander Trost,” came a voice suddenly over the radio. “Can you hear me?” Trost was excited. “Yes, yes!” He called out loud. “I hear you! BOURGOGNE, are you all right?” “Not everything,” was the answer. “We suffered severe damage. There was a widespread attack, including on ASTROCOHORS’ communications systems. We have to try to fix that. How is your shuttle in condition, Commander?” “Shuttle down,” replied Trost. “I cannot start.” “Got it. Stay where you are, we’ll send someone to pick you up. And then we have to take care of communication.”
They were called the volcano men. An entire tribe that lived on the vast expanses of Mercury, the planet closest to the sun. Due to the proximity to the sun, it was extremely warm there. As if that weren’t enough, there were also vast volcanic landscapes. This tribe of volcano men lived in the volcanic landscape called Dolorem Whenua. They lived in adoration of the great volcano, which they considered to be their ancestor. It was no wonder, because the volcano men’s skin was crusty and wrinkled and the hue of lava that had just come to a standstill. A hue that is difficult to describe, somewhere between brown and black. That they were the descendants of the volcano was, of course, deeply superstitious.
The skin of these beings was not so strange because they were descendants of the volcano, but because they lived so close to the sun. They were adapted for that. Other visitors to the planet have always struggled with the heat. They didn’t. And the heat was particularly bad in the Dolorem Whenua area. The big volcano was actually always active. But something was different, and had been for some time. Now there was something else. The oldest of the volcano men had noticed it first. Then everyone noticed. And they knew that all of this was a great danger. But instead of reacting irrationally, the behavior of these beings was very prudent. If someone had been able to observe it from the outside, it would have been a welcome change from the chaos that was sweeping through the solar system. The effects of this prudence were noticed on the BOURGOGNE when it received a message. It was an image transmission. One saw one of the volcano men who was severely marked by a strange disease. He said the following words: “This is a message to the peoples of the solar system and a warning! We had a visit from a stranger who brought a disease. The disease that is spreading among our people is wiping out one by one. I am the last of my kind and was designed to carry the message outwards. Because the stranger has left again and as we heard there are others who are infected. This disease is dangerous and you have to arm yourself! That’s why we are under stayed with us in order not to spread this virus unnecessarily. We can no longer be helped. But you can help yourself! This is a message to the peoples of the solar system from the volcano men. We bid you goodbye! “ You could see how the man barely had the strength to turn off the transmission. But he did it. On the bridge of the BOURGOGNE, Commander Pellton and Doctor Bonnard had seen the message. Both were shocked. “What do you do with it, Doctor?” Asked Pellton. “Hmm,” Bonnard muttered. “The changes in the skin … the other symptoms I could see … I don’t know if I’m leaning a little far out the window, but this looks like a mutation in the virus that somehow escaped from Earth . “ “I need that a little more precisely,” insisted Pellton. “Just imagine: They could have gone to the next village and spread the disease on Mercury. But they decided to protect the others and not to do that. Even if that meant that their whole tribe would die would.” Pellton shook his head. “They made the ultimate sacrifice. We must honor that. What can we do, Doctor?” “We’d have to go there,” Bonnard replied, “and visit the volcano men’s village with a special team. Take samples. And then see if we can isolate the virus.” “I’ll talk to the captain. But I think we’ll do just that. In the meantime …” “Commander!” Pellton was interrupted. The call came from an officer at the navigation console. “What is it?” Asked the commander. “We have just received another message from Mercury. An emergency team has gone to the village. According to reports, they are on their way without infection control.” “WHAT?” Bonnard got loud. “How can that be?” “I’m only reproducing what I hear here! The team left spontaneously and didn’t discuss anything with anyone.” “Set a course for Mercury,” Pellton ordered. “I think my conversation with Captain Haddock will be rather short. Prepare everything so that we can fly off immediately as soon as the captain is okay with me. Let’s hope that we can get there in time.” “Your word in the ears of the Flying Spaghetti Monster,” said Bonnard.
Captain Haddock stood there trying to grasp things. That wasn’t the real purpose of this stay. But it came to that. The last few days had been a real tour de force. Haddock couldn’t believe what was happening on Lokubani. He was a fan of old movies where there were bad guys doing bad things. And these villains always came up with particularly complicated plans and intrigues to make life difficult for their opponents. That was by no means Praetor Scurra of Lokubani. He had once boasted that he could proclaim the dictatorship in Lokubani, but his supporters would still cheer him. At the time, Haddock had thought that he very much trusted Scurra. But he wouldn’t be able to pull it off, as there were still plenty of sane people among the Lokubani people. Today Haddock was no longer sure. For although the allegations and false accusations that Scurra had spat out in the course of the confrontation became increasingly transparent, his popularity seemed unbroken. His followers did not follow him as one should follow a political figure going through difficult times. His followers were cultists. They had declared him their Savior, blessed by the gods. Scurra would literally be proclaimed Space Emperor, and they would still cheer for that too.
“Captain Haddock, this is the BOURGOGNE. Can you speak freely?” It was Commander Pellton’s voice over the radio. Haddock looked around. He was in a public square, but no one seemed interested in him. Why also? “I think I can talk,” Haddock replied. “What is there?” “A spaceship took off from Lokubani,” Pellton reported. “According to the identification it is the FREEDOM BALLOON, commanded by Iteriú Rangatira, Adjungit Inkibus’ s right hand.” “I understand,” said Haddock. “Do we know the aim and purpose of your mission?” “You remember the strange radar echoes we received? Apparently you want to get to the bottom of it.” “After all, the Balcerpinus used the echoes to interrupt the confrontation. I understand that Inkibus wants it to continue.” “Do you think this is wise?” Asked Pellton. “Scurra is capable of anything. Including having the FREEDOM BALLOON destroyed.” “What do you suggest?” “We could provide rifle assistance. Even if only by following the flight of the FREEDOM BALLOON with the long-range sensors. And in an emergency we could intervene.” “Then we have to leave now, right?” “So right.” Haddock looked around again. “Well,” he muttered so that Pellton couldn’t hear it over the radio. “Was a boring planet anyway!”
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