The Stars were Dying (FT, Closed, ATTN: Machina Haruspex)

by **Epsilon Theta** » Wed May 18, 2011 6:52 pm

The stars were dying. It’s mass already severely depleted, the white dwarf tracked closer and closer to its dense neutron neighbor. Already stretched beyond it’s envelope, it was only a matter of time before the system collapsed. Until then, gravity storms, magnetic interference, and intense radiation made the single remaining planet, if it even qualified as one, a barren, dead, rock, liable to be sent spinning off or shattered into oblivion at a moment’s notice. The scattered fragments of it’s neighboring planets stood testament to the powers at work in the system.

Yet it was these very traits that made the station so desirable. The system itself afforded more protection than all but the most advanced planetary defense network could provide. The inherent difficulties of building a facility in such a hostile area were quickly overcome once the natural advantages were realized. Slowly but surely, the station was constructed. Buried nearly three kilometers into the crust of the planet, and tucked under meters of various shielding, the facility was designed to withstand the intense radiation of the binary system, so long as personnel retreated into the deep shelters while the facility faced the dying stars. The facility and it's equipment cost a remarkable portion of the total GDP, thousands of man hours, and an entire fleet to transport the materials and yet, according to official records, it simply did not exist. Known only as "The Complex" and completely off the books, the facility was the center for innovation, a jealously guarded secret removed from public scrutiny. It is here where technology is discovered or reverse-engineered, and great leaps are taken, removed from the ethics and red tape.

A squat surface bunker was the only sign that anyone had ever set foot on the planet and yet..... traces of life remained beyond the Complex. During the deep excavation of the radiation shelters, artifacts had been found, long since buried by the original inhabitants of the planet, before it's traitorous star had bathed the entire planet with lethal radiation, wiping out whatever may have been left of the original civilization. While the Xeno-archeologist found it immensely interesting, they were by and large ignored by the various R&D departments vigorously competing for contracts that would give them access to Complex labs. However, government archeologists were required to be on standby if any new construction were to be attempted: the difficulty of moving personnel however required at least one be on the Complex so any construction could be carried out before the next supply convoy arrived. As the facility was expanded, the artifacts piled up. For the most part, they consisted of building fragments, crafted metals of natural and engineered origin, and various other junk; however, there was always the occasionally technology find. As soon as anything in this respect was discovered, it would be bagged and moved into one of the reverse-engineering labs for study. The other finds were shipped out of system along with all the other waste.

Buried in a mass of radiation, dust, and gravitational distortions, and protected by a small fleet, the staff of the Complex worked in security and isolation.

The Complex, Lab XA-17
Owner: Interrogative Systems
Project: ++ERROR: DATA FILE DOES NOT EXIST++
Contract parameters: ++ ERROR: RECORD NOT FOUND++
Personnel: 40+
Experiment Status: [CLASSIFIED]

Dr. Kiever Pilk sat at the end of a very large table, too large for his taste; however, the sheer amount of people involved in this project required such overgrown furniture. Pilk leafed through his files while he waited for his team to take their seats. Absorbed in the reports, it took prod from his co-worker to snap him back to the meeting.

Cuing up a holoprojection of the company logo, he looked around the table one more time, taking a mental note of who was not present.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," he began, "We are not here to play around. As you can tell from the reports you were handed," he paused to let them flip to the correct page, "this is an extremely lucrative contract for the company. You are all here because you are the best available to us at the Complex."
He keyed up an image of a protein structure.
"Our contract is to develop a bioweapon. While I am sure this is nothing new to most of you, the requirements are..... different. As you can see on the briefing, the primary goal is not a rapid plauge, but a sleeper disease, capable of being transmitted through as many vectors as possible to as many species as possible, with extremely high fatality and resistance."

A murmur swept across the table, "I realize that some of you may hold objection to this, after all, success means we have created the most dangerous bioweapon yet encountered, and by a large margin at that. But I have been told that outside there is a war on, a war we cannot afford to loose. Before you break off into your sub teams, I would like to make several things clear. This comes from the highest authority, and nothing is to be taken outside of this facility. Our contract gives us unlimited use of these lower levels, and no one will so much as hint at this to anyone outside the lab. Access will be gained through biometrics, which will be recorded when you sign your non-disclosure agreements after this meeting. Any Questions?"
Pilk looked over the faces of his team. Some grimaced at the thought of building a weapon, while other were outwardly eager, ready to being work instantly. Pilk almost laughed at them, the typical young hothead scientists. He would personally be making sure they didn't end up anywhere near the finished product.
After a solid minute of silence, Pilk stood, "Meeting concluded. Please proceed outside, security will be there to register you."

Six Years Later

Third Defensive Fleet
Purpose: Complex Defense
Position (Standard Galactic Coordinate): [CLASSIFIED]
Ranking Officer: Fleet Lieutenant Verin Winter
Flagship: Faith's Edge

Lieutenant Winter stood alert on the bridge of his flagship. Unlike most days, when most systems were offline and the bridge was manned by a skeleton crew, the ship was a flurry of activity. Today was the today was the long awaited arrival of a Interrogative Systems transport fleet, massive supertankers built to transport the latest creations of the complex. The intense nature of the system made this normally difficult maneuver exceptionally dangerous, and Winter grimaced at the convoys off-schedule arrival.
"Corporate bastards...." Winter muttered under his breath.
A passing Sub-Lieutenant stopped, "Sorry, what was that Sir?""
"A bit short notice, don't you think?"
"Ah. Yes Sir, of course Sir"
"Carry on"
The Sub-Lieutenant flashed a quick salute before continuing to his station. Shattering the tension, a klaxon blared before he could resume his train of thought. As an officer began dictating probable FTL jump co-ordinates for the incoming supply line into his headset, Lieutenant Winter simply stepped back to watch his crew in action. The officer with whom the Winter’s had just talked began to speak in clipped tones into his headset, "This is Complex Jump Control, cleared for final approach. Please adjust jump vectors based on the latest gravitational forecast. Standby to receive data packets....packets sent......Cleared for jump in 3....2....1.... "

Winter blinked as the ships flashed into existence directly in front of his ship. A cursory visual inspection did not reveal any damaged ships or drives, but what did startle the Lieutenant were the ships themselves. There were not the bulk transports of a mega-corporation but rather fleet ships. Interrogative Systems, a wealthy company, operated their own ships. Winter concluded that whatever was about to be transferred must have been extraordinarily dangerous. Dangerous enough for the armored hulls of the Fleet to get involved. Satisfied that the last of the ships had jumped in system, he reached for his headset and keyed open a channel to the convoy.
"Supply Convoy Alpha Alpha Sierra-Seven Four, this is Complex Control. You are cleared to approach the facility, follow us in." As the slow, armored transport ships began their gradual acceleration into the cloud of the system, Winter ordered his pickets back, and followed them into the safety of the system.

The Complex, Lab XA-17
Dr. Pilk held the report in his trembling hands. They had done it, supposedly. A perfect weapon: capable of unleashing an epidemic on a galactic scale. The data he held in his very hands was terrifying. Even within the carefully controlled environment of the lab, strains of the weapon would turn up in supposedly “clean” test population’s years after a strain was phased out of general use. All data pointed to the fact that if this were to be released, it would spread cross-species, with its hosts surviving long enough to reach distant systems. It’s remarkably long “dormant” phase would make detection difficult, and it was more than capable of wiping out entire systems. Now, this was all in theory. Pilk knew that it was impossible to establish in a lab perfect cross species jumps and compatibility but regardless: there were more than enough similar, humanoid races out there that it would pose an immense risk to the total population of the galaxy.
Taking this view of his creation, it astounded him that in the six years of production, there had not been one exposure, not one accidental death, or even a minor accident. Everything had worked perfectly. Production was proceeding as planned. The first shipment, a fairly small sample, had been synthesized on request that a test be carried out before additional lab sections were equipped to increase the production capacity. All the needed precautions were being taken. He had personally checked the integrity of the inspections, and had, much to the dismay of the company board, hired decorated military planners and renowned engineers to design the containment units, as well as to establish safe operating procedure.
He flipped to that section of the report now. Although most of it was fairly standard in regards to handling the cargo, the instructions made it very, very clear. This was not some tactical weapon to clear a city, or even a county. If this weapon was deployed, it would be impossible to stop for at least several days. In that time, it would have already spread. He took some small comfort in knowing an antidote was already being developed, although the nature of the project dictated that any possible antidote have low success rates.

Several Hours Later

Third Defensive Fleet
Flagship: Faith's Edge
Lt. Winter watched from the comfort of his personal quarters as the last of the transport fleet pulled towards the end of the system. As he entered his clearance codes into a terminal to clear the convoy for a jump, he jumped as the bulkhead door slammed shut, and the lighting switched from it’s cool glow to the blue wash of emergency lighting. The click of the intercom snagged Winter’s immediate attention.
“Attention, radiation burst imminent. Gravitation forecasts indicate starquake imminent. Brace for impact, airtight condition zulu.”
Winter swore and overrode the bulkhead, jogging up to the bridge. As he stepped into the hallway, an intense wave of heat washed over him before the ship shook, throwing him against the corridor wall. In the holograph in his room, he watched the convoy buckle as ships structures failed, followed by the sharp flash of desperate FTL jumps. The last thing he heard was an automated shipboard broadcast, “ALERT, lethal radiation detected. All crew members are advised to seek medical attention immediately….. Shielding has been compromised. Repeat, lethal radiation detected…..

Crisis Management Committee
Undisclosed location, Theta Prime

“As you can see from recent reports, all attempts at containment have proved futile. The transport ships that fled after the starquake crashed on various planets, or into orbital stations or, in one case, even another starship. With the crews killed by radiation exposure, the uncontrolled ships leaked their deadly cargo across their impact points. First responders were instantly infected, along with inspection and rescue workers. Widespread administration of the antidote is underway, but the required quantities simply do not exist. In addition, antidote administration, seen in table twelve, has disproportionately affected the population. 90% of males treated suffer fatal side effects, while only 70% of females suffer from the same side effects. This, ladies and gentlemen, has had far reaching consequences in our defense forces, as well as our manufacturing capability. We are crippled in every sense of the word.”
As the hologram shifted from the chart to the Interrogative Systems logo, the nervous presenter looked around the sealed bunker of the meeting room at the top officials.
“In addition, “ he started again, “ we have located the last of the damaged transports, although it’s cargo has already been dispersed into the population of Epsilon Prime. Full quarantine has been imposed, but once again it was somehow bypassed. The entire planet is considered at risk. This leaves the Complex as the only clean planet remaining, unfortunately no contact has been made with the facilities since the star quake. First responders identified the remains of the defense fleet, as well as two transports that were unable to jump . The entire crew was killed by a radiation burst, and residual levels were high enough to prevent recovery of the bodies. The defense ships at least seem to be intact, and were flagged for later recovery. I will be keeping you informed as more information is gathered.”
The presenter, CEO of Interrogative Systems, smiled as he walked out of the room. He was glad he had opted for government transport. It had, in the light of the disaster, removed his company from the media frenzy that surrounded the incident. In the eyes of the public, his company had taken all the required precautions, it was the government that had failed it’s people. However, he was not completely removed from the incident….. with over 70% of the population dying, the market needed companies like his more and more. In fact, he mused, earnings may be up this quarter…

by **Machina Haruspex** » Sat May 21, 2011 12:03 pm

Through the umbra between this world and the next, a place exists that tethers the realities together. Some call it the warp, others the abyss, some call it the world between worlds, the layer of darkness that buffers the spacing of dimensions so as not to brush up against one another. It is in this place that an evil lurks, a race ailed by an age of time spent within such a realm, growing to it's whims and perversions.

Within the cradle of the middleverse, eyes of alien watched the world of this small race before them. It had been by design, and chance. The two not generally associated with each other, but in this moment, while they feasted upon the very energies of the dwarf star, drawing it's energy through a siphon, at the expense of it's stability however. The area of their feasting was prone to solar flares and massive radiation spillage. Though this briar patch was not from the star itself. The radiation about, that filled this region of space, was the exhaust if you will from gateway between worlds. To power such a massive device, allowing entry for the hive spores, and other vessels, required an immense source.

It was the passing of a harvester that noticed the lesser lifeforms, the ball of rock as it hung in orbit saw irregular traffic, but the picket starships were of interest. A spore was dispatched, to investigate and examine, and if possible bring back genetic samples of the creatures certain to be within them.

The method that allows the Haru-Dakat to be nothing more then rumor, mythos, and more is that they take great pains not to be seen for the most part. All vessels are equipped with a subspace like cloaking technology, essentially allowing them to traverse specific layers of subspace, and operate within it and into normal space. This allows for their observers, scientists and harvesters to work amongst other races, without them knowing they are even present. The feeling of being watched, the subtle rise of hairs on the back of ones neck, or that sixth sense triggering, are indications that they are there, watching, ever observing the world of others.

Haru-Dakat thus can be amongst the crew, or the personnel of a world, ship, etc, performing their experiments, and all the while, one is generally unknowing it is even happening. It is an insidious thing, to be a guinea pig so to speak, and never even realize it.

Such being the case of the starships in question. For while they believed it to be a loss of power for the lead vessel, in truth, a spore sat atop the picket ship, drawing it's enrgy away. Simply for the reason to see how this particular race dealt with both the panic and fear of immenient death, and that of the radiological exposure. As it stood, this race was quite frail to exposure, and had very short lifespans. Most died in moments, some a little longer where the bulkheads and so forth were thicker in nature.

As the ships lay silent after a time, darkness overtook, tapping into communique arrays, starcharts, and so forth. It was only a matter of time before they learned of this place. This so called " Complex ". Devious mind devoured what intelligence was aboard the ships computer before the spore released it's magnetic grapple and returned to the mothership that was looming above the barren moon. Yes, there was more information to be had, and there were live subjects awaiting their grace.

Others were reporting in, the knowledge of something taboo locked away, it all converged here. The mothership was that of a Harbinger, a class of extremely powerful but rarely seen starships. The only race to ever really see them in great numbers were that of the Cussian's, a race that mirrors the shadowy Haru-Dakat in all things, and essentially their counter-parts in the universe on the scale of light and dark, with the Haru being the latter.

The primary weapon is a violet energy beam of variable output. It can target precisely enough to cut a warship in two without causing secondary explosions, but it is also suitable for large scale orbital bombardment and or precision strikes as the unfortunate Complex will soon learn. This beam also functions as point defense weaponry against enemy fighters. The skin of a Harbinger is capable of absorbing energy weapons and can kill a human (and probably other species as well) through physical contact. They also have a jump point (FTL drive engagement/spooling process) disruption weapon that will collapse a jump point, usually destroying the ship entering or leaving it in the process.

The space between the barren world below and what shimmered into view, as the jet black entity above, a shade of black so deep your eye just kinda slides off it, the appearance of what could only be taken as if a spider and a scorpion had merged upon the shape. Violet beam surged forth from the primary extension, hurtling downwards in an instant and piercing the rock of the world below. It was a surgical blow first, to open a pathway into the heart of what lay in waiting. It was a few moments, the unknown vessel hanging there amidst the stars.

Objects that appeared to be coated in a form of light purple jelly began to drop from the vessel, shot forth as if from a cannon towards the recently struck area, burrowing themselves through whatever resistance remained. These were Hacdc, literally translated if you knew their tongue, as Nests. Filled with ten Haru of the warrior class, four in total burned their way through the remements of rock, metal, and whatever was in the way.

As klaxons might sound, the first of an alien presence would emerge, just reaching three meters in heighth, they were as dark as the ship above in hue of the exo-skeletion so worn, that made them appear as machines save for the face. It had the appearace of being a slab of skin stretched across a skull, with three slits to each side, each slit larger then the other immediately below it and offering a shade of burnt orange as illumination. The warriors were what the Haru needed them to be, remains of younger races from ages before this race had begun to walk as a species. Before they had grasped the age of gunpowder and wealth.

They were not what the true species actually looked like. The weapon carried in the lower hands of a pair of four, rasped forth a tear dropped shape charge of energy that surged forth, impacting into a bulkhead blocking the way. The shattering effect signified the power of such a weapon, as pieces of metal were sent about as so much shrapnel. Dust and smoke filled the area, though there was no draw into the mighty vaccum of space as the Hacdc established a gravity field that kept the innards of this place from escaping them...

What came after the warriors intial arrival, was the true form. A being utilizing an insect-like organism with a spiked, reddish-black carapace. They are similar in shape to a praying mantis with an upper body, shoulder spines, a mobile head, and at least one pair of grasping forelimbs. The rear of the body is supported by multiple pairs of legs. Their legs resemble those of a spider, but each Haru-Dakat has six of them instead of eight. With eight eyes in total divided into two groups. Two sets of three arranged, slanted upward and two sets of two arranged to align perfectly under the first sets. The similiar burnt orange however of the warriors was shared, as to the hue of their eyes. It gestured forth, with that fell tongue. Pnehk vundr dra lremtnah uv dra hekrd vun fa amtanc uv dra juet.

With the order given, the harvest had begun. Woe to those within this place, as all your secrets will soon become the feast of the Haru.

by **Epsilon Theta** » Thu Jun 02, 2011 11:15 am

The Complex
The usually ordered hallways of the complex were in complete disarray, the mechanical precision of the intricate operation rendered useless against the fate that had befallen it. At first, Klaxons blared as the air rushed out of the upper levels: the security checkpoints, storage halls, and living quarters that supported the population of the small city; however, eventually the sirens died down as the carefully adjusted climate of the complex was opened to the engulfing void.
Even within the remaining pressurized areas, the silence was deafening. Researchers and administrators alike cowered, all silently praying to live another day. They held themselves like this, waiting for an end that never seemed to come. Before the dust had even settled, they began congratulating themselves on surviving whatever this new horrifying catastrophe had brought. In the wake of the star-quake that had shattered the Complex’s hardened communications equipment, this tremor seemed almost minor. It was with this conviction that the staff of the complex resumed their activities, unaware that where before had existed tons of shielding, only cold vacuum remained. Assuming the security station to be intact, no one bothered to check the diagnostic panels, that even now bathed the inside of their pristine cabinets with a sickly red.

The calm was fleeting; however, as most emotion is. The first garbled radio cries from an assistant attempting to return to his quarters renewed the earlier panic, sending the personnel screaming to the deep radiation shelters. These supposedly invulnerable bunkers were the last resort for the staff of the Complex in the event of emergency, and together were capable of supporting the entire population of the facility. Unfortunately, as is often the case when panic sets in, the carefully planned occupancy lists were ignored as the terrified residents sealed the might blast shields before the shelters could reach capacity, stranding handfuls of terrified employees just outside the reach of safety. As chaos descended, the remaining security forces, cut off from their equipment, command, and each other, attempted to ward off the impending doom.

Dr. Pilk collapsed against the cold bulkhead, clutching a recently emptied water bottle. He wiped the sweat pouring off his head on the back of his hand and looked up at the security officer, a young man who could only have just passed the clearance tests required to work in the once secure facility. Pilk took some small measure of comfort in that irony. All of the security in the world, and a star-quake, a simple stare-quake had destroyed the facility. It was a natural disaster the knew would happen, and it still devastated the facility.

“Isn’t that something?” he mused aloud. Then, to the officer, “They tell you about star-quakes in your briefing son?”

“My name’s Sam sir, and yes, but I never thought it would be this bad. Of course, they didn’t say anything about the bugs either.”

Interesting, the officer spoke with confidence, but Pilk could tell that he must’ve been terrified inside. The shaking combined with visible perspiration was a dead giveaway. Climbing back to his feet, Pilk looked into the officer’s eyes, “Bugs, you say? How do you know they’re bugs?”
“Well, sir, that was what my sergeant told me before…..” he trailed off, “…before he…uh…I lost contact.”

Pilk took this in, obviously the situation was extremely dire, but anything he could find out now might increase his, no, their chance of survival in the future. “Did he say anything else about the…bugs?” he probed.

“Only that they were huge, and came from the upper levels. Why?”

“Well, if they came from the upper levels than that probably means they’re not local.”

“Local? This place is as dead as a graveyard, nothing could have lived here. Anything living would be baked in radiation, the briefing was very clear on that.”

“Really? Well, during construction we found remnants of an ancient civilization, one that predates even our own most ancient history. Most of it was junk, but I always entertained the notion that the owners might be around somewhere, having left the system for safer stars, as it were. Now, where exactly are we?” Pilk looked around the unmarked hallway, the warning lights on the blast door to his right indicating that little to no pressure existed beyond it.

The officer fumbled with a pouch in his fatigues before pulling a wrinkled, paper map. “They gave us this on orientation, never thought it would end up being useful.”

It was a classic pair, the old scientist and young soldier, who huddled around the map, plotting an escape from the maze of corridors. Where exactly they could escape to, of course, was another question entirely.

Interrogative Systems Headquarters
Industrial District, Theta Prime
The last week had been hell. Even within the sealed upper levels of the city, the plague was beginning to spread. The CEO of Interrogative Systems looked through the armored windows of his office onto the distant streets below. As the infection had spread through the city, stricter and stricter quarantine methods had to be put in place. Already several major habitation blocks had been permanently sealed, the occupants abandoned to plague for the survival of the city. It had taken him a full week to get these measures approved by the Council.

“Damn bureaucrats….. it’s already too late,” he mumbled aloud to the empty room. Turning from the window, he took in the massive chart projected onto the wall. Real-time information, recorded from each citizens biometric implants, painted a grim picture. Even in the few seconds he had taken to look away, the death toll in the upper city had already risen by a factor of ten. If the trend continued, the entire population of the city, excluding those who survived treatment, would be either infected or dead within a matter of day.

Keeping his eyes on the chart, he sighed as he opened the intercom. “Prepare the company shuttles for takeoff, we need to leave before it’s too late.”

After taking in the chart one last time, he pulled a thin glass slate out of his desk, and punched a number on top of it into his intercom.
“This is Major Tal, security station.”

“Major, the plague has breached the quarantine again. Seal all floors and ventilation shafts below floor 400. We are beginning immediate evacuation of key personnel under directive,” he paused, checking the slate, “directive 452-Sierra. I trust your men will do their duty?”
“Yes sir, they will.” There was a brief pause, “all sections below floor 400 report fully sealed. Pilots have been scrambled to their shuttles. My men are beginning the evacuation sweep now.”

“Thank you Major, I’ll see you on board” He hung up, and slowly walked to the door, almost stepping though. Before he could, however, he took one last look around the room, including the chart. Indeed, things were looking grim. Where exactly they would flee to, he did not know. For now though, anywhere was better than here.

by **Machina Haruspex** » Fri Jun 10, 2011 10:08 am

Prelate Ver'In absorbed the information that streamed from both the visual receptors of the warriors and the digital that came from the captured vessels. As the star-quake sent a reverbration throughout normal space, it's affect upon these beings was observed. How frail their construct had been, that it had so been defeated by such a mere natural occurance. Fine point of six slid against the smooth fleshy console like device upon what could be termed the bridge of the warship that hung above the barren little rock that contained such marvelous treats within.

The Inquisitors had already landed, shielded by warriors of whom marched steadily into harms way. Although to be fair, there was little if anything that could harm them here. Via the visual transmission, Ver'In simply watched as one of the warrior caste stepped into a corridor. Weapon fire impacting into the kinetic barrier, making small ripples against the frame. A faint knocking back of that head as a larger blow ricocheted against and away. The building hum, and then a bright green discharge in response as the disruptor mounted to forearm hurtled into one of the foes. A scream came through, as the body was burned away to but ash and bone, spattering the bulkheads in all directions.

Again and again, this was the result. Although there was the case of an enemy combatant attempting close combat with some sort of electrical discharge device. This was met with neither success or mercy. The warrior simply removed both of the arms of the individual and then impaled the writhing, yowling mess upon a war pike as some sort of trophy. As another level was cleared, Ver'In's attention was caught by a communication from one of the lead Inquisitors.

Information on the species from on site dissection and experimentation. They would suffice as a food source, and more, provided they were not contaminated. With the aural tracking sonar, the herds could thus be tracked, and the warriors were further pushing. Also from the forces upon the surface and the underndeathe, signs of their presence. From an age of time when they did not live amongst the abyss. Ruins, artifacts and more. Most were settling in to the standards of dust and fossil, but it harkened memories of the before.

Displeasure radiated out alongst Ver'In's carapace, the dark red becoming a vibrant, almost neon hue of such for a moment. This ugly little rock had history of a heresy upon it. Eyes not their own had absorbed it, had studied it, there would have to be pennance made. This race would suffer this outrage.

The Complex..

Urdo Fa'Ual lead his fellow caste of warriors forward, sweeping another level, and by this time utilizing seeker drones and capture nets to secure the primitives when found. The capture nets utilized a form of neuro-toxin that inhibited the muscle and nerve networks of this particular race, causing them to suffer a form of near instant paralysis. The drones carried the same sort of toxin but in a dart form of which they could rapidly target and fire upon victims.

Approaching what could only be a blast door, Fa'Ual laid a composite and flesh palm against the metal, then took a step backwards, offering cant of head to the Inquisitor, a Haru known as Sep'Oi. At the creatures response of Pnehk vundr dra lremtnah. Which was essentially telling them to gather the survivors for the culling, another warrior stepped forward, bearing a heavier weapon then the disruptors of standard issue.

Termed a cannon, it was in place of the actual warrior's arm. There was a steady hum, and a then a near solid beam of purple coloured energy streamed forth, impacting into the blast door and then smoke and debris filled the area. The door had been violently smashed open, metal jutting backwards and in all directions as a hole had appeared.

As the primitive weapon fire greeted them, his warriors strode through, seemingly impervious to such. Behind them, ever behind them, came the Inquisitors to gather up the prey. As a Haru-Dakat, the true Haru were like demi-gods, so at times it was somewhat confusing as to whom the race of the Haru was whom. Was it the warriors that spanned the dark empire, or was it the shadowy spider like race that cataloged all they came across.

At their inquisitors gestures, the caste began to split up, like a line of approaching titans to the last vestiage of resistance. It would seem that the chaos of fear and panic had caused a great many of this race to be excluded from the so called safe zones, and or trapped wherever they could find shelter. All the better to secure, bit by bit, room by room, level by level. They would leave none to be found.

by **Epsilon Theta** » Wed Jun 29, 2011 11:14 pm

Epsilon Prime, Lower District
Temple of Cohesion: Emergency Antidote Distribution Point
The orderly crowd had been gathered around the base of the tower for the past week, patiently waiting to receive their promised cure. Within weeks of the outbreak, rioters and looters had swarmed the local health stations, destroying anything that couldn’t be stolen. As the Planetary council received it’s allocated quantity of antidote, they turned to the temples as distribution centers. With it’s alarmingly high failure rate, those with the least risk of infection, namely those in the upper class neightborhoods, would not be treated. So long as the outbreak remained contained, the risk from receiving the antidote was far more dangerouse than the remote chance of infection. Instead, the highly congested industrial sectors were targeted. The urban planners had determined that, with the exceedingly high incidence of rioting, looting, and various other forms of civil unrest, combined with a declining number of both healthy and loyal Peacekeepers, the various temples would serve as key distribution points. Evenly spread throughout the city, the reinforced towers of worship guarded by their own fanatical security force were veritable bastions. Reinforced by the remaining Peacekeeper units, the antidote would be distributed to anyone who would risk it.

Some were desperate. Already infected, they would sieze any chance they had at being cured. But supplies were limited. Anaylists determined that anyone already showing symptoms would not recover, no matter how quickly the antidote was administered. Thousands never made it to the temple. Thousands more were turned away on their arrival.

For the most part, the crowd remained calm, patiently waiting at the base of the tower to receive their cure. However, violence would break out occasionally as people were turned away. The security staff would quickly act to subdue the violence, wary that the ordered crowd could at any time transform into a raging mob. So far they had been successful, and an uneasy calm prevailed. How long it would last was anyone’s guess.

“Next”
Acolyte Liria Corota motioned for her next patient as she loaded another cartridge into the Jet-injector. She went through the motions, sterilizing and injecting. She was lucky, one of the few to survive treatment. Come to think of it, she was lucky to have even received treatment when so many were denied.

She had seen many people. As the man she was treating groaned in agony, she passed the injector over his chest, the focused burst of antidote penetrating the epidermal layer. She had never enjoyed this part of her job. Helping people came naturally to her, but the suffering around her, that was almost unbearable. She was still horrified at the statistics she was shown. Despite the cure’s potency against the plague, the death toll was almost too much to bear. 80% fatality! She failed to see how this was any better than contracting the plague. At first, she had refused to administer treatment on grounds of principle, but even the sight of the people pressed around the temple had moved her to participate.

“Next”

A pause,

“Next?”

She looked up from table to the fortified entrance. Through the narrow slits of windows, she could just make out that, for some reason, the crowd was backing away from the door. The security staff were nowhere to be seen. She dropped her injector and ran, along with most of the other volunteers, to see what was going on. Staring through the armored glass, a grim scene was being played out. Some man, probably already insane and infected, was holding some device. She squinted, trying to make out what exactly he was doing. As the man stepped back, the dim glow of the streetlamp reflected of off a silver canister. Her mind was racing, it must be some kind of bomb! She could see several nervous members of the security team aiming down their sights at him.
She only watched a second longer before her survival instincts kicked in, sending her in a mad dash to the rear of the building before and explosion rocked the temple.

Liria groaned as she opened her eyes, bringing the collapsed concrete ceiling of the temple into focus. She took a breath, but dust flooded her lungs, and it degenerated into a heavy fit of coughing. As she crawled from the rubble, she was relieved to find nothing was caught. In the dim haze, she could tell most of the front of the building had collapsed. Now clear of the rubble, she looked back at herself to check for injuries.

Immediately, she noticed her left leg was bent in the middle of her calf. She rolled over to get a better look, caught a glance of bone sticking through her flesh, and promptly passed out.

The Complex

Dr. Pilk clutched the sweaty grip of the late security officer’s sidearm and pressed his back against a tank.

They had been on there way to a communications conduit with surface access when a door had imploded; spraying the hallway they were in with shrapnel. The officer had taken a hit of shrapnel to the leg, right through an artery. In a rare moment of self-preservation, Dr. Pilk fled, but not before securing the officer headset and weapon.
He had sprinted away, not paying particular attention to where he was going. Destination did not matter as much as survival, he thought, and continued his sprint.
However, Dr. Pilk was by no means young or in shape, and had to stop shortly to catch his breath. As he looked around, he was instantly aware of his location. Oh shit he cursed his luck. His mad dash had taken him directly into one of the large production laboratories. Aligned in neat rows, the massive pressure cylinders, each filled to the brim with lethal plague. He only had a brief moment to reflect on his predicament before the sound of weapons fire against the blastdoor added to his troubles. He backed into the sea of pressure canisters, each one carrying the perfect weapon. Just one drop could kill him, and here he was, backed against a cylinder with a loaded gun.

He could hear the groaning of the metal as the door started to yield to the unrelenting assault. He backed away further, rendering himself invisible from the main hallway. Perhaps, if he was quiet and stayed out of site, they wouldn’t notice him; however, he knew in the back of his mind this was it. Whether he liked it or not, he had come to accept that he would die here. Maybe not in this room, but he would die on this rock.

Somewhat at peace with himself, Dr. Pilk waited as the door, in an almighty groan, failed.

by **Machina Haruspex** » Sat Jul 23, 2011 4:55 am

Through the blast door...

These fleshy little creatures were ultimately pathetic in the sockets belonging to that of Urdo Fa'Ual. Mostly water it appeared as well, they certainly gushed forth like a small waterfall when stung by the bits of flying metal. Attention rapt upon the dying as what could only be what these beings referred to as a " security officer " bled a river on crimson alongst the metallic and rock floor. A closer inspection revealed that there was no weapon nor communication device as others of similar status had borne into the lost conflict of the harvest.

A faint tilt of head, as such was odd. This did not strike the senior warrior was a route that this even now gurgling, bubbling, weakly struggling creature would have gone forth to action without some means of defense. A clicking sound echoed forth, as slivers of membrane like lenses snapped into position. Against the ground, and in the very air, was that of a heat trail. It was like watching the shell of the other being that had been here, moving forward for a moment before it became but an orange-ish hue that led on like a trail of bread crumbs.

Gesture of talons bearing right hand, and his warriors moved forth, unconcerned with the dying form beneathe them. These primitives had little they desired, and were thought of in terms that were fleeting from the mind even faster. The inquisitor was upon the heels of the advancing warriors, profoundly both amused and intrigued by the security officers predicament, going so far as to watch the death throes coupled with agony until the light faded from the young man's eyes.

The great harvest..

The emergency bunker that had provided momentary safety was now a tomb. The warriors never resting, never pausing, had pushed through the last lines of defense, and with technology beyond what could be measured by this race, they had rendered the protective blast doors aside like so much tissue paper before a pointed stick. The metal had boiled, then collapsed upon itself as great heat melted the frame and the arch into one pool of slag.

In an instant, they were amongst these frightened sheep, the darts zeroing in and striking their prey with utmost efficiency. One after another they dropped, like dominoes. Each was cradled in arms of metal, flesh, and tubing. Carried forth to pods that covered their cargo with a purple jelly like substance. It slathered this way and that, until they were hidden from sight. One by one they would be escorted from the bunker, nourishment and the vanguard for those to be harvest from this race.

As the shadowy warship lay in wait above, that bore malicious will, continued they're gathering. They had so many, delicious, plans for their new arrivals. So many things to experiment upon, so many vassals to loosen upon the others of this race, as wolves amongst sheep. The refugees would then be the beacons to wherever survivors sought refuge. There would be no escape from the methodical and efficiency of a nightmare that was set to end when the last of this race was danged above the Haru themselves, as a morsel to be savored, a one of a kind delight to signify the end of a race.

Still they had to be cautious, while their kin had not been seen for an eon at least, there were others that could be just as deadly. Many of the seeded races were not of the mind to let the shadows do as they pleased. Not that it mattered, few of them had any inkling beyond crude manuscript or legends of the past, stories that had over the centuries and more become nothing but mythos of ages long since past, when shadow had fled from the brightness of the sons of the great light and the giver of creation, the cradle in it's remains still had the power to spurn the horrors of the night. The cold beings that lurked within the layers of the universe, biding their time when memory was forgotten, when mysticism of the past was pushed aside for the ideas of progress and growth.

There had to be any signs of interest however against the spiders web, just the begining death wails of this people. Touching upon the silken strands that spanned the universe so vast. So sweet this sound, so delicious this agony. For a moment, Prelate Ver'In basked in the glow of the essence that came from this harvest. Just a moment, just a precious moment before back to the task at hand. This small rock, it would only be the begining..

by **Epsilon Theta** » Sun Aug 28, 2011 11:55 pm

Geostationary Orbit
Theta Prime
Redoubt-class Cruiser XN-3452

Code: Select all: +++THIS IS AN URGENT ALERT: PLAUGE INFECTECTIONS HAVE SPREAD TO THE UPPER LEVELS. THIS PLANET IS NOW UNDER QUARENTINE. ANY UNAUTHORIZED VESSEL ATTEMPTING TO EXIT THE GRAVITY WELL WILL BE FIRED UPON. NO WARNING WILL BE GIVEN. +++

Commander Grear gazed off the bridge of his Redoubt-class cruiser. Just another faceless ship in the great defense fleet, it went unnamed, a simple alphanumeric designation stenciled on the hull. Already the thin contrails of the fleets missiles tracked towards yet another group of private yachts and hijacked transports. Everyone who had access to a ship seemed to use it, but to no avail. Grear, with grim resignation, had co-ordinated a kill-sphere around the planet. It had been difficult, the fleet was still short-staffed, but a combination of the still operational orbital platforms and a thin spread of escorts ensured total sensor coverage, and near total weapons coverage.

Unfortunately, Grear had more important things to contend with. With a Quarantine in effect, his ships had no way to resupply. Even if supplies could be located in the chaos, he could not allow them to come aboard without risking infection. Instead, he waited for the logistics vessels from the few uninfected planets to arrive. They had to make several stops along the way; the outer planets were never expected to support the entire fleet. The ship shuddered as another salvo of missiles were rammed from their magazines. Clustered around the tactical map, dozens of Warfare officers coordinated the individual salvos, plotting vectors that would kill not only fellow citizens, but in all likely hood civilians as well. Grear watched for hesitation and upon finding none, complemented the training they had received. They would do their duty, all he had to do was say the word.

Interrogative Systems Headquarters
Industrial District, Theta Prime

The pristine shuttles, recently adorned with the Interrogative Systems logo, hunched in their cradles on the Hanger Level of the Headquarters Building, awaiting the arrival of those deemed important enough to warrant escape from the living hell the Capitol had become. One Shuttle in particular, slightly larger and better equipped than the rest, stood out, it’s silver livery marking it as the personal transport of the CEO. The hatch has sealed hours ago, as the pilots completed the preflight checks, the CEO sat in his shipboard office which, while still impressive by most standards, was dwarfed by the facilities he enjoyed in the doomed Company Headquarters. He was not alone in his flight however, his closest advisors and most vital staff had accompanied him. Now, four of them gathered in the small office, some leaning against walls for lack of proper seating arrangements. Their discussion continued through the full burn of takeoff despite the massive noise associated with such an event. As the shuttle neared the atmosphere, the shipboard intercom pinged, an automated message began to broadcast.

Crisis Management Committee
Undisclosed Location, Theta Prime.

The Council’s Emergency chamber was a disaster. Reports, both digital and hardcopy littered every available surface, and thousands of feet of cable wound around the floor and ceiling, linking the dozens of extra displays that had been moved into the Council Chamber. The Chairman was gesturing at a display that currently was occupied by a striking man in the grey digital camouflage of the Singularity Armed Forces. The Silver Delta on his shoulder indicated his position as a Commander in the Ground force. “this is Commander Michael Vorbin, currently overseeing all operations. Commander, what is the latest news?”
The Commander cleared his throat, “Thank you Chairman. Currently we are enforcing total Quarantine on all planets with infection rates greater than 20%. This currently encompasses all of the core worlds, and one colony. Unfortunately, we simply don’t have the ships to cover every planets nearspace. We’ve begun to pull back our fleets stationed at the fringe, but it still won’t be enough. We need to get Contact ships back here to fill in the gaps. They’ve got the equipment to cover three times the space one of my ships can cover, but so far they’re keeping their distance, siting concerns about the plague weakening their effectiveness. The Good news is that they’ve diverted two Deep Space Monitors and one General Contact Vessel to assess the situation at The Complex. This should save us some much needed resources. Now, if you’d please direct your attention to the report I’ve prepared, I’d like to discuss the vaccination efforts…..

Epsilon Theta Contact Task Force
On Approach to The Complex
General Contact Vessel Prerogative

Commander Terra Aronov had been briefed with the few seconds of footage the original rescue team had recovered before the succumbed to the deadly radiation that still enveloped the system. Alone on the bridge of her warship, Terra held no such concerns. Cocooned in layer after layer of armor, radiation would be least among the dangers she would likely encounter as she entered the system. Already she had prepared her and her escorts point defense networks to target the myriad amount of debris that would certainly litter the system by now. In addition, they had jumped a sensor clusters almost directly into the corona of the twin stars. Covered in meters of ablative coating, the sensor clusters would not last long, but should provide enough data to predict the dangerous gravitation tides that swirled around the Complex’s fragile orbit.
Even with this assurance, Terra relished her retreat from the vast emptiness of deep space to the dangerous realm of nearspace. She understood the political reasons behind her mission, Contact did not wish to seem uncooperative with the Singularity at large, and even so, a routine geological survey of an entire system could have been fulfilled with a single Deep-Space-Monitor from outside the system. Terra viewed the deployment of her three ships as a complete waste of resources. Luckily for her, the Primary AI’s aboard the DSMs were in full agreement. There was nothing worse than having a disagreement with a Primary AI, machines complex enough to be living.

As she prepared to withdraw from FTL, she contacted the AI’s, bringing up an avatar of each in her HUD. “Prepare full systems check, all ships.”
“Command, Primary Forge All Systems Green”
“Forge Tactical AI: Initialized”
“Forge Diplomacy AI: Fully Operational”

“Command, Primary Flight Good to go”
“Flight Tactical AI: Initialized”
“Flight Diplomacy AI: Fully Operational.”

Her ships own twin AI’s, Tactical and Diplomacy, confirmed their readiness. She hated the human voices the DSMs Primarys had acquired, it reminded her just how alone she really was. As the jump timer approached zero, she braced herself for the return to STL.

One woman, eight AI’s, and three ships blinked into existence on the rim of the Complex’s system. Immediately the massive arrays of sensors began to unfurl from the DSMs like wings, antenna masts and dish arrays extending from their protective housings to scour the system. She let the two DSMs move ahead, point defense arrays flaring as they knocked wreckage and rubble alike from the path of the ships.
Terra anxiously waited as the sensors began to compile a complete report, the picture on the display becoming more clear as the scans resolution increased. Very shortly, the Complex would come into view.

by **Machina Haruspex** » Sun Sep 25, 2011 4:27 pm

Above The Complex

The great evil hung upon the listless winds of vaccum, and about it were it's seed craft. The mothership a cross between a spider and scorpion in design and appearance had deposited dozens of tear shaped seeds into The Complex. Each carrying the harvesters, and the warriors that shielded them, serving the will of ages. More were coming up however then descending at this point, ferrying the contents of their recent plundering, the race below had graduated to livestock, mere cattle.

A rather bulbous looking vessel, similiar in shape to that of a pear crossed the breadth of dimensions between this verse and that of the subspace realm of which the creatures of darkness hid themselves from the light of the galaxy vast. It was older then that which tormented this world, from an age when they were more machine then man, twisted by the demands of a warped logic. Lances jutted forth from it's bow, dozens of gleaming tips that served some unknown yet more then likely sinister purpose or another.

It hung upon the abyss, the cusp of the tear in the universe until such subsided and the mothership beckoned it within a landing bay of sorts, the opening seamless in it's creation and revealment. It was the second scout ship, dispatched to follow the trail of vessels that had come into this place originally, and of whom had been disabled or destroyed as they had made their arrival more then known.

However, the sweet peace of the harvest was not expected to happen without consequence. The system that had established this facility was efficient and even with the chaos that now infested worlds, and threatened more, it would have others coming for it. Concerned now with the ants that toiled, but for the results and the spread thin hope that whatever ailed their race, could be salvaged here.

Prelate Ver'in of course relished this sort of thing. It was a delicacy more delightful then fear or agony, it was that of hope against all odds. The last desperate plea before the light of a race was extinquished forever. It had been savored only a few times before, over vast periods of time. Delicacies should be savored, like a vintage wine or as a rare, exotic topping to a magnificent meal. So the arrival of vessels into the system was both taken with caution and expectation, as having finally arrived..

Taloned digit depressed a small node, the imagery was brief and smaller versions of the mothership detached themselves. Spores as they were termed, appearing much in the shape of a crab of sorts, without the legs. The pincers arched back and to the sides, a ridged dorsal line and a singular gap within the center of the two pinchers and what appeared as a sort of mouth. Within that gap, lay a polished, smooth orb that appeared half buried in the vessel. It glowed an off neon purple, contrasting with an otherwise ebony body.

Just under the size of the frigates that been assigned to The Complex, thus giving allowing one to gauge the size of the mothership, four vessels forged ahead, propelled on an intercept course with the new arrivals. The mothership itself however did not move, for it sensed nothing that could harm it was present. This technology presented little danger to them, if any. Insignificant children playing at being gods would find themselves before those that had often been termed such by lesser races and cultures.

They moved with a grace unbecoming of their predatory appearance, gliding forward, menacingly closing the distance and while a ways off just yet, the mere sight of them, some strange alien presence makings it's presence known, would play a panic and psychological warfare all it's own upon the arrivals..

by **Epsilon Theta** » Wed Jan 04, 2012 7:58 pm

Epsilon Theta Contact Task Force
The Complex
General Contact Vessel Prerogative
Terra Aronov continued to wait as she rendered the initial scan for the third time. Her AI’s were hard at work crunching through the ultra-high-res multispectral scans, leaving her to struggle with the initial snapshot. No matter how many times she rendered the scan, she could not resolve the artifact that seemed to be hovering over the complex. Her first guess had been an asteroid, flung into orbit by the starquake, but its shape didn’t match that of any common rocky formation. The cluster of smaller artifacts around it was more problematic. Too small to resolve fully her limited picture, they presented themselves as grain in the image. Setting the image aside, she returned to the primary Tac-Plot, presently displaying the outlines of her ships and a smattering of rocky debris. As she watches, the computer updated, outlining several asteroids that seemed to have inexplicably changed course. Barely had an alarm sounded when she saw the thin contrails of Anti-Ship Missiles begin to track across the starscape to intercept the asteroids. The primary screen began to update rapidly, zooming until it displayed one of the asteroids in full detail, actually some kind of crab-shaped vessel. She could hardly believe it. Contact!

Unfortunately, this was a different kind of scenario. Standard First Contact protocol dictated peaceful message sending, negotiations, and avoidance of any kind of hostility. Of course, as her AI had already informed her, the secrecy of this facility overrode any diplomatic mission. These aliens must be destroyed totally to ensure the security of the Complex.
“All Tactical units, you have Command Authority, weapons free.” With a simple phrase, Terra unleashed hell on the craft currently tracking towards her vessels. Each ship opened up with its full arsenal of weapons, spewing missiles, kinetics, and radiation while hydraulic rams dumped thousands of ECM pods, laying a smokescreen of static.
While Terra apprehensively watched the thin weapon vectors trace across the Tac-Plot, she continued to glance at the latest find in system scan: a larger vessel, perhaps a carrier or battleship, floating above the complex. This massive vessel was the artifact she had mistaken as an asteroid, and the grain around it a cloud of what could be support craft, landers, or both. Her fingers absently flew over her displays, ensuring that tightly compressed data packets would continue carry data through the Necrian Ansible Relay. The sensors were having difficulty uncovering information about the carrier vessel, which itself was troubling. She carried not one but three of the most advanced sensor arrays in the Singularity, and even they were incapable of determining anything more about the carrier besides its existence. Sweat began to bead on the back of her neck. This was not your average alien culture.
Geostationary Orbit
Theta Prime
Singularity Battleship Raven (SBS-1)
Strategic Operations Center (SOC)

Commander Vorbin paced around a holographic model of Theta Prime that dominated the Strategic Operations Center. Various high-ranking members of Singularity forces bustled around the room. This was the largest operation ever conducted by the Singularity and, so far, they were practically powerless. Vorbin was still anxiously awaiting a status report from the Contact group that had been dispatched to the complex even though the most optimistic projections predicted a report in two full rotations.

Meanwhile, reports from the planet’s surface were grim. Civil unrest had spread like wildfire and, even with the local reserves, couldn’t be held back. Almost every distribution center in the lower city had been overrun by either fearful citizens or what appeared to be an emerging suicide cult.

Finally settling back into his station, a small cubicle set off to the side of the bridge. Leaning forwards on his desk amid a mass of reports detailing interdicted vessels, contamination rates, and the death toll, Commander Vorbin tried to catch some much needed sleep.

by **Machina Haruspex** » Thu Jan 26, 2012 3:17 pm

An enormous power spike would be readily accesible to even the most basic of sensor technology and to the eye of these sensors and such, as the four vessels plowed forth into the dispensing armament of the firing vessels. In its most basic form, a conversion drive is a reinforced fusion drive using magnetic confinement to contain the fusion reaction and eject the resulting high-energy plasma from the vessel to provide thrust.

In their lowest power mode, most conversion drives still operate in this manner and are no more efficient or capable than any other fusion drive system. However, when desired, massive Forward-type magnetic monopoles (usually held in storage rings surrounding the reaction vessel) are magnetically injected into the containment chamber and repeatedly cycled through the reaction zone at its center. Through the process of �S-wave sucking' the monopoles induce baryon decay within the plasma stream and effectively convert a greater percentage of the fusion fuel into energy than would be achievable through thermonuclear processes alone.

By increasing the number of monopoles passing through the reaction zone, either by increasing the number of monopoles used or cycling them through at faster rates, drive efficiency may be increased to levels approaching 100%. At such levels the drive exhaust is effectively a beam of high-energy gamma rays focused to near laser-like intensity.

Great care must be taken to avoid irradiating planets and habitats along the vessel's flight path or even destroying the vessel itself if there is a containment or drive reflector failure. For these reasons, as well as the remote but finite possibility of a runaway conversion reaction (something not possible with a standard fusion drive) standard operating procedures created to strictly regulate the power levels of conversion drives operating within vicinity of star systems and require long range and interstellar-capable vessels to operate at much less than maximum power while anywhere within a prescribed distance of a system primary (generally at least one light- day).

The first conversion drives were developed almost immediately after the development of Forward monopole generation technology some several thousand years prior, when the Haru were not as they were now. On the one hand, it created a reliable drive system that made intersteller flight practical, and on the other, it created a terrible weapon system. An advanced plasma weapon firing a sustained beam of monopole contained plasma at near fusion temperatures. An adaptive high energy laser guides the beam through both vaccum and atmospheres, and via an advanced application of the ponderamotive effect, compresses the monopole contained beam to a critical density at the desired range. At critical density, monopole-catalyzed fusion occurs, resulting in rapid release of the mass-energy in the plasma. In atmosphere, primary energy release is thermonuclear-equivalent shock wave and heat release, with a secondary laser impact. In vacuum, energy release is soft x-rays, with secondary laser impact.

The One Sided Battle

So sweet the agony,
So sweet the fear,
Delicious their flesh tastes,
Pleasured by their death are we.

The hallowed halls of the dreadnought vessel Cha'sid di Haurach, quite literally translated to " Hand of Fate ", emerged into view, goliath amongst the stars as it came out of the super heated passage. Blue lighting glowed softly, racing along it's exterior hull, lit by the magnetic barrier that surrounded ebony ablative reinforced design. Upon curved throne, of thin design, made to look as though a talon reaching up from the deckplates, War-Cleric Kalas studied the holo-graphic tactical display.

Bathed in that same hue of blue as the exterior, a noxious mixture of air and carbon dioxyide filled the interior of the vessel. Long had they lived amongst this poison, it had become of and apart of them. Eyes turned dark by long time amongst the night, flesh tinged blue as if they were already dead. Born to wear their carpace like armor, with the viper like head piece. Rasp of the modulator within helmet, they would not allow their foes to see their faces, better to let them fear the unseen.

Like many a race they did employ the slug thrower technology for some things, though perverted by the Haru. Calling them Malice Cannon, slivers of metal shards instead of the traditional slugs could be rattled off at dozens if not hundreds at a time. These so called Malice cannons were the sidearm of the Haru. It was not meant for a quick death. Kala favored this weapon a moment before holstering and slowly rose up from his throne, taloned right forefinger pointed to the weapons station as he spoke and indicated to the destroyer and multiple frigates captured in a triangle like targeting arrays. Make these children kneel..

Kala of course was pleased, as within the throne command chair once more as his vessel barrelled forth, on a direct path towards the collection of the fragile alien vessels, a collision course with a frigate in particular. There wasnt any particular bit of alarm resonating in that slowly becoming alien mind, it'd be like an ice breaker splitting a 'berg. Intent on grinding this world within his grip as having been denied. These children would not have this system, they would not even have their lives, they would carve it apart, such was his will. Harvesting what survived, it had been ages since any of his people had tasted the flesh of their ancient enemy. The here and there pirates taken didnt offer the same delight to the palate, though it did instill myth and fear into all who encountered them.

Were they some race that shared such a equal in technology, the result would have been catastrophic, and perhaps a happy tale. This was not the case as the lejir Krikvlic was buffeted by the many blows of kinetics, while it's gravitational wave dischargers joined the others in dispelling missiles. The smooth skin of the cruiser looked battered and beaten, though the organic hull had taken little damage over all.

It was a mild annoyance really as through the cloud they came onwards, as creatures of nightmare and lore, beasts of black against the ever moving stars. A response thus came from these beings nearly gods, purple-ish neon beams of light slid forth with unerring accuracy, sustained and targeting vessels. They cut as a razor might through paper, tearing apart bulkheads and armor as if a hot knife through butter.

It would be obvious that the four planned to herd the hostile fleet, carving the outside perimeter vessels first, letting the agonizing communications of woe stain the ears of their fellows before moving on. As they closed, the ships themselves, partially alive and partially something else, screamed as shriek so terrible, it could cause the mind to shatter, the body to fail, and the weak to perish. Be still your fragile hearts and let us devour them from your quivering masses..so sayeth the legends of old.

by **Epsilon Theta** » Thu Apr 12, 2012 8:55 pm

SBS Raven
Singularity Command Center
The data being relayed back to the Raven from the contact group travelled with little regard for the laws of physics. Arriving at the receiving station the instant it was sent, the Necrian Ansible was the most coveted of the Singularity’s technology; however, as truth would have it, the technology was not their own. As the first contact fleets had sallied forth onto the galactic stage, an ancient race known as the Necrians guided the Contact fleets, and as the Necrians grew weak, the Singularity eagerly laid hands on any artifacts left behind. The Ansible, whose technology had resisted all attempts to force it to divulge the secret to its operation, existed only as fully functioning captured artifacts or crude receiving stations, requiring many times the power of a true Necrian Ansible to pick up even the nearest of communications. Only on a ship as large as the Raven or the handful of experimental Contact ships was there enough excess power to operate such a device.

But operate the device they did, for in space, seconds could give the fleet enough time to dodge an incoming salvo, or prepare to face an unseen threat. And now, the device carried terrible news to the heart of the battleship. Silently and with terror, the crew watched as the Contact Deep Space monitors, perhaps the most advanced ships in the Singularity, fell before they could even launch their second salvo.

As the Forge’s primary reactor breached its containment, and exploded in a deadly nova of radiation, the command crew could only look on as quickly, one after the other, data feeds went dead. The Flight, in a desperate move to save the Prerogative and its organic occupant, began to dump all its power to drives, setting a collision course for the nearest alien vessel. Status reports indicated it had dumped a full salvo of kinetics at the target, but visual data relayed via Ansible suggested that only a few batteries had remained operational.

Then came the screaming. Commander Terra Aronov, grim and focused began to wail in terror. She had, true to her pedigree as an officer of Contact, remained stoic through the destruction of the Forge, impartially making decisions that she thought would best protect her ships. But now the small display reserved for the Commander’s image became the focus of attention. As her screams grew more frantic, Commander Vorbin rose from his station and slashed his hand across his throat, “kill audio, and shunt the Commander’s feed to Psych Ops.” It would not the crew any good to watch one of their top officers go mad. The tactical data still remained,though the picture it painted was just as grim.

Telemetry from Flight was the next to go, leaving only the limited amount of functioning sensor pods on Prerogative to watch the aliens carve the Flightas it continued its suicide charge. The command staff waited with baited breath as the ship pushed closer still to the alien vessel, but the suspense was cut off abruptly when the last data feeds began to cut out. The last message they received suggested that Commander Aronov had engaged her ships fail-deadly device, overloading the reactor before her ship could be taken.

As the main screen cut off, a different kind of silence descended upon the Command center, accompanied by a creeping sense of dread. They say that the driving force behind man’s fear is a fear of the unknown, and in that respect, they were right. Yet the Commander was inherently curious, the unknown sparked something in him, a feeling of pure exhilaration. Someone had to say something to break the silence, and Commander Vorbin might as well be the first one to say something.

“What the hell did we just see?” There was no response from the Command center, they were still too shocked to say a thing. “Well?” he continued, “Come on people, what’s going on here?”

A tech finally spoke, “Whatever that was, it wiped us out in minutes. We don’t stand a chance.” With the silence broken, the rest of the crew began to dive in, devouring horde of data that had been transferred.
”Their weapons ripped through our armor...”
“Missiles were intercepted but kinetics seemed to make it through.”
“We have no way of knowing that they can track us...”
“Even if Contact scrubbed their systems before self destruct, they could trace our location back through the ansible”
“there’s no way of knowing that they even knew we were operating it”

Commander Vorbin sat back as the Command Staff began their analysis. He himself began looking over the tactical analysis the three ships had created in their final moments. He had a briefing with the Council in an hour, and it was not going to be easy to explain this.

by **Machina Haruspex** » Wed May 09, 2012 2:11 pm

The vessel in question, the Flight, was indeed carved apart as it made the most obvious of choices. Sacrifice. It sped forth, or had until it'd been sectionalized by the deadly weapon of the lejir Krikvlic, the beast that hung in the void of the stars while the smaller vessels struck true and swiftly. A light of bluish haze struck forth, but it did not damage what remained of the Flight.

Instead it drew the sections into it's cavernous belly, beyond what appeared to be a fang lined maw that eagerly awaited the dinner it was about to recieve. Feelers struck the hulls of the sections as they came, the nose of the vessel was most intact, and some species put their bridges or places of command there, though not all.

Said feelers latched onto the hull, and would deploy minute talons into the alloy of the skin that coated this craft, digging into the root of it's flesh, seeking out the areas where data would flow. Even a carcass could offer insights, as could the remains of it's crew. Eventually the ship would be processed, fed to the ever hungry appetite for resources. Through this process they, the ancients, would learn even more about the frail creatures that had been where they found them.

On the moon..

Inquisitors were quite thorough. The bunker had been breached, and now they stood before the frightened surviving masses. Arm cannons raised slowly, as hysteria built in the minds of those clustered bodies, so sweet the pheromone of fear that coursed through the inquisitors that they were visibly rocking back and forth on their many legs, letting it waft through their senses.

It was short lived however, the weapons fired, but it was not the purple hued beam that had cut through the security forces or the doors and so on. It was an orangish-white discharge that when striking one of the victims, swallowed them up in a sort of cocoon of sorts. Vain struggles could be seen as the limbs of the affected individual tried to move, fingers tried to claw through the membrane like material. Faces pressed against, near perfect molds made as gasping for air and so on only to go inert after a time.

One by one, even a security guard who fired his weapon into the gel as it coated him, there was the sound but no mark, no hole, the gel slid over and in and everywhere, it would have it's prisoner. Eventually the sound of the capturing was over and the lead warrior turned to face the nearest inquisitor. Dra tido ec tuha so munt.

There was a slight glow to one of the many eyes of the inquisitor but no verbal response. A light motion of a talon and the warrior turned about, gesturing to those of lesser station to stand aside. Alongst the flooring of the bunker like science station came a cross between mechanical and organic technologies in the shape of a sort of beetle. They crawled and flitted about the now immobile statues as the gel hardened and became as transports for them, each melding to the cocoons, and as one they were tipped over.

A wooshing sound for a moment and the petrified forms were lifted by means of a negative force of gravity designed to make them float in the air at hip level to a warrior. In turn, a warrior laid a hand upon each and gently pushed the form forward, thus motion was attained and the caravan back to where the harvesting lift had been established.

The harvesting area was essentially a gravity lift that was directed into the hive ship itself, and from there, into the many holding areas where other unfortunates to be captured also laid in rest, waiting for the inevitable thawing and terror.

by **Epsilon Theta** » Mon Jun 04, 2012 10:14 pm

Geostationary Orbit
Theta Prime
Redoubt-class Cruiser XN-3452

People weren’t talking, and Commander Grear hated being kept in the dark. When the crisis began, communications had increased. He could barely go an hour without contact from Fleet Command or another command ship, but starting about 6 hours ago, all the comm chatter cut out. Every military frequency went dead. He had ordered his sensor operator to scan for traffic, anything to find out what the hell was going on. All they’d managed to catch were a few scattered and highly encrypted transmissions from the surface to the Raven, Commander Vorbin’s flagship. He had hoped to pick up something insightful from this, but two hours later and still nothing. Smoothing his uniform, Grear stood from his table in the CIC and walked over to his communications officer.

“Mister Aziri, get me Commander Vorbin on a scramble line,” he jerked the handset out of it’s cradle and nestled it between his neck and shoulders. Lieutenant Aziri nodded that the channel was established and secure.

“This is Major Veritus,we are receiving you 10 by 10 Commander,” the voice was young, but the tone suggested that the Major had not always worked a desk job. Grear could respect someone like that, someone who’d done time in the field and knew what things looked like on the ground, so to speak.

“What the hell is going on over there Major? I haven’t heard a work from Command in hours,” Grear demanded answers: the stakes were too high to risk missing out on some critical detail.

“I’m sorry sir, we’re currently working an issue. Continue to enforce the blockade until further notice.” There was a hint of annoyance in the Major’s voice, as though this were the 100th time he had passed on the same order

“I can’t enforce this thing permanently. My magazines are starting to look pretty empty. If anyone else tries to make a run for it, I may have to switch to kinetics. When can I expect a resupply?” This was not entirely the truth. There was more than enough ordinance onboard to sustain the blockage indefinitely. But the answer would tell him all he needed to know about the fleet’s situation.

“Sir, all resupply vessels are currently tasked on priority missions. Veritus out.”

So the situation was as grim as he had suspected. His ship sat in orbit around the largest shipyard in the Singularity and there wasn’t a single supply tender nearby. Something big was happening outside of the outbreak. Whatever the virus was, it was highly dangerous, but not the type of danger you start stockpiling missiles for. The fleet had something else in mind, but he’d be damned if he sat this one out.

SBS-1 Raven
Commander Vorbin

“Our options, Ladies and Gentleman, are simple, we can pray they don’t find us and lay low, or we can hit them before they build up momentum. They already know we’re here, so the element of surprise went out the airlock with the Contact ships we sent to contain the situation.” Ever since the Council had been relocated aboard his flagship, his briefings had gotten a lot shorter and too the point. He scanned the emotionless faces of the Council members seated at the elegant table that they had insisted upon bringing aboard. With no visible reactions, he continued, “This brings me to my second point. We need to pull in the Contact fleet and consolidate our forces if we’re to have any chance at stopping them. I want a full recall on all external missions. Now. Hesitation is death. We’re facing an enemy who is generations ahead of us in terms of technology, and we’ll need every advantage we can get. Our own forces are operating a reduced effectiveness due to the current situation with the pathogen, but Contact forces have remained untouched. They’re the only force we have that can operate at full strength. You must order a full recall.”

The Councilman for External Relations, a thin, wiry man, placed his stylus on the desk and tilted back in his chair. When he spoke, his voice wavered, “Commander. I...we believe that you misunderstand the Singularity’s relationship with Contact. This council cannot....will not order Contact. We will make your recommendation known, but cannot ensure it will be acted upon. Ensure you have contingency plans if they do not comply with your request. You’re dismissed Commander.”

Vorbin stormed out of the room, disgusted. Contact wouldn't even consider withdrawing its ships unless it was positive that the alien force they had encountered was on its way to the Singularity. And that wouldn’t happen until they started blasting his planet to pieces. He could consolidate his forces, but it wouldn't be enough. With the plague thinning his crews, it was only a matter of time before he would start losing full ships to the infection.

Traversing the stark corridors of the Raven, he called up some data on a probe mission about to be launched into the system formerly occupied by the Complex. Each probe, a small disk covered with passive detectors would be dispersed by a disposable launch vehicle. His advisors assured him that, with the exception of the delivery vehicle, the probes would be completely undetected. He disliked risking another encounter, but he couldn't just sit here and wait for them to show up. Early warning could provide a strategic edge, and he had almost given the go-ahead without hesitation. Even as he had met with the Council, the probes translated into FTL, hurtling towards the edges of the Complex’s unstable system to disperse their quite sensor net.

The Stars were Dying (FT, Closed, ATTN: Machina Haruspex)

The Stars were Dying (FT, Closed, ATTN: Machina Haruspex)

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