A small angry planet [IC/OPEN!]

by **Republic of the Cristo** » Wed Apr 04, 2018 3:13 am

Propta, USSR

" They clearly broke past the quarantine zone! " Air marshal Gagarin protested into the back of the General Secretary. Today's high level security meeting was being conducted in a lounge room usually reserved for the staff, but recently commandeered by the base's communications team. Since the General Secretary's order for a military communication's down grade, serious restructuring had been taking place throughout numerous key centers of the Soviet state. Land lines previously long forgotten and eroded were being resurrected by the Army Corp of engineers all throughout Russia and Siberia. Important documents were being either typed via type writer - or hand written in pen. The new manpower and infrastructure needed to maintain the downgrade was staggering... and this was only to cover the essential state information. The irony of having to downgrade their technology in order to fight a technologically superior enemy had not been lost on the inhabitants of Propta - least of all the General Secretary.

Like most of the people in Propta, Sokolov wasn't getting too much sleep these days. His every waking moment had become a circus of military briefings, reports of new arrivals to the solar system, civil unrest in areas under martial law, phone calls with foreign leaders, dolling out instructions to regional governors, RnD updates with the egg heads, and now, most recently, having to review quarantine of the capsule which landed in Moscow. The breach in quarantine being the current subject of the Air marshal's outrage. Sokolov stood in front of the room's coffee machine with his back turned to the assembled group of men behind him - Gagarin, Ivanov, and Tupolev. He had been awake for the last 50 hours, every second of which seemed to turn what hair the man had left even grayer. " They're confused. It seems like they don't actually understand what they are doing - least, that is what the scientists are saying. "

Sokolov turned from the machine and faced his counterparts - all proud men of the politburo, driven ragged and weary over the last two weeks. Gagarin was not satisfied. " They know our language, and they understood where our capital city was - they even sent one to the nords! Foxes know why! They got our message too, and understood it, so why on Earth should - "

" They Couldn't Respond! " Sokolov's sudden outburst silenced the room as at least three dozen heads turned towards the General Secretary, then quickly back to their work. Sokolov breathed out and turned the coffee in his cup. "

As it was explained to me... it's likely that these specific ET's do not have the technology to send out radio waves - only to receive them. The capsules were the only way for them to acknowledge our message. They had to take a risk. " Sokolov brought the cup up fully to his face, trying to block out Gagarin's Skepticism.

" That's a damn far stretch, comrade secretary. " Gagarin growled out. Sokolov brought the cup back down and responded with a sigh.

" I know it is. But our means of actually making good on nuclear retaliation are limited right now. How many new gyroscopes has BrahMos made Ivanov? "

" 58 as of three hours ago. " The minister of communications responded astutely. The production of the new BrahMos gyroscopes was among those secrets withheld from the general computer systems and communications networks of the state and military apparatuses. If it was to be believed, as first laid out during a strategy meeting some three days ago, that their new ET visitors possessed light speed weapons and super computer targeting systems then these gyroscopes would be the only hope for any kind of effective action on the part of Earth against their fleets. Updates on their production totals were being relayed in every 3 hours.

" 58 comrade Gagarin, and if I recall correctly, Tchaikovsky stated that we would need at least 1000 before we can even think about launching any kind of serious attack. So yes, I know they broke containment, but given the current circumstances I am willing to forgive it! " Dejected, Gagarin only nodded.

" Yes comrade secretary... when put that way you do have a point. "

Sokolov sipped his coffee again, content with this small victory. He then turned back to Ivanov, " So then, how do we respond? "

Ivanov shrugged his shoulders like the answer was obvious. " We don't. We are already relaying the message out across the system via the Gagarin satellite. If we stay silent for a while, they will get the message and send a representative to the Mir II. "

" Hmm. " Sokolov responded, satisfied with Ivanov's answer. Another sip from his cup, " And how is the situation on Mir right now? Any arrivals thus far? "

Ivanov smiled as he nodded. " Actually, yes. Our team in Khrunichev is monitoring a meeting right now. "

Mir II, Earth's orbit

* static *
- This is Colonel Natasha Vasiliev of the Soviet Air Force, commander of this station the Mir II * static * - Your vessel is to approach alongside airlock C, which will be designated by a flashing green light. You will exit from your vessel into the airlock with only your person or that of your representatives. Keep in mind you will not be physically allowed past the air lock inside of the station, in order to prevent possible cross contamination. * static * our meeting shall occur after you have entered into the airlock - * static *

Residence of Ambassador Kornilov,
Stockholm, Nordic Commonwealth

The intercom crackled through the response of ambassador Kornilov, " Hello Mr. Østergård, thank you for coming on short notice. I am sorry but I cannot remember our meeting before. Please, allow my staff to show you in."

The moment the intercom turned off the door was opened. Standing in the door way was a bald, black suited man, who wore upon his lapel the unmistakable shield and sword emblem of the KGB as a pin. In low yet off puttingly soft words he told Mr. Østergård, " Please, come with me. "

Mr. Østergård would be led down several hallways and up a lavish stairwell before finally arriving to ambassador Kornilov's office. Along the way, If Mr. Østergård had been paying attention, he would notice a dire lack of other people in the house ( exempting other black suited KGB members ). No staff, no family, not even usual security guards - strictly the steely faced golems from the KGB.

The nameless agent who had ushered Mr. Østergård through the house would stop outside a plain wooden door with the words, Посол Корнилов, etched into a golden frame. The agent hold up a hand to Østergård, " One moment please. " The agent then opened up the door slightly so as to stick his head in. A silent word was passed which Østergård could not here before the agent turned back to face him. " Mr. Kornilov will see you now. "

Inside his office, Kornilov sat behind his desk, gripping a pin with both hands, looking sideways at a dead and empty fireplace. Without turning his head, he would address the room's new arrival in the most frank and curt way the Russian language could allow. " Hello Mr. Østergård, we have much to discuss, and very little time to do it. "

Arctic Ocean, off the coast of Victoria Land

" Are you getting these readings too Alexei? "

" 12.3 VgGs? Yeah. " With the flip of a few switches above their monitors, the color of the screens suddenly changed from green and black, tow white and black - a stark contrast to the bright and luminescent red light which filled the room. The bridge of the Vladivstock nuclear submarine was spacious when compared to the bridges of most of it's ancestral models. The ceiling was tall enough that a man could stand up to his full height without hitting anything, each and every man had a chair for himself, and there was still enough room to walk around without too much trouble.

" Captain, there is definitely something going on out there. Some serious energy readings which just shouldn't be. " The captain's eyes were placed squarely into the mask of his periscope.His surveying of the coastline didn't reveal anything of significance.

" How far in to the mainland is the landing sight porter? " The chief porter seated at the computer looked back to his monitor. Clicking onto a new tab and reviewing the satellite image taken only a few hours ago he replied to his captain.

" About 6 kilometers captain. The crash area is spread out over about 3 kilometers though. " The captain pulled his face out of the mask before pushing it back up into the ceiling. He grunted,

" Send the readings back to command. Inform them that we are sending a search party ashore. "

21 minutes later...

Demetri pulled back the slide of his rifle just a tiny bit, just to make sure that a bullet was still in fact chambered there. It was a nervous relief thing for him. Always before deploying on a mission, he would check the chamber of his weapon just to make sure that there was still a bullet in there. Pvt. Demetri looked around towards the rest of the men on the rocky beach. There were five other men, his squad mates. Men he had been serving with for the last two years. Brothers in their own right. Each had their own nervous traditions, Sgt. Reznhov would tug at his coat collar for example. The sergeant found it difficult to indulge in his habit though as the gas mask covered up so much of his head.

With the Vladivostok being assigned to the Antarctic ocean, Demetri's squad was fitted out with winter gear. Heavy duty white coats, pants, gloves, frost resistant weapons and gear, and baklavas. The baklavas were done away with though today, in favor of heavy duty gas masks. The Vladivostok, being a nuclear submarine, always carried some protective gear in the case of reactor malfunction. That protective gear was being repurposed by the landing party though. If indeed there was an extra-terrestrial presence here in Victoria land, the landing party would need to take all necessary precautions. The possibility of a Columbus meets the indians scenario was a terrifying one - thus, the uncomfortable masks currently worn by the landing party.

With the corporal pulling the radio pack off of the tube and onto his back he looked and nodded towards the sergeant. " Ready. "

Reznhov nodded, bringing his rifle down from his shoulder into his hands. " Alright, sat systems are watching us up above. The Vladivostok will see us - but if we get in trouble there isn't too much they'll be able to do. Keep safe and don't get hurt. Let's move out. "

And so it began. From the ice covered rocky shores, where the freezing water lapped gently upon their raft, the 6 marines of Vladivostok marched into the heart of the frozen continent, set to discover the secret of Victoria land.

by **Plzen** » Wed Apr 04, 2018 3:28 am

Residence of Ambassador Posol Kornilov,
Stockholm, Nordic Commonwealth

This is a strange house, thought Director Østergård, that I'm visiting on this strange day.

Being led from corridor to corridor, he couldn't help but recall the various fantasy "adventures" he went on with his friends in his extreme youth. It was a diplomatic privilege of Ambassador Kornilov to have the privacy of his domicile, and the Director began to wonder just how much that privilege was being abused. The discreetly dressed Stockholm police not three metres from the house looked, from his vantage point on the no doubt bulletproof windows, so close, yet so far.

"Hello Mr. Østergård, we have much to discuss, and very little time to do it," said Ambassador Kornilov, when the Director finally, finally had his acquaintance. The room had a very dead atmosphere to it, yet its sole inhabitant was anything but. Göran Østergård shook his hand, and sat himself down in a nearby chair.

"Then I suggest that we get started immediately," he responded. "I can see that I was not brought in for pleasantries."

by **Yymea** » Wed Apr 04, 2018 5:23 am

Dnye put all its focus within itself. It was about to undergo a very quick, very shocking process. Other beings would have called it 'painful', but that didn't quite describe it. Its huge veins inflated slightly, and its pores gaped open. Deep within itself, in one of the micro-ecosistems that had survived the trauma of space travel, a particularly fleshy chunk of Dnye could be found, surrounded by boiling swamps and putrid air. An ancient house still stood, half buried by water and organic matter.
Within the old building was a large battery, connected to power generation stations throughout Dnye. Some of its tendrils took hold of the device. It had two steel prongs
pointing downwards. The tendrils pulled, stabbing the flesh below. They turned on the battery.

A series of electric shocks hit Dnye with full force. By the third shock, Dnye realized that it had succeeded. Two hunks of organic matter, of roughly human shape, stood on top of the fresh wounds from their separation from the main body. They were its ambassadors.

Dnye put them in two newly built metal exoskeletons, allowing the flexible bodies to move with human motions. They also provided very considerable protection and were light enough to allow it to move effortlessly (and heavy enough to make them unusable by even the strongest of humans. Of course, Dnye hasn't thought of this). It had also assembled a voice box, using speech segments it has picked up from radio signals. The voice was a bit flat, but it did its job.

Dnye prepared two spacecraft for its trip. It was excited to finally meet a human in person. It had lived a long life. A good, happy life. For a few moments, Dnye didn't worry about its survival. It just readied itself, climbed into the two separate spacecraft, made itself confortable, and blasted off.

It liked the Mir station.

But Bouvetøya it liked far more.

by **Korhal IVV** » Wed Apr 04, 2018 6:56 am

Mir II

Upon recieving the message, Mirquel ordered the Nomad’s pilot to get her to the airlock marked by a green flashing light. The starfighter latched onto the airlock, its door opening to reveal the resplendent Ensari envoy, Mirquel Hireoa. She stepped out of the vehicle into the airlock, her boots making a clacking sound as they stepped onto the floor of the station. She held on her right hand a staff, whose end had a mysterious glowing gem embedded on it. On the left was what appeared to a crystal stuck on a golden frame. It was a device for holographic projections, and, assumably, is to show the humans what the Ensari can offer. She removed her mask to reveal a face that was shockingly almost like a human, if not for the eyes that glowed a bright blue, the unmistakable tracts of psychic energy emblazoning across her skin in different patterns, and the psychic aura she projected from herself as her psionic ability was well beyond that of ordinary Ensari. An aura of faint blue sparks floated around her, and she stood where she was.

“Alright, Terrans. I am now here.”

The Lunaven

“Confirmed touchdown of the envoy in the station, Lord Commander.”, the Informations Officer of the Lunaven tweeted as he flitted through various screens and holograms. “The Nomad is staying where it is.”

“Good. She can deal with it herself. Update me on the presence of other fleets in the system.”

“Coming right up, Lord Commander.”, the officer replied as data came onto his screens. “Confirmed fleets are of the Pallidans, Dasani, Elystimari, and...”, the man’s voice trembled. “The Erel is here.”

“Those damn Veselar.”, Sol Hazari slammed his fist on his throne. “When will they learn that this Quantium is what keeps our nations stable? When will they actually see that our people are dying because of THEM?!”

“Unlikely that they will, Lord Commander.”, his advisor said, standing beside him. “Besides, it is their sworn mission, after all. That is why we must finish this before the Erel fires. If it does, the Ensari are doomed to extinction.”

“Lambda, I want an estimate on how long before the Erel’s psionic cannon fires.”, Sol Hazari ordered. “We need to know how much time we have.”

“According to the energy signatures our sensors detect on the Erel, it is safe to assume that it has only began charging less than a day or so ago. Probably today. Hard estimates put us at 300 days.”

“Ample time, then.”, Sol Hazari said as he looked out towards the stars as the fleet remained hidden in the rings of Saturn. “We will use that time to establish an agreement with the Terrans, and in exchange for technology, we will have enough Quantium to send us back to the moonships and enough for us to leave this galaxy for the next, as well as to explore that one for Quantium as well.” He then went on. “I want you to access all Terran knowledge, Comms Officer Lambda.”, he ordered, facing the aforementioned person. “Their world is linked by what they call... what was it again? The enterwet?”

“The internet, Lord Commander.”, Lambda corrected while hiding a smile. “By hacking into their informations network, we will know what their history, culture, and all is like.”

“Very well then. Proceed.”

“But I am already done, Lord Commander.”

“So fast?”

“Their security systems are just absolutely pathetic that it just took me two clicks to access it all.”, Lambda remarked. “Just half a million passwords? Ours have trillions.”

“Alright, what did you find?”

“It seems that they like this thing called nudes and hen-“

“No, not that kind of thing, please.”, Hazari sighed while stiffling a laugh. “Such as their history and arsenal, things like that! Not their sexual fantasies, those are things that should be kept in a coffin and buried.”

“Well, not very impressive, though not bad for a planetbound species, Lord Commander.”,Lambda said as he flipped through several holoscreens. “They are a fractured race, composed of nation states with differing ideologies and cultured. They have fought two world wars, and both had enduring consequences. The second one was ended by a dropping of nuclear weapons onto the cities called Nagasaki and Hiroshima, and resulted in thousands of undetonated bombs in this country called Germany. Huh, how stupid for them to make bombs that don’t explode.”, he scoffed a little bit before continuing. “As for today, they are three superpowers on the face of Terra. Russia, which seems to be a twisted and idiotic parody of our society that is obssessed with bombs and the color red; the United States, or whatever, which is what we would call a so called bastion of freedom but is just as corrupt as the others, and China, which is just like Russia except that it has a billion inhabitants. As for their arsenal, well, at its current state, it can’t even leave a scratch on our ships, though a concentrated attack can destroy one of our destroyers. Low megaton nuclear weapons, ballistic missiles, and low power explosive and kinetic weapons. Honestly, I think they need a serious technological revolution. Your thoughts, Lord Commander?”

“Pathetic in technology as they may be, they are a stubborn and clever race.”, Hazari noted as he looked at the screens depicting endless amounts of information. “They are driven by survival and do not simply accept fate as we do. Though they are technologically inferior, the Envara tell me that these people also have passion in their hearts and a genius in their minds. Their weak state is all the more reason for us to lend technological aid.”

“Affirmative, Lord Commander.”

by **Plzen** » Wed Apr 04, 2018 7:23 am

Københavns Lufthavn,
Copenhagen, Nordic Commonwealth

The reporter stood in front of the Departures wing. Planes in the background, one taking off right now, people bustling in the corridor... perfect.

"...we're live," the director whispered.

"...to our live reporter in Kastrup. Sigrid, how looks the situation?"

"The official mood at Kastrup Airport is bright," she began, "as State Minister Reynir of the Nordic Commonwealth just has departed for Bouvetøya amidst great fanfare from the media, the government, as well as the local populace. The Conference at Bouvetøya will be the first official diplomatic discourse between the Commonwealth and an extraterrestrial intelligence."

"Tell me, Sigrid. What can we as a nation expect from this conference? What procedures are in place?"

"None. The Government has released a statement announcing that this is truly uncharted territory, and that no precedents or established protocols regarding these situations, new contact with a previously unknown polity, exists. Although the Government has stated that they will simply act 'as appropriate' in whatever situation the State Minister will face down there in Bouvetøya, many eyes are on the State Minister's party as whatever happens during this Conference will likely set an established precedent for handling many such situations in the future."

"I can imagine that this is a terse situation even for our fearless Labour government," the news anchor joked. "Truly, unprecedented is the right word for this. So much, in fact, that interest is rapidly gathering in just who - or what - is the first extraterrestrial polity with which the Commonwealth will be establishing relations. What can you tell us about this 'Dnye,' with which our State Minister will be negotiating?"

"Little is known about the Dnye, most of which has been communicated to Earth by the Dnye itself. It is known to be a single-minded entity - a hive mind or a single person, depending on how one looks at it - that has been roaming cold space due to some unspecified cataclysm that drove it out of its previous home. Its stated purpose in Earth is to provide itself with a new home. Beyond that, the Government is aware that the Dnye is capable of receiving radio messages, and is fond of sending physical messages, including printed text and drawings, as opposed to broadcasts.

"Thank you, Sigrid. Now we'll be returning to the newsroom, to discuss the ramifications of this moment..."

by **Multiversal Venn-Copard** » Wed Apr 04, 2018 7:52 am

Sentience 1280 "Odyssey"
Crossing Saturnian Orbit

An insertion burn of this magnitude needed many hours to complete; mercifully, Odyssey had started just soon enough that it would reach this system's star exactly at the intended time. Its reaction drives kept thrusting at full power, albeit tilted a few degrees away from retrogade so as to push the probe's trajectory above the ecliptic plane and towards the inclination of the solar equator. Mercifully, such a maneuver put it in a position to simply glide above the system's inner asteroid belt rather than passing through, so Odyssey felt rather relieved that its ablative armor did not have to take any more damage before it had a chance to warm up its point defenses and repair its outer plating.

On the other hand, the movements of spacecraft around the third planet were becoming concerning, as was the planet's rather confident warning to intelligences and its demand for a reply. Odyssey elected to discard the initial wave of first-contact radio messages from the primitives on the planet, but it kept its comms open in the event that a more competent civilization recognized it or, to be quite honest, cared at all about what it was trying to do. Still travelling at an appreciable fraction of c, and with an acceleration that involved enough power to be spotted from a parsec or two away, the probe was both absurdly easy to detect and similarly trivial to identify as a potential threat. Misinterpretation, though, was not on the table, and Odyssey would respond to anyone who seemed capable of doing anything about its existence. Of course, responses would be at lightspeed only, so as to conserve the extremely limited quantum bandwidth available.

As the rest of its computer systems activated one after another, it took a brief inventory to identify missing or damaged items. All of its collection equipment was stored properly and accounted for, it discovered, but the replication facilities for nanites and collectors had experienced some kind of radiation-induced decay in functionality. Odyssey swiftly added repairs for those facilities to its mid-term objectives list as it glid past the system's sixth planet, eagerly hurtling towards its star.

by **Republic of the Cristo** » Thu Apr 05, 2018 12:01 am

Mir II, Earth's orbit

Separating the Ensari representative from the internal structure of the Mir was a single metal door way. At the top of the door was a single window, from behind the glass was the gazing face of Colonel. Vasiliev. Vasiliev had been preparing for this moment... all her life. 42 years had lead to this moment. 42 years of constant, tireless, flawless, and perfect work - of agonizing pains, deathly boredom, and missed opportunities - of brutal competition, brown nosing, and the loss of friends - had all lead to this moment. She, Natasha Vasiliev, would be the first human being to ever speak with a being not of Earth. True first contact.

Her hair was dark brown and held back in a short bun. She looked old for only being 42, the years having done a number upon her otherwise lovely face. She, along with the rest of the crew, upon first hearing of the arrival of the ET's into the solar system, were ecstatic; a little scared too, but mostly ecstatic. Every cosmonaut had dreamed of meeting little green men growing up as a kid, and now here they were! Of course, the crew of the Mir II had absolutely no way of knowing that they would in fact be the first people to meet them. The Mir II was, like it's previous namesake, an orbital research station, and her crew were the scientists. Natasha and crew had received quite a shock when the face General Secretary Sokolov had appeared on their receiver. He congratulated the crew of the Mir on their profitable research aboard the Mir thus far, but, also informed them that they would be undertaking an even more important task than their research: they would be the hosts of first contact between Earth and the ET's - they, representing the Earth.

Over the next two days, Natasha, as well as every other member of the Mir, would commit to memory the list of questions and parameters sent to them from ground control. And now... here she was. The only thing standing between her and this alien was a single airlock door. She was captivated but the sight of the creature. It looked almost human, but was taller, and with some kind of lightful energy field around it...her? Gender was unsure, but something of it's demeanor reminded her of femininity. The bio-luminescence of the skin, the resplendent staff she held, it was... fascinating! And most astonishing of all, she could speak! This, being... this, woman... this non-human entity was intelligent, and could communicate with her - Natasha! She was almost lost for words in the moments following the creature's salutations. She regained her wits as a hand touched her shoulder. It was the ghostly pale hand of her 2nd in command: Boris Savinkov, urging her on - to begin the meeting. Vasiliev gulped.

" Hello. I am... Natasha Vasiliev... commander of this station and representative of the Earth... Welcome to the Mir II. "

Propta, USSR

It was grim. Not only in feeling, but in smell. The cold and dark taste of foreboding seemed to manifest itself upon the very air, tainting every breath with a sense of dread. They were in the WAR room, the actual WAR room. In the deepest, most protected part of Propta, was a large room, made from granite, steel, and computers ( though these computers had been modified to fit upon a closed network - no prying eyes from non-human parties ). The ceiling was about 20 feet from the floor, soft lights being hung in a circle made to cast light perfectly down upon the center of the room. Upon the floor of the rooms center lay encrusted a circular plate, upon which was etched the hammer and sickle. Surrounding the emblem was a long, open circular table, were in seated were the members of the politburo, and what military officers of the high command were present. Tchaikovsky, chief of strategic rocket forces; Tupolev, chief of the Army; Gagarin, Air marshal; and Petrov, chief of the Navy, were not present at the meeting.

Anton Beria, head of the Roscosmos corporation, had finished reading the obsevatory dispatch report; that, was when the grim started seeping into the air. " They broke quarantine... they are in the atmosphere. "

The General Secretary said the damning words aloud, which seemed to only let the grim sink ever more into the air around them. The assembled leaders of the Soviet Union and workers revolution looked across the table towards one another - knowing full well what the situation meant. " Gagarin, did you hear me? "

From the empty seat of Anton Gagarin, a small speaker lit up with response. " Yes General Secretary... I heard you. "

Ivan Sokolov, a man famous for his hard face, had now turned to stone as he looked down upon the emblem inlaid into the floor of the WAR room - the symbol of the revolution, of the proletariat, of the future... what future was that about to be. " ... shoot it out of the sky. "

War, it meant war. And with the order to shoot the Dyne ship out of the sky, the declaration was sealed. " Comrade Petrov, use the northern fleet to reclaim the wreckage of the Dyne as soon as it makes crashes into the sea. Let nothing stand in your way. "

Sokolov breathed, " To all military commanders: as of this moment, we are now at Defcon 1. All appropriate forces of the north western sector shall move towards invasion of the Nordic Commonwealth - post strategic nuclear strike. Comrade Tchaikovsky, are you present? Do you have with you your command console? "

From Tchaikovsky's empty chair a speaker sprang alive, " I am here comrade secretary, and so is the command console. I give permission for launch. "

From out of the shadows of the room came forward a man of non-descript features, carrying a steel briefcase. Using a key, pulled from his pocket, the case was open to reveal an extensive command computer command console hidden in the brief case. From the inside of his jacket pocket, Sokolov produced a block like key. He starred into it's bronze reflection. " I give permission for launch. "

" But sir! " It was Ivanov, seated directly across the table from Sokolov. He held out a hand pleadingly. " We only have 103 of the BrahMos gyroscopes installed thus far. What of attacking the Dyne? "

Sokolov did not take his eyes from his reflection of the launch key. " We will deal with them in time. If it becomes necessary, we shall use our current arsenal to mount an attack. However, if it not needed, than we shall wait for the opportune moment... Issue a statement to the emergency warning systems, Ivanov. "

" Tchaikovsky are you ready? " A moment of silence followed before the reply from Tchaikovsky's speaker. " I am ready sir! "

" Insert your key! " Ker-chek! The key fit comfortably inside of it's lock within the briefcase. So sleek... so efficient. Sokolov swallowed hard. " Turn your key upon mark. 3...2...1... mark! "

An Overview of the NorthWest Soviet military sector

The pitch black waters of the Baltic were made clear by blinding white light. The slow puttering submarines, which prowled the sea floor, had suddenly ejected their deadly cargo. The choppy surface of the water was broken as missiles rose to the heavens. In the glacier ridden waters of the north Atlantic, prowling destroyers would rain missile volley's upon coastal towns beyond the horizon. Along the Finnish and Soviet border, ancient and thick forests spread across the land without regard for the lines of men. Thousands of feet above flew hundreds of aeroplanes, their cargo consisting of death and destruction, bound for the unsuspecting soldiers waiting just across the border. Over the sea and over the danish isles, great hulking planes filled with the brave soviet men who would dare gravity, prepared to pepper themselves over the the once peaceful lands of Denmark.

by **Plzen** » Thu Apr 05, 2018 12:04 am

Soviet Mission to the Nordic Commonwealth,
Stockholm, Nordic Commonwealth

Posol Kornilov, ambassador of the Soviet Union in the Nordic Commonwealth, and Staff of the Soviet Embassy in Stockholm,

You are hereby notified that Posol Kornilov, Ambassador of the Soviet Union in the Nordic Commonwealth, all foreign persons acting on behalf of the Government of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, and all Soviet citizens under the employ of the Soviet Embassy in Stockholm within the Nordic Commonwealth are declared persona non grata, effective immediately.

Such persons have 96 hours to vacate their premises within the Nordic Commonwealth and leave the country, or they will cease to be considered staff of the mission by the Nordic Commonwealth.

Regards,

Dag Naess,
Minister of Foreign Affairs,
Nordic Council

Nordic Mission to the USSR
Moscow, Soviet Union

General Secretary of the Supreme Soviet, and all else whom it may concern,

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs is required by international law to inform you that due to recent events, the Nordic Council has decided to withdraw its diplomatic staff from the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. All members of the staff of the Nordic mission to the USSR, as defined by the 1961 Vienna Convention, who are not Soviet citizens shall be withdrawn from the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics within the next 96 hours.

From that point on and until further notice, the Mission of the Nordic Commonwealth to the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics is to be considered temporarily suspended. Pending approval by the Council, the premises authorised to the use by this Mission may be restored to the Soviet Union.

Regards,

Dag Naess,
Minister of Foreign Affairs,
Nordic Council

Concentrated Radio Broadcast,
Somewhere in Iceland, Nordic Commonwealth

I, State Minister Reynir Jón Þórirsson of the Nordic Commonwealth, speaking on behalf of the Nordic Council and by extension the twenty-seven million citizens who live their lives under our banner, greets our friend the Dnye.

I offer my sincerest apologies and regret for the actions of the Soviet Union against your ambassador en route to Bouvetøya, and cannot more strongly emphasise how surprised I, too, am at their blatantly hostile and unconventional actions and stance.

Considering the USSR's open hostile stance, I do not believe that it will be wise to arrange for another meeting in the near future. Instead, we will simply have to communicate at range, even if it risks interception. As previously stated, I would like to request that all responses to our messages be made by radio, instead of by physical projectile.

Despite Soviet interference, the Nordic Council remains open to the idea of allocating a share of Greenland for use by the Dnye. I remain mostly ignorant of your chemical and physical composition and behaviour, so in order to aid the Council in our consideration I would like to receive an analysis from you on what biological, chemical, and physical changes to Greenland and the world as a whole is likely to be caused by your presence and settlement in northern Greenland.

In addition, I would like to know whether your defensive capabilities makes viable the idea of your resettlement to Greenland if the USSR remains unreasonably hostile and willing to resort to military force to prevent your landing on Earth.

I again apologise, and thank you for your consideration.

With hope,

Reynir.

by **Yekrenia** » Thu Apr 05, 2018 12:34 am

Captain Paula Gurgavinca VI
Lansa Blanca Class Cruiser - (NLD Fidil d’Papulus)
Earth Orbit

* static *
- This is Colonel Natasha Vasiliev of the Soviet Air Force, commander of this station the Mir II * static * - Your vessel is to approach alongside airlock C, which will be designated by a flashing green light. You will exit from your vessel into the airlock with only your person or that of your representatives. Keep in mind you will not be physically allowed past the air lock inside of the station, in order to prevent possible cross contamination. * static * our meeting shall occur after you have entered into the airlock - * static *

"Amanda?" Luis said rather drawn out as if the AI was missing something. Captain Paula didn't need to say anything either as she carried an inquisitive look on her face; one eyebrow slightly up while the other was slightly down. Out of the five AIs, Amanda was the last AI - the only female AI on-board Fidil d'Papulus - and was tasked with assisting Raul in improving the signal and quality of messages - STL (e.g. Radio) or FTL (e.g. Quantum Entanglement) communication systems alike.

"At ease, we got it." Amanda assured nonchalantly as she and Raul's avatars then morphed into a holographic display to show the wavelength and translation of the Russian message.

Luis and Paula, along with the other officers on the bridge, listened to the message in translation as well as being cleaned up to be heard in HD. The Russians are willing to talk and accept a representative of the fleet; however, there was a problem that annoyed Luis as well as the high ranking officers on the bridge (including Captain Paula). Sending somebody to do the negotiations with the Russians on the Mir-II was going to be unusual in which the technological advancement of the space station was primitive for a lack of better words.

This was because there were no gravity systems on board the station that would otherwise hold the inhabitants/crews down on-board. This was going to be awkward for the poor guy who has to go, not for how dangerous it was, but rather for how weird the experience of going into a zero-gravity environment. This was something that Luis and Paula knew that they couldn't just simply send that lunatic, Tavaris, without running into unnecessary brutality; however, there were not that many officers willing to go in such an environments, and an ordinary soldier was just not up the job either.

"Paula?" Luis said.

"Yes, sir?" Paula looked at her superior, a curious facial expression plastered on herself.

"We don't have many options for representatives, even if we ask the other ships. And I'm not about to pull any random officer just so that we can speak with Eden and its inhabitants."

"Then I'll go in." Paula suggested with brutal honesty but moderate confidence in her voice.

"Negative. You have a ship and a crew to look after."

"Then why not send Grinko? He's more reasonable than that astute lunatic."

"Grinko is among many of the commanders among the fleet, but we can't risk loosing him if the Russians try anything funny on the Mir-II."

Suddenly, one of the high ranking officers on the bridge blurred out loud while raising their left hand low, whom was none other than Mungera Nikolaže. Standing at a height of 5'11ft and retaining brown hair going down at the nape of his neck, Lieutenant Mungera Nikolaže was a 32-year-old Pallidan male dressed in the standard black and green Dasan navy uniform covered by his standard-issued ornate white cloak like Petty Admiral Luis Amantius II himself. Initially, Luis allowed the lieutenant to speak, albeit with a stoic nod.

"Admiral, I, Mungera Nikolaže, propose be our representative." Nikolaže suggested, earning him an immediate question from the admiral himself.

"Then that means you must be briefed rather quickly."

"No worries, sir. I believe I already have that taken cared of." Nikolaže shrugged as partially lowered his left hand to reveal his holographic wristband, whom came to life with Raul's avatar showing up on display, "Raul."

"I have my eyes on him, sir." Raul gestured towards his fellow master, "He won't miss a single thing, even if the Russians play dirty on us with their space station."

"Lieutenant," Paula grumbled but not enough to declare discontent, "This is not for the fate of heart. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I believe that's up to the admiral's orders." Nikolaže reminded; however, he too had slight worry in his voice as he then lowered his left hand and Raul's avatar disappeared, "Sir?"

Petty Admiral Luis Amantius II paused as he lightly cupped his chin before glancing at Paula a couple times. He doubted sending one of his lieutenants to meet with the Soviets face to face, especially since he was sending him into an environment where it is zero-gravity conditions. While it wasn't bad in the short-term list of illnesses, if Nikolaže were to be spending more than a day or so at the Mir-II, then the fleet better have a good reason for pulling Nikolaže out of there so early; however, time was of an essence, especially when other ETs were hoping in to get some of the action...

Some time later, Nikolaže was granted his mission as he was now on-board a T-Class Dropship/Transport. Sleek, fast, and wielding four high-powered shield generators mounted in front of the wing-mounted engines, the T-Class Dropship/Transport may have seem distinctive and impractical for field combat; however, looks are dangerously deceiving. The dropship's sleek and elegant shape and appearance made it a silent and stealthy deliverer of death, being so quiet and fast that radar and thermal scanners can't spot them, not even natural hearing and daytime can give away their position unless seen with the naked eye.

The transport had no guns, but it was being shadowed by a single Inima d'Lava Class Frigate at a distance just in case anything stupid occurred with the craft. Nevertheless, the tension in the empty cabin was growing, but even for a lieutenant like Nikolaže, this was something that Nikolaže couldn't become so easily hindered. Apparently, reports were coming back that another alien species was on board the Mir-II, which was why Nikolaže kept a firm watch upon both of his underarm holsters for his laser pistols.

"Master Nikolaže." Raul spoke from the holographic wristband, "You feel like you're about to kill someone."

"I don't trust these ... Russians, nor these other xenos on board the Mir." Nikolaže grumbled as he watched the station slowly come closer into view thanks to the work of the pilot to his right.

"Don't get too touchy, master. Luis ain't in no mood to start a war, even if we had every advantage over these Homo Sapiens."

"I'm not looking for war either, I just want to go in there and assure these Homo Sapiens to at least stand down. You heard what the Admiral said about being sick and tired of intimidation?"

"Si. 'I'm tired and I hate frightening and impressing anymore primitives in this endless expanse'." Raul replied, humorously yet darkly plagiarizing Luis' original quote.

"That's not exactly what he said," Nikolaže chuckled lightly, "But it still applies on the same objectives nevertheless."

Suddenly, the pilot slowly stopped the T-Class transport before the Mir-II and announced to his passenger, "This is as far we can get without making physical contact, sir."

"No worries, fine man." Nikolaže sighed as he arose from his seat and left the cabin to head downstairs to the cargo hold, "Just stay here and get ready to pull out if the Russians try anything."

"Right away, sir." The pilot lazily yet obediently saluted as Nikolaže walked down into the cargo hold; however, up ahead was an airlock that slowly extended to Mir's airlock. Knowing that he was going inside a zero-gravity environment, Nikolaže took of his cloak and folded nicely upon one of the crates, right before he took one last look at his black jackboots and fastening the white gloves on his hands. The airlock on the T-Class transport was design to accommodate a variety of basic airlock shapes (square, circle, and triangular); however, it took for a few moments for the transport's airlock to slowly accommodate to the shape of the Mir-II's airlock, only to signify it's successful and secure connection with a series of clicks and a green light shining around the door.

The airlock door on the T-Class transport was mainly used for transporting freight and passengers whenever the transport was on the ground, especially non-combatant people and heavy items (e.g. weapon caches). But once the transport was connected to Mir-II, Nikolaže could feel the gravity sharply fade as he grew closer and closer to the airlock until he slowly opened it. And from that moment, upon entering through the airlock, the gravity on-board the T-Class transport ceased to exist as Nikolaže boarded the Mir-II and awaiting behind the next airlock door for the Soviet cosmonauts.

by **Plzen** » Thu Apr 05, 2018 1:06 am

Southern Strategic Rocket Command,
Somewhere in Sweden, Nordic Commonwealth

The automated ticket beeped.

"Missile launch(es) from (the) Soviet Union has/have been detected. Please confirm readings."

With wide eyes, the Commander turned on the primary screen. 5 seconds. Scanning the Baltic regions, it didn't take very long to spot the red streaks. He knew what he had to do. Although... still, protocol, protocol, there were certain things to make sure, make sure this is not an accident.

He checked the underside of the main console. Cable, not disk. Not a drill, then. That was another twenty seconds. Protocol was that he had to make the decision within three minutes of initial report, or the computer would make it for him. Such was the consequence of living barely six ICBM-minutes away from two nuclear powers.

The Commander rebooted the connection to the RADAR systems, and watched as the screen lit up again. Ten seconds to pull the plug and squeeze it back in again. Thirty more seconds as the screen came to life.

Yep. Red lines. Still there. Some of them apparently directed towards major population centres. Cycling the monitor didn't change the results.

General countervalue strike, then, the Commander spent ten seconds to grimly conclude. Certainly not an error, either - satellites don't launch in this direction.

Nodding to his partner, who independently arrived at the same conclusion ten precious seconds later, the Commander loaded the general command for an anti-Soviet countervalue strike. He read the lines of co-ordinates out of habit, making sure that they were correct. He didn't need to. The Commander already knew this file - and many others - by heart.

2 Moscow, 2 Leningrad, 1 Kiev, 1 Arkhangelsk. The Nordic Strategic Rocket Command did not bother with minor targets. When you had less than fifty warheads to retaliate against a superpower, you made each and every one count.

Nodding grimly, the Commander turned the key to begin the solemn process of ending the world as he knew it.

Northern Strategic Rocket Command,
Somewhere in Norway, Nordic Commonwealth

Being slightly further away from the other European nuclear powers than the Southern Command was, the keys at the Northern Strategic Rocket Command was always watched over by slightly less excellent personnel. Despite the fact that they forgot to check whether the results persisted even when cycling the monitor, the turn-keys came slightly later. Almost twenty-two seconds later, in fact.

Their support staff would have been disappointed.

2 Moscow - one slightly further south than the other - 1 Leningrad, 1 Minsk, 1 Kiev, 1 Murmansk. The orders for a general countervalue strike against the USSR given to the Northern Command was slightly different, but not by much. Sitting back on his leather seat, the Commander watched the blue streaks begin forming on his screen. Heading towards dots. So many little dots.

From the bunker, looking at a screen, it was difficult to grasp that those dots towards which red and blue streaks raced were so many people.

Suddenly, the screen turned completely black. The stenciled-in outlines of coastlines remained, but the military facilities and missiles that graced it not a minute prior was no longer to be found. Static filled the air.

That's our radar gone, then.

NRS Tre Kronor,
Somewhere in the Indian Ocean

"Contact with Supreme Command has not been lost," the Captain declared, to a tense and nervous crew. The green flashing lights indicating normal operations, once such a great source of comfort, seemed ominous and dark in this trying hour.

"Nor," he continued, "have we received orders to launch."

The crew finally brightened up. Whatever their part was to play in this cataclysm, it has not yet arrived. For now, they would continue to prowl the oceans, undetected, silently. Hoping against obvious fact that that is where they would be permitted to remain.

Yet with more and more disturbing reports emerging from the homelands, that did not seem terribly likely.

by **Korhal IVV** » Thu Apr 05, 2018 4:43 am

Mir II

Mirquel bowed to Natasha as they met. “Greetings, Natasha. I am Mirquel Hirkeoa, envoy of the Ensari to this world. We are not so far apart in terms of appearance, are we?”, she remarked as she looked at Natasha from top to bottom. “It is just that you look older than me, but the opposite could be true, though. I am almost...”, she paused as she counted with her gloved hands. “Seven centuries old? So much is happening to my people that I forgot to keep track of time. It means that I have just three to go, however, so I’ll have to make it count.” She then closed her eyes for a moment. “You have another visitor, Terran. I can sense their presence not far behind me. It would be nice if we have, say, company.”

The Lunaven

Sol Hazari listened to the conversation between Natasha and Mirquel as they began the meeting. With a telepathic link to each other, Mirquel and Hazari ensured that every word that passed in the meeting was known by the Ensari. “Splendid.”, he thought as he listened in. “And the Pallidans are there too.”

The Informations Officer suddenly tweeted in. “Lord Commander, you might want to see this.”, he said as he showed a hologram of what appeared to be red streaks in the North East of Earth. “What is this, Lambda?”

“The Nordic Commonwealth and Russia are preparing to launch nuclear missiles at each other, Lord Commander. Russia has already launched several. They are headed towards Nordic military establishments. Orders, Lord Commander?”

“Nothing we can do about that except to hope that they don’t hit major cities.”, the Lord Commander said.

“Lord Commander, transmission from... Azkelon.”, Lambda trembled as he read it. “Video feed, my lord.”

“Put it up on the screen.”

“Ah, Sol Hazari.”, the figure on the screen said shakily as static cracked it. “So you’ve found it... I... I am sorry...”

“High Exarch! What has happened?!”

“Azkelon is under siege, Lord Commander.”, the High Exarch said regrettably. “We intercepted that the Sakkadians, our archenemy, are also headed towards the Sol System, so... ergh!”, he fell to the floor as an explosion shook the place. “We jammed their communications, and so our mercenaries sent out a fake message saying that Azkelon holds a much larger Quantium stash in its core. The Sakkadians fell for it, of course, as they always do. They would have wasted their last Quantium reserves now. We cannot allow them to interfere with you...”

“But... there is no fleet to defend Azkelon! How-“

“The Legio Cybernetica and the automated defences are more than capable of holding them off. Well, at least for now. Do not be surprised if I do not call you again. Our souls are in the hands of the Envara.”, the Exarch said as he looked skyward. “The living and the dead act in concert to defend Azkelon. Fulfill your mission, and their sacrifice will not be in vain.”

“I will, High Exarch.”, Hazari saluted. “For the last of us.”

The Exarch on the screen drew his sword upon hearing an explosion. “It seems that this hour will be my last.”, he spoke as he faced towards his back... only for a blade to pierce his heart. “Ah, so you will see my last moments after all.”, he smiled as he dropped dead and the screen went black.

“Azkelon has fallen, my lord.”, his advisor said as the Lord Commander bowed to the blackened screen. “We must finish this soon. The other three moonships are not completely safe.”

by **Former Citizens of the Nimbus System** » Thu Apr 05, 2018 6:38 am

The Deck of the Saler, somewhere in the Kuiper Belt

Vulan, commander and pilot of the Saler, guides its craft through space. Its mind receives and processes the information being channelled through psionic conduits around the ship from other Veselar monitoring its systems, including those hibernating to remotely pilot its drone escorts, fanning out across Kuiper Belt to search for objects.

The Vesel brain is a wonder of the natural world, capable of incredible powers of logical processing. Combined with their psionic abilities, that turns any number of Veselar working together into a biological supercomputer, capable of studying the universe and bringing knowledge and understanding to any number of species.

And instead we use it to obliterate them.

Vulan covers its body with its arms and works to calm its mind. For the greater good. For peace in the universe. Every mind extinguished is an infinity saved.

It senses something - a drone has detected an object, about half-a-mile in diameter and composed primarily of frozen methane and water.

Not ideal but it will do. The commander relays its orders: The object here is our target; direct our drones towards it.

Countdown to Psionic Catapult’s firing: 270 Earth days

by **The Federation of Kendor** » Thu Apr 05, 2018 7:55 am

A hidden, underground hideout, somewhere in the US

The Tricouncil was now on a secret, underground, and hidden bunker, somewhere in the US. Along them were the high ranking members of the Defenders of Earth. They held a meeting there after the Tricouncil heard news about the extraterrestrials from the Nordics and the Soviets, as well as their members from both nations. Along with the high ranking members of the DE, there were also the leaders from all of their sponsors, from the corporations to the government bodies of various nations, including Greece.

As said before, they were discussing about the extraterrestrials. Just to give a bit if information, however, I decided to tell that just few months before, they held a meeting about how to help unite Earth, with most suggesting to try to find a common ideology to unite people and prevent the US and USSR from fighting each other, as well as treating people equally. To this end, the Tricouncil had made a policy similar to Ford, with some of their own philosophy, that they had thought when starting their corporation. Basically, it was philanthropical policy, where employees were given high pay and unexploited. They themselves wouldn't keep their wealth piled too much, like those greedy capitalists. In fact, they even hired private inspectors to prevent factories from turning to sweatshops or hire children to work. This was even extended to other people, whom they convinced to adopt their philosophy, though not all adopt it, of course.

Back at the meeting, they were discussing about how to acquire the alien techs, as well as stop the building alien invasion forces, and establish communications with them, particularly, the more benevolent extraterrestrials, like the Pallidans. They also discussed on how to manipulate events such that world peace would be achieved again, seeing the war between the Soviets and the Nordics, and Earth would be united.

by **Republic of the Cristo** » Thu Apr 05, 2018 10:42 pm

Mir-II

Airlock C

Vasiliev loooked back towards Boris, who himself was facing a computer screen. He looked back towards Vasiliev and nodded, " Contact made with ET craft near Airlock A. I've got it. "

With that, Boris pushed himself off of the walls and down the corridor, past Vasiliev's line of sight. Now she was alone with the alien ambassador. She turned back to the window of the airlock door and gave a sheepish smile. " Yes it does appear that we have company. Though my second in command shall be taking care of that matter. We will be negotiating... separately. I - I must say, that you should speak Russian so fluently is astounding. I... I think we should refocus though upon the subject of this meeting. On behalf of the entire Earth: what are your exact intentions within the Sol System? "

Airlock A

Captain. Boris Savinkov, second in command of the MIr-II station, looked in astonishment through the window of the airlock door. Before him floated... a green space alien. The whole concept would be quite comedic were it not for the grave seriousness of the situation. This moment would mark the first contact between mankind and the Dasani Republics. History was being made before Boris's very eyes - an idea he was all too conscious of. " Hello. My name is captain. Boris Savinkov - 2nd in command of this station, the Mir II and representative for humanity in these negotiations... I must say, it is an honor to finally meet you. "

WIP

by **Yekrenia** » Fri Apr 06, 2018 2:41 am

Lieutenant Mungera Nikolaže
Mir-II Space Station
Earth Orbit

Republic of the Cristo wrote:"Здравствуйте. Меня зовут капитан Борис Савинков - второй в команде этой станции, Мир-II и представитель человечества на этих переговорах. Должен сказать, для меня большая честь наконец встретиться с вами."

"Raul, did you get that?" Nikolaže thought to himself inventively, his subdermal chip filtering and sending his thoughts to Raul silently.

"Yep, too easy... actually." Raul replied back in thought as usual of his nonchalant yet goodwill personality, his avatar appearing on display from Nikolaže's left hand holographic wristband, "The Russian says 'hello' and introduces himself as ... Boris Savinkov. Second in command of the station and speaking on the behalf of Eden."

"Just basic first contact jargon?"

"Yep. Same old mumble-jumble."

"Nice for you to agree." Nikolaže chuckled from Raul's sarcastic reply in thought, something that an ordinary binary or basic quantum computer AI can't do naturally and easily, "But watch that attitude, 'cause here comes my turn."

"Reggiválókkšia, šasados." Nikolaže greeted back in his native Kazeri tongue, Raul already translating his speech until he finished speaking (Note - English Translation removed for special effects), "Nagmul Nikolaže Mungera bődna. Kahúmišik anénim Síűs Giválóggrespublikűnyy Paškprkužak alaž."

Kazeri is an inflectional-agglutinative language that has a distinctively free word order (sophisticated and complex noun declension plus verb inflection) and a rich vocabulary that enables for imaginative and diverse conversations and interactions - whether the words be made from agglutination or original native sources. For Raul translating from Kazeri to Russian, the languages had much in common; however, Russian was more definite and strict in word order (the dominant SVO word order) and was more of a synthetic-inflection language, so words couldn't be so easily and loosely mashed together unlike those in Kazeri. Even though Raul was a Ligerian-made AI, and not exactly a native speaker of the Kazeri language from the start, Raul wasted no time translating the message and subsequently speaking to Boris Savinkov right when Nikolaže spoke his last syllable, "Величайшие приветствия, капитан. Я лейтенант Мунгера Николаже. Я говорю от имени Союза Большого Дасанского республиканского флота перед вами."

Even if the human captain was on the other side of the airlock, Raul assisted the Russian by providing not only a high enough noise volume for the Russian to hear comfortably, but also morph from avatar to provide the text translations of the Human and Pallidan languages (Kazeri and Ligerian on top while Russian and English on the bottom). Both species used completely different writing scripts; however, Russian and English had two separate alphabets in of themselves (Cyrillic and Latin), while Kazeri and Ligerian shared the same script (Zata Alphabet; visual reference here). But contrary to the humans' writing scripts and fonts for digital devices, the Kazeri and Ligerian languages were still typed in cursive, which was done so for many different cultural reasons from the opposing superpowers in unison.

Kazerbaijan primarily kept with cursive fonts for digital devices and handwriting alike, because prior to 2300s (according to the Pallidans' calendar), the Kazeri language had extreme difficulty in establishing a definite proper dialect of Kazeri, and this was so that any foreign or enemy power would have difficulty in properly translating and decrypt Kazeri information. Unfortunately, the Kazeri government and military found it difficult to institute anything to unify the language together, but it was only several decades after giving up on the endeavor that the Kazeri people eventually demanded language reforms only as the Union of Greater Dasan Republics grew larger in size; however, on the other hand, the Ligerian language had its own reasons. While Ligerian shared the same problems with finding a definite proper dialect, Ligerian was actually the lingua franca before the Union council declared Kazeri the same as well by the mid-2300s; however, Ligerian was already used widespread as the standard language for literary work for centuries, so it made sense for cursive fonts to exist on digital devices given the Pallidans' artistic/literary background.

by **Korhal IVV** » Fri Apr 06, 2018 4:35 am

Mir II

Mirquel looked down. “Well, our purpose here in this system is rather simple to say but difficult to carry out. We, the Ensari, is just one of hundreds, if not thousands of civilizations in this galaxy. We are one of the oldest, to my knowledge. For seven million years, the Ensari advanced through the ages. We were one of the greatest nations to grace the galaxy. But old and wise as we are, you cannot see the future. We would have never predict that the worlds where we mined the fuel required for faster than light travel will be reduced to singularities by an unknown enemy. Our enemies united against us and fought us. Our armadas were mostly reduced to scrap, our worlds burned. We fled to moonships, and stayed in the darkest corners of space. The galaxy fell into turmoil as this fuel I mentioned ran out in supply. That is, until word spread that this world of yours has a last, massive deposit of this fuel. It is called Quantium. We wish to have a portion of this Quantium, just enough to refuel our fleet and the remaining three moonships, and more to go to the galaxy you call the Andromeda. Do not worry, though, as the method we will do so is an agreement between us. The Quantium deposits in your world are massive enough that it can fuel an interstellar human civilization, for, let us say, thirty thousand years? The Ensari will give you technology that will aloow you to cross the stars, and in return, we will have enough Quantium to get to the Andromeda Galaxy. But that is up to you Terrans, really.”

A small angry planet [IC/OPEN!]

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