Alitheia In Space III: Hard Light [IC][FT+][Open]

[Parcia]

There were Humans among their opposites, but there were also those with obvious Xenos or modified origin that defied Colonial records, and while the lead remained quiet the aids and assistants spoke among them selves in an internal communications band, an encrypted one.

Taking a moment, he held his hands up, palms open. “Greetings to you and yours, I am Senator Allen Haythem, Senator of Illyria and and head Officer of the Colonial Diplomatic Commission. I come bringing with me the best wishes and intentions, and the good will of the Sovereign Colonies of Aurelia...I also extend to you the added good tidings and well wishes of the Yule tide season.”

He awaited their answer, custom dictating he do so before sitting down.

Through their psychic link, Valeryia could hear a small exchange between Damian and Kyle, "Great, Yule. More fundies."

"We celebrate Christmas too, dumbass."

"Yeah but we aren't so ass backwards to call it 'Yule'."

As the duo had a mental conversation, Valeryia blocked it out, responding to the Senator, "Hail, Senator. I am Marshal Valeryia Rostisiev, standing her in place of the Kantr Confederacy's head of state the honourable Grand Marshal. Respresenting the Aelid and Hekaton people are Doctors Nala-Rad ur Shanran and Wudus of Shortfoot respectively. And the commanding officer of this vessel, Captain Theodore Strauss."

As the marshal gestured at those around her it became blatantly clear that the Marshal was more than a simple woman in armor, if the fact she was on the taller side of eight feet wasn't enough of an indication. Her motions were like comparing the normal 30 frames a second to something in the high hundreds. It was unnaturally smooth, and preternaturally stable, as if someone revealed that slow motion film was playing back at real time. It was a known issue in Kantr space, those who weren't used to seeing a Marshal move were struck with nausea and disorientation. However the Marshal either forgot or simply didn't care to warn the others, "It's an honor to have you aboard, and a greater honor to unite mankind after so long apart."

With the faceplates of those on the Kantr side of the table no longer reflecting the light from outside as the retaining barrier dimmed, the faces could be seen of their representatives. Including the ash grey complexion and white glowing irises of captain, something deviant to a sure degree from the standard human.

The custom observed, the good Senator took his seat and paused momentarily as his aids set out a pair of devices. The first was a multi function video and audio recorder, a fancy camera for lack of a better term, while the second was his personal PADD.

Said PADD emitted a soft glow before projecting a Colonial seal, the same red Phoenix observable on just about every Colonial warship gathered, before projecting a rotating image of currently charted local space.

He turned to the other Kantir diplomats and gave them each a warm smile. “Best wishes unto you and yours as well.”

“Right, so, protocol dictates I’d be much more well read and knowledgeable on my opposites before meeting with them, but since you did sort of just jump directly in to colonial space, there wasn’t much time for that.”

“First contact protocols dictate we first trade some information for information. You lie in the Heart of Colonial space roughly here.” He pointed to the spec of light representations the Pythos system.

“The Pythos system. To our galactic south-south east lays the Seran Confederacy. Another branch of Humanity we reconnected with some decades back after the revolution. Quaint folk, a bit behind the curve in terms of technology but surprisingly industrious and stubborn. Good people to be frank.”

Pointing to a purple blob to the north he went on. “That is the Faeson Unity, a Xenos race of 4 armed bipeds that share an artificial hive mind. Fairly above the curve in terms of technology, their rather diminutive form has led to the term “Elf” being applied, though weather or not its an insult or a term of endearment depends on the Faeson. But, they are allies for the most part and aided us from our bondage under the Calgar.”

He leaned back, having given his dictated information. “As you can see, we’re a fairly industrious people in our own right, likely isolationist by some definition but we prefer to keep to our selves if we can.”

“So, tell me about your selves, your people and how you came to be how you are now.”

[Anowa]

Through their psychic link, Valeryia could hear a small exchange between Damian and Kyle, "Great, Yule. More fundies."

"We celebrate Christmas too, dumbass."

"Yeah but we aren't so ass backwards to call it 'Yule'."

As the duo had a mental conversation, Valeryia blocked it out, responding to the Senator, "Hail, Senator. I am Marshal Valeryia Rostisiev, standing her in place of the Kantr Confederacy's head of state the honourable Grand Marshal. Respresenting the Aelid and Hekaton people are Doctors Nala-Rad ur Shanran and Wudus of Shortfoot respectively. And the commanding officer of this vessel, Captain Theodore Strauss."

As the marshal gestured at those around her it became blatantly clear that the Marshal was more than a simple woman in armor, if the fact she was on the taller side of eight feet wasn't enough of an indication. Her motions were like comparing the normal 30 frames a second to something in the high hundreds. It was unnaturally smooth, and preternaturally stable, as if someone revealed that slow motion film was playing back at real time. It was a known issue in Kantr space, those who weren't used to seeing a Marshal move were struck with nausea and disorientation. However the Marshal either forgot or simply didn't care to warn the others, "It's an honor to have you aboard, and a greater honor to unite mankind after so long apart."

With the faceplates of those on the Kantr side of the table no longer reflecting the light from outside as the retaining barrier dimmed, the faces could be seen of their representatives. Including the ash grey complexion and white glowing irises of captain, something deviant to a sure degree from the standard human.

The custom observed, the good Senator took his seat and paused momentarily as his aids set out a pair of devices. The first was a multi function video and audio recorder, a fancy camera for lack of a better term, while the second was his personal PADD.

Said PADD emitted a soft glow before projecting a Colonial seal, the same red Phoenix observable on just about every Colonial warship gathered, before projecting a rotating image of currently charted local space.

He turned to the other Kantir diplomats and gave them each a warm smile. “Best wishes unto you and yours as well.”

“Right, so, protocol dictates I’d be much more well read and knowledgeable on my opposites before meeting with them, but since you did sort of just jump directly in to colonial space, there wasn’t much time for that.”

“First contact protocols dictate we first trade some information for information. You lie in the Heart of Colonial space roughly here.” He pointed to the spec of light representations the Pythos system.

“The Pythos system. To our galactic south-south east lays the Seran Confederacy. Another branch of Humanity we reconnected with some decades back after the revolution. Quaint folk, a bit behind the curve in terms of technology but surprisingly industrious and stubborn. Good people to be frank.”

Pointing to a purple blob to the north he went on. “That is the Faeson Unity, a Xenos race of 4 armed bipeds that share an artificial hive mind. Fairly above the curve in terms of technology, their rather diminutive form has led to the term “Elf” being applied, though weather or not its an insult or a term of endearment depends on the Faeson. But, they are allies for the most part and aided us from our bondage under the Calgar.”

He leaned back, having given his dictated information. “As you can see, we’re a fairly industrious people in our own right, likely isolationist by some definition but we prefer to keep to our selves if we can.”

“So, tell me about your selves, your people and how you came to be how you are now.”

Many emotions crossed the visible faces of the diplomats, most were quite enraptured as the Aurelian's neighbours were described, another sect of humanity and xenos that, while different, could be seen as a friendly polity. Though the blocks started falling together, Wudus' brow furrowed, obviously in anger, and wrinkles on his upper lip were indicative of a rising fury. Mankind were not his kin directly, but through the trials their two species had endured and the reverence his people once had to humanity meant that an affront to his cousin species was an affront to his own.

Nala-Rad's reaction was much tamer. Her mandibles fluttered in place a bit, the Aelid equivalent of one narrowing their eyes. Her hopes likely weren't the same as her Kantr and Hekaton equivalents, namely due to the Aelid's mission of preserving all forms of life rather than snuffing it out. On first impressions, she knew she wouldn't get the whole story, but she was hoping some of these Calgar still yet existed. She knew how far humans would go when wounded in such a way, the Mourning War and the Kantr and Hekaton's complete and utter decimation of Topek populations was brutal, and by many other species in the Hegemony, completely unwarranted. She opened her maw to speak, but the Marshal's asked for her.

The armoured behemoths had turned their gaze towards the Senator. All were on the same wavelength in their opinion, and their psychic link exacerbated by their common emotion and thought on the subject showed through in the sound of them all speaking in perfect unison. "These Calgar have been killed to the last, we hope."

[Parcia]

The custom observed, the good Senator took his seat and paused momentarily as his aids set out a pair of devices. The first was a multi function video and audio recorder, a fancy camera for lack of a better term, while the second was his personal PADD.

Said PADD emitted a soft glow before projecting a Colonial seal, the same red Phoenix observable on just about every Colonial warship gathered, before projecting a rotating image of currently charted local space.

He turned to the other Kantir diplomats and gave them each a warm smile. “Best wishes unto you and yours as well.”

“Right, so, protocol dictates I’d be much more well read and knowledgeable on my opposites before meeting with them, but since you did sort of just jump directly in to colonial space, there wasn’t much time for that.”

“First contact protocols dictate we first trade some information for information. You lie in the Heart of Colonial space roughly here.” He pointed to the spec of light representations the Pythos system.

“The Pythos system. To our galactic south-south east lays the Seran Confederacy. Another branch of Humanity we reconnected with some decades back after the revolution. Quaint folk, a bit behind the curve in terms of technology but surprisingly industrious and stubborn. Good people to be frank.”

Pointing to a purple blob to the north he went on. “That is the Faeson Unity, a Xenos race of 4 armed bipeds that share an artificial hive mind. Fairly above the curve in terms of technology, their rather diminutive form has led to the term “Elf” being applied, though weather or not its an insult or a term of endearment depends on the Faeson. But, they are allies for the most part and aided us from our bondage under the Calgar.”

He leaned back, having given his dictated information. “As you can see, we’re a fairly industrious people in our own right, likely isolationist by some definition but we prefer to keep to our selves if we can.”

“So, tell me about your selves, your people and how you came to be how you are now.”

Many emotions crossed the visible faces of the diplomats, most were quite enraptured as the Aurelian's neighbours were described, another sect of humanity and xenos that, while different, could be seen as a friendly polity. Though the blocks started falling together, Wudus' brow furrowed, obviously in anger, and wrinkles on his upper lip were indicative of a rising fury. Mankind were not his kin directly, but through the trials their two species had endured and the reverence his people once had to humanity meant that an affront to his cousin species was an affront to his own.

Nala-Rad's reaction was much tamer. Her mandibles fluttered in place a bit, the Aelid equivalent of one narrowing their eyes. Her hopes likely weren't the same as her Kantr and Hekaton equivalents, namely due to the Aelid's mission of preserving all forms of life rather than snuffing it out. On first impressions, she knew she wouldn't get the whole story, but she was hoping some of these Calgar still yet existed. She knew how far humans would go when wounded in such a way, the Mourning War and the Kantr and Hekaton's complete and utter decimation of Topek populations was brutal, and by many other species in the Hegemony, completely unwarranted. She opened her maw to speak, but the Marshal's asked for her.

The armoured behemoths had turned their gaze towards the Senator. All were on the same wavelength in their opinion, and their psychic link exacerbated by their common emotion and thought on the subject showed through in the sound of them all speaking in perfect unison. "These Calgar have been killed to the last, we hope."

The Senator held his seamless smile. They were prodding for mor information, obviously enough, and the facial expression of the Near-Human gave away some form of...anger? He couldn’t tell.

“They were, to our best ability and knowledge. The Revolution and war of liberation are...sore spots. Many of us in retrospect feel we went a bit too far, but at the time? The Calgar hurt us, in ways we still feel today.”

He leaned forward, hands clasped under his chin. “Please, let us move away from such dire topics, I wish to know how our cousins have fared since the Disapora.”

His assistant, one Petra Atiyeh, had taken to staring at the marshal, her blue on blue eyes transfixed on the Amazonian women. Something was off to the young women, and the women was the cause of it, seemingly.

[Anowa]

Many emotions crossed the visible faces of the diplomats, most were quite enraptured as the Aurelian's neighbours were described, another sect of humanity and xenos that, while different, could be seen as a friendly polity. Though the blocks started falling together, Wudus' brow furrowed, obviously in anger, and wrinkles on his upper lip were indicative of a rising fury. Mankind were not his kin directly, but through the trials their two species had endured and the reverence his people once had to humanity meant that an affront to his cousin species was an affront to his own.

Nala-Rad's reaction was much tamer. Her mandibles fluttered in place a bit, the Aelid equivalent of one narrowing their eyes. Her hopes likely weren't the same as her Kantr and Hekaton equivalents, namely due to the Aelid's mission of preserving all forms of life rather than snuffing it out. On first impressions, she knew she wouldn't get the whole story, but she was hoping some of these Calgar still yet existed. She knew how far humans would go when wounded in such a way, the Mourning War and the Kantr and Hekaton's complete and utter decimation of Topek populations was brutal, and by many other species in the Hegemony, completely unwarranted. She opened her maw to speak, but the Marshal's asked for her.

The armoured behemoths had turned their gaze towards the Senator. All were on the same wavelength in their opinion, and their psychic link exacerbated by their common emotion and thought on the subject showed through in the sound of them all speaking in perfect unison. "These Calgar have been killed to the last, we hope."

The Senator held his seamless smile. They were prodding for mor information, obviously enough, and the facial expression of the Near-Human gave away some form of...anger? He couldn’t tell.

“They were, to our best ability and knowledge. The Revolution and war of liberation are...sore spots. Many of us in retrospect feel we went a bit too far, but at the time? The Calgar hurt us, in ways we still feel today.”

He leaned forward, hands clasped under his chin. “Please, let us move away from such dire topics, I wish to know how our cousins have fared since the Disapora.”

His assistant, one Petra Atiyeh, had taken to staring at the marshal, her blue on blue eyes transfixed on the Amazonian women. Something was off to the young women, and the women was the cause of it, seemingly.

The Captain took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, "That, is certainly a long story. Our records had some small hiccups during the journey out from Earth, so, our calendar is a bit off. But we do know that during the first wave of expansion, back in the early 2100s. As you know, there were several classes of ship developed during this time, some generation, other not. The one that contained the Kantr people, and the Hekaton's ancestors was the Arkship Noah, an absolute behemoth, almost four times as large as the Magellan. It was a private endeavour, of Aufstieg GmbH, a pan-european corporation; and the ship was aimed at a habitable system near the galactic core, dubbed New Canaan. 90% of it's eight and a half million personnel were below the global poverty line, which at the time, was the majority of the planet. The remaining 10% were Aufstieg GmbH's staff and their families, the whole company. We had a lot of animals with as well, embryos, cryogenically stored adults."

The man leaned back in his chair as he continued, "It was a cryonically equipped ship, and one of the few with the equipment to reach close to lightspeed without any ancillary drivers, just engine power." a shrug as the man continued, "We don't know what happened, but we arrived in system close to 400 years ahead of time. Only problem was, the so called habitable system, wasn't as habitable as we wanted it to be. While long range scans indicated a normal star, it was a binary system that gave off enough radiation that unless you were wearing an environment suit on your homeworld, you'd be sunburnt in minutes, and have your DNA unzip in a few hours."

He hiked his thumb to his Aelid compatriot, "That's where the Aelids came in. I'm not an engineer, but they found us adrift in system with a bare minimum skeleton crew and our Ship's AI all trying to find a solution that we could attain with our supplies meant for colony foundation, not research and development. We had the blueprints, along with pretty much the whole internet in our archives, but we didn't have the materials nor machines to do anything like 3d printing food. But the Aelids rolled up, scared the daylights out of all of us, and seeing we were starving, afraid, and desperate... they all but towed us to safe harbour."

The man looked up at the ceiling, "Pioneer, you mind showing them a live feed?"

A moment later, a hologram was projected from the ceiling on to the table, showing a obviously synthetic ball with some motes of dust flickering around it, obviously suspended in space somewhere. "They call it Edge of Eternity. It's where the Aelids were made, and where they live. Where everyone will live eventually, those specks of dust are full on space stations big enough to shred war fleets in seconds. It was here that they changed us. Archived our DNA for safe keeping should the worst come to happen to us. Did the same to... Gods knows how many species." the man looked over at Nala-Rad.

The Aelid spoke up, "Last I checked, close to one hundred and thirty seven million, only 46 are sapient, and of those 46 only 8 have yet to go extinct."

The Captain shook his head, "In short, through widespread gene therapies, they made it so we could survive on the high Gs of our new homesystem's worlds, our skin is shades of grey and white as opposed to yours because we have barium compounds in our skin and organs so radiation won't mess us up as bad. The common chimps we had on board were uplifted, which is where Wudus' people can trace their heritage. We've been shacked up with the Aelids for..."

The man suddenly lost all joy as his eyes took a far away tone, "Close to a thousand years now."

The man simply stared at the Birch World in view, "It's amazing that people will fight when there's no need to."

Marshal Valeryia chose then to speak, "I notice one of your staff has a staring problem Senator. Is that common among your people?"

[Parcia]

The Comment actually threw the Senator for a bit until he glanced over at his assistant, giving her a slight nudge with his elbow. He fired off something in a strange dialect, likely the girl’s native tongue, before she averted her eyes, looking downward.

“Forgive Petra...my partner, the Al-Muad’dib are a spiritual people and reuniting or at least reconnecting with other branches of Humanity have always made them a bit...misty eyed.”

Looking to return to the topic at hand, the Senator asked his own question. “Barium...forgive me it’s been a solid but since my Bio-chemistry classes, but how did you overcome Barium toxicity it self...” He shook his head a bit before continuing.

“Right, my position gives me operational authority in this situation. So, as the Head of the Diplomatic office in Colonial Space, I. Can offer you a few things guaranteed. The First is the standing down of the fleet and the offer of Anchorage over Aurelia it self for the duration of your stay. In returning to your home I extend a diplomatic packet containing long range communications channels, offers of trade, technology exchange and even offers for further talks and diplomatic ties.”

[Anowa]

The Comment actually threw the Senator for a bit until he glanced over at his assistant, giving her a slight nudge with his elbow. He fired off something in a strange dialect, likely the girl’s native tongue, before she averted her eyes, looking downward.

“Forgive Petra...my partner, the Al-Muad’dib are a spiritual people and reuniting or at least reconnecting with other branches of Humanity have always made them a bit...misty eyed.”

Looking to return to the topic at hand, the Senator asked his own question. “Barium...forgive me it’s been a solid but since my Bio-chemistry classes, but how did you overcome Barium toxicity it self...” He shook his head a bit before continuing.

“Right, my position gives me operational authority in this situation. So, as the Head of the Diplomatic office in Colonial Space, I. Can offer you a few things guaranteed. The First is the standing down of the fleet and the offer of Anchorage over Aurelia it self for the duration of your stay. In returning to your home I extend a diplomatic packet containing long range communications channels, offers of trade, technology exchange and even offers for further talks and diplomatic ties.”

The captain nodded, "Yes, that seems acceptable." a pause as he rocked his jaw, "As far as I'm aware, the barium toxicity problem was solved by a change in how we digest Barium compounds to begin with. It may also have something to do with how our body now absorbs and process barium, I'm not a biologist, so you'll have to find out when we give you the information dockets."

A pause, "Oh. One more thing." opening a pouch on his environment suit he pulled a metallic box out and presented it, "That's a wireless data drive. Chances are if you managed to get FTL, you have some form of device that can connect to it. It's got the data needed to establish a proper communication channel so we aren't communicating with 20 minutes of lag time via radio waves."

Valeyria then chose that moment to speak, "I have my assumptions, but I would like to know which ally of yours gifted you the..." there was a pregnant pause "Telescope, that was causing us issue earlier." the world 'telescope' was said in such a way that it seemed more like Valeryia was humoring the ongoing facade rather than actually believing it to be a telescope. The woman however gave off no body language indicative of anything really, which made the proper reason for the pause difficult to find.

[Miraaki]

-snip-

Captain Vasha watched as sensor data rolled in, analyzing the ship in front of them. In matched no known ship in any Alliance database, and wasn't broadcasting any transponder, at least, not any the Hikari's sensors could pick up on. It was a true unknown. Pretty much every science officer in the small patrol fleet was now on the bridge, trying to make sense of it all.

"Have we received any transmission from the ship yet?" asked Vasha, turning to her comms officer, who answered her right away.

"Nothing yet, Captain. I don't know if they can even receive radio waves. We've been broadcasting to them for over an hour now to no response at all."

"Their reactor seems to be powered down as well, or at least operating at a low enough level our sensors can't pick it up. Assuming they have a reactor at all. I... I think they might be adrift.." said another officer on the bridge, turning to Vasha, whose fluffy fox ears perked up at the suggestion

"Could be, but how would that happen in the first place? Our sensors haven't picked up any damage, have they? Perhaps an internal fault?"

"Wait, Captain!" yelled the comms officer, and Vasha immediately brought up something on her screen. The Alien ship was transmitting a pulse of... what seemed to just be noise, before it stopped.

"Did you get anything from tha-" yelled Vasha before she was interrupted by another pulse, this time of a slightly longer length. Another pulse happened afterwards, this time going even longer.

"Wait a minute..." said one of the scientists on the bridge, "pull up the logs, how long were those transmissions for?"

"1 second, 2 seconds, 3 seconds, 5 seconds... wait... these are all prime numbers!" exclaimed the comms officer

"Exactly!" yelled the scientist, and Vasha smiled. She was glad her patrol fleet had a cadre of scientists attached to it. Part of the whole Alliance mission to explore strange new worlds, and to seek out new life and new civilizations.

"So we know they are at least intelligent, and that they can receive and broadcast radio waves," said Vasha, in an announcement to the bridge, "now, why have they not broadcast anything else, and how were they able to do this without power."

"Well, I think we can rule out them being adrift without power, so they either do not use power in a way we understand it or are simply running their reactors too low for us to pick up. As for why they are only broadcasting prime numbers, I'm not sure. Perhaps they have been unable to make sense of our messages, and think they are taking the first step? I'm really not sure, Captain..." said another scientist, a rather lithe-looking man with cat ears on his head.

"I suppose we wait then. In an hour we will try something different. Lets see what they do. Match course if they attempt to move, and alert me if we see any electrical or comms activity"

Vasha didn't have to wait long, however, and not 15 minutes later, one of her sensor officers yelled out to her.

"The ship is powering up! Heat and energy levels just spiked all over!"

"Weapons or shields?" asked Vasha, worried they were about to get into an engagement

"N-no Captain. Not any I can detect at least. If anything those areas have gone even colder than they were before"

"Thank the Records..." said Vasha, her ears and tail slowly lowering from their previously perked up positions, as she calmed down from the sudden tension. "Anything else?"

"No Captain, it seems like all they have done is just... turn on their ship. Perhaps their reactors were damaged, and they have just been spending this time fixing them up and bringing them back online?"

"Could be.... alright, back to standby. I want our weapons and shields active, but no target lock. If they move, match course to the edge of Alliance borders. If they leave, or FTL, extrapolate their course and destination as long as we can. Do not fire unless fired upon. If they do fire, shoot to disable, not to kill. If this starts a war we'll need every advantage we can get. I need to send a report back to Alliance High Command."

Vasha retreated back to the cabin, and typed up a summary of what had occurred so far, before enjoying another cup of tea, thinking about her next move. As she had not been alerted, she assumed that the aliens still had yet to transmit anything other than a prime sequence. She weighed a few options in her head, before settling on one in particular. It was risky as fuck, and could result in her getting killed if the Aliens took it as a provocation, but she wanted this first contact scenario to move to an actual communication stage as soon as possible. Standing up, she went back to the bridge to begin setting it in motion.

Returning to the bridge at around an hour and 10 minutes past contact, Vasha was just in time to receive another broadcast from the Aliens.

"Captain, I'm getting another transmission... it's... well... it's our own music. I believe it's a rather trashy love song they're playing back at us right now."

"Hey!" shouted another officer on the bridge, earning a chuckle from Vasha

"Wait, there's more... more music... not ours... theirs, probably... Hold on, I'll play it for the bridge," said the officer, before a rather... unique symphony played back. It was unlike anything Vasha had ever heard before, and some of the xenobiologists and xenoanthropologists were very interested. The music continued for some while, before it was replaced by... pure sound. It almost sounded like a crowded store, or marketplace, with horns, wind, what she was sure had to be some form of language and words, and also the telltale sounds of walking around.

"Well, that was an interesting message," said Vasha, addressing the crew again, "this has gone on long enough, however. There is clearly some kind of communication barrier between us. They are obviously intelligent, and I doubt they want to fight. I want to meet them face to face. A translation spell should be able to do the rest."

The rest of the bridge looked at the captain like she had gone absolutely insane. This was a blatant violation of every first contact protocol in the book, and was a reckless endangerment of her own life. Vasha, for her part, simply smiled and ordered one of the Hikari's frigates prepped for launch.

About 10 minutes later, a small, 100 meter frigate dropped from the Hikari's starboard hanger, and began slowly approaching the Alien vessel, going at a speed where it was unmistakably a ship and not some kind of large missile. The frigate was almost completely powered down, except for shields and the engine, as it slowly approached the exact midpoint between the Hikari and the Alien ship, where it stopped, before extending a docking tube right out into space, and simply awaited the Aliens response. At that moment, The Hikari stopped broadcasting further messages, before it started highlighting the frigate in sensor sweeps, trying to get the Aliens to pay attention to it, and hopefully, Vasha prayed, respond in kind

[Parcia]

The Comment actually threw the Senator for a bit until he glanced over at his assistant, giving her a slight nudge with his elbow. He fired off something in a strange dialect, likely the girl’s native tongue, before she averted her eyes, looking downward.

“Forgive Petra...my partner, the Al-Muad’dib are a spiritual people and reuniting or at least reconnecting with other branches of Humanity have always made them a bit...misty eyed.”

Looking to return to the topic at hand, the Senator asked his own question. “Barium...forgive me it’s been a solid but since my Bio-chemistry classes, but how did you overcome Barium toxicity it self...” He shook his head a bit before continuing.

“Right, my position gives me operational authority in this situation. So, as the Head of the Diplomatic office in Colonial Space, I. Can offer you a few things guaranteed. The First is the standing down of the fleet and the offer of Anchorage over Aurelia it self for the duration of your stay. In returning to your home I extend a diplomatic packet containing long range communications channels, offers of trade, technology exchange and even offers for further talks and diplomatic ties.”

The captain nodded, "Yes, that seems acceptable." a pause as he rocked his jaw, "As far as I'm aware, the barium toxicity problem was solved by a change in how we digest Barium compounds to begin with. It may also have something to do with how our body now absorbs and process barium, I'm not a biologist, so you'll have to find out when we give you the information dockets."

A pause, "Oh. One more thing." opening a pouch on his environment suit he pulled a metallic box out and presented it, "That's a wireless data drive. Chances are if you managed to get FTL, you have some form of device that can connect to it. It's got the data needed to establish a proper communication channel so we aren't communicating with 20 minutes of lag time via radio waves."

Valeyria then chose that moment to speak, "I have my assumptions, but I would like to know which ally of yours gifted you the..." there was a pregnant pause "Telescope, that was causing us issue earlier." the world 'telescope' was said in such a way that it seemed more like Valeryia was humoring the ongoing facade rather than actually believing it to be a telescope. The woman however gave off no body language indicative of anything really, which made the proper reason for the pause difficult to find.

No body language was needed, the Senator got the idea. Being who he was, he was one of the few outside of military circles privy to the knowledge of what it could do. So, if more so to preserve some diplomatic good mirth, he spoke. “None, technically speaking. Call it a prize of War, something we liberated from a Calgar...scientific research and development facility deep in colonial Space. It is a marvelous thing though, with a vast effective range and supreme...clarity of picture. Obviously such a thing isn’t of Calgar origin, and we dont know were they got it...but it’s a nice tool to have in special circumstances were conventional means are found wanting.”

A little padded out, but his tone was similar to the Women’s. “Being such a valuable tool it’s exact nature of function is limited to those directly involved with it, and to be frank, I’m of the opinion it would be best for the public if it stayed like that.”

Again, inference and context. He prayed his equal got what he was getting at.

Outside of the hanger, in the void of space, the Fleet would begin to land their CAGs and break formation, turning thruster to the Kantir and leaving a single line group to guard the Ship in the interest of it’s own security in colonial Space. All in all, it was a gesture of good will if anything, though the order came not from the Captain of the Hephaestus nor the senator, rather some one much higher up the chain.

[Kasa Tkoth Sphere]

[...]

Aboard the Lost Lightseeker

"No. You cannot wear that to a meeting with alien life." Hyuli P'e was fiddling with the learning engine — really not much more than a mainframe on a hoverdrive, the height and width of a person, meant for simply crunching as much raw language data as possible in person — when he saw Turao arrive at the launch bay in what a normal person would consider a completely standard outfit for a Xaa. She had eight layers of wide-splayed robes in alternating black and white with blue accents, long enough to just about touch the ground but bearing short enough sleeves to expose her large, wiry, claw-shaped mechanical hands. No, what bothered him was the mask — unlike the more formal full-face style from their city, hers covered only her mouth and nose (he figured she kept an air filter tucked underneath it).

Hyuli reiterated himself as she passed through the decontaminating mist and towards his place on the warming-up shuttle, making her finally stop. "I'd rather you take it off, honestly," he said, gesturing to her face. He himself was maskless; instead, he'd wired a closed-cycle breathing apparatus into his throat for the contact mission. "I know you're young, and you want to try the fashion from the bottom-wing, but you're going to stand out. We're from the same city, like it or not; we should show them we mean to be of the same people."

Turao almost laughed, but restrained herself. "Hyuli, does a foreigner from Oro Telje recognize one of Hica Minor's hatchetfish from another? No, but the fishers east of us do, because they live with them all day. If anything, we should look as different as we can." She looked over his hair — much like hers, it was a glassy, polymer-coated white, and draped all the way onto the floor — and his coverings, practically identical to her own, sparing the accents. A stranger might not have been able to tell which was the male and which the female.

"You're held solely responsible for any diplomatic incidents this causes," announced the captain, who'd trundled up from behind her in his spacesuit to board the shuttle, "but I have to agree with your reasoning... just enough." He flapped a set of gills in the way that Tok Akove of his geneline laughed. Another Tok Akove — a historian from a different line, this one resembling a gorilla with waving tubules covering its skin, finally clambered into the spacecraft after all three of them. Hyuli didn't know him, but his suit's nameplate read Amo-Grozz. "Today, we're here to represent not just our city but everyone. They've extended a hand — we should show them that we are many, even if... well, even if just four of us can fit in here."

"You certainly cheered up," Hyuli grumbled, finishing up on the learning engine, as the countdown sequence to launch began.

---

From the Lost Lightseeker's belly came a triangular ship no more than twelve meters long, zipping along through the void at impressive speed before it spun around, burned to a stop, and with careful caution linked itself up with the docking tube. With a hiss, its door finally extended, permitting the two Xaa and two Tok Akove to pace into the tunnel with their learning engine, prepared to greet their welcoming party in whatever way would end up most practical.

[Arktic]

The situation was...bad.

The medic who helped her was fading, fast, and she didn’t have much to do about it. She stripped off the top of her suit and, finding it impossible to tear, ripped off her long sleeve, red cotton shirt and tore it in to strips, leaving her in her boots, suit bottom, and a sports bra as well as her utility belt.

She bent over and gave him a light slap on the face, seeming to bring back some live to him. “Stay with me, Keebler elf, I’m trying to return the favor!” She took some of the make shift bandages and, wiping the sweat off her mask, stared to stem the bleeding the best she could by wrapping him up as tight as she could.

The situation went from “pan” to “fire” pretty quickly. After triaging the first Faeson, she went in to auto pilot and her few years of militia training kicked in. In a few minuets she had splinted the broken arms of the other faeson the best she could using some bits of bulkhead and more of her rags, but she couldn’t do much for the rest. She simply lacked the needed supplies to do more then to coo softly and try to get them comfortable for the meeting with their god.


Hearing the alarm she went to the engine and looked over it’s controls. It wasnt in Colonial standard and her written Faeson as a lot worse then her spoken, so it took her a moment before she had detached the nozzle and started the pump.

Moving closer, she assessed it the best she could, it wasn’t a Charlie fire, meaning an electrical fire as best as she could tell and took the risk, aiming the nozzle at the base of the fire and spraying it down with retardant. It took a few minuets, and she had to spray down the door to quell secondary fires along the bulkhead, but she put it out.

Then she saw it was jammed. A large piece of bulk head had been bent in and was jamming the mechanism that allowed it to slide open and closed. Scrambling as another temperature alarm sounded, she turned towards the small set of damage. Control tools bolted to the side of the Engine and wretched a pry bar off.

Jamming it in to the lip, she gripped it tight and pulled, trying to deform the bulkhead rim in the other direction and free it.

“If any of you are still alive, I need help!”

The Faeson medic was clearly starting to become delirious from blood loss. She felt a sense of calm emanate from him as he began to die.

For a moment, there was only strained sobbing from the male Faeson. However, the woman with the broken arms came up behind him, laid her two functional hands on him, and began to whisper something. A soft blue glow came from her hands, and the Faeson man's breathing began to steady. He stood up straight, grabbed a prybar off the wall, and ran over to help Ellenor out. After a few minutes of difficult straining, finally, there was a metallic pang, and the debris came loose enough to pull away.

The Faeson quickly rushed inside into the darkened room. Blinking orange warning lights stretching along the walls as far as the eyes could see greeted them along with screaming electronic alerts. Each egg had its own individual cubbie, and thanks to a power outage, every single one of them was screaming an alert. The normal shields and temperature controls were all on the fritz, and if things kept up, there could be significant damage to all of the thousands of eggs surrounding them
“Quick,” the Faeson woman with the broken arms shouted, reaching to her tool belt with her remaining hands and rushing to the central control panel. “Let’s get this fixed, we don’t need any more stonechildren!”
The male Faeson shot her what even the human could tell was a dirty look as she said that, but silently followed. But their determination quickly turned to confusion.
“I can’t get it to shut up... My arms hurt... Where is the hatchery chief!?”
The stonechild swallowed, and pointed at a torn up Faeson corpse leaning against a wall, clutching a handful of Faeson eggs close to her body. Confusion turned into despair, as the lights flickered on and the artificial gravity gave out.

[The Tophat Empire]

Deep space, Skirtne System, Tophat Empire

If one wanted to see a microcosm of Imperial culture and sensibilities, one need not look further then the bridge of an Astral Navy vessel. The walls a glossy white, with equally glossy black detailing. Workstations placed along the walls and in rows in the center of the room, light blue holographical interfaces perduring from each station. In the center of the room, elevated to provide overview, the captains console with yet more holographical interfaces. Flanked on either side by the First officers console, and a seat reserved for any VIP guests.

The crew, made up of half a dozen different races, work at their console. Most working both by limbs, and by establishing a mental link with the ship, allowing higher efficiency. Each sailor had been selected for natural aptitudes by the Empire, they would serve where they would serve best.

Uniformed in a equal clean white and black uniform, to a human they would strike similar visual cords to a hospital or surgical ward, sterile, lacking in emotion, and personality. Befitting a empire where service stood above all, born from the natural collectivistic behavior of the Tauun’ne and adapted as they struck out to become a interplanetary entity.

Likewise on the planets the empire called home, in the large subterranean complexes they call home they ever present sterile nature would follow into people’s homes, standardized with little variation for rank identical habitation modules. Granted even the Tauun’ne will decorate as their (limited) sensibilities allows.

The captain of this particular vessel was a decorated Tauun’ne, advanced in age at hundred-and-seventy they still served diligently; Kor’El Skirtne Shoh Var.

The vessel itself was a reconnaissance/exploration craft, equipped with the most advanced FSD that the Earth Caste can create, not built for combat, but nonetheless equipped with void shields, fighters, and armaments to defend itself, and the water-caste dignitaries that would be onboard when the vessel when undertaking missions of the exploration variety.

This one did not carry any such extra staff; it was currently enroute back to the Kor'shuto in the capital system: a massive spaceborne station with untold production capability, bordering on a planet in it’s own right it contained untold numbers of production halls, astral-dockyards and all other manners of facilities.

Kor’El Skirtne Shoh Var sat in their seat, mind connected to the ship, eyes monitoring the bridge-crew as well as the holographic displays. The vessel was in the process of cooling, and then spooling up the FSD drive. The Plotting-computer had locked the coordinates to the next destination, a jump like any other.

Then the warning started, one of the bridge crew that monitored sensors informed that long-range sensors had picked up a large number of projectiles on an intercept course, an ancient field of death, seemingly launched millennia ago. Approaching fast.

So wide was this field that the ships computed calculated they would not be able to maneuver out from it. So, the order to dump the emergency capacitor-bank into the FSD drive was ordered, void shields were raised and attempts to destroy the inbound threat were made to no avail.

The crew could do naught but watch as the threat approached, and the FSD drive spooled, it would engage when it was ready.

But fate is a fickle mistress, and fate did not want them to neither escape unharmed, nor to perish a sailor’s death in the cold embrace of space. Rather the same moment that the FSD started to engage, the first projectiles struck. The void shields swallowed the first impacts with little issue, but they buckled under the surprisingly immense power of the ancient weapons. So as the drive engaged and sent the ship into safety, a round struck the ships hull, penetrated, and dug deep into it, smashing the primary plotting-computer. The engineer on the bridge could do naught but inform the captain of this, as the ship was teleported to some unknown piece of space. Not where they intended to go. Sirens blearing as damage control parties, and medical teams set about securing the ship and the path of destruction the projectile had caused.

[Anowa]

The Last Herald

The last time the structure that lay buried under miles of sediment on a forgotten planet in a system that had no life, had last moved, cyanobacteria had yet to evolve on Earth. Nothing living could remember the Heralds and the horrors they brought upon the galaxy. And everything dead thast could remember had likely long since been swallowed by stars or rotted away into atoms and star dust. Only the most untouched planets and perfectly preserved stations dating older than 3 billion years could give any indication as to what had started an unfathomably long rampage across the Milky Way.

But soon, the structure was to move.

The planet, a chthonian world, what used to be a gas giant that had long since had it's gaseous cover stripped away, was in the firing line. Orbiting a neutron star less than a tenth it's volume, the planet with a still sizeable 5 planetary masses was struck by a mass accelerator round of a truly awesome scale. The shell took the path of least resistance as it struck the planet, carving out a chunk the size of a small continent, and releasing a little over 700 thousand cubic kilometers of admantium and psychically active biomass.

The Herald shifted. It's mind slowly reacting to what had just happened, but the speed for a Herald was still quite slow, sluggish due to it's inbuilt behaviour of knowing it is built to outlast everything, and also due to it's literal eons long sleep. The Herald did the equivalent of rolling over in bed after hitting the snooze button. And for a moment, across the galaxy pylons left in place billions of years prior awoke with their distant master.

A dead god was dreaming, and it's unconscious will may manifest in mysterious ways.

[The United Remnants of America]

SNS 181 Rivalry
Exploratory Flotilla Varden
Varden System
Edge of Seran Space

Twenty-two vessels broke through the horizon of the Warp Gate, appearing on the edge of the Varden System. The Rivalry, High Noon, and Solemn Vow breaking through first, a trio of sister Cruisers, followed shortly afterwards by the rest of their fleet, the host of smaller Navy vessels as well as the Marine vessels in tow.

Immediate sensor readings showed a similar reading to those that Corvette 244A had reported on the initial scouting expedition. An empty system, ripe for exploration, and a potential candidate of colonization. The planets had been numbered off, Varden I and Varden III had initially been noted as lifeless rocks, while Varden IV was a gas giant, but the biggest focus and excitement was for Varden II, already known as Korvus. Optical scans of Varden II/Korvus showed many telltale signs of a life-bearing world, mainly that it looked to be roughly blue-green in color.

As the expedition began making its way away from the Warp Gate, one of the fleet's frigates outfitted with a survey suite conducted a spectroscopic study of Korvus and discovered an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere. The enthusiasm across the fleet was palpable as successive scans were conducted to confirm the primary readings, and every time, the readings showed that Korvus should very well be a new addition to humanity. Starfield scans showed that the Varden system was likely on the edge of Seran space, only a handful of lightyears from the Thraben and Rhaelchion systems. This was a fortuitous discovery. Another lost world being returned to humanity. Another garden world that was seemingly so common in this cradle of space.

The upper echelons of command, as well as the civilian science and surveying personnel, however, were not nearly excited as the ratings. Why was there a Warp Gate here? Why had it been dormant for two-hundred years, long after most of the Seran Gate Network had been reactivated? Why had it come online now? The presence of the Gate would supposed the presence of a settled human colony. But, if that were true, where was the colony? During the rediscovery of the Gate Network, the scattered colony of the forming Seran Federation had all been healthy and in various stages of rebuilding, from agrarian communities to re-industrializing. Why, then, was this system empty? This led to the biggest question among the command and science staff of the exploratory expedition, with the most worrying implications.

Where was everyone?

It had been decided that for an initial close-proximity sweep of the system, the fleet would be split up. While a bulk of the fleet would be heading directly to Korvus, smaller groupings would be directed to Varden I, Varden II, and Varden IV, as well as the planetoids and moons of the system. Furthermore, many of the fleet's corvettes would be scattered out and sent to recon "deadspace" by jumping into various points within the termination shock of the system.

The majority of the force, consisting of the Rivalry, Solemn Vow, the frigate Andreadakis, and half of the Marine's Light Assault Ships. Immortals 17-Ephraim aboard the Rivalry and 44-Titania aboard the Solemn Vow wished Captain Markos Harrakis of the High Noon luck as he took the second-largest portion of the fleet to Varden IV's planetary system, and waited for each smaller detachment to blink out across the system before taking their detachment to Korvus.

Korvus appeared on viewscreens on every ship as they blinked back into real space a quarter of an astronomical unit from Korvus and began an approach towards the orbit of Korvus utilizing standard engines. On approach, it was easy to imagine the glittering blue seas and the verdant green fields and forests that would be found on the surface.

As orbit was made, the Rivalry, Solemn Vow, and Andreadakis kept to higher orbit while the five light assault ships lowered down into a position more conducive to disgorging their charges.

Aboard the pair of cruisers, 17-Ephraim and 44-Titania prepared their own drop teams. Naval ferries were prepared as the Immortals hand-picked their support teams from the cruiser crews and awaited the surveying crew to determine a relatively safe and stable drop zone.

An hour later, a clear location had been determined, and one ferry launched from each cruiser, containing the Immortal commanders and their personal entourages. They were to be the first boots on virgin soil, with the Marines escorting science ground teams after they confirmed it was safe.

Atmospheric entry was a bone-rattling, tooth cracking affair. Many Serans kept a mouthguard around for such events, since it was better than biting your tongue off or needing dentistry every time. The only downside of the mouthguards was that it made talking difficult. In the Navy and Marines, the only ones who usually wore mouthguards were the pilots, as it was deemed too bothersome by the average Marine to have to spit a mouthguard out upon landing, especially if you were wearing a rebreather or sealed helmet.

"Touchdown in three minutes."

Ephraim looked out over the half-dozen security personnel he'd picked to join him on the landing, sitting in their own crash couches, their expressions hidden behind their visored helmets. He felt himself go weightless for a moment before getting slammed back into his own crash couch, and then felt the crushing weight of gravity as the pilots attempted leveling out.

"Touchdown in two minutes."

Ephraim's did a visual check of the security personnel with him, observing the gear on their outside of their sealed environment suits. Each of them carried a pistol and a carbine in case of a hostile presence. The environmental suits were a safety measure in case the atmosphere turned out to not be as breathable as suspected, or if the air had a deadly organism in it, or even if the temperature wasn't friendly. There were a million factors to consider when allowing bare skin to be present on an unknown alien planet.

"Touchdown in one minute."

The labored voice of the ferry's pilot was beginning to lighten as they neared the end of entry. Ephraim noted the pressure on his body and the shuddering of the ferry was lessening as well. He allowed himself a small smile. At least they hadn't blown up.

"Touchdown in thirty seconds. Allied transport to starboard."

Good. That meant Titania and her team had made it, too. That was another good sign. All they needed was something going wrong this early on in the expedition. He was sure something would eventually go wrong, but hopefully further down the line, and hopefully something surmountable. Ephraim's stomach lurched as the ferry began to slow, the red light on the ferry's bulkhead that illuminated the passenger and cargo cabin began to blink. Ephraim reached down and unclipped the harness holding him to the crash couch before standing. His rifle had been locked between his knees, and he lifted it and pulled the weapon's sling over his torso, the light magnetic grip on his boots helping him stand through the turbulence. Around Ephraim, his security team did the same.

"Three. Two. One. Touchdown. Good luck out there, sir."

The ferry shuttled as it came to a stop, a vibration that echoed through the hull, into Ephraim's boots, and up his spine. The blinking red light went out and was replaced with a green light. There was a hiss on the side of the ferry as the door's locks disengaged and began sliding open. Ephraim and his security team stacked up, Ephraim second in line. The security trooper jumped out the door and Ephraim stepped off after him, ducking slightly to avoid banging his helmet against the doorframe.

There was a two foot drop from ferry to ground, but his boot his soft, solid ground. Ephraim glanced down, taking in dark green-blue foliage, like grass, covering soft soil. A good sign so far, Ephraim decided, at least it wasn't armor-piercing razorblade grass.

The rest of his security team hopped off after him and fanned out in an arc. The ferry's door slid shut automatically and Ephraim instinctively ducked his head as the ferry's engines flared and the ship lifted off back towards orbit. On the other side of where the ferry had been, Ephraim saw the other ferry beginning its takeoff as well, and beyond that, another half-dozen security troopers from the Solemn Vow, with Titania between them in much the same pattern as he and his troops were arranged. She noticed his stare and offered a thumbs-up, which he mirrored.

Ephraim's internal comms crackled and Titania's voice came out loud and clear into his ear, "Well, that wasn't too bad."

Ephraim turned away from Titania and began walking out. He knew Titania would be doing the same, so that the ground team would spread out in a circular pattern away from their initial dropsite to determine how big the landing zone was and if it was usable for the Marine landing following them.

Ephraim responded, "What, did you expect getting blown out of the sky?"

"No, but I'm sure you did."

"Yeah, something like that."

Ephraim looked out over the field of teal grass. In the distance, against the horizon, he saw rolling fields of the stuff. To his left, he saw what appeared to be the edges of some forest of some kind, the foliage of which looked vaguely purple in the overhead sunlight.

"So. This is Korvus," Titania said, "Looks nice enough."

Ephraim responded, "Don't count your fish before they spawn, Ty. Let's make sure nothing tries to eat us or shoot at us first."

"Seems a bit paranoid, don't you think?"

"Yeah, sure. If I'm so paranoid, then why is there no one here but us, when there should be a colony?"

A moment of silence, "You've got me there."

Ephraim didn't say anything. As he and his security team fanned out, he checked to make sure his rifle was loaded and ready to be fired. Just in case. Something didn't feel right.

Where was everyone?

[Parcia]

CNSV Voyager
Non Colonial Space
Mission Day 235

They had been trecking through uncharted space for some time, flying by the seat of their pants and, before they found it. On their sensors, faintly, roughly 30 light years from their current position, was some sort of...disturbance.

It was massive, it had to be massive to be able to be picked up on long range FTL trackers. And it was, in a cosmic sense, violent. A large, ripped, gaping hole in the fabric of real space and spewing forth...

“Something magnificent...” was the words given by the chief science officer before he...he took a crew side arm and painted the walls of his quarters with. A investigation of his effects revealed he had detected the anomaly via a long range probe launched around mission day #198 at 99% of C, using an onboard Warp drive.

He had converted the radio signals given off by the...thing to audio and had been listening to it over and over again, tweaking and editing its pitch and volume until it played out as some demonic, hellish orchestra of malice and ...and...thirst.

The Captain steadied his crew, he was a veteran of the Marathon Gulf, when the Voyager was an Void Warning and Control bird, jacking in to and jamming Zeddy communications and he would not let some phantom transmission scare his crew. They still had a mission to execute, another 180 sols before they had to turn around.


Still, some one...some thing had sent the audio file to every personal terminal and it spread like wild fire. Soon enough reports to Colonial Command about their mission progress came in more and more spotty, with weeks or even months in between transmissions.

Then, around a month prior, they stopped. The last...was a garbled, automated SOS from a standard STARNAV beacon. Attached to it was a single text, with the Captain’s ID tag attached.

It read, simply, “May God have mercy on us.”

As far as the last known contact with the Voyager, she was hurtling at high velocity at were their reports said was this...thing, this malevolent thing that had driven them mad.

Command did their duty, attempted to formulate some rescue plan but...they were too gone. It would take years for any warp ship to reach them and any Navy ship with a blink drive were simply needed else were.

To who ever was concerned, the Voyager was gone, lost to the inky void with all hands, either due to unforeseen events or likely stranded far, far too from home for any rescue mission to reach them.

The Fleet yards over Aurelia, were the Voyager was constructed held a moment of silence for their lost creation.

But, she was not simply lost, oh no, she hurtled, now tumbling from a internal navigation error towards her unknown fate on the other end of the Galaxy. A few souls still clinging to life, either through madness, or through hope.

[Anowa]

The All Encompassing Expanse
Undesignated System
Orbit over Undesignated Gas Giant
Designated destination of Sagan Class Vessel CNSV Amerigo

This system was ancient, it's star had long since began to die. Sometime within the next few hundred years, it would collapse into either a neutron star or a black hole. The red hypergiant was at one point a Class A star most likely, though the type of star didn't answer what exactly the system was doing with nearly 26 terrestrial planets, even after a suspected half of the previous system was swallowed by the engorged star. That fact alone was why the Aurelians sent a ship here, to hopefully find out why the system was as crowded as it was.

They'd find a lot more than simply an answer to that question however.

At first, every non psychic felt nothing of note, however as the transit times came, the suspicious feeling of being watched, and maybe guided by something would slowly begin to creep in. In a benevolent sense, it was like something wanted to be found. Like a parent watching a child play hide and seek, rather than a predator watching it's prey.

It would point to the only gas giant left in the system, it's gaseous atmosphere not yet ripped away by solar winds. And more specifically, the metallic object in it's only ring.

[Arktic]

SPECIAL EVENT: Dead Gods Still Dream

Most species have their fair share of legends regarding darkness. Indeed, shadow seems to be cast across every culture. The common conception now is that these are simply reflections of the reality of life before the light of civilization: nasty, brutish, and short, within which the darkness always held very real dangers and could not be long held at bay by primitive fires or weak bioluminescence. They survive, not just in cultural remembrances but also in the evolutionary makeup of all species. Some habits have a lot of staying power, and a concern that would have existed since the dawn of sight is not easily thrown away.

That's what we tell ourselves about why we fear the dark, anyways.

Restlessness and agitation are sweeping across the galaxy like a plague. Across species and polities, the quality of sleep has decreased notably, as have incidences of emotional outbursts, sudden self-isolation, and civil unrest. Even more disturbing is that numerous individuals, especially those involved in these incidents, report having the same, terrible dreams: the wheels and gears of a grand and terrible mechanical being, stretched across the horizons of a black star. Strangely, those who are psychically attuned seem to be the least effected by this: those who are psychically impotent are impacted the most.

Pinpointing heat maps of the disturbances reveals a potential source for these problems. A number of ancient pylons, constructed from a previously unknown alloy and estimated to have been built many years before the Purge, are showing signs of activity: humming, vibrating, glowing, whispering. Only a handful of these pylons are currently being monitored and studied, and many more are believed to exist beyond the immediate sight of the concerned empires. For most, these pylons are a mystery, but for those who have gathered knowledge carefully over the years, there may be some secret knowledge about their origins...

Something in the dark has awoken, and for the first time in millennia, the citizens of our interstellar empires are learning to fear the shadows.

[Parcia]

The situation was...bad.

The medic who helped her was fading, fast, and she didn’t have much to do about it. She stripped off the top of her suit and, finding it impossible to tear, ripped off her long sleeve, red cotton shirt and tore it in to strips, leaving her in her boots, suit bottom, and a sports bra as well as her utility belt.

She bent over and gave him a light slap on the face, seeming to bring back some live to him. “Stay with me, Keebler elf, I’m trying to return the favor!” She took some of the make shift bandages and, wiping the sweat off her mask, stared to stem the bleeding the best she could by wrapping him up as tight as she could.

The situation went from “pan” to “fire” pretty quickly. After triaging the first Faeson, she went in to auto pilot and her few years of militia training kicked in. In a few minuets she had splinted the broken arms of the other faeson the best she could using some bits of bulkhead and more of her rags, but she couldn’t do much for the rest. She simply lacked the needed supplies to do more then to coo softly and try to get them comfortable for the meeting with their god.


Hearing the alarm she went to the engine and looked over it’s controls. It wasnt in Colonial standard and her written Faeson as a lot worse then her spoken, so it took her a moment before she had detached the nozzle and started the pump.

Moving closer, she assessed it the best she could, it wasn’t a Charlie fire, meaning an electrical fire as best as she could tell and took the risk, aiming the nozzle at the base of the fire and spraying it down with retardant. It took a few minuets, and she had to spray down the door to quell secondary fires along the bulkhead, but she put it out.

Then she saw it was jammed. A large piece of bulk head had been bent in and was jamming the mechanism that allowed it to slide open and closed. Scrambling as another temperature alarm sounded, she turned towards the small set of damage. Control tools bolted to the side of the Engine and wretched a pry bar off.

Jamming it in to the lip, she gripped it tight and pulled, trying to deform the bulkhead rim in the other direction and free it.

“If any of you are still alive, I need help!”

The Faeson medic was clearly starting to become delirious from blood loss. She felt a sense of calm emanate from him as he began to die.

For a moment, there was only strained sobbing from the male Faeson. However, the woman with the broken arms came up behind him, laid her two functional hands on him, and began to whisper something. A soft blue glow came from her hands, and the Faeson man's breathing began to steady. He stood up straight, grabbed a prybar off the wall, and ran over to help Ellenor out. After a few minutes of difficult straining, finally, there was a metallic pang, and the debris came loose enough to pull away.

The Faeson quickly rushed inside into the darkened room. Blinking orange warning lights stretching along the walls as far as the eyes could see greeted them along with screaming electronic alerts. Each egg had its own individual cubbie, and thanks to a power outage, every single one of them was screaming an alert. The normal shields and temperature controls were all on the fritz, and if things kept up, there could be significant damage to all of the thousands of eggs surrounding them
“Quick,” the Faeson woman with the broken arms shouted, reaching to her tool belt with her remaining hands and rushing to the central control panel. “Let’s get this fixed, we don’t need any more stonechildren!”
The male Faeson shot her what even the human could tell was a dirty look as she said that, but silently followed. But their determination quickly turned to confusion.
“I can’t get it to shut up... My arms hurt... Where is the hatchery chief!?”
The stonechild swallowed, and pointed at a torn up Faeson corpse leaning against a wall, clutching a handful of Faeson eggs close to her body. Confusion turned into despair, as the lights flickered on and the artificial gravity gave out.

Her training was in full tilt now, and she was thinking on adrenaline and instinct as she barked out orders to the two that had joined her. "Secure those eggs, get them warm and stable!" she gestured two them before recovering a set of thermal blankets from a nearby storage box and tossing them to the xenos just as the gravity gave out.

Gravity was something she could work with out, though she hadn't been in 0G in a long time. Jerking her self through space just enough to push off from the floor at an angle, she propelled her self forward to the cubicles set along the wall and found the maintenance access panel, using the prybar and her weight to pry it off, sending it through the room.

It was...amazingly advanced, but she started taking stock of what she could see and mentally started putting the pieces together in her head. Despite being tied in to the ships power and behind made of materials she didn't have names for. That being said, the damned thing looked like a farming incubator for chickens. She began to trace wiring and testing components with her multi tool's inbuilt voltage tester before finding what looked sorta like a power rail and began tying the main wire for the heating elements in to it. Grounding her self with her rubber boots and using her voltage meter as a improvised control element, she patched the powered rail in to the system and heard it hum to life.

She didn't know for sure, but she had a general idea of were Faeson incubation ranges were and set the meter to said settings. Next, she did a dutiful thing and promptly wrapped the entire wire set and connection in electrical tape. Her impulse purchase of the standard multitool, configured for mechanical and electrical work combined with the standard maintance kit came back to aid her then.

She yelled out as she drew her self out of the guts of the machine and floated over to the floor panel were the gravity generator was powered two. Funnily enough, this was labeled with both Faeson glyphs, and Colonial Basic. She pried it open and called the faeson women over. Picking out her pocket knife, she found the burnt out wire and, finding a length that didn't look to be doing anything, and cut it out.

"Look, I do not know if this is going to work, there is a terrifying amount of shit I do not recognize here, but im doing what I can. I read enough Faeson to know what im fucking with, but this is either going to patch the broken circuit and give us gravity, or cause the local generator to detonate with the force of a demolition charge, one of the other, im not all to well acquainted with Faeson electronics."

Hell, her militia sponsored electrical engineering training only had gone so far. She skinned the wires and spliced them together. A hum, a dimming of the lights...and suddenly she landed face first on the floor. A searing pain in her side, just under her left bottom most rib, and she rolled to find her pocket knife lodged in her skin.

Fuck this day had gone to shit.

The All Encompassing Expanse
Undesignated System
Orbit over Undesignated Gas Giant
Designated destination of Sagan Class Vessel CNSV Amerigo

This system was ancient, it's star had long since began to die. Sometime within the next few hundred years, it would collapse into either a neutron star or a black hole. The red hypergiant was at one point a Class A star most likely, though the type of star didn't answer what exactly the system was doing with nearly 26 terrestrial planets, even after a suspected half of the previous system was swallowed by the engorged star. That fact alone was why the Aurelians sent a ship here, to hopefully find out why the system was as crowded as it was.

They'd find a lot more than simply an answer to that question however.

At first, every non psychic felt nothing of note, however as the transit times came, the suspicious feeling of being watched, and maybe guided by something would slowly begin to creep in. In a benevolent sense, it was like something wanted to be found. Like a parent watching a child play hide and seek, rather than a predator watching it's prey.

It would point to the only gas giant left in the system, it's gaseous atmosphere not yet ripped away by solar winds. And more specifically, the metallic object in it's only ring.

The Amerigo chose to ignore the planets and address the metaphorical elephant in the system and approach the metallic object, choosing to bath it in broad spectrum scans before firing off a probe for an orbital fly by with a high resolution optical suit. They were staying at a few light seconds though, and chose to keep their pulse lasers powered up just in case.

SPECIAL EVENT: Dead Gods Still Dream

Most species have their fair share of legends regarding darkness. Indeed, shadow seems to be cast across every culture. The common conception now is that these are simply reflections of the reality of life before the light of civilization: nasty, brutish, and short, within which the darkness always held very real dangers and could not be long held at bay by primitive fires or weak bioluminescence. They survive, not just in cultural remembrances but also in the evolutionary makeup of all species. Some habits have a lot of staying power, and a concern that would have existed since the dawn of sight is not easily thrown away.

That's what we tell ourselves about why we fear the dark, anyways.

Restlessness and agitation are sweeping across the galaxy like a plague. Across species and polities, the quality of sleep has decreased notably, as have incidences of emotional outbursts, sudden self-isolation, and civil unrest. Even more disturbing is that numerous individuals, especially those involved in these incidents, report having the same, terrible dreams: the wheels and gears of a grand and terrible mechanical being, stretched across the horizons of a black star. Strangely, those who are psychically attuned seem to be the least effected by this: those who are psychically impotent are impacted the most.

Pinpointing heat maps of the disturbances reveals a potential source for these problems. A number of ancient pylons, constructed from a previously unknown alloy and estimated to have been built many years before the Purge, are showing signs of activity: humming, vibrating, glowing, whispering. Only a handful of these pylons are currently being monitored and studied, and many more are believed to exist beyond the immediate sight of the concerned empires. For most, these pylons are a mystery, but for those who have gathered knowledge carefully over the years, there may be some secret knowledge about their origins...

Something in the dark has awoken, and for the first time in millennia, the citizens of our interstellar empires are learning to fear the shadows.

And it did, sadness and depression began to seep in to the corners of the normally cheery Yule tide season but for now at least, for the last few weeks of the celebration, it seems people just might focus on the festivities.

Colonial Intelligence however choses to investigate and charges its psychological warfare department to pursue the matter.

[Anowa]

The All Encompassing Expanse
KCSV Magellan
In orbit over SV-2998-4 Aurelia
SV-2998 Pythos System
Aurelian Core Sector
Sovereign Colonies of Aurelia
Investigating Suspicion of the Arch-Enemy

Marshal Valeryia stood in what was the dedicated communications deck of the Magallan. Over the past few days, the crew of the ship hads started experiencing odd dreams, mild hallucinations, and what could only be described as a strong mental fog. They were remembering things wrong, or remembering things from other people's lives. Nightly dreams of massive machine gods, biomechanical horrors, and massive devastation followed. All of these together had effectively tanked repair times. The whole crew was essentially on standing orders to rest as much as possible. Right now, the Magellan was on a skeleton crew composed mostly of the psionics available, because off everyone on board, is was only the psionics and the Marshals who hadn't felt the effects of... whatever it was.

Valeryia sighed, "So it's not any sort of signal you've found?"

The communications officer, Whittaker shrugged, "Not in a traditional sense. It's not any sort of electromagnetic signal, at least not that we can detect. The fact that psychics aren't affected means it's probably not a psychic signal either, else they'd be more affected rather than not at all." a shrug, "I don't know what to say ma'am. It's almost esoteric."

The woman took a deep breath, keying Captain Straus into her helmet mounted comms, "Captain, I need to speak with you privately."

---

"The Archenemy?" Strauss, had a somewhat incredulous look on his face, "But... Okay. Run that by me again, because you lost me at the 'three billion years' part."

The chair creaked under Valeryia's weight, "You know of the galaxy wide catastrophe that exterminated all life some 3 billion years ago, yes?"

The man nodded, "That sort of knowledge is prerequisite for manning a science vessel like this, yes."

"And how the Aelids were created by a race that supposedly 'survived' said event?"

"That's news to me."

"It's not widely known, and even the Aelids doubt it's legitimacy. However, the Precursors did tell tales of machine gods and galaxy wide devastation even before the Purge. These claims were called in to question for a time early in our union with them.... Do you follow?"

The captain sighed, grabbing a bottle of what looked like bourbon from his desk, pouring himself a full glass and taking a swig, "Yeah."

"Alright. They were called in to question until the KCSV Ossas lost a member of it's crew around a singularity named Gargant, some 120 years after the Grand Marshal had her own trial in a seperate black hole."

There was a pregnant pause, "Well?"

"You must understand Captain, what I say from now on doesn't leave this room. Very few people know the truth behind the Gargant system and why it's under quarantine."

"Yeah I figured that was coming." he refilled his glass, "Alright."

"The Gargant black hole is a singularity of information based around the collective consciousness of an entire star faring species."

The captain sighed and proceeded to down his whole glass in a single pull, he took a deep breath through his nose, "Lemme guess, they verified the Precursors story?"

"Yes."

The captain pinched the bridge of his nose, "Fuck it, whatever it is you need to do, I'll make sure it happens. I've heard more than enough to give me an existential crisis." a pause, "I don't think anyone would believe me anyways. Hell, only reason I believe you is because you're a bloody marshal."

Both of them stood, the Marshal to leave, and the Captain to go to bed, though the Captain paused, "What do we tell the Aurelians? Comms is picking up chatter from some radio hobbyists that the same thing is happening to them as well."

"Let them deal with it their own way. Right now we need to finish repairs and return home, the Grand Marshal needs to know about this."

[Anowa]

The All Encompassing Expanse
KCSV Magellan
In orbit over SV-2998-4 Aurelia
SV-2998 Pythos System
Aurelian Core Sector
Sovereign Colonies of Aurelia
Bringing Hope Home

A notable routine, the same done a week prior but with different components, and nothing under maintenance.

The massive science vessel began emitting non marginal gravitational waves and hawking radiation as it's FTL drive began booting up. It had began traversing towards the outer edge of the Pythos system a few hours ago, and had left but a single message when their FTL sequence began.

"We must return home. others will return in our stead. Goodbye."

Short, to the point, and detached. They had been in system for a week, but the ship had been effectively quarantined outside of some small communications. The less the crew had contact, the less it would hurt when they had to leave. Eventually they'd be able to come back, but not any time soon.

Once again, the world shifted colors, and the ship almost instantly reappeared over New Tunis. Word from there would be passed incredibly quickly.

---

The All Encompassing Expanse
Capital District
Crucible
New Canaan System
Kantr Core Sector
Kantr Confederacy
Planning for the Voyages in to the Dark

Eight figures stood around a massive table displaying a hologram of the Milky Way into the air. One of them stood out for the wrong reasons, comparatively small, The Grand Marshal stood dwarved by her biological and adoptive children.

To her immediate left was a man, the tallest in the room at close to ten feet tall, he was the second eldest in the room outside of the Grand Marshal herself. His armor was macabre to say the least, just as much a tool of intimidation than it was a protective device. David was born before the Mourning War and was the only one of his generation of Marshals to survive it. It was a badge he wore with both pride and sorrow.

Across from David stood a man dressed in a similar armor but for different reasons. While David's Armor was meant to intimdate, Daemon's was to act as a recognizable visage for all of mankind. Pareidolia was a common theme across every human being on a base instinctual level. A shared trait was the image of a skull, and it represented humanity at it's core. No matter where the culture went or how long they'd be separated, every human had a skull.

To Daemon's right stood Elsa, the second eldest in the room, and the only remaining Marshal born during the Mourning War. One of the most potent psychics in the Kantr confederacy, she was the only one in the room who didn't have a marshal carbine with her. Her armor had more in common with the knights of old than a modern fighting suit. But it was of a more durable make than the others, befitting a woman who typically closed to melee in the blink of an eye.

Around the rest of the circle, stood Aleksander, the first Marshal born after the Mourning War. His armor was remarkably standard, very little stood out besides a tabard and trim of gold. It was simple but still spoke of elegance and a level of nobility. The man himself took on a similar role mentally, that of a scholar and a explorer first and foremost.

Next was Horatio, another born post war, he was a man who spoke of peace before war. Not only did he speak of it, he did so in practice as well, being responsible for diffusing a grand number of internal conflicts throughout the Hegemony, and a number more within the Confederacy itself. His armor was befitting a peacemaker, exemplifying the chivalric orders of old.

Hannah and Ludwig stood next to one another. The two were fraternal twins, and even among the Marshals they were close knit. Both wore minimaly changed armor. Ludwig's armor was adorned with a gold trim, a pelt, and a hood, he was more often found fighting with a shield bearing the skeleton of a long dead marshal in a manner of remembrance and in an oath. Hannah's armor bore a battle damaged tabard, and a heraldic shield, of the two, she was the much better marksman.

They were the seven most experienced of the forty total marshals. They would be the first of 25 to form the Kantr Armed forces into the first Kantr Legions, and eventually the first of the Terran Legions.

It was a plan nearly a millenia in progress. They had found their brothers and sisters across the void, and they no longer stood alone with the Hekaton as the last Terrans.

Aleksander would be heading to what was known as Seran territory, thanks to the efforts of the Magellan, a lot of data was recovered and most of it indicated a lot of human colonies there survived. His primary goal would be simple establishment of contact, and negotiations if need be. Horatio and David would be sent to Aurelian space in an effort to deal with the ongoing hostilities, likely peacefully, or if things went completely wrong, as proper peacekeepers. Hannah would be sent to a supposedly friendly alien power, the Faeson, while the rest would go to locations where human colonies might have been likely in the past.

Mankind's reunification was nigh, for better or worse.

[The United Remnants of America]

SNS 182 High Noon
Exploratory Flotilla Varden
Varden System
Edge of Seran Space

"Captain, full-spectrum sensor suite detects what appears to be... Well, it looks like a massive spike in energy on the edge of the system. Corvette 587D is roughly one AU from the phenomenon. No word from them, yet."

Captain Markos Harrakis looked away from his command display at the sensory tech, "What?"

"It looks a lot like a jump signature, sir. Currently running it against all known records."

The High Noon had been leading exploratory efforts around Varden IV for the last hour, along with the destroyer Valakis, the Tender Altruism, two of the exploratory flotilla's frigates Palidis and Mutides, and three of the Marines' light assault ships. Harrakis glanced at his command display. The Immortals had announced landfall on Korvus roughly twenty minutes ago, and the Solemn Vow, Rivalry, and Andreadakis with their five light assault ships were still in low orbit and preparing deployments of research and security teams to the surface as Ephraim and Titania had announced their landing site as nominally safe. The remaining three frigates and two light assault ships were up-system looking over Varden I and Varden III. All of the flotilla's corvettes had been scattered off around the system.

Harrakis looked back at the sensory tech, "Well?"

"Currently no matches, Captain. This is either a natural event or an unknown drive signature. It doesn't match any Seran drive type, nor any of the known records of other human or xenos drives the Colonials sent over to us."

"Confirm bearing for me, Sensors, as well as bearing of Gate."

"Anomaly bearing zero-nine-three, sir. Gate bearing two-four-one."

On the up-side, it wasn't any problem with the Gate, thought Harrakis. On the downside, however, this was an unknown."

"Comms, time to laser for 587D?" Harrakis was requesting the time it would take a laser message beamed from the High Noon to reach Corvette 587D.

The deck tech at the communications suite checked his workstation, "Sir, TTL 587D is... twenty-two minutes, 18 seconds."

"And for Rivalry?"

"Uh... thirty-one minutes, forty-eight seconds, sir."

Shit. Harrakis realized there wasn't any time time to send an emergency message.

The sensory tech looked up, "Sir! Anomaly readings spiking! Something is coming through! Confirming incoming jump!"

Harrakis stood and began to issue a flurry of orders, "Watch, call general quarters. Comms, approving use of QEC array, send an order to 587D to stand to and prepare a jump to Varden IV. Send an update to Rivalry as well. Prepare to send laser bands to our neighbors.

Watch opened up the shipboard comms system, "This is the Officer of the Watch, this is not a drill, this is not a drill, set General Quarters, set General Quarters. General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battle stations. Forward and up on the starboard side, down and aft on the port side. Reason for general quarters is unknown naval contact."

An electronic alarm began bleating. The white lights on the bridge went out and were immediately replaced with dimmed white-blue lights. Harrakis knew that this alarm and sounding to general quarters would rouse 3,400 sailors to a state of readiness, prepared for any situation arising from this unknown jump contact.

"Comms, how we looking?"

"Lasers sent. Palidis, Mutides, and Valakis confirm contact and have sounded general quarters. They're moving to form up to screen on us. Altruism confirms and is moving aft with the Marines. QEC received from 587D, Lieutenant Nicolou confirms prepping a jump. No response yet from Rivalry."

"Thank you. Keep in contact with our neighbors, I want nothing lost between us. Steersman, put engines at 40%, bearing zero-nine-three. Let's close some distance between us."

"Aye, Captain. Confirming engines 40%, bearing zero-nine-three."

Harrakis remained standing, even though there was no need to. It helped relieve the pressure off his back, but more importantly, it made him feel less stressed out. He looked at the tactical display that had come online on the wall of the bridge and looked at the unknown contact, which the High Noon was coming around to be head on.

"Who are you? Is this your system?"