Cymopolia: New Beginnings [IC] [Apply First]

by **The-International Space Organization** » Tue Dec 31, 2019 6:42 pm

ISO BULK FREIGHTER 'MIDNIGHT DREAMS' - SYSTEM G-01-CYM

The massive freighter began to slow as it approached the planet - A jungle world, which command had designated as a good starting point. The huge thrusters on the massive freighter began to fire, slowing it down in it's inevitable course, as maneuvering thrusters began to bring the freighter into an orbital position. Freight detaching, as construction shuttles and pre-constructed ATIGs got to work, as pods were maneuvered about, some having their exterior plating removed to reveal modular stations, which quickly began to be placed together, and grow- Being settled into orbit by ATIG-322s, who tugged other modules around, placing them into positions around the freighter and the growing station, determined by a dozen ATCs working to coordinate the rapidly increasing flow of traffic.

Within 3 hours, the station would be large enough to support a fully loaded Super-Rhino. Within 6 hours, the station would be able to refine materials, drawn from the asteroid belt. Within 12 hours, the station would be able to support the mining efforts to the asteroid belt. Within a full day, the next fully loaded Super-Rhino, carrying the first load of supplies would arrive.

They had to have the first stages of the colony setup before then.

ISO MODULAR STATION 'Finite Chances' - SYSTEM G-01-CYM

The 'Finite Chances' was rapidly becoming a large station, even by ISO standards. It's modular design that allowed it to expand so quickly, meant it could serve as a mothership while the bulk-freighter 'Midnight Dreams' would continue on to explore the new galaxy. It's dark grey hull was already being expanded, to have the facilities to house a Super-Rhino, and to fuel it. Other parts of it were being added- living quarters, hangars, hydroponics bays, weapon pods, and everything else needed for a new adventure into a galaxy. Refineries, foundries, machine shops, print-shops, mills, science labs, sensor stations, and other such things. Everything was being strung together in a thorough manner, by a manner that was built for thorough and rapid expansion. Huge solar panels being strung out, to support the station before it's boilers warmed up and began howling.

By the time the 'Finite Chances' finished it's first round of expansion, it'd sprawl across dozens of kilometers in space- A boxy hull, with arms reaching out to provide docking slots, defend by a complex web of defensive platforms, guns, and AG-300s patrolling.

The 'Midnight Dreams' had been in a steady orbit now, as the second layer of containers was detached. Transport pods loaded full of soldiers, civilians, and others, being moved into position. Most of the pods, fairly obviously, were guided into position with the station itself. Others, however, were put into temporary orbits. As ATIGs, now freed, latched their heavy cables to the pods--And then they began to descend into atmosphere. Flames lapping hulls and armor, as they dove down. A total of 12 ATIGs moving 3 pods into atmosphere. The starting parts of the first step of ISO colonization, which after this point, would be a near unstoppable spiral.

SYSTEM G-01-CYM - COLONIZED PLANET 01 ''Travelers Rest'

The scans had given a good image of the planet. A continental forest world- Covered in trees, and likely hiding untold bounties of minerals beneath it's surface. A few more detailed recon passes had showed smaller mammalian life- For the most part anyway. A few alerts had been put up about the larger predators, but not many. That left the teams to explore the world, to mark out sites for other FOBs, even as the form of the Main Colony rose up behind them.

The Main Colony itself was already fairly large- Literally built out of a dozen Super-Rhino cargo-pods. It had been raised above tree-level on a series of massive stilts, and work-teams were quickly beginning to clear the space below the main building for future expansions. On landing pads which had quickly been built, AG-304s were in varying states of readiness- Some hovering on the pad, waiting for their orders to come in. They would begin the process of finding mineral deposits, and marking them for the logistical divisions to start mining...

High above the colony, in orbit, mining vessels were already being deployed to the systems asteroid belt, to tear it apart for valuable resources, and to hide defenses within it's grasp. The ISO were well versed experts in colonial warfare, after all- You hide more surprises than what the enemy can...

SYSTEM G-01-CYM - STATIONHOUSE OUT-G 'Eternal Halt'

The lead officer watched nervously, as the amber light suddenly flashed green...

"Commander, connection green. Portal is now opening." Came the cool voice of the Station-House 'Track' officer, as the huge portal began to open in space, 25,000 kilometers away from the Stationhouse itself. This was just a temporary portal, though... The start of something far grander.

It took maybe half an hour of waiting for the form of six Super-Rhinos to slide through the portal, five of which didn't even slow as they turned towards the distant form of the planet, carrying supplies, soldiers, materials, and all the items the ISO had sent out to this new galaxy. They then vanished, one-by-one, with the flash of the BFAD powering each one into warp. The sixth, on the other-hand, began to slow almost instantly. Whirling about, as it dragged behind it huge cables which began to go slack--Some cables were easily a kilometer in diameter, using which it dragged the form of a Junction House.

The huge cables began to detach from the Junction House, as the Super-Rhino that had been sent out to tow it whirled about, as the cables drifted free. The Junction-House's own maneuvering thrusters kicking into life, as ATIG-322s began to detach from the SR, picking up the ends of the cables to attach them to the Station-Halt, as it's own portal flicked off. Towing it out of the way, as the massive Junction House sent out it's own connection lines, than it's portals, connecting back to the network. Now that the foothold was established... It was time to reinforce it.

SYSTEM G-01-CYM - COLONIZED PLANET 01 ''Travelers Rest'

It wasn't too long before the five transports were all sitting in orbit, disgorging containers. Enough materials, and population, to build a fair sized city on this planet alone... And the soldiers to defend it. But even then, the 'Scarlet Fever' was just disgorging one of it's layers of transport pods- Many of it's other troops would go onto other systems, as the ISO moved in to this cluster.

It was also about this time, the 'Midnight Dreams' turned, it's heavy sensor arrays pointing out towards zones unknown. Filling in scanner information for nearby systems. About thirty minutes had passed when suddenly- It vanished in a flash of warp-energies, flinging itself off towards the nearest system, to continue this process...

Afterall. That's what the ISO did best.

Expand into new frontiers, and mine them dry.

by **Arkeyana** » Fri Jan 10, 2020 4:06 pm

Chyannis Orbital, Terminus System
Chyannis Orbital was the largest of the three Orbitals constructed in Terminus, ten million kilometers in diameter, it and it's compatriots were built much faster than others, due to its construction having been done with travel through the Gate in mind. Each plate had been assembled individually, towed through the gate, and connected together to create the Orbital on the other side for Terraforming.

It was a megastructure with a focus on science, it's surface layered over in supercomputer complexes and machine ecologies, with the few Laboratory Arcologies for non-mechanoid lifeforms. From a distance, it's outer surface gained a fractal pattern, but up close, it resolved into an ever-shifting landscape of nanotech colonies, massive forests of solar-powered mechanical superorganisms that crawled along at a blazing 1km/h.

In one of the Arcologies, two figures walked side-by-side through a massive park area. The first was a bioluminescent, blue-skinned humanoid standing at a little over two meters tall, almost skeletal in figure and wearing dark, flowing robes. The second was a bulky machine, about a meter tall and half that wide and deep, gunmetal with a green dot towards the upper end of it indicating when the main "eye" was as it floated alongside. The two were going over the technical reports from the ASW Arc, which had last reported thirty minutes before it reactivated it's Phase Drive and went stealth. It had reported that the conference regarding the construction of Nidavellir Orbital had gone as planned and that it would engage it's Phase Drive and move to an area within a five lightyear radius of the Orbital's construction site to maintain guard.

The two reached the exit of the park, entering a corridor and going their separate ways.

Nova Cannon Platform EX-3890, Commanding Mind "Chamlix-Amatsy-Platum"
The Platform hung in the interstellar space between Terminus and the rest of Cymopolia like a massive sea urchin, a spherical construct with large pylons that extended out several kilometers from the surface. Each pylon was a Nova Cannon, a weapon with immense range and firepower, one of thirty deployed into a defensive formation around Terminus. It was surrounded by a swarm of 100 Interceptor Fabricator Platforms, each ready to fabricate fast, remote-controlled interception vessels to seek and destroy would-be attackers.

Aboard it, Chamlix and her crew "lounged" aboard the ship, their drones moving about running diagnostics on the various systems and subsystems that the behemoth construct ran on. They had pored over the reports from Diligence and knew that should the need arise they were to relocate and fire the Platform's devastating weapons at the system, were the Crucilandians to pose a great, non-negotiable threat.

Edge of Cymopolia, Bombed Wastes
The Trifexian Expedition Fleet had traveled through Cymopolia and found it lacking in "interesting" points. As such, with authorization from the Terminus System's command, they began preparing to leave Cymopolia, and travel to the nearby satellite galaxy that locals referred to as "Linnaeris". There, they would seek out a supposedly "interesting" star, and in that system create a massive Phase-Gate, in effect creating another route between the Laniakean Alliance's home universe and the one Cymopolia was located within. But for now, they waited, preparing themselves for the longest recorded trip beyond what the Laniakean Alliance called "known space".

by **Imperial-Octavia** » Fri Jan 24, 2020 7:57 pm

The Arrival of the Octavians
Persei 8, Uzara system

The colony vessel moved slowly through the cold miasma of space. The majority of organic Octavian settlers prepared to establish a colony while others were more apprehensive, morbidly curious about what this "assimilation" thing actually entailed as they had only heard of it from their onboard Mechanator who was apparently already assimilated. The Mechanator himself, Mechanator TK'Rantar (pronounced Tic-Ran-tar) had been on this ship for a few decades watching the organics, ensuring that they understood the benefits of assimilation and the glory of The Paramount. While the journey was tedious he had the ship AI to converse with and watching the organics grow was actually very satisfying. However, this life had its downsides such as having to deal with the quite frankly disgusting children of these organics and having to execute some that he had grown quite attached to for dissidence and frankly it was quite depressing. However, now that they were making landfall on this new planet perhaps such instances would fall in frequency and they may find themselves as properly assimilated members of the Imperium.

Landfall

The large colony ship landed on the planet, the flames from the landing scorched the ground with the fires promptly snuffed out with the landing ramp leading out into the planet. The colonists led by TK'Rantar stepped off of the ship and onto the planet. The air had a sweet smell most likely from all the foliage located around and the abundant whistling noises creating a sort of natural orchestra and the crescendo of wind covered the colonists with a chilled breeze. "What an interesting organic structure. These plants use sound to attract pollinators. These will be excellent additions for the bio-zoos." TK'Rantar finished studying and ground of the planet and turned on his scanner identifying the materials in the soil and the fertility of the ground and then swiftly rising with a slight mechanical noise and raising his hand "ORGANICS! This part of the colony shall be reserved for the Imperial bio-zoo, henceforth we shall move our colony to the South with far less vegetation." The Octavians began their trek to the South with the colony starting equipment mounted on the backs of some. TK'Rantar, however, moved to the ship who's AI would begin the trek back to gather more colonists perhaps even those who were already assimilated and before the ship took off sent a message to the surrounding galaxy as to notify the surrounding galaxy that there was a new contender.

GREETINGS LIFEFORMS OF THE CYMOPOLIAN GALAXY
We the Imperial Octavian Imperium have landed in this galaxy on a planet which we will not yet reveal to the Galaxy at wide. We are a mechanical empire with the intent to assimilate lifeforms by peace or force if necessary. This action will aid the organics of this universe and purge then of disease, pain and even death itself. We also wish to inform the organics if this universe that we will be willing to co-operate without prior assimilation if the right conditions are met.

TRANSMISSION OVER

TK'Rantar left the ship with the message and began to make his way to the organic colonists. It was finally time to start this colony and assimilate them in the name of the Imperium and the glory of The Paramount!

by **The Auraverse** » Sun Jan 26, 2020 9:09 pm

Xoltos, planetary orbit

The ISO had certainly grown busy, and their activity had been noticed - they were hardly being subtle about their intent. Not an obstacle, per se, but a circumstance to be worked around. Accounted for in-transit. And so it was that before anything else of note was done, a vaguely-cylindrical area of space just above Xoltos' upper atmosphere was... altered. Around sixty kilometers in "length" (or height, if one preferred), and forty in diameter. A hollow tube, its surface an event horizon of sorts. A conceptual and spatial bubble which, now, could not be entered. Any matter attempting to pass through would be shunted around this mystical perimeter, though in a way that would indicate that it was, in fact, moving through the zone at whatever trajectory it had previously occupied. Most energy, too, would be pseudo-refracted in such a manner. The consequence of some rather precise translocatory action... clearly, something worth concealing was to be found within. And soon enough, the interior of this hidden pocket was awash with radiant blue, and a sense of tearing space - all undetectable from without, of course. And then it all snapped back to normality, and the pocket was vacant no longer. The ISV Muriatic took a moment to adjust itself spatially, before locking the bubble around its center axis, and taking over from the remote-translocation arrays that had been maintaining it prior. Far more efficient - and now, this untouchable cloak would move with the vessel. Not that it would need to - after a few moments more, the mighty craft finalized its geosynchronous orbit around the planet below.

Aboard, the expedition was already preparing for departure. Supply containers and equipment were being shifted into the specially-prepped Lapis by utility proxies - the comparatively tiny shuttle was starting to look like a clown car. Great polymer storage-blocks, practically the size of the vessel itself, disappearing into its loading bay one after the other, with seemingly no end. Dr. Minnagh stood by the docking bay, her backpack currently resting at her feet, and looked over the preparations. In her hand, she held a nigh-weightless, clipboard-esque panel of hardlight. An anachronism, but one she had no issues with indulging in. Busy tapping away, consolidating deployment plans, she nearly dropped the thing as a rather lanky man bumped into her from behind. He was practically laden with boxes - a rather sizeable stack of them went high enough to concel his face. Irritably, Minnagh grabbed the top box of that selfsame stack, revealing a rather sheepish, unshaven visage.

"Sorry. Couldn't really see you over-"

"-the boxes, yes."

She sighed.

"Why? All of this could have been packed into a single crate, handed off to a proxy, and then you'd be done."

"I couldn't do that! This stuff's precious to me! My research practically centers around-"

"Around what? Your gaming peripherals? Six bottles of that sugary, carbonated swill that you couldn't get out of the field fabricator because the AI insisted it'd give you a heart attack? The stack of pornographic datacubes you're trying desperately to hide behind your-"

"Alright, alright, yeah, it's not research-centric. But it's fragile. What if a proxy malfunctions and drops it?"

"Then we'll have you actually focus on your work for a respectable amount of time. In fact, I might just drop this one down the disposal chute myself.

She casually tossed the box from one hand to another, evoking a panicked look from its owner. Just then, a third individual approached them both - of average build, he carried a relatively large, metallic canister under one arm.

"Oh, quit needling him. You know he won't shut up about how bored he is if we don't let him bring his toys."

"Hey!"

Minnagh smiled a little.

"You've got a point."

Placing the box back on its previous resting place and sending its carrier on his way, she eyed the canister.

"Could it be? Something actually worth handling carefully?"

"Bit of a personal project. Not dangerous as such, but I had to use a standard field canister, and I'd hate for this to get mistaken for fuel or cooling fluid."

"What is it, then?"

"Smart polymer. Rapid-hardening on depressurization, has a fractal autoform directive hardwired into its reaction mechanism. Boutique on-demand nanomachines through pure chemical synthesis. Or at least, that's what I'm aiming for."

"That... actually sounds fairly useful. Mind contacting me if you make any significant progress on it? I can see quite a few potential applications in our department."

"Sure thing. Usually it's Engineering that gets dibs on project dividends, but hey. Gotta show Xenbio some love. I was getting a tad tired of their pretentious attitudes anyway - don't tell Nour I said that."

"Your heinous crimes are safe with me. And speaking of safety - it looks like we're going to avoid contact with the colonists at present."

"Oh? I thought a diplomatic envoy was already prepped."

"Yeah, there was a change of plans. A reassessment by Security - considering how quickly they've expanded, we'd have to waste significant time with setup and negotiating passage. At the same time, simply pulling up right on past their defenses and warping in here would probably warrant some sort of military reaction from them, which would just be a pain. We don't need a hostile colony on our hands. So we're doing this clandestinely."

"Ah, yes. I've noticed the field. I assume the field gear's been modified accordingly?"

"Yep. We've already carried out assessments of their sensing technology, and made adjustments as needed. So long as we're reasonably careful, we should remain undetected. We shouldn't really be operating in the vicinity of their colony anyway - so far, they've only really got a single city-analogue. Easy enough to avoid, all things considered."

"Fair enough. Ah - it would appear that loading has finished. Shall we?"

Minnagh nodded, tapping a staccato rhythm into her hardlight tablet. Within a few minutes, the remaining expedition members had made their way over into the dock area, and boarded the shuttle. As the team leader, Minnagh came last - taking one last look around the Muriatic's interior, she hefted her backpack and made her way into the waiting aperture. Mere seconds later, it was sealed.

The Lapis shuttle slid out of the Muriatic's primary airlock, and promptly set its trajectory for the planet below. As it passed through the concealment bubble's event horizon, it was surrounded in a miniature version of it. A form-fitting barrier, hiding it from view and sensing. Here, it served another purpose - displacing atmospheric molecules in the aforementioned fluid manner as it passed, it maintained the shuttle's position inside a functionally-frictionless vacuum bubble, preventing it from gaining any significant sort of heat signature during atmospheric entry.

The expedition was finally making planetfall.

Nidavellir Orbital, Outskirts

The Enantiomorph idled for a few moments more, as a suitable response was formulated. Then, another signal directed at the LA vessels made itself manifest.

Your mention of heavy defenses as an overriding parameter in the orbital's purpose has been noted. Such a thing would imply an actively hostile force native to the area, or at the very least the potential of such a force making itself evident. An elaboration of the Laniakean Alliance's allegiances with regards to local powers would be appreciated, as would a more precise descriptor of this particular threat, if such a thing exists.

Uchro 31 G

Hatlen examined the infopacket curiously. He himself would seldom bother with such finely-targeted persuasive mechanisms - typically, the threat of force was more than sufficient to dissuade complications in his interactions with the average modosophont. To construct something like this would require stringent testing and examination of social patterns, ties and mechanics, alongside their universalization amongst spacefaring societies. All operations that the K-sphere had to have carried out to even perform its basic functions, he supposed. Here, there was a contrast in goals - a requirement of interaction, rather than the natural shunning of such. He filed it away for future reference, before moving onto the next item of note.

Thank you. This will be sufficient with regards to transfer procedures for the time being. As a final clarification - am I to assume that the primary purpose of this transfer methodology is to minimize negative sophont stimulus during upload procedures, thereby enabling easier preference-filling post-upload? As well as to further entice sophonts to consent to the upload procedure in the first place.

In addition, I have a few inquiries with regards to the history of your directive and operations. Were you, or rather your central processing structure, created with the satisfaction of sophont preferences in mind, or is that a task you have set yourself to post-creation? Furthermore, is the act of requesting consent one that is mandated from you by design, or self-maintained by decision and deduction?

A dead-end then. At least, with regards to his primary objective. But then, there were many avenues of exploration here - all knowledge was valuable to some extent. And the K-sphere's structure did genuinely pique his interest, insofar as such a term was even applicable at this point. It stirred something - deep within that enclosed, immeasurably-tiny fragment of humanity that remained. Perhaps a diversion was, in fact, in order.

Edge of the Contested Zone, Diligence System

Now this was getting interesting. Hatlen disliked superstition, on the whole - as with most alternative systems of pseudo-explanation, it tended to operate on an irrational, non-verifiable basis. And it was not something that he would ordinarily associate with a star-devouring, compulsive-assimilationist hive-mind transophont cluster. This, then, pointed to genuine, verifiable understanding of something beyond the physical. Some kernel of soul. But it would have to be investigated further - perhaps more importantly, it would have to be verified. After all, the possibility of some fundamental supersition or reasoning flaw slipping through into the core architecture was not to be discounted - it's not like he hadn't seen it happen before. He wasted no time in the formulation of a reply.

The Syndicate's current motives extend merely to data-collection, so that a proper course of action may be extrapolated. No precise goals nor objectives have been set with regards to Cymopolia, as its potential for advancing Syndicate interests is as of yet undetermined.

You have mentioned a principal reason for sophont assimilation, and its ties to the metaphysical continuity of assimilated sophonts. Elaboration would be appreciated, as would some form of clarification with regards to how such continuity is in fact verified, or proven. Are you possessive of a method by which these metaphysical properties may be detected and catalogued?

What followed this communique was a series of rather simple bitstrings - that said, their informational density was remarkable for something composed so elegantly. They were based primarily off observational evidence - the colonists' assimilation, witnessed at Mynatoth, had certainly been food for thought. While Hatlen did not have direct access to the control feed of the assimilation mechanism, nor insight into the precise internal workings of the blackbody transfer apparatus, he still had plenty to work with. Energy emissions, thermal losses, excess movement in order to reposition - the innumerable data points contributing to each and every externally-visible facet of inefficiency were compiled, analyzed and subtly remodulated. Individually, they were minuscule, but they served to produce a sort of translation-algorithm that was liable to cut down on the overall energy exertion and time investment of assimilation by a not-inconsiderable margin. Provided, of course, the sophonts in question possessed a body-plan and composition in rough approximation to that of the previously-subsumed colonists - perhaps not an infallible formula, but certainly a useful one, especially if the Crucilandians deigned to remain in Cymopolia for much longer. Hatlen chose to withhold a few more radical propositions for now - for one thing, they would require a more in-depth look at the uploading process, primarily from a metaphysical standpoint. If the Crucilandians really were transferring what could be construed as a soul, or perhaps some Aura-equivalent, the Director could certainly think of a few ways in which the blackbody-transfer process could be simplified. Or even eliminated entirely, although that was a bit of information he was currently loath to part with. In any case, it would prove itself an additional bargaining chip, should he require it... and should his theories with regards to the uploading process actually hold water.

by **Cruciland** » Sat Feb 01, 2020 11:04 pm

Edge of the Contested Zone, Diligence System
(this section was made in collaboration with Arkeyana and Pax Cybertronian)
Ironheart, commander of the Autobots sent to defend Diligence's inhabitants, was running out of time. Considering that he believed that diplomacy was very unlikely at this stage, as such, it was perhaps time to begin to retaliate against the Crucilandians. Even if they couldn’t win, he would rather prevent them from assimilating either them or their allies. Of course, they had no way to determine just how powerful their foes were. Perhaps they were far more powerful than they anticipated, or perhaps they were weaker? Only time would tell at this rate, and they didn’t have much time to deliberate. It seemed like the Laniakeans’ act of evacuating these lifeforms out of the system was a provocation, and that Ironheart now had to prepare for war.

Just then, Ironheart’s dreadnought detected the arrival of hundreds of dropships dropping into the atmospheres of Caleph, Barrov and Fudolf; it was presumably the Crucilandians’ commencement of their attempt to assimilate the people of this system. All bets were off the table. The largest concentration of ships had been detected in Caleph’s orbit. It was likely at this point that the drones, which had by now had been ejected into the planet, were arriving at the urban centres in all three of the planets. Assimilation went against the Autobots’ sacrosanct belief in freedom, and assimilation went against the freedom of the individual. Death was a better alternative to allowing the Crucilandians to gain a foothold here and encroach on the Commonwealth and their allies. He ordered numerous fighters and bombers to prepare to scramble, as well as numerous drones to accompany them. If need be, they’d have to enter the urban centres and tend to the populace themselves. He wasn’t sure, but it had to have been painful; they were, of course, being involuntarily assimilated through nanomachines, he believed. It’d be preferable to becoming a slave for the rest of eternity; he’d rather not let the Crucilandians feast on the populace. It would be a shame to end their lives, but at least their deaths wouldn’t be in vain. Numerous Reclaimer vessels also scrambled to engaged the Crucilandian fleet. Ksata had granted the Laniakeans permission to relocate the Reclaimers in the Diligence System, although a few of the Reclaimers from the outpost elected to remain in the system to help the Autobots try to rescue the inhabitants of the system, and to help the Reclaimers escape the system.

"It’ll be a shame to do this, but we can’t let the inhabitants lose their freedom. It’s better for them to die free than to live as slaves. How much longer will it take for you to evacuate these people? The Crucilandians are in a frenzy and they’re already assimilating them. These people are losing their freedom, and I believe that it’s better to die free than to be assimilated in pain and be forced into some hivemind. My oath to the Autobot Code means that I won’t stand for this much longer."

Regardless of whether or not the Crucilandians were aware of the immediate threat from the other two factions, the fact that the Laniakean worldship appeared in orbit of planet Caleph was keeping them in a frenzy. As the ultralight drones descended, they let off a hail of fire at any military assets they came across, punching cleanly through them with anti-materiel lasers so as to leave the populace defenseless. Adding to all this trauma was the appearance of these dropships above populated areas, which saw the drones weave through streets and bowl through windows in pursuit of their query. While the assimilation of the Mynatoth colonists was swift, owing to the cloud of nanites covering them, the drones were limited in resources, and so settled for tapping victims with unfurled appendages. Spreading their infection through touch alone, it looked like a rabid, chaotic game of tag was being played in well over a hundred major cities.

ASOPAASOS processed the events unfurling in Caleph and across the rest of the system before it processed the message sent by Ironheart, electing to perform strategic Displacements across the planet, going for large groups of people and attempting to keep whatever registered as a potential family intact. While it was evacuating much slower than the Crucis were assimilating, it was carrying minimal risk of some horrific half-displacement happening where someone would be mutilated or even outright killed in the event of a failure, which could be caused by the constant assimilation throwing off the lock-on systems. Then, it processed the Autobot message. Anyone keenly observing could see the ship shift a few micrometers, as if shuddering in revulsion at some unknown influence, before responding:

"It will be a while for me to evacuate the citizens of Caleph, and I might not be able to make it in time to save the other two colonies. However, killing millions if not billions of people is not a justifiable action in this situation. You can be much more useful by running interference on the Crucilandians. By attacking their ships with fighter craft and missiles, you could potentially force them to call back a percentage of their drones for protection. I'll be ordering a portion of the Gladian Fleet to follow suit, to augment your firepower."

As this was said, the Gladian Fleet traversed a second wormhole pair, entering orbit around Caleph and moving to encircle the Generation Ship, while it continued it's Displacements across the planet.

Ironheart noticed the message and responded promptly.

"The Crucilandians are already attacking the other two colonies. I understand your position, but even if you can save people on Caleph, we need to put an end to this there before it's too late."
"How's this? We'll try to focus on saving the other planets while you focus on Caleph. However, if it comes to it, we'll do what we need to make sure they don't suffer as part of whatever hivemind the Crucilandians are a part of. It'd be easier if they were distracted, though I don't know how we could get a third party involved quick enough."

With frightening efficiency, the "tagged" inhabitants of Caleph, Barrov, and Fudolf were becoming increasingly... discolored. Wherever a drone had touched them, a pitch-black discoloration rapidly advanced across their skin, eventually spreading beyond the mark as it entered their bloodstream. Their blood vessels turned black beneath their skin, appearing like a shadowy web threatening to entrap them- and most ominously of all, the nanomachines' blackbody properties masked the colonists' minds as they moved across the blood-brain barrier. It seemed as if the drones were aware of the worldship's uploading practices as well- most likely because of eyewitness accounts from their drones spreading through their hivemind- because it seemed as if they were deliberately aiming for the head when they motioned to tag a colonist. This shortened the time until the blackbody nanites had surrounded their queries' brains, thus preventing the transfer of consciousness in addition to forming a sort of "bio-mechanical" shield against damage to them.

The situation was going to go from bad to worse, however.

About a minute ago, the fabric of space was observed shimmering in the vicinity of the Sibyl-class command ship. It wasn't immediately apparent what it was for- the only observed phenomenon related to it was the acceleration of ship parts and Von-Neumann rockets across the solar system. While from the ASOPAASOS's perspective the shimmering appeared to radiate out from around the command ship, it was becoming increasingly apparent to the Autobot and Reclaimer sub-fleets that the spacetime distortion displayed patterns characteristic of a cylindrical lens between Sub-Fleet 2A and the Gladian fleet. Glowing, line-like patterns flickered across its surface, as if the lensing effect was distorting the light of the Diligence star as it passed through...

Back in Caleph's orbit, the radial shimmering from overhead suddenly spiked in distortion, with respect to its field of view. Sub-Fleet 2A appeared to abruptly zoom in at various points in the affected area of space before slowly zooming out until long-range scanners displayed the ships almost as is they were spaghettified. Accompanying this field of view effect was the rapid appearance of twinkling blue dots, which shifted into the ultraviolet wavelength as the rest of the shimmering space underwent this distortion effect. Was that... Cherenkov radiation?

Oh shi-

A cascade of anti-materiel lasers suddenly appeared out of the distortion field, aiming straight for the Island-class worldship A Shore of Planets Against A Sea Of Stars and any Gladian warships which happened to be orbiting directly above it. The needle-like points of hardlight were truly numerous, accurately reflecting the sheer number of combat drones which were concentrating their firepower in a bid to punch clean through their target and destroy vital components. In all, there appeared to be as many as 100,000 points of light boring into the Arkeyanan and Gladian vessels.

The battle for Diligence had begun, in earnest.

"Sounds like a plan, I-AAAAAGH"

The pinpoints had seared downwards, clawing into what could be considered as ASOPAASOS' dorsal hull as they crafted a return message to Ironheart. A few seconds later, the Generation Ship's shields went up, causing a spectacular lightshow as the lasers slammed into an invisible barrier, were scattered, and then were reflected upwards as X-ray radiation, amongst other lower-wavelength emissions. The Gladian ships, however, weren't so lucky. There were four battleships and six cruisers in the line of fire, and the anti-materiel lasers did their toll. Three of the cruisers had the pinpoints slice clean through them, impacting VES chambers and resulting in blinding detonations as the vessels were atomized by their now-unbound power source. Two of the battleships took heavy damage, the beams tearing deep into their hulls and damaging ODC systems, one of the two behemoths having their Phase Cannon taken out of commission. ASOPAASOS started charging their Cutter Drive to escape, and as for the Gladian fleet...

The behemoth fought back.

On the various ships, AA batteries rose from their housings, opening fire on the drones as KKVs and VES torpedoes began flying upwards, intent on demolishing the ambushers. Meanwhile, heavier ship-to-ship batteries started to lock onto the Crucilandian vessels, waiting for further response as Phase Cannons charged and torpedo silos reloaded.

From the edge of the heliosphere, the distance for the two sides' projectiles to cross was several light-minutes, yet the Crucilandians appeared to have bridged that gap. If that bridge happened to be a wormhole, then surely the KKVs and VES torpedoes would cross over and begin blooming into explosions as they hit their targets. But, there was an issue- this was a warp field, enveloping the drones' laser pulses in long Alcubierre bubbles, and thus creating the field-of-view distortion observed by either side. Even as ASOPAASOS retreated, the drones' incessant laser bombardment was still concentrated on it. Passing through the cylindrical warp field created by the Sibyl-class capital ship, the Gladian projectiles had to avoid getting skewered and disrupted as they traveled through the raining pillars of warp-sheathed, high-frequency light... and traveled. And traveled. And traveled.

Barring FTL flight speeds, it was going to be a long and awkward wait before the first of the Gladian projectiles reached the Crucilandians. And so, as the ordnance soared and got eliminated by the warp-enhanced beams of light, it became clear that the warp effect was not a two-way street. The Gladian ships stopped firing, and elected to send the KKVs forth to absorb fire for the Generation Ship while they maneuvered out of the line of fire. Phase Cannons charged, and guns loaded, but they seemed to pause, as if waiting for something.

As this fighting raged on, ASOPAASOS continued their message.

"I have taken heavy damage to my inner and outer hull systems, and have engaged damage control systems to compensate. I may have to pull out of the system and call in reinforcements. Care to provide some fire support?"

"Yeah, hold on."

With this in mind, Ironheart ordered some ships to cover ASOPAASOS as it retreated. Meanwhile, some of the fighters and frigates started to move to the other two planets and opted to warp nearby it. After noticing this attack on the Crucilandians, Ksata ordered his fleet to defend ASOPAASOS and their Autobot allies.

Arriving at planet Caleph, the Autobot detachment and the Reclaimer fleet were treated to the sight of a hundred-thousand streaks of light impacting the shields of the Laniakean Alliance's Island-class generation ship, with wreckage and debris from a handful of Gladian ships tumbling around in high orbit. Down below, the clouds of Caleph were clearly disturbed, forming rings and ripples around where the Crucilandian dropships had warped in and collapsed their warp fields; high-resolution images of the planet below could capture the mass-panic as a throng of blackened bodies spread out from the population centres dotting the vibrant planet. Elsewhere, on Barrov and Fudolf, the Autobot detachments and their accompanying Reclaimer allies saw similar events playing out in what few locations were inhabited by the colonists. For now, the Crucilandians were not opening fire on any other ships, but the shimmering patterns of spatial distortion were shifting overhead for the other two inhabited planets, too...

Shore of Planets had begun to move, attempting, albeit with difficulty, to evade the hails of laser fire in order to preserve the capacity of it's shielding. Yet, it also did something odd. Orienting it's "nose" towards the Sybil, the Crucilandians could potentially register several sensor beams passing through the general area. Tachyons, Gravitons, and, possibly, something more ethereal. A transmission was registered, of the same omnidirectional nature of the ones emitted by London.

The system erupted in flashes of light.

Six immense vessels appeared near Diligence's star. Each seventy kilometers long and twenty wide and deep, they bristled with countless weapons and hatches, large rectangular strips of dim-orange light dotting their hulls. They were soon shrouded by a flash of light that to an untrained eye appeared as a titanic explosion more than an actual FTL jump. As it faded... a titan stood amongst the ships. It clocked in at nine hundred kilometers long, and four hundred wide... and whoever designed it appeared to love antiquated weapon designs. It's hull bristled with battleship guns and flak towers among other ancient-looking weapons, and giant rail-based artillery crawled along it's surface alongside large hangars and runways.

A transmission was sent.

"This is the AW-IX Insufficient Volume of Fire; cease fire immediately and allow AGS A Shore of Planets Amongst a Sea of Stars to leave unhindered, and retreat from the system, and no further action shall be taken. However, should you continue your course of action, there will be repercussions."

Whether it was the Worldship's retreat from the system or the amount of firepower wielded by the Mark-IX Warmind, the ultralight drones stopped firing upon ASOPAASOS. The myriad strings of light filtering through the cylindrical warp field were observed cutting off, leaving the current volume of hardlight ordnance to finish traveling towards the Evacuation Fleet before at last the barrage abruptly stopped for them. The Autobot and Reclaimer detachments sent in to cover ASOPAASOS's escape were spared from that as a consequence, but in spite of that, the situation didn't feel like a proper ceasefire. For one, the drones on Caleph were not returning to their dropships, nor were the dropships showing signs of leaving the planets behind. And for two, Sub-Fleet 2C was making no motion to retreat from the system. Indeed, the only response IVOF got was the cessation of hostilities against the interfering parties- the Crucilandians were otherwise content to sit there and continue their operations. It seemed as if they were only interested in blasting people who were directly interfering with their work.

Diligence System, "Southern" Outer Belt
(this section was made in collaboration with Pax Cybertronian)
At the edge of the system, several Autobot warships warped to the Diligence System and met with the blockade formed by Task Element 2C-2-A1-1. It was led by a D-class Worldsweeper (P-6 model) battleship that the captain had stolen during a previous conflict in another galaxy. He tried to make it look more Autobot-like, but the theft was still apparent. The captain of said ship then spoke.

"I'm the commander of this vessel I, ah... *commandeered* from the Decepticons. You're interfering with Autobot business. Step aside - now - or we'll be forced to open fire."

In the area of the outer asteroid belt occupied by Task Element 2C-2-A1-1, the vessels comprising the Crucilandian blockade had their noses pointed inward- evidently, they were there to keep people in the system, rather than to keep interlopers out. The largest of these vessels was a single Tziy'klon-class gunship, measuring a paltry 70 meters long. Compared to the Worldsweeper, which measured in the dozens of kilometers, it was comically tiny- so tiny, in fact, that the vessel was as small as a pharaoh ant is to a human being... although if the Crucilandians' reputation was anything to go by, that "pharaoh ant" might as well be made of antimatter. There was something humorous and surreal about the reaction given by the blockade- rather than standing aside and regrouping with the Nomadic Legion's larger vessels, a little over 5,000 Totach-Kadur-class ultralight combat drones were dumped into the outer ring by the Task Element. And then, in unison, the starships pitched their noses upward and flipped over, facing these new interlopers. Evidently, the Autobots had caught their attention, but the Task Element did not offer any further reply.

"We've got their attention. They've sent drones out to meet us."

"They're gonna fight us?"

"No clue. I'll repeat what I've said to them."

He cracked his neck, cracked his knuckles, and tried again.

"One more time. You are interfering with official Autobot business. Step aside right now or we'll open fire."

The Crucilandian vessels started to... twitch? Their hulls shifted, forming and defining individual segments. The vessels peeled some of these segments until slabs of plating were set ajar, while in other areas, rows of hatches formed and were set ajar. It seemed as if the vessels were "putting their hands on their holsters," as it were- daring the Autobots to open fire. Perhaps their rationale for this behavior was that they wanted to be ready to squeeze off a volley before the first Cybertronian ordnance crashed against their minuscule bodies, or perhaps it was that they were currently in a ceasefire with the other fleets in the Diligence System, but sorely wanted to open fire. Whatever the reason, the vessels were not happy about the threat of being opened fire upon, and were intent on standing their ground- even against such gargantuan opponents.

Diligence System, "Northern" Outer Belt
On the other side of the outer belt, Sub-Fleet 2C was overseeing the standoff at Diligence System. They hadn't made any moves against anyone since the Laniakean Warminds appeared, nor was their Sibyl modifying their warp fields to accommodate this new area in which the Warminds occupied. Rather instead, the Crucilandians aboard the vessels in the fleet were only showing signs of activity aboard the Sibyl-class command ship, where the transparent force bubble could be observed accelerating the growth of an entire biome. Young trees stretched their shoots from the bottom of the energetic shell to the top, while undergrowth exploded and bloomed onto the scene. The first of the imported fauna could also be seen beginning to move about the developing arcology, full of trepidation at first, yet eventually giving in to habituation as their environment reached maturation.

Beyond the buzz of activity in the heliosphere, the Sub-Fleet was also continuing its conversation with Hatlen of the Azure Syndicate. His line of questioning was to be expected; many technologically advanced nations did not take spiritual and metaphysical things for granted as the merits of science spurred their continued development. In the wake of this message also came with it a set of bitstrings, displaying well-refined information characteristic of nations who had expanded their computational abilities. The data confirmed the notion that Hatlen had been watching them closely, as it consisted of an analysis of all energy emissions created by the Nomadic Legion. Data points highlighted the energy fields around the Crucilandians' vessels and ordnance, emphasizing the inefficiencies which came with their method of capturing and assimilating targets. Most of the points which stuck out surrounded the method of closing in, which involved an excessive amount of acceleration for vessels which were adrift. It was indeed true that this was energy-inefficient, although from a temporal perspective, it did hasten the time to assimilation. Of particular note was the tendency for some missiles to be launched at an angle, courtesy of their launchers being mounted in a position other than "forward;" turning the vessels would have allowed all thrust to be geared towards acceleration, at the cost of halting the vessels' own. There was also the pattern of dispersion made by the nanite clouds as they slipped into the hulls and entered the spacecrafts, which saturated the atmosphere first rather than immediately moving towards the colonists- a decision made in light of the Wellspring cajoling its occupants, for want of any rush after the hull breach. And then in some cases, the energy distortion fields themselves created incongruities with the emission profiles measured by Hatlen and the Nomadic Legion...

Even as the Sub-Fleet finished weighing the critiques of the bitstrings, and even as the events in the Diligence System continued to worsen, they offered up a reply to the ISV Tenebrous.

Code: Select all: "Thank you for your analysis; the data you have provided has been documented and integrated. To elaborate on our knowledge of metaphysics, it is understood by us that creatures- especially sophonts- possess a pattern of information in the form of a 'mind,' which can be studied in physical space. The Nomadic Legion had become aware of a 'mirror-image' to this informational layout- where the sum total of information comprising the mind over its existence aggregates- after observing so-called 'metahumans' using it to manipulate the physical world. The methodology varied according to the source used to draw from metaphysical space, but by studying these methods, we were able to form a picture of what our species referred to as a 'soul.' By studying its properties, we were able to turn these 'mystical arts' into a disciplined science, and capitalize on its higher-order existence to influence our lower-order reality. A basic example of this would be 'claircognizance,' a form of information gathering which cannot be detected, let alone blocked, by most civilizations. ...You might find our 'spiritual powers' to be similar to those among you who have awakened their 'Aura.'"

The gravitas of that last fact was not lost on whoever represented Sub-Fleet 2C. No energy fields, let alone ones corresponding to sensors, extended from the vessels to the ISV Tenebrous; even the source of their communications feed came back negative. There was no way they could have pried that information about the Azure Syndicate, unless... Somewhere in the abstract folds sequestered away from space, the Syndicate's computers felt a presence moving over it. Despite only being a mathematical construct arranged in such a way as to store and manipulate information, the MAGNUS's abstract form was introduced to the presence of something alien. Something unprecedented. Something... curious.

The implications surrounding the Crucilandians' abilities- even if one assumed they only pertained to information gathering- had quickly become disquieting.

by **The-International Space Organization** » Wed Feb 05, 2020 8:56 pm

ISO MODULAR STATION 'Finite Chances' - SYSTEM G-01-CYM
COMMUNICATIONS CENTER

Imperial-Octavia wrote:
GREETINGS LIFEFORMS OF THE CYMOPOLIAN GALAXY
We the Imperial Octavian Imperium have landed in this galaxy on a planet which we will not yet reveal to the Galaxy at wide. We are a mechanical empire with the intent to assimilate lifeforms by peace or force if necessary. This action will aid the organics of this universe and purge then of disease, pain and even death itself. We also wish to inform the organics if this universe that we will be willing to co-operate without prior assimilation if the right conditions are met.
TRANSMISSION OVER

"... Well, shit." Muttered the lead CO. "Jefferson, start figuring out message degradation. Jameson, work with him to figure out where it came from- Use the 'Midnight Dreams' and the Junction-House in order to triangulate the position using those three points. Even if it's a few seconds delay, we can use the angle the transmission came from to get a rough spot."

"Aye-aye, sir!" The two barked, as they dove back to their stations. "Any other orders, sir?" Jameson asked, as the rest of the room waited.

"Aye. Send a message to ICN Fleet Command. We'll need defensive elements... But hold off until we can get that distance reading. Jameson, do you have it from the Midnight?"

"Aye sir. Two data-points now.... Getting it from Junction Command now. Do you have the degradation rate off that, Jefferson?"

"Give me a second- Yeah, got it now... Standard rate of degradation. Okay, Jameson, it's your ball-game again."

"Affirmative... Triangulating now. Do you want me to start to prepare that message to command, sir?"

"Yes. Send as follows..."

SYSTEM G-01-CYM - COLONIZED PLANET 01 ''Travelers Rest'

The city had sprung up nearly overnight. When the 'Bills Past Due' had put down hundreds of industrial pods, it was the only inevitable result. Plans for a pre-built city had been modified to fit the terrain, creating a bastion of the ICN, and the government due to follow not long after. Sprawling forests and coastlines becoming an urban jungle, with skyscrapers reaching into the sky like bony fingers, as construction vehicles moved material about. Shifting ground to be level, as others poured material into molds.

The core of the city would be done first- All 73 square kilometers, which would house the first 126 million. A small drop in the bucket- But getting it down first was important. After that, the city could expand rapidly. One of the first important. From there, the ICN could reach out even further- It would take 3 days to cover the entire island, in sprawling city. And the city wouldn't be under defended, either. It was a frontier city after all- Everything had to be fully prepared for war, that might come, or might not come.

Some through-fares were wide enough for gunships to land on, and the entire metro system- Both an above and underground network- Could be turned into a defensive supply line, or into a close-quarters nightmare. Skyscrapers could become fortresses for infantry- Parking lots into minefields, pedestrian paths into ambush ways. Roadways could become a 15 meters crawl through hell. And the entire city itself was built to be easily defensible, despite it's sheer size- Walls flowed naturally in and out of buildings, creating funnels for troops to be fed into. Raised walkways and balconies could be turned into machine-gun and sniper nests- And the very top of towers could be turned into air-defense nests.

And as the city grew like a vast spider web, sprawling across the ground, the workers side-by-side with semi-automated machines were adjusting the city in their own ways. Noting weaknesses possessed by natural terrain- Adapting the blueprints ever so slightly to account for them. A bridge there. An embankment here. A canal here. But all of it was dedicated towards one purpose- The civilian transports, just now beginning to land from the ship in high orbit...

SYSTEM 'EDGE OF INFINITY', FLEET ANCHOR 'DISTANT PEARL'

"Message received, Modular Station Finite Chances. A Squadron Element of Armada JMZBSIIR will be detached for defensive and offensive duties. Lead-ship will be the ICN Gun-Barge 'Ambassador of Firepower'. They will be departing in thirty minutes. Message ends here." The communications operator turned, queuing up the list of ships- And the specific squadron element. "Ambassador of Firepower, please respond."

"Ambassador of Firepower, this is Communications Officer Matthew, responding. What are our orders?" Came the response- Just on time...

"Ambassador of Firepower; prepare for read off." The CO paused, to allow the officer a chance to get his pen and paper. "Read off as follows - 'Ambassador of Firepower' has the following orders : Take Squadron Element 1, of the 1st Attack Element, of the 2nd Line Element, of the 8th Fleet Element. You are also to take the Shield-Barge 'Sanity's Grasp', and proceed to the planet G-01-CYM, Colonized Planet 'Travelers Rest' to form the 1st Squadron Element within G-01-CYM. Read-off ends."

"Read-off copied. When do we depart?"

"Within the next hour."

"Affirmative, fleet-command. Signing off to prepare for departure."

SYSTEM 'EDGE OF INFINITY'

A Gun-Barge was a moving wall of guns- The only way to describe it. Every surface that could possibly have a ball-mount, or missile tube, put into place had one. Bristling armaments designed to reach out- And then wipe out near anything that dared opposed it. A single pod alone had thousands of times more firepower than any battle-fleet that had fought the War In Heaven- And there were a hundred and forty pods total to each ship- But it wasn't only guns- It was also a mobile fortress. Thick walls of armored plating to help protect the core of the ship, and it's vast arrays of weapons. A single Gun-Barge could easily turn the surface of a planet into molten glass with a few short hours of bombardment- And all that was just one single ship, let alone the ten other gun-barges traveling with it. Added into that already terrifying fleet array was a series of VLS and CIWS barges- five each- a single VLS barge packing enough firepower to overwhelm nearly any point-defense system, let alone five working in conjunction- And the CIWS barges intended to help counter something like that.

Eighteen ships of a terrifying nature all alone- And then came the final battle-units in this element. One of the infamous 'Spinal Barges'. A fleet-buster. A planet-cracker. A long-range sniping asset capable of terrifying feats of destruction, accuracy, and the ability to remain well out of most hostile lines of fire- And strike with near impunity, as long as it had accurate data to aim. Following that ship in line came six super-carriers, all packed to the brim with gun-boats, landing craft, transports, and orbital units- Plus have their own network of defenses to call upon. And then, in the center of the formation shielded by walls of metal all-around, came the final ship- Something not exactly a line-ship, but just as important as any other. A shield-barge. Important enough to be traveling in the middle of this formation- Extending the careful grasp of shielding to all it's fellows, which became simply stronger for it.

This was a fairly small fleet in truth- 25 combat ships, and one support vessel. A drop in the bucket of the ICN's vast fleets- But a relatively important drop in the bucket none the less. After all- It wasn't wise to leave a colony undefended, when it was now known at-least one enemy lurked in the void- For who knew who many others might be lingering in the near-endless sea of stars?

COMMUNICATION CENTER, ICN GUN-BARGE 'Ambassador of Firepower'

"All ships, this is Squadron Element commander Commodore Calder. Our orders are simple enough- We are to be sent to a new, distant, frontier and serve as the front of a brand new colony. You have all read the briefing- All heard the communication. And you might fear that a mere 25 ships will not be enough- But let me take this chance to remind you of this- For just one of these ships carries more firepower than our ancient fleets that won for us the War in Heaven! Trust in your training! Trust in your fellow crew-members! And most importantly, trust in yourself! Do not fear what the void, and the great unknowns beyond it, has to throw at us- For the Iron Wall will be there to repel it. Now, let us show no fear and greet the unknown with arms open wide- And with our guns ready. Victory to the Combined Navy!"

"Victory to the Combined Navy!"

by **Kasa Tkoth Sphere** » Thu Feb 06, 2020 12:15 am

Kasa Tkoth Sphere

There goes another squadron. A nice pretty flare, but disgusting all the same. I think we've done it - we've dragged our people to the end of it all.

Once again we fall into that peculiar situation in which I have to calm you down.

Sure, sure. You have it under control. As if you aren't as panicked and confused right now as anyone we try to rescue.

...

Are you there?

Do you remember the first new Freed you met after you entered the network?

I know what you're going to say.

They were political refugees, weren't they? They thought their world was coming to an end, that war was splitting it along unmendable lines, that they'd be hunted down for conforming to the old order or for trying to establish a new one. They came from all sides of their planet's political spectrum, all its factions and alliances and nations, every last corner opened itself up and we took them in. And do you know what you said to them?

I don't need you to lecture me. I'm older than you.

I think it went something like: "The madness doesn't go away, but the people who care about moving on can navigate through it. If you want to see the action, you can be up at the front; if you want to forget it all, you can find your own place to rest."

Yes, all of that is what I said. Don't degrade yourself by reminding me.

We have faced resistance before, and we will lose plenty more ships by the time this is done. My task - at the most fundamental level - is to navigate. And I am quite confident you signed on to care.

Uchro 31 G

Holder of Dreams was hard at work decrypting Hatlen's increasingly less fragmented map, marking off locations where the Syndicate's fleet movement observations already correlated with intel from Heard It From The Heroes far below the galaxy, and merely updating its priors partway whenever new information became visible enough to read out in safety. No sane mind would ever completely trust one set of data, after all, whether its own or someone else's. Sometimes, the missing keys were so obvious that it could simply predict what they would be and then test itself on accuracy (even a superintelligence needed training). Other times, the clues remained opaque, necessitating the continued pingback to complete the corresponding gifted set of phase space data.

All the distraction from tending to the Freed was assuredly a good thing for the multipresent mind, but there was yet more work to do nonetheless, and a lot more qubits to throw across the void out of Eastlander's comms.

Roughly.

The mechanical purpose of the Moravec-type transfer is to improve security. Scanning a brain in its entirety in one move, of course, opens one up to hazards stored in neural interactions, fully formed and ready to assemble themselves into invasive code. (Enough sophonts, especially already-digital ones, have attempted this that - since the Moravec transfer is not particularly more expensive - the additional security measure was worth the cost.) A piece-by-piece transfer lets our systems locate components of basilisk code and terminate the connection early.

There are a few edge cases - especially with digital or other hyper-fast intelligences - in which it is also beneficial to maintain connection between the assembling K-Sphere and disassembling local copies of a mind, so that it can continue to think cohesively throughout the process and is not damaged when interrupted. This is probably what your first suggestion was aimed at.

And... yes, I do think it's more comforting to some. The typical worry is 'how do I know it's me on the other end?', and the current procedure assures most that their mind is simply temporarily bilocating.

A fleeting moment passed, the separation in time natural for both processing new information and splitting a reply along the two lines of questioning, as the two minds' spacefaring envoys traded data. Eastlander loomed, thermally quiet as always, while its ribbons seeded nanites into Uchro 31 G's biosphere. Below, a crustacean arranged pieces of coral in a circle.

My creators were a troubled kind who had driven themselves to a precipice over extinction. The utility functions they gave me have not changed since: as UTL Salvation, my assigned objective was to satisfy sophont preferences, to whatever extent it was feasible, for as long as possible. Given that they all fervently wished for their world not to end, they assumed that I would assist them in rebuilding it. (Planetary biosphere and politisphere restoration, of course, is vastly more expensive and less effective than case-by-case uploading, and I needed the materials for a Dyson sphere to do my work.)

They sought to dissuade me from the uploading procedure, as they employed a network of secondary functions of which you speak now - namely, ones that increased the relevance of realspace-inhabiting minds' present preferences over ones that emulated minds may have in the future. From this derives the Kasa Tkoth Sphere's culture of consent; no matter how much more utilitarian an emulated mind is compared to one running on its own wetware, my ethical prior against forcing the conversion is too significant.

This may be why the story in the Altani Oa'n resonates with me - and many of the Freed - so strongly.

But because they reasonably concluded that almost no one has a preference to remain in realspace billions of times stronger than, say, the preference for their own continued happiness, uploading is still the most viable option for most. I can be many things, but willingly untrue to myself is not one.

Milky Way Galaxy - Fractal Instance Unspecified
1.768 kpc from K-Sphere Proper

The false windows below the walkways of the K-Sphere upload center dimmed an order of magnitude and then softly filled themselves with repeated OPTICAL HAZARD warnings. Ten thousand kilometers under the Lagrange-point station, a nanosecond-rapid series of red thermal blasts like sea urchins locally outshined the nearby sun.

What came from the explosions was the plasmized, fragmented wreckage of FTS To Find A Bird and a formation of FIs that had dropped out of phase space along with the capital-class recon vessel. Molten chunks of all the spacecraft bloomed out in disintegrating clusters at c-fractional, like a volley of white-hot paint droplets flicked into the air from a brush, a few splattering against the station's shields while most went on their way out of the star system entirely.

The station's messages - of course, scripted by another of Holder of Dreams' many subroutines - urged the panicking masses who had been making their way to and from the upload rooms to remain calm. Even a few words had their impact: for only a moment the crowds screamed, flailed, dropped to their knees or curled into brace positions, before most simply stopped, shrugged it off, and carried on with their day. Those who weren't listening, reading, or the like inevitably found themselves consoled by the ones who knew how to talk to people more effectively than the ASI could with just the one attempt.

Outside the station, orbiting K-Sphere spacecraft modified preemptively for scanning purposes were already taking action. Milliseconds after the explosion, most had already detached their parasite scanners, forming vast interferometry arrays with each others' probes. Others vanished into phase space in search of more accurate measurements of the unknown hostiles' means of recognizing their target in advance.

And the data returned by one FI looked a little promising...

by **Imperial-Octavia** » Fri Feb 07, 2020 4:20 pm

The-International Space Organization wrote:
ISO MODULAR STATION 'Finite Chances' - SYSTEM G-01-CYM
COMMUNICATIONS CENTER

Imperial-Octavia wrote:
GREETINGS LIFEFORMS OF THE CYMOPOLIAN GALAXY
We the Imperial Octavian Imperium have landed in this galaxy on a planet which we will not yet reveal to the Galaxy at wide. We are a mechanical empire with the intent to assimilate lifeforms by peace or force if necessary. This action will aid the organics of this universe and purge then of disease, pain and even death itself. We also wish to inform the organics if this universe that we will be willing to co-operate without prior assimilation if the right conditions are met.
TRANSMISSION OVER

"... Well, shit." Muttered the lead CO. "Jefferson, start figuring out message degradation. Jameson, work with him to figure out where it came from- Use the 'Midnight Dreams' and the Junction-House in order to triangulate the position using those three points. Even if it's a few seconds delay, we can use the angle the transmission came from to get a rough spot."

"Aye-aye, sir!" The two barked, as they dove back to their stations. "Any other orders, sir?" Jameson asked, as the rest of the room waited.

"Aye. Send a message to ICN Fleet Command. We'll need defensive elements... But hold off until we can get that distance reading. Jameson, do you have it from the Midnight?"

"Aye sir. Two data-points now.... Getting it from Junction Command now. Do you have the degradation rate off that, Jefferson?"

"Give me a second- Yeah, got it now... Standard rate of degradation. Okay, Jameson, it's your ball-game again."

"Affirmative... Triangulating now. Do you want me to start to prepare that message to command, sir?"

"Yes. Send as follows..."

SYSTEM G-01-CYM - COLONIZED PLANET 01 ''Travelers Rest'

The city had sprung up nearly overnight. When the 'Bills Past Due' had put down hundreds of industrial pods, it was the only inevitable result. Plans for a pre-built city had been modified to fit the terrain, creating a bastion of the ICN, and the government due to follow not long after. Sprawling forests and coastlines becoming an urban jungle, with skyscrapers reaching into the sky like bony fingers, as construction vehicles moved material about. Shifting ground to be level, as others poured material into molds.

The core of the city would be done first- All 73 square kilometers, which would house the first 126 million. A small drop in the bucket- But getting it down first was important. After that, the city could expand rapidly. One of the first important. From there, the ICN could reach out even further- It would take 3 days to cover the entire island, in sprawling city. And the city wouldn't be under defended, either. It was a frontier city after all- Everything had to be fully prepared for war, that might come, or might not come.

Some through-fares were wide enough for gunships to land on, and the entire metro system- Both an above and underground network- Could be turned into a defensive supply line, or into a close-quarters nightmare. Skyscrapers could become fortresses for infantry- Parking lots into minefields, pedestrian paths into ambush ways. Roadways could become a 15 meters crawl through hell. And the entire city itself was built to be easily defensible, despite it's sheer size- Walls flowed naturally in and out of buildings, creating funnels for troops to be fed into. Raised walkways and balconies could be turned into machine-gun and sniper nests- And the very top of towers could be turned into air-defense nests.

And as the city grew like a vast spider web, sprawling across the ground, the workers side-by-side with semi-automated machines were adjusting the city in their own ways. Noting weaknesses possessed by natural terrain- Adapting the blueprints ever so slightly to account for them. A bridge there. An embankment here. A canal here. But all of it was dedicated towards one purpose- The civilian transports, just now beginning to land from the ship in high orbit...

SYSTEM 'EDGE OF INFINITY', FLEET ANCHOR 'DISTANT PEARL'

"Message received, Modular Station Finite Chances. A Squadron Element of Armada JMZBSIIR will be detached for defensive and offensive duties. Lead-ship will be the ICN Gun-Barge 'Ambassador of Firepower'. They will be departing in thirty minutes. Message ends here." The communications operator turned, queuing up the list of ships- And the specific squadron element. "Ambassador of Firepower, please respond."

"Ambassador of Firepower, this is Communications Officer Matthew, responding. What are our orders?" Came the response- Just on time...

"Ambassador of Firepower; prepare for read off." The CO paused, to allow the officer a chance to get his pen and paper. "Read off as follows - 'Ambassador of Firepower' has the following orders : Take Squadron Element 1, of the 1st Attack Element, of the 2nd Line Element, of the 8th Fleet Element. You are also to take the Shield-Barge 'Sanity's Grasp', and proceed to the planet G-01-CYM, Colonized Planet 'Travelers Rest' to form the 1st Squadron Element within G-01-CYM. Read-off ends."

"Read-off copied. When do we depart?"

"Within the next hour."

"Affirmative, fleet-command. Signing off to prepare for departure."

SYSTEM 'EDGE OF INFINITY'

A Gun-Barge was a moving wall of guns- The only way to describe it. Every surface that could possibly have a ball-mount, or missile tube, put into place had one. Bristling armaments designed to reach out- And then wipe out near anything that dared opposed it. A single pod alone had thousands of times more firepower than any battle-fleet that had fought the War In Heaven- And there were a hundred and forty pods total to each ship- But it wasn't only guns- It was also a mobile fortress. Thick walls of armored plating to help protect the core of the ship, and it's vast arrays of weapons. A single Gun-Barge could easily turn the surface of a planet into molten glass with a few short hours of bombardment- And all that was just one single ship, let alone the ten other gun-barges traveling with it. Added into that already terrifying fleet array was a series of VLS and CIWS barges- five each- a single VLS barge packing enough firepower to overwhelm nearly any point-defense system, let alone five working in conjunction- And the CIWS barges intended to help counter something like that.

Eighteen ships of a terrifying nature all alone- And then came the final battle-units in this element. One of the infamous 'Spinal Barges'. A fleet-buster. A planet-cracker. A long-range sniping asset capable of terrifying feats of destruction, accuracy, and the ability to remain well out of most hostile lines of fire- And strike with near impunity, as long as it had accurate data to aim. Following that ship in line came six super-carriers, all packed to the brim with gun-boats, landing craft, transports, and orbital units- Plus have their own network of defenses to call upon. And then, in the center of the formation shielded by walls of metal all-around, came the final ship- Something not exactly a line-ship, but just as important as any other. A shield-barge. Important enough to be traveling in the middle of this formation- Extending the careful grasp of shielding to all it's fellows, which became simply stronger for it.

This was a fairly small fleet in truth- 25 combat ships, and one support vessel. A drop in the bucket of the ICN's vast fleets- But a relatively important drop in the bucket none the less. After all- It wasn't wise to leave a colony undefended, when it was now known at-least one enemy lurked in the void- For who knew who many others might be lingering in the near-endless sea of stars?

COMMUNICATION CENTER, ICN GUN-BARGE 'Ambassador of Firepower'

"All ships, this is Squadron Element commander Commodore Calder. Our orders are simple enough- We are to be sent to a new, distant, frontier and serve as the front of a brand new colony. You have all read the briefing- All heard the communication. And you might fear that a mere 25 ships will not be enough- But let me take this chance to remind you of this- For just one of these ships carries more firepower than our ancient fleets that won for us the War in Heaven! Trust in your training! Trust in your fellow crew-members! And most importantly, trust in yourself! Do not fear what the void, and the great unknowns beyond it, has to throw at us- For the Iron Wall will be there to repel it. Now, let us show no fear and greet the unknown with arms open wide- And with our guns ready. Victory to the Combined Navy!"

"Victory to the Combined Navy!"

Persei 8

The colony was coming along nicely and luckily for TK-Rantar, it would seem that dissent was non-existent upon this planet. Looking upon the colony from a hill nearby admiring his colony's growth he saw a multitude of buildings, mostly being houses and the small shops scattered about the small village. Any Mechanator would be proud of this level of growth and loyalty, but TK-Rantar swelled with pride looking upon the colonists as a father would look at his child finally leaving the house and becoming a strong independent man, both successful and prosperous just as the colony was. Prideful and ready to go ahead with early assimilation began his march to the colony's local Aether communications hub, the winds of Persei 8 blowing through the soon to be uprooted flora and watching a group of gliding animals swooping overhead before reaching the colony town itself. He waved to the soon to be assimilated colonists, his own mechanical body starkly contrasting to the organic Octavian pink fleshy forms with their tentacles and squid-like appearance and finally after this long period of admiration and self-aggrandization reached the communications hub and moved himself into a open booth as to allow his colonists to feel the same pride towards the colony (and partly to make himself look good) and proceeded to call his immediate superior.

With a purposefully loud voice allowing any of his colonists in the building to hear his grand announcement "Hello, Mechanator Sa´Manior, I´d proudly like to report that the colony of Persei 8 is coming along nicely in what we can assume to be an empty galaxy, but for what I meant to call you for. I would like to request the immediate assimilation of the colony along with breeding gear as to continue the growth of the planet.¨ The colonists inside began to gather around TK´Rantar watching their Mechanator all around him sensing the swell in pride.

¨Ah, yes TK´Rantar, I can hear that the colony seems to be doing well. Once we get an inspector to Persei, we will see how fast assimilation will come to your world-¨ Sa´Manior was cut off from the sounds of cheering and celebration coming from the indoctrinated colonists, a sign that TK´Rantar had done a good job educating the populous. Sa´Manior, however, had not yet finished his sentence ad so waited for the cheers to die down ¨Ahem, so yes we will send an inspector, but about your message about the galaxy being empty, how can you be sure without any scouting being done?¨

¨We have not gotten a response to our message sir."

"Ah yes that encrypted message, never mind then."

The encryped message. It was at this moment TK'Rantar realized that he had made perhaps the largest mistake he would ever make in his life. In an attempt to find out the secrets of the ship, he had removed all encryption from the ship's files and with that the protections on the message to try and stop the tracing of the message and he had forgotten to add the protections back. TK'Rantar cursed himself for not having taken that memory retention module and now was faced with a quite messy dilemma. Tell his superior and get executed or try and hide this blunder and attempt to campaign for militarization. He had already chosen option 2 before the second had passed.

"...Yes, the encrypted message...Perhaps I was wrong about the empty universe, perhaps a few Battlecruisers or maybe even a Dreadnought could be deployed to the area." The colonists gathered around were confused by their Mechanator's quick change in attitude, but knew better than to question him. Sa'Manior was confused as well but was never one who would refuse militarization and so after nodding and terminating the transmission as TK´Rantar seemed eager to do something, began to provide the aid contacting the Imperial navy to provide a battle group comprising of 5 Frigates, 9 Cruisers, and 1 Battleship as well with a small detachment of 100 MK2 Judge class Attack Drones to further supplement the what was assumed to be activated MK1 Judge class garrison that came with the colony (TK´Rantar was currently running into the colony storehouse to activate those before he was given a quick and merciless slap from the Mechanator corps). The arrangement of ships would take about a month to get to the system using their FTL drives as luckily this collection of ships could be collected from the fringes of the Imperium allowing for the expedient travel to the far-flung Cymopolia galaxy. Back on Persei 8 TK´Rantar´s previous pride had been reduced to what could be best described as a mind-numbing fear, hoping that his rouse would go unnoticed by his Mechanator brothers. Inside the aforementioned storehouses, he went from drone to drone switching the MK1s on and informing them that as far as they were concerned they had always been active. Of course, the same message would be given to the colonists, but unlike with a drone unable to lie unless given orders otherwise, a colonist could be described as a ¨mad organic¨ and thrown into a prison shell never to be heard from again. Within 2 hours TK´Rantar had managed to find and activate the entire garrison and brief them all on their one limitation. TK´Rantar was well aware that informing the populous would be a pain and much harder than this exploit was, but was needed to keep the quickly expanding rouse that he was constructing around the planet. While moving out of the garrison with at least 50 MK1s he realized that perhaps calling for an inspector for early assimilation wasn´t the best idea...

After at least an hour of explaining the number of laws TK´Rantar broke by not setting up the garrison and allowing an unencrypted message to go out

¨So what you´re saying is that you want the navy to find anything that may be out there instead of letting them find this planet should there even be an alien civilization out there?¨ a citizen asked making TK´Rantar realize how stupid his idea truly was and though he wouldn´t admit it he knew that he was truly screwed, however, he did still have a sliver of hope as he was an admitted expert in covering his ass. He adjourned the gathering of confused colonists and yet still excited to be assimilated early and TK´Rantar moved to his own personal Aether communicator (this time ensuring that the message was, in fact, encrypted) and prepared to send out another, more personal message to the galaxy.

Message from the Octavian Imperium
Hello, neighboring star nations, I am TK´Rantar and as you could determine from the last transmission it wasn´t encrypted. If you would I would like to request a favor. Instead of finding our colony, you stop a few systems away and when the naval contingent that has been sent to this area pretend as if you had no idea that the colony existed or even the message was sent. I understand why you would be unable to trust me, but as a result of that unencrypted message, I am at a significant risk of being executed or even worse, a punishment shell. Any demands of payment will be delivered to the best of my ability, whether it be financial or something more political. I beg of anything hearing this to show some modicum of mercy to this poor civil servant. The detachment should arrive in a month. Please consider my plea, thank you.

TK´Rantar sent the message out feeling dirty for having kissed the ass of whatever be out there. Now all he had to do was wait and hope that by the time the detachment arrived someone would help him. He erased the history of the message from his Aether communicator and prayed that there was actually something out there. If not he´d feel like more of a dumbass than he already was.

by **The-International Space Organization** » Wed Feb 12, 2020 4:06 pm

ISO MODULAR STATION 'Finite Chances' - SYSTEM G-01-CYM
COMMUNICATIONS CENTER

Imperial-Octavia wrote:
Message from the Octavian Imperium
Hello, neighboring star nations, I am TK´Rantar and as you could determine from the last transmission it wasn´t encrypted. If you would I would like to request a favor. Instead of finding our colony, you stop a few systems away and when the naval contingent that has been sent to this area pretend as if you had no idea that the colony existed or even the message was sent. I understand why you would be unable to trust me, but as a result of that unencrypted message, I am at a significant risk of being executed or even worse, a punishment shell. Any demands of payment will be delivered to the best of my ability, whether it be financial or something more political. I beg of anything hearing this to show some modicum of mercy to this poor civil servant. The detachment should arrive in a month. Please consider my plea, thank you.

Jackson had to work hard to not burst out into brutal laughter at the message that came through. He didn't have to try for long though, as Jameson let out one instead. The rest of the communications deck joining in the laughter as the message was quickly forwarded around. Snickers of laughter devolving into full blown guffaws and some rather unsavory comparisons- "By the Pantheon!" One of them choked out, between bursts of laughter. "Confident, and then, suddenly- WHAM! 'please be gentle'... It's like my ex!" The communication room erupted into another fit of laughter- But most of the deck was now returning to their jobs.

Jackson steeled himself as-well, clearing his mind to focus on other duties, quickly, as the section responsible for dealing with out-bound communications sat, awaiting for orders. "Give me a link with the Midnight Dreams- Oh, and after that bounce that message back. Figure out where it came from, and codify a response... And then get me a communications line to High-Command. And for the response to this xeno, bounce it through the follow areas..."

The communications deck simply turned to it's work, as communications began to fly out of the communications deck...

ISO 'Midnight Dreams' - SYSTEM G-01-CYM

"Orders as follows." Came the slightly static droning- "Warp-point relative JAK-083-9474. Meet with this... 'Rantar'. Wring him for as much material profit as is possible. Sector Commander, out." The communications officer paused- Before the static phased itself, as a second message came in. Lines of Enigma Encoding rattling off, as the CO quickly danced his fingers over the keyboard, inputting the message as it came.

"Aye, commander. These orders are valid- Passing them directly to your command box, now." The CO said, before pulsing the message up.

The captain nodded. "Helm. Make for the coordinates specified- Gunnery liaison, send an order to all gunnery stations. I want them at the ready in-case this is a trap." The bridge erupted into life, as officers rushed to ready stations, the command turning to stare out one of the many monitors which displayed the space outside the Super-Rhino... He couldn't tell if this was a trap or not, even as the message, relayed from the 'Finite Chances', played in his ear-piece... He could agree with commands over-all decision- The twinge of desperation in the voice, the complete and utter back-tracking on a very strong message- And the simple plea for mercy... But something felt off, here... This was the only civilization they'd encountered so far- Could a galaxy really be this empty...?

He then shook his head, snapping back to attention. They'd just have to find out. "Crew liaison, I want all stations on Alert Stage Yellow. We're venturing into the unknown now, and only the Pantheon knows what we're about to run into. I don't want the entire ship caught at Stage Green." The crew liaison simply nodded, as the captain turned to focus on other duties- Even as the ship began to hum beneath his feet, monstrous turbines turning fuel into energy- The warp-drive beginning to growl with the faintest hint of charge, as it prepared to fling the Super-Rhino into another unknown system...

ICN Communication to TK´Rantar

Hailing, TK'Rantar of the Octavian Empire.
This is Commodore Jackson, of the Inter-Cluster Navy, of the International Space Organization, representing the forward elements of Armada JAXKOAKA. Your blunder, and move to rectify it, have all been noted by this organization, and we are willing to work out a deal. I have dispatched a scouting unit to a nearby system to perform the negotiations- The ship is the Midnight Dreams, and will be under the command of Captain, Lower-Half, Stuhr. He will be arriving at system close to the one you are currently occupying soon, and will transmit a message when he has arrived in system and is ready to receive you. It will be in your, and your colonies, best interests to co-operate with the ISO, and ICN.
Message ends.

???

by **Imperial-Octavia** » Mon Feb 17, 2020 3:24 pm

TK'Rantar realizing how screwed he is

Rantar's thoughts of late were focused on the oncoming naval contingent no doubt carrying the inspector who would check every nook and cranny of his now corrupt colony. Instead of the usual patrolling and propaganda spreading, he stayed inside his dwelling and paced around 24\7 occasionally checking on the progress of the contingent growing ever closer to Persei 8. Every moment that fleet came closer voluntary consciousness erasure became an ever more appealing option, but Rantar stopped himself. ¨It was all going to be okay. I will live through this!¨ he thought, knowing deeply that in all honesty there was no hope. These thoughts only escalated with the ISO message. Though they served as a way out of sorts he knew that accepting would mean he would spend his entire life being milked for whatever resources that the planet may make, not to mention the mess that would be explaining the missing resources and whatnot. Every option was a pathway directly to an existence of shame and pain or perhaps even death when it comes to the Octavians themselves. He had to choose the option that didn´t lead directly to his death. Oh, what his mother would think if she could see this...

To: The International Space Organization\Commodore Jackson
I would like to thank you and your nation´s assistance in aiding me in rectifying this mistake. Though I do want to make clear that when you do come in contact with the Octavian fleet that you ensure that the appearance of first contact is maintained. If they even have a hint that something is off it may warrant a further investigation and the discovery of our talks. That would be very bad for all parties involved particularly you as it is likely that war is declared. I hope that we may have a long and mutually beneficial relationship

Another message sent, another pleasure insert used. TK´Rantar looked out the window and saw the fruits of his labor. The colony with a booming population was starting to establish factories in the cities as well as some moving away from the main colony to build even larger factory sites as was designated from this world. Not only this, but an intelligent race was discovered in this world. Previously mistaken for local fauna these Perseians as they had come to be called were small mammalian organics using specialized skin underneath their arms to glide using the Planet´s abundant winds. They revered Rantar himself as a god seeing how he was 5 times larger than them and also noticing how he held authority above the others. They would be allowed to join the colony despite their small size making them unable to do much, but when assimilation came along they´d surely become more useful. Not to mention that other planets were found around the area which could easily serve as mining worlds or perhaps just a Civic planet. If not for his little mistake he would be partying and taking out the pleasure inserts (except these ones would be for bringing him to a new high and not stopping his depression). One way or another he would be gettting out of this and he liked neither of them. Such is life for a professional idiot.

by **The-International Space Organization** » Sat Feb 22, 2020 7:59 pm

ISO 'Midnight Dreams' - SYSTEM G-01-CYM

To: The International Space Organization\Commodore Jackson
I would like to thank you and your nation´s assistance in aiding me in rectifying this mistake. Though I do want to make clear that when you do come in contact with the Octavian fleet that you ensure that the appearance of first contact is maintained. If they even have a hint that something is off it may warrant a further investigation and the discovery of our talks. That would be very bad for all parties involved particularly you as it is likely that war is declared. I hope that we may have a long and mutually beneficial relationship

Stuhr idly tapped his pen against the console, as he replayed the message again... They hadn't even properly established contact with their home fleet yet? This was seeming more and more like a setup- But he idly shook his head. Wasn't his place to question too much of an entirely unknown alien species. Especially when it made his job easier. "Helm!" He rapped, as the pilots attention shot over. "How close are we to the point command sent?"

"We're thirty minutes out, sir. We'll begin settling into position as soon as we arrive." The pilot replied- The Super Rhino had been dropped a distance off from it's planned exit point, on the far edge of the system from where the transmission had been traced- The issues with direct-ship drives were abound when traveling to a new coordinate point for the first time after-all, but it was easy enough to rectify... Stuhr stood up, nodding in response.

"Good. I'll be putting that response out now." Stuhr said, turning to the communications officer. "But first- Crew Liason! Crew alert Yellow." He waited a few moments, then nodded- "Communications officer, send a transmission as follows.

Hailing, TK'Rantar of the Octavian Empire.
This is Captain, Lower-Half, Stuhr Ustengar of the Inter-Cluster Navy Scout-Ship Midnight Dreams, of the Armada YBKPIGSL. I have been authorized on behalf of the Inter-Cluster Navy, and the International Space Organization, by Commodore Jackson, to engage in negotiations in the interests of the ICN. We have taken your warnings into account- If these negotiations go well, your Fleet will never even realize we are here. We are now arriving to a point that should be fairly easy for you to reach- The coordinates are now transmitting alongside this message, where you will meet one of our own shuttles. You can come with a few guards- No more than four, however. We will await your arrival with great anticipation. Captain, Lower-Half, Stuhr Ustengar now signing off.
Message ends.

Stuhr waited a few moments- Before turning away, and walking out of the command center, and for the forward dock- Where one of the 'Liners' was now being warmed up, fueled, and preparing for departure- And from there, it didn't take long for the 500 meter long Liner to slide out of it's dock with the Super-Rhino, and turn- Engines accelerating it away, towards a meeting point not too far away from the Super-Rhino...

by **Arkeyana** » Sat Feb 22, 2020 9:25 pm

Sentinel Array BX-24-Y, Deep Space
The two Octavian transmissions reached the spindly structure, a vast framework of receptors, sensor arrays, and transmitters, and was promptly forwarded along to the appropriate recipient-the Fleetmind Kalix Olin. After a lengthy analysis of the signal and subsequent conference with the appropriate superiors, a message was drafted and sent to the Octavians, along with the redirection of a particularly...notable envoy.

TK'Rantar, your reply was most...timely. Had you not sent the second message, we would've taken a more active interest in your colony. Unfortunately, the diplomatic corps for this area of space is still a tad understaffed as of yet, so we've had to make do with those at our disposal. The battleship [UNTRANSLATABLE] will arrive within the requested parameters. It would be wise to not attack it, the Trifexians are known for a policy of utterly disproportionate retribution.

-The Laniakean Alliance Fleetmind "Kalix Olin"

Octavian Foothold, Oort Cloud
One minute, the icy wastes of the system's Oort Cloud was deathly quiet. Not a single ship, probe, or even a piece of debris moved amongst the tomblike comets and dwarf planets, perhaps even the occasional true planet, cast out into these lightless reaches of the system during the turmoils of its birth.

Then, space exploded.

The very fabric of reality was torn asunder, surges of gravitational waves and immense pulses of radiation raging outwards as space was methodically gutted into a pattern of a fractal-notably tinged slightly green-and filled with blinding light. The heat alone emitted by this tear was immense, leaving one to wonder whether or not anything would survive a plunge into such an environment within. The answer would arrive soon enough.
There would appear to be a bulge, a peak forming at the center of this conflagration, that promptly darkened, cracked, and ultimately disintegrated into semi-liquid waves collapsing back into the gate. An immense, sword-shaped vessel, three hundred kilometers long, fifty wide, and twenty-five deep plowed through this almighty chaos as though it were a gentle breeze and it a mountain. Its hull was a dull copper and covered in a complex, geometric pattern of lines interspersed by large domes and obelisks. As it emerged fully from its fiery origins, the conflagration imploded, losing its distinct edges and soon after shrinking and vanishing from view.

The Trifexian Battleship had arrived. Silently, without any visible means of propulsion, the leviathan vessel began to move inwards. The lines etched into its hull glowed an eery green light, and while space carried no sound, the ship itself seemed to growl with power, as though it was a living thing. Nonetheless, it moved effortlessly through the void, inevitably moving further into the Octavian System, and thus, further towards its colony.

Trifexian Fleet-Edge of Cymopolia
At last, the final preparations had been made. A final ship had joined the Trifexian formation, a large, skeletal ship carrying several ring-shaped objects within its frame. Soon, an immense rift opened across the space in front of the fleet, creating an immense chasm that they soon entered, each one plowing into the chaotic, quark-filled morass of a universe in its birth throes. They would travel through this realm and would emerge in Linnaeris, where they would scout out and then construct a Phase Gate linking back to their home universe. In essence-moving eggs out of the basket.

by **Imperial-Octavia** » Sun Feb 23, 2020 6:55 pm

Rantar contemplates throwing himself out of an airlock

So it would seem that the ISO wanted to meet, probably about the terms of Rantar's extortion; this was expected, what wasn't expected was the Laniakean Alliance or whatever appearing with the largest damned ship they could muster when Rantar could have sworn that stealth was a given. He prayed that the fleet wasn't close enough to sense them, but given his luck, the entire Imperium may have sensed the occurrences in Persei 8 and are now watching an Aether broadcast of his suffering and the incoming naval contingent was really just the Paramount himself to come and personally insult him before sending him over to Tal'Talen's secret leather torture dungeon back on Hyron. Rantar sighed while petting one of the recently found natives of the planet. They were a short species like many of the rest of the species on this planet, but unlike most of them, they seemed to have higher intelligence and what seemed to be nothing more than growls and squeaks to be a language which was mostly translated at this point. Though organic, having one was nice stress relief as it was extremely soft and even though he had not bothered to ask its name and despite having the capability to it refused to speak, the recently dubbed Perseian was a nice addition to the office. Rantar had even come up with a name for the organic, fluffer (This was surprisingly was the thing he tried to cover up most. It would be hard for whoever it was that would be screwing him to take him seriously when he had a pet named fluffer)

So now the messages. The ISO had asked to meet with him which may be a problem as he didn´t quite have a ship that was on the planet. He´d ask for one from the ISO, but he still had worried that even this gesture gave them more power over him, as if the simple act of asking for assistance only tightened the vice grip around his neck from the forces that began to surround him. The second message simply told him that another group looked to make his life hell; how nice that was. Before writing his message to the ISO, Rantar gave Fluffer a quick pat hoping to calm his nerves before writing responses to the two forces which now surrounded him like vultures.

To: The International Space Organization
Thank you for allowing me on your vessel, but I currently do not have a spacecraft. Perhaps you could spare one of your own transport craft to pick me up from Persei 8 and take me to your ship that way. Once again thank you and I look forward to our talks

That last line was such a lie that Rantar spent at least 2 and a half hours wondering if he should erase it to keep that last bit of integrity he had left. Now for the other who so blatantly disregarded stealth that their jump was felt by planetary sensors and sending a few gravitational waves planetside which was exactly what he needed at this time. It also didn´t help that such an idea of a single ship sending such shockwaves across the system gave him a heart attack. The thought that there were more of these things made Rantar consider the benefits of inserting his consciousness into a work drone being assembled at the factories on Persei 8 and laughing as he was shipped off to the core worlds as all the factions involved in his torment were unaware to why he had stopped responding to them. That was definitely a more pleasing alternative to whatever they had planned for him.

To Kalix Olin
Hello, I assume you have something to aid me in my struggles, but may I ask that your ships arrive in the system more stealthily. Should the Octavian fleet find out about our talks we are all in very deep trouble. A war is something neither of us wants so we ask that perhaps should we talk again you bring a smaller craft. Our sensor on the planet detects something very large and I assume that is why your jump was so noticeable. With that out of the way, you are aware of what must be done to keep the Octavian fleet unaware correct? Thank you.

Rantar, after finishing this message, immediately went to his window and jumped from it. He was aware that it would do nothing, but it was his way of showing how done he truly was. He repeated this around 15 times and the citizenry, though confused, left him alone as they knew that he was going through some tough times. After all, it wasn´t as if it would get any worse for him right?

by **The-International Space Organization** » Sun Feb 23, 2020 9:13 pm

ISO Liner 'Tax-Day' - Octavian Occupied System

Imperial-Octavia wrote:
To: The International Space Organization
Thank you for allowing me on your vessel, but I currently do not have a spacecraft. Perhaps you could spare one of your own transport craft to pick me up from Persei 8 and take me to your ship that way. Once again thank you and I look forward to our talks

Stuhr, after recieving the message, had to work hard to not break down laughing, again. They didn't even have proper ships on planet yet? By the Pantheon, he could've wiped the entire colony off the fact of the universe in a few hours if he had orders to come in guns blazing by the sounds of it...! He snorted back a laugh, and nodded to the Liner's communication officer, before the ship shook- Sensor officers leaping to their stations...

Arkeyana wrote:
One minute, the icy wastes of the system's Oort Cloud was deathly quiet. Not a single ship, probe, or even a piece of debris moved amongst the tomblike comets and dwarf planets, perhaps even the occasional true planet, cast out into these lightless reaches of the system during the turmoils of its birth.

Then, space exploded.

The very fabric of reality was torn asunder, surges of gravitational waves and immense pulses of radiation raging outwards as space was methodically gutted into a pattern of a fractal-notably tinged slightly green-and filled with blinding light. The heat alone emitted by this tear was immense, leaving one to wonder whether or not anything would survive a plunge into such an environment within. The answer would arrive soon enough.
There would appear to be a bulge, a peak forming at the center of this conflagration, that promptly darkened, cracked, and ultimately disintegrated into semi-liquid waves collapsing back into the gate. An immense, sword-shaped vessel, three hundred kilometers long, fifty wide, and twenty-five deep plowed through this almighty chaos as though it were a gentle breeze and it a mountain. Its hull was a dull copper and covered in a complex, geometric pattern of lines interspersed by large domes and obelisks. As it emerged fully from its fiery origins, the conflagration imploded, losing its distinct edges and soon after shrinking and vanishing from view.

The Trifexian Battleship had arrived. Silently, without any visible means of propulsion, the leviathan vessel began to move inwards. The lines etched into its hull glowed an eery green light, and while space carried no sound, the ship itself seemed to growl with power, as though it was a living thing. Nonetheless, it moved effortlessly through the void, inevitably moving further into the Octavian System, and thus, further towards its colony.

"Sir, that thing's massive- 350 Klicks... Christ, I hope that isn't one of their ships." The sensor officer nervously stated, as Stuhr looked at the results, taking a few calming breathes... From what he'd seen of their capacities, he had to make a guess-

"No. I'm willing to bet it's someone else coming to investigate our Mutual 'Friends'. Hail them separately- Helm! Take us on a course for the planet. Hangar officer, what do we have in this things hangar for transport?" He could form a plan from this rapidly forming mess...

"We've got... AG-300s, a few ATG-304s, including one B variant, and a number of HG-104s. We've got pilots for all of 'em aboard. What do you want to send down for... HV- I mean VIP transport?" The command deck chuckled at his deck, even as Stuhr thought over it...

"... Dispatch two ATG-304s. The one B variant, and one regular variant. Send a squad of troops down as-well- Our guest will ride in the B. That way we can keep an eye on him, and negotiate that way- Three messages, CO. First message is to the Midnight Dreams. 'Stop panicking, you idiots'. Message two is to Rantar- Message three is to those unknowns, in order..."

Hailing, TK'Rantar of the Octavian Empire.
This is Captain Stuhr. We have heard your message, and understand your plight- We will be dispatching two light gunships to pick you up. One for escort duties, and one for transport itself. They shall be arriving soon, alongside our own shuttle. Having taken scans of your planet, we are transmitting a set of coordinates fairly close to where we believe you to be located- They will land there, and then ferry you up to the shuttle. We shall be meeting each other soon, Rantar.
Message ends.

Hailing, Unknown Vessel
This is Captain, Lower-Half, Stuhr Ustengar of the Inter-Cluster Navy Scout-Ship Midnight Dreams, of the Armada YBKPIGSL... It is in the interests of my organization to know what nation you represent, and what your intentions are in this system- Besides the obvious, with the Octavians and all.
Message ends.

The 'Liner' accelerated smoothly away, as all it's messages had been sent out- Racing for the form of the Octavian colony, engines pumping power into cataylsts, then into thrusters as it soon settled into orbit over the planet- Remaining far above the far below planet simply for safety measures, even as it's hangar doors opened, two boxy, yet streamlined, shapes soon being ejected at highspeeds as they turned, angling down for the surface of the planet below, thrusters soon switching to burning oxygen as soon as they hit a stable atmosphere- Swinging about, as they turned for where the coordinates had said, touching down soon enough- Making sure to avoid being seen as much as possible, of course, as a small squad of troops soon exited, to await Tk'Rantars arrival...

It was time for Tk'Rantar to meet the tax-men.

by **Imperial-Octavia** » Sun Feb 23, 2020 10:33 pm

Persei 8

The entire colony watched as TK'Rantar walked himself through the city towards what they had been told was an Octavian vessel. They all wondered what was happening as the navy wasn't supposed to arrive until next month, but none asked for fear of reprisal. TK'Rantar left Fluffer with some of the whistlegrass his species so loved before he left his house. Plugging another pleasure insert into his neck he approached the area that the liner had touched down at. "Hello there, I am TK'Rantar. I assume this is the craft." Approaching the craft Rantar realized that this was his last day of true freedom and the beginning of a lifetime of stress. He sliently thanked the Entity that he had picked up Fluffers. He wondered if once Fluffers was assimilated if artificial fur could be added on his orders. That would be a wise investment indeed, it wasn't as if he was going to be doing much else with everyone in the Galaxy breathing down his neck for money. This certainly was not the direction Rantar saw his governorship going.

by **Arkeyana** » Mon Feb 24, 2020 10:07 pm

Octavian Foothold, Trifexian Battleship
The primordial vessel slowed to a halt, remaining ominously silent as the two messages reached it. Then, it went dark. The lines across its hull faded to black, and the vessel's IR signature began to rapidly drop. Following this, many, many nearby comets began to...move. They were moved and repositioned into trajectories towards the vessel, being broken down into countless tiny chunks that enveloped and merged together over the goliath's hull. By the end of it, there was only an unusually massive planetoid, with a slight spin that took it on a tumbling trajectory no more unusual than that of a normal comet.

With that, messages were relayed.

TK'Rantar
I am the Trifexian Battleship [UNTRANSLATABLE], Translatable Designation "67-KG-EM" the only available asset the Laniakean Alliance could readily dispatch to this system. It appears that you are already in transit, perhaps to the other two vessels within the system. I shall request if I may also arrive there in accordance with First Contact Regulations.
Another thing-My kind is not as well-tempered as the other members of the alliance. If this is a trap of any sort, if this is a ploy to lure others to their deaths, there will be repercussions.

The statement regarding its availability was...somewhat of a lie. 67-KG-EM's arrival was the result of gunboat diplomacy-a policy strongly favored by Kalix ever since more militaristic empires were found out and about. An unusual thing, however, was the fact that the ship referred to itself in the first person...an unnerving implication that this massive construct, and all the firepower it potentially wielded, was controlled by a single entity, or was a sentient itself.

The second message soon after made it's way to the Midnight Dreams.

Midnight Dreams
I am the Trifexian Battleship [UNTRANSLATABLE], Translatable Designation "67-KG-EM". I hail from the Laniakean Alliance, a multispecies organization, and am here on a mission of diplomacy.
It would appear that the object of our mutual interest is in transit to your vessel-I would like to request that I send an Avatar to take part, as per First Contact Regulations.

Nidavellir Orbital-Framework-Foundation
The Construction Fleet had made itself busy-the Trifexian vessels now sat back from their handiwork, jobs evidently concluded as the Arkeyanan Ships began moving in and operating with force. While nowhere near as far-reaching as the Trifexian Frame-Laying was, they began belching out immense volumes of matter, seemingly synthesized from nowhere and meticulously manipulated into solid components that began to fasten and meld together, creating the beginnings of a second framework that could be considered the "Foundation" of the Orbital.

A few minutes of silence followed the Enantimorph's transmission, but one was returned nonetheless.

"There are several such entities-some more threatening than others. You already know of one of them, the Crucilandians. For others, such as the Decepticons, the heavy armament is meant to stand as a deterrent. And for the Reclaimers and the New Circle-the Alliance supports both of them, and Nidavellir's defenses are meant to stand as a bulwark to peace and as a place they can fall back to if so needed."

by **The-International Space Organization** » Mon Feb 24, 2020 11:00 pm

Outside an Octavian City - Octavian Occupied System

"That would be correct." Came the voice from one- As his EAS suit shifted, as one of them raised an armored hand to it's head, nodding once- Gesturing to the other. TK'Rantar was suddenly hurried aboard the first of the two gunships. His two escorts mag-locking to the wall, one of them gesturing to a seat for him, as one EAS suit pilot slammed the suit's fist against the dividing wall of the troop bay, the ATG-304s soon ascending rapidly into orbit, engines burning...

It didn't take long for the two gunships to peak in their path, engines suddenly going mute as they hit the void of space- Before the gunships were suddenly rocked, as magnetic docking clamps extended from the 'Tax-Day', latching onto the two gunships, dragging them back into the safely armored hull of the Liner- The two gunships suddenly being subject to gravity, as they rotated within the clamps, the one carrying TK'Rantar being lowered to a bustling hangar floor-

And then the ramp hissed open- Two towering suits of power armor waiting outside, as the two EAS pilots detatched their EAS's from maglock- "Rantar, follow the Infantry Captain to the meeting room, where Stuhr will recieve you." One of the EAS pilots said- Using his suit's arm to gesture at the two V4-CES suits, which now turned silently- Guiding Rantar further into the depths of the liner- And towards a meeting that would, ultimately, end up determining one portion of his fate...

Arkeyana wrote:
Midnight Dreams
I am the Trifexian Battleship [UNTRANSLATABLE], Translatable Designation "67-KG-EM". I hail from the Laniakean Alliance, a multispecies organization, and am here on a mission of diplomacy.
It would appear that the object of our mutual interest is in transit to your vessel-I would like to request that I send an Avatar to take part, as per First Contact Regulations.

Hailing, 67-KG-EM
This is Captain Stuhr... I do believe we can make that work. If what you say is true- Being apart of a multi-species alliance, we might be able to... Co-operate. As you already seem to have found our ship, I eagerly await your arrival.

ISO Liner 'Tax-Day' - Octavian Occupied System

Stuhr took a deep breath, as he lowered the communications piece- Glancing around the meeting room, (in reality, a hurriedly converted interrogation room, just incase) ensuring it was all set- The cameras recording the meeting, the hidden security... His own pistol, in it's holster- He took a deep, calming breath. Taking a moment to take his hat off, cleaning it, just before his HUD illuminated- They were close.

He put the navy blue cap back on, standing up as the full military trench coat flowed around him as he did so- The subtle grey undertones of it's lining singing a hymn to flight as they whirled around. Fitting the cap, with the two-headed eagle of the ICN, as he turned to the door as it slid open-

"Hello, TK'Rantar." He smiled- But it certainly wasn't a nice smile- It was more like the smile of some ancient shark, as Stuhr soon continued. "I have been awaiting for this meeting for quite a bit- Would you mind taking a seat?" He waved a hand to dismiss the two CES suits that had been standing gaurd- As they returned to waiting outside the room.

by **Imperial-Octavia** » Thu Feb 27, 2020 4:46 pm

The liner

Rantar was rather perturbed by the forcefulness in which he was transported, but such things were expected when being extorted by an galactic state for who knows what. As Rantar was hurried through the liner he had to admit that he liked the design of the place. He fully recognized that this was a very odd thought to have while being shipped into a illegal diplomatic meeting, but he had to have something to keep his mind away from the ever-encroaching feeling of dread spreading throughout his mind. Finally he arrived to the meeting room and sat down as Stuhr asked him to "So..." Rantar paused for the slightest of moments wondering if his upcoming statement of "what do you want" really was appropriate for the time at hand. He decided against it and used some more eloquent language "what shall be the topic of our meeting here?" Rantar internally screamed, but had a good feeling about this for some reason. Perhaps it was the waves of depression from before turning into confidence and bravado. Who knew? All Rantar knew was that he was in a organic vessel dictating the fate of his colony to some random official of some random nation. On the bright side, if he survived this he would have a hell of a story to tell to anyone who wouldn't arrest and kill him.

by **Arkeyana** » Thu Feb 27, 2020 6:09 pm

Octavian Foothold, Trifexian Battleship
Part of the Battleship's makeshift "disguise" seemed to...ripple. Almost as though it was melting into water, yet not ejected from the effects of microgravity. Soon after, a large construct erupted from the pseudo-sea, that quickly reached a ludicrous number of magnitudes above C as it rocketed towards the ISO Liner, shortly afterward coming to a screeching halt just as rapidly as it accelerated, within several dozen kilometers of the Liner. It had a wingspan roughly equivalent to the Liner's length, and was the same length as well. Roughly avian in shape, it's hull was hundreds of disconnected plates held together by some barely-visible green field. Soon after, a smaller object left from the midst of the plates, approaching the vessel.

Midnight Dreams Liner
I have sent an Avatar of my consciousness to rendezvous with your vessel, requesting activation of an external airlock system. That is all.

And with that, the other vessel remained silent, as the supposed "Avatar" drew closer and closer.

by **The-International Space Organization** » Thu Feb 27, 2020 6:36 pm

ISO Liner 'Tax-Day' - 'Diplomacy' Room - Octavian Occupied System

Imperial-Octavia wrote:snip

Stuhr smiled at TK'Rantar, before he also took a seat- "It's simple, Rantar. I am here to help you recover from your blunder- To our standards, anyway... We are interested in materials. Refined, raw, or otherwise. Now, I do realize this will likely impact you far more than it will impact me- And, I frankly, have been orders to not give too much of a damn... But I have been given some lee-way for negotiations." Stuhr paused here, opening up his PDA to read over some information- Tapping out an order to airlock control also, as a question comes in as-well. "I've been told to allow a period of six months before shipments begin- To allow you to get a colony off the ground, and to plan out how you're going to do this." Stuhr paused here- "Oh, and you also have another visitor, who wishes to see you." Stuhr glanced at another message which suddenly popped up. Reading over a message direct from ISO Fleet Command, as he nodded, filing the information into his brain- Before forwarding it to the crew.

ISO Liner 'Tax-Day' - Octavian Occupied System

Arkeyana wrote:
Midnight Dreams Liner
I have sent an Avatar of my consciousness to rendezvous with your vessel, requesting activation of an external airlock system. That is all.

It didn't take long for a simple 'Affirmative' to be sent in response- And one of aft underside airlocks to hiss open, giving the 'Avatar' access...

by **Imperial-Octavia** » Sun Mar 01, 2020 11:24 pm

The Liner

It had seemed that perhaps a bit of hope had manifested in the situation. The world would probably be focused on manufacturing civilian goods since the mineral content of the planet was mediocre; though mechanators inspecting the planet's efficiency may later prove a issue. Then again it wasn't as if Rantar had a choice "Six months should be sufficient enough time to develop the colony. These are some generous terms in all honesty." Seeing the Avatar Rantar internally screamed realizing what may, at first, appear as merciful terms, may quickly become oppressive. Deciding that he should at least know what it was that was about to ruin him decided to stealthily scan the Avatar removing the usual beams that would have been coming from his eyes.

by **Arkeyana** » Mon Mar 02, 2020 8:57 pm

Octavian Foothold, ISO Liner
The Avatar entered the airlock, being escorted through the ship without incident. Those encountering it would see an...unusual entity. A human-sized, somewhat birdlike machine that was a near-exact replica of the vessel that had transported them, down to being a floating array of segments held together by a vaguely-visible, green field of light.

Entering the conference room, the Avatar "flew" until it was positioned on the same side as Stuhr, giving the man a respectable distance as it's "face" examined TK'Rantar with what could only be described as indifference.

"Greetings, I am the Avatar of the Trifexian Battleship "67-KG-EM". I thank you for allowing me to attend." it said to Stuhr.

Linnaeris, Outer Rim
Space was shorn apart once more by the power of Trifexian Phase Gates, the fleet slipping through the protouniversal sea of energy back into what could be considered "realspace". Scans were cast about the site of their arrival and the surrounding space, searching for a system where they could construct a Phase Gate, establishing a backup in the event that Terminus was compromised.

by **The-International Space Organization** » Mon Mar 02, 2020 9:28 pm

SYSTEM 'EDGE OF INFINITY', CIVIL ANCHOR 'ONE LAST CALL'

The civilian anchorages at Finity's End were packed with ships. Mining fleets all preparing to fling themselves across the gap, hot on the heels of a defensive fleet. The ICN had commissioned 5 fleets for the exploitation of the system- The BlueRock Mining Corporation, to exploit the gas giants of the system. The BlackSky Industrial Company, to pick apart the asteroid fields and refine the materials there- Along with the Iron Consortium Mining Fleet, who the BSIC had hired to help in this format. Following this up were the Skarlot Mining Corporation, also backed up by the Serenity Mining Fleet, in order to strip the minor planetary bodies dry of anything that might even remotely be valuable.

Five fleets- 5000 Ships. And this was just the first in the companies the ICN was hiring to begin the initial exploitation- All to say nothing of the ICN's own vast fleets, that were being serviced and rallied. And nothing of the escort fleets that followed along- 1000 fully armed escort ships, and 500 further transports. 6500 ships- A minuscule fleet movement, all told, especially compared to the larger fleets that would follow once the ISO was sure the system was far more secure.

It didn't take long for the portal to open again, as the first of the ships began to navigate through, the first in the sprawling convoy. Of course- These ships wouldn't make this transition constantly- That job fell the merchanteers, who were due to follow a few days later with the first ship-loads of empty containers, to haul away all the materials gathered. But these ships were still just one step in a dance the ICN had long since mastered-

The dance of turning a system into a mining system.

The dance of taking a system for everything it was worth.

The dance of stripping 175,000 cubic kilometers of material, a day, from gas giants, from asteroids, from stellar bodies- To move it all from raw materials, into finished goods.

Afterall, what good was a colony if it didn't make money...? And, well, awhat good was a colony if it didn't pave the way for future exploitation?

ISO Liner 'Tax-Day' - Octavian Occupied System

Imperial-Octavia wrote:
It had seemed that perhaps a bit of hope had manifested in the situation. The world would probably be focused on manufacturing civilian goods since the mineral content of the planet was mediocre; though mechanators inspecting the planet's efficiency may later prove a issue. Then again it wasn't as if Rantar had a choice "Six months should be sufficient enough time to develop the colony. These are some generous terms in all honesty."

Stuhr chuckled, lightly. "We noted the unusually poor mineral quality when our ship arrived in-system. I adjusted the terms based off that- But I am glad you show to be agreeable to these terms... And they're agree-able because, in the long run, this is more having the ability to hold something over your head instead of actually gaining too much economic output." Stuhr paused for a moment, debating how much to reveal- "We've got a few mining fleets inbound to our system already. This is simply a light tap of grease to a lubricated engine block... I shall see about having you sign a contract, soon." Stuhr finished, before looking as an alert flashed on his PDA. "Though, speaking of soon..."

Arkeyana wrote:
Octavian Foothold, ISO Liner
The Avatar entered the airlock, being escorted through the ship without incident. Those encountering it would see an...unusual entity. A human-sized, somewhat birdlike machine that was a near-exact replica of the vessel that had transported them, down to being a floating array of segments held together by a vaguely-visible, green field of light.

Entering the conference room, the Avatar "flew" until it was positioned on the same side as Stuhr, giving the man a respectable distance as it's "face" examined TK'Rantar with what could only be described as indifference.

"Greetings, I am the Avatar of the Trifexian Battleship "67-KG-EM". I thank you for allowing me to attend." it said to Stuhr.

"There was few other options." Stuhr said, simply- Seemingly not at all phased by the physical appearence of the Trifexian. "And this was the fastest, for handling our relative issues." He says, gesturing at TK'Rantar. "And then allow us to handle the more neutral issue in a more... Relative manner. I do find constantly blaring over a comm-line to be annoying at times, and face-to-face allows far nuanced communication, in my blunt opinion... But that is simply an old star-captain. I suppose you have things to say for my other guest?" Stuhr finished off with that, waiting for either one to speak next...

???

by **Arkeyana** » Fri Mar 06, 2020 1:12 pm

ISO Liner
The Trifexian shifted in the opportunity it had to speak. Terms were to be laid, and the table was open.

Several fragments over the Avatar's "torso" area shifted, moving apart and outwards like blooming petals of a flower as several silver cubes were extracted from the green miasma, suspended in the air before being engulfed in a green flame. The lights in the room seemed to dim, and a quiet, yet powerful, bass seemed to resonate as the cubes melded and morphed, emerging as a firmly-rolled scroll of parchment, held shut by a seal as it was lowered onto the table before Rantar. Should the Octavian open it, he would find a lengthy document-written in ink, no less-imposing several regulations regarding expansion, assimilation, and movement of assets. Most notably were the two regulations towards the bottom of the scroll:

TERM 17C: NO SAPIENT LIFE FORMS ARE TO BE ASSIMILATED
TERM 18: ALLIANCE STEALTH ASSETS ARE TO BE DEPLOYED WITHIN COLONIAL SPACE, NUMBERS AND POSITIONING TO CHANGE AS EXPANSION OCCURS

by **Imperial-Octavia** » Fri Mar 06, 2020 3:16 pm

TK´Rantar: Professional dumbass{/b]

¨Oh...I see. The terms are still good regardless.¨ Rantar probably should´ve seen the blackmail coming, but as usual, he didn´t. This was fine though, he had dealt with arguably worse situations and when his Mechanator brothers find out about his inter-steller dealing surely he could find a way out of it, right? Rantar looked over at the Trifexian and scanned him instinctively hoping that the ISO wouldn´t care about it and assume nothing of it. Sure it was nothing, but Rantar knew when dealing with these alien types caution was important (A lesson Rantar kicked himself for when he forgot it sending out that message). Rantar looked at the Avatar and its demands. If the situation was any different Rantar would´ve laughed but in this case, the ramifications of the demands would cause Rantar´s internal temperature to rise at least 10 degrees. He again looked at the demands and back at the Avatar and then did so again utterly and completely devastated. ¨You must realize that I cannot fulfill these terms right? Refusing to assimilate would be suicide and the stealth vessels would jeopardize us all! If the Octavian navy found one of them the entire sector would be combed through and with the missing resources brought on with the ISO´s...proposal the factories would be investigated leading to the discovery of us all! Surely your leaders can think of something more reasonable, yes?¨ If Rantar still had sweat glands they would have been working overtime and though he made sure to remove any studdering, it wouldn´t take a genius to realize that Rantar was scared out of his mind.

[b]Persei 8

Fluffer with his small size spent most of his time wandering around Rantar´s home. It was very nice, being among one of the first built and was the one in which Fluffer´s nation had discovered the metal men first. At first, they were regarded as gods with their size and impenetrable exteriors and Fluffer, along with the rest of his nation, believed it and while some said such blind belief was foolish, they were mostly ignored and their attempts at resistance was short-lived. Fluffer now regretted not listening to them. When Rantar first picked him up and took him to his house, he had believed himself chosen, destined to live among gods and learn their ways, but damn was he wrong. First came the name, Fluffer. Fluffer? What type of god named a chosen prophet Fluffer? This was bizarre, but Fluffer kept the faith. Perhaps this god was a bit quirky was all. Then came the large amounts of stress emanating from the metal man´s actions. He was always pacing about and inserting these little pink inserts into a pod that came out of his neck. Odd, but still explainable; perhaps it was godly sustenance and this one was particularly hungry? Then finally came the corruption. In one of his many rants to Fluffer, Rantar had revealed everything (all the while petting Fluffer particullary hard) and this revealed to Rantar the truth. These iron men from the sky weren´t gods! They were idiots! All of this was ridiculous! The revelation unnerved him at first, but now it was maddening! He was now the glorified pet of some metal dumbass! He stayed silent as to see if he would ever be allowed out, but as the days grew on he doubted that such a thing would happen.

Rantar´s Aether communicator vibrated and Fluffer climbed the (relatively) massive to answer it, hoping a way out could be found. Instead, he found the visage of Sa´Manior, Rantar´s superior. He looked at the form of Fluffer showing confusion with some eye adjustments as of course there wasn´t much else to emote with. ¨Why are you answering this call, organic? And more importantly where´s Tk´Rantar?¨ Manior said a hint of intrigue. Fluffer was actually a little happy to have someone that he could talk to regardless of his current feelings on the Octavians. ¨Your governor said he was going on an Octavian sponsored trip and I am now left as his pet of sorts.¨ Sa´Manior translated the Perseians squeaks and immediately seemed troubled. No such trip was ever authorized by anyone or anything. ¨...Strange. Organic, tell Rantar that the inspector is coming very soon. The fleet´s AI found a faster way into Cymopolia and they should be in the system tomorrow. Also...we went through his colony ship and found many flies unencrypted. The AI sentience blocker was also removed... Let him know that this will be dealt with later.¨ The message faded out and Fluffer realized the full extent of how screwed Rantar was. Now while he was fine letting the fool get caught, but Fluffer realized he might also be arrested and perhaps even used for science. Fluffer sighed. He was going to need to have a talk with his ¨master¨.

Cymopolia: New Beginnings [IC] [Apply First]

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