Cymopolia: New Beginnings [IC] [Apply First]

by **The-International Space Organization** » Sat Mar 07, 2020 1:32 pm

ISO Liner 'Tax-Day' - Octavian Occupied System

Arkeyana wrote:
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

Stuhr had to work hard to not bust a gut laughing at the terms of the treaty laid out infront of him- With a detailed reading helpfully provided by the rooms cameras. If he's ever seen the wind taken out of someone's sails before, that had to be the damn fastest he has seen it happen. A halt to all assimilation efforts, and stealth ships? By the Pantheon, Stuhr already liked this 'Federation' - It would be thoroughly entertaining to see what was next...!

Imperial-Octavia wrote:
TK´Rantar: Professional dumbass
¨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.

Stuhr then took a few moments to collect himself, before glancing at his PDA. "... Having fun with your scan there TK'Rantar? Oh, and you seem to be running more a few degrees above normal body temperature. Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, simply to apply pressure on the xeno nearing a break-point. Stuhr then paused, as his PDA chimed. The formal contract was done- He simply hit 'print', as the PDA's built in 3D printer quickly spat out the sheet of paper. "Though, before you have a brain-anyuersm, or species analogue, I would request that you sign this contract. It will wrap up one part of this meeting, and you two can finish up your talks." He produces a pen out of a pocket, sliding the contract across the table to TK'Rantar, along with the pen.

by **Arkeyana** » Sat Mar 07, 2020 5:41 pm

ISO Liner
(mood music)

The Trifexian showed no sign of change, no sign of compromise in its posture as it spoke once more. "You need not worry about the Alliance's Stealth Ships. They are...exceptionally good at their job. As for the assimilation terms...I'm sure that someone such as you could find a way..." Rantar would hear the Trifexian as though it were right beside him, whispering in his ear, yet the Avatar moved not one centimeter, and no one else in the room would hear the following phrase:
...your increased operating temperature, and failed scans indicate the contrary, however. It would be...quite a shame if you overheated during the course of these negotiations, would it not?" The Avatar's voice adopted a coldness to its tone, and Rantar would feel a sensation of something tingling on the back of his neck-although whether or not it was his imagination, or something else, was up to him. However, the Avatar's head-analouge seemed to be ever-so-slightly tilted, having an almost...malevolent look to it, appearing to focus on something not quite real, yet not quite fictional.

Noting Stuhr's tactic of also applying pressure on the Octavian, the Trifexian broke it's trance temporarily to turn towards him.

"Captain, while this meeting is of diplomatic purpose, it is primarily targeted towards the Octavian before us. May I suggest that a transmission containing the coordinates of a potential meeting place be sent to this vessel, so the ISO and the Alliance may meet at a later date to solidify relations?" it enquired, the tone calm and amicable in sharp contrast to what was said previously.

by **Laiakia** » Mon Mar 09, 2020 1:01 pm

The Lorus System, Archa Galaxy

The Archa Galaxy was a small and new place. So small and new that no life had began evolving. No life except in a lone system at the edge of the galaxy. This system had not always been in the Archa Galaxy. It was once part of a much larger one before it was snatched away by the growing gravitational pull made by the Archa Galaxy. A gigantic yellow star shone unremarkably amongst it's bretheren stars in that specific sector of the galaxy. The many astroidfields and moons that dotted the system was fairly stale and boring, but a single planet with a moon orbited the sun within the circumstellar habitable zone. This planetary body was considered an M class planet and was the homeworld of the United Socialist States of Laiakia, known to them as Lorus. The planet was dominated by a species calling themselves the Morbit. They came from primates, but had very little fur on their bodies except on the top of their heads. The governing body of the USSL had emerged centuries ago as a revolutionary goverment that stood against the corrupt way of the ruling monarchist party and eventually won in their civil war. Another war was triggered by others of their species which caused the USSL to annex and puppet several neighboring states after a costly war which gave them a strong position in the international affairs of Lorus. After another aggressive assault on the remaining free nations of the planet, the United Socialist States established their dominion and secured total stability through various means some may consider to be questionable, but these questions were rarely asked outside private homes. The orbit of Lorus was surrounded by automated defensive platforms made to destroy any unauthorized ships which tried to land. These platforms were made after a huge rebellion occured on their single shipyard in orbit of the planet Borium, which also doubled as a work camp where insurgents and any who questioned the Laiakian state or dug too deep would be sent.

Planet Lorus, Xirax Foundation Intergalactic Sentience Search Array

A bored Morbit male at infront of a computer screen which measured electomagnetic signals transmitted from deep space. The array couldn't detect these signals on it's own, so the Infinity, a huge space station used for experiments and various tests, was modifed to send electromagnetic signatures into the database of the I.S.S.A which would then be translated into a readable message, if it wasn't a random occurance, which was sadly always the case. If it indeed was a random signal, the system would automatically destroy it after translating it in it's system. If it was not a random piece of electrons, the system would reroute the binary translation to a command computer which would then translate the binary into a readable format. Many of the scientists that worked at the I.S.S.A had been transferred to other, more important roles such as improving weapons and trying to find out an effective way to adopt kinetic weaponry in the vaccum of space.

The male groaned as he opened up another tab on the computer and started playing around with various commands that played different videos on the computer. Another male slowly crept up behind the first one, which was quickly startled by a tapping on his shoulder.
"S-Sir! I was just checking on the array now!" The first one said, still slightly startled.
The second male scowled at the other male. "This better be the last time i see you playing that stupid game of One again, Djaga!"
The first male, now known as Djaga, shrunk into his seat and closed his eyes as the older male scolded him. Djaga was thus relieved when two beeps came from his computer, which caused the older male to stop talking. He just stared at the screen in awe as Djaga slowly opened his eyes which instantly met the screen. Djaga read the message out loud, almost like he didn't believe his eyes. "Electromagnetic signatueres intercepted.. Translating into viewable files.. 5% Complete.."

United Socialist States of Laiakia Strategic Command
3 Hours since tranlsation

The Laiakian goverment had been informed extremely quickly after the message had been translated. Many of the military branches had arrived in person to talk about this extraordinary find. Even the Supreme Citizen, Iosef Djigasholov attented in person.

The main metting room was abuzz with chatter from both state press and goverment officials. They all quieted down as the blindes and lights dimmed and the first message appeared on screen. The initial video file had not managed to translate the main file into a Laiakian format, but the audio had been salvaged.

The crowd was stunned to know that there were other sentient species in the universe. Some small chattering began, but was quickly silenced by the audio of another video file that had not been managed to be salvaged either.

The crowd was again silenced by the news that there were not one, but two interstellar civilizations requiesting aid. A small team of scientists then stepped up at the front of the crowd.

"Laides and gentlemen of the USSL. As you now know, we are not alone in the universe after all. All though there exists no life in our galaxy, it clearly exists in theirs. We have managed to pinpoint a location of thier galaxy, Cymopolia, as they call it, and to our suprise, it seems that our galaxy and theirs is within jump range if we use our most advanced ships, which would be a combination of the newest Superior-Class Carriers, Monarch-Class Battleships and our single Wyvern-Class. We have also analized the files and, from our calculations, both of these messages were sent several months ago. As such, we have no idea if they still need intervention. We have therefore polled the People's Parliment which have voted to remain neutral and instead try to establish trade and try to spread our glorius revolution through their galaxy while we try to estsblish FTL Boosters which we can use to send more reenforcements and possibly an invasion force, should things go downhill."

The crowd clapped and applauded vigorusly. Some smiled gleefully with the aspect of meeting new civilizations, while some of the military high command began issuing the movement orders of a small fleet of two Superior-Class Carriers, five Monarch-Class Battleships and the Wyvern-Class Supership to enter the outer rim of the system.

Outer Rim of the Lorus System, First Intergalactic Exploration Fleet
24 Hours after conferance

The USSLS Wyvern stood at the front of the vanguard fleet as it accellerated towards the blackness of deep space. The various computers aboard had found and calculated a path to the nearest part of the Cymopolia galaxy. The leader of the fleet was chosen to be Fleet Admiral Trion Bloodheart. The man stood infront of the huge windows which gave the bridge crew a nice view of the empty darkness. Beeps began echoing through the giant supership as the fleet increased speed. The largest engines activated when they passed the last astroid belt, which trippled the fleet's speed. A sudden violent gash seemed to appear infront of the ship as they engaged their hyperdrives, which tore through the fabric of realspace. The entire fleet moved into this gash in mere seconds and disappeared from USSL scanner arrays.

Cymopolian Galaxy, Void between systems
Moments after the fleet entered the gash

A violent, bright red flash exploded into being and sent various space debree flying clear of the area in record time. When the flash dissipated, the First Intergalactic Exploration Fleet stood ready with guns primed. The Fleet Commander went through his actions and checked his coordinates which revealed them to be far from any of the origin points of the signals, but that was the plan made by High Command. Fleet Commander Trion Bloodheart nodded at a communication officer who tapped a few buttons on a screen which sent out a simple message to the native population.

With the message sent out, the crew of the fleet had nothing better to do than await a response and answer accordingly.

by **Eisenstern** » Mon Mar 09, 2020 4:36 pm

The Tower
Roof

It stood to reason that the Tower would have a roof. It was, after all, a structure - a building, if only to satisfy appearances. It could be accessed without much hassle from within - not that it saw much use, especially during spaceflight. And yet there, atop the battlements, now stood a lone figure, staring out over the vacuum-void. Heat, air, gravity - their absence didn't seem to faze it overmuch. The ends of a weathered, and yet still visibly ornate gray greatcoat wafted gently. as did strands of slate-gray hair. Vinzenz Kresge, Guildmaster of Eisenstern, stood stargazing for a few moments more - he was torn away from his reverie by a soft tearing sound, emanating from behind. Not that there was any medium for the sound to travel, and yet it did anyway. The figure that stepped out of the suddenly-extant zone of warped space seemed rather petite when compared to Kresge's imposing stature. Silver-gray hair flowed out from beneath a formless, hooded cloak. Delicate hands grasped a staff of iron.

"You've been spending a lot of time up here as of late."

"Indeed I have. I suppose I find the scenery inspiring."

"Scenery? You stare out into void."

"And in that void there are stars, and lights, and much more besides. Why focus on the emptiness between them?"

"Because the emptiness is seldom truly empty."

"Hah. Yes, you got me there. But that's no excuse to unceasingly stare into darkness."

A moment of silence as both gazed out into the star-strewn abyss.

"Have you come to simply keep me company?"

"I... would like that to be so. But there are things afoot. Of interest to you, perhaps."

"Another vision?"

"Yes."

"...very well. Relay, if you please."

She nodded, before bowing her head. When next she spoke, her voice seemed distant. Full of sourceless echo.

"There is... a newcomer. A man. He stands... alone against many. He has come with goals that, through his own folly, have come unraveled before their execution could even begin. He is... afraid, and his pursuers... curious, for now. Traces of anger, though not of hatred. Not yet. There is the potential for both, and both in droves. Each hand among their number bears his end, and most paths before him are strewn with pitfalls, end in void. But there is... a strand. One among many. It carries... hope for him. And we... bear it aloft, and for us it may bring... enrichment."

She raised her head once more, and looked up at Kresge inquisitively. He took a moment to respond.

"A newcomer... on what scale? To this galaxy? The Guild?"

"The galaxy. He stands not among our number, and I doubt he ever will."

"And this strand you speak of... it is tied to the Guild. Not myself."

"Correct. You are not the linchpin here - there is leeway."

"In that case, excuse me for a moment."

He hefted his left hand - unlike its ironclad counterpart, this one was bereft of metal. Except for a single, glimmering band adorning the middle finger. A rather flimsy ring, inscribed with markings too minuscule to discern with the naked eye - brushing a fingertip over them, Kresge muttered something wholly unintelligible. A moment later, the metal seemed to vibrate, to distend. It grew outwards, until it was a flimsy band no more - a hefty, signet-esque chunk of metal sat in its place. Its topside was embossed with a thorned circle, hemming a mailed fist - it was into this subtly-glowing symbol that the Guildmaster now spoke.

"Kresge speaking. Get me a run-down of new arrivals. Galaxy-scope, preferably limited to those whose entrance was preceded by our own."

He only had to wait a few seconds, before the voice on the other end began listing off potential candidates. There'd been a fair share. Resource-hungry industrialists. Ideologically-driven communists. Faint motes of something in and around the outlying galactic reaches - two separate somethings, in fact. And then...

"Thank you. Get me a direct line to the next available Emissary, if you please."

The Octavians had elicited a response practically as soon as they'd been mentioned. A rather odd sort of blunder... something one would expect from someone mind-bogglingly inexperienced. This was already a good sign. The impressions given off by TK'Rantar were exactly of the sort that seemed suitable. And so Kresge waited, as somewhere on the other end of the line...

The Tower
Guild Hall - Crystal Garden

Twisse sat beneath the garden's sole cherry tree, brewing tea over a tiny fire, when the runes embossing her own ring began to shimmer. Setting down the teapot, she allowed the signet to expand to its full dimensions in a burst of plasma - cocking her head at the sound of the voice on the other side, she spoke in a somewhat bemused manner.

"Hey. Didn't expect a call from ya so soon, Vinz. Whaddaya need?"

"Ah. I didn't quite expect to hear you either. I suppose you just happened to be the closest available candidate."

"Well I am quite close - presumably, you're still skulking about on the roof. And I'm technically on-duty, so if you need any errands run, I'm your gal. Was getting a bit tired of sitting around anyway."

"It's a matter of... potential importance. We are to proffer a guiding hand."

"Oh? Do tell."

He recounted, in short, the situation with Rantar. While the specifics of the ongoing meeting were rather nebulous at present, its location was not, and neither were the participant factions. Certainly, one could envision what exactly a man like the Mechanator would desire in such a situation - an avenue of escape, primarily.

"Soooo... you want me to dangle the carrot in front of him."

"Essentially. Establishing points of contact with the remaining participants would also be of use - try not to antagonize them, if possible."

"No pissing off the playmates. Got it."

"What a way with words you have."

"And what dry wit you have."

"Hah, indeed. Well then, good luck. And thanks."

"Ah, it's no biggie. I get to stretch my legs..."

Shunting the teapot and the burner on which it rested into a momentarily-extant pocket of un-space, she god up and dusted herself off.

"...see some new places. You've got the coords for me?"

"Of course. They should be attached."

"Ah, so they are. So do I just... drop in?"

"They don't seem to have set up any countermeasures. I see no reason not to - it may help make an impression."

"Got it. I'll keep you informed if anything crops up."

"Farewell."

"And an adieu to you too. And not just you. Enjoy your moment of respite, ye lovebirds."

Shutting off the connection in another burst of sparks, she smiled to herself. The next few seconds were spent limbering up - a short series of stretches, a few hops... and then, a blinding flash, and the smell of ozone. No trace remained in the garden, save a tiny patch of flattened grass beneath the tree, and an even tinier patch of scorched earth, only a few feet away.

The Tower
Roof

Kresge's ring snapped back to its reduced form, and the corresponding hand was lowered. A cloaked arm encircled his waist, the gentle voice to which it could be attributed ringing out where no sound should conceivably travel.

"Is it done?"

"Set into motion, at least. For now, we wait."

He reciprocated the embrace. And so they stood - two figures, unburdened by the cold inhospitability of outer space, staring out into the starry fields.

Octavian Occupied System
ISO Liner

Something of a buzz came over the meeting room. And it was a tad more literal than merely the hubbub of conversation - little by little, the scent of ozone intensified, to an ever-encroaching crackle, just on the edge of hearing. Soon, wisp-like motes of light would coalesce in one particular segment of the room, swirling together briefly, until... Crack. With a dazzling flash and a smattering of scattered electrical arcs, the silhouette of a woman came into being a short distance away from the assembled representatives. A mere moment later it was a silhouette no more - as the searing light retreated, the black-cloaked black, haired figure was already in the midst of a semi-formal bow.

"Good day to you all, and a pleasant summit! Do excuse my intrusion, but I couldn't help but notice the issues you've assembled to address. Issues which I, and the party I represent, may well be of assistance with."

Her smile appeared to be genuine.

by **Imperial-Octavia** » Mon Mar 09, 2020 6:18 pm

TK'Rantar

Both ambassadors were putting pressure on him, this was known, but the way the Trixexian was making him, a robot, feel shivering was unknown and frankly absolutely terrifying, not to mention the mental communications. Then again, so was the prospect of having his consciousness transfered into a punishment shell for the next hundred or so years. "Firstly, to the ISO...delegate, I must be sure that you will hold up your side of the bargain and fool the fleet of AI. I cannot sign anything until that is added to the contract. And to the Trixexian, I think that you must learn how impossible it is for me to somehow hoard the organics of all colonized systems from being assimilated. I am only in charge of the planet and once the rest of the colonists arrive, there will be no doubt that any sentient life will be assimilation. In my defense, the process isn't that bad? Anyway, if I were to object I would simply be replaced and sent to have my mind rearranged or something of the sort! I just can't do that without some sort of godly intervention, and I doubt any gods are en-route!" Rantar realized that perhaps that was a little much, but before he could say anything a figure teleported into the liner and what could only be described as a large beep escaped from Rantar. Appearing embarrassed (though lacking facial expressions) Rantar looked at the woman with some aspect of anger "And who are you?!?"

by **The-International Space Organization** » Mon Mar 09, 2020 7:38 pm

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

Laiakia wrote:
"Greetings, natives of Cymopolia. We are the First Intergalactic Exploration Fleet sent by the United Socialist States of Laiakia. We hail from the small Archa Galaxy, a few million lightyears away from this galaxy. We have traveled here with the nobel intentions to establish trade and cultural exchanges, but we wish to remain neutral in the ongoing conflict between the two alliances. Even so, know that we are well equipped to destroy any transgressor who thinks itself more capable than us and breaks our neutrality.

"Sir, we've got a message from a new source. They're calling themselves the United Socialist States of Laiakia. Orders?" A communication officer asked, turning.

"Socialists? Damn, this galaxy does attract all the worst..." Commodore Jackson mused, as he walked to the communications console, looking at the message, reading it over again and again. "Neutral socialists... We'll see how long that ends up... Taking sides in an ongoing conflict? Trade and cultural exchanges, hum... Is the Midnight Dreams still occupied? Because we have clearly missed more than a few memos about what is happening here."

"Yessir, it is. Stuhr reports a secondary first-contact incident which he is taking care of, along with the first incident."

"What other ships do we have to respond to this message?" Jackson paused, as he turned to a list of ships in system- His actual number of ICN ships was highly limited but there was another option here... "... This one. I recognize the Praka in-charge- It's an ex-ICN vessel, and should still have its commission. Can you confirm this?"

"Already done it, captain. It's commission is still valid for non-combat roles."

"Good enough. Pay the fleet the needed fee, and send the orders. I trust the Praka with this more than rushing up some reserves from the Fleet Command."

"Aye aye sir, I'll transmit the orders. Do I include the transcripts and message?"

"Aye. We'll arm them with all the knowledge they need to take care of this... And attatch a few human representatives... Section Commander Vallis should have enough experience in this field, and he's still waiting for his ships to arrive. Oh, and prepare to send a message to Fleet Anchorage. We need defensive platforms. We clearly aren't as alone as we thought."

"Affirmative on all accounts, sir."

ISO CORPORATE ESCORT VESSEL 'IRONSIDES' - SYSTEM G-01-CYM

"Sector Command, contacting vessel 'Ironsides'." The message was instantly processed, and a 'pending' ping sent in response- "You have been temporarily recomissioned. Sector Commander believes you are in the best position to conduct a neutral first-contact scenario. You will have an attache sent to your ship. Relaying information now, is this an affirmative?"

"Affirmative. Vessel 'Ironsides' will proceed with mission." The Praka, who was also known as 'Ironsides', transmitted in response- Filing the masses of paperwork in the same instant, as the status of the vessel update instantly. The recommissioned ICN vessel sliding out of the escort formation around mining ships, already recieving confirmation another vessel was adjusting patrol patterns to fill in the gap- A Liner carrying the Section Commander rushing to meet Ironsides, who launched one of it's own Liners into the control of another Prakan controlled vessel. Vallis's liner being docked smoothly, as the IronSides accelerated.

Then IronSides turned it's prow towards the relevant coordinates, even as the huge 'Blunt-Force-Drives' began to spin up, complex coordinates and calculations flowing past all in the same seconds-

And then the ship was ripping it's way through the fabric of reality, gone in an instant to arrive somewhere else in the same instant.

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

ICN Fleet command had, fairly quickly, taken notice of the bulk of the message from it's far-flung colony. Whispers of some distant conflict, and new arrivals by the day it seemed like. Were the current fleet assets in sector enough to defend? How many could they spare more ships from an active duty garrison, on such short notice? Was the distant colony safe from a looming specter of a war the ISO didn't know about? Who even were the two sides fighting? What were there goals?

Would it be another Andromeda?

All these questions and more had plauged ICN commanders as they debated- Yes, no, maybe. They could spare ships, they couldn't- And then the problem had answered itself. Four defense platforms were due to be decomissioned in a few weeks time- Older platforms, yes, but they were still of the base AOP-13200 design... And they could be spared.

It didn't take long for the new orders to be sent- And for the stations to start their inexorable turns, heading for the distant form of the Station-House which would whisk them away towards a new service-point...

ISO Liner 'Tax-Day' - Octavian Occupied System

Arkeyana wrote:
Noting Stuhr's tactic of also applying pressure on the Octavian, the Trifexian broke it's trance temporarily to turn towards him.

"Captain, while this meeting is of diplomatic purpose, it is primarily targeted towards the Octavian before us. May I suggest that a transmission containing the coordinates of a potential meeting place be sent to this vessel, so the ISO and the Alliance may meet at a later date to solidify relations?" it enquired, the tone calm and amicable in sharp contrast to what was said previously.

"That would be most agree-able." Stuhr took a moment, looking over his PDA for a set of coordinates that would be best suited for a ship like the Trifexian had arrived in... "... I'm sending it now. Shall we discuss a time in detail, later?" He soon asked.

Imperial-Octavia wrote:
TK'Rantar
"Firstly, to the ISO...delegate, I must be sure that you will hold up your side of the bargain and fool the fleet of AI. I cannot sign anything until that is added to the contract."

"I can quite assure you we can do that. Dealing with AI in all regards has been apart of our general history for fifteen thousand years." Stuhr simply replied, taking the contract back, making the minor, needed, adjustment. "I can assure you none of the ships I command will fire upon the AI vessels." Stuhr said, before pushing the updated contract across the table.

Eisenstern wrote:
Something of a buzz came over the meeting room. And it was a tad more literal than merely the hubbub of conversation - little by little, the scent of ozone intensified, to an ever-encroaching crackle, just on the edge of hearing. Soon, wisp-like motes of light would coalesce in one particular segment of the room, swirling together briefly, until... Crack. With a dazzling flash and a smattering of scattered electrical arcs, the silhouette of a woman came into being a short distance away from the assembled representatives. A mere moment later it was a silhouette no more - as the searing light retreated, the black-cloaked black, haired figure was already in the midst of a semi-formal bow.

"Good day to you all, and a pleasant summit! Do excuse my intrusion, but I couldn't help but notice the issues you've assembled to address. Issues which I, and the party I represent, may well be of assistance with."

Stuhr blinked once or twice, as the figure coalesced into existence. It was a tad bit showy for his tastes, but even he could appreciate the build-up to the arrival... Even as he typed a set of orders out on his PDA, along with a few notes for himself. "Which party might you happen to represent in this... Occasion?" He simply asked, before sending the order to the bridge.

ICN ESCORT VESSEL 'IRONSIDES' - G-01 CYM - LAIAKIAN FLEET

With a flash of energy that barely portrayed it's vast size, the Super-Rhino seemed to pop into existence a fair distance away from the fleet, faint ripples of energy working their through the void at rapid speed. It didn't take long for the vessel to swing it's bulk around, to face the distant Laiakian fleet, even as it settled into a fairly steady distance away from the fleet- Holding outside of the Super-Rhino's weapon range.

Hailing, the Laiakian Fleet
I am The Pakaran 'Ironsides' representing the International Space Organization, and the Inter-Cluster Combined Fleets. I have been asked to request a meeting on behalf of the International Space Organization, in relation to your purposes within the galaxy.
Message ends.

by **Arkeyana** » Tue Mar 10, 2020 4:18 pm

ISO Liner
"I must have not outlined the means in that document, Rantar." the Trifexian spoke. "The Alliance is more than capable of tracking Octavian movement...simply monitor communications, tail explorers, and snag those set for assimilation before the actual assimilator fleets arrive. Of course, we'd have to leave some behind as to not arouse suspicion..." The Avatar processed Stuhr's response before being rudely interrupted by the appearance of a stranger before it could speak. The entrance itself was not particularly impressive to the Avatar either, nor was Rantar's subsequent beeping, and it turned to the newcomer.

"I must say, it is rather impolite to show up to someone else's meeting without permission. Who are you, and what reason is so important you couldn't arrive with prior notice?" The Avatar said, inclining its head slightly.

Linnaeris
The Trifexian Fleet had continued voyaging through various regions of Linnaeris, cataloging star system after star system, planet after planet, yet their bounty eluded them nonetheless. Perhaps, they may find this bounty deeper within the Galaxy.

Uncharted System
There was a minor crackle of blue lightning, followed by several more that devolved into a whirlwind of interdimensional energy before the Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained was ejected from the maelstrom at exceedingly high velocities. While it had spent most of it's time nosing through the Root Network, this normal cruise had been rudely interrupted by a distortion within the Root Network, a well-catalogued phenomenon, but an annoyance nonetheless as it had to transition back to Realspace in order to avoid damage. Reporting its status, it received the following message as the mobile habitat slowed to a halt:

===LANIAKEAN ALLIANCE|CYMOPOLIA THEATER>MOBILE HABITAT NOTHING VENTURED, NOTHING GAINED===
Return To Base/Monitor Root Network for Subsiding of the Distortion/Maintain Update Schedule/Switch to Contact Protocol Eighty-Four-Lambda
===END TRANSMISSION==

And thus, with a sudden lurch in a seemingly random direction, the titanic vessel began accelerating out of the system, rapidly surpassing C within a few hours as it tore through the interstellar medium on it's trek back to Terminus.

by **Laiakia** » Wed Mar 11, 2020 3:55 am

USSLS Wyvern

The commanding officers all awaited an order as the fleet steadied itself. Fleet Commander Bloodheart read the message again. There seemed to be no hostile action coming from the strange vessel, but this was a totally new experience for the entire fleet. They had never dealt with another spacefaring civilization except the occasional insurgent rebellion or pirates.

The communications transmitter outside of the ship began powering up and was ready to send a response. The Fleet Commander went up besides the communications officer and typed out a simple, yet forward response.

Trion activated his helmet transmitter and sent an order to the XIRAX Black Room to scan the alien vessel for any useful information and to be ready incase the meeting turned bad.

by **Eisenstern** » Wed Mar 11, 2020 5:37 am

Octavian Occupied System
ISO Liner

Twisse nodded to the assembled representatives.

"All very pertinent questions - let me address them in turn. To begin with-"

She performed another fractional bow.

"-my name is Areagne Twisse. Chief Emissary of the Guild of Eisenstern, which is in fact the party I represent within the scope of this event. As for the abrupt nature of my entry, I do apologize. However, it was an... opportunity. A flash-opening, if you will. I bring to this meeting the opportunity for all manner of mutually-beneficial arrangements - potential offense at my method of arrival was taken as a secondary concern, and you do have my sincerest apologies for any upset thus caused. Besides which, you hardly made it apparent that this was a closed-off affair. No bars to entry were noted, and so nothing but an entryway was, in fact, seen. But now, speaking of arrangements-"

She turned to Rantar, in particular.

"-as I understand it, you have found yourself in... something of a pickle. And I would like to offer, in potentia, the opportunity to escape such. Thus, the first question I would like to pose is... what exactly do you, yourself, desire? Here, within the scope of your rather unfortunate situation. What would be the ideal outcome for you?"

by **Imperial-Octavia** » Wed Mar 11, 2020 7:18 pm

Rantar: The Liner

After hearing the details of what this newcomer had to offer he was immediately curious. Still not signing the papers held by either delegate and focused on the female before him and even went as far to raise a hand to the two delegates as to indicate for them to quiet themselves. "Well, for one I would prefer to be completely removed from this situation, preferably still holding my job." While being sudden, abrupt, and a little confusing this was the only person who wasn't trying to screw him over so she was already in his good graces. Hopefully she wouldn't also jump on what he dubbed the "let's screw over Rantar!" train.

by **The-International Space Organization** » Wed Mar 11, 2020 8:02 pm

ICN ESCORT VESSEL 'IRONSIDES' - G-01 CYM - LAIAKIAN FLEET

Laiakia wrote:USSLS Wyvern

Affirmative. State location of meeting and we shall dispatch a representative.

Trion activated his helmet transmitter and sent an order to the XIRAX Black Room to scan the alien vessel for any useful information and to be ready incase the meeting turned bad.

The distant ship was massive- Leviathan like in some regards- Coming in, according to scanners, around 35 kilometers long, and bristling along all sides with myriads of guns, missiles tubes, and gods knows what other weapon arrays. All of which indicated the ship likely held a massive degree of armor and firepower- especially over the ships of the USSLS...

Hailing, Laiakian Fleet
The coordinates are attached with this message. I shall dispatch a vessel with a representative aboard for the meeting.
Message Ends

The coordinate points were at the rough mid-point between the Laiakian fleet, and the ISO vessel. Soon a vessel was released from the protective shelter of the distant ship, heading for the coordinates.

ISO Liner 'Tax-Day' - Octavian Occupied System

Arkeyana wrote:
ISO Liner
"I must have not outlined the means in that document, Rantar." the Trifexian spoke. "The Alliance is more than capable of tracking Octavian movement...simply monitor communications, tail explorers, and snag those set for assimilation before the actual assimilator fleets arrive. Of course, we'd have to leave some behind as to not arouse suspicion..." The Avatar processed Stuhr's response before being rudely interrupted by the appearance of a stranger before it could speak. The entrance itself was not particularly impressive to the Avatar either, nor was Rantar's subsequent beeping, and it turned to the newcomer.

"I must say, it is rather impolite to show up to someone else's meeting without permission. Who are you, and what reason is so important you couldn't arrive with prior notice?" The Avatar said, inclining its head slightly.

Stuhr simply noted, making a note of handling that issue in a bit, before turning to the primary rhino in the room, tapping a few things in note on his PDA.

Eisenstern wrote:

Octavian Occupied System
ISO Liner

Twisse nodded to the assembled representatives.

"All very pertinent questions - let me address them in turn. To begin with-"

She performed another fractional bow.

"-my name is Areagne Twisse. Chief Emissary of the Guild of Eisenstern, which is in fact the party I represent within the scope of this event. As for the abrupt nature of my entry, I do apologize. However, it was an... opportunity. A flash-opening, if you will. I bring to this meeting the opportunity for all manner of mutually-beneficial arrangements - potential offense at my method of arrival was taken as a secondary concern, and you do have my sincerest apologies for any upset thus caused. Besides which, you hardly made it apparent that this was a closed-off affair. No bars to entry were noted, and so nothing but an entryway was, in fact, seen. But now, speaking of arrangements-"

She turned to Rantar, in particular.

"-as I understand it, you have found yourself in... something of a pickle. And I would like to offer, in potentia, the opportunity to escape such. Thus, the first question I would like to pose is... what exactly do you, yourself, desire? Here, within the scope of your rather unfortunate situation. What would be the ideal outcome for you?"

It didn't take long for Stuhr to speak again. "I shall take your first few points into notice in the relative future." He simply said, while weighing her actions in hand, idly. "This was intended to be a 'by-invite' meeting, as most business meetings typically are." He stated, in a rather dull tone at this point, again turning to the other person in the room...

Imperial-Octavia wrote:
Rantar: The Liner

After hearing the details of what this newcomer had to offer he was immediately curious. Still not signing the papers held by either delegate and focused on the female before him and even went as far to raise a hand to the two delegates as to indicate for them to quiet themselves. "Well, for one I would prefer to be completely removed from this situation, preferably still holding my job." While being sudden, abrupt, and a little confusing this was the only person who wasn't trying to screw him over so she was already in his good graces. Hopefully she wouldn't also jump on what he dubbed the "let's screw over Rantar!" train.

He then took a few moments to weigh Rantar's pause in light- Shifting, slightly, to check something else in the room... Deciding to ease off for a moment, and waiting to see what happens next.

???

by **Oxyrhynchus** » Wed Mar 11, 2020 10:28 pm

The Migration, Cymopolian Space

The flotilla of Harbinger class starships drifted in space, floating about aimlessly within the void. The command ship, the Migration, headed the formation. Its Slindar captain sat slumped in a chair aboard the bridge, appearing to be bored, or drowsy. He observed the command crew diligently working before him, of all them attending dutifully to their respective stations. He held up a clawed hand to his head, rubbing his scaly forehead profusely. Sulnet felt tired, as if he were to fall asleep. Perhaps the FTL travel had given him fatigue, as it had before on some of his many past voyages. The captain was abruptly awoken from his trance by a Rindar officer, who informed him of a message from the Reclaimer flagship, the Levia. Sulnet was right about to read the message when the doors to the bridge suddenly opened, and a strange noise of bubbling could be heard. The captain rolled his two red eyes, then craned his long serpentine neck back, to look up the new entry. It was a Checlite from Mithridatium, Turpertrinth. Immediately uncoiling his tail, Sulnet hopped onto the ground with an audible sigh, then he readjusted his expensive velvet robes, and turned toward the Checlite. Turpertrinth briskly walked passed the captain, and put his two armored hands upon the railing of the suspended observation platform within the bridge. Sulnet hissed to himself, then slithered forward to meet Turpertrinth. The Checlite's cumbersome helmet moved about has he observed the command crew at work. The peculiar sound of the bubbling of the liquid inside the helmet rang out in the silent room, as did the racket of the two gas-pumping hoses hooked up to the alien's helm. Captain Sulnet stood beside the diplomat as he continued to look on, seemingly ignoring his presence. After a long period of awkward silence, the Slindar finally spoke up.

"Your excellency, our fleet has just been contacted by the Reclaimers aboard their command ship, the Levia." Sulnet then ordered his nearby first mate, Kruven, to read aloud the transmission. Turpertrinth continued to stare out the observation window into the black of space, unmoving. After the message was read, Sulnet again turned to the Checlite and begrudgingly spoke to him.

"I'd imagine we shall accept their invitation." Bubbling could be hear as Turpertrinth chuckled to himself, then he turned to the captain. He spoke to him in a monotone, almost robotic voice, in artificially translated Oxhren.

"Why else would I be here?" This quip might've meant to be humorous, but the monotone voice that said it was devoid of any emotion, and ruined the delivery. The diplomat then turned around and walked out of the bridge. Whispers were exchanged by the crew, and Sulnet cursed the Checlite behind his back. The Slindar then sat down back into his chair with a huff, and tried to calm himself down, as he was still angered with his interaction with Turpertrinth. He ordered the crew below to immediately respond to the Reclaimers, and accept their invitation to a diplomatic summit, as well as their request to send a force to escort the Oxarch diplomatic vessel. It was considered likely that the Reclaimers would wish to speak to their new allies, and such two representatives of the Vade galaxy, from the respective two nations in control of the galaxy, Oxyrhynchus and Mithridatium, had been brought aboard the entry flotilla. The Checlite Turpertrinth would represent Mithridatium, whilst the Drindar lord Ranveranth the Eloquent would speak for Oxyrhynchus. Said Drindar was back within his own quarters, reading. He had been staying at his remote mountainside residence on Yulsath II, quietly reading poetry and fiction to himself. He was none to happy in being interrupted from his respite and forced to travel to some foreign galaxy, and was intent on finishing his assortment of books, but he resentfully was transported off world and onto the Harbinger starship. Though as Ranveranth was quiet and reserved, Turpertrinth was bitterly strident and supercilious. There lied a great animosity between the two diplomats, as there seemingly always existed between a Checlite and an Oxadrutune. They tried to avoid each other as much as possible, and only interact when engaged in diplomatic affairs. This was displayed as Ranveranth and Turpertrinth were apart from each other even right before a scheduled summit. The Checlite was roving about the winding halls of the vessel, thinking to himself how superior Mithridatian technology is compared to the scrap of a junk he was currently aboard. He was allowed access into the central chamber of the ship, where the Tridacnid operating the internal systems was located. The creature seemingly pulsating with energy intrigued him, and he stared at for quite some time, unsettling the guards stationed to protect it. Though he would eventually depart, and make his way to his personal chambers.

The twenty or so Harbinger ships continued drifting in space, patiently awaiting their Reclaimer hosts. An encrypted message would be sent back to the Levia, confirming the diplomatic summit.

Code: Select all: Reclaimers of Cymopolia, We most happily accept your invitation for a formal diplomatic summit aboard your flagship. An escort force would be fine, though not required. We have already sent our fleet's coordinates to you, and we await your presence with much enthusiasm.

by **Eisenstern** » Thu Mar 12, 2020 4:34 am

Octavian Occupied System
ISO Liner

The-International Space Organization wrote:
It didn't take long for Stuhr to speak again. "I shall take your first few points into notice in the relative future." He simply said, while weighing her actions in hand, idly. "This was intended to be a 'by-invite' meeting, as most business meetings typically are." He stated, in a rather dull tone at this point, again turning to the other person in the room...

Twisse maintained her smile.

"My, how ominous. Mind you, we're by far not the only ones who could have potentially dropped in - and certainly not the worst. I suggest investing in slightly tighter security... perhaps we may be of help in that regard. But first..."

Imperial-Octavia wrote:
Rantar: The Liner

After hearing the details of what this newcomer had to offer he was immediately curious. Still not signing the papers held by either delegate and focused on the female before him and even went as far to raise a hand to the two delegates as to indicate for them to quiet themselves. "Well, for one I would prefer to be completely removed from this situation, preferably still holding my job." While being sudden, abrupt, and a little confusing this was the only person who wasn't trying to screw him over so she was already in his good graces. Hopefully she wouldn't also jump on what he dubbed the "let's screw over Rantar!" train.

"Ah! Yes, then I do believe we may come to... well, one of several agreements."

She activated her signet in yet another burst of sparks - this time not even bothering with actual speech, she projected a mental message.

"Vehn, if you please. Some privacy."

"Certainly."

The reply echoed through her thoughts, in a rather cold, genderless monotone. And then, things were... different. For one thing, nothing seemed to be moving anymore. Stuhr, his fingers frozen in the act of once again reaching for his PDA, stood impasssively. He didn't even seem to be breathing. The Avatar, too, remained wholly motionless - though in this case, such a thing was a far less definite indicator of inactivity. Even the few nascent motes of dust, frozen in their dance amidst the overhead lights' glow, no longer fell. The Emissary turned to Rantar, who seemed to be unaffected by whatever phenomenon had just taken place.

"Much better. Do excuse the theatrics - there's alternative means of ensuring confidentiality, but this seemed most appropriate, considering your situation. I don't suggest going over there and reading his PDA or anything - since we can't actually stop time, we've had to do some rather fancy workarounds, which come with the caveat of causality-breakage between reference points. And knowledge desync tends to form the groundwork for some nasty paradoxes - we charge extra for reality-fixing. Now... judging from your comments, you do not wish to engage in hostilities with these fine folks. We could certainly provide the means by which you could do so, but I fully understand your reluctance towards war. That leaves... oh, a few things. Specialized memetics would be usable, but costly - especially given the unusual makeup of some of the parties involved. The whole "forget-me-now" trick isn't particularly easy to pull on AI of this scope. Internal sabotage would be even costlier - and you yourself would likely be held suspect. Ah - there is... one idea. Not exactly a typical solution to such an issue, but then, you've hardly got yourself a typical issue here. It might also be the cause of some logistical confusion later on down the line. But it should keep you and your colony out of trouble for the foreseeable future, and without the need for any actual conflict, or further interaction with the involved parties, whatsoever! Provided you don't attract everyone's attention again. Failed judgements are something even we can't shield you from."

by **Laiakia** » Thu Mar 12, 2020 5:55 am

USSLS Pardoxium, Shuttle Hangar

A single Conglomerate cargo shuttle stood inside one of the two hangars of the USSLS Paradoxium, a Monarch-Class battleship. The shuttle had been prepared for flight and the last crew moved into the shuttle. The shuttle measured roughly 70,6 meters and had a height of 19 meters. The interior consisted of a huge diplomatic meeting area, a cockpit, a medium cargo space and a docking bay for vacuum-docking. The chosen diplomat was Chuu Maa, who had emerged at the top of her class in the diplomatic arts and she had volunteered for this mission. The launch crew outside the craft quickly moved into a safe perimeter as the atmosphere was vented and hangar doors opened. The Conglomerate shuttle powered up its thrusters as it quickly took off at cruising speed towards the meeting coordinates.

USSLS Wyvern, XIRAX Black Room

The sensor crew was astonished at the gigantic vessel’s amount of firepower. It dwarfed the Wyvern-Class Supership easily and would decimate the fleet without them even standing a fighting chance. The information was quickly compiled into an encrypted message which was sent into the communications array which turned away from the gargantuan vessel and aimed into the vastness of space. It locked onto the electromagnetic signal broadcasted by the I.S.S.A satellites attachecd in orbit over Lorus, and sent the message back to the seat of government.

by **Imperial-Octavia** » Thu Mar 12, 2020 5:39 pm

Rantar: ZA WARUDO

As time stopped multiple of Rantar's internal systems and software began to glitch out and though minor, having things such as his internal clock begin struggling would be an annoyance for Rantar, but the offers the woman made were interesting enough to allow him to ignore it. "About that last o-option...what do you mean by 'logistical' issues down the line? And more importantly how much does it cost. The memory erasing thing works fine too given I can afford it." Rantar hoped this time-stopping guild didn't ask for too much, though granted his current luck he wasn't too hopeful.

by **Eisenstern** » Fri Mar 13, 2020 4:15 pm

Octavian Occupied System
ISO Liner

Twisse cocked her head slightly.

"Well, here's the thing. Your root issue at the moment is that you've given out your position to anyone and everyone this side of the galaxy. And, more importantly, the position of your colony. You yourself could obviously elope, and that would be easy enough to achieve... but your colony would remain. And I doubt your superiors would view desertion with much kindness. However! The position of said colony is not, contrary to common expectation, wholly cemented. What I'm trying to say is that, for a nominal fee, we can move-"

She waved her hand vaguely to indicate the surrounding space.

"-all this. To a more advantageous location. Still within the galaxy proper, but... a galaxy's a big place. And once you're somewhere your... hah, friends won't be able to find you quite so readily, you can put a bit more work into remaining inconspicuous. Actually trying to hide your position - the same trick tends to not work twice. We may provide assistance in that aspect also - all at a fair price. What I meant by logistical hassle is, in this case, explaining to whatever command structure it is you happen to operate under why your location has shifted so drastically. And where it is that you, in fact, now are. As you may have inferred already, we're willing to aid you in this endeavor as with all else. As for payment... well. This is to be an industrial world, yes? There will be factories. Manufacturing plants. We may draft up a contract stipulating a percentage share of whatever it is they will be producing - to be diverted to Guild coffers. The exact metrics of the deal would depend largely on the exact goods that will, in fact, be produced - their purpose, quality... that sort of thing. But I'm sure an agreement could be reached."

by **Imperial-Octavia** » Sat Mar 14, 2020 6:57 pm

TK'Rantar

Move the system... Moving a system? This organic was offering to move the system!?! This shouldn't have surprised Rantar as much as it did seeing as time had literally just been stopped, but the reminder of this guild's power was sobering. The offer was interesting and practical, or at least more so than the others presented to him. "I accept. Just...please, please remove me from this cursed scenario!" That came out a lot more...desperate than Rantar had originally intended, but desperate times called for desperate pleas. Hopefully the inspector didn't get too mad for having to travel halfway across the galaxy to find a system.

by **Eisenstern** » Sat Mar 14, 2020 7:25 pm

Octavian Occupied System
ISO Liner

Twisse's smile widened fractionally, and she clapped her hands together.

"Marvelous. In that case..."

Expanding the signet once again, she mimed the act of reaching into the seal atop the ring. Nothing happened, until... there. A tiny strand of sparks, stretching between the pictogram and her fingers. Joined by another, and another - soon, crackling arcs of plasma were swirling together into the vague outline of a scroll. A strip of parchment - as the webs of lightning receded, it consolidated itself into just that. The weathered paper was inscribed with odd, twisting runes in a deep, red-black ink... or at the very least, something ink-like. Pullling a quill pen out of seemingly thin air, the Emissary scribbled a few additional lines onto the scroll, all in the same nigh-unintelligible characters. She then pressed the signet ring against the parchment - with a muffled sizzle, it left behind a branded mark. A thorned circle, enclosing a thunderbolt. Passing the parchment and quill to Rantar, she indicated a dotted line near its bottom.

"Your signature is all that remains before we begin. Proof of a transaction - no payment specifics, as of yet. Those can be sorted in more... savoury circumstances. But a customer must be held accountable for their side of the deal - such is custom."

by **Imperial-Octavia** » Sat Mar 14, 2020 7:31 pm

Rantar

Rantar looked at the document in front of him with a sort of dread and yet he felt as if his problems were solved. Moving his hand across the paper he signed his name on the paper in near perfect print in a fraction of a second. One of the benefits of being assimilated he supposed. "Oh, may The Entity and The Paramount have mercy on me." he whispered while finishing his signature aware that this was only the begining of his troubles.

by **Godular** » Tue Mar 17, 2020 7:13 pm

Thrush stared out into the night, looking out over the city, her city, as the rain fell. 'One hour', they'd said. One hour before the assault started, all because she couldn't give what she didn't have.

Caligula was a modest outlier system: populous, moderately industrialized though still largely focused on attaining a proper degree of self-sufficiency. What needs it could not meet itself, it addressed by trading its various surpluses with its closest neighbors which were still largely in the throes of working towards survivability, much less sustainability. Pre-fab housing for specialized ores, medical supplies for volatiles, the trade was kept fair both by necessity and cooperation.

As in all things, there was a hitch. Caligula and all of its neighbors paid another system tribute in order to benefit from their 'protection'. The Local faction of the Reclaimers, operating out of the Nospern System, took a pretty chunk of each world's produce to support their warmaking capacity, and were quick to nip any efforts at an independent military in the proverbial bud as quickly as possible. They had a monopoly in the region for guns and soldiers, and they made a lucrative business from it. As with all monopolies, prices had a tendency to rise without apparent rationale or any sign of consideration for those held in sway by such a (relatively) mighty force.

Rumor had it that a the galaxy had seen a rash of newcomers of phenomenal power, and the remnants of the ruling factions were gearing up for some kind of no-holds-barred conflict. The local faction had ramped up quotas to untenable levels, with this last requisition especially. They wanted food, medical supplies, and fuel, and so much of all three. It had been a bad harvest season across several of the neighbors, which meant that workers were already underfed, which dropped productivity. As it was, she was looking at a major food shortage just to get the ten shiploads of supplies out per the last request. She'd been foolish to hope that the demand would not be raised.

The fleet that took position over her world was larger than any she had ever seen. There must have been a hundred vessels, all told. Many bigger than anything she had ever seen outside of history files. When the demand for thirty shiploads came, she knew the kind of despair that could only arise from shattered hope.

"We can't give you what we don't have!" She'd told them.

They said they knew about the emergency supplies. She said they were already using that to help the other systems. They said they were going to take it all. Breach of contract penalties, they said.

They gave her one hour to turn it over peacefully. A fucking joke, that. It would take her a week to get the emergency supplies properly loaded on anything. At this point she simply advised her constituents to stay locked in their homes. In her conversations with them, she had a realization: Their oppressors' aggression was one wrought of fear, and she knew better than to give that fear an outlet. So she chose only to remain silent and wait for the axe to fall.

Her desk chimed behind her. She ignored it. It chimed again. A third time. She continued to ignore it. A knock on her door, the voice of her secretary, muffled but insistent. The knocking stopped. The voice continued, distant, but... apologetic?

"So rare, it is."

She jumped at the new voice, harsh and rasping yet cultured. Spinning around, she nearly bounced off of the duraplast window and found herself looking at a strange man in stranger clothing. A small, furry creature perched on his shoulder, and he had an odd hat in one hand, held to his chest. He was looking directly at her with eyes that glowed a vivid shade of green.

It took her a moment to find her voice. "What is?" She asked.

"To look upon the countenance of one given so wholly to despair. It is... a novelty."

Anger flared to replace her shock. "What is this? Who are you? Coming here to taunt me like this?"

He bowed, the creature on his shoulder expertly adjusted itself to retain its balance. "Ah, but I must beg forgiveness. Emotions such as this are more difficult for us to navigate these days. It was not my intent to taunt or trouble you. My name is Kaz'Ramael, and I believe that I have the pleasure of addressing the lady known as 'Thrush'?"

The desk chimed again.

"It would please me to have you leave," she replied.

"Your pardon madam, but I am not here on a... heh... lark. I believe your secretary has been trying to reach you. If I might be so bold, I very much suggest you ask them why they are so insistent."

The desk chimed again. With an exasperated sigh, she walked to the desk, moving to keep the stranger in her field of view at all times. He noticed this, and seemed to nod appreciatively. She touched the comm on her desk. "Thrush. What is it?"

"MISS! THEY'RE GONE! They've fled! Another ship entered the system, they tried to shoot it down but it just... the ships that tried to attack it just... vanished!"

"I then told them they had ten minutes to depart the battlespace and to nevermore trouble this system or its immediate surroundings," Kaz'Ramael finished.

"Who's that wi--" Thrush cut off the secretary's question.

"You want something," she said, not a question.

Kaz'Ramael nodded. "Aye, that I do."

"You just drove off a battlefleet the likes of which I've never seen."

"Aye, that I did."

"With ease."

"Aye, that it would seem."

"Then you show up here in my office, without so much as a whisper, with your..." She pointed.

"Kitten. Its name is 'Mewspelheim'. It is quite friendly, would you like to hold it?"

It looked at her, and she noticed that its eyes glowed as well. A distinct shade of purple. It rubbed up against Kaz'Ramael's head and emitted a strange rumbling noise.

"It's growling."

"It is purring. It is happy. It is a kitten. Would you like to hold it?"

Something about that noise it was making seemed to calm her frayed nerves. The adrenaline rush of Kaz'Ramael's intrusion faded, and now she just felt tired. She plopped into the chair at her desk. "Right now, I think I just need a drink."

The green eyes dipped in another nod. "Understandable. Until a few minutes ago, you had a knife at your throat." He kept a respectful distance while she poured herself a drink and downed it. "I am truly sorry that I scared you. Sometimes being on a timetable causes me to be a bit more impetuous than I should be."

"A timetable for what?"

"Ah, that would take some time to explain. While you've ought but time on your hands now, I daresay I am uncertain if you'd wish my continued presence. If you would like, I could take my ship and depart. You'll not see me again."

"NO!" She reached out. "If you leave, I'd see THEM again."

The eyes again dipped in a nod.

"Aye, that you likely would. And none too pleased, I'd wager."

Silence reigned for an eternity of seconds. When Thrush finally spoke again, her voice was calm, measured. "What do you want?"

Another dip of the eyes. This guy held all the cards, yet kept holding a deferential pose. "We are new to this galaxy, and I am certain you have heard of many a newcomer in recent years. Why, just a couple days ago, some damnfool went and issued a veritable declaration of war on the entire galaxy. A beacon in the darkness it was. Not too far from here, either. I daresay that might have been what got our mutual acquaintance into more belligerence than normal."

"Ugh," Thrush replied. "The point?"

"We would like a base from whence to conduct our own operations. You'll pardon me if I note that this region seems to have a generalized beaten-down demeanor. We would like to help you in this. As you have already recognized, this is a service, and any service has a cost. Rejoice however that we are not here to demand tribute or material compensation. We prefer a payment of service for service."

"Explain."

"We will improve the infrastructure of this world and those nearby. You will be self-sufficient, even capable of producing a surplus far in excess of your most optimistic plans. You will be given materials and technology. You will be given machines and designs with which to produce a military of your own. You will be shown how to defend yourselves, as will the surrounding systems. We do this for you with the solemn oath that we will request services of you, never unreasonable given your newfound resources, and never with callous disregard for any lives that might be lost. You will look out for your people and we will respect that."

"And these services?"

"Difficult to say up front. We know not what services will be required at the moment, but when our request comes, it must be carried out with immediacy and effect."

"And if we refuse?"

Kaz'Ramael gave a shrug, and an apologetic smile. "We will take our machines with us when we leave."

"Kicking the box out from under us."

His eyes brightened with recognition. "A reference to hanging! So there are some references that made it all the way here!" Then, an apologetic smile. "You are wise indeed, madam, to note the cage in which you find yourself. You fear you have only changed jailers, and with good reason. But this jailer," he indicated himself, "wishes only to set you free. Reclaimers. Circle. Sun-eaters. Assimilators. They wish to destroy that which makes you... you."

"And you?"

"I will help you tear them ALL down. But first, we must build!"

He presented a small thumb-pad to her. "All I require is your permission to begin."

She took the pad and scrolled through it for a moment. "I will need to bring this to our council."

"I am afraid that time is a commodity you do not possess. I am certain you can convince them of the nature of the agreement."

She looked at the pad for a moment longer, then with a sigh she pressed her thumb to the reader. As she did so, Kaz'Ramael said something in a strange language, and she felt as if something fell over her. A weight settled on her shoulders, and she looked at the man strangely.

"It means, 'all agreements are binding'. Keep the pad. It has design schematics for installations that we will be placing. I will need locations of what should go where to maximize your newfound operational efficiency for when our fabricators arrive."

"When is that?"

"You have two days. That pad will also call me if you have further questions. Oh, and this might seem odd, but if you could have about ten thousand blood samples from randomly selected citizens by that time, you can consider that compensatory service number one."

And with that, he vanished.

Thrush sat back, staring at the pad. She poured herself another drink, called an emergency council meeting, and started reading the pad.

by **Eisenstern** » Wed Mar 18, 2020 3:59 pm

Octavian Occupied System
ISO Liner

Twisse clapped her hands together, her smile widening. With a click of her fingers, the parchment flew out of Rantar's hands - hovering in the air for a moment, it erupted into an eye-searing corona of plasma, the swirling energy-arcs coalescing into twisted, illegible symbols before fading away. The unfortunate Mchanator could feel some brief sense of... finality? Something more tangible than mere apprehension, though it was difficult to place in words.

"Marvelous! I believe us to already have a few locations scouted out... ah, and we shall commence operations immediately. No sense in dawdling - I doubt these two would enjoy lounging around for too long either. I suggest you prepare to dispatch a transmission - the ships under your command will likely require clarification as to where it is they are. FTL countermeasures shouldn't matter, considering our mode of relocation, so there's no need to worry yourself in that regard. Ah, and I suppose it would be rude to maintain this veil..."

"Vehn? That was sufficient. Normalize, if you please."

"As you wish."

And there was practically no notable lag whatsoever between this exchange of thoughts across the aether and the gradual un-freezing of perspective - though of course, Rantar had no way of knowing this. Yet even he could see motion returning to the contents of the room - dust beginning to swirl once more, Stuhr's chest resuming its routine of rise and fall, his hands tapping away at the PDA as if nothing had happened. Which, to him, was accurate. Now the Emissary turned to the two representatives - still beaming, she drew a pair of gray cards from within her cloak.

"And with that, I'm afraid I shall have to make an exit. Once more, my dearest apologies for the intrusion - as a small token of recompense, I'm happy to provide these."

She handed a single card to each of them.

"A means of future contact, pre-packaged with an initial-service discount. Remember - the Tower is always open! Now... ah. I'll actually have to drop out a little earlier."

Turning to Rantar once more, she glanced at her signet.

"I will be along shortly to pick you up. Be advised, the transaction has already been contractually processed - an attempt at cancellation will henceforth be viewed as a breach. I'd appreciate it if you stayed put for now."

At her behest, a crackling barrier sprang up around Rantar, isolating him from the room's remaining occupants.

"Pleasure doing business."

With a small thunderclap and another eruption of plasma, she was gone.

by **Arkeyana** » Wed Mar 18, 2020 6:16 pm

ISO Liner
The Avatar enveloped the grey card in a green aura, lifting it up to the light as though examining it, turning it over in various directions to analyze every possible surface, before withdrawing it into the cavity behind its numerous torso segments. As the enigmatic woman disappeared, it regarded Rantar with a look of...almost suspicion, though whether or not it knew of his dealings was up to the Octavian to decide. "How...peculiar." It said, before turning to Stuhr.

"I have received the coordinates, the Alliance will open comms when it is ready to establish...more formal contact." the Avatar stated.

Linnaeris, Singularity System
At last, the Trifexian fleet had found it's target-A singularity, a region of space where gravity gradually increased until the very fabric of space was strained to its breaking point. This was the optimal location for a Phase Gate. By taking advantage of this breaking point, the involved components of the Gate could push it past this point of no return and open a rupture in space, stabilizing it and aligning it with the continuum of a target universe, thus creating a "phased region" where the two universes intermingled and merged, allowing for vessels to travel between them.

Assuming positions around the Black Hole, the Fleet's construction ships immediately began releasing strings of Crystalline Neutronium, weaving and arranging the exotic material into the forms of arcane mechanisms and monoliths, the purposes of which inscrutable to all but their creators as auroras of green energy flowed through the void of space.

Azaelea System
The dig had gone smoothly, the "mining" array having burrowed through countless kilometers of material to reach the vessel below. Now, the uncovered cavern was crawling with various drones, Angelnets, and transports as scientists entered the ancient vessel, navigating its lengthy corridors in an attempt to find interfaces.

by **The-International Space Organization** » Wed Mar 18, 2020 7:13 pm

ICN ESCORT VESSEL 'IRONSIDES' - G-01 CYM - LAIAKIAN FLEET

Laiakia wrote:
USSLS Pardoxium, Shuttle HangarA single Conglomerate cargo shuttle stood inside one of the two hangars of the USSLS Paradoxium, a Monarch-Class battleship. The shuttle had been prepared for flight and the last crew moved into the shuttle. The shuttle measured roughly 70,6 meters and had a height of 19 meters. The interior consisted of a huge diplomatic meeting area, a cockpit, a medium cargo space and a docking bay for vacuum-docking. The chosen diplomat was Chuu Maa, who had emerged at the top of her class in the diplomatic arts and she had volunteered for this mission. The launch crew outside the craft quickly moved into a safe perimeter as the atmosphere was vented and hangar doors opened. The Conglomerate shuttle powered up its thrusters as it quickly took off at cruising speed towards the meeting coordinates.

The vessel carrying Section Commander Vallis arrived quickly- Settling into the midpoint, waiting for the Laiakian vessel to arrive- It, like the rather distant form of the ISO ship, was rather large for it's (presumable) designation of some kind of shuttle- 500 meters long, and towering over the Laiakian shuttle at 300 meters tall... Just why are these things built so damn large?

As the Laiakian shuttle approaches, the ISO L1N-3R extends a docking tube, waiting for the Laiakian shuttle to dock...

ISO LINER 'TAX-DAY' - OCTAVIAN OCCUPIED SYSTEM (BUT NOT FOR LONG)

Eisenstern wrote:
And there was practically no notable lag whatsoever between this exchange of thoughts across the aether and the gradual un-freezing of perspective - though of course, Rantar had no way of knowing this. Yet even he could see motion returning to the contents of the room - dust beginning to swirl once more, Stuhr's chest resuming its routine of rise and fall, his hands tapping away at the PDA as if nothing had happened. Which, to him, was accurate. Now the Emissary turned to the two representatives - still beaming, she drew a pair of gray cards from within her cloak.

"And with that, I'm afraid I shall have to make an exit. Once more, my dearest apologies for the intrusion - as a small token of recompense, I'm happy to provide these."

She handed a single card to each of them.

"A means of future contact, pre-packaged with an initial-service discount. Remember - the Tower is always open! Now... ah. I'll actually have to drop out a little earlier."

Turning to Rantar once more, she glanced at her signet.

"I will be along shortly to pick you up. Be advised, the transaction has already been contractually processed - an attempt at cancellation will henceforth be viewed as a breach. I'd appreciate it if you stayed put for now."

At her behest, a crackling barrier sprang up around Rantar, isolating him from the room's remaining occupants.

"Pleasure doing business."

With a small thunderclap and another eruption of plasma, she was gone.

... Stuhr looked at the card, idly, before pocketing it. Musing over her choices of words, before looking back at Rantar- And then rolling his eyes at her departure... Before sighing, at the fact Rantar was now separated from the two. Standing up. "I do suppose our business is concluded then, Rantar. I shall end up forwarding these results to the relevant officials... We shall meet again, eventually."

Arkeyana wrote:
The Avatar enveloped the grey card in a green aura, lifting it up to the light as though examining it, turning it over in various directions to analyze every possible surface, before withdrawing it into the cavity behind its numerous torso segments. As the enigmatic woman disappeared, it regarded Rantar with a look of...almost suspicion, though whether or not it knew of his dealings was up to the Octavian to decide. "How...peculiar." It said, before turning to Stuhr.

"I have received the coordinates, the Alliance will open comms when it is ready to establish...more formal contact." the Avatar stated.

He then turned to the Avatar, weighing the words for a few seconds. "I shall inform my higher-ups then. This meeting was one of convenience. I shall look forward to a far more formal meeting, sometime in the future." Stuhr states, nodding at the end. "But, I do have a ship to return to- As soon as a certain individual is removed from said vessel." He casts a glance at Rantar, before turning to leave.

"The crew has been instructed to have you leave through the same airlock- Security measures... And we shall see what happens with Our Mutual Interest." Stuhr finished off with, as he turned, walking out of the 'conference room', to return to the bridge... He had a lot of work to do now...

by **Eisenstern** » Wed Mar 18, 2020 8:06 pm

Unknown Location
Outside Conventional Space

It was a maelstrom. There was no better way of describing it, really - a swirling, formless expanse of cloud and crackle. A storm, boiled down to its de-facto essence, given shape as almost a plane of existence unto itself - and it was in this twisting hellscape that Twisse now stood. There was nothing for her to stand on, but that was inconsequential. There was no air, no light - and none of that mattered either. Her hair drifting gently through forces of sufficient magnitude to tear worlds asunder. Her mind was focused, singular. The thought it now relayed dispensed with the usual channels - its recipient knew what to listen for, after all.

"Be advised, I'll personally carry out the relocation. Keeping my hand in, and all that."

"Understood. Support will be present."

This really wasn't a place in the traditional sense. It was an aspect. Of herself, one could say. Of her being, her constituent immaterium. A source of power. Her power - and it was that which she now drew upon. Here, guidance was made easy by simple proximity - she had already gone down to the wire. The noospheric basis, the strings of fate - whatever one may term such a thing. Anything Octarian, anything tied to Rantar himself in a way so as to suggest de-facto ownership was almost laughably apparent - now, all that remained was... the move itself.

Octarian Occupied System
-N/A-

There was an odd atmosphere rolling in. A sense of impending change, a sourceless, wholly non-physical pressure felt by practically every thinking being. Anything with ears would perhaps be able to register a faint crackle. Anything with hair may have had it stand on end - the effects really were quite varied. As the seconds ticked by, things began to get a little more substantial. Sensors would begin to malfunction - registering ships where there were none, or failing to pick up vessels and objects that were, in fact, right there. Pressure gradients in what should be vacuum, random spots of heat with no apparent source. Visual disruptions, too, had begun to crop up - sparking motes and twisting, wobbling regions of space. They manifested most frequently around the system's stellar bodies, alongside all Octarian vessels in the area - the ISO and Laniakian contingents seemed wholly unaffected. The sole exception was one very particular room aboard the ISO liner - within it, Rantar was beginning to look... a little indistinct. Hazy, perhaps.

It took only a few more minutes for the final stage of proceedings to set in - and do so it did, in a rather spectacular fashion. They came from the system's star - arcing lines of crackling white, springing out into a ring-like formation around the burning sphere. They branched, soon enough - the ring became two, then three, then twenty - a mesh of coils, winding around the orb and fanning out further still. Roots and branches, springing to envelop planet after planet, moon after moon. They wound their way around each and every Octarian ship with meticulous precision, enveloping them all in immobilizing cages of crackling light.

Last of all, there was the ISO liner. Within the meeting room, the air around Rantar had whipped itself into a frenzy - gusts of wind sent his clothing aflutter, and rattled the ventilation grates. Stuhr and the avatar were unaffected, for the crackling curtain of energy remained standing between them. And out of this air there stepped... a figure. Female, most certainly, and identical in proportions to the woman who had stood in the room minutes prior... and yet this was not that selfsame Twisse. Her hair, a billowing stormcloud. Her skin, a spiderweb of crackling plasma. Not eyes, but burning sockets of trans-stellar light, practically boring into Rantar with their radiance. A briefly-opened mouth showed teeth of jagged lightning, and her voice was thunder itself.

"Preparations are complete. Sorry to have kept you waiting. Now, shall we?"

The section of room beyond the barrier grew even less distinct, was filled rapidly with clouds of slate-grey... which gave way to an ever-brightening flash of light. A moment later, there was a rather unimpressive pop as the energy-barrier collapsed - of Rantar and Twisse, there was no trace. Which was, all things considered, a comparatively small worry, sidelined as it was by the disappearance of the entire system.

No star, no planets, no moons. No Octarian ships. Just the ISO and Laniakeans, drifting exactly where they'd been drifting prior, yet now suddenly finding themselves in de-facto deep space. And in the meeting room, nothing save the two representatives, and a lingering smell of ozone.

by **Imperial-Octavia** » Thu Mar 19, 2020 6:26 pm

TK'Rantar

At last, he had found a way out of this hell which he had crafted for himself and as the woman put him in a energy barrier he was extremely tempted to mock the organic (and whatever that avatar was) for their foolish attempts to extort him and his Imperium and he would have, but in the next few moments Rantar would notice something odd. The organic from the ISO just died. Rantar's life detecting sensors just declared him dead and yet at the same time Rantar could see him talk. Were Rantar's sensors glitching? Was he tricked by this so-called 'human'? Neither of the options made much sense bu- why was his vision in infra-red? Rantar very well knee he didn't turn on the infra-red sensors and as he looked down at his hand he could see that they were registering on the infra-red spectrum. "W-what?" Rantar said, clearly confused; he tried to look at Twisse for answers, but the results he was getting by looking at her were clearly impossible and seemed to make it far worse. His vision seemed to warp and crack around her and from there it only got worse.

According to his sensors he was an organic, the temperature was so hot that it needed scientific notation to be properly calculated without filling his eyes, and he was seeing X-rays, radiation, infra-red, and his normal vision all simultaneously. Suffice to say, he was not in a good place as he stumbled almost drunkenly around his energy cube. The universal shifting that he did notice only added to his stupor as at this point the world was little more than flashing colors and loud noises. Rantar's only answer to his sensors cannibalizing themselves was to curl himself into the fetal position in a corner of the cube while a sound not much unlike this until finally Twisse finished the process. Wherever it is they may go Rantar would remain the same for at least a few minutes regardless of the change in system.

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