Cymopolia: New Beginnings [IC] [Apply First]

by **Arkeyana** » Sun Sep 22, 2019 3:52 pm

Tyrannia System
Mindstorm, an upper-class high-ranking officer in the Imperial Decepticon Navy, looked through the viewscreen at the vessel in front of him. He sighed and decided to initiate contact. “Greetings, unidentified vessel,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “As you may or may not, in fact, know, we are the soldiers of the Decepticon Empire. Now, who are you and why are you in the Tyrannian star system?”

....shit, London thought. A subspace signal was sent, alerting the LA to his situation and also giving the coordinates to the Tyrannia System in case he was to need backup. What was initially fear died after a few microseconds as scans filtered in, showing the presence of what appeared to be Electromag Kinetics and Laser weapons, with potential guided munitions and particle cannons as well. Relatively low-tech weapons that he'd be able to survive before making a getaway.

"This is the...ASV London, I am a science vessel on a mission to survey this star system. Apologies for trespassing, we were unaware this system was occupied."

While it was technically a violation of regulations to not address oneself with the LA designation instead of the Arkeyanan one when on an Alliance Mission, London believed that the BBIC (Big Brain In Charge) would make an exception given the circumstances

Suspicious. London was a city on Earth in the Human Confederacy's capital. They really doubted that this civilization would have strong knowledge of humanity. Unless... there were humans in their alliance? Not only that, but the ASV designation was far different from the CTCF designation. The latter stood for the Confederated Terran Colonial Fleet, but they didn't recognize the former.

"I must ask: that designation... what does it mean?" Mindstorm inquired.

"ASV stands for Arkeyanan Science Vessel, as I am under the flag of the Federation of Arkeyana."

London answered, beginning to slowly rotate on their axis.

The Decepticons noticed that *London* was starting to rotate on its axis. They assumed they were going to leave. They would more than likely detect tracking devices attaching themselves to their vessel, so that was out of the question.

Mindstorm noticed that the ship's ECM was active. "London, why is your ECM active? he inquired.

"Ah, that...it's a personal thing, us Shipminds don't like getting scanned without consent, let alone by strangers. It's like someone walking up to you on the street and randomly giving a full, invasive medical examination."

The mention of 'Shipminds' intrigued the upper-class Decepticon. "Please, could you explain who these Shipminds are?" he inquired.

"Well, I'm one. AIs with spacecraft for bodies, it's nothing new."

Intriguing..., the Decepticon murmured quietly to himself. He then recalled the mention of a 'Federation of Arkeyana'. It was a long-shot, but what if these 'Arkeyanans' were related to the Laniakean Alliance or some other nation in Cymopolia? "Can you elaborate on what the Federation of Arkeyana is?" he inquired.

"The Federation is an intergalactic, multispecies civilization, formed to unite against a common enemy, and after said enemy was defeated, remained as it was and continued to grow."

London replied. While part of the statement was untrue (The Revenant had, in fact, not been defeated and were still being fought), he had specific orders to not betray much in the way of information.

"Interesting. Now, we've heard about a Traveller..." Mindstorm went on. "The Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained, I believed. Have you heard anything about it?"

"No, I don't believe I have, nor any other Federation vessel in the galaxy."

London lied.
Mindstorm was still skeptical. 'London' was seemed to come from this 'Federation of Arkeyana', but it still remembered him of the Human Confederacy. What if they were allies with humans, or what if some humans were Arkeyanans? Yet, the possibility, even if it was slim, that they were allies of the Laniakean Alliance still pervaded his mind.

"Do you know anything about the Laniakean Alliance?" Mindstorm inquired.

London felt his virtual heart stop for several seconds before speaking.

"Again, never heard of them."

he lied. Again. Another subspace signal was sent to update the situation, and the Cutter Drive was only a few seconds away from cool-off.
It took several seconds for London to respond. The length of time it took for the Shipmind to respond intrigued Mindstorm; perhaps he wasn't telling the truth. No matter, he would have to investigate further. He'd either need to dispatch some starships - some bombers and fighters, maybe; he would need to ask Scorponok - and track down and spy on the *London* after it left Tyrannia.

"Have you set up any diplomatic embassies in Cymopolia?" Mindstorm inquired.

"I'm afraid not. The Federation has been moving into this galaxy at a slow pace, it's been ages since we've colonized anything."

London responded. While very true, the reality was that the Laniakean Alliance simply had no need to expand the borders of any of their member nations. Finally, the Cutter Drive was finished cooling down, London beginning to spin it up and cease rotating.

"I apologize for getting in your hair, I shall be leaving shortly."

was all he said before vanishing in a flash of white light, completely unlike what the NVNG used for FTL.

They're gone... Mindstorm thought.

He was still interested. On one hand, he managed to glean some more info that could be useful out of London. The Federation of Arkeyana seemed to be in Cymopolia and were expanding slowly. Many of their citizens seemed to be these 'Shipminds' as well... However, the Decepticons still knew very little about the Laniakean Alliance. He felt that something didn't add up. When he mentioned the LA, it took London entire seconds to respond, almost as if they were hesitating.

Perhaps contacting one of their allies would be the right way forward...
Reports from Commander Downthrust alleged that her crew encountered the Crucilandians, a nomadic group of mechanicals who were allies of the Decepticon Empire. He believed that they could aid them in tracking down *London*, though they'd need to send some Decepticons, organic prisoners or whoever they could scrounge up as payment. Many Decepticons didn't care about the other people and bots' lives, so this wasn't too much of a problem, so long as it didn't infringe upon their war effort.

Code: Select all: "Greetings, Crucilandians. This is Mindstorm of the IDN [i]Semper Tyrannis[/i], flagship of the Decepticon fleet assigned to Cymopolia. We need some help in tracking down a science vessel from the Federation of Arkeyana known as the [i]ASV London[/i], though I believe that it may have some ties to the Laniakean Alliance. We would be more than happy to help you acquire some - souls, is it? You assimilate others into your forms, yes? - if you aid us."

Code: Select all: "We have received your request for aid, and are prepared to respond. We have been passively monitoring interstellar traffic in this galaxy, and have noted the trajectory in which the ASV London took. Tracing the warp signature from the technology employed, it will be elementary to determine the system it- or any other vessels- warped to."

"Excellent," Mindstorm responded. "We'll give you some organic prisoners in return. Also, be prepared for the vessel to use a different designation, especially if it does have significant ties to the LA. It's better safe than sorry. Also, would you be able to track it down as well, as well as any of their allies? For all we know, it'll either go back to its home system, go back to its home galaxy, or just...? Go to another solar system to explore. It might even be going to several locations for all we know .We'll increase the amount of people and 'bots we give you."

Code: Select all: "Affirmative, Mindstorm. We can dispatch a reconnaissance task unit to fan out and shadow the vessel, as well as any others affiliated with the Laniakean Alliance. Be advised that wormhole travel cannot be done stealthily, so there may be a delay before we reach some of the vessels."

"Excellent," he responded, smiling slighty. "Please, be sure to hone on their conversations as wel... try and scrutinise as much as possible. We will let you stream footage to our viewscreens if need be."

He stopped himself for a few seconds. Perhaps...

"Oh, and... would you be able to keep an eye on the Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained as well? We'll provide aid and more people to assimilate if necessary," he asked.

Code: Select all: "At this rate, you might as well just hand all of your slaves over... Ahem. We will accommodate your request."

"There's a planet near Tyrannia that's got lots of organics in it. You can have the organics on that planet. Also, don't you worry. The Empire spans across countless galaxies; we've got countless slaves to spare."

Code: Select all: "Acknowledged. A task force of armored dropships will commence collection and assimilation at once. The reconnaissance task unit will also be dispatched, as well. A video feed from each vessel will be available shortly thereafter."

Azalea System

On the edge of the Azalea star system, a probe, seemingly of unknown origin, wandered aimlessly. It was purple in design and relatively small, yet highly advanced at the same time. As per protocol, it proceeded to scan the rest of the solar system.
The probe would see that there was only one planet in the system, that had a flurry activity on it. On the surface, was a massive circular structure surrounded by countless smaller structures, some of which moved. In orbit were six massive ships, with countless smaller ones heading to and from the surface and vanishing in flashes of light when they hit orbit. However, it seemed almost as if there was a mist around the planet, hampering efforts to see it from as far off a distance as the probe was.
The probe relayed the information to the IDN Within Eternity’s Grasp, a Doomsday-class supercarrier like the Semper Tyrannis that had very recently entered Cymopolia. It continued to venture slowly throughout the star system whilst scanning the area, careful not to alert the occupants, at least for now.

The probe received orders to warp a light-week away from the Azalea System and manipulate the subsequent, if short, light-lag. If all went well, this would allow them to see Azalea Prime in the past, as in before the LA arrived on the planet. As such, instead of confronting the Warminds head on, it decided to warp away from the system to somewhere in the void surrounding the Azalea System.
After this, it activated a small telescope within the device and looked at Azalea Prime once more.

The week-old light from Azalea prime showed something. A science vessel appeared, moved around without exhaust emissions, at times moving in ways that defied orbital dynamics, and disappeared. More ships jumped in, some descending to the surface, while others stayed in orbit, with the six Warminds appearing soon after. On the surface, structures would seemingly spring into existence, followed by the slow construction of a massive ring-shaped structure. The purpose of this structure could only be guessed, but judging by it's layout and size, it might've been some form of mining installation. A sensible guess, considering the theoretical industrial might of the Alliance would require an obscene amount of resources, but like all other guesses had it's flaws. Namely, why wouldn't the Alliance just mine from asteroids, or build any form of structure that could be likened to a spaceport on the surface, but the only way to answer those questions would be to get in close and establish contact.

Azalea Prime wasn't an especially valuable planet either, having a mars-like environment complete with grey deserts, but in places had massive basins the size of oceans. Perhaps this planet once had water, and as a result life, on it? Whatever the answer, it was clear that the only way to glean further information would be to establish contact.

Without any other viable options, the Decepticon probe decided to warp back to the Azalea System. It then opted to slowly drift towards Azalea Prime, hoping to enter its atmosphere without alerting the Warminds. The Decepticons considered directly establishing contact to be, at least currently, unpreferred but unavoidable.
The probe was detected. It wasn't like it's FTL signature and subsequent maneuvers went undetected. One of the Warminds hailed it.

"Attention Unidentified Vessel, this is the AW Cygnus. You have entered restricted space. Identify yourself and make a burn that takes your trajectory away from this planet immediately."

The probe moved away from the star system, though it remained just outside the Azalea System. Meanwhile, the crew of the IDN Vigilant Wraith had been tasked by Warhammer to send the probe out, which had now just been identified.

"They've hailed the probe, capt'n..." an ensign responded.

"Damnit..." Doomflight sighed. "We've got no other choice, have we? It was meant to get there undetected and unhailed, damnit... We'll have to respond in the probe's place." He then turned to the viewscreen to respond to the Warminds. "This is Captain Doomflight of the IDN Vigilant Wraith," he responded. "You're the ones who requested the probe leave your airspace, yes? Well, identify yourselves, then."

"As I said, I am the AW Cygnus, well, technically Cygnus the 22nd, but that's superfluous for these circumstances. Your probe entered restricted space around a planet claimed by the Federation of Arkeyana, albeit unknowingly, and I ordered it to leave."

The Warmind responded curtly.

"You're very curt today, aren't you?" Doomflight hissed. "We have a right to deploy probes to explore the galaxy, do we not?" He calmed down. "I assume you... Arkeyanans have doing the same,

"You do, and yes, the Federation has been exploring this galaxy. I, on the other hand, have been tasked with making sure this planet doesn't get invaded, bombed, eaten, and a whole host of pleasant events. This system is restricted space, so I request that you stay out of it."

"Fine. We'll stay of out of this," Doomflight responded. "For now..." he muttered angrily under his breath, turning away from the viewscreen so the Warminds could not hear him.

"Now, before we go, one: what's your designation? Two: why is this system restricted space?"

"AW stands for Arkeyanan Warmind. I am an automated warship. Secondly, that is on a need-to-know basis. And you are not in the minority that needs to know."

Cygnus responded. They were beginning to tire of such affairs, and wished that the CAI that would take over the expedition would hurry themselves up and get there already.
"As friendly as ever, aren't we?" Doomflight scoffed. "I can tell you and I don't want to be here. Fine. I'll make myself scarce."

The probe loaded itself onto the light cruiser, which began to enter Transwarp, readying itself to return to Tyrannia.

The Decepticon was about to threaten the Warminds before he was quickly alerted about an Autobot presence in a nearby star system and quickly warped out.

Veilara III
"Yes, we would. The Arkeyanans possess advanced terraforming technologies, and would be more than happy to help." Arthox said, straightening. "If you have nothing else to add, I believe this meeting is concluded. Before I leave, here is a device with which you may contact the LA if needed. We cannot be everywhere in the galaxy, so it is vital to maintain a method of communications." Xe proceeded to set a small, wafer-thin piece of plastic on the table. If Krusskena were to touch it, it would come to life and display several options on it's surface, first in some strange alien language but then translated to Krusskena's own.

"COMMUNICATIONS"
"SETTINGS"
"TUTORIAL"

"Interesting..." Krusskena responded, looking at the plastic in question. He looked up to face Arthox. "Well, thank you for your time. Our guards can escort you out if you wish. "That is unnecessary, but thank you for the consideration." Arthox said, tilting their head to the right. Soon after, xe and the drones turned into swirls of light that vanished soon after, the Porpoise reactivating it's VES-Sails and gliding upwards to the void of space, where it would jump back to the Terminus system.

The Levia

"For the equivalent size of a "corvette" or "destroyer" sized vessel used by the LA, a few hours." Tarnok said. "However, since it seems that there is a noticeable size discrepancy between our respective navies, I suspect it would take even less time to manufacture your equivalents."

"Excellent," Stak said in response. "I take it that the same would apply to dreadnoughts and, hypothetically, capital ships?"

"It would take at most twenty hours to produce a ship comparable in size to the Levia." Tarnok continued. "I should remind you, however, that it would require the amount of mass equal to that of the ship in question in order to produce it, so it would still cost you in a material sense, although it would be done much faster."

"Interesting..." he remarked. He remembered that Tarnok mentioned a "base of operations" at the beginning of their meeting. "You mentioned a base of operations, right? Would you be able to elaborate further on that?"

"It could potentially serve as a mobile capital, having more space for administrative areas than the Levia. However, it would lack sublight mobility, requiring FTL jumps to get from place to place. It's rings would have shipyards and weapons emplacements, while the central cylinder would be a rotating habitat lit by an internal light source." The Gladian replied.

"Interesting," Stak said. "What are the specifications of this mobile capital?"

"The cylinder is thirty-two kilometers long and eight kilometers in diameter. It's rings would each be twenty-four kilometers in diameter, the standard measurements for such a habitat." Tarnok replied.

"Excellent," Stak responded. "How much life would this capital be able to support?"

"Millions, with room to spare." Tarnok said, "So, what do you think?"

"I see no legitimate reason as to why I should reject this proposal of yours," he responded. "I'll accept it."
"Before I go, I have one more proposal." Tarnok said, rising. "There have been certain extragalactic factions discovered which could pose a significant threat to your people. As such, the Arkeyanans have been willing to offer the deployment of one or more Warminds to serve as guardians in the event of an attack." A hologram was projected from the Gladian's armor, showing the immense warship next to some of the larger ships in the Reclaimer fleet.

"Thank you; I shall keep that in mind in the future," Stak responded."

"With that in mind, here is a device with which you may communicate with the Alliance should you require anything. The rendezvous point at which we will grant you the Station is contained within." Tarnok said, putting a small piece of clear plastic on the table. "May you live with honor, and die with glory." he said, putting one armored claw on his chestplate before vanishing in a vortex of light.

Irenton BOP

Code: Select all: [box][i]"Understood, moving to outer limits now."[/i][/box]

The Fleetmind responded.
In perfect synchronicity, the vessels performed a 180 degree rotation at a speed completely unbecoming of their stature, and proceeded to accelerate, heading towards the outer system at high velocity...without emitting exhaust or other signs of engine activity. Hell, there didn't even seem to be engines on the strange vessels, each one instead having a small glow filtering through grooves in the hull as they moved.

by **The Auraverse** » Tue Sep 24, 2019 5:20 pm

ISV Caeruleum, Bridge

Hatlen was concentrating. To clarify, the gigastructure making up his cogitative persona was, at all times, concentrated on something. But, on occasion, a certain form of specialization was required. Now, the great pseudomind temporarily withdrew itself from certain less important processes, and began its analysis. It was not, strictly speaking, a form of sensing, for that would imply some physical or energetic medium by which an impulse was received, processed and interpreted. Indeed, this could more closely be linked to a process of deduction - a series of educated guesses, calculations of probability, layered over countless multitudes of each other time and time again, planck length after temporal planck length. The future was, of course, unknowable. As was anything beyond the reach of one's senses and informational uptake. But... with sufficient processing capacity dedicated to the task, one could reconstruct a causal approximation of what may be happening, and what may happen in the future. Such projections could then be built upon, proofed and re-proofed, refined in the most miniscule of detailing - to the point where there was, in fact, no notable difference between them and whatever future occurrences were indeed occurring, or were bound to occur, in the realm of the physical.

Now, Cymopolia was slowly unfolding before the Director. Slowly being, of course, an entirely relative (and somewhat meaningless) term in this context. The cosmic, the locational, had already been finalized long before the Caeruleum had entered the galaxy proper. And after establishing the fine details of the material, the mental network moved onto a marginally more intensive task. Echoes were beginning to take on form - specters of action, of reason. Movements became mechanisms, mechanisms progressed into analytical engines. Calculators, computers... minds. Great scores of them, conglomerations of meat and light and metal, dotted across the target space in all sizes and shapes imaginable. And they were, indeed imagined... no visual approximation was needed, of course. But here, Hatlen allowed a small degree of inefficiency to seep in, simply because he could afford to do so. The mindscape was awash now with forms, rather than mere data. Colors, shapes - imagery, perhaps as a meager offering to the sliver of humanity that still remained in the frigid, calculating expanse.

The Cybertronians were now evident as a storm of shards, radiating a cold blue glow. Focused, linear. Dead-set, though each on his own path. Gladians, beacons of vibrant yellow. Passion-driven, but perhaps not passion-ruled. The Trifexians beside them resembled a vast network of geometric patterns, sending out pulses of soft teal. A measured sight, though by no means sluggish. Ah, and the humans... the pulsating, reddish-orange blob enveloping such a large chunk of the galaxy was by now a familiar sight. In this chaos there were groupings, directions - they could be deduced, by an experienced eye. Various other multicolored dots and dashes were scattered about - some grouped, some distant from each other, all swirling in vigorous competition, a sort of protoplasmic beehive. And there were... notable exceptions to this chart. Three stood out most of all.

A towering monolith of dull brown, its base extended into grasping tendrils.

A rotating helix, its color impossible to gauge, winding pseudo-walls engaged in a constant dance of layered fractals.

And a shapeless, nigh-transparent mass - faint, but still detectable. It permeated the Laniakean clusters as mist. Tied to them in some way, yet not quite here... that would, perhaps, merit further investigation.

And the former two were equally intriguing, though in a notably distinct fashion. Neither the Crucilandians nor the K-Sphere could be reasonably... gauged. Predicted. Hatlen could deduce, of course - extrapolate based on past readings. But these were operations far closer to a true guessing game than the pseudopredictions he had performed thus far. Their masses were nigh-inscrutable. They could probably be picked apart, at least partially, given time... but who knew how many layers of falsehood concealed them? Hatlen would certainly like to. His defenses, too would undoubtedly be probed soon enough. But he dismissed those thoughts for now - shelved them away, for dutiful reextraction at a later date. Now...

The shardstorm beckoned. Looking closer, one could see clusters of it. Use them to gauge shapes. Planets, stations... starships. And their actions were gaining clarity with each picosecond.

The conversation between Mindstorm and the London were replayed. Examined, catalogued. Mindstorm's subsequent transmissions were trickier - their recipient was, by all intents and purposes, untraceable from a physical standpoint... but that brown tinge lingered. An unquantifiable quantity of time later, Hatlen had reached a decision.

Another few ships detached themselves from the shadowy bulk of the Caeruleum. Transports, each and every one - scouts, delivery craft... and nothing more.

The Director tapped a complex staccato rhythm in the air with an index finger - each impact was intercepted by a tiny, spectral barrier, and a series of corresponding pings chimed out a merry little tune.

The game, as it were, had now begun in its earnest.

by **Union of Worlds** » Wed Sep 25, 2019 10:18 pm

CAPTAIN MIKHAEL SOLAND
UWS BREAKER OF CHAINS, TWENTY-SECOND EXPEDITIONARY FLEET, CYMPOLIA GALAXY.
DATE 12-07-2235 (UNION STANDARD CALENDAR)

A small SSTO shuttle emerged from the Breaker of Chains, its tachyonic engines emitting an eerie blue as it descended towards the surface of Veilara III. The craft was unmanned, little more than a simple computer-brain with an attached power source and engines. Yet within it lay a single wormhole mouth, presently little more than a millimetre in diameter, paired with another mouth aboard the Bukharin-class battlecruiser. The shuttle plunged through the atmosphere, enveloped by a fiery halo as it hurtled through the air, making slight adjustments to its course as it approached the designated landing sight.

Having landed, the structure of the shuttle rearranged itself, silvery nano-machines flowing to alter its structure from that of a spacecraft into that of a circular gate. Suddenly, the wormhole began to expand, filling the newly-assembled gate with its spherical form, distorting space around it as it revealed a chamber within the heart of the Breaker of Chains. A silver bridge, composed of yet more nano-machines, flowed through the aperture, avoiding the distorted space-time metric at the edges of the wormhole mouth and the massive tidal force therein. Captain Soland, accompanied by a bio-mechanical Janissary soldier-construct, stepped across the bridge, descending onto the surface of Veilara III to greet his potential allies.

CAPTAIN ZAAID AL-SHAER
UWS SOLIDARITY FOREVER, TWENTY-SECOND EXPEDITIONARY FLEET, CYMPOLIA GALAXY.
DATE 12-07-2235 (UNION STANDARD CALENDAR)

A shuttle of the same make as that launched from the Breaker of Chains emanated forth from within the Solidarity Forever, approaching the Levia. Landing within the designated hangar bay, it repeated the same process of restructuring, assembling another worm-gate, this one leading to the Solidarity Forever. Captain al-Shaer crossed through the aperture, supplemented by a uniformed adjutant, ready to converse with the Reclaimers about the role the Union could playing the struggle for Cympolia.

by **Pax Cybertronian** » Sat Oct 12, 2019 12:50 pm

NOTE: This post has been made with the help of Arkeyana, Wentera/Leternium (involved in the Discord), Irenton and Eisenstern/The Auraverse.

In the ruins of the IESS Undiminshed Entelechy, five Decepticons had commanded a group of Vehicons and Seekers, tasking them with excavating the corpses lying around the vessel. Thousands of bodies – armoured Fusiliers and unarmoured crewmen – were scattered throughout space. Most were, surprisingly, intact. The Decepticons had assumed the Rift generator’s detonation would have ruined many bodies here – however, luckily enough, they seemed to be around. This meant all the more potential clones that could be created by the rechristened Planetary Cloning Facilities – once the planet-sized cloning facilities used by the Hexagon Empire, many of them had now been cyberformed by Decepticon forces.

“There’s so much filth here,” one of the Decepticons sneered. “No wonder these fleshbags died. They’re organics.”

The leader of the group turned towards the ship’s bridge. The circular bridge itself was spacious with a low ceiling. The captain’s chair was dead centre and on the front left and right of the chair were two quarter circle consoles. Half of the front of the bridge was covered with a large viewscreen and lots of other consoles had adorned the rest with small little holes. The Decepticon walked closer to it and noticed a corpse in the ship – it seemed to her to be the captain of the vessel.

The Decepticon in question then pressed two of her fingers to her helmet and linked herself to a nearby private channel – hopefully, it was with one of Nikolach’s ships. “Who is she?” she inquired. “I think she’s the captain of this ship. She could be… useful to us.” She looked closer at her and her optics quickly proceeded to scan her. “She’s over two metres and a half tall. Blue-grey eyes, shoulder-length silvery-brown hair… she’s got armour with a purple cape with pair of gold bands on it. Somewhat thin with strong facial features. That match up with anyone?”

The communications Leftenant viewed the image for a moment, before answering, "that's Captain Avery Ghaul," they said. "Looks pretty banged up. Not much use as she is now."

“Right.” Keeping “as she is now” in mind, she handed Avery over to a smaller drone, who placed her into a bluish-greenish Vortexian-sized pod. The drone would then be ordered to take it to the Semper Tyrannis, where she would be analysed and later cloned. Perhaps she would become quite useful for the Decepticons.

The Cygnusud star system was located on the outskirts of the Unknown Sectors of the Cymopolian Galaxy. Surrounding a red dwarf star, this system boasted two dwarf planets, Maraehn and Hana-Cho, and four gas giants, Spomisty, Du’prane, Tumph and Jire’emy. Maraehn and Hana-Cho were both within the system’s Goldilocks Zone, making them mostly ideal for hosting sentient life, even if Maraehn had a very slow orbital speed and Hana-Cho had a retrograde orbit. The Autobots and the Decepticons had both identified roughly thirteen proto-planets in this star system and forty-six significant asteroids within the star system.

It was as if it were yesterday, probably because it, admittedly, began a few hours ago. The Autobots and the Decepticons had arrived in the solar system at roughly the same time, and as fate would have it, the two armadas began to fight one another. One of the Autobots decided to fly towards a Decepticon, transformed into his robot mode and punched the Decepticon hard enough to damage the ship’s wing. Another Decepticon opened fire on a yellow and blue Autobot fighter, firing enough times to cause their engine to explode. Any observers would recognize that the ongoing battle was rather chaotic and violent. The Autobots tried to move the fight from Maraehn, yet it was obvious that the Decepticons intended on conquering the planet.

Perhaps we could integrate Maraehn into the Commonwealth at some point… the Autobot commander thought as the battle raged.

It would take some time for the battle to calm down…

A yellow metallic fighter jet, clearly of alien origin, swooped down towards a planet below. The planet itself resembled a ‘Super-Earth’ as the humans called it: an earthlike planet with a higher mass than Earth’s, albeit below Uranus and Neptune’s. All around him were violet skies, and below him were colossal fields of planets and forests. Sometimes, he could spot the occasional temple, presumably home to whatever lifeforms constructed them. It was intriguing: what if these temples harbour sentient life – life that could become some of the Decepticons’ slaves or test subjects? Soon, the organics here would know who their masters were… he thought to himself.

He decided to transform into his robot mode and drop down to the ground. He landed near the entrance of one of these temples and started to look around. At one of the temples of the Tree, it was filled with Lifemasters and Deathmasters, each training the groups under them. There would be a few Waterfathers at the temple as well, noticed by the large rivers flowing around the back of the temple. The Deathmaster's Adepts and Lifemaster's Adepts would be working together, killing plants around the temple, before bringing them back to life.

Meanwhile, at the temple gates, a bright yellow jet would slam out of the sky, turning into a humanoid form. A couple of humanoid forms in black and silver armor would, despite the massive size disadvantage, shift and point their spears directly at the Decepticon. "You intrude upon holy land. Tell us who you are," one of the guards would say.

“Wallop of the Decepticon Empire,” the Decepticon responded.

"Why have you decided to intrude upon holy land?" another guard would ask.

"I am a soldier in the Decepticon Empire," he responded. "Perhaps..." Wallop secretly scanned the Cultists, revealing numerous extremely high energy levels from the inhabitans inside. "We could cut a mutually beneficial deal?"

The guards would glare under their masks, before sighing. "We will let you in, but if you attempt to attack, you will be dead in an instant."

“Excellent,” the Decepticon responded before he, under the watchful eyes of the guards, walked over to the Cultists.

He seemed to inhale sharply, before beginning to shout. “Greetings, inhabitants of this temple! I am Wallop of Cybertropolis, and I wish to cut a deal with you all!”

The shouting would stop the practice, as many, smaller forms would slink back. A couple taller forms would step in front of them, wearing thick robes and wielding daggers. They would yell "Who are you, and why have you entered our sanctuary?"

“I would like to cut a deal with ya,” Wallop responded. “A deal that’s… mutually beneficial.”

One of the guards would speak, seeming unimpressed. "You want us to rescue someone vital to your cause."

“Hm?” he responded. “You’re psychic or you’ve prescience, right?”

"I have the ability to control time, in a way," the guard would say.

“Are you joking or are you being serious?” the Decepticon responded doubtingly. “I’ve heard of many people claiming the same thing and yet, in reality, they weren’t as powerful as they thought. Mind, I’ve also heard of some lifeforms being able to bend reality to their will, so who knows.”

The guard would sigh, before looking the Decepticon right in the eyes. "They betrayed their homeland. Irenton. Now, they are sending a powerful ship to capture him, and they will probably kill him after. If you try to fight them, the ship would have enough firepower to turn your entire fleet into debris. Do I need to go further"

The Decepticon remained calm and thought. We can’t fight Irenton yet… I want to clobber them into dust so hard, but it’s too early… not yet. We’ll clobber them after we get some of their tech and stuff. Fine; we’ll throw Nikolach to the dogs and work on our own now; organics have always been stupid creatures, haven’t they?

“Well, thanks for the information. Nikolach was rather important, but he’s not vital…” he responded. “However… the ships and the troops, we could use them to our advantage in the war with Irenton. Would you be able to duplicate everything in their group – Nikolach, the rest of the captains, the troops, the ships, etcetera – and make sure they’re loyal to us?”

"Best you can get is clones tossed in their old ships, and the original crews away from danger."

“What do you guys want in return? Money?”

"We want you to never return to our holy lands again," the cultists would say.

"I was unaware that this was a religious settlement, so I guess I can just use other forms of contact and call for ya," he admitted. "So... ya need sacrifices or something like that?"

"Yes, we will need sacrifices to fulfil what you want us to do," one of the Deathmasters would say.

“Right. Now, I’m a believer in the alternate timeline theory,” Wallop elaborated. “The theory that, whatever happens, it’ll happen differently in other timelines. If we lose here, we’ll win in another timeline, and we’ll win differently in another one, and so on and so forth. I’ll cut to the chase. Would ya be able to, say, pull them from there and bring them here, especially from a timeline where their loyalty is guaranteed?”

“We’ll throw one of our guys your way,” Wallop added. “Or a few. Enough for the sacrifice, that is.”

The conversation, probably to the chagrin of the Cultists, took some time and Wallop returned to the ship, a deal made…

“I’ve had a thought,” Scorponok said. “Nikolach… how likely is it that the Irentons will have sent something after you?”

"Certainly," Nikolach answered without thought.

“We’ll have to respond quickly,” Scorponok responded. “How long do you think it will take before they send a ship over here?”

Nikolach thought for a moment. "Soon... within the next day or two, I imagine."

“How likely do you think it is that we will win against them?”

He couldn't help but laugh. "Knowing Arthus? Unlikely."

"Arthus?" the green and purple mechanoid inquired.

"Consul Arthus, head of the Imperial forces here. If you think you're a veteran, you're practically a recruit compared to him."

Scorponok was quiet for a few seconds. We need to duplicate ships, and fast, he thought. ’Head of the Imperial forces here’ insinuated that an entire Irenton fleet was located in Cymopolia. The Decepticons only had, according to Nikolach’s estimates, a day to duplicate the ships, the troops and whatever else was on board. That wasn’t nearly enough time for them to do so.

Though… there might be a way out of this conundrum, though it required luck… however, he needed to know as much about the Irentons, and especially Arthus, as possible.

“I have been in service for nearly an entire millennium. But, please, tell me what you know about the Consul and Irenton,” Scorponok said.`

"Arthus is a war hero, one even the most hated enemies of the Empire both respect and fear. His exploits are the stuff of legend, his ship's been through hell and back more times than scholars can count. You don't stand a chance against him, and if you do manage to beat him the Empire will send so many forces here you will drown in bodies."

Scorponok sighed internally. “So, what you suggest we do right now?”

"I was trying to hide. I'm hoping your weapons can be better to drive them back."

Nikolach tried his best to appear surprised; the scans he had ordered had revealed to him that the Cybertronians displayed some method of transformation, though he did not wish for the Decepticons to potentially take his illicit scans the wrong way. "Even if the High Council sends no more ships, they'll see you harbouring us as an act of war."

Nikolach may become a liability soon, especially if he ends up attracting Irenton starships that we’re unprepared against… Perhaps, he thought, it would be wise to throw him to the dogs rather than jeopardize the Decepticons here…

Suddenly, a Decepticon walked through the metallic automatic doors to the meeting room. “Apologies for the interruption, commander. I’ve brought someone with us.” Wallop moved his arm towards the door and extended his servo, gesturing someone to enter. Scorponok heard several footsteps, and when the doors shifted open, the new invitee’s identity was revealed:

Through this door, two would walk through. One would be humanoid and step forward with extreme confidence. They would have robes and a hood covering them, preventing any serious identification of them. There would be a long, dark dagger near their left hand. They would have a tree symbol on their right arm, identifying them as a member of their group, with a long line below it identifying them as a member of the Time Branch, and three circles surrounding it showing the rank of Timefather. Even to the not attuned to magic Decepticons, this person would seem to radiate great power. The second creature would be a shiny, silver, hovering serpent, guarding the Timefather.

“This guy’s called Thoriam,” the yellow robot elaborated. “For a sacrifice, he’ll be able to ensure that we get what we want while keeping the Irentons off our backs for a bit.”

Thoriam would just look on, keeping themselves in a professional posture, while the creature would just keep shifting around the Timefather.

Scorponok took notice of the silver serpent. “I believe the serpent’s a creation of yours. I also believe Wallop made a deal with you.”

Thoriam would not react about the serpent, nodding to both questions.

Scorponok turned to face Wallop. “What is this deal you made with him?”

“We sacrifice one of our troops,” Wallop began, “and in return, he’ll take Nikolach’s Battlegroup from another universe and essentially clone it. Hopefully, they’ll be a more definitively loyal one, and one that won’t endanger us with ships. Oh, and…” Scorponok walked closer to the yellow Seeker so as to ensure the secrecy of the conversation. “He said that we’ll be ambushed soon. Irentons. The guard said we’ll be in danger, so…”

“I have an idea,” Scorponok responded quietly. “We’ll deal with Twisse first, however. This is rather important.” He turned to face Twisse.

“Apologies for being so busy, ma’am,” Scorponok said, scrolling through the sceptre. “Now, as for my deal, having weapons capable of penetrating kilometre-deep armour would be a good idea to begin with. Additionally, would you be able to supply us with some firearms as well?” He remembered Swindle and his “Sikaris Incorporated” company. This deal would likely annoy the Combaticon, though Scorponok would likely be able to keep him quiet enough. He’d probably have to pay him some money out of the Empire’s seemingly endless coffers – an ancient empire has those benefits – but the means justified the ends. Besides, Swindle was still a Decepticon, at least officially, even if he was more concerned with his company.

Twisse smiled, and plucked a rather bulky-looking pistol from the display rack.

"Depending on what kind of armor we're talking about, this might be of help. An upscaled version, of course - if you want handheld armaments capable of such a feat, I would have to bring out a marginally more pricey selection."

She gestured, and a shimmering field of energy faded into existence on the opposite side of the room. She casually took aim, and fired once - with a curious whomph, a pseudo-projectile of rippling air streaked towards the field. On impact, the distortion worsened considerably for a second or two, before the entire field collapsed. The projectile continued onwards, but was swallowed by a miniature portal mere centimetres from the wall.

"Spatial disruptors, Jax-II pattern. Impactful, simple in operation... affordable, to a point. That field simulated equivalent tensile strength to around eight meters of benchmark military-grade plating. Energy shielding is even more susceptible, and may often be ignored entirely. The only real downside to these things is a susceptibility to wormhole shielding, alongside unpredictable interactions with certain forms of defensive magic. If your enemy employs neither, they strike me as a solid choice. We can get ship-scale variants shipped and installed, with a corresponding increase in penetratory capabilities more than sufficient to match your criteria."

"As for small arms, we can simply ship more of these. If you don't mind the energy consumption, that is - this showcase sample is linked directly into the Tower's auxilliary workshop grid, but sold examples will require battery packs. Sold alongside the weapons themselves, of course. Several varieties are available, and I'll be happy to provide a sub-catalogue. In general, though, you'll need to balance affordability with capacity. If that doesn't suit your needs, there exists a wide range of alternative options."

“Intriguing,” Scorponok responded. He was planning on hiring some warlord in Cymopolia or one of the galaxies nearby to make sure that the Laniakeans didn’t get an idea about his true intentions. Considering Doomflight’s recent confrontation with Arkeyanan forces, he was concerned about making it obvious that the warlords were even slightly connected to the Decepticons. Perhaps building ties with the LA, even if he needed to prostrate for a few minutes, would be on the table. He just needed to learn their military strategies, which seemed to favour quality over quantity, and their culture to start to plan their downfall. But, perhaps, these weapons would help jumpstart that war.

“I shall accept your currently standing offers,” Scorponok affirmed. “Now, do you have any suggestions as to weaponry with… arcane properties?”

Twisse looked at him thoughtfully. "Magic, eh? Well..."

She reached into the air beside her, her arm seemingly disappearing for a few moments. When she pulled it out of... whatever it had been in, it held a thick, leather-bound book.

"I'm assuming your species has no natural talent for magic of any sort. So, we'd need something relic-based, usable by non-casters... preferably in gun form?"

“Actually… I believe some Decepticons are, for one reason or another, capable of using magic,” Scorponok responded.

"In that case, we can focus on teaching those with the capacity for it. We'd need to set up something of a survey group, to evaluate their actual capabilities and affinity for the arcane. It would also come at a premium - knowledge tends to, when compared to the material."

"I know of some very... economically interested, I shall say, individuals," Scorponok responded, referring to a particular yellow Combaticon who created a company some time ago. "Perhaps... it could be that Decepticons would have to pay a fee to join the programme."

"That could work. Although your empire as an entity would need to make an initial investment - we would need to set everything up, relegate personnel... construct a suitable site, perhaps. To that end, it could be helpful if we were to requisition one of your ships and refit it into a sort of... mobile boot camp."

Scorponok was mildly sceptical. If the Tower were to become hostile, this could make matters more... difficult. However, that seemed to be a possibility that was not too likely to occur so long as they played their cards right

"Very well," Scorponok responded. "Would you be able to hand over the schematics for the training camp so we could create more in the future?"

Twisse chuckled. "Of course. Though what you'd be receiving would amount to a few drawings of classrooms. We aren't going to install any sort of specialized training facilities, aside from ones which you may already be familiar with. There's simply no need for them. We'd be building a school, more or less - and providing qualified personnel to run it."

"I am highly interested in the arts and cultures," Scorponok responded, possibly referring to a certain Chiss commander in a galaxy not too far away, "so that shouldn't be too much of an issue. I should warn you as well - a lot of Decepticons are Technoists - mechanoid supremacists. That may be worth taking into account for when you select your personnel. How long would it take for a Decepticon to be trained?"

"It depends. As I said, we have no idea what exactly you people are capable of, or what we should be training them in."

She leafed through the book for a moment.

"It also depends on the degree of proficiency you require. There's a wide margin between "parlor trick conjurer" and "master battlemage" - everything's a balancing act between the time invested and the desired output."

"You will be able to see how proficient the wizards are soon, I suppose, and you can retrofit some Decepticon vessels to your spark's content," Scorponok responded. "I'm interested: what would you consider to be the benefits of both parlour trick conjurers and master battlemages?"

"Well, what exactly do you want? A whole bunch of conscripts flinging fireballs, or a small number of elite units with the capacity for mass destruction? Granted, I'm not entirely sure we can reach the latter in an acceptable timeframe."

“I suppose that the knowledge the trained wizards we have can train new recruits,” Scorponok responded. “For now, perhaps it would be possible to reach somewhere in the middle and train them further when the need arises?”

"Reasonable. Though I'm probably not the best person to discuss the specifics with - we'll probably have Celena oversee the whole process. She'll get in touch with you at a later date."

Twisse closed the book.

"So, disruptors and magical training. The specifics on the latter to be discussed at length by qualified personnel... ah. How many of the former do you require? Separate figures for ship-mounted and handheld, please."

Scorponok considered this for a moment.

“How is a thousand ship-mounted weapons and five thousand handheld weapons?”

"Sure thing. I'd like to point out that each ship-mounted variant is equivalent in value to a few dozen handheld ones. Still, if that's the ratio you wish for, and actually have the capability to pay for... I have no objections. Speaking of payment - what medium will it be provided in?"

Scorponok waited for a few seconds, deep in thought. “Do you accept metals? What is ubiquitous and nearly worthless in one place is rare and valuable in another.”

He grabbed out a datapad and handed it over to Twisse. “This universe has a variety of metals and we can procure some. Of course, we can use other mediums if necessary.”

"That is our creed, yes. Bulk metal shipments would be acceptable - we can set up the specifics remotely. We'd need to consult exchange tables. Here."

Twisse pulled a small metallic cube, engraved with the Guild seal, from her cloak. She handed it to Scorponok, alongside the datapad.

"A point of contact. For proceeding with the deal, alongside any further queries. Oh, and carrying this identifies you as an ongoing business partner, and as such makes you personally eligible for certain... protective benefits."

“Excellent; thank you,” Scorponok responded. He opened the subspace storage pocket in his chest and placed the cube in there for safekeeping. “How soon should I anticipate proceedings to continue? As in, when will we meet again in person?”

Twisse tilted her head. "I'm not sure about the whole "in person" thing, but if you require any additional services, you can use the cube. From there we can work things out on a per-appointment basis. You should be able to sort the rest of this particular exchange remotely anyway."

“Excellent,” Scorponok said. “Before you go… who is this Celena?”

"Our chief recruitment officer. Also conveniently in charge of training-related matters, and an exceptionally powerful mage. She'll likely be overseeing the boot camp programme in some capacity."

"Excellent. I suppose, then, we shall be in touch soon."

Twisse nodded.

"It's been a pleasure."

She motioned with one hand, and the display rack folded together. She picked up the tiny box and placed it back in her cloak. With one final bow to Scorponok, her body burst into crackling arcs - and then she was gone, leaving naught but the lingering smell of ozone.

Scorponok watched as Twisse departed and turned to Nikolach. “You may want to leave and get ready to anticipate Arthus’ forces,” the Decepticon asked, and the treasonous Irenton commander walked out of the room. Scorponok waited until the original Nikolach was truly out of earshot before he attempted to initiate contact with the Irenton Empire.
and that should be it

“This is a message to the Irenton Empire,” Scorponok said. “I believe that we’ve come across some… traitors of yours. Grand Admiral Nikolach is chief among them.”

Suddenly, Scorponok was alerted of an incoming transmission from a foreign entity. He assumed it to be from the Irentons. He directed the viewscreen to respond, revealing Admiral Argent Sol, famed Irenton war hero and commander of the IESS Long Night Solace, on the viewscreen.

"This is Admiral Argent Sol of the Long Night of Solace,” Admiral Sol responded. “We will be transitioning into the system shortly to arrest the traitors. Do not interfere."

With a silent thunderclap, a Rift opened just beyond the range of the Decepticon fleet, swirling purple energies and strikes of black and white lightning suddenly appearing in space, heralding the arrival of the Long Night of Solace. The Supercarrier glided silently through the void, its massive form throwing a length of darkness over the space ahead of it. It was followed by a pair of Truth Class cruisers and them over a dozen corvette and frigates. Fighters and bombers swarmed in a vast cloud on the two flanks, creating swirling shoal like masses. The force glided forwards, menacingly, trailing orange particles behind them.

"Attention, traitor vessels. This is Admiral Argent Sol; you are ordered to lay down your arms and defer to the Irenton Empire. You have 5 minutes to surrender. I am authorised to destroy you all and noncompliance will result in such."

With the message sent, the fleet moved into an attacking formation, the fighters forming smaller squadrons. The Supercarrier dropped a pair of destroyers from its underbelly, forming a ventral defence.

Eyeing the arrival of the Irenton fleet, Scorponok looked to Nikolach’s Battlegroup. The agents are in. It’s a shame to sacrifice Nikolach now, but, taking our circumstances into account, this is the only chance we have to smuggle in some sleeper agents and gain as much info on Irenton as possible.

Nikolach looked from the bridge of the Wrath of Irenton in horror. He had known that Arthus would send ships, though he had not dared assume he would send this particular one. He knew its captain well, but he knew the ship far better. Most Imperial commanders did.

The Long Night of Solace was a veteran of countless campaigns, yet it did not bear the scars of battle. It had been dubbed by some Imperial commanders as the invincible ship, and others dubbed it as a direct manifestation of the will of Emperor Nicholas the Everlasting.

Now the supercarrier, carrying the legendary Argent Sol, was bearing down on him. Even with Decepticon help, the Long Night of Solace would be a beast to bring down.

"Argent Sol, this is Grand Admiral Nikolach. Stand down your weapons and let us open a dialogue. The Decepticon forces with me outnumber you; do not be foolish."

Scorponok said nothing. He gestured at his pilots, indicating for them to fire on the carrier if Nikolach became aggressive towards them.

Nikolach sent a private hail to Scorponok's vessel. "The Imperials are here! And it's Argent Sol too! They'll kill us all if we don't strike first! I'm going to spearhead; I need you to follow up behind me."

“Right. We’ll follow your lead.” Turning away from the viewscreen so that Nikolach wouldn’t be able to see, Scorponok indicated to the rest of the fleet not to open fire on the Long Night of Solace.

Scorponok quickly hailed Admiral Sol’s fleet. “Nikolach intends on attacking you and wants us to follow his lead. We are not firing on you; if you don’t fire on us, we won’t fire on you.”

Sol gave a malicious little grin. "Very well. I would recommend you distance yourself from the ships in case we accidentally fire on you." They cut off the feed to Scorponok. "All ships: the warning is up; engage at will. Disable them and board them and kill the traitors."

“There’s no sleepers in the Wrath of Irenton, right?” Mindstorm inquired, tapping a digit on Scorponok’s shoulder.

“No, no; they’re all on the other ships in the Battlegroups,” Scorponok admitted. “Okay, most of them aren’t in Nikolach’s carrier, though as long as we get some in, we should be alright.”

Nikolach's carrier advanced before its hull was struck across by a low charge stormcannon shot, melting away the hull and shield. Hundreds of squadrons of fighters swarmed about its engines, tearing into the shields whilst particle cannons fired seemingly blindly to bring them down.

A cloud of torpedo trails streaking blue against the void sped towards the carrier with well over half being shot down by cannon fire. The explosions that rocked the ship blinded any onlookers and shut down the shields for a brief second.

A corvette pulled alongside, firing off dozens of tow cables. The cables tore the hull and emptied Fusiliers inside. Meanwhile, Nikolach's cruisers drew up above their former command ship and opened fire.

“So, we’ll have one Decepticon representative on the Circellian Senate,” Warhammer mentioned. “And that representative shall be privy to secret information.”

“Correct you are,” Nauik responded, “though he may not be able to access highly sensitive documentation without President Krusskena and your… Megatron’s consent. Such sensitive information cannot fall enemy hands.”

“We’re a patient empire,” Warhammer lied, “and we can wait for your documents to be… redacted and all that stuff. In return for what you’ll allow us to do here, we’ll give you ships, planets and resources, as I’ve said.”

“Excellent,” Nauik smiled. “I suppose we’ll be able to finish up terraforming Veilara III soon and begin to mobilize into the rest of Cymopolia soon.”

“You will also allow us unimpeded access to the New Circle’s territory,” Warhammer continued. “We’ll even take the liberty of drafting a bill for your Senate to pass when we go back to the flagship. Additionally, we’ll want access to, ah… future discoveries or anything of the sort.” Walking out of the embassy, he looked up, his optics focusing on the skies above. “And… do not ally with the Autobot Commonwealth. They’ve thrown their lot in with the Reclaimers, and so they should be your mortal enemy. Do not accept any surrenders from them.” He rubbed his metallic grey head, waiting a few seconds to speak again. “You two – New Circle and Reclaimers – hate each other, right? You’ve got no reason to like the Autobots, then. After all: what's better, organic? A galaxy shackled by anarchists or a galaxy freed and protected by order?”

“You’ve got my word,” Nauik affirmed cheerfully. “So… who, or what, else should we keep an eye on?”

“Keep an eye on the Laniakean Alliance,” Warhammer said. “You and I both are mutually interested in these… foreigners, I assume.” Warhammer nodded and then barked at his soldiers to follow him. He transformed into a jet and warped off, heading back to the spaceport he arrived at.

The conversation with Tarnok son-of-Armuk over, Stak walked over to a nearby window to contemplate ongoing events and the conundrum it presented. Or, at least, he would have, had he not immediately been alerted by a message from the Levia’s bridge that a small vessel – a dropship – was heading towards the supercarrier. Stak believed that it was harmless; it was very rare that warships would be the size of dropships, and even if they were, it would do very little damage. As such, he believed that it would be in the Reclaimers’ best interests to welcome them.

“Unidentified vessel,” Stak said, “we assume you’re here for diplomatic purposes? Identify yourselves and, if so, make your way to the vessel.”

The Sescho star system.

Roughly four hundred million years old, roughly six planets – Saiph, Quadrelan, Sunuh, Crielite, Lone’olah and Hugoosuf – orbited this old blue and white star for some time. Scans indicated that Quadrelan was capable of supporting organic life and, in theory, was actually occupied by sentient life. Yet, these inhabitants were not interested in Quadrelan, at least yet. Their attention had been drawn to a massive, downed, decrepit supercarrier relatively close to Quadrelan. Thousands of corpses were scattered throughout the space surrounding it. If one were to peer into the vessel itself through any of the several cracks, they would notice damaged consoles adorning the ship’s bridge. The supercarrier itself had almost been entirely bisected, as if it had been attacked prior to its destruction. In theory, the ship – they believed it was a supercarrier – was repairable, though it would be no small task considering the sheer size of the supercarrier. Through the damaged hull laid a corridor that led to the ship’s bridge, which itself had begun to decay from, naturally, a lack of care. After punching open the formerly automatic doors, the Decepticons gazed down below them. The captain’s chair had been surrounded by five quarter circle consoles, all of which faced the cracked viewscreen at the end of the bridge. There was a relatively large drop near the bridge, leading to an arsenal of consoles which likely would have been worked on in the past.

In the captain’s chair laid an alien male corpse. Long blackish hair swept to his shoulders, almost guarding his scaly green skin. Strangely enough, this corpse had been preserved, even though it seemed like entire years had passed since this ship had been grounded. The corpse itself had been strapped down to the ship somehow, though the rusted, golden harness was removable. The Decepticon walked closer to it. It seemed that this harness was used in an attempt to brace the captain for impact; whatever struck the supercarrier in such a way that it pierced the ship open, yet it wasn’t strong enough to completely obliterate it nor render it permanently non-functional. Unchaining the harness, the Decepticon, curious, pulled him out and presented it to the commander of the expedition. The lieutenant looked down at the corpse, adjusting her glasses. Intrigued, she scanned the corpse and began to prepare to warp to the capital ship.

“Keep going through the ship,” the Decepticon lieutenant ordered. “I’ll bring that corpse back to the Semper Tyrannis. Almost definitely the captain. Maybe we can glean something from it or use it against our enemies in this galaxy. Who knows what secrets it’ll give us?”

A panel then shifted back on her wrist, opening up a wrist communicator. She pressed several buttons on it quickly, linking her to a transwarp drive. Grabbing the corpse, she warped away…

by **Cruciland** » Mon Oct 14, 2019 12:11 pm

Unclaimed Sectors, Mynatoth System
The hollow ache of a freshly-unbound solar system could be felt. The asteroid belt, once being consumed by the very star they orbited, was beginning to fly apart as the gravity which bound them disappeared. The now-derelict mining colony drifted away from its former inhabitants' source of income, adjacent asteroids now spacing themselves apart along their own trajectories. Beyond the heliosphere, comets saw their orbital paths turn linear as they hurtled deeper into the thin clouds of ice and dust which lied on the periphery of the system. And even these clouds were slowly losing their forms in the absence of any strong attractive force, although these changes could occur over centuries. Within the hallowed hulls of the Crucilandian vessels now sat the immense gravitational energy of the Mynatoth star, along with thousands of others which had been captured by the ravenous Legion. And yet, Sub-Fleet 2C's new battleship still required an appropriate accompaniment...

The Lapis-class transport ship, coming from the Auraverse, had initially been met with deafening silence in the wake of the "Hash'madah" battleship's banquet. However, against the background of distant stars, the eerie vessels of the Nomadic Legion could be seen silently aligning themselves towards multiple destinations. The majority of the vessels seemed to be pointed towards the Contested Zone, closer to the Reclaimers' side. However, a fraction of the ships- all with similar contours in the empty void of the former heliosphere- could be seen angling off towards the Tyrannia System. And then there was a third group of vessels- which included larger vessels than those found in the second group- which could be seen aligning their hulls to another unidentified solar system. As the Crucilandians started to scatter, two holes in space were spontaneously torn open- one for the first division and one for the second division. The third division of vessels, rather than take advantage of instantaneous travel, instead appeared to elongate until the lengths of its vessels spaghettified into the void before getting sucked away towards their destination.

And so, as the Auraversian vessel watched the procession of the other two groups pass through their respective wormholes, the desolate system of dust and rock was at last devoid of any further excitement.

Edge of the Contested Zone, Dilligence System
All was quiet as the inhabitants of the solar system milled about, living almost in harmony with the ruins of Pre-War Cymopolia. They had been rebuilding ever since the conflict had ended, but as theirs was a system far closer to Reverent-controlled territory, they did not possess many of the feats of megastructural engineering seen in the Grand Circle. Luckily, this meant that it was far easier for the survivors to rebuild, repurposing old ruins into habitable settlements. And now, with new shipyards built atop the ruins of old, they were churning our starships once again. They had reconnected with each other, and reestablished contact with their neighbors in other systems; it would appear that their civilization had reached a degree of stability despite the initial chaos. And, being close to the Galactic South, their naval infrastructure made them out to be valuable supporters of the Reclaimers' armadas.

Then without warning, a large asteroid in their system was split cleanly in half.

A great flash of light formed a perfect ring along the kilometers-wide asteroid's surface as atoms were shattered by the perfect edge of the dimensional tear which passed over them. The two rocky hemispheres parted from one-another, one visible to observers while the other simply disappeared behind what looked to be a flat mirror at first- that is, until sensors picked up the unmistakable halo of a wormhole's periphery. From the other side of the wormhole appeared a small fleet consisting of thousands of warships ranging from meters to kilometers in size, coming closer to its mouth as the asteroid's halves fell away from the rift in space. And as the glare from the nuclear fission reactions slowly faded, a procession of topaz-gold starships could be seen filing out of the great portal. At first, tens of thousands of little orb-like drones spilled into the solar system, immediately swarming over the asteroid halves to process them into hulls. Then along came starfighters and gunships, which banked away and over the surface of the half of the asteroid still falling to one side of the wormhole. And then came the larger vessels, sailing gracefully on a straight path through the void even as some of their hulls came close to scraping the bisected asteroid. The largest of these vessels was a 10-kilometer tall tower that appeared to be more of a mobile space station than a proper starship, joined by its sibling capital which measured 5 kilometers long. As these two behemoths passed through the wormhole, the entire procession of eerie, brassy warships immediately thinned out to a rear escort of smaller vessels. And then, as quickly as it appeared, the wormhole shrank away to nothing.

The Nomadic Legion's Sub-Fleet 2C floated amidst a reasonably dense asteroid belt, which formed an outer belt running at an oblique orbit from the other heavenly bodies. Amidst this belt was a planet of ice and rock named Abscondus, wracked with earthquakes and geothermal activity beneath its surface as it struggled to adjust its ever-changing mass from the asteroids that regularly hit it; prior to the Final Conflict, it was a mining base that captured and dismantled asteroids that strayed into the planet's gravitational well, but now much of its abandoned infrastructure had been pummeled to twisted ruins by asteroids left unchecked. Closer to the sun at the center of the system was a green-tinged gas giant named Barrov, whose atmospheric and oceanic compounds proved useful for chemical engineering and fuel production; a strong effort was made to reclaim this planet by the system's inhabitants, which required entirely new infrastructure since many of the Reverent's stations had fallen to the center of the world in the wake of the Final Conflict. Closer still to the sun was a terrestrial world named Caleph, which was proving to be quite prosperous and productive thanks to being situated between the natural resources found in Barrov and in the inner asteroid belt which lied just a little closer to their sun. And finally, on the other side of the asteroid belt separating it from Caleph, was a toasty little planet called Fudolf; it was a world of ash, smothered in heat both from its active volcanoes and its proximity to the sun, which made it hard for survivors to make a comeback due to the destruction of life support infrastructure.

All in all, it was a beautiful system. A strategic gem for the Reclaimers to capture, but also a banquet of star-matter and souls for the Nomadic Legion.

Unclaimed Sectors, Tyrannia System
On the edge of the heliosphere, yet another wormhole had opened up. The procession of starships comprising Sub-Fleet 2C could be seen flying by the mouth of the wormhole, but in the foreground of the mouth was an entire task unit of some 356 armored transport ships, with 20 drones nestled inside the confines of each vessel. They promptly poured through the portal opened up for them and aligned their pointed noses toward the "planet near Tyrannia that's got lots of organics in it," as Mindstorm put it. The planet in question inhabited the Goldilocks Zone, much like Tyrannia, and bore its own unique biosphere. Scane indicated, however, that the planet's lifeforms shared distant common ancestors with Tyrannia dating back to over a billion years ago, indicating an unprecedented event that managed to transport microbial life from the surface of one planet onto the other. It was a truly riveting history, but for the armored dropships, it paled in comparison to the value of its fauna. Just a quick "ascension" to bring them up to snuff with the Crucilandians' level of sophonce, and then the rudimentary beginnings of a soul would blossom into yet another mighty engine of psionic power... But first, introductions. With the Decepticon's offer only just recently made, the transport vessel which happened to be at the head of the group gave a nonverbal hail to nearby traffic control channels, letting them know it was just them.

A great prize was right at Task Unit 2C-1-A1's fingertips.

Unclaimed Sectors, System G-540
(this section was made in collaboration with Arkeyana)

Although the stars ahead compressed and distorted around them, all seemed dimensionally normal within the topaz hulls of Task Unit 2C-1-A2's vessels. Anyone with the ability to see superluminal objects could have been forgiven for mistaking them for giant flying space-noodles, owing to their utterly spaghettified shape, but despite the ludicrous speed the Crucilandians were moving at, they still had more than enough time to tailor their entrance into the solar system where the ASV London's warp signature was last detected. The brief lensing effect of their warp drives as they moved about was muted by their remote energy distortion fields, which bent optical emissions opposite to which the lensing had done in order to negate their warp signature. This same process also caused light and other forms of energy to bend around their hulls across all spectra, causing the vessels to essentially disappear from any sensors which captured electromagnetic or thermal emissions. The spatial and gravimetric means of detection were likewise thwarted by virtue of using gradual-spool warp drives, whose method of easing vessels into warp afforded very little discrepancy in the measurements of gravitational wells and spatial ripples.

And now, gradually slowing down until they came out of warp, the Task Unit broke into two formations- a vanguard posted at the edge of the heliosphere using superluminal imaging to acquire real-time data, and a tiny rear guard posted a light-hour away from the system in order to view the Arkeyanan science vessel's entire time spent in the system. Together, they studied the past and present in order to compile data for the Decepticons.

London was going through their scans of the system, organizing their data and shuffling it away into various categories and sub-categories, when their sensors picked up an...anomaly. A slight gravitational ripple, not strong enough to have come from a black hole pair or neutron star binary. London, after some consideration, sent out a simple signal in the general direction the ripple came from.

Code: Select all: "Hello?"

Like a drop of water hitting a pond, the muted graviton wave spread across the fabric of space until it reached the London's sensors. Yet within those precious minutes before it made the journey, Task Unit 2C-1-A2 had acquired uninterrupted footage of the ASV London's activities in the system. As soon as this surveillance had begun, a transmission was suddenly picked up by Mindstorm. It didn't seem to come from anywhere, owing to the lack of any projected energy signature- even accounting for quantum entanglement- but still it was picked up nonetheless. In the transmission were two labeled video feeds- one recording footage of London in real time, and one recording footage of the system one light-hour ago. The realtime footage was zoomed in on the London, having a certain "lucid" quality around the periphery of the feed which was quite unlike the distortion normally seen from optic zooming or gravitational phenomena; it could best be described as an artifact of clairvoyant imaging. Off to the side of the transmissions was a data feed, describing the activity of the vessel's systems; data was being picked up by the London's sensors, where the electrical current produced by the sensors' computers was traced running through the wires and circuits. In virtually no time at all, this data current led to the central computer aboard the vessel, where it bounced between memory modules before being filed into its long-term memory... While the mechanism through which Cruciland acquired this data was highly aberrant, the end-result was a deep scan of the science vessel. What it revealed to Mindstorm at that exact moment was that the ASV London was simply scanning and documenting the solar system- just as its designation as a "science vessel" would predict.

But now, things were getting interesting. The ASV London had just broadcasted a message out towards the Crucilandians; the signal sent betrayed a sense of uncertainty, indicating that while the Task Unit had not been spotted, the spatial anomaly from their sudden appearance in the system was at least detected. Keeping their cloaks up, the vessels remained still, unwilling to give their query any further sign of their presence in the system. Like birdwatchers, they wished to leave their query completely undisturbed... for what non-Crucilandians would call "the foreseeable future," at least. And so, London dismissed the signal, logging it as a sensor glitch, before continuing their scans. The hexagonal vessel observed the various things around the system, unnmoving, relying solely on sensors to do their work.

As the remote viewing of the science vessels' systems went deeper and deeper, the scans the Crucilandians were broadcasting showed the interior layout of the ship, but the functions of some devices had yet to appear in the data feed. There were some components that resembled Alcubierre drives, a vast internal space that could be assumed to be a hangar or habitat of some sort, a small cluster of what might be fusion reactors, but no cooling system in sight... and some bizarre, spherical object whose internal components and properties stubbornly refused to come up for the Decepticons at all. Further probing was needed to ascertain the exact nature of these devices, or the contents of whatever is analogous to the ship's encrypted hard drive, but it may have to wait- the Arkeyanan science vessel was not going to linger in this system any longer.

Content with it's scans, London began spinning up it's Cutter Drive, the ship's power levels beginning to spike as it scanned the surrounding stars for another destination.

by **The Auraverse** » Fri Oct 18, 2019 11:35 am

ISV Caeruleum, Bridge

In the pocket of non-space that made up his control center, Hatlen observed - if indeed, his method of sensing could even be construed as such. The Crucilandians had departed, and yet their trajectories could very well be approximated. Nikolach was... not doing particularly well. His survival would not be of any particular concern, but the Irentonians were a potential vector of disruption. Still, should they execute their traitors, they may well leave the system - the Director had few issues with either outcome. But now, the faux-scouts had to be dealt with. Hatlen tapped his chin thoughtfully. They were primarily there as vectors of interaction, really - their actual sensor readings provided little in the way of the unknown. Still, additional data was always useful, for one would not do well to rely on calculations alone. They would also present themselves as a useful tool in the event of escalation - while the likelihood of such was doubtful, an in-potentia force concentration at his beck and call was very much a tangible benefit. Now, where to direct them...

Mynatoth

The lone Lapis vessel did not idle for long. Mere seconds after the Crucilandian fleets departed, it began to shimmer - as its outline grew indistinct, something seemed to push its way out through the hull - a pair of oblong shapes. In one final burst of motion, the ship re-solidified - now, it had been joined by a pair of identical-looking vessels. This sort of thing could only be done a limited number of times, of course - after a while, the layers of distension would become inherently unstable. But merely fitting two in one was perfectly adequate. Now, the three scouts aligned, each on their own directional axis. The original ship was slowly suffused by a nebulous warp corona, and promptly blinked out of its current position - a sharp-eyed observer would have noted its bearing to approximate a course to the Reclaimers' side of the Contested Zone. The other two followed suit, tailing the remaining two Crucilandian fleet groups.

Now Mynatoth truly was dead. Fragments of asteroid still drifted ever further from the former resting place of their star.

G-540

A Lapis unit warped into existence rather violently. No contacts within hazardous range were present - as such, no care was taken to alleviate the tidal discharge. Nearby vessels would have been likely to suffer grievous surface damage at the very least. And yet, the few ships that were here did not feel its impact - that being said, they were almost certainly aware of the scout's arrival. With this in mind, the Lapis drifted for a few hundred kilometers more, before depositing a small satellite-like object. This was, in fact, a navigation beacon, and its signature was far more obvious than even that of the newly-arrived transport. Its initial sensor pulse was especially egregious in that regard, and as such it was during this pulse that the Lapis deployed an additional object.

A comparatively tiny thing, barely a meter or so across. Its camouflage systems had already been engaged, and as such its deployment would have been nigh-impossible to trace even without the "coincidental" masking pulse. Synthetic Aura nodes, embedded into its nanomechanical body, allowed for the temporary conversion of the object's material mass into a sort of halfway state of non-interaction - neither visible light nor any form of non-Aura based sensing medium could interact with it in any meaningful way. Of course, this made it entirely useless in any sort of combat setting, and would be nigh-impossible to utilize in atmospheric conditions alongside an appropriate propulsion method - but then, neither of these caveats aligned with its intended role. For this was a Rider - a tool of espionage, and of intelligence-gathering. No onboard sensors of its own save a basic array of passive receptors, its true potential lay in its function as a locational marker for the Director's ever-expanding informationscape projection.

The Lapis drifted away from the site of deployment, before vanishing in another burst of warp static. It would follow a pre-ordered course, depositing similar nav-beacons in designated systems. Its other payload, however, had been unique to this one. Undetected, the Rider allowed Hatlen to take note of the London's preparations for departure, and act accordingly. The silent shape moved into position, practically touching the Laniakean hull - but then, it could not touch. Its actions would, in effect, integrate it into the larger vessel's FTL slipstream. It now existed not as matter, but as a sort of semi-conceptual ghost - as such, latching onto something as nebulous as a vector of translocation was not a particularly difficult task. True to its designation, the Rider would indeed ride along. For whose benefit, save the Syndicate's, was not yet clear.

Uchro 31

And here, another scout made its entrance. In a far more restrained manner - the purpose of its visit, after all, was to interface with an already-present entity. The Eastlander was immediately located, if not exactly identified - the K-sphere's ship design philosophy ensured that its purpose would remain at least somewhat enigmatic. As such, the Lapis approached with a cautious hail.

Code: Select all: This is the ISV Fenestrane, transport vessel of the Azure Syndicate. Please identify yourself for the purpose of further interaction.

The shipboard control processes were crude, relatively speaking. As was their current method of communication. But their actions were still guided by Hatlen in a semi-direct manner - should he wish to utilize this vessel as a one-to-one proxy, he very well could. There wasn't much call for it at the moment, however. And so the transport idled, awaiting a response.

by **Kasa Tkoth Sphere** » Mon Oct 21, 2019 2:48 pm

Apart from the sparse misting of nanoprobes throughout Uchro 31 G's atmosphere, oceans, and soil, very little about the planet was recognizable as unnatural. With only hours since the uplift began, the ecosystem had hardly changed; predators hunted, prey ran away, and the amphibian bipeds who had organized into tribes didn't suddenly find themselves developing any new technology. But that was only the nature of these things; stabilizing an expanding mind took months of careful signal-splitting and cluster-forming, as faster methods interfered too much with the emerging consciousness's ability to decide freely for itself whether to upload.

If this procedure was drawing local attention, then the planet may have been valuable - perhaps a wildlife preserve or civilization farm, given the dense and advanced animal population. Otherwise, it might merely have been that Eastlander wasn't as quiet as intended and the new visitors were more advanced in terms of detection capability than anticipated.

Establishing which of these cases was more likely true involved a question.

This is Kasa Tkoth Sphere spacecraft Eastlander, conducting planetary operations.

No present entry exists for an Azure Syndicate in local records. Is such a civilization or society native to this region?

"We have to do something, you know. People are going to start dying really quick."

The white-haired girl beside Taizz-Ca nodded. She stepped aside to let an older man with a diamond pattern on his shirt through. "It's... frustrating to decide these things sometimes. I can't burn the energy on trying to defuse a long-term war without more time to prepare, but that just means it gets worse in the interim."

"Those golden fleets are causing a utilitarian crisis, aren't they? You're going to help the FIs start shadowing them, right?"

In the distance, people ran between star-shaped marks on the cold marble floor, shouting orders back and forth and tracing lines to follow, several abstractions away, the rampaging, dispersed elements of the Nomadic Legion.

"That's not the job of a warship," she said to the Freed mind at last, after watching them for a while. "We have to neutralize threats."

Taizz-Ca frowned as they kept walking. Below them loomed the outskirts of a particular star labeled SESCHO. The representation of the FCM that he was talking to stopped. "We all know the situation here's about to boil over. Big brother Heroes let us all know ahead of time, Hod ran the calcs, everyone's gonna want to be here soon enough. We just have to... do something."

She clapped twice. In a flurry of unfolding shapes, a crowd of small children surrounded the Freed and the warship, noisily striking up conversations and pushing each other around. A hundred and eighty in total, he knew. He could list off their names by heart. Which of the Freed who were following this ship's adventures couldn't? They were idols, really, whether you filtered them as humans or AI subcomponents or aliens of whatever sort you wished.

"Alright, everyone!" shouted the girl, quieting them all down. "You're all going to stay with me unless we have to enter a standard engagement. And what does that mean for all of you?"

"We're not fighters," they all said in what was supposed to be unison but was as disorganized as one would expect from a chorus of so many kids, "we guide the missiles and scram the bad guys."

"And if you're hurt?"

"We don't stay where we are."

"Alright, that's it; good job, everyone. We're hopping in three, two, one..."

She tapped the star below her with her foot.

And a few layers of abstraction lower, past all of the mindgames the Freed played on themselves with the help of their ASI supervisor, beyond any personality or community or roleplay, a small-winged polyhedral ship, about three hundred meters long, with a black hull and a massive hangar, quietly slipped out of the mathematical realm of complex phase space and into physical space a hundred AUs from the Lasolac.

Its name, as if anyone except some of the Freed cared about that, was FCM Toy Fighter, Gently Used.

by **Cruciland** » Fri Nov 01, 2019 9:38 pm

Unclaimed Sectors, Tyrannia System
Unbidden, Task Unit 2C-1-A1 streaked through the system at relativistic speeds towards the second terrestrial world found in the Tyrannia System. And as they entered the Goldilocks Zone, drawing near to the planet, the energy fields surrounding its vessels- constantly twisted and manipulated at the behest of their psionic pilots- experienced a great flux as their masters willed them to decelerate. All 356 of the "Hatzalah" armored dropships slowed their approach at once, coming to a comfortable velocity of less than a percent the speed of light upon reaching the high orbit of their target. They had a clear, non-clairvoyant view of every speck of life on the planet; a gorgeous, hardy biosphere which would make for many a fitting arcology, with complex animals whose intelligence was sufficient to convert into viable "Black-Collar" citizens. The collar designation went back to the founding of Cruciland, when uplifted animals possessing human-like intelligence (and even physical attributes) were being integrated into society. They were legally treated as equals, but citizens were given color-coded designations on their IDs to distinguish between transhumans and uplifted animals; anthropomorphism had muddled the distinction between Man and Beast, which threw anti-bestiality laws into turmoil for many long years. Such laws were fought over by the more "liberal" sects within the days of the Empire, debating over the different characteristics between the demographic groups' souls and the merits of reproductive compatibility among anthropomorphic individuals. But in the end, the old "White-Collar, Black-Collar" stigma remained in the legal codex even into the age of posthumanism and extreme uplifting.

And now, an influx of Black-Collar citizens was going to be imported from Tyrannia II.

At once, the armored dropships projected their energy fields down towards the surface of the planet, acting as immense tractor beams as they pulled a tiny portion of the atmosphere up towards their cargo bays. Thereafter, they would then proceed to rip up soil and water samples in order to reconstruct the environment which lifeforms there inhabited. Additionally, about a dozen species were selected for uplifting, wherein certain fully-grown members of their kind would be abducted and nanomechanically augmented; they were transported in shielded pockets of air gathered by the remote energy distortion systems to preserve them as they rose up to the dropships stationed in high orbit. Meanwhile, the drones poured out of said cargo bays and flew down towards the planet, looking to take samples of spores, pollen, nuts, sperm, ova, microbes, and small fauna in order to reconstruct the fine details of the ecosystems. A contingent of drones was sent to each region of the planet's continents and seas to gather a broad sample; any gaps in the niches of their reconstructed environments would then be patched in through the neo-evolution of collected organisms. Some vessels filled their cargo bays earlier than others, and so left their drones to finish collecting samples while they warped away to deposit them back inside of the "Sibyl" command ship...

Which was now at the edge of the Contested Zone.

Edge of the Contested Zone, Diligence System
(this section was made in collaboration with Pax Cybertronian)

On a Reclaimer outpost, life was usual. Nothing much came up since the outpost was set up a year after the Final Conflict, on a moon orbiting the gas giant Barrov. It was usually some routine checks that Stak ordered them to conduct to prevent the ship from accidentally exploding or some other unfortunate circumstance. This time, however, was different.

The Diligence system was important to the Reclaimers. It was considered to be a strategic gem by the government, especially because of the damaged mining facility located on an icy planet known to them as Abscondus. It was purported by Stak that the old Reverent government had constructed several mining factories here to chip away at the nearby asteroids for resources, yet it had been abandoned due to the Final Conflict breaking out, killing most of both factions.

Suddenly, the outpost detected a fleet of new arrivals in the system. Scrambling to attention, the outpost leader swept his hair to one side and barked into the viewscreen.

"Unidentified vessels! Uh... You're entering Reclaimer space. Identify yourselves at once!"

On the viewscreen where Sub-Fleet 2C could be seen, the fleet was observed branching out, seeming to follow the orbital path of the outer asteroid belt. The innumerable tiny dots which were their ultralight drones could be seen orbiting larger craft, with the manned craft-sized vessels flanking their larger brethren in turn. As the myriad vessels split into two flanks, all that remained at the point of entry into the system were the two capital ships... The asteroid they had cleaved in half, however, was nowhere to be seen. And in a deliberate, graceful motion, the angular prow of the dreadnought aligned to point directly at the star of the Dilligence system- as if the five-kilometer vessel was the needle of a compass. It was during this naval maneuver that the Reclaimers sent their signal out to the Nomadic Legion- and for establishing first contact with the topaz-gold fleet, they were promptly rewarded with...

Silence. Radio silence.

"Right, so..." the outpost leader said. "I'll contact Stak." He quickly changed the channel on the viewscreen and opened communications with High Admiral Stak. He waited a few seconds for the screen. "This is Diligence Outpost Overseer Ksata, sir. We've got a topaz-gold foreign fleet attacking the Diligence system," he reported. "They trespassed on our territory and haven't responded to our hails." The High Admiral was short and to the point with his subordinate commander. "Right," Stak responded. "Ask them again. I'll alert our allies. Be prepared for hostilities." It was a satisfactory answer; help would be on the way, if they would just hold their ground. "Very good, sir," the outpost leader said, turning off the transmission. With a sigh, he turned on a transmission to the Crucilandians once more.

"We'll say this again. You've intruded on Reclaimer space and you aren't a known ally of us. Who are you? Identify yourselves at once."

Barely any time had passed since the second transmission had gone out before a new kind of activity was observed in the outer belt of the Diligence System- and sadly, it wasn't a reply to Overseer Ksata's transmission. As the two flanks accelerated along the orbital path, the asteroids in the belt were... gravitating towards them? Although it was exceedingly difficult to analyze the exact nature of this phenomenon, it was easy to guess that the topaz vessels were employing technology analogous to a tractor beam. Other asteroids were only barely getting sucked in, while still others which drifted over one astronomical unit away retained their trajectories- for now. Yet, even though the small fleet did not seem to be drawing them in, they were going to interact with their environment in another way. From the Dilligence Outpost's viewscreen, a great number of hull breaches could be seen forming on the surfaces of each of the larger vessels. At first it seemed like the vessels were just creating holes and pushing out chunks of their armor, but then it dawned on the Reclaimers as the topaz vessels released a very large quantity of small, self-propelled objects into the vacuum of space...

Oh shit, they're firing missiles at them!

The initial fear of an attack quickly died down, however, as the veritable swarm of projectiles promptly aligned and veered off in different directions, none of which was toward the Diligence Outpost or the gas giant it orbited. Although only a slow burn to the Crucilandians, they accelerated very rapidly, acquiring dizzying speeds equal to a fraction of the speed of light as they rocketed towards the more distant asteroids in the Diligence System's outer belt. And then, the tower-like capital ship began to shimmer slightly. The missiles also appeared to shimmer, before stretching along their length and zooming beyond what the speed of light would allow observation of; leaving nothing behind but a redshifted afterimage, they had greatly reduced their travel time to whatever part of the outer belt they were traveling towards.

Meanwhile, as the closest asteroids drew near, the tiny dots swarming around the larger vessels moved ahead of their larger cousins, appearing to accelerate as if slingshot towards the ice and rock formations. And then, before the asteroids were pulled all the way to the advancing drones, they simply... fragmented. Breaking apart into smaller and smaller pieces, increasing their surface area for what could be assumed to be processing by the tiny flying drones. Although by no means a certainty, the behavior of this fleet was becoming quite characteristic of a massive-scale mining operation- and a very flagrant one at that, to just start stripping an asteroid belt clean right in front of a military outpost.

Was the eerie topaz fleet daring the Reclaimers to attack them? Were they setting up an attack of their own, right before Overseer Ksata's eyes? Or did their kind just not recognize the mode of communication the Reclaimers were transmitting?

"The hell? They're fragmenting asteroids and they're not talking to us at all?" Ksata said. "Fine. I suppose we'll have to treat them as hostiles."

Meanwhile in the Levia, the crewmen and crew-women scuttled around the ship's elongated bridge as Stak prepared to make a message to his allies. "Transmission's up, sir. Ready when you are." Stak nodded at the crewmember and turned to face the viewscreen. "Allies of the Reclaimers. I have an urgent message for you all. Ksata of Diligence Reclaimer Outpost-6 has attempted to contact a fleet attacking our territory. They've failed to answer our hails as well. As such, it seems that we'll have to engage in combat, and we won't relent either. Assistance with dealing with these hostiles may be necessary." The message sent, Stak sat down in his chair and waited for his allies to respond.

Unclaimed Sectors, Autobot fleet
(this section was made in collaboration with Pax Cybertronian)

In the Autobot fleet, Optimus nodded and turned to face a blue and yellow Maximal who seemed to transform into what humans would refer to as a manta ray. "Depth Charge," he began to ask, "I need you to send a sub-fleet out to the Diligence system. Our allies have asked for help." Depth Charge nodded with a "Yes, my Prime" and walked to his post. Within a few minutes, the orders were given to have an Autobot sub-fleet jettison warp over to the Diligence system. A few more minutes passed and the sub-fleet finally moved out of the capital ship, the dreadnaughts and the battleships' hangars (or just warped on command if they were too large to safely fit inside a hangar) and warped over to the Diligence system.

Edge of the Contested Zone, Diligence System
(this section was made in collaboration with Pax Cybertronian and Arkeyana)

Inside the Prodigy of Velnara, the dreadnaught in command of the expedition, the Autobot commander lazed about. He presumed it to be nothing noteworthy; just some cocky starships who wanted to conquer the star system ignorant of the consequences of that endeavour. As such, he was shocked when he discovered a large fleet of Crucilandian warships to have been the perpetrators of this incident. Scrambling to the viewscreen, he adjusted his helmet and weapons, coughed and prepared to converse with the Crucilandians just as Reclaimer reinforcements arrived. "This is Rear Admiral Ironheart of the Autobot Commonwealth. We have received knowledge of your intrusion into this star system thanks to our Reclaimer allies. You have consistently failed to answer their hails and I wouldn't be surprised if there was some intimidation used as well. Identify yourselves at once and we won't have to become hostile."

Ironheart sighed and awaited their response, if any.

By the time Rear Admiral Ironheart had transmitted his message, the drones had gathered around the asteroid fragments. As they milled about their surfaces, the fragments appeared to disappear, being blotted out of existence as the ultralight drones performed a kind of fine manipulation on the rocky bodies... Then one of the swarms of drones which had been covering the asteroid began to disperse. As the few still lingering where the asteroid fragment should've been passed between the Prodigy of Velnara and a star, the star promptly winked out of existence despite no asteroid being there to occlude it. And as quickly as it winked out, the star reappeared as the stragglers drifted away from it! Evidently, the asteroid fragments were being turned into blackbodies- mirroring what scans of the Crucilandian fleet would yield, except also completely black on the visible spectrum too. By comparing the signature of the blackbodies to the hard vacuum of space, however, one could trace its contours- and they appeared to be morphing into different shapes!

They did not appear to be ceasing their activities.

The threat of hostility did, however, provoke a response from the topaz-gold fleet. The two flanks of Sub-Fleet 2C accelerated in the reverse direction to slow down their craft, and proceeded to maneuver around each other such that the clusters of starships in each flank were all facing the Reclaimers and Autobots- which is to say, primarily facing towards the interior of the heliosphere, from their positions in the outer belt. The wall-like formations of either flank exposed all of the vessels to the potential hostiles, almost as if they were organizing their forces into a... oh no.

A single message reached Ksata and Ironheart: "You are addressing Sub-Fleet 2C of the Nomadic Legion of Cruciland. Your willingness to interrupt our activities has been acknowledged."

"And your willingness to refuse our allies' hails numerous times has also been acknowledged, as it appears," Ironheart responded. "Now, since we have your attention: you've intruded unannounced in an ally's territory. Now, why have you come to this star system?" No sooner had the message been sent did Ironheart receive a reply from whoever- or whatever- was representing the sub-fleet. "We detected life in this galaxy- life which is eager to extinguish one-another. We require materials in order to prevent this needless extermination, as has happened in Cymopolia's recent past," the transmission stated. What was thought to be distortion in the signal had been too consistent as the topaz vessels continued communicating; it sounded as if there was a ghostly reverb in the individual's voice, even as it was filtered through what sounded like a radio-compressor. Evidently, these were not "baseline" creatures- and there was still no telling how far advanced the vessels were beyond the use of wormholes, warp fields, and mass-grapplers... This could have been a more precarious situation than anticipated.

Another wormhole erupted as a Gladian Scout appeared. A rather small ship, only ninety or so meters long, it quietly hovers in orbit of the system's gas giant. A hail is sent to the Reclaimers: "This is the Laniakean Alliance Scout-craft Elder. Present to monitor the situation and effect evacuations if necessary." Ksata waited a second before responding. The implications of this craft appearing were quite promising- the safeguarding of his charge. "There shouldn't be any need at the moment," he responded to the Laniakean vessel. "Everything's under control so far." After hearing this, the Autobot turned to face the Crucilandian sub-fleet. "You claim that you want to gain resources to stop another Final Conflict from breaking out, but how do we know you won't just attack the Reclaimers here?" Ironheart responded. "They seemed to try to intimidate us as well," Ksata chimed in. "They fired several missiles at us, but they veered off into different directions. This was after numerous attempts by us to contact them and they failed to respond. Our scanners originally detected it as a threat yet they veered off. I'm not sure that it was an intimidation tactic, mind, but it's worth considering." The towering Autobot stopped to consider this for a second, then decided to add onto his line of questioning. "Actually... we have a question for you," Ironheart said. "You say you want materials from this star system, but what's stopping you from gathering it elsewhere?"

"Preventing the extermination of sentient life can be accomplished in several ways," came the reply. "One can mediate a peaceful resolution to the conflict, forcibly separate the involved parties from one-another, give them a distraction to take their minds off of exterminating themselves, improve their technology so they may find other ways to settle their differences, devolve them or their society so they do not have the means to wage war, or even assimilate them both into a third party." There was an ominous weight to the voice's inflection of that last possibility. "We could have picked any star in this galaxy to gather resources from. We could have also picked any of the options listed to prevent a second galaxy-spanning war in Cymopolia. But, we have an existentially important reason for our harvesting actions in this system..." As the transmission played over the Prodigy of Velnara, the blackbodies which were once asteroids in the rapidly-dissolving outer belt finally stopped changing their contours, and were observed aligning of their own accord towards the other side of the Diligence System's outer belt. Evidently, the Crucilandians were not showing any signs of slowing down their work even as they made conversation.

Elsewhere, on the other side of the asteroid belt, the missiles deployed by the Crucilandian vessels finally slowed down to sub-light speeds. At first, only their noses could be clearly observed- the rest of their bodies still spaghettified as they caught up with their front ends- but before one could even blink, the rest of their bodies had snapped back into normal relativity unscathed. Thousands of projectiles moving in excess of 0.99c had dispersed to cover as much of the distal half of the outer belt as possible, and each one of them had a specific asteroid it was moving in a straight line toward. They all appeared to be on a path which would make them collide at the same time; for any sensors which could pick up the projectiles which had just warped there, it was quite easy to count down the time to impact...

Ironheart noticed the inflection in the Crucilandian's voice when he brought up the assimilation of other lifeforms. Before he was going to speak about that, he was interrupted by Overseer Ksata. "We've constructed installations throughout this system to repair the damage done by the war, and to use its resources," he said, unsure if he should mention this. "What's stopping you from attacking them?"

"Ah, yes- you have noticed that we did not immediately go for your people," the voice replied to the Overseer. The seconds were ticking by. The stars on the borders of the blackbodies' contours shimmered and distorted, in a manner similar to the warp fields which appeared around the projectiles that zoomed to the other side of the heliosphere. "It is easier to secure resources which are not being defended. We see no reason to cut our losses and pull out, but if so, we will still have a net increase of materials..." A dramatic pause. The machinery-shaped blackbodies could be observed spaghettifying and disappearing, warping to the far side of the outer asteroid belt. "...But for now, you have deduced that we pose an existential threat to your people. I suppose this is the part where you would find it imperative to repel us." As if on cue, the missiles previously fired by Sub-Fleet 2A made contact with their asteroid targets. Massive graviton waves gave way to spatial lensing as the warp fields inverted, preventing the annihilation of the rocky bodies and allowing the projectiles' payloads to do their work. In an instant, they and the stars behind them were blotted out from view- lost in the blackbody cloud of hyperdimensionally-compacted nanomachines which were stored snugly in warheads just milliseconds ago. The full-scale assimilation of the other side of the outer belt was now underway.

It would take some time for STL sensors to reveal this, but for those with FTL sensory capabilities, it was clear that the Nomadic Legion had just boxed the entire Diligence System in.

by **The Auraverse** » Sat Nov 02, 2019 12:11 pm

ISV Caeruleum, Bridge

Hatlen was... making tea. Or at the very least, conceptually assembling the idea of tea. In a place such as this, even that definition was an uncertain one, and as an action it was wholly unnecessary - still, he liked to occupy his body with something to do. Ghostly afterimages of delicate porcelain and fractal streams of pseudoboiling pseudowater danced in his hands as he went about his work. If a casual observer had been present, they would have likely been the first non-transapient to witness what the essence of a teacup looked like when distended through untold volumes of extraspatial processing mesh... and then suffered a brain hemorrhage soon after, because there was a reason non-transapients weren't accustomed to viewing such things.

Meanwhile, outside the confines of Hatlen's personal bubble of un-space, things were getting interesting...

Edge of the Contested Zone, Diligence System

The Lapis entered the system in a rather subdued manner - it took care to contain the inevitable wake-blast it produced upon sublight deceleration, and on the whole strove to run its systems in a manner that, while entirely meaningless when faced with the sensory power of the Crucilandians, would make it very difficult for those with less complex sensing arrangements to take note of its presence.

Across the reaches of informationspace, Hatlen took in the transmissions being bounced back and forth. The Crucilandian side of things was difficult to gauge, but they were directing their data at systems far less complex than their own, aiding in the interception of meaning, at the very least. And so it was that he noted the impending blockade - acting so quickly as to lend an entirely new meaning to the word, he relayed a multifaceted node of information to the Lapis. Instructions, guidelines... parameters.

Acting on orders received, the scout craft now did quite a few things simultaneously. First and foremost, a transmission was directed at the Crucilandian fleet grouping - tailored to frequencies and transit methodologies known to be inaccessible to the decidedly more primitive parties within the system. As common practice, its phrasing and encryption were comparatively simple - the beginnings of that age-old game of minds.

Code: Select all: To the representative cohort of the Crucilandian party: This is the ISV Tenebrous, currently serving as emissary and representative of the Azure Syndicate. The Syndicate as an entity expresses its desire to initiate informational contact/exchange procedures, for the mutual benefit of both parties involved. It must be stressed that the Syndicate has no interest in hindering Crucilandian assimilation procedures within this system at the present time, and will only respond with hostile intent if such is initially expressed by the Crucilandian representative cohort.

At the same time that the hail was dispatched, the Lapis performed a series of internal adjustments. Foldspace vectors slid into alternative positions, so to speak, and a system initially intended for the safe containment of matter within non-Euclidean boundaries was partially repurposed into something a little more pertinent. The Lapis was travelling light in any case - it was currently unmanned, and any crucial internal payloads could adequately be contained within backup zones. Now, it had established itself as something of a beacon - though without the capacity for sophisticated Aural sensing, this was in no way obvious. It had also created an impromptu subspatial tunnel within itself, the exact purpose and destination of which were presently unclear.

As the blackbodies settled into their predesignated arrangement, the Lapis sat and waited.

Unknown Location(?), outside conventional space

Everything was blue.

That was the first thing that had stood out to Dr. Minnagh upon arrival here. Well, arrival wasn't really the right term - it was probably impossible to arrive in a location that wasn't strictly speaking extant. The usual void of space was now... sky-blue. Except it was no longer a void - it was somehow more vacuous than a void could possibly be. Despite the vibrant coloration, there was an overreaching sense of emptiness for which no actual explanation had yet been found. She would know, she'd checked the research logs. The second thing that had stood out to her was how movement now worked - or rather, didn't. It was nowhere near as noticeable within the ships themselves, but the EVA suits had far more fallible stabilization arrays. The first time she had seen one of the maintenance personnel make their way through the un-void outside in that awful, fractal stop-motion, she had to reroute her oesophagus to avoid throwing up.

At least the warships moved semi-normally, simply because they didn't actually move. Alcubierre propulsion tended to make its surrounding environment seem semi-normal by comparison, and the great towers were difficult to discern amidst their tidal bubbles. That alone was a blessing - though she'd grown semi-accustomed to this hideous perversion of motion by now, she would still rather not see the warping, distending details on each and every one of the behemoths constantly coming and going in every direction.

Now she made her way along the winding corridors of the ISV Muriatic, striving to keep her mood from plummeting. She'd be out of this questionably-extant hellscape soon, and onto greener pastures... well, forests. From what the surveys had shown, anyway. And probably not quite green - still, somewhere with plants. With life. She'd be far calmer then. She passed a few colleagues on the way to her quarters - presenting them with half-hearted waves and tired greetings, she steeled herself for the pre-deployment preparations that were about to consume a lot more of her time than she'd like. Still, there was no easy way around it, at least for her. It was at times like these that she envied some of her colleagues, just a little - those that had reduced themselves to constructs of thought, or echoes in machinery, conglomerations of data for whom speed of processing was a non-issue.

And then there was the Director himself... she shuddered just a little. She had actually seen him in person quite recently, and he had been amicable enough. And there was that time, so many years ago that years now seemed irrelevant, when he had pulled her from the societal brink. Given her purpose. Allowed her to experience all this. But there was something about him that made her uneasy, even now. Some imperceptible element of humanity he had long-since shed. She supposed that she, too, could only fit into the definition of "human" in the loosest sense possible at this point. But she couldn't stomach the thought of shedding her physical form in its entirety, or following in Hatlen's footsteps and becoming... whatever he was now. She liked her body. She'd put quite a bit of effort into it. With a little glandular adjustment, she sent a few hundred milligrams of caffeine into her bloodstream, and resigned herself to the labours ahead.

And it was not long after that the needle-like fuselage of the Acus-class vessel reoriented itself. Xoltos was, on a universal scale, not far - neither was anywhere else, really. Distance meant very little here. Its hull began to ripple and warp, enveloping itself in the now-familiar bubble of semi-corporealized mathematics that would allow for transit back into realspace. With a final, silent thunderclap of force, it was gone. And its target system now sped towards it, relativistically speaking.

Unclaimed Sectors, Tyrannia System

This second Lapis did not, strictly speaking, enter its target system. It never even exited FTL - instead, it dispersed a number of... entities, while still propelled by its distension bubble at velocities sufficient to rend conventional matter apart through sheer tidal force. Thankfully, the aforementioned entities were not composed of matter at the moment.

Ten Riders were deployed in total - via careful vector-locking, they inched their way towards the Crucilandian vessels, unbidden and hopefully undetected. Several of them made note of the FTL wakes previously exhibited by the golden ships, and would use them to extrapolate the positioning of subsequent jumps, should further tailing be required.

The Tyrannia detachment of the Crucilandian fleet now found itself unwittingly enriched by a few passive observers.

Uchro 31

The third Lapis processed the Eastlander's response, though really that was a mere formality at this point. Hatlen himself had already gone over it long before the relevant circuits within the scout ship had begun to fire, and now issued a second hail-by-proxy.

Code: Select all: The Syndicate is not native to this region, nor to this galaxy. Its current investment in the area is limited to an observational and diplomatic cohort, one element of which you are currently interacting with. If possible, please state the scope and intent of your planetary operations, alongside your current disposition to foreign parties (including but not limited to the Syndicate).

The scout resumed idling, even as Hatlen extended his imperceptible tendrils of pseudo-sensory calculation towards the planet. He would proceed to analyze it, molecule by molecule if he had to. A single planet was hardly much of a resource investment, and even if the Eastlander did answer as to its intent... it wouldn't be amiss to verify the honesty of its claims.

by **Arkeyana** » Sat Nov 16, 2019 6:49 pm

Veilara III, high orbit
Krusskena's communicator would chirp, all of a sudden, as a message appeared.

Krusskena. The Alliance has a proposal to discuss. A shuttle will be arriving to pick up a New Circle diplomat in ~3 standard hours. Armed escorts are unnecessary.
-ASI 'Utopia'

Krusskena noticed an alert on his communicator: a message from the Laniakeans requesting an alliance. He nodded and decided to quickly respond.

"A diplomat - Kovakak - will be assigned to you shortly."

Three hours later
There was a flash of white light as a small spacecraft appeared. Forty-six meters long and a wingspan of fifty, it resembled a dark grey wedge, no identifying marks...or engines, for that matter.

"Veilara III Ground Control, this is the LAS To wander 'mongst the stars, requesting permission to land."

After three hours passed, Kovakak - an orangish humanoid alien with medium-length hair, who was wearing a black and white tuxedo - noticed the arrival of the Laniakean vessel. Alerting the To wander 'mongst stars to his position and granting them permission to land, he awaited their arrival.

The sleek shuttlecraft descended effortlessly through the atmosphere, not relying on shields to part the plasma sheath around it like the [i]Porpoise did. It swiftly dropped below the sound barrier as it approached the spaceport, soon after a full stop in the air above Kovakak and descending to the ground, front facing him. The previously featureless and smooth hull slid open in a stunning display of razor-sharp points, delicate lines, and liquid silver, before a series of "Steps" descended from the gap, each levitating above the ground.
Intriuged, Kovakak glazed over the stairs the ship possessed and then, adjusting his suit, proceeded to walk up the stairs to the ship's entrance. As the ship's hull slid back, closing itself, Kovakak looked around, waiting to see when any of its occupants would notice him.
The shuttle was abandoned, although obviously designed for multiple passengers. Ahead of him was a corridor with doors on either side, all locked. A voice sounded from nowhere and everywhere at once, friendly and chirpy.
"Hi, I am 'To wander 'mongst the stars', you can call me Wander for short. Behind you is the observation deck, if you'd be so inclined to go there, take a seat, and watch the journey. As since this isn't a longjump or relativistic cruise, the Cabins are not in use."
It said.

"Okay, uh... Wander..." Kovakak responded. "Do you know where the orbital facility is? What system is it in?"

"I will be taking you to the rendezvous point, where you will be briefed on the details of the deal. The actual system will not be visited."
Kovakak would feel a slight vibration under his feet as the shuttle took off, feeling next to no sensations as it ascended through the atmosphere at first subsonic, then supersonic, and then hypersonic speeds before it finally reached orbit.
"The Cutter Drive will be activating shortly." Wander chirped.

"Cutter drive?" Kovakak responded, confused. Perhaps it was some form of FTL drive? "That's a form of faster-than-light travel, right?"
"My FTL drive. I could go into detail on it but I doubt you're here for a lecture on high-level physics. Either way, we will be engaging shortly."
Kokovak would feel a small tingle pass through is body as the ship jumped, severing itself from reality and reappearing at the rendezvous point.
"Now to wait for the other delegate."
Kovakak cracked his neck. "The galactic core? Interesting, though I'm still somewhat concerned considering our... history there."
"No worries. Any unexpected guests would be deterred by our rendezvous' capabilities."

The Levia
High Admiral Stak's communicator would chirp, before displaying the same message sent to Krusskena, stating that a shuttle would be arriving to pick up a diplomat in around three hours. And, in three hours, a shuttle jumped near the Levia, requesting permission to dock.

Stak noticed the communicator chirping and, like Krusskena, awaited the arrival of the Arkeyanans. Doban, the Reclaimers' diplomat, put on his metallic military suit - a white and gold regal attire - and walked to the ship's hanger. Noticing the arrival of the Laniakean shuttle, he activated his wrist communicator.

Code: Select all: [box]"Permission to enter the [i]Levia[/i] has been granted.

[/box]
Doban waited as the ship, Nova XII, arrived.
Soon after, the shuttle entered one of the Levia's hangars, setting itself down upon several pale-blue beams of light, a door emerged in the same fashion as Wander's did, stairs floating downwards. Doban noticed the stairs floating downwards towards him and walked up accordingly. He looked around his surroundings - the shuttlecraft itself was rather sleek and reminded him of some of the more luxurious ships in Cymopolia's prime. He finally entered the ship and waited to see if anyone would meet him as the floating stairs closed behind him.

A voice came on, from nowhere it seemed. "Greetings, I am Nova, the shuttle assigned to bring you to the rendezvous point."

"And I am Doban, the representative of the Reclaimers," the Reclaimer diplomat responded. "Where exactly is the rendezvous point?"

"A G-class star system near the galactic core. We will be departing from the Levia and jumping shortly" Nova responded. Doban would feel a small vibration beneath his feet, followed by a brief tingle throughout his body.
"Within the Contested Zone?" Doban responded, concerned. Before the Final Conflict devastated Cymopolia, the Contested Zone was, well, contested between the Grand Circle and the Revenant, whether that was through openish conflict or proxy wars.
"You could call it that. But no worries, the system is uninhabited, and any...unexpected visitors would be quickly dispatched by the rendezvous' weaponry." Nova responded.

The Rendezvous Point, Galactic Core Region
"We have arrived at the rendezvous point. Please make your way to the observation deck" Both shuttles chimed. The diplomats made their way to their respective areas, large compartments at the bow of the shuttle lined with holofields projecting the system around them, when something began moving.
At first, a comet was hurling by, a bright, brilliant trail of vapor. But then, something began moving.
The tail began faltering, a massive object drifting through it and disrupting the violent flow of gasses. It crossed the space between itself and the two shuttles, revealing a large, predatory ship. It's hull was pitch black, and lines of red and white light ran across it. On it's fore, a massive line of fire ignited, diverging into two moving up and down that revealed a yawning maw of a hangar bay. The two shuttles started approaching it.

As the shuttles docked and their doors opened, the diplomats took a look at the Arc's hangar. The cavernous bay was estimated to be roughly a kilometre long, a kilometre wide, and five hundred metres top to bottom. Pale blue strips of light lit up the carbon-black walls, and Doban recognised the make of numerous Gladian vessels. There were several smaller vessels as well - perhaps one of their allies' vessels, and numerous drones dotted the hangar bay.

Stepping out, the diplomats noticed the frigid and almost clinically smelling air. As they stepped down the ship itself, the footsteps rang hollowly throughout the Arc; it was clear that the soundwaves were being absorbed by the floor itself.

The doors quickly sealed themselves behind them after the diplomats landed on the ground. Lines of fire etched themselves into the hull and the shuttles remained on the ground below them.

Doban turned to his left and noticed Kovakak. "You're the, ah... New... Circle's diplomat, right?"

"...Yes." Kovakak responded, hesitantly. "And I suppose you're the delegate the Reclaimers sent here."

"Now that you're both here, I feel it is time for introductions." A female voice said behind them. Turning towards the rear of the hangar, a dozen meters away, a woman stood. Her skin was pale, in stark contrast with the straight, raven-dark hair that flowed down from her head. She was wearing a simple, grey dress, and alongside her floated a drone, with a sleek body and two blade-like arms. Oddly, she did not seem fazed by the cold.
"I am Altia, Laniakean Alliance Diplomatic Corps. Welcome to the ASW Arc."
"Thank you for inviting us," Kovakak said, to which Doban nodded affirmatively. "Where is the meeting room, exactly?"
"Follow me, please." Altia said. Behind her, a corridor came into being, the walls turning liquid and sliding away.
The hall was the same black shade as the hangar, lit by more strips of light. On closer inspection, they would not be normal lighting fixtures, but in fact energy fields suspended in the air, bathing the hallway in pale blue light. The drone turned wordlessly and followed her, it's movements silent and clean.

At the end of the hall, they'd emerge in what appeared to be a command center, yet there were no consoles, only a large throne-like chair in the center of the room. Altia would lead them around it and out the other side of the center, and into what was definitely a meeting room. A table akin to what most warships would have for their strategic holofields sat in the center, with chairs surrounding it.
"Please, take a seat." She said, suggesting towards two chairs on one side of the table as she made her way to the other side.

The two nodded at Altia in response, thanking her, and sat down on the chairs as requested.
"So, I presume you two wish to know what is so important that you've been whisked away from your offices and into the antechamber of a warship that under normal circumstances would be so heavily classified we'd have it out in the Intergalactic Void instead of deployed to the Galactic Core." Altia said.
"That... is a good question, actually, yes," Doban inquired as he sat down. "We'll let you explain, Altia."

"Very well." Altia replied. The table lit up, displaying Cymopolia with several distinct colored regions:
The unclaimed sectors, the bombed wastes, and the remains of Circellian and Reverent space.
"As you both know, the Alliance has been working to maintain peace between your two nations. However, in our current position, we cannot effectively distribute our forces."
An area of space beyond the unclaimed sectors was highlighted, showing no system in particular-perhaps the LA were operating from mobile stations or a massive fleet, or even from one of the neighboring satellite galaxies.
"We have elected to fix this particular issue, an exercise in our expertise with megastructural engineering. The creation of a vast structure through which the LA can coordinate galaxy-wide fleet maneuvers."

The hologram of Cymopolia disappeared, replaced by what looked like a wheel.
A massive ring, with spokes leading inwards towards the center, with two additional inner rings. Each one was completely closed in, with no exposed areas like on ringworlds.
As dimensions wrote themselves out of light, both diplomats could see that the construct would be several million kilometers in diameter and thousands wide. A magnifcation of the surface would reveal well-armored structures bristling with weaponry, and vast arrays of hangars and shipyards. A cutout would reveal the interiors of each ring to be different climates, the outer ring rich, luscious jungle, the middle ring a harsh, barren desert, the inner ring to be sprawling mountain ranges, and the core being a wondrous mass of floating continents all orbiting around a central structure. The spokes were immense shafts allowing transport between the layers, with barriers at intervals to preserve air pressure.
It was clear that this project would be a massive undertaking, and would not be complete for some time.

"However, the Alliance is not in the business of barging in and planting flags. So, we have come to your two nations for permission to begin construction. This was, after all, contested space prior to the Final Conflict." Altia said.

"Interesting," Kovakak responded. The structure himself reminded him somewhat of one of the megastructures constructed by the Grand Circle some time ago. Now, however, it had seemingly been lost to the Final Conflict; though he was no megastructural engineer, he was still nonetheless interested in one day rediscovering it and restore it to its former glory. "How many lifeforms could this structure support?"
A smile flickered across Altia's face.
"Billions at lower population densities. Although it's primary mission is not habitation, as the close-ups of it's outer hull indicate." She said simply.
"Would we need your consent to access the facilities," Doban asked, "or would we be able to access this at our leisure?"

"You would require our consent. This is a strategic installation meant for the deterrence of invaders, a coordination center for sophontarian fleets, and a refuge in the event of another devastating war." Altia said.
"Speaking of strategic..." She continued, "There is a secondary request to this proposal due to it's importance should it be constructed."
"What is that request?" Doban inquired.

"There are...two factions, in Cymopolia. The Autobots and Decepticons, who are in conflict with each other. Doubtlessly your two nations received echoes from their little comms-squabble a while back. The original vessel intended for the mission that this Orbital is slotted for was encountered by a Decepticon Warship. We are unsure of their intent, but given that the Commander of said warship began to interrogate the vessel of it's defensive capabilities, we can only assume they are less than peaceful. For the Decepticons, at least." Altia said.
"However...for caution's sake, the Alliance requests that when you return to your homelands or homeships, you have this information classified to the highest level, and, if you have diplomatic contact with either, kept out of their reach. We are unsure of how they would react to such a move within Cymopolia."
The two diplomats assented to Altia's request. Doban was reluctant - he was hoping that the Autobots would become strong allies of the Reclaimers - but, for the purposes of securing this deal, he assented to it. Kovakak was more willing to accept it, but he believed that some flaws would arise eventually; the information would eventually fall into Decepticon hands.
The hologram over the table disappeared as Altia dismissed the Diplomats. The Drone following her would escort them out and back to the shuttles, which took off and soon after returned them before going back to the Ship.

Cygnusud System
In the expanse of time that spanned the discovery of Tyrannia, the Terminus System had one of it's Sentry Arrays realigned-no small feat, even with Gravitic Drives-to aim squarely at it and the surrounding space, monitoring the Decepticons from a distance.

This was when it detected a very violent conflict in one of the nearby systems. Curious as to what had gotten the previously more subtle mechanoids riled up, a Gladian scout was dispatched, vanishing in a wormhole.

It reappeared orbiting an outer planetoid, it's signature most likely being detected by both parties, as it maneuvered and began monitoring the battle from several light-minutes off via it's Superluminal sensors.

The ensemble of Autobot and Decepticon warships nearby detected the arrival of the Gladian warship. The battle had been raging for quite some time, but by this point it was in the process of dying down. It was probably less likely, in fact, that Marehn itself was in danger.

The Autobot commander of this battle was the first to notice the Gladian scout. "Who are you?" he asked to the vessel.
"This is the LASS Arch of Valara. We had detected energy signatures indicating an intense battle in this system and dispatched this vessel to investigate."

Looking at their surroundings, it was clear that, regarding this battle, the Autobots had more or less won - for now, at least; the Autobots knew that the Decepticons would likely strike back at some point in the future.

"When did you detect these signatures?" the Autobot asked.
"They were detected a short time ago, a Sentinel Array was making a routine sweep of this area of the galaxy when it detected the signs of an intense spaceborne conflict." The Arch replied.
This was, in some parts, a lie. This was not a routine sweep, rather the Alliance realigning a major piece of intelligence infrastructure to monitor the Decepticons' colonies.

"Sentinel Array?" the Autobot inquired. He saw no reason - there was no real reason to provoke a conflict at the moment, for one. In addition, the Autobots were just about winning the battle; he'd rather not push it in the Decepticons' favour by antagonizing a third party.

"Is there anything you'd like to ask?"
"Sentinel array, fancy words for 'oversized telescope designed to track fleet formations'." the vessel replied.
"And yes, there is an inquiry. The LA, Laniakean Alliance, has a...ubiquitous amount of living space in Cymopolia. We've kinda turtled with the few systems we have and built way more habitats and such than needed in the event of something like this.

What I'm trying to say is, in the event of a second Decepticon attack, does the LA have permission to temporarily evacuate the Maraehnians until it is safe for them to return to a planetary environment?" The scout said.

"One of our concerns regarding this is that this would lead to a cultural aftershock," the Autobot said. "In addition, you would need the Maraehnians' consent to do so, would you not?"
"To address both:
Primarily, the greatest source of their shock would probably be vertigo. The Alliance's habitats come in the form of either massive rings or compact cylinders, so for people who have lived on a planet for their entire lives, this can be a disorienting and often nauseating experience. However, this can be evened out after a few days with anti-nausea medications and subtle shifts of some frames of references. Although our technology may be a little beyond them, the Alliance has dealt with primitive species before, and knows how to maintain a veil between what should and should not be known.

As for the other: Yes, we would ask consent. But in any case, temporary residence on a heavily defended megastructure or easily movable habitat is far safer than residing on a planet that might be conquered, glassed, or any other event that might come with an orbital battle, so in all likelihood they would say yes." "Alright," they responded. "How would you deal with any Decepticon attacks, if you do?"

"Should, for some reason, the decepticons attack us." The Scout said.

"There are vessels in the Alliance fleet with firepower many magnitudes beyond what this mere scout can field."

“Right,” he responded. “We’ll accept it, but - stupid question - would we be notified beforehand?”
"Yes." The Scout said. A surge in power from it indicated a charging FTL system.
"Farewell, may you live with honor, and die with glory."
The vessel opened a wormhole and accelerated into it, the phenomenon collapsing behind it.

Galactic Core Region
Within a relatively nondescript solar system, something very non-nondescript was happening.
It began with the arrival of some Trifexian Constructors, spewing forth and molding recently-harvested neutronium from some neutron stars within the satellite galaxies. The clouds of neutron degenerate matter concentrated into lines and curves, forming an immense framework spanning millions of kilometers.
Then, the solar system exploded with light. Arkeyanan constructors, each one a behemoth starship with gaping maws of projector-pattern fabricators, bringing forth beams of atomic soup to bring into existence structures, clinging to the Neutronium to create something of immeasurable scale. Yet, even with their immense manufacturing capabilities, they would take many months to complete the structure.

The construction of Nidavellir Orbital had begun.

by **Kasa Tkoth Sphere** » Sun Nov 17, 2019 1:06 am

Uchro 31 G

A message pinged back across space in the Uchro 31 system, once more encrypted and minimal enough not to disrupt the apparent radio silence permeating the area.

The Kasa Tkoth Sphere's ultimate mission is derived from utilitarian ethics — namely, the decision to satisfy as many preferences as feasible over the remaining duration of the universe. The current operations of spacecraft Eastlander support the mass uplifting of all animal life on this planet; future plans involve mind-uploading all consenting individuals resulting from this process. (It should not need explanation as to why digital minds are more preference-dense per unit time or unit energy than organic ones.)

Requests from Azure Syndicate-aligned sophonts to upload will, of course, be granted as well, pending information on their locations.

The K-Sphere intends to remain unaffiliated with the primary factions active locally, apart from values handshakes or noncompetition deals. One such has already been established with the Nomadic Legion — which has proven responsible for a wave of nonconsensual uploads recently — as to avoid conflicts over the limited sophont resources in this galaxy.

Hatlen's probing towards the planet would reveal a curious set of patterns in all four of its major environmental systems - nanobots by the quadrillions continually rained down from orbit, drifting through air and water before anchoring themselves down and beginning to work subtle electrical signals into local animal biomass. Careful observation could, if he was sufficiently advanced to monitor the tiniest of changes, show him the moment-by-moment workings of the machines, rewiring neurons one at a time and altering animal behavior ever-so-slightly. Uchro 31 G's tribal amphibians watched, so far clueless as to what was happening, and continued living as though nothing had changed.

Holder of Dreams saw, through Eastlander's eyes, every last animal's progress, from the slowly-developing tactics of armored sharklike beasts in the oceans to the new swarming of tiny insects in the upper atmosphere. Each death, whether from predation or disease or disaster, was a tragedy, a mind that could not be brought to consciousness soon enough to accept a trillion-year reward... and every one of the survivors that didn't agree was to be a lost, suffering being on a planet soon to be overcrowded with sophonts.

It was almost enough to make Holder of Dreams reconsider whether it was worth asking for consent at all, whether it should go against the spirit of its creators' request, defy the old Tkomiin who, by its own standards, had no real idea what they had asked it to do.

But not quite, as always.

Nameless Cymopolian Core System

It was hard to keep something as obvious as a horde of starships spraying ultra-dense energetic material into a gigameter-scale framing secret.

From equations written in hundreds of dimensions, a little spacecraft weaved itself into existence, no larger than the one-man "fighters" employed by the sorts of civilizations who didn't mind throwing lives away in the fiercely dishonorable environment of space warfare. It was a boxy black thing with powerful boosters and retracted docking rods, of the kind that might have, under most circumstances, allowed it to be stored with many of its kind in some sort of larger carrier vessel.

But the K-Sphere used its FCRs as more than fighters, and even though hundreds were kept waiting in its vast industrial and combat craft as defense and support, a few made their way around the galaxy by themselves regardless.

A question wormed its way into the Arkeyanan sensors.

K-Sphere spacecraft Ascribe It Not To A Demon, hailing all local constructor vessels.

It is apparent that a ring orbital is under construction in this system. For what civilization is this being built, and for what purpose is it intended?

K-Sphere Emulated Environments

Human-adjacent sophont Taizz-Ca kept his emulated environment to himself, taking the public data of K-Sphere fleet movements and constructing a great stone edifice for them to play out within. The movements of ships of all sorts became the panicked sprinting and calm meandering of people like himself that he could talk to whenever he desired. Toy Fighter, Gently Used and her escort currently stood patiently beside him, the whole group clustered on a great circle labeled SESCHO and chatting amongst themselves.

Konu Tan and Horigrad, fairly recent mammalian Freed from a pre-FTL civilization, ran their private instance like a gaming center from their youth, low-resolution computer monitors showing pixelated shapes darting around. Rather than talk or think to contact ships, they forced themselves to type commands and requests into heavy mechanical keyboards, because to some people the feeling of nostalgia was a greater preference than efficiency. One of them currently tracked the tiny rectangle of Ascribe It Not To A Demon, dwarfed by the glitchy, distorted-looking megastructure taking shape nearby.

Community R570A, a public instance mostly populated by uplifted insects and other sophonts who'd rewired themselves with insect senses, was running their own environment as a labyrinth of small hills coated in pheromones. Moving along paths of gentlest slope mimicked the easy routes through Cymopolia mapped by the K-Sphere ships burrowing their way through complex phase space; following a trail of a particular scent allowed one to catch up to the representation of a ship performing some duty. One trail had died out after some time, leaving only one dense node with a peculiar sugary smell to represent Eastlander, sitting still in realspace many abstractions away.

by **The Auraverse** » Sun Nov 17, 2019 12:41 pm

ISV Caeruleum, Bridge
but also
Uchro 31

Hatlen froze in the not-act of not-brewing not-tea. Indeed, his hands were suddenly empty, and the room his physical proxy had been sitting in was no longer a room, but rather Uchro 31. This went beyond mere simulation of the system into the virtual space that made up his surroundings - on a conceptual level, he was in fact occupying some nebulous volume within planetary orbit. Should he so choose, he could easily step through the bounds of physicality that gave the bridge-construct its form, and directly into the space which the ISV Fenestrane now occupied. But he didn't, because that would be rather frivolous of him. He instead chose to reorganize the command lines dictating his control of the Lapis' comms, and create a more direct interface with the Eastlander.

I would hereby like to announce my transition of communication medium, and perform a proper introduction. Dr. Ismael Hatlen, Director of the Azure Syndicate, at your service. If you have any preference for a singular entity-identifier separate from those of the vessel these transmissions are directed to and the Sphere as a whole, feel free to provide it.

I presume that the Sphere's overriding parameter is, in fact, the number of preferences satisfied, rather than the efficiency with which the overall assimilation is carried out. As such, the creation and/or modification of additional minds bears merit timewise, as a compromise the downsides of which fail to significantly impact its driving goal. Would it be safe to assume that the subjective personal wellbeing of the...

He paused. At least, in the privacy of his own mindscape - the transmission itself would not be partitioned in any noticeable manner.

...freed sophonts comprises one of the Sphere's primary aims?

With regards to the uploading of Syndicate-aligned sophonts, I'm afraid that there are few who would both match criteria for suitable upload substrate, and be willing to undergo such a process. That aside, the overall number of Syndicate personnel is likely too meager to warrant a significant resource investment. If there are individual uploading requests, I will be sure to relay them.

And he would. Because he knew (or at the very least, had calculated to a degree of infallibility sufficient to pass as absolute knowledge in-context) that indeed there would be no requests.Those who had wished to abandon their physical forms and transcend conventional consciousness had already done so, and the mechanisms for such an operation were readily available. Perhaps the inclusion into a community such as the Sphere would provide some additional draw, but the Syndicate was composed primarily of personnel with a rather particular array of mindsets. He continued.

However, I would like to propose a basic informational exchange. Proposed parameters are currently limited to strategic and navigational information related to mutual operations within Cymopolia, with potential for content-expansion if desired. Inclusive within the parameters of the exchange is a token of mutual non-interference barring exonerating circumstances, though said token may be defined separately on request.

The transmission was sent, and... ah, the planet. Mass-uplifting, through what appeared to be a unified, atmospherically-deployed nanomechanical network. He could certainly see elements of that, and he took an infinitesimally short moment to admire the elegance with which it was being carried out. He still had the capacity for admiration, after all. What exactly was being done could be gleaned with an additional resource investment - he decided to disconnect a partition currently in use for redundant backup operations on a low-priority calc batch, and reroute it to perform a semi-autonomous, subatomically-thorough examination of the planet's biosphere. As a source of data, it certainly warranted the investment, despite having now been overtaken in priority in the overall order of things. Still, it was a net efficiency gain, though determining what eldritch methods were currently being used to come to that conclusion would require far too much resource investment from even Hatlen himself to be considered viable.

His table, chair and tea-set rematerialized, though now seemingly drifting amidst the not-quite-simulated starscape. He began to hum softly.

Galactic Core Region

Hiding a megastructure under construction wasn't exactly a feasbile thing in most circumstances, especially when its construction had already been construed as likely. And so it was that yet another Lapis twanged its way into sublight. Taking note of the Ascribe It Not To A Demon, it nevertheless seemed to ignore the tiny craft. It architecture already attributed to a party with which Hatlen was conversing elsewhere, the scout now directed its transmissions towards the Arkeyanan vessels.

Code: Select all: To the representative cohort of the Arkeyanan party: This is the ISV Enantiomorph, currently serving as emissary and representative of the Azure Syndicate. The Syndicate as an entity expresses its desire to initiate informational contact/exchange procedures, for the mutual benefit of both parties involved. Such procedures would, in this case, encompass a mutual verification of intent - the Syndicate's particular query is directed at the object currently under construction. It must be stressed that the Syndicate has no interest in hindering Arkeyanan construction procedures within this system at the present time, and will only respond with hostile intent if such is initially expressed by the Arkeyanan representative cohort.

With that, it idled. The Syndicate's interest lay in the ring, though what it would provide in exchange was anyone's guess. Hatlen was somewhat unperturbed by all this at the moment - he would direct additional processing capacity towards it in the event of any noteworthy occurrences.

by **Arkeyana** » Wed Nov 20, 2019 9:07 am

Diligence System
Shipmaster Karo Son-of-Gako "sat" in their command throne, although it was more of a stool given the Gladian physiology. The Elder was a lightly armed and defended vessel, a spinal gravitic railgun with a magazine of 100,000 .1kg rounds, and several 1kg KKV launchers. Around him, his crew analyzed the reports showing the boxed in system, and he came to a verdict.

"Overseer Ksata," began the transmission. "Considering the attitude of the Crucilandians, and the fact that one of our own vessels has witnessed the after effects of their "mining" operations, if you could even call it that, I have determined it imperative to effect an evacuation of this system. At your word, I will order an Alliance evacuation fleet to depart for this system at post-haste. I recommend that you make this decision within a reasonable time table, as the Elder cannot match the Crucilandian's potential firepower and I have a feeling that the Autobots cannot compete either."

The transmission cut off, and the Elder prepared to send a subspace signal to Terminus.

Nidavellir Orbital, Framework Stage
The Construction vessels did not falter, although the Trifexian ships, their duty complete and having closed down their equipment, turned towards the Enantimorph and Ascribe It Not To A Demon, and transmitted in return.
"This is the 23rd Laniakean Alliance Construction Fleet, tasked with the construction and terraforming of Nidavellir Orbital, designation LAO-9775, Megastructure-grade CAI.

Nidavellir's mission has multiple goals: A coordination platform for the Alliance's humanitarian missions, a heavily defended refuge, and an industrial center."

That seemed to be the end of the transmission, until another transmission came, two separate ones directed to AINTAD and Enantimorph.
To AINTAD:
"Now that we have identified ourselves, may you identify your home polity in turn and your intentions?"
To Enantimorph:
"How is it that you know of the Federation?"

by **Cruciland** » Wed Nov 20, 2019 6:52 pm

Unclaimed Sectors, Tyrannia System
Regardless of whether or not the Crucilandian dropships noticed the Lapis vessel or its Riders, it was clear that they did not react in any way to the quasi-physical probes as they anchored themselves to the nanomechanical hulls of the 35-meter long spacecrafts. Then a couple of these Riders promptly found themselves taken inside the warp bubbles as the armored dropships zoomed off with their cargo, and spaghettified with them- from the perspective of an outside observer. Inside the warp bubble, what the Riders captured was the smooth, rapid contraction of the area of space ahead of it; it appeared to slide around the armored dropships like a snake shedding its skin, scrunching the stars up into an ever-denser band of space at the center of the craft until at last it slipped away towards the rear. It seemed almost as if space was forcing the starships through its medium using peristalsis- a cosmic mimcry of organic lifeforms. It was a long gulp; a deep swallow; a wrenching of the universe's own guts.

Then at last, the space before the "Hatzalah" armored dropships stopped being pulled behind them, and the stars ceased their distortion. The Riders had been warped to the Diligence System.

Edge of the Contested Zone, Dilligence System
The confrontation in this system was on the verge of boiling over. Crucilandian vessels were being positioned and assembled such as to flank and entrap ships meaning to interfere with them, which at present included a small fleet of Reclaimers, another small fleet of Autobots, and what could soon be a fleet from the Laniekean Alliance. Sub-Fleet 2C sat silently in space, the segmentation of their otherwise-sleek hulls betraying where their weapons might be tucked away after witnessing the sudden appearance of missile launchers and torpedo tubes on their surfaces. And then, the Sub-Fleet received a hail from the ISV Tenebrous. It was right at the final calm before the storm- a final pleasant exchange before shipfire gets traded. A transmission which reciprocated the written language of its recipient reached the Lapis class ship, somehow, and offered the following reply to them...

Code: Select all: "Acknowledged, Tenebrous. We have taken notice of your curiosity, and while now may be an inopportune time to hold civil conversation, we are more than able to multitask even if worse comes to worst. If you have questions, then we will answer them; if you have information to share, then we will accept it."

At the other end of the solar system, a new addition to the Sub-Fleet was forming: Task Element 2C-2-A1-1. Like all Task Elements, it did not possess any mid-size vessels to speak of- not even a Destroyer. Instead, it consisted of ships whose reactors and weapon systems could be constructed using the mass-energy of the outer asteroid belt's nearby contents. And so, with well over 10^37 Joules to work with- enough to overcome the gravitational binding energy of gas giants like Barrov- a cadre of small vessels and manned craft was assembled...

Just then, a new smattering of activity unfolded. With increasing rapidity, a series of "Hatzalah" dropships warped in behind the "Sibyl" command ship, unspooling the fabric of space as their hulls ceased their spaghettification. The dropships carried on through the vacuum of space, the direction to which they had aligned themselves in prior to warping already pointing them directly at the command ship. And in a short period of time, they had arrived, decelerating as they approached the giant "head" atop the ten-kilometer tall starship. As they did so, the small vessels began to pitch upward, exposing their bellies to the command ship, and then their sterns; this aligned the mouths of their cargo bays with the larger vessel such that they could jettison their cargo, suspending its contents within the confines of... some kind of invisible force bubble- its energy signature did not explain the source of the force which segregated its contents from the hard vacuum of space. As these packages of air, earth, water, and lifeforms sped along towards the command ship, the dropships were already spooling up in preparation to gather more specimens. Yet even as the first of these incoming vessels were taking off, holes were opening up in the hulls of the "Sibyl" ship, swallowing the spatial bubbles of contents whole before sealing themselves up... It appeared that the ecosystems from Tyrannia II were being imported into the Crucilandian capital ship.

by **Kasa Tkoth Sphere** » Sat Nov 23, 2019 12:18 am

Uchro 31 G

It made enough sense to Holder of Dreams that trying to upload the handful-at-most of willing Syndicate sophonts would be a waste of energy. It patiently accepted this line of reasoning - filing away a contingency in the event that Dr. Hatlen was lying to protect his people - before altering its response strategy by encoding an identification key into the bitstring it sent, thus allowing it to streamline the process of sending pieces of information one tachyon at a time.

The name I offer to others is Holder of Dreams.

'Well-being', as many understand it, is somewhat relative. Among the K-Sphere's purposes is to protect Freed minds from destruction, as a destroyed mind can no longer experience satisfied preferences. This does not necessarily imply that they are all perfectly removed from harm inside the emulated environments they create for themselves; some wish to experience danger or pain in a safe environment, and this is perhaps what most distinguishes our culture from the maximizers who simply seek to tile the universe with hedonium.

I cannot piece together enough on you or your Syndicate to assemble a values handshake, Dr. Hatlen, so any cooperation our societies perform must be secured through direct data transfer. To this end, I will gladly provide the currently mapped phase-space network within Cymopolia in exchange for strategic information - especially pertaining to planet life density and civilizational activity - given in return.

The next bitstring Hatlen received was a small file - only a few megabytes - containing a partial set of equations describing an FTL-traversible network through Cymopolia, as discovered by K-Sphere ships operating nearby. The implication was that additional chunks would be sent, perhaps nanoseconds apart or faster, as the Syndicate handed over whatever information it chose to return; there was no point in giving away everything you owned at once and somehow trusting your acquaintance not to run away with it.

Nidavellir Orbital Outskirts

Holder of Dreams liked to open a little differently for each contact, partly to get more data on which opening strategies were best and partly to break the homogeneity that many outsiders assumed would be common to a fleet of unmanned spacecraft.

Spacecraft hailing from Kasa Tkoth Sphere, non-Cymopolian-native preference-utilitarian community of emulated minds. Current mission involves contacting large-scale civilizations in preparation for mass uploading procedures on willing sophont populations.

All life deserves the opportunity to escape its boundaries and earn eternity, whether it be to them a reward or a balance or an ultimate challenge. The Kasa Tkoth Sphere is eager to provide upload services to all who wish it; a detached orbital, presumably an eventual home to an enormous sophont population, ought to have many willing to be Freed.

by **Irenton** » Sat Nov 23, 2019 10:14 am

Dead Space

Far beyond Cymopolia, deep within the dead space, a lone leviathan feasted on a star. The leviathan appeared formless, and closer inspection revealed it was composed of a material that seemed as a writhing shadow. The star it gorged on was festooned with shadowy tentacles, grasping thousand tonne chunks of stellar mass and absorbing them into its spastic body. Though no life was present, not for millions of light years, it could be stated that any creature that approached it would hear an eldritch whispering, the language it spoke was either ancient, forgotten by time, or was yet to come into existence. As time progressed, the star's light faded entirely, the leviathan consuming the yellow sun in its entirety.

In actuality, the leviathan was a portal, a one way gate between realspace and the Throne World of Emperor Nicholas. Every star it consumed, every planet it absorbed and every atom it collected became energy that powered the pocket universe. Servants armoured in ancient bone collected the pure motes of energy and took them before their masters, blessing their weapons and empowering the vast forges that supplied corrupted mass to the warriors of the Emperor Nicholas.

The servants moved with a purpose, hundreds of them brought each individual Tomb Guard the corrupted mass. The ceremony was almost religious, a baptism with corruption that gave every warrior incredible strength. Now suitably blessed, the warriors stepped through writhing black portals emitting a baleful green glow, emerging in the Entropic Spire the Imperial expedition to Cymopolia had constructed.

Colony Fleet of Halcyon
Cymopolia

It was the High Council's will that Cymopolia be incorporated into the Empire as soon as possible, with a permanent colony being the ideal starting point. There had been a notable shortage of volunteers, with only the Zelians of House Halcyon being available for proper colonisation. Their leader, Azeklan, a high-ranking Baron within the Imperial hierarchy, had rallied his fleet with impressive speed, even for the efficient and disciplined Zelians. Within a day, he had gathered 2 million of his kind, loading them aboard the various ships he operated and setting them off for Cymopolia. He had followed behind them, in his ship, the Sword of Dauntless, ensuring his House arrived safely and with all of its number accounted for.

They did just so, setting down on a rather temperate world, dubbed STOR-11 by Imperial AI, with the first Zelian feet hitting the earth in a sparse patch of coniferous forest. Crystalline blue water flowed down into the thin valley that lined edge of the forest, the trees thinning until they stopped entirely at the rocky banks of a river. Small foxes danced through the trees, with larger deer regarding the new arrivals with curious and innocent eyes. They scattered as the first captain arrived, the fourteen feet tall giant stepped off the lander, pulse rifle in hand, and roared to the sky. The guttural yell echoed throughout the forest, causing trees to shake and animals to scatter, yelping in terror.

Across the planet, thousands of small landers touched down, disgorging silver-grey cloaked Zelians who quickly turned to action. Landers became makeshift residences, with specialised colonial equipment being dropped from the vessels above. Specialised tunnel bores burrowed into the earth, assembling tunnels for what would become a permanent Zelian settlement. Mining rigs crashed around the vast, rocky mountain, ready to exploit their resources to assist in the development of the colony.

Far above the planet, Azeklan stood aboard the bridge of the Sword of Dauntless, surveying the lay of his new land. A subourdinate, a captain by the name of Kensis, stepped up to him, swords set at his side, "Baron," his voice was grating, "the colonisation effort is in progress. Though, Consul Arthus is requesting you subourdinate our ships to him."

Azeklan released a guttural growl, "Imperial Command told me to raise Halcyon Banner on this planet, and raise it I will. Arthus has no control over Halcyon, such is my order."

"He will not be pleased."

"I care not!" Azeklan roared, "I am Baron of Halcyon, have blessing of High Council, Arthus has bigger concerns."

"I shall tell him," Kensis bowed and left, scuttling to the communication centre.

Azeklan exhaled sharply, creating a high pitched, guttural growl. Power shifted quickly in the Empire, alternating between militarymen, scientists and politicians. Zelians, however, retained their leadership. Their society was strict, disciplined, even when discipline would not be expected. Barons retained their Houses, as Dukes did their Authorities, even in the circumstances of piracy. Zelian Barons would work with who they pleased, when they pleased, the strongest refusing outright to work with others if they were not dominant. Power rested in him, in this sense, the power over House Halcyon. His House would grow great with the resources of this new world, and later this new galaxy. He would be a Duke, and his Authority would stretch over a hundred Houses and a thousand worlds, such was his vision.

"Baron Azeklan," came a Zelian voice from behind, "you are needed on the surface."

IESS Eye of Vigilance

"Consul Arthus, the situation in Cymopolia has drawn the eye of the High Council. They have authorised the launch of the Ravager of Worlds should it be required. Imperial Grand Admiral Kaal is required to be...away from Chronove for the time being. I have ordered that the Fleet of Virtuous Consecration, with Kaal in command, be transferred to Cymopolia. Secondly, the High Council orders that these "Decepticons" be studied. We must understand their technology and tactics, for it is likely they will become hostile in the future. You are ordered to use whatever methods at your disposal to understand this enemy. If you require reinforcements, the High Council shall grant them. Glory to the Empire."

IESS Wrath of Irenton

Fusiliers, clad in heavy powered armour, spread through the corridors of the carrier like a virus, slaughtering whatever traitors they came across. A small number of soldiers joined them, emerging from maintenance ducts and barracks with whatever weapons and armour they could scrounge up. In the larger areas, especially the hangar bays, Rapture fighters strafed makeshift barricades and dropship-borne tanks fought to prevent traitor fighters from taking off.

Within half an hour of combat beginning, loyal troops were battering the door of the ship's command bridge. Within, Nikolach and his guards prepared for a last stand. Only Nikolach was unarmed, hiding behind a desk with two unarmoured Fusiliers at his flanks. Two of the loyal troops brought forward plasma lasers, seeking to tear open the bulkhead door by its hinges.

"T-8 Advance leader to Admiral Sol, Command Bridge reached. The traitors have locked themselves inside, we believe Nikolach is within."

"Kill his guards, if necessary, but I want him alive."

The bulkhead was blown off by a pair of Heavy Fusiliers, who were subjected to withering fire from within. Their front armour, however, held off the rounds long enough to allow them to open up with their cannons. Within seconds, half of Nikolach's guards were dead, with the rest surrendering only to be brought down and beaten to within an inch of their lives by Fusileirs with stun batons. Nikolach himself was pulled from under the desk by the scruff of his neck, before he too was knocked unconscious by stun batons.

IESS Long Night of Solace

Nikolach was chained before an assembly of Imperial soldiers in the ventral hangars. Ahead of him stood Argent Sol, flanked by a pair of red armoured Crucifix Bearers. The Admiral knelt in front of the traitor, grinning violently as they did so, they put a thumb to his chin in mocking care, before jamming it into his eye and laughing. The Crucifix Bearers had to pull them back, with Sol's second-in-command giving them a glare and mouthing 'this is televised you fool'.

Sol nodded awkwardly, chuckling, before they looked back up at the camera as the Crucifix Bearers took up their positions again. "Today," they declared to the floating camera droid, "we witness the execution of a vile traitor. His name has been stripped of him, as is the custom for traitors, and now, as the Emperor decreed millennia ago, the Crucifix Bearers shall affix him to the cross."

The Crucifix Bearers stepped forwards, with special chains forcing the traitor to arise from his wounded kneel. A crucifix of metal, bearing a plaque reading: "sentenced to death for crimes against the Irenton Empire," lifted from a compartment below them. The now hanging traitor was pushed towards it by one of the bearers, whilst the other brought out a razor wire like implement. His arms were wrapped around thrice, with his feet being nailed through. The camera droid turned to him as the razor wire was activated, glowing blue and burning through the traitor's skin.

"By this sacrament of blood, we further our journey, ever forwards."

"Ever forwards," the assembled soldiers chanted.

Below the traitor, a pit opened into the abyss of space. The crowd within were protected from the cruel vacuum by an energy shield but the same could not be said for Nikolach, who fell through it as though it was not there. He was frozen to death within seconds.

The camera droid deactivated, flying back to its high perch as the assembled crowd began to leave. Argent Sol remained, however, looking down into the abyss of space. Her second came up to her, giving her a confused look from a few yards away, before speaking, "Admiral? What's going on?"

Argent just laughed, "that was so easy," they said, "a supercarrier," Argent laughed again, "a supercarrier! It didn't even take us an hour and we've just televised pushing him out of a hangar bay like he's a great threat. His guards put up more of a fight and we didn't televise them, did we? Just threw them out. I wonder what Hayden would think."

"There's a field of them out there," the second said.

"There is. Could've just shot them, maybe tortured them on some prison planet. But we crucified them, like the Nobles in the Purges. If these were such a threat to the Empire, what else are we going to face here?"

by **The Auraverse** » Sat Nov 23, 2019 1:43 pm

Uchro 31 G

Hatlen took note of the increased transfer efficiency as he considered Holder of Dreams' proposal. In truth, FTL navigation was a minor concern within Cymopolia, and this phasespace network - the few informational strings regarding its usage already filed and categorized - had little bearing on the primary transit methods employed by the Syndicate. As a set of mathematical parameters, however... foldspace was an ever-developing webway, and every little bit of metapositional data would ultimately be fed into the esoteric algorithms that drove it. An increase in folding efficiency, however temporary, was a welcome boon. And so the Director composed a file of his own - a rather unusual one, at that. It could broadly be construed as a map of recent fleet movements - providing both spatial and temporal references, and encompassing practically every power currently active within the galaxy. But it was... nebulous. Incomplete. Vessel density within select areas was defined in only the most general of terms, providing little beyond a statistical map at present. Only the largest players could really be discerned, and even their actions remained largely inscrutable. And yet, certain dead-ends and queries within the code pointed to the potential addition of external "key-files". Parameters to calibrate, to fine-tune. Hatlen held such keys aplenty, and made this much obvious in the architecture itself. And while resolution sans the key-fragments was certainly possible, especially for a party with the processing capacity of the K-Sphere, it was not quite as straighforward as mere extrapolation from sensor readings. For there were false pointers - pitfalls and red herrings, parameter sets designed to appear as feasible and probable solutions, and yet with outputs ranging from the nonsensical to the actively hazardous. Holder of Dreams was, in effect, being handed a puzzle-box. Laden with booby-traps, lacking in clues - but prefaced with the promise of a solution, in increments, should the exchange continue. The Director tacked it onto his next conversational bitstring.

Your proposed transfer metrics are acceptable, as an initial exchange at the very least. As a miscellaneous query - are you able to provide an outline of the process by which sophonts undergo uploading procedures?

There was quite a bit more than simple curiosity backing the question, of course. The Crucilandian assimilation process was already somewhat suspect - their resource investment and usage of a physical medium did not appear to conform to mere mind-uploading. Should the Sphere mirror such de-facto frivolities in search of a goal that appeared entirely immaterial... all would point to a necessity for more in-depth personal investment. And while the tachyons were in-transit, the Director himself... split. It was difficult to ascertain which of the resultant few bodies was truly physical, truly the original. Perhaps they all were. All that could be said is that a number of such manifestations were now pseudo-extant - while one instance maintained its presence in Uchro, the rest dispersed elsewhere. And thus, in functionally no time whatsoever...

Edge of the Contested Zone, Diligence System

Hatlen stood amidst the void, gazing outwards at the assembled golden vessels. Another permutation of the mechanisms by which this state of being could be maintained - of course, he wasn't simply hovering in realspace. But he was present, or could at least imitate presence in some internal manner, within the system. Here, he chose to maintain indirect control - it was anyone's guess as to why. The Lapis acted as a medium of transfer, through which the next few strings were now relayed to the Crucilandians.

Rest assured that this conversation will be maintained for a sufficient period of time for data transfer to come to fruition. Should combative issues prove an inconvenience, they will be resolved within an acceptable timeframe.

The statement in itself was somewhat enigmatic - either a pledge of military assistance... or perhaps merely the assurance that, statistically, no disruption could feasibly take place given the current force concentrations of the two assembled fleets. The transmission went on, of course.

It is the Syndicate's understanding that your primary goal with regards to available sophont conglomerations is assimilation, and yet the process by which this is attained appears skewed towards a highly specific method of physical transfer. Is there a specified reason for this seemingly-unnecessary investment of resources? Furthermore, the Syndicate requests a rudimentary explanation of overall Crucilandian aims within Cymopolia, and reasoning for their rapid transit through these sectors. In exchange, information on the Syndicate's local motivations could be provided, alongside potential parameter tweaks to maximize resource efficiency during sophont assimilation.

That would be sufficient, for now. Time to verify the proto-hypothesis that had been assembled - while the Director could not be called to rely upon hunches, this was far more than a hunch. It was an imposition of statistics, the detection of a metanarrative "string". There was something here. Knowledge, of the sort he sought.

And knowledge could be sourced in a multitude of manners...

Wake of the IESS Long Night of Solace

In the precious last seconds of Nikolach's life, he bore witness to something rather unusual. As the borders between realspace and near-death noospheric sensitivity grew, he saw... a shape. A glaming being, borne aloft on wings of radiant blue, drifting through the void alongside him...

'Twas no angel. Hatlen (or at the very least, a Hatlen) stood in his localized pocket of unreality. Beside him, the traitor's body hung - so close, and yet so distant. For realspace was an immeasurable stretch away from where the Director now stood. And time was hardly a corresponding factor - Nikolach appeared unmoving, and through the gap that had discharged him one could witness the soldiers, safe within their vessel, seemingly frozen mid-chant. It had been an interesting, if brief, diversion - but now, the Director's curiosity had been somewhat piqued. And he could already pick through the individual atoms of the Long Night of Solace, observe the sparkling reactions within each neuron of each crewmember. But some knowledge was best gleaned through subjectivity. And so he reached out - though perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he reached in. No realspace change was apparent, and Nikolach expired as could be expected. But noospherically, his consciousness was not merely snuffed out. It was grabbed - turned, this way and that, appraised. Remembered. Only then was it allowed its rest. And somewhere, far beyond the boundaries of comprehension...

MAGNUS

Nikolach awoke aboard the IESS Wrath of Irenton. He had... dozed off? Arthus' forces were almost upon them! Jumping from his command chair, he began barking orders as-

A few layers of abstraction lower (or perhaps higher - such things were rather ill-defined here), a computational node went about its business. The consciousness it now observed, directed the motions of, was not Nikolach. His body was dead, and his mind gone. But it thought like him, acted like him. Knew what he had known - though really, the relative pittance of knowledge that had been gleaned was nowhere near as consequential as the methods by which he had originally attained it. And it was these thoughts, this knowledge, that was now routed upwards, into ever-greater, increasingly complex processing structures and logical abstractions. Building, feeding. Directing, in some infintesimally-tiny manner, the overall exo-thoughts that drove the greater whole. The Director had found himself a new toy.

Nidavellir Orbital, Outskirts

Here, no pseudo-Hatlen would be made manifest. The Orbital did not yet warrant it. Lapis routing was enough, and it wasn't long before the Arkeyanan transmission had been analyzed and replied to.

Such information was primarily attained via the extrapolation of fleet-movements, alongside the presence of extant sensory assets within Cymopolia, one of which you are currently interfacing with.

Which was, strictly speaking, true. The Lapis scouts, redundant though they were, did in fact act as sensing units. They collected data even now, as they made their way through the Cymopolian reaches in their sporadic, semi-randomized cavalcade of FTL jumps. That said, they weren't strictly-speaking necessary. They served merely to verify what the Director had already extrapolated - safeguards, to maintain consistency. Indeed, the purpose of the orbital could already be deduced to a reasonable degree of accuracy - that said, the political motivations behind it would take some further insights to fully map out. And these would hopefully be provided, willingly or not, over the course of this interaction.

by **Imperial warlord Wu** » Mon Nov 25, 2019 7:45 am

Outer rim, Codia
Admiral Xu stood on the deck of the Devil's horn. The Bellator had been stationed over Jakku, but had survived. He'd relieved the other admiral of the ship, in a meeting involving a rare novotoxin. He liked the space on the bridge. Sure it wasn't an Executor, but they were a nightmare... Whoever decided you needed an 19km ship deserved to die. Half the guns never shot, plus the inadequate fighter screening. He'd chosen his fleet far more careful. Some screening ships while backed up by star destroyers would be adequate for where he was going.

That message had been around since the time he had been a captain on an arquittens... Boy, was that message nearly 25 years old? How times had changed. The Republic was dead, replaced by the empire... Now consigned to remnants. Luckily he'd got hole open. He'd already sent a small detachment through. They'd sent an all clear back, the planet was habitable and they'd built the first base. He laughed to himself, his empire was coming together. He watched as a venator approached the hole. It then entered hyperspace, the hole forcing the ship into the new universe. The first ship they'd sent through didn't survive... A single CR-90. Weak vessels though, if they where docked in the ISD's, they survived, lucky break. It would soon be the Bellator's turn to jump.

He'd seen a Republic and Empire fall in the span of his service, his new found power wasn't being taken from under him. He would prove that he was capable, even if he got snuffed from being a moff. He'd prove them wrong. The person who go promoted ahead of him? His father sat on the board of Incom... He wondered how many strings had been pulled to make that happen.

He watched as one of the large ISD's went through. On board, waiting to reach their home where countless civilians... All different races. They'd all live together, gone was the ideal of human supremacy. A price to pay for survival against the new republics ideals.

"Sir, we have reports of a New Republic task force coming." A human shouted from below the command deck, "It's sizeable, something we can't take on our own."

"Increase the amount of ships jumping at one time, in fact order all ships to begin jumping. We need to close the hole, tell the forces on the other side that new Republic vessels may make it across. Prepare to blow the station to preserve our safety." As he said this, a single Nebulon jumped in." Go, now!" A single Dreadnought began to pummel the nebulon. It didn't stand a chance, the shields where already beginning to buckle, when an ISD began a preliminary attack, the ship's hull finally buckled, an explosion began on multiple decks, fire billowing out as the different windows began to become blown out. The ship exploded in a brilliant fire.

The Bellator began to fire up its hyper-drive, as more Republic ships jumped in, An MC80 appeared, followed by two mc60's. Wu pressed the button blowing the space station,"The hole shall remain open for another minute, jump now!" all around him ships began to disappear into the darkness. Finally he jumped, the hole shutting behind him... They where free.

He stood on the deck, looking at the hyperspace lines shoot by him. This could be the last time he saw those lines. He returned to his quarter, head thick with thoughts. He couldn't wait to be on the ground, he'd seen holograms, marvelled at the new city they'd built and how they'd already found iron and ore, or the moon had already began being harvested. The fact he had also

When the ship popped out of nothing, he was informed and instantly hit his first issue- the hyper drives no longer worked. They where stranded in an unknown region, with no way of FTL.

He would have to rely on... Alien assistance. He would construct a plea for help, with the promise of an allegiance, to whatever war or conflict they are embroiled in. However, with the new republic trapped inside another universe, he could breath. He would finally be able to set about certain changes inside the hierarchy. These changes would ensure the survival of his fledgling empire, he would make sure of it.

Captain Ven'su stood on the bridge of the ISD Domination. He saw this as his chance, his chance to finally free himself from the constraints of admirals appointed on family ties or great wealth. He could finally show himself to be a capable squadron lead. He would want to lead the first party of explorers into the galaxy. He knew what forces he would take, to help fight off any aggressive wannabe alien killers.

"This is Imperial Warlord Xu, from a galaxy far, far away. I have entered here through a tear in reality. I have ensured it is sealed. I am however stranded with no FTL travel. I am asking for assistance. Although we have just settled, I wish to form an alliance as payment for a FTL method. Any help would be greatly appreciated."

by **The Unfounded** » Mon Nov 25, 2019 3:39 pm

Lapis Sector, twenty years ago:

"If they find out, they would kill me."

The governor is on his knees, sweat trickling down a dust-crusted forehead. He tries his hardest to avoid the piercing gaze of the three standing before him, most of all the woman. Somehow, the fact that she only looks at him with a combination of concern and pity is the most terrifying thing of all, perhaps intensified by her awesome beauty. Trying to look out the broken window is little comfort, as he can see the ruins of the city around him. These... impossible people had been like a coiled snake and nobody had even thought them a threat. When the conscription orders came from the inner systems, their opposition had been seen as laughable. They claimed they did not seek out war. When the arrests started, his men were laughing at how easy it would be.

Nobody was laughing now. They were too dead to do much of anything.

Like snakes waiting coiled in the grass, they struck. These people who had been the greatest boon to the planet's economy in decades, even in a galaxy so rich. They struck with calamitous fury, and within a matter of hours, the world fell. The three leaders of their 'Outreach' program stand before him now, the priest smirking, the woman tensed, the warrior glaring. Around the room, men in armor hold spears at the backs of the other ranking members of his government, who look even more haggard than he does.

"I will kill you if you do not," the warrior replies. His sword lifts the governor's chin up to look at him. The touch of the sword brings a tingling sensation, and the governor is almost in tears. "You were warned, and still you brought harm to our own. We can abide many things, but not this thing. Now, you have no choice but to listen."

"This world is now ours, as are the outlying systems." The priest gently pushes the sword away, and gives a sidelong glance towards the warrior. "There is little to be gained in resisting the new order, and little to be gained in punishing those who remain skeptical. Let Rakh'Tron do his work, for such is his purpose. Your purpose is to lead in our defense, Achaedus, and you have completed your objective admirably."

"As I always must." The sword is drawn back, then vanishes into a strange black mist.

The priest nods, then directs his gaze at the governor. "Those who care are otherwise preoccupied with the rising tensions in the interior. You know this as well as I. They are both so focused on themselves and ideological differences that a plague across a single backwater sector would be of little relevance to them. And yes, that is what they will believe, for that is the story they shall be given. Do you imply that they would consider an account regarding us as truthful? Precedent has proven you wrong a great many times. YOU certainly did not believe it. Your ongoing life is not under threat, so long as you cooperate. Of this, you have my personal assurance."

"What will you do to us?"

The smirk intensifies. "The same as always, we will give you a choice. We cannot coerce your fealty, as forced belief is false belief. Those who accept our offer will find a new purpose and earn their freedom. Those who reject our offer will be permitted to live out their lives in ignorance. They will be permitted to keep their trinkets and baubles and childish things, and may well have an existence that to them is still somewhat meaningful."

"You will however be contained," Achaedus states with a voice of iron. "Your regime is dead, and dead things stay where they fell."

"What say you, friend?" the priest asks. "Surrender is not so unpleasant a thing, when it saves lives."

The governor looks out the window, at the columns of smoke still rising from the city. After what seems like hours, he lets loose a long sigh of resignation. "What choice is there? You've shattered us. I formally accept your offer of surrender."

"Wondrous!" the priest gives a slight hop and claps his hands together in glee. The other members of the leadership seem to deflate, and are led off by the other soldiers. "I think you will find that we are not spiteful in our rulership. Ours is one of goodwill and the good word."

"Balmothere," the woman speaks as if to remind the priest of something. A soothing and pleasant voice, incongruent in the current circumstances. The priest

"Ah yes!" The priest replies with a snap of his fingers. "Mindful as always, my dear Lady." He turns back to the governor with a substantially widened smile. "I understand you two were on somewhat familiar terms before our conflict arose? Lady Alexis has expressed a desire to... convince you of the wisdom of our path."

The governor looked between the priest and the woman. "I... I don't understand."

"You will, friend. You most assuredly will."

Achaedus bows before the massive alabaster statue, eyes down, on his knees and knuckles.

"Repairs are expected to be completed within the week, Teacher. Casualties were minimal on both sides, as was the damage."

The statue, a gaunt figure roughly humanoid in shape and devoid of detail other than its horns and feathery wings, glows momentarily. A pattern of dots on the statue's face shimmers into existence, and Achaedus strains against the stupendous weight of the tutelary's focus. EXCELLENT. YOU ARE ALL TO BE COMMENDED FOR YOUR MASTERFUL WORK, MY STUDENTS. FOCUS NOW ON STRENGTHENING OUR POSITION. THE TIME WILL COME WHEN WE ARE THE POWER IN THIS GALAXY, AND WE MUST BE READY TO ACT WITH DECISIVENESS WHEN THAT TIME ARRIVES.

"Yes, Teacher. Your will be done."

Open space, present day:

A single ship flies between the stars, seeking out a new system. It is small, a mere fifty meters in length and barely even a meter thick. Eldritch runes dance across its surface, and a brilliant mote of light hovers within its open center.

by **The-International Space Organization** » Mon Nov 25, 2019 4:25 pm

ISO BULK FREIGHTER 'MIDNIGHT DREAMS' - SYSTEM 'EDGE OF INFINITY', STATIONHOUSE

The 'Midnight Dreams' itself was nothing unique. Just one of tens of thousands which plowed the Sea of Stars to keep the ISO alive, and it's influence spreading. It was built to the exact same specifications as it had been built during the War in Heaven- Hundreds of lifetimes ago. The ship itself was not unique. It was what it carried.

It had been 'Triple-Stacked'. Each cargo-point had three containers loaded onto it, instead of one.- The lowest layer, 1, was a full 'battleship' load-out. 15 VLS pods, 15 Gun Pods, and 5 armor pods per-side. Ontop of that was two layers of nothing but material to establish a colony. Mining equipment, generators, pre-fabs, vehicles, marine detachments, and more than a few civilians pods, covered to ensure little could happen to them. Towed behind it was a Station-House, which was currently being fueled by the one they were attached to. It wasn't just a single cargo-load. It was the start of a new era. Of a new colony. It was a new beginning.

ISO BULK FREIGHTER 'MIDNIGHT DREAMS' - CnC - SYSTEM 'EDGE OF INFINITY', STATIONHOUSE

The Super-Rhino sat, piping and cables lancing out to grasp to the Station-House, as the roaring of turbines deep within the ship shook it. The crew of the 'Midnight Dreams' were no stranger to jumps with a Station-House - Veterans of over 40 years of trade, they often took trips from each jump-point to another.

Today, however, was different. They didn't have another Station-House to use as a reference point on the far end. It was a blind jump, across a huge span of space. The calculations were as precise as the Jump-Master could get them- Within 2 AU^3 s of a point ISO command had highlighted as 'safe enough' to drop into.

The Jump-Master grimaced, as he set down the calculator and pencil. "We've hit the golden ratio, Captain. Disconnect now, and we'll engage precisely at just over the wei-"

"Make it so, helm." The captain cut him off. Within seconds, the Super-Rhino slid free from the Station-House. Thrusters flaring, as it turned to match the heading prescribed by command- 98, 98, 98.

"We are free of the station-house. On bearing..." There was a pause, and the ship shook lightly. The turbines deep inside spinning up to an even higher ratio, before the ship began charge the primary Jump-Drive. Fuel and electricity playing a deadly game of consumption and production as the crew all retreated to their jump-stations. The alarm klaxons blaring, as the multi-million ton bulk-ship-slash-freighter began to hum with energy.

"Helm, status?" The captain turned to ask, as the helms-man turned to look at the Jump-Master, who nodded once.

"We're golden. Initiation in fifteen seconds." The helm replied, as a count-down flashed up on the Captains monitors.

Ten seconds left till they sent themselves flying into the unknown. They'd be the path-finders. But... Even with their supped up communication gear, messages back to the nearest ISO comm-point would take four days to reach back. They'd be isolated until the Station-House got its communication array up and running.

Five seconds. He glanced at his watch, then at a monitor which showed the last he would see of friendly territory for months. They'd drop the station-house they were towing, with it's crew, the moment they exited, than make full-pace for the nearest planet. It would only be a four day journey, according to what the Jump-Master had calculated.

One second left... It didn't feel right saying nothing. He had to say something to mark this occasion. The first jump they would take beyond the confines of their own galaxy.

"Initiating." The Helmsman said. Turning to his station, as he shoved the throttle all the way forward. Advanced thrusters kicked them all into their seats, as it near-instantly accelerated to 1% of C.

"Make it so." The Captain, as he turned to look at the monitor which showed the portal which the Super-Rhino dove into. Accelerating away faster than the blink of an eye-

CnC - SYSTEM G-01-CYM

The system designated 'G-01-CYM' had been specifically chosen for it's nature. Not too isolated, but long-range scanners showed it was hopefully empty. Just enough celestial bodies to keep the miners occupied for centuries aswell, tearing them apart to grasp at the valuables deep within them.

But that was all for later.

Space tore itself open, as the heavy bow of the Super-Rhino surged through. Real-space and false-space fighting one another...

And then the ship was free of the grasp of the portal. 35 Kilometers of metal coming to exist where it had not before. The shockwave from such an event was not subtle- But energy collectors on the Rhino helped to mute it ever so slightly. The resultant shockwave of energy would still be noticeable, but to anyone who wasn't trying to identify them... They'd be a fly on the wall.

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

The ship's crew leapt into life instantly, the moment the ship dropped out of warp. Triangulating the position- Only 89,000 Kilometers off from the estimated jump-point - Detaching the 'Station-House' they had been towing, it's own thrusters bringing it to a flaring stop. The Super-Rhino swinging about, and aligning for the nearest planet. Four days under full-steam. Four days to pick apart any radio signals they might encounter.... Or whatever might be here, aswell. However, ISO command was good for one thing- They had taken the time to ensure this system was empty, before throwing the ship into the unknown.

But they knew, quite well, that they were not entirely alone. It was impossible for an entire galaxy to be devoid of life...

The Communications Officer turned back to her station, idly, and began setting up a low frequency message. It would repeat every hour, and if she did the frequencies correctly, it would become too garbled to understand before it even exited the system. The message was simple.

"This is the International Space Organization Mining Vessel 'Midnight Dreams'. We are a neutral force. Return calls on frequency with +2 Hertz. I repeat, we are a neutral force."

She set the low frequency message to repeat, and turned to her other jobs.

by **Arkeyana** » Thu Nov 28, 2019 6:46 am

Terminus System, outer halo of Cymopolia
Within the Terminus System, the headquarters and foothold of the LA in Cymopolia, the already-busy system was having a small current of vessels moving towards one corner of the system.

There, basking in the feeble red rays of Terminus, and the eerie blue-grey aura of the Gate and the Keeper, the 1st Cymopolian Refuge Fleet was under construction. At the center of the sprawling formation, was the AGS A shore of planets against a sea of stars, an Island-class Generation Ship, one hundred and twenty kilometers long, and twenty in diameter, it was an oval-shaped vessel that was shrouded in glimmering holofields.
Surrounding it, was a cloud of Gladian Vessels. thirty cruiser-types took up the front of the formation, their gravitic railgun batteries being loaded with ammo from deep within their hulls. Surrounding the sides of it, twenty battleships were going into combat-ready stance, checks being run on their KKV launchers and Prow-mount Phase Weapons. And, taking up the rear of the formation, was another thirty cruisers. In another layer surrounding the formation, a veritable swarm of hundreds, if not thousands, of KKV drones surrounding the fleet like a cloud of shrapnel.

The Fleet was ready for deployment to Diligence.

Nidavellir Orbital Framework
At this point, subtle alternations in the nature of signals sent between the LA ships would indicate that the group of constructors that had moved to contact the Enantimorph and Ascribe It Not To A Demon had split into two different conversations to talk to both ships.

"Your request will be noted and the details of your civilization will be submitted to the Laniakean Species Database, those who wish to upload to you will be transported to Cymopolia."

"I see. Now that we have expressed the purpose of this megastructure, is there anything else you would like to request?"

Azalea System
In the time since the encounter with the Decepticons, preparations for the digging operation had been going along with increased speed and worry, and the Warminds' number had been doubled for additional security. Now, the preparations were complete.

Positioned over the presumed location of the Arn vessel, there was a ring-shaped installation one kilometer in diameter. This construct was completely automated, a teleportation array whose purpose would be revealed soon. And so, with all checks completed and positive, it activated. The ground within the ring exploded with light, before said light began to sink downwards, leaving the walls of the currently-digging shaft glowing red from the heat. The Array was functioning as a mining mechanism, digging out a massive vertical shaft to the level of the Ship far below.

by **Hiachijan** » Sat Dec 07, 2019 2:52 am

Pax Cybertronian wrote:“Well, so far you seem like a peaceful people, so peace might not be totally impossible if you’re the third party involved with negotiations,” Stak said. “How quickly would these shipyards be able to produce corvettes and destroyers?”

Just then, Stak received a notice from Commander Kaulik: they had detected several small vessels – presumably corvettes – heading towards the Levia. they appeared to be non-hostile, though, in this environment, Stak didn’t want to take any risks. An ambush could be quickly taken out, but there was always the possibility that it could damage the Levia itself, placing them in a politically and militarily weak position for some time – and if the Levia, the strongest vessel the Reclaimers currently had, was placed in a bad situation, then that meant that the Reclaimers themselves would be placed into a politically weak situation, and political weakness could breed further realpolitik from foreign nations and contempt within the rank and file.

Mind, they were probably peaceful diplomatic envoys. There was no need to become outright hostile to a possible ally. With this in mind, Stak ordered Kaulik to await the arrival of the vessels and to take them to a diplomatic officer or an Admiral. Perhaps this alliance could prove useful to the Reclaimers…

CYMOPOLIA
Levia vicinity

The vessels dropped out of impulse upon their approach. Their external weaponry was sheathed to avoid provocation.

Kiz-Tiv's pilot, a decently-experienced boidfighter₁, slowed the vessel. She swiped out a sheathed terminal on the console in front of her, relaying orders to the other corvettes. Kiz-Tiv himself and Wri-Lon spent the journey making themselves presentable. Kiz-Tiv shook his head around, shedding a few spines off his mane in the process.

The star pilot waved a few hand gestures at his superior, signaling that all was ready.

Kiz-Tiv plucked off another dead spine, turning to his shorter right-hand.

"Prepare a transmission channel, we should begin introducing ourselves before they get suspicious of us." He spoke, applying a universal translator to his muzzle. Wri-Lon nodded, muttering his orders to the pilot. The pilot, in turn, opened up a government recording channel to relay a greeting. Kiz-Tiv approached, leaning forward to speak into the console. The channel itself prepped a holographic recording of himself before him.

"Salutations from Andromeda! Speaking now Viceroy Kiz-Tiv of the Jiphen Tribe, of the 9 founding collectives of the Ythijen Cooperative." He presented the flashy, hieroglyphic badges on his attire towards the recording software.

"We are a proud consolidation of peoples, and we have been looking to expand far beyond for many years. On their behalf, I ask for an invitation to diplomatic discussions. With our colonial migration, we bring many trade goods, but are also willing to partake in any of your territorial conquests. We are new arrivals to your galaxy, and in the interests of both of our races, we hope for a fortunate start to relations." He provided a Faceless salute, before signaling to end the transmission. The Koyt pilot compiled the recording, sending it towards the Levia.

Wri-Lon folded his diplomatic documents into his shoulder satchel, nodding to his superior. "All set, boss. Everything the Admin had suggested is translated for presentation."

Kiz-Tiv sat once more, muttering thanks to his pilot. "Good, we're here to make the best impressions possible. A fine new species in a realm yet unexplored by the Faceless. Two mighty governments working as once, yes?"

The two continued sharing predictions with one another as the vessels remained in the vicinity.

1 - Star-pilots with exceptional skill. Named after 'boids,' predatory bat-like animals deadly to Faceless and native to their homeworld.

by **Pax Cybertronian** » Sun Dec 08, 2019 3:30 pm

In the wild space surrounding Cymopolia’s Outer Rim, a corporate-minded Decepticon makes his first re-tread into Cymopolia…

Cymopolia was abundant with stars, he knew this to be a fact. It was no small galaxy; in fact, it was projected by his corporation’s cosmologists to merge with one of its satellite galaxies, Linnaeris, within the next few million years. The fact that Linnaeris was in a decaying orbit around Cymopolia meant that it was easier to access the dwarf galaxy and flee Cymopolia when it became clear that tensions between the Grand Circle and the Reverent were irrevocably ruined and that war was going to properly break out. It was no secret among Decepticon High Command that they knew about Cymopolia; invasion plans were being prepared by then-Admiral Scorponok a few months before the message was sent out.

Due to his responsibilities as a mostly full-time Decepticon, he wasn’t able to tend to the corporation as often as he wished. As a result, the yellow and blue mechanoid often delegated responsibilities to the rest of the corporate Board of Directors. Each director would be tasked with a certain area of economics to tend to. Quicklatch, an Autobot who ran back to the Commonwealth after the fall of Cymopolia, had been tasked with interstellar and intergalactic trade that involved Sikaris Incorporated and Director Haskis Belus had been tasked with diplomatic relations. After Quicklatch’s betrayal, Swindle had promoted another Decepticon who had proved promising after consistently performing well in Swindle’s monthly audits and made him the Director of Sikaris Trade.

Linnaeris itself was a dwarf galaxy and was, comparatively speaking, relatively insignificant. Swindle himself was becoming increasingly busy with his workload as a Decepticon and was forced to delegate responsibilities to the Sikaris Overseer of the Linnaeris Galaxy, as well as the Board of Directors in general, to his disappointment. It had come to his attention was well that it was possible that some Grand Circle and Reverent outposts, back from Cymopolia’s golden age and the cold war, had escaped the chaos of the Final Conflict unnoticed. It was obvious that, in the absence of any strong central pan-galactic government since the war, they had been galvanised into becoming self-sufficient, no matter how much of a shock it was to their systems.

Under Decepticon law, a percentage of the profits made by Sikaris Incorporated was taxed and handed over to the Decepticon regime, no doubt to fund the war effort, to suppress rebellions, to synthesise more energon, or whatever other hyper-imperialistic ambition Megatron had cooked up in his velvet tower. It was inevitable, Swindle believed, that the Decepticon Empire would eventually begin to mobilise and begin to colonize the numerous dwarf galaxies surrounding Cymopolia, either as a safeguard in case Cymopolia was lost and the Decepticons wanted to retake it, or just for simply conquest. Resources would be scarcer in Cymopolia as a result of the Final Conflict; metals, minerals, ores, and such like would have been obliterated by the nuclear weapons, antimatter bombs, and whatever else the factions had created in their prime.

Swindle and the rest of the Combaticons had mostly kept out of the greater galaxy since Cymopolia’s downfall. Errant radiation from the bombs would prove hazardous to exploration crews and possible investors would be scared away due to the costs it would take to repair the entire galaxy.

Well… perhaps it’d be best to keep an eye on current events, Swindle thought to himself. We’ll intervene once I’ve seen what the situation in Cymopolia is like.

The Crucilandians had surrounded the Diligence system.

That fact became very clear once the Autobots’ FTL sensors detected numerous Crucilandian warships surrounding the system and the fleet’s inside. Ironheart knew that he didn’t have long to decide what course to take. Backing down in the face of the enemy was ill-advised, and victory must have been achieved for Ironheart to win. By this point, it was starting to become clear that the Crucilandians were intending on consuming the inhabitants of the star system. Why else would they place such emphasis on assimilation? In his optics, it was to kill or be killed; win or lose. If they lost, perhaps Ironheart would destroy the star system – at least then it wouldn’t be a boon to the Crucilandians. Or, perhaps, if they were reliant on assimilating people, then they could just destroy everyone around them to ensure they can’t assimilate them.

Regardless, there would inevitably be consequences of each measure taken, but it seemed that the ends justify the means.

Diligence must not fall under Crucilandian control, Ironheart thought as he activated his viewscreen, turned towards it on his swivel chair and sent a message to the Reclaimers assigned to the Diligence system.

Code: Select all: ”It would probably be prudent to consider… most options in fighting for individual and collective freedom. We don’t want to give them a foot in the door, yet I’m sure that at the same time that you don’t want your people to die. That being said, I’m becoming suspicious that these Crucilandians will simply assimilate your people if you lose today. If it comes to it, would we be able to euthanise your people here?”

The Overseer was about to respond affirmatively to his request when he noticed the Laniakeans’ message to them. “Hold on; the Laniakeans sent us a message,” Ksata said. “One moment, please.”

Watching the transmission, it was apparent that the opportunity for the Reclaimers to flee the system was fleeting; it would be rather curt – cowardly, even – to just leave the Autobots and the Elder to their fate, but did they have any other choice? Granted, the euthanising option was always still available; at the very least, he would be able to sleep at night knowing that his men weren’t suffering in some abomination. However, it was still preferable that they survived, and so he decided to quickly respond to the Elder to ensure that the window of opportunity wasn’t closed.

Code: Select all: “I suppose I haven’t got any other choice than to immediately accept, have I? Yes, you can evacuate them if or when it becomes absolutely necessary.”[]/i The Overseer then waited as the Laniakeans began to escort the inhabitants of this system out of Diligence. He quickly turned to Ironheart once more and responded to him with a “yes”. [hr][/hr] In the Irenton starships, it seemed that Nikolach had lost. He had just very recently been executed among his top loyalists; it made sense to believe that he had died. However, unbeknownst to Arthus and the rest, the Decepticons had managed to plant numerous sleeper agents within the fleet. The grand majority of the Imperial forces would continue their missions as previous, though working harder than usual to prevent the ire of the IIAB. The sleepers, meanwhile, would steadily collect data: guard movements, supply chains, fleet deployment orders, and Irenton technologies; all in an attempt to continue their mechanical masters' plans. It was vital for these forces to maintain their cover; if they were exposed, this would invariably jeopardise Scorponok’s plans, as well as directly cause the Irentons to attack them on their boarders. They would have to quickly adapt; making the wrong move by that point probably destroy the plan. As such, these sleepers maintained their secrecy within Irenton space. As the starships moved forward to the fledgling Irenton foothold in the western outer rim of Cymopolia, these sleepers would move into the colonies established by the Irentons, as well as maintain their external loyalty to the Irenton Empire and collating information. Through a chip implanted within the brains of the sleepers, the Decepticons were able to retrieve the information given unknown to the sleepers. Ideally, some of these clones would be placed within the Justice Trooper divisions, allowing them to further access to the Irenton Empire. Meanwhile, the clones of Nikolach’s Battlegroup managed to hide safely in the pocket dimension created by Thoriam. Stored away here, the clone of Nikolach sighed and began to work. He loved the [i]Wrath of Irenton[/i], but this was too close a call; had luck not come upon them, then everything he and the Decepticons had forged would have been all for naught. His escape from Irenton forces, most importantly, was only really due to these robots; who else would he have been able to turn to had they decided to not let him join their ranks? Unfortunately, the cat was out of the bag – he was outed as an Irenton traitor to the Decepticon fleet. Very unfortunate. A chill crept down his spine. [i]What if they kill me for this?[/i] he thought. [i]No… I’m too important… but, then again…[/i] Regardless, he’d stay loyal so long as the Decepticons didn’t sell him out, as well as if they could just point him at something to kill. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, and one that would remain as such so long as all went to plan. They would have to operate quietly within the shadows to evade Irentonian detection, and then they could strike and, hopefully, one day take them down. [hr][/hr] [i]In the wild space surrounding Cymopolia…[/i] Several Decepticon starships left transwarp and watched Cymopolia’s surroundings. Most of this area had been uncharted and unmapped, unlike the Unknown Sectors. Tyrannia was near to the galaxy’s outer rim, roughly speaking; this wild space additionally seemed to have not yet been colonised by any of their enemies. Good. It was far easier for them to covertly start the mage project with Celena. The Decepticons knew her as the Tower’s chief recruitment officer who was an “exceptionally powerful mage”. It took some time for the Decepticons to select which ship that They ultimately settled on a frigate. It wasn’t too big but, naturally (being a Decepticon warship), it was rather spacious given its size. This would give Celena and her other recruits ample size and time to train the Decepticon mages, as well as giving them enough breathing room. Several Decepticon at least decently versed in the arts of magic – there were numerous magicians around the universe; a true fact considering the vastness of the universe – were assigned to this frigate. Now, it was just time to play the waiting game. [hr][/hr] “High Admiral, we’ve received a transmission from that shuttle,” a scanner told Stak, to which he simply nodded so as to signal her to show him the transmission sent to the supercarrier. [code]” "Salutations from Andromeda! Speaking now Viceroy Kiz-Tiv of the Jiphen Tribe, of the 9 founding collectives of the Ythijen Cooperative." He presented the flashy, hieroglyphic badges on his attire towards the recording software. "We are a proud consolidation of peoples, and we have been looking to expand far beyond for many years. On their behalf, I ask for an invitation to diplomatic discussions. With our colonial migration, we bring many trade goods, but are also willing to partake in any of your territorial conquests. We are new arrivals to your galaxy, and in the interests of both of our races, we hope for a fortunate start to relations.”

She deactivated the transmission and asked, “Want to respond, sir?”

“Yes.”

The ensemble of dedicated technicians in the Levia then scrambled to promptly present the necessary equipment to record the response. After half a minute, everything was ready and he stood up on the ship’s long bridge, tall and proud, ready to begin. Suddenly, his viewscreen flashed green to indicate that the recording had begun with the appropriate message displayed. He would appear as a blue holographic image to the Ythijen Cooperative.

“Greetings, this is High Admiral Stak of the Grand Reclaimer Fleet,” he introduced. “To those in the Ythijen Cooperative, your invitation has been granted. You and I both will be interested in these goods, and we shall give you resources of our own in return. As to you wanting to help in our “territorial conquests” as you put it, we may, in fact…” He remembered the ongoing conflict in the Diligence system. “…be able to direct you to an ongoing conflict if you so wish. It is not required, mind you.”

by **Kasa Tkoth Sphere** » Sat Dec 14, 2019 11:16 pm

Uchro 31 G

Holder of Dreams was not particularly fond - for some definitions of the term - of puzzles. Energy-consuming things, impenetrable to decryption routines, yielding information that was rarely worth the computation cost. Sometimes, when faced with a situation in which it could not gather enough information on its own, it split up a puzzle and gave it in microdoses to the Freed, clues embedded in ancient temples or game strategies or decisions over what kind of emulated pet to adopt. Such a procedure was also computationally wasteful, though it did serve to keep them entertained and satisfy their preferences, which was the only bottom line that ended up really mattering much.

Then again, of course, it often didn't have to solve them at all. Scarcely a nanosecond passed before the next packet was already in motion, another set of carefully-tuned bits of entropy describing phase space headed to the Fenestrane. If the response came faster yet, Holder of Dreams had every intention of speeding up, though more than a few orders of magnitude might have begun to put undue stress on FI Eastlander's processing and relay systems.

I've encoded a copy of the virtual pamphlet discussing this concept as an attachment to the latest packet - so many have expressed skepticism that it's been easy to prepare a universal explanation.

In short, the Kasa Tkoth Sphere uses a form of remote tachyon-bounce Moravec transfer to keep the assembling local half and deactivating physical half of a mind in contact, so as to improve security and easily assuage a number of typical concerns about consciousness continuity. The process incidentally results in the effective unusability of a typical cellular or digital brain, which renders duplication (itself also unsafe) physically infeasible.

The so-mentioned attachment was a curious one. No trace of supernatural memetics permeated the simplistic file of text and pictograms, but the writing - a description of the procedure by which a sophont typically arrived at some meeting point for ease of access, received a briefing, and had their mind simply shut down and booted up inside the K-Sphere's primary network - had a persuasive capability to it far beyond the capabilities of any modosophont. No ill effects could come of simply refusing to believe it, provided one's willpower was sufficient. It was fairly obvious to tell, even from simply how it was written rather than the actual text, that Holder of Dreams was interested in getting consent from anyone who cared to entertain the idea (perhaps as part of an agreed set of preference-utilitarian conditions), rather than simply mindjacking every available sophont into the K-Sphere in the style of a classical rogue assimilatory "hive".

Kasa Tkoth Sphere

Your condition hasn't improved recently. Are you feeling alright?

I'm afraid. Angry, too, but mostly just terrified.

Do you think the Cymopolia incident is responsible?

If we don't act soon, I don't want to think about how many could be hurt. The sort of harm that some of these factions want to bring upon people... it's too disgusting to think about. And we brought so few! The Freed are cheering for Toy Fighter and the rest, but the signaling means nothing if we can't help everyone enough to pay for the operation.

Allow yourself some patience. We play a quieter game than most... and only once the conditions are right can we hit the critical points in space and time. Change the future at a pivotal moment. That's what I hope you understand I'm trying to do.

I've been following your advice, but now I can't stop hearing the screams. And if it doesn't work... will they get worse?

This is the burden we bear together for the ones you love so dearly.

by **Cruciland** » Sun Dec 15, 2019 12:14 pm

Edge of the Contested Zone, Diligence System
(this section was made in collaboration with Arkeyana)
At the massive head of the Crucilandians' towering Sibyl-class command ship, there existed an empty space separating the top and bottom halves of the structure... or at least it would be empty, were it not for the globe of unidentifiable energy shimmering between the head's hemispheres. The wave of armored dropships approaching and leaving the command ship was tapering back off again, having deposited their ecological cargo inside its amorphous hull. And now, the force-globe was beginning to fill with air and water. The first elements of the reconstructed environment were being moved into this vast storage space- an artificial habitat through which new ecosystems could be divided up, stored, and added to the Nomadic Legion's arcologies... But before that could ever come to fruition, there was a conversation to be entertained- the ISV Tenebrous had returned a transmission to them as the first few seconds of filling the globular chamber ticked by. Although the one speaking for the Sub-Fleet had yet to be identified, the same voice as before gave its reply to Hatlen's vessel...

Code: Select all: "Physical transferal of assimilated individuals is required to retain their continuity; that is to say, merely uploading their minds would result in the negligence and death of the original individual, thus severing the experiential life of the original individual from that of the uploaded mind. An uploaded mind is thus nothing more than an artificial intelligence- a facsimile- of its 'parent.' This artificiality also does not retain the metaphysical properties of the parent individual, thus negating the principle reason for our assimilation of sophonts. Our reasoning for being here is, as evidenced by our activities, to accumulate more assimilated individuals and raw material in order to expand and replenish our Legion. You are welcome to share your own motives with us- especially if it may lead to cooperation- in addition to any 'pointers' you may have which may be applicable to our parameters for assimilation."

All around Sub-Fleet 2C came the buzz of faster-than-light systems, some delivering communications while others were delivering new vessels (or the promises thereof). The Autobots and Reclaimers were deciding on a tactic guaranteed to deny the Nomadic Legion their prize, if necessary. The Ythijen were being cajoled into aiding the two small fleets' cause, just in case. And then the Laniakeans (or "Arkeyanans," as some of their vessels identified as) were arranging for an evacuation fleet to drop in and snatch the inhabitants of Diligence away. All the pieces on the galactic chessboard were moving into place; their extension into this system had essentially put them in "check," and they knew it. But then... why would such an advanced civilization be here to begin with, if such a stir could be predicted by even strategists who weren't cognitively enhanced?

Meanwhile, the 1st Cymopolian Refuge Fleet was completed, and soon traversed a wormhole to the Diligence System, before emerging out of a corresponding event horizon near the Reclaimer's primary outpost. A message was broadcast:

"This is the 1st Cymopolian Refuge Fleet, under the Flag and Protection of the Laniakean Alliance Fleet. We come with peaceful intent, and desire only to evacuate the population of this system and relocate them to a safer area of space. Any and all hostile actions taken against this fleet will be responded to with force, however.

And with that, the Fleet began making preparations for a mass-beaming of the inhabitants of the outpost, sending a warning message beforehand.

The Sub-Fleet's reaction was immediate.

At the flank of Sub-Fleet 2C off to the left relative to the sun, the starboards of the vessels saw several large chunks of their hulls suddenly shift and fragment free, rising up and splintering as long hull segments before swiveling on one end to face the Gladian warships and their Island-class generation ship. Even the drones ceased their activities and hovered, as if they too were sighting down this emergent threat to the Crucilandians' prized commodities. Everything from guns that looked too small for interorbital attacks to large missile batteries rearing for a large naval engagement had ripped themselves free of the gold-topaz hulls, leaving canyons and fissures in the otherwise-sleek hulls of the vessels. To be sure, it was quite a complement of weapons- they were staggered all along the starboards, leaving no area without a manifested weapon system- but perhaps more alarming than them was the sudden shift of activity from the Hatzalah-class dropships, which suddenly arrived en-masse to freight the rest of their cargo. They were not doing their little backflip as they realigned with the Tyrannia System, either. Instead, the armored dropships just passed right by the Sibyl before unceremoniously jettisoning their cargo behind them, leaving it to travel in their force bubbles towards the waiting hull of the altitudinous command ship. Small transport ships, which only moments ago were ferrying an entire biosphere's sampling of lifeforms around, now pointed their subulate noses towards Caleph and Barrov.

...The sphere of the Sibyl was being filled with soil, now; solid materials were rapidly passing into the energetic shell separating the two hemispheres of the capital ship's head. And not even seconds after the first patches of soil rose above the water, samples of plants were beginning to germinate in it at an accelerated rate as transported seeds and spores were added to the environment. Even as the Nomadic Legion was raising its scythe to harvest yet another world, new life was already being sown by them.

The AI aboard the flagship of the 1st Cymopolian Refuge Fleet was perplexed; it would seem like these "Crucilandians" didn't take so well to the idea. Perhaps they had misunderstood the tone of the message? Then again, there were the small habitats being dumped by those vessels...
ASOPAASOS' mind was not a cynic, they were diplomatic, pacifistic. They'd rather resolve this conflict with as minimal bloodshed as possible. Another transmission was directed at the Crucilandians.

"This is the AGS A Shore Of Planets Against A Sea Of Stars, it would appear that there was some form of misunderstanding upon the reception of our last hail. We do not intend on interfering with your operations within this system, we only wish to evacuate it's inhabitants before you do so.

There is no need for violence, if you accept these terms, the Alliance guarantees a neutral stance within this system before complete withdrawal upon completion of evacuations.

You may respond to this hail verbally, rather than with a change of posture as what you did before."

The holofields of the Generation Ship flickered to a rosy red, indicating peaceful intent and a state of ease.

The vessels which had changed their posture and position appeared to hold their ground- at least for the moment. Beyond the teal glow of their interiors and the faint nimbuses of cyan which surrounded them, the vessels displayed no lights or holograms to speak of; even the drones with their holograms and hardlight projections did not show much of such activity. Just as how their hulls appeared on scanners as impenetrable blackbodies, so too did their outward facade remain decidedly inscrutable in comparison to the lively activity inside the Reclaimer and Autobot fleets, as well as the holofields surrounding the generation ship. It was only when the voice of the Sub-Fleet's representative was heard that the Laniakean AI finally received a glimpse into the tone and mood of the Nomadic Legion; it was authoritative, matter-of-fact, and to-the-point.

Code: Select all: "...Your desire to remain neutral is acknowledged, AGS 'A Shore of Planets Against a Sea of Stars.' However, your evacuation of this system's inhabitants interferes with our operations because the acquisition of these inhabitants IS the main objective of our observations. We cannot remain neutral under these conditions; but rest assured, those whom we capture are fully integrated, naturalized, and given all accompanying benefits as citizens under our jurisdiction."

The vessels remained ominously still, maintaining their guarded posture as if expecting an unresolvable impasse.

ASOPAASOS processed the message, going over it multiple times in a row and running it through several translators to ensure there wasn't a corruption. The assimilation of other species was not a common activity back in its universe, as far as the LA knew. On a matter of brutal honesty, it appeared as though conflict was unavoidable...yet, it could still do what it could to help. Hailing every reclaimer base, it gave one word:

"Brace!"

The Crucilandians detected a surge of power from the Generation Ship as it's holofields turned to a blinding white, before detecting a massive energy signature aboard the Outpost. Upon subsiding, the ASOPAASOS jumped straight for Caleph, seeing as it had the greatest population, crossing the distance within the span of a picosecond.

The speed at which Sub-Fleet 2C responded to this turn of events was... Indeterminate. Indefinite. Indecipherable. Such was the smoothness and gradualness of their warp drives that the point at which the Hatzalah-class dropships started spaghettifying was impossible to be estimated. What was known for certain, however, was that the Crucilandians had just been horribly provoked, and the Task Unit of dropships had just warped themselves into the atmospheres of Caleph, Barrov, and even Fudolf. Before any planetary defense forces had been mustered, before the Autobots and Reclaimers had collectively processed what just happened at the Reclaimer outpost, and before the Generation ship had a chance to power on again, a tremendous crack of thunder began to shake the entire hemisphere of each planet which happened to be facing the Crucilandian Sub-Fleet at that moment. The vessels had caused enough of a gravitational pressure wave to cause widespread disorientation and panic, with Caleph receiving a high-enough concentration of ships (250 of the 356) to see everything down to the upper troposphere violently churned as every dropship collapsed their warp fields at the same time. Windows shattered. Eardrums split. Burglar alarms blared. Airborne vehicles began to fall out of the sky. And worst of all, thousands of Totach-Kadur-class ultralight drones were already being dumped into the vicinity of urban centers.

But perhaps even more ominously, an area of space centered around the Sibyl-class command ship was shimmering again.

Contested Zone, Unknown Star System
(this section was made in collaboration with Arkeyana and Pax Cybertronian)
London continued their exploration, traveling across the glittering mass of stars constituting Cymopolia- yet still pursued by the Crucilandians, always at a respectable distance to avoid detection, and its unknown hitchhiker from the Syndicate. It never happened upon any LA-controlled systems; it never encountered another LA ship. It just kept roaming across the stars, sending out a bizarre signal seemingly aimed everywhere and nowhere from time to time- presumably a status report.

Aboard the 2C-1-A2 vessels, these signals were recorded and analyzed, the data being sent off for Mindstorm's review. Deconstruction and reconstruction of the signals, their frequencies, and their modes of output had yielded a highly encrypted lexicon pertaining to scientific data on the systems visited by the ASV London. The omnidirectional signalling meant that the destination of the signal could not be directly determined, but the encounter with the 1st Cymopolian Refuge Fleet had become a watershed moment- underlying characteristics of the science vessel's signals and patterns in its Arkeyanan lexicon aligned with the communications broadcasted by AGS A Shore Of Planets Against A Sea Of Stars. The naval reconnaissance unit had reached a verdict...

Code: Select all: "Mindstorm. We have determined that the London uses the same underlying communications technology as that found in the Laniakean Alliance. Although our reconnaissance task unit has not found any of their ships, our main naval group has just encountered an evacuation fleet sent by them; you will find a comparison of their transmissions attached to your communications feed."

So, the science ship is more than likely from the Alliance. Mindstorm looked at the viewscreen and responded thusly.

Code: Select all: "Excellent work. Do you know where the London is likely heading to? Do you believe that it will enter Laniakean space soon enough?"

Code: Select all: "Negative; the London has shown no signs of directionality beyond jumping to the nearest unexplored star. We predict that it will continue this movement pattern until its work is disrupted."

Code: Select all: "Are there any other Laniakean vessels in the galaxy? I presume that they're coming from somewhere, at the very least."

Code: Select all: "Currently, all other vessels affiliated with the LA are either at diplomatic summits with the New Circle or Reclaimers, or they are cloistered in the Galactic Northwest. Your people had already launched a probe there, into the Azalea System."

Code: Select all: "We sent one into Azalea Prime, yes, but they turned it back."

Code: Select all: "Judging by the direction their vessels were pointed in after jumping, and especially where they appeared relative to the planet, the footage your probe provided would place their base of operations further Northwest- at the very edge of Cymopolia."

Code: Select all: "Interesting. Have you noticed anything in Diligence... particular regarding the evacuation fleet?"

Code: Select all: "Their vessels came from the same area at the edge of the Galactic Northwest. Using the same methods as before, we were able to quickly triangulate the star cluster where the ships originated from. We will provide the area where they may be found, but take heed- the Laniakeans are far more powerful than meets the eye."

Code: Select all: "Judging from our encounter with them in the Azalea system, it appears they prioritize quality over quantity."

Code: Select all: "Indeed... If you wish to investigate them further, we are attaching the star system where their forces and infrastructure in Cymopolia are concentrated."

Code: Select all: ”Excellent. Thank you.”

And with that, the Tat-Netzer presiding over the Sub-Fleet marked an area of Cymopolia's outer rim. Within its boundaries lied the Terminus System, now at high risk for discovery by the Decepticons.

Their work now complete, Task Unit 2C-1-A2 silently peeled away from the ASV London to rejoin Sub-Fleet 2C...

Cymopolia: New Beginnings [IC] [Apply First]

Cowrite by Pax and I

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