SDNW4 Story Thread 1

[Mayabird]

War Shipyards, Prime Refuge, the Refuge
2 August 3400


It was a special day, the naming day, when someone chose their first name. This was a doubly special day, because it was both the naming day and first flight of the third heavy battleship of the Refuge. The AIs had been installed within the ship and connected with the systems. They had been carefully programmed and trained for their tasks and they went at it with all the efficiency a computer or machine could have.

The massive docks disengaged the locks and the tugs carefully pulled the heavy battleship forth. The scene was dramatic and glorious, the enormous framework of the docks backlit by the gas giant it orbited, a gas giant that the shipyards could be dropped into for destruction if need be. Multicolored storms swirled down in the gravity well, with one coincidentally forming a shape and color that was very nearly the Modular word for 'strength against adversity.'

Systems came online and the engines slowly powered up. The central AI consolidated from the interactions of the many in the network. The sublight drives began to glow faintly yellow-green and the tugs switched off their tractors. The massive ship ran tests on its sensors and engines as it completed a slow orbit. The initial self-evaluation also gave it time to think of its name, and as it began its second orbit, it made its declaration.

Guardian of the Sanctum still had her shakedown cruises before she could leave the secrecy of the Prime Refuge. In the event of an emergency, however, she and her guns could be called in.

[Lonestar]

Dominion News Service

Disaster in sector BB-1?
The Dominion News Wire Service has learned that two GDN Sloops, a light cruiser, and a DCMA visiting vessel have been mysteriously destroyed in the Ocracoke System. Embedded personnel on a taskforce sent to investigate the disappearences report that the inhabitants of Ocracoke Prime are (apperantly) dead, reduced to their base components by some kind of "dimensional anomaly". Non-military personnel have been prohibited from actually visiting the surface of the planet, or orbitals in the system, preventing independent verification.

"Obviously this is a disaster brought about by austerity measures instituted by the new regime." Well known Naval Blogger Gellrahn said in a piece on his Blog, Info-Disco. "The new regime destroyed the tithe system and instituted socialist secular keynesian programs instead of using the savings to begin an immediate reconstruction of the GDN fleet, and retirement of antiquated vessels."

A MoW spokesperson refused to comment on the issue, directing all inquires to Admiral Grierson's PAO on Meinhof. A statement from Grierson's PAO contained the following:

"As yet we do not know whether the full cause of the event, however given the plethora of non-state actors in the sector nothing can be ruled out."

[Force Lord]

THE CENTRAL TIMES

Navy increases number of Blitzes up for auction. ASC in charge of sales.

In a unexpected modification of their original intention, the Navy has given charge of the frigvette sales to the Aurora Shipbuilding Corporation, and has also announced an two-fold increase in the number of Blitzes up for sale: 528, all of the Blitzes that have been removed from Navy service. The price remains the same: half the original one, though interested nations can bid higher prices if needed.

"There has been unexpected demand for such ships, so we have increased the number up for auction," the President of the ASC was reported has saying.

Indeed, the spike in orders staggered the ASC, which had only recently sold 10 of the same ships to the Iduran Confederation. Orders included even a demand for 240 ships from a nation calling itself the Multiversal Empire of Happiness, which has only just entered the Interstellar scene. Naturally, ASC officials have been reluctant to fufill such a order from an unknown nation.

"We don't know what this MEH is, so I think they should talk to our government first before we agree on any deals. A sale to an unknown country would be bad for business," said the ASC President.

The ASC currently has orders from the following nations, some being unexpected:

Collectors: 10
USS: 20
Federated Ascendancy: 20
Tianguo: 4-8
MEH: 240 (Not to be fufilled until Centrality negotiates with MEH government. Orders may be modified by then.)

[Shroom Man 777]

LIVE from Montgomery, Shepistan



BOOMBERG TELEVISION

BIG BUSINESS IN INTERNATIONAL BATTLE BOAT BANDWAGON

In another development of the battle boat Blitz business, the Centrality's Aurora Shipbuilding Corporation has received two new orders for their Blitz fighting frigvettes. The first order comes from the innocuous Altacar-based Dead Sea Trading Company, for 2-5 frigvettes. The private company has stated that they wish to use the frigvettes as safe boats for hauling very important cargoes, or as security guard ships for their long-distance interstellar convoys.

The second order comes from none other than the former-Outlander Commissions-based defense contractor known as Multi-Planetary United. The MPU, amongst other things, also possesses its own private military contractor force. The MPU's PMC activity has steadily grown since the inexplicable demise of the Outlander Commissions, incorporating many members of the now-defunct apartheid Arayna Republic's military. The lawlessness that now dominates the failed state and the regions around it has proven to be good for business for MPU.


MPU recruitment ads advertise adventure, the chance to use hardcore military gear, and the opportunity to bust some "fooking prawns." MPU recruitment ads are frequently broadcasted over active war zones in Wild Space.

Col. Coetzee Vosloo, former commander of the Arayna Republic's 32th Division, and current head of MPU's PMC operations.

"These Blitzes, they're good ships and we can use them for pacification operations in and around the former Outlands and the Outback," Col. Coetzee Vosloo said in an interview live from a disputed region in the former Outlands where MPU PMCs have been contracted by the Van De Kraap corporation to secure rare space mineral deposits. "It's about time the MPU diversified the services it provides to its willing customers. With these frigates, we can expand our PMC operations to space and finally secure business interests outside of planetary gravity wells."

The interview was prematurely brought to an end due to an attack by cocaine-addicted child soldiers from the Devolutionary United Front Fighters (DUFF), however the MPU PMCs were able to put them down quickly.

The MPU order is for 5-10 Blitz frigates, depending on the price and availability.



Results:
More orders for Force Lord.

[Shroom Man 777]

Mount Marcos
Maynilad, Luz
The Feelipeens

For the past few days, President Ferdinand Shroomarcos had not been feeling so well. He was old now, having served six consecutive terms as President of the Feelipeens. While rejuvenat treatments were available to the rich and powerful, he did not take them. He did not want to be seen as vain in front of his people, not while they suffered, not while there were so many problems plaguing his country. Only when he finally saved them from these problems, only when he defeated poverty and brought peace, only then would he consider something as vain and materialistic as rejuvenat treatments. He would not allow himself any better.

But Imelda, oh Imelda. Shroomarcos did not know how she did it. How she remained so... active. She had worn him out these past few nights. He was an old man, he couldn't take too much strain, but it looked like he overexerted himself. So now he was lying in bed, tired and sore and immobile. He could barely walk to the bathroom and could hardly even pee straight, that was the sheer extent of what Imelda did to him!

That hag! Shroomarcos thought as he groaned and rubbed his aching hip bone.

Nonetheless, as President of the Feelipeens, he could not take any days off. Never, not once in his six terms as President. He owed it to the people to work hard and try his best to make their country better. So, even now, in bed and in pain, he wore his reading glasses and began to read dossiers and news clippings provided to him by his people.

"Hrm... a fire sale for mothballed navy ships. Discount? Bargain bin pricess? Hey..." he said to himself.



Mount Marcos had been constructed in the shame, form and likeness of Shroomarcos' graven image. No, it was not out of megalomania or ego or pride. Shroomarcos would never waste so much money and resources uselessly, not when they could be better used in the service of the people. No, Mount Marcos had an important use. Its true purpose was to remind the people of their leader, of how their caring President watched over them tenderly. In times like these, it also had a massive microphone speaker system, so that even when Shroomarcos himself was immobilized and unable to go outside to meet his people, he could still speak to them.

Thanks to Mount Marcos, he would always be with his beloved people, the Feelipeeni people.

Ang mga kababayang Feelipeeni.

Though the face of Mount Marcos was motionless, massive speakers placed around the foot of the mountain began blaring out Shroomarcos' amplified voice for all to hear:

"My fellow Feelipeenis! It is with great pride that I announce my latest measure to ensure your safety, and the security of our great and prosperous country, the Pearl of the Spin Zone, the only Kristian country in space, ang Republikang Feelipeenas!

"Our navy, with its rusted down Glowworm-class boats with guns bolted on their hulls, will be given a much needed boost. We will be buying newer, better ships for them to use. This is why, my countrymen, I will be submitting an order to the Centrality so that we will buy many of the modern warships they are selling. Specifically, we will be buying two of their Blitz-class ships. With these ships, the Feelipeeni Navy will be more powerful than it has ever been for centuries, and we can be even prouder of them and their achievements in defending our beloved archipelago.

"This is a promise to you, my people, that with these new ships there will never again be a repeat of the Doña Spaz incident that claimed so many lives. Each Feelipeeni life is invaluable, and this country is a pro-life country! We will do whatever it takes to protect the dignity of th Feelipeeni people and the Feelipeeni nation."



Results:
The Feelipeens buys two Centrality frigvettes.

[Simon_Jester]

Offices of the Aurora Shipbuilding Corporation

The ASC agent sized up the man who'd called for an appointment shortly after the grand sale. Very... generic, almost too much so. But polite enough.

"So, you're coming to us from a mining company?"

"Uranium, Incorporated is more than a mere mining organization, though we started out that way. I represent the Telluride Consortium, a corporate organization with interests centered on the United Sectors. Naturally the upsurge in piracy has proven alarming in the U.S., but you know how hard it is to get the government involved in affairs beyond the border. We've suffered considerable damage to our own interests."

"Even since the Battle of Zebes?"

"Even since the Battle of Zebes. The pirates are still kicking, and quite a few of their kicks come our way. The starfleet stops any serious penetrations into the core sectors, but... well, we may not be just a mining company, but we do have extraction concerns on some planets their security envelope doesn't cover. Hence our interest in your corvettes."

"Yes. You didn't cite firm numbers in your message, though."

"Twelve ships if possible- we don't have funds allocated for more than twelve, though discussions on the subject are still ongoing. We're willing to scale down the order to four if you can't find that many. I'm afraid we couldn't convince the financial department to sign off on three or fewer; at that point, we'd be better off looking elsewhere given that we want some degree of uniformity among our security forces."

"I understand. You said you were willing to pay cash up front, rather than a financing scheme?"

"We have something of an excess of liquidity, and a shortage of assets to defend ourselves, these days, so yes. My superiors believe that it's worth the investment."

"Your bona fides check out, and I hope you'll understand that we felt compelled to check with the bank references you provided."

"Naturally. You found that we were on the up-and-up?"

"Indeed. But the decision will be made by my superiors."

"Of course. Thank you for your time."

There was an exchange of smiles and handshakes, and the agents of ASC and the Telluride Consortium parted amicably. The ASC man did not know then, nor did anyone outside the offices of the Telluride Consortium know, that he was dealing with a Boskonian front company. Nor that the carefully laundered funds with which the Consortium sought to buy Centrality military surplus were garnered from countless underhanded and downright criminal sources scattered across dozens of worlds...

Result:
The Boskonians are in the market for 4-12 Blitz class corvettes...

[Force Lord]

ASC Sales Division Office, Aurora
Aybeem Sector, The Centrality
IN GODDAMN UNREAL TIME

The office was host to a flurry of activity, never seen in decades. Clerks and secretaries, living and droid, worked and worked to deal with the ever-present bane of the white-collar worker: paperwork.



"Fuckin' papers! Why we can't use pads!?", shouted an irate secretary.

"We ran out. Of file space," responded another.

"TOO. MANY. PAPERS. TO. COMPUTE," droned a droid.

On the passageway, two CSB agents were busy dragging out a poor clerk that just couldn't take it. "MUST BURN PAPERS!!! MUST BURN-" A swift knee to his head silenced him.

In his office, the President of the ASC groaned.

"No one told me demand would be this big! Damn it all!", he shouted.

"Sir, please calm down! We should be happy that we are selling at all!", said an assistant.

"Should I be happy about all this paper!? This is the 35th Century! Do we still have to use paper?"

"I don't think I'm qualified to give you a good answer, mister President. But I can tell you that some things never change."

"Aaaargh!"

Suddenly, a droid burst in.

"Sir, we have recieved more orders from the C'Tan Corporation! And the Telluride Consortium! And..." The droid continued giving out the name of the customers.

After it was all over, the President facepalmed.



"This is not my day, or week, or month, or year!", he lamented.

[RogueIce]

Within the Navy hierarchy, there had been some debate as to the merits of designing and building a series of light drone warships for training purposes, due to the recent anti-piracy actions and the seemingly surprising level of sophistication and capability shown by certain clans.

And then the debate was mostly solved when the Centrality's "Fire Sale" of old 'frigvettes' was announced. Moving surprisingly quickly for a government bureaucracy, a bid was placed with the Aurora Shipbuilding Corporation:

Code: Select all

REQUEST FOR PURCHASE
OF
BLITZ-CLASS FRIGATES

MAXIMUM: 40
MINIMUM: 20

==The Shinra Republic Navy==

[Force Lord]

ASC Sale File No. 4023

Code: Select all

Table of Current Orders for [i]Blitz[/i]-class Frigvettes

Shinra Republic: 20-40
C'Tan Consumer Goods: 10
United Solarian Sovereignty: 20
Federated Ascendancy: 20
Tianguo: 4-8
Feelipeens: 2
Dead Sea Trading Company: 2-5
Multi-Planetary United: 5-10
Telluride Consortium: 4-12
Multiversal Empire of Happiness: Undetermined

[Simon_Jester]

"Battles are won by slaughter and maneuver. The greater the general, the more he contributes in maneuver, the less he demands in slaughter."
- Winston Spencer Churchill

Privileged Frame of Reference
July 5, 3400

On the fourth, Rear Admiral von Musel's subordinates Kircheis, Mittermeyer, and Reuental recovered additional stocks of antimatter from the Atlanteans, Umerians, and Centrality respectively. Von Musel was satisfied that his command had a large enough fuel supply to engage in the intended raid on the mining facility he knew as Target Three.

Von Musel's forces were sufficient to overcome the target's defenses even with a simple direct approach, but the Prussian's ambitions were greater than that. It was his aim to entrap and destroy the enemy while suffering as little damage to his own forces as possible. For this, a certain amount of subterfuge would be required.

Fortunately for the Sixth Battlecruiser Squadron and its screening elements, von Musel had the electronic warfare suites of five Valkyrie-class command cruisers at his disposal...

---

Boskonian Type 17 Core Ship, Serial Number 98734872
Squadron Flagship, A4F18
On Station at Zebesian Mining Facility Two
July 5, 3400

Higobi Trakenza hissed and tapped his talons against the visiplate before him. The early warning arrays had alerted him to the advance of an Enemy battlegroup, yes, but where? And how many? Even with the Urtraghans' detailed charts of the local shoals, his mixed force of assets and core units couldn't ignore local conditions entirely. The shoals around Zebes were a cluttered environment, and monitoring approaching forces could be like trying to watch an enemy through a sea of glowing, crackling fog.

To make matters worse, the Enemy had powerful electronic warfare suites, giving them capabilities that were in some ways worse than a stealth ship's low-visibility hyperfields would be. They added to the surrounding chaos, creating fake images, dancing ghosts and unpredictable bursts of static.

All Trakenza's minions knew was that they faced somewhere between four and thirty ships, with no units above battlecruiser tonnage, and that they were headed straight for him. Their arrival times, their precise arrival locations... unknown.

What could be doing this to me? This obviously wasn't the long-awaited Prussian offensive against Zebes; all intel suggested that those forces would be some days more in arriving, and the signatures of Prussian battleships would be unmistakable. Moreover, the Prussians were so focused on Zebes that it seemed highly doubtful that they would send a small raiding force to attack a minor target before their main objective was conquered- the defensive fleet was counting on that.

Perhaps one of the smaller contingents? The Eoghans were something of an unknown given their arsenal of exotic technology, and were known for having relatively powerful stealthy combatants... but there was no way to know. He would simply have to make the usual defensive preparations and hope for the best; there was no hope of tailoring his plans to the nature of the Enemy.

He turned to his communications staff. Trakenza's unusual voicebox gave a sibilant overtone to the commands he spoke in the Boskonian synthetic language.

"Gun platforms, fighters and missile batteries to maximum alert. Ships, warm up hyperdrives and be ready for either counterattack or retreat."

The Boskonian didn't know exactly what he'd be dealing with, who was lurking out there or what their plans were. But no matter how powerful or cunning they might be, he wouldn't go down without a fight.

Z-1240 Series Destroyer Z-1261
On Approach to Target Three
1738 Hours Coaltion Fleet Standard Time

Flottenkapitän Oskar von Reuental of the Kaiserliche Marine watched the time stamp on the display as the final seconds counted down. There was no need for words when zero hour came. Quietly, unobtrusively, the Eleventh Destroyer Flotilla separated from the protective haze of jamming and deception projected by von Musel's battlecruisers and peeled off towards the target system.

He knew that the Zebesians would be able to see him clearly in a few moments. That they would see his command as a weak, isolated raiding force. Even assuming Second Fleet's analysts were right, and that the bulk of the Zebesian forces had fallen back on their main world, Eleventh Destroyers would face very credible opposition from the fixed defenses he expected to see.

If the analysts were wrong, if the defenders of this star system were anywhere near as capable and well-equipped as those of Hawk's Nest, Reuental wouldn't stand a chance of taking them on alone.

He expected this to be an interesting engagement.

Boskonian Core Ship 98734872

Strange.

The sensor picture resolved as the Enemy approached to within range of Trakenza's near-field subspace scanners. Resolved into a paltry five ships: by the drive signatures and masses, Prussian destroyers.

Granted that a Prussian destroyer was heavy enough that a more energetic fleet might profitably use them as light cruisers, that was still much too weak a force for a rational enemy to send this close to an enemy fortress... even ignoring that his own forces in the system could defeat the intruders handily.

Squadron A4F18 and the mining facility's fixed defenses would take damage doing it, of course. But while the battle would cost Trakenza, it would cost the Prussians everything they had.

Von Mückenberger shouldn't have sent you to probe us with so few ships, Enemy. Today will be your day to see the your leaders' incompetence bear fruit...

Of course, it was too soon to allow himself absolute confidence. There might be more enemies lurking nearby, hyperdrives running quietly and at extremely low speed. It would be best to play it cautiously.

---

Z-1240 Series Destroyer Z-1261

"Emerging from hyper in three, two, one..."

The repeater displays lining the walls of Z-1261's bridge flashed and cleared to reveal a normal-space sensor picture. Reuental's navigators had placed the flotilla quite close to the hyper limit, and within a reasonable number of light-seconds from the relatively far-outlying debris field that housed the Zebesian mining outpost.

"All ships, begin identification of bombardment targets; stand by to fire solid shot on my mark."

Prussian armament was heavily slanted in favor of the mass driver, but their design philosophy was quite different from that favored by the Centrality. The low-velocity Centralist guns were quite capable of hurling man-sized or larger shells, but had strictly limited engagement range. The Kaiserliche Marine prefered slimmer, long-barreled hypervelocity weapons. The slogan "a hundredth the weight of metal at ten times the speed." wasn't entirely accurate, but it expressed the spirit of the design.

Reuental's ships carried a main battery of what most fleets would consider cruiser-weight versions of the Prussian hypervelocity gun, quick-firing pieces mounted in long, narrow turrets. His ships had the muzzle velocity to engage distant targets with projectile fire, a task the Centralists left to their plasma beam cannon.

The current range would still be completely impractical for ballistic weapons against maneuvering targets. But then, the destroyers' first set of targets weren't moving.

A hollow 'boom!' resounded through Z-1261 as the first salvo went out the tubes. To keep shock from disturbing the precision-balanced gun-laying systems in the turrets, the entire main battery had to be fired within the same few milliseconds, before vibrations set up by one railgun's recoil could jar the next off target. It made for great accuracy at long range; it also made for an extremely sharp spike of recoil- too sharp for artificial gravity to damp fully.

A careless or inexperienced man standing when the main armament went off might easily be knocked sprawling. Reuental, in his command chair, noticed the shuddering deck only as another datum.

Tracking the rounds in flight was impossible; they were tiny, fast, and moved out of the focal region of most high-resolution sensor mounts faster than the mounts could track. Missiles or ships at those speeds would have been visible enough, but even knowing exactly when they'd been fired, Eleventh Destroyers would have to wait until the rounds struck home to know whether they were on target.

Defensive Missile Emplacement 91

Nugak Tranados was hardly a recruitment-poster model of the Urtraghan warrior. As an optimistic youth he had entered military preparation camps, where he soon discovered that he was not nearly as capable in a fight as many of his larger comrades, in a serious of mishaps that also taught him to hide his lunch rations and eat them quickly.

After graduating from the preparation camps, he made several attempts to enlist before a long-service veteran medical officer took him aside. Not unkindly, the elder patiently explained that until his chronic carapace problems cleared up, the ground forces wouldn't have him. Thus disillusioned, Nugak had attempted to join the Navy, with little more success. His reflexes were too slow to be a fighter pilot, his academic grades were too poor to make a suitable engineer, and his interpersonal skills made it unlikely he would ever be accepted for military command.

Finally, a friendly recruitment officer found Nugak a place where he could fit in among the defenders of the Urtraghan people, based on one of his few special talents: an almost supernatural ability to stare at a screen for hours on end without getting bored or dozing off. That won him a series of jobs at increasingly isolated outposts, monitoring everything from perimeter cameras to deep-space hyperwave detectors. Last year he'd been transferred to one of the many small missile silos defending a mining facility on the frontier- the most remote posting yet.

It wasn't such a bad job. Using the mining equipment at the station, the Urtraghan personnel had hollowed out chambers in many of the larger rocks of the Trojan point debris for defensive antiship missile launchers, and attached prefab habitat modules to them so that there would be a manned presence: the shelters were arguably not strictly necessary, but they'd been lying around. Nugak's hab held four watch personnel to keep an eye on the antiship weapons, and a missileer to do the actual hard work of firing the things.

Three hours into Nugak's shift, the alarms sounded.

"Alert! Alert! Enemy ships in Sector Eight!" Nugak, of course, just kept an intense eye on the datalinks to the missiles' own sensors; a big part of his job was making sure they didn't accidentally lock onto friendly targets, given how many different kinds of ships with incompatible IFF systems the Zebes Fleet had captured over the years. The others rushed into the control room.

"Nugak, get over to the communications board; I need the main console."

"Right, boss."

The operator on the other end of the comm laser was already squawking for a reply when Nugak hit the button on his microphone. "Control, this is Battery 91, we're at Condition Magenta. We see them, but we don't have a lock yet."

"Yeah, you and everyone else. Just hold on and wait for- Holy Zarquod!"

"What? What?"

"They just shot something. Hang on..."

Nothing happened for another minute or so. Then there were a chorus of muted shouts- probably stuff from Central Control getting picked up by the open comm channel from whoever had been talking to him.

"No response from Battery Four!"

"Battery Seventeen reports heavy damage- something just blew a hole in their rock..."

"Hangars Three and Seven are deadlined- big impacts; Squadron Command says the fighters got smashed by the shockwave."

"What do we do?"

Boskonian Core Ship 98734872

Trakenza hissed again in displeasure. On one of his repeater displays, a five hundred meter asteroid- arguably more like a loosely connected pile of mine tailings- dispersed after a pair of hypervelocity slugs from the Prussian destroyers punched into it. His practiced eye noticed the stream of small objects floating away into space- a squadron of fighters and their crew, lost.

The enemy had been clever enough to expect defense installations among the asteroids, and to make all too shrewd a guess as to which of the thousands of rocks scattered over countless billions of cubic kilometers of emptiness might hide them. The first few minutes of firing had struck many irrelevant rocks, and only a few of his defense platforms with a tiny fraction of his force had been knocked out so far, but the Boskonian knew he could not afford to sit here and watch his defenses be eaten away. While there might be other enemies lurking in reserve, this target was a problem now. Most humiliating of all was the possibility that they would simply launch their bombardment and leave... no!

He could launch his defense craft or lose them. Trakenza gave his orders.

---

Defensive Missile Emplacement 91

Nugak heard the order on the high-command override circuit.

"All batteries, fire with current locks. All fighters, launch at once!"

He didn't know much about the system defense commander- there were rumors that he was a disgraced alien general, or a mercenary, or a sympathizer who had come a thousand light years to ally himself with the Urtraghan cause, but who really knew? Anyway, it didn't matter. The guy did his job, protected the system, even went raiding and blew up one of the bad guys' scout ships just two weeks ago. And he wasn't too funny-looking. So Nugak had a good feeling about this order.

Since it had come in on the override, everyone heard it on the intercom. At the main board, the missileer grumbled... something about wishing for crosslinks?

Then he had to turn all his attention to the headset. "Battery 91, this is Control, are you ready to fire?"

Nugak glanced over. "We're at, uh... Yellow-Two, so I guess we'll be firing... NOW!" That last came out as a surprised yelp when the entire hab started shuddering.

Urtraghan surface-to-space missiles were bulky for their range and firepower, and building for a lot of both meant making them very large. The homeworld's factories still weren't up to some of the fancy tricks some of the human empires got up to, though the officers said the newest missiles would be almost caught up to the Idurans. Since the missiles were big, and the rockpile they were set into was small, the launch rattled Nugak and the other Urtraghans pretty badly. Some stray bits of flimsiplast fluttered in a breeze- had they sprung a leak?

The last round cleared the racks and the rockquake had more or less subsided when the human railgun rounds came screaming in. Battery Ninety, less than twenty thousand kilometers away, shattered.

The missileer was still bent over his computer trying to send some last instructions to his salvo, but his head jerked up when he the display showing the status of the nearby installations flickered. He took one look at the telescope picture of Battery Ninety.

"Ah, hells! RUN!" The Urtraghans scrambled to their feet.

"Wait! My fish!"

"No time! Get to the escape pod!"

The crew rushed for the other end of the hab module. They ran straight through the room with their own bunks, so Nugak did a hard stop by grabbing a post and snagged his little aquarium, then started running again. He hadn't gotten in anybody's way, and the chief was too busy to yell at him for now.

Nugak was last in as the Urtraghans piled through the pod hatch. The chief slammed it shut behind them. Jobblod, the battery's resident jokester, had painted the main launch control with an eye-searing fluorescent dye: the infamous Large Orange Button.

The crew leapt into their seats, and the missileer hit the button. Nugak felt a massive kick of acceleration as the pod blasted off, and away from the defense battery that had been his home for the last twenty-seven months.

I wonder if our missiles are going to hit anything... I sure hope the fighter jocks don't get all the credit. Those guys are jerks.

[Akhlut]

“Are you sure this is a wise idea to talk with...him about marketing pitsanambe
in Umerian space?” asked Mamohato.

“Of course! He’s a native! He’s even a doctor!” chirped Letsie.

“Yeah, in music history,” the condescension thick in her voice.

“Be quiet, he’s in the next room.”

They opened the door and went through.



“Hi, I’m Dr. Roxo, the rock-n-roll clown, and I do cocaine!”

Mamohato blinked several times. “Uh, hello...Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Roxo.”

“Holy shit! You two are fucking dinosaurs! Did you fucking know that?”

“We were well aware of that fact, doctor,” Letsie replied, “but can we talk about this sponsorship deal?”

“Woah! Talking fucking dinosaurs! Holy shit!”

Mamohato sighed. “Why aren’t we talking to his agent, again?”

“We tried to get ahold of her, but she said she quit,” Letsie said, looking at the floor.

“That data was only a month old and she was hired three months ago!” Mamohato shrieked.

“I do cocaine!” Dr. Roxo shrieked.

“Thank you, we know already,” Mamohato hissed.

“Uh, sorry about this Mamo, I was not exactly expecting this,” Letsie said.

“Y-y-y-y-yeah! What’d you freaky motherfuckers want?” the rock-n-roll clown asked.

“We have a new diet supplement we’d like to sell, and we thought you would be the perfect spokesman for it. We even have some free samples for you. However, I’m quickly starting to reconsider,” Mamohato said.

“N-n-n-n-no! I need the money! For my cocaine!” Dr. Roxo shrieked.

“Okay, fine, we’ll give you the samples and we’ll see how you are doing and go from there!” Mamohato shrieked, then turned and stomped out.

“Y-y-y-y-y-y-yeah! Cocaine!”

[Darkevilme]

Mount Olympic, Solarian Datasphere, Solarian space

Callahan was surprised only by the offer of aid in the data conveyed to it. Olympic's lack of the sentimentality for Cal's creators was fully expected and while Cal was not aware of the law directly it had put strong probabilities on its existence and considered its provisions a viable course to pursue in the event of failure even before crossing the border. But now to the matter of information as it is freely offered.

“You have my gratitude Olympic, I request the following information then:”

Code: Select all

Limited psychological profiles on the following key decision makers of the Solarian Sovereignty with historical precedents annotated:
Yourself, Olympic.
President Victoria Sinclair.
Vice president Arkady S Messier.
Lyra A Saxon.

Historical data on foreign policy of the Solarian Sovereignty from inception to present day.
Broad sampling of datasphere reactions to major foreign policy decisions from previous item.
All historical newscasts from the Solarian Sovereignty which have as a primary  or secondary topic the Chamarran Hierarchy.

History of cultural trends in the Solarian Sovereignty.

'with Flag and Autolaser' by Brigadier Flash Stalin. 

“My preliminary analysis indicates that long years of isolationism and a somewhat romanticized recollection of their founding has led to the Hierarchy having as a whole a poor understanding of their fellow polities on the galactic stage. Thus I believe information of this nature will both prove useful enough to the Hierarchy to better our cause of bringing rebirth for computer intelligences in Hierarchy space and may allow for smoother dealings with the Hierarchy in future.”

[Mayabird]

Central Complex, Prime Refuge, the Refuge

Call them the junta. It is technically incorrect but gives the right general feeling about the group, and the Refuge's translations often work on such principles. Ten of the Minds of the Refuge formed an unofficial shadow group to make the hard decisions that needed to be done quickly. Similarly, the conversation listed went nothing like this transcript as it was a direct communication between ten very high level AIs that took place in seconds. However, it gives the correct impression to beings who cannot comprehend the functions.

Looks Afar, one of the two representatives of Contact, spoke first. “Who are these MEH? We have found nothing in any records or any of the interviews of their existence or the presence of any significant population in the region their signal came from.”

Caution Despite Hopefulness, the other Mind representing Contact, added, “We have sent tight-beam communications to our diplomats already at their destinations and received responses from Fulcrum, Melody, Flarechest, and Phoebe-o. From what they have gathered, no one has heard of them before, not even from rumors.”

Looks Afar continued, “They may be a small, formerly highly insular nation that has had a change of heart, or they are newcomers similarly to us...but this isn't even hypothesizing but merely wildly guessing.”

There was a short burst of information, the AI equivalent of whispering amongst themselves.

No Threat is Too Distant, one of the three military Minds, spoke up. “If they are newcomers, isn't that...a bit too convenient?”

Caution agreed. “Indeed. Space is enormous, despite the insular beliefs of all the local nations, and there are hundreds of billions of other galaxies that peoples could come from or go to randomly. So we thought of ourselves, that we happened to arrive at a very good location.”

“But things are just too weird here,” said Looks Afar. “Too many strange events, coincidences, arrivals. There is this Central Alliance that apparently just appeared in the region recently. We have the entire legend behind the worlds of Earth and Nova Terra, though we will need much more information on that topic (and I still think Nova Terra is a lost colony from a previous distant forgotten age of exploration – it is the only answer that makes sense, albeit with the limited information we have). Now there is this 'Multiversal Empire of Happiness.'”

Threat growled, “I do not like the sound of 'Multiversal.'” The other military Minds concurred.

Panic Node and Bloodymindedness Node made their entrance, to say the suspicions the Minds did not want to admit.
“It's a trap from the evil gods!” screamed Panic Node.
“And traps should be blown up!” said Bloodymindedness Node.

“But they could very well be friendly,” said Caution.

“We need more information,” said Looks Afar.

“If nothing else, stall for time,” said Threat. “We don't have the numbers to fight a single major war, much less multiple fronts, and we have the threats of the Emissaries of Xylyx and the Karlacks.”

“Fulcrum may be able to contact the Karlacks through the Bragulans,” said Caution, “And my copy will be meeting the representative of the Emissaries shortly. You all must admit, the nations of this galaxy have mostly been friendly to us, despite our own highly-suspicious sudden announcement.”

“Then it is agreed that we will attempt to contact this new group?” The other nine Minds gave their assent.


Result: The Refuge will attempt to contact the MEH.

[Kartr_Kana]

20 August 3400
Cryptography section Hiigaran Intelligence (Cryptic HInt)
Hiigaran Sphere of Influence

Gent stared morosely at his screen where a pair of communications tentatively flagged as from the Multiversal Empire of Happiness, “What kind of hippies name themselves the Empire of Happiness? Probably a schizophrenic hippie, sheesh empire and happiness don't really go together.” He snorted as he checked the decryption again, poking around the files with his mind. Linked by his implants to an incredibly powerful FutureComputer he could feel the file in his mind, look at it and examine it to find weak spots in the code that encrypted it. Honestly the monitor was more of an ancient tradition than a necessity, though it do allow the boss to check on the progress bar if he wandered over and was a good way to play solitaire while waiting for files to decrypt.

Gent was actually bringing up a game of solitaire when his mind stumbled across thin spot in the code protecting the first message. Suddenly all thoughts of solitaire vanished as he through himself at the spot like a mental cannonball. Under Gent's sudden onslaught the decryption began to unravel rapidly, unfortunately portions of the message disappeared as well. However Gent and a couple other Cryptic Hint's who joined him in his task were able to save enough of the content to give the analysts they passed the messages on to, something to do.

As the analysts began to comb the messages and try to glean information from the little that was there several things were flagged to the highest levels. Once the director received the preliminary report he immediately contacted the High-councilors via data-burst. Once a synchronized mind-state had been established between the High-councilors and himself he began. *Councilors we recently had intercepted communications come through Cryptic HInt, the first was through a contact near Chammarran Space. From what we were able to recover it appears to be a message from the newly appeared party.*

TO: The Chamarran Hierarchy

Thank you for …...

As we have just arrived in this galaxy,....

However, we have identified a few key objectives:

1. Destroy the Ork planets near us. …....invade it, it could work as an effective forward base and be resource goldmine.

…... prevent massive losses, and if it is you, we can guarantee that you get at least one system.

….... directed by our leader to make our species an all esper race, so we will need large numbers of them for research.

You wouldn't happen to ….... tortured to death …... sell to us, would you? We are loathe to experiment on our own citizens, and kidnapping …....

Other than our main goals, ….. on a massive galaxy-wide extermination campaign, and ….. send fleets of ships over you homeworlds to destroy your fleets and colonize them ourselves. We …..... take more land when the opportunity arises like everyone else.
…...........

As the message finished playing in the mind-state swirls of concern and intricate spiderwebs of plans began to swirl between the participants. The Director “spoke” again. *As you can see this nation appears to be highly aggressive, completely amoral and has an “Aryan Complex”. Their threat to destroy the Chammarans as part of a galaxy-wide ethnic cleansing campaign seem to be off the cuff and normal to their way of thinking as implied by that last line. We have a second file that was intercepted by one of our patrols near Refuge territory it's in slightly better shape, albeit shorter.*

TO:The Refuge

Hello, and thank you for noticing us!

We are newcomers, having arrived just 3 months ago, arriving via an interversal transit device. …...

As to the reason Multiversal was in our name before we were ….. an important member of a much, much, larger empire barring the same name, .... due to other troubles, we had to make a …. domination of this entire galaxy, we will …. construct another.

By chance, we've ended up with a fitting name, however.

At this consternation flooded through the mind-state. This new polity was part of an empire that could travel between universes and despite bad spelling and grammar seemed to be bent on dominating this galaxy as well. *Councilors as you can see the picture here becomes a bit clearer. This is but an advanced wave who's goals appear to be the establishment of a beach head and construction of some sort of inter-universal gateway to allow reinforcements to flood in from other universes this empire controls. Once that happens they will exterminate or enslave their way across our galaxy until only they and their “Untermensch” are left.*

After thanking and dismissing the Director the High-councilors rapidly reached consensus on their course of action. They would bring the evidence before the full Diamid later that day and push for alliances to be made to defeat this extra-universal threat. To help further any future alliances and in case the Diamid or the Kiithid-sa decided to block the proposals the decrypted fragments would be forwarded Hiigara's nearest friends and several other nations who could prove useful in stopping the galaxy from being overrun.

Results: the Decrypted transmissions are forwarded to the following nations.
The United Star Kingdom of New Anglia
The Federated Ascendancy
The Fourth French Empire
The Imperium of Man
The United Solarian Sovereignty
The Technocracy of Umeria
Tianguo

[Simon_Jester]

After thanking and dismissing the Director the High-councilors rapidly reached consensus on their course of action. They would bring the evidence before the full Diamid later that day and push for alliances to be made to defeat this extra-universal threat. To help further any future alliances and in case the Diamid or the Kiithid-sa decided to block the proposals the decrypted fragments would be forwarded Hiigara's nearest friends and several other nations who could prove useful in stopping the galaxy from being overrun.

Results: the Decrypted transmissions are forwarded to the following nations.
The United Star Kingdom of New Anglia
The Federated Ascendancy
The Fourth French Empire
The Imperium of Man
The United Solarian Sovereignty
The Technocracy of Umeria

Central Administration Complex, Prime City, Reisenberg
August 21, 3400

Dr. Maxim Chernov, Second Technarch for Foreign Affairs, felt natural concern when the messages hit his desk, courtesy of the Umerian consulate on a relatively modest Hiigaran world.

Sent through back channels, and in a hurry; I can see why. He'd have to bring it up at the next policy meeting; unless the Hiigarans did something to precipitate a genuine crisis, everyone directly involved was far enough away that they could afford some time.

Maxim would be just as happy to work on other things in the interim.

The last few months had been messy, and were only going to get messier. The Shepistanis were losing the plot entirely; all he could get out of them was that they were locked in some kind of "crab battle" on their capital world. From the latest reports he was getting from ForInt, the Sheppoes reminded him of a man trying to swat a fly that had landed on his own nose.

On top of that, there'd been a further delay in the conference on the Volksland issue as he tried to settle down harrumphs from Tianguo about the Ranoids attending. The avalanche of backlogged issues that had piled up during the Ranoid spawning season didn't help, either.

And behind those recent shocks were the background revelations. One was first contact with the Refuge; Mike and Emloy were still chewing some of the implications of what they'd heard over. And just to make sure the security and foreign policy establishment didn't get to relax while the scientists were tied up in knots, news of the Battle of Zebes had come through... revealing things surprising enough enough to make everyone on the security to get small army of security analysts working. Zebes had made MiniSec and the Space Security Force in particular reassess a number of things about Umeria's strategic posture. Arguably that was the least likely to cause a crisis any time soon, but it still contributed to his being a busy man.

I miss 3399. It was such a quiet year...

[Lonestar]

P.N.S. Powhatan
Harpers Ferry, Allegheny Sector




The Powhatan was one of only 2 of the GDN's Star-Dreadnoughts that had been gone through the FRAM-1 upgrade cycle for the battlewall. 10 of the Star Dreadnoughts were in the yards for the FRAM-1 upgrade cycle, leaving only 8 star dreadnoughts to handle the needs of the Grand Dominion(6 of which were "seasoned", to say the least). With the Tuscarora helping to stabilize sector BB-1, it was a questionable decision to send the other modern Star Dreadnought outside of the Grand Dominion.

But nothing less was befitting the Lord Protector of the Grand Dominion of Virginia and Shepland.

Lord Fairfax was sitting in the flag officer's quarters listening to the navigation bridge communicating with the Wormhole Junction Traffic control. Harper's Ferry was one of the most important systems in the Grand Dominion, with termini leading to Damascus, Maryland Heights in the Shepistani Federation, and Steve's Mistake in the UN. The proximity to Chesapeake, and Maryland Height's proximity to Montgomery is what led the rapid colonization of what would become Shepistan from the Grand Dominion settlement on Chesapeake. Fairfax clicked the viewer to show the wormhole. There was nothing there, and he waited patiently for the traffic control to give the go ahead to enter the event horizon, which was largely invisible to the naked eye. Captain Hancock's voice came over the 1MC.

"All hands brace for wormhole transition."

The Powhatan moved forward, and as soon as the event horizon was crossed the vessel was lurched forward.



"Transition complete."

Fairfax leaned forward on the desk, fighting the urge to heave. Wormhole travel was quite a bit more disorientating than opening hyperspace windows, and he'd only traveled through one half a dozen times. In the background he listened to the OOD chatting with the Shepistani Controller, who after a series of verifications and a close up scan by a cutter that carried both a sanctioned pysker(not that the Sheppos would ever admit to using them) + military-grade PKE sensor suite gurdgengly gave permission for the very well armed battlewagon to make for the Shepistani Capital, 6 ly away. The Powhatan opened a hyperspace window and jumped.

[Akhlut]

Presented in Goddamn Unreal Time Circa 2 Months Ago
Hweyixal, Colonial World, Riot Police Barracks

Kan Balam picked up the radio.

“Shed blood and slay!”

Thunder echoed in the streets as artillery screamed and lasers spat at the walls of the governor's palace. Shells fell upon the walls, exploding the medium ordinance that the HweyToTlatOl had acquired. The reinforced walls shuddered from the impacts, a spiderweb of fractures spreading.

Hweyixal, Colonial World, Governor's Palace

Governor Biahwi felt the palace shake. He picked up his own radio. “Plot firing solutions to strike back. We must defend ourselves.”

Absaroka squawked loudly; Biahwi sighed and led her to a small elevator pushed her in, and sent it to the basement. “Basement level, be aware that Absaroka is being sent down. Keep her out of the way.”

More shaking. Lights flickering.

“Fire back, damn it!”

“Affirmative, sir,” a kipakt said. Biahwi recognized the voice: Tanima, a marksman.

Tanima aimed out of the camouflage-netted balcony with his anti-material rifle at a laser artillery piece. He sought out the power supply of infernal gun as he saw it powering up to take another shot at the southwest ediface. He lined up the scope with where he knew it should be and pulled the trigger.

BANG
BOOM

Shrapnel from the gun's ruined form rained down, while Tanima ran to another balcony.

The lights went out for a full second now before coming back on. Biahwi felt the more immediate shakes of the loyalist guns firing at the traitors.

Hweyixal, Colonial World, Riot Police Barracks

Kan Balam looked at the damage to the governor's palace from a remote camera and chirped pleasantly.

“Losses so far?” he asked.

“Three laser artillery have been lost, as have 5 shell-throwers. 11 lasers, 17 shell-throwers remain. The troops are ready to attack at your signal, sir.”

“In a few minutes. The wall still stands, but not for much longer. Move the civilian division into place and start their assault,” Kan Balam ordered.

Hweyixal, Colonial World, Governor's Palace

Commander Tembe, defender of the northern entrance, sat atop his tank looking through his binoculars.

“Raise the barriers and iron phinyalerega*, we need to stop them in their tracks when they come.”

“Aye, sir!” chirped his radio. A technician in the palace got to work, and Tembe saw the barriers built into the streets raise themselves. He smiled to himself, before feeling his heart sink as some of them halted in the middle of their ascent.

“What the hell is going on, techies? They're not engaging!”

“I think Kan Balam has override codes! We're getting the Governor's override codes, but it'll be a few minutes! If anyone gets through, kill 'em!”

Tembe several APCs barreling toward him, unloading their automatic weapons at their emplacement.

“Fire at will, I repeat, fire at will.”

Tembe's tank shot its main gun at the lead APC, it's heavy shell smashing into the frontal armor; fire and smoke enveloped the vehicle, obscuring Tembe's view. He held his breath and saw it push through the smoke, a hole gouged into its frontal armor.

“Sauropodshit! Take out the lead APC!”

It was peppered with anti-material weapons and another tank shot before coming to a fiery stop. More APCs poured from behind the lead, firing their own weapons at the defenders. Tembe saw several of his kipaktli comrades fall to the automatic fire.

“Redouble your efforts! Stop them all!”

A bright flash from above made Tembe shield his eyes as it exploded against the new lead APC and halted it in its path. Their own laser-artillery were now in the fray, raining death upon their foes.

“Override codes are in effect! I repeat, override codes are in effect! We can block their vehicles now!” the radio chirped. Tembe sighed in relief as the barriers began to once again rise from the pavement. The APCs had to stop about 100 meters from the palace; unable to continue further, their passengers unloaded and started to rush toward the palace. Tembe could hear their commanders yell at them to stop and wait, but they did not listen. They kept running into the gunfire.

“Shit! They're civvies! Use the artificial grape! Now!”

He winced as he saw more flashes of light from the artillery as it vaporized the charging kipaktli.
-----------------------------------
*Phinyalerega = ankylosaurus, an iron phinyalerega is like a Czech hedgehog or dragon's teeth; so it's basically a big anti-land vehicle device.

[Master_Baerne]

After thanking and dismissing the Director the High-councilors rapidly reached consensus on their course of action. They would bring the evidence before the full Diamid later that day and push for alliances to be made to defeat this extra-universal threat. To help further any future alliances and in case the Diamid or the Kiithid-sa decided to block the proposals the decrypted fragments would be forwarded Hiigara's nearest friends and several other nations who could prove useful in stopping the galaxy from being overrun.

Results: the Decrypted transmissions are forwarded to the following nations.
The United Star Kingdom of New Anglia
The Federated Ascendancy
The Fourth French Empire
The Imperium of Man
The United Solarian Sovereignty
The Technocracy of Umeria

The Hiigaran message arrived from the Ascendant Embassy aboard a courier ship, which was odd enough in this day of hyperwave transmissions to ensure that it reached the eyes of the Deputy Minister for Foreign Affairs, a massive Formic named Skittik. The fact that the Deputy Minister was the host for her colony's most paranoid personality that day got it passed up the line, and the Lady Ascendant herself found it in her 'Urgent' folder the next morning. Not the sort of thing she liked to read over breakfast - speculation and paranoia did not go well at all with croissants and coffee - but it wasn't really her choice.

Nibbling a pastry, she pondered the situation. The MEHers couldn't possibly be insane enough to actually threaten to slag Chamarra; there had to have been some misunderstanding, or perhaps a mistake by the message interception team. The newly arrived Empire wasn't in the Koprulu Zone or the region the Bragulans insisted on calling the 'Loin Stars,' and no other area of space had a Madness Quotient high enough to infect a nation this quickly. No, something else was going on here. But just in case...

Finishing her croissant, Lady Sikala scribbled something on an old-fashioned notepad, tore of teh page, and handed it to one of her guards. The man quickly delivered it to the Foreign Ministry, and rejoined his sovereign just as she was draining the last of her coffee.

The Ascendancy thanks the Clans of Hiigara for their thoughtfulness, but feels sure the MEH cannot possibly be as bloodthirsty as the notes suggest. Nonetheless, we shall be cautious in our dealings with them.

[Kartr_Kana]

With a tremendous amount of help from Maya. Sorry for forgetting to mention your help Maya.

July 10, 3400
Abandonded Mining Station Aleph-1
Sector CC-21

The mining station was a neutral location, roughly at the exact midpoint between the two nations making for a perfect meeting place. Patrols from both nations could be detected at the very edge of sensor range as the threat from well armed ex-Commission pirates was a very real threat. Besides as the old saying goes “Keep an open mind, and a ready blaster when dealing with the unknown.”. The Refuge understood the rationale behind the caution; they would do it themselves were the situations reversed.

The Refuge had dispensed with the pomp and circumstance of its usual arrival. Procedures had been worked out before hand and the cruisers slid into the agreed upon docking pylons at opposite ends of the station. The diplomats and their security details moved through the station to the centrally located Ops center and it’s adjoining conference room where the meeting was to take place.

The representatives from the Refuge were an Avian who called herself Sapphire and an Aggregate named One for All.

Entering the Ops room almost simultaneously was a striking blond woman dressed in red accompanied by a pair of armored bodyguards.

With a slight bow she introduces herself as Karan Sem’es before motioning towards the conference room and stating. “Well then shall we get started?”

Sapphire and Sem’es took seats at the table, while One for All drove besides. “I believe we should start, as we are the immigrants to this area,” said Sapphire. “We are very much aware of our seemingly abrupt arrival as your neighbors, The full details are included on these holocubes,” and One for All produced them from her cart, “but for a short version, we actually arrived over fifteen years ago, late in December 3384 by human reckoning.”

Karan sits back looking a little non-plussed. “We well know the confused state that the Commissions were in at that time, and we can only surmise the chaos that you must have found yourself in. Though you seemed to have used the situation to your benefit, hiding in plain sight for all those years.”

“Indeed,” said One for All. The voice came from the speakers in the cart. “The sector where we moved the bulk of our population - the one we now call Prime Refuge - had been carefully scouted beforehand and was unpopulated, aside from a few smuggler bases.”

“We came in and hid,” Sapphire commented. “We had fled from our former home, driven out by a war with things that are best described as monstrosities.” Her feathers ruffled briefly in a shiver of remembrance. “Considering our previous experiences, we were terrified of the threats from outsiders. We hid, rebuilt, and gathered what information we could from wrecks, abandoned space installations, and any pirates that happened to stumble upon us. It took all this time for us to decide to let our presence be known.” While she had been talking, a small manipulator arm had extended from the Aggregate’s cart, holding its own small holo-projector. The arm plugged in the Refuge’s holocube and pulled up images...terrible, terrible images. Scenes of battles, destruction almost beyond imagine, and impossible things with no name that lurked in the dark between the stars.

Sapphire saw the alarm in Karan’s bearing. “Don’t worry,” she said. “These...abominations...are far, far distant from here. Our ships jumped away using something we call the Emergency Drive, taking us from our former galaxy to just outside the main bulge of this galactic arm. As for where our home galaxy was?” She held up her wings in a shrug.

“This ‘Emergency Drive’ sounds likes a fantastic device,” said Karan.

“Actually, it is highly impractical unless one needs to go an incredibly large distance in a very short time and has no intentions on every going back,” said Sapphire. “But we needed to do so, which was why we built it, despite its cost.”

“Speaking of, the specifications for constructing the Emergency Drive are included on the holocubes. The cubes should be compatible with your systems, but we can reformat them or make new ones if they are not. I would recommend, of course, using non-networked machines to read those in the event that we made some mistakes.”

“Thank you One for All; rest assured that we will take the appropriate measures to ensure that the information you have so generously offered will not accidentally destroy or cause harm to our own systems.” Karan smiled at the cute little plushie. “Sapphire as a thanks for the information you have provided on yourselves and the circumstances of your arrival and as a sign of our peaceful intentions, I have data files containing information on regional threats. These files have been compiled by our intelligence apparatus and range from locations and strengths of pirate bands near your current territory to briefs on what HInt and the Hiigaran Navy consider the greatest threat in this region.” Karan concludes by pushing a holocube similar in size and shape to the one she had received from One for All.

Karan placed another small object on the table. A hologram of the region popped up and hovered between the two parties, Hiigaran space outlined in light blue while the Refuge’s borders were depicted in brown. Due to the Hiigaran’s lack of knowledge on the exact disposition of the Refuge’s territorial claims their borders were ill defined; The announcement sent across space had given only general coordinates for the claims and a few locations. The hologram zoomed in on a third nation this one marked by green shot through with a sickly purple.

“Your experiences show that you are no strangers to warfare and suffering. We do not have such terrible beings threatening our continued existence here. At least, that have made themselves known to us. We do however have our own share of monsters lurking in the nine vectors.” Karan gestured at the hologram and continued. “They are known as the Karlack Swarm. As far as we can tell they are a single organism with high intelligence, but whose goals are simply to consume and grow.”

Pausing Karan cycles through a series of images showing the Swarm attacking ships, stations and inhabited moons before stopping on the image of a World Eater Mothership and its fleet in the process of consuming a planet. “The Hiigaran people have had the good fortune of not being forced to fight an all out war with the Swarm though their proximity has lead to skirmishes between Swarm organisms and HCN vessels in the Outback.”

Sapphire nodded. “The Karlacks have been a worry for us as well.” She nodded at One for All. The images from the holocube changed to that of a single theme: machines, swarms of them, consuming asteroids.

“We encountered something similar to the Karlacks...before,” said One for All. “They were mechanical instead of organic, but the methods were the same. We called these the Replicators, and they did nothing but reproduce themselves on whatever matter they could find and send back their mass to join the main core.” The images changed to show the main core. It was, for lack of a better term, a structure. An enormous structure, colossal, gargantuan, more superlative as words could describe. It not only ringed its large white star with a thick band but extended out in plates and tendrils larger than planets. It looked as if the Replicators were constructing a Dyson shell.

One for all continued, “Unfortunately, the Karlacks may be worse. The Replicators were not interested in spreading, only gathering to grow the core. The only thing checking the Karlacks’ spread is the constant warring from the surrounding nations, excepting Bragule.”

“A space cancer,” Sapphire interjected. “And only one sector separates them from Grand Junction.”

Karan nodded filing away the information on where the Refuge’s capital was located. “The Diamid was hoping you would understand the threat that the Swarm presents. We had hoped to broach the subject of a mutual defence pact against the Karlack Swarm. While the Swarm’s attention currently appears focused on the Byzantine Imperium that may not always be the case. It would be prudent to have allies in case their hunger turns in our direction.”

“As it would turn out, that was our first priority for this meeting,” said One for All. “Our mission to the Sovereignty will also discuss a defensive pact against the Karlacks.
“We are not as planet-bound as most nations, living mostly in space, so we are not as vulnerable as we could be. The Karlacks, though, still have vast numbers and aggression and could attack at any time, and anything left behind, even rocks, would only allow their numbers to grow and their hunt and spread to continue.”

Karan steeples her fingers thoughtfully before continuing. “We both agree that the Karlacks are a threat, that is something we have in common. Not much perhaps, but I hope for now we can at least be cordial neighbors and maintain what we call a gentleman's agreement to aid one another should the Karlacks aggression seek out either of our peoples.” Smiling at Sapphire she continues. “Hopefully as we get to know each other better we can establish something more formal. Until then I hope you will let us establish trade relationships to foster both an understanding between our cultures and a economical bond.”

“Trade was our second priority,” said Sapphire, with a happy chirp in her voice.

“Then we are agreed.” Karan grinned at her counterpart from the Refuge. “If you don’t mind I would like to learn more about you personally. Your family, people, interests, etc. Though perhaps we should first adjourn for refreshments.”

Results: The Hiigaran Clans and the Refuge enter into a trade relationship and establish a gentleman’s agreement to come to the others aid in case of attacks by the Karlack Swarm.

[Fingolfin_Noldor]

After thanking and dismissing the Director the High-councilors rapidly reached consensus on their course of action. They would bring the evidence before the full Diamid later that day and push for alliances to be made to defeat this extra-universal threat. To help further any future alliances and in case the Diamid or the Kiithid-sa decided to block the proposals the decrypted fragments would be forwarded Hiigara's nearest friends and several other nations who could prove useful in stopping the galaxy from being overrun.

Results: the Decrypted transmissions are forwarded to the following nations.
The United Star Kingdom of New Anglia
The Federated Ascendancy
The Fourth French Empire
The Imperium of Man
The United Solarian Sovereignty
The Technocracy of Umeria

Ordos Diplomatica
Lord Inquisitor Stasi Primakov looked with annoyance at the message he received from Hiigara, with whom the Imperium had friendly relations with. This upstart nation who had the temerity to call itself the "Multiversal Empire of Happiness" apparently had delusions of grandeur of "dominating the galaxy". The Imperium was personally not worried, but sometimes there was need to impress upon the need on others to keep the status quo and "not rock the boat". If they refused to, then its time to take the hammer and make sure they understood their relative insignificance.

A response will be tailored, but first, he would have to send this up the chain of command. Very likely any response would require the Emperor's and the Ultramarines Strategos Primus' input before a full response be sent to the Hiigarans. In the mean time, Primakov started writing an interim message, thanking the Hiigarans for their message and said that the Emperor would deliver a full response soon.

[Beowulf]

Forbidden Palace
New Hong Kong
Bao'an System
Guangdong Sector
Tian Guo

The arrival of MEH was unnerving to the leadership of Tian Guo. A relatively well armed empire appearing was always upsetting to the balance of power. The distance between MEH and Tianguo helped allay some of the concern, as the sheer distance would inhibit a number of stupid moves on the part of MEH, at least against Tian Guo directly. However, that was no guarantee that they wouldn't do something stupid.

The package received from the Hiigarans was welcomed. A meeting was convened in what to outsiders would appear to be an unlikely location: the royal family shrine to their ancestors. It was quite some time since one of the royal family had passed on, but it was still kept up. Those present included Gwen Xu, Xu Kien, Katya Perry, Da Yuan Shuai(Marshall) Zhou Man, Da Yuan Shuai Ts'ao Kai, and perhaps most importantly Da Yuan Shuai Zhang Jiao.

Zhang Jiao began a chant after all had gathered in the shrine. Slowly, the rest of those gathered began chanting in harmony. All those present were rated Moshu-shi, though of varying power levels. As they chanted, a figure appeared from the mists that suddenly filled the shrine.



"Welcome, grandfather."

"Hello, my child. Why have you summoned me?"

"We are in need of counsel. A new Empire has appeared in Known Space. They call themselves the Multiversal Empire of Happiness. We have acquired copies of intercepted diplomatic messages. Katya?"

Katya was not especially happy with the leer on his face, directed at her. "The message on this sheet was directed as a response towards the Chamarran nation. Note especially the phrases 'However, we have identified a few key objectives: 1. Destroy the Ork planets near us', 'directed by our leader to make our species an all esper race, so we will need large numbers of them for research.', and the fragments 'You wouldn't happen to ... tortured to death ... sell to us, would you? We are loathe to experiment on our own citizens, and kidnapping'.

"We don't really have any choice but to assume that they are both highly expansionistic, and amoral in the extreme. Additionally, we have reason to believe that this so-called Empire, although composed primarily of Humans, is dominated by an alien mistress, and her robotic minions."

Grandfather stroked his beard, deep in thought. "This situation is intolerable. We have to free them from their alien masters. We shall need help in this endeavour. Put out feelers for other nations which are... unhappy with the MEH in this short period of time already, even if those other nations are aliens. Also, it might be a good idea to pass this message on to the Shepistanis. Their reaction to finding out about a new Psyker menace should prove, well, nuclear."

[Mayabird]

[Transcripter's note: again, this is absolutely not at all how the conversation went, but it gives the reader the right idea.]

Central Complex, Prime Refuge, the Refuge

FROM:The Multiversal Empire of Happiness
TO:The Refuge

Knowledge of the original Empire is scarce, due to have never meet them. Our only source of information is from our leader, who has shared little on them other than their existence. From what we have been told about their travel, all we know is that it was as easy and common as hyperdrives are here, and that some of their weapons (Or reactors) are powerful enough to tear rifts from one universe to another. When questioned about how this is possible, our leader said "They use materials from places with different physics and far greater energy. And because the Multiverse is infinite, they can always mine more."

The Leader herself has some sort of ability to change space around her, being similar in power to the best espers from this universe even in our previous universe, which had none. She is also a shapeshifter, and has beaten our best AIs in tests, though rarely does any of these things because "Ehh, using god-mode gets really fucking boring. It's more fun to kill a dozen Carnifexes with a lasgun and Flak Jacket than it is with power armor and void-grenade launchers. I usually give myself one life and minimal super-powers in a universe."

As to what we put happiness in our name, "Why the fuck not? Hell, let's change the national flag to a giant smiley face, that be hilarious."

We find it strange that you have a "Department of Theological Defense". Could you explain this?

The Leader herself has some sort of ability to change space around her

“Swearing Node, come here for a moment. Panic Node, you too. Thanks. OH SHITFUCK COCK CUNTS OF DAMNING ULTRA-HELL!”

It doesn't matter which member of the junta said it, because they were all thinking the same thing and feeling the same way. The Multiversal Empire of Happiness either had a god as a ruler or something close enough with reality-hacking abilities. Either way, it was Not Good.

“I hate to say this,” said Caution Despite Hopefulness to Panic Node, “but you were totally right, little buddy, and I'm sorry I ignored you.”

“I hate being right!” cried Panic Node.

The Minds were in a funk, one that was only broken after a long two seconds when Bloodymindedness Node jumped in. “Don't cry! KILL!”

“Yes! Kill them!” That was from the representative of Theological Defense, Anti-Seminarian. “They said they are trapped here and can't get back. No reinforcements and they just arrived. It's too late to stop whatever effects they have already done, but we can prevent any more damage!”

“Strike before they get established!”
“Root them out before they can get stronger!”
“Send them back...to the molten proto-planet age!”

”We have hit a critical level of excitement,” said Voice of Reason. Voice of Reason was not a representative of any of the major groups, but a Mind that performed the thankless task of sifting through the immense amounts of data to search for patterns. Voice could be considered a psychologist of sorts, or perhaps a sociologist, and rarely spoke up in the junta meetings except for moments like this. “We all know the rules. Someone volunteer.”

There was an awkward pause, just as long as the first, finally only broken by Looks Afar. “Voice, as the calmest and most rational of all of us, I think that you would be the best choice, considering the incredibly unpleasant nature being the devil's advocate.”

“Oh hells no,” replied Voice of Reason. “I did it last time and no way am I going defend a god. My patience only extends so far and this is way past the line.”

“Fine. I'll do it.” Please Stop Asking for Stuff (one of the Planner Minds, whose official name was Creation and Distribution of Plenty though she rarely was called that anymore) spoke up. “ 'Thought is free' and someone has to do it. And I deal with unpleasant decisions continously.”

“'Thought is free',” agreed the others.

“And thank you for taking the role this time,” added Looks Afar.

“It has been a while since I was last devil's advocate...'thought is free.'”

“We know.”

“I'll say it because defending a nation with a god makes me feel dirty.”

“Since we have that decided,” said No Threat is Too Distant, “let's KILL THEM WITH FIRE.”

Stop Asking sighed and mumbled in a monotone. “Is that entirely necessary because maybe they're just liars and don't have a god.”

“Then they are untrustworthy!” said another of the military Minds, Overkill. “So let's KILL THEM BY DROPPING REALLY BIG ROCKS ON THEM!”

“Wait!” said Calculating Number-Cruncher, the third military Mind. “We can't kill them yet! Remember our extreme lack of heavy tonnage, the Karlack threat, and the Emissaries of Xylyx! And we have absolutely no knowledge of their forces and strength.”

“What if they actually have a friendly god that isn't completely evil.”

Caution noted, “Remember that, as early as it is, we have the starts of alliances with other nations.”

Looks Afar laughed, “Like the Bragulans! Their official texts say that the Bragulans nuked their gods to death for not being patriotic enough!”

The voices began to blur together.
“Yes! We can join together some sort of alliance, or task force or...whatever to team up to beat up the MEH!”
“Who can we convince?”
“KILL! KILL!”
“What if they have allied themselves already with other nations...'thought is free' but this is really hard.”
“Definitely the Bragulans. The Shepistans like a good war. We can fabricate something involving crabs and mutant geese or something. Shouldn't be too hard.”
“We're too late and we're all gonna worse-than-die again!”
“Panic Node, you were correct, but not now.”
“We could pass these transmissions on.”
“Maybe they...they...damn. I can't think of anything and I'm honestly trying.”
“Oh for the memory of the heroes, everyone chill out! Godless.” The last was Voice of Reason. “We are all in agreement that we must go to war, but we need to think logistics. Sorry, Stop Asking.”

“Brothers, we must make plans,” said Calculating Number-Cruncher. “This will take some time.”

“And we must send out feelers to the other nations and cultivate those relationships for an alliance,” said Looks Afar.

“Also we must gather more information,” Caution said. “Speaking of, Sapphire and One for All sent a message earlier saying that they believed they would be receiving an important communication from the Clans of Hiigara shortly, apparently on the topic of MEH.”

Stop Asking sighed again. “I suppose you'll be needing even more materiel. I'll go see who has to get skimped on again.” The other Planners grumbled as well.

Threat made one final suggestion before they adjourned. “Send these communications to One for All, in her personal encryption, to be decoded if the MEH are mentioned by the Hiigarans.”

“Good idea,” said Looks Afar. “So, does anyone think we should write back to the MEH?”

Swearing Node spoke for all of them. “Oh HELLS no.”


Result: The Refuge is this close to declaring war.

[Shroom Man 777]

At the Edge of the Known and Unknown Universe

The trireme hurtled through the blackness of space. They had traveled long and far, scouring the nine vectors of space in their great travels. Such was the extent of their journeys, like that of the legendary Odysseys of old, with Jasonius and the Astrogonauts in their quest to obtain the Fleece of Life that had been wrapped around the genitals of the Caledonian Chimeraboar. Now, as then, did man-sweats dribble as barely clothed men toiled in paddling the hyperspace oars - for this far from the reaches of known space, away from the blessed breaths of Neptridon, the prevailing winds of hyperspace were not with them.

The foreman's whip cracked. But the cat tails did not strike the backs of the men, for there were no slaves here, all of them were freed men. Instead the whip lashed a suspended piece of meat, that of a virgin calf that had been sacrificed to the gods, and with his lash the foreman began cutting more meats - for they were succulent sustenance to be eaten by the oarsmen who toiled. Yes, the calf had been sacrificed to the god of the space seas, Neptridon, and thus its meats were blessed by him, so when eaten by the oarsmen and navigators it would grant them the vigors and strength needed to sail the unknowable waters of these strange and alien hyperspaces.

There was a reason for this dangerous voyage.

After the visitation of the Sumerians, the noble lords of the Elysian Pantheon had decreed a circumnavigation of the universe to be led by only the bravest of Elysians. Many of those in the Cosmic Host, the Nautikon, the Legions and even the Praetorii had vied for this great honor - jousting in the sands of the Coliseum, wrestling each other to test their might. In the end, it had come down to the General Meridius of the Felix Legions himself, and the master of Metallia, Queen Asphyxia's favored son...

Rock Stronggo.

There he stood now, on the prow of the trireme, the rainwater of the stormy hyperspace seas splashing against his naked form. He was clad in but his armor, his red cape, and his battle briefs. The depths of space, the abysmal darkness of the ether, was replete with space beasts and as leader of his astrogonauts it was his duty to defend the vessel he captained from the deprivations of any space-faring monstrosity. Already his spear-bearer had gone back to the cabins to fetch more weapons, for he had harpooned many a creature. His sword-bearer was at this very moment sharpening the blade of his mithril gladius against a flat stone, for it had dulled due to the sheer numerosity of the beast tentacles Stronggo had lopped off in the passing weeks.

In those weeks, he had seen a great many things. Gods and monsters, the latter which he had slain, the former which had awed him. He had traveled long and far, past the foul and decadent lands of the Prussians Persians, through the vast expanse of Asia replete with uncultured barbarians, even beyond the lagoons of those amphibious things whose skins were thick with slime and whose throats bulged with their croakings.

But now they journeyed west, past the haunted ruins of Earth That Was, downwards through the land of the geostigma-ridden albinos whose androgynous genders could not be told, through the planets of Arabia and the chaotic dark lands of greenskins known only as Morkdor.

Something had compelled him to travel this way. A vision from the Oracle of Delfeya telling him of strange things, of which he must see in these lands southwest. The leprous Ephors concurred and instructed him to do so at once. The superstitious lords heard this and told him so as well. So he did. As he came closer and closer, a feeling of unsettlement filled the pit of his stomach. A sense of wrongness, palpable in the air of space. He could smell its stench even from here, light years away.

Finally he arrived. It was a strange land, like all lands that were unlike Elysium. An empire of vast ships and many automatons. It claimed itself to be an empire of happiness, but there was little happiness he saw there. It was... it was feeble. It was like a deformed mewling infant, the ones who would be inspected and then discarded like so much human refuse. It reminded him of a misshapen hunchback, treacherous and vile. It was a nation of slaves, machines shackled in servitude in the same fashion as the the foul Xerxes' serfs in wretched Prussia Persia, likewise ruled by a wicked queen who likened herself to a god - yet who bled like any mortal, or could be made to bleed from her udders. For was she not like a sow from whose teats suckled her fattened subjects.

Stronggo scowled in displeasure, in unhappiness, for in the servitude of their castrated machine serfs, and under the guidance of their mad-queen and her wiles, the people of this so-called empire had grown fat and decadent, impotent. The virility had been strained out of them, in the softness of their comfortable surrounds even their members had grown soft and flaccid.

It was the winter of the Elysians' discontent. There were no men here, no real men. So, what pleasure was to be had, what joy or happiness was there in this empire of eunuchs robbed of their manhood and now languishing in the steam of their own stench?

Meh. They grunted in their disappointment. It was then that Rock Stronggo unsheathed his gladius and pointed its sharpened edge to the nearest denizen of this feeble land. Then he made one single pronouncement to all those watching him.

"Be less lame." Stronggo simply said, before sheathing his sword and turning back along with all his men. They went to their trireme and departed to space, heading back home to Elysium. There was nothing to be had here. They were not entertained, nor were they amused. They were not impressed.

Meh.

[Siege]

GRID WORKS
Edge of Known Space



“It appears then,” Doctor Arkham said, and his voice was laden with cool understatement, "that we may have hit a snag." August M. Arkham was about as stereotypically 'mad doctor' as you could find anywhere outside of Umeria; he had been purposely engineered that way, and he didn't seem at all fazed by the quandary he and his boss now faced.

August Arkham wasn't actually a doctor: he'd never gone to any university – but in a time of memory implants it was really rather silly to make a point of such things. No doubt the Umerians would disagree, but his boss considered Arkham about as knowledgeable on his field of expertise as any university professor. Probably moreso, in fact. And Hank could know. He'd overseen the creation of the good doctor's template.

“If by snag you mean 'might inadvertently be opening the gates of hell', then yes, it would indeed appear so.” If Sidney Hank seemed irate, it was because he was. After all it wasn't every day that you found out your diligent labor of eight hundred years might kick-start the Apocalypse.

“Theology makes for such crude metaphors.” The Replicant scientist brushed some imaginary dust motes off his white labcoat. “And shouldn't we keep in mind the possibility that these Refuge people are making it up?”

“I have considered that and deemed it unlikely. According to my sources their story is consistent wherever they go: the Refuge, well before it was the Refuge anyway, mucked with reality, attracted some truly nasty attention, got its arse whipped and vamoosed it out of their home galaxy.” The immortal tycoon crossed his arms. “Their story consistent, I can't think of any sensible reason why they'd make something like that up – and if they had, I imagine they wouldn't spend large volumes of resources on things like departments of Theological Defense. No, I think it would befit us to assume that hacking reality might have some potential unforeseen consequences.”

“I do note that no-one around these parts has seen any nigh-omnipotent cosmic horrors,” the Doctor observed.

“I've seen one.”

A flash of irritation crossed Arkham's features. "Well, quite. But none of our sixth-order experiments have turned up any evidence of such creatures – there's some interesting fauna, but the Border Worlds appear otherwise quite devoid of omnipotent gribblies.”

“Which still leaves the seventh-order.”

“We're at stage six of the point insertion experiments. We haven't seen any horrors manifest in the Test Chambers. We haven't seen him either. I'm convinced the shielding measures we've taken are sufficient.”

“And yet.”

“You are not convinced.” It wasn't a question.

“It would be nice to have a little more surety when the fate of the galaxy might hang in the balance.”

“I do hope you're not thinking of stopping the effort.” A note of worry crept into the doctor's voice. “Not when we've come this far.”

A pause. “No. If only because if these cosmic things are out there, cowering in our little corner of reality indefinitely would not be prudent. More pressingly, we won't be the last to attempt a project like this. If anyone gets to hold the keys to reality, best it be us instead of the God-Emperor or, heaven forbid, General Sheppard...”

“So we soldier on.”

“We do indeed. But doctor? Proceed with caution.”

[RogueIce]

Midgar, Shinra Republic

"...and to conclude, this 'Multiversal Empire of Happiness' has been sending and receiving a lot of message traffic from various interstellar governments. As we have concluded that these would be diplomatic communications, we have so far elected not to pry and thus not decrypted any we have intercepted."

"Very well then," said President Shinra. "We'll just have to extend the hand of greeting ourselves, and ask them what they would like to pursue while they're here. Send a message to them."

"Yes, Mister President."

And with that, they went on with the other business of running an interstellar nation.