STGOD2k6 Main Thread

[SirNitram]

Hekartes Headquarters Planet

The Freehold armored cruiser Leeway slid into the capital system of the Hekartes, combat systems powered down. It sent a message down to the planet:

"The Freehold would like to meet with military and political representatives of the Hekartes tribes to discuss certain issues of great import to both our nations."

"We read, Leeway. You are cleared for landing at the main strip of the capitol. The Tribal Council will extend their meeting to hear you."

The landing strip, and indeed most of the capitol, demonstrated the Hekartes and their peculiar, widely varied taste. The primitive, low-tech architecture and minimalist approach to high technology was a vanishing trend in the galaxy, but stubborn tribes held onto them like liferafts.

The Tribal Council met in a massive complex that sat on a cliff's edge, above the main Gateway that connected this world to every other in the Protectorate.

[SirNitram]

Ca'tars eyes revealed a hint of amusement, but tinted with almost racial regret. "Myths and rumors, spread by the firstborn of Avalon so that they could continue the work of the Ancestors undisturbed. In their isolation, the strife of the Second Fall took them by suprise, and the gifts of the Ancestors were nearly completely lost to us. Even to this day, our technology pales in comparison to what it once was."

"Such is how it is all over. Even our finest minds can only mimic the old ways, and imprecisely at that.. Still, life goes on, as it ever does." Asters smiled. "Still. Your Ancestors sound terribly interesting, and we may well have artifacts of theirs somewhere in our borders. We continually turn up caches of materials from times past."

[Dahak]

Falau'un System

"We recieve, Falau'un Control," the pilot of the Orc cutter replied, "and will wait for landing clearance."

After a few seconds, a message materialised in front of the cutter, reading "Clearance granted. Follow the path, do not deviate. Welcome to Falau'un Cruinne." A corridor of red light appeared in front of the cutter, leading down towards the planet. If one of the passengers followed it further, they'd see that it lead to a huge mountain ridge poking out of the murky, intransparent atmosphere.

[Lancer]

After a few seconds, a message materialised in front of the cutter, reading "Clearance granted. Follow the path, do not deviate. Welcome to Falau'un Cruinne." A corridor of red light appeared in front of the cutter, leading down towards the planet. If one of the passengers followed it further, they'd see that it lead to a huge mountain ridge poking out of the murky, intransparent atmosphere.

A short databurst from the Highborn soundlessly notified Thales and his party of the incomming alien vessel via the com unit integrated into their headsets, literally streaming the information into their minds via their innate touch-telepathy. He looked to his Falal'un hosts and gently shifted the topic.

"It appears as if you have other visitors."

A moderately large hologram with telemetry on the Freehold vessel appeared in the center of the table, generated by the same emitter that had earlier been used to display a much smaller map.

"Would you mind if we observed? We have not encountered vessels of that make before."

[Thirdfain]

ICNS 3rd Battle of the Armada
System Edge
Shearwater/Kreshay Quatriem
Silver Flame Territory

Displays twinkled with winking red telltales as Shearwater disgorged a cloud of panicked, fleeing transports. They were followed closely by a stream of small craft- military vessels similar to those unlucky craft which had downed the Stropworth Wanderer weeks before.

Commodore Bates examined the situation. His squadron had been prepped to jump, but he had mission objectives in mind- in particular, his secondary objective.

After only a few more minute's delay, the Crobuzon warships disappeared in cascades of disorganized matter.

In the wash of ethereal fire and radiation, a small clay sphere hung, ejected in the split second before jump. Inside, intricate machines hummed. Beetlelike glass eyes stared intently, seeing in spectrums usually only encountered by nethernauts, as the automated watcher began to track the fleeing civilian spacecraft. It's clockwork would wind down soon, and when that happened it would release one burst of information into the aether, aimed in a tight squirt towards the Crobuzoner warships even now positioning themselves in a broad, netlike formation, engines off and systems quiet, in the deep nothingness beyond the system's edge.

[Spyder]

Loch

Four people had descended from the vessel. There were three Mekidar and a single Shindra. One of the Mekidar, took a few steps forward and saluted. The others followed suit. Then he replied to Jacob, "Thank you, I am Vlaska." He looked directly at the representative, while two of his companions took the time to admire the view. "The Republic would be interested in drawing-up some trade agreements with Loch. We can discuss such matters here, or somewhere more comfortable. Either is fine with me. We do request that your people please keep their distance from our starship."

"We should probably get inside. There's a storm approaching from the west. Nothing serious but it does get a little uncomfortable out here. If you follow me..."

Jacob lead them inside the passageway next to the platform which connected to a central terminal. The walls looked like glass, similar texture to the touch although it seemed very dense. Through the clear walls they could see the floor of the terminal laid out below them with people heading in all directions. A good percentage of the people below were human.

"I've made arrangements to have some of our officials meet us at the embassy quarters. It's only a short distance by tube." Jacob spoke.

"Tube?"

A hatchway opened on a large cyllindrical construct just up ahead. Jacob said a few words to the man at the counter and lead the small group through into what appeared to be a small private car.

"This will only take a minute." The group were then transported through the interrior of the megacity superstructure. Again, more people could be seen below, carrying on with their daily lives. Large seemingly neon signs were prevelant in the area, the car passing close by them through the upper levels.

Before too long they were in the embassy building. If the storm shutters were open, they'd be able to see surface of Loch. Loch flags were positioned in pairs around a symbol that represented the city.

"Right this way." Jacob smiled.

The group were lead into a room where diplomats were waiting.

"Gentlemen, this is Alastair Jardin, our local trade guild representative, Sutiri Ngav of the spacing guild and Nickolai Zakarov our Concord liason. I myself, Jacob Bashir, represent the interests of Loch."

The group were seated.

"So what can we do for you?" Asks Alastair.

[consequences]

Hekartes Space

The Ravener Generic cruiser The Other Guy reverted to n-space at a respectful distance from the nearest sytem, which if intelligence hadn't screwed up for once, should be a signifigant Hekartes Holding. After making sure that their arrival hadn't caused a lostech weapons platform to take offense at their existence, they broadcasted the following towards the system:

"Greetings! We, the Raveners, would like to discuss with you the possibility of regulated interaction between our peoples. So if you'd be so kind as to tell us where to go if our interaction is to be peaceful, or if you're spoiling for a fight what limits you would want to be generally adhered to, that would be great."

[Dahak]

A short databurst from the Highborn soundlessly notified Thales and his party of the incomming alien vessel via the com unit integrated into their headsets, literally streaming the information into their minds via their innate touch-telepathy. He looked to his Falal'un hosts and gently shifted the topic.

"It appears as if you have other visitors."

A moderately large hologram with telemetry on the Freehold vessel appeared in the center of the table, generated by the same emitter that had earlier been used to display a much smaller map.

"Would you mind if we observed? We have not encountered vessels of that make before."

"Not at all," he answered. "Though you might want to ask these new people. Some alien cultures do not like to be observed without permission."

[consequences]

Outskirts of Ravener Space

As part of the next wave of planned expansion, half a dozen task forces set out to show unfortunate isolated worlds The Way. In two cases, it was a simple mater of getting the inhabitants to stop hailing the sky gods long enough to put them to work improving their way of life. Another two cases required a signifigant demonstration of capability and intent before bowing to the inevitable, but no one was really using those mountains for anything anyway.

In the fifth case, the task force determined that the Benefactors had already made contact after exchanging a few communications. This task force, on the call of its leader, politely left the planet a frequency and bearing for further contact and quietly departed.

The sixth case, is where Murphy himself decided to personally intervene. A primitive planet, limited to the early stages of space flight, it was also well outside the boundaries of the cluster, and only of potential interest because various signals had been intercepted that looked to be coming from the third planet around the star.
______________________________________________________
Outskirts of Sigma Epsilon 859
Ninth Major System Body

The computer had been inactive for centuries, perhaps longer. With the progressive failure of many of its systems, it had had to resort to extended shutdowns to allow its repair units to restore a minimum of capability, and it was now unable to accurately measure the length of time that each shutdown took with any degree of precision. As far as it knew, it was the last, the last fading transmission from one of its brethren having passed at least 60 local solar cycles ago. While it was possible that they were merely maintaining silence to preserve limited resources, the overwhelming probability was that their function had ceased for all time.

Through its crippled sensor array, it noted a drastic increase in energetic particle emissions, which should indicate the arrival of a number of discrete units from ftl. A few minutes later, the arrival wakes coalesced into coherent forms, as ship afetr ship entered the system. Small, with frankly pathetic power outputs, nevertheless they did not carry any of the IFF that would have been associated with a friendly relief force, if any such existed.

The computer rapidly moved to bring its remaining weaponry online. Assessing its options, it decided that this was most likely a feint, and allocated a meager twenty of its jury rigged n-space missiles to the threat.

_________________________________________________________________

Exalted Escort Shieldbearer

"Active sensors detected, we're being locked up!"

The Captain acknowledged the report, as the tracks of inbound missiles appeared on his plot. The initial score of inbounds had apparenty multiplied to more than a hundred, as his crews attempted to differentiate real threats from false targets. The vampires seemed to ignore half of his EW like it didn't exist, but if his sensor section's analysis of those odd energy readings was any indication, more than a half of the missiles' own tricks were wasted on his ships' comparatively primitive sensors.

Thankfully, the transports were rapidly disappearing from the system, as a ninth inbound was intercepted and four more simultaneously vanished. ShieldBearer's consort Phalynx moved forward and drew the missiles upon itself. As it turned out, ten homed in on him, vaporising discrete chunks of hull until the magazines let go. The last missile was shot down at point-blank range impossibly after sliding through his ship's shields like they didn't exist.

Making a snap call, the captain ordered that his ship devote its entire efforts to generating a larger target, as the largest ships frantically attempted to engage their ftl drives.

__________________________________________________________________

Ninth Major System Body

At last, the expendable trash was cleared away, revealing the true threat they were screening. From its emissions, the computer assigned a 95% probability of this being an Enemy ship of the line, most likely duped into revealing its position by the pathetic nature of the attacks so far.

Deep under the surface, three devices the size of a refrigerator pulsed with energy once then disappeared. Ten milliseconds later, so did Shieldbearer.


OOC: Losses so far: 2 Shield Class escorts

[Thirdfain]

System Edge
Shearwater/Kreshay Quatriem
Silver Flame Territory


The transport was fleeing from Shearwater as rapidly as possible. The predatory enemy ships had disappeared minutes ago, but the sense of impending doom was still tangible- after all, those vessels could only be harbingers for a far more potent force.

Inside it's hull, civilians clamoured. Huddled under ragged blankets, they stuffed the cargo holds. Some hung from handholds with prehensile limbs, squacking in the strange language of the quelectin. The captain gripped his chair with knuckle-whitening force as they approached the system's edge, jump engines prepared.

Fighters from the planet, tasked with guarding the fleeing vessels, were nearby.

hundreds of kilometers away, the spherical automaton clicked and whirred faintly as it's lenses watched and recorded. The only radiation it produced was of a bizarre and puissant nature, detectable only at shorter ranges to the mundane devices of the quelectin fleet.

It had seen enough. Clockworks winding down, the device poured the last of it's energy into a single, tightbeam burst of information. Force composition, co-ordinates, and headings all leapt through the void, towards the silent warships hiding in the dark between the stars.

The vessels moved. With the planet's defenses spread out to guard the fleeing ships, this was the perfect chance to snatch a prize for return to the Sovereign of Rohag.

Alarms blared once more on Kreshay Quatriem, known to it's inhabitants as Shearwater. The strange alien vessels were returning, appearing as strange and powerful bursts of radiation at the system's edge.

The attack moved in from three angles- the Admiral Stevanaphulis, along with the Destroyer Leader Barham approached from dead forwards, intercepting the fleeing craft neatly. From slightly below the ecliptic came the 3rd Battle of the Armada, her flank protected by the Destroyer Escort Agreba. Finally, approaching on the plane of the ecliptic, spinwards of the fleeing freighter, was the Barrage at Firewater. With her came the Destroyer Escort Virland and the Destroyer Leader Onassas.

Co-ordinating a jump such as that one, over the relatively short distance to the system's edge aimed at a specific target, was normally all but impossible, even with input from a automaton. However, the small size of the 1st Battlecruiser Squadron and the short distances allowed Commodore Bates to undertake the audacious maneuver.

The system's defenders would not have much time to react. For the fleeing freighter, every second's delay would count.

[Spyder]

Shearwater

The seconds were counting down. With the freighter's jump engines prepared, seconds were all that they needed to escape. The navigator frantically poured over the charts, plotting a path that would take them safely out of normal space, avoid any stars within a lightyear or two and deposit the ship somewhere non-fatal.

The Captain of the freighter had been instructed to blind jump to ORC the moment his ship was pinged and it was certain that his finger hadn't left the button since launch. The combat pilots had only a vague idea what they were in for. When a Silver flame vessel is in combat range, the initilisation period for an ORC jump is only marginally shorter then the average flight time of their anti-ship ordinance.

If the Crobuzon weapons were faster, which they probably were, they would likely hit the vessel during initialisation. This could produce any number of results, most of which involving the destruction of the vessel.

"Six contacts!"

"Break. Alpha two and four head aft, five, cover the back, three you're with me. Epsilon wing, advance. Beta wing, cover Epison."

"This is Captain Ascwil, we'll be jumping momentarily."

"Lock and destroy anything they launch at the freighter. Prime your ejecters and use your birds if you have to. We only need to buy a few seconds."

"There's hundreds of freighters and five flight groups, what makes this one special?"

"We're guarding it."

Meanwhile, with a series of flashes the foward transports vanished into ORC. Chaotic launches of craft at random intervals were launching in all directions from Shearwater's surface. The public was in panic while the military seemed to be doing nothing. It was clear what was happening. All the talk of the admiralty putting it's full resources into defending Shearwater against any threat was just that...talk.

"Marshal General, the first wave is away and Gamma and Delta are returning. Alpha, Beta and Epsilon have made enemy contact."

~I have a present for you.~

Coldrock ignored the second message. He had enough of listening to that stupid man and his stupid ideas. As soon as this mess was over his first priority was to see about getting whatever the hell that was making that noise removed.

"They're after the fighters. They want to whittle us down, divide us. Bite us off in easy to chew pieces. Whatever analogy is fit. Keep Gamma and Delta here. The transports are scattered, the largest fleet in the galaxy couldn't track them all."

The rest of the crew looked at Coldrock coldly.

"If we're to survive as a species, sacrifices must be made. Charge the ORC drive."

~Good, I was afraid our relationship would come to a premature end.~

Meanwhile, hidden amongst the vast astronical expanses of the Shearwater system the Artemis listened and recorded every piece of information that happened to strike it's sensors. Crobuzon probes were coming, the Artemis would be gone long before they were in range.

[Thirdfain]

System Edge
Shearwater/Kreshay Quatriem
Silver Flame Territory

Commodore Bates had to restrain a very un-officerish cheer. The enemy was spread out, fighters deployed in small groups to defend the transports. Capital units were still deep in-system, close to Kreshay Quatriem and the planetary guns. There were even more transports crowding the spaceways, ships the squadron could have opened fire upon and started slaughtering with only the slightest effort.

However, those were not Geofferý Bates' orders, and he was, deep down inside, the officer and the gentleman that Crobuzoner high society expected him to be.

"A line. Hypercomms, M. Gorshis."

<<Kreshayan Vessel. Cease acceleration and deactivate engines. All shipping in this region is to be interdicted, by order of the Mayor and Parliament of Crobuzon. Failure to comply will result in the usage of deadly force.>>

Targetting solutions sprung into view, displayed in brass symbols along the flanks of the combat difference engines. The short, ugly muzzles of high powered cannon tracked the nearest freighter. Inside magazines, punchcards were fed through the mechanical brains of guided rockets, even as collier-thaumaturges triple-checked the probability mines.

Captain Ascwil would have been wise to listen.

[Spyder]

The instant they picked up the first target lock the button was hit.

The fighters and bombers put themselves into position, weapons facing the Crobuzon warships, their interia kept them in place.

The main engines powered down as the ORC drive entered its final stage. In a sense Ascwil did as he was told. The craft did stop accelerating. The navigator frantically entered in a set of coordinates that should hopefully prevent the freighter's course from being totally random.

The ship and it's delicate cargo would be gone in five seconds.

<<Your vessels are intruding on the sovereignty of the Silver Flame and such actions will be considered as an act of war. Is there no way we could resolve this peacefully?>>

[Thirdfain]

System Edge
Shearwater/Kreshay Quatriem
Silver Flame Territory

The reponse was immediate and brutal. The energy-spike of a set of jumpdrives approaching activation read bright and clear, unhindered by ECM or stealth devices thanks to the civilian nature of the fleeing transport.

The Admiral Stevanaphulis mounted twelve 350-cm rifles in six double mounts. She was built in such a way that all of her main armament could be discharged dead forwards- a useful feature for a raider, which might only have time for a single alpha strike in some circumstances.

The full weight of those weapons was un-necessary for the job at hand. "A" and "B" turrets were the only ones to discharge into the onrushing freighter's bow. Deep inside the quintuple-forged barrels, bundles of explosive ignited with earthshattering force. Powerful hexes etched in the firing chamber glowed with malicious light, finely manipulating the chymical explosive, increasing the efficiency of the mass-energy conversion by orders of magnitude. Deep in the ship's hull, a kineto-thaumaturgic engine rattled and clanked. Focusing curses enveloped the barrels of the naval rifles, directing the excess energy into propelling the shell with greater force- for a weapon such as this, velocity and power were synonomous.

Four rounds erupted into space, riding on the expanding wave of sun-hot thaumochymical fire.

The Two rounds missed cleanly, their prodigious energy unspent. They'd sail unimpeded through the void for millenia, still glowing with the heat of their birth.

One shell struck a glancing blow, ripping through a maneuvering strut. Much of her mass turned to energy with the impact, but the flimsy strut was not enough to stop the round,'insufficient to conduct the prodigious kinetic energy into the hull proper of the fleeing freighter.

The fourth shell struck dead-on.*

Geoffery Bates thumbed open his line to the quelectin defenders.

<<Resolve this peacefully? I assume, then, that you do not realize that it is far too late for that.>>

The waterwatch spun with colours and symbols. Officers frantically directed loading automata and sweat-stained ratings as new rounds were loaded into the reinforced breaches.

<<After all, sir, we are already at war.>>


* Effects for you to decide, Spyder. A single hit with a capital gun: will it annihilate a freighter such as this ? wound it? set off it's jumpdrives? I certainly don't know.

[Spyder]

The round collected the hull of the freighter with expert precision. An explosion, probably bigger then was intended rippled through the aft section. A blinding flash of light and all that was left were debris. A few frozen corpses, remains of the after thrusters and some struts floated away from the point of impact. There didn't seem to be as much wreckage as there should be for a freight that size, not that this would have been noticed by either party as each had more pressing concerns.

<<War it is then.>>

"All craft, we're not going down without a fight. I'm not going to lie to you, this will likely cost us our lives but by the flame we will make them suffer for what they have done!"

Alpha one locks in the Admiral Stevanaphulis.

"All craft lock my target, full burn! Put that ship between us and it's closest escort. Weapons free!"

The Beacons unleashed their devastating payloads towards the Admiral Stevanaphulis. 20 individual warheads leapt from the 5 approaching bombers and hurtled towards the Admiral Stevanaphulis. It's big guns labouring to track the small nimble planes as they closed range. The ship would be reliant on it's point defense as it's escort laboured to keep the birds within line of sight.

The two Guardian wings opened fire. The Bombers continued to burn into position before they would release another salvo, if they would be permitted that opportunity.

[Thirdfain]

System Edge
Shearwater/Kreshay Quatriem
Silver Flame Territory


"Munitions incoming. I track 20 short-range missiles, heavy warheads."

"I want this vessel preserved. Defense, all fire is to be concentrated on the projectiles rather than the fighters. Nothing gets through!"

The orders ran through the command-nets, psonagraphed to the escort Barham as well.

Deep in the hull of the Crobuzoner battlecruiser lay the vessel's three Defense Stations. "C" Station was the home to the vessel's sonamancer-officers. Four spacious couches filled the room, linked to clattering analytical engines by thick cables in bitumonous sheating. The couches were inhabited by the supine forms of those august officers, eyes shut and faces tense with concentration. Mouths moved soundlessly, each man mouthing bizarre tongues.

On the Admiral Stevanaphulis' travel-worn hull, contraptions unfolded from armoured niches. Oiled metal gleamed in the starlight. The weapons moved smoothly and swiftly into ready position, mechanical arms circling slowly, their actions in time with the rotation of the long, wicked barrels of Crobuzoner quick-firers. The weapons moved in unison, tracking the projected paths of tiny targets not yet visible to the naked eye.

Each of the point defense weapons, animated by the mangified willpower of well-trained sonamancers, clicked silently in the void as shells slid into chambers.

The night erupted with fury as the self-cranking Henderson guns opened fire, golem sentience imbuing each device with a short, vicious ablife. A storm of projectiles rose to meet the incoming missiles. They'd been launched early- too early. Perhaps fearing that too few of his ships would survive the dangerous journey into point-blank range, the enemy squadron leader had released at long distance.

Clouds of shrapnel erupted amidst the incoming missiles. One, then another, fell out of formation. Some veered wildly off-course, guidance confused by the scrambling obfuscation hexes the Admiral Stevanaphulis was radiating. Crossfire from the Barham joined the nanosecond engagement of focused human mind, analytical engine, and predatory computer guidance. In the end, only three survived to smash into the shields of the battlecruiser. One registered a dud, it's low mass barely registering against the abjurations.

The other two erupted in thermonuclear brilliance. For a fraction of a second, the battlecruiser's port bow was bathed in a sun's fire. Alarms went off on three decks as the abjurations folded for a fraction of a second, allowing a plume of hard radiation and unimaginable heat to bathe the capital ship's heavily armoured skin. A second later, another conflagration burst forth, peeling back meter-thick ceramic. Letters of protection and durability etched in gold and human blood faded instantly as the secondary explosion bloomed from the Stevanaphulis' hull.

"Damage report?" Sweat glinted in the harsh green light of the battlecruiser's bridge. Captain Karcus' teeth were set.

"H Battery is out, we have ammunition cook-off, repeat, ammunition cook-off in H-Battery. Fires on decks 4 and 6. H Battery is gone."

One of the ship's twelve dual-purpose 8-cm gun mounts had gone off, the ready ammunition igniting in a spectacular flare. Structural damage had shot through the edgeward superstructure, and armour had been peeled off, removing some of the protection around the vital barbettes on which the ship's "A" main gun turret sat.



However, the damage was far from enough to put a boat like the Stevanaphulis out of commission. Already, the geometry of her abjuration fields was reasserting itself.

"Nail those bombers as they pull about!"

The Barham was maneuvering rapidly, her small size and powerful engines allowing her to keep the flitting strike-craft under a varying but constant hail of fire. The golem-guns of the Stevanaphulis hadn't even paused, their mindless motions unaffected. Only those closest to the blast were silenced, some vaporized, others damaged and moving in idiotic jerks as they attempted to rotate their barrels with shattered arms and half-melted gears.

Already, the 3rd Battle of the Armada, not far from the Admiral Stevanaphulis, was moving to re-inforce. In mere moments, she'd be able to support the flagship against it's tiny tormentors.

[Lancer]

A short databurst from the Highborn soundlessly notified Thales and his party of the incomming alien vessel via the com unit integrated into their headsets, literally streaming the information into their minds via their innate touch-telepathy. He looked to his Falal'un hosts and gently shifted the topic.

"It appears as if you have other visitors."

A moderately large hologram with telemetry on the Freehold vessel appeared in the center of the table, generated by the same emitter that had earlier been used to display a much smaller map.

"Would you mind if we observed? We have not encountered vessels of that make before."

"Not at all," he answered. "Though you might want to ask these new people. Some alien cultures do not like to be observed without permission."

"Of course. Under normal circumstances, we would initiate contact ourselves. However, this realm is not part of the Avalonian League, and it would not be appropriate for us to upstage our hosts when a third-party has been introduced."

[consequences]

Miranda

"Stage zero is progressing well. There is an unanticipated complication though. We seem to have misassessed the Kurak, we thought they were barely a multi-system power, but our scouts reported that they had to detour quite a ways to avoid probable detection. We've looked over the readings, and we're pretty sure the transmissions are all from the same power" Ravener looked up from his briefing notes.

The most stereotypically barbaric looking member of the meeting perked up "So a show of force? Right on their doorstep with everything?"

"You don't have to be so enthusiastic about it, Ravener. But yeah, we need to know which way they're likely to jump, and whether they'll roll over immediately. Youll be taking a screening force from the disorganised militia, since an Ascendant task force would make your people shit a few sideways bricks."

"Raveners, do I really look that stupid?"

The universal response came without hesitation: "Yes."

"Well do you really think I am that stupid?"

The silence that stretched from that point would have been bad enough, if it weren't interrupted by Ravener and Ravener making wind noises, and Ravener credibly imitating a cricket.

"Bastiches."

__________________________________________________________________


Over the next two days, scores of ships vanished from their usual stations in the Ravener Domain, and more were shuffled around to create a state of complete confusion for any outside observer,and not a few internal ones. The location of dozens of them became quite clear, at least to the Kurak the following day as a gigantic hyper wake arrowed in towards their space.

Force Declaration:

Surtur [80][+25W]

6x Mauler class Battleship[30][+10W]

8x Marauder class Pocket Battleship[25][+8W]

6x Flyswatter class Escort Battleship[25][+5F]

10x Brigand class Battlecruiser[22][+4W]

3x Highwayman class Command Cruiser[20]

30x Expendable class escorts[2][+1F]

2x Ravener class Battleship[25]-

2x Paragon class Battleship[25][+10W]-


6x Generic class Cruiser[10]

2x Brute class Cruiser[15]

1xHammer class Battlecruiser[20]

4x Henchman class Cruiser Wannabe[5][+1W]

10x Minion class heavy assault boat[3][+1W]

8xThug class Assault Boat[2]

20x Dacoit class Attack boat[1]

14x Assorted fighter wing[4]

[Adrian Laguna]

"I regret the earlier difficulties based on cultural differences. Large-scale manufacture for exchange was a completely alien concept but I expect in a short time and with minimal energy expendature any agreements can be fulfilled."

Gavril replied, "I'm sure we will. The concept of trade isn't really that complicated. It is simply a matter of determining what things we have the other might want. Actually, there is one thing that almost every sentient species wants, that we might be able to provide. We can discuss that particular item at some other time."

"Earlier discussion with one of your AIs seemed to indicate a desire for concrete borders. Imaginary lines in empty space are a concept that seems, no offense inteded, to be patently absurd. There needs to be some sort of anchoring. Perhaps if you would indicate which systems you consider to be yours, then we can establish a radius from each star that designates a restricted zone."

"So what can we do for you?" Asks Alastair.

Vlaska introduces himself and his companions to the group, and then moves straight to business. "The Republic would be interested in establishing some trade agreements with Loch and affiliated nations. We are certain that it will be most lucrative for both our merchants and yours. It is our hope that we can grow rich and prosperous without resorting to violence, and that others prosper along with us. We have with us a list of items that the Republic produces, or has access to, that might be of ineterest to potential trading partners." One of the other Mekidar diplomats takes out and unrolls something resembling a plastic sheet. He touches the sheet in the middle and it comes to life, lighting-up in many colors. After checking the extensive list to ensure everything is in order, he hands it to Alastair Jardin.

[Spyder]

Shearwater

When Alpha 1 told his wingmen that this attack was probably going to cost their lives, he wasn't mistaking. Beta two and four barely had time to scream before their vessels caught the deadly ordinance spewing from the Stevanaphulis and her escort. A bomber spiraled out of control as it was clipped by the onslaught of relentless fire from the secondary batteries. The pilot ejected, perhaps his friends would turn out to be the lucky ones.

The maneuver was complete. Half of the fighters were reduced to shrapnel, only eight planes remained from all three groups, six fighters, two bombers, the remnants prepared for what would undoubtably be their final attack.

Fear faded from Alpha 1, now it was bloodlust. He was going to see the frozen corpses of the Stevanaphulis crew splayed out before him even if it would cost him his life, which it probably was.

Through the line there was the faint sound of singing in the Quelectin tounge. Half song, half chant, an ancient tune of the Silver Flame. Beautiful and simple, yet brooding. The song of the soldier's final duty.

The bomber actions were simple. 8 missiles released at close range, programmed to spiral randomly into their targets, difficult to intercept. The bomber's duty was done.

The fighters, their weapons would require a little more skill. Their noses pointed at the battlescars of the Stevanaphulis and anything around them that looked important. They would have mere moments before the escort came back into line of sight. Inertia would carry the fighters past the broadside while they fired their weapons into it.

The triggers were pulled. Victory or death, maybe both.

[Beowulf]

Three women sat around a small table.

"It has begun. Operations have begun by Enemy Charlie. Action is in a rather unremarkable system," said the redhead.

"Recommend we do an assault with maximum available force, for optimum results," said the blonde.

"Define optimum results," queried the black haired woman

"They all die," replied the blonde.

"All not in favor?" asked the raven haired woman. A few heartbeats pass. "Proceed."

"By your command," chorused the other two.

Collective Test Range
Orlon System
Asteroid belt

Barbara had just finished pulverizing an asteroid into fragments when the decision was made. She, Fyodor Ushakov and her other 8 brand new sisters would be deploying, along with their escorts and 2nd, 3rd and 4th Space Forces. Ammo ships were nearby, with full loads of missiles to replace the rounds expended in the recent live fire exercise. Some of those ammo ships would be deploying as well, to ensure that the battleships wouldn't get caught with depleted stores.

Elsewhere
Arthur powered up her power plant. No longer was she dependant on the batteries that had sustained her during the long night between battles. The camoflauge around her broke open, exposing her to space. Her gun turrets swiveled and elevated. Hatches opened and closed. The power plant went up to full power, recharging her batteries. Sensors arrays went to full active. An oiler closed, to transfer a full load of the strange matter that fueled her over. In other places, her sister ships were doing the same.

Still Elsewhere
Khan and 19 of her sisters gathered. They were to protect the supply train from enemy action.

Forces deploying:
30 B-1 Kingclass battleships
10 B-31 Saintclass battleships
20 H Conquerorclass cruisers.
240 destroyers
80 reconnaisance frigates
200 recon fighter groups
80 recon sat groups
200 fighter groups
200 bomber groups
(that's all folks).

point totals:
cap: 2000pt
cru: 360pt
esc: 1040pt
fig:1080pt
total: 4480pt

[Thirdfain]

System Edge
Shearwater/Kreshay Quatriem
Silver Flame Territory


The Admiral Stevanaphulis was the name-ship of what was perhaps the most powerful class of cruiser to be produced in recent memory. Her powerful guns allowed her to challenge even some battleships, while her great speed and agility allowed her to hunt even fast enemy cruisers with great efficacy. However, this came at a price: Her designers, the engineers, natural philosophers, metallomancers, and shipwrights of the Steelshatter United fleet yards, had skimped heavily on abjuration mechanisms and thick plates of armour. Every spare iota of weight had been spent instead on her prodigious primary armament and her powerful drives.

Neither of these tools was at all useful in the intricate dance of death the small craft were commencing. The defense-guns of the Stevanaphulis, though powerful and impressive, featured fewer mounts than most vessels of her size.

The brave pilots of Alpha whipped around the battlecruiser's armoured bow. For a few crucial seconds, the escort Barham's storm of fire was interdicted by the Stevanaphulis' mass, light caliber shells evaporating harmlessly against the grand warship's untested bow defenses.

The two surviving bombers suddenly found themselves facing only the defense-guns of the battlecruiser's wounded port flank. They wasted no time. Eight missiles burst from their hardpoints. This time, there was no vast killground to burn through. This time, the weapons were fired dumb, operating no targetting routines for the ship's obfuscation suite to confound and manipulate. Panicked bursts of fire clawed three rounds out of space, but it would not be enough. Once more, the battlecruiser was illuminated with the fire of a dying sun. Waves of heat and radiation cut through her defenses. Armour plate turned to flaming debris and superheated gas, blowing away in a billow of light and fury which outshone the distant Kreshayan star.

The hit was not as lucky as the previous one had been- the missiles had impacted in a broad pattern, rather than striking on almost the precise same spot as the first two had. Never the less, the sheer volume of explosive force could not be denied. The ship's "B" turret was gutted instantly, her crew annihilated. Abjuration engines exploded, and ammunition for the golem-guns erupted in a seris of secondary blasts.

And that was not all. Even as the bombers pulled away, the six fighers dove towards the ravaged hull. Their light weapons stabbed again and again, ripping even deeper rents in the proud Stevanaphulis' armour.

It was then that the Barham completed her repositioning. Even as the last few bursts tore "A" turret from it's morings and sent the multi-million shekel peice of equipment spinning into space on a plume of effervescing ceramic, sunspears opened up. Beams of pale light, like searchlights through mist, hunted hungrily. A fighter was transfixed- the pilot had only a moment to wonder at the sudden brilliance that filled his cockpit before the weapon discharged. The pale beam seemd to pulse suddenly with lambent energy, glowing for a brief second with a sun's harsh light. A nanosecond later, the beam was gone- and all that remained of the fleeing fighter and it's pilot was a cloud of disapating gas. The same fate befell one of the fleeing bombers, it's ammunition spent. Alpha 1 pulled serenely out of range, but even then, it didn't stop: A flak-burst, a lucky shot from one of the destroyer's multipurpose quickfirers, sprayed another fighter with jagged shrapnel. The vessel spun off-course, it's pilot barely ejecting before it's generator went up- a pathetic flash in comparison with what had just transpired around the Admiral Stevanaphulis.

On that same vessel's fortified flag-deck, Geoffery Bates stared, eyes agape, at the reports. Fires on half the ship's decks. Compartments lost completely, vented to space or simply annihilated. No reports from the ammunition storage bunkers. 80% of the stonemilk on board vented, thousands of priceless gallons of thaumaturgical fuel disapatted in frozen sculptures into space. All defensive engines down. Defense Stations "A" and "C" were both intact, but without functioning abjuration machines or point defense guns, not to mention the rockmilk necessary to hex those devices, they were useless.

Ammunition was not a problem: After all, when your primary ammunition bunker had vented to space, how could it be a problem? Turrets "A" and "B" were simply gone, Turret "C" was functional but could no longer rotate, and as far as anyone could tell, not a single reloading elevator for any of the ship's 12 primary guns was functional. Air was leaking steadily in a dozen places. There'd been strange readings from the torquereactor as well: the device had been on standby, but the impact had prompted a sudden variance. Maybe nothing; maybe a death sentence if he ordered a jump.

The Admiral Stevanaphulis was crippled.

"All ships, prepare to jump. Repeat, prepare to jump."

"Sir! Signal from the Barrage at Firewater. They've knocked out a freighter and are commencing boarding while we speak!"

Commodore Bates wiped a bead of blood from the corner of his mouth.

"Have the 3rd cover their operation. Barham is to stick with us as we transit out-system. Captain Graef has the squadron."

With those final orders, the Stevanaphulis lit off her teardrives, still hemmoraging air and frozen corpses. It was questionable as to whether or not she'd ever make it back to the Fleet, and if she did, it would be months or longer in the yards before she flew into combat again.

[Spyder]

A brief glimpse of frozen bodys warmed Alpha 1 as he sped away. His group indicators were all dark, his transponder grazed by enemy fire he had no one of knowing how many pilots survived the attack.

"All fighters, withdraw to the carrier. Anyone still alive go to full burn and don't stop until you hit that flight deck."

Silence was the only response as his plane accelerated at impossible speeds, pulling his body into the back of the seat harder then anything else could. His veins were almost bursting with adrenaline, his fur damp with sweat.

His fighter burst away from the combat zone like shrapnel from the blast he'd helped create. The carrier waited, flight pod extended and ORC drives charged.

Meanwhile, the freighter was helpless to do anything but prepare for the boarding party. Fear would stifle any attempt at fighting back.

[Spyder]

"So what can we do for you?" Asks Alastair.

Vlaska introduces himself and his companions to the group, and then moves straight to business. "The Republic would be interested in establishing some trade agreements with Loch and affiliated nations. We are certain that it will be most lucrative for both our merchants and yours. It is our hope that we can grow rich and prosperous without resorting to violence, and that others prosper along with us. We have with us a list of items that the Republic produces, or has access to, that might be of ineterest to potential trading partners." One of the other Mekidar diplomats takes out and unrolls something resembling a plastic sheet. He touches the sheet in the middle and it comes to life, lighting-up in many colors. After checking the extensive list to ensure everything is in order, he hands it to Alastair Jardin.

Alastair looks over the document, stroking his chin and disturbing the wisps of facial hair.
"New traders are always welcome. Provided you're happy with a few ground rules we can start advertising new routes and have them open immediately. I can think of more then a few enterprises that could make use of these materials. For large scale commercial operation it would probably be best if we establish a forum where our companies can meet and discuss their requirements themselves."

"Sole traders, partnerships and pilots for the larger corporations would be strongly advised to consider membership in the Spacing Guild." Spoke the bald Sutiri Ngav, of the Spacing Guild. "We can offer services in brokerage, mining and salvage rights, career opportunities and higher education for our spacers. Membership is open to everyone, costs nothing and registered Spacers enjoy many benefits among the Guild Worlds, benefits that we are sure would manifest themselves among your home systems."

With a thick Slavik accent, the uniformed Nickolai says his piece, "Concord will require access to some of your trade vessels to conduct security surveys to ensure that all activity falls within legal parameters set by our administerative charter. Concord is responsible for all security operations throughout the sector. We would be happy to liaise with your authorities to ensure that security operations run smoothly."

[Adrian Laguna]

The classification of warships in the Spacy will be different from this point on. While the old one was a real pain, the new system should be more intuitive. It is as follows: Mekidar Republic Ship (MRS) _ _-## Name.

Consider the flagship.
Old system: MRS-1 Pride of the Republic
New system: MRS DN-1 Pride of the Republic

I actually would like to know who came-up with the old system of having all our largest ships have the lowest numbers and the smallest the largest numbers. We have to renumber large portions of the fleet every time we build a new vessel. Gives people horrid headaches. Obviously, that guy was a complete moron.

We are dividing the fleet into two groups: line ships and cruisers. Line ships will retain their numbers. Cruisers will have 60 subtracted from each of their old numbers. Every new ship built will have the next available number in their group. For example, our six new cruisers have the numbers 116-121. Frigates will continue to derivate their numbers from their parent Destroyer.

Designations are as follows: Dreadnaught - DN, Battleship - BB, Destroyer - DD, Cruiser - CC, Missile Cruiser - MC, Light Missile Cruiser - LC, Frigate - FF

Regards
-The Grand Admiral

A conference room in Meklon's capital city.

Various high-ranking officials gather to discuss a developing situation.

The Defense Minister begins, "We recently recieved a communication from MRS-124... I mean, LC-64 Boulder. They set-up a comms link with a representative of X-3, but were interrupted shortly thereafter. They call themselves the Silver Flame, and their people are the Quelectin. The interruption occured because something happened in the next system over, 'Shearwater'. Apparently, something really big set-off the Flame's local sensors, and all the signs point to it being an armada of warships. The message ends with the ship's Captain saying that she is taking the iniciative and is going to investigate Shearwater herself." The Minister pauses for a few seconds, "It takes some time for messages to get to us. LC-64 is in Shearwater right now."

"Then at this time, there is little we can do at the moment but wait," the Princeps says. "Any options?"

"I suggest that we recall the warships doing cartography just outside our space, put the entire Spacy on alert, as well as the 1st, 5th, and 6th Fleets on deployment standby." says the Grand Admiral.

"Are you suggesting that we prepare to intervene? That is absurd! We have no business intervening in their affairs, and I see no benefit in doing so." the Defense Minister retorts.

"I am suggesting that we act sensibly and prepare for the worst."

"We know of three powers that border the Flame," interrups Asdvadz, the VGA(Op), "us, the Diem-noiy, and the Second Coming of the Arisians. We know that we're not attacking anyone at the moment, and the Diem-noiy seem too insular to seem responsible. If it is an armada of warships, we can reasonably assume it's the Arisians. What remains unknown, is whether it is a show of force or an actual invasion."

"Second Coming of the Arisians?" protested an intelligence officer. "We know X-2 rose in roughly the same area, and that the signals indicate that they might use the same reality warping technology. But that does not mean that they are the Arisians come back from oblivion."

"True, we don't know who they are, but refering to that nation as Arisia will do for now. Alert the Spacy and put the 1st, 5th, 6th, and 7th Fleets on deployment standby." The Princeps turns to the Assemblymen attending the meeting, "Inform the Assembly that they'll be briefed when we have more information."

The meeting adjourned, and Princeps Marcus called one of his secretaries. "Get the diplomatic team that talked with the Collective. What was the leader's name? Yes that's right, Grigorii. Pass the following message along to Grigorii:

"You are to go to the Collective immediately, contact the AIs, and tell them of the situation. Possible attack on Silver Flame space. We think the aggressors have a technology base similar to that of the Arisians. Unknown if it's them, or simply a new power rising in their stead. We are still unsure of what their intentions are, but if they're hostile, we might have a party. Can't guarantee there will be dancing, but would appreciate it if the Collective comes. If the AIs have a price, they only need name it. I'm giving you authority to accept or reject such things at your discretion. A lot of trust has been placed on you, don't blow it."

Some time afterward, Grigorii and his diplomatic team delivers the message, and the Republic eagerly awaits a response.


Shearwater

MRS LC-64 Boulder comes out of subspace far outside the system. It closes-in using the less conspicuous Fold Drive. The ship deactivates the drive millions of kilometers away from the Iron Fleet.

Screens are up, and the Fold Drive is kept warm, but otherwise the cruiser is careful to keep emissions at a minimum. It's c-fractional vector will take it within a few light-seconds of the armada. The plan is to get as close as possible, light-up the fleet with active sensors, and then fold away.



Loch

"Wonderful!" exclaims Vlaska, sounding quite pleased at the rapid movement of negotiations. "We too have basic ground rules that every merchant, contract pilot, corporation, or trader in our space must adhere to. While not as impressive as your Spacing Guild, various Unions can offer similar services within Republic territory. Finally, our Transit Authority and Home Fleet will require cooperation from trading ships in ensuring the safety and security of everyone. Apparently, we are all on the same page here," he adds with a laugh. "Our agencies will be more than willing to cooperate with yours in ensuring that trade between us runs smoothly."

There is a short pause, the Shindra looks at Vlaska for a moment, "The regulations governing trade with non-governmental entities have been in place from time immemorial. Such trade can start as soon as the merchants show-up on our space. Trade with sovereign nations, however, does require a specialized treaty approved by our General Assembly. And speaking of governments," Vlaska now turns to address Jacob Bashir, "the Republic would also be interest in establishing formal diplomatic relations with Loch. Making an embassy, stationing some diplomats to run it, drawing-up negotiations procedures, the works."