SDNW4 Story Thread 2

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PeZook
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by PeZook »

Written with Shroomie!
Previously on SDNW4 wrote:“We must engage them!” Commissar Tedostp roared and thumped his chest mightily. “And we will defeat them, or at least buy enough time for our comrades to come and assist us in doing so!”

“But how?” Captain Syiegel asked.

“Trust me, captain. I have a cunning plan,” Commissar Tedostp grinned viciously. “Take us to the Collector ship. When we are close, I will unveil a secret weapon that will give us a decisive edge.”

With that, the commissar pulled out his beating-stick and left the bridge. Captain Syiegel watched him leave, and then turned back to his crew. He shrugged, knowing all to well what the vicious expression on the commissar’s face entailed.

“Take us to missile range and prepare to launch all tubules at the Collector ship,” he commanded. “For Byzon! For great justice!”
ROBOT SURPRISE

Derevnya Gadyukino System
Severnaya Sector
Bragulan Star Empire
Unreal time


Image

“Out of the way!”, Commissar Tedostp screamed at the terrified orderlies administering first aid to several burn victims and one amputee who fell victim to a jammed vacuum tube autoloader, “Where is the ideologically impure trash?!”

The orderlies looked at each other in panic. They didn’t realize at first who the Commissar was talking about, and each of them immediately thought about pointing to one of their friends in order to save their own skin. They were all guilty of some unbyzonic activity and couldn’t help but wonder what, precisely, the commissar knew. Only one of them retained the presence of mind to ask.

“What do you mean, Commissar?”, one of the orderlies said and managed to draw the attention of everybody in the room.

“I mean the foul animal who violated the sanctity of the Bragulan flesh with his unauthorized and unbyzonist cybernetizations, obviously!”, Commissar Tedostp helpfully explained, waving his beating-stick menacingly, “And what the hell are you even doing here, Crewman Nefartnyi?”

“Gastric ulcer, sir”, the question-asker replied truthfully. Robyodov Nefartnyi was part of the press-ganged vacuum tube shovellers working the autoloaders, and was sent to the infirmary after his ulcer got bad enough to present a serious threat of getting vomit on the precious machineries. He didn’t explain that the ulcer was caused by gut-wrenching fear ,satisfied instead that he’d spend the battle safely tucked away in the infirmary.

The commissar blinked, before growling something incomprehensible under his snout. His attention was quickly shifted back to the orderlies, though, as he had more important duties at hand.

“Have you gone deaf?! Where is he?!”

“I... in the meat locker, sir!”, the orderly replied with a shaking voice, his head carefully following the movements of the Commissarial beating stick.

“Open it! You, Nefartnyi!”, Tedostp pointed to the victim of gastric problems, “Get me a video camera! You two, clear out some floor space! NOW!”

Everyone present abandoned the suffering wounded and sprang into action - except Nefartnyi, who sauntered out of the infirmary glad he was sent on an errand to somewhere else, thus avoiding most of the commissar’s rage. His satisfaction was quickly ruined, though, when he heard the distinct thump of the ship’s missile launchers voiding. Suddenly, Nefartnyi decided that should the robotoids return fire, he’d rather be in the infirmary than in some expendable compartment with no medicine at hand. He picked up the pace.

When he returned with the camera - shaped like a Space RPG launcher, in an effort to ease training of bears transitioning from civilian life to glourious service in the Legions Of Liberation - the infirmary had already been converted into an impromptu movie studio, with the Commissar as the director, bellowing at the orderlies and administering stick-beatings to anyone he deemed to be working too slowly.

All of that, though, was nothing compared to the sight of Rygyvld Zybynv, the “ideologically impure trash”, guilty of defacing the grandest and most glourious of all sentient bodies with home-made prosthetics - who had been wheeled out of the meat locker on a trolley and parked right between two isotope lights in preparation for whatever the commissar had in mind. The bear was moaning softly, its horribly deformed face and many holes that used to house improvised cybernetics oozing vile fluids to the floor.

In a most unbyzonic thought, Robyodov thought the poor bugger deserved better.

“Nyet!”, the commissar shouted at him, making the bear cower in preparation for a stick-beating, “Stand over there! Connect the camera to the intercom network!”

With a sigh of relief, Robyodov snaked the camera’s two-inch cable towards a proper port in the wall mounted intercom board, and connected its hefty half-kilogram plug. He had no idea what Tedostp was planning, but again - he’d rather be near the 100 liter drums of morphine than away from them, all things considered.

He hefted the camera, used the flip-up prismatic sight to aim it at the moaning ex-cyber bear, disabled the safety and pressed the trigger.
***
Image

Captain Syiegel scowled as the Collector Wasp-ship grew larger and larger in the telescreen. There it was, blasting the wreckage of the wrecked substation with its flayers, aiming to finish the job. Syiegel knew that Collector ships always prioritized the completion of their mission above all else, and this Wasp-ship’s mission seemed to be the destruction of the glourious People's Department of Limited Foreign Interaction and Human Affairs Relay Substation for the Broadcasting of Bragulan Ideologically Correct Educational Materials to Severely Byzonism-Challenged Puny Humans and Collectoroid Robots of Wild Space. Yet despite the damage incurred by the substation, it was still broadcasting Byzonic speeches to the Lost with its twelfth-layer redundant duodenary antennae.

While the transmissions would not go so far, because the duodenary antennae were nowhere near as long-ranged as the primary antennae, the fact that one of the substation’s still-functioning pieces was still functioning must’ve irritated the Wasp’s machine intelligence to no end. Syiegel’s scowl turned to a sour smile, at least that would distract the Wasp until it finally finished the station off, allowing them an advantage in their attack. But Collector minds could easily disengage from their primary objective to deal with any lesser-priority attackers, should they prove troublesome.

The Bragnum Force would prove to be more than just troublesome for the Collector Wasp, Syiegel was going to make sure of that. He just hoped that his gunskimmer would last as long as the substation.

The missiles that had already left the gunskimmer’s tubules arced towards the Wasp from all angles, leaving contrails of radioactive particulates as they englobulated the Collector ship. Sickly green flayer beams lashed out, cutting down as many missiles as possible, but at the last second the missiles split open to reveal even more missiles, which they launched at the Wasp with gusto. These multiple independently-targeting revengeance vehicles finished the job that their MIRV buses started, terminating around the Wasp and blossoming into thermonuclear whiteouts.

Just as the gunskimmer closed in at gun range and shelled the Wasp, firing for effect.

While the Collector ship’s shields withstood the nuclear detonations all around it with only minor bleedthroughs, the Bragulan artillery was different. The Wasp had angled its deflector shields to soak up the saturation nuking, configuring the field geometries to intensify more or less equally all around the ship. This was optimized for a multi-directional nuclear bombardment, not a concentrated barrage of mass driver rounds. The K-bolts hammered against the unconcentrated shields from one direction, striking time-on-target as the Wasp reeled from the nuking. The ship’s shield generators, already strained from the last attack, were now battered by the kinetic energy of the deep impacts. Something broke, one of the shield-walls faltered, and the acid bullets punched through the flickering force field and bored into the Wasp’s guts.

The K-bolts ripped through the Wasp’s necrodermis, and the sheer force of the impact caused the bolts to literally disintegrate somewhere in the Collector ship’s bowels. The Wasp’s auto-repair systems immediately began to heal the damage, but something was wrong, the wounds wouldn’t mend. Because the K-residue from the bolts was still there, and the acid was eating through the necrodermis - molecular corrosives breaking down the poly-alloy in an act of elemental digestion. Not just on the outer hull, but also inside the Wasp’s innards where the K-bolts had penetrated. Components started sizzling and melting, boiling into caustic slime. For the Wasp’s mind, interlinked as it was to the entire ship by nano-sensors in its very necrodermis, the sensation of the K-residue liquefying its parts was excruciating. The closest thing it could feel to pain. The necrodermis itself seared with the touch of the K-residue, and the agony continued until the acids were finally dissipated after burning away so much.

That pain led to anger, that anger led to hate...

Image

And that hate would lead to the Bragulans’ suffering.

The cold and calculating machine intellect finally had enough of the organics. At first, it was content with merely prioritizing its mission objectives while avoiding the unnecessary mind-deaths of any intelligences, organics or not. But it had been forced to defend itself from the repeated attacks of these fleshling nuisances, these barely-sentient beings called Bragulans. Still, it’s mission objectives were clear, the destruction of the substation first and foremost, and it had reverted to its priorities after fending off the Bragulans’ initial attacks. But now, the mind had been forced to reassess its priorities. The Bragulans had harmed it, inflicted upon it a new and horrible sensation of pain. By doing this, organics threatened it and, by extension, also threatened the completion of its mission. In the rage of a machine, the mind thus deemed that the unnecessary mind-deaths of these organic intelligences was necessary, and that while Bragulans were organic, in its disdain it had deemed them to be not-intelligent as well. Thus, with the conclusions of its new assessment, the mind knew what to do.

It decided their fate in a microsecond.

Extermination.

As the Bragnum Force banked around for another strafing run, the Wasp turned with unnatural grace towards it. Its necrodermis hull had mended all wounds by then. Its flayers were charged and ready. It dodged the next salvo of K-bolts and maneuvered itself away from the gunskimmer’s aim, eventually bringing itself behind the lumbering craft. It was on, and with predatory intent the Wasp began its hunt.

Its first blow was a cascade of emerald lightning that glanced off the gunskimmer’s shields. Bleedthrough caused underlying ablatives to blacken, but nothing more. In a panic, the pursued Bragship launched a salvo of missiles, though no longer as numerous as the previous ones. The gunskimmer was running low on warheads, just as the Wasp’s mind calculated. It struck these missiles with its point-defense, surgically cutting them down while its electronic warfare suite - now familiar with Bragulan missiles’ methodologies - played havoc with their guidance systems. Still, some missiles went through, as did a withering barrage of K-bolts. But now, unlike before, the Wasp was angling its deflector shields forward and it took the combined beatings of the bolts and missiles in stride.

The Wasp was behind the Bragnum Force, and it was coming up the gunskimmer hard. The Bragship tried desperately to evade, to return fire with its K-bolts, but the mountings of some of the bolters had been melted. All their guns could fire facing forward, as they had when on the attack, but now in the defense, some of their guns could not traverse to strike the Collector ship coming from behind.

The Wasp fired its flayers again. This time, its sensors had picked up a vulnerability in the gunskimmer’s shield grid, a gap that they had attempted to cover up by extending and overlapping the coverages of several surrounding shield generators. It exploited this and concentrated its fire on that single spot with the unerring accuracy known only to a machine. The shields fractured, just as it had calculated, and before the Bragship’s contemptuously primitive vacuum tubes could recycle, the flayers struck the gunskimmer’s bare armor.

At first, the densest and topmost layers merely warped and twisted as the flayers started to strip their molecular structures. But then, as the sickly green energy suffused the matter, even the Bragsteel began to bubble and flow like candlewax, before finally evaporating outright. The flayers peeled the armor off the gunskimer’s unshielded underbelly. Then it unleashed a swarm of knife missiles, hypervelocity projectiles that stabbed the massive gunskimmer’s exposed guts like a thousand explosive pinpricks.

The Bragnum Force buckled and groaned as the knives detonated within it. The focused phased plasma blasts vaporized whole compartments, atomizing entire layers of ablatives and vegemite-treated platings before carving out the gunskimmer’s actual innards. Crews were flash-fried and their atomized remains - along that of the ship’s entrails - began to billow out into space like a plume of smoke from a pyre.

The attack ship was on fire off the shoulder of Severnaya.
***
Image

“Fucks!” Captain Syiegel shouted. The Collector ship’s unexpected missile barrage had wrought terrible, terrible damage on the Bragnum Force. He gripped the bars of his captain chair’s roll cage as internal and external explosions rocked the ship violently. “Damage report!”

“They have set us up the bomb!” cried a panicked ensign. “We are on the way to destruction, we have no chance to survive!”

“Then we will make our time!” Syiegel roared back in defiance. Suddenly, his hammer and sickle-shaped comm badge began beeping. It was Commissar Tedostp. “Main screen turn on!”

“How are you gentlemen?” Tedospt said over the telescreen. “Patch me through to the Collector ship.”

“What you say?!” Syiegel wasn’t sure he heard what he heard.

“I have a message to the Collectors!” Tedostp explained. Was he thinking of surrendering? Impossible! It had to be a daring gambit that might save their lives. “It’s a daring gambit that might save our lives.”

“Da! Begin transmission!” Syiegel acknowledged as he patched Tedostp through. The gunskimmer’s radio dishes began beaming the transmission to the Collector ship.

“Robotoid arch-fiends!”, the Commissar bellowed mightily into the ether, “You have proven yourselves worthy adversaries to the might of Byzon! I, People’s Military Commissar Tedostp, have therefore decided that you shall receive the honor of behesting our secret weapon! A chance to surrender before you are torn apart by the greatest warrior Bragule has ever seen!”

“What in the nine vectors is he doing?”, captain Syiegel couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The Commissar continued his speechifying, while various crewmen busily sorted out the gunskimmer’s damage control efforts.

“BEHOLD! See your doom and DESPAIR!”, the Commissar pointed to the side with his beating stick.

The camera panned away from him, and focused on the form of Rygyvld Zybynv, spread on a vertical rack, as the ship’s doctor and two orderlies performed horrible and unnatural work on him.

“That mighty creature”, the Commissar’s voice called out from behind the camera, “Has survived a thousand battles throughout the nine vectors! It had recently been forced to patch its own wounds with cybernetics improvised from common equipment! Such is the might of its physiology that it not only survived the process, it successfully removed those implants so that we could fit it with more potent ones!”

The camera panned back to the Commissar, who leaned forwards, adjusted his giant hat and growled, “You have no chance. Surrender now, or we shall unleash the ultimate Bragulan upon you!”

With that, the transmission was cut off. Before captain Syiegel could break the shocked silence, Commissar Tedostp logged back onto the intercom.

“Captain! Prepare the crew for boarding!”

That was when the sheer brilliance of this plan struck the bridge crew. The Wasp outmatched them ; But it was a Collector vessel, and they were known for their propensity to Collect various strange things... and perhaps, if the robotoid murdership decided Rygyvld Zybynv was worth Collecting, it would engage the Bragnum Force directly, board them... and get into direct melee combat, where Bragulan spirits and sheer brute strength might just even the odds, and give them enough time to last until the warcruiser Today is Bragsday’s arrival.

Now, the only problem was to see if the Wasp would cooperate.

“Kapitan! The foul robotoids are moving in for another attack run!”, the borderline panicked voice of Crewman Fukeseyev seemed to indicate otherwise.
Image
JULY 20TH 1969 - The day the entire world was looking up

It suddenly struck me that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I didn't feel like a giant. I felt very, very small.
- NEIL ARMSTRONG, MISSION COMMANDER, APOLLO 11

Signature dedicated to the greatest achievement of mankind.

MILDLY DERANGED PHYSICIST does not mind BREAKING the SOUND BARRIER, because it is INSURED. - Simon_Jester considering the problems of hypersonic flight for Team L.A.M.E.
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by Force Lord »

Deep Space, C-6
Unreal Time


The stealth probe moved swiftly but carefully, looking for that faint sensor reading the Datton picked up. Along the way its scanners picked up some weird readings, which the AI had trouble interpreting. There seemed to be certain thermal and gravitational fluctuations around Systems Ed-3 and Fu-5, and the AI ultimately decided to store the info for future reference, for the factors weren't adding up fast enough. Of course, being stealthy also clouded the scanning. Ultimiately the probe decided to decloak for a moment and utilize active scanners.

What it found would had elicited a gasp from the AI, if it had a mouth.

It detected an unknown contact of some size, perhaps an installation of some kind. Of course, it also found that it wasn't alone. A smaller contact, faint but noticeable, was also near said installation. The AI knew it stumbled on to something. Perhaps these were the Lost?

It had only a moment to analyze this new information before the sensors picked up what seemed to be two ships near each other. The AI was excited: the Lost existed! And yet...one of the vessels seemed familiar...

And that's when the AI realized that the faint sensor reading was right in front of it.

Self-preservation protocols kicked in. Recloaking, it sped as fast as it could back towards the Datton.

CNS Etat
Deep Space, E-5
Unreal Time


CNS Etat hung motionless in space, waiting for the moment the Datton needed resupply. It also hosted a sophisticated sensor suite that let it detect vessels sectors away, except for shoal sectors. Today it would find something terrifying.

Captain Jal Torvus was just returning from his bath when his sensor technician came to him panting.

"Ensign, what is it? What's wrong?", asked the Captain.

"S-S-Sir, I think the Datton is gonna be fucked!"

"By whom!?"

"It-It-It's huge!"

The Captain realized that he had to get to the sensor computer fast.

After running with his technician, what the Captain found froze his blood.

It was massive. And it was closing in fast on C-6.

"Send a coded message to the Datton! Highest priority! And warn Centrum!"

CNS Datton
Deep Space, Sector C-6
Unreal Time


"Our probe's spooked sir. Looks like our faint sensor reading found it," the sensor technician said.

"Figures. The probe must have decloaked for too long. I never was too fond of it's AI," Forg responded.

"But at least it found a gold mine, sir! And it's coming back!"

"Still, if I had a way to punish an AI, I would do it."

Just then the communications tecnician shouted, "Sir, priority coded message from the CNS Etat! I just decyphered it!"

Forg moved towards the comms console and looked. What he saw threatened his composture:

Code: Select all

WARNING! UNKNOWN VESSEL DETECTED!
PROBABLE TRAJECTORY: SECTOR C-6!
SIZE: MASSIVE! THREAT LEVEL: EXTREME!
EVACUATION FROM C-6 RECOMMENDED!
"Sir, what do we do?!", asked Sorge.

"When will that probe arrive?"

"In a while, sir!"

Forg considered the situation. The probe had valuable information, but it would not be able to find easily a cloaked Datton. Yet decloaking his vessel to guide the probe back safely meant leaving his ship. Also, by the time the probe reached the ship, the unknown vessel would have arrived in the Sector. And Forg wasn't interested in finding out just who wanted to pay a visit.

He decided to wait for the probe. His mission was to find out the whereabouts of the Lost, and he would not leave empty-handed like at Pendleton.

"Decloak the ship! Guide our probe back here so we can find someplace to hide! Tell the Etat of our intentions!"

"Yes sir."

And so the Datton decloaked, it's crew waiting anxiously for the probe...
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by PeZook »

<shit wrong thread>
Image
JULY 20TH 1969 - The day the entire world was looking up

It suddenly struck me that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I didn't feel like a giant. I felt very, very small.
- NEIL ARMSTRONG, MISSION COMMANDER, APOLLO 11

Signature dedicated to the greatest achievement of mankind.

MILDLY DERANGED PHYSICIST does not mind BREAKING the SOUND BARRIER, because it is INSURED. - Simon_Jester considering the problems of hypersonic flight for Team L.A.M.E.
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by Akhlut »

The Tlali Herald

Bwey Ixtlahuacan Ranching Makes Trilllion Omeo Deal with Bragulans!

The Bragulan Empire has opted to buy millions of gene-altered bwey eggs, cycad seeds, and other associated organisms for the growth and care of bwey so that the Bragulans can grow them in their otherwise near inhospitable climates. The organisms are reported to be resistant to enormous amounts of radiation and can survive immense loads of heavy metals and other contaminants, as well as the terrifying chill the Bragulans are so fond of.

This sale is the largest that BIR has ever made, and their stock prices have rocketed up in kind. The Eealtepekali has also responded happily to this, hoping to use the new business ties that BIR and other corporations have made to strengthen Bragulan-NenAltKik relations, despite the vast distances between the nations.
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by Darkevilme »

HSF Audacity, sector C-6

“Orders shipmistress?” the question was a mask for a more simpler one, did they abort now that contact 02 had bathed them in active sensor emissions from long range and then promptly powered up everything it had.

“Plot us a course to the hyperlimit, best possible speed while maintaining cloak.” Rayarr said , emissions indicated power levels greater than that of the Audacity despite 02's smaller size and thus Rayarr was in no mood to risk a battle, but before the order could be carried out the sensor plot changed and she held a hand up “Hold that order.”

“02's active sensors have revealed a contact that matches position estimates to be 03, must of burned through their stealth. 02 is contacting them, can't intercept at this range but I think it's a challenge. 03 has responded by decloaking and powering down drives.”

Well someone got easily rumbled, but at their size and with that thing staring them down I don't blame them. Rayarr mused looking at the sensor plot and then ear perks “Communications, send go code to probe for maximum intensity scan of target 01 in inner starsystem. We'll do our peeking while they're distracted, a ship like that couldn't hide powered down in the inner system so it might be the only cruiser they have out here.”

“By your will shipmistress.”

Within minutes the tightbeam signal was sent out to the probe dropped into the inner system, giving it leave to thoroughly scrutinize the nearby communication array belonging to the enigmatic Lost. In an instant all pretence of stealthy lurking vanished and the probe bombarded the array with high intensity active scans, steadily burning through its accumulated energy while leaving only enough to transmit its findings back and then to flick its own orbit into a fiery sunwards plunge when all is done.

“Shipmistress, defending strike craft 04's acceleration has just ceased.”
“Projected course?” It had been heading to dock with the defending cruiser but that was assuming constant thrust, it left Rayarr wondering.

“Nowhere significant that I can see shipmistress, they'll miss the cruiser by a wide margin.”

Engine trouble? Maybe that's why the vessel had jumped back into the system initially.

“Target 02 strike craft launch detected, one vessel designate 05. Projected course will take it either to us or craft 04.”

Rayarr tail-flicked at the news, this could be the cruiser sending a tug to render assistance to the strike craft or it could be the cruiser sending something to check out anomalies in their earlier active scan around said strike craft, such anomalies would surely be the Audacity. It was not an easy call to make as to which it was, the cruiser judging by the distance it issued its challenge to target 03 certainly believed it had sufficient weapons range to fire on them all the way out here so if they were discovered things could certainly get dicey. And then suddenly Rayarr had an idea.

“Prep a Ripper for launch mounting grapplers and a hyperdrive booster, prep a second with dogfighting ordinance, if craft 04 is damaged we might be able to grab it for later analysis. Also load remaining probes into our tubes, I want a full spread of stealth probes launched towards the cruiser with an arrival time coinciding with that of 05 on craft 04. Programme full active scans when they reach their destination”

“By your will shipmistress, although they will not have the ability to dive into the sun on that trajectory unlike our previous probe.”

Rayarr smiled in delight “That's okay, program them to conduct a ramming attempt on final approach to the cruiser, a simulated missile attack should do wonders to distract them while we try and pull this off.”

“By your will shipmistress.” Once again the bridge burst into quiet one sided conversations as Flights and Fire control talked to their subordinates and Rayarr settled on her dais to mull over her plan's chances, hoping that nothing else would happen and further complicate this increasingly strange recon mission.

“Shipmistress a new contact decloaked in the vicinity of vessel 03.” Sadly it was not to be, mysteries be damned.
“Explain, you reported no further high intensity scans from the cruiser.” Rayarr leaned forward once more to examine the sensor plot and the emissions graph for the cruiser.
“That's cause they haven't done any, vessel designated 06 decloaked voluntarily...”
“What?!”
STGOD SDNW4 player. Chamarran Hierarchy Catgirls in space!
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by Mayabird »

Recommended music: "September" by Earth, Wind & Fire

The Bragulan Economic Exposition Extravaganza of Friendship (BEEEF)
Vlyadibragstok, Southeastern Severnaya Sector / just beyond Northwestern Lena Sector
Unreal Time / October-December 3400


It arrived in orbit, uninvited, fashionably late, and sparklier than a love child between the Umerian Chrome Age and diamond dust.
Image
There was much consternation amongst the Bragulans, as they had been carefully monitoring the space and lanes to and from Vlyadibragstok yet they did not detect this thing until it was there. It was gaudier than a starship-sized version of the Refuge's ambassador to Nova Atlantis and had about the stealth capability of a blue supergiant, and yet the Shroomanist medical frigate Badass, ferrying their Prophet, managed to show up unannounced.

Blame would be assigned shortly, but until then, the underlings pointed claws and passed the blame to each other, hoping to be spared from the inevitable beatings. To this, the defensive station commissar took umbrage, for only he could assign blame, and thus, they were committing the crime of unauthorized blame! He laid upon them with his beating stick, and it was only afterward that they realized that the ship had landed on the surface while the commissar had been occupied. Then he beat them for letting it slip by.

The Shroomanist pilgrims, on their eternal quest for awesomeness, had come to BEEEF. And to that, the Prophet had only one thing to say.
Image

Result: Shroomanist medical frigate (15 pts) arrives at BEEEF.
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by Beowulf »

The Bragulan Economic Exposition Extravaganza of Friendship (BEEEF)
Vlyadibragstok, Southeastern Severnaya Sector / just beyond Northwestern Lena Sector
Unreal Time / October-December 3400


"Why are we here, mingling with these aliens?" asked Victoria.

"Observing. Of course. We may not be able to know everything people are cooking up, but even dictatorships that love to sell weapons need to advertise. No better place than an arms expo," replied her boss, "Hongjin". None of this was being spoken. Nor transmitted telepathically. Secure encrypted radio was the way to do it. Or at least, was here, where no one cared excessively about your radio pollution.

"What's the real reason?"

"Coordination. We've got a meeting with some other people about an exercise against a mysterious enemy to widdershins."

"Oh, great." Audibly, she called out, "Look at this. Claims it'll incapacitate any human without harm."

Hongjin read the text, "So it won't work against anyone with a healthy nano-immune system then? Pass. Interesting idea, but I'm pretty sure we've got something like it stored away."

"So how will we know where to go for the meeting?"

"Someone will contact us." He looked over her shoulder, at the sign for Ominous Weaponry Ltd. of Tianguo.

"Hey, deep fried dinosaur!"

"Sounds tasty, let's have a bite."
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by Shroom Man 777 »

The Bragulan Economic Exposition Extravaganza of Friendship (BEEEF)
Vlyadibragstok, Southeastern Severnaya Sector / just beyond Northwestern Lena Sector
Unreal Time / October-December 3400


Image

The King gasped as he fawned over the sight of his Queen. What an exquisite creature, with purple skin and a fragrant odor unlike any scent he had ever encountered before. She was an exotic flower, and she was his. Yes. For so long had he been alone that the company of this delicate little thing was like a spark of excitement that coursed through his body, stirring his loins and once more causing him to be invigorated with biological urges he had not felt since the humans had taken him from his home, his kingdom, his world... the Planet of the Skull!

Eagerly he poked and prodded his beautiful little flower, and she hissed viciously in return. He chuckled gutturally and once more caressed her with a finger. In her temperament, she clawed at his digit and he howled in pain as she drew blood. He placed the finger in his mouth, sucking on the wounded fingertip.

This was a feisty one. But that only made it more exciting, and at this prospect the King's loins throbbed even more. He could barely contain his excitement as the biological urges overwhelmed his simian mind. Heedless of the fact that his sheer size would simply crush, if not outright dismember, his delicate little flower, he grasped her and was on the verge of insinuating himself against her and consummating their forbidden affair. She shrieked in protest, oh how she howled and screamed as he brought her nearer and nearer to him. Her cries were drowned out in the sheer animalistic frenzy of the King as he thumped his chest and bellowed into the air. She closed her eyes, finally accepting her fate, but then... the King stopped.

She was his Queen, and what was a King if he did not heed his mate? Savage though the great ape might have been, regal was he in his kingliness, for he was a noble savage.

So he relented, for she was right. No meant no, after all. In the sheer intensity of nature's calling, he had almost forgotten the rites of his kind, the proper rituals that must be undertaken for the King to mate with his consort. A great ape such as he, a silverback, a King (!), before slaking his lusts with his chosen female must first find a suitable perch, a high and mighty tree trunk from where he himself would display his own high and mighty tree trunk for all to see and fear. This was done to establish his dominance over his subjects, so that as he spread his genes to his mate, all the lesser males and animal-subjects in his kingdom would behold the extent of his virility and know without a doubt that he was the alpha! Thus they would know that should they ever defy his kingship, then he would make them his mares.

It was then that, as the King ceased his advances, he began seeking a suitable perch, a tree high enough for him to perform his act. He looked around and found none, and thus he howled his displeasure and stamped his feet. This place they were in was a desolate, frostbitten tundra barely fit to be called a kingdom for an ape as great as he - and thus no place for him to share his outpourings with his Queen. No. He snorted in disgust and made his way elsewhere, grasping his delicate little flower in his hand. He would scour for a tree worthy enough to become the King's throne.

As they trekked for untold miles around the wasteland, the King saw something gleaming over the horizon. It was a strange sight, unlike anything he had ever seen in his old kingdom. But the unnatural shininess drew him towards it, and instinctively he knew that this was it - this was what he was looking for, this strange alien thing in all its splendor nigh-incomprehensible to his primitive primate brain, this was something worthy of not just a King, but a King and a Queen in all their regal majesty. At last, after the ordeal of being plucked away from his home, his kingdom in the Planet of the Skulls, after being subjected to the pain brought on by the smaller hairless monkeys and not-as-small bears, after journeying through the frozen wastes of this new world, the King had finally found it. A tree worthy enough to be marked as the center of his kingdom, his territory, his new world-throne from which he could see all of jungle in its majesty. It was a towering tree trunk unlike any other. It was his destiny.

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Yes. He would take his Queen there, and she would bear the seed of his grotesque progeny.
***
The Crystal Palace

Air raid sirens blared all over the Solarian pavilion, and intermixing with their loud whine was the even-louder proclamations of Bragulan megaphones - not from within the pavilion itself, for the Bragulans dared not venture within the confines of their arch-enemy's BEEEF stand, but from outside. From the ring of Bragsteel that encircled the Crystal Palace, where the booming megaphones spoke ominous warnings in Bragulan incomprehensible to most of the Solarians and BEEEF tourists, save for those whose post-organs and cyberbrains had the necessary translation brainware to either dub the Bragspeak or subtitle it with captions. Either way, it was the same whether the Bragulan ramblings were intelligible or not, there was only one meaning to this. For the Solarians there, they knew what was to come.

The Bragulans were finally moving in.

The security people in charge of the Crystal Palace defense had prepared for this, they had trained for this long and hard. VR-sims replicating scenarios from the First Bragulan War onwards, countless combat drills, and the experiences of ex-USMC Replicants had honed in them an innate understanding of their eternal enemies from the evil empire. Par-Sec PMCs fanned out to their pre-prepared foxholes, troopers going 'hut-hut-hut-hut!' as they did so. Automated defenses were prepped, kill-forms were brought out of cold storage and positioned, auto-lasers were warmed up. Anti-tank THOR missiles, batteries of tube-launched homing or radar-guided warheads, were readied. CI combat-controllers began calculating potential anti-Bragulan stratagems. A mood of extreme tension fell on these men and machines and man-machines of the Sovereignty. Long had they waited for the re-ignition of Solarian-Bragulan hostilities, long had they waited for the coming of the Last Bragulan War. They knew. This was going to be their Fool'duh Gap.

"We've got incoming!"

From the horizon came a tidal wave of gunmetal gray heavy metal. Even Replicants with aggression inhibitors blanched at the sight of such armamentations. Unlike the light and mobile Bragulan battalions they were familiar with in Wild Space brushfires, the forces arrayed here were much, much, much heavier in disposition. Armor and artillery, Dredka overtanks far larger than their lighter hundred plus-ton droptank variants, massive self-propelled howitzers the size of buildings, monster trucks that hauled Spud carriages, and countless Chornyb urban pacifiers carrying battle-hardened Bragulan soldiers. This was a real Legion of Liberation.

Image Image

"Remember your ROE, men! Nobody fires unless fired upon," shouted a gung-ho sergeant as he shouldered his Squad-Purpose Energy Weapon.

"But Sarge, if those Brags fire the first shot, there won't be any return fire!" replied a trooper who was clutching his Plasma Infantry Gun very tightly.

"Fair point. Let's just wait for the blacksuits. If anyone can take an entire Bragulan army, I betcha it'll be one of those big-eyed freaks."

The tide Bragulan Steel came nearer and nearer now. The true forms of their armamentations could be discerned by the naked eye.

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Dredka assault tanks were leading the way, like their droptank cousins they were much lighter and faster than the lumbering full overtanks. With their kill-dozers and assault-mortars, they were meant to plow through or exploderize initial enemy fortifications to make way for the big guns themselves. Speaking of which...

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"Oh fuck me," the trooper clutched his PIG even tighter. "They're not sparing any expense, Sarge."

"Secure that shit!" the sergeant barked back. He turned towards his men and regarded each and every one of them. "The second Shardik so much as farts fallout in our direction, I want you to waste as many of those motherfuckers as possible. When their infantry comes at us, arm those pancake mines and turn 'em into street pizza. When they shoot their Spuds at us, I want you to turn on that particle beam phalanx and fry half a city with that puppy. Y'hear me? When they come in, and I mean when they come in up close and personal, use everything ya got. Sonic electronic ball-breakers, entrenchment tools, your recently dentitioned teeth and finely manicured nails. We're talking about no quarter spared. If Shardik claws your guts out, I want you to strangulate him with your post-organs like a garrote made out of sausage strings. You got me?!"

"Sir, we get you sir!" the men hollered back.

"Louder!" the sergeant cupped his ear. "I can't hear you sissy Spinwarders!"

"Sir, we get you sir!" they shouted in unison.

"Oooh, I'm getting a boner!" Raptor Jesus, this reminded him of his days in the Corps. "That's right, men. Who wants to live forever?"

"OO-RAH!"

"Marines! Let's get tactical!" he bellowed.

"HUT-HUT-HUT-HUT!"

Balls to the wall. It was now or never.

"Heaven or Hell, let's rock!"



TO BE CONTINUED
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by fgalkin »

Previously on SDNW4 wrote:"We are the SS Strudel, operating under the Dead Sea Trading Company. Our purpose here is to explore the sector and find the source of the Lost transmissions, to verify whether they are genuine or not. It looks like we've found it, or rather it's found us, and apparently it looks genuine. We mean you no harm and we come in peace."

Von Hackmann finished his peace and nodded to Den Zel, who immediately sent the transmission. He tensed, awaiting the Lost ship's reply, and whether it was going to be a friendly response or a hostile one. Prior to his employment in the Dead Sea Trading Company, he had served in the Prussian fleet as a corvette captain before being dishonorably discharged after several instances of disregarding the commands of a superior officer. He had thought then, and still did, that they were overly too hesitant to get into the action. But now, Von Hackmann wondered if they were right all along. Either way, if things turned out for the worst, it looked like he would be finally getting some action here.

"Sir," Den Zel turned towards him. "We're getting a reply."
Somewhere in Sector C-6
Unreal Time


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As Resolution In The Face Of Danger received the smaller ship’s transmission, it pondered its meaning and implications. The patrol ship had no idea what a “Dead Sea Trading Company” was, but they were rather eager to admit they were there to spy on the Lost. Of course, they didn’t have much choice, being caught red-handed as they were, but still.... The agents of the Enemy were full of lies and deceit. Would they not claim some legitimate purpose for being here? But, on the other hand, it would not be beyond them to admit to being spies, but spies for someone else, to allay its suspicious. Would they do that? Would it even matter, with their giant vessel heading here like the wrathful hand of the gods themselves? Resolution could the ship clearly now. It was small, yet also almost embarrassingly weak for a ship of that size. Even the Resolution could destroy it easily. Would the Enemy build such a ship? For what purpose?

There was only one way to find out.

“SS Strudel,” Resolution’s diplomatic unit sent. “Prepare to be boarded to ascertain your peaceful intent.”

Like all patrol ships, Resolution In The Face Of Danger carried a number of troops onboard just for such occasions. It had awoken them from their slumber, and was preparing the boarding craft for takeoff when something rather unexpected happened.
Also on SDNW4 wrote:And so the Datton decloaked, it's crew waiting anxiously for the probe...
Another stealth ship?! The thought exploded in Resolution’s mind with the strength of a capship torpedo. How.....WHY?. It directed its sensors at it, and soon knew the answer. The stealth ship launched a probe at the communications array. The probe had apparently taken readings, and was now heading back towards the ship. A ship that had decloacked and then just sat there, waiting for the probe to come to them, not even trying to retrieve it.

Resolution’s sensors swept over the ship over and over as it considered every possible scenario, and a few very improbable ones. Did they suffer a malfunction? Was the drone actually piloted by a sapient being? Was this an Enemy trick to distract it from the other ship? At last, it gave up and opened a channel to the unknown ship.

“Unidentified ship, please identify yourself and your purpose here.”

It was still awaiting a response when it spotted....something entering its Sphere of Exclusion. Something small and fast, moving stealthily. Something deadly. Resolution reached out with its mind, shifting, bending, twisting reality, detonating the attacking objects or changing their course, ever so slightly, making them miss their target. Still, one of the objects got through. Resolution braced itself, preparing to shunt the energies of the impact or even the objects themselves to hyperspace, only to find...nothing. The impacts were minimal, as if the warheads of the incoming missiles failed to detonate. That was curious and unusual, but the Resolution was more interested in the source of the fire. Its sensors swept around the system, looking for any new attackers. Then when it received the panicked signal of its parasite craft.

Elsewhere in the System
Sector C-6


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#113098576 was drifting in space, its engine silent and dead. The very idea of being a sitting duck, blind and powerless while the forces of the Enemy prowled nearby was abhorrent to it, but Duty required sacrifices. More importantly, however, it suspected that it was its failure that caused the current situation, and thus, it was only natural that it risk itself to correct it.

It knew that it was being tracked by an unseen enemy, an enemy that could evade even the most detailed scans. The thought of it lurking somewhere behind it, possibly mere hundreds of kilometers away was terrifying to it. Still, while it was blind, it was far from useless. #113098576 was an old and wily imp, and an idea came naturally to it.

The interceptor launched by the Resolution would get there soon, but if the Enemy was truly lurking in the blackness of space, watching their every move, then they will know of this and easily slip away, avoiding the scans. This had to be avoided at all costs, and so #113098576 decided on a ruse. It would simulate an engine failure, drifting helplessly, deceiving the enemy as to the interceptor’s true purpose.

It seemed to work perfectly, too, up until the interceptor exploded in a ball of fire and debris.

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#113098576’s engines roared back to life as it spun around its axis, futilely trying to catch a glimpse of its attacker. Globes of superheated plasma and exotic energies flew across the vast blackness of space, hitting absolutely nothing. In desperation, the parasite craft fired off even its complement of antiship missiles, hoping that their guidance systems would have more luck than its own. It was a faint hope, and it failed utterly as the missiles failed to find a target, or were shot down by the enemy’s point defense. Now completely defenseless, the parasite craft tried to run, heading towards Resolution, but a missile, which appeared out of nowhere (to its half-blind sensors, at least) ended even that hope. Its engine disabled, for real this time, #113098576 could do absolutely nothing as its attacker finally entered its field of vision.

It was a large boat, strange and unfamiliar in appearance, showing both the ridges of a gravitic drive and the large exhaust thrusters of a plasma torch. #113098576 could see modular attachment points and racks of murderous missiles. It knew that one of these missiles would end its life. It watched and waited as the enemy floated closer and closer, as if taunting the smaller craft’s helplessness. It eyed the missiles, trying to guess which one would be the one. It saw a flare, and felt an impact against its hull, but to its surprise, it was not the end. Too late did it realize the Enemy’s real purpose, and the true depth of his villainous designs.

#113098576 could only scream for help as the larger craft grappled it and began dragging it towards the system’s hyperlimit.

------------
Have a very nice day.
-fgalkin
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by Darkevilme »

HSF Audacity, sector C-6

“I think we got their attention shipmistress. Cruiser active sensors focused on our position, cloak burn through in under two minutes.”

“I can see that, have we got the information from our first probe?” Rayarr asked and received a quick nod.

“Right lets turn tail and get out of here before they localize our position.”

“Analysis of sensor returns from the cruiser indicates mix of missile and direct fire weaponry shipmistress, also the presence of some exotic form of protection of unknown but not infallible capabilities.” one of the chamarrans tasked with sensor operations announced, trying to make a cohesive picture of the alien craft from the divergent and brief snapshots acquired from their probe salvo during the brief period of active sensor scans before the probes hit that mysterious defence's effective range.

“Understood thank you Merasi. Fire control load four tubes fore and four aft with interceptor clusters and decoys even split.” Rayarr said while weighing the fact that on one hand the cruiser was out a long way from the audacity, but that defence indicated the cruiser had access to at least one unusual form of technology and if they could fire missiles at this range then the interceptor clusters and decoys would be a somewhat inadequate replacement for the point defence battery that the Blade's designers in their infinite wisdom had neglected to install.

Abandoning stealth under the baleful gaze of the cruiser the Audacity switched to maximum acceleration in order to reach the hyperlimit before the alien cruiser decided to make its indignation over the false missile attack known, becoming just like its launched Rippers a brilliant comet of fire as fusion reactor chambers switched from producing power to producing thrust.

Rayarr's gaze danced between the part of the sensor plot showing the alien cruiser and the timer ticking down until the Audacity crested the hyperlimit, with each moment fearing a launch of some uncannily fast missiles from the vessel. As the minutes ticked by though Rayarr's concerns slowly faded, it may be mysterious and equipped with an uncanny defence but the alien cruiser was but a warship and bound by the constraints of such, it could not intervene in the audacity of the Audacity. Rayarr smiled and with that the Audacity and its gunships jumped into hyperspace taking their unwilling passenger along for the ride.

Ripper 4, hyperspace, enroute to pre-arranged meeting point in sector c-6

“Will this thrice tailyanking ship stop fighting us already?! Mysteries damn it this isn't doing them any good.” Biu had been quite an elated kitty when the capture had gone off without a hitch, it was downright amusing watching their target futilely lash out at empty space in its attempts to hit them.
That elation had faded into annoyance as the captive gunboat started trying to collapse their hyperspace bubble and drop them back into real- space using its own hyperdrive, it was a futile effort against a larger gunboat especially one with auxiliary hyperdrives and an effort easily thwarted by compensating for the resultant wobble. But the captive kept trying it.
Every. Other. Minute.
Biu was getting distinctly peeved by their persistence.
“At least it's doing the same thing each time as far as you're concerned. I'd trade tasks in a heartbeat.” Niu replied from the Gunners seat, their captive kept trying to transmit a message somewhere and jamming was problematic. The captive seemed to be able to transmit on far wider a range of hyper bands than the Ripper's integral ECM had been equipped to handle and as a result she was playing whack-a-mole against their captive as it constantly shifted to unjammed frequencies. This too was extremely annoying. The unanimous consensus aboard Ripper 04 was that the captive was extremely annoying.
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by Siege »

Command Bunker
Underneath the Crystal Palace


Ever-changing holograms hung suspended in mid-air, casting flickerings of light and information through the darkness of the command bunker.

The man in black regarded them impassively.

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His name, for this particular operation anyway, was Castel. He wasn't with CEID. Don't be silly, CEID didn't operate on Bragulan soil. The Imperator said so himself, didn't he? And that meant it had to be true. CEID didn't operate on Bragulan soil, Vlyadibragstok was Bragulan soil, so Castel couldn't be with CEID.

Just like all those PMCs weren't marines. And the psionic security operators weren't Directorate personnel. And all the sensors recording the Bragulan troop movements weren't feeding that information directly into distant military databanks via a submesonic link. None of that was happening. The Solarian presence on the Extravaganza was purely a civilian affair.

Nothing to see here; move along.

The man in black watched as the first of the massive Bragulan behemoths crossed what had been dubbed phase line alpha in the defensive plans.

"I suppose it's time to throw up a few hurdles," he spoke into thin air, sounding for all the world as if he was playing a game, and there wasn't several megatons worth of Bragulan steel rolling toward his general vicinity. Then: "firestorm".

At that simple spoken command, massive phase arrays hidden carefully underneath the outskirts of the Crystal Palace snapped buzzing into life, and threw up vast overlapping screens of intangible force around the giant construct.

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It was a very impressive screen, both strong, elegant to behold, and highly efficient, requiring only a handful of dark energy reactors to sustain. Force screens were one thing Solarian engineers excellend at, and the man in black idly mused that if the Crystal Palace survived the next few hours, there was a not-insignificant possibility that this show of cunning would net the hyperfield actuation division of LaMerck Industries a few more customers.

The defenses wouldn't hold up indefinitely of course, not even a military-grade tactical field would last against a sustained Bragulan bombardment. But it did mean the goddamn teddies would have to do whole bunch of shooting if they wanted to get in.
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by Force Lord »

“Unidentified ship, please identify yourself and your purpose here.”
Forg was not surprised that they would be contacted. He was rather curious, however, for whoever sent the message. He decided to oblige them.

"This is the CNS Datton. We come from the Centrality. We mean no harm. We simply came to ascertain the source of the message sent by these "Lost" a while ago. In fact, if I may ask, are you the Lost? If so, our apologies for barging in without warning. To make it up to you, I bring you a warning. I've been informed that an unknown vessel of massive size has been detected heading towards this sector. We need not guess what it's intentions are. This sector must be evacuated before that vessel arrives. We don't have much time. Out."

Forg was waiting for a reply when Lieutenant Sorge came up and said, "Probe has been retrieved, sir. Orders?"

"Are there any nearby planets? Moons? Asteroids?"

The sensor technician chipped in. "The sector's barren, sir, but there is a system at the edge of the sector. We can take refuge there."

Just then his console beeped.

"Sir, small unknown contact has just fired missles."

"At whom?"

"I have no idea, sir. Scans detected a faint signature-wait, it's becoming clearer! Sir, there's another stealth ship in the sector!"

Could it be the unknown giant's vanguard? "What's it doing?"

"Stealth ship has disabled smaller contact and has captured it. It just went to hyperspace. I can only assume the captured contact was from the Lost."

"Well, I do know that I don't want to be here to see the Lost's reaction. Nor when that titan arrives."

"Maybe it's a Monolith, sir. You know that the Collectors sent such a monster against the Anti-Pendleton Coalition and distracted them while we sneaked in."

"Why would they send a Monolith, though? It doesn't make sense."

"Well, the Collectors are mysterious. Not much is known about them."

"Monolith or not, we're not staying here like sitting ducks. If the Lost try to reply to my message, then they have little time. We go to that system, find anything solid to land, shut down all systems except essentials and the cloak, and see what happens next. If that giant ship get's too close for my liking, we flee."

"Do we tell the Etat what we're going to do?"

"Yes, by code. Tell them also to move to Sector D-6, just in case."

"Sir," said the helmsman, "We're ready to go to hyperspace."

"Very well. Jump!"

The Datton entered hyperspace.

"Do we still have popcorn left?"
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by fgalkin »

Previously on SDNW4 wrote:" "This is the CNS Datton. We come from the Centrality. We mean no harm. We simply came to ascertain the source of the message sent by these "Lost" a while ago. In fact, if I may ask, are you the Lost? If so, our apologies for barging in without warning. To make it up to you, I bring you a warning. I've been informed that an unknown vessel of massive size has been detected heading towards this sector. We need not guess what it's intentions are. This sector must be evacuated before that vessel arrives. We don't have much time. Out."
Somewhere in Sector C-6
Unreal Time


Image


The Centralist ship responded, then turned and ran for the hyperlimit. Resolution In The Face Of Danger considered its response briefly. The Centrality were a state close to the Lost, them being there was…plausible. And they did try to bring it warning of the giant ship, which was, evidently, what caused them to flee in such haste. Resolution In The Face Of Danger could certainly understand their feelings; a part of it wanted nothing more than to flee as far away from the sector as possible. But it, unlike them, still had its Duty to perform. And there was still the matter of the stolen recon boat. The Enemy had attacked it, destroyed one of its craft, and captured another. It would not one of the Lost taken alive by them, anything but that.Besides, if there were answers to be had before the giant ship arrived, who but kidnappers could provide it?

Resolution In The Face Of Danger activated its Maelstrom drive, and ran for the system’s hyperlimit at 53 times the speed of light, arriving there long before even the Datton. The Lost ship’s shoal-optimized drives were likely slower than that of the enemy, of course, but the same would not be true of an enemy strike craft towing a gunboat more than half its size. Already, it had received a signal from #113098576 on one of the high-band hyperwaves, apparently not jammed by the enemy. It had also directed one of the system’s spy probes to trail the kidnappers, to assist in triangulation. It would be coming into range at any moment.

There was still a chance to get #113098576 back, and Resolution In The Face Of Danger would not give up without trying.


---------------
Have a very nice day.
-fgalkin
Last edited by fgalkin on 2011-02-10 01:58am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by Darkevilme »

HSF Audacity in the face of superiority, enroute to pre-arranged rally point in sector C-6

“Could someone tell Ripper four that if WE can see their hyperspace signature then the aliens might be able to.” Rayarr ordered anxiously, Ripper four's hyperspace signature appearing and disappearing intermittently despite the fact the craft was equipped with a hyperspace baffle.

“Ripper four this is command please respond... Ripper Four shipmistress has orders for you to keep the noise down you're creating a hyperspace wake that could be traced.... I see... Shipmistress Ripper four reports they cannot run the baffles unless they disable the target's hyperdrive, its continued efforts to disrupt the field is making baffling impossible.”

Rayarr sighed “Understood, I take it they have no way of doing that. If they think of a way I'd appreciate it though.” the shipmistress said and ordered a drink as the kitty in charge of communications finished relaying that message and then received another, looking up.

“Shipmistress, Ripper 2 reports that the alien cruiser just ran under Heim drive for the hyperlimit, entry trajectory indicates a likely attempt at pursuit. They've stated they're heading towards rally point 3 for pick up.”

“Acknowledge Ripper two, we will meet them at rally point 3 although we may be delayed.”

“Also they've sent an intercepted communication they caught between the alien cruiser and the ship that voluntarily decloaked in system. I'm decrypting now.... onscreen.”
informed that an unknown vessel of massive size has been detected heading towards this sector. We need not guess what it's intentions are. This sector must be evacuated before that vessel arrives. We don't have much time. Out."
“myah.” Rayarr exclaimed and changed her drinks order to something stronger, it never rains but it pours. But it left the question of what to do about the cruiser, they didn't know its speed in hyperspace as Ripper two carried only a navigation rated subspace sensor but assuming it was fast as was the galactic norm it would get to rally point one very soon after the Rippers did...too soon to allow for pick up. This left the obvious question, other options?

She could abandon the mission entirely, Ripper four would have to drop from hyperspace to ditch the captured gunboat though as otherwise the translation shockwave from the gunboat leaving the Ripper's hyperspace bubble would blow the drives right off them. And that meant the cruiser would catch up while their hyperdrives cycled. Not a good idea.

Simply keeping on running would mean that Ripper Four would inevitable be overtaken by the cruiser and taken out of hyperspace with grapples so that was out of the question as well.

“Astrometrics, bring up the galactic survey authority's report on the system we're using as Rally point one, and get me Ripper two's estimate on how long it took the cruiser to entire Heim flight.”

“By your will Shipmistress.”

Rayarr spent a few minutes analyzing the map, mainly measuring estimated travel times based on the arrival of the cruiser and the arrival of the Ripper “I've got it, it'll be dicey as hell but I think they can do it. Get me Ripper four I have new orders for them.”

Ripper four, enroute to rally point 1
“...You're kidding.” Biu said with every inch of her body language saying Please tell me you're kidding.

“I'm not kidding sis, and I don't think the shipmistress is either.” Niu replied having just finished explaining the message from the Audacity.

“So Rayarr expects us to dive into a gas giant to avoid a heavily armed cruiser and attempt atmospheric flight to avoid detection while hauling That thing?” she says with her tail flicking down to indicate the gunship they're carrying beneath them.

“Yes, she said she had the utmost respect for your abilities.” Niu replied, smiling a little.

“If I pull this off they better found a mysteries damned religion in my name, okay we'll try it. Mysteries help us we're gonna try this insane plan of hers, I just hope she has a plan to make the cruiser go away or they'll be naming that planet our tomb.”

The Lost recon gunship Many-numbers-for-a-name found itself repositioned beneath its captor steadily while the jamming projected by the captor became static and ceased obstructing its communication bands, finding itself soon aligned facing the same way as its captor by deft manipulation of the grapple beams.
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by Force Lord »

Written with Tannasin

Prime City, Reisenburg
Technocracy of Umeria
Unreal Time


The shuttle flew serenely over the arches of the Umerian capital, it's destination the collection of buildings that ambassadors would call "Embassy Row", though the Umerians themselves called it the Diplomats' Square. It landed on a platform near a spendid building that was usually reserved for tourists, but today was not an ordinary day.

The Centralist-Humanist talks were about to begin soon.

Ravin Nostrum was a little uneasy; reading Dr. Chernov's long message about the preparations made for the meeting was...tedious. He once felt amused when the Aurora Shipbuilding Corporation reported "an overloading of paperwork", but now he wasn't so happy. But his uneasiness went beyond that: he was going to talk with representatives of a nation the Centrality hadn't looked at for some time. The Humanist Union's predecessor, the Interstellar Cooperative Republic, wasn't exactly friendly to the Centralist Government, but it was harmless. Indeed, the ICR Civil War panicked the Central State: they already had problems dealing with the Commune, but the apperance of another potentially hostile leftist state was a recurring nightmare for the Centralist Party. Of course, they thought too soon, for the HU was more concerned with rebuilding than extending its influence. Centrum also found that the new leadership was...pragmatic. Reasonable.

So he was here, to make sure the Centrality did not have to worry about the Humanists for some time.

"You think we can trust Stein and his Humanists? He's a slick bastard, unpredictable," said one his diplomats, Liuz Cromal. Nostrum had five diplomats with him, all of them experienced in the diplomatic field.

"Stein's no fool. We can crush him in a straight up fight, but he can make us pay for it. And the consequences for our image would be disastrous," responded Nostrum. "I'm sure he thinks the same. So what we do is at least get a non-agression treaty, along with some trade stuff, and that's it. If they want something more, they're gonna have to work for it. We don't hand out party favors."

"Where are they anyway?"

"If they go through the same hassle we went in order to get here, then it'll take some time-"

"I think I see their shuttle!", another diplomat, Haies Purre, exclaimed.

Sure enough, a Hummingbird shuttle landed in another platform nearby. Nostrum could see the Humanist diplomats exiting already.

"Right. Let's go greet them."

Hugh thought very little of space travel, which was unfortunate, considering his occupation - it was bad enough in a large vessel, but in a shuttle? Not for the first time, Hugh wished the Union's naval yards invested more in comfort and less in simple, hard-nosed functionality.

On that thought, the senior diplomat gave a corrective tug at his suit. The Office of Foreign Relations normally employed a dedicated uniform, but considering its militaristic stylings and the wary relations between the Union and the Central State, he had opted for a more common civilian attire. One of his subordinates - Marlene Godfrey - noticed his discomfort and commented, lightly, "A lot of trouble to go through for a bunch of insular fascists, don't you think, Hugh?"

Hugh didn't bother to reply, giving an amused snort to indicate he'd heard. Marlene's affection for sarcasm was something he and those in the Office who worked with her had gotten used to. She didn't let it interfere with her work, but Hugh shuddered to think of the endless parade of formal apologies and paperwork that would follow if her tendancy to "joke" ever became known to those the Office dealt with.

Franklin Baxter - one of the other diplomats in Hugh's party - spoke up in Hugh's stead, "Hey, look on the bright side, you get to see Reisenburg."

The last member - Aidan Riley - chipped in as well, "Hell, can't we do that first?"

Hugh had to agree that Reisenburg itself helped make the trip - and the spaceflight - more palatable, though by Union standards Reisenburg was...interesting. Even as well-travelled as Hugh was, it took some getting used to.

"Alright," he said finally, "You can plan your tourism later. Keep professional, lady, gentlemen; remember that we haven't had functional relations with the Centrality since the republican days. Let's get started on the right foot."

And certainly there was plenty to discuss - military treaties, trade agreements, the standard fare that had been woefully neglected. Certainly, both parties stood to profit, particularly with recent events making the balance of power even in the spinward area of occupied space specifically unsure. Of course, Hugh didn't expect miracles - the Centrality was a notoriously conservative state and ideologically hostile to the Union. Something, Hugh knew, would make the issue of spinning agreements at home a drawn-out pain. If it wasn't one thing, it was another...then again, one didn't become a diplomat to make easy political choices.

"Look, they're coming," Hugh said, "Let's go."

Hugh's party made its way across the pad to meet their Centralist opposites, "Gentlemen?" Hugh began politely, "Good day to you all - I hope your trip was comfortable. I'm Lieutenant Director Hugh Bishop, Office of Foreign Relations - these are my assistants, Ms. Marlene Godfrey and Misters Aidan Riley and Franklin Baxter," Hugh extended a hand, "We're pleased to make your acquiantances, finally."

"My thoughts as well. So we fianlly meet face to face, Mr. Bishop. I am Ravin Nostrum, as you are aware I'm the Foreign Secretary of the Centrality. These are my own assistants, Misters Liuz Cromal, Haies Purre, Trinus Jato, Marlk Busse and Ms. Osya Sania. Let's go inside, there is much to discuss."

Even as a diplomat, it was hard not to be impressed with the Technocracy. True, the Union had seen rapid recovery in the past decades, but it was a state of utility, not comfort, especially in the realms of government. Being impressed by the glittering spires of a decadent foreign capitol was one thing, but the fact that even a meeting room could produce an impression was enough to amuse Hugh. It was something, however, he resolved to think on another time, when the affairs of state had been resolved.

Seated around a large table, Hugh inserted a data drive into its display system as he began his pitch, which set to displaying the relevant data for the hours to come, "As our nations have yet to formalize relations, Mr. Nostrom, I think it's best if we start simply and speak plainly, so that we may derive a stable, orderly outcome from this. The Humanist Union is interested in establishing first of all a non-aggression pact between our states. I'll not insult you or your compatriots' intelligence - we know the Central State is wary of so-called 'leftist' nations, and I'm sure you're well-aware of the Union's own discomfort and distrust regarding the Central State. To prevent such feelings from materializing into lost lives and open war, my Office has drafted the skeleton of such a pact for your review," Hugh took the packets provided by Marlene and slid them across the table to his Centralist opposites even as the table display highlighted the major points.

"Under our proposed non-aggression treaty, we also recommend joint exercises between our fleets that will provide each state with basic familiarity in the others' military conduct to prevent misunderstandings by field commanders. This has the additional positive of presenting the image of a unified human face to our region of occupied. Considering the number of non-human sapient nations and the current rapid changes in local powers, we feel this may be mutually beneficial, especially considering that both of our states have previously shown conservatism that may be mistaken for weakness," Hugh paused, "We would also like to begin establishing a stable framework of commerce between our states," again, he slid a report across the table, "Our major exports include heavy industrial products, light arms, civilian spacecraft, and agricultural products. Import interests include light consumer goods. The report should give you further information."

Nostrum read the report, and kept himself from smiling. This Mr. Bishop, it seems, had read his mind all too well, even though Nostrum had sensed that he wasn't an ESPer. Am I this obvious, or the Humanists wanted what we wanted for all this time?

"This is quite excellent. Our interests very much concurr with yours. While I did not expect the offer of joint fleet excersices, that can be arranged. I believe the only thing left is dicussing about where to put our ambassadors!", he said jocularly.

"Indeed," Hugh replied - he loved it when negotiations went smoothly, "On our end, embassies are typically established on the capitol planet, Elysion. We can furnish you with a list of regulations to make your arrival go smoothly, but the basics are obvious - no dedicated non-Union warships in Elysion orbit, for example, and numbers of guards are limited for security reasons; our own Federal Civil Protection Service is well-equipped to defend foreign embassies, but our government does recognize that many nations like to provide at least a modest bodyguard to their overseas ambassadors."

"Of course, we wouldn't want to ruffle any feathers at Elysion. Then again, we expect your ambassadors to do the same when they go to their new embassy building at Centrum. For security reasons, of course."

"I expect the public announcement of these treaties to turn at least a few heads. It would probably be well-advised to set a simultaneous announcement date. Our respective publics are sure to have their misgivings that each of our governments will want to account for."

"Yes, news of our agreement might be...difficult for others to accept. I'm sure both of our nations have prepared propaganda campaigns for such an occasion, but to be honest, I find your government's task a bit more difficult. Our people have always respected the State's wishes. Yours, on the other hand, would find our deal to be hard to swallow. After all, our respective ideologies don't see eye-to-eye...often. There is also the issue of the reactions of other governments, though frankly they have nothing to worry about."

Hugh nodded, "Freer political expression in my country guarantees that most issues cause at least some controversy, usually among the theist parties or the syndicalists. Even some elements of the new humanist party are bound to...raise eyebrows at this development, however," Hugh paused, as if considering the political consequences of these talks.

"An acceptable price. Ideology sometimes has to bow before reason and the greater human good. The latter is what new humanism is all about to begin with."

Nostrum cleared his throat before speaking, "It pleases me to know we can count on your government being pragmatic. Well, it has been nice doing business with you. I can only hope we meet again."

He extended his hand.

"Indeed. Hopefully in more stable times," Hugh gave his opposite a firm shake and stood to leave.

"The gall of them, all but bragging about their totalitarianism. You'd think that it'd be hard to do that with a straight face," Aidan commented as he walked, more amused than incensed.

"You have to consider their perspective," Marlene said, "The Central State has existed for an extremely long time with comparatively few crises of national integrity. The stability for the state means, in turn, stability for the people, controlling government or not. Die-hard centralists look at our nation and see something forged out of absolute chaos and torrential bloodshed less than a century ago. It's not a surprise they're skeptical of our system or the republican one that went before."

"Careful Marlene," Aidan shot back lightly, by way of conceding the point, "You're sound a bit more like one of their diplomats than one of ours."

The group laughed as they made their way back to the shuttlepad.

"That went well. I was expecting some sort of hardball from their side," said Cromal.

Purre nodded. "Well, it's not as they had a hardball to begin with."

"What do you mean?"

"No threats from their side. It seems their talk about expanding Humanism is all but hot air."

"How could you tell? The null fields here aren't conductive for mind-reading."

"Body language, my friend. Body language."

"Cut the chatter, both of you," cut in Nostrum, "We got what we came here for. No need to complain about their conduct, even though their brief bragging about Humanism was a bit frustrating to hear."

"They could say the same about us with Centralism, sir," noted Trinus Jato.

"Doesn't matter. Even if Leakydicks blows the whistle once again, we're used to criticism."

The others nodded as they walked back towards their ship.
Last edited by Force Lord on 2011-06-21 01:01am, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by Karmic Knight »

Introductions Part 1: "Dinner and Drinks"

Outside the Palace of the Champions, Nitro Zone, Capital Planet

Within the Palace, the party of the coronation of the new government was in full. Outside the Palace, a man in black stalked the palace, for now he shall be called Smith. Smith spent his evenings wandering the areas of the Capital Planet where he was most likely to run into the forces of Royal Security, and he would count the hours he would evade such forces before he was inevitably captured and ordered to admit to some form of crime before being released as he was found not guilty of anything serious, with his parent’s bank account slightly less full than it was the night prior.

This life was simple and straight forward, but tonight was different, tonight was special for him. As he approached a hole in Palace security he knew very well, he found himself assaulted by the reds, oranges, blues, and reds of the Palace’s victory garden. This location was exactly where Smith had wished to end up tonight. He smiled as he casually walked through the garden, minding his steps to stay on the well-lit observation path. His theory, quite correct among the ruling class of the Kingdom, was that security would assume the criminal not so bold as to walk in broad daylight through the front door to rob a home. Thus the lesser paths, the snaking, winding natural paths cut by the hand of the non-sentient was mined in all manner of malicious miscreant makeover.

Smith approached a door, like many of the others locked, and smiled as he did so. He reached into his out coat and retrieved an item he had purchase specifically for the occasion. He lifted the revolver into the and aimed it at the glowing red security stripe above the door. Due to a quirk of the home security mindset of the establishment in the Domain, when damaged, security stripes released an electronic signal, and opened. So calmly Smith fired the revolver, waited politely for the door to open and stepped through the portal.

Party Room 1337, Palace of the Champions, Nitro Zone, Capital Planet

They are weird, Jushin Gabriel, Foreign Affairs Clerk, thought, They appear to be harmless enough, and open communication is the best way to document a new species. He smirked at what he thought would be response Paulson, Punk and the rest of the military’s “brain trust” of AIs that operated in the Mount Doom facility. They would have hounded Grandmaster de Beaumanoir, Spymaster Flair, Prime Minister Barrett and anyone else who would listen that the Kingdom would need to send a Spymaster or two, or ten, to keep watchful eye on the situation. The only thing Gabriel was aware of in response, aside from his department’s work, was an increase in patrols along the borders of the Domain.

Gabriel worked to fight his smirk as he wandered the party. These people were the Nexus, the victorious party in the Kingdom’s Royal Elections. They did not want to spend their night with talk of politics with a man whose only reason for being was he was that damn good at maintaining foreign affairs for the Kingdom.

Gabriel tried to mingle with the celebratory guests of the Nexus, but he just had no reason to, when this group of politicians was gone, he would remain at his current posting until the next victorious party came sweeping through the Palace of the Champions and so on and so on. He never really gave much thought into how the politics of his department worked, they simply did their job, and he rewarded his workers for their successes, so to see the system that the Nexus, and other political unions of the Domain had established was always an annoying fact of governmental change.

As he turned to respond to his name being called by some member of the party, he heard the sound of a weapon being fired. He turned to the door to the victory gardens as he looked as a man in all black sauntered through the door frame.

Victory Gardens, Palace of the Champions, Nitro Zone, Capital Planet

Smith’s smile did not leave his face as he walked into the Nexus celebration. His second hand retrieved its own pistol from his coat before he cleared his throat and shouted, “Ladies and Gentlemen of the Nexus, I am proud to inform you of your impending demise. If you would all just remain calm and orderly about your deaths, we can all get along with out night. Now, if I could have the attention of…” he was stopped from his little speech by a pair of giant arms pulling his hands from level with the party to pointing as up as he could force them against Smith’s will.

Smith struggled to break out of the full nelson hold as he was dragged by his assailant out of the door and across the courtyard.

Party Room 1337, Palace of the Champions, Nitro Zone, Capital Planet

The party was over.

That was all Jushin Gabriel could think as he saw the head of Royal Security, Mason Bautista run through the now frightened crowd of Nexus members. “Mr. Gabriel, Mr. Gabriel. Are you alright.”

“Yes, Mason, I’m fine, what do you want?”

“To see if you are well, we all know the foreign affairs department would fall apart without you in charge. Also, you happen to be looking right at the door when the craziness went down, did you recognize the accomplice?”

There it is, thought Gabriel, So Royal Security does not know about Mr. Jackson, interesting. “No I did not Mason, but it doesn’t really matter, the way things went down it seemed more like an abduction countering the attempted attack more than anything else.”

“It would appear that way, but you don’t know the kid. Matt Smith, son of a wealthy set of real-estate/construction types, gets a kick out of violating just enough laws that he doesn’t have to do any jail time. This doesn’t fit his usually actions at all.”

“So you have someone whose made a point to not illegally do anything while trespassing in various place, and you weren’t the least bit suspiscious?”

“Of course I was suspicious, Mr. Gabriel, but unfortunately, he did not do anything illegal, and his family has private security that would take potshots at anyone I send to follow the kid. He basically had to be allowed free reign of the tri-cities area while his family was working on building the entire Nitro Zone from the ground up.”

Now I see why Mr. Jackson would want this kid, Gabriel though, He’s had years of practice wandering the tri-cities and in general, and he has familial ties to the way things are built, this kid is a dream for Mr. Jackson.

“Well, Mr. Gabriel, if you have nothing else to report, I’ll be going to do damage control with the remaining guests,” said Bautista.

“No, no, please, enjoy your work, Mason.”
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by fgalkin »

Co-written with Darkevilme
Previously on SDNW4 wrote:"
“So Rayarr expects us to dive into a gas giant to avoid a heavily armed cruiser and attempt atmospheric flight to avoid detection while hauling That thing?” she says with her tail flicking down to indicate the gunship they're carrying beneath them.

“Yes, she said she had the utmost respect for your abilities.” Niu replied, smiling a little.
Hyperspace, Sector C-6
Unreal Time


Image

Resolution In The Face Of Danger sped through hyperspace, redlining its drives. Although slower than the galactic standard, it was more than capable of keeping up with the Enemy vessel, burdened and delayed as it was by its captive. Slowly but surely, it was even gaining on it. Although it could not keep up this mad tempo for long, it was not worried—the Enemy ship was a short-ranged craft, sooner or later it would have to dock with its mothership. To do so with their captive in tow would require a drop back into realspace. There, with their drives still cycling from their transition, they would be its easy prey. It could almost see its hellbeams lashing against the Enemy’s defenses, penetrating deep into its hull, leaving deep and jagged gouges in its armor. It savored their dying screams and their pleas for mercy. But most importantly, it anticipated finally learning of their purpose there, and their plans for the Lost.

There was a signal from its spy probe—the enemy craft had dropped out of hyperspace. It responded by diverting a little more power to its engines. The endgame was soon at hand.



Unnamed System, Sector C-6
Still Unreal Time


The Lost spy probe dropped out of hyperspace after its quarry, the modified trapdoor system shunting the energy of its transition into faraway dimensions. Silently, its passive sensors absorbed the image of the system, taking in every detail. There was no sign of the Enemy’s mothership. Perhaps it had not arrived yet, or perhaps it was hiding under stealth. It did not matter. The Enemy strike craft could not hide from it now.

….but it could certainly RUN, it realized with a start as it struggled to keep up with the faster enemy gunboat.

Unlike its counterparts from other civilizations, the Lost spy probes were equipped with a fully functional hyperdrive, making them gunboats in their own right, albeit rather strange ones. They had no weapons of any kind save for a single cutting laser, and their hull was coated in high-grade sensor-absorbent materials and was entirely unarmored. The spy probe could be configured for a variety of missions: it could drop sensor platforms or von Neumann swarm seedlings deep inside enemy space; it could drift for months or even years, its systems powered down, relaying passive sensor data. Most commonly, however, their mission was that of hyperspace pursuit, and it was here that they had no peer. The millennia spent fighting pirates and Orks in the shoals of the Expanse had taught the Lost the futility of trying to find something that wished to remain hidden by means of simple exploration—to do so was to invite drive failure. There was another, simpler way; for why should one spend time and energy hoping to stumble on something, when there is someone who already knows where it is?

The spy probes were thus masters of following a ship unseen for days, cataloguing and transmitting the coordinates of every system it passed until finally the Lost found what they needed. Their sensors, capable of discerning a ship’s hyperwake amongst the gravitic cacophony of the shoals were capable of picking up even stealthed ships. But their drives, both FTL and STL were built for stealth and endurance, not speed. As the Enemy craft sped deeper into the system, the spy probe found itself falling behind. To make matters worse, the vessel was hiding towards the system’s outer gas giant, clearly intending to hide there.

The Enemy dove into the planet’s atmosphere, just as Resolution In The Face Of Danger finally entered the system.

Image

The probe quickly transmitted all that had transpired and then could only watch and wait as the Resolution sped past it under Maelstrom Drive, heading towards the gas giant.



Ripper Four, Rallying point One outer system gas giant

Getting to the gas giant before the cruiser arrived turned out to be the easiest part of their new orders. Or at least in comparison to keeping level with that tailyanking bastard hanging beneath them it was a freaking cakewalk, the alien gunboat was covered in unaerodynamic sensor protrusions and constantly fired its remaining attitude jets out of sheer spite. The end result was that Ripper four was flying a course that would make anyone watching think they were dodging and jinking for dear life under fire from pretty much every AA gun ever made. As it turned out it was this crazy flight that almost saved them from daemonoid clutches reaching down from above to grab them. The atmosphere of the gas giant abruptly kicking up into a ferocious tornado to their left.

“What the?! TRACTOR BEAM!”

Biu responded to her sister's exclamation with remarkable alacrity, hurling the Ripper into a sharp curl to the right. But it turned out that controlled flight is a lot easier to predict than randomness, the next time the beam stabbed down from above it actually caught them “Beam's diffuse at this range, roll and release the captive into it!” Niu suggests and Biu nods as in desperation they attempt to toss the captured recon boat up into the tractor beam and thus break the lock through simple substitution.

#113098576 felt the Ripper’s grapples give way, releasing it from its captivity. Its ordeal was over; it was free to go, free to run towards the safety of the Resolution In The Face Of Danger. #113098576 thought about its mothership’s actions in the whole affair, the way it had jeopardized its safety by allowing it to return, and even now was rescuing it from its abductors. It thought about its own failures at every turn. It had failed in its duties to monitor the hyperlanes and warn the mothership of the trespassers. It led the enemy to the system. Its “cunning ruse” got a comrade killed and itself captured. Its failure led to Resolution abandoning the system, likely allowing the other two stealthships to escape.

#113098576 knew that it would have no bearing on Resolution’s decision to rescue it. It knew that it might even be allowed to continue its service, despite its failings. But it also knew that it shall be, in the eyes of the mothership and its own, no more and no less than the ship that failed, the ship that did nothing and got others killed. A ship that was rescued by its mothership, a decision that may well cost Resolution dearly.

#113098576 thought about this, and then it knew that it was wrong. There was still one thing it could do, a way it could do its Duty. One way to restore its honor, and save Resolution from sharing its fate. The Enemy had jammed its communications, but they failed to cover the whole spectrum of hyperwave bands. As the Ripper finally released the grapples and the damaged parasite craft was scooped up by the tractor beam, #113098576 opened a channel to Resolution In The Face Of Danger. It was running out of time, so it kept the transmission necessarily short. “Thank you,” it said. Then it activated the nuclear scuttling charges, sending kilotons of energy and debris right into its captor unshielded gut.

The fury of hard radiation and pressure waves smashing into the rear and belly of Ripper four like the burning fists of an angry god. The Ripper was sent tumbling with both engines ruined.

“Tailyanking...oathbreaking...bastard..” Niu manages as she rubs her head and mewls from the way the impact had sent her reeling in her seat.

“...Forget him, we've lost engines and we can't glide sister.” Biu replies sadly, reaching over to hold her sister's hand as they both knew what that meant. The already nuke heated interior of the Ripper would only get hotter as the Ripper dropped into the core of the gas giant, until the pressure hundreds of miles deeper crushed it to death around them. In their moment of fatalism they actually forgot the fact that a ballistic free fall is even easier to predict than anything else. There was a violent jerk as the alien cruiser's tractor beam successfully locked onto and arrested the descent of the ruined Ripper, the two sisters sharing a look and then glancing up silently.

“Well, if they're in a good mood it might be better than death by gas giant...If.” Niu says uncertainly as they both considered their change in fortunes, for better or worse they'd been saved from death by those they'd wronged.

Thousands of kilometers above them, Resolution In The Face Of Danger was saddened at the parasite craft’s sacrifice, but knew it had not been in vain. With the alien strike craft superheated from the blast, it had made the job of tracking it so much easier and finally allowed it to be captured. Now, it could only hope that the Enemy craft would not follow its lead and self-destruct before it could finish tractoring it in. It had kept its trapdoor system up and running, which would limit any possible damage; until the main Enemy ship got there and all ceased to matter, in any case.

Whether because of the damage it sustained or simple cowardice, miraculously, the Enemy ship did not explode. Resolution In The Face Of Danger brought it into its hangar, anticipating an internal explosion at any moment. There was nothing. Quickly, it recalled the interceptors it had launched to assist with the targeting and headed for the hyperlimit at flank speed.


---------------------------
Result: One damaged gunboat lost. One Chamarran Ripper and two pilots gained. :D

Have a very nice day.
-fgalkin
Last edited by fgalkin on 2011-02-10 01:59am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by Shroom Man 777 »

The official anti-climatic conclusion to the simian story!



The Bragulan Economic Exposition Extravaganza of Friendship (BEEEF)
Vlyadibragstok, Southeastern Severnaya Sector / just beyond Northwestern Lena Sector
Unreal Time / October-December 3400


The column of armor stopped right before crashing head on to the Solarianoid forcefield.

Image

"Stop!" the Bragulan Colonel yelled. "That's good, comrades. Excellent work."

"Da, comrade colonel!" saluted a trooper.

"Inform the rest of the bears, the exercise has been a great success. I must say that the Solarianoids reacted faster than anticipated. We sure scared them, didn't we?" the colonel took a swag of tsvagna. "Alright, inform the troops to withdraw and return to base."

"Da, comrade colonel!" the trooper saluted.
***
Image

The King howled and began to beat his chest with his burnt hands. He had been on the verge of reaching his would-be throne and ascending to its very peak, when an invisible wall of fire threw itself against him. He tried to smash the invisible wall, but it burned at his touch and now his paws were charred and blackened.

Alas, the King had been denied. Instead of the Crystal Palace, he had been forced to make do with the meager pedestal of a decayed ruin, a tangle of Bragulan scaffolding and ramps, barrels and other miscellaneous junk that had been dumped in the wasteland as scrap.

The King wept, for he had failed to satisfy his Queen, for he had failed to impress her and prove his maleness. He slumped his shoulders.

In her rejection, his former Queen took flight, leaving him, departing his presence. Once upon a time, the King would've stopped her in his jealousy. But in his downtrodden state, he merely sighed and allowed her to leave.
***
"Comrade colonel, we have sighted something in the peritelescopes!" saluted the trooper. "It looks like the ape escapee... and he has the foreign dignitary who was reported missing!"

"Da? Activate the targeting systems!" the colonel commanded.

Image

The brand new digital targeting system activated, bringing a crisply computer-enhanced image to their telescreens.

"The ape and the dignitary are within close proximity, but the dignitary appears to be on the move!" saluted the trooper twice.

"We cannot use indiscriminate nuclear artillery, in this case. How about we try out some of our new and accurate smart shells instead?" the colonel continued to command. "Tell the artillery to fire on my mark... mark!"

Image Image

The massive Bragulan self-propelled howitzers fired. Actually, the one to the left had a cannon that wasn't as big or bigger than its chassis, because it wasn't a real artillery piece. It was a mobile treaded nuclear reactor (hence the lateral chimneys) outfitted with a defensive nuclear cannon and a pair of anti-air K-bolters, but it made do for short-ranged engagements within a few hundred miles.

Either way, the earth shook and the skies shattered as the massive shells were launched.

"Target hit! Confirmed kill!"

"Status on the dignitary?" asked the commissar, concurrently curious and concerned.

"Alive!"

"Send a recovery team to fetch her. See that she is well taken-cared of, trooper."

"Da, colonel!"

Mission accomplished.

THE END...


...OR IS IT?!
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by Shinn Langley Soryu »

Quo Vadis, Lelouch Lamperouge?
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Planet Qabristan, Cananaan
5 September 3400


Image
Universal Galactopedia wrote:The eschatology of the One Church of Asuka and Lelouch is indicative of its Byzantine Orthodox origins, as it concerns itself with death, an intermediate state, Heaven, hell, the resurrection of the dead, a great tribulation, the end of the universe, the last judgment, a new universe, and the ultimate consummation of all of God's (or in this case, Asuka and Lelouch's) purposes. Eschatological passages are found in many places, but the book of Zero Requiem in particular occupies a central place in Asuka/Lelouch cultist eschatology.

The second coming of Lelouch is a central event in Asuka/Lelouch cultist eschatology. Most cultists believe that poverty, injustice, and general suffering will continue to exist until Lelouch's return. Needless to say, there are various views concerning the order and significance of other eschatological events.

The book of Zero Requiem is at the core of Asuka/Lelouch cultist eschatology. The study of Zero Requiem is usually divided into four approaches. In the Futurist approach, Zero Requiem is chiefly seen as referring to events which as yet have not come to pass, but which will come to pass at the end of the age, and the end of the universe. This is the approach which most applies to eschatological studies. In the Preterist approach, Zero Requiem chiefly refers to the events after the Diaspora, such as the Cananaanite Wars, the struggle of the One Church of Asuka and Lelouch to survive the persecutions of the Cananaanite Orthodox Church, and the One Church's eventual exile to Qabristan. In the Historicist approach, Zero Requiem provides us with a broad view of history, and passages in Zero Requiem are identified with major historical people and events. In the Idealist (or Spiritualist or Symbolic) approach, the events of Zero Requiem are neither past nor future, but are purely symbolic, dealing with the ongoing struggle and ultimate triumph of good over evil.
Even though the One Church of Asuka and Lelouch was in a constant struggle to survive against the other exile factions on Qabristan and would surely be a priority target for King Guynald's crusade in the event it was to reach Qabristan, the majority of the cult's leaders were far more concerned with bickering over interpretations of their holy scriptures than actually coordinating military actions. The arrival of the wanderer was what finally tipped the cult leaders over the edge; the leadership was sharply divided between hailing the wanderer as the much-prophesied second coming of Lelouch or dismissing the wanderer as just another insignificant nobody (or even worse, a possible enemy agent). And so their bickering intensified as the Holy Synod of the One Church convened, though the Ecumenical Patriarch and Ecumenical Matriarch were conspicuously absent...

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Archbishops Yuri (left), Amanda (center), and Brina (right)

"I simply can't believe how stupid the rest of you are," one of the Synod members, Archbishop Brina, remarked. "Just how many times have you predicted Lelouch's second coming again? Every time the date you've chosen passes by, you pick another one, and when that date passes by, you pick yet another one, and so on and so forth. If there will be a second coming, it won't be in any of our lifetimes."

"Besides, what basis do you have for this...vagabond to be the reincarnation of Lelouch, anyway?" another Synod member, Archbishop Yuri, asked. "He may fit the physical description, but so do countless others all throughout known space. Besides, the prophecies laid out in Zero Requiem can be interpreted any different number of ways. Sister Brina has already pointed out several inconsistencies in your own interpretations."

"With all due respect, Sister Brina, Brother Yuri, you're both fucking blind!" Synod member Archbishop Amanda exclaimed. "Are you even aware of what's been going on all over Cananaan?! The Byzantines who so foolishly cast us out are now launching a crusade the likes of which have never seen before! At least one planet has been completely stripped of all life on its surface! The end times are already here!"

"And that'll make how many times the so-called 'end times' have come and gone now?" Archbishop Brina retorted.

"My predecessors were illiterate fools who couldn't tell the scriptures apart from their own cunts!" Archbishop Amanda shot back. "Again, pay attention to what's going on around you! You cannot deny that the signs are all present!"

"You still haven't answered my question about the legitimacy of this wanderer's claim to be Lelouch," Archbishop Yuri said.

"Then why don't you ask me in person instead?" a figure in a black uniform and an ornate purple cloak called out as he stepped into the Synod's chambers.

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"Greetings. Second Duke of Langley, Lelouch Lamperouge, at your service. So, interesting religion you've set up around me and Duchess Asuka. While I am flattered, I am also a bit...confused. When was the last time any of you looked at an actual history book? I've read what passes for your 'holy scriptures,' and I've seen some of your so-called 'documentaries.' Looks like you've got real history mixed with the plots of a bunch of over-the-top, really fucked-up giant robot shows. I don't seem to recall ever fighting the Knights of the Round in a...'Knightmare Frame,' and I don't think Duchess Asuka piloted a giant robot way back in the 1950s. In any case, your religious art's certainly pretty, though still very much rife with the same inaccuracies that plague your scriptures. I could stand here all day pointing out everything you've gotten wrong."

Faced with the reincarnation of their Lord and Savior tearing their own religion to pieces, the members of the Holy Synod could only sit there, utterly agape at his utterances. After a minute of uneasy silence, the gathered Archbishops broke down into chaotic bickering as they resumed their bickering over insignificant details, intensified even more by the bombshell that had been dropped on them. Lelouch, however, would have none of it. After allowing the Archbishops a few more seconds to continue their petty squabbles, he decided to make himself heard...

[Recommended music: "Avalon" by Kotaro Nakagawa (from Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion OST 2)]

"SILENCE!" Lelouch boomed, his voice echoing throughout the Synod's chambers. "How can any of you afford the time to fight amongst yourselves when a grave threat looms upon your doorstep?!" Lelouch paused briefly as the Synod members settled back down into another uneasy silence so they could hear what he had to say. "Now that I have your attention, your own Ecumenical Patriarch has informed me that your enemies have started to amass great armies for a final conflict to decide the fate of this world. Your prophecies are now irrelevant. All that matters now is your survival. If they prevail, if I allow them to prevail, if we allow them to prevail, then all shall surely be lost! Even messiahs need to perform miracles if they are to be acknowledged! If I am your Lord and Savior, then I can give you your miracles, but I need your help! Together, we can produce our own miracles! Together, we can prevail! We can all hang separately, or we can all stand together! Now...who shall stand with me?"

After a few moments of hesitation, Archbishop Amanda rose from her seat. "I shall stand with you, My Lord."

Two more female Archbishops stood up. "We are with you."

A male Archbishop rose. "I shall stand with you as well."

Several other Archbishops stood up. "We will follow you."

More and more Synod members stood up to signify their desire to join Lelouch until only Archbishops Yuri and Brina were left. After a few more moments of hesitation on their part, they finally rose. "It seems we have no choice but to follow you, sir," Archbishop Yuri said. "You better not disappoint us, then."

Lelouch smiled. "Very well!" he proclaimed. "For after all, I am Lelouch Lamperouge! The one who shall crush the universe...and the one who will recreate the universe anew!

RESULTS:

Lelouch, back from the dead, lets his newfound status as a cult messiah get to his head.
I ship Eino Ilmari Juutilainen x Lydia V. Litvyak.

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Phantasee: Don't be a dick.
Stofsk: What are you, his mother?
The Yosemite Bear: Obviously, which means that he's grounded, and that she needs to go back to sucking Mr. Coffee's cock.

"d-did... did this thread just turn into Thanas/PeZook slash fiction?" - Ilya Muromets[/size]
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Re: Stealth Cutters!

Post by Simon_Jester »

Corsair-Alpha SR-Variant Cutter CG-X2973 "Wallfly"
Deployed off AGP-X720 Series Stealth Tender USS Kitezh
Goddamn Surreal Time


The Alpha variant was barely recognizable as having ever been based off the Corsair spaceframe. The hull lines were very different, the layout of surface features even more so. Ordnance racks, landing gear, compact-turbofan engines for atmospheric flight, all absent. But in the right lighting, with the image-blurring chameleon systems disabled, if you had the right (perverse) frame of mind, the stealth cutter did look sort of like a deformed mutant version of the Corsair-J ELINT cutter.

At the moment, Wallfly was anchored to a nondescript mass of chondrite rock in the system's asteroid field. The rock was one of the great dust bunnies of the cosmos, an aggregate of glassy droplets and five billion year old space dust. With the chameleon systems up, the stealth cutter looked like just another blob of junk adhering to the pile, even to close-range visual inspection.

They monitored events on their passive arrays only- they were here to watch, wait, and get the data back to Kitezh, not to go dicking around in the inner system. Hopefully they'd get some up or down information on whether these 'Lost' were for real. If not, Lieutenant Gao was going to be laughing at odd moments for the next year; he'd heard about the Technarchs' spending a whole afternoon arguing about how to talk to them.

He slipped through the corridor along the cutter's spine, from the crew's narrow, cramped bunkroom up to the cockpit. "My turn, Pulak, you're relieved as soon as you update me."

"It's a long story..."

Oh, joy. At least he'd had his morning coffee, long live the Jumbo Uberthermos. "Shoot."

"Well, for starters we got a lot more data on Contact Three, the one that's been stooging around for the past few days."

"Probably got here way before us, y'know. Like Contact Two, I still think that's a Lost warship."

"Oh, I believe it from what happened. But yeah, Three must have gotten here ahead of us, given who they're from."

"What?" It was usually impossible to identify a stealth ship that well unless something went very wrong.

"Yeah, their drive signature... you're not going to believe this, sir."

"Try me."

"Matches something in the files... six field lobes, type Omricon-Six-Three, anomalies at point nine three on lobe two, point four and point seven eight on lobe six."

"I don't believe it."

"Told you so."

"Maybe they just took another ship and made the engines look like Datton?"

"Be tough to do."

"Who would send out a stealther with an engine signature recorded by half a dozen major national navies, without so much as an overhaul to mask the kinks in the field lobes? Did they decide to have plausible deniability dragged out and summarily executed as a warning to the other abstract concepts?"

"Maybe. But if this really is Datton, or at least someone who trained under the same people who taught Datton how to sneak, it'd explain a lot."

"Oh, god."

"Exactly. Told you it was going to be a long story."

"What did they do?"

"Let me tell it in order, OK?"

"OK."

"Well, right around the time my playlist came round to the Hopping Llamaphones, we got another contact- must be another stealther, because we didn't see them coming in hyper until they transited. They've got a big ding in the field baffles, though, either that or someone screwed up the alignment. So I spotted that, recorded what I could, ran analysis."

"Anybody we know?"

"Nope. I got nothing. No idea who they are. Anyway, that's Contact Four. They started sniffing around after Contact One, naturally."

"Naturally."

"Then Contact Three comes back insystem and starts sniffing after Contact Four."

"Okay. Do you think they knew about Contact One or Two?"

"No idea. But then a rampaging elephant dropped into the place."

"Elephant?"

"Contact Five. Looks like a... not horribly bad job of making aftermarket mods to a Blitz-class corvette."

"Someone tried to stealth a Blitz?"

"You could do it. No good reason to try, but you could do it."

"Oh, man."

"At about the same time, another contact entered the system: Contact Six, cutter-sized. Probably a parasite off Contact Two, based on what happened later."

"OK, that's worth remembering; if Two is a Lost warship, they do operate hyper-capable gunships."

"Right. So anyway, Five launched a probe. Call that Contact Five-One, for the record. That we spotted."

"What about the others?"

"No idea if they sent out probes or not at first. I was barely able to keep tracking them- sort of tracking-ish-ish, anyway. I'm pretty sure they were somewhere in the general vicinity of the spots I logged, anyway. So Contact Four made a course change- that's why I spotted them again. Then Contact Three, Datton well. Again, some kind of drive hiccup, probably a launch. Whatever they launched, though, it was fucking invisible. Good stealth systems, crappy sense of timing. I spotted it later; it's logged as Contact Three-One."

"All right, so far so good. Then what?"

"Bigger elephant. Contact Two lit up- must have been lying doggo on the outskirts, and finally gave us a good look. Heavy corvette tonnage, cruiser power signature, drive beefed up like a shoalskimmer. Verrry funny-looking. So yeah, I figure it's a Lost warship, then again it might be anyone. Random aliens from coreward or antispinward, maybe Central Alliance since nobody knows much to speak of about those guys. Beats me."

"So, they went active?"

"Did they ever! Launched a fighter off towards... well, probably Contact Four, though I can't prove it; I'd lost track of them again. Might have been launched to render assistance to Contact Six. And the minicruiser lit off every kind of sensor in the book, too. Spotted Contact Five right away, of course, but then, well, we caught the first burst of bow shock off Contact Seven."

"This is getting confusing."

"Well, no risk mistaking Seven for anything else. They still aren't here yet, and a good thing too. That is one large mobile mass coming in- family size. See?" The copilot tapped a few keys, poked the screen with a stylus, and brought up a recording.

"Whoa."

"Yeah, someone else decided to take an interest, three guesses who."

"Creepy zombie robots from the depths of Wild Space. Wacky. So how did the other contacts react?"

"Shroomanian fire drill. Contact Two lit off some weird damn shield generator, never seen anything like it before. Challenged Five, didn't get a clear picture of the comm signal. Five uncloaked, said something back. Probably "Sorry for stooging around and getting caught, please do not shoot me full of torpedoes." Something like that."

"Go figure. What about Three and Four?"

"You wouldn't believe it."

"Try me."

"That's what you said last time."

"Damn, you're right. Anyway, spill it."

"Three-One went active, the probe. Then it... fuck, I don't know, can an AI be on drugs? It turned around and headed straight for, well, a big patch of nothing, I'd lost Contact Two at the time, but I know they must've still been in there, and I'm pretty sure it's Datton, because they..."

"I'm not gonna like this."

"They uncloaked and pinged the probe."

Lieutenant Gao doubled over laughing. "They uncloaked to retrieve a drone? While Two was running around yelling at people? Now I believe it's Datton. Man."

"Things got stupider."

"...How?"

"Well, Six, the cutter I think was flying off the minicruiser, suffered some kind of engine failure. The interceptor, Five-One, headed for it. Then right after... well, that was when Contact Three uncloaked."

"So what, they took a potshot at Datton?"

"No, quite polite really. They sent a message. This one I managed to tap properly from sidescatter: “Unidentified ship, please identify yourself and your purpose here.” Reasonable enough."

"OK, so who did something stupid?"

"So then, Contact Four, the one with the bent hyperdrive baffle?"

"Yeah?"

"They launched boat, call 'em Four-Two and Four-Three."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, at Six, the cutter that had stalled out."

"Did they jump up and down and shout "HERE I AM" too?"

"Pretty much. They fired... something at the minicruiser. Either a spread of kinetic missiles, or a damned good impersonation of one."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Sorry. That's how it is."

"...You're shitting me."

"It's all in the logs, I swear."

"OK, I take that back, the universe is shitting us."

"Huh. I like the sound of that, sir."

Gao sighed. "All right. What happened? What did Contact Two do?"

"Well, you know that battery of dimensional flux analyzers we never use?"

"Those things are a waste of space."

"Not anymore they're not. Those things went apeshit when the kinetics closed in on Contact Two."

"Some kind of defense mechanism off the minicruiser?"

"Well, if it wasn't, it screwed with all those missiles by accident without meaning to. I can't decide whether that's better or worse than if it happened on purpose. Half of them got ripped to bits. Half of them... flew... through the minicruiser somehow. Not penetrations, just... I don't even know. We need to get this back to the SCIENCE! officer on Kitezh."

"Cool."

"One of them just freaking disappeared, too, and you would not believe the interdimensional fatigue readings we got off that one."

"Cooool."

"Yeah, Dr. Preobrazhensky's going to love that one."

"He's a good SCIENCE! officer. I like him. Shame about that dog uplift experiment."

"Yeah. That didn't end well."

"Could be worse. Could have been attack noodles."

"Don't remind me... But keep going. So, Contact Four's missile strike failed. Right around the same time, Two-One, the interceptor off the minicruiser, blew up. I think it was one of Four's parasites. Contact Six wigged out and started shooting- got all this on secondaries; primaries were focused on the wackiness with the missile attack."

"Must have been interesting."

"Oh yeah, real busy. Anyway, one of Four's boats must have been rigged as a pursuit cutter- grabbed Contact Six and started dragging it."

"Trying to capture the parasite?"

"Probably. Contact Four uncloaked at that point- and they were at least fifty thousand clicks from where I expected, their cloak is actually pretty good and what localization I got off them was crappy. One for the files, since I don't think we've seen that class before."

"Well, they may have the best cloaking devices in the galaxy; they're still idiots."

"Yeah. Thinking like commerce raiders, not spies."

"Great way to start a war, you ask me."

"True. Anyway, they started running for the hyperlimit like a scalded cat. The boats ran with, hypered out. And Contact Three got away in the confusion."

"A clean escape? After all the lunacy they pulled?"

"Contact Two gave chase. Heim-drive out to the hyper limit- we'd better make a note of that too- then out."

"What next?"

"Well, any action past that was in hyper; we're not in a good position to monitor that one. Heard some suspicious rattles and bangs, but... I don't even know. What a mess."

"Yeah." Gao sank down, bowing his head forward. His forehead bumped against the vee formed by his thumb and index finger. He closed his eyes and sighed, thanking any gods that would listen that his own boat had managed to stay out of the clusterfuck.

The copilot interrupted. "So... stay low, ears sharp?" That was the unofficial motto of the highly unofficial stealth cutter corps. If Pulak could use that line in a direct-quote as a question about tactics, it had been a long shift. And yet somehow, Gao still knew what he meant.

"Yep. We do nothing whatsoever. We stay anchored. We keep the chameleon system up. We don't emit, we don't run around in circles, we don't go shooting off flares, fighters, or drones, and we don't panic on account of that... well, I hope it's a Monolith; I don't want to believe there are two places in the galaxy with ships like that."

"Gotcha, sir."

"Right. Now, you're relieved, and you have my official permission to knock off and take a drink. I know I'd need one after all the crap you've seen."

"Thank you, sir!"
Last edited by Simon_Jester on 2011-02-04 04:33am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by Shroom Man 777 »

SS Strudel
Deep Space, C-6
Unreal Time


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By an unforeseen and incredible turn of events, the Strudel had not only managed to avoid being boarded by the Lost ship, but in the utter pandemonium that occurred in the last few minutes of the fracas, with a whole bunch of unexpected stealth ships appearing, launching probes, sending transmissions, receiving transmissions, recovering probes, blowing ships up, being blown up, capturing ships getting captured by ships, escaping the system, chasing the escapees, fleeing the chasers, evading capture, resisting capture, being captured, and all points in between, the Strudel had made it out alive and entirely intact! Unscathed, unharmed, unhurt, unmolested, undamaged, underestimated, undervalued, undermined, and utterly underclassed - somehow, someway, it had made it.

Even its probe had managed to complete its recordings and return to the ship safely. Afterwards, when the Centrality ship Datton* had decloaked and sent its warning transmission, and when lots of things happened at once and things started becoming strange and confusing, the perplexed crew of the Strudel immediately made their escape. With the Lost ships gone, the Strudel simply cloaked and fled.

*They had recognized the Datton immediately, as its misadventures on Pendleton had been featured in an edition of Jayne's earlier that year, with an interesting commentary by respected Shepistani naval analyst Bart Blade.

The incredible success of its mission was not lost to its crew. Captain Van Hackmann and Den Zel were still busy sifting through the very interesting contents of their sensor logs, and that of the probe. There were lots of strange new things to be perused there. Their mysterious benefactors would have a proverbial goldmine of intelligence.

Though the crew were staying frosty, they were nonetheless relieved at their miraculous survival and success and were in high spirits. In the Strudel's hangar was a wing of smaller armed craft, which were not deployed. They belonged to the pilots and wingmen of an elite group of mercenaries and independent spacers contracted by the Dead Sea Trading Company solely for this mission, all chosen for their reputation as skilled maverick renegades suited for such a dangerous operation as the one they had undertaken.

Two of these ragtag plucky adventurers were looking out the window, contemplating just lucky they were.

"We were so lucky," the female said.

"Yeah. Like I said, your worship..." replied the other one as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

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"...I am the greatest."
Image "DO YOU WORSHIP HOMOSEXUALS?" - Curtis Saxton (source)
shroom is a lovely boy and i wont hear a bad word against him - LUSY-CHAN!
Shit! Man, I didn't think of that! It took Shroom to properly interpret the screams of dying people :D - PeZook
Shroom, I read out the stuff you write about us. You are an endless supply of morale down here. :p - an OWS street medic
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by PeZook »

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The Bragulan Economic Exposition Extravaganza of Friendship (BEEEF)
Vlyadibragstok, Southeastern Severnaya Sector / just beyond Northwestern Lena Sector
Unreal Time / October-December 3400


The wind howled over the scene of the King's demise.

The radioactive crater blaster by light Bragulan artillery lay silent witness to the grand Shakespearean tragedy that occured in the frozen and unforgiving tundra of Vlyadibragstok. A tragedy that none would witness, for it was a private thing, suffered by the King himself. A fall from grace, so to speak: from ruler of Skull Planet to a mere target for Bragulan artilleries.

His story unsung, his body splattered all over in a fine, thin film of exploderized innards and blood.

But all hope wasn't lost! For something had witnessed the King's demise...

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The C'Tan Consumer Goods Media Drone got itself "lost". Cunningly avoiding Bragulan guards by pretending to tie its shoe, the flying saucer exfiltrated the massive BEEF bunker complex and performed low-level reconeissance of the planet, including a vegemite refinery, a cubling field trip from a local school (where the cublings were taught survival techniques like clubbing and eating baby seals) and of course the various mighty erection of Bragulan industry.

But it got distracted from its primary mission of strategic espionage, for it came upon the majestic visage of the King, as he was wrecking a convoy of gigantic trucks.

Curious, it followed the great ape throughout its adventures, recording its strength, its cunning and magnificient physique. It even recorded its demise at the hands of the Bragulans.

Someone would yet sing about the King's fall, and thus he'd be remembered.

Or even better, as the drone waited until the Brags left and scooped up samples of the great ape's blasted flesh.
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JULY 20TH 1969 - The day the entire world was looking up

It suddenly struck me that that tiny pea, pretty and blue, was the Earth. I put up my thumb and shut one eye, and my thumb blotted out the planet Earth. I didn't feel like a giant. I felt very, very small.
- NEIL ARMSTRONG, MISSION COMMANDER, APOLLO 11

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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by Darkevilme »

HSF Audacity, Rally point one

The idea had seemed like a good one at the time, but now. Now Rayarr was left with the fact that it was on her authority that they chose to try and steal the Lost's gunboat led to losing one of her own with the crew possibly still alive and captured by the enemy, command was emphatically not going to be happy about this and the wealth of information they'd gotten otherwise using their active scans was hardly going to distract command from how her little gamble had turned out.

“Shall we engage shipmistress? Ripper four could conceivably be recovered.”

Rayarr hesitated, it was tempting to try one last gambit and attempt to save the situation but “No, without knowing the limitations of its defences it'd be insane to go up against that cruiser...We're beaten, the best we can hope for is giving the Hierarchy plausible deniability. Do we have enough fuel to make it back home?” she said with a sigh, dejected kitty was dejected.

“Affirmative Shipmistress and with fuel to spare.”

“Set course for Hierarchy space via rally point three. I'll be in my quarters having a drink.” And with that Shipmistress Rayarr left the bridge and the Audacity left sector C-6.
STGOD SDNW4 player. Chamarran Hierarchy Catgirls in space!
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by DarthShady »

Abraxas (Karlack Core Sector)
Unreal Time
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Volcanic fire illuminated much of the surface of Abraxas Prime with strange unnatural light, one of a few worlds in the Sector that housed an active Karlack Hive Cluster, a breeding ground for the deadly bio-forms of The Swarm. It was here that preparations were being made, organic structures both in orbit and on the surface of this hellish world were busy, they were spawning new, special, bio-forms. Thousands of them. For what nefarious purpose, only the mysterious Aspects of Karlack knew. And one of them, perhaps the most mysterious Aspect of them all, was supervising the production of these special new bio-forms personally - from inside an orbiting World Crusher Brood Ship.

Deep inside the bowels of the massive ship, in what one could easily mistake for a room on a human ship, Seth was sitting on what appeared to be a leather armchair. He appeared to be sleeping, undisturbed by the movement of lesser Karlack creatures around him. But he was not sleeping, he was in commune with the others, the Hive Mind had decisions to make. Long distance communication between the many Aspects of the Swarm was a strange thing, especially in this form, when all of them would link together. It was not so much a conversation as an exchange of thoughts and memories.

The combined minds of the Aspects would reach out through the void and connect, their great will would combine, and the link would be established. The link would last mere seconds, but to the superior minds of the Aspects, those seconds were comparable to an eternity for lesser minds. Each one of them would make the link appear to it in a unique way, for Seth it would appear as a large room with no walls and surrounded by impenetrable darkness, lavishly decorated with ornate furniture and covered in red symbols from a long forgotten time. In this room, in his mind, the will of The Swarm would be decided.

Those Aspects that had human form would appear as such and be seated around a large table, with Seth himself sitting at the head of it. Those that did not, would appear as lesser versions of themselves or would form an avatar with a likeness to their preferred bio-form. Others would show themselves in more strange forms and would linger in the darkness at the edge of the room. When the exchange of thoughts and memories began, the first thing Seth shared was anger.

"You deem it a worthy cause to mobilize a Mothership and several Broods, just to consume one world, and a barely habitable one at that." Seth's thoughts were... loud, for lack of a better word, the psychic power behind them was immense. "Are you all so intent on starting another war with the Imperium, that you fail to see the consequences?"

Araq was the first to respond. His form that of a massive Reaper, a creature created only for death and destruction, and an appropriate representation for Araq, as it suited his character quite nicely.
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"The consequences being our victory?" Araq's voice boomed, he was clearly content with himself. "The pathetic humans fled before us, they showed their weakness, and now we should take advantage of that - we should show them our true power. We should finish the job we started hundreds of years ago!"

"And bring not only the wrath of their K-Zone allies, but every other human Empire within twenty sectors our way!?" Arkael injected itself in the conversation, its form composed of hundreds of little beetle like organisms, orbiting the table. "I think our friend here has become a bit too aggressive. Our actions must be well thought out, because the battle of Nova Genoa is sure to have unpredictable consequences."

"Arkael is correct. We cannot afford to wage a full scale war against the Imperium, at least not now." Seth said, cutting off Araq's need to express his blood lust some more. "We must focus our attentions on other matters. You have all seen how useful our Bragulan allies are, and I say its time we have more of them."

"More Bragulans?" Mozak asked, a small tentacle wiping the drool from his mouth like orifice. His own form was that of a half a meter long worm like thing, a miniaturized version of himself.

"No!" Seth answered and loudly covered his face with his hands. "More allies! I know for a fact that there are other forces in the galaxy, aside from the Bragulans, that share common goals and interests with us. I say that it is time that we approach them with an offer of... friendship. And perhaps this Bragulan BEEEF would be a good place to start. What say you?"

The room went completely dark for a moment as the idea was analyzed and digested, Seth had sent a rather detailed memory containing the entirety of his plan, so it had taken the Aspects a while to come to a decision. Minutes in the void had passed before the room appeared again.

"We are agreed." A chorus of voices answered his question. Only Araq seemed displeased with this course of action.

"I will go to the BEEF personally." Alyxia said. Her form showing her true nature, that which she usually kept hidden beneath the mask of an attractive young human girl.
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"If you are correct, than we may actually achieve something with this bold plan of yours." She said with a smile.

"More than you can imagine." Seth answered with a grin of his own. "Now then, this leaves only one matter to discuss. The latest appearance on the galactic stage... The Lost."

"They are a curiosity." Arkael said. "We should learn more. Perhaps send a scout?"

"Must we really concern ourselves with them?" Alyxia asked. "I am sure that the humans and the others will investigate them soon enough, and anything they learn, we will learn from them."

"That won't be very useful to us anytime soon." Araq rejoined the conversation. "We must know more and soon, their intentions must be made clear."

"Araq is right." Seth said and leaned forward on the table. "Their appearance could be important, many things have happened lately that should make us more than curious. But we will not send any ships."

"Then what do you propose?" Alyxia asked.

Seth leaned forward and clasped his hands together.
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"We have agents, infiltrators, in the Empires nearby. We shall use them to learn more." He said with a grin. Decisions were made and tasks assigned for a while longer and then the link was terminated. Seth awoke on his Brood ship in orbit of Abraxas. A serious expression on his face.

"Whats the matter?" A female voice asked from across the room.

"Its worse than I thought." Seth answered with a grim expression on his face. "I could feel it all through the link, in their minds, and in mine. Its presence and influence grow ever stronger, and with it so does the hunger and the aggression of The Swarm."

"Can nothing be done?" The female voice asked and a red hologram of a woman appeared in front of Seth. That woman was the AI construct formerly known as SICKLE, but now free from Arkael's control, she called herself Sarah. "Surely action can be taken to prevent loss of control."

"Perhaps..." Seth said. "We shall see. For now I need you to prepare a message for an old friend of mine. One that you can transmit to anywhere in the galaxy on my request. Should it prove necessary."

"Of course." Sarah said. "May I inquire as to the contents of the message?"

"It will be...a warning." Seth said and scratched his chest. Remembering the wound that used to be there, in another life. " A warning of things to come."
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Force Lord
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Re: SDNW4 Story Thread 2

Post by Force Lord »

Vijanta, Aray, Arayna Territores
Sector AA-24, Former Outlander Commissions
IN GODDAMN UNREAL TIME/Early 3401


The town had seen much in its brief exisitence.

Founded by brave colonists looking for land to call their own, Vijanta was once where the mayor took his residence, and as such was a middle-sized industrial center. It prospered while the Commissions lasted. But now the Commissions were no more, and the inhabitants left.

Now it was a ghost town. The perfect hiding place for someone with an agenda.

And that someone was already walking in its sewers.

Image

The cloaked man, when he arrived, had looked at the ruined buildings with disgust. So much left to waste. All because the State here was weak, broken. Soon, he would rectify that. He just had to find a willing executioner of his will. And useful tools.

After all, this planet wasn't going to stabilize itself, would it?

He would find out the truth soon enough.
An inhabitant from the Island of Cars.
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