STGOD: DAS: Main Game Thread.

[Noble Ire]

System B-0900
Jahlin Colony
NGTO Administrative Complex

The Emissary walked smoothly down a largely empty hallway deep within one of the bureaucratic subdivisions of the Opomari Tower complex. As always, she was dressed in a loose, dark cloak, but it hood was down, allowing the few passersby a clear glimpse of her deeply-tanned, ridged face and jet-black eyes. She had not been very active in the affairs of the alliance since the Herald “attack”, and had stayed on more or less as an observer, only occasionally attending diplomatic functions and discussing non-classified aspects of the Preeminence with interested delegates. Still, there were rumors about the First Expansionary Armada and its representative being passed between functionaries, civilians attuned to the Advisory Council’s activities, and even a few NGTO delegates themselves. Most were just that, unfounded rumors, and most knew it, but the Emissary still managed to elicit curious looks now and then as she moved about the complex.

After walking for some minutes, she stopped at a non-descript door and peered at the name inscribed on a plaque beside it. She could not read the script directly, but a neural implant, programmed with data on the common tongues and alphabets of the NGTO’s signatories, translated the lettering into something that she could understand: 'Office of Fuel Transfer Equipment Standardization'. This was the place. Almost half a standard hour before, the Emissary had been contacted in her appointed, planet-side suite by a Kiroter’nah, who requested here prompt presence at the obscure office, but had refused to elaborate further. It was an unusual summons, to be sure, but the Emissary had maintained periodic contact with Expansionary Command by way of secure currier drone, and she knew that the FEA and the Overflock were not the mere diplomatic acquaintances that they appeared to be to most outside observers.

She stepped through the door, and found her in what appeared to be a perfectly ordinary office anteroom. She presented herself to the lone Kiroter’nah waiting at the reception desk. “I am the Emissary of the Preeminence First Expansionary Armada to the North Galactic Treaty Organization. My presence here was requested.”

The adjunct rose and quickly guided her through an adjoining door, down a spartan hallway, and indicated to another, almost identical door. It was not marked. The Emissary entered alone, and found herself in a small, dimly-lit square chamber dominated by a single large table. Aside from a few chairs and a flat-screen display that was set on one wall, it was vacant. Before the Emissary had even moved halfway across the space, however, the door opened again, and the Kiroter’nah she had spoken to over the comm line entered.

“Greetings, Emissary. I am Axaa'shan, of the Kiroter’nah Overflock Special Operations Group.”

The winged being was of an unusually dark shade of gray for its kind, and stood almost at eye level with the Brimafel. She knew it was next to impossible to accurately read the creature’s posture or expression as it was an artificial construct, but she still thought she perceived a degree of stiffness and hostility in its tone nonetheless. Or, perhaps, agitation.

“Greetings, Axaa’shan. I am always eager to meet with representatives of the Overflock. Still, I am beginning to suspect that you do not wish to discuss the standardization of fuel siphons with me.”

By way of response, the mechanized shell moved past her to the display screen and inserted something into a slot along its side. “You are privy to the operations underway within the Terran sphere of influence?”

“Yes.”

“An NGTO perimeter listening post picked up this transmission along a vector correspondent to the operation’s primary staging area. We have confirmed that originated with a Kiroter’nah vessel assigned to that rallying point.”

The screen came to life, flickered for a moment with distortion ripples of a kind that the Emissary had never seen before, and then resolved into a grainy image of deep space. The field visible above a handful of exposed pylons characteristic of Kiroter’nah design appeared to be empty save for the distant plain of stars, but after several moments it focused sharply on one patch of space, and she could make out the silhouettes of ten or more starships, all moving at a high velocity towards an unseen target. Just as the group was lit by the flash of weapons discharges, the image shifted wildly out of focus, and then dropped out entirely for a moment. When it returned, it was focused on a far larger assemblage of ships. She immediately recognized the angular forms of several Preeminence carriers, surrounded by a motley collection of other ship classes. They were exchanging missile and energy fire with a far larger group of vessels that surrounded them on several sides.

As the Emissary was staring at the attackers fixedly, something large and fast flashed across the screen at close range, followed closely by flares that could only be weapons discharges. The image wavered and then dropped out again, but returned almost immediately, still on the surrounded Preeminence warships. They had broken into two groups now, one apparently angling away from the main group of attackers, while the other flew at a concentration of the enveloping force, their weapons blazing furiously. Something within the field of view exploded violently, but before the Emissary could clearly determine what it was, the image shivered and shrank back to a partial view of the ship’s hull. One of the pylons was blackened and cracked, and the space beyond was filled with a torrent of flashing and indistinct shapes. Then everything went black.

Neither of them said anything for a moment. The Emissary was thinking furiously, and was slightly breathless.

“You’re certain that transmission is valid?” she asked at last.

“There can be no mistake. Those images were recorded by our vessel, and that was the FEA task force dispatched to the Galactic Interior. There was an encrypted signal packet included with the visual feed. We have been unable to decode it, but I think you may recognize it.” He produced a small datapad and hand it to her.

The Emissary could not understand the chains of symbols scrawled across its lit surface, but they were undeniably familiar to her: a general directive from a Preeminence command ship to its escorts. She retained her composure skillfully, but not without effort. “Have you identified the attacking vessels?”

“Kitaka.”

She nodded slowly. “I understand. And the others, the first ships in the recording?”

“We have been unable to identify them. I had hoped you might recognize their design.”

“Can you magnify one?”

Axaa’shan tapped a few controls, and the screen resolved onto the squadron of ships that the Emissary had initially observed. One was highlighted and then filled the screen, blurry, but far more distinct.

The Emissary only had to puzzle over the image for a moment. “It’s of the Habsburg Imperial Navy.”

“Habsburg?”

“An isolationist power of relatively sizeable scope to the Galactic Northwest of the NGTO. The FEA only discovered it recently and we are still conducting intelligence-gathering operations around its borders. There is little else I can tell you about it, unfortunately.”

The Kiroter’nah nodded curtly. “I will inform my superiors of them. What will you do now?”

The Emissary considered briefly. “I will have my ship relay this information to FEA command immediately, but I will stay here. My presence in this facility may be increasingly required in the coming weeks. Nevertheless, tell your superiors to expect communications soon, along the normal channels. I cannot guarantee what word the message will bring, however. This is…”

She trailed off, and then suddenly straightened. “I must be going. On behalf of the Preeminence, I thank you for disclosing this information. The cooperation of the Overflock will not be forgotten.”

Axaa’shan made a gesture she didn’t quite recognize, but she took at as a sign of acceptance, and made quickly for the door.

“It is requested that you do not attempt to contact me specifically again, on this or any other matter,” the Kiroter’nah called after her. “You must understand the value of secrecy here. I do not expect that we will meet again.”

“Perhaps,” she replied without stopping, and then vanished through the door.

[rhoenix]

Crulmax
Crulmathi
Transport headed for the Palace of Transcendence
Straltoc Space

Galaxies of thought and minds sing in the darkness, each second unfolding into infinity and infinity folding into a second, each note of the billions strong choir unique and well crafted. But the songs were changing. A beat was picking up, a rhythm forged by hammers and the stomping of boots. Gentle lyrics were being replaced by cries for fire and faith. Once peaceful stars were pulsing and throwing out long flares capable of extinguishing the life from entire worlds. The dark stars at the centres of the songs were pulsing with unimaginable power as they readied for the coming storm.

Zooming out at right angles to reality, the entire war march can be heard resonating from a cosmos in a bottle suspended in an impossible, gnashing void next to other tiny bottles, each roaring its own tune, most cacophonous rather than symphonous. A chain of light is visibly stretched between the first sphere and another, and another, somewhat dimmer chain is stretched to a second. A third chain reaches out tentatively to a third sphere, this one humming harmoniously.

The galaxy spins, stars rotating, planets moving; time is passing. The coruscating sphere of light watches the other spheres' connections unblinkingly.

The chain of light doesn't attach to the coruscating sphere, though the end of the chain does disperse into a ring of pure light that begins to orbit. The chain of light is welcomed, through being scrutinized by countless eyes before attaching.

[Academia Nut]

Crulmax
Crulmathi
Transport headed for the Palace of Transcendence

The chain is zoomed in on, showing the Heralds genocidal rant against the NGTO and all those who would associate with them. Zooming back out, one of the spheres is associated with the robots, a screaming, mad sphere casting a shadow over numerous others, including one that the Straltoc sphere is attached to, and the Gliesans own coruscating sphere.

To drive back the darkness, the Straltoc sphere summons forth a great tendril of fire and lashes out with it. Upon impact, images of fleets on the move, armies marching, and space itself burning become visible. When the tendril withdraws, the mad sphere is quiet but not silenced completely, and broken but not shattered.

The scene then repeats, but with extra fire drawn from the Gliesan sphere.

[rhoenix]

Crulmax
Crulmathi
Transport headed for the Palace of Transcendence
Straltoc Space

The chain is zoomed in on, showing the Heralds genocidal rant against the NGTO and all those who would associate with them. Zooming back out, one of the spheres is associated with the robots, a screaming, mad sphere casting a shadow over numerous others, including one that the Straltoc sphere is attached to, and the Gliesans own coruscating sphere.

To drive back the darkness, the Straltoc sphere summons forth a great tendril of fire and lashes out with it. Upon impact, images of fleets on the move, armies marching, and space itself burning become visible. When the tendril withdraws, the mad sphere is quiet but not silenced completely, and broken but not shattered.

The scene then repeats, but with extra fire drawn from the Gliesan sphere.

A scene shifts to a small envoy on the edge of Xylyx space, which has been repeating it's hail every half day for the past three days - asking what the Xylyx plans are.

In the distance behind the envoy, at the heart of the coruscating sphere, a storm is brewing. A storm of fire and lightning begins to boil slowly within it, with images of the armored Jotun visible to the Straltoc for the first time marching, sneaking, and assaulting with horrifying results. Ships like great spears ready their points, should the envoy fail.

Archon Brea's voice echoes softly as the scene shows. "We would be your allies regardless, though we must make a bid for peace before bringing down the sword of war."

[Academia Nut]

Crulmax
Crulmathi
Transport to the Palace of Transcendence

"You are perhaps nobler than we, which is why we like you. You too seek harmony over dischord, despite the fact that you have some very dischordant instruments. We wish your envoy well, but know that we are not optimistic," Alraszi's hologram replies before a new scene plays out.

Ripper gun fire falling like rain. Hellfire storms blanketting cities in nuclear infernos. Lisbizif soldiers advancing under covering fire from Korrillstav troopers to engage robots in hand to hand, tearing them apart with claws and manipulation of the underlying reality of the universe.

"The mercenaries on Earth might have been out of control psychopaths, but they fought the way we fight. We fight dirty. We fight to win. We fight to make war so horrible that our foes will think twice about declaring war again. We do not start fights. We end them. Quick and brutal. Still think we are worth it?"

[rhoenix]

Crulmax
Crulmathi
Transport to the Palace of Transcendence
Straltoc Space

With a smile, Archon Brea replied in the span of an eyeblink. It made her feel much reassured that most of the talking she had hoped to accomplish was being achieved at nearly the efficiency of her own people; before she and her aides had even arrived at the great Palace of Trancendence, and still aboard the high-speed transport train.

"Elder Alraszi, we know all too well what horrors we are capable of. There is a saying among my people - 'One must know the ways/horrors of war before one can fully appreciate the value of peace.' It is for this reason that most of our Archons are pulled from the ranks of the Jotun - learning the ways/arts of peace/diplomacy has more merit when one knows the realities of war."

"As for how you make war," she thought with a smile, "your people and ours are more alike than you might think. This is why we try as hard as we to do to maintain peace."

[Dark Hellion]

The Gliesan task force had been identified by medium range scanners and a small task fleet had been dispatched and was waiting to see if any aggressive moves would be taken. The fleet had been under total transmission silence for 78 hours when the lead ship, of the Superdreadnought class, and the four escorting Picket vessels [OOC this is 123 point of ships, included in that is 17 EW] had decided that an overture could be made, as no additional fleet elements showed on either long or medium range scanners of the boarders sensor network. The four small Gliesan ships represented little threat to the task force, even if they were to try for a suicide attack.

Boarder of Herald's Space

The fleet left hyperspace in a flash of sensor blinding EM radiation. The massive monolith of the Superdreadnought appearing within meters of the invisible boundary between Herald's territory and free deep space. And painfully close for most biological species. The powerful ship and its escorts exited with shields on full and weapons fully powered, however no firing solutions where input, nor where targeting sensors locked. The powerful transmitters sending a tightbeamed signal directly to the lead Gliesan ship.

Greetings, I am Superdreadought-Class ship number 3, of the 2nd defense task force. You seem to wish entrance to Our space. But, my directives are that no ship of the NGTO is allowed to enter unless it is impossible for my task force to stop them, or i am under orders otherwise. So, I must ask if you are on business of the NGTO or are on your own business. And I don't feel that I have to remind you, but lie to me and i will put enough firepower to lay waste to a continent right on top of your bridge. While this will be very pretty for me to watch, and really probably for you as well, as least for the few milliseconds you have to appreciate it, it would probably do bad things to both your complexion and general diplomatic relationships. So i would ask you kindly to refrain from deceit, because I would not like to rebuilt several hundred AM warheads at the moment. It is quite the pain.

But i digress, it has been a while since i have had any meaningful conversation. In the old days i got to do far more of the continent leveling and had to do far less diplomacy. i never know what to say. So, if you can give me your response, i can decide what course of action needs to be taken.

Thank you for your time. i await reply.

[rhoenix]

Border of Xylyx Space

The hyperspatial disturbance of the superdreadnaught and complementary cruisers appearing rather close to the scout group was detected shortly before it's arrival. Not a single shield was raised, not a single flailgun shell was armed, not a single glaser cannon was energized, not even the powerful short-range MEEN devices aboard the two warships in the Gliesan task group were armed as the large ships arrived.

Greetings, I am Superdreadought-Class ship number 3, of the 2nd defense task force. You seem to wish entrance to Our space. But, my directives are that no ship of the NGTO is allowed to enter unless it is impossible for my task force to stop them, or i am under orders otherwise. So, I must ask if you are on business of the NGTO or are on your own business. And I don't feel that I have to remind you, but lie to me and i will put enough firepower to lay waste to a continent right on top of your bridge. While this will be very pretty for me to watch, and really probably for you as well, as least for the few milliseconds you have to appreciate it, it would probably do bad things to both your complexion and general diplomatic relationships. So i would ask you kindly to refrain from deceit, because I would not like to rebuilt several hundred AM warheads at the moment. It is quite the pain.

But i digress, it has been a while since i have had any meaningful conversation. In the old days i got to do far more of the continent leveling and had to do far less diplomacy. i never know what to say. So, if you can give me your response, i can decide what course of action needs to be taken.

Thank you for your time. i await reply.

The reply was not long in coming. It also appeared unimpressed by the size of the reception committee. "Greetings to you, Number 3 of the 2nd Fleet, of the Xylyx. As previously stated, I am Archon Skiad, of the Golden Sky Combine.

I am here in an attempt to find a peaceable accord with you. Your people's recent declaration of war upon all the peoples of the NGTO is unsettling, as well as illogical to us. I first wish to find an accord between my people and yours directly. I cannot speak for the members of the NGTO, as my people's re-emergence has not made our status among that organization official yet, though I would also show you why peace is of more lasting value than war.

Your response is understandable to myself and my crew - I myself was once a Jotun, so I know full well the instinct to destroy. However, I also know that peace is of greater value than war, and harder to achieve.

I am also fully aware that I and the crew and ships of this envoy are expendable. Should you treat us as such however, my people will view your territory and all within it in the same way.

Destruction is simple. Construction is more difficult, and more rewarding. We ask you to choose to construct peace first with us, and then with others."

[Dark Hellion]

i am not of the Xylyx. We have the unprecedented audacity to call Ourselves their Heralds, but We do not compare with the god machines. Perhaps you could 'construct' a better understanding of Our Culture if you come with us, peacefully.

As you are not an official member of the NGTO, you are technically not at war with us, and us such can be allowed passage. Do not stray from my escort, or as i have stated, i will atomize you. i cannot bring you to any of our worlds, but i can lead you to a small sensor outpost where you can dock and have access to some small luxuries of excess power.

i am sorry i cannot offer you any food, as seems customary for biological meetings, but alas i do not eat, and my marine contingency is a bit rough for tea and biscuits.

As for the rest of your comments. i cannot say that i see construction as an enjoyable task. i am a warship, i exist to pacify through threat of destruction or destruction itself. i enjoy this task, immensely. But the Purpose is more important than my enjoyment, and spreading it is higher than my likes or dislikes.

Follow me to the outpost, were i can ensure a secure connection and prompt communication with Us. There you can talk to those who enjoy this construction of yours.

A strict, highly encrypted private tightbeam was sent within the Herald's fleet.

Man, diplomacy is hard work. How do the Emissaries do it? i'm supposed to make targets dead, not make nicey nice. Man i miss the old days, planets to raze, ships to torpedo into the void.

"i hear you, carrying around advanced ECM suites and we don't even get to jam their sensors, let alone actually fire a shot. But Central Intelligence knows best. You just gotta do, what you gotta do."

i know, i know. For the Future, for the Purpose... We obey.

[rhoenix]

After the reply from the sentient dreadnaught, there were a few moments while the Gliesan ships were motionless and silent. Suddenly, all the ships except the diplomatic vessel itself wheeled smoothly about, and entered hyperspace like ghosts. Simultaneously, the diplomatic ship replied. "I accept the terms of your offer, and will follow you to this outpost."

The diplomatic ship, seeming nearly insignificant next to the size of the superdreadnaught it followed, matched the huge ship smoothly in speed.

[Adrian Laguna]

Battle of the Backstab

The Admiral stared at the expanding debris field. Inumeral tiny things glitering in the starlight. It was a desperation measure, but then, for them it was a desperate battle. Arguably the only true desperation would have been to cower in fear and await death, or perhaps surrender and plead for mercy. This glittering field of fireflies couldn't hide a warship, but it would have some use at deflecting incoming fire, especially from missiles and torpedoes. Their faster ships were going to make a run for it.

One of his officers confirmed the thought, "All of their lighter ships are breaking formation and heading away at full burn," he reported.

"Give me Vice-Admiral Amésquita."

NSM Patrona flew through the wreckage of what was once a Bimafel Heavy Cruiser, emerging out the other side to fire yet another broadside at Dawn's dying twin. Dust and assorted flotsam glided along its hull or was rudely pushed away. Don Carlos didn't get to see the bright flashes of the warheads initiating, as just then a transmission came in.

"-aight toward the First Division!" an exited voice shouted from off-screen.

"Stay with them, maintain formation and firing patterns," Don Alvaro cooly replied, just barley looking to the side. He fixed his aged but still sharp gaze on the screen, "Status? We've got runners for you to chase down."

"Just one thirdie left, sir. They've got the Devil's own damage control crews in there, but she's dying anyway. We'll be along shortly."

The Fast Flotillas fired their last broadsides and disengaged, quickly heading toward the centre of the battle. The Fifth lagged behind the others. Two of its frigates got caught in the cross-fire between the two enemy third classers while chasing down that last corvette, and one had suffered engine damage. They were ordered to turn around and rejoin the Kitakan Second Division to secure the area for the imminent arrival of the support ships. As the other four Flotillas sped away, a brilliant flash marked the last of the rearguard finally giving-up the ghost.

As the main elements of the FEA's 2nd Core turned to make their suicide run toward GS Kusari, the First and Second Squadrons of TF "Barrier" turned with them. The ships of the battle wall continued to pound the enemy carriers, waves of hypervelocity impactors and nuclear warheads overwhelming shields and cracking armour with every broadside unleashed by the formation. The whithering fire finally killed one carrier, then the other. However, it was already too late to redirect fire to the heavy cruisers.

"Report!" bellowed Bazan y Guzman.

"The rammer hit Kusari along the flank and came to rest embeded on its hull. There is a huge gash on the outer hull but the inner core appears to be intact. The rammer is in worse condition, but still has a measure of structural integrity."

"Second Squadron, break formation and set-up defensive perimeter around Kusari. Coordinate with the rest of the First Division. First Squadron, maintain course and commence fire on designated target."

The Second Squadron engaged reverse and began to take-up defensive positions around their crippled ally. Its lead ship, NSM Espirto Santo, maneuvered into position to beging boarding the Apostacy directly as the other warships filled their pinnances with Naval Infantry units. The First Squadron forged ahead, launching waves of torpedoes toward the remaining heavy cruiser.

[Dahak]

Sol
Earth
Bejing

After the main bulk of government had left Earth for the more secure Jupiter, things in the old capital had slowed down a bit. It was still a Megacity inits own right, a hub for commerce and trade, but in the last days, the amount of spies and intelligence services had lessened. Most were trying to get a feet aground on Ganymede nowadays.
Of course, it still had a sizeable portion of spies in the city. And those would have seen a remarkable rise in traffic around the foreign ministry. Coalition members running in and out, mostly Poles for that matter, and a huge increase in secure communication with Ganymede. It still would need some time for all the nations to send representatives to Ganymede, so Earth had to suffice.

During that time, the Special Division Fleet set sail from Shina-Tsu-Hiko on what seemed to be a long-planned tactictal training. The last time it was seen, it was headed south.

[Dahak]

Herald Space
Outer Border

Several jump points formed right outside the border of Herald space and the Special Division Fleet assumed a defensive formation. It had taken them almost two weeks to get here - one of the destroyers almost suffered a drive failure - but if the Admiralty tells you to do best speed, you better do.
Admiral Ling Yakamura stared absent-mindedly into the holo-sphere floating before her. It was now or never. She sent a mental command to the ship and a com channel opened, directed at the Herald space.
"This is Admiral Ling Yakamura on board the Fast Battlecruiser Hokaido. I represent the Hegemony of Heavens, a member of the Coalition of Nations, and would like to meet a representative of your kind for a secure meeting regarding urgent matters. Yakamura, out."

[White Haven]

Deep Space, Polish Republic Territory

A relatively tight formation of ships, without the dispersal and screen that the Bootswellington support elements had dictated, slices through hyperspace in what was supposed to and, to the force in question, still appeared to be a sensor shadow. The inner core of ships is a tight sphere, surrounded by a thin halo of somewhat smaller transports a significant distance away from the central contingent. On board one of the core ships, this one painted a dull, ash-grey shade with a seam of flaming white-orange running along its spine, consternation is king. The inside of the modest transport resembles nothing more than a combination of a living room and an auditorium; two dozen comfortable armchairs arranged in an arc facing inwards, all occupied by grey-and-orange-clad men and women. At the focal point, facing back towards the rest of the cabin's occupants, is one more armchair, no different from the others but for its own occupant, who wears a loose-fitting tunic and trousers patterned entirely in flames. The bald, middle-aged man gives a sharp look towards one of the others, speaking out loud to keep the psychic noise to a minimum, "No contact from either?"

"No, Focus, the only signals the esper group have netted are from the Bootswellington flotilla. Nothing from any of the others, and the rest of the force confirms."

The central figure frowns for a few moments, then replies quickly, "Instruct the recon teams to double their spacing, but remain receptive-only. And continue attempting to contact the advance cruisers. Signal the Bootswellington commander our intent to divert to secondary target and rendevous while we await word." With that, he closes his eyes and sends his mind outwards, taking active control of the waiting flotilla's course and, with the help of the psykers aboard each, swinging it around to a new vector. At the same time, whispers from the Focus alert the fleet to the unexpected developments, the precaution of an early rendevous, and the intent to discern more of the situation before a final decision is made.

[Bugsby]

When Tristan burst into his father's throne room, Forrith Artelme was not surprised. On the contrary, Imperator Forrith would have been quite surprised if his son had NOT come bursting in. He was a great one for bursting, Tristan Artelme.

"This is the time. This is our time!" Tristan called out to his father, quickly striding the length of the throne room, a fistful of datacards clutched tightly in his outstretched hand.

"Oh? What time is it?" Tristan turned his head to see who had spoken. It was Petya, his sister, who was sitting in a seat next to the throne room doors. Tristan had stormed past her without even noticing her presence.

"It is time to act," Tristan said slowly, struggling to keep a grip on his anger. He had always been angry - Tristan was self-aware enough to know that - but these last few weeks, it had been harder and harder to keep his anger in check. It was his thrice-damned father and his insufferable sister, wearing his patience thin. Was he the only one who could see?

"Here!" Tristan called, and he threw a datacard on the ground at his father's feet. "Here!" he threw another. "Here! Here! Here! It's all here! The galaxy is churning, father! Monsters over Earth! Civil war down below! War with the Heralds! Spies bring us news by the hour of fleet movements and battles! And still, we sit. We sit on Ober, and we do NOTHING."

"Where is your guest?" Petya asked mildly from her seat. Tristan was struck speechless for a second. That was the last reaction he had been expecting.

"Guest?"

"That lovely Wanderer. You've been accompanying her since her arrival, right? I just thought it was strange to see you without her. You've been inseparable."

"She is in her quarters, resting." Tristan allowed himself a small smile. He was the one that had tired her out.

"Tristan," Forrith said softly, regaining his son's attention. "My son who is so wise. The galaxy churns, you say. And indeed it does. What do you think we ought to do?"

"Churn with it!" Tristan spoke proudly. "Ride the storm. To war, and glory for Ober."

"War? The Oberin, go to war? For... what? Glory? What need have the Oberin for glory?"

"The same as any other race."

"Ah, but we are not any other race. Do you, too, believe that we are like the humans? So quick to action, the children of Sol. But not the Oberin. You know your history. When was the last time an Oberin fired a shot in conflict?"

"Too long ago."

"Fifty years ago."

"As I said, too long."

"And that was not even our fight. We aided a neighboring planet, Freyas - with whom we had rather cool diplomatic relations, I might add - to put down a rebellion that threatened to cover the planet."

"I know the story," Tristan muttered.

"As well you should. Our fleet arrived in force over Freyas, but we sent only a small detatchment to aid in one battle. Thirty-seven Oberin died; their names are remembered to this day. And seeing the might of the army that could be used against them, the rebels laid down their arms and peace was restored. Peace, Tristan. The goal of any civilized race."

"Peace? All we gained is peace?"

"Toys." Petya spoke up again, still in her chair. "Freyan manufactories make such marvelous toys. We had some when we were children, don't you remember?"

"I am no longer a child. I have no need for toys." Tristan scowled.

Petya returned her gaze demurely to the floor, yet she trained her eyes on her brother under hooded lids, studying him intently. "Yet you are a child," she though to herself. "And instead of Freyan dolls, you now play with warships. I try to help you see, but you are blind. We gained a vital trading partner and ally. That is how we have toys. Should we call, Freyas will come to our aid, as we came to theirs." All this Petya thought. But she did not speak, for her brother would not hear her.

"I beseech you father," Tristan was saying. "Send the fleets to Earth."

"Ah, but I already have."

Tristan was taken aback. "But our entire navy is in orbit over our own worlds. I checked the report this morning. We sit content, as we always have."

"Indeed," Forrith smiled. "But there are ships at our disposal other than ships of war."

*****
Sol
Space stretched out into infinity before collapsing on itself again, revealing the Oberin fleet, 300 ships strong, that had just emerged from hyperspace.

Traffic control, this is the Oberin Mercy Armada. We come with supplies to aid ravaged worlds. We have construction vessels with building materials to aid the rebuilding of Mercury, and food and medical supplies for the refugees in Africa. We are unarmed and operating in accordance with international program for foreign aid. Requesting flight patterns and clearances.

[Redleader34]

The Oberein cruisers signal was heard, and as New Mombasa Heights tracked them,their simple response was "This is New Mombasa Heights please send the ships with the peace aid to the New Mombasa Heights Orbital Station. We are sending Docking Co-Ordinates now."

there would be a message to President Wiśniowiecki’s Staff , the TGA Envoy simply handing over a encoded handpad which was addressed to a “Mr. President, I am sorry about how things have been. I propose, when I return from my Meeting out in space, we have a conference, about the issues plaguing us, and if we could, signing a formal treaty of alliance, as to bolster our potential power. I also thank you for your medical aid. The rable-rousers in the street do not speak for the pups and human children, who are being feed thanks to you. The West African Region is in your star-nations debt. We will as I used to say back in the 2000s “Hang Out” later. From the Tank of the Uche, Current Director of the Co-Operative Trans Genetic Alliance

Edit: Deleted some odd events

[rhoenix]

Edge of Sol System

After seeing with their long-range sensors first-hand what was happening in the Sol system, the small Golden Sky Combine envoy had signaled for two additional transport ships to assist rebuilding. The two transports faded into realspace near the envoy, and swift greetings and countersigns took place.

Just as quickly, the envoy, now supplemented with the two heavy transports, sent another signal.

"Earth traffic control, this is the Golden Sky Combine diplomatic envoy. We also bring food and construction materials to assist you in rebuilding Mercury and Earth. Please send approach vectors for a parking orbit."

* * *

Edge of League of Thought space

The envoy sent it's introductory signal once more, the ships having closed to three light-seconds from the edge of League of Thought space the night before.

- A golden circle, the upper half filled in with bright gold
- Right fist covered with left open hand
- An open palm toward an explosion, the explosion fading away, two people talking
- A handshake
- People exchanging food, drink, gifts, and revelry
- The small, Gliesan diplomatic ship landing, other ships breaking away as one and leaving as they had come - fading like ghosts into the dark of space

The message also included a translation in written American English.

* * *

Edge of Cretecean Confederacy space

Watching the plume of the solar flare now reaching it's furthest point, Archon Inzeti frowned slightly. "I know our departure was sudden, but I do hope we didn't annoy them too badly with it," she thought to herself.

"Stellar Spear fire control, this is Archon Inzeti. Plan another doorbell shot into the corona of the star, but don't fire yet - we still have a day or so before the flare fades. We can wait until then."

Receiving acknowledgment, she rose smoothly from her chair, and walked with her cup to make more tea for herself. Placing her hand over the cup until the water was boiling, she then added the (in)famous Jotunheim Skyfork tea mixture, and sat back down in her chair, relishing the taste.

[nt01jones]

Neptune
SDN Station Comte Maurice


Tugamiral Turkish Rear admiral, look it up. Bahtiyar transmitting a briefing to Warlock Ghiyath, a Colonial Officer on the Cruiser Hamadiye.

"We signed a treaty with the TGA earlier today, we're entering into an alliance with them. Along with some construction efforts we'll be undertaking in the outskirts of the system, we're going to send troops to assist the TGA in their Civil war in Africa. The Hamadiye will deploy over Africa and will deploy the Ground forces we're sending. The TGA will direct you were to deploy specifically. Our destiny is tied with theirs now, Ensure that we meet with success Warlock. Comte Maurice Out."

An hour after the Hamadiye received the Transmission, she finished preparations for her mission and moved out setting a course to Terra.

[Dark Hellion]

The Hegemony Fleet on the boarder of Herald Space

A powerful tightbeam signal beamed it transmission directly at the lead ship

We will speak. Come to Outpost #345e54 located at the marker in the enclosed map. We will send a courier with an Emissary to speak for Us, and decide if you should be admitted deeper. Do not enter beyond the Outpost.

[Dahak]

Herald Space
Outer Border

Admiral Yakamura listened to the transmission and then watched his holo-sphere as the location of the outpost was updated.
"Very well then," he said to no one in particular.
<<Prepare for immediate jump and set course for designated outpost, maximum flank speed,>> he sent through the main data-net.

A few seconds later, jump points formed and swallowed the fleet as it moved into hyperspace.

[Shinn Langley Soryu]

Sol
High Earth orbit

For days, the blasted hulks that used to be the Heero Yuy, Eric Vale, and Laura Bailey simply drifted aimlessly in space, reeled in by the tractor beams of the Saber if they went too far astray. For days, the CCS task force sent to deal with the Worldeaters waited patiently for a salvage crew to take the wrecks away from their custody. For the most part, the rest of the universe went on without them; an antimatter explosion over Africa, the clusterfuck in the northwest of known space, the Heralds' warmongering in the Coalition meeting hall, minor skirmishes in Polish space (soon to turn to all-out war), the Golden Sun Combine's reemergence from seclusion...

Just when Vice Admiral Kawasumi's usually boundless patience was directly on the verge of wearing thin at last, the requested salvage crew finally arrived to whisk the Yuy, Vale, and Bailey away to the orbital shipyards of New Japan for reconstruction. "Took them long enough," the admiral muttered to herself as she bore witness to the flotilla of CCS Space Navy tugs dragging the three ruined ships away from Sol and into hyperspace.

[Dahak]

Herald space
Outpost #345e54


Again, a series of jump points formed and the small fleet of Hegemony ships shot out into n-space. Assuming a defensive formation, they sent a signal to the outpost, notifying them of their presence and waited for the Emissary.

[Redleader34]

Sol System
Pluto Geosynchronous Orbit

In orbit of Pluto, the diplomatic star-ship Freedom of Information took off from its berth, the fusion powered vessel speeding away from the King of the Orrt cloud. There would be a small celebration, as the team had successfully made a treaty with the denizens of the Dominion. “Unlike the Feddies, We made a successful treaty!” Alex joked, as the ship headed back to the Earth.

GNN NEWS NOW

Welcome back, Dear Audience, and we interrupt your broadcast of Galactic News now with a breaking report. The Star Nations of The Co-Operative Trans Genetic Alliance and the Stellar Dominion have signed a formal territorial crossing Treaty! What does this mean for Your stock? More details after this commercial break
*
And we’re back. With the signing of the Historical treaty, The TGA gets mining rights to the Orrt Cloud, which will help their country’s resources grow. The Dominion gets free passage through TGA Space, and our analysts predict that they will be the next power to join the new power block “NGTO” in the Galactic North. Pushing to that End is the planned construction of the Joint Space Station, which will be the last big point before the Dominions Dwarf planets. There have been rumors of troop movements from Neptune Outposts to the planet Earth, but they are all unconfirmed. Thanks for watching GNN

Sol System
Earth Orbit
TGA Orbital colony New Mombasa Heights

The hum of ions was loud as the Cruiser docked with New Mombassa Heights, as Al Chinachu waited for the Transport to land. The Journey from the Outer Planets to Earth was a short one, but it felt like it could take ages. He sighed as the massive docking clamps locked on to the cruiser, holding it tightly against the O’Neil cylinder. He would welcome the military commanders, and update them on the current situation, explaining how the troops were to be based from Uganda Sector, to go into the Congo River Basin to assist government forces. It would be an interesting operation, as the rebel military moved to the forests, hiding in the old terraforming equipment used to help stave off global warming.

[Bugsby]

Recevied, traffic control. Assuming docking pattern now. We only request that our overseers are allowed planetside to see to the distribution of these supplies. These goods are intended for the people of Africa, not the armies of the TGA. To be sure, we mean no offense - but the Oberin are determined to maintain their neutrality in the face of any coming conflicts, and for our own good we must do everything we can to show that we take no sides.

With this, the Oberin fleet moved out of its tight formation and headed for Earth. 250 of the 300 ships headed toward Earth, while the rest turned toward Mercury, moving at top sublight speeds. These were the constructor ships, fully equipped to repair damaged colonies and build new ones. The ships headed for Earth slowed in low orbit, firing their docking thrusters to maneuver into position. Each ship was huge - the size of a light cruiser - a significant donation of resources from the Oberin foreign aid ministry. Carefully, the ships moved to the docking ports of New Mombassa station, ready to give aid to a ravished nation.

[Starglider]

Bootswellington Strike Fleet
Deep Inside Polish Space

"Still no sign of a main patrol force?"

"Negative Vice-Admiral. No contact by any fleet element."

"Break off pursuit. They're trying to lead us on a wild goose chase and buy time for their reinforcements to arrive. I want a moving regroup and then best speed to the target. Then I want the Deep Eye's group to hold 15 minutes ahead of us. Navigator Swann, how long to Nowy Masovie?"

"A little over five hours sir. Laying in course now."

"Lieutenant Cotton, anything from the other strike fleets yet?"

"Negative sir, just the League signal."

Captain Robertson cut in with his usual disregard for protocol. "There's bound to be a patrol out here. That scout must've had a mothership, to get this far out and still have the fuel to run this long. They're lying low, keeping their drives cold, waiting for us to go past. Probably skulking about in the Oort cloud of one of these empty systems."

He waved at the strategic display, which showed the fleet's progress through the sparsely inhabited regions near the Polish border. An assortment of small tracks showed merchant and supply ships the fleet had detected, but so far there were no military signatures. The older captain seemed oblivious to the irony of complaining about skulking Poles, when the tactic had been a mainstay of Bootswellington ships for decades.

"They'll ambush us on the way out, when we've got damaged ships in tow."

Thuule was not amused. "Captain Robertson, while I value your tactical expertise, you will leave strategy to me. If they are too cowardly to challenge us, so be it. Destroyed or immobilised, it means fewer ships to fight at the target. They do not know our exit vector and if they do manage to intercept us, we will smash them."

Thuule considered for a moment, then addressed the comms officer again.

"Cotton, make sure those Lampreys and Looters close up smartly. If they've identified our formation by now, they might try picking off any trailing ships."

"Sir, yes sir, but... I've got an incoming signal, relayed from Bloody Cutlass... decoding it now."

Thuule strode across the bridge to the communications station. The signal was not the delayed FEA or Kitaka signal he had been waiting for... it was another League message. He read the text as it appeared on the display, noting as he did so that Robertson was reading over his shoulder without authorisation.

"Damn those alien bastards. Sold us out no doubt, and those mad psykers are as likely to blow themselves up as the enemy."

Thuule thought frantically while Robertson ranted, considering the situation. He paced back to the main tactical display, thinking out loud as he did so;

"There are two possibilities. Firstly, the FEA and Kitaka fleets could have been detected and engaged by a Polish force. To succeed so totally as to prevent them from sending any signal, they would need overwhelming forces and the foreknowledge to set up an ambush. That means a leak. If they also knew about our involvement they will not have left their colony undefended - but if they did not, we can rush in and destroy it before the defenders can return."

"Secondly as you point out captain, the FEA and the Kitaka may both have deserted us. The chances of them both independendantly betraying us are minute. The only realistic possibility is that they colluded to entrap us in this scheme - but is their intent to see both us and the Poles destroyed in a battle of mutual anhiliation, or did they warn the Poles of our arrival in an attempt to curry favour with the CON? "

Robertson interrupted again. "If the Polskis know a couple of fleets are coming at them, they'd ambush one fleet a few light years from the colony, then rush back to destroy the other. Defeat in detail, that's what I'd do. They've got planetary defences, even if the attack fleets were perfectly synchronized, they'd hold long enough for the Poles to get back."

"But we do not know if there are no ships, some ships or a great many ships over, or indeed near Nowy Masovie. At this point we know very little, and what we do not could easily kill us all."

"Lieutenant Swann, pull up the details of the League's proposed target please, system Ruda Slaska." This was for the command crew's benefit more than Thuule's; he had studied every possible secondary target in detail in the last two weeks, and the system held a particular meaning to him.

Code: Select all

Ruda Slaska
Minor Polish Colony

Position: 8.4ly approximately galactic east of Nowy Masovie
No habitable planets. Fourth planet is in early stage terraforming.

Two deep core mining installations and one penal colony on the third planet.
Orbital refineries and manufacturing stations above third planet.
Light mining of system's astroid belt.
Fuel capture and processing operations around the sixth planet, a large gas giant.

Fleet presence: light orbital defences over third planet, minor fleet base with two destroyer-capable drydocks, in-system tracking stations and infrequent anti-smuggler patrols.

Thuule's eyes settled on the words penal colony. He shook his head. Time for that soon enough.

"The League plan is sound. We force the enemy to show his hand by moving ships to defend the colony, if they wish to preserve it from ruin. If they do not, they have lost Ruda Slaska and allowed our fleets to link up, preventing Captain Robertson's plan from working."

"We're deep in the enemy's tracking network now. We go straight for that colony, they could move defenders there before we get close enough to see them doing it."

Thuule considered this objection. There were a lot of outlying systems around the primary target, most with minor industrial operations feeding resources to the main colony.

"Lieutenant Swann, can you plot a spiralling course that will keep them from guessing where we're going until they're within the Deep Eye's FTL scan range? Without extending our trip by more than an hour?"

"Running it now sir..." Her fingers danced over her station while trajectory plots and range circles flashed and shifted on the displays. "...yes sir, I believe I can."

"Relay to all ships. Signal the League to do the same. Can we signal the Kiro yet?"

Lieutenant Cotton responded. "The window will open in 13 minutes sir." Thuule and his staff did not know exactly where the cloaked Kiroter'nah ships were, but they knew they were lurking in the outer Polish border regions, and they had a schedule of locations to transmitt at. Hopefully at least one of the two Kiro ships on their side of Polish space would arrive at one of those locations and decloak at the right time to receive their signal.

"Send when ready. We're going to Ruda Slaska."