Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived The Sol System

as written by Saarai

"The hell? Anyone else getting this?" David asked his co-pilots, "We are. Patching in." One of them responded, "Origin is the Dominion ship, there's life aboard it and it's targeting us." Another said, "Orders, sir?"

"SDS Crow to unknown, cease fire, cease fire! Aschen ship Blackbird is with us, repeat, cease fire. This is a relief force, dammit!" The words blared through David's intercom, prompting the man to bark our yet another order. "Cease fire. Everyone stand down." He ordered.

The Invictus ships reluctantly backing off. They weren't entirely sure if the Dominion were being played or if they were, but orders were orders.

Two very large spacecraft made their presence known, cautiously drifting towards the chaotic scene that had unfolded. A hail was sent out, one meant to make sure things didn't escalate any further than they already had.

"This is The Odysseus, all relevant and able-bodied captains, enter the private channel we are sending you."
 
as written by Lobos

The new arrivals had attracted attention from elsewhere within Sol system. The unknown vessels that had came when the Aschen fleets had arrived had simply moved out of the way of the Invictus vessels patrolling, their master electing to maintain the veneer of neutrality and seeming mutual interest.

A pair of Blades made for the Blackbird, the unmoving silhouette likewise an easy target.

A channel was opened as they moved towards the crippled ship, the voice synthesized from the plethora of collected audio files. A name for operator and ship at random was chosen for the purposes of this communication.

"Lieutenant De'Vries, of the EAS Bucking Stallion. Is assistance required?" A female voice, the AI commanding the ships noted with electronic clinical detachment. All the more likely to garner unconscious responses.
 
as written by Lobos

No immediate vocal response came from the Crow or her cohort, but the emissions of targeting sensors dropped off, turrets shifting to port and starboard sides to demonstrate non-hostility. Authenticating the private channel, the vessel cleared the link and slowed their acceleration somewhat.

Alistaire sat at his own console now, eyes closed while in the heuristic link, but took over the comm channel.

"Odysseus, this is Catapin Alistaire of the SDS Crow. I'm at a loss as to why the Aschen member of our contingent was fired upon. And what the hell was that inference on real-space re-entry?"
 
as written by Tiko

As if to punctuate Captain Alistaire's inquiry, the Blackbird shook with one final explosion that rend it clean in two, and left bits of scrap and debris drifting in all direction - many of which would find their way planet side.

The pair of Blades moving on its location would find their quarry slipping through their grasp, in literal pieces.
 
as written by barney_fife

The Intrepid continued to slowly make it's way towards Valore. Moving at half impulse however, it was still going to take some time, as it moved in and about, leapfrogging the spatial anomalies to remain undetected.

As it moved, it deployed two remote activated Swallow drones, which took up strategic positions around the Star system. The Excelsior would need them if it was detected.

Commander Tarthus eyed the scanner system, the Machine Demon had begun to move for Valore, but had made no moves towards the Excelsior.

"What do you plan on doing if we're discovered?" Kavis asked, while Tarthus turned to deliver her answer. "Hit the warp and deploy the Swallows, and hope for the best."
 
as written by Ottoman and Azrican

Aboard the CNS New Atraliah, Captain Agim Besnik stood with Commander Erona Foreman, senior officer of the escort carrier that had been dispatched to the system. While the escort carrier was the center of the Valoran Squadron’s operations, Besnik and the commanders of the two other cruisers in the System were actually the operational officers of the Valoran Squadron. While Commander Erona, a decorated starship commander a veteran of the Hykan Conflict, was a commendable officer most of the discussion was left to Besnik and the five holographic images in front of him.

The fifth being Agitha, or the Core nexus of ISAAC’s Starfleet branch, glowered in front of the five other men and women in various corporeal forms or another with indignant contempt as Captain Renard Pons spoke. Pons commanded the CNS Atrania, a Mako class heavy destroyer that had been scouring the system since the New Atraliah had entered the system: well before the Herodion and her six escorts joined them.

“We are dealing with a situation the Exogarden forces have anticipated but never prepared for, now I frankly have little more than two shakes of a waste umbilical to give for this god forsaken planet but these Syndicate forces seem to be taking a pretty agreeable stance with cordoning this stain -- “

Agitha’s pulsing blue eyes flared again as the avatar flashed with light and brilliance. Agim simply made a scowl and did the best he could to endure the sudden flare, catching Roxane Fleurette, another destroyer Captain in the Valoran Squadron and her inadmissible hatred of Captain Pons. “If I governed your installation and rank privy to the machinations of ISAAC’s orders for the Valoran Zone I would inform you Captain Pons.”

Then, to Besnik’s misfortunate, he knew the automaton’s eyes had fallen onto him. The Bimari straightened at his posture just slightly, slack grey and white fitting at him like a dutiful sailor when a commanding officer began to speak. “Captain Besnik, your information has proved as reliable as the Fabrexta’s, even more accurate -- so I am desiring to hear you speak promptly.”

“Interstellar Command has been informed of the New Atraliah’s telemetry, with monitoring of the Syndicate forces we are lead to believe all operations are proving smoothly on this front.” Besnik replied, laying his arms at both sides. “We have seen no indication of any disturbance on the planet of Valore itself or the local region; the package is clear to begin approaching the system.”

While Agitha seemed to be a bit apprehensive about the silence that followed, as she studied the other humans in front of her, the glimmering shades of light that emanated from her avatar made no more attempts at expanding. “Perfect, Captain Besnik -- as commanding officer of the Valoran Squadron, I appreciate a prompt and definite briefing of Operation MARCO. Congratulations on the promotion as well.”


It wouldn’t be until five or ten more minutes that someone finally spoke after the AI had left, disappearing into a bright holographic mist and such. Of all the people, Agim assumed it would be Pons to be the first to raise a subtle jab: as the Salian was known for being an ass-kisser, let alone a true Blue League diehard, Besnik half expected the Saliophile to be railing against the Bimari like it was the 1870s.

Ironically enough he was quiet. What Besnik gleaned from his face was, if he could adequately describe it, dumbfounded confusion. Good, Agim thought. That meant he was someone Besnik could trust with this information. So too was Roxane Fleurette, looking at him like she’d just witnessed Agim lick a window.

“ … Pardon me Besnik, but what the fuck was that?” Captain Maxwell Ratliff, a loud-mouthed Meridian from the Azrican Federation blurted. His body stalled in anticipation for a moment, as if thinking Agitha might soon return with the vengeance of hindsight. Agim trusted him as well however: while a rather bombastic and unbecoming individual, for even a simpleton like Besnik to tolerate, the corvette pilot had anticipated this system would be “much more difficulty than anything our scopes might show us” and was, therefore, obviously not privy to whatever subtle operations the Valoran Squadron might be puppeted to facilitate.

“Do you think Exocommand doesn’t already know about what’s fucking happening here?” Captain Irvine Gilroy, another cruiser commander like Besnik, said flatly. Another man the commander of the New Atraliah trusted, even if the Helvett did split Besnik’s brow the first occasion they had met.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Besnik?” Roxane said as well, the other Captains all looking at their impromptu commander. No longer a mere equal, though the gravity of such a promotion was lost to the Captain as he looked around the five other faces in the room with him. While the bridge was beyond just a mere meter of bulkhead, the Crow’s Nest stretched out in a near infinite blackness as light was bent and molded for the holographic interface.

“Why’d we just lie through our teeth to Exogarden Command?” Captain Pons said finally, eyes landing on Agim as he tried to search about the room for an easy answer. “If you’ve got something to say, I’d spill it Besnik.”

“We just received reports of ships jumping into the system past the cordon.”

“The fuck you mean? We’ve been broadcasting a general signal to the whole sector.” Ratliff responded curtly, as he had overseen the establishment of PERIMETER posts broadcasting on most general frequencies. “I watched my EVA teams put two whole fucking quantum arrays together.”

“What were your broadcast intervals, Max?” Agim simply requested, his hands still locked in front of him as he waited a response. In front of him a trickling mote of light started to form, stretching into a holographic display as Max crossed his arms in thought for a moment.

“It’s been broadcasting every three and a half hours since we got it running. A day or two now.”

The information that popped up in front of Besnik was from the New Atraliah’s own information logs: team cycles, orbital telemetry and all manner of information it would take a technician or studious eye to decipher. “Our GENCOM is on like everyone else’s, Syndicate ships included.”

He waited for a few moments as the other Captains seemed to pick through the information until they found something in particular. Several of them refused to speak, their confusion consigning themselves to silence for a moment: Captain Gilroy, no sort of man to let his inquiries settle, spoke though.

“You haven’t been bouncing the signal back out of the system, Besnik.”

“I haven’t got a signal to bounce out, Irvine.” Besnik said in response, a hand wiping across his face while reaching out to the display and digging deeper into the information mine. “Check your own signal logs and transceivers, it’s never gotten beyond the Inner System.”

The other Captains all seemed to be addressing what Besnik might be insinuating, in their own various ways. Roxane was silent but muttering to herself. Pons, a stalwark but blinded man seemed to be doing mental gymnastics to explain why Exogarden Command would squelch broadcasts inteded to prevent needless disasters like the one that had just befallen a group of unknown ships.

Irvine and Ratcliff, perhaps of different tone than Besnik but of no different character, were at various points of the same train of thought Agim had followed when he first began to piece seeming irrelevant inconsistencies together. Agim Besnik and the Valoran Squadron were chess pieces, moving to some unseen plan of tactic and intrigue.

“What do we do?” Roxane inquired, and Captain Besnik simply folded his arms behind his back, looking at a tumbling map of all the objects and cosmography of the system.

“We go forward with our orders, make no other movements that might allow Command to realize whatever they’re hiding in this system isn’t working. Provide immediate assistance and seize those ships.”

The other Captains all made a brisk salute, their forms splitting out from their projectors and leaving the Crow’s Nest empty. Besnik looked over at Commander Foreman, then beckoned for the ship’s AI Amber.

“Yes Captain Besnik?”

“Hail the Kybalion.” Besnik said, smoothing out the starch white unform adorning his frame as the holographic display opened and a line of communication was extended to the Hegemony naval vessel across the system from the Starfleet.

There was no such meeting on the Syndicate side of affairs, the Imperial vessels having already conducted what matters they needed in meetings hours prior, instead maneuvering their vessels into position in the case that their cousins would prove uncooperative. The task force was divided into two echelons, the first, centered around the Kybalion, approached Valore and the Exogarden forces proper while the second took a wide flank, not due to arrive for another day, at best.

Already they had hailed the Herodion, and the lack of response had left a tinge of concern in Bortys' mind, though what troubled the captain seemed to have little effect on their liasion. Rothschild was unperturbed, if still haughty, and continued with her hovering about as per usual, seemingly content to patiently wait for any reply from the Coalite vessels. It seemed, with the electronic chime from a nearby terminal, that she wouldn't be waiting much longer.

"Captain, incoming hail from one of the Exogarden ships."

"Source?" Came the Soruk's immediate response, wondering which was moving to contact them. Her stone-gray uniform straightened itself as she moved to stand from where she was seated, leaving her post behind as she approached her communications officer. The Austran looked over his shoulder at the captain for just a moment before replying, having to look twice at the name to get it right. "The CNS... New Atraliah, ma'am."

"Put it through." A brief aye came of the mousy-haired ensign as he plugged a few commands onto his terminal, the line of communication soon open. The captain stepped back as her orders were carried out, relaxing to a posture of parade rest, her face a blank slate to be presented to their erstwhile enemies.

"This is Oea Bortys, captain of the SNV Kybalion, speaking."

Captain Besnik stood in front of the holographic communique as the line was activated, and he kept his hands locked behind his back as the AI, Amber, was occupied with the duty of transmitting a few select packets: their use of a heavy encryption often used in bilateral communications between governments of the Garden. “I am Agim Besnik, Squadron Commander of the Starfleet forces in the system and captain of the New Atraliah. Have you detected the ET ships jumping into the system?”

With a nod and a gesture, Bortys already had her crew decrypting the packets sent across the net that lay between the two task forces. "We have detected them but we have yet to ascertain a silhouette match. They're not in our records." Yet, at least, it seemed that they might have a first contact situation on their hands. "We're also still trying to get a trace on just where they came from - captain Besnik, I hope you've had more luck in that affair than we."

“I think that’s where most of my concerns have come from, ma’am.” He said, then looking off screen for a moment. Through a heuristic connection Besnik had been assembling what few pieces of information he could find that might not cause such a sudden concern or alarm, while also bringing any others to some of the question’s Besnik found himself asking. “All I’ve determined of so far are, these ships are no match we’ll have any recognition of, because those ships have no clue we are here.”

“I was lead to believe some of my subordinates had established an emergency comms broadcast to nearby vessels.” He continued, indicating with one gloved hand to a signal-log that, were the projections and arithmetic correct, would have logged the rest of the Imperial starships as well. In reality, and as far as Besnik would know until he received an answer, the signal had never passed beyond his squadron’s communications line.

“What’s the extent you’re aware of the Garden’s operations in this region captain? Besides a general quarantine?”

So it seemed that they weren't aware of these vessels' origins either, that much reassured the captain as much as it perturbed her - first contact for the whole Garden, it would seem. Part of her felt tempted to look to the doctor, though she decided against it. She was the captain here, and was still in charge of what transpired between the Cordon and the planet. "Have they responded?" Came the simple question, the Syndicate officer wondering if she should put her task force on red alert, in the case that what remained of this alien group decided to turn their weapons on them.

Besnik's question caught her off-guard however, the woman's brow knotting slightly as she pondered just what it was that he meant. Of course she wasn't inclined to tell him of the Syndicate operation planned for Valore - it was already, by and large, above her head - for if he didn't know about it already, he certainly didn't have the creditentials to warrant it. In this, Oea felt little reason to look to the doctor, though she could feel the auburn-headed scientist's stare boring into her back as she replied.

"Little to none, at least in any official capacity. To my knowledge, this is the first time our ships have graced the system. Why do you ask, captain Besnik?"

"I was the first ship of the Valoran Squadron to make it into this system, we were being guided by telemetry from a Robotics Cruiser about 23 lightyears from the system." Besnik responded, chin nodding as then information from both the Fabrexta and New Atraliah were displayed side by side.

"As far as I knew entering this system's Oort cloud, this place was completely uninhabited."

The nod was returned by the Syndicate officer, directing with a snap and a finger that another of her aides be analyzing this information while she looked over it herself. "Someone dropped the ball then - who?" She asked plainly, looking over the Fabrexta's information with a curious eye. It wasn't on her side, as far as she was aware - even the brooding enigma that was Rothschild wouldn't have lead them into this sort of situation... it would endanger her precious results far too much.

"I don't think Starfleet Exploratory Intelligence really drops the ball much ma'am." Besnik replied softly, mulling the statement himself for a moment as he tried to surmise what exactly it meant. "It's not uncommon for intelligence about an unexplored system to be off but," He reached out and pointed at one particular string of the log.

"I think I've learned enough about this system to know something is amiss -- but these ships are something else, before we start a war eighty thousand lightyears from the Garden I'd at least like to have my ducks in a row."

Bortys knew as well - she figured that was the only reason that anyone from anywhere would come here - that the place was wrong, that there was something going on here that was more, or less, than natural. It was why the Syndicate, and indeed the good doctor, was half as interested in this place as they were. It was simultaneously one of the greatest risks to order and society currently known to the Garden, as well as perhaps the greatest scientific opportunity offered to the galaxy.

At least in regard to the anomalies.

"I see no reason to open fire on these unknown contacts as of yet, captain." Oea offered, half-way gesturing to the screen before her. "They have taken no hostile action towards us, nor have they attempted to open communication - once we have the means to open a dialogue, we inform them of the terms of the cordon and ask them to submit to a search."

If they were reasonable folk, then there would be no issue, no qualms with their request. The Cordon, and especially the searches, were meant for ensuring the stability of the region - literally and figuratively.

"If they refuse, then they suffer the consequences."
 
as written by Absenthia and Ottoman

"Entering Sol System, deceleration burn in 10 mistress." The AI chirped as it signaled the exit from slip-space into the cold dark void just outside of the Sol system. "Understood. Resume normal gravity once in system, Specter." Claire replied groggily as she reached over to unfasten the straps that held her to the couch in the quarters of the small merchant ship. For the crossing through slip-space it had been easier to allow for an auto pilot, and to simply enter a drug induced sleep that was designed to last the length of the journey. While Claire wouldn't ever admit to anyone, but it felt good to detach herself from being dirtside for awhile.

Pushing herself up and out of the room, she headed for the bridge. The ship was easily enough to command with a skeleton crew or even one person and an AI; after all it was an alpha level sim, and could take the brunt of the work. "Prepare for deceleration burn." The AI chirped again, it's voice echoing throughout the bridge of the ship.

With a jolt and a shudder, the sleek black ship exited into normal space; shedding it's slip-space velocity rapidly. "Okay Specter, tell me what we've got." Claire said quickly checking the command board as she waited for the artificial gravity to come back on. Nothing was ever certain after one exited slip-space, especially in a ship this old. Hopefully your coordinates were right and you didn't end up placing yourself in a black hole's event horizon or in the middle of a star. "It appears that there is a blockade in place, Mistress." Specter chirped, causing Claire to frown.

So this was why they had requested that she specifically pilot a ship in, especially one with such an old hull registration. "Well.. we'll just have to find a way around that won't we?" She muttered to herself. Claire suspected she could always enter slip-space again and jump past the blockade, but that seemed almost too easy. For now she'd have to play it by ear, and hopefully be able to bluff her way through anything too terribly serious.

____

The crew of the SNV Duranus, like much of the Cordon's composite forces, viewed this assignment as a virtual cakewalk. Simply stop anyone going into the system and do a routine search to make certain they carried nothing that could destabilize the already-torn fabric of this patch of space, and if everything cleared then send them on their way. They had yet to encounter anyone who possessed anything on their ships that could worsen the situation, at least to their knowledge. Given, they couldn't stop any ships that jumped beyond their checkpoint - but then they would have to deal with the anomalies themselves, and that seemed to be incentive enough to drop out of FTL early.

When the lone contact appeared on their scopes, the bridge crew of the battlecruiser regarded it like they had every other vessel that had come through their little corner of the cordon - waited until it made definite motions towards the cordoned area to hail them and inform them of the Cordon's mission. Broadcasted simultaneously in Austran, Aenglis and Trade, the communication was on an unencrypted band, meant to be heard by anyone and everyone.

"Attention unidentified vessel, this is ensign Williams of the Syndicate Naval Vessel Duranus. If you seek to enter the Valoran sector we ask that you please identify yourself and submit to a search for weapons of mass destruction - noncompliance will not result in a confrontation unless the Cordon is thereafter violated.

Please respond."


____

"A message for you mistress!" Specter chirped again, happily almost, throughout the bridge and the small ear piece Claire had just tucked inside her left ear once settled. The AI’s personality was a small price to pay for what had been at one time a top of the line alpha sim. “Play it through.” She said with a wave of her hand, the sensors on the bridge catching the motion and relaying it to the sim controlling the ships electronics.

“Beginning message,” The AI said as began to play the recording back for Claire. It came through the speakers and her ear piece as tinny, distant, and almost incomprehensible. However after a few tweaks and passes with the AI it was easily understood again.

Quote:
"Attention unidentified vessel, this is ensign Williams of the Syndicate Naval Vessel Duranus. If you seek to enter the Valoran sector we ask that you please identify yourself and submit to a search for weapons of mass destruction - noncompliance will not result in a confrontation unless the Cordon is thereafter violated.

Please respond." "Well, I guess we'll just have to follow instructions then, won't we?" She said to herself after having listened to the message.

Taking a quick glance at the readouts from electronics on the control board, she noticed that it was taking longer than usual for the gravity to reactivate after a slip-space trip. “Specter… why is the gravity still off?” She asked suspiciously, still floating in the zero-g environment that currently was the bridge. The last thing Claire wanted to do was fix something when she was halfway across the galaxy. “It appears that some circuits were damaged during our jump, shall I reroute to another board mistress?” Specter replied cheerily. Inwardly Claire groaned and then audibly cursed, knowing full well that she probably should have checked the circuits, boards, and a few other things before the left the Epsilon System. “Reroute to… the third beta panel. It should be fully operational. If that doesn’t work try panels gamma through delta.” She said quickly as she worked to send a message back to the other ship.

Syndicate Naval Vessel Duranus, this is Claire Angelique of the Ghost Dance. I am acknowledging your transmission and consenting to your boarding search.” It wasn’t like they’d find anything on the ship, it was so out modded and dated that finding anything without an expert in the particular ship, light huggers, would be difficult. Not that there was really anything to hide. The ugly piece of jewelry she’d been given on Langara was safely secured on her person, it stood less of a chance of getting lost that way.

____

The dark-haired ensign craned her eyes back to glance at the captain, who hadn't been paying a lick of attention to the new sensor contact yet, and instead sat sipping coffee in his seat but a meter or two away. "Captain Vogel, we've made contact." She called to her superior, the Austran leaning up out of his seat with a sigh as he gave one final glance over the command and control center before moving off to its flank, to join his communications officer. His nose was stuffed into his mug far more than propriety would've allowed in the genuine starfleet, but that was part of the reason why he was here and not back in the black uniform.

"What's the low-down, Williams?" He asked, voice curling out of the cup. The Azrican woman's fingers returned to her console, drawing holographic menus to and fro to clear a space for her captain to see just what it was she was talking about. Already the communications from this vessel were being run through LEGION, processing for an analysis of accent, dialect, emotional disposition, and the etymology of the name given. The sun-kissed woman gave a shrug in the seat underneath Phineas.

"Claire Angelique, of the Ghost Dance. LEGION's saying exogarden, beyond the Veil in origin. Suspects Aschen origin though it... claims not to have enough information to make a dedicated statement."

"Fhionnlaigh!" The captain called the name out across the bridge, meaning to get the input of another ensign, this time a young Helvett man sitting some five or six seats down. The grey-clad automaton leaned back, his ruddy face looking to his captain.

"Yeah?"

"What have you got for me?"

The man turned back to his console as he reviewed everything that the intelligence had given him on this as-of-yet unidentified vessel. "Not much, and neither does LEGION." Quick, gloved fingerstrokes rung out across the Helvett's boards, drawing up rudimentary scans of the vessel taken at range. "Unknown class, it says, though it, ah-" The celtic man shrugged, a smile present on his face, even if only the screens in front of him could see it. "It doesn't present that much of a threat. To us."

An audible 'Hmm.' came of captain Vogel as he turned back to his communications officer, his forearm coming to rest on the peak of her headrest. "Let the Ghost Dance know to prepare for boarding, nothing hostile, just a search."

"Aye, sir."



A single Nidhoggr slipped from one of the hangar bays of the Duranus, flanked by its twin Valkyrie escorts, and started on its way to the Ghost Dance, crossing the gulf of space between the two vessels slowly but surely.

____

Frowning, Claire just hoped the artificial gravity generators would come back online soon enough. Boarding and creating a docking seal against the hard vacuum of space wasn't an issue, it was an issue of it being an older ship with finicky tech. "Anytime now Specter!" She said with urgency in her voice as she quickly pushed off the console towards the door heading out.

Grabbing hold of a set of bars on either side of the door, Claire propelled herself further through the corridor, towards the docking bay. Things needed to go smoothly, and anything that was malfunctioning could be taken care of later; as soon as she found the parts and the time that was.

"Gravity controls have been rerouted to Beta 3 panel." The AI said in it's same chirpy, song like, happy voice. "Normal gravity will resume in t-minus ten seconds. Please refrain from all travel and movement until then." It added before beginning the count down. There was no time to heed the warning, she needed to be present when the other ship docked and the airlocks cycled through. "10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1... All gravity systems are functioning normally at this time mistress!" Specter chirped cheerfully.

Unfortunately as soon as the gravity turned itself back on Claire came to an unceremonious and ungraceful crash down to the floor in the corridor, sliding some length before hitting her head against a wall. "Thanks, Specter.." She groaned after a minute. Pushing herself up slowly and carefully from the floor, she briefly inspected the damage. A few bruises here or there, and a nasty headache, but nothing terribly severe.

“What’s the status on our soon to be guests?” Claire asked as she turned down another corridor, and headed for the lift. The ship was considered small when compared to some newer ships, but in it’s prime it had been still fairly large for a merchant’s ship. ”It appears that there are three ships, one larger with two small escorts.” The sim informed. The woman just sighed, playing nice would get her further, but it felt as if these people were expecting some sort of crazy stunt.

____

The two fighters moved to spread themselves out from the vessel, one keeping it in its sights constantly while the other stayed the course for a small patrol route, keeping a perimeter. The Nidhoggr itself was tracking the Ghost Dance with its weapons as soon as it was within range, though it made no move to use them. Inside of its belly was a small squad of Syndicate marines, men and women who weren't as wholly sordid as the regular rank and file troops of the Supremacy's naval infantry, but were still essentially mercenaries, commanded by two individuals. The first was simply the CO, while the other was the closest thing they had to a customs agent.

But it wasn't until the dropship itself docked with the Ghost Dance that any of them would be seen, stepping into the airlock once a proper seal had been established with the other, moving into the Ghost Dance once the outer doors opened. There were six riflemen, though it was three individuals that would approach Claire - the commander, the customs agent, and another, seemingly unimportant man. The first to speak was the customs agent, a Soruk man with a wide nose, in his native tongue, only for the translator alongside to begin once the other had finished, speaking in trade - something that Claire hopefully understood.

"Good morning, ma'am. This is simply a routine search, nothing to be worried about - what we're looking for we're sure you haven't got, it's just formality. This is lieutenant Ivanjicki," A momentary finger pointed to the severe looking Vitestovak woman who stood on the other side of the customs officer, "Captain Ibiz, and I am warrant officer Murdock." The Azrican ended that small introductory statement with a smile. Ibiz stated something else in his rolling, semitic tongue which Murdock quickly translated once more. "Two of our troops will begin a proper scan of the vessel while the others embark on a cursory search - do you mind answering some questions for us while they do?"

____

Claire looked at the agent and the translator strangely for a moment as they stood in the docking bay of her ship. It seemed strange to have people standing there amongst the cargo; but then again that was how the ship had been designed. Minimalist, and multifunctional. Thinking for a moment before finally speaking, “Of course, a pleasure to meet you.” She said nodding at each. “No, I don’t mind answering a few questions. Sooner this is done, the sooner you can go back to more important things.” Like letting her go on about her business in a timely matter.

While she was obviously fairly rusty at the trade language, it was something she had encountered, and had at least learned enough to make useful conversation; but that was about it. But in the mean time, while these customs officials as they claimed to be, were on her ship she’d have to struggle through. Specter wasn’t any help either, he claimed to have no knowledge of “trade” in his database.

____

"The pleasure is ours, miss Angelique," The translator nodded, speaking for all three in that moment, the Azrican man giving the Soruk the room to speak once more. The Sorukan offered another harried statement in his native tongue, gesturing to the corridor that lay beyond them, nodding over his shoulder to the men who flanked them as well. The marines began to disperse, some slinging their weapons over their shoulders as they saw to beginning the search that they were bidden to carry out, though their commander hovered over Ibiz' shoulder while he continued to interact with Claire, obviously not too keen on her command answering to a bureaucrat.

Murdock continued to offer his usual, diplomatic smile. "The marines will begin their search, if you don't mind providing your registration and paperwork regarding the vessel, miss Angelique?"

____

Captain Margarette Anterrinaus, senior and commanding officer of the Esrayat-class cruiser CNS Dioclese, watched thousands of soft, blinking images in an inky blackness as the cruiser and two Vindex-class Destroyers Escorts steamed through the inner belt. Several hours ago numerous contacts had been registered and classified into potential targets, of a yet-to-be-determined origin, within the system. Telemetry and analysis corresponded from the CNS Herodion in stationary orbit around Valore at L2, one and a half million kilometers from the planet had detected the starlane jumps, and impending disaster, before the smaller craft of the Valoran Squadron were able to glean a clearer picture.

Bypassing the cordon, which the Exogarden and Imperial elements in the Local Region had deemed a necessary, if prompt and imposing, action after the Starfleet vessels completed their rudimentary ‘inspection’ of the system was cause for immediate termination as far as ROE was concerned. Outside of the sole inhabited body in the system, authoritative control was effectively in the hands of these mysterious and silent new arrivals. It was in a heightened state of alert that the Starfleet was deciding to handle the various wreckages and contacts scattered between Valore and the inner belt: well within the abrupt lines of jurisdiction and operation the Garden powers had decided, the time was quickly coming where the Valoran Squadron either engaged these unknown targets or informed the Syndicate of their true intentions.

When a short klaxon rang, the navigations Ensign standing at the podium of the large pit he oversaw in front of the main airscreen read from a tablet device. “We have a signal from the CNS Paxton Star, weaponry is online and ready to fire but there’s no friendly/enemy distinction yet.” The Ensign replied with a dismissive shrug before instructing one of the nav-techs to update the information pouring onto the main airscreen. “Commander Pollant is on the TETHER, Cap’n.”

The image of a grizzly Amerian flashed to life over a holo-tank to the Captain’s left, and as she turned to salute the Commander the ship AI began cataloguing and storing every piece of information as a blurry train of images and video ran. “Captain Ante, we still haven’t broken the silhouettes we got from the escort carrier. Looks like these ships are coming from pretty far away -- farther than the Veil.” He began.

“Someone didn’t want to look at the travel announcements, then.” She said, crossing her arms and studying the oblique, dislocated images on the large holographic screen at the front of the sleek bridge. With the three vessels in almost constant communication the sensor envelopes of the Dioclese and her escorts were rather limited, and would not provide a suitable resolution of what had exactly transpired until they neared. Communication was far more important considering the unstable nature of the system however, and the Dioclese was wise to keep her two destroyer-escorts at a modest distance.

“Or you’re too busy in an FTL jump to realize the system’s taken a bad turn.” Pollant remarked, pointing at some of the long, sharp purple lines that signified suspected Starlane paths that the shipboard AIs and capsuleer pilots of the Starfleet ships developed from analysis of the stricken vessels’ locality. "My JCO estimates if there is an impending attack in our AO it will be from someone that's been watching the system longer than us."

"A good point, Commander. What have the Intel spooks on the Herodion given us about any possible contacts?" She inquired, splitting her attention between Commander Pollant and the digital relay of a Mk-236 missile launcher. Cycling to ASM-421 Highshot anti-ship missiles, much of the crew of the Dioclese were busy battening down the ship and loading weaponry, in case suspicions of these new arrivals were true.

"The marines are drinking straight from that faucet for now, with civilian traffic and movement on/off the planet being frozen considering this most recent development."


As Margarette issued her orders for the intercept and detainment, though some may call it rescue, of the vessels derelict and damaged within the inner belt the CNS Dioclese changed formation and led the two destroyer-escorts from the front. By the time the three ships had cautiously stalked into weapon's range of the floundering fleet, several corvettes of the CNS Herodion's patrol around Valore were approaching from the opposite direction.

This is the CNS Dioclese inbound, if there are any that can respond do so immediately -- this sector of space is quarantined under a joint Scatterran effort.

____

Registration and papers were always a tricky thing to produce on a ship that old and that far out of it's home system. Things could get lost in the journey, and sometimes customs officials didn't return certain pieces of paperwork. However this time everything was intact, or at least that's what Claire hoped as she produced the items in question. She guessed and assumed that they were requesting physical copies, some times they were needed, but most of the time digital approximations seemed to satisfy most officials in other areas of space.

"Papers and registration, Officer." She said carefully choosing her words, trade and common main seemed to be similar but different somehow to her ears. Since she'd returned to spending most of her time on Yellowstone, most if not all of her daily activities were conducted in Canasian. The Aschen's preference for Anquietas for everything had never been something she'd cared for, so she was thankful that they hadn't tried that route with her. It had happened before, and it had been a disaster. "I assume you were wanting physical copies? If not I can have my AI, Specter, transfer all the information to whatever device you use Officer." Claire added, trying to get everything over with.

These inspections took too much time out of valuable transit time, and sometimes resulted in angry clients.

____

Ibiz took the papers in hand as Murdock offered the woman another nod, that practiced smile still quite present on his face. "Physical copies work just fine, ma'am. No need to worry." The Soruk looked over the registration, his brown eyes dancing across the script as he tried to make out common points, hoping - or perhaps simply faking - that he understood what it was that he was reading. It was a gesture of authority, considering that he was the one trusted by the Syndicate, by his superiors, to not allow anything through this cordon that could endanger their efforts on Valore, no matter what tools he used. The darksome man flipped through the papers, keeping up the facade as a newcomer soon moved to loom over his shoulder, taking far less interest in the papers as it did the foreigner standing opposite the small group.

The orange glow from beneath its hood seemed to move to and fro, taking in both Angelique and the ship she piloted, though it seemed to linger on Claire. The woman held some sort of fascination for this dreary figure, one that lingered until Murdock spoke up, hoping to assuage any concerns that might have arisen from its fixation. "Constanze, please, no need to be rude." He murmured, the Azrican glancing to the creature on his flank. The automaton blinked once in response, the light having a momentary break in it, the space underneath the figure's hood bathed in darkness as the figure acknowledged the translator's words. Gloved hands reached to pull back the cloak's hood, revealing a woman whose pallorous visage was perhaps best kept away from prying eyes, the cyborg's gaze still lingering on Claire.

"Of course, warrant officer." Her words lacked the practiced edge of Murdock or the worried undertone of Ibiz' Soruk mutterings, for lack of a better term they were simply mechanical. "I understand that I am needed for translation?" The Azrican nodded, pointing towards the documents held in the captain's hands, something Ibiz was reluctant to hand over when Constanze offered to take them. The Austran woman would've been a hallmark of her race, were it not for the various augmentations she now wore, the cybernetic 'enhancements' marking her as one of Hrethgir's many subordinates - a Legionnaire. But soon enough she held Claire's registration in hand, cross-checking the documents with what regulations were set in place by the Cordon in seconds, making the show of taking a moment or two longer, if only to safeguard the pride of the pitiable beings that surrounded her.

The machine's ocher eyes darted up from the papers and back to the woman once Constanze felt that her placation had gone on long enough, boring into Claire as she spoke. "Does this vessel carry any material or weapons that may be used to further destabilize the local world known as Valore?"

____

“Good to hear.” Claire said giving a slight nod of her own before she noticed the automaton creeping in. The thing was unnerving to say the least, and she wondered was it really even human? Although what passed for human these days was difficult to tell; the last bar she’d been in had had giant humanoid reptiles.

Why was the thing so curious about her anyway? It wasn’t as if she had any secrets to hide that weren’t more than likely already public in some way shape or form. “Is there a problem?” She asked slightly puzzled when they asked for a translation. All of the documentation was current, but she did wonder if she had forgotten to provide a Common Main or Trade copy instead of the Canasian copies she was so used to providing back home.

Crossing her arms she waited for an answer from any one of the party that stood in front of her. “No. The ship carries basic cargo stuffs, you can verify it on the manifest.” Claire said seeing she wasn’t going to get an answer anytime soon from these goons and their robot. ’Customs… I bloody hate customs…’ She thought irately to herself. The sooner this was over, the better for all parties involved; as Claire was beginning to loose what little patience she had left.

____

"None, according to the manifest." The creature spoke, a former soprano voice tinged heavily with whatever augmentation kept that part of her body alive, answering for her colleagues. It was as much there for translation as efficiency, even as much as it perturbed Ibiz, the machine holding the documents for only a few moments longer before offering them back to the foreigner. "What are your intentions in this system?" The being seemed to think little of the questions it asked, refusing to take its eyes off of Claire even as the captain glared as the warrant officer smiled meekly - a small attempt to show they were in control.

The marines continued their search, finding just what the woman said they would.

____

Taking the papers back, she tucked them safely into the inside of her jacket. They were going to make this hard weren't they? And the construct, machine, or mechanical woman; whatever they were calling it, wasn't making things any better. Scowling at the warrant officer, Claire prepared to answer the machine. "I'm just taking in a shipment of goods, trade in to the system. Then I'm going home." She stated slightly tersely. They were looking for something, anything to pin on her it seemed. Customs when dealing with any sort of foreigner was always overly paranoid and under prepared for the trouble they went looking for.

"Anything else?" She asked trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. It wasn't like transporting goods across the system was illegal anyway. The sooner she got this run over with, the sooner she could go back home. But then she'd have to deal with the customs prefects and their ideas.

____

The Legionnaire blinked once, not long after she had finished speaking, and spoke herself without glancing to any of the officers gathered. "No." Ibiz scowled nearby while Murdock did his best to look diplomatic, moving to say something before the cyborg interrupted him without a second thought. "You are clear to proceed, miss Angelique." The Azrican looked to the automaton for a moment before glancing back quickly to Claire as the machine spun on its heels, moving back to the docked dropship, followed by Ibiz. He was slightly shaken, though he didn't look too surprised by what had transpired.

"... my apologies, ma'am. I hope you'll forgive us for the delay." The marine officer barked some order or another in her rolling, slavic tongue and the marines soon formed up behind her, following the other two figures back into the dropship. A weak smile was worn by the last to depart. "Have a pleasant day, miss Angelique."

Shortly enough the dropship would detach itself from the Ghost Dance and begin its trip back to the Duranus.

____

Breathing a sigh of relief, Claire was grateful to be rid of the goons crawling about her ship. "Onwards Specter." She said, finding only mild if little amusement in the ease of which she'd slipped through the customs block. "We've got a deadline to hit and little time to do it." Claire added to the AI as it chirped a response in her ear.

Settling back onto the bridge, she deftly entered commands into the system to begin spinning propulsion systems back up, which would allow the ship to slip neatly away from where it had met the Duranus' drop ship and on towards it's destination. "Strange people." She muttered to herself, shuddering slightly as she remembered the creature or thing that they had had in tow with them. Why had it been so terribly interested in her? She kept mostly to herself, and usually didn't travel.
 
as written by ConquererMan

Between the stars lay a vastness so mindbogglingly large that perceiving it was truly an impossible task for the mortal mind. Not even light could traverse the void without suffering year, century, or millennial long voyages. Any space faring race with the proper ambitions had to find ways of circumventing the time restrains of subluminal speeds, giving rise to fast than light travel.

Not all who traversed the abyss were so impatient. Many initial star travelers set off at a fraction of the speed of light, content to let future generations sired on board carry out their missions. Others were perhaps long lived, or their civilizations advanced enough to put their passengers into a stasis of some kind.

Yet among them were travelers who simply could race through the vastness of space with a care about time. Ships, objects and vessels occupied by no living being. Training synthetic eyes upon the pin pricks of light among the stars and sensing the disturbances of stellar phenomena.

The journey had started long before many of the civilizations represented in the Sol System were even born. From the center of the milky way the long the black blade had been sent out forty-thousand years ago- traveling at eighty percent the speed of light. It's mission to observe, catalog and further the expansive knowledge already stored away in great archives. More over it was commissioned to investigate particularly interesting wonders.

By sheer luck the nearly ten kilometer long probe had been in system when the fighting between the Aschen and the AI fleet had broken out and rent the fabric of space and time, a feat familiar to the machine.

With a quick adjustment the spindle changed course and aimed for the heart of the system. It took the machine a month to race past the cloud of ice and debris that encircled the system before piercing the outer orbits. From there it was only a days time before it reached the mighty star in the center.

One by one the obsidian craft passed the Jovians. Then it set eyes on the terrestrial planets, brothers to the many moons trapped by the mighty titans of gas. Finally the singular star had grown large enough to blot out the stars so distant in the background.

Somewhere between Valore and it's gas-house twin Venus the ship began to break in earnest. It'd started it's deceleration far before that point, but only slightly to allow proper adjustments to it's trajectory. Now with it's target selected it could drop down to much more reasonable speeds.

In the day time sky a small, but clear streak of light could be seen as nearly twenty million kilometer's away the ancient probe funneled all the energy from it's Kugelblitz cores and unleashed a burst of energy that, for a split second rivaled the sun's.

Enshrouded by primal particles and energy strong enough to propel the craft to relativistic speeds, or in this case decelerate, the abyss-traversing sword plunged head first towards the sun. It dove towards the spreading horizon, having past Mercury twenty minutes ago, looping around the sun and using the gravity to help aim the pointed bow at it's intended target.

Mercury had never seen an impact this strong. Not since the primordial days of the system, when meteors and asteroids still dotted the Inner solar system. Geysers of rocks, dust, all vaporized by the force of the impact, were sent upwards and into space. Most would come back down in a few years. Other pieces would fly off into the unknown, or be gobbled up by the sun.

In the midst of the hundred kilometer wide crater stood the ancient spindle, buried deep in the crust with naught but the hilt jutting out towards wince it came.
 
as written by Lobos

Heeding the warning sent back into the tunnel space they travelled, battlegroup Olympus had calculated precisely to disengage their TDs early, dropping them nearly fifty million kilometers beyond the heliosphere of the Sol system to cruise inwards under their sublight drive systems. The urgency of the message made the delay of several days stretch on the minds of the Dominionites of the vessels, both in the unease of the vague warning, and the ramifications of the precious cargo they carried for Volaria's aid. However, it was a delay that could not be avoided, and far preferable than what negative alternatives that might have been carried.

____

'Commander D'vore, we're catching a signal ahead.'

Cocking his head slightly as the message came over his implants, Kenneth D'vore held a hand up to his fellow officers as he hummed to warm the sub-vocalization implant up from its standby, responding to the call from the CIC. What sounded like faint humming to his peers was translated by the subdermal device into audible speech, routing through the internal comms to the bridge. 'D'vore here, go ahead.'

'Sensor pinged some edge of envelope range returns, before Communications picked up an open channel signal. Looks like it's some sort of warning...Sens just cleared their returns, looks like the mother of all blockades, sir.'

'Wonderful. Hail the group, tell them to begin deceleration outside the area, and then try and hail whoever's out there. I'll be on my way shortly.' A soft tone confirmed acknowledgement, and the relatively new senior officer rubbed at his temples. "Said this was going to be a milk run, those briefing bastards."

"Nothing new in that, Kenneth." Taking a drink from his glass, Markos Krieg, the captain of the commander's flagship, the SDS Skyslayer glanced over. Older than himself, D'vore suspected he'd been assigned as a mentor of sorts. "Plans are fuckin' useless-"

"But the planning's damn useful. I know, you've told me that at least three times this trip already, Krieg." Chuckling as he rose, D'vore shrugged on his jacket, draining his drink before tossing the cup in the refresher bin. "See you there, you smart-ass fossil."

"Better a fossil than dust." Krieg smirked as the younger man chuckled on his way out of the cabin.

____


"Alright, what am I looking at?" A short while later, nestled in the heart of the 16km long dreadnaught, Commander D'Vore looked at his bridge crew. Standing around the tac-table within the CIC, the relevant staff had shifted their displays to the holopad, displaying the scenario.

"It appears to be a cordon or blockade of the system. Someone's got a coverage of vessels positioned for interdiction, and then there's the warning broadcast." The current staff lead, glanced to her fellow junior officers.

"We've got a general hail for communication broadcasting every five minutes across open channels, and while weapons are warm, the guns are shipped. We're trying to look peaceful, but not stupid, sir." The communications officer added.

"Good work. Well, settle in. We'll try to wait for an answer before we make any choices that might come across as rash." D'Vore nodded, dismissing the meeting crew to return to their posts, on standby.
 
as written by barney_fife

One of the rather tumultuous anomalies began to suddenly and unexpectedly react violently to the surrounding space. Sending out powerful pulses of energy as reality itself seemed to be torn asunder around the anomaly.

Following a brilliant discharge of energies, the anomaly faded, leaving nothing in it's wake save for an odd saucer shaped entity hovering silently in the void of space.

It's hull was chrome colored, which meant visually it was difficult to identify the vessel. It's only distinguishing marking was a singular emblem on the side of the vessel. Two circles surrounded by a pair of wings, and alien script written under the symbol. The symbol was cryptic, and fit no known nation that existed in the Milky way or Andromeda.

There was no visible thrust ports, no visible RCS, no visible way that the vessel could be seen maneuvering. However the vessel was very capable of maneuvering, by utilizing gravity manipulation on a massive scale. The vessel would simply 'fall' in the direction it was going.

It was drifting idly, with a diameter of 5km it was too large to simply slip through the scanners, and EM interference prevented scanners from penetrating the alien alloy that comprised the vessel's hull. As it drifted helplessly, the ship's crew was working quickly to restore power.
 
As written by Tiko and Lobos...
Sweeping free of Tunnel Space outside of the system’s border, the SDS Sparrowhawk cruised through real-space to cross the heliosphere. The process was an interim practice until a more stable platform for communication with the nations of Valore was established. A jump in system was forbidden for the selfsame reasons as the Cordon’s existence, while direct communication encountered the issue of the density of cosmic debris and radiation at the edge of a star system.

Twenty minutes later, systems checks noted that the vessel was clear of the worst of disruption, and a channel was opened with the contact frequencies shared with the TNG.

A simple handshake message was broadcast to establish a link reading simply: Sparrowhawk Requests Communication with Terran National Government, Priority Urgent. Subject, Cordon Maintenance Issue. Advise Encrypted Channel.

On Valore, listening posts caught the message, personnel working to establish a suitably encrypted channel before issuing a return message with the necessary codes to for the Dominon to access, before routing command of the channel to the proper entities within the TNG for communication.

Several minutes would go by, while communications between the current contact handler, a senior captain of the TNG’s now defunct stellar navy. Finally, with everything set up, the man nodded to the staff, indicating the green light.

“Hello, Sparrowhawk. This is Captain Coles of the TNG Navy. What did you wish to discuss?”

“A status update regarding recent Cordon contacts. It’s been somewhat exciting recently, with three contacts being addressed in turn. Two are unidentified, the third was Aschen.”

“Aschen?”

“Yes. The Aschen contact was in the form of a fleet, accompanied by a support group with what appeared to be what is known as a Watchtower in the beginning stages of construction. Contact was made, and I am uploading the transcript of that communication to you now. Decryption key is Lima-Omega-2.”

“Acknowledge, Sparrowhawk. It’s currently downloading now.”

“Regarding what followed, however, due to the nature of the response in the communication, it was decided that the most efficient course of action to handle the incursion was the enforced prosecution and suppression of the Aschen presence within the boundary of the Cordon.”

This last elicited a surprised blink from the captain, who paused, skimming the detached lingo of the report. “Prosecution and suppression?”

“The Aschen fleet was engaged with a preliminary alpha strike composed of twenty dreadnaughts, fifty assault cruisers, and fifty assault carriers. Time from initial contact to the conclusion of weapons discharge was roughly ninety seconds. No casualties reported, Aschen presence reduced to under five percent of its original quantity.”

"Sent packing with their tails between their legs, eh?" the Terran officer snorted. "Imagine that'll right piss 'em off. Suspect they brought it on themselves though. I'll pass it on up to my superiors to begin preparing for the inevitable retaliation of the 'we'll just blow you up from over here' sort."

“In that case, we’ll contact Solaris to begin likewise. The remaining survivors were ordered to deport themselves, and last communications before cruising through the border, were in the midst of preparations to do so.”

The transmission had finished downloading, and the captain gave the authentication code. Reading the dialogue, he shook his head, amazed.

"How these people haven't exterminated themselves by now is beyond me," the Terran officer answered. "I'll recontact you with an update on the TNG position within the hour."

“Copy that. Sparrowhawk will remain in communications range, after a brief pass-through to warn the Cordon group.”
 
While the TNG were passing along the Dominion's communication through their ranks and formulating long-term plans, their efforts to establish a sense of security and coordination within the Sol system with the Invictus continued to strengthen day by day. All official non-essential civilian traffic had been closed down for the time being, for the safety of those looking to travel on and off world. Essential traffic was being organized in and out with the aid of escorts to guide them through the anomalies and out of the system at sub-light speeds.

The stray wayward travelers that jumped into the system oblivious to the danger were met with response teams assigned to assist those in need and to get them planet side. As word of the warp storms and spacial anomalies spread, those incidents were becoming fewer and fewer, but many returning from remote regions of space remained unfortunately oblivious to recent developments.

The TNG also continued to coordinate its remaining military ships alongside the Invictus to watch for the arrival of Aschen ships that may make it through the cordon around the system, and the anomalies within.
 
A short time later The TNG's reply was transmitted back to Sparrowhawk, a message from the TNG Prime Minister herself.

"Myself, and the TNG with me wish to extend words of gratitude for the quick and definitive actions of the Shade Dominion today," the message began. "It is my full understanding and awareness that the Shade Dominion presence here was not with the intention of waging wars, nor directly aiding the TNG against the Aschen threat. With recent developments to the situation though, it would seem that our goals now fall hand in hand. The TNG wishes to extend all available resources to the Shade Dominion with aims towards stabilizing the region and protecting it from Aschen military incursions that could further destabilize the anomalies. If this offer is accepted, I have made available a roster of what resources we can spare and we will begin coordinating our efforts immediately. The Aschen are well known for their volatile nature, and their tactics of simply destroying from afar that which they cannot subjugate. I fear what those tactics could inadvertently cause if we do not prepare ourselves."
 
The Sparrowhawk made quick work of passing back and forth through the heliosphere to ferry the warning of potential counter-strike, and was ready and waiting when the message from the Prime Minister came. Rather than go through the protocol of ferrying back, her captain took the initiative to respond in favor. The Umbral Sector was two and a half weeks distant before any form of reinforcement would arrive, though there was little doubt communications had or were soon to be sent to initiate such bolstering to the nature of the Cordon.

After some thought to compose a reply, the message was relayed back to the TNG from their holding position at the system's edge.

"The Dominion Cordon Group accepts, Prime Minister. Any aid we can offer each other for the sake of controlling these anomalies is welcome."




Only a handful of minutes had passed since they had sent a response when Communications called out. "Sir, we just received a handshake pass from a friendly...on Valore. Verified now, and it's got...Alpha clearance?"

The man got no farther, privilege of rank overriding for a direct CIC broadcast. "This is Director Rebekah Issane, authentication ID Lima, Ceti, Alpha, Six, Nine, Six, Four, Espilon, Niner. Inform local command that myself and local staff are available for coordinated assistance in Sol System and greater region. Additionally, inform them that Forward Admiral Jenovan Grieves is available for employment as well."

CIC was silent, not even the noise of a drawn breath as the surprise worked its way through the crew of the Sparrowhawk. The Nav ensign broke the quiet with a muttering out of awe.

"Storm Witch and Black King? Here?!"

"Comms, open response. Now."

The woman did so, hardly daring to look away from the main console.

"Director, we hear you loud and clear. Will convey to Solaris Command."

"Good. We'll wait for word from you. Advise that Black King intends to cross to Cordon Group, I will remain in-system. I'll need access to a vessel with better Psycho-Spheres than the Longsword I have available."

He merely nodded to himself, understanding. "Copy that. Stand by for response."

"Copy. Storm Witch out."

The channel closed, and Sparrowhawk's captain settled into his crash couch slowly. "Black Void, we weren't briefed that those two were here. Comm, drop a buoy here for incoming responses with an automatic response on an emergency crossing to the outside. Nav, I want us through that boundary five minutes ago."

"Aye sir." The ensigns spoke in unison, turning to their tasks.

 
While communication between Shade Dominion and TNG was underway, further updates went out to the Invictus fleet. These updates included a recap of the situation between the Shade Dominion and the Aschen that had just occurred just outside of the Sol System, updated information and developments on the anomalies, updates on procedures for the blockade, and a heavy warning that swift and heavy retaliation from the Aschen was a very likely possibility in the wake of their altercation with the Shade Dominion.
 
The Sparrowhawk returned to communications range half an hour later, opening channels with the TNG to inform them of the entry of a task force inbound for Valore. Also transmitted was word that personnel planetside were to be ferried to a vessel waiting to bring them to the main Cordon, with a query as to the status of possible additional passengers.

Two hours later, a Ymir assault carrier, Surtr assault cruiser, two Fenris battleships, three Longsword destroyers, three Drake frigates, and five Piranha corvettes had made the crossing of the border, swiftly crossing the system to enter Valore's orbit. Owl shuttles started the descent planetside for TNG territory, navigating for retrieval coordinates for the passenger manifest.
 
Captain Rivka listened to the updates being sent to his ship, rubbing his temples and letting out a loud groan.

"Do they ever learn?" He asked his crew, "Never, sir." One of them answered, "Keep our weapons hot. We need to be ready to fight at a minute's notice." Rivka ordered.

He stood up from his chair in the middle of the bridge, "Keep channels open for the Terrans and the Dominion to contact us with updates."
 
The vast reaches of space between the planets known as Serpenta and Corala lies a vast an formidable sea of dangerous asteroids, ranging from colossal giants that rival the largest space station down to the smallest pebble. The normally benign looking asteroid field began to shift, almost as if shimmering before the very eye, lasting almost seconds before everything ceased to be, the asteroids gone as if never being there before. This lasted for the barest of seconds before the fabric of reality corrected what was stolen, a newer larger asteroid field exploded into existence, the resulting explosion causing a mass of colors all across the spectrum. A wave of energy was released in a shockwave outward, nature's way of releasing the excess energy from the huge spatial anomaly that occurred in a matter of seconds.

When the aftershocks died down and the "dust" settled from the shifting asteroids, although seemingly major, space resumed as if nothing had happened.

"Installation Deep Six - communications and Radar relay."


Squirreled away inside one of the many larger asteroids along the edges of the asteroid belt known as Omega Fields is Deus Corp's main communications sites, the main one that connects to the many others that border the edges though most are unmanned drone controlled sites. Commander Mira Noratelli, the senior radio operator and communications specialist sits and waits for Deus Corp's systems to come back online after the spatial anomaly's interference dies down and stops wreaking havoc on the systems.

"Admiral Cross, systems are coming back online, I believe it is safe for us to begin sending out interstellar communications," Mira said as her screens and monitors began to flicker back to life, the imaging crystal clear and all the lights across the board flashed green.

From his office across the way, the Admiral entered the main room and gave a cursory scan around before smiling a thin smile of relief. "You may proceed commander, let's hope we haven't doomed ourselves with that foolish venture of using unknown spatial anomaly transportation."

Flipping a series of switches Mira extended the long range transponder antennae and hit the transmit button.

"Greetings, we are Deus Corp, we are new to your system, we come in peace. We repeat we come in peace, we are a non-hostile corporation, we are here to sell our services to whoever may need of us..."

"Admiral, transmissions are broadcasting loud and clear, we should hopefully receive some aspect of a response to our broadcast. I have looped the system to send the messages every half an hour," Mira intoned once she was sure everything was running smoothly.

"Keep me up to date, Commander, I shall inform the triumvirate of elders at once," The admiral replied.
 
The reply came swiftly and nearly immediate given the proximity of the Deus Corp appearing within the TNG's back yard.

>>Deus Corp, be advised that you are within the boundaries of the Terran National Government, inside of the boundaries of a Shade Dominion cordon, and right in the midst of a war zone. Be advised it is NOT safe - details being transmitted with this message. Requesting more information into the nature of your arrival. We are also sending several vessels to investigate the source of your transmission. These vessels are non-hostile.<<

Attached to the transmission was a brief report on the anomalies and warp storms that had overtaken the Sol System as a result of the war. The region had been rendering nearly uncrossable by any safe means outside of sub-light speeds. The report contained no sensitive information, but served only as a cautionary warning to prevent any unknowing mishaps until further information could be gathered regarding the appearance of this foreign entity.

Meanwhile as the transmission was sent back to Deus Corp, the TNG forces in the system were in a tizzy. Was it some Aschen trick? A trap? A chance encounter? No one had ever heard of anything called Deus Corp. No doubt the Invictus had heard the transmission as well and such concerns were swiftly relayed across with advisement to be on alert for the appearance of unknown ships. Everyone was already on edge awaiting Aschen retaliation, and it wouldn't due to cause an incident by mistakenly engaging a neutral entity.
 
"Sir!" Commander Mira yelled out an hour after the transmission loop was aired throughout the system. "We have received a response from what I assume is the local government, called the Terran National Government. Apparently we have entered somebodies home turf, something about a Shade Dominion Cordon or whatnot, this entire region is a warzone."

Admiral Cross was behind her within moments, her eyes quickly scanning the report that was transmitted within the message, a grim smile appeared on his face at the prospect of a war, war was good for business. "Commander, forward this message to General Myers, we can't be sending messages beyond this without proper authorization."

Sliding across the expansive floor to reach the command terminal, Commander Mira forwarded the message to the generals secretary, Sorcha would make sure the general got the briefing.

Olympus Installation - Military Headquarters

General Cole Myers sat at his desk with his hands folded, his eyes scanning the recent report that was received from the Deep 6 installation, sighing as he lifted his right hand a puffed on the fat cigar, it seemed like making the choice to travel through the anomaly was a good choice. Right smack dab in the midst of a war was an opportune choice for a mercenary group out to hire it's services to the highest bidder. The problem Cole wanted to avoid was having friendly or unfriendly warships moving in to the area to "investigate them." Whether or not they were trying to assure themselves of Deus Corp's intentions, diplomacy wasn't his decision, his was the protection of everything within the asteroid fields. "Sorcha! Get Maximillian Jr., on the line at once, after I speak to General Krull I will speak to the elders."

Beta Station - Headquarters of Omega Station defensive Corp.

General Krull was not your typical sit behind a desk general, he was the type to jump in a ship and command while destroying enemies with his fellow soldiers, was currently in the head when General Cole messaged his aide, the spatial anomaly travel had caused him to get sea sick for the first time ever in his life. Staring into his own graying refection as he patted his face with a warm wet towel he heard a sharp rap on the door to his private bathroom. Grumbling about the sanctity of private moments, Krull gave a gruff, "enter!"

His aide wasted no time as he stepped through the door saluting as she spoke, "Sir, General Cole is on line one."

Dropping his towel on the edge of the sink Krull hastily exited the bathroom and made a beeline for the phone, "Krull speaking, how may I help you sir?"

"I want you to upgrade defense to tier two, I repeat update defense to tier two, I am forwarding a report on the missive we received from an unknown government within the system. Over and out." Krull hung up the phone right as his computer beeped, sliding into his chair he flipped open his command console and turned a key and pressed the red button with a "2" under it. Pressing the button active a Deus Corp. wide klaxon alerting all defense corp. pilots to immediately begin readying themselves for the possibility of hostile encounters from unknown entities within the system. Taking a moment to read the report transferred to him he also had a grim smile appear across his face, it seemed like all the efforts they had made exploring the avenues of travels via spatial anomalies weren't a wasted venture.

Pressing a button on his console he radioed to his personal hanger, where his own personal ships were docked, one of these beings a Kraken class heavy defense freighter, "this is General Krull, have the Dolphin readied to depart by the time I arrive. I want a full complement of people on my ship, we can't have anybody know our capabilities when it comes to piloting our ships."

Deep 6 Installation - Communications

"Deep 6 installation, this is Maximillian Jr., you are to send a new transmission, advise to whomever that comes this way to, I repeat DO NOT scan the Omega Fields, and DO not come with 1 Astronomical units. Advise once seen to comply a diplomatic envoy will be sent out to speak to whomever is sent out here."

"Well, cats out of the bag now Commander," Admiral Cross said with a chuckle. "Proceed with the message at once. Though maybe don't use bold lettering when you send it out. And word it more diplomatically. I'll be desk side monitoring the grids for anything underhanded. As Admiral Cross headed back to his desk he hoped whoever responded to their Message wasn't the type of pricks who have the whole "this is our turf you'll comply to us and not us to you kind."
 
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