Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Orion-Cygnus Arm

"Ejection, people! Get that dro-shit!" Alpha Lead barked across comms as the vessel erupted, mentally switching channels with her implant to contact their controller in OCII. "Operator, we need tracking on contact detonation, we detected an ejection just prior, pilot is drifting. Repeat, request tracking for pilot recovery."

"Copy, Alpha Lead. Standby for lock and sync."

Flipping back to her flight channel, the woman addressed their local drone controller. "Get that drone inbound now, we are time critical."

Two clicks announced consent, as the pilot turned their attention to commanding the drone's VI, the automatous vessel beginning an inbound burn. She heard Beta Lead over an open band to any local friendly vessels nearby, on the chance a satellite conveyor was in closer vicinity to their location than those at the Solaris.



Elsewhere, a small detachment of vessels was approaching the Aschen position, alerted to their arrival by the observation staff of the Solaris. A singular, 175 meter long Drake-class frigate by the IFF of SDS Rogue Bard and its cohort, a 65 meter Piranha corvette, the SDS Jaded. Trailing them by 400,000 kilometers was a second corvette, the Veiled Obsidian. While the advance pair openly blazed their IFF frequencies, the tail was running dark, drifting further behind at a coasting velocity of 500 km/sec, running under blackout conditions, communications without power, it's Rayviel Furnace choked to bare minimum outputs, namely being cooling, skeletal systems power maintenance, it's battlescreen absent. Running on passive eyes and mere nudges of atmosphere-vent course course corrections, it's advanced plating reduced it's detection silhouette to a fraction of it's size, the vented air giving it a subtle halo of drifting ice, to all but the most focused attention, little more than a drifting meteor in the depths of space, it's vector edging towards the Sol system across it's sister vessels path. Drawn from a different initial starting location than it's assigned brethren, it had run a simulated TD entrance, building up for full insertion before defusing the forming breach to immediately blackout. It's task was mere distant observation of the inevitable meeting of the dispatched representatives of the Dominion presence.

The Rogue Bard opened an open channel towards the Aschen fleet, playing the prepared hail it had received from the Shade Dominion station.

"Hailing fleet, hailing fleet, this is the SDS Rogue Bard, contacting on behalf of SDSS Solaris. Please respond to hail, fleet. Hailing fleet, hailing fleet..."

The recorded message would continue to play over the channel until it received a response.
 
The lone prowler pilot maintained radio silence despite drifting freely in the void of space. She knew that the Imperial Line had detected the explosion, and would dispatch someone when it was safe to do so.

---

As they drew closer to the Aschen formation, more and more Imperial vessels became apparent. Reverences, Assault carriers, Battlestars all took up defensive positions in a wide arc around the watchtower that was under construction. What was more disconcerting was the line of Athena class missile carriers, each bearing a distinguishable tricobalt signature, their missiles primed and out of their silos, no doubt targeting information locked on Valore and the Dominion positions around the Heliosphere.

In the immediate area; there were dozens of these Athena class missile cruisers, the hard hitting long range artillery the Aschen fielded when they really wanted something destroyed.

But there was something else, among the formations of Aschen ships was a vessel that didn't match any design parameters fielded by the Aschen Empire. It's ring like profile, contrasting sharply with the bulbous designs of the Reverences.

Three massive gun emplacements lined the outer ring structure of this strange vessel, faint subspace distortions could be detected from each individual gun battery, whatever they were; they were artillery of a massive scale, weapons capable of obliterating an entire planet in a single salvo.

There was a lone, simple reply on the radio, a subspace transmission beamed at the approaching Dominion forces.

"Dominion Forces this is the Zelbinion, responding to your hail, state your intentions."

The message was curt, lacking any tone, and likely coming from the ship's AI, which signaled the Aschen didn't seem keen on talking.
 
Three small space ships cruised among the stars. They approached the signal that they had picked up, an absolute hive of electric activity and waves. It was amazing actually, the different waves would almost be considered beautiful except for the fact that the ship’s occupants didn’t know what was being said, or why. It was a pile of gibberish, wrapped in a cacophony of hertz and volts, all centered around Sol Space. One of the smaller of the species rolled around the corridors of the ship, just released from the holding tanks in preparation for their arrival in the outer reaches of what seemed to be the inhabited part of this galaxy. This particular ball of ultra conductive matrix matter was one of the diplomats on this particular journey, the first at full diplomat status. It stretched its gel gel like mass, becoming a long thin sheet then back into a ball, but this time with long tentacle like protrusions, trying to shake off the strange feeling that the holding tanks gave it. Finally, feeling ready to face the universe, the thing returned to a sphere and headed for the bridge.


The bridge was large, with enough room for some of the larger beings at 1000 liters to the diplomat’s 68. The largest of the creatures was connected to the ship’s interface, it’s gel in long tentacles that connected to different areas of the deck and sending pulsing electrical signals to all of the ship's systems, sending orders and checking their functionality. The captain, close to 200 liters, took note of the diplomat's arrival and hummed at them, informing of their relative position to the main body of activity and a small satellite that was their target. There were no windows, but all of the creatures knew that they had come into range of the small electrical activity. A very small gel, only about a liter, was expelled from the ship and into space. Despite the freezing cold, the gel did not freeze. It hit the satellite, then managed to make it’s way inside and connect with the wiring. After a few minutes of exploration in both the satellite and the ship, the gels had figured out how to send a message from the satellite.


It was just a series of electronic noises, the best that the satellite was able to replicate their language. Then a series of beeps, and two different languages from the planets near their home world. The messages were played on a loop as the tiny creature was retrieved from the satellite, now all there was to do was wait.
 
Solaris, Command Deck, Observation Control II
The on-duty observation team appeared rather benign to an outsider, but the furious activity on the immediate urgent matter was centered on two consoles. Their operators manipulated the controls with rapid and accurate stabs, twists, and swipes, often initiating more fine tuning through synchronization of their implants. Debris was identified, cataloged, and if deemed unimportant, archived for the moment, flags projecting their expected drift marking notes for the future. Within a handful of minutes, the ejected pilot was identified via silhouette.

Thirty seconds later, after nearly a dozen rapid hard identifications through still captures, the drift and velocity were calculated to enable a hard continuous tracking lock. Connecting a continuous stream channel to Alpha and Beta Flights, the pair of operators settled back, letting out slow breaths to ease the momentary tension.

Space Outside Sol System
With the updated positioning stream, the drone accelerated and adjusted its vector for an interception course, a tenuous balance between manual command and allowing its VI to adjust to prevent a collision at high speed in play. A few moments later, the VI initiated deceleration burns, the operator switching to the drone's tractor system to reach out past the operating norm to momentarily snatch at the adrift pilot, stealing their velocity in microbursts. Reducing their speed fractionally each time, to better avoid a single moment of high g-force braking from a more stable tractor-lock. Several minutes of delicate balance between speed and braking continued, the separation distance decreasing marginally each time as the pair closed together.

"Beta Lead, Solaris Freighter C-23 here. I'm six-hundred k's from you, can redirect. Don't have passenger space, but I've got enough room in the cargo hold. ETA roughly thirty minutes."

"Roger, C-23."



The assembled forces that the Rogue Bard, Jaded, and Veiled Obsidian perceived on their sensors evoked vague unease with the crews of each. Without subtly, the two emissaries powered up their battlescreens before responding.

"Zelbinion, that's a question we'd love to ask you. Task Force Solaris was requested by Sol System inhabitants to create a buffer between the system and the galaxy at large. The system is a hotbed of anomalous space-time activity, and is not safe for travel. Our charge is to intercept and prevent non-critical ingress and egress."

Solaris, Command Deck, Observation Control VI
Much like it's counterpart OCII, a casual glance into OCVI revealed a scene mostly mundane, though there was somewhat more activity going on. A small gathering of officers was gathered around the central holo, discussing a triplet of transients, as yet unidentified but for routine identification. Location was within the G-3 boundary field, so the ingress was less urgent than a deeper penetration, but plans were being drawn up to dispatch an interception.

An unusual development was the sudden fritz of the nearest satellite to the transient contacts, aberrant signals coming back along the feeds. Puzzling to the operators, and intriguing to the on-duty analysts and AI, as the signals weren't randomized noise, but constant streams.

"Communication?" The AI prompted gently.

"Looks that way. But how is it coming through our channels? It should be damn near impossible to see those satellites, much less tinkering with one enough to access the network?" An analyst replied, brow furrowing.

"Isolate that communication feed and force a direct line to a deadlock console." The OCVI's current duty commander barked in. "Security is more important right now than wondering how it happened."

"Already done, sir." The AI's soothing voice assured. "Has been as soon as a pattern was detected. We were merely trying to discuss the nuances of what this message holds, and how they managed it."

"I'm going to go order the intercept then. We'll have plenty of time to sort out what's being said later."



About an hour later, a Thanatos-class battleship and a Fenris destroyer exited a short TD jump 200,000 kilometers from the contacts, prepared for possible threat but not overtly presenting it in return. The larger vessel took a slow and steady course directly for the trio, while it's escort ranged on a flanking heading.

Attempting a hail over the wide-band, the message was directed towards the newcomers.

"This is the SDS Icarus' Downfall, you have approached a local hazardous area. Again, this is the SDS Icarus' Downfall, you are approaching a hazardous region. Please respond to state intentions."

Playing this message on a loop, once spoken and then as simple type, ever steadily approaching the unknown ships.



Solaris, Command Deck, Central Station
"We've received report of a critical contact from OCI." Artemis, the military administrative artificial intelligence of the Solaris upper officer echelon, reported. "It's moving at high relativistic velocities into detection ranges."

"Launch an immediate intercept group, standard protocols." Eidolan ordered punctually. The man kept his expression neutral. "In case this one is serious about passing, remind the captains that those protocols only include three warning shots in the worst case scenario."

"Understood, Admiral."
 
Being completely adrift, there was no resistance coming from the lone Prowler pilot in her crash chair, she simply watched through the faceless void out at the approaching drone, which was tractoring her closer, and closer to it's position.

Once she was captured, she would reveal nothing.

---

The response came swiftly from the Zelbinion, it's commander, Bryon Clegg came clear across the radio, crackling to life as the man keyed up his communication.

"This is Zelbinion Actual, We are maintaining a blockade of the Sol System, with orders to intercept and terminate any and all TNG Assets attempting to leave the system." The Commander hailed. "Additionally, we are under orders to intercept and terminate all vessels rendering aid to the TNG." Clegg replied, while his Tactical officer turned to face him.

"Sir, Unidentified contact bearing three one nine carom two one six." He called out, as the new alien arrival was being brought up on the main targeting screen.

"Ready frag emplacements Alpha through Gamma, staggered fire, neutralize the target." Clegg responded, and the Tactical officer nodded.

A moment later, the starboard side of the Command Carrier started to come to life, three of the Frag Cannon emplacements moved along the ring like structure, garnering a firing solution on the approaching alien vessel, calculations were being plugged in as it's vector and speed were factored in, as the Zelbinion moved to prepare an opening salvo, a quintet of Gemenon class assault cruisers began to form up, trailed by an Athena Class missile cruiser, and Imperial Aegis frigates on the flanks, they were moving on an intercept course for the three Dominion vessels approaching the Aschen main task group.

Additionally, the Athena Class Carrier 'Sarissa' began priming it's weapons, four active Tricobalt signatures pinged to life as missile data was being plugged in, the lone missile carrier slowly turning on it's axis to face the Dominion ships.

Both Imperial Aegis cruisers formed into position, moving up and firing a brilliant beam of energy at each other, the beams coalesced into a shimmering bubble around the strike group that was on fast approach, the shimmering bubble began to glow brightly, before turning into a coherent mass.

The Intercepting Aschen ships would be within engagement range in roughly five minutes.
 
The beings had learned a lot already about how this unknown species communicated from the satellite by the time they had actually arrived. It was a simple system of ons and offs in a pattern to send data and receive orders. There were still holes in the language as the satellite did not know enough but the beings on board would be able to repeat a more in-depth code once the other ship showed up, if it ever would.


Just hours later they sensed ship approaching them at speed. Not long after the ship was in range enough to get their message to those on board. It was the language of one and offs in an order that they didn't recognize but also a sound that blasted through the speaker attuned to their communication waves.


The Captain focused on the Diplomat. It requested if it was deemed safe to communicate back and the Diplomat determined it was. A message was sent back to the ship in both their language and in that of the satellite.

Unknown Frequency:

Requesting:

More data points for comparison.

End Goal:

Better communication between known and unknown frequencies.
 
Steadily closing the distance between the drifting pilot and the drone, Alpha and Beta flights spent the next minutes tensely watching their instruments. Twenty minutes later, after equalizing velocities within safe tolerances, the drones claws clacked tight over the flight seat, beginning reverse burns to come around to return, to await the freighter en route.



The crew of the Rogue Bard stared mutely for several seconds following the response message, starting when Sensor announced a shift in Aschen positions. The captain waited to respond as he turned to Communications.

"Inform Solaris of the Aschen's intentions. I get the feeling things are about to get very hot out here."

"Aye sir."

Pausing to collect his thoughts, he resumed communications. "Zelbinion, be advised then. Past the heliosphere, travel is extremely dangerous. Happy hunting, Rogue Bard out."

Closing his end of the communications channel, he turned to view his crew. "Turn us about, head for home in realspace."

Void look away.



"This is Zelbinion Actual, We are maintaining a blockade of the Sol System, with orders to intercept and terminate any and all TNG Assets attempting to leave the system. Additionally, we are under orders to intercept and terminate all vessels rendering aid to the TNG."

The war room was silent following the routed transmission, before Admiral Eidolan put his hands on the central holo-table. "Our course of action is, unfortunately, clear, ladies and gentlemen. The position of this taskforce was by cooperation with the Terran National Government, and as such, these orders put the Aschen in direct conflict with our continued operation. Is anyone present of a differing opinion?"

No one spoke. The man nodded, sighing heavily before waving a hand, bringing a holo populated by markings, the local Dominion forces arrayed in realspace, as well as the intervening distance across the Aschen fleet, a tactical map that was utterly and ruthlessly complete in its positioning. Sitting as they were amidst a literal nest of detection satellites, there was no where that the Aschen could be in realspace that wasn't patently obvious to the Dominion task-force. As signatures were gathered, further identification was possible on known hulls, elsewise designated as hostile contacts tagged by associated signals for tentative identification to classes. Even as the image came up, AI and computer systems were refining the tactical plot accounting for drifting space debris and Tunnel Space mapping.

"Dispatch a vessel to cross the heliosphere to get in touch with the TNG and inform them of what's going to happen."

"Yes sir."

"Coordinate an alpha strike force, pre-plan firing solutions. Missile carriers and capital vessels take priority. Engagement range is 200,000 kilometers, sync TD jumps to land simultaneously. Jumps will be less than a second, our forces will fire the nanosecond they are back in realspace."

"Understood, Admiral."

"Coordinate a second wave for five seconds after the first has struck, after the first has launched the first Jericho of every available tube. Second wave will sync to the tac-net and deliver any mercy shots, otherwise they will proceed to secondary targets. First wave will continue at speed, and repeat fire." Eidolan's face was like a mask, issuing orders as though casually discussing something over lunch. "Make the preparations, this operation initiates in five minutes."



Tightly controlled, heavily encrypted communications lasers flickered around the Solaris, the additional traffic scarcely noticeable amidst the veritable torrent of electronic emmisions around the station during standard operations. Warships prepared their TD systems, making minute adjustments to weapons systems as they prepared for the use of their potent arsenals. Yet of external activity there was little, a boon of the TD system that realspace course corrections were irrelevant to the final translation. A lone corvette winked out around the formations, appearing on the top of the curve around the system, before making a second brief jump the opposite side of the system before turning to cross the border via realspace.



"Incoming transmission through the satellite, sir."

"Display, please."

'Unkn@#!1 $RyuqeuVCY: Requ(STing: MorE d)Ta poi- ^Ts K234pari-. End 0oOl Be-er com#jtation betwT3er kn0n an' unkn-32n fre@ftiees.' Appearing on a viewscreen, the message was partially identifiable, the comparison points of the unknown language blending with that of their own, the limited systems of the satellite being used as a go-between unable to fully separate the two. Scanning it, the commander chuckled.

"Looks like they're holding position, and this will give use some time to learn their language, like they're doing to us. Try transmitting standard greetings, cycle through Dominion languages. If they respond, attempt to repeat their comm back translated into something approaching theirs, as best you can."

"Aye."
 
It didn't take long for the Aschen intercept group to disengage their approach once the ships started to turn away, though they maintained combat readiness

As the Dominion vessels started to turn away, the Commander keyed up Chairman Inviere on the Datalink, beaming a real-time, highly encrypted datastream transmission back into Imperial Space, Commander Clegg standing at attention in front of the view screen. "Dominion vessels have confronted our positions, I followed protocol and turned them away, stating our intent." Clegg said, the activity aboard the Zelbinion a flurry of chaos as they began tracking whatever they could within the anomalous Heliosphere, including the alien vessel and the Solaris.

"I'm aware, I've been watching your ship's readouts through the Datalink, be cautioned, Commander. The Emperor is not yet ready to pursue an engagement with the Dominion at this time; but this presents a new challenge. And your transmission will no doubt elicit a pre-emptive strike." Inviere said, thumbing her chin and turning to a display.

"I'm issuing you new orders, Commander. I want you to stall them, as long as you can until our forces are in position. Get your ships out of their detection range, additionally... A Commander can't run a task force, I'm promoting you to Admiral as of now." Inviere said flatly, which Clegg swallowed, and nodded. "Very good, Ma'am."

"I also need you to recover a ship that was shot down over Valore, it's Commander has critical intelligence pertaining to both Dominion and Taiyou activities in Andromeda, as well as the locations of their home worlds. You are to do everything you can to recover that intelligence. Failing that go to contingency. Admiral if things go south, I want you to saturate that star system with so much tricobalt ordinance, the whole damn solar system gets torn apart." Inviere ordered, before terminating the transmission.

Clegg paused, he knew that a Dominion attack was imminent, and he also knew that the strategic plan was not implemented yet, so he pondered, and then turned to his XO.

"Order the fleet to jump out, have them rendezvous at the Centaurus staging area. We're not ready for a fight right now." Clegg said, the XO Nodding.

---

Not ten minutes went by, and the task force that was assembling outside the Heliosphere flickered out, executing their FTL Jumps to the Alpha Centauri system, a highly fortified Aschen staging ground that contained several supply depots and a watchtower; all that remained was the Zelbinion and her escorts, which moved into a defensive position around the Zelbinion.

At that moment the XO Spoke up once more.

"Task force reports successful jump, Athena cruisers still have their missiles zeroed in, you'll have long range missile support from Centaurus should the Dominion start shooting."

Clegg nodded slightly, then he keyed up a transmission beamed directly to the Solaris.

"Dominion Forces this is Admiral Bryon Clegg, of the Zelbinion, I apologize for my previous transmission it appears there was a misunderstanding in the orders I have been given, the Terran National Government opted to initiate hostilities with the Empire, given the inflexible nature of our orders, I had little choice but to issue a hostile challenge, but my Government has now given me the flexibility to reach a solution that does not involve military force." The Admiral hailed. "I have equipment and personnel stranded and imprisoned by the Terran National Government, they have taken and executed hostages, I only wish to see my people returned safe, and those in the TNG held responsible. I understand the TNG have painted a picture to make you take pity upon them. I merely wish to see them confined and made non-threatening to the Empire. Lastly, as a token of good faith I have withdrawn my fleet from this star system."

"Keep the frag cannons and the FTL drive hot, shields full power." Clegg ordered.

"Lets see if they bite."
 
Ten minutes would never come, as precisely as scheduled, five minutes after the conference occurring aboard the Solaris, the alpha strike's first wave executed a pin-point TD hop, one instant in their holding positions about the Solaris, the next, translating into flanking positions to either side of the primary Aschen fleet. Each flanking pincer was composed of 10 Pariah dreadnaughts, and 50 each of the new Odin-platform Surtr assault cruisers and Ymir assault carriers. The first wave was arranged roughly 200,000 kilometers to either side and slightly below the task force, in circular formations at oblique angles against the Aschen positions, their dorsal sides tilted inwards towards the group of vessels. This dimished slightly the number of guns to be brought to bear, but it also minimized the risk of friendly fire from the withering crossfire that was unleashed within the same fraction of a second as the alpha strike appeared.

The engagement range, at such close range, would be utterly devastating. 4,010 Inferno Rails erupted at once, deliver 10 gigatons per second of immensely destructive energy per ravenous bolt, targeting capital ships and missile carriers in groups of five within single striking points. With a velocity of 0.9c, their travel time would be 0.74 seconds. Simultaneously, 9,600 lighter Stormbores barked, 20 per pre-coordinated target, each only packing an individual punch of 50 megatons per second. But more devastating than either was the monstrous Hellrails of the Ymirs, 20 guns total, yet each pair targeted individual vessels in concert with titanic, brilliant lances of 50 gigatons per second of annihilating power.

But this was merely the swiftest of the alpha force's first punch. 2,400 mammoth mass drivers hurled 25 metric ton slugs the size of tanks at 0.6c, each slug carrying the destructive force of 671 gigatons behind it. These would impact slightly behind the withering energy weapons, at 1.1 seconds after the strike force appeared. With them came the smaller, slower slugs of little over 280,000 gauss cannons, each with about 5 megatons of kinetic force from their relativistic velocities at 40% the speed of light, arriving at 1.6 seconds from the start of the Dominion's alpha strike.

Lastly, but certainly not least, the discharge of 824,000 Jericho torpedoes launched from their tubes, with a widely mixed ordance of types involved. These drifted at launch velocities of 500 meters per second for three seconds, before internal gravity drives accelerated over the course of the next three seconds to 2,500 kilometers per second, internal intertial dampers protecting the payloads and guidance systems through the violently furious thrust. Of the initial volley, 618,000 were Jericho AS types, unfurling racks and discharging 25 individual missiles with 5 gigaton nuclear warheads, multiplying the volley into nearly 15.656 million swift, guided, self-propelled munitions, arriving in 78 seconds after the initial direct fire volley.

This coordinated assault was the result of potent cooperation between the powerful AI's of the Solaris and it's assigned taskforce of front-line vessels, all of whom were currently in full battlestations, enmeshed in the heuristic link that fused the Dominion navy personnel with the onboard AI's that assisted in vessel operation. The result was an apparatus that operated with human intuition at the computational speeds of it's highly capable artificial intelligence. Man and machine became as one, the act of moving one's hand the same as sighting a cannon of unfathomable lethality, looking for the enemy directing each vessel's sensors, smelling the chemical composition of the enemy's hull, tasting the background radiation, hearing the lash of sensor waves through the vast empty void of space. Emotion was suspended, the Aschen ceased to be human as soon as the link began, finding security in the detachment of the computerized logical thought processes.

By the time the last munition left the tip of the spear's barrels, the hammer of the second wave was due in 3.23 more seconds.
 
The Diplomat flashed a variety of colors from her core. The beings were responding! And it seemed they were learning quite faster than originally expected. A variety of different messages were coming through the speakers and as the on off code. What was very intriguing to the beings was that they seemed to be two different things. One auditory and one electric. That was why they hadn't been able to understand what was being said in that giant ball of waves.


They did their best to recreate the messages, determined to send the messages back and forth until they could understand what was being said.
 
The Dominion attack came in five minutes, but the Aschen ship crews enjoyed the luxury of already being ready. The initial strikes came, and flared angrily against the shields of the first ships hit, Athena class cruisers and the Zelbinion.

The Zelbinion itself, along with her escorts, a trio of Athena carriers, and three Aegis cruisers were enveloped in a shimmering Aegis field prior to the attack, the withering barrage of energy weapons struck first, energy shields, the prodigy of the Aschen flared against the onslaught; fluctuated but weathered the storm.

With the attacks isolated and focused to only the missile carriers and the Capital ships, the cruisers, escort carriers, frigates, and assault cruisers had time to react.


The second wave of the strike came, physical projectiles careening through the void of space, shields collapsed and rounds tore through several Athena cruisers, crippling a few of them, one was unlucky to have a round go straight through it's missile battery, the cruiser erupting in a massive tricobalt explosion that tore through the aschen formations, the Zelbinion, it's escorts, and nearly eight hundred Aschen ships were gone in an instant, as reality itself tore asunder from the Tricobalt detonation, leaving a massive anomaly in it's wake.



The fleet was decimated at that point, but the Watchtower loomed in the distance, civilian vessels, construction vessels, and a Reverence along with her escorts remained to protect the Watchtower itself.

The main task force had lost nearly all of it's missile cruisers, with several Reverences drifting with no power, and holes gouged in them.

And then the missiles came.

Following the massive onslaught, all that was left was the Watchtowers and it's small defense garrison. By this time they were just now starting to react, someone had to get the word out to what happened.

The very small handful of cruisers that survived, flickered out as they made blind jumps to escape the overpowered dominion onslaught. Debris, drifting ships, marked a small graveyard where the battle had just taken place.

Aschen retribution would come, and it would come swiftly.
 
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Icarus Downfall paused in their communication with the unidentified vessels as the unmistakable signature of Inferno Rails discharging was picked up, silent as the resulting eruption of unstable energies that churned like a ravenous maw. The bridge crew was mute, the unexpected action all the more unsettling for the aftermath, even now slowly waning as it was. Looking at his personnel on board, the commander cleared his throat.

"How's the language barrier coming?"

"Still a little fractured, but we're starting to get somewhat recognizable responses."

"Let's start moving a little faster. Something's happened towards the Solaris, and I don't think it's good news for idling out here."

With that foreshadowed thought in mind, the Dominion vessel renewed various language exchange transmission with the alien ships, trying to negotiate a stable translation to pass a message that was now clear needed to be heard even more than at first contact.



The errant pilot was drawing back to Alpha and Beta flights, C-23 two minutes out when the conflict began and ended with such suddenness that there was no time to express the sudden shock of capital-grade firepower being unleashed uncomfortably close.

"Alpha Lead, was tha-"

"Yes, C-23. Something warranted heavy fire, and it looks like they had unstable munitions or material on board." Shaking her head as she looked over both her instruments, and visually at the seething, yet shrinking mass of torn space. "Much appreciated if we wrap this op up, so we can figure out the hell is going on."

"Copy that, Alpha."

Ten minutes later, the stray pilot was placed in the freighter's cargo bay, the small group of ships heading on a return course for the Solaris.



The leading edge of the strike group found themselves the only living ships left after the unexpected eruption of the Aschen group caught in the pincer. Their expected reinforcements never translated, hasty safety protocols engaging the safeties of the TD system. Since the mishap of the first group of scouting vessels on the first return trip into Sol, such precautions had been taken to prevent jumps into the proximity of unstable conditions. Attempts to communicate through the roiling maelstrom to the sister half of the attack group failed, prompting one to continue onwards towards the assembly site of the watchtower, while the other turned back towards the Solaris.

While navigation officers carefully negotiated courses to avoid the anomalous space, sensor operators raked in data from the area, archiving the information to turn over the analysts aboard the Dominion station. Full spectrum visuals, radiation scans, electromagnetic readings and much more, the men and women aboard the group were resolved to make the most of the unexpected tragedy. No one could have expected the Aschen to be foolish enough to carry such unstable munitions within fleet formations, and indeed, it was the subject of much derision of personnel aboard that it was ever allowed to happen. The designated flagship of the operation, the SDS dreadnaught Gilded Past, turned its primary attention on the remaining Aschen vessels, ordering a general advance. Calling for a hail to the pitifully small remnants of the Empire's presence within the Cordon, Vice-Admiral Jaina Ives personally composed the message.

"Aschen survivors, this is Vice Admiral Ives, of the SDS Gilded Past. That is the reason that the Solaris and our fleet is here. To prevent the entrance of such weapons into a region of highly unstable space such as the Sol System, and to prevent those who would attempt to spread it without the system. I am shocked that such grievous loss of life had to occur," The woman's face was carefully held neutral, the grey streaks in her hair almost silver in the simulated image. "But we were not aware that your empire would produce such foolish weapons, and then fail to inform your citizens of how dangerous they are to carry."

She bowed her head in the image for a moment, then resumed, her expression hardening. "Though I am sorry, this is a necessary aspect of our custodianship here. Those of you remaining are ordered to leave this space effective immediately, with only your vessels. The construction of a permanent station is no longer going to be countenanced within the region we are assigned to watch over, and as such, any materials not currently loaded are declared forfeit and claimed as salvage."

"We will not prevent your departure from this region. But with fair warning, do not attempt to engage in hostile actions with my ships, or attempt to pursue hostilities with Dominion forces in this region. Attempts to do so will be met with extreme force in defense of our station, and no quarter will be given to those foolish enough. If you are unable to depart under your own power, we can assist you with automated tug drones to remove you from this area."

The vessels under the vice-admiral's command shifted their formation, ten Pariahs each forming the core of a sphere populated by ten each of the Surtr cruisers and Ymir carriers. These arranged in a line between the remnant Aschen and the Solaris.



"Begin preparations for moving the station." Eidolan spoke without taking his eyes from the tactical plot. The unexpected detonation of tricobalt munitions had resulted in the destruction of multiple satellites, but the strike action had performed as expected. The collateral left a foul taste in his mouth, and he mutely cursed whatever political agendas and sadistic minds were behind such weapons. Around him staff moved double time, communicating with the vast network of personnel assigned to the operation of the Solaris. Taking a deep breath, the man closed his eyes, before turning away to face one of the few upper echelon officers still residing at war table.

Senior Agent Malcom Oglivy wasn't a particularly pleasant man to behold, a past incident with explosive decompression leading to vacuum exposure leaving its mark. His eyes were sunk in dark sockets, the tracery where vessels had burst creating a crazed pattern on his skin. When he spoke, he sounded like a lifelong smoker, vocal cords irreparably damaged. "Sound idea, Admiral. Did you have any other concerns about personnel?"

Nodding, the leader of the Cordon task force made a gesture to encompass everything. "Civilians are to be evacuated to the second most distant rally plot. It looks like the aftereffect is shrinking, but I'll not risk the construction crews and families of the naval personnel on a guess. We still don't properly understand it."

"Agreed," the Agency representative rasped.



Forty minutes after the first shots of the brief conflict were fired, the Solaris was beginning the process of acceleration burns to an alternate location designated for such need, while a small armada of vessels containing civilian families and crews was forming up and making the TD jump to a rally point several hundred light years distant, accompanied by a garrison of thirty warships, a Factorum, and a Biosphere.
 
Once the lone pilot was inside the cargo hold, she unfastened her crash chair, contained within the sealed and armored flight suit, she moved quickly, reaching the back of the chair and opening a compartment, inside the compartment was an MC-1 Magnetic carbine, she retrieved the weapon, as well as several magazines, and then loaded and charged the weapon before taking cover behind the crash chair. She knew the chair wouldn't provide much in the way of cover, but it would provide concealment.

There was a brief prayer to the gods, as she waited for someone to come into the cargo hold, having seen the exchange, the pilot figured the fate that awaited them was a torturous death, and so they chose to fight, perhaps she could commandeer the ship, and pilot it back.

--

The remnants of the ships were mostly civilians, with many of the larger military ships without power and drifting, thus would likely require rescue and assistance. There was a Reverence I drifting among a collection of wrecked cruisers, venting atmosphere. It likely wouldn't be long until it's crew was dead.

Admiral Ives would receive a reply from the Watchtower, the Project Foreman hailing on a crackling wide-band radio transmission.

"This is Foreman Alfonse, we will comply with your request, but will need time to evacuate my crew off of this watchtower, no hostile actions will be taken, just have mercy on us! We're civilian contractors!" He pleaded, before putting down the receiver.

"I want explosive charges on all major support structures, set the self destruct for one Millicenton. Signal the evacuation."

At that moments alarms sounded, blaring throughout the watchtower, the self destruct counting down, the crews worked quickly to load what they could carry and evacuate, making their way to their docked construction vessels.

"Let's go people! Self destruct is going to go off in eight centons!" A foreman shouted.

The evacuation was hasty, ships moving away from the watchtower, and jumping into FTL.

Ten minutes, the entire watchtower exploded in a violent explosion, vaporizing the entire superstructure, and sending debris careening out in every direction, leaving the derelict cruisers in it's wake, one Gemenon class had already stopped venting, life signs faded, but the Reverence remained, it's crew working quickly to restore engines and leave.
 
The Diplomat was practicing the auditory language by making a small bubble in her gel matrix with a tight string of the material down the center connecting from top to bottom. She would move the central coord to create sound.

“Greet-ings. GREETINGS. Grrrreeetings. GrEAtings.” She said, practicing one of the words they had managed to decipher. She was feeling very proud of their mission so far. The Hive Mother would be very pleased indeed! Very suddenly there was an odd signal that rolled through the ship. It was different than the communication signal and didn’t seem to be saying something. She wondered if they should ask their new found friends or not. The Pilot figured it was just a star. They gave off strange signals sometimes. The Diplomat consented and turned her thoughts back to practicing.

“GReeTTTTingsSsS. Greeetings, I aAAamM. GreatINgs, IAmmm.”

One of the others informed her that they were ready to send a message. She rolled over them and flashed colors brightly. After a few minutes of thinking and last minute debating they were ready. It was sent in their language, the on and off code, and the various audible languages.


GREETINGS

WE ARE THE GELS. WE COME TO LEARN ABOUT YOUR SPECIES AND PLANET. WE WERE DRAWN HERE BY THE SIGNALS. WE DO NOT WISH TO FIGHT.

THANK YOU
 
Some time later, the freighter of designation C-23 made its final approach to the Solaris, ordered for a hangar cleared but for emergency medical personnel, an a duty squad of naval marines with riot weapons. Spacing accidents were unpredictable, as the Dominion well knew from the past. Even experienced pilots could become delirious after sudden exposure to the vast emptiness of space. The presence was purely precautionary, and hopefully unnecessary.

'Ease the bay open, C-23. We want to announce what's on the other side, in case they're disoriented in there.' Corporal Olive commed over her implant, receiving a click in response as acknowledgement. The bay began to crack open, halting after a few inches. Syncing to the local hangar speaker, the young man called out to the pilot within.

"Unidentified pilot, you are in Docking Bay 46-A, Hangar Level of the SDSS Solaris. We have a medical team on standby to get you checked out after your accident. Please respond if you are able." Magnified but not unduly so, his voice was calm, an intentionally soothing tone to it.



Everyone in the CIC stared in shock at the clear communication received from the unknown vessel, before someone cursed, a fellow officer chuckling.

"Pay up, fifty units."

"Stow that, Riggs, Helsey." The commander suppressed a smile, however, a secure channel with the Downfall's AI, Regulus. 'That's three hours of paperwork you're responsible your handling alone. They cracked us first.'

Regulus' laughter in his mind was cheerful though, as the man reached for the communications link once more.

"Well met, strangers. This is Commander Ivan Strichler of the SDS Icarus' Downfall. We are respresentatives of the Shade Dominion, with our presence here being to establish an interception zone around a prolific space navigation hazard. If you understand this, please respond."

"Power down direct-fire weapons, but keep the battlescreen and point defense online. Just in case."



The advancing strike force merely held it's position as the Aschen survivors made their preparations and fled. They waited even after they had left, coordinating with the network of satellites to scour if any had elected to tempt fate by remaining behind. The detonation of the fledgling watchtower was a mild surprise when it happened, yet even then, they waited. Thirty minutes later, it was decided that the Aschen had well and truly elected to depart, and a small group of five Surtrs was assigned to maintain vigilance over the rally point while the others returned to the Solaris to announce a conclusion to the operation.
 
The Diplomat rippled, her excitement making her want to just spread her gel matrix into little springs and bounce around, but that was probably unprofessional and ill advised. The message they received back was promising.


The six Gels in the bridge worked quickly to figure out the message. There was especially a lot of confusion about the terms ‘Ivan Strichler of the SDS Icarus’ Downfall’ and ‘Shade Dominion’. ‘Prolific’ was another hard one, so they decided to just skip those words. It seemed that they were determining their reason for being there as the Gel had done and wished a response.


More discussion and 10 minutes later the Gels sent out their reply. They decided to start with what they didn’t know.


WELL MET

PLEASE DEFINE THE FOLLOWING TERMS:

IVAN STRICHLER OF THE SDS ICARUS DOWNFALL

SHADE DOMINION

PROLIFIC

PLEASE IDENTIFY SPACE HAZARD. NONE DETECTED.

PLEASE ALLOW A REPRESENTATIVE TO GREET YOU.

WE WISH TO COMPREHEND

THANK YOU


The Diplomat was all at once excited and scared of potentially meeting the new species. What if they were like the glow worms back home and smelled rotten. What if they spoke in screeching noises. Or, worst off, what if they were beings of hot! What if their ships were too hot and she boiled to death! She gave the ships a once over and assure herself that if it was too hot when she got close she would just not enter. She would come back and continue negotiations on the ship. The Captain sensed her discomfort and reassured her that ships showed the other ship at safe temperatures.
 
The Pilot kept her weapon leveled on the cracked door, for a good thirty seconds as she considered her next course of action, scenarios playing out in her mind, with none of them being very good. There were likely thousands of soldiers on the other end of that door.

She gritted her teeth through the opaque, glossy visor that kept her suit pressurized, and then she slowly set the MC-1 down on the decking, and held her hands up.

"I'm coming out, please don't shoot, I'm unarmed!" She called out, with a thick Aerilonian accent. However the vox in the suit distorted the voice, deepening it, changing it's tone.

In a second motion, she un-holstered her sidearm, a Magnetron Pistol, setting it on the floor as well, then she took two steps back and got on her knees. In one swift motion she placed her hands on her head and waited for the swarm of soldiers to rush in, praying to the gods they didn't gun her down where she knelt.

---

Amidst a cluster of anomalies an alien vessel was slowly drifting through the blackness of space, observing everything that had gone on just moments before, the strange metallic, sleek vessel maintained it's course, a stance of watchful waiting. It's Commander, Captain Rygar Elson, of the Guardian Corps for the Kushan Order stood watchful, as augmented reality data streamed through his cortical implant.

The interior of the vessel was spartan at best, with the ship's functions being regulated through high-speed cortical interfaces, which allowed the Captain and the crew to command the ship as if it was an extension of their own bodies.

The vessel's reactionless drives engaged, causing a gravity sink to form at the bow of the ship, moving it forward by literally 'falling' towards the Gravity sink.

A gravity sink formed behind the ship, slowing it to a stop as it revealed itself to the satellite network, emerging from an anomaly, which seemed to move around it like water, the sun gleaming off it's iridescent hull.
 
With no fanfare, flash of light, or any revealing signs, the RAID SC01 appeared in the system. The crew was still moving and working as they had been a second before millions of kilometers away. The ship was not very large compared to even just their own fleets, with a crew of only a hundred and fifty Triplane Coalition Soldiers, most of them there on diplomatic and scientific crews. Of course, a small ship is much better when the objective is not to fight but instead to move quickly. They had not even wasted any mass on weapons systems.

"Captain, any recent signals?" Alpha asked, standing on the fore observation deck of the ship. His communicator was tied to the ship's designated

"You're not going to believe this sir, but it looks like we hopped into a system with multiple ships."

"Multiple?"

"They're still coming in off the AI. This... This is incredible!"

"Do you have a number for me captain?"

"More than four thousand, they're still coming in."

"Absolutely incredible. Ping them with a prime signal and a batch of written language on repeat, once you're done that prepare one of the dropships, and the EVA suits."

"Yes, sir. I'll have it done immediately."

"Hail me if there is anything else that needs to be done. I'll get my boys ready."

Alpha closed active coms, pressing a spot on his black forearm where his optical implant was displaying a screen. In another press, he opened them to the four other men that made up RAID.

"Ghost, Hawk, Stone, Green, I want you up on the observation deck with me in full gear. We just popped into a system with over four thousand other vessels and we need to make impressions. All of you should be here in the next ten minutes. Go."

-------

The captain of the ship sent orders to the Chief of Communications, who in turn began transmitting binary code in a radius through radio. Hopefully they would still be carrying sensor for it, and understand the message protocols with the prime number chain, then be able to use that to decrypt the language batch sent next. The massage was crafted by their own AI, if even one of the other vessels carried even one AI capable of doing something similar it should be able to decode it in no time.
 
Icarus' Downfall was a flurry of activity in the CIC as the Communications lit up with messages, working on responses to the hail. Strichler mused on how to respond to the request of an envoy boarding his vessel. Allowing his staff officers to handle the details, he asked a postponement on the request until he conferred with the Solaris.

'Definitions requested, in sequence.

Ivan Strichler, name of captain.
Icarus' Downfall, name of vessel communicating with you.
Shade Dominion, name of political entity of which Icarus' Downfall belongs to.
Prolific, of being present in large quantities, or in this case, a single large amount.

Spatial hazard is nearby system. System extremely dangerous for faster-than-light travel, possesses hazards for real-space navigation.

Please allow time for approval for representative, must contact superiors.

Thank you, and you are welcome.'

The captain settled back, his eyes unfocusing as he synced with the frigate's systems to access the Dominion network via satellite to conference with his own commanders on the distant station.



Signaling the freighter pilot to continue opening the bay, Olive raised a brow with the rest of the fifteen strong contingent on the other side, his marines relaxing their riot gear slightly at the unexpected pose of the pilot within. Perplexed on how to proceed, the corporal was spared answering the awkward meeting as the head of the medical team standing by stepped forward, a woman in her fifties.

Lieutenant Nancy Hill impatiently beckoned the figure forward, gesturing to her data pad. Her soft voice carried as she veritably barked at the pilot, motioning at her team, dressed in white with mixed insignia, but with the clear red cross across the torso identifying them as medics. "Well don't just stand there, will you? Come over here, so you can get checked out. Then you can go dread your debriefing before we figure who we're sending you back to."

Corporal Olive turned away, fighting furiously to suppress a grin at the vehement insistence of the woman. Her greying hair might be mistaken for transition to retired ages, but only a week ago he had personally seen her lift the victim of a failed anti-grav cart incident in a fireman's carry for a hundred meters and come out not even breathing hard. But the no-nonsense woman still managed to come across grandmotherly.



The contact was logged and flagged, and within thirty seconds a pair of intercept vessels were sliding free of a TD hop in confrontation. Twinned Longsword destroyers, maintaining a five thousand kilometer gap between them, advanced slowly through space, cautious of the contact given the unusual readings received from the satellite network. The usual challenge wouldn't do, as the vector of ingress was incorrect, so the initial hail was hastily adjusted.

'This is the SDS Envy and Spite and Wrath and Ruin. You have emerged from a region marked by spatial navigation hazards. Please hold position for inspection and state intentions. Repeat, you have emerged from a region marked with spatial navigation hazards, hold position for inspection and state intentions.'



The intercept vessel that swiftly descended on the RAID SC01 was a knee jerk response given recent events. A sixteen kilometer long Pariah dreadnaught slid free of Tunnel Space a mere fifty thousand kilometers distant, lashing the vessel with active sensors and targeting streams, before curtly issuing the cordon challenge, in the standard spoken challenge, then transmitted code transmission.

"This is the SDS Kingslayer, you have approached a local hazardous area. Again, this is the SDS Kingslayer, you are approaching a hazardous region. Please respond to state intentions."
 
<Admiral,> the Communications Officer spoke directly to Alpha via the communicator, <We got a return communication, audio and digital. I'll route it to the AI and you now.>

A blurb of gibberish went across, vaguely mammalian in nature but not of any similarity to the four languages of The Coalition.

<AI decoded the message to be phonetics based on letters, but that is all. No language batch yet.>

<They must have no proper first contact policy. Pause the stream for two seconds, then add a response in Coalition, then Ciliarian, then Yunjiverite, then Popapontian. Have it say, "This is a diplomatic envoy of The Triplane Coalition, send please attach language batch with communications." Then in Coalition after each one, "Over." Once that is done pass the language batch again. Understood?>

<Yes sir, I'll compile it now.>

Alpha looked back down to his arm, pressing a few "keys" linked to the ship's forward observation displays, blowing up the closest detected object to view better. The ship was massive, large enough that if it was a carrier their own ship would be able to dock inside with ample space for fighters.

<And Captain, please activate the orange chevron lights, I don't believe the ship will be threatened by ours. Keep your finger over the emergency warp just incase though.>
 
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