Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Orion-Cygnus Arm

The Pilot slowly stood up, she was somewhat shocked at the sight of medics, as opposed to a strike team that was going to rush her. This could bode fortunate, they didn't know who she was or who she served, an alien ship caught in the crossfire.

She could play this to her advantage, so long as she was careful as to who knew what.

Slowly her hands went to the collar of her helmet, twisting the friction lock, and undoing the fasteners, this caused the helmet to hiss, as the pressure was equalized with the cargo bay, and the wider bay of the Solaris. Pushing up, she removed the helmet, exposing a woman with a sharp, angular face and pale skin, along with striking black hair that was rather frazzled, and done in a hasty ponytail. Her eyes were a grey-blue, almost like river stones, and her face lacked the blemishes and imperfections of an unaltered human.

She knew the quickest and most surefire way for them to discern her identity was for medics to poke about, this also carried the risk of cross contamination, she would refuse their aid as best she was able, playing at the facade that she was just another alien.

"I'm fine, thank you." She insisted, the thick Aerilonian accent garbling her words. subtly refusing their medical care, There was a brief hint of confusion in her eyes, at the fact that the room wasn't full of enemy soldiers. She only briefly glanced back to her crash chair, and then brought her gaze forward. There was a sense of urgency, she knew either a massive retaliatory strike would be imminent; or a strategic missile launch. And she did not want to be aboard Solaris when the entire star system went up into a hyper-nova, or the initial tricobalt missiles detonated.

---

Aboard the Eye of Arran, there was visible confusion among the crew, as the incoming voice data was parsed, translated using ancient alien texts from what few databases were salvaged from before The Collapse. The voice played in their minds, in their native language.

Captain Elson let the data flow into his mind, they had stumbled into an area not only inhabited by alien life, but strange spatial anomalies. This didn't make sense, as they had previously been exploring the reaches of the Karos Graveyard, salvaging ancient technology for repurposing. They couldn't have strayed far from their area of operation, such a thing was impossible given that conventional FTL was all but useless, and traversing hyperspace required either a massive Hyperspace core, or a gateway, the only safe routes through the Galaxy.

A galaxy that Captain Elson was certain had been laid barren since the Collapse.

And yet, there was life all around them, hundreds of individual contacts brimming with life signs, nothing made sense, and the Captain couldn't even formulate a response. They were scavengers, not diplomats. Their vessel was outfitted to defend against the brutal warp storms, and the occasional pirate raid and yet an entire fleet of alien vessels loomed before them.

The message came in on a radio signal, this too perplexed Elson as quantum communications had completely superseded classical subspace, and conventional radio transmissions, utilizing forms of entanglement, communication and data processing was instantaneous, regardless of distances.

His mind worked, in complete synergy with the other members of the crew, considerations, voices heard, decisions made in a fraction of a second, their consensus reached through high-speed communication via their cortical implants.

"They are extremely primitive, whoever these aliens are, it is likely they wouldn't comprehend any communication from us. Or have the equipment to receive or transmit." Bridge Officer Nabaaht explained, via his own cortical implant. "We have lost contact with fleet command."

"Impossible." Elson retorted. "No Spatial tears have ever been able to break our communications link before, these class three tears shouldn't inhibit anything."

Nabaaht shrugged slightly, and then returned to his console, formulating a reply.

A reply which was sent in the best way they could, using radio technology the ship wasn't really equipped to send or receive. It came as a powerful energy burst from the vessel. The data carried on the surge of energy that, on most conventional electrical systems would short out or overload, a radio transmission so powerful it acted as an EMP.

The EM pulse was so powerful, anything within five hundred thousand kilometers of the strange vessel would be completely fried. Those outside would likely experience massive power spikes, shield fluctuations, blown fuses, blown relays, and shorted computer circuitry. It was akin to someone taking a bullhorn to someone's ear, an un-modulated radio pulse that carried a powerful burst of data, in a language that was almost completely indecipherable, having evolved in total isolation. However the language had it's roots in Anquietas, which meant it could be translated.

"WE ARE KUSHAN, WE ARE SALVAGE, WE ARE FRIEND, PLEASE UNWEAPONS."

---
 
The Gels were preparing their next correspondence when they received a second transmission. This one was strange. It seemed to follow the same on and off pattern, but the code was different. Eventually they decided to continue the current conversation and would ask about the second transmission before answering. They would still need to decode the sequence.


ADDED TO THE CODE

WE WILL WAIT

IS THIS YOUR TRANSMISSION?


The Diplomat flashed nervously. This second signal didn't match up with what they knew of the system. It was out of place and incompatible with what they had learned so far, but was slowly working itself out under the scrutiny of the Translator. But what was it doing there? It didn't even seem to resemble anything they saw from their home world. The crystal discussed it back and forth, theorizing over what it could be. Very suddenly every single Gel in the ship shuttered. A third signal rolled over them. It was an ugly, screeching, electronic signal that set their matrix shivering. This was even more disconcerting. This changed a lot, and the Gels hoped that their friends spoke quickly with their Hive Mother.
 
The frigate involved in communication with the vessels who called themselves "Gels" paused at the unusual frequency burst, crew idly wondering if a secondary detonation from the battle had occurred. Receiving the new transmission, the officer manning Communication looked to the commander, who blinked rapidly after a few minutes.

He glanced at the main screen, skimming the message from their contacts. "Approval's been granted for a direct meet, but they want us to do it at a rendezvous outside the Cordon zone. Sparrowhawk apparently passed on warning from the TNG about a possible retaliatory strike from the Aschen. Respond back, give them coordinates to RV-2a, and wait for confirmation of understanding. Once we're on the same page, we'll make the jump there and say hello in person. And about this transmission, I haven't the foggiest what they're talking about."

Nodding, the message was composed, and transmitted.

"Approval for direct meeting has been granted, but requested to be done at a more distant location for safety reasons. Are you able to receive map location (coordinates) for a meeting point (rendezvous) to go to (relocate)? To final question, we are not aware of a secondary transmission. We noted a high energy burst on sensors, but did not transmit."



Clucking her tongue, Lt. Hill shrugged, raising her pad to present it's surface scanner to sweep over the woman, a penetrating radar that merely checked for obvious damages. Seeing none, she shrugged, looking to the corporal. "Nothing major. Yours now, Olive."

Pinging her team through her implant, a slight gesture had them shoulder their gear and roll the crash cart brought alone away, as Cpl. Olive stepped forward, gesturing with his arm for the pilot to follow. "We'll take you to a debrief room now. Right this way, ma'am."

A five minute walk away, the debriefing room was located on the right of the corridor. Inside, it was furnished with padded chairs, a table, and an food processing unit. Two people sat within, both dressed in the uniforms of Agents. Unarmed, and with the trademark coats folded over the back of the chairs they occupied, they were otherwise unremarkable. The male was fair skinned, with pale brown hair cut short, brown eyes looking inquisitive. The woman was reclined back, a datapad in her hands. With skin dark enough to appear black, her unusual gold eyes were locked on the pad, a stylus in hand. On arrival, she glanced up.

"Hello there. I'm Jordan Preecher, and this is my partner, Mai Ona." It was the man that spoke. "We'll be covering your debriefing. We're mostly focused on where you came from, so we know how to get you back where you belong."

Of course, the corporal knew that there would likely be more than that, but there would be no reaction from him about the knowledge. Debriefs were always handled by Agents, and it was standard protocol that one of the two was always a telepath. It had been a long, long time since the nation had needed to do a proper interrogation, when it was more practical to simply draw any other information desired from the mind of the subject.



A stunning power surge rippled through the intercepting Longswords, sufficiently disruptive that surface systems failed briefly as the virtual EMP scrambled the power regulators of the primary lines along both vessels. Secondary lines winked to power with hardly a pause as each vessel's AI noted the problem, while tertiary warmed but remained inert as a precautionary measure. Primary communications nodes, however, were a near total loss, their focus on the reception such that the internal components were virtually liquid, not designed to handle such a potent transmission. After several minutes of salvaging the data archives, and after cross checking the language against samples to form a rough translation, Envy and Spite reviewed, then conferenced on how to respond.

"Obviously, conventional hailing isn't an option." The Comm officer muttered darkly, reading damage reports. "Our systems are hardened enough that we didn't get fried, but the direct receivers might as well be gone. Hell, that frazzled the fucking battlescreen, and our capacitors are full thanks to whoever the hell this is. I'll be the first to get to say we've managed to stumble across people that practically could weaponized their comm relay."

"Alright. If electronic communications isn't an option, I need a roster of Agents. Specifically, telepaths." The captain picked up his personal data-pad, as the AI support compiled the list from the vessel's duty roster. Scanning for a moment, he pinged the second of his three. Not on the current duty cycle, but everyone was aware that down-time could be interrupted if the need was sufficient. A moment later, the man, Peter Movik, answered groggily.

"Yes sir, Cap'n?"

'You're needed for communication. Get yourself to a sphere, and then sync up with the bridge.' Silent to those on the bridge, direct implant communication worked differently for Agents, who's personal computer system had to be carried, instead of directly implanted. Heard through the subdermal audio implants each used, it did bear the unfortunate requisite of a lag from direct thought to thought communications.

"Aye, sir. Be five minutes."

'Make it three.' The captain chuckled at the groan.

----------
​
Properly set up and briefed, Movik reached out into space with his mind, feeling for the sentients on the contact vessel. Strapped into one of the onboard Psycho-Sphere's, the substantially vast distance caused little strain, his own efforts magnified by the engineering that created an amplifier system for psionic minds. A paragon design involving carefully aligned orbits of Rayviel particles, the crystal infused Luminaran sheath that formed the devices acted as multi-stage repeater, taking the latent psionic energy from the user and magnifying it as it passed through each layer, until it reached a point where a user could flex their powers for tens of thousands of kilometers, with potency far beyond their own personal classification could achieve otherwise.

As useful as they were, their ability to be employed by psionics was procedurally restricted to a strict schedule, to prevent addiction to the sensation of such increased ability. However, exceptions were made when the need arose, such as this.

Movik was merely acting as a transceiver in this instance, the risk of startling the unknown contact found less than the risk to critical systems attempting to contact the vessel with more mundane means. The Agent focused, then allowed a slight ease in his personal defenses, trying to allow the alien's mind to impart its own processes, attempting to let them hear his broadcast with their own words, though an undercurrent remained without the empathic attempt at translation.

"We hear you, Kushan. We do not wish for conflict, but we are tasked with monitoring and restricting progress to an from this system. We would like to ascertain your motives, and if you wish to pass, we would like to perform an inspection, as per our standing orders."



Kingslayer received the communication, parsing it to discover a second alien language. Within the data, the system AI's deciphered four separate dialects, though cataloging would remain pending until enough correlation markers could be established. Holding its position, the mammoth Dominion vessel sent a transmission back to the vessel, repeating the challenge hail, but also containing a packet of relevant language samples with a collated list of words that would make a direct impact in immediate communications.



The most recent transmission from the Sparrowhawk was something currently being discussed by the commanding officers of the Solaris.

"Jenovan is here?" Eidolan could hardly believe his ears. The legendary admiral was a virtual icon to those of the Admiralty. That the man wasn't on the Council himself was almost inconceivable, though it was rumoured that he'd been offered the job. Multiple times. "And the Director?"

"Yes sir Admiral." The response from the corvette was delayed about a second from real time. "Admiral Grieves intends to assist on the border situation, while Director Issane has elected to remain in system. She's requesting a pick-up for the Admiral, and a heavier vessel for herself."

"Dispatch a Ymir group to Sol, immediately. Send a frigate with them for the Forward Admiral's return voyage. Sparrowhawk," the man continued as his staff moved to get a group organized. "Thank you for taking the initiative. Inform the Prime Minister that we are moving a support group in system, and have a vessel planet-bound for personnel retrieval."

"Understood, sir. Sparrowhawk out."

As the channel closed, the task force admiral leaned back in his chair. Two Alpha-class psionics had just appeared when he needed the support, and the TNG was offering to pool resources. The knot of dread that had been coiling in his gut about the prospects of a counter-strike eased slightly.
 
Erin offered no resistance to the medical officers as she led her to the debriefing room, and merely made a mental note of those present inside the debriefing room. She noticed the strange woman, perhaps she was some sort of super-soldier, or something else. The IIA Had briefed her on the possibility of psychic incursions upon capture and interrogation, simply based on the existence of psychics within the TIB, thus was standard protocol to put up mental defenses against both a physical and psychic interrogation. The IIA had taught her several mental countermeasures to telepathic intrusion, keeping her thoughts scrambled, doing math problems aloud in her head, even using her own mind to combat the intrusion of the telepathic mind. It was techniques like these that were practiced in the Aurora Chair, which was standard protocol for Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape.

She never could succeed in resisting the forcible extractions of the Aurora chair, of course, she knew that no one ever could unless they wanted their brains to be liquefied.

Slowly the pilot sat down, appearing distracted, and she uttered the standard words captured Aschen prisoners were trained to tell their captors.

"Captain Erin Solis, Pilot in the Imperial Aschen Navy, Serial Number ES-324-A, You can either kill me or release me, I will reveal nothing further to you." She stated, her Aerilonian accent thick, while her mental defenses remained up.

She grit her jaw, grinding upon two hollow teeth implanted in the back of her jaw, each carrying a harmless, inert chemical within, that when mixed would create a highly potent toxic gas, the likes of which could kill everyone aboard a vessel in minutes, including herself.

Even if the telepath got into her mind, it wouldn't reveal much, as it was standard practice to compartmentalize knowledge to prevent captured soldiers from jeopardizing a mission. All Erin knew was that she was to map the anomalies and take photos of the Cordon, a mission that had obviously failed.

Something else had her distracted though, but she kept her mind closed, hiding whatever it was.

---

Captain Elson frowned slightly, as the readouts returned to his implant, apparently the sheer magnitude of their transmission damaged the components of the alien vessels before them, what was even more disconcerting was the psychic energies reaching out into space.

When Movik reached out, and the connection to Elson's mind was made; he was hit with a sudden onslaught of hundreds of minds linked at once, as if the linked brains had literally 'cloud computed' their thought processes, which meant the sheer volume of mental data was likely highly overwhelming, causing severe mental strain until Elson recognized what was going on, and opted to filter the data from his cortical implant.

Direct mind-to-mind communication eliminated the need for language, and Elson was briefly disoriented by the sudden disconnect from the rest of his crew, but opted to communicate this way to filter out unnecessary noise.

"I am Rygel son of Mikel, of the House of Elson, Captain of the Eye of Arran." Elson replied, holding his head. Telepathic communication was plausible, but had largely fallen into disfavor over the cortical implants, which were much more efficient. Movik likely could sense the curiousity, the sheer apprehension of Elson's empathetic aura.

And then the bombshell happened.

"We were salvaging the remains of a civilization, archiving it's knowledge for study, and then our vessel was come upon by a class twelve Star Tempest, from which we came here. How are you here? Everything was cleansed in the Collapse." Elson replied, confused. "There should be no life here... and yet..."

There was a long pause, Aliens asking to inspect his vessel, possibly come aboard. This simply wouldn't do, they could bring aboard micro-organisms that his crew did not have an immunity to.

"I cannot allow you to come aboard, please understand that we have had no alien contact, and you coming aboard may bring micro-organisms that we have no immunity to."

Without the data from the rest of his crew, Elson chose to use augmented reality to take in his data, watching a readout, there were only class one and two tempests, with the occasional class three. Something caught him as odd, being unable to detect further tempests outside the star system.
 
<Admiral, it worked, we got a language batch. Hold on while I pass it to the AI...>

<Turn on the two-way signal for the AI, and return their language batch along with the frequency, then ours on the open channel. They'll understand what to do, Captain.>

<Yes sir. Should I hail the diplomats?>

<No, they will meet tomorrow. Put dropship 1 into vacuum mode and start the engine, I'm crossing over first.>

<Right away, sir.>

Alpha turned away from the window where the magnification number was steadily decreasing as the aliens grew nearer, and stomped down the rubber padded corridor to the weightless center of the ship. He slipped into the tube, pushing up on the rungs gently to descend down to the hangar area. Once he hit the floor, he floated out and back into the corridors with artificial gravity. The Exo-suits were all stored in the primary airlock, 20 of them, with 5 marked specifically for the RAID crew. Alpha started putting his on, pressing a button on his forearm to communicate with his team.

<Everyone to the hangar, we are going to be flying out for direct contact. Bring all of your gear, but safeties on and nothing chambered. We don't want an accident.>
 
The second signal was decoded, the third however was uncooperative, resisting all attempts at decoding. After discussion and the next transmission from their new friends, this Icarus’ Downfall, they decided to send what they had received along with their response.

WE ARE HAPPY TO MEET YOU.
SEND THE COORDINATES. WE WILL ADD THEM TO THE CODE.
IF YOU GO AHEAD WE WILL TRACK YOU.
AFTER CORRESPONDENCE WE DETECTED A SECOND SIGNAL.
WE SHALL SEND YOU TO THEM NOW ALONG WITH CURRENT KNOWLEDGE OF THE MESSAGE.
<Raw signal from the first message>
<Translation>
REQUESTING CODE KEY
<Raw signal from the second message>
<Translation>
NO AVAILABLE TRANSLATION.
SUGGESTED COURSE OF ACTION?

The air in the bridge was electric. Not only had they managed to contact this new species, but they would soon be able to meet matrix to matrix and have a real conversation! They informed the other two ships who had been listening and everyone celebrated, the interior of all three ships awash with multicolored lights.
 
"We'll attempt to piece together the secondary transmission together. Transmitting coordinates now. Will meet you there."

Icarus' Downfall broadcast the coordinates for a point some thirty lightyears distant, before magnifying the signal strength of it IFF identifier. Navigation generated the same coordinates within their own systems, preparing for the relatively short TD jump. About thirty seconds later, the vessel generated a Tunnel Space entrance and made the hop, navigating a several thousand kilometers out of the direct coordinates to avoid any unpleasant collisions with the other vessels.


Jordan merely retained his smile as Erin, the Aschen pilot, spoke. Mai was sharing the dialogue from her surface perusal simultaneously, confirming the truth and picking up on the stray surface thoughts that weren't practiced chaff. For her part, she merely made notations on her datapad, allowing her partner to do the talking.

"Hello Miss Solis, and what a remarkably concise summary. To answer, in sequence, we knew you were an Aschen pilot, I don't give a damn about your serial number, and we have no intentions of killing you if you remain civil. By which I mean stop fiddling with your suicide option, because I can assure you that if you attempt that route, you alone will be going to meet your makers alone. "

The man's smile took an ever so slightly hard edge to it. The last had been included from what his telepathic partner had picked up, a focus on the woman's teeth that was more than mere nervous habit. Intended to throw her off balance, his addition to that was no bluff. His talent was that of a pyrokinetic, a Beta-class talent, and while it strained his mental prowess to perform a sudden thermobaric incineration, it was in his capabilities. Taking a nic-stick from his pocket, he held it up to his lips and light it by thought alone, taking a drag.

"If taking pictures was your detail, then all I need from you is the proper protocol on how to address the return of a marooned pilot to Aschen space, without having the retrieval pod said pilot is in being shot out of hand for having foreign markings. If you can provide that, we can have you on your way to being home, safe and sound, in..." Jordan raised his wrist to observe the chrono there. "A few hours at most."



Movik merely recited the alien's response audibly, wincing at first at the unexpected onslaught of mental images, phrases, and thoughts on the mind he'd chosen. It reminded him of the heuristic link that the Dominion used in their own vessels, a network of minds connected intimately with the vessel's AI system. He waited for further communication from his captain, as the return communique started filling his viewscreen before him.

"We understand, Rygel. To address you points in order.

"We don't quite understand what this Star Tempest is you speak of, nor this Collapse. We are vessels of the Shade Dominion, tasked with maintaining a restricted passage to and from the Sol System, which is currently plagued by anomalies that render space flight hazardous, and faster-than-light drive systems wildly unpredictable within the border. The system you just left is substantially populated, and we are currently under preparation orders from a local galactic power that was forcibly removed due to a conflict of interest with our purpose here.

"Our inspection can be non-intrusive, if you give us permission to use penetrating scans to search for anomalous readings. In addition to preventing non-critical traffic into the system, we are attempting to prevent both the import of destabilizing agents into the system, or the export of the instabilities themselves from the system. Standard quarantine work."

The Agent leaned back in his crash couch, waiting for the response to relay back.



The Dominion dreadnaught attempting to address the lesser alien vessel received the return transmissions, attempting to puzzle through the alien language without any stable reference points. Returning to prior communications, the AIs on board attempted to decode the language and match it against their own, noting a few commonalities to keywords. Addressing the rest of the linguistic bathes, the Kingslayer attempted to rebroadcast it's original challenge hail, coupling the original transmission with a textual comparison to the alien language that it's electronic support had suggested the highest probability of accurate translation, with the given data. This dual language transmission was amended, noting the approach of the alien vessel.

"This is the SDS Kingslayer, you have approached a local hazardous area. Again, this is the SDS Kingslayer, you are approaching a hazardous region. Do not approach this vessel before proper communications are established. Failure to comply will be met with a warning shot. Please respond to state intentions."



Some time later, a long frigate made the crossing from the system's edge, making the brief jump the moving Solaris with its cargo of Valoran passengers and the Forward Admiral. Approval for docking was swift, and the vessel swept inwards to a cavernous bay on the side of the station, an escort waiting for the passengers to disembark onto the Dominion station.

The new arrivals would be greeted with a pair of twin lines of naval personnel standing at attention, with a small party of naval officers at the end of the brief path holding a salute in honor of Jenovan Grieves. As the Dominion admiral returned the salute on arrival, they would be escorted to the Command Deck to conference with the command of Solaris.
 
"You could have fooled me." Erin replied curtly, keeping a guarded stance, she stopped grinding her teeth.

"After shooting up that fleet without so much as a provocation, I figured I'd just catch a slug after your psychic learned all she could from me." She said, glaring at Mai.

"It doesn't matter, I would simply be executed for failing my mission and being captured." She said, a brief thought slipped, of just how bad things had become within the Aschen Empire, where propaganda, fear and paranoia reigned supreme. One where Big Brother and Imperial Socialism invaded every facet of aschen life.

"You could try the watchtower, but any foreign ships going into imperial territories would be destroyed on sight, even if you were returning me. The empires sort of taken a hardline approach after the TNG began capturing and executing aschen hostages, and seizing tech con properties containing technologies and intelligence vital to the security of the Empire. which kinda was the cause of this whole.. well.. until your people got involved." Erin said flatly.

----

Elson's eyes widened just a brief moment before he committed his reply through his cortical implant.

"A star tempest is an area of destabilized meta-phasic spatial activity, you refer to them as anomalies, we've studied them in depth after the collapse." Elson replied.

There was a pause, a strong sense of emotional distress emanating from Captain Elsons mind.

"The collapse was an event brought upon by a race of people who called themselves the Aschen Empire, they used the wrath of the ancients and cleansed the galaxy of all life following a bloody and violent conflict." There was a brief pause as Elson continued his reply.

"The war was with the Shade Dominion, which is impossible for you to be so; as the shade dominion left our galaxy, only returning in small number to study the tempest and search the source of the wrath of the ancients, besides the point; your vessels are far too primitive to belong to the Shade Dominion." Elson replied not in a condescending way, but a very matter of fact way.

"I will allow a penetrating scan, but understand that you may detect anomalous readings to your primitive scanners; I assure you they are normal functions of this ship."

With that said, the shimmering sleek metallic hull rippled and peeled back from bow to stern, revealing smooth interlocking crystalline plates. The scan would reveal more questions then answers, as the Kushan ship was made from materials completely alien to this reality, and it seemed the vessel itself acted as a conduit to the anomalies, having a synergistic effect with them.

Aside from strange readings, including the ships power plant which used elements that were more anomalous than anything, it all appeared quite stable, the scan also detected roughly thirty humanoid life signs. Upon conclusion of the scan, the strange metallic substance moved to coat the vessel once more and further scans would fail to penetrate.
 
Approximately five light-minutes from the Sol System, a wormhole formed in the inky void. The transition from normal space to that providing the bridge across vast distances was smooth, barely registering as anything more than the comings of several vessels, and was thus nothing out of the ordinary for this area of the galaxy. As the abnormal portion widened, a clusters of smooth, enticingly beautiful craft slowed into the flow of normal space-time, small ripples of electromagnetic energy cascading out from their entry point as they returned to sub-luminal velocities. As the last vessel dropped out of super-luminal travel, the wormhole spooled up within itself, returning to a normal area once more, leaving the dozen ships within easy travel of the nearby star system.

The Iarin had decided that their admiral was in enough danger to warrant their arrival, and had sent a small formation of ships to retrieve her, including her flagship. They had used the telemetry provided by her drones and her own reports, as well as broadcasts on insterstellar frequencies, to manage their jump from Iarin Space to ensure they were not caught in the anomalous events occurring around the planet that Admiral Assara was currently on, but had made sure that they were sufficiently close enough to be within easy travel. As they switched over to sub-light propulsion, the massive vessels, technically warships, accelerated to enter the Sol System with haste.
 
The new message was passed directly to the AI as it came in, the computer working to decrypt the language.

... Failure
Passing to Quantum core. ...
... ...
... Alert: Translation completed (24.7% Confidence)

"identify-self SDS Kingslayer [name], subject [untranslatable] hazard zone. identify-self SDS Kingslayer[name], subject [untranslatable] hazard zone. negative [untranslatable] self [untranslatable] message [untranslatable]. [negative] warning weapon. message [untranslatable]."

<Admiral, we parsed some of the language through the Q-cores. It looks like they are trying to warn us of a hazard, should I stop the ship?>

<Yes, stall relative to the star and wait for them to communicate. Are they on the two-way channel?>

<No, not yet, sir. I got a possible read here but it is from another ship too distant to even have recieved it yet, so I am assuming it is a bug.>

<I have an idea, make a diagram and send it.>

<Of the AI channel, sir?>

<Precisely. Make it good.>

Alpha waited as the rest of his team arrived and suited up, then entered the walkway along the hangars. Each one was independently controlled for atmospheres, and the one they wanted had already been vacuumed free for exit. The five stopped briefly in an airlock, waiting to depressurise, then continued on to the ship. The ramp dropped down and they boarded.

-----

<Alright, I need a large datapad and a pen.>

The Recon Officer pulled one of the monitors free, off of his station, passing it to the Captain. A few seconds passed as he carefully navigated to a notes program and started drawing out an image.

<Ready?> The Captain asked, finishing his drawing on the datapad. It was two illustrations of a simple face, a lighting bolt, and a gear, all together in a circle with a signal wave passing between them. Below was a set of lines in circles to represent the frequency to utilise.

<It's sent, I'll put a break and loop it.>
 
A bit of puzzling later and once more pinning the ship’s location in the Galaxy. The Captain gave the order and all three ships became a flurry of activity. The smaller Gels and any unnecessary personnel fit themselves into holes in the walls, protecting themselves from any harmful waves on the other side and the force of proton travel. Only the captain of the lead ship and the pilots stayed where they were, running the ships.
It was really quite a spectacular sight, the pilots glowed bright, flashing a beautiful arrange of pulse and color. Then, very suddenly, the ships disappear into a strange in-between place, then reappear just above the Icarus’ Downfall, far off course for the coordinates, but a good shot considering this signal strength.

WE HAVE ARRIVED
NEXT COURSE OF ACTION?
 
"Duly noted, we need to find a common grounds on jump coordinates." The captain's offhand comment garnered some weak chuckles from the CIC crew, somewhat perturbed at the very near exit of the alien vessels a scant few thousand kilometers distant from the Icarus' Downfall. While it was nearly unheard of, accidental non-space FTL translations into another object were recorded in Dominion history, and most who recalled their history lessons couldn't recall a time where the results hadn't been universally fatal for all parties involved.

The tension of the near miss passed, as the new communication from the contacts came in. Reviewing it, Strichler turned to his XO, Marai Jadeth. "Gather a welcome committee, say two marines, an Agent, and a comms member, and head down to the port bay. I'll dispatch one of our Owls to pick them up and bring them aboard, and once everyone is satisfied that no one's trying to play dangerous games, we can move to the conference room to have a proper meeting."

"Yes sir." The woman started to leave the CIC, moving slowly as she selected from the crew manifest to ping via implant.

His attention going back to Communication, he nodded to resume the channel.

"We're sending over a shuttle craft to pick up your representatives. Unfortunately, it's an armed craft, but it's the only one we have. Sending the codes for the shuttle's communications, to guide it to a suitable pick up point for your envoy."

With the transmission was a data packet containing the comm codes for the Owl shuttle leaving the bay port bay of the frigate.



"We have slightly different modus operandi for varying degrees of threat. While it is true that we struck the fleet occupying a patch of our duty responsibility, it was due to a response to a procedural challenge on the intent behind that fleet here. The Dominion is doing a service for the system as a whole at the behest of the Terran National Government. We have suffered the effects of unstable and unsafe spatial passage for many months back home, with long range scans indicating that the issues extended far beyond our own borders." Jordan explained, shrugging as though the matter was routine. "I would hazard a guess that such a disruption to the entirety of the Onyx Galaxy would be just as disruptive to the Aschen as it was to the Taiyou, SEC, Matokey, and ourselves."

Mai continued to make notes, while her partner took a sip from a glass of water nearby. "You, on the other hand, were merely an observer that suffered a vessel malfunction. A single marooned pilot is a far cry from an immediate and overriding threat to the maintenance of our duties, thus more magnanimous in reception for being unaware of what we are trying to do."

The man pondered for a few moments on the revelation of the difficulties in returning Erin from whence she came in one piece. Idly he smoked and drummed his fingers against his knee absently. Frowning slightly, his gaze refocused on the Aschen pilot.

"Is there any means of a neutral contact to return a recovered pilot? A protocol, an outside border station, anything at all? Hell, even a nearby system with life-sustainable worlds occasionally monitored for signals?"
It was nearly inconceivable to the man that there would be no way at all to return a member of a nation, even as a temporary enemy, to it's borders without running the risk of outright hostility and refusal.



Movik relayed the sending from the Kushan representative, before viewing the vessel as it performed the unusual action as the CIC watched it on screen through a myriad of sensors. Muting his connection as he saw the scene with his mind's eye, he muttered in a small amount of awe.

"What the fuck?"

-----

Envy and Spite's CIC crew were pondering the very same question as the demonstration unfolded before them, the veritable fount of data flowing back through their sensor equipment. The immediate analysis would wait, as the various readings were cataloged and organized in storage. A more in depth perusal and study would be pending when it was copied and transferred to the station, but one thing was clear.

The Kushan vessel was definitely an issue as far as containment.

Several minutes of conference later, and Movik received a message for transmission. He read through it several times, his mind racing as he realized the implications.

"Elson, we think we're beginning to understand what's going on here. The 'star tempests' as you call them, are somewhat understood currently as breaches in space and time, though between what was subject to speculation. What you've described might just offer a portion of an answer to that."

"Currently, we are preparing for a retaliatory strike anticipated as a result of an advance action against an Aschen fleet that was stationed in our duty area. The nearby shrinking anomaly was where that fleet used to be. One of our engineers onboard has dabbled in some theoretical sciences when off duty, and he thinks that you might have come through an anomaly from an alternate timeline in the future."

On a final note, based on the readings we're getting from you, you're pretty much what we're trying to keep from leaving the system incarnate."

"Which says scary thing for what we look like, if that's true," Movik muttered aloud. "Void, we're too primitive for their Shade Dominion?"



Kingslayer received the new communication from the unknown contact, parsing the meaning with an understanding improving by the message, and established the communications link. The primary handling was established through the one of the multiple AI the dreadnaught was installed with, buffered by a veritable labyrinth of software and hardware security firewalls designed to deflect and sever any direct attempts at electronic warfare if any red-flagged code was detected being directed at the artificial intelligence. To better facilitate response time, her CO and communications personnel entered the heuristic link, virtually melding their minds with that of the vessel’s AI systems.

“Attention unknown vessels. This is Commander Frederick Turnbelt, SDS Kingslayer. We’ve accepted the channel, awaiting response. AI support is working on translation efforts as we speak.”



The Observation Control centers for the Solaris were getting their response training put into heavy practice, as yet another contact was detected, reported, and orders were issued for a new interception. Notations were made for the volume of the contact group, and thus acted on accordingly with the interception assignment.

Within thirty seconds of final reports, a task force was selected by control AI and were powering Tunnel drives while interception points were plotted, and the coordinated jump was made in under a minute. Almost instantaneously a detachment involving an assault carrier, assault cruiser, and battleship translated seventy thousand kilometers distant from the Iarin force, the Surtr broadcasting the hail in the common language first.

"This is the SDS Gungir, you have approached a local hazardous area. Again, this is the SDS Gungir, you are approaching a hazardous region. Please respond to state intentions."
 
Last edited:
As written by Script and Lobos...

On arrival to the conference center, the new arrivals would be greeted by a fairly large room, organized into a hemisphere with a large dias on the far wall. The room had multiple lower such platforms with tables, seating arrangements for each currently configured for individual group meetings. Each of these possessed a small staffing of officers to meet with each of the Valoran arrivals, to discuss their abilities and how to apply them with the Cordon task force's function.

As each arrival entered, escorts would take them to the various tables with the typical demonstration of Dominion courtesy and efficiency.

Amongst the first wave of arrivals at the conference center was a small group of four women, each dressed in garb bearing a logo that was likely simultaneously unknown and familiar to many of those in the room. At their fore walked the imposingly muscular figure of Leylana Kalus, commander of the Golden Legion - a force of mercenaries once under the employ of OmniCorp, a company that had since recent times vanished entirely both from the planet and from the memories of most of its citizens. At her side walked Saidra Galliere, an aurean woman with golden-tan skin and lengthy black hair, and Jenna Blackwood, a human woman with her blonde hair tied in a short ponytail, and her face seemingly set into a permanent scowl. Both were amongst the Legion's most capable operatives, the former having served as a personal bodyguard to the corporation's CEO.

The fourth of the figures seemed at least a little bit out of place. Younger than them by the better part of a decade, Kayla's foosteps were almost comically bouncy, and her eyes were skimming around the room, brimming with excitement. Her hair was a bright bubblegum pink in color, matching the garish jumpsuit she wore. A wide variety of gadgetry was affixed to her person, ranging from earpieces to a complicated looking band on her wrist fitted with a screen and a lot of buttons.

A short time later, another small group arrived. This was led by the tall and elegant Silviana Melaidhrin, headmistress of Academia Everia. She was flanked by a pair of Everian battlemages, and strode with purposeful footsteps towards her alotted table.

Not all arrived as groups, however, and one such individual arrival was a beautiful Losenyu woman clad in the flowing silken garb of a dancer. A pair of elegant swords were strapped to her back, and her lengthy chocolate tresses were tied up in a flowing ponytail. Cai Yue, a woman known across Losenji and beyond for her dance and her supposed longevity, practically glided across the room so graceful were her movements as she approached the officer she was directed to. With her was the Dome of Hyphus, entrusted to her by the TNG for use in the system's defense.

Yet others were being sorted for interviews. Harris Thompson, Chen Saikahn, Tivon Shou, Saranna, and Xaraneth, all of them brought to assist in the shield protecting their home. While appearances might unnerve or bewilder, none were turned away as thoughts were put to pondering the best way to utilize these resources.
 
As written by barney_fife and Lobos


Erin slowly shook her head at the inquiry of the man before her. "Neutral contact? Not likely, we live in a hostile galaxy, where the Xenos forces of darkness are always conspiring different ways to destroy the Empire. I know how this goes, even if you did manage to return me, I would simply be executed for being a liability, for allowing a telepath to invade my thoughts." She said, glaring at Mai, having had been aware of the telepathic probing for some time.
Her statement was quoted almost verbatim from Aschen propaganda, that every civilization beyond the borders of Aschen space were conspiring the destruction of the Aschen Empire.
She also huffed at the mention of different Modus operandi. "Attacking the fleet that was studying the anomalies, and observing your cordon for possible intrusions changes nothing, there are thousands of patrols all across this sector of space with the same orders, intercept and destroy vessels aligned with the TNG, and those aiding and abetting. Your protocol started a war over actions that change nothing in the big picture. That watchtower was to serve as an early warning for Dominion attacks into the Empire.

Erin leaned forward, staring at Jordan.
"So long as your Dominion operate in this galaxy, there will be no peace with the Aschen Empire, and they will stop at nothing to remove you, even if the collateral consumes them in the process, for the last several weeks the people have been primed by the propaganda machine, cocked, and ready to explode, and you just lit the fuse." Erin said coldly, before slowly leaning back.
"If you provide me with an unmarked vessel and safe passage, I will leave this star system, I don't intend to be here when my people destroy this galaxy in a fit of unbridled rage."

The sheer lunacy rampant in the idea that the Aschen were that ignorant the concepts of virtually any other nation encountered by the Dominion in recorded history left Jordan stunned, and even Mai glanced up, note taking forgotten. The room was silent as the two looked at each other, telepathic communication flickering rapidly as they puzzled over how to proceed.
Nearly a minute later, they looked back to Erin as one, faces unreadable. "We'll work on getting you a suitable transport immediately."
Erin simply made a face, wondering if perhaps she had struck a nerve with them.
"Perhaps it would be prudent to contact my government, I'm not going to be the one to tell your people how to proceed, but it might help avoid whatever shitshow Gina and Isambard are planning here." Erin suggested, and then continued.
"Coordinates and a safe jump vector would also be appreciated." Erin added.

Mai rose and headed for the door to begin the process. Jordan remained, simply rubbing his brow contemplatively. "I'll pass that along up the chain."
He shook his head, a strange chuckle escaping him. "You do realize that the stance you're proposing is utterly insane, don't you? Ten billion worlds to choose from, and one single system is the focal point of so much hatred."
"If the Aschen don't like outsiders, why do they look outwards?"

"Ten Billion worlds." Erin repeated. "Valore isn't the focal point of all the hatred, it's just the first time a world hasn't fallen, capitulated, or simply lacked the ability to fight. For hundreds of years our armies could march unchallenged, across hundreds of different planetary systems, many worlds we've come across were uninhabited, ripe for colonization." Erin said, sighing, shaking her head some.
"Valore isn't the target of so much hatred, my people are indifferent to the other nations on this planet, it's the Terran National Government that are constantly featured in our propaganda, the focal point of our collective hate. A matter more inflamed by their seizure of Tech Con's properties for no reason, the execution of their security chief as a demonstration. A government that takes hostages shouldn't be allowed to exist. Emperor Prince has called for the officials of the TNG to resign, and their prime minister to face justice, but those calls fall on deaf ears, and so we resort to the only thing we know how. Force." Erin explained. "Cold, unforgiving military force, our doctrine of fear."

Jordan consulted the Dominion records with his comm-glass for a moment, before raising a brow, an pained smile on his face.
"A nation shouldn't take hostages? How quickly you forget that the Aschen have done so themselves. I have the footage of a Terran hostage being torn apart by a mob that came from your nation's public networks. I've seen the reports from the time Dominion vessels were in Isiriria where it was strongly indicated that the entire nation was victim to virtually random abductions. Do you hear yourself?"
The Agent just shook his head again. "Did it ever occur to you to realize what military occupation is? By armed force you hold enough hostages to keep a population in check. By your own standards, your own government should be dissolved."
"Hell, if Aschen propaganda is really that great, why has the idea of simply telling the population that a grand victory has been acheived not an option? Falsifying imagery should be child's place, and merely avoiding this insignifant region with the justification of irreparable spatial damage should suffice, if that's all it takes to delude you people into believing the sheer insanity that comes from your mouths."

Erin scoffed, looking down at the table and shaking her head. "Enemy combatant engaged in active combat with Imperial forces, tried and convicted as an enemy of the state, sentenced to a public execution. That hardly fits the definition of hostage." Erin retorted. "Machines aren't people, thus couldn't possibly be a hostage." Erin added.
She was slightly amused at this Dominion Agent's pathetic attempt to force her to question her loyalties, or at least that's how the programming went. Espouse party dialogue, that was the MO of the Aschen. "Isiria surrendered, we earned their worlds through right of conquest."
"The Aschen Empire has been at war with the Terran National Government, the Aschen has always been at war with the Terran National Government. The Aschen Empire will always be at war with the Terran National Government." She said, parroting more propaganda.

"We tell the people we have won a grand victory, that doesn't change anything. You will be here, the TNG will be here, it is only the Empire who becomes ignorant, until one of you attacks."

"And now I learn why the diplomats always snickered about the Aschen." Jordan muttered, rolling his eyes. "Speaking as someone who often times finds himself in armed conflicts, what you just described of was called a prisoner of war. Often used as a bargaining chip in a time of war."

"Speaking of war, the goal of one tends to still exist at the end of one. Preferably, in winning, you gain some sort of tangible object, be it a territory, or access to a resource, but ultimately, the goal of a war is to survive it. And nominally, war is fought between two entities of roughly equal strength."

"The TNG is one, single nation, on a handful of rocks, on a world filled with rocks. It's space assets are virtually non-existent, it's available resources are, comparitively, a fraction of a single percentage point. It's literally hundreds of years away from even being an underdog in any remotely peerical contest against the Empire. The Dominion, on the other hand, could actually wage a proper war. But ask yourself this."
"What reasonable cause would the Shade Dominion have for waging an invasive military campaign on the Aschen? We have far more room than we could possibly need for population expansion, so habitable territory is not a valid cause. Likewise, we have pretty much unlimited access to natural resources for production, manufacturing, food, water, and power, so resources can't be a reason either. Which would leave less tangible reasons, such as ideology, which to a pragmatic society such as ours, wouldn't work, or religion, which is by and large not a controlling factor in our population, so that fails to suffice."

"One single nation, that should have fallen the moment our ships rolled up; and yet..." She said, trailing off. "I don't know the finer points of the politics, I only know that they are our enemies and they must be eliminated."
"You have come, millions of light years from your homes, ventured deep into a foreign galaxy to come to the aid of this one insignificant nation, a nation that is ours by right of conquest. What reasonable cause could the Dominion have to expend all this energy to come here? To aid this insignificant collection of rocks?" Erin asked, glancing briefly to the door, and then back to Jordan.
"What happens when the time comes, that the TNG wants to put an end to the Aschen Menace? If they don't have the resources but you do, would your people oblige them? Would the Dominion be willing to fight a 'proper war' with a foreign power a galaxy away over some backwater planet? You say we're the ones lacking logic and reasoning."
Considering the reasons put fourth by Jordan, Erin thought long and hard, though changing the opinion of one pilot would do little to sway the actual Empire, perhaps it offered some insight into the way the Aschen thought, perhaps dispelling a few myths in the process.

"The TNG is one nation... and yet we have incurred staggering losses to primitive magic-slinging savages." Erin said, frowning. "I lost my father aboard one of the Reverences destroyed in their counterattack, I lost my brother on the surface to the Machine Demon, and I lost my husband aboard the Zelbinion." Erin said, staring at Jordan.

"So it's simple, I want revenge, as do countless other Aschen, see; the Taurons believe that the souls of the deceased cannot pass to Elysium until their deaths are avenged, blood for blood. The TNG have a great blood debt to the Aschen"
Jordan merely stared at her, representative to ideals pounded through media by what he could only imagine were tyrant children. "I don't have all the answers on why your government subjects you to their own dementia, but let me set you straight on a few cases."

"The Dominion is here to keep the situation of the Sol System from spiraling out of control. The disruption in Andromeda was just as bad, if not worse, and the strain on logistics because of the navigational risk was a serious threat to the political entities there. We are here so that system does not envelop this galaxy like ours was, and in the long term, to keep the potential threat that such anomalies would not continue to spread. We are here to keep what is going on in that system from ever having the chance to reach our home again."

"The Aschen just happen to be an obstacle in that goal. In the end, to me personally? I couldn't care about ending the Aschen Empire. Most in the Dominion could hardly begin to contemplate ending a foreign power for any reason. It just interferes with the ability to learn new technologies, to gain trade, and enrich ourselves. We've had business with more bloodthirsty, and more paranoid than the Aschen."

"Could I say with certainty that my nation wouldn't attack yours? No. Do I believe they would at the behest of a single planet? Most certainly not. Valore couldn't afford the bill. What I can countenance is investing enough here to deprive the Aschen of their spaceworthy military assets, because ships can be rebuilt, and the Void only knows how many human lives are birthed every single day, but problems such as that system represents can persist for longer than anything man can build. What's invested in this Cordon is oversized for a single system, but it's by no means significant in terms of overall assets my nation has."

"But hey. I'm just a political officer who has engaged in a few dozen military actions. Not like I haven't had friends not make it home on foreign soil, or gotten reports of friends who lost family. Personal feelings don't play into political motives, and they have no place in military campaigns."
Mai returned, and Jordan rose, offering a hand to Erin. "But we've got a spare civilian shuttle available for you. It's an older model, and Mai tells me the engineers have made sure it's clear of anything that could come back to bite us, but it's yours. We'll take you to it, show you how to fly it, and then you get to go home."
"Assuming that politics can get over emotions, we'll possibly have the opportunity to discuss cultural differences another time."

Erin slowly stood, inclining her head slightly at Mai before she sighed, and decided to make a tough decision.
"Before I was brought here, I overheard chatter on the datalink about a retialatory strike. It's about fifteen hours from now, They've activated our Strategic missile command program, and a level one call for fleet assembly went out, which means our entire navy is being assembled for an attack." Erin warned. "That's all I know, if we want to end this without more loss of life, it will be up to your superiors to contact my government."
Looking to the door, she waited for Mai and Jordan to lead the way, She would find somewhere to lay low, until everything had blown over.
 
"A retaliatory strike?" Elson replied, but then paused a moment. "Excuse me for a moment, I'm going to consult our archives for a moment." He added, before re-activating his cortical implant, assimilating and digesting the information almost immediately, and in real time.

"My crew have completed their analyses and have hypothesized our current situation. It appears we have traveled exactly to the point of divergence from our two timelines, or immediately prior to divergence, it's possible we're the cause of the divergence."

There was a second long pause, and then Elson continued. "The Aschen Empire launched something called Tri-cobalt, in sufficient quantity and yield to permanently agitate the tempests... the attack was swift, sudden, and unrelenting. The Dominion lost it's entire fleet, and it's key personnel were caught in the tempest; enraged, the Dominion retaliated, and the Aschen unleashed a weapon of last resort, which cleansed the galaxy of all life." There was a pause, and Elson frowned. "All entries to the nature of this last resort weapon were lost, possibly intentionally obscured by our ancestors."

"We are the descendants of the survivors of that event, following ten thousand years." Elson continued.

"We can provide whatever assistance you need to understand these tempests, however we have a prime directive that precludes any involvement in the coming conflict, if this is correct and we have indeed traveled to the past, we are ethically bound to not alter the timeline, to that end, we may have already irreparably damaged our timeline simply by existing..."

And revealing future events, something which caused Elson to growl to himself.

"Once we have located the proper quantum bridge, we will leave this system with all haste."
 
The Iarin Fleet slowed as the SDS forces popped up before them. The carriers in the middle both began to release swarms of drones, though instead of attacking they moved to form a defensive bubble around the fleet as a whole. For a moment, it seemed like there would be no response beyond that of several warships firing in sync, but the drones returned to their slots on each of the two carriers. Finally, the SDS Gungir would receive a response.

"This is Iarin Fleet Admiral Riyyar, currently acting commanding officer of ICN Piabolle. We are en route to recover Iarin Fleet Admiral Assara Ellonin, commanding officer of this vessel and fleet of the ICN. She is, according to our information, planetside on the planet known locally as Valore, in the Sol System. We are here to bring her back, and if her mission has been successful, one other. We request you do not hinder our enterprise." There was a brief pause in the communication, followed by one last bit of speech.

"We are aware of the anomalies, and our pilots are more than capable of guiding us in without issue from here."
 
Last edited:
... Contact recieved.
Establishing common code... ...
Common code parsing to Q-Core... Common code created.
Beginning language push... Beginning language pull...
Language markers detected. Co-translating...
0.02% Correct
1.98% Correct
34.8% Correct
64.3% Correct
98.9% Correct ...
Language stall. Generating translator.
Warning! Limited vocabulary, some phrases may not translate correctly.

<Captain,> The communications officer announced excitedly, <they connected the computer! And... Done! We are ready to send messages, sir.>

<Good, send the first message and let the Admiral know.>


A translated message soon followed through the first radio channel, with all of it translated to the textual representation that the computers had figured out, including names.

This is the RAID 01 of the Triplane Coalition on a diplomatic first-contact mission. Your message has been translated and understood. Our leader is requesting permission to board your vessel with intent to further diplomatic relations. We are requesting all non-classified information on your people and will return ours after it has been parsed. Please respond with comprehension of message. Over.
 
The Jinvhan Collective

This was a grand moment in Jinvahn history! But when since such occasions haven't been? A whole brand new sector to explore. What wonderful beings would they discover in this new frontier? To meet other species, to establish solid connections, and to unite the galaxy under a single federation? This was only one of many things the Jinvahn dreamed of achieving. Scanners had picked up a few readings from the area, which naturally meant a place needing of exploring! A few preliminary ships were prepped and ready to go with more on their way.

The first exploration fleet was inbound. It wasn't heavily armed. Arriving with a war fleet would obviously alert anyone in the area. A small passive fleet? Perfectly harmless, and less likely to worry others. Heavier fleets would be on standby, however, along with proper diplomat vessels.

A warp signature spiked on any nearby sensors as the Jinvahn arrived in earnest. Of the first was one frigate, followed by three corvettes. A modest size, at least, for what is supposed to be an exploration fleet, by Jinvahn standards anyways. The fleet began to emit a signal in short pings with all comms open. A broadcast also began, going through various languages. No matter which language, the translators would most certainly butcher it. The Jinvahn "spoke" with touch and colors, and had no ability to actually produce sound. This made translation into a spoken language... difficult.

"Hello! Hello! This is Eravul! Emissary of Jinvahn! Yes yes! New to the system, seeking others, yes? We seek new relations! Please respond! New contact good, no?" Eravul was thrilled. He wasn't on the first fleet per se, but he was there in the form of prerecorded message. Still, the anticipation was almost palpable.
 
The Diplomat peeked out of her hole, slowly sliding down the wall then reconvening as a orb of matrix, the rest of the crew already out and doing their jobs. The Captain signaled that they were ready. The Icarus' Downfall had sent them a ship to pick her up and it was coming around to the door. She rolled over to the first set of doors, going in and fluttering her top layer of matrix as the pressure is released and she is freed of the suction that previously held her to the floor. The second set of doors open and before her is nothing but space, the large ship below her and, smaller ship flying her way. The diplomat waved with one tentacle coming off of her sphere structure. She grabbed hold to one of the rings attached to the ship and with two swings she swung herself into space. Just as she let go, the Diplomat changed shape to one similar to the design of the spacecraft that had brought them this far. She cruised towards their new friends, grabbing onto their ship and waiting for it to open. She sent them a message.

THE BAY DOOR. PLEASE.

The door opened slowly and she slipped inside, happily. This was her chance to do her job. The door closed and very unexpectedly, the Diplomat was pulled to the floor. She formed back into a ball and rolled around, examining everything, feeling all of the energy in the tiny craft. "Greetings!" She hummed to the craft. It began to move again and soon after connected to the main ship.
 
“Oh, this is certainly the most interesting pickup we’ve done in a while.” Sgt. Matthews muttered to his co-pilot after the alien passenger had boarded. At the wingman’s nod, he opened a channel to the Downfall. “Be advised, contact is non-human. Appears amorphous, doesn’t require a spacesuit.”

“Understood. Entrance bay is marked.”

-----

A welcome committee was already waiting for the returning Owl in the frigate’s bay pressure lock. Lieutenant Jadith, Corporal Killian, Private First Class Halsy, Agent Movacich, and Ensign Pammeth were present, possessing sidearms, but otherwise unarmed. The diplomatic message might come across as overly cautious, but it was just standard practice in the Dominion. It was almost second nature to a nation that had functionally reached a full percentile of its populace being militarized to have such matters with a harder edge to them, and even more so with the priority of the Cordon at stake.

The Owl pulled into the bay, the door cycling and pressurizing, a few minutes passing to allow the lock to acknowledge the presence of atmosphere without before allowing the chamber to cycle open, and the group headed into the hangar as the Owl finished cycling down, it’s troop compartment opening to allow the gel diplomat to exit.




“Understood, Captain Elson. We’ll escort you into the system to allow you to disembark. This is to allow for the proper communication to avoid hostilities to a peaceful exit.”

Movik completed the message, again waiting while the two destroyers moved forward.

-----

“Relay that transcription to the Solaris. If that’s what’s on its way, we need to warn them so they can adjust defensive strategies now.”

“Aye sir”.

Envy and Spite and Wrath and Ruin moved to adopt flanking positions with the Kushan vessel, intending to stay with the ship as it made its way to a suitable spot from which to depart through the anomalies. Not merely for courtesy, but to gather as much data as possible from such a unique opportunity.



“Negative RAID 01, you are not cleared to make an attempt to board this vessel. Dominion communications have suggested that this region is about to be a very hot combat zone in the near future. Please wait, coordinating a suitable meeting at an alternative location outside the Cordon zone.”

Kingslayer spent the next several minutes beaming communications back and forth, consulting with the Dominon station, organizing a frigate to meet with the aliens, and discerning which external rendezvous points were unused currently, to avoid any accidents. Shortly, they resumed the channel with the Triplane Coalition representatives.

“RAID 01, we are transmitting coordinates for a direct rendezvous to you, and another vessel is set up to meet with you at those coordinates in 10 minutes. That vessel has been authorized to present the intelligence packet you requested, and is being staffed with the proper personnel for diplomatic talks. Please respond to acknowledge understanding.”

Assuming no other inquiries, as promised, a Drake-frigate with the title of Daedalus’ Folly would be awaiting the RAID vessel at the listed coordinates, roughly two lightyears distant. On rendezvous, they would access the channel with the vessel to deliver the declassified national briefing, and organize a direct meeting with waiting staff.



The Gungir paused before responding, but active targeting systems shifted off the Iarin vessels, Inferno Rails powering down. This followed across the Dominion detachment.

“Unfortunately, Admiral Riyyar, we cannot allow your fleet to pass. If you will allow us a moment, we can request clearance to escort a vessel into the system for recovery, but we have updated orders from our command about an imminent Aschen counter-strike on this region, and negotiation for passage is now heavily restricted.”

The task force beamed its request to the Solaris, holding position ahead of the Iarin group. A few moments later, an affirmative response was received, with caution for watchfulness on the escorted vessel.

“Escort allowance is approved, Fleet Admiral.”



The latest arrival to the Cordon was swiftly identified, cataloged, and flagged for an interception, with no small number of jests passing around over the sudden surge of popularity. Someone on the current Observation Command even commented on some sort of rite of passage being involved. In the meantime, a pool of vessels was drafted and given the orders to challenge the new arrivals.

A frigate and pair of corvettes was dispatched, the leading frigate issuing the challenge this time. The transmission was issued in the standard spoken and textual formats, while the systems of the interception group puzzled over the bizarre communications emanating from the aliens.

“This is the SDS Umbral Shroud, you have approached a local hazardous area. Repeat, this is the SDS Umbral Shroud, you approaching a hazardous region. Please respond to state intentions.”



All the while, the Dominion Cordon group was readying themselves for an Aschen counterstrike. Fleet assets were being assigned into fist groups, central rally points of coverage objectives being decided upon and vessels moving to occupy them. Dozens of coordinates saw short TD jumps to of ships in formation, though it was a wide net to cover. The task force would be relying heavily on the advance warning offered by the cordon’s satellite detection network to identify formations that required countering, and as such, the fighter contingents of all vessels involved were being readied to ensure maximum combat strength was achieved.

To supplement this, the Factorums that remained were refitting the construction drones of the Solaris into makeshift combat assets, arming them with a myriad of weapons ranging from Stormbores and missile rigs for the larger automated ships, to laser and gauss weaponry for the far more numerous smaller craft. In addition, spare materials were being repurposed into missile production, non-critical supplies being broken down to be remade into missiles by the hundreds, established with minimal communication infrastructure and allowed to free-float in masses awaiting targeting data to be uploaded and then unleashed. To the same effect, small counter-missile platforms were being generated in the dozens, being seeded amidst defense preparations for interdiction alone. The efficiency of the proceeding plans for the defense of the Sol System and the Cordon was something worth no small amount of awe, and the resolve of the Dominion people involved was most assuredly admirable.

The assets that Valore had offered for the defense were being moved into position to give them the greatest ability to be deployed per their strengths and weaknesses, while Jenovan himself was now aboard the field flagship, the dreadnaught Regicide. His role would be overall tactical command, while Eidolan on the station was heading strategic planning.

Another arrival came, but this time the signature was the familiar energies of a many vessels translating from Tunnel Space. The hull design was unique, which prompted significant communication to establish proper clearances, but soon the answer was at hand.
A delayed production order by the Matriarch of Volaria, naval vessels of the Shintenchi nation’s own. These were granted swift clearance to head into the system, to be delivered promptly. It was a coincidence that nonetheless offered a bolster to morale, an unspoken message of confidence that expectations were simply business as usual, without regard to the pending conflict.

In a similar note was reports to Solaris command advising for a direct communication with the Empire, approved for execution after the initial efforts to defend the system had been undertaken. It was decided that a demonstration of their ability to maintain their positions against all odds would be required to negotiate from any sort of equal footing, and so the Dominion would not allow itself to be the one to first blink in the looming face-off.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top