Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived The Sol System

as written by Lobos

As the transmission cast into the space of the Sol System radiated, the communications posts of the TNG came alive, receiving and checking the message before listening, then forwarding it up the chain of command. Several minutes went by as messages and orders went back and forth, before a response of their own was crafted and cast back to the New Atraliah.

"CNS New Atraliah, this is TNG Interstellar Communications Post Beta. We read you and request clarification on search mission parameters. Repeat, request clarification on search mission parameters."
 
as written by Krysis

The Queen's Mercy just did a quick burn of trash to fuel the auxiliary engine for 6.2 seconds, which was noticeable as a flash of orange light that glittered on ice particles of the rings above it and then vanished again. The solar sails flexed, twisted, and the clump of space junk went spiraling along like a fast thrown ball in the general direction of the Pioneer. Subtle adjustments to the sails and nets, a strategic shedding of the less valuable scrap, and soon the Mercy was floating mere miles away from the disabled mining ship's relayed location.

Andrea 362 refocused most of the visual and infrared sensors in their direction. The machine actually had to do some of this manually, moving the magnetically attached bits to new locations after the movement of the ship was stabilized.

Cleo stood with her arms folded, frowning, as she watched the visitors that claimed to be from the New Atraliah, when Andrea was done and resting in the bowels of the Mercy.

Fred watched Cleo, smiling as he usually did, like it was all some cosmic joke and he was just waiting for the final punchline, "Well? What do you think? Are they legit?"

"We'll see. They are looking for the IRV Aeniad, so maybe they'll stick around and help out until they find it. It might behoove us to send them on a wild goose chase." Cleo answered thoughtfully.

"What if--" Fred started, then stared at the com-system.

"CNS New Atraliah, this is TNG Interstellar Communications Post Beta. We read you and request clarification on search mission parameters. Repeat, request clarification on search mission parameters."

"I guess those options are no longer viable. Let's just not get shot down, huh? TNG, Aschens, and now this new ship, our sky is getting crowded."
 
as written by Azrican

The AvKing sat in the arresting lock of the New Atraliah’s keel-dock. A chamber of reinforced bulwarking and hull prevented any significant leak from the interior when the dock was vented. In the sealed airjet, the crew readied to embark with the Marine Security team and five ABE (Autonomous Battle Entity) units before receiving the call to hold from launch.

Half an hour had gone by with Wilson repeating a checklist between a Petty Officer and Sergeant Toby Laslow, who could only nurse at a cigarette in between verifying a list of over a hundred and six items. Whatever other time he had was spent inspecting MP6W that sat in his lap, the small weapon designed for the confines of a starship. It wasn’t much longer that Wilson descended the short flight of stairs from the cockpit; he had bugged the Chief Petty Officer.

“Alright Sergeant, here’s hoping we can get this gagglefuck taken care of quickly.” Wilson replied, giving the Delcan the holotablet he had carried from the cockpit. Taking a seat next to Laslow, he then looked to Ralph, an ABE unit programmed for security on boardings and gave him a reassuring thumbs up. Ralph calmly returned the gesture, turning back to the weapon’s station in the hull of the AvKing and loading 10.6mm rounds into a magazine.

Toby gave the Lieutenant a nod, while Wilson had the easy job of staying oboard the AvKing as the four-man security team boarded the Pioneer, he was also aware Lieutenant Max Wilson was one of the most experience Jagermarine in the 3rd Exogarden Fleet. “Whatever’s hit this system’s done a lot of damage, don’t think I’ve seen anything like it before.” Toby thought of the Outer Garden, the Brittlewood Wars and the fracturing Colonies.

If it were the same outside the Garden as it was within, Laslow felt his stomach turn sideways at the thought. When the Chief Petty Officer appeared at the top of the ladder to the cockpit, Toby nudged Wilson to direct his attention.

“Launch has set us back another ten minutes -- the Spydecks are picking up another ship or something.”


Meanwhile, Junior Liuetenant Yeksa frantically pecked at a digital overlay, shoveling the operations with the Pioneer to address the new transmission they had received from an approximated area inside the star system. “Guess we found out if the system is habitable or not,” He replied, taking a step to his right and grabbing a wired transmitter from the display. He gave a thumbs up to Amber, who quickly opened a return channel.

“This is Captain Besnik of the New Atraliah, a cruiser of the Exogarden fleet exploring the Local Region -- we were investigating the series of warp anomalies and interstellar phenomena when we received a rescue broadcast from the Pioneer. The vessel appears to have been heavily damaged in some sort of engagement that took place before we arrived.”


The amount of activity throughout the comms bridge was more hectic though, as Starfleet personnel and officer’s scrambled to keep the New Atraliah fixed upon the Pioneer and the new arrival. As the cruiser began to close within a few million kilometers of the Pioneer, her shape and form might have finally been revealed as the light refracted from her hull made a clearer and clearer picture.

The CNS Attie looked like an apex predator, the gun-metal armor appearing to be the top layer of skin holding powerful sinew and muscle in place just beneath the surface. Though her weapons were offline, they sat upon her hull like sentinels, dead silent in the bleakness of the cosmos but for the flip of a switch.

Alright, Captain Adair: my name is Rachel Landt, I will be instructing you through our boarding and rescue. We will be dispatching an AvKing to the Pioneer momentarily. Is there anyone in critical condition or deceased on board?
 
as written by Flawed

Aboard the super-carrier the "SSK God of Thunder", the previous day, in a distant region of space:

Aelonides sat as calmly as he could upon his cold, metal throne; placed upon the top of a pyramid as large as a house. Around the base of the structure, hundreds of officials gathered on their knees and raised their upper-bodies and arms from the floor to the air in unison, then back down again. From the crowd, two dozen priestesses in gowns stepped forth and began to climb up towards his throne while carefully wielding a selection of weapons between them.

The metal ground shook slightly, as though there was a mild Earthquake. From horizon to horizon, the wasteland of distant structures illuminated by blue lights shivered; including even the towers that served as a physical connection between the ground and the black canopy high above.

Aelonides raised his hand, then placed is down upon the lit touchpad of hieroglyphic icons and foreign letters by his armrest and pressed down upon the image of an eye. Within a second, holographic screens lit up around him - an interface detailing anything he would need to know. "What is the damage report of my ship, admiral?" He asked with a voice resonating as far as the eye could see.

"The shields are barely holding, my prince, and we have suffered mild damage to several of our guns," a voice replied through the holographic inter-comm.

"Only our guns? It would seem my brother wishes to destroy our means of self-defence as well as our means of escape, admiral."

"Indeed, my prince."

"Very well. I am taking momentary manual control, admiral. Have the gun-crew prepare to act out my will with all haste."

"Your will, my prince."

A minute passed without incident, until suddenly the blue of the holographic interface turned violet over one of his ship's sections. Immediately, the prince entered a command, then spoke again. "I have redirected power from our shielding into our weapons, admiral. Direct your guns towards the enemy sub-light engine sector."

"It is done, Prince Aelonides."

"Good. Now open fire."

Within seconds, a low, thunderous roar rumbled through the ship. Aelonide's throne shook with more force than when the enemy armaments had hit them.

"We are reading a decrease in the speed of the enemy, Prince Aelonides. Our computers suggest they have taken structural damage to their engines."

"I see, admiral. Then I was correct. They do not wish to destroy us, they wish to capture us. Create a vector of escape and redirect our power to both our engines and our engine shielding. They will not focus on our gun-decks now that we have displayed knowledge of their plan. Focus on increasing the distance between us until the slaves finish the repair of our light drive."

The next several hours consisted of cat-and-mouse, with multiple redirects of available surplus power between engines, shielding and weapons in order to facilitate a higher likeliness of ultimate escape. Aelonides, who had taken a spear-like weapon from the armoury offered and used it to command his people, seemed ever-driven to ensure the safety of his ship, although structural damage had been inevitable.

"Our light drives are working, Prince Aelonides," came a voice through communications at long last.

"Good. Plot a navigation course for the Uldirn Sector, and then fire the drive so that we might escape this rabble."

"My lord," came the voice of the admiral once more, "we have taken structural damage. We cannot afford more delays to change our escape direction and open more of ourselves to enemy fire. We must leave now."

"I see."

Aelonides looked down from his throne. Many of the people now gathered were little more than personality-devoid husks and work-fodder. Brain implants, cybernetic changes and deformities from an imperfect cloning process meant that as low as they were, they still saw Aelonides as their God and their Protector. He paused for a moment, trying to weigh the risk as to whether they were worth the changing of his initial plan just to ensure their survival.

"Admiral," the Prince spoke, "choose a navigation coordinate at random that is aligned with our vector, then divert all power from our weapons and 70% of power from our shielding into our light drive."

WARNING: shield integrity compromised.

"Ignore it," Aelonides ordered.

"The drive is powered and ready at your command, my lord."

Aelonides sat back down, placed his finger over the engage button, then pressed.'

____

The present time, just beyond the Sol System:

The light drive died down, causing the 70km long starship to halt just outside the fringes of the system. As the ship powered down, the noticeable lack of electricity flowing through his deck caused Aelonides to wake from his slumber. He pushed away from the several devoted women who had shared his bed, then climbed up to his throne with little more than a robe to cover himself.

"Where are we?" He asked through the communication system.

This time, the voice that answered was one artificial in nature. "Just beyond an unknown system, my prince. We have not yet entered the gravitational pull of its sun, however our light drive seems to have failed. It seems faster than light travel placed a strain on the ship; we are a little more damaged than before. I highly recommend a salvage operation so that we might bolster our repair-worthy resources."

"Very well. Ready a small craft. My legs grow stiff on this ship and I wish to taste a natural atmosphere."
 
as written by Tiko

The Pioneer's response crackled through the channel with the Atraliah as whatever was powering their communication systems gave a few spasms before clearing back up.

'We have thirty-two dead aboard the ship, and twenty-eight crew members who are in critical condition. Hundreds more wounded, and thirty-two unaccounted for.'
 
as written by Krysis

As the Pioneer's status came over the com system, Fred looked to Cleo, fully expecting the softhearted woman to volunteer to help. The stocky human had to chuckle to himself at seeing her hard black eyes soften at the number of wounded, already swiveling back to the pilot controls to ease them closer.

Cleo did not disappoint, "Andrea, can we do some spot repairs for them, where it would be most helpful for keeping people alive?"

Andrea 362 didn't seem to hesitate to the other two, though the cyborg's computer brain did notice the gap between question and reply. As the sensors scanned what was available, a quick and dirty assessment of the damages to the Pioneer was performed deep within the heap of hardware. "With our current supplies and the pieces floating loose, we can accommodate 1% of repairs needed to get the Pioneer operational before catastrophic loss of life support. Life support systems are venting from more than twenty different locations and would take precedence to all other repairs. It is possible to get the expected number of survivors into an area that can sustain them long enough to be towed."

"Open a channel, just general broadcast but keep it low power so it won't get all the way back to Valore. No point in letting everyone know where we are." Cleo instructed, leaning beside Fred as she considered her words.

"This is the civilian ship Queen's Mercy. We have salvage parts and a repair drone, as well as a doctor on board. We are moving closer to the Pioneer to assist. I repeat, we have a doctor on board and are coming to assist. If you have trouble spotting us, try a thermal sensor instead of a visual scan."

Fred chuckled again as the message ended, looking up at Cleo with his usual smirk, "Darling, you still haven't gotten the hang of being a smuggler. There is no percentage in helping these folks."

Cleo glared at Fred, reminding one very strongly of a serpent regarding an impudent mouse. Then she smiled and pushed at his shoulder, almost knocking him out of the pilot seat. "Maybe not in spendable cash, but their good will might serve us well someday."
 
as written by Lobos

“This is Captain Besnik of the New Atraliah, a cruiser of the Exogarden fleet exploring the Local Region -- we were investigating the series of warp anomalies and interstellar phenomena when we received a rescue broadcast from the Pioneer. The vessel appears to have been heavily damaged in some sort of engagement that took place before we arrived.”

"Thank you, Captain Besnik. If you need assistance, we are listening."

A brief communique, but with the status of orbit assets as it was, there was little else to say.
 
as written by Azrican

There is a ship dead in the dark out here, a mining vessel it looks like ... name is the Pioneer. We have a Marine Security Team enroute now to assess damage and casualties. I'm getting a lot of different readings from spectranalysis of this system Comms-Beta, how's it been in this neck of the woods for you folks?

Captain Besnik stood at the crow's nest, hands behind his back as he watched imagery and data sprawl out in front of him. Silent, he watched the AvKing approach the Pioneer and let his gut quietly eat away at him: what happened in this system before they had arrived? This lonely sun seemed inhabited and yet, the very blackness wanted to take Besnik by the ear and toss him away, out back into the cosmos. The holotank sparkled, letting out a soft chime before Besnik turned to see a suited man. His face, obscured by the fraying coherency of the holograms, turned towards the Captain and Besnik instantly knew who he was speaking to.

They didn't have to wear a badge or anything, Counter-Balance agents were merely betrayed by the sheer fear they instilled in any who looked upon them.

"The COLSOG team onboard is being activated, Captain Besnik." The figure remarked calmly, before holding one hand up to reveal a soft, throbbing light in his palm. "COLD ROOM is ago."

"And what about my damn ship?" He retorted, reaching a hand out to pull the light from the hologram. It burst into a scrawling line of code and digits, though actually was a thorough, detailed mission overview: it would tell Besnik what exactly to do, where exactly to go and how exactly to "lose" a four-man team from the rooster of the New Atraliah without ever really stepping in a port.

"Do not link up with the rest of Task Group 9 Captain Besnik, we have reason to believe this system has been hidden from ISAAC for a reason."

Besnik was left standing in the dark crow's nest by himself when the hologram died. If he had too many questions to ask before, there were even more now. That frightened pit in his stomach started to turn again.

The AvKing began to close in slowly off the Pioneer's port. As the marines sat in the hold, Lieutenant Wilson brought his eyes up to one of the viewports. He let one hand spread out over the transparent alloys, while the other keyed into the mic. "Alright Pioneer we are closing off your port side -- I ain't ever seen a ship like this before so you're gonna' have to help me out, how the hell are we supposed to get on that bucket a' yours?"
 
as written by glmstr

Hmmm, what about "Scary Pod that Eliminates Confidence Totally Right after Entry"? I'll write that one down, the squad will love that one.

Erika has been biding her time cooped up in the for now unsealed pod, her fatigues and armor hanging on a few hangers on the open door of the sardine can that she'll be calling her room for a few days. She already went and bought a few cheap posters of her favorite video games and a sports team flag from her hometown to plaster on the inside walls.

The First Sergeant was sitting on a few empty crates she "borrowed" from a nearby maintenance closet, using one to sit on and lean against the wall with the other as a footrest. She was dressed in shorts that stopped mid-thigh and an oversized loose t-shirt, browsing the ScatterNet on her laptop, which was issued to her as a small yearly bonus for being in the Apparatus. Hey, at least it was better than last year's one, which was just a damn keychain.

She had been spending all afternoon watching videos online, some of video games and some viral cute cat videos. She even sent a selfie of her in the pod back to her family, after sending it through the mandatory encryption algorithm to keep the location secret of course.

A small paper notebook and pen sat beside her, filled with mad-libs based on ICON celebrities and politics, silly things that all the acronyms in her line of work could stand for, and the occasional bad fanfiction she writes about her squadmates to give herself a laugh.

"Man, this is going to be a long wait if I have to sit here by myself the whole time."
 
as written by Azrican

The suited images of two men stood in the black mote stretching about the back three quarters of the intelligence room. Besnik stood with his hands drawn firmly at his side, at rigid attention while the figure in front of him raised his hand at a holographic display.

“You’re aware declaring an entire Exogarden fleet culpable in hiding information about the Local Region will send the Provocom into a fit of Amazonian rage, correct?” The aging man with straw-like brown hair broke into his tangent before the man in front of him even responded.

“Commandant Rohnfeld is concerned with our tenuous positions more at home, on the contrary. Agent Riley, what makes you sure Acheron was looking for stellar anomalies and warp manifestations?” On the salty Charnissian’s left, a stocky form almost too barrel-chested for a suit interjected.

“Captain Besnik has been receiving fabricated packing from the CNS Fabrexta about two dozen lightyears from here.” The agent responded, indicating over to a holographic display of the system and one that had been delivered several days earlier as the New Atraliah journeyed towards the star. “This area is not far beyond where the Aeniad’s FTL drive could have thrown it ... “

“Agent I can say with determination that the IRV Aeniad was destroyed a decade ago.” The older man replied, looking over to the Uralsky who seemed to wear a similar response on his face. “I know it’s scary out in the Expanse there but chasing phantoms from the last war is not an appropriate use of government resources.”

“Marines and Home Army aren’t going to set up a little cache in the middle of a warp storm, Chairman.”

“The agent has a point. The Aeniad may be destroyed, but following the Null Directorate Acheron could be using the Local Region to put themselves out of reach.” The Uralsky said, putting a distant look towards the old man next to him. The Chairman brought a hand out from his pocket and scratched at his chin for several moments. “What do you know about the system from your position directly Riley?” He inquired, looking over to the fair-haired man standing with his arms crossed.

“There’s one terran body, but other than that readings are unlike any prior colonized world -- there could be anything down there.” Agent Riley exchanged, indicating to a spectroanalysis of the planet’s atmosphere: with such close distances to interstellar war anomalies the planet’s meaty air should have been boiled away from violent cosmic winds, and her surface scorched with hot rakes of plasma.

“So you’ve found a mirage, Agent.” The Uralsky said, two fingers at his chin while eyes switched between the Charnissian and the Cobalt agent. “If we miss an opportunity to foil the Initiative we might not have another one fall into our laps. What are the resources at your disposal onboard the New Atraliah?" The man crossed his arms and settled in to wait for an explanation. The gothic lines of an Oriyak scripture peaking from the collar of his suit.

"I can have an ESOG team ready in four hours, planetside in twelve." The agent responded as he put both hands onto a holographic display, the various continents and landmasses of the planet winking to life an pulsing with various data-nodes and readouts. "Our landing target will be the main continent, logged as Homeland-1 from remote observation."

"Chairman, I'm sure you've some political or military apprehensions about this."

"Go fuck yourself, Arzan ... You find anything on that planet agent, you're off it in 30 minutes and on your way back to the Garden with everything you know, understand?"

The straw-haired man looked down at his feet for a moment, grabbing something off his desk, a newspaper. Rolling it into his hand, he pointed it first to the agent and next to the Oriyak bear. "You fuck this up and I'm burying every fleet beyond the Veil. Rohnfeld won't even know where to fucking look for you, agent."

As he aimed the rolled up newspaper at the Chief, the Uralsky's beard split wide to show his pearly teeth. "Get the fuck back to the Blue Palace and find the President of Gebarhemudra."
 
as written by Azrican

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the New Atraliah's holds and bulwarks, Sergeant Tanner Hawke pulled on one strap of the duffel as he made his way to the underbelly of the ship: where the large ejector-cannons for the Drop Detachment were laid like the sweeping legs of an insect.

"Hey Hawke, where ya' goin'?" Another marine asked, Tanner simply throwing a middle finger up behind him and trying to stifle the laugh he had from the responses.

"Fuck yooooooou, faggot!"

"At least you won't get your ass kicked in cards tonight!"

Tanner came to stop in front of a bulwark to the deck's communication room, where the Sergeant First Class had been called to report. Unlike the Marine Security Forces, those marine personnel unassigned to one particular crew on the ship were known as 'S-COT', part of the away-force. Tanner Hawke was an Operational Signals Controller, essentially a radioman. Why the Exogarden fleet decided they needed an OSC was beyond him, in the year and a half he had spent on this ship he had never once set foot on a planet: as far as he could tell, this was the closest the ship had ever come to a planetary body.

"SFC Hawke, I presume?" The jaegermarine standing guard held out a hand for a digital-tag, and Hawke quickly complied. He nodded in confirmation and waited for the marine to scan the tag with his eyes. "JGL is waiting, get on in there marine."

The door broke into four separate pieces, opening with a hydraulic hiss. Hawke had spent the first six months of his service at a Navy training installation, so was used to the cramped, confined natures of a Starfleet vessel's com-deck. "Used" was a difficult term, it still felt stifling in one of these giant metal Faraday cages. Displays burped and winked at him as a Petty Officer escorted him to the Lieutenant (Junior Grade).

"JG Macon, Sergeant Hawke has arrived."

Hawke put up a salute to the youthful Azrican in front of him. The man nonchalantly returned the movement, taking his patrol cap off. "You're the OCS? Congratulations on winning the Unlucky Lottery, son."

Hawke's lips tightened as he heard the man speak. His eyes narrowed slightly, and clarity seemed to be finding it's way to him. "You need a radioman for an expedition planetside, huh?" Speaking out of turn might have angered any other Junior Lieutenant, as the JGs were often known for being testy, but all Macon did was let out a hearty laugh. His Meridian drawl followed as he put a hand on Hawke's back to steer him towards a display.

"Ol' Agim's going to put a team on this dirtball and just scope it out. I know you went to school at the Tariyakami Facility, you know how to work an entangling array." Macon continued. Hawke, for once, regretted his intellect and suave nature with technology that had landed him in the Marines in the first place. For once he wished he hadn't gotten such a high score on that damn aptitude test.

"Yessir, JG." Was all he could reply with. Lieutenant Macon brought him right in front of a wall-map, the little marble sparkling in vivid clarity. Macon reached out one hand to a rocky, bulbous continent dotted with fluffy clouds and dark, sharp storm fronts.

"From what we've read natives call it 'Valore', that marooned miner is from this planet and we hope there's something passing for a government to get in contact with. This'll be the first terran state outside the Garden we've discovered."

All Hawk could do we pour over the image with his eyes as much as possible: trying to calculate atmospheric density, meteorological effects he might need to take into account when trying to work an comms-entangler. "Sounds like a blast, JG. "

"Yeah it'll be a fuckin' party SFC -- you'll be going in with a BLACKWING team, they're two decks below at the eject-station now. I'll have your equipment sent down."
 
as written by glmstr and Azrican

"Hmmm, Valore, is it? I bet they have great beaches! I'll make sure to go check it out," Erika was holding two swimsuits in front of her, one with a green digital camo pattern and the other with a motif based on the Hykan Flag.

She wanted to represent her home, albeit in a silly way, but she knew she would need a spare just in case. Besides, she could always buy another one on her next visit if this one was somehow ruined. The Hykan woman folded up both sets and slipped them into various pockets in her backpack, so they'd be ready immediately when she needed them. Now, all she had to do was convince the others to bring swimsuits too.

Erika stood up to stretch, her head turning sharply when she heard the door open.
"Hello?" 1st Sergeant Horakova's head poked out from her pod to see who the visitor was.

____


The large station in the belly of the New Atraliah contained the ejecting station for the thirty-something SPECTRE-type orbital insertion pods had a skeleton crew in the section at the moment. A service elevator was heard rattling the cold frame of the cruiser as it came to rest on the final level of the ship station. The intercom screeched to life throughout the bulkheads and ratings, a short klaxon heard.

“Captain on deck, Package Darkbow is to be ready for launch in t-minus one hour.”

Agent Riley took a step out of the elevator before turning back to Captain Besnik, who was looking over the shoulder of a Senior Chief with a cart full of equipment and hardware. The Cobalt agent known as Steel Patron adjusted the ballistic vest that was fitted over him, resting one hand on the matte-black rifle slung to his waist.

“Let’s get your team, agent.” Captain Besnik said, a blunt tone all he replied with as he followed the Senior Chief. Agim lorded over the stack of plastic casings and fiber-sheaths of electronic hardware and gear.

The small entourage of men and machine came to a cluster of pods where Erika was. Captain Besnik’s finely polished boots and starchy, gray attire looked a marked difference from the Navy work duties or the agent’s Jumper armor. “This is First Sergeant Erika Horakova, she’ll be your main rifle and assault lead.” Agim gave the Hykan a curt nod before indicating to the stack of SPECTRE pods.

“We’ll have to use the mark four since this is going to be a long shot.”

The sound of a circuit popping just a few meters away revealed Tanner Hawke coming down the catwalk to the pod cluster. The Sergeant gave a brief salute to the Captain, as Agim pulled a cigarette from his pocket and introduced Hawke to the team. “This will be your E-man, there’s a ruggedized entangler rigged to that type-6 armor that might come in handy.”

“Sergeants, this is Steel Patron. He will be the Cobalt handler executing the primary mission objectives planetside; your job will be to make sure he doesn’t get a bullet in the back.”

____

"Normally I'd be groaning about an escort mission right about now, but I get the feeling you aren't braindead and that this shouldn't be too hard," Erika grabbed her fatigues from the hanger and started getting dressed. "That's one thing I sure don't miss from the rebellion: escorting those radical figurehead speakers around. They were insufferably angry all the time, but they were too helpless to spend more than a few hours a day without armed guards around them."

The sergeant tied her dull red bandana as a headband, the occasional stray lock of auburn hair laying on top of the fabric instead of below.

____

“Fortunately ISAAC isn’t trusting this rag-tag assortment of misfits with establishing contact with a new civilization.” Agim said as he lit the cigarette with a match, motioning for the Senior Chief to help Hawke with the exoskeleton attached to his armor. “I’m hoping you won’t meet some new merry band of war criminals and cosmic conquerors down there though. If you do you’re on your own.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Riley said, laying the AR-93 into a pack-away locker that would be fit to the SPECTRE pod. After this he pulled a holo-tab from his belt, pulling it open. “Starfleet will only get us so far, and we might not get a chance to go planetside again once the New Atraliah leaves the system.”

Hawke raised his free hand, the other encased is several pounds of automail too underpowered to function properly. “Why’s the Exogarden fleet finally sending a team down to this planet? It’s a mole on the ass of nowhere.”

“That’s a question I think only serves to reinforce itself.”

Captain Besnik exhaled, a cloud of smoke building in front of him. He stood in front of a holo-deck, activating the projector with one swipe of his fingers: a detailed list of equipment, trajectory information and flight data scrolled before them. "We'll be launching a Mk. IV with a retrofitted sub-light booster: we're estimating flight time between eight and ten hours."

"Your pod will be cold, ambient temperature inside will be anywhere from -30 to -80 degrees. Make sure your armor cells are charged and ensure your envi-suit is functioning or you'll be a popsicle by the time you reach the surface."

____

"Sounds like a blanket and some snuggling won't be enough, I guess," Erika shrugged and started putting together the various parts of her envi-suit and readying her weapons, checking and rechecking the batteries multiple times. The Hykan winters would often be as cold as he suggested the pod will be, but the SPECTRE doesn't have piles of blankets, hot cocoa, and holiday movies. Once each piece of her suit checked out, she moved on to the weapons. The AR-98 was more than finicky for a state-of-the-art weapon, but it looked cool and performed well, when it actually worked. She had to clean it several times a day to keep it functional, and the delicacy of the rifle made it as much trouble as it was worth. The AP-50 was pretty bad about it too, but it was slightly more reliable. It had to be cleaned once or twice a day, and it was a nightmare to un-jam it when it misfired.

After a good brushing and reassembly, she moved on to her favorite of her firearms: The Vickers Valiant Model 28. This baby was always operable, even in the mud, kicked like a mule, and would turn any unlucky target's torso into meaty confetti. That, and the action made the most beautifully loud and crunchy sound when pumped. She couldn't resist how indimidating it sounded, that was the only real reason she bothered not getting the automatic.

Finally, after packing the rest of the weapons into the gun case of her pod, she brandished her sword. The heirloom weapon was incredibly light thanks to its slender profile, and terribly sharp. It was a gift from her uncle and he meticulously inspected the weapon and maintained it daily, so it would be more than rude if she did not do the same. After wiping down the blade with a soft cloth a few times, she slid it back into its sheath and placed it in the case with her other weapons, and closed the lid. She tucked her laptop into its own small case as well, along with a charger fitted with some solar panels. She had made sure to download a few hundred hours of movies and her favorite TV shows to keep herself (and possibly the rest of the team) entertained if all else fails.
 
as written by Ottoman

Far beyond Sol, even perhaps near the edge of the massive Oort Cloud that surrounded the star system, space began to twist and squirm for several moments before a Wache battlecruiser reached its destination. The monolithic vessel slowed to halt with alarming speed, splitting the serenity of the frigid starscape with its hull, hanging mute in the icy depths of the cloud as its unseen crew checked over their vessel and its status after the jump. The nature of the system and the dangers associated with it were known to the men and women aboard the vessel, albeit not to their full extent, and having thus far managed to avoid such pitfalls were rather keen to remain safe in this savage wilderness. A silent, metallic spearpoint, aimed straight for the distant yellow orb that was Valore's sun, the SNV Duranus waited for several minutes before it made any outward sign of movement or activity.

Inside of the behemoth, Phineas Vogel looked over his command deck slowly, from left to right and back left again, as if to reassure himself in some overly simplistic manner that he, and his command, were intact. The briefing that they had received, in such a rushed manner, seemed to indicate that the spatial anomalies would pose far more of a threat than what this otherwise peaceful sight belied. Perhaps they had dropped out of FTL far out enough to avoid such mishaps, or perhaps they had simply gotten very lucky. "Ensign Williams," The captain began, eyes lingering on the display before him, the cloud, with its masses, growths and floes dancing torpidly in the distant light of the star, holding his attention. "Dispatch a communique immediately to Rienzi and the Council." Quick fingers flashed over the ensign's console, the holographic display shifting and yielding as the communications officer willed it to, and in moments the proper fields were displayed, the junior office looking back to her superior once it was ready.

"What shall I send them, sir?" Came her question, easily heard among the hushed voices and calm of the bridge, though Vogel couldn't help but feel it echoed here. His hazel gaze lingered on the display, hauntingly perturbed by the sight that was provided to him. Were it anything else in his mind, any other sort of spatial body or formation, he would've dismissed the matter as trivial, the thought as foolish superstition, but the lethargic shards and blocks of ice unnerved his thought, and chilled his heart. Already the man wished to give the order to push forward, out of the cloud and into the proper light of the star, but some part of his mind wondered just what would happen here to deserve the name his superiors had given this undertaking. He was an officer of the Syndicate, a man who had seen things most would consider horrifying, if not heretical, and remain steadfast, but for some reason this simple sight didn't just fail to put him at ease, but kindled some spark of fear in his heart.

"Message is as follows..."

____


O: SNV DURANUS, CAPTAIN VOGEL
T: SAC, RIENZI

LO, DESPITE MINE CLOAK I FREEZE, FOR I STAND ON THE SHORE OF COCYTUS.​
 
as written by Ottoman

By the time the SNV Kybalion arrived in-system, another four battlecruisers had already moved into their respective positions, AUs apart, in the cordon. It was good that they were arriving in such short order, redirected from their various stations and assignments in the Exogarden Theater, and the captain of the Kybalion turned to the director of this little romp. Captain Bortys looked to the reserved woman beside her, still unsure of this newest addition to her vessel. Doctor Rothschild had arrived in such short order that it had almost alarmed Bortys, who had hardly expected the Syndicate's liaison to arrive for another week, and forced the Soruk's hand in getting underway as the entire operation's schedule seemed to be drastically accelerated. The lack of expression on Sabrina's face gave Bortys some pause, the doctor staring ahead at the display of the solar system without heed to any of her surroundings.

The captain took the chance to review the diagnostics from the jump, the hologram jumping from her wrist as she summoned it, the darksome woman's eyes narrowing as she looked it over. All systems seemed to be within operational parameters, no undue stress or unexpected damage - a pleasant discovery, considering this system's reputation. Bortys wasn't far from complimenting her crew on a jump well-plotted when the irate voice of the good doctor beside her interrupted such plans. "Captain Bortys," The Austran began, not taking her eyes off of the display before her. "Why are we not underway?" The impatient director earned a concerned, then annoyed look from the captain, though the Soruk understood well-enough what sort of authority was invested in this scientist. With how quickly things were moving, with how many ships were already in-system, Oea already guessed that this went straight to the SEO.

"Diagnostics, doctor Rothschild." She replied, her tone professional, her voice even. "Ensign Hawkes, plot a course for Valore, ahead full." The grey-clad woman remained where she stood for a few moments longer, glancing to the holographic projection that flanked her, of the planet that warranted such attention from SARDAS and the Hegemony. Sabrina stood not even four feet away, her hands resting on the rails that kept anyone from falling onto and into the projection itself, only bothering to speak as Bortys moved to leave this station, finally pulling her eyes from her waiting prize. The crimson-haired director spoke plainly, though her words held a warning that lay between them.

"I expect to be in orbit within the week, captain."

"As you shall be, doctor." Bortys replied, intending to make good on that promise. Already the sub-light engines of the Lanze class cruiser bloomed to life, the triangular vessel slicing through the ice-cloud on an intercept course with Valore, escorted by four Raubtier destroyers.
 
as written by Krysis

Fred frowned at the silent speakers for a bit, then looked over at Cleo, "I think they are ignoring us. We're not big enough for that new ship to bother with, and the Pioneer doesn't trust us."

Andrea 362 volunteered, "It is possible that the continuing system failures have disrupted their communications."

"Lets assume that they won't shoot us for trying to help. Andrea, can you rig something for that other ship to be able to interface with the air lock on the mining vessel? Fred, get us close and move the materials in. See if you can block some of the more visible ventings." Cleo started ordering them around like she was supposed to, and The Queen's Mercy obeyed.

Fred's eyes glowed a fierce blue as bits of stray junk started floating towards the Pioneer slowly. Andrea would slip out the airlock of the Mercy in a swirl of her own bits of useful, tools flashing behind plates of metal as the cyborg pushed off the side of the ship. In motion, in zero-g, Andrea stretched out, looking something like a skeletal, space-squid that would soon latch on to the Pioneer and get to work.
 
as written by Azrican

The choking haze of the Oort cloud was the perfect terminus for the CNS Herodion’s long crawl into the system, following “breadcrumb” drones left by the cruiser New Atraliah on it’s to the star and a crippled mining vessel. The escort carrier’s large, wing-like structures jutting out from the vessel’s keel gave the appearance of a manta-ray, gliding through the mountains of ice and stone silently with the crown of her hull-belt basking in the small rays of sun that reached out to these distances. Bright, glistening towers stood raised into the soupy cosmic dust of the cloud, giant metal whiskers on an alloy-clad marsupial dragging it’s way through the system’s treacherous forest. These collected isotropic samples, analysed the light of the sun (and her bodies themselves), measured the ambient background heat as well as kept a close, keen eye on the dozen or so Sternflotte ships. Despite the range the Herodion, like the New Atraliah mid-way between Valore and one of her gas giants by now, had a substantial boost in sensor capabilities from the Royark class robotics cruiser a few dozen lightyears away.

Off port and starboard of the escort carrier were two escorts, underway as well. The destroyer escort and assault frigate were at a distance of some three billion kilometers (roughly 24 AUs). Communication between the vessels themselves was remote to none, and due to the passive sensors blanketing the system that from remote observation the three ships appeared only as ghostly apparitions, shadows in the cloud. While her escorts were a mere pinprick of light from the portholes of the Herodion her nearly thirty-thousand crew were in the third and final leg of a rotation, after having been in FTL for several days.

Within the bowels of the Herodion's 15th sub-deck, a massive sphere of interlaced carbon-steel cocooning the main berths and personnel decks for the vessel's marine contingent, the ship boiled with the activity typical of a small city. Great, towering hab-blocks holding several hundred people crawled into the artificial sky that dominated the main interior of the vessel. Mounted in the 'sky' and projected through an airscreen, a massive, glowering flare from the ship's central gravity hub produced a warm yet sterile light onto the synthetic world below.

This artificial bubble held within this ship stood as a tiny island in the great expanse of cold ice and rock that gagged the Oort cloud in dust and shadow. The small, dwindling little fire the Herodion did carry through the Oort cloud was quickly and easily gobbled up by the frigid asteroids and comets that passed about aimlessly in the cloud.


With the fake sun clouding his eyes, Captain Paul Loic reached up with a gloved hand and pried the shieldhood shut over him. Settling back down into the passenger's seat of the Wulf, a 14 tonne Combat Rifleman Vehicle (known as CRV in marine parlance), Paul slid the laptop back onto his legs as the armored car took a slow, looping turn onto a highway that bisected the whole endohull. In front of him, an uplink loaded several dozen terabytes of information onto his main display: an operational setup of the 44th Battalion’s eight fully equipped marine companies that would be landing on the planet of Valore, with the two Globewalker AEV airships that had accompanied the Herodion in-dock.

As they entered the system, the 44th Battalion had been mobilized to begin transferring to the large atmospheric craft situated beneath the large aerilons of the escort carrier’s bulbous hull. Captain Loic and the rest of Oscar (or 4th) Company were preparing to embark upon the AEV-986, located starboard. Following the rest of the military traffic, a literal expanse of nothing but road populated with all assortments of armored vehicles, tanks and multipeds. Lieutenant Jan Pahralovic, seated at the wheel next to the Captain, pointed out to a monolithic Trigun that was slowly lumbering to a nearby hauling pad where a Cricket jumpship awaited; shrieking atomic pulse engines waited to transport the nearly 200 tonne war machine to a loading deck in the skies above. “Things are fuckin’ huge when you get up close to ‘em.”

Paul looked up from the laptop for a moment, only afforded a passing glance as the 16 meter tall mass of cannonry and armor passed by. The Wulf chewed away at the asphalt, pacing around 90 miles (or nearly 150 kilometers) an hour along the slanting roadways and tunnels that lead to a nexus deep within the starboard hull of the Herodion. Lieutenant Pahralovic steered the CRV onto a narrow frontage road illuminated with a bright holographic screen, the designated assembly area for Oscar and Mike companies. As they drove along the neatly delineated lanes large warehouse blocks grew from the concrete and steel superstructure of the hull, a small pocket in the concentric layers of shielding that formed the endohull.

Loic spotted Sergeant Major Avilius, the Naverian packed into his exoskin and fatigues with two MG-40Bs under one shoulder delivering a quick wave with his free hand as he spotted the Captain's staff-car powering down the roadway.

On the platform, Captain Loic watched the Sergeant Major carry off the GPMGs while he discussed the nitty-gritty details of the company's transfer onto the AEV-986 with Major Steinar Martialis; ammunition offloading, materiel and supplies, the marines of the 44th Battalion were preparing for no less than a twenty-month mission on the strategically worthless planet in the central sectors of the Local Region.

"Alright, I'm getting a brief for the officers ready at the moment -- Papa Actual will be finishing up in the hab-blocks soon by the time we start loading onto the Globewalker. What else you need from F Company, Cap'n?" Steinar glanced up from the tablet before handing it back to Paul, looking sideways at a WARPAC crate 3 meters tall and 3 meters wide with the label 'HVY WPNRY' stenciled across it. "You need any more Matchlock ATGMs or MAWs feel free to have 'em."

Captain Loic peeked up from the tablet at the crate of launchers, snapping the tablet display back onto the laptop and quickly checking through an organizational list of the company's store. "Sure thing Major, I'll take 'em. I'll throw 'em the Matchlocks at the heavy platoon and send the MAWs to my scouts -- what're we looking at for transport on this dirtball?"

The Major gave Paul a quick signal, holding out one finger as he walked out to the edge of the platform just as a wall of headlights was seen plowing down the roadway. "Steelbacks, Sabers, Claymores, Bovines -- take your pick Cappie. We're bringing some armor to this dirtball." He said, turning back to the roadway and sticking one hand out as the deafening roar of the armored vehicles became enough to drown out the platform.

Captain Loic watched as a line of vehicles begin to stack in formation along the causeway besides the main road. An M7-13 Lancer Armored Infantry Vehicle was at the front of the pack, her turbines screaming as the Starfleet Cavalry officer crawled out of the driver's cupola and shook hands with the Major. "Alright Martialis, here's your motorcade Big Shot."

"Thank you kindly Chief Petty -- Paul, I guess you want the front runner huh?" The Major replied, sending the Petty Officer off with a quick salute and signature before he joined Paul in oggling at the assortment of fighting vehicles in front of him.

"I'd be lying if I said I can't see myself in it." Paul replied haphazardly as he put the laptop away, leaving it on a sling against his leg. He adjusted the automail gauntlets stretching over his forearms, then crossed them underneath both armpits as he stared at the Lancer, like it was an old mustang he had seen living in the suburbs of Miracia. "Thing's gotta' have nine hundred -- a thousand kilowatts in that atom burner."

"Take it and find out, Cap'n. I'll mark it for Oscar, we gotta' go get the rest of our boys though." Major Martialis said back, ushering the Captain to follow him with a wave.
____

Meanwhile, billions of miles away the AvKing activated the large bird's grav-brakes, slowing the vehicle from a several hundred kilometer per second drift to something far more manageable, a clean fifty km/s as they came off the port side of the Pioneer. Inside, the pilot worked away at his holographic prompt, targeting not only the Pioneer with the AvKing's powerful electronic array but also, the unknown vessel that had been hidden in the Pioneer's shadow from the New Atraliah when it initially scanned the broken mining vessel.

There was not much cause for concern, as far as the S&R force was concerned: the vessel was hardly a threat (perhaps due to it's choosing) and if there had been any intention of bad ill it likely would have manifested at this point. Of course, it did cloud the protocol just a bit. Instead of the usual 100km radius the AvKing took around the Pioneer, it was extend to five hundred. This would add an hour, at least, to the time for the MSF teams' schedule to physically enter the Pioneer.

"We're clear, that sig is probably just a local ship trying to help -- go and save the day, po-po." The pilot replied to Lieutenant Wilson, who stood with both arms looming over the pilot seats. The Amerian reeled for a moment before simply righting himself and making a quick indication to the vessel.

"Alright set us up, bring the AvKing around and scope that vessel though. We'll just insert the boys with a cold jump." He replied, making a quick sound in his throat of dissatisfaction before he jumped and clambered down the ladder bringing him to the transport bay. "Get ready Bravo, let's get these people home -- wherever that is -- safe and sound, I don't want to be bringing body bags out of that ship."
 
as written by Lobos

Three days after the events of the meeting within the Umbral Sector, as promised, the Dominion had arranged a relief shipment of food and medical supplies, a sum total of 50,000,000 metric tons of material. Divided amidst four cargo ships, they now sat nestled amidst the battlegroup Olympus tasked to provide their escort. Three Pariah dreadnaughts, three Genbu carriers, ten each of battlecruiser patterns Fenris and Thanatos, twelve each of destroyer patterns Longsword and Brutalis, twenty Drake Frigates, and thirty Piranha corvettes. It was a force the represented a commitment of nearly 70,000 Dominion personnel to the cause.

Shuttling the Volarian representatives to the flagship dreadnaught, the Hera, the fleet began to make its way out of the system, passing through the clearance gap within the Sphere and beginning its two week trip through tunnel space to the Sol System. The rates of transit varied, with the corvettes and frigates of the fleet making headway faster than the rest, ten select vanguards ahead of all others.

____

The leading corvettes that exited into the Sol System a week and a half later emerged into rampant confusion and chaos. One emerged exactly in formation with three of its fellows, while another emerged with the front three meters and 15 meters of material of the vessel's stern merely missing. Two emerged on the far end of the formation, a sudden flaring of the chaotic energies of a warp storm birthed by their entrance, frantically maneuvering to clear the sudden, unexpected hazard. Two more were vomited from tunnel space in expected places, one eight lightyears ahead, to the port side, and down respectively from its fellows, the other a lightyear behind the others. Both disoriented and scrambling to find their locations, in one instance the onboard AI core burnt out and non-operable, on the other, damage to its navigational and communications systems evident.

Frantic, confused calls flooded the airspace between the vessels, attempting to divine what the anomalous presence of the central Sol warp storm had inflicted on their real-space transitions. The twin 'vettes that were maneuvering hard were nonetheless grazed by the unpredictable energies of the storm, one crew screaming as the ravenous energies ripped through the battlescreen like paper before chewing into armor and hull, breaching the port side in six places before clearing the unexpected hazard, the other seemingly free until a twisting tendrils slammed across the ship and ripped it in two broken pieces.

Their fellows that could maneuver did so immediately and cautiously around the boiling storm, even as it began to shrink on itself. The crippled corvettes limped along as they gradually began to regroup. Maydays of those too damaged to properly maneuver resonated across the system on the wide band, and the hulk of the split vessel remained ominously silent, debris floating away through the void.

The last exited not at all in the Sol System, instead appearing on the other side of the Umbral Sector's Sphere, with only enough time to realize that not only was the hull severely compromised and two of their drives cracked from heavy impacts of the superstructure, but they were in the midst of a friendly mine field. Adrift and out of control, they impacted a meteor with an implanted mine, and vanished amidst the detonation of a 100 megaton nuclear fireball. This attracted near instant attention from the radar of the Umbral Sector proper, and an investigative fleet was dispatched to determine the errant detonation so close to home space.

A message was immediately launched back into tunnel space, a broadcast unit that carried an urgent warning to all behind them, the longest lag time in the communication no more than three hours.

"This is Captain Alistaire of Crow, DO NOT exit within the Sol System, I repeat DO NOT exit within the Sol System. Transition outside the heliosphere. Unknown anomalous activity is present with real-space transitions at our location, I repeat anomalous activity on transition at our location."
 
as written by Tiko and Saarai

One ship appeared far from the havoc that had been wrecked upon the Shade Dominion vanguard in Sol, and a lone Aschen Reverence S class appeared in Valore's orbit, well off course from its intended jump point.

A shudder ran through the ship as numerous explosions within the engine room damaged several critical systems. The already damaged ftl drive was completely taken offline and the ship was caught in a slow wayward spin.

Aboard the ship, Derek Adams was dragging himself back to his feet when another shudder threw him against a display console in the CIC. He caught himself and shook his head against the pounding pain in his head caused by a nasty gash over his brow.

"Report on our status, Blackbird," he said.

No response came from the ship board AI.

He repeated the instruction, but was once again met with only silence before one of his crew had made it to his side.

"Commander, we need to go!"

"Where did we land?" he asked as someone got his arm around their neck to help him along.

He was only half coherent through the beating of drums inside his cranium.

"We seem to be in Valore's orbit," someone answered.

Valore. A minor saving grace he thought. All knowledge of recent events that had transpired between the Aschen, and the denizens of Valore were yet unknown to the wayward commander fresh back from the Andromeda Galaxy.

"Start evacuating the crew, groundside," he managed to instruct.

____

Explosions tended to attract attention and that they did. Fighters plotted their course towards the wrecked ships, hoping to save or destroy whomever was there. Which they did depended on who, or what, they found.

"I don't think anyone is alive. I can't tell." A pilot said, scanning the debris in the minefield. "Contact the nearest gunship, just incase we need it." He said, eyes watching his displays. He spotted something off, something further away from the explosions.

"I've got something. Thermal readings, another ship, maybe. Scanning for survivors. Request backup and another gunship." He said, veering off from the Dominion wreckage towards the unknown variable.

The closer he got the more apparent it became what he was dealing with. He didn't like what he saw on his display as more Invictus came to join him.

"Is that-...?"

"It is. Gisa, alert the Terrans and Munroe, we've got Aschen. They won't be putting up much of a fight from the looks of things." The pilot said, glancing at the image of the Reverence on his displays. It had taken a beating, maybe it was fighting those Dominion ships.

Maybe it ran into that thing that attacked them on Valore.

"Opening comms, arm your weapons." He ordered, "Aschen vessel, this is David Rivka of the Invictus. Surrender yourselves peacefully, otherwise we will open fire indiscriminately."

____

With the Blackbird's communications offline with the brunt of their systems, the hail went unrecieved.

On board the ship, a few of the backup systems flickered on and off as emergency lights lit up the halls of the ship, and crew members were rushing too and fro as word spread to evacuate and get planet side where they could get recovered.

The Invictus' hail was answered only by the sight of numerous escape pods being launched from the ship to begin plummetting towards the planet.

____

"Are they trying to escape?" One of the other pilots asked, "Fuck, I don't know." David admitted, "Orders?" A pilot asked, "Shit! Uh... intercept and destroy. Contact forces on the ground, see if our people or the Terrans can capture any that make it to ground." David ordered.

The other fighters broke off to head for the escape pods, taking every chance they could to open fire on them with missiles and other weaponry. Lives were at risk if they made it to the surface.

At least that's what they thought.

"Where the hell is that gunship?" David asked, "A minute out. Give it time, David." A woman said over his intercom.

____

One by one the pods went up in fiery explosions as they were blasted out of the sky before they could reach the safety of the ground. They were few in number to begin with, and only a handful made it through the abrupt gauntlet of missiles and gunfire.

Aboard the ship, the crew remained blind to what was occuring beyond, and more crew members were loading into escape pods only to be launched into the path of missiles and fighter ships.

As Derek was all but deposited into one, another tremor shook the ship as the fires of the engine room were spreading unhindered.

He felt someone press something to his head, before moving his hand to hold it in place over the gash on his brow. Lieutenant Shannon Abran. He recognized her not by her face, which remained a blur as he tried to regain his senses, but by the small tattoo on her hand. She was the only tauron aboard.

He closed his eyes, and the jolt of their pod being launched sent a wave of nausea through him, but it was carried with the whisper of safety once they reached the ground. What they were met with was a rain of fire.

The Blackbird's systems had gone offline, but the pods were intact and more than functional as they began to pick up the situation unfolding around them.

"We're being fired on!" Shannon gasped.

The pod shook violently as a nearby pod exploded into deadly shrapnel that struck their own, damaging it and spiralling it off course as it plumetted haphazardly.

It all seemed surreal to Derek, that death would come so abruptly and so unexpectedly, and yet he felt no fear at its prospect. Only confusion. What had happened?
 
as written by Lobos

"Where the hell is the Blackbird?" Alistaire barked at his crew, ignoring for the moment the comm officer's station he stood over, allowing the lieutenant to field the traffic between the surviving and accounted corvettes. Sensor's operator turned to her station. The Crow's active sensor lashed across space, superluminal returns beginning near instantly, though slightly degraded, the inference of the spatial anomaly generating ghosts. Dancing over the holo-controls, the ensign worked to cut through false data, cursing. Raking her screens with her eyes, she squinted, then shouted in alarm.

"Blackbird's in Valoran orbit, we have unknowns in vicinity. Looks like...shit, something's fucking with our sensors." Tweaking the tuning, the picture cleared again. "Weapons are fired, repeat weapons fired! Pods from Blackbird under fire!"

"Weapons hot five minutes ago. Comm, shut the chatter up, get us a partner and then hail whoever the fuck is out there. Cease fire on Blackbird, she's with us." The captain snarled, snapping his mouth shut as the helmsman reoriented the Crow, bracing against the sudden acceleration. "Heuristic, people, now!"

____

SDS Crow to unknown, cease fire, cease fire! Aschen ship Blackbird is with us, repeat, cease fire. This is a relief force, dammit!" Transmitted on wide band and superluminal open channels, the message would repeat every ten seconds as far across the system as local conditions allowed as the Crow and one of her sisters rapidly accelerated from the Dominion formation for Valore's orbit. Active sensors and targeting sensors were live, weapons coming up hot as they raced to aid the Blackbird. Their onboard intelligence banks were still in the process of updating from the broadcasts of their planetside comrades on Shintenchi, so they were as yet still in the dark that political situations had changed drastically since they'd last been in contact with the Sol System.

[Sensors are starting to sharpen, Captain. Proximity is cleaning the picture. What the fuck is causing it in the first place, I don't know.]
[Understood, Ensign. Sharp enough yet for hard locks?]
[No. But I can illuminate. Permission?]
[Granted. Give whoever the fuck is out there something else to think about that what's in front of their eyes.]

The conversation lasted perhaps a microsecond, the heuristic connection the crew's minds with the onboard AI system accelerating the rate of cognitive perception and communication between the crew accelerated to that of the processing capabilities of it's computational systems, expanded by the assistance of the AI. With the ease one might have in lifting their finger, the linked ensign was able to use the optical portions of her sensor equipment to isolate the distant silhouettes of the Invictus ships, and focus a targeting array sensor on them, the superluminal stream "illuminating" the facing of the ship in relation to the bow of the Crow. As quickly as she painted their hull with the active targeting, she shifted it off, in essence flashing them overtly with the ship's gunsight.
 
as written by barney_fife

Far from the core of the action surrounding Valore, the Intrepid Class ship 'Excelsior' was studying one of the many anomalies that had plagued the Sol System. Utilizing a complex suite of countermeasures, along with the anomalies themselves; it had largely remained undetected. It was perhaps the fact the lone Aschen ship made it a point to avoid Valore that kept it from attracting attention.

Commander Lucia Tarthus, 1st Diplomatic Attache to the Aschen Empire's Ministry of Public Affairs and Social Harmony was seated quietly in her Ready Room as the Excelsior carried out it's mission.

Aboard the bridge, the crew had just caught wind of several energy spikes indicating FTL Jumps, and weapons fire. Additionally, the extremely sensitive and high fidelity sensor suits aboard the Excelsior began to pick up spotty snippets of chatter.

The Excelsior began to maneuver out from behind one of the Sol System's numerous anomalies, with the intention of moving away from the interference to get a better picture of what was going on at the planet. It's sheer distance from Valore however established a slight lag between events. Commander Tarthus was summoned to the bridge, and the Excelsior had quickly gone to Condition One.

"Commander, what should we do?" Ensign Perry asked as he turned to face the Commander behind him. Tarthus frowned a moment, as she watched her scanners. "We're going to need to move out and get a better look, the Excelsior isn't exactly a stealth ship. But we have a few aces in our sleeve." She said, thumbing her chin, as Colonel Emerson turned from his position in the bridge.

"The Invictus are going to simply engage us, and the Machine demon will as well, if we move within detection range."

As the Colonel lodged his protest, Tarthus was going over the Datalink. She was looking for any subspace transmissions from the IIA to paint a clearer picture to what was going on.


"Bring us about at half impulse, shields and weapons at maximum. Ensign Perry; watch the anomalies. Lieutenant Kavis, initiate diplomatic broadcast, but keep the secondary FTL Ready to go. We're pulling back as soon as things get out of hand."

Pushing further away from the anomaly, the Excelsior's shields and weapons flared to life, as it put some distance between itself and the anomaly it was studying.

"Engage electronic countermeasures. Keep us smooth and quiet, I don't want to attract any unnecessary attention." Tarthus ordered, as her crew complied.

Lieutenant Kavis promptly turned towards Tarthus, speaking up.

"Shields and weapons at maximum, Commander. I've got Null-signals activated." He said, as the Intrepid maintained it's sublight speed, keeping emissions to a minimum and utilizing the shadows of celestial bodies and spatial anomalies to conceal it's position, as it began it's long leap-frog towards Valore.
 
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