Deep Space Radar Control

Keral had waited and for some time, the silence within the room gnawed at his mind and for every moment that neither he nor any other dared speak it became worse. Yet what ended the wretched silence was by far worse. A single communication was patched though on standard laser comms and appeared on his brightly lit monitor, text only; it read simply, “ALIEN CONTACT CONFIRMED. ADVANCED STEALTH AND PROPULSION TECHNOLOGY. WEAPONRY EQUAL OR INFERIOR. ACTIONS INDICATE POSSIBLE HOSTILE INTENT, TRUE INTENT UNKNOWN. SEND COLONIAL FORCES, ARTICLE 5 IN EFFECT.”

Keral stopped three words in. Again and again they repeated in his head as if he was a computer that was broken. He tried to accept and move on but he simply could not, his world, the worlds of all, had been irrevocably turned upside down. Eventually the words had beaten his mind dull, and with his senses dimmed Keral had the strength to order, “Article 5 is now in effect, contacts are to be labelled as alien with potential hostile intent. Put me on the line with central colonial security at once.” Keral waited as everyone in the room had their own moments of realisation, as the dumbness swept the room and finally after some minutes a soul somewhere below enacted the necessary protocols and the room changed from darkness to a crimson red. On Keral’s monitor an open video line came on between him and the leader of Colonial security.

The older eastern man on the screen had a sagging face and brown scales, he ridiculed Keral out of habit, “What is it now Keral? A rock you want us to divert? Wait no, is it another false positive to waste resources on?” However it was then the look on Keral’s face and the red glow on the wall behind him became obvious. The old man’s face became harsh and determined as he asked, “Keral… What?”

Keral hesitated for a moment before with a noticeable tremor in his voice, “Article 5 is now in effect sir. Contact is positive and the small frigate we sent to investigate reports possible hostile in-“ Keral stopped mid speech stood and shouted some indistinct command before he sat down and looked back at the monitor, what was a scared face was now locked into an expression of confusion, and horror. Keral resumed hesitantly, ‘S-Sir, we have confirmation that more objects have entered the system, they seem to have instantaneous or near it FTL travel. Our frigate is now alone against a battle group.” Keral stopped and put his hand to his face for a moment in thought before continuing, “Sir I must recommend we go to planet wide alert.”

The old man sat confused, angry, and contemplative. Eventually he responded, “I… I agree Keral; I will scramble all orbital and suborbital fighters. We will mobilize all guard units and the cruisers will leave their docks immediately to rendezvous with the frigate. Kej save us all.”

The screen went dead and Keral leaned back in his seat. He never believed in the Eastern god, but for now it seemed Kej might do a lot more good than the ancestors.

CEGSS ONARMORIAN

The Captain waited with morbid fascination as the strange ships moved in and out of the system. Though the arrival of new ships disturbed him he had the feeling their intent was no more hostile than his. It was some time around that thought when a static and broken sound came in over comms. Harsh and painful but tailored to the first frequency that the Onarmorian tried to contact them with. The captain sighed in relief, though the communication that briefly came in on comms was blight to the ears it was communication. The Captain sat and thought i silence for some time before ordering Joek, “Maintain connection on that frequency, idle it.”

The Onarmorian sat silent in space before an unexpected communication came through; it appeared on the Captains screen, the head of Colonial security himself. The old man on the monitor spoke with confidence, “We have received your message and our two cruisers are on route with four more frigates. Hang tight up their captain, and remember that this cannot come to war if it can be averted. We have troops on the streets and birds in the skies though, the planet is on alert so if things do go south, we will be ready.” The face disappeared before the Captain could even respond, he had not received a call for discussion but rather he had received an order. Ships would arrive to reinforce them soon, though that only made the Captain more nervous. He had come to understand that more guns usually meant more danger, not less. So he would let time drag on. There was still some small hope that communication might be meaningfully established while the alien vessels felt safe in number, though what would happen if it came after then or not at all the Captain could not know.

((Note for Sigma, I have isolated the thing for you into its own post since it is getting big.))

Sector 2317

The prospect of building a starbase - a structure several magnitudes simpler in overall complexity than a Vacuum Maintenance Icosahedron - was made more daunting by the fact that even the smallest EOA Starbase was more than five times larger, with a geometrically greater investiture of resources in each construction. When one further considered that each EOA Starbase had no interior passageways or chambers in the same manner a humanoid starbase, the cost went even higher. Each Starbase, in addition to being a manufactory, also had impressive weapons systems and sensor arrays - all of which had extensive energy requirements necessitating a particularly large series of redundant capacitors and power rings.

Tallying up the costs of immediately moving to produce an independent military fleet, additional constructor fleets, and more led to the conclusion that the Leim Accord State was in something of a crunch.

~Resource acquisition through expenditure of Accord State 11 will remain independent of the Prime Accord Body.~ Ivlbto indicated. ~Severance with the Prime Accord Body will cause bleeder and hisser friend or foe identification dissonance. The Prime Accord Body will not be accountable for actions with Accord State 11.~

~All bleeders and hissers will muster upon Accord State 11.~ Cabernac pointed out. ~Current and prolinear resources are limited. Current and prolinear operating expenditure is high. Accord State 11 lacks resource acquisition capability of the Prime Accord Body.~

Leim silently sent two simple signals to Shotzo, relaying through two simple affirmation signals a suggested directive.

~Illegal acquisition of resources necessary. Ivlbto and Shotzo will transit to neutral area 2 and acquire necessary resources without forwarding acquisition slash transfer policies up to the Prime Accord Body.~

~Leim's itinerary is remarkable.~ Cabernac relayed the message through its comm. laser with a particularly high degree of intensity, almost singing the frailer Skud's casing. ~The Prime Accord Body will neutralize Accord State 11.~

Leim sent a single affirmation to Cabernac, more or less noting that it was aware of such and had planned accordingly - leaving Cabernac to work out what that was and to relay it to the other in the strange group of platonic shapes.

~Revision of itinerary analysis.~ Cabernac immediately corrected. ~Ivlbto will forward illegal dissonant Accord State operations up to the Prime Accord Body. Limited prolinear illegal resource acquisition slash transfer with the Prime Accord Body likely.~

~Skud reaffirms necessity of resource acquisition internal to Accord State 11.~ The (relatively) diminutive Tetrahedron pulsed through its incessant Dodecahedra comms signal, overlaying the message itself with several critical importance identifies and priority signs, as though attempting to assert a massive point of the agenda none of the other entities had expected or recognized.

Ivlbto had one of its many Swarm Icosahedra flit over to the Tetrahedra and pointedly dissect one of its own in a soundless flash of white light.

Leim preemptively killed any kind of retort or protest with a signal to kill all communications as it began projecting a series of data overlays to each of the assembled entities.

After an immeasurably brief pause, communications resumed.

~Ivlbto will pursue Leim's itinerary as outlined in sector 2023. Forwarding requisition policy for bleeder mitigation.~ Sector 2023 was an area of space confirmed by EOA scouts to contain sapient lifeforms with an advanced interstellar society, with an EOA starbase only three sectors away. In addition to having a complete lexicon on the native bleeders' most common communication languages, the bleeders were also likely aware that the EOA existed - and so they would only become strongly suspicious and paranoid instead of immensely when Ivlbto arrived at their doorstep with one or two military vessels and infantry escorts in tow.

Leim affirmed this, and Ivlbto immediately floated away, heading for the nearest wormcore equipped vessel while shooting off a series of comm lasers to the nearest logistics vessel, which began sending out corresponding comm signals to rally up the needed entities for the trip.

~Shotzo will pursue Leim's itinerary as outlined in sector 2917. Forwarding requisition policy for harvester Icosahedra.~ Sector 2917 was the nearest EOA-controlled planetary system, where the 'EOA Prime Accord Body' was busily strip mining a planet's surface while the original native sapient lifeforms were still on it. Such systems were where the greatest amount of raw resources were harvested and shuffled around, where even a determined investigator would have been lost trying to identify any 'illegal' logistics transactions. Not that anybody, least of all the EOA, were likely to be looking for now.

Leim affirmed, and the Dodecahedron shot a comm laser to the nearest Maintenance Icosahedron while laying in an intercept trajectory to board it.

~Cabernac will pursue Leim's itinerary as outlined in sector 1917. Forwarding requisition policy for any type 5 entity.~ Sector 1917 was a small, not particularly important region of space directly adjacent to two dark nebulas. The EOA had scouted neither, though there had been at least two minor priority policies regarding faint, anomalous signals detected from within the larger of the two.

Leim affirmed, and Cabernac fired a comms laser at the same logistics vessel as Shotzo had, requesting identification of the nearest type 5 vessel.

Skud did nothing for several moments, until Leim sent several hundred affirmation signals through to it simultaneously, receiving a low-intensity laser response.

~Skud will pursue Leim's itinerary as outlined in sector 2317.~ It confirmed. Leim courteously affirmed, permitting the Tetrahedra to remain precisely where it was currently and await requests for support from any of the others. Taking inspiration from Ivlbto, Skud had one of its harvester Icosahedra float over to one of Leim's to disassemble it.

Leim responded by firing a low-power antineutron bolt across the pole of Skud's magnetoshield, completely destroying the aggressing Icosahedron and its siblings, inadvisable lingering outside the boundaries of their parent's magnetoshield. Still painted by Leim's targetting maser, Skud took a moment to reaffirm its priority parameters before slowly flying away to the nearest Maintenance Icosahedra to requisition the needed material to make replacements.

Leim depowered the targeting maser moments later, and began forwarding new policies down the chain from the Leim Accord State to the rest of the constructor fleet.

888888888888

Elsewhere in space, several constructor fleets were on the move. The current layer of the constantly expanding matrix of Vacuum Maintenance Icosahedra had been completed on schedule, and all of the fleets - save for one, which had erroneously transited away from their last known position to an unknown sector - advanced to the next corresponding sector of space to begin work on the next layer of Icosahedra.

The voice comes in over Bill's headset, loud and drowning in static "Hey Bill, you still alive over there?" He can't quite place the speaker, but the voice sounds familiar--and certainly less formal than he'd expect from a Sañiran inquisitor.

"Yeah, I'm doin' great" he coughs out.

"What's your O2 meter read?"

"Damn thing's busted--started showin' red fifteen minutes ago."

"We'll get you home. Just hold on a minute." Aboard Bohr, Fermi starts frantically searching the ship's supply locker. "We got any flashlights, Roman?"

"No. Your fault."

"Damn it." Fermi goes back to the comm "Hey Bill. You still got battery power? Can you switch on your lights?"

Bohr is a fine orbiter craft, but it wasn't designed to dock with another ship. The thing didn't even have lights--none where needed, not even on the dark side of Asphodel. But Gödel was designed to land on Akheron's surface, and Akheron sported more craters than the Taiben mountains. And these craters didn't glow. So landing in shadow wasn't only possible, it was the mission plan--the flattest surface Gödel could find would be at the center of a crater.

No response from Bill, but Gödel's lights switch on, and Bohr is bathed in a neon blue haze. Fermi puts on his gloves and helmet and pulls himself into the airlock.

"Hey Bill, I'm gonna open up our airlock. Can you make your way over here?" Through the porthole he can see Bill's ship, a mere twenty meters away. Fermi seals the interior airlock and undogs the exterior. His tether attached, Fermi pushes off into the abyss.

He exists in a universe with only two other objects--Bohr, behind him, Gödel ahead. Between and around them there is nothing. The neon blue light lances in through his faceplate, blinding him, and so Fermi holds up his hand to shield his eyes. To his surprise, the light goes away--entirely, as if the very act of shielding his eyes extinguished it. No haze, no reflection. The universe shrinks down to just him, one man drifting alone in the cold dark.

A sudden jerk--his tether. Panic rises in his chest and he pulls back hard, slamming himself into Bohr, frantically grabbing the handhold. Blinking back sweat, Fermi finds he is shaking uncontrollably.

Gödel's hatch opens, and Bill floats out, his movements fluid. "Nico, is that you?"

"Y-yup."

"You wanna float over here and give me a hand?"

"N-n-no way in h-hell."

Dirac's voice comes in over the comms "I'll get us closer."

Bohr lurches and Fermi sees Bill and Gödel grow bigger. Gradually, they drift together. "Nico. I'm gonna jump here--" he gasps, coughing violently. After a few moments it abates "--I'm gonna jump here and you catch me, okay?"

"Got it." Fermi untangles his arms from the handhold, calmer now.

Ten meters away, and Bill pushes off, drifting gracefully toward Fermi's outstretched arms. Fermi reaches out to grab him but can't quite reach and suddenly Bill is drifting over him, past Bohr, into the black empty sky.

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit."

Fermi pushes off, up to meet Bill, and wraps his arms around the astronaut's leg. A moment later and the tether goes taut, then jerks back, and the two swing back over Bohr the other way, slamming into the dorsal heat shielding. They are shaken, terrified, but alive, and manage to crawl back into Bohr, Fermi's muscles trembling from exhaustion and fear, Bill wheezing, barely conscious. The moment the airlock is pressurized he frantically unscrews his helmet, gasping. "Thank god. Let's go home."

"Hell no." Dirac replies, not taking his eyes off his instruments. "We're gonna map the moon first."

Bill, baffled, scowls, then laughs.

"You didn't think we came all this way for you, did you?"

*4390th Etos of The Kingdom*

Deep in the Glorious South, a rare sight treats the dark skies. Around it, the storms rage.



Leonard cringed with the sudden rocking of the cabin, expecting it to get worse. As always, though, it leveled off.

“Lenny, try not to piss yourself, alright?” One of his comrades said jokingly “We’re not equipped for frostbite.”

He glanced out the frost-tinted window, onto the ice plains below. “Anything but flying.”

“Would you rather a plane, fast and fatal? On foot or vehicle, we would freeze, and no ship can go this far. The airship is nice, steady. Now, get your gear. We land soon.”

~~~~

With a soft thud the airship’s wheels touched the flat ice, and the whine of the propellers died as the engines shut down. The nearby airship of the precursor to their group, a mining team, was nearly obscured by the constant snow swept by the winds.

As Leonard and his fellows exited their zepellin, the foreman of the mining crew approached.

“We’ve gone as far as our drills can get us. Cave network is roughly three stadion down, at a thirty degree incline. They said you’d come with the remaining payment?”

The exploration team leader stepped forward, carrying a case that rattled with coin.

“Here you go, my friends. May Hagne grant you good harvests.”

The miners accepted the case, and made off to their ship.

Now, their last steps done, the explorers began their first.

~~~~

Days had been spent, searching the tunnels. Consulting geiger counters, maps, and orbital scans.

With careful steps, Leonard approaches a ledge. The light from his electric torch shows a glint, not of the ice, but of metal, just at the bottom. Behind him, he heard footsteps. Gripped in panic, his paranoia got the best of him, and he fell.

He heard the crack of his legs breaking on the metal surface, but he was in no pain, curiously eying the painted steel. Just before shock, he muttered one word to his radio:
“Ferryman”

Unknown Space
The captain of the stealth cruiser situated himself into a vacant seat, he gave a few final orders, "Broadcast images of our planet, native species, plant life and a landing video. Continue to relay our message." The marine guard loaded, and the large transport ship hovered for a moment before quickly leaving the small hanger bay, the remaining gun ships quickly followed suit. They flew in a loose formation, each gunship acting as. Type of shield. Onboard the transport, the captain waited patiently. Most organics would argue that robotics could not feel, if this was true why was its mind processing what would happen at his death, how it would happen who would notice. Nervous maybe? They never really knew what to call it.

The ships came yo a slow as they circled the much larger alien ship. Their small shuttles lazily drifting hoping to find a landing zone. If only they could understand. Their language or even the other way around. If they had more sound bites of them speaking they could decipher their language.

The second fleet, waited omniously, the Goliath class ship its spear head, weapons armed and ready. Each ship was in utter silence. Not a program chirped. If war was upon them, they hoped it would be quick and decisive.

---

Maw's surface

FM0322, was finally completed, it's mind was incredibly advanced and it's body stronger than any produced before. It was a warrior to the core, designed to kill efficiently and quickly. Programmed with the most up-to-date knowledge on military etiquette, drills, and tactics. FM0322 took its first step, then another, and another. They were not shakey, nor were they wobbly but perfect. The robotic strode down the corridor, acting as if it had always belonged. While walking something curious happend. "This world is both new and familiar to me. I can not learn anything from it, yet everything I see I have never experienced before." it was referring yo itself in the first person maybe a factory glitch, or.. It could be the main programmer. The elusive monarch always personally programmed its advisors, and such sometimes put unique traits in each one. FM0322 was one such thing. It was the military commander for maw, and all its forces...

Year 4402, eighteen years before first contact

Ungodly bright, the sun beats down on the industrial wasteland, cutting through the smog, reflecting off the towering skyscrapers and smokestacks. No signs of nature here--not even weeds in the sidewalks. Riemann walks among the crowds, men and women wearing masks and carrying umbrellas, forming a canopy of suffocating vinyl. The ozone layer here is thin, in the heart of the Corporate Badlands; the only clouds spawned from factories, offering little protection from the sun's lethal rays.

He reaches his destination--a vast structure of glass and steel, reaching high into the sky like some biblical Babylonian taunt. The receptionist is a man with a prosthetic jaw who recognizes Riemann and waves him through.
The elevator takes him half a kilometer up, to a meeting room with darkened windows overlooking the launch site. At the table sits an energetic middle aged man, staring out at the rocket below--perhaps a decade younger than Riemann himself. Behind him stand two other men, both highly conspicuous. One of them wears VR goggles and a bulky coat: probably a gargoyle. The other is dressed as a modern knight, but his sword replaced with a wicked-looking firearm.

Riemann sets his briefcase on the table a meter or so away from the Sanctans, its black leather still blisteringly hot. "Afternoon Mr. Telarius."

"Yes, a good afternoon, if I may say so. Please, have a seat, Mr. Riemann."
He extends a hand towards a chair, and then turns to his assistants.
"Before we begin in earnest; Mr. Edison, a signal jamming field*, if you would? Nothing excessive, just enough to cover the room. Mr. Hevesy, would you please cover the door?"
The bodyguard, pose rigid, walks over and stands at attention by the door. The other offers just a nod.
"Good. Now, Mr. Riemann, we can have our trade. Given that you and I are both here, we clearly recognize our respective needs."

Telarius reaches into his coat pocket, and withdraws a small case. Gently, he opens it, and extracts its content. The circuit board is recently made, the sharp edges press deeply into Telarius' gloves. On it sits a microprocessor, mounted snugly in its socket. He holds it to the light for a few moments, then returns it to its case.

"I have here all you will ever need from me. I'm afraid that the nature of what I desire makes it more prohibitive for you to return that favor, however, so I am more than willing to cooperate to the fullest extent of our trade, Mr. Riemann."

((*This, naturally, is regular radio frequency jamming.))

The table trembles, heralding the rocket's launch. All eyes turn toward it--a single stage satellite deployment vehicle. Roiling smoke billows out, inundating the surrounding structures, blinding Riemann and the Sanctans to all but the rocket's smoldering engines.

"Say Marcus--you don't mind if I call you Marcus, right? How much you think launchin' one of these things costs me? This one's 'bout a hundred tons, twelve ton payload."

The response is nearly instant, but not from Edison, not Telarius. "Twenty-three million, seven-hundred eighty-four thousand--"

"Cut that crap out" Riemann interrupts with a chuckle "'Course you know the figure, but you're robbin' me of my ability to make seemingly pointless rhetorical questions." Turning back to Telarius, he continues "Point is, out a that twenty-four million it costs me to launch this here rocket, twenty million goes into the launch stage. Payload's cheap as hell--just a bunch of comm satellites. Fuel costs are well under half a million. Now, ten years ago a pricetag a twenty-four million would have had fellers like myself drooling--I've got our ridiculously overblown military-industrial complex to thank for that. But then, say I could recover this here rocket, instead of lettin' it burn it on reentry or smash into the ocean." He points up--through the smoke the engine flame is still visible, far above them now. "That sort of re-usability would make me a mighty rich man. Or I could just launch ten times as many rockets."

"This one's got a vacuum-tube digital/analog processor that weighs two and a half tons--Von Neumann made it for me. Now quit your laughin'--you know the man's a genius. But the damn thing can scarcely vector thrust well enough for the gravity turn, much less a powered landing. But that microchip of yours could let me recover damn near everything. I could even start launchin' some multi-core rockets. Maybe even some fully autonomous spaceships later." He returns to his briefcase and begins to open it. "Now I figure you're wonderin' why I'm tellin' you about all this; truth is I feel I should be upfront about what you Sanctan fellas are gonna run into if you give me that chip. Well, that and I got me a captive audience." Unbuckling the briefcase, he turns it around to face Telarius. Within is a single cylinder, dull grey, sporting half a dozen unconnected nozzles and pipes.
"Now, this little baby's a three-point-five megawatt fission reactor. Sans steam turbine and uranium, of course. You can get yourself inta all sorts a trouble with a thing like this."

Year 4390, thirty years before first contact
Following the Kassner Incident, Swehteir increased funding to their own space program, intent on taking advantage of the other countries' current situations. With the UCS forced to re-evaluate and re-design, and Sañira lacking anything more than orbiters presently available to launch, that left only Sanctus as a potential competitor. But the walled kingdom was indolent, and unlikely to see or exploit the same opening Swehteir would.

Just a few months later, Swehteir had managed to smuggle away the Sañiran physicists Dirac and Fermi, wrapping them in a blanket of red tape after convincing them to abandon their homeland. The scientists had wanted to publish their maps of Akheron's surface; Sañira wanted to keep them private. Now the physicists were doing "contract" work for Swehteir, and no amount of Sañiran infiltration could touch them. On the down side, if they were ever to return home, they would likely be captured and killed.

In under a year, Swehteir had landed on Akheron and jabbed their flag into the moon's regolith.

---

Year 4399, twenty-one years before first contact
"I get it, a dead bureaucrat and a briefcase of state secrets missing. You haven't answered the question: Why the hell was he carrying them in a briefcase, in public?"

"I don't know, sir. His colleagues say he was getting a little paranoid, and --"

"Just a moment, Arne. Claudia, don't we have armored trucks?"

The red-haired woman looked up from one of her many newspapers, her eyes looking past the older of the two men as she thought. "Yeah, Nat. We should."

"There you go," he said, throwing a hand into the air. "He could have used a truck."

"Like I said, he was paranoid. His colleagues all agree on that. He saw Sañirans around every corner."

"Was it the Sañirans, then?"

Claudia shook her head, flipping the page. "Nope."

"Are you going to tell me who?"

She sighed and folded the newspaper up, tossing it back onto the stack. Arms folded, she made eye contact with Nat Thurmond, the most powerful man in Swehteir, if not the world. He was the present moderator of the Global Governing Body, and sat in the chair labelled "1" at the Summit's round table. With a majority of Swehtesh in the Body, and his remarkable manipulation skills, he controlled almost every vote. Some called him corrupt and power-hungry. Others called him ambitious and dedicated. In either case, he had yet to fail in his duties as moderator in the Body or as administrator in Swehteir.

"We think we know who it was. Remember that lab we had in the south, working by the Flats? And the scientists there who went off to work for some megacorp or another?"

"Yes, on both accounts."

"Them."

"Scientists?"

"The megacorp."

Nat thought this over. The bureaucrat, an old statesman beyond his prime, had access to far more information than he needed. Among what that western county was reporting as missing were specifications on the Swehtesh nuclear and space programs, and documents regarding foreign interactions that not even Nat's aides, Arne and Claudia, were clear to see. Nevermind the ground they'd lose in private technology, the secrets that had been stolen could ruin the Swehtesh influence in the Body, if not their whole country.

"Where are you going?"

"Making some phone calls. Get Arne ready for a trip and put him on the plane."

* * * * *

"This is Nat Thurmond, Chairman of the Body and Swehtesh administrator. I need to speak with the president. Yes, I'll hold."

Kraucrum system, Kraxium orbit

---

''Altitude solid.'' ''No reported errors.'' ''Everything's clear, cosmudin.'' Reported the crew on the bridge, there seemed to be no errors and the commander of the vessel, the cosmudin by the name of Xuliz stood fully equipped and armored with his war armor, almost as if he'd expected to fight this deep into his own empire's territory. ''Open hangar doors.'' He suddenly stated and as if magic the ships massive hangar doors slid open. ''Launch the research team, accompany it with two dropships.'' He continued. ''Understood, This is Bridge to Clau-01, you will be escorted by two fully equipped military transports, you have clearence to launch, over.'' The communication's officer on the bridge was relaying the message to the research vessel which was held inside the battleship's gigantic hangar bay. ''This is Clau-01 to Bridge, affirmitive. Engaging engines now.'' The cosmudin on the bridge seemed pleased, he smirked and then continued to monitor the progress of his vessel, and the ones in his fleet were in a safe orbit. ''The closter ship seems so magical, in it's lonely orbit, doesn't it?'' Said one crew member to the other, he replied with a nod and they continued.

''The research vessel's statistics are nominal, it'll manage the estimated re-entry strenght of Kraxium.'' Stated one member of the bridge crew, the Cosmudin simply replied with a nod in his particular direction and stated. ''Give them clearence to launch.'' ''Affirmitive, this is bridge to Clau-01, you have clearence to launch, good luck.'' The communication's officer fanatically observing his instruments and equipment, suddenly a reply came in. ''Thank you bridge, this is Clau-01, launching.'' Suddenly the modified medium sized dropship that was equipped with the scientists and their gear launched out of the hangar bay, Xerxes-01, 02 in pursuit, the environment of Kraxium would be hostile, therefor precautions had to be made.

---

Kraucrum system, Kraxium orbit, Xerxes-01

---

Inside the military Zerium dropship codenamed 'Xerxes-01' there was no room, what so ever, to move about. The soldiers sat in their re-entry chair's which quite litterally bolted them to the ship, so that they'd fly nowhere. The space inbetween the multiple rows were filled with equipment such as drones and materials used to build a supposedly long sustainable fortress on the surface of the planet. Repopulation was the operation's main objective, however scientists have seemingly overlooked this very point and are becoming quite clouded in their judgement. Large P.P.M.A.U.'s stood ready in their respective locations and soldiers dedicated to them still sat together with the rest on the re-entry seats. Suddenly a private room opened up and out came a Corian, a high ranking military officer, the leader of the entire operation, his armor seemingly locked itself to the floor of the dropship and he didn't move an inch when the ship started to shake uncontrollably during the re-entry sequence. ''Alright men, we are Claudian's greatest hope today, with our 'repopulation' of this desolate planet filled only with bandits and pirates we will be able to supply the empires ever expanding need for Xalium 17.'' He said, in the background a syncronized chant echoed the ship as he finished. ''For the Empire!'' The Corian continued. ''Yes, for the Empire. We will set up dropzone Zelxi-01 and when that has been done we'll be able to be resupplied by the fleet in orbit, factory ships are enroute so if we ever come across large bandit or pirate resistance we'll be able to be resupplied by such means. We'll be cut off until this dropzone is established, remember this.'' Just like before, a chant errupted suddenly when he finished. ''Cora!''

''These science pricks have never experienced the heart of battle and combat, so don't expect anything from them, they are here to slow us down, however due to the Emperor's interest we'll be forced to keep an eye on them WHILST we construct Dropzone Zelxi.'' The Corian finished. ''Any questions?'' He expected that they'd understood all, and so they did. ''Quo, quo! In the Emperor we trust!'' The entire 65 claudian soldiers chanted in union. Each soldier had a weapon in hand and was entirely suited up, ready to do anything. Similar situations were happening inside the hull of Xerxes-02.

A radio-wide broadcast just came in from the pilot of Xerxes-01. ''We've pierced the atmosphere, approaching landing zone, ETA 5 minutes, Xerxes-01 out.'' The corian somehow unhooked his legs from the floor and walked around freely, just like diciplined warriors, everyone remained at their seats. The Corian had his weapon in both hands and the finger just above the trigger incase something unexpected would occure. He walked over to the hatch which would lead to the pilot's cockpit. ''Pilot's, can you reach Clau-01?'' The pilot didn't look back and simply replied. ''Yes, we can.'' The corian walked into the cockpit and sat himself down at the communication's center. ''This is Celxi team to Clau-01, come in.'' ''We read you loud and clear Celxi team.'' ''You are aware of our mission, over?'' ''Ye-'' ''We are supposed to touch down at precisely '011-0733-98ZX', after that we're going to regroup and gather our supplies, once WE'VE made our decitions you'll be allowed to do your research, only if you're accompanied with two of my men, understood, over?'' ''Well, yes, Calxi team.'' ''That is all, Calxi team out.'' The corian looked towards the pilot ''Qou.'' And walked back into the cargo hold. ''Alright men, STAND UP!'' Suddenly, on command every soldier unhooked their safeties and stood up, in unison and held their weapons towards the ground. ''FACE THE DROPDOOR!''

Once again every single soldier turned 90 degrees towards the main, large dropdoor. Once the doors fell no soldier left until the Corian gave them their command. ''Unload the cargo, form around the dropship!'' Once again the soldiers closest to their cargo unloaded it and the soldiers who had nothing to take rushed outside to instantly form a perimiter of security around the vessel. The pilots began to announce their touch down. ''This is Xerxes-01 to Battleship Hyperio, all Ytan military elements have touched down safely, begining unloading procedure, ready for our arrival in, estimated, 5 to 6 hours, out.'' The pilot removed his hands from the controls of the massive dropship and sighed. ''Understood Xerxes, everything's on schedule.''

---

Kraucrum system, Kraxium surface, 1km from drop point

---

''Utki, moq darro... Mukin!'' ''Dal, dal. Mukin, mukin, dirararna!'' An unknown group of figures started to gather in an abandoned building just at the edge of the dropzone. ''Melni, melni.'' They looked deformed from Xalium radiation and how they'd even survived is uncertain, maybe they'd survived underground and created some sort of resistence. ''Move aside...'' Suddenly a tall, robed man entered the building, he spoke Claudian, the Imperial language with fluency and perfect pronounciation. ''Dalara, dalara!'' Suddenly all the mutants bowed down and chanted before him. As the man walked over to the blown open wall of the building he was puzzled. ''They arrived now? Hm...''

GRAAL HEGEMONY

Gruul H'ea, Gruul System

The homeworld of the Hegemony had long turned from a dusty, dune trodden planet into a world thriving with smog and the breathe of industry. Towers clung to the ceiling as craft darted to and across a hazy backdrop of factories and work complexes. Paved roads carved themselves through the concrete jungle like errant streams and the streets were packed with automobiles of every sort. This world was alive, but not with the natural flora and fauna of an uninhabited terrestrial planet. This planet was alive with the heartbeat of the Graal.

The recent appointment of the new Gnatar was one that came with subtle trepidation. The lifeblood of the entire Hegemony stemmed from the heartbeat of the Gnatar, for he was both the brain and the brawn of the entire Graal civilization. While not a dictator in a traditional sense, the Gnatar exercised largely unrestricted power in all affairs diplomatic and military, while legislation of the economy was regulated to the Interplanetary Councils. A major loophole that existed and that nearly ever Gnatar since the unification was aware of was that the Gnatar could displace and replace members of the Interplanetary Councils at will -- and this usually occurred when a certain councilor refused to bend to the whims of the Gnatar. Gnatar Gorgoth would be no different, most surmised.

The cramped elevator held many prestige faces -- chief among them was the Gnatar, flanked by an armed entourage and followed by a half dozen Graal who wore black and silver gauntlets and pauldrons. Military officers. The ubiquitous term was Mognosh and was often interchangeable from the various branches and often used to serve as more a term of respect than of true military discipline. The elevator reached it's destination; the top floor and the doors slid open. The floor was a single room, sizable and spacious with windows in nearly every direction overlooking the megalopolis. Near the center of the room sat an immense chair, over seventy chairs present. The congregation moved in and filled the chairs, though there were plenty left even as the Gnatar took his spot at the head of the table.

"Let this meeting come to order," one of the Graal near the head of the table motioned, pounding a closed fist against his left breast. The rest, save for the Gnatar, did the same.

"Gub-Mognosh Torth, your report on the status of the Hegemony Army," the Gnatar commanded. An older Graal a few seats down stood, his black pauldron was decorated with several crimson stars and a pair of hammer emblems.

"We are numbering seven planetary armies with an excess of fifteen million soldiers. We are the fiercest fighting force in the galaxy, Gna -- "

"Then why have we not conquered our neighbors and expanded to the stars, Gub-Mognosh?"

The commander's eyes, already fuzzy with age, seemed to carry no answer. He began to stammer an answer together, but the Gnatar answered the question for him. "The truth, my esteemed councilors, is this; the Armies of the Hegemony have long been allowed to live under a guise of comfort and corruption for the last decade. My planetary commanders on Kylox III and Sorguth Prime report that thirty percent of all soldiers have effectively gone AWOL but remain on respective rosters. This," he growled, "is not acceptable."

The Interplanetary Councilor of Sorguth Prime, the most resource laden planet in Graal space sat several seats down and started to reply, "These reports may have some truth, Gnatar, but rest assured, we are still a largely potent fighting force."

A whirring sound at the far end of the room indicated the elevator was in use. Coming up.

"No. Even now the stench of corruption fills my nostrils. I fear that the rot has grown too deep." The Gnatar's eyes prodded the individual members of the Council respectively, but as their eyes met they turned their gaze away from him.

The elevator was halfway up now.

"Perhaps a requisitioning of new officers from Gruul H'ea to replace those officers who have become too lax?" The offer came from Jugg Kug, the councilor of Farg IV, a terrestrial colony world on the edge of Graal space. Reports that reached the Gnatar's desk not two cycles ago had named Jugg Kug in a financial scheme that saw milions of Hegemony credits reach his pockets and be written off as "necessary expenses." There were no saints at this table.

"The problems of the Hegemony would not so easily be dismantled. I do however, have a plan for you all, Councilors," he stood from the table and turned to face out the window. The distinct JUUUUM of the elevator abruptly stopping as it reached the top floor caused all eyes to turn toward the elevator. The Gnatar remained peering out the window. A dozen armed Graal exited the elevator -- rifles in their hands -- and surrounded the table. They were Graal Regulars, 744th Regiment of the 12th Infantry Division; Planetary Home Army.

"Councilors, you have been found to be traitors to the Hegemony on the grounds of treason and corruption," the Gnatar turned to face the surprised and weary faces of those responsible for the woes of the Hegemony. The assembled soldiers cocked their rifles and took aim. The sounds of twelve automatic rifles in the enclosed room was deafening.

---

-- A new Gnatar* (Graal word for Great Lord) is appointed and adjourns the first Immediate Council of Home Systems and Interplanetary Affairs
-- Responsible for widespread corruption, financial ruin and military decadence, the Gnatar has these corrupt figureheads purged in order to begin to turn affairs around in the Hegemony.

"Splendid, my friend, simply splendid!"
Marcus slides the processor to Riemann, and signals Edison to collect the briefcase.
"I have greater concerns than what you do with my technology, Mr. Riemann, but it does ignite a warmth in my heart to see it put to a productive cause. The other nobles will likely be sour upon hearing of this; had I shared those sentiments, I doubt I would be here."

"However, there are a few strings attached. I will act to recover or destroy this property if it would be used to threaten Sanctus, though I doubt you are interested in that. If it or any replicas are ever stolen from you, do not hesitate to inform me. The chip and its support hardware have several security holes my company can use to make it useless to those we, yourself included, don't want to possess it. Naturally any derivative hardware and software is out of my hands."

"That said, I imagine you have a few conditions of your own. It would be most unfair were I to not abide by them. So please, speak them freely."

Things had been bittersweet for Henry Casper in the intervening nine years. After the Kassner incident, Swehteir leaped at the chance to launch a lunar landing, succeeding and pushed forwards leaps and bounds in their scientific knowledge and theory, something Casper had torn out his hair over. It had been a massive embarrassment on the UCS' part, and it was safe to say that Casper was not reelected as President of the UCS. It said much about Casper's replacement when he ran again recently was, once again, elected. President Powers wasn't a popular man after he was discovered to be using a number of illegal drugs and substances, and his policies, what extremely few he could pass anyways, were almost universally unpopular. It was a surprise that any of them had gone through in the first place, though it was possibly an effort by the states of the UCS to push support further in their favor.

When Casper had received word that Swehteir was calling for him personally, he was extremely tempted to simply put them on hold for... possibly the next few hours. When he received further word that it was Nat Thurmond himself calling him, those temptations were rather quickly dropped. While the UCS was a rather large player by itself, Mr. Thurmond was definitely up there due to his influence and position, possibly even more influential than the UCS. This was someone who was important on the world stage, to be sure, and Casper would rather not piss off someone with such power and influence, especially with the federal reputation as it was.

Casper picked up the phone, and spoke into it. "President Casper speaking. To what do I owe the honor, Mr. Administrator."

"Oh no Marcus, you misunderestimate me. You don't have to do me any favors. This little reactor's yours--and I expect your scientists will want to build a helluva lot more of em, stick em in submarines, whatever. Feel free. I'll even give you a copy of the patent rights, if you fellers care about that sort of thing. See, I figure this little thing's more of a proof of concept than anything else--and it's damn old. Designed it before you dropped the first nukes up north.

"Say your boys tear this thing apart, start makin' some improvements--and I'll bet with those computers you got ya'all can improve on it considerably. But I've been doin' this for twenty years, and I can make you a reactor with a thousand times as much output.that's a helluva lot safer. Even got some designs on fusion reactors I'm playin' around with.

"But the EPA won't let me build 'em in the UCS. Sure they don't make smog, but they also have none of the environmental benefits of a good old-fashioned coal power plant. There ain't gonna be no global warming anytime soon if we all switch over to nuclear power no matter how profitable it is.

"Now, you hand me that chip and you can bet your ass I'm gonna run right down to Neumann Pneumatics and see if they can't design me a replica. But we're at least twenty-five years behind you when it comes to all this computer stuff. So it's a helluva lot easier for you to just give me more of these chips. I'll help solve your nation's energy crisis and you won't have to deal with a potential security hazard."

"That, Mr. Riemann, is exactly the sort of deal I am looking for. The coal and oil barons will not be happy, but I can mitigate this by letting you build in my family's lands. When it comes to the actions of a noble in his own keep, our government is quite lax. We also have the advantage of an intact atmosphere above our heads, and a climate that has remained stable for generations, unlike the UCS."

"Should you like, I can arrange for you to tour potential sites, whether you come personally to Sanctus or send a team of surveyors in your stead is not a problem. Additionally, if the technology I have provided you does not quite suite your needs, I can give you access to our fabrication facilities for custom orders."

"If you need anything else from me, now, do say so. Otherwise, I think we are done here, Mr. Riemann."

"I'm afraid there's not much honor to be had here; I'm calling you to beg a favor." Thurmond spun his chair to face the window. The last of the day's sun was filtering in over the mountains and through the clouds. Besides the sunset, there wasn't much to see. Administrators, even one with as much influence as Nat, didn't get better views than their underlings.

"I figured you'd be happy to oblige; after all, I did put your man on the moon. This shouldn't be as much trouble to go through as a rocket launch. You still on the line?"

Nat turned back to his desk, careful to spin back the way he did before. His desk was littered with folders, envelopes, and loose documents. He skimmed over the headers and bullet points. Most were related to the corporation directly, while others were information that may be have been stolen: satellite photos of the north; intel on spy operations in Sañira and the Badlands; info on a nuke in the Flats. Here and there, a portfolio of an expatriate scientist lay. The Chairman was doing his homework.

Beg a favor, huh? He remembered doing that, way back when. And did he really have to bring up the moon incident as well? The UCS was still reeling from that disgrace, lamely having to simply name themselves second place after Swehteir not only beat them in the space race, but also using Kassner himself as their astronaut. At the very least, they could say that a UCS citizen was amongst the first men that walked the surface of Akheron.

Casper sighed heavily. "Yes, I'm still on the line, Administrator, though... For you to come to us, it seems a little strange. Surely you have more powerful friends elsewhere, someone who's federal government can actually get something done, so does this mean you're desperate, or... Nevermind. Just... what does this favor entail?"

"Believe me, I have friends. The nature of the work makes you the best option, though."

The administrator chose his next words carefully, painfully aware of the consequences should any mistakes be made in the coming days.

"I have a team running a counterintelligence operation on a group in the Badlands. They'll need a safehouse to work out of. And the cooperation of your federal operatives wouldn't hurt either."

Nat took a sip from a glass resting on the table. Not vodka, he thought. A shame... calling in favors was thirsty work. "How do you feel about that, Mister President?"

Casper thought on matters for a second. One on hand, letting an intelligence group operate within their borders might not be the best idea, especially with a cold war going on. On the other, it may be a good time for the Federal Office of Intelligence and Logistics (FOIL) to get some intel of their own on Swehteir, who surely had a number of secrets of their own, despite their own self-proclaimed neutrality. There was also still the question of what the operation was...

"I see. Well, I'm sure I could be convinced to do you this favor, but... As I'm sure you know, the UCS has a number of business partners in the Badlands, and if you were attempting to target one of our close friends, or if your actions would lead to their harm, well... It'd go against my conscience to let this simply happen. I will need info on what this operation of yours fully entails before I can allow you in. It'd be a shame for all of this to hurt any of our public relationships after all. If, this is provided, and everything looks to be fine... I will allow you your safe house and the cooperation of federal agencies."

Even now, some organizations had friends.

"I wouldn't expect the UCS to be buddies with thieves and murderers." He hesitated, just for a moment. "It's Horizon. They killed a bureaucrat and stole top secret information. I don't suppose you'd admit it if you had any relationship with them, fearing for your public image and all."

Nat half-stood and banged on the wall. A few moments later, Claudia poked her head into the room. He waved her over and scribbled on a piece of paper, some index card with a note about a meeting he was supposed to be in.

Two teams.

Claudia nodded and stepped out. Nat would try his hardest to stay one step ahead. It's how he got where he was today. If Casper didn't think to take this opportunity to get some information on the Swehtesh, Thurmond's teams got more than they went there for. If he did... at least they'd break even.