The Antipapal Crusade was brought to an end sixty-and-nine years ago, following the surrender of Ua-Menlir and subsequent forfeiture of his holdings. His accomplice, the Antipope Al-Arsim, was arrested a year later by the Church. The Lords of the Congregation convened with the Church to determine the False Warlord's sentence. Ua-Menlir was delivered twenty-and-one deaths and forevermore branded Heretic. Al-Arsim remains confined to her cathedral. The Warlord Nosi, despite the injustices he dealt during his rule, was permitted by the Congregation to hold his seat as Warlord until his term's expiration. He was forced by the Congregation to relinquish the territories acquired during his rule, and the Church declared Nosi the Last of his bloodline.

Now, Ugar quarrels with his brother-lord Zisuthra, seeking to make him appear no longer able to rule as Warlord. The Congregation nears another election period, and Zisuthra holds presently holds his brother-lords favor. However, that favor is waning and Warlord Zisuthra may not be able to earn a second term.

- - -

The Warlord leaned wearily on his hammer, shivering as his hundreds of heartbeats fell out of sync. Behind him, half a dozen of his most elite warriors made their way through the corpses of the enemy raiders, setting the remains alight. An engineer was working ahead of him, preparing a breaching charge.

When Ugar's raiding party was shunted into the system, Zisuthra was waiting. His retinue's destroyers quickly dealt with the raiding frigates and escort corvettes, battering their hulls with coilguns and disintegrating their structures with nukes. Within an hour, the Warlord's fleet shared its orbit with nothing but spall and charred organics. The only remnant of the raiding party was a pair of transport vessels, intended to board and ransack orbital stations. They fled the battle untouched, poorly armed and not nearly armored enough. Zisuthra had them pursued and captured unharmed. The first of the pair was already gutted, with the evidence of Zisuthra's presence spelled out clearly in the gore and debris behind him.

The engineer announced the charge as ready, and Zisuthra's bodyguards returned to formation immediately.

The Warlord hefted his hammer and braced his magboots on the wall behind him.

The engineer rumbled a prayer to one of the ninety-and-nine names of god.

The hull tore open. Zisuthra shoved off from the wall.

The din of battle erupted immediately as he flew through the threshold, slamming into a warrior who was still stunned from the blast. A few cannon rounds deflected off the Warlord's armor; one found a gap. Bellowing a war-hymn, Zisuthra latched his magboots to the floor and threw the warrior he struck down the corridor. He brought his off-hand up, turning to face the other end of the corridor as several bursts of cannon fire whistled by, bounced off, or went through him. His bodyguards followed through the breach, responding to the raiders' cannons with weapons of their own. Gyrojet rounds flew from their rifles and erupted in white flame some distance away, bringing a quick halt to the firefight.

Continuing his hymn, the Warlord floated down the corridor slowly, his retinue in tow. They encountered a few more pockets of resistance on their way to the main transport hold, but they were quickly dealt with. The hold itself would be occupied by dozens of warriors, far too many for a direct confrontation. Instead of breaching the hatches, the engineer welded them shut. Outside the vessel, another team of engineers was accomplishing the same task on the boarding tubes. The Warlord's party continued to the bridge.

- - -

Days later, the transport returned to Ugar's territory. Attached to it, its brother vessel. Ugar wisely had the vessels boarded by a recon team rather than committing to the task himself. Inside, they found a pair of survivors. One was a pilot in Ugar's navy, restrained and battered but alive. The other was the Warlord's navigator, driven insane and barely capable of holding cohesive form.

The holds were filled with asphyxiated corpses, the boarding tubes blown wide by explosive charges.

The pilot was brought before Lord Ugar himself, refusing to speak to anyone else except to declare he had a message from the Warlord.

"Coward."

Then the pilot swallowed an incendiary charge and died honorably.

Little over a millenium ago

Looking down at the world in flames, the rings of death the massive death ships project out extinguishing not only billions but millennia of history and achievements in a matter of days. The crime unknown. The mass evacuations left with tens of millions- of course they couldn't stop at destoying billions. They wanted all dead and begun shooting down civilian evacuation craft. The ones who fled early were luckier. As one of the last military craft fleeing away in a move that would normally end with being treated as an enemy in a emergancy blink to another star system flashes out all this Tikali could wonder is,

Is this all that lies in the future of the universe?

He could not dare contemplate further as he begun falling light years away from the agony that consumed what once was a bright, populous world. What kin he had are all dead, and despite being in a spacecraft jammed with a several thousand individuals he could feel the coldness that now faced himself and his whole kind. Such optimism there was in the early years, be it the long game he fought in the dirt against metallic monstorities from building to building, the brilliant and firey naval officers in the colonial front- all now extinguished and dead. For a bit, it owuld have seemed as if a standstill could have been reached. But they demanded submission and that simply was not an option. Who would have known they were so mad as to actually enact genocide against a fellow sapient without due cause.

The war was doomed from the start, in retrospect. In space they outnumbered and outmatched us, on planets what advantages we had would ultimately be violently struck away by being at the bottom of the well. Despite the justness of the war, with such an blatantly evil force in the universe, it would seem that running is the only option left. It is being called a tactical retreat, but the truth is obvious. There is hardly any Tikali left to fight, the few who can must run or be crushed like all the others. It had been convened that the Tikali shall take refuge in the grand interstellar void or find a place among the mountains of dead on the grave worlds. Perhaps to share stories the millions of other societies that have met this fate.

But such fate shall not befall the Tikali as long as there is still Tikali left.

An oath shall be made, one that shall ensure a final victory against these monstrosities who claim themselves a civilization. And until the day they suffer as the Tikali have, this war will not end unless the universe ends with it. There is many Tikali left. Most in hibernation, evacuated personnel of declared importance by the professionals in massive libraries of tubes until a base somewhere far, far from the home world can be made. The small size of their kind is quite advantageous in regards to space- but even so hardly a few million total Tikali left. There used to be tens of billions of Tikali.

Once at the outpost, the last Tikali made his oath- and the last 3.4 million Tikali would make it with him, regardless of age or sex, regardless of their standing or views (what few who refused in such a charged environment would be viewed simply as treasonous and executed).

As long as there is a universe, I shall be an enemy of the Chaloneon Dominion. I shall never surrender to the Dominion no matter the conditions, nor compromise, no matter the reason. The only mercy I will allow a Chaloneon is a quick death, regardless of their age or allegiances. And the only future I will give the Chaloneons is the future they gave us- that of annihilation.

I will put every effort into advancing and rebuilding the Tikali kind, even at the cost of my own life. Until the mission is complete, I shall pledge my life to one of secrecy so as to protect my fellow kin and ensure the mission continues without outside subversion.

I will not set foot on any new world with the intention of starting a new home for the Tikallians until the Dominion is no more, for in a evil galaxy no world is safe from the rings of fire. To do so is to doom generations to the same annihilation that befell our home, that befell our kind and can never be mended as long as they live.

And I shall ensure that my children reaffirm this Oath, and their children as week, and to continue down to the generation who sees the Dominion forever annihilated.

Present Day

A clear eyed, white chilla lined neck Tikali with a light grey colored chitin accented by bluish spots lays on a circular bag looking at highly stylized paintings while blowing on a rigidly patterned brass tube marked in hundreds of triangles, emitting a mist-like fog from the pipe in total misery. He cranes his head at the paintings once more, at the shifting patterns and baroque nature of it all. The ancient past having to be lived over and over again, so taxing on the mind that comfort is needed. Sapas however, is interrupted from his session when a silvery, bugger eyed fellow hovers on over and starts spewing out questions.

"What are you doing here at this moment?" it asks.

His focus hesitantly shifts to this eager little mecha-Tikali and tells it "Simply piping some mist, reflecting on our fucked up past and lamenting not having my pet Incidi with me right now. Another damn sucker's between my midlegs. It's irritating."

"But what of the mission to gain intel on the undocumented Species who has emerged in the Spindle?"

"Look, the Spindler peoples are not my jurisdiction. I'm an assassin. My family has been killing Chaloneon bureacrats aimlessly for the past several centuries as per the ballheaded at top demanded. If you have a Spindler you want dead, speak with me. If you simply want to blow mist, speak with me. But I am not on duty and will not be impressed into it, i've already nearly died a dozen times when young from those shitty frontier missions that did fuck all for the Grand Mission beyond irritate some slave traders in the lower sectors and may even have irritated those computers who like pretending to be gods. Anyways, when's the part we massacre the Chaleoneon children by frying their brains out? I've been told we were suppossed to do that."

"It is good to notice you are using your newly attained free speech privileges. But, remember what they did and what they have done to others less fortunate than us. They killed our children, they killed the children of the Irkorn tribes, they pretty much kill the children when they go around throwing rods at less advanced societies like the butchers they are. We aren't the only civilization the Dominion has tormented and there is more evil in the galaxy than just the dominion." the silverly Tikali replies as it just looks down upon the mist piping assassin.

"Good thing we are very fortunate than." He replies before a message appears in his eyes. It is a call to action.

"Well, looks like idling is no longer a issue here, please move along and find more arguments to copy in your conversations, I've heard these ones over thirty times now." Sapas says to the machine Tikali before jolting up from his slump and rapidly skittering to the hangar.

The Solarian Star Federation enjoyed over 300 years of prosperity and still counting. Humanity grew immensely with the average citizen believing there's nothing technology couldn't solve. Yet people became increasingly aware of one thing: they weren't alone. Though they lacked the practical means the Solarians had plenty chances to observe signs of advanced civilizations inhabiting distant stars. They were not alone. There's an entire galaxy filled with life out there. Using various probes humans had countless attempts to communicate yet apparently without any sorts of luck. All is changed after the discovery of hyperspace. Relying on the new physics of this alternate dimension it became possible to travel far faster than previously thought possible. They unlocked the final key to explore the galaxy and it's up for the crew of the Enterprise to take that monumental first step!

Captain Tiberius J. Kirk was at the command bridge of the SFS-1701 Enterprise. It was a freshly retrofitted Vega-class starship equipped for ultra long range exploration. Compared to before it had less Q-Box output to give space for additional construction and research equipment. From the standard 750 the crew also expanded to 1280, brimming with scientists from all fields. While Starfleet couldn't spare more than a single ship for something as half-hearted as galactic exploration they indeed did their best to equip the Enterprise according to its mission. Also understandable they chose a troublesome young officer like Kirk to command this expedition. On the surface he was a former valedictorian from Starfleet Academy and his talents were unquestionable. Yet his behavioral kinks and tenuous attitude with the rules quickly made him a problem figure. In short he was expendable and the leadership would rather have him somewhere far away from the public eye. Meanwhile the media coverage of this introduces the mission as a monumental step towards understanding the galaxy and meeting alien life. In reality the Federation had its hands full with internal affairs and barely had any substantial interest in the project. Sure, they had strong suspicion for alien life out there but that was all theory. That being said Kirk was eager to meet alien civilization, especially the feminine side of them. And given his list of partners there's little he wouldn't able to handle. Solarians within the Rainbow Cluster built their civilization for thousands of years without meeting any other sapient species. Yet starting from the last few centuries the breakthrough in cosmetic surgeries allowed people to look like aliens from popular works of fiction. Hell, Kirk's first officer looks like an elf from whichever fantasy book he took inspiration for!

"Farcaster initialized. Hyperspace corridor is stabilizing."
Navigational Officer Tomokazu Espósito Paris reported as he made preparations for long range interstellar travel. The Enterprise is traveling almost a thousand lightyears for the location determined most likely to hold sentient life. There could be numerous other places ripe for exploration but Starfleet determined those look actually useful and there are teams long prepared to seek them out. Yet this neglect might what cause the greatest change within the Federation in centuries.
"We have now entered hyperspace. Estimated travel time is 2 hours 42 minutes."
@Commodore Robot

New Aurelia
New Aurelia had been a beautiful world at one point, representing the industrious of the EU with its many factories and also showed how much the EU care about beauty and nature with the expansive farmlands with a wide variety of flora. However the Romans had decided they would destroy that beauty. A Roman assault fleet had arrived and orbitally bombarded the world. While a few smaller towns had suffered many of the cities had been spared due to their shields. The Malleus Imperii landed shortly backed a few divisions of the Legions. While they managed to take some land and a few major cities the EU Armed Forces managed to quickly dig in and began a holdout war. With their own farms and New Aurelia’s factories already producing military supplies, the EU Military has been able to hold out for months.

General Theodas Thelen sat in the command center of a EU mobile command base, a heavily armored weapons platform that fit in with the EU’s strategy of mobile entrenchment, being able to move quickly but then quickly hunker down to defend an area. Theodas himself was a sentinel, a sky blue pulsing through his veins and his eyes. He had long flowing silver hair that had been tied back, and wore a greyish-black uniform with a insignia denoting his rank. He seemed to be using a holo-computer to observe the battle.

A Iscandarian stepped through the door. She was tall and slender, the wings of a Sentinel tucked behind her back, wearing the same uniform as General Theodas but with a different insignia. Her veins and eyes glew a light red. Her hair was long and a silver color similar to Theodas’s, but left to flow freely behind her.

“Commander Leona.” spoke Theodas.

“General.” responded Leona in kind approaching the holo-computer.

“Any updates for me?” he asked, looking at Leona.

“Yes sir, we lost the Northern Alak outpost, as well as the town itself. Most of our forces got away but we have a few squads still pinned down. The defensive line itself was already re-established around Southern Alak. I suggest we…” began Leona, before being interrupted by Theodas

“No Leona. We do can not spare the men to rescue them.” said Theodas.

“But the special forces could easily insert and rescue them!”

“And the zone is still hot, and Roman Forces will be crawling over the place. We are risking the Special Forces for too much when they could be taking down more important targets. I am sorry Leona, but we can not save every man and woman left behind.” said Theodas, looking as though he was mourning someone close. “I regret leaving them to die Leona, if it means anything.

Leona walked out wordlessly, as Theodas continued to oversee the battle.

New Aurelia, near the Northern Alak outpost
A few Iscandarians and Yordles soldiers, masked in the signature faded silver power armor of the EU Armed Forces ran as they tried to escape from the Roman Forces. The force had retreated only a few hours ago but in the chaos of battle a few squads had remained behind. They were stopped as Roman Soldiers surrounded, but were mercilessly gunned down before they had a chance to surrender.

In a field, scarred with char marks and craters from the bombardment, a Iscandarian seemed to be limping, a hole in her power armor.. It bore the insignia of a Captain. Marked by her wings, she was Sentinel, the glow of her personal shield surrounding the white wings. She held a balefire rifle in her hand, the glow of it’s orange-green fire emanating from the chamber.

She saw the bombed out remains of a farmstead, its many pieces of farming equipment left to smoke and ruin on the field. The Iscandarian retreated into the building, rifle held ahead of her.

The house was dark and quiet, as the Iscandarian’s helmet lights activated and illuminated the area. The rooms were deathly silent with the dust and debris heaped into piles, a testament to the destruction caused by the war. A brief rustling echoed through the house from behind the Iscandarian, as she quickly turned around and pointed the rifle in the direction of the noise.

She starting moving silently, carefully clearing each room until she felt something touch her back. She jumped, quickly turning around to see that it was just another Iscandarian. Unlike her, this one held no wings. A brief hissing noise could be heard as the new-comer removed his helmet, revealing gentle deep green eyes and black hair, with veins glowing a light green.

“Didn’t think you made it away Faye. I was worried.” he said, a sad tone in his voice.

Faye proceeded to remove her element, revealing flowing blonde hair, and sky blue eyes and veins that glowed in the dark. She moved towards the the other Iscandarian, hugging him, befreo going in for a quick kiss.

“I didn’t think you made it out either Aien. Did anyone else make it out?” she asked, her voice cutting through the silence of the house.

“Muhammad and Borislav were with me when the Romans hit. They got taken out shortly after that. I don’t know about anyone else, but I do know the bulk of our forces made it out.” he responded.

She looked at Aien a minute, before slipping her helmet back on.

“Let’s go Aien, we need to get it out.” spoke Faye, the rebreather in her helmet changing the sound of her voice.
Outer EU territory
A lone Expeditionary Corp vessel sat in the void of space next to one of the few fueling stations that was on the outer-edge of EU territory. Within the ship’s bridge was the hustle and bustle of activity that was familiar to anyone about to embark on a mission.

“David” spoke the Captain of the vessel, who appeared to be a Casterl, addressing a human who appeared to be of average height. His hair was a brown, with light green eyes. His skin had indicated he grown up on the human colony world New Antarctica, has it had been lightened by years without sunlight.

“Yes Captain?” spoke David timidly.

“Are your people ready? You said it yourselves, it was likely that Earth was destroyed many times ago.” asked the Captain.

“Yes we are. Even if it’s gone, we have finally found where our home is.” he responded.

The Captain nodded to David before pressing the intercom button.

“All decks, prepare for launch, launch is in one minute.” said the Captain.

The vessel’s FTL drive activated, heading for Sol.

Sol, Near the Asteroid Belt @Keyguyperson
A vessel dropped out of warp seemly at random near the asteroid belt. While it was small and looked to be relatively unarmed, the Terran Union could detect several strange energy signatures that did not appear to be anything known to them.

The vessel broadcasted a message across the system, in what appeared to be perfect english.

“I am Poppy, a diplomat of the Eternal Union, is this Sol? Is Earth still in existence?”

Arise, ye workers of all nations,
Arise, oppressed of the Earth!
For justice thunders condemnation,
A better world is in birth!

Loudspeakers across the capital city of the Terran union played its anthem, which contrary to what European media outlets had once said was not actually a daily occurrence. Throngs of people filled the city streets, which were completely barren in terms of cars. Unlike most of the older cities, Sidosido was designed from the beginning to be the face of "New Terra". Cars were simply not allowed on streets, which were reserved for pedestrian traffic only in order to imitate the streets of cities before the invention of cars. Tunnels beneath the streets held a vast network of subway tunnels which allowed the residents of the city to move freely and quickly throughout the city. Lower still were highways, on which cars could travel. It was inconvenient for in-city car travel, but then again, nobody really used cars for anything but long road trips.

The city itself was situated in a land that had once been known as Mauritania. Not the most predictable location for the capital of humanity, especially when one takes into account the fact that it was built in the Great Wastes as opposed to Niger-Kordofan. Less out of any sort of consideration for development of the region, but instead as more of a massive middle finger to the fascists that had turned everything in and around North Africa into a nuclear wasteland.

It was not a sensible decision. Fitting, as the Chairman had little love for the sensible.

Deep beneath that giant city, trains rushed about in their tunnels in a desperate attempt to deal with the massive influx of tourists. The only sound within them was the humming of their maglev systems and the same music being played on the loudspeakers outside. Once again the exception instead of the rule. Usually the music being played was either the latest pop song or some obscure song chosen for uniqueness or innovation or for simply being extremely obscure yet good enough to be played in public. The engineer of the train ended up choosing the song two out of three times, so people ended up with getting an idea of the guy's personal taste.

Some, such as Cleo Williams, even chose their daily routes based on who they knew drove the trains. And that's how you end up with entire trainloads of people singing along to songs performed by Stepfords back when they still used voice samples to sing and sets of mirrors as "holograms". On that day, however, the train engineer's tacky old Stepford music from the 2010's was absent. Nobody was complaining, of course. To sit through a set of generally well-made songs was the least they could do to honor the millions that fought and died in the Great War of Liberation.

The train came to a stop at one of the city's many stations, which was situated just underneath the Red Square. It had been named after its old counterpart in Moscow, which had been destroyed by European forces during the war. Though losing such a historic place was a shame, at least the government didn't need to differentiate between the two.

Cleo walked up the steps-she never took the escalator or elevator-and stepped out into the square. It was always bustling with people, but now more so than ever. The entire 3rd Spaceborne Expeditionary Force occupied the center of the square, with thousands of people looking on from stands and floating platforms launched to allow a view of the event for everyone. A good twenty thousand soldiers stood in the square, with multiple tanks and light vehicles standing by with their crews.

The city's clock, which towered over the square, struck twelve and the entire unit began to march. It was unlike most military parades. There was no long opening ceremony, no color guard march, just the 3rd and the countless units that would follow it. Rather than have a select few carry the flag, soldiers throughout the 3rd carried dozens of flags. The General, a Stepford by the name of Fiel, marched with her own troops at the front of the formation. She carried a flag that was held static in the air, as if the wind simply didn't affect it. That flag was the original one hoisted over the Forum Magnum on Pluto, and of course had wires in it to give it the appearance of waving when planted on a planet or moon without any atmosphere.

Cleo started recording a video on her phone. Her neighbor was going to be jealous of her good view of the whole parade.



"How come Fiel gets to go but I end up getting called over to Facility-fucking-419?" Said Fergus MacLean. His griping was somewhat justified-he was the Terran Union marshal-but both he andthe Chairman had agreed that the 80th anniversary of the victory should only include those directly involved. And when the flag was planted on Pluto, he was on a wild goose chase for the warships the Europeans had allegedly built on the planet. He never found them, because they probably didn't exist. "What the hell do they want with me anyways? Unless they've found the answer to the Fermi paradox or accidentally created Roko's Basilisk I really don't see why the Marshal needs to get involved. I'd rather be on Zarmina, it's even fall there. The leaves come in so many different colors."

"I swear, you sound almost jealous." Said one of the bridge crewmen. He had been swerving direct under Fergus for years by then, and knew very well that he didn't care about how he was spoken to.

"Hey, I agreed to not be in the parade too. I just wanted to watch the opening ceremony from something other than a tablet."

"Marshal!" Yelled a Slavic man barging into the bridge, a wireless headset atop his head broadcasting his position as a communications or sensors officer. He had left one ear uncovered by it, presumably so he could actually hear other people. "Put the ship on alert, now!"

"What? Why? Is there-"

"SOUND THE ALARM!" He yelled again, and this time Fergus did so without asking any questions. The ship's lighting dimmed to show the lighting on the control panels better, and the harsh buzz of the alarm filled the battleship's corridors.

"Okay, what the hell is going on here?" Asked Fergus, pushing himself up out of his chair and latching onto one of the many handholds on the ceiling. The artificial gravity always deactivated while the ship was on alert, to allow a larger range of movement for the crew. "Has the Network blown up Ares Station or some shit?"

"No, we've gotten a message from a ship that just warped into the asteroid belt out of nowhere. They're just a few hundred kilometers from us!"

"What kind of ship? How did we not notice the particle fountain when it dissipated its bubble?"

"They weren't using an Alcubierre drive, its some other kind of FTL system! The design isn't like anything we've ever seen!"

"Punch in the coordinates and put it on the display!"

The man pushed himself off the wall towards the nearest console, and put the strange vessel on the main viewscreen. He was right, it definitely wasn't a Union or Network ship.

"Sir... they've sent a message too."

"Play it!"

The man gave the necesarry order to the ship's computer system, and the transmission played through the bridge's intercom speakers.

“I am Poppy, a diplomat of the Eternal Union, is this Sol? Is Earth still in existence?”

"Couch the Alcubierre lance!" Yelled Fergus.

"Yes sir!" Replied one of the many men seated beneath the main command platform. "Releasing tertiary and secondary safety locks, reorienting bow!"

"Get me a full-spectrum scan on that vessel! LADAR, Infrared, White-Juday, hell go ahead and override Facility 417's network and have it do a worldline approximation!"

The entire bridge began to bustle with activity, and multiple different images appeared on the main viewscreen to represent the results of the scans and calculations. A detailed topography of the odd vessel, a map showing heat distribution (which had a massive spike near the center of the ship-perhaps an incredibly powerful reactor or plasma weapon), and a graph that looked much like a funnel with some parts of it completely blacked out. Finally, there was the White-Juday space-time warping map. It wasn't like anything Fergus had ever seen. It sure as hell wasn't a warp field, nor was it a gravity well. In fact, with his limited knowledge of space-time warping it wasn't even something that could exist.

We're fucked. Thought Fergus. That sort of scan result... they're more advanced than we can even imagine. Let's hope they're as friendly as the name of their diplomat seems.

"I don't like the look of that infrared map, keep us on alert but... I'm opening a channel. If I give the word, fire the Alcubierre lance and eject the ship's recorder."

How do they even know who we are? Did they listen in before coming here? No, they asked if Earth still existed... oh good God almighty I hope this isn't what it seems like.

He keyed in a set of commands and brought a blank screen up on the main display. If the other ship was willing to and capable of showing themselves, then he'd be able to see them.

"This is Marshal Fergus McClain of the Terran Union, currently in command of the Terran People's Vessel Saltsgaver. Yes, you have entered the Sol system and are just a few light minutes from Earth. We've never heard of this... Eternal Union, but you seem to have heard of us. Plus you speak at least one of our languages perfectly. Now, why are you in our space, especially so deep in it? How do you even know this is our space? I apologize if I'm being inhospitable, but this is all very suspicious and I don't want to get killed on Victory Day, so I must inform you that your vessel is currently targeted with a high-power particle lance that will destroy your vessel if it is fired. Do not, I repeat do not open fire.

-=Roxburgh House, Naval Command, Avalon, Atlantica

Roxburgh House was an interesting affair, as were many of the government buildings that had sprung up in the new age of prosperity that gently rested over the Kingdom. Roxburgh House itself was a 7 sided building, outwardly modern and by no means small, towering over the surrounding buildings but carefully constructed to not obstruct the general skyline of Avalon, nor overshadow the Palace by the Bay where Parliament sat, either. Its interior had been built to emulate the aged practicality come luxurious decadence that would of felt appropriate in the likes of Old London, or Paris, but most of it was simply an approximation.

It served as the grounded centre of command for the Eridani Royal Interstellar Navy, a modest but effective force, and as such was always relatively busy, with at least one of the Admiralty Board present at all times - mirrored in space by its orbital equivalent in Espirit Station.

1st Space Lord, Admiral and Earl of Newpool, Theodore Daven, let the history of the place and the facts of what was slowly filter through the back of his mind - his thoughts always wandered when he thought about just who had managed to convince the architect to make allowances for fireplaces, of all things, in a multi-story modern construction, but he was expecting company, and it paid to keep the mind on the present for such things. He let his green eyes fall back to the synopsis for the upcoming short, but important, meeting, idly running a hand through his dark and quickly graying hair. His appointment, one Amelia Schmidt, was a true-born Eridani, and a descendant of a freeholder family at that - she had been eligible for 2nd generation life extending treatment too, and while he didn't begrudge her the benefits, he knew that by the time she reached his age, she probably wouldn't of even developed a single gray hair. Granted, he wasn't young by traditional terms at 51, but the grays had begun to creep in with something of a vengeance, and 1st Generation treatments only went so far.

By all accounts, she'd worked hard and been rewarded for it without the patronage of any of the upper classes, and there was always something to respect about that. She wasn't the best the Naval Academy had ever turned out in terms of discipline or tactics, but her mind had proven more than astute for intelligence purposes, and so they'd put her forward for a position equating to Vice Admiral only a few months prior - and his predecessor, now rotated out to operational command, had not seen the need to deny. The recent changing of the guard in the Ministries and the resultant politics had resulted in a new need for an operational intelligence head, which Admiral Schmidt had become, and so he intended to see her put it to effective use.

He heard a light rap on the emulated oak of his offices door, and nodded an assent the buildings administrative AI took as affirmation, allowing the door to open. He rose, as a form of respect, as Vice Admiral Amelia Schmidt entered, offering a crisp salute, which he returned in kind. She was a fair-haired woman, plain, but not unattractive, though he was sure his wife didn't need to hear him say that, with a well kept uniform and appearance that at least made a good first impression. He let a friendly, warm, smile break the ice. They weren't yet friends, but they wore the same uniform, and that meant something.

"Vice Admiral Schmidt, please, take a seat" He said, motioning and returning to his seat as he did so, watching her move quickly and with purpose to do exactly that.

"Earl Newpool, a pleasure." She said, pleasantly but not with too much artificial familiarity, as she sat, nodding once more. It was common, at least out of formal military proceedings or actions, to use the official title of an individual before military or civil ranks or titles, if not both, though Theodore didn't particularly mind either way, it was how things were done, and he noted that small insight away in the back of his mind.

"Likewise, but please, we're behind closed doors, call me Theodore, or Admiral if you must" He responded, letting a small chuckle escape, offering the branch, as it were.

"Well then, it would do for us both to be on a first name basis, no? I'm sure we've both done a thorough enough background reading to make us closer than many who call themselves colleagues, if not friends." She responded, it was delivered cooly and seriously, but with just enough of a tinge of warmth to be accepted for more than that.

"Too true, Amelia, too true. We're both well appraised of the piracy situation and that's generally dwindling as the new patrols eliminate their places to regroup, so I'll leave that to Admiral Reinhardt with support form your own intelligence to deal with. The Parliament is pushing for greater protection of the outer colonial routes but I'll have to put you in contact with Commodore Lane and his task group for that - they could probably use a Raven, and I'm sure you're game for that." Theodore said, swiping away the most recent reports and making it clear that, while friendly in tone, the last had been less of a recommendation or an assumption than simply what was to be. The new Raven's were effectively light cruisers as far as armament went, but their main role was reconnaissance and more importantly - stealth - and they had earned the name "Eyes". As stealth vessels, great amounts of capital, government and private, had gone into making sure they stayed that way.

"More than workable, those particular trouble spots have proven more.. elusive to trace, Lane's task group with some help from the Eyes should help narrow down the field, but I assume there's more to our finally meeting than this matter?" She asked, flatly, but not impolitely.

Theodore nodded, taking a quick glance at his screen before returning his gaze to the head of naval intelligence.

"Yes, you have 5 operational Ravens, as I understand it. Three are currently under Condition Black on Intelligence missions, and I've asked you to deploy one of your remaining birds, and I'm afraid I'm going to be potentially asking for the services of your final one, your opinion on mission parameters depending." Theodore made brief eye contact, before pushing forward a tablet computer for his compatriot to peruse.

She let her gaze fall down to it, making a few minor alterations on the fly and nodding a few times as she read the words and let them sink in, before returning her gaze to Theodore and returning the tablet.

"I have been expecting this, Admiral, particularly with the effectiveness of the Eyes confirmed in the last official war games season, it is a .. calculated risk, but with my minor alterations it is one I am willing to devote the resources to.. without protest." She said, carefully measuring her words as they were spoken.

Theodore took a moment to peruse her changes, most of them were minor and were things he should of caught himself, but such was life.

"Yes, I believe your last report mentioning something about "spewing radio emissions and other energy signatures that have only grown over the past century" had something to do with it, and while in not so many words as your full intelligence dossier required I am inclined to agree. It is only a matter of time before someone in Sol notices us - just as we've noticed them, and from what you yourself described its not likely to be the most friendly of reunions." Theodore mused, idly rubbing his chin and feeling the bristles of hair that were once more returning.

"The mission is, nonetheless a risk, we have no knowledge of complete solar military strength, the expanse of their sensor network or really anything that would assist much in fine tuning planning, but we do know that the Raven is small, a fine stealth ship, and space is big. It'll take a few days for her to hop over in operational mode, and a couple of weeks at worst to coast in on low power - but she could get right in and sneak back out with a detailed scan of the entire system and enough data traffic of a high enough quality to keep my department busy for weeks, with the understanding that nothing went awry, of course." Amelia responded, delicately pointing out the risk but clearly revelling in the potential rewards.

"I'll leave the details of briefing and final mission parameters to you, but the King and Prime Minister are both fully aware of the matter and want pieces in motion within 3 Standard days - I assured them that you'd be more than able to do so." Theodore said, re-assuming a more formal bearing.

Noting the sea change, Amelia nodded, and rose in unison with her opposite. "You have my word as an officer of the Crown, Admiral. I will keep you in the loop." She said, saluting.

"Very well, Vice Admiral, you are dismissed." Theodore saluted, watching the younger officer move with energy from the baroque office.

Pieces in motion.

Hyper Dreadnought Bitter Work, 2nd Fleet of Recalcitrant Justice Flagship
High orbit of Luga IX, Luga system, Chelonian Dominion.

The night sky of Luga IX was alight with actinic fire as giants clashed high above. Orbital fortresses, weapon satellites, and a squadron of beleaguered light cruisers found themselves in a doomed battle against the forces of the 2nd fleet of Recalcitrant Justice. From his crash couch aboard the Bitter Work Dominator Brosh-Vataga saw the battle, or massacre, unfold in real time and felt a deep melancholy. His duty was an unfortunate one, but it was needed to preserve the rule of law. The planetary branch of the Ministry of State had incited a revolt against Dominion authority on Luga IX 180 hours prior, they claimed that the current Vaata-Kreg was leading the Dominion towards disaster and that their only hope of survival was to break away from the Home Office on Chelona and start anew. It was unfortunate that their words had gotten such traction and that they had managed to sway all orbital defense forces. If they had remained loyal then perhaps the Dominator would not have been needed. Countless innocents would die for their transgressions, but that was the way it had to be.

The Bitter Work shuddered as another volley of missiles left their Gauss launchers. The battle had lasted a little less than an hour, most of it spent maneuvering into firing positions. 2nd Fleet had more than one hundred combat ships at her disposal, but even without the massive numerical advantage space war always favors the attacker over the defender. The rebel cruisers had been turned into pincushions by invisible beams of coherent radiation from dozens of sources, and weapon satellites were little more than disposable missile clusters, without ammunition they were no longer a threat. The orbital forts had fared slightly better, two of them had miraculously managed to survive the first volley of fire from 2nd Fleet in fighting condition. This was not to last of course, the latest spread from the Bitter Work and the other warships in the fleet put an end to their fruitless rebellion.

As the dust settled, the part of these operations that Dominator Brosh-Vataga hated the most was set to begin. The rebellious leaders would have to be made example of. Were this a normal insurrection they could have simply sent down ground forces to wrench the capitol from the traitor's hands and keep the infrastructure intact. Unfortunately the Luga system was home to one of the Dominion's precious antimatter worlds. Perhaps the rebels thought that their proximity to something so precious would force the authorities to pull their punches, if that were that was the case then they would soon be sorely mistaken. Letting any potential traitors live with something so important on the line was not even considerable. For the sake of the Dominion, Luga IX would have to be made example of. Bitter Work would handle the duty of purification as was only right. The flagship was the Vaata-Kreg's justice made manifest, it alone would put the world to the sword.

Brosh-Vataga motioned for his comm officer to patch him into Luga IX's public broadcast network. The people deserved to know the crimes for which they were to be punished. Clearing his throat, Brosh-Vataga began, "Citizens of Luga IX, your planetary leadership has been found guilty of the most heinous crime of insurrection. They have deceived you through their lies into rising against the rightful authority of the Dominion and for their crimes I am afraid you must all suffer. Those loyal few of you who spoke out against these traitorous vermin and alerted us take heart, you shall be martyrs to the cause of peace and security of our glorious Dominion. For those who stood in open opposition know this; your names will be forgotten, your fleeting accomplishments shall be stricken from history, your legacy shall be naught but glass and ash. You threatened that which is most precious to the Dominion and for that there will be no recourse, no mercy, no hope for you and your ilk. Make peace with your gods for you will find none with me." The Dominator ordered the connection to Luga IX severed and nodded to his weapons officer as he sank back into his crash couch.

A quartet of massive warheads began to descend onto Luga IX from the belly of the Bitter Work. As they entered the atmosphere they began to divert course from one another to focus on their respective targets. At a height of 100km they began to unfurl and split apart. Each weapon unleashed a total of sixty self-guiding submunitions from their bodies down towards the surface of Luga IX. Each submunition was a 2MT fusion bomb, their simple targeting AIs were programmed for continental denial. Primary targets were population centers, followed by arable land, and finishing with military infrastructure as the lowest target priority. As the emissaries of death fell their AIs conferred in a silent congress on target placement and which bombs were to fall where. The simplicity and smoothness of the operation was beautiful in a way that was lost on the terrified citizens of Luga IX and the rebel soldiers who remained at their posts waiting for an enemy that would never come as the bombs found their mark.

Luga IX had been a garden world with a population of 4 billion pre-rebellion. After Rebellion it was estimated that 180 thousand had survived the initial attack, but would not survive the next year without outside assistance. Assistance the Dominion had no intention of sending.

Watchpoint 43, Lagrange L2 of Borgash I, Borgash system, Chelonian Dominion

Space Traffic Controller 4th class Varo-Lug(full name Varo-Lug-Srid-Drag-Bar-Orv) was not having a good week. There were no good weeks on Watchpoint 43, not for Varo-Lug. He was a Space Traffic Controller, his duty was to control space traffic within his designated quadrant of space surrounding the fledgling colony of Borgash I, but there was the minor problem of having no traffic to control. Borgash was a recent acquisition, the request to construct a Rift Gate had probably not even reached Chelona yet (it had been submitted two years prior). No rift gate meant no civilian space craft coming to and from the system, which could still be fine, military vessels had their own rift drives and could potentially arrive and need directing. That is, if there were ever a reason for military vessels to head in even the general direction of the Borgash system, which there was not. And so it was that Varo-Lug's days were spent in a small cubicle staring at half a dozen empty screens, each displaying the same information but in different ways. He checked each one for what must have been the thousandth time this rotation. The IFF register showed nothing, just like always Rift sensors showed nothing, just like always, Radar showed a single blip, just like always. Lidar showed a single blip, just like alwa-"What!?" Varo-Lug surprised himself with his own exclamation.

There weren't supposed to be any blips. He checked and rechecked again, there was definitely something out there. A rather fast something, too fast and too hot to be an asteroid, it had to be some kind of ship. He ran back the logs to earlier in the shift trying to figure out when it jumped in but there were no recorded rift signatures. There had been nothing one moment, and then suddenly there was something. Unsure of what to do, Varo-Lug did the prudent thing, he attached the data to a priority message to his boss: Space Traffic Controller 2nd Class Groon-Krad. Groon-Krad, equally unsure of what to do (after confirming the data himself) also sent a priority message to his boss: Station Overseer Roon-Orv. Considering that Roon-Orv's boss was 150 light years away, he was forced to make a decision. By his order condition one was set throughout the deep space listening post.

While classified as a listening post, Watchpoint 43 was in many ways indistinguishable from the class of planetary defense fortresses that it was modeled on. Most of its hangar capacity had been reduced to make room for sensitive surveillance equipment, and in many places weapon systems had been removed, but it was just as heavily armored, and still maintained the heavy graser batteries of its cousins. Those same batteries were now coming to bear on the unidentified ship which had just entered the Borgash system. At the same time what amounted to the Borgash defense fleet(3 sloops and an outdated protected cruiser) came about on intercept vectors with the newcomer which they would reach in a little more than 11 hours. From Watchpoint 43 a message was broadcast at the intruder on all frequencies, "Attention unidentified vessel, identify yourself immediately or be fired upon in accordance with Dominion Navigational Law."
@Willy Vereb

---

---

The Dyson infrastructure was frequented by massive titans of ships. The galaxy was entwined, held together by Dyson tubes. But more importantly, it was a center for the military of the Aeolians. Docked in particular was the UUGNV Learia, a hulking, round ship. In the heart was an artificial dwarf star, the power source for the gargantuan. A second-rate ship, it had been commissioned 35,000 years ago for the scouting of the Milky Way. Only now had it made its way through the bureaucracy.

It was manned by those who had been cast out from the conventional military, a backwater assignment for screwups or those who the military didn't want attention thrust upon. A strange mixture of brilliant and foolish. Among them, too, were those looking to hide. Nobody would think to look for them on such a tiny mission, in such a backwater area. The preparations were just about complete, and soon the ship would be off, stored inside the small scouting fleet.

The ship didn't even have to leave dock. In one moment, it was there, in the next, it was gone. Within the hour, the sphere would be at its destination. Eariol watched, from tinted windows, as the dwarf star pulsed and strained under the pressure. With such an old vessel, the possibility of a supernovae mid-travel was not to be ruled out. The newer vessels did not have such problems. Hopefully, the star would hold steady.

The crews of the various vessels aboard the Learia prepared for immediate undocking after reaching their destination. Initial scans done by the ship indicated unusual energy readings, ones that for billions of years was the signal of intelligent life. A target hard already been selected. And so thus, the great ships of the Union prepared themselves.

---

---

The old beast shuddered as it dropped out from four-dimensional space into the physical world. The ship crews were forbidden from looking outside of their vessels during such warps. They were enough to drive any Aeolian insane. As such, Eariol began to make his way to the edge of the ship, entering a high-speed quantum rail system. The ship was simply too large to wander through without such rails.

Several minutes passed. The train came to a jarring halt. No amount of dampening would ever solve the problem of such a sudden deceleration. He was at the outer edge of the Learia now. The windows had already de-tinted, allowing the crew to view the deep black that lay before them.

But there were more important matters to take care of. One of the Valkyrie class carriers was disembarking, as well as three frigate escorts. The frigates looked absolutely puny compared to the carrier, but it remained a dangerous foe. Eariol simply looked on as space warped and tore asunder beneath the unyielding dimensional drives of the ships, each one slipping into the shallow ends of the Abyss, the new homeland of the Fallen.

The Union knew they were only skimming the surface of the dimension. Billions of years of research, and yet they had not even dented the secrets of the ancient cordon of the universe. No matter, for it still made for a good FTL drive. Entirely stolen off of the designs of ancient ruins, but still a good drive.

The ships, soon, reached their target. Near a Roman planet, space began to condense, seemingly ripping itself apart. And then, suddenly, where there used to be nothing, a 50-mile long ship, escort frigates at its side, appeared. One moment the area was empty, and the next it was occupied. All the ships put up their thermal deflectors, preventing thermal scans of the ships. And there they broadcasted, in their alien tongue, on a dark wave channel, a radio frequency, a hailing frequency, and a quantum entanglement signal interceptor.

None of what they said made sense, for now. No translations yet existed.

@duck55223

Sonora-System
Ygora – High Orbit – Beholder-class battlecruiser “Tringrad” - Bridge
22:53 Flagship time
Sonora Purge – Day 1

On the dark side of Ygora’s moon, Usra, 3 small, golden explosions erupted across the black void. Three small Emisarry crafts sprang forth and flew through the cold emptiness around the moon. A reckon unit, making sure the fleet’s arrival would stay unnoticed until it would all be too late. Once the squadron gave the “all-clear” the fleet jumped in. A part of the Fifth Crusader Fleet jumped in. Three Prophet-classes battleships, a Hero-class battlecruiser, a Beholder-class battlecruiser and a Throne-class battlecruiser. Part of the Purge wing from the Crusader Fleet.

“All systems operational. All ships ready and accounted for. We are clear across the board.” One of the Yvuïn controllers reported to Umbeliar Admiral Hugnises. Who simply nodded. The elder alien had a beautiful career behind him. But now it was time to give the newer generations a chance. Soon he would be honorably discharged and retire to the Gaia world of Illuminai. In the Asiv-system. Yet, he still had a duty for now. The Purge Wing was pretty busy. Every now and then a planet revolted against their Asiv rulers. Thinking that they could generate and control Faith without their gods. It was a stupid idea and most paid for it. On the main bridge, elevated above most Controllers he stood with Juricar Tendraya. A female Umbeliar not even half his age. Yet talented in both Faith and strategy. Though she was a little overzealous for Hugnises. But he accounted that to youthful passion.

“As discussed, we shall commence orbital bombardment.” He reported to the Juricar, who graced him with nothing more than a nod herself. Down on Ygora, all hell broke loose. Suddenly a fleet came up on the sensors of its capital, tirelessly scanning for the fleet to jump in so they could open fire with their Ground-To-Orbit weaponry. Yet once the fleet appeared on the radar, it was already too late. The Yvuïn battlecruiser “Shanaï” opened up the orbital bombardement. Only 2 energy bolts from the surface managed to reach it, yet the Yvuïn built their shield capacitators strong and sturdy. It did not break. But down on the surface the Ground-To-Orbit installation was bathed in golden flames. Not soon after the Beholder-class “Tringrad” appeared from beyond the dark side of the moon. It too opened up its orbital bombardment arrays, helping the Shinai in destroying most dangerous installations on the surface.

In the meantime, the Prophet-classes were launching their Deliverance-bombers and Gate Landing craft. Flying out from the massive the Battleships they came down upon the recently destroyed installations.

---

Sonora-System
Ygora – Surface – Ysaya
11:24 Ygora Central Time
Sonora Pruge – Day 17

After 17 days of bloody fighting, the Heretics of Ygora finally surrendered. The purge was a widespread success. All targeted compounds were destroyed by orbital fire, and the single remaining Asiv was evacuated within 3 days after it started. Deliverance bomber wings made countless atmospheric subflights. The Heretic militia forces were subdued in every corner. Not being able to stand up against the full might of the Faith Users equipped Purge Wing. Emissary strike craft destroyed every technical they could find from high up. Ground forces were ruthlessly efficient in taking down bulwarks of Heresy.

Civilian casualties were in the tens of thousands. On the dawn of the second day of the purge many tried to flee the bombarded world of Ygora. Once in orbit, charging up their Enlightenment Drives, the Hero-class battlecruiser appeared. Firing off it’s long-range Purge-beam. The civilian ships were utterly devastated. But it wasn’t enough. Many emergency pods were shot in space. Others were fished up, only to be imprisoned and prepared for trial. Even on the ground the civilian population was ruthlessly treated as Heretics. Whether they helped or fought off the rebels. It did not matter to the Yvuïn Knight Orders. Entire cities became penal compounds. With limited food, energy or water many started to starve. Right until now.

The Purge Trials began. Those who didn’t die, would have wished they had. Your trial lasted maybe 5 minutes, if you’re a captivating speaker. Those got off easy: execution. Others were not so good, they faced slavery. Some even dared to openly defy the Asiv. Torture, a practice officially banned on civilians, was perfectly allowed by a military tribunal. Many bones were broken.

The Juricar was very thorough, and demanded statistics from all twelve different tribunals. Up in orbit the Purge Fleet of Admiral Hugnises received new orders. Ygora was initially established on the fringes of the last expedition’s discovered zone. Now he was ordered to expand the known galaxy of the Asivar Theocracy. Seer Drones were deployed.

@Commodore Robot
Captain's Log, Stardate 3266.724
On its maiden voyage the SFS-1701 Enterprise performed the first manned long range Farcast sequence known in history with the distance of 992.326 lightyears, in what latter became known as the Borgash System. Yet what we discovered at the other side of the hyperspace window surpassed all our expectations. Our mission is to find alien life but we never quite imagined to meet a fully fledged civilization. As we made our observations the Enterprise's crew accidentally became the first humans to make contact with an alien race. The weight of responsibility was almost too much to bear.

"Fascinating."
Noted his first officer, Spike "Spock" Sanders, apparently not a Lord of the Rings cosplayer. They were picking up signs of artificial structures and primitive technology within the Tau-Beta-Theta-20408 system (Borgash), same as what they inhabit now. Was it made less than thousand years ago? According to the original plan they first wanted to get a 20-lightyear distance of the target in order to gather more accurate data after which they were supposed to decide either proceeding with mission or writing it off as an error and return home. Yet here they are, apparently right next to a world with man-made structures and faint life signs of yet unregistered pattern jut 159.92368 astronomical units away. Did they really find alien life? Spock couldn't believe it!
"Looks Is it possible that our sensors are out of alignment? Fold shadows?"
"I estimate there's a 0.001% chance the prolonged exposure to hyperspace affected our hypersensors. While extremely unlikely the plausibility of this is not out of question."
"As I thought. Just to be sure then we should examine this... 'civilization' from up close with our sublight sensors."
"Indeed."
"Astrogator Paris, full impulse. Get us within a lightsecond range to the first planet."
"Aye, Sir. Full impulse reached. Destination is Tau-Beta-Theta-20408-point-one."

The Enterprise had entered the Borgash System at sublight speed. Due to the possibility of misaligned hypersensors they did not rely on Fold Drives which meant it'd take many hours to reach their destination. During that time the news spread to the entire ship and hundreds of scientists engaged in a heated debate over the strange findings. Many were skeptics and were on the Captain's side on citing fold shadows and faulty hypersensors. Other group were of the opinion it has to be people originating from a Solarian seedship during the Last Great War which probably used primitive Fold Drives to get there. Only a small fraction of the people genuinely thought they found traces of an alien civilization. They were only a few hours away from their destination when...

"Captain, we detected a radiation pulse passing us by. Classification is unclear."
Reported Sensory Officer Elaine Nkiru Afua in a hurry.
"Primitive sensors?"
"Yes, it appears to be that way. I lack reference data to confirm but the source of the signal can not possibly be a natural phenomena."
In his mind Kirk felt like cursing a stream. If this were a military practice they'd be rated F on the exam. Getting spotted by some stone age radar is the most humiliating for a starship captain like him. Well, the very least they can be assured there's some sorts of manmade technology out there. Any fears of faulty hypersensors are gone. Yet the troubles of the Enterprise were just beginning...

"Power signals from Object 004! Energy densities in multiple sections surpass the Jon's Law. It's a..."
"... weapon station."
"Indeed. Quick analysis of the sensory data confirms Object 004 is no space debris, no matter how useless it may seem, but a weapon station."
"For a civilization these people sure look uncivilized don't you agree?"
"Captain I do advise against underestimating this...thing. Weapons might be primitive tools and unfit for civilized people to use. Regardless these brutish tools are focused on their purpose to cause harm and nothing else. Remember our history 300 years back. Weapons are bad!"
"I agree with you Spock. All hands, yellow alert! Raise screens! Analyze enemy technology! Prepare for evasive maneuvers!"
The Enterprise's power surged for a microsecond and then its signature turned even fainter on the Dominion's sensors. They might be not aware but this signed the ship was on full alert, ready to defend itself.

"Attention unidentified vessel, identify yourself immediately or be fired upon in accordance with Dominion Navigational Law."

"Uggomgyuem amyujomgyuhyuoja boaisor, yujomgyuhi iealcorh yunnojyuugori el vo hyuloja akem yum usseljumso quyuch Jenyumyuem Mubyutugyuemur Ruqu."

"Spock, can you explain this to me?"
"We have received a short burst of radio transmission data on binary cod-..."
"BINARY?"
"Yes, they seem to use a variation of binary code. Historical records state our reliance on binary code was abandoned several hundred years ago. The reason why they utilize such outdated method mystifies me as much as you, Captain."
"Continue Mr. Spock."
"They seem to have broadcasted a message to us in multiple dialects, perhaps even languages. Unfortunately without proper reference this is the best our technical crew can do."
"I see. How about the context with 'Get out of my star system!'? Cross-check every synonyms and alternative solutions to this meaning."
"Captain I must warn you that even with that the chance of misinterpreting their message completely is about 92.729%."
"Better than a hundred, I say."
"For more accurate translation we need more data with appropriate context."
"Ah, I know how to make them talk..."

The movements of the small Dominion fleet of course didn't evade the Enterprise's sensory grid. Judging from the data they were primitive warships, savage vessels made for killing and causing misery. The sensors of ships had no trouble to track the Enterprise which proceeded to cruise in a straight line. Until this moment.

Within an instant the signature of the Enterprise was gone. No more sensor bleeps. This situation went on for minutes, attempts to find the starship were met with failure. Then suddenly a bright flash approached from a completely different vector, traversing space faster than even light. It was a tachyonic wave, designed to be harmless to anything but the target's non-critical sensors, making the Dominion ships almost blind.
"Captain, this is the most unusual attempt at communication."
"I know Mr. Spock. Neither something we can keep repeating. Adapting to cheap tricks like this shouldn't be beyond even primitive technology. Uhura, are you recording all their outbound communications?"
"Aye, Captain. May I ask a question?"
"Go on."
"We might get plenty of language data but how does the Captai-"
"Just call me Tiberius."
"How does the Captain plan to get the accurate frame of reference?"
"I don't."
"Sir?"
"Regardless of the day and age there are certain actions men commanding starships do. I'll just add lib that context over the voice data. Let's leave the rest to the computers. Would that work, Mr. Spock?"
"This is the first ever time Starfleet contacts an alien civilization. And the first time somebody tries such... eccentric measures. I give it perhaps fifty-fifty."
"That's more like it Spock!"

Chairman Hohenstein sat down in his office chair-one of the classic rolling ones from the early 21st century-and took a heavy sigh. The day had been nice and all, but organizing and overseeing the whole celebration got tiring. Third Generation starships were launching just outside his office’s window, heading back to space with their crews. Most of them were heading out to transport supplies to the colonies, some on exploration missions.

It had been a long time since the Chairman himself had taken the chance to go anywhere beyond the core colonies like Zarmina and the Sol system ones. Things were simply too busy, besides, he never had a reason to. It wasn’t as if he had to go all the way out there to administer anything, and he preferred Earth anyways. Having the right amount of gravity had always been important to him.

He glanced at the paperwork strewn all over his desk, all of which had been printed out at his request. All the important documents, he said, he had to deal with in their physical form. Plenty of other people just did it digitally, something he didn’t particularly enjoy. Despite his choice to remain perpetually twenty-five, his mind just didn’t want to adapt to all the new control schemes of a future he had expected to die creating. All he had wanted was his place in the history books, instead he found himself presiding over most of humanity for almost a century.

Once upon a time he would have never dreamed of it, but he found himself often considering just resigning and making MacLean the Chairman. Not that MacLean would ever accept that, but sometimes the idea of finally having some form of closure seemed nicer and nicer everyday. Perhaps he could join Saltsgaver on Ceres, or just retire to a nice house somewhere in America.

Then again, there were plenty of things that the Union had yet to encounter. Friends to make and enemies to fight, and as long as he had the chance he might as well pad out the history books a bit more. Then, the air in front of the desk began to condense, warping together. The space itself seemed to tear itself apart in front of the Chairman’s eyes.

“The hell?” Said Hohenstein, blinking a few times to verify just what he was seeing. A big part of him wanted to scream, reach for his shotgun, call for security, or just smash the window and jump. But he couldn’t bring himself to. Instead, he just sat there in silence as he watched the seemingly impossible event unfold before him.

The warping air suddenly returned to normal, as a yellow robed figure, clad in a pale white mask that resembled a fox, standing at about average height, appeared. The appearance didn’t even disturb so much as a paper. Nevertheless, it was very much physical. It picked up a paper, speaking.

Its voice was indiscernible, seemingly shifting, hard to define. “Many would see you as archaic. Even in the 21st century.”

“W-who are you?” Said the Chairman, this time reaching discreetly under his desk for his shotgun. He kept it loaded, because he was deep down the same paranoid mess he was back in the 2040’s. It was a feeling he couldn’t shake from those days back when everyone he knew would have been ordered to kill him if he made a single mistake. “Or… what are you? We’re archaic to you? Is that a threat?”

The figure simply waved away the comment, responding, “There is no need for the shotgun. I do not come bearing threats, but rather warnings. I was merely commenting on your tendency to use paper instead of computers.” It calmly placed down the paper, looking now directly at the Chairman. Its eyes were empty, devoid of soul. A void of darkness.

“Oh… yes. That.” Said the Chairman. He almost forgot that the creature had appeared out of nowhere, but was reminded of it when he saw its eyes. “I just prefer it. If you know this much about us, you probably know what I’m older than I look. It’s easier for me to deal with paper as opposed to holograms and screens.”

Who-or what-is this person and why am I talking to them like this? He thought. Then again, how else am I supposed to react? If they come after me then I can defend myself just fine.

“Of course, what right do I have to dictate what is archaic? I distinctly remember your galaxy, long ago. When we found it, there was naught but gasses. They formed into your stars. An interesting process, if I do say so myself. As for your seeming immortality, worry only that it will draw the attention of those infinitely your better.”

Aw shit, they’re gods. I didn’t want to meet gods, and would rather not need to be warned by them. That’s generally a bad thing.

“I’ve done some things that most would have called impossible back in my day. Hell, I’ve even done more than that. If I end up drawing some unwanted attention from gods or predator species, then I suppose there isn’t much I can do about that except weather the storm that comes. And weathering storms is something I-and the rest of my species-is pretty good at.”

I should probably be more unsettled about meeting a god. I think this is a god, at least. Then again, maybe it’s the right god? Or maybe a god but not quite. I guess it doesn’t matter, I’ve incorporated weirder things into my beliefs before.

“Gods? Hardly. Predators? Perhaps. They didn’t begin as predators, no. Nor am I a god. I am simply a herald for the king. My duty is to warn you that something, something big has just arrived to the galaxy. What it is exactly I will leave you to find.”

“If this… something poses a threat, then what must be done? Is there even anything I can do?”

“I don’t imagine they’ll take military action against you. Beware their tricks, however. And do not tell them I was ever here. They’ve taken a, well, particular interest in my kind. Ever since they discovered our existence billions of years ago.”

“I’m going to trust you on this. There seems to be no reason for you to lie, and you’re certainly at a stage of development at which there’s little reason not to take any given action. I’ll keep your advice in mind, and though I would gladly give you a gift I don’t think there’s anything someone like me could give a person that can be mistaken for a god. I don’t even know if you could take it back… well, if you can…”

The Chairman opened his desk and pulled out his shotgun, taking care to be as slow and as nonthreatening as possible. It was an old, classic double-barreled one that you would expect to find on some 20th century farm. He then put it on top of the desk and pulled out another gunpowder-based weapon, an old semi-automatic pistol.

“I used this gun in the Third World War, I’m sure you know about what a terrible thing that was. At the same time, it was one of the events that made us who we are now. I give it to you as a gift from humanity, to remind you of the good deed you have done today. Keep it for yourself, or maybe give it to your… king. It won’t be of any use to you, but I assume you know of the human concept of sentimental value. Maybe you can find some of that in this.”

The figure simply nodded, collecting the weapons. Then, just as quickly as the figure appeared, it was gone. Not a trace was left to prove it ever existed in the first place, save the lack of the weapons.

Luga system, The Fringes

A juvenile monitor with a orange-white, plaster-like exoskeleton named Klidli on Dominion Watch with two other cohorts, one of which a meddling officer in a small and rather cramped craft has noticed flares of activity surging by after quite some time of boring, tedious ship movement tracking. The officer is insistent on it and has been insistent that this fleet will lead to something big. She's not sure what and being given a trainee alongside a Tikallian more suited for Planetary Ops has not made things easier. The officer is not very jive with Klidli's performance so far. She nearly got detected twice already. The officer is of duller color as per her age and is almost statue-like for the most part. Klidli herself finds the stone-like nature of the officer creepy but is terrified to even question it. You never know how they react.

The officer notices the data and cranes her head at it, looking at the intense heat signatures radiating from the antimatter bombardments and says "It would seem the Dominion has a severe fetish for destroying planets. Perhaps they can't help it, like some middling nymph nearing metamorphosis that can't stop rubbing itself all over the place. They just keep doing it and doing it like the oversize and dense things they are. You should see how huge they get Klidli, you could fit five Tikali inside some of them. Thankfully today we observe them from a distance. Less thankfully it is in a situation where they outnumber and outmatch us in space and the only reason we aren’t charred smithereens orbiting this star is because of the stealth systems. You couldn’t believe how dead we would be otherwise."

A terrified and anxious Klidli is not at all assured by any of this and just watches the radar in trepidation despite the Dominion ships being at least a dozen Au away not saying a word beyond some weird squeaks.

The third Tikali who was in the back checking all the shielding systems and initially absent from concerns about the possibility that one of the Dominion Ships may notice them and splatter them with a proverbial hammer peers out from his chamber and basically out of nowhere asks "What if there's something important here? They seemed oddly fast on this one. I've seen a couple of this sorts of events before, the intelligence claims it's to do with ongoing civilian revolts but who knows. What is odd is that they usually take a some more time before unloading the rings of fire."

The officer looks back at the darker colored Tikali and tells him "Perhaps they’re more impatient after all the operations your strike team has done.”

“The Charcoal Delight?” he replies with some confusion, surprised she even knows of this.

“Yes Nsulpor.” She affirms.

Nsulpor jitters a bit and fiddles with his front limbs before getting a hold of himself and simply saying “For that reason perhaps you should hear me on this. I’ve been on these planets sometimes and it rarely is this quick the punitive fleets go in and bombard. They often planet slog before going in with the rings of fire. What if this is near the site of their leader? Killing their leaders would lead to a total destabilization of the dominion and-”

The officer cuts him off, “It is clear you simply want to microwave someone since you let boredom get to you so quick. How many times has assassinating leaders actually caused major rifts? Rarely, even than nothing that has destabilized the dominion into fragments. It’s this sort of thinking that is why this Grand Mission to wipe out an entire civilization has dragged on for nearly a hundred generations now. What is needed is something bigger than a few microwaved Chelonians, something far more impactful at the very least.”

Nsulpor pauses a bit, but insistently suggest “And perhaps that exists in this system?”

“If it does, it is not for this mission. When we get to the base, whichever one it will be this time, you can recommend this system for further investigation, but for now our task is to follow these fleet movements and analyze Dominion activity.” The officer tells Nsulpor.

Nsulpor goes huddles back into his chamber while the officer goes back to standing in place like a statue, looking down at Klidli. Klidli, still jittering sheepishly asks “... How much longer?”

“A few more hops of time and the quota will be fulfilled.” The officer iterates.

-----

Outpost Vented Thoughts off the Line, above the cloudscape of a brown dwarf

The ominous, dark red infrared light of the hellish depths where storms of metallic rain clack away underscore a monolithic station. Not built for beauty- a crude, disc shaped hunk of metal colored only by the darkening tint it receives from the cooking it receives from the very star that powers it. It is a not that hot here- it’s the radiation that is hellish. It is a silent, floating and unnatural giant in a place no life is possible. One of the higher achievements of the Tikali, and it is abandoned with but one inhabitant left. A wretched individual by the name of Ludiki.

A somewhat drab Tikalli, short haired and sulfuric yellow in her eyes and rather under surveillance. Ludiki is not in a happy situation at all. There’s always a bot Tikalli following her as she meekly walks with six of her limbs down the walkways absent of activity. The bot’s purpose as far as Ludiki can tell is meaningless now. The debris and junk all about the place, all the garbage, ornamental clothing and finger toys just lying around the corners should be picked up before that happens, it is only proper. Leaving a mess is just bad, even if the Dominion is preparing to nuke us. Or whatever they meant by “unknown force has detected this station, all personnel evacuate until further action is taken”

One mystery thing and everyone’s packing up as if this station’s about to fall into the sun. Still, they might be sending a team here to investigate soon Ludiki presumes as she just casually walks to the upper decks towards where the hanger should be.

Echoing through the rather spacious foyer of the station, Ludiki’s chittering translated to English would say something like “So this is what happens to those who seek what is actually good and well for the Silent Imperium. They get left to die on a brown dwarf. Very cowardly as usual, my daughter being like this is bad enough, the authorities of this station cowering like this is simply shameful.”

She didn’t get any word on this, perhaps out of the hastiness, perhaps out of a genuine contempt. Always assume the worst for these things, especially with the Silent Imperium.

“The best words are those not abused. Haste happened. The Investigation will be here, expect to be evacuated with them.” The machine replies.

With disdain Ludiki starts rattling “Killed, evacuated, terminated, erased, expunged, deleted, microwaved, incinerated, shattered, immolated, crushed, executed, all great terms for what they will actually do to me.”

“Level one punishment does not include execution.” The machine tells her.

Suddenly Ludiki just starts ranting, saying “What I did was treasonous by most standards. They just favor me a bit now for past operations as usual. What I will do will warrant execution and for that reason need a spaceship to leave this place before they arrive. I have a game that needs playing, for if the Tikali are to make a galactic empire we must test every species on their nature and make proper judgement. Asivir lunacy must be pacified, the Dominion doesn’t deserve to exist and the mysterious new species on the fringes have yet to get judged. I want to make a test for them, so that when the Silent Imperium becomes the Imperium in needs to be we will know which species in this galaxy are monsters and which ones are fellow Samaritans. Send someone, even myself to them, and see their first instinct when meeting something not another trunk walker is. Do they just shoot you or do they rip you apart alive to get data? Or perhaps something more civil? I do not know of any instance when the Silent Imperium killed something on first contact, but there's been all sorts of stories of a first contact being ended in death by the iniater because the native society was terrified. Perhaps with justification, but what good is further aggravating a monster that knows where you live already? Regardless of that, simply observing will not advance the Silent Imperium forward- we must go into the light.”

“Level Two punishment potentially includes execution.” The Machine casually mentions without so much changing its monotonous tone.

“All the more reason to find the last ship. I have the identity chip for it and just need to locate its-“

Suddenly something inexplicable catches her attention.

Something bigger than her.

She nearly panics, but finds herself more baffled by its sudden incursion than terrified and just finishes her sentence with a confused chittering saying “A trunk walker?”

@Commodore Robot
Nosi eyed the starcharts before him, rumbling to himself. Al-Sili, his advisor, stood across from him. She was humming a prayer.

"You are correct, Cleric. However, I am not convinced to invade the xenos. Why, when their force is superior on the whole to the Congregation and the Church combined?"

Al-Sili remained silent except for her prayer, which was lasting a few minutes longer than Nosi would have liked. The Lord stilled his rumbling, however, and waited.

"Have you forgotten, Lord? The xenos see no threat in us. Even when they took those holdings from you and your brother-lords, they went no further than necessary to drive you from those suns. One star at a time, with the full commitment of your levies, and you can hold those worlds."

"What of my brothers? Full commitment of my forces leaves my suns at their mercy."

"Do you believe Amenmesh capable of pressing his claim? His holdings are more expansive than yours, yes, but he is no Warlord. An archiver, stumbled into a place of martial reign."

"And Ua-Menlir?"

"The other Lords will allow him no leeway. Their contempt for him is greater than that for you. Furthermore, the Clerics in his court lend me the belief that he is preoccupied. Their manner suggests he is distracted and vulnerable. However, to totally deprive him of his seat and holdings is out of the question, morally."

"The xenos, then."

"The xenos, my Lord."

- - -

Chief Timesi growled as he felt the destroyer make the final maneuver, the g-forces increasing rapidly before plateauing. The pilot rumbled some figures, as the Navigator somewhere in the aft end of the destroyer rumbled back. For now, the vessel was totally under their command. Despite his familiarity with the bloodlines of this pilot/Navigator pair, Timesi was uneasy. Somewhere prograde of the vessel was a massive ball of fusion and divine fury, and he was hurtling toward it at a brisk pace. If the Navigator could not shunt the vessel in time, they would burn. Chief Timesi turned his thoughts inward and began to hum a prayer.

The transition was seamless. There was no sudden jolt, no feeling of time slowing down or speeding up. There were only two indications that the shunt occurred. The first was only apparent the pilot, whose sensors suddenly spit out dramatically different values. The second was the one Chief Timesi noticed, prompting him to make his way aft.

"Make us combat ready. Relay that order to the rest of the fleet," Timesi spoke into his radio. He reached over and pulled the babbling mess of a Navigator from his station. He tried not to listen to the Navigator's words as he dragged him to an airlock and threw him inside.

"I have seen the face of God, and It is afraid. The face of God is the face of fear, Timesi. Take me back, take me back to It. The Apocalypse comes for us, and we will not see the face of God again when it does."

The Chief closed the airlock and spaced it. The Navigator's body was flung out, along with precious atmosphere. This was the price they paid to cross the distances between stars.

- - -

The Ouroboros fleet appears in low orbit around the largest gas giant in the system, and quickly maneuvers into a higher orbit. They number as such: twenty-and-one destroyers, fit for battle against frigates and strike-craft; thirty frigates, armed equally with missiles and kinetic weapons; and fifty-and-four corvettes equipped with missiles and bombs, ferried into battle on nine unarmed support frigates.

@Arawak @duck55223
Ua-Menlir presided over his palace, surrounded by Clerics and Chieftains. It was a small moon, with vast corridors and grand halls carved out. Boreholes extend down from the surface to the core, which has been hollowed out and capped with lenses. Buried somewhere in the bowels of the moon is a small nuclear reactor, powering the life support and equipment of the palace tirelessly.

The Heretic seemed agitated. His Clerics seemed afraid. Unlike the other Lords, Ua-Menlir had a small retinue of the Church’s representatives, primarily assigned to keep watch on him. However, the Heretic Lord was prone to violent outbursts, and the Church found themselves piecing Clerics back together more often than not.

“Send them, then.”

With that, the fleet gathered outside Ua-Menlir’s palace mobilized, riding their nuclear torches toward the sun. Soon, the fleet appeared to be a constellation drifting away. All that remained was the Lord’s personal retinue, a small battlegroup to escort him if he should choose to visit one of his colonies around the pair of gas giants in far orbits at the edge of the system. However, he was content to stay hidden away inside his moonbase.

He rumbled to himself, and turned to his entourage.
“Ready a charge. I’ll not be caught off-guard.”

- - -

The fleet shunts into a Roman system, reactors ablaze and weapons ready. However, other than some minor adjustments to their orbit, the vessels make no move. They sit patiently and wait, on guard but not aggressive.

((The Following post is a collab between WrongEndoftheRainbow and Arawak))

----
Abroad the Station vented Thoughts off the Line

One moment, the figure wasn’t there. The next, it was. Such were the mysteries of the universe, another puzzle that may never be solved. No matter the case, a yellow robed figure, clad in the same mask as the one that visited the Chairman, was standing next to the Tikalli. The figure looked down at the small creature. It looked to the robot. “Are you looking for a spaceship?”

Ludiki looks up the strange figure about twice her height at its mask, whatever its significance if any, not really sure if it is even in a state of reality or not anymore. The machine however seems to be aware of it, but is unable to get any words in before Ludiki says “Yes, spaceship, very funny thing your ops do. Making the trunk walkers appear like this to torment your dissidents.”

“Trunk walkers? If you may indulge my curiosities, who do you believe I am and where do you think I came from? This is not in hostility.” responded the figure, still looking up at the robot.

“Unknown entity detected, please evacuate the facility.” The machine mindlessly states. Ludiki seems to not really be phased at all by that and after a seeming pause in activity, rapidly replies “This joke! I’ll humor it. Trunk walkers is simply a term for all the damned humanoids in the galaxy, their legs remind us of trees, everywhere it’s trunk walkers. It’s baffling as all hell, so many different varieties of trunk walkers out there that there’s theorists who study galactic civilizations who believe that they’re all related evolutionarily. As for what you are, it’s obvious. You are some hallucinogenic entity, perhaps using a mind virus. I was speaking of a new approach to diplomacy that would make the Silent Imperium much more aware of the true natures of the various beings of the galaxy for when the Grand Mission is over. You know all this, you were clearly aware of what I intended to do since this is all a probe of some sort. They’re even tricking the machines now.”

“I apologize. Maybe,” the figure chimed as the robes began to oddly deform, an entirely different body shape beginning to emerge as the figure rapidly became shorter, until eventually stopping at about the height of the Tikalli, “this is more preferable. You’ve peaked the interest of our king. May we chat?”

“I see they’re going with a game here,” Ludiki says to the now meter tall figure who now is seeing eye-eye with her, lowering her head as the figure deforms. The first thing she says the shorter figure is “What are the rules?”

“Rules? Perhaps I misspoke. I only want to chat, no strings attached. May we end the hostilities you insist on keeping up? I come not with a banner of crimson, but a banner of peace,” the figure replied, finally looking directly at the Tikalli. Its eyes were voids, devoid of soul, devoid of anything. An abyss of darkness.

“Peace? Banners? Kings? This is really uncharacteristic of your ops Vlikmir. Why all the references to ancient cultures? You haven’t even started demands” A very confused Ludiki replies as the robot starts making requests for monitoring but is consistently getting rejected. The machine, ever more confused blurts “Errors in the system, report to the tech branch immediately.”

For whatever reason, Ludiki couldn’t help but realize the possibility that this entity that spooked a whole space station may be very real, just maybe it is possible. The strangeness of this galaxy never ends it would seem. Peering into the abyssal eyes now in front of her, Ludiki with some hesitance after freezing up briefly asks “... What are you?”

“I have no reason to lie. I am an ancient being. You use artifacts of our design, and you use them to briefly vanish from the material world into our dimension. What the despoilers would do if they found them. That is why I am here, to provide you a warning to propagate,” came the response.

A bit worried of whether or not this was a veiled threat, raises one of her limbs backwards and says “In all fairness our explorer operatives thought you were all dead at the time. Besides a few traps sprung there was no activity but some wildlife. Surely your kind has done the same in its time.”

“Indeed, we have. It lead to our deaths. That is why your explorers thought we were dead, because, in material terms, we are. I first appeared to a robot of yours, specifically to force an evacuation and see who was left behind. I will tell you that we have been locked in a shadow struggle with those infinitely your better, and they have come to your galaxy. Warn your Imperium. Warn them to not reveal technology you found from us. Should they decide not to listen, then the tricks and lies they fall for will be their own fault. And should they attack, it may very well be their lives and soon to be lack thereof that will be their own fault. Be careful.”

This being is very real, Ludiki finally realized. She thinks of it and states with skepticism “The only way those at top would listen to this is with evidence. Whatever force your society uses I do not know, it’s a field of science that proves ever tedious to tap into without the natural touch, but does it kill you to be observed in a crowd or two? You’re making this job far harder with all the interference of our monitoring systems you seem to cause. And anyways, if they are coming to kill us all either way then what difference does it make if your tech is used against them?”

The figure responded, “I -- we -- quite prefer to keep to ourselves. We did so for billions of years. But we have become increasingly benevolent on the demands of our king. I will not appear in a crowd. Instead, send a single ship to the coordinates I have placed in the navigation computer of the ship you will be fleeing on. There you will find their way into the galaxy, and there you will be seen. There is no way around the final point, beyond using the devices you took from us. Not a good idea, as then you will grab their focus. I doubt they would attempt to kill you, but they have silver tongues. You would do best to beware them.”

The ambient yellow lights flash a bit as she just blanks out a bit before assuredly saying “Not much problem, evasive maneuvering is common among our craft as well. And I do wonder how you know Silentspeak. That is not a easy language to decipher for outsiders. And somehow these invaders also will speak it? For it sounds like they will. Either way seen or not trying to get data on these things sounds like the kind of op this will be. I'll record everything they say and I believe the ship I am fleeing in has equipment to record in practically every viable wavelength. This should be easy enough unless they just kill me. Well, if it comes to that better to die from being blasted than what Vlikmir may have in mind. I'm only tier-1 but you never know what the team they are sending here will report to him.”

“I speak your language because everything is intertwined magically. Your sciences, each straining in their separate directions, have not yet entered the vistas of reality that hold the world together. We found this vista, and we died for it. But, language is no longer a problem we face. The despoilers you face, they have not yet opened the gateway to the secrets of the universe, try as hard as they have for billions of years. You will not know their language, and they will not know yours. Now, my time is up, and it is your time to go. Go to those coordinates, record what you need, and leave. They will know you were there, but perhaps they may not react.” With that, the atmosphere around the figure warped, seemingly tearing itself apart. Suddenly, the figure was gone, no trace left of it.

In the odd silence that follows, Ludiki looks around with a slight amount of nervousness before heading up the stairs and down the upper corridor to the Hanger where a small reconnaissance craft remains stationed. The robot has seemingly vanished, but Ludiki feels more relieved than bothered by that as she skitters her way to the somewhat compact triangular craft, crawls in and lifts off through the vertical hanger above, flying up from the lurid crimson of the brown dwarf that dominates the view below as the black speck that is the Vented Thoughts off the Line station becomes simply absent. The gravity well of this brown dwarf is small enough that it doesn’t take long for Ludiki to get to safe warping distance, but still large enough that a several minutes of trepidation filled her mind as to whether they, or it is watching her.

With the Brown Dwarf now in the distance, however much it still dominates the views of the sensors she plugs the coordinates given by the figure and blinks away light years just as the investigation team warps in.

Space Station- The Unwieldily point
@MissingAxis
Sapas the clear eyed, bluish Tikalli is already in the actually quite armed craft. A long arrowhead shaped craft it is, sleek reflective plating coated with angles optimized to make basic detection systems have as hard a time as possible erstwhile allowing for the real stealth system to project and defend. It is armed with ionic turrets lined on its rin and missile cannons built to launch missiles far and fast to sting hide on the 'bottom' side of the craft. The interior is cramped as per usual, though not as crampy as it can get in a Tikalli ship. What makes it bad is that a Tikalli who had been studying the Ouroburos has also been assigned, a rather queer and tall (nearly 4 feet in height!) fellow by the name of Irkin. At the very least they let him bring his Incindi to make the itching less a problem. This devotee to alien thinking as much as Sapas may disdain it is what will be needed here. A quite committed individual to the Grand Mission he is, with a brass-like lining he has given himself around his thorax, forelimbs and abdomen that is of a vanity that makes Sapas reel just thinking about it. Blowing mist and having a Incidi gnaw at your arm pits are the only luxuries any Tikalli should need.

The devotee, named Iklan starts speaking.

"The Ouroburos may not be trunk walkers, but they certainly are a strangeness of their own." he tells Sapas, "It is why this military frigate has been chosen for this operation despite the diplomatic purpose. It is crewed with a several other specialists, not just you and me. The other specialists include Invla, a 3rd cousin removed of mine and Klas who is the least experienced of the group I should warn you. However the ones at top have requested that we defer to you as command, you are a commander correct?"

Sapas, seated at the central chair tells Iklan "I have lead assassination operations before with my team. Two of them have also been called here, perhaps for synergy in the field of killing. By sister Vatir and half related cousin Kors are no less relentless in the field than I, as you will see. I normally kill, which makes it a surprise they gave that role to be for a diplomatic ops. It isn't a diplomatic ops is it?"

"I dunno, I am as in the dark about all this as you, if not more."

Sapas twiddles with his needly fingers, tapping his mandibles as he thinks out what is going on.

"Yes, it is no diplomatic ops. This operation is connected to the Dominion. No operation involving the Dominion turns out diplomatic. Ever. I would seek to rub myself perpetually into the ground in sheer disgust should this not end in a Chalenion being microwaved, at the very least shot with the actually useful electrokinetic sniper." Sapas tells Iklan as he observes the holographic diagram emerging in front of him of the target system. Apparently it is a red giant with few planets. The Incidi peers its knobbish head out a bit in curiosity before going back to licking Sapas between his right limbs. Marked on the map is the location of the Ouroburos who seemingly has reached out.

Iklan after clittering and chittering in elation at the sight of the hologram begins speaking of it.

"The Lord of this system is quite controversial from what i've gathered. There is no telling what to expect. I am still unclear on them, perhaps when we get there and the translation devices go online new insight can be gleamed in the personal encounter to come."

"If there is a personal encounter." Sapas replies.

"There will be." A charcoal black Tikalli sporting white-blue chilla and cool blue eyes with various geometric etchings lined down his back and abdomen suddenly interrupts, disrupting the whole room.

"Vlikmir!" Sapas shouts in shock, "What are you doing all the way over here? I thought they stationed you at the brown dwarf station all the way in the far sectors."

Vlikmir clatters in amusement at Sapas, before telling him "Oh that place, I haven't been there for a month! I just know how to play them there so well, I just have my cohorts there maintaining my presence. Look, I am aware we are not of... Equal eyes as we used to be, but believe me when I say that this mission will be a very personal one for all Tikallikind. The Ones at Top have more than just this ship involved in what could be the operation that finally reignites the engine of progress towards the annihilation of our great enemy. I know little of these Ouroburos, but just their mere placement means everything. This is the kind of environment that shatters civilizations I shall warn, and it shall be beautiful."

Sapas just seems the have contempt for even seeing Vlikmir around these parts, let alone being able to tap its mandibles with impunity still. Sapas tells Vlikmir "This operation is not going to escalate to those fucking levels for quite some time, I wouldn't worry. Do not damn this mission with your speech, to that degree from here on out if cooperation is what you truly want than keep silence unless spoken to."

Vlikmir, despite being tempted to reply holds himself from doing so, shrugs and crawls into the tube towards his pod quarters in the upper deck.

Iklan is amused, and says to Sapas "It would seem that eternal rivalries exist all over, the Ouroburos would know. When we make zero ground all will be fine, they won't fire at as hard."

"Should we start lift off?" The pilot asks with its light blue head and dark blue eyes catching the eyes of Sapas.

"Yes, all personnel and cargo has been stored. Engage the stealth shields before blinking, we will reveal ourselves by message and see if they fire upon us before taking evasive maneuvers using the dematerializer they augmented this ship with and altering movement vectors as needed to keep anything from hitting the ship. Also prime the weapons if they keep insisting on attacking- But only do this if they fire first and show no intentions on clearing the miscommunication, fucking over these Ouroburos now will cause us to get fucked over in the future." Sapas tells the pilot who wiggles its fingers before placing them upon the controls.

"A Dematerializer? I like that." Iklan tonally whistles.

"Now you see, that is why this Operation will be our last." Sapas disdainfully remarks as he gets out the mist blower and blows some.

The arrow shaped dark craft lifts off to space and blinks away to his future associate.

In the depths of the ocean on europa, a cybernetic being barely recognizable as human anymore floated limp in the darkness, eyes gazing into the abyss of information that was the Solsys network. The local network was filled with what could probably be considered porn. To the untrained eye the messages sent by the native europans to one another amounted to noise with no purpose but to the trained mind of a xenologist these signals could be deciphered...The europans were using the internet to exchange genetic information and tactile information.

As always, The Cyborg posted the cultural information to the Institute of Xenology, it was then they noticed all the fuss going on.

Looked like a bunch of spam, virtual addicts spewing gibberish about probably fictional civilizations, the moderator Sirixhal2059 was diligently marking the messages with suspicious sources, one claiming the discovery of a dyson sphere, a few about Sentient Communism living under the surface of venus and a race of magical bunny people found in a new video game. The Institute of xenology had the controversal rule that only aliens found in the analog world outside of Solsys space counted as "real". The cyborg continued to look through the messages, some interesting articles on martian bacterial computation, theories about possible intelligent action behind galaxy formation and dark matter, and theories on how a civilization might reverse entropy.

((PM me if you want to be found by a probe or something))

New Rome, the Imperial Palace
The Imperial Palace, as implied by the name, was the lush extravagant home of the Emperor and his family. It also held many important offices of the Empire, including the meeting place of the Emperor’s cabinet. Today however the Cabinet’s office has been taken over by the Minister of War, Princeps Supremus Lucius Petronius, for a meeting between him and the various heads of the Roman Military.

“New Aurelia is a failure. Without the planet has left us with few options for pushing along the front.” spoke Lucius. Lucius had always been a tall and imposing Roman, only further accented by his blonde hair and blue eyes. He wore a more stylized Golden Power armor that was normally used for military parades.

“New Aurelia is not lost yet. Our forces are still well established and we are making adv…” said the Legatus Exercitus. While still appearing to be tall, he seemed almost insignificant compared to Lucius.

“As far as I am concerned, it is. Our forces are bogged down and abandoning the planet now leaves us open to EU counter-attack.” said Lucius.

“What if we just bombed the planet from orbit? I think that would send a strong message to the EU.” asked the Praefectus Classis.

“No, we can’t. I would normally agree, demonstrations of force have proven effective on other nations but the EU is above such displays. The EU has also already demonstrated what lengths they are willing to go if they feel threatened. I need not remind any of you of the New Germania Incident.” spoke Lucius. A sudden tension filled air, as if by uttering such words Lucius had committed a crime.

“For now I shall adjourn this meeting. We have nothing further to discuss.” said Lucius, as the three men left the room and headed to their own offices on New Rome.

As Lucius walked to his own personal office however, he was approached by a woman. She wore power armor, similar to Lucius’s. Long light blonde haired flowed down her back, and her blue eyes shone lightly in the Palace’s chandeliers.

“Minister Lucius.” she said, taking a small bow.

“Princess Aurora.” he returned, also taking a small bow.

The two began walking together, striking up a conversation.

“Have you considered my appointment to Praefectus Classis? I would make a much better commander than that piece of slime would.” said Aurora.
“I have, and when I submitted the necessary paperwork to have him replaced, your father turned it down.” replied Lucius.

“He did now? Of course.”

“Your father is holding steadfast of many things. Despite all of my advice he decided to order the invasion of New Aurelia anyways, and now look at where we stand.”

“Have you at least guaranteed I can continue to operate independently of the rest of the Fleet?”

“Yes I have and I intend to make sure it stays that way. You are one of the most effective commanders I have met. I rather you not be bogged down by him.”

“I do have other matters to attend to Lucius. And I also need to speak to my father about rejecting my appointment.” said Aurora.

New Gull, Outer Roman Space @MissingAxis
At one point in time, New Gull had been a agricultural colony, however at the outset of the war with the EU it had been rapidly converted to become a front-line supply center for the Romans. Machinery, workers, and even entire factories had been moved to New Gull because of it close position to many Roman offensives. Most estimates placed New Gull at being responsible for roughly 30% of war supplies.

As such New Gull was heavily defended, and the Romans did not take kindly to seeing a unknown contact. A few frigate-sized vessels approached the new contacts, weapons ready and engaged.

Shortly after the Roman vessels broadcasted a message directed at the new contacts. The message was encoded in a simple computer code, and included a translation matrix.

“Halt unknown vessels. You have entered the territory of the New Roman Empire. Identify yourselves or we will be forced to assume hostile intent and engage.”

Sol, Near the Asteroid Belt@Keyguyperson
The vessel opened it’s frequency, the video call coming up revealing the face of the diplomat who had broadcasted the message. She began speaking, as Fergus also noticed a few humans around her.

“I am Poppy Orion, with me is my family’s hammer. The Eternal Union’s one goal is Harmony for all. We know of Earth because those you see around me told us. They told us stories of a great war that lead to the near annihilation of their people, and which they believed would lead to the destruction of Earth. We brought them into our fold and have nurtured them ever since.” spoke Poppy.

((A bit on the short end, but I needed something.))

The Chairman was not having a good day.

Bags laid underneath his normally very energetic eyes, making him look much closer to his age than he usually did. With rejuvenation techniques he had managed to keep his biological age around twenty when in reality he was well over a century old. His hair remained that same black it had been back in the 2020's, though he had grown a thick beard that had been absent back then. After decades of not being allowed to wear one, he'd decided to grow it out and he just never got rid of it.

He had been up all night after the encounter with the alien... or God. He still hadn't decided what to think about it all. The very first thing he did when he got to his office in the morning was to look for his pistol, and sure enough it was gone. It hadn't been a dream or a hallucination. A trick? Perhaps. A ruse? Possibly. But no matter what it had been, it really happened. And though he had tried to ignore it, it was that action precisely that had led to him staying awake all night.

A predator species, huh?

Terran xenosociologists had long predicted such things. They had the evidence themselves in their planet, which still bore the scars of what had been done to it. The giant scrubbing walls that crisscrossed the planet like a checkerboard were proof enough of that. If another species reached such a late stage of mindless capitalism and failed to stop, then their homeworld would be destroyed. And so they would choose another and bleed it dry, all while infesting other systems and planets with their industries and peoples. Devouring entire worlds and driving species to extinction for the sole purposes of survival and profit.

Such a species would consume entire galaxies if left untouched, all in a disgusting quest for more and more power in which they would eventually lose or willingly throw away all that characterized them. Until they became nothing more than mindless drones serving their masters however they were ordered. Morals, emotions, all of them would vanish. The early stages of the process could be seen in the late stages of human capitalism, in which a poor man selling his organs to be eaten as a delicacy was thought of as a service to him being done by the subhuman who would then consume it.

And that was not something far off into the future for the universe. If the alien's words were to be believed, it had already happened. There was such a species out there. The best cast scenario of "Early advancement"-the idea that humanity was the first to reach the stars-was no longer credible in the slightest. Instead, they had become late. Very, very late.

What if the predators controlled a galaxy? Multiple galaxies? Perhaps they could even control multiple universes. Against such beings, what would humanity be? Nothing more than a single anthill filled with fire ants. And so they would be stomped out without any remorse. Unless...

The Chairman reached for the phone on his desk-one of the only landlines left-and pressed a single button.

"Facility 417." Said a woman on the other end of the line, after a short wait of course. "Why are you calling, Chairman?"

The voice was sweet, sweet and kind. Like that of a grandmother, mainly because the woman it belonged to was old enough to be one. Though she had never married. It was not the voice one would expect the overseer of a secretly facility to have, especially not the one assigned to Facility 417.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes, is there something wrong?"

"Something big is coming, a force from outside the galaxy has arrived. I was told this by a messenger that simply... appeared in my office. I believe this force to be a predator species."

"Are you sure this wasn't a hallucination?"

"I gave it my gun as a gift, and my gun is gone. I think that's proof enough."

"I suppose it is. What do you want me to do about this?"

"Do a full neural purge of your subjects."

"Chairman, we still have a lot of research to do on them."

"We understand the brain well enough already, any further research can be done through volunteers and simulations. There is no need for your facility's primary directive, and your subjects should have just been lined up against the wall and shot just like the rest of their kind were. We need not have any interest in the brain chemistry of those corrupted by power, because the leaders of the Union cannot be corrupted."

"Once the purge is complete, what do you want me to do with the subjects?"

"Protocol 3. I will send someone to make the rest of the preparations."

"Understood. Facility 417 out."



Murmurs filled the Saltsgaver's bridge at the sight of the video feed. Not only at the fact that humans were present, but at the fact that a good portion were clearly of middle-eastern descent. It was rare to see such people in the Union, after all, the entire middle east was just one gigantic nuclear wasteland after the European Crusades.

Unsurprisingly, one of the weapon's officers quickly put the particle barriers of the Alcubierre lance back in place.

"Well, I am proud to say that Earth was not destroyed. The people of Earth and its colonies have been united under the Terran Union. It took decades of bloody conflict, but in the end we claimed victory over our enemies and succeeded in ending the exploitation of Earth and its people. I would like to meet with you in person, and I'm sure our people would love to meet their long-lost brothers and sisters. There is a colony not far from here within the asteroid of Ceres, which was hollowed out and terraformed. If you are willing to meet, I Would suggest we do so there."