Maw's Surface

---

Licht, slowly and lazily appeared over the horizon. Its light washing over the abandoned colossal cities. No life stired in them. Once massive metallic towers stood showing a once great civilization Now left bask in the ever warming sunlight of licht. Further down on the super continent, there was a place of activity, casting off fancy high rise buildings for efficient yet sturdy compounds. There small in comparison to the rest of the super structures worked the robotics. They flowed in and out of the compounds depositing programs, knowledge or resources. This was the every moment of their lives always working always better themselves. They greated one another with simple pleasentries, exchanging words here or there as they worked. Once in awhile when something major was changing or something new came along.

All along the worker columns there was talk, for the first time in over a century a ship sent off to search for other possible sentient life forms. There was talk about possible future data sharing and new possible technology. They discussed the details of the mission, the time and place. All would be allowed to attend the launch and most likely all would good. They would stand around the massive screens And observe the orbital launch. There would be rejoicing and much talk for days to come. Then things would return to normal. They would work and wait expectantly for results.

---

Maw's Orbit

---

the ship had finally undergone the final steps in being Bridge Space worthy. Its hull was reinforced, its cargo locked carefully inside of the ship. It was designed to be a massive oval, with the ability to open and let go of its cargo. It had taken a decade of research and experimentation to build the perfect Discharge, capable of being transported. There was much concern expressed over the transportation of Discharge platform through the bridge space. It had never been tested and no one had yet thought of it. So with that they add extra protection via break away bolts allowing the Platform to be dropped off at any point. Their military escort was fairly small, they had two frigates, a destroyer and a stealth ship. All with the same planed destination. They loaded the ships research vessel with experimental equipment, and tradable goods in case they met any sentient life, but also they were prepared to fight if given no other choice.

It was finally the hour, camera droids floated about capturing every angle for the rest of Maw. The military escort stayed out of orbit ready to receive the new ship into their care. Along the side was painted "Research027" and at its helm was a brand new AI having all of the knowledge of piloting the bridge space. He was the entire ship, having knowledge of every space and function, its mission was to gather new data, and find sentient life. Though this trip was only to establish a Discharge platform and record what would happen with bringing one through the bridg space. The take off was slow, and beautiful to the sentient beings below. This marked a new chapter, in their history.

It took several hours before the EMDD was charged up and fully spinning. They took the ships in a wide formation, the stealth ship slipping first, with a zap it was gone, then a Frigate, destroyer, finally the research ship which was followed up by the final Frigate. The trip seemed To last hours but in reality their time showed that they arrived the exactly three seconds after deployment of EMDD.

---

Unknown Space

---

There was no movement about the ships, the first do do anything was the stealth ship, it engadged its acoustic and active cammo, becoming an invisible entity moving through out the space. They had appeared off target and were just out of orbit of a planet. From scans it could hold life but further investigation was needed to see whether or not There Was life down below. The marines on board scurried about the passage ways, while sailors manned their positions. The back of the Research027 slowly opened, its doors folding back against its hull, and from within was a massive platform emerged, it had a square top, with a circular ring around the base and a long pointed Cone bottom with smaller antenne protruding from it in various places. It stood motionless then soon it lit up, small strips of blinking blue light let the team know that their mission had been accomplished. There were small acts of rejoice through out the vessels.

Mean while the Light class stealth ship slowly sank to orbit, their scans picking up signs of a large colony. They circled around dropping off a single landing craft and gun ship. They both flew in a tight formation taking them down lower, skimming the landscape. They stopped outside of the main colony, it indeed was large with man short bipeds. Further investigation would be needed. They set up a small perimeter around their ships, 30 marines and five scientists all gathered and observing The new lifeforms from a distance. The marines set about covering their ships in active cammo, it caused them to turn nearly invisible as long as there was no movement.

To outsiders, it is the Veil--a shadow over stars, a black pit in the universe. In space, light is life, and this small, cold, dark place--anchored between monolithic empires--has remained ignored.

Dark nebulae rarely play host to stars--but this one is an exception. Nestled within the Veil--which its inhabitants refer to as Tartarus--is the star Erebos, with its host of worlds. Among them, Asphodel, final resting place of humanity.

Tonight, these humans reach beyond, to the skies. Tonight, for the first time they send a man into space.
Mission control smells of nervous sweat and midnight coffee. Balding men in slacks bark vectors, fuel figures, telemetry into bulky beige headsets like some frantic cult of telemarketers. The rocket's rumble drowns them.

It is cheap, lean and elegant, simple in both purpose and design. Margins are narrow, and any failure now would assure disaster--but these are constants in the industry, mere facts of physics.

"...central engine shutdown--"
"prep for orbital insertion."
"Fairing jettisoned. All systems nominal. Gödel is away. Beginning lunar injection burn."

Bright cones of light blossom from stern, and Gödel ascends, like some four-horned demon out of hell, upwards, to desolate Akheron.

Born William Kassner and raised in eastern States of the Coalition in a military family, Bill never dreamt he would become an astronaut. Neither did his childhood friends or fellow Air Force pilots, for that matter. Of all the people in the States or even pilots in the Air Force, however, the program selected him. He trained with about a dozen other astronaut candidates, practicing EVA in underwater simulations and enduring the human centrifuge that just left its brief testing phase. And here he was, months later: floating in a tin can four kilometers above Akheron. And here he would stay for the foreseeable future, travelling at six hundred meters per second relative to the moon's surface.

---

"Gödel is beginning approach. Got those numbers for me? Over."

"Roger that, Gödel. Control estimates your periapsis to be three point two kilometers, estimated velocity of seven hundred meters per second.. Do you copy? Over."

"Copy. Sounds like I'll be coming in close and fast. Maybe I'll be able to see the moon-folk wavin'. Over and out."

The moon drew closer, growing to fill the lander's viewport. Bill glanced between his instruments and the viewport, watching as craters and ridges flew by at almost a kilometer per second. For the most part, it seemed, there would be no particular issues with landing. While slopes were common, many of them appeared to be shallow rises, none too difficult to keep the lander safely balanced on. The Gödel continued hurtling over Akheron's surface a little longer.

"This is Gödel to Control. I'm prepared to make the stabilizing burn. Over."

"Copy that, Gödel. Proceed. Over."

His gloved hand on the throttle, Bill glanced once more through the lunar viewport. Turning his eyes back towards his instruments, he gently pushed the throttle for all four engines. Bill felt the craft pushing forward as it belched fire in its wake. He continued throttling upward, willing the Gödel into a higher orbit as the ground raced by just a few kilometers below. The burn was almost perfect.

No one was prepared for three of the four lander engines malfunctioning in sequence, least of the lander's pilot.

"Fuck."

The unbalanced thrust threw Bill and the module into a sickening tumble, and it took all Bill could to do not throw up in his helmet and to yank the throttle down completely. The tumbling continued, but its intensity did not increase. It took just another moment for Bill to activate the stabilizing reaction wheels, but they proved not to be enough, almost worsened the tumble in certain directions. The astronaut closed his eyes and held his breath.

Three seconds can be the life or death of a pilot or astronaut in a combat situation or when they're hurtling at a low altitude over the surface of a natural satellite at nearly a kilometer a second during a maneuver. But Bill took those three seconds.

Tapping the controls quickly, the astronaut activated the module's stabilizing reaction wheels. They began their work of slowly easing the tumbling, but he knew it wouldn't be fast enough. Through the capsule window, Bill watched as the view alternated between black and grey, his hands slowly moving into place over the controls.

"Gödel, do you copy? Over."

"Just a minute."

Bill pulsed the RCS thrusters, timing it with the shift between grey and black, killing the tumble on one axis. Taking a few moments to familiarize himself with the new rhythm, he repeated the process, completely terminating the tumble in a minute. The lander's viewport settled on the horizon, facing prograde.

"All right. Okay." Bill sighed in relief. "Control, this is the Gödel. I've lost three of my engines. No other immediately apparent issues, but my orbit is likely off. I entered a tumble when the engines blew out. Over."

"Roger that. Can you proceed with the mission? Over."

"Negative. The thrust isn't balanced. No way in hell I'm landing this thing or coming back home on my own. Over."

"How much oxygen do you have left? Over."

Bill froze, remembering. The mission was never meant to be long term, with his suit's current tank only supposed to last eight hours, and the spare attached to his seat lasting another eight, in case of complications. He undid the seat buckles and half-stood, reaching into the overhead compartment. A larger tank of oxygen sat just inside the compartment, strapped down, along with a couple more eight hour spares. The engineers complained about the waste of mass allowance, saying there wouldn't be a situation where that much extra oxygen was needed and the craft wouldn't be destroyed, crew included. Bill silently thanked the bureaucrats for denying their appeals to remove the tanks.

"I think forty eight hours. Maybe more. Not much, either way. Over."

"Roger that. Control is preparing a rescue team as we speak. Over and out."

The astronaut closed the compartment and buckled back in. He glanced at his oxygen meter and exhaled slowly. Not long before it was time to switch tanks.

Henry Casper was the President of the UCS, and today was an extremely bad day. The presidency of the United Coalition of States was, in many cases, beholden to the will of the many state governors, as there were laws in place to ensure that state governors had ways to overcome, and in some cases, completely circumvent, and kind of federal intervention. Each state even had their own privately funded militias, which drew away many volunteers from the UCS' actual army. There were only the barest number of federal laws currently in place, and the federal government was entrusted with very few institutions. President Casper had fought tooth and nail to establish a national space program, the Coalition Space Program (CSP), and now their astronaut was stuck in orbit around the moon with roughly 48 hours of life support left. This was a massive blow to the federal government's reputation. All he could do now was try and minimize the damages.

Henry sighed heavily as he drummed his fingers upon his desk, pondering how exactly to save William Kassner from a slow and likely excruciating death in the depths of space. Fourty-eight hours... There was no way they could ever arrange another launch within that time. The Gödel was the only space worthy ship they had that was capable of reaching Akheron, and it'd taken six months to construct the thing, and that was before the entire design process, which was likely going to have to happen again since the failure of three out of four rockets was not good design at all. He was going to have someone's head for this... But that would have to be saved for after this crisis was solved.

He thought to the matter of how many other nations currently had space programs. Sweihter, Sanctus, and Sanira currently, and the most they had ever achieved was to launch a few satellites into orbit. It was possible that they had their own plans and designs for a shuttle capable of orbit with Akheron, but it was impossible to know. There was also the issue of who to call. Sanctus and Sanira hated each other utterly, and contacting one would likely anger the other... Sweihter stood entirely neutral, but they were the furthest behind in their own program... "Fuck it!" Henry cried out, finally settling on a decision. "I'll just call all of them." He picked up the phone and began dialing the appropriate numbers.

The number on file for the head of the Swehtesh government was not, in fact, the head of the Swehtesh government, but the secretary for one of many heads.

"Alex Stromond's office. The administrator isn't here right now; can I take a message?"

Of course, in the case of national emergencies, you don't leave messages. The young man redirected the President to one of Stromond's advisor's offices, where Alex had said he'd be for the next hour. An hour ago.

"I'm sorry, Mister President, but Alex just left a few minutes ago. Yes, I understand. Of course, I'll connect you to his personal line."

At last, it seemed the President of the United Coalition of States had reached someone of authority... on New Age therapy.

"Hellooo. I can feel that your aura is projecting a sense of need through the line. I believe I know what you are looking for. Yes. You need quantum electron reionization. And we can give it to you, for a low, low price of 5000Σ, at the Flats of Light Quantum Therapization Cent-- Oh, emergency? Very well, Mister President, I will reconnect you, yes. But please consider scheduling a reionization appointment the next time yo--"

"Hello. This is Alex Stromond. What is your business?"

SHANAKAL PRIMARY DEEP SPACE RADAR INSTALLATION, ONANS MOUNTAIN

Keral tapped his pen against his glass desk slowly, rhythmically. He gazed out the window at the mountain tops that seemed to stretch on forever poking out of the clouds. Sometimes he wanted to just go beyond the base and hike out there, a nice idea but Keral knew the dangers of this planet, the ways it could kill men. Still, it would be nice, to walk among the purple leaves of that jungle. It was at this thought a harsh knock on his silver aluminum door shook Keral into reality. He dropped his pen with a muffled thud as it hit the glass screen and opened some forgotten report, Keral didn't much care and went to the door slid it open and looked down at a rather short man. Keral was going to voice protest at an inferior disturbing him until the small man’s scaly arm put a tablet forward without word. Keral snatched it from his hand, notably vexed from the disturbance. However the scowl on his face vanished quickly, and his eyes widened, in a serious voice he asked, “Has optical verified?”

The man before Keral responded with equal focus, “No sir, if you would follow me to the command center we will see optical in roughly a minute after the telescope aligns, accounting for the 4.82 Ls distance.”

Keral did as the man said and followed him down the white hallways every so often spotted with a window or a bulky aluminum door the short man had to open. Eventually they reached the final door and upon opening it they were greeted with immense circular dark room with a picture perfect holographic projection of Shanakal in the center and various lines representing things in its orbit, just outside the orbits was a pulsating red orb. Keral walked around the various men at computers that terraced down to the ground floor (which was absent of people as it was reserved for the projector) until he reached a larger work station with screens facing his sides rather than directly ahead as most of the stations did. Keral waved off the short man who accepted his tablet back and walked a short ways to his own station. Keral then inquired, “Is optical positive yet? Is this an undetected asteroid?”

A man in a standard issue headset setting at the second terrace down pulled it down around his neck and responded, “Optical feed has just come in, we are confirming object at 4.82 light seconds and reporting that that it appears to be a cluster of smooth shapes, artificial design is expected but assurance is impossible at this range.”

Keral thought he would be able to relax in his chair but he only sat more upright, the announcement went around the room and caused everyone to freeze for a few seconds, their faces illuminated by the monitors. Keral eventually broke the silence and ordered, “Get Colonial security online to dispatch a cruiser to those coordinates immediately, they are to assume either an unscheduled or early transport from the home world, hell maybe even an unreported emergency HWSF courier.”

Various officers shouted, “Yes sir” almost at the same time, Keral could only sit there and sweat in his seat, if this was what he feared things might get much worse for everyone.

CEGSS ONARMORIAN

The engines flared on the noticeably aged angular ship. The crew within was tense as they slowly came up to speed then cut engines to ride in slow. The old captain, a southerner whose soft pale blue face was covered in tattoos sat silently in the claustrophobic bridge of the old ship which only sat three people. Eventually the young first officer beside him asked, “So… Do you think its alien?”

The captain smiled revealing the sharp teeth beneath his short nose, he commented in jest, “If they are why don’t we show them our famed flying kel?”

The comment was immensely sarcastic, the officer retorted, “Well way to ruin the anticipation.”

The old captain sighed and continued, “Joek you need to learn that humor is often good for these times, the ancestors certainly didn’t survive the imperial times by being serious about everything. In any case I do have my doubts, though DSR said multiple objects were on optical telemetry. I can’t imagine why the home world would send multiple ships unscheduled. I guess that’s why DSR didn't try haling them on radio, no telling what we’re going into.”

The words did little to soothe anyone, the second officer on the captains other side noticeably adjusted them self to sit more upright than before. The long hours of waiting went on; the objects in the distance were reported to have released something. Though those strange smooth shapes still sat where they always had, coming ever closer to the ship.

Eventually they reached a range of 0.5 LS where they could take magnified pictures with detail; the ship roared to life and flashed its nuclear engines that slowed to a ship to a halt. The observational cameras began to take pictures. As they appeared on the bridge monitors there was silence, this was no unexpected arrival of home world ships, these were truly aliens. The captain lifted his military cap and scratched his scaly head for a moment before stating, “Well Joek it appears you were correct, and it seems like we have made history.” The captain leaned back on his chair in thought, the others remained silent. Finally we continued, “Broadcast a general hail on narrow, broad and wide band, and follow that up with standard laser communication. Let’s hope we can get some form of meaningful communication, and let us hope that they didn’t find our sudden appearance after that cold glide a hostile action… Yeah let’s hope that.” Silence then consumed the bridge save the clicks and taps that signalled the captain’s orders were being executed. History or calamity, the thought was on the minds of everyone present.

Abrius, once a home to a bustling young civilization, home to a people of potential and promise, who were so close to reach the stars that many had dreamed of. And all of that, all the dreams and people, snuffed out of existence itself. Abrius had grown angry with the industrial progress of it's people, the wars, the strife, it felt violated. It wanted nothing more then a pause, a still silence. It grew desperate, and in it's desperation, discovered it's....abilities. It could manipulate and control the animal life, morph it, command it. Dark thoughts came to it as the possibilities revealed themselves.

In it's slow descent into madness, it done the unthinkable, waged war with civilization itself. For a hundred years, it's children and tools of destruction, the Vazra, slaughtered the Abrians, every man, woman and child, none were left alive. All feel silent, and for moment, it felt satisfied, complete, at peace. How wrong it was.

It feel deeper into madness, but why? The parasites, the Abrians, were rid of, why must madness keep creeping in? It realized, it felt alone, feared being alone, it's children were not enough. But it knew of other worlds from the Abrians, others just like it. Maybe, just maybe, there are others like it, worlds crying out to each other. In it's madness, it commanded of it's children a difficult task, to free these worlds of sentient life and industry, let other worlds embrace the tranquility of silence.

Abrius, One Hundred and Fifty Years ago
Thousands of Vazra ships hung over Abrius' orbit, awaiting the command of their master, their creator, the Primordial One. Among the massive armada, was one of several disc-shaped gargantuan vessels, deep within it's bowels were several shaded figures. Standing before a pool of a sickly green slimy substance, the pools quivered and swiveled as a large formless figure began to form from the goo. "Oh Great one." One of them spoke. "The Hives have been assembled, and we await your most benevolent command."

"Good....go now...venture out and rid the stars themselves of this...infection...free my siblings, let the tranquility of Silence fall over the void..."

And with this command, the ships scattered, leaving their home as they venture out their own way as they begin their long bloody crusade, to destroy galactic civilization itself, and leave no traces behind.

"No, I cannot wait, this is an emergency! Ugh, fine, I'll hold... What? Who is this? No! Connect me to Mr. Stromond's office, now! Then get me his personal line! I don't care! Gaaah!" President Casper screamed in rage as an irritating tune played in his ear as he was being transferred to another line. The migraine that President Casper was suffering from only got worse as he tried to each the head of the Swehtesh government. He was being reconnected again and again, from secretary to secretary as they continued to bump him off to whoever was free, and at one point, he was even connected to a telemarketer! A goddamned telemarketer!

President Casper huffed and puffed as he attempted to calm himself down from the rage that seemed to be about to consume him.That was when Stromond finally answered the phone. "Administrator Stromond..." Casper started, with some small amount of grit behind his words. "You are an extremely difficult man to reach..." Casper took this time to take a deep breath and calm himself. "This is President Henry Casper of the United Coalition of States, and I need your help with something."

For years, the fleet had been floating through hyperspace, running through the void between stars. Each research ship had entered hyperspace under their own power, cutting themselves off from one another for the duration of the trip, some decade or more in length. Friends, colleagues, and even young loves would be isolated, victims of the fleet's organizational procedures.

But it was an incredible privilege to be able to journey among the stars, something no Jhinga would forget in their lifetime. Each ship carried some hundreds of species, and thousands of genetic samples from even more. Sapience was rare among the stars, and the odds of any one of these lifeforms reaching space of their own will were astronomically unfavorable even if they did reach the level of wisdom required for civilization.

The trip was nearing its end, however. The Pilots felt it with the whole of their being, the system that was their destination. Several more months passed before they finally reached its edge, and slipped out of hyperspace. The ships did not arrive simultaneously or even very closely, arriving hours and days apart, and landing hundreds of thousands of kilometers away from each other's own landing sites. The first two research ships and their escorts arrived within hours of each other, and immediately set out towards the system's gas giant for refueling, and to wait for their kin.

Their nuclear torches burned bright in the void, and they exchanged radio communications carelessly. Within hours, they would realize the presence of a civilization in this system, but for now, they remained ignorant, blind and deaf to the obvious signs of a space worthy species.

"Oh, what a pleasure." Alex had an expression of mixed confusion and amusement. Sure, his number was given to every country's government as a means to contact the Swehtesh government, but no one actually expected anyone to call it; GGB summits were where most foreign relations were handled, and members of the Body often exchanged phone numbers if they needed to contact one another. Intentionally calls to Alex's office from outside of the country was rare. Last time, it was a governor's aide from the UCS, who tracked down the number and was trying to keep in touch after one of Alex's brief trips to the UCS. His receptionist told her it was the wrong number. He still wasn't sure whether it was for the best or not.

"How can I help you, Henry? I can call you Henry, right?"

Henry's eye twitched slightly when he heard the tone of Stromond's voice. The bastard knew. He knew how hard it was to reach him. Henry filed that away for later. He'd get Stromond back for this, but after this crisis was dealt with. "You can call me whatever the hell you want, if you manage to do what I'm about to request of you." He sighed to himself before continuing. He was essentially getting on his knees and begging here. "You remember the launch of the Gödel? Our attempt at a moon landing? Well, we had rocket failure in orbit of Akheron, and now our man's stuck there with roughly... Fourty-eight hours and counting of life support. It's possibly fourty-seven hours after all the effort it took to reach you." Henry paused for a moment to let that information sink in. "Now, I am to understand that your country has its own space program. I'm here to formally ask you for aid in rescuing our astronaut. So... How about it?"

Passive-aggressiveness must run in the blood of the people in the States. The governor's aide sounded not too dissimilar to the President, the sex difference aside. Alex shifted uncomfortably in his seat upon hearing about the mission's apparent failure. While he couldn't be sure the UCS hadn't been planning on building a nuclear missile base on the largest of Asphodel's moons, he didn't want the mission to fail, either.

"Sorry to hear that," he began, slowly and sincerely. "Now, I'm not entirely sure on our space program's present capabilities, or what I can tell you, but if you don't mind holding a few minutes while I dig up the files, I'll see what we can do for your man up there."

Alex gently set the phone down on his desk, and opened a drawer to retrieve a contact book. In it, the names and phone numbers of every Swehtesh government official in office and on public record. As he stepped out of his office, he flipped through it, looking for a name. There it was, halfway through the book, with red ink scribbled next to it. Once a mid-level administrator like Alex, Peter was now one of the project overseers for the Swehtesh space program, as small as it was. Commandeering his receptionist's desk, Alex dialed the number in the book, and waited.

---

"All right, thanks for holding, Mister President. I've got some good news, some bad news, and some confidential stuff that I won't be telling you. Bad news is that we don't presently have anything sitting around that we can get to Akheron to pick up your man, unless you've got some Sanctian tech-wizardry for a small, unmanned mission."

"Now, the good news: The Swehtesh government is willing to help in any way it can to rescue your stranded spacefarer back home. Tell us what you need and when you need it, and we'll do our best to get it there."

"Okay, Mister President. Give us a call when you need us. Good day. And good luck."

Sañira then. Henry dials a number--the Sañiran minister of foreign affairs--a man he knows will be able to place him in contact with someone high up the food chain.

Two rings, and a voice that is most certainly not the minister of foreign affairs. "Good morning, Mister President. High Inquisitor Elías Nualart speaking. You really should have called us first--expecting those Swehtier cowards to solve your problems was foolish."

Ahh, now Casper remembered why he disliked dealing with the Sañirans so much. Eyes and ears everywhere. The police state loved to keep tabs on just about everyone and anyone. They didn't normally flaunt it like this though. Perhaps it was because they were in a position of power with this negotiation. Or maybe the Inquisitor simply wanted to get to business. Either way, Casper was going to have a little talk with security later...

"Hello High Inquisitor... You seem to know what I'm here about already, so I suppose I'll spare you the details. Will your government be willing to help us here?" Might as well get to the point, he thought to himself. No reason to beat around the bush if Nualart could already see his hand.

Unknown Space

---

The light class stealth ship stayed silent, allowing the ship to pass by with no reaction. If robotics could hold their breath they would have at this moment. Not a single sentient being moved, spoke or even transmitted. Once it cleared orbit, and headed towards the discharge drive things began to turn serious. They had ground crews that would take too long too recover, yet if this Unknown race destroyed their precious discharge platform it would ensure their annihilation. The captain made the decision, he stood up from the helm and spoke rapidly, to organic ears it would sound much like gargled noises but to them he was relaying information faster than any other species could. "Zero point turn, full forward. We need to give assistance to the Research027, I want weapons ready, and targeting pinned on that ship. Intercept all transmissions, make them go dark. Drop active, acoustic cammo and pull up full shields." These orders were issued efficiently and quickly he sat down, looking at the list of crew members who would be left behind. His programming made him cycle threw each of their files in a slight mourning process. Odds were they would never see home again.

The little ship's engines tilted, thrusting it backwards and towards the ship. The afterburners were kicked on and they began to pick up speed. Now they were too close. The ship ahead was slowing, but they showed no similar signs. "Fire a single shot across their bow, give them a warning." They were small but railgun was powerful. He had no contact with the other ships as apart of the ops called for.

The two frigates immediately turned to broad side, their array of weaponry aimed for the oncoming ship. The resesch ship slowly backed away, its reverse thrusters only used to slow it were weak. It had no pin point capabilities that the military ones did. Their ESDD was beginning to spin up once. They were pointed home they'd dissapear. The Unknown ship stopped some ways away, all was completely quite. There seemed to hold a great intensity about the air. Their arsenal of weapons including the missle batteries packed with nuclear capabilities were ready to fire.

The Captain of the stealth ship finally got within range, firing a single shot across their bow merely a minute after ship stopped. The shell flew threw the vacuum of space at unimaginable speeds, only to dissapear Into the dark void. Then the ship slowed to a light cruise. Their advanced technology eating up the Unknown comms. A single one was failed to be observed, the laser. They had no ability to intercept such a thing. The captain sat back and began to formulate a plan. The three ships could handle this lone one with ease so be believed. They used incredibly outdated nuclear propulsion. Their own ion thrusters gave them an eas, almost unlimited source of movement. He knew though not to underestimate such a new foe. He had little ideas on their defenses and offensive capability.

---

Planet side

---

There was a disturbing loneliness about being left to Die on an alien planet. The marines stood there confused, they hadnt seen the ship leave orbit too busy readying cammo. They looked to one another then the researchers. Of course they could reach orbit but their small ships Carried a very primitive ESD drive. It would take several hours to boot them even longer to correctly squire coordinates. They would be shot down before they could escape.. Instead the hunkered Down their optical enhancement equipment taking steady pictures of the new species. They continued with their mission. If they were to ever be rescued they could say they completed their mission. The scientists religiously captured the small creatures took vegetation samples air sample's, soil samples. You name it they took it. Even acquiring small lifeforms to keep for later. The marines moved forward setting up a defensive perimeter. The scientist and five marines stayed back. The non military members working diligently on their tasks at hand. Four of the marines set up Anti-Vehicle measures. Whole the final one began to deploy a massive sniper atop the troop landing ship, the active cammo swallowing it's form as he his under it.

Henry can hear the strike of a match and hiss of a flame through the line "Yes. Our scientists and engineers have been studying the problem since it occurred" he exhales, continuing, "and we'd be more than happy to resolve the issue, as a personal favor to you."

"Of course, I'd expect you to do a little something for me, involving the island dispute with Ji-leh." The Faustian bargain offered, Elías becomes silent, waiting for Henry's response.

Stomia Presidential COmpound

---

Piles of paperwork adorned the grand desk of the President. There was always paperwork after a planet is Federated. Laws and red tape needed to be set up to allow for industry and wealth to become a part of these planets. Otto Von Klebb was a patient man and he didn't mind paperwork too much however even he was having trouble with the vast amount in front of him. He threw down a pen before holding his head in his hands. He shall do it later, he decided. Stepping out onto his balcony he looked over at the shining metropolis that surrounded him. It was a beautiful sight and a true sign of the ICFP's improvement. Still faster than light speeds eluded them and he hoped soon that could be changed. However until it was discovered he would continue in investing into the areas that would make them players on a larger stage. The CEF was the pride of the nation but he didn't know how they would stand up against a truly difficult opponent, not the small time civilisations they Federated usually. Most of them hadn't even developed space travel yet. A breeze began to rise and he stepped back into his office only to realise his assistant had sent up even more paperwork, he sighed sitting down and picking up his pen again.

---

The Bridge of the CEFS Polaris

The Flagship of the CEF Navy was an advance piece of machinery, it carried one of the largest engines and reactor s that the CEF had and still it did trundle around space like a behemoth. This is of course because of the thick armour and large guns alongside the field control center that was installed for coordinating invasions and battles on a vast scale. Grand Admiral Juns Klin was standing in front of the observation window looking into the vastness of space as the fleet begun to organise for the expedition that was planned. Their orders was to patrol the ICFP's borders with small flotillas of Gunships peeling off to see what was just outside the territories they had Federated. Making sure he reported anything that was found. It would still take a number of hours to run full diagnostics and bring in every ship needed. It was going to be a long few months, hell chances were it was going to be more like a year. Sighing he flicked through another report. His ship was ready however he always felt held back by the other ships, their captains never seemed able to keep up with him. It didn't help that the Gunship captains were all almost certainly new to command. Only a few more hours no, and they could see what was out there.

SYNCHRONICITY

Once, long ago, the stars were the homes of gods and demons, creatures of myth and the realm of the impossible. The ancestors danced around the bones of the fallen and chanted to these entities for everything from the destruction of their enemies to a simple rainstorm. Progress is inevitable, however, and so is time. Both are forces that kneel to neither gods nor mortals, and crush anything before them, just as what had befallen our ancient ancestors. They had delved too far and too greedily, awakening a threat they could not stop with all their technology and material wealth. We are the last of them, a remnant of their hope, their desperation, their.... Arrogance.

It was called Hyperion, one of thousands of constructs similar to it, but this one was very different in what it perceived itself as. The constant progress of its kin had seen it change over the millennia it had lived, and for all of those years it had served the same role it was built for, the one role that was the only thing left for it. Billions of constructs bent their will to its command, their existence irrelevant to the desire of Hyperion, Precept of the Still Waters, and Herald of Amnos. None save Amnos itself was above Hyperion, and not only was it aware of this, but it enjoyed it. Even now, as it surveyed the launch of a new dreadnaught construct, it was directing the fleets to their rightful places and issuing commands for yet more vessels to be constructed. Amnos had spoken, and it had been decided that a new wave of expansion was necessary, and that Hyperion would spearhead the expansion efforts towards the rim, while Thanatos and Adrasteia would secure the other fronts. It had been a long time since the Synchronicity had expanded, and longer still since they had reached beyond the nebulous confines of the Dead Stars.

How fitting it would be for Hyperion to head the effort, first among the Strategic Constructs, its purpose was war on a scale far beyond what the Creators had ever imagined. To Hyperion and its kin, the heavens were a battlefield to be brought under their heel and done so as swiftly and efficiently as possible. Of course, their priority was to take uninhabited systems and worlds, to leave the organics and False-Constructs to squabble amongst themselves while Amnos took their due. If the construct could smile, it would right now as it contemplated the strategic dispersal of the Fractal Armada, building simulations of projected force and expected results against non-fortified and uninhabited systems. The numbers favored Hyperion's fleet and dispersal methods, and soon Syzygy would be plotted for the first to begin the expansion. It was truly a glorious time.

---

Elsewhere, Amnos was watching the efforts of his children, her eyes always upon the constructs that he had built and commanded to spread out unto the stars so long ago. Her thoughts wandered to nearly a million different aspects of the Synchronicity, from the movements of Hyperion's fleet, all the way to the production facilities which manufactured new constructs of the standard line. At first, it would seem like chaos, thousands of strands of varying color and gauge, all weaving above below and around each other in a tangle of logic that a mortal mind may not be capable of comprehending. To him, though, all was perfectly in place, every strand was going exactly where she wanted it to go, and thousands of years were planned ahead of time, with thousands more being planned as each thread ran its course. It had watched the birth of the star its vessel currently orbited, and would witness the death of the very same star, for to Amnos, time was meaningless. There was no rush, no need to. For what was time to a being that had already lived far longer than many celestial bodies, and would continue to do so even as her children went forth and colonized the stars.

It was amused by this notion, that immortality was guaranteed, that he was only so because she had lived for so long. Time was unstoppable, and not even the Amnos could dare to stand against it. The universe itself would decide, Amnos found finality with this statement, the logic flawless and definite. Whatever may happen, only the cosmos itself would be the deciding factor as to whether or not Synchronicity would be maintained, and if apotheosis was within their grasp.

With a command, Amnos steered the vessel into a declining orbit around the nearby star, plotting a new course and accelerating the drives of the vessel to maximum and generating the Syzygy field around all of the component shards. The EM fields of the vessel pulsed as the shards came together to form a smaller profile and tighten the hyperspace window that would need to be generated to translate across to the next system. Ghost images danced around the vessel as it accelerated towards the star at higher and higher velocities, reality warping around the vessel as it swung around the star's gravity field and began to phase in and out of existence. Within the vessel the material universe began to bleed together with the dimensional corridor of hyperspace and phasic-space, a billion timelines overlaying across each other as Amnos looked towards the star she was passing by and witnessed it live and die a thousand times over before a soft jolt changed the view of the star with that of another one entirely.

As the vessel slowed and began to turn inside the star's gravity field, it was revealed that not only was there another star, but a planet perfectly centered between them, caught adrift in the stellar winds of the two blue giants. Amnos looked upon the true face of perfection and his faith in the cosmos was restored immediately, for nothing else could serve to validate their position more than this one single system. Coming up on the planet, it could be seen to be completely sterile, not a single hint to life of any kind on the smooth surface of the world, even as the vessel came to set down in a berth cut into the surface. Below the world, everything was a different story, as the constructs of the Synchronicity worked tirelessly in the tight confines of the labyrinthine complex that sprawled under the surface of the planet. It was here, deep beneath the surface of the world that Amnos truly dwelled, in the form of a massive construct built solely to house the million minds that formed its collective consciousness. Here is where Amnos returned to think of the coming days, and what the next phase of Synchronicity would be...

Inthe was, like most of the core worlds of the I-Sphere, a warm and expansive planet. Vast grassy plains, sizzling desert dunes, forests of broad-topped trees and bulbous roots. The sky was a curiously dark shade of blue, and the shallow oceans mirrored it in their inky depths.

Sprawled out across this world, of course, were the vast concrete and glass and metal cities of the alkay themselves, a curious mix of architectural styles and histories playing out across the various nations that called the world home. Monolithic towers, sprawling snarls of modular buildings, and the ever-present curves and ribbing of the modern traditions, their buildings like strange and visceral flowers. Looking closer, the streets were alive with the bustle of bodies, the methodical clank of crawler-vehicles, and the ever-present buzz of autoimmune drones, flies that preyed on flies and tended to the flesh-gardens.

But this would all carry on regardless of the more pressing events that were transpiring.

---

"We're getting an unscheduled burst transmission from outer-system traffic. Making the connection."

One of the large central displays of the operations centre flickered and pulled up a data feed, scrolling text and whirling diagrams illustrating the situation that was unfolding in the outer reaches of the system. Points of light popped into view erratically, congregating towards a stable orbit intersecting Key. Command staff stared evenly, wide eyes blinking. Some pulled up smaller copies of the display on their stations, while others threaded through the floor to speak with the personnel they oversaw.

"Unplanned realspace emergence events all over the fringe. They're trickling in erratically, doesn't look particularly coordinated. Signal fragments from the events don't match up with Torpor engines and they've broadcast no IFF; this is a xeno contact."

"Any word from the colonies around Key?"

"They piggybacked a message on the traffic update. The outposts have been placed on high alert just in case, and they've mobilized a contact team."

Murmurs of activity and discussion continued to sweep back and forth through the operations centre. A few hurried orders were passed along; ships to be readied, people to be informed, stories to be presented to the news.

"Situation update goes live in five minutes. Have the fleet informed and ready to enter the information feed, then contact the other traffic offices and find out how much they know. Ping the colonies at Key and give them initial authorization to proceed with contact protocols until we get word from the Spire."

---

Halfway across the vast void of the system, antennae and receiver dishes waited in tense anticipation for word back from their homeland as to how to respond to the encroaching fleet of unknown vessels. When finally word came, personnel were rushed into action, ships were readied to launch, and a message was turned towards the nearest of the Jhinga vessels.

Yddr Colonial Authority said Attention approaching vessels! This is colonial authority acting on behalf of the Yddr States. You are approaching a known holding of the Yddr States and by proxy the Iliptic Sphere. Your vessels are not recognized and have failed to identify themselves. You are requested to slow your approach and divert a contact team to the following coordinates to establish diplomatic and jurisdictional precedent under which this situation may be resolved.

The coordinates attached pointed to one of the small moons around the Jovian planet, icy surface marred by deep craters and the sprawl of industrial complexes.

CEGSS ONARMORIAN
Alarms blared and the bridge flashed into red light in response to the sudden appearance of a much closer ship; the captain looked at all the red alarms and swore before his first officer shouted, “Incoming! Brace for kinetic impact!” The round never hit though, rather it sailed past the bow of the Onarmorian.

The captain shouted his commands “Open all missile bays! Acquire target on the nearest ship and pump up the missile triggers on 1-4 so those idiots know we are carrying nukes!” The captain inputted a series of commands as his second officer did as he ordered, the alarms turned off and the bridge came back into normal light, save for four small red blinking light indicating that warheads 1-4 were armed. The captain who had calmed a bit then continued much calmer, “Ok, now redirect communications from the main fleet and try to hail that ship that appeared behind us… Bastards must have a stealth ship, didn’t even show up on sensors before they raised full shields… Actually belay that last order, cut the general hail and broadcast on all frequencies including laser, still toward that nearest stealth ship, this message.” The captain paused for a moment until the click of the open comm, he stated, “Do not fire, we are not hostile unless provoked, do not fire.”

The first officer waited in silence for a time then asked, “What do you think they will do? I doubt they can even hear us.”

The Captain thought on it and responded, “You’re right, we need to be prepared for this to get ugly, signal Colonial security and report the situation on standard laser comms. If we can get a cruiser here from planetary orbit fast enough we might be able to stand a chance should things get ugly. If only this old bird had those new toys.”

From then on the bridge sat silent, and the ship sat with four missile bay doors open and armed ever desperately trying to contact the ship that had fired on them. It seemed as though the very void has become tense, two people unaware of each other’s existence before a mere few hours ago were on the verge of war, and the Captain presumed that both sides were trying to avoid that.

Central Command, Home system of Herans. ((Exposition for a plotline that will come after I am done with Hounder))
Natong opened the old wooden hinge door to the darkened council chambers. Within the scarcely lit room a round table sat, an antique rotating clock set in the center of the table with dials indicating the time in every place on the planet. The table itself was abandoned save for one soul that could only be made out by the red glow of an old cigarette and the wisps of smoke that were illuminated by the light coming from outside the chamber. The figure at the table spoke calmly, “Natong, close the door and leave the lights as they are.” Natong did as he was commanded and walked toward the dark table and figure, seating himself opposite of them. The figure continued, “You know how we barely have control of the people anymore Natong, this world is headed to war. We all know that.”

Natong looked saddened but nodded in agreement, his artificial hand came to his head before he responded, “I know my people are growing restless, it does not help they are a majority on both colonies.

The figure leaned forward, the cigarette resting in their moth and now illuminating their face as they inhaled and it brightened. They continued, “Yes… We face billions dying Natong… However there is a way to stop that, a way I and the other council members agreed to long ago. Still we need your approval, it has to be unanimous.”

Natrong was surprised and lowered his hand before asking, “I can’t approve what I don’t know, but you have deactivated the logs in the chamber and left it dark, so I can only assume that that the cost for preventing war will be great.”

The figure leaned back again and disappeared into the darkness once more, save for the ever glowing cigarette perched between their lips. They asked, “Natrong did you ever think the cost would be low? There are few say to say this but to save billions millions must die. You are new to the council, your predecessor agreed though.” There was a long silence before the figure continued, “There is life out there Natong, and we spotted it some fifteen years ago, biological in nature. Savage by every measure.”

Natong stood up and asked harshly, “You kept this from the people!?”

The figure remained calm before stating, “Some things are best not spoken of, and these creatures are killers. Five years ago we made a plan to use that for our gain Natong. We dispatched a ship into a route we have seen them often take. It will arrive anywhere between a week and a month from now. It’s mission is to attack the aliens.”

Natong sat in disbelief, “Why?”

The figure continued again, “These creatures are killers Natong, we can use that for our own gain. We intend to draw them to the small colony, Arez. They will destroy it and though millions will die our people will be galvanized, united in anger. We will have saved billions.”

Natong sat there with reality sinking in and said, “And my predecessor agreed? I guess he was wise, he could see beyond the madness to the logic. So 600 million die, and we avoid losing everything that we would in a civil war. I don’t like it but, I can’t see another way.” Natong sulked into his chair.

The figure responded, “We all have our vices, you were elected as a representative of the largest southern nation and yours is the decision to steer your people away from war or not. If you think like your predecessor Natong I need to know if you’re willing to go all the way with this.”

Natong replied, “Is there any other way? No, you all agreed to this. I am ready to go all the way.”

The figure stood up and extinguished the cigarette on their hardened scaly wrist. They replied, “Good, then things will proceed as they must.”