[IC] Amongst Living Gods (Sci-Fi NRP)

[Jeddaven]

Testing the IC post, to make sure formatting is good.

Approx. 2450 CE, Aboard the G.I.C.S. Thucydides

The Thucydides, as it were, was a rather poorly armed craft - at least, based upon outward appearances. It was a craft designed to ferry diplomats to-and-from various destinations, and, as such, it was heavily shielded and equipped with purposely hidden armaments. As it droned on through space, slowly towards the GCN (Galactic Council of Nations)'s primary station, located safely above the center of Sagittarius A's, safely beyond its absolute horizon. The station itself viewed the swirling arms of matter that swung into the all-devouring behemoth at the center, only to forever vanish once they became too close. It was a truly beautiful sight, but that was not Alexander Campbell's concern. He was a diplomat - and, for now, his job was to place the GIC into the most advantageous position possible. The human was in a dangerous position, and it was crucial that they obtained the galaxy's cooperation in their efforts to survive.

He sighed deeply, look out over the ship's observation deck, into the cloud of doomed mass that spun inwards, unaware of its destruction. It was but a massive viewing screen - GIC government craft rarely, if ever, sported actual windows - but the effect was the same. He always dwelled upon the inevitable entropy that Sagittarius-A seemed to impose, though it was something he knew he had to fight against. I have to do my best, he thought to himself, clenching his fists. This council meeting - it's big. All the biggest, most powerful nations in the galaxy will be meeting in a few hours, and I was the one chosen to represent my entire species. He smirked at the thought, former despondence breaking out into a grin. Alexander yawned, stretching out his arms before looking down at his suit. It was the classic blue-on-white of GIC, soft colours designed to invoke thoughts of peace. He patted it down, as if to remove any wrinkles from the fabric, just as a high-pitched chime blared over the ship's speakers, as it docked with the GCN station.

"We've just completed docking procedures, sir. You're wanted on-deck." announced a monotone, female voice."

"I'll be right up." Alexander responded, sighing once more as he moved through the Thucydides, looking out at the GCN station - The Concordia - as he reached the docking tube. The guards were dressed in relatively standard armors, though many had radically different uniforms, simply due to biology. They all wore the same colours, and wielded the same weapons. Most of the structure itself was a neutral, bleached white, built to form a tall, sleek, smooth central spire, surrounded by twin rotating rings. The inside was almost totally sterile, like a top-of-the-line hospital - welcoming and safe. Alexander smiled warmly, straightening his shoulders as he gently opened the doors to the GCN's central meeting chamber, at the very top of the spire, and found his seat in the triangular chamber, and the podium between the rows of seats.

Two Solid Shadows, GIC Embassy

"What we're about to embark upon is a -very- dangerous mission." Grzegorzy nodded, solemnly, looking through his thick, tinted visor, and out to the landscape of Two Solid Shadows. Indeed, the mission he had embarked upon was dangerous - incredibly so, in fact - but he was confident that he would succeed, and in fact grinned inwardly at the potential consequences of the results. He folded his thickly gloved hands behind his back, humming listlessly to himself as he waited. What he was about to do, if it succeeded, would be an incredibly momentous occasion. Humans, as the Stoor would soon learn, were not to be trifled with.

[Terminal]

Iteration
The Universe
Virgo Supercluster
Local Group
Milky Way Galaxy
Core Region
Sagittarius A*, Galactic Core
GCN Concordia

Had it not been for the inadvisable proximity of Sagittarius A*, one of the more visually disconcerting sights amongst the many different and alien craft docked at the station would have been the vessel belonging to the disreputable Stoor Manifold. The ship was large, bulky, and spherical, appearing to have uneven, rough hull surfaces that almost looked like they had been constructed of stone rather than metal. This was due to the manner in which the wormlike Stoor built their vessels - by growing them. The exterior hulls were composed of biomineralized super-alloys with webbings of vascular tissue hidden immediately underneath. They were no less durable than any other kind of starship armor, but the messier means of their assembly meant that all Stoor ships had an unpolished look to them.

The Stoor Manifold was an Aristocratic space nation less than five-thousand lightyears away, and conversely the most distant and isolated sovereign power relative to the rest of the galactic community. Their civilization was old, their scouts having surveyed the galaxy for over a thousand years, and continuing to do so. The Stoor had always possessed great fascination for alien forms of life and culture, and unfortunately for everyone else they were willing to travel a long way to experience both. They were regular saber-rattlers and perceived to be untrustworthy as a species by most, as their barbed and mocking manner of pursuing diplomacy did not make them many friends. They had been the cause of some of the most prominent diplomatic 'incidents' over the past thousand years - from their double-dealing during the Nassu rebellion, their black market slave trafficking incident in the GICT, to their continual efforts to perpetrate sabotage and disunity amongst the Technocracy. They seemed proud of these dark affairs more than anything else. A fair degree of market penetration within the GICT, the GRC, and the Oliocht Technocracy, plus a significant thoroughfare of tourists, traders, and researchers, forced most to put up with them. Despite their abhorrent behavior, as a species they had a strange and demoralizing gift for getting what they wanted.

The Stoor were the only species present at the Condordia who could not room onboard. Their homeworld, named Two Solid Shadows in their curious traditional convention of naming things, was a world of extremes that was utterly inhospitable to most forms of life. Stoor physiology actually required regular trace exposure to radioactive particles in order to sustain metabolic functions, and had a livable temperature range between 32 and 83 degrees Celsius. Individual Stoor could move through the station only with the assistance of respirators loaded with finely powdered heavy elements and surgically implanted thermal regulators. The massive, plated worms had their own sectioned-off embassy and bulkhead, since even the combined technological knowledge of the gathered powers had been unable to devise a way to reconcile the extreme conditions the Stoor lived in while keeping everybody else on the station comfortable.

This also meant that most of the GCN peacekeepers assigned to the Manifold's section had to be Epiplasm soldiers. Absolutely nobody was happy with the arrangement except the Stoor. Even less happy were the Security Captains - the Peacekeepers had been prudent enough to make sure every captain in the section was of a different species and outfitted extensively in order to cope with the volatile environment, but even so serving duty in the section was not pleasant.

The interior of the Manifold vessel was accommodating and charming by way of Stoor aesthetics - hallways with curved floors of uneven biomineralized plates that afforded the Stoor a good grip with their neuropodia, walls of paneled collagen, and a ceiling covered with an endless web of brightly glowing veins. As the vessel had largely been made as a luxury model, hallways were regularly interspersed with rotunda with central pools of not-quite-boiling elemental bromine held at a comfortable temperature of 55 degrees Celsius. Light vapors arose from these pools and dispersed throughout the ship, providing the Stoor with a soothing ambient bath.

The private rooms of Seven Desert Streams were so exquisite that they almost approached the standards of opulance for other species from the opposite direction. The walls here were delicately carved, multicolored nacre. The floors, while still uneven, were made of tiled ammolite and the ceiling was made of jet painted with the scene of A Balelit Oath, where the five founders had sworn an oath and formed the Manifold.

Submerged in their private cleaner pool with small brightly-colored designer organisms busily extracting cellular detritus from the base of their bristles, Seven Desert Streams coolly reflected on the ingenious masterstroke that was the Galactic Council. The Complex could not have arranged for a better stage to manipulate the entire galactic community at once had they tried. That every other species had succumbed to the subtle meta-cognitive programming of Stoor culture sufficiently to agree to the insanity of a Democratic, united galactic council truly was an exemplary display of Stoor ingenuity and adaptive exploitation.

At least, Seven Desert Streams was fairly sure of that. The only other possible reason it could have happened would be if every other species was subsumed in the disgusting myth - the notion of physiologically innate weakness called altruism, or even worse, mutually reciprocal benevolence. The only rational conclusion was that the Stoor species' inherent superiority and their strategic infection of every other significant culture in the galaxy had finally won through and forced the foolish aliens to commit simultaneous political suicide. Either that or they were all stupid and incompetent, which was basically the same thing.

Undulating slowly to shake away all the cleaner-organisms, Seven Desert Streams slid out from the pool and crawled over to the spiral-shaped sensesink chair. They coiled their long body around the ascending helix, offhandedly passing the sensenerve cord up from the base of the unconventional seat to the surgically implanted sphincter set in the right side of their anterior body segment, just behind their central eye.

As usual, plugging into the Complex module was a faintly disconcerting event. The sensenerve cord slid in, and Seven Desert Streams faded into a light, anesthetized sleep, waking up twelve minutes later with absolutely no memory of what had transpired within the artificial world of the module but with an infuriatingly familiar set of immediate goals and factoids at the forefront of their mind, each one bundled with different emotional residue from the doubtless engaged discussion that had occurred. Seven Desert Streams could tell this had been a good meeting though - they had secured the complete multi-species lexicon of derogatory slurs, and most of the other pieces of information that had been anomalously shoved into their mind were tinged with a satisfying sense of smug superiority.

All except one.

Intelligence has established that the hominids are engaged in a Class 15 or greater operation aimed against An Oathbound Manifold. Collected data inconclusive, tentative hypothesis states they may attempt to sabotage affairs onboard the Concordia during the next Galactic Council meeting, possibly with the purpose of altering An Oathound Manifold's image in an unfavorably negative fashion. One Greater Complex advises that all extraneous Class 8 and greater materials be sterilized in order to deter possible immunopathology.

This was tinged with an unfamiliar emotion to Seven Desert Streams. Apprehension.

Still - what harm could mere hominids possibly do, against the Manifold? Even outside of their home territory, innate Stoor superiority saw that all of Humanity's pathetic ploys and plots fell to shambles - just like the weak, brittle bones of their ridiculous endoskeletons in even the most mild of gravitationally disparate environments.

Reassured, Seven Desert Streams slithered off of the sensesink chair and headed to the biocarbonate resequencer in order to recolor the lower layer of their shell to something more suitably...diplomatic. Twenty cord-passes and a bit of artificially accelerated sloughing and they would be ready to verbally assault anyone who looked at them funny in style.

888888888888

Shortly after Alexander had taken his seat, the Stoor Envoy arrived in the Council Chamber.

The intelligence dossier he had received on this 'Seven Desert Streams' was sparse. They were a member of the Complex, the enigmatic group of aristocrats who controlled virtually all aspects of life in the Manifold. That they had sent one of their members in person was a clear sign of how important they thought the Council was. Other than that, there was nothing but some educated guesswork. Word of mouth on Two Solid Shadows implied they were over a thousand years old, if not more. They had been reelected to the Complex for more than eight times in the last 200 years. They were apparently a traditionalist, as opposed to an imperialist or a dominator (all three of the parties seemed liked twisted parodies of Earth's very worst fascist regimes and dictatorships). Their favorite snack was Corvexian chitin lightly infused with Iodine-131, which they had been observed chewing on in public.

The rest was a brief summary of encountered security that had regularly obscured them while they had been on Two Solid Shadows, the punchline being it had been impossible to learn anything more useful. A new dossier was being composed now that they were here on the Concordia, but it would be a while in coming.

Due to the environmental complications the Stoor Envoy brought up, they couldn't even enter the Council Chamber without being situated inside of some ridiculous looking spiral-chair contraption with a dome of ballistic glass over it. That might not have been so bad if the thing had not been so massive - people who did not have to live with the Stoor often thought of them as small, pliable, and weak - if albeit freaky - worm monsters. Human imagination simply did not prepare their senses for the actual, sobering experience. Even laying down in the strange Stoor equivalent of a chair, the massive alien would have towered above even the tallest human. Its girth at its widest point was thicker and larger than Alexander's entire body. What must have been a thousand multicolored bristles sprung from its back and sides, giving it the appearance of some hellish caterpillar, and it possessed a shell colored an eerie crimson red.

As its seat was rolled into position by an Epiplasm peacekeeper, the intercom on the dome switched on. Seven Desert Streams everted their maw, expelling their naked jaw out of their head to clack limply while a surgically implanted human voicebox rattled out rasping words.

"Greetings, scum of the Earth. I did not know parasitic bottom-feeders like you ever got face time away from the spluttering anal sphincters of your superiors. You will secrete despair when I violate your pitiful aural trackers with my veined, bulbous, plenipotentiary phallus."

888888888888

Milky Way Galaxy
Sagittarius Arm
Media Region 625
Sector 12, 'The Salted Void'
Local Manifold Armada Perimeter Media
Six Balelit Titans System
Two Solid Shadows

Before Grzegorzy stretched the utterly inhospitable terrain of Two Solid Shadows. Although the Embassy technically owned a fair amount of ground outside of the actual structure, the grounds were barren. The Embassy guard couldn't even erect a perimeter fence - anything they put up was slowly eroded away by terrible, caustic winds. Any structure that couldn't heal or secrete protective chemicals like the grown domiciles of the Stoor simply did not last, and was buried by build-up of ever-increasingly toxic sediment.

Two Solid Shadows had gravity more than ten times that of Earth, with an Atmosphere so thick most species would have imploded into gory smears under the sheer pressure. The temperature, depending on where you were, could be either a chilly (relatively) 40 degrees Celsius to upwards of an existentially unaccommodating 800 degrees Celsius. Trace background radiation would have killed any exposed human in minutes. The atmospheric chemistry disagreed with the composite structure of human skin. Perhaps the ONLY thing working in the favor of Grzegory and his team was the luminosity. Six Balelit Titans was a Neutron Star 625 times more luminous than Sol, but an incredibly dense atmosphere and perpetual cloud coverage diluted that down to something approximating only the worst sunny day ever.

The planet was not the problem though. Grzegory's team had been examining the scope of their mission and the terrain extensively, and they were well prepared. Each one of them could survive alone on the planet's surface for weeks at a time if necessary. The problem was their mission. Executing it correctly and quickly, all while remaining undetected - that would be the real challenge.

As long as they could just remain unseen, on a planet with little in the ways of natural cover swarming with billions of specifically adapted worm monsters with orbital and planetary control, their freakish crop-grown super-soldiers, and innumerable skittering, miserable little designer organisms fulfilling routine utility services - it would be a walk in the park.

[Darkmatter]

A brilliant flash of light pierced the otherwise empty and dark void of space that surrounded Council space. This particular area of space was one of incredibly low traffic, making it ideal for the establishment of a neutral political hub. Then again, when one took the average dimensions of a spacefaring vessel, extrapolated how much total space it would occupy in moving from point A to point D, and compared this to the total amount of space within areas A, B, C and D, which it was moving through, then one would realise the actually odds of running into any other ship on its travels were astronomically miniscule; making most everywhere an area of low traffic.

These were the thoughts running through the mainframe of the Artificial Reasoning Platform which was responsible for of shattering the monotony of deep space. This ARP was a large, kilometre long spacefaring unit, fully equipped with Graviton Drive, central mounted railgun and flanking G-batteries. By all accounts this ARP was a spaceship by designation, a ZK-017 by classification and ‘Zeek’ to his friends.

Zeek continued contemplating the probability of actually encountering anything else whilst on his travels and was lost deep in one particular rumination when Cayl arose from his unnecessary and long slumber. Cayl, another ARPs but this time of CL-657 classification, reactivated his platform.

“Why do you insist on doing that? It’s just silly,” queried Zeek for what must have been the thousandth time.
“Well why do you insist on being a spaceship?” Retorted Cayl from deep inside Zeek.
Cayl was a mere one hundred and eighty centimetres in comparison to Zeek’s massive size. This was due to Cayl’s main function being diplomacy; most other sentient species fitted a nice average size of just under two metres. In this particular situation however, thee Oliocht had seen fit to send Zeek also.

Now Cayl had thrown out the ‘spaceship’ comment as he knew it would really get Zeek peeved, and for two reasons; it was nonsensical in its answering of the initial question, and Zeek hated being called a spaceship.
“I am not some tin can made by Humans or the Horde or any such ilk. I am a purpose designed, spacefaring, combat-ready and hyper intelligent living e….fuck you Cayl. Every time. My processor just eschews logic when you rattle it with your comments.”

Cayl left out a hearty chuckle, amused as ever by his companion’s angst.
“Lighten up fatty, try a nap sometime.”
Cayl had recently picked up a new hobby; trying out organic bodily functions. Digestion hadn’t worked out too well for anybody involved, exercising had proved meaningless but this new fad of his, temporary suspension of outer cognitive function, or ‘sleeping’ was work exceptionally well. Some would say it was doing everyone else a world of good as well as Cayl.

“We’re entering designated Council space in T-30 seconds you little idiot,” informed Zeek, in a unimpressed tone.
“I think maybe you should call me captain, I mean logically it’s corre…”
Cayl stumbled and stuttered as he felt a rumble from behind him, as Zeek threatened to charge his railgun, the main rail of which Cayl used to navigate the ship from front to back in a timely manner.

“Ok, Ok. Sorry, yikes,” replied Cayl.
It was game face time; “Begin broadcasting,” asked Cayl.
His voice had suddenly taken on a far more formal and correct manner. It was stern yet welcoming, authorative but in a righteous way. His vocal patterns were an amalgamation and cross section of those of every organic diplomatic the Technocracy had record of.

“This is the Artificial Reasoning Platform designation CL-657 speaking. I and my companions, ZK-017 come bearing intentions of peace and goodwill. We represent the Federated States Of the Technocracy. That is to say, the Genoyik Artificial Reasoning Defence System, the Corvexian Trade Alliance and affiliated protectorates, the Vlayisk Timocracy and all holdings thereafter, the Sextanis Systems Syndicate and any registered associates and of course the Oliocht itself, the Yia, the Benevolence of Inchinn.
We have come bearing the respect of the Technocracy and wish to open discussions with the Commonwealth.”
Cayl's words were broadcast out to the other dignitaries and to the station itself, announcing their arrival.
Through unbroadcasted communication Cayl remained talking to Zeek while he vocalised to the approaching ships. A ‘phew’ was passed when he finished the introduction.
“Why do we have always have to announce ourselves as such? I mean it's not like they've forgotten who we are?”

Zeek produced a loud clanging and rattling as he shifted his weight, his equivalent of a symbolic shrug; which his also used as a rudimentary method of alerting the now awake diplomats on board, that they would be arriving shortly.

[zombieaccount]

Nice breezes within the hull of the ship; the air of life flows through the conforming, snake-like corridors that protect the Ixions who dwell within from the empty silence of space itself. The frequent atonal noise that flows through the organic corridors and chambers whom reverb and echo with the sound of hundreds of Ixions act as a breeze that comforts the spirit of every Ixion- liberating them from the paleness of a quiet universe. Four of these Ixions, with their rectangular prism bodies float through these corridors communicating harmoniously with each other. Their wriggly tendrils with smaller tentacles that sprout from the tip of their limbs constantly fluttering about with anxiety and distress, the elite caste of the Nvv-llt fleet move together to discuss the council that they have been elected by the other fleets to attend.

Due to the language of the Ixions, of which tend to create messy gibberish, the four Ixions had been assigned “human” names to better relations with the council and the human factions who are well known for their genocidal tendencies. Ignac-llt, the prime elite of the group will go into the council herself. Despite the assigned pronoun, Ignac’s gender only has relevance for the tone of her voice box, and little else. Bluish and white with creme-like spiral texturing, its rectangular prism of a body with a pristine white antennae prodding out a impressive three feet emits “Why it is great that we are chosen by the gestalt communion to go to the council for we shall ensure that harmony is still maintained by the galaxy while keeping our endless watch on the council and keeping our connections with humans, who are the most harmonious aliens we know of”

Another elite, naming itself Krzys=llt intercepts with his own speech, “Great yes harmonious no it is clear that while humans may hold harmony that they slowly march towards silence not assured by the technocrats and their silent order nor assured by the ari whom seek to force order upon all in their endless lies not even going into matters of the less harmonious human factions such as the GICT itself, however harmonious their confederation of five societies may be or how mutual harmony continues with the stoor, why our treaty of mutual harmony with the stoor is still among our best diplomatic successes outside of our ability to work with humans to spread galactic harmony through peacekeeping operations of which concern me as by doing so I fear we dig our own grave where our species will die alone and in the dark after being petrified by a cosmic order that threatens the cosmic symphony and the endless melody of life itself but my tendrils wiggle in bliss right now as the council no matter the result will enable our fleet to regain reputation and dignity lost after our silent war with the Nvv-Tkk fleet”

Ignac herself while Krzys spoke was communicating with Elzbi to keep her sanity, but by the point Krzys mentioned the fleet, Ignac buzzed “Our war with the Nvv-tkk was harmonious that is fact how dare you call it silent we did not make silence with them we kept our harmony I assured it I assured it I made sure of it I assured it you know I did why did you call it silent when we buzzed them, we smothered them and smothered them and humiliated them far more than they did to us yet we were too silent how is this how is this how s this we did best we kill their spawn we paint asteroids with their eggs and threw them in silent chamber for forty sets of ticks straight no more no less we did no such atrocities like smothering them with foam or dropping them on powermetal hooks and dragging them around on slow spaceship or rip out attennae more than thirty times when it made logicsense to take such action and we made sure our harmony was the most melodious of all the gestalt it was and you know you know you know”

Meanwhile. Krzys was communicating with Elzbi about how dissonant Ignac is, of which Krzys buzzed back to Ignac “Dissonance is what you are you think only harmony matter when too much harmony is dissonance we had our commons do what made logicsense yet you made harmony dissonance with all the foam disrupting and the silent torture you kept abusing on all the victims of your attacks when you had total authority on your ship than we all get punish for your actions as the committee assumed I too engaged in amputation procedures and leaving another elite to die alone by launching it out of airlock you see my atrocity list far short er than yours yet we all are punished the same for silence no less despite even dragging a stoor immigrant conspirator into our silent war how dare they see us silent I agree yet we too need to be less dissonant and kill more violently with less silent torture as the more we do that the more likely we get punishment with going to council to redeem ourselves where your crimes against harmony will be resolved in good blisspeak”

----->>!#**$$**#¡<<-----

The small fleet of ships, numbering only seven in count yet imposing in their size in comparison to some of the other shops around, and far more bizarre in their design than the mundane, utilitarian ships of mankind or the technocrats yet not organic like that of the stoor. Heavily spiny, patterned in noise-like fractals that meld around the ship as a whole the large ships at first glance appear fragile- but it would turn out, that all the ornate elaborations seen when sprouting out from the core ship are but the landing gear, and little else. From the ship, coming done in a highly fractal mech with threads. Darkish hue in coloration, with multiple sets of mechanical limbs that wind out from its sides a highly abstract, holographic face projects from the "front" of the mech,

Speaking from within the mech, she tells the mech "walk to the council" as she opens link with a ship outside her pod, to continue communicating with Elzbi about the concept of free will, an argument that ended up going in circles rather quickly.

[Sigma]

Oliocht Technocracy
Border Regions
Solus System

It had been a month since the first of the Uarashi Broodships made planetfall on the unsuspecting World of Magnus Solus, One of many human colonies within the fringe regions of the Technocracy. in seconds, whole cities were wiped out in an instant, in the blazes of what amounts to nuclear fire. Now, the Oliocht Military forces that survived the first strike struggle to maintain control of Magnus Solus and keeping the Uarashi at bay, for if they fail, that very world will be the beachhead for a much greater invasion force to come.

---

Magnus Solus, Eastern Continent
The once lush tropical jungles of the northern parts of the Eastern Continent had now become a wasteland as the Uarashis' great machines consumed all the plant and animal life to be seen. However, such actions had a tactical purpose rather then logistical. For the past month since their arrival, the local military forces on Mangus Solus had continually waged a Guerrilla Campaign against the invading Uarashi, and for a month, they've been gathering in the Eastern Continent for a renewed offensive, to take back their world one piece at a time. However, their plans reached the Uarashi via a Pretender Spy, before it was captured and killed.

Now, hordes of thousands the various insect monstrosities march upon the dying landscape, flying overhead were swarms of Uarashi Dropships, Reavers and Swarmlings. They were all converging onto a single point, an entrenched military facility built within a large hill overlooking what left of the jungles below, with defensive fortifications and trenches encircling it. The Uarashi were prepared to wipe them out in one fell swoop.

[Darkspleen]

Uxye, Ifliington Capital “I’m surprised you were so supportive of the expedition” Prime Minister Auz commented. “Typically you’ve been a proponent of developing the systems we have colonized.” “And that is something that must continue,” the image of a female nalloth whistled back, “but it is past time we turned our eyes to beyond our own borders.” The female was unlike any other Auz had ever met: possessing incredible intellect and foresight, not to mention an otherworldly beauty. She also just so happened to be the most advanced artificial intelligence in the Confederation. “You phrased that almost as if you expected us to find a threat out there. Surely any civilization more advanced than our own would have long ago discarded concepts such as war or imperialism. The abundance in resources would make them… obsolete.” Auz brought up one hand to stroke the bottom of his head in contemplation. “Aegis…” He intoned the name by which the most advanced artificial intelligence in the Confederation had come to be known by. “What do you expect us to find out there?” “Aegis is interested in your use of the word ‘we’” Aegis replied after a moment’s pause. “Do you mean we in the sense of all the citizens of Ifliington? All Nalloth? Or are you talking about the government? Is Aegis included when you use ‘we’?” The question surprised Auz, as was evident by his eyestalks jutting straight up and down. “I suppose I would include you in ‘we’” He replied. “Aegis understands. Well to answer your earlier question… All cultures have three states: barbarism, civilized, and decadence. To sum things up barbaric cultures view their laws and customs as inherently superior to all others and anything that differs from their point of views are looked upon with contempt. Decadents cynically believe nothing is better than anything else and if they do hold contempt for anyone it is for those who believe in anything. The last and rarest, civilized cultures, balance a belief in their truths while retaining an open-mindedness and understanding of the possibility of their own errors.” “What are you driving at Aegis?” Auz’s eyestalks were now flat against his head as he concentrated on the artificial intelligence. “The Nalloth civilization is, frankly, one of barbarism.” Aegis’ virtual image raised a hand to forestall any argument Auz might have made. “This is likely to be the same for any civilization we encounter. This in and of itself isn’t an issue, especially when the civilizations in question are similar. The problem occurs when the civilizations differ so greatly they share few beliefs and values.” “Why have you never mentioned this before?” Auz felt numb. He had never considered the possibility… “You never asked. That and you weren’t ready to hear what I had to say. If Aegis must be honest with you Prime Minister, based off of a number of variables Aegis has determined that there is a seventy percent chance that a hostile civilization exists within one-hundred light years of the Confederation’s borders. There is a twenty percent chance that said civilization is more advanced than the Confederation.” “What is the likelihood of a war breaking out?” “Mr. Prime Minister, perhaps you should be less concerned about if a war will break out, and more concerned about envisioning how the Confederation will endure such an event and what path it will take afterwards.” And with that the screen went blank; Aegis had cut the transmission there and then. The Prime Minister could only shake his head, unsure of what to make of Aegis’ recent behavior. 1st Ifliington Exploratory Fleet, Uncharted Star System “Exciting hyperspace in one minute” An ensign reported as Yl stepped onto the bridge. Several of the officers noticeably became more attentive after noticing that the fleet admiral had returned from his quarters. “How is the ship fairing captain?” Yl asked as he seated himself next to the ship’s captain. “Excellent admiral. There hasn’t been any problems with generator number three since we performed those repairs yesterday.” “Most excellent indeed captain. I wouldn’t want to be lacking one of our generators should we find any giant sentient insects here!” Several of the officers chuckled at the admiral’s joke. Nalloth science fiction always seemed to stereotype aliens in one of two ways: either giant insects or bipedal creatures that lacked scales. Why this was the case, no one knew, though Yl suspected it was because both were inherently disgusting. “Exiting hyperspace now” An ensign reported a moment before Yl felt a light force push against him. Yl listened intently as the bridge’s officers reported the status of each ship of the fleet as they were detected. All twelve ships were accounted for and undamaged. With that out of the way Yl, along with the crew, turned his attention to what else was in the system. “Sir!” An ensign cried, “We are detecting signs of intelligent lifeforms in this system!” “Are you sure!?” Yl bolted to his feet. “Yes sir! We have optical confirmation on a number of ships further in to the system.” “How far away are they?” “Just under four light-hours sir.” So that meant it’d take the system’s inhabitants four hours to detect the fleet’s arrival, assuming their sensors operated the same was as those found in the Confederation. “Order the fleet to reposition to the outer edges of the system and tell the scientists to try and initiate communications immediately.” The exploratory fleet immediately began to pull away from the inhabited worlds even as several of the ships forming the rearguard began sending signals, patterns of lights and radio signals, towards those worlds in an attempt at rudimentary communication. Only time would tell if this was the civilization that would give the Confederation its first taste of true interstellar warfare.

[Terminal]

GCN Concordia, Sagittarius A* "The Manifold does not care about the perceptions of inferior species like your own!" The artificial voicebox Seven Desert Streams was shouting now, and had a faintly wet slur to it - one could almost hear the spittle flying, even though the surgically installed organ had no way of producing any. "I will have your mate and offspring abducted from their cheap hovel and have them violated in public vivariums on my homeworld!" Seven Desert Streams shrieked. "I will have their disgusting face-flap acoustics recorded and broadcasted all over Terra, and then I will sell them to the lowest bidder and pay the fine for selling deficient goods! I'm having your profile posted in every inter-species negotiable affection business stating that you'll sell yourself for the equivalent of a quint and passing out your home address! That is all you are good for to me! You are a large-gamete producing Terran bark-mammal that has come here exclusively so that I may emphasize the place of humans in the galaxy - as a five-bit dative case legacy business acquisition undergoing government censure for the purposes of expunging failure from the public record!" There was a brief pause as Seven Desert Streams reviewed their injected dictionary of human-specific insults. Most of it appeared to be oriented around reproductive behavior, which was exasperating if only because it limited the purview of insults they could fling at Alexander. Once the Council session started and the human actually started speaking more extensively, Seven Desert Streams could set to work turning their own words against them - but it would be a while before the remaining delegates arrived. The lexicon would define the limits of emotional duress that could be targeted by the Complex member, which was infuriating. How, in the endless darkness of Countless Ineffable Wonders, did deputized envoys so effortlessly handle it? Most of all though, Seven Desert Streams was consumed by a renewed, needling hatred for the menial humans and the paroxysm of their inferior existence, like some kind of dihydrogen monoxide scar on an otherwise perfectly aesthetic ammolite sculpture. Even their physiology was disappointing, apparently only possessing four independent filtration organs with only one redundancy and... Seven Desert Stream's four lower eyes contracted and then descended into their recesses slightly, and their naked jaw-bones clacked together. Yes, that was it. As soon as the blemish of a human opened its disgusting mouth, the Complex member could begin ridiculing its contemptible body. There would be no negotiation, no concessions or mediation for this council session. That would come afterwards, in the private shipboard diplomatic suites aboard each of the delegates' vessels - and not a moment sooner. For now, it was critical that the masses of the galaxy received the correct message. The Manifold hated each and every single one of them, and they were only useful for external market-force influx taxation and as chattel. To say anything else in public would be a sign of weakness. No matter how imbecilic they pretended to be, no matter how inferior they truly were, they all, each of them, possessed a solitary nacre-ridge of mammalian cunning that they used to detect smaller, weaker mammals and eat them. If the Manifold showed any sign of weakness, it would damage their standing, their projection of power and influence in the Galactic scene. The pathetic, feeble facade of compassionate empathy and reason the aliens projected was as transparent as it was hollow, and Seven Desert Streams refused to be the first amongst the Stoor to fall for it.

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Two Solid Shadows Unfortunately for Grzegorzy, his target did not possess a surgically installed human voicebox - few Stoor within Manifold space had any need of such an augmentation. Fortunately, the Stoor still appeared to recognize what he had said, and there was an interpreter on hand. The slave was human woman no older than nineteen and, other than a combination mask and backpack for protection from the planet's gravity and air, was entirely naked - their skin was coated with a layer of some partially hardened slime of some sort or another that was protecting them from the brunt of the atmosphere's causticity and radiation, though this was merely a token precaution - such coatings dissolved quickly, and were only intended for brief sojourns. Merely having stopped the slave and the Stoor that owned them as they moved between dwellings likely meant she would receive several permanent chemical burns and scars, and significant radiation poisoning. To the Stoor that probably meant nothing since most human slaves on Two Solid Shadows had a life expectancy of perhaps three days and could be effortlessly replaced, but to her it would probably mean a slow, lingering death involving necrosis and organ failure. Eventually she would fall, unable to continue working, at which point her body would be used as fertilizer for Genestem - if the Stoor didn't eat it whole for dinner. Predictably not minding such a trifling inconvenience, the Stoor aide - Three Perfect Spheres - stopped and began making several completely incomprehensible oscillating motions with its upper neuropodia. Whatever the massive alien worm was signing, the slave apparently understood it. "Three Perfect Spheres indicates that serving under Seven Pitted Wheels for the greater advantage of the Manifold is filled with many burdens and hardships which you, as a mere human, would not be able to appreciate or even comprehend, mentally or emotionally." Her voice was clipped and very carefully neutral, but her eyes underneath the filtration mask were pleading.

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Cormyrean Territory Ifliington's exploratory fleet was not the only force that would be encountering alien lifeforms that day. Unbeknownst to the five differing nations of the Confederation, approximately two weeks past a single unmanned Manifold scout had detected signs of one of the Nalloth colonies from an adjacent star-system. The rudimentary, animal intelligence the scout possessed had not been expecting to find anything - for when it had surveyed the same locale a mere 300 years prior, it had found no signs of life. The scout had vanished almost as quickly as it had arrived, long before any of the Nalloth could register anything but ambiguous readings of its presence. Now, it returned, and it had brought 300 friends to assist in the task of fully scouting out the boundaries of the assuredly vast interstellar empire that had been discovered. Needless to say, when the scouts arrived and managed to collectively map the entirety of the Confederation's territory in less than an hour, it was perplexing. Unfamiliar. Unsure of how to proceed, with no exterior signals or traces to follow or home-in on, the Scouts lingered errantly in groups of five at the boundaries of each system, scanning, observing, collecting data on the new intelligent species. The scouts kept their distance from the strange new creatures and their vessels, avoiding contact and steadfastly ignoring any communications. They possessed the means to transmit messages, but lacked the intelligence to assemble any kind of meaningful transmission. They restricted their communiques strictly to tightbeams between themselves, relaying observations. Although they were dumb, the scouts were not without a degree of analytic power. Their minds were made to record and store patterns and trends, to track them across time, to establish correlations and evaluate statistical eventualities. As they silently watched the Nalloth, more and more data became available, bringing the scouting force closer and closer to their eventual goal - their eventual identification and seizure of an alien vessel. One that could not fight back or run or resist, one containing myriad minds that the masters could dissolve and then distill once it had been brought back to the homeworld. Then, the Masters would come. The scouts were dumb, but they were not without a degree of analytic power. Upon having discovered the limited breadth of this new, alien species, they had already possessed enough information on the behavior of the Masters to immediately predict that, when they arrived, they would move to seize control of it entirely. Not by force - the Masters acted in ways subtle and deceitful. But the Masters would come, and they would make the aliens into their chattel. Of this, each of the individual scouts agreed, there was a virtual certainty.

[Sigma]

For decades, the Great Malika Armada of the Uarashi roamed the Northern Quadrant, scouring hundreds of empty worlds, few even worth harvesting. For years they've scouted for hostile civilizations that could pose a threat to the Queen's grand plan, and for years, have found nothing. This quadrant, unlike the south, seemed too remote, devoid of lifeforms advanced enough to be considered a threat. All seemed calm, the Malika Armadas mission seemed to be long over, or so they thought that is. Bits of the Armada broke off for another sweep of a new uncharted sector they've come across, the Commanding Overseer, Zamaria, wouldn't be surprised to find yet more barren, primordial systems. But this sweep would set off chain reaction of events that will shake the region. -------------------------------------- Malika 4th Scouting Brood, Uncharted Star System For several days the brood ventured across and around the system, for days they traveled, from the drifting asteroids, to the quiet, serene planets below, the worlds within the system seemed more, "alive" compared to the many worlds they scouted before. The small brood consisted of a Battlecruiser at the helm, a pair of Destroyers, and four frigates. The scouting brood were near the end of their cycle, and were to soon return to the Armada, until several hypersapce blips were detected. ------------------------------------- Aboard Battlecruiser 11120, Command Room Deep in the bowels of the lead cruiser, spindly, thin insect creatures were at their stations, keeping tract of the new arrivals, letting out clicks and gnarls, communicating, it was not long before the one In command of this Brood walked in. It was a tall, hind-legged imposing figure, carrying a long staff, wore light armor and a rope. He was called Guimos by his Brother-Princes, a High-ranking Prince among the others in the Armada, and he shows it. The other creatures cower before his presence, scurrying off as he approached the center of the room as a holographic map of the system materialized right before him, several red lights appearing in several corners of the system as well. "How many vessels are present?" He asked. "Unknown, master guimos" Spoke the Ships' A.I. "Some of the alien vessels seem to be sending signals of none-aggression." "I care not what they have to say. Trace the origin of the signal and alert the Overseer. I've waited years for blood..."

[Isotope]

Listening Post L4P8, Arsena System Tentari was, as usual, running through a new game instead of doing its job. Of course that wasn’t to say as an artificial citizen it was incapable of doing both, rather more often than not, there was no job to do at all. Of all the listening posts this one was located in the least busy sector within the system and beyond even that this area simply lacked any real objects of interest save the occasional melting ice ball. The begrudgingly given allowance for workers to use the quantum comms for entertainment was the only thing that had saved Tentari from the monotonous insanity of watching nothing every single day. Given these facts Tentari was taken slightly more off guard than usual when an alien fleet jumped into the system less than two light minutes from his position. The first thing Tentari thought upon analysing the warnings was perhaps unsurprisingly a single word, “What?” Still, the situation was, for all its unexpectedness the very thing the listening posts were built for, and ignoring Tentari’s newfound confusion the basic protocols took over and sent the warning message. Returning to its senses, and hastily closing its game, Tentari began active scans of the emergent vessels all the while coming to increasingly distressing conclusions about the survivability of the post. Planetary Government Offices, Arsena IV “Ms. President we have a problem!” Was all the aide had to say after busting into the meeting as unceremoniously as possible. Of course we do. Sasha glanced toward aide looking more than a little exasperated, “And what would that be?” The aide seemed to realise that she was getting looks from the entire cabinet in the room and embarrassedly diverted her gaze to the floor before responding, “It’s the listening posts ma’am we detected a fleet, they dropped in about five minutes ago!” At that the looks shifted to uncertain glances around the meeting table, more than a few were fearful and all fell on Sasha before she spoke out calmly, “Has the military office been contacted?” The aide was clearly unsure of that, “I… I think so ma’am but the information is still a bit confused on the networks, some preliminary scans have been forwarded to the military office though, I am sure of that.” Well I suppose we won’t have to pay back that infrastructure loan If this an attack Sasha thought sardonically before standing up and speaking out, “Ok ten… We should prepare for a potential attack, get emergency services on the line and start evacuations to bombardment shelters. I’ll connect to the military network now, please don’t disturb me unless necessary.” With that pleasantry out of the way she leaned back and connected to her neural implant, a blink and the room had changed into white void with the various local garrison and fleet leaders talking around a seemingly out of place antique wooden table. Most of them came in pairs, Symbionts. With a wave they motioned to an empty chair that wasn’t there a moment ago and the one of the pair representing the local fleet commander began, “I take you were just briefed Ms. President?” one spoke before the other filled in, “We ourselves were only told some minutes before you, we have dispatched a patrol corvette to verify the emergence but so far the plan comes down to finding their motive and if this is an invasion, slowing them down until we can get reinforcements.” Sasha nodded, “How do we intend to verify their motives?” Another at the table, conspicuously alone among the pairs, spoke up, “The Corvette is going to send language data and a message on laser and EM comms ma’am, we expect that they will hold position and start communications if they aren’t hostile. Needless to say though, if they pursue the corvette we can consider them to have initiated hostile actions. Sasha leaned back and took a moment to process it all, she was aware that compared to the Symbionts cyber-augs like her were slow, and recent events had made that clear as she was still struggling to make sense of the sudden shock. She nodded and sighed before continuing, “And if they attack?” One of the fleet commander pair spoke up again, “We will commence a defensive battle plan.” He paused and a holographic representation of the system appear before him before the other one spoke up, “The idea is breaking their fleet up with harassments while avoiding any direct confrontations, we lack the muscle to risk a slug out but we think that we can break their forces up to deal with our raiders. As for reinforcements we sent the request a while ago, the 5th fleet which was running exercises rather close will deploy to aid us but they have to arm and equip, the ETA is two or three days, maybe a bit less.” Too long was Sashas only thought there, a day of fighting a larger force would bleed the local fleet badly, let alone three. She could only think only think of one response and resignedly replied, “I suppose we can only hope they aren’t here to kill us then.” There was an echo of agreement to that. Reprisal of Ardanis, Taiga Class Patrol Corvette, Arsena System “Confirmation on FTL approach vector?” “Course is good, drop out is fifty light seconds from the location the listening post is reporting the fleet at.” With that Captain Osoro-Eren leaned back and prepared to give the command, mentally getting ready for emergency action was a tedious process, even for symbionts like him. Having to run through the hundreds of possible scenarios, calculating likelihoods, it took time. Still the course was laid in and they had to depart now, regardless of how many variables were unknown. “Hit the gas then nav officer, we have unexpected guests. Best not to keep them waiting.” In a flash the ship smashed the light barrier and headed towards the location that had been set in. It took only moments before it dropped out again, a testament to modern technology. However before it sat another ship, rather a before it sat great number of other ships. In the void the small corvette began signalling even before it confirmed the existence of the other fleet, best for the signals of peace to arrive at the same time as the warship, petite as it may have been.

[Darkspleen]

3rd Coibeyya Exploratory Fleet, 122AIE8 Star System Coibeyya, like Ifliington, was conducting its own exploratory forays into the space surround the Confederation, although it had a different objective. Whereas Ifliington was seeking out new life Coibeyya was cataloguing nearby star systems for future colonization. The idea that they might run into an alien fleet had not be seriously considered by the Coibeyya leadership. It was thus that when the Coibeyya 3rd exploratory fleet did, in fact, run into an alien fleet its members found themselves denying what they were seeing. The unknown ships were offhandly explained as being an unknown make of Atryan, Sioelian, or Ifliington ship. Messages of greeting was sent out as the Coibeyya fleet split up into four sections to survey the system; in ignoreance the fleet sealed its own bloody fate. 1st Ifliington Exploratory Fleet, 17A9B6 (Arsena) Star System “Unidentified ship detected coming out of hyperspace fifty light seconds from our position! Cross checking the ship’s signatures with our ship’s library…. Match not found! It appears to be alien.” Yl wasn’t surprised as the officer reported that the ship was apparently alien. They were in an alien system after all. What did surprise him was how close it had dropped out of hyperspace. Was it intentional or by accident? “We are also getting some sort of transmission from it…. Its incompatible with our systems.” “Fifty light seconds…” the ship’s captain quietly whistled, “that’s a tad closer than I like, especially since we don’t know what its capabilities are.” He turned to a nearby officer as he asked “What is the ship’s computer rating that ship as?” “Corvette sir” Came an almost instantaneous response. “It’s about twenty percent larger than our sentry-class corvettes. We are still unsure about its combat capabilities, however.” The captain brought a hand up to scratch the underside of his head as he listened to the report. “Admiral,” he turned towards Yl, “permission to launch a fighter squadron for close air patrol?” The term close air patrol, commonly shortened to simply CAP, was a term dating back to sea navies used centuries ago. While there was no air in space, the term CAP still worked for the space navy’s purposes. Admiral Yl didn’t respond to the captain’s response, instead gazing at the alien corvette. There were so many unknown variables. He didn’t know what that corvette’s capabilities or intentions were. It could firepower that rivaled the entire confederation’s and be demanding the fleet’s unconditional surrender or it could be a group of merchants asking if they wanted to buy the local delicacy. He simply didn’t know. He also didn’t know how the system’s inhabitants would react to the fleet launching a fighter squadron, even if it was only for CAP. He couldn’t risk starting a war, but he also couldn’t afford to be naive and assume the inhabitants weren’t a threat. “Permission denied captain.” Yl said after a few seconds of contemplation. “Launch two flights of two TRF-2 Circes each. Recon mission. Have one flight skirt around the edge of the system and see what it can detect, but focus on finding military installations. Have the other get a tad closer to that corvette and see what they can find out about it, but keep them back. No closer than thirty light seconds. If the corvette backs off have our birds back off as well, we don’t want to be too intimidating. I want to know immediately if anything approaches our birds.” He took a breath before continuing “I want that transmission, whatever it was, to be passed to an isolated auxiliary computer and a compatibility program written up ASAP. When possible send our ‘first contact’ suite to that corvette.” The first contact suite was essentially a library of the Nalloth language, as well as math, that was pared with images in an attempt to get a workable translation to whatever the inhabitant’s language might be. “how long will that conversion program take?” “Hard to say sir” An officer replied. “Basic differences in operating systems alone can be something of a headache. We don’t know what sort of computer system they have their transmission set up for. It could be for a digital binary computer or something we haven’t even considered. Even so I’d say… four hours, though I’d appreciate it if you didn’t hold me to that prediction.” “Get it done as fast as you can.” “Aye aye sir.” ***** ***** ***** Five hours later “The compatibility program has been finished sir!” “Good job!” Yl said as he brought his mind to the here and now. The previous five hours had been somewhat draining on the aging Nalloth. Waiting and being at level 2 combat readiness was always a wearying experience. “What was the content of the date we received?” “Checking now… it would appear to be a language suite. I’ve got our systems chewing away at it now, but it’s going to take a while.” “Can you send a message saying we come in peace?” Yl asked. “I can try to.” “Don’t try to. Do it. Also send our ‘first contact’ suite while you’re at it.” “One moment sir... Aaaand the transmission is away.” The transmission was sent in two parts. One part had the ‘first contact’ suite that would aid in translations. The second part, which was in the inhabitants’ native language would come out as “Desire conflict…not.” Gosia, Atrya Capital “Gentlemen, welcome. I’m sure you are all wondering why I’ve gathered you.” President Knas said as his cabinet and top military advisors took a seat around the massive table that dominated the room. He waited for all present to be seated and the door securely shut and locked before continuing. “We have something of a situation gentlemen.” “Are you talking about the influx of unidentified ships near our assets?” One of the admirals present inquired. “I am” Knas confirmed. “It would appear, however, that there is more to the situation than we first thought. AUDEN has been able to confirm similar sightings in all other systems.” Where Ifliington had Aegis, Atrya had AUDEN which was short for AUtonomous Defense Engine. “These unidentified ships almost certainly belong to an alien civilization” The disembodied voice of AUDEN commented. “What makes you say that?” The secretary of defense asked. “Couldn’t these ships belong to Sioelia or Eiclen?” “While both of those countries possess the industrial capacity to produce those ships, it is highly unlikely that they are the ships’ point of origin. Our intelligence sources within both countries have found no indications of the increased industrial activity that would have been required to produce that many ships. The design of these unidentified ships also differ greatly from past designs of any ship found in the Confederation. The responses from the other countries, while varying, also indicate that they did not produce these ships. Coibeyya and Eiclen are actively trying to catch and, presumably destroy, these ships; meanwhile Ifliington, while not being actively hostile, has stepped up its patrols and is attempting to keep these ships away from its strategic assets. It would appear to be attempting to present a strong front.” “We have good reason to believe these ships are a scouting force for an invasion fleet.” Knas began, “with that in mind we need to begin to build up our military forces here in the Core systems while the Rim systems buy us time.” “We’ll step up our military readiness immediately and present a strong front to try and dissuade them from invading.” The secretary of defense stated. “Don’t bother” AUDEN interjected. “There is likely little you can do to dissuade them from invading. Better to hide your military capacity as much as possible so you can catch them off guard.” “I am of like mind with AUDEN” Knas stated. “We shall quietly build up our forces while the other countries buy us time.” The gathered Nalloth quickly rose to their feet as Knas stood. “We are the rock on which the Nalloth civilization has been built on. Without us there can be no confederation. Atrya once was and shall once again be the unparallel power in Cormyral, on this I swear to you all.”

[Sigma]

4th Scouting Brood, 122AIE8 Star System The small brood split into two smaller groups and maneuvered around the Coibeyyan Fleet, the Battlecruiser and its Destroyer escorting going one direction, while the frigates went the other as the unsuspecting victims came close to moving into the crossfire of the Uarashi ships. No doubt suspension began to rise among the Coibeyyan Fleet as to the actions of this group within their sensors, and Guimos would not let them get the upper hand if they acted first. One one side, the frigates moved in a diamond formation, prepping their forward energy cannons and torpedoes. While on the other side, the heavy group moved into a line formation, their broadsides facing the alien fleet, and doing the same. As they entered the killzone, Guimos did not hesitate. "Slaughter them!" He ordered. The guns on his group all begun to light a golden glow as the ship batteries charged up, all shooting out bursts of light towards the Coibeyyans, followed by a volley of torpedoes. Some of the shots no doubt would miss, but the sheer number of the opposing fleet will be their downfall.

[Jeddaven]

Two Solid Shadows Grzegorzy found himself violently cursing, albeit silently, the very moment he spotted the Stoor's interpreter. The first serious wrench in their plans, no doubt - and a serious choice which he would be responsible for. Regardless of whether or not the woman was a clone, he would do what he could in order to preserve her, but he could not allow her to stay in the way of their mission. In an effort to prolong her life, he gestured down the pathway, hoping that the Stoor aide would continue on their way as he spoke. Failing that, there was little he could do. "I can imagine it would be a tough job." He nodded, folding his hands together. "In my species' history, if a superior officer isn't worthy of their own position, they tend to get usurped." He chuckled under his breath. "I suppose, you could say that's what I'm here to do... To make things as they should be, on behalf of a benefactor." He shrugged, handing a thoroughly sealed pouch to the Stoor. "Although we humans might be less involved than your own kind, we do have our uses!" He laughed, smiling. "For example, your...Slave." He said, a sour taste evident in the tone of his voice. "You might not think it, based upon appearances, but I would be willing to pay a great sum to study her alive.  To... See how our biology adapts to the environment of Two Solid Shadows. Even a few hours with her would be quite an enlightening experience." He nodded, finally turning to face the Stoor. "If you don't mind telling me, though, what do you -really- think of Seven Pitted Wheels? Are you honestly so loyal to someone who abuses you like that? Not that you couldn't handle the aforementioned burdens and hardships, of course."   GCN Concordia, Sagittarius A* Alexander sighed harshly, under his breath, clasping his hands together as he glared into the surface of the table. For a few moments, he breathed deeply, as if trying to calm himself, then turned his gaze back towards Seven Desert Streams. He was still glaring angrily, though his expression had certainly softened. "If our perceptions really mattered so little, what reason would you have to insult and threaten us? If you knew anything about our species, you'd know what threats and insults do. You can try abduct my wife, and all my children. You can call us as stupid and inferior as you want. I dare you. Tell me I'm ugly, a babbling idiot, call my wife a whore. Do you know what all of that will do?" He growled. "It will only make us angrier. Trust me, other humans have tried the very same tactics of demoralization in the past, and it only ever resulted in their own failure. It won't work for you. One day, the galaxy is going to get tired of your shtick. And, you, I for one, can see through your façade. That hubris you have - the way you look down on others - I can see your insults for what they are. It's not because of some fact or truth - it's because you can't see reality for what it really is. It blinds you. Do you know what happens with beings that show hubris? They fall, and they fall hard. Maybe, just maybe, you think that oppressing the galaxy using their own fears is going to always work for you. What happens when they stop fearing you - once they fight back? You're afraid of that happening, aren't you?"

[Terminal]

GCN Concordia, Sagittarius A* Seven Desert Streams cursed angrily as Alexander began speaking. The Complex member had committed the error of stopping for long enough that the human had been able to draw breath and retaliate. They momentarily switched off the inner speaker for the helix chair so it could take a moment to browse through the injected lexicon in peace. Seven Desert Streams decided that as soon as the Human Delegate's face-flap stopped yawping, they would launch into an endless diatribe. Any insult would work, no matter how strange, as long as the intent of hate was carried through. The Complex Member could rant on end for days if necessary. The inferior human delegate would have to excrete waste and ingest nutrients at some point, but Seven Desert Streams had everything it needed to survive - its chair filtration would feed it, and it had ample trace nuclear isomers to power its metabolism. Seven Desert Streams ground their everted jawbones together, stirring the filtration patch stuck to the roof of the top jaw and causing a larger puff of powdered heavy elements to be released. Their mind fired into overdrive as they began to construct their rant. They became so caught up in their brainstorming that Seven Desert Streams did not notice that Alexander had stopped talking for a few moments - but they seized the initiative quickly enough once they did, switching the inner speaker for the helix chair back on as they began their assault. "Your putrid boil of a species is so instinctual primitive that even encountering mild opposition makes you excrete liquid diuretics from your anterior sphincters, a function serving no purpose other than to make you seem unappealing as food! Evidence of your ingrained inferiority is evident even in the slaves we've made of your people - once deleterious replicant fading mutations began to accumulate, their average life expectancy increased! Every other intelligent species in the galaxy has a more sophisticated biological form than yours! The first humans that were able to successfully wrest themselves away from your tainted, malignant mammary glands immediately set about to changing themselves until they were no longer human, and now the Void Federation is a more advanced and respectable power than your bilious collection of incest you call a nation ever was! I once had a human drowned in a pit of boiling tar, and their mate jumped in after them like the completely juvenile imbecile they were! In the blood pits on my homeworld, betting on the Humans is an impossible longshot, on the official record they've never won a major event except against other Humans! The Technocracy considers your species indolent and primitive, they think better of us and we've done worse to them than we have to you! Once the council convenes, the rest of us will inevitable pass sanctions against your pitiful nation as a joke, and you'll run from the room excreting despair like one of your squalling infants! Once you're gone, I'll have you cloned, and have it approach the other delegates with reproductive harassment!" Actually, that wasn't a bad idea. Perhaps it was time to press on the slavery boil until it popped. "I'll even clone your mate so that they can keep each other company, rutting in the middle of the council chambers while we all laugh at you! Then we'll have them both broiled and chopped into slivers to be served as complimentary nutristrips to the other delegates!" Seven Desert Streams turned the volume of their chair's speaker up to its maximum setting. It was time to crush the Human's will. "AND IT WILL BE PERFECTLY LEGAL, BECAUSE NOBODY IN THE GALAXY OR THIS COUNCIL CARES ONE MOTE ABOUT THE STUPID, PATHETIC HUMANS AND HOW WE'RE MAKING SLAVES AND CHATTEL OUT OF YOU! YOUR ENTIRE DISGUSTING, INFERIOR SPECIES DESERVES TO BE GROUND INTO PROTEIN SMEARS UNDER OUR NEUROPODIA, AND THEY WILL LET US - HELP US DO IT!"

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Two Solid Shadows Three Perfect Spheres grabbed onto the sealed package with its neuropodia, and immediately ripped a seam in it and spilled the contents onto the ground - the items inside had been double sealed, with a secondary transparent wrapping that contained a forged citizenship I.D. for Three Perfect Spheres in the GICT, several stacks of bearer bonds denoted for GICT currency, and a small black device with numerous switches and two indicator lights on it. Despite the widespread opinion amongst the Stoor that humans were barely worthy even of scorn, the items in the wrapping were extremely valuable. The Complex strictly controlled emigration away from Two Solid Shadows, and the forged I.D. would normally have taken decades for a mere aide like Three Perfect Spheres to acquire. The bearer bonds certainly didn't hurt the tacit offer of defection either. The black device was a communication relay, with hardened electronics and a neutrino transmitter that could effectively and discreetly put the user into contact with Grzegorzy's team. After picking the items back up and scrutinizing them as closely as the wrapping permitted, Three Perfect Sphere began to make more of the incomprehensible oscillating gestures it had before. "Three...Three Perfect Spheres understands your meaning perfectly." The woman said, stammering slightly in surprise from the revelation of the package's contents. She concentrated on the Stoor's wriggling neuropodia as they continued to squirm at a slightly faster pace. "They inquire when you will next contact them, and..." her eyes widened in shock behind her filtration face. "...and says you may take me as your wife...to show they are interested in your offer."

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Sosoa System, Coibeyya Controlled Space, Rim Systms, Cormyrean Confederation Ten years ago Sosoa was part of what was collectively refered to as "the frontier" by the Nalloth. Its colony at the time had been minor, its importance resting only in that it was a source of expansion for the country of Coibeyya, which at that point in time found itself slowly being strangled by Atrya, Ifliington, and Sioelia. The system itself was unremarkable at the time, consisting of ten planets: six terestrial worlds, one of which was in the system's habitable zone, and four gas giants with an asteroid belt dividing the two categories of planets. Fast forward ten years and Sosoa had evolved into one the most rapidly developing system in the Rim systems with a population breaking ten million and liable to triple within another five years thanks to immigration from the homeworld. The construction of FTL catapults within the system had facilitated the growth of civilian industries, especially the mining of the asteroid belt and the various jovian moons. In short Sosoa was the linchpin of Coibeyya influence in the Rim systems. With this mind mind it would be no surprise to an observer how drastic the Coibeyyan response was to the presence of five unidentified ships in the system. Previously the local defense forces, consisting of a light carrier and a handful of destroyers, had attempted to chase the intruders off. When this failed additional ships from the homeland were called for as a show of force. With the addition of these reinforcements Coibeyya's forces within the system consisted of two light carriers, six destroyers, and an additional hundred ground based fighters. The Coibeyya plan to destroy the intruders was simple. The fighters from one of the carriers, numbering 180 in total, would use the two carriers' FTL catapults to jump to about fifteen lightseconds away from each of the intruders. While they moved in to intercept the destroyers would launch a salvo of missiles. The second carrier would hold its fighter complement in reserve and launch them as was necessary. On board the Light Carrier Arbitrator "What a waste of military resources" Captain Zuvim quietly whistled as the Arbitrator's fighter complement headed towards its respective targets. "This is probably all some scheme cooked up by those damned heathens to waste our time." "God be willing we be over with this dreadful business quickly so we can return home" His XO whistled from across the bridge. "Hold on... Looks like they are moving now." The five alien craft had begun moving as soon as the fighter squadrons fell out of FTL, predictably starting to try and manuever away from them as they closed proximity. They appeared uninterested in engaging, accelerating up to 30,000 km/s in the opposite direction in a mere three seconds. They also began to disperse from one another, drifting more than 15,000 kilometers away from each other in various directions. As had been the case since their arrival, no communications or messages were sent. "Buggers are fast, I'll grant them that much" The XO grunted. Zuvim's only reply was a snort of sorts. The two officers watched the tactical display as the symbols denoting the Arbitrator's fighters and the missiles launched by the destroyers drew towards the unidentified craft. New symbols appeared near the fighters, rapidly moving towards the unknowns, as they launched their own missiles. "How much do you think that just cost our great nation?" Zuvim pondered. "Fifty-four million dollars captain" The XO's response was rewarded with a scowl from his superior. The missiles raced ahead of the fighters, overtaking them and quickly closing to twelve lightseconds from the vessels - which is when they again accelerated. The five vessels accelerated at an astounding 10,000 km/s^2 until they were screaming across vacuum at a steady velocity of 70,000 km/s. They had started to head in completely different cardinal directions, each one now hundreds of thousands of kilometers distant from the others and growing after mere instants. "That acceleration..." Zuvim left his statement unfinished as something dawned on him. Would Atrya really send something so apparently advanced out on a simple scouting mission? And now that he thought about it they felt... different somehow. It was something that he couldn't put into words or even justify. It was as if he was receiving some sort of divine inspiration. "Comms!" He snapped. "Have the Saint Tewy paint one of those unknowns with optical sensors and direct the feed to the bridge." He needed wait only a moment before a screen appeared before him showing an image of the unknown craft. The vessel's hull was nothing of the sort that any starship Zuvim had seen in the past sported. It looked more like rough-hewn stone rather than metal, almost as though it were a part of some massive creature's shell rather than a chassis. Long, barbed spines stuck out from the hull approximating every fifteen degrees, and it appeared to have no form of external propulsion, leaving its incredible rate of acceleration a mystery. Most startling though, were the tentacles - five of them, crimson orange in coloration, spaced evenly along the equator of the hull along a central ridge, each of them being easily more than five kilometers long, and nearly as thick as a corvette. Despite the extreme velocity of the vessels themselves, the tentacles seemed to drift idly, almost serenely, about the craft as though they had minds of their own. The craft appeared to be bare of weapons or any other obvious emplacements - but there was an identifying mark, which sensors pinpointed as being present on the other vessels as well. A single symbol, etched into the topmost surface of the exterior hull, and glowing a distinct crimson red to highlight them against the dull coloration of the rest of the shell.

"Comms..." Zuvim said as he felt the blood drain from his face. The craft was too different, too alien, to have been of Nalloth origin. "Contact the God's Grace, have it scramble its fighters and cut those unidenfitied crafts off. Now!" He knew he was raising his voice, something he had never done since assuming command of the ship, but didn't care. "Have the aerospace forces scramble their fighters as well. They can use the nearby FTL catapults to help with the interception." "Uh sir..." The XO began as he scurried to Zuvim's side, his voice trailing off as he caught a glimpse of the image on Zuvim's screen. "What in God's great universe is that?" He muttered at last. "It would seem that God has forsaken us..." was Zuvim's only reply as he turned his attention to the tactical screen. The fighters launched, transitioning across space almost instantly - despite the incredible volume of space each of the alien vessels were now spread across, the fighter squadrons were neatly arranged to be able to intercept any of them within their effective weapons range, at least for a few moments, no matter which direction they headed in...save one. Without warning all five of the vessels turned on a half-scon and began moving directly towards the Coibeyyan fleet. There was thirty-six lightseconds of space, or just over 10,000,000 kilometers, between the alien craft and them. "Foreign vessels have assumed an approach vector. 150 seconds until our trajectories intersect." The sensors officer provided. "Our escorts are firing a barrage from their railguns and a missile salvo" The comms officer report. "Estimated time till impact one minute." Zuvim didn't like the situation he was in one bit. Deploying all of his fighters was already proving to be a foolish move. He wanted to tell the destroyers to change their formation to allow for better firing angles, but found himself frozen with doubt. "Sir, are you going to reposition the destroyers?" The XO asked at last. He waited a moment, his eyestalks staying close to his head as he observed his superior. "To all destroyers" The XO snapped at last "reposition as necessary to intercept those unknowns! Do not let them get close! Engage with your particle beam point defense turrets if you have to!" By this point it was already too late for the destroyers to meaningfully manuever themselves, although they did throw up a blistering barrage of railguns, missiles, and particle beams. The deluge of railgun slugs the fleet fired at the approaching ships never found their targets - seconds after they had fired, the alien vessels assumed a parabolic trajectory, consigning the slower-moving slugs to the endless void of space. The missiles were not so easily deterred, and neither were the particle streams the destroyers were firing - the former performed minute course corrections, assuming a heading that would coincide with the vessels' own trajectories. The particle beams, while they initially missed by thousands of kilometers, were sustained and began to track along the void to meet with their targets. The first alien vessel brought up two of its massive tendrils in an effort to shield itself, and against the missiles the tactic worked, the munitions violently spending themselves only to slightly damage the massive protrusions - only for both to be partially cut through and flung away from the craft's main body by two particle beams which blew a hole through its outer shell, with kinetic draft forcing the vessel into a haphazard spin as inertia forced it along its current trajectory. The second vessel assumed an erratic evasive pattern attempting to avoid the beams chasing after it, but was squarely hit at the front by four missiles. When the resplendent lightshow faded, a third of the vessel was missing, the remaining drifting in an elliptical series of loops. The third vessel stretched out its tentacles and fell into a strange, spinning, spiral trajectory - the missiles, unable to match its manueverability, slid past and lost their lock. The particle beams made direct contact, but couldn't maintain it, mitigating the resulting damage. The fourth vessel was destroyed utterly as the combined volleys of three destroyers washed over it, but the fifth shortly assumed the same spiral trajectory the third had, and missile and beam alike slid past it without effect. The distance between them and the Coibeyyan fleet closed. "80 seconds until trajectories intersect." The sensors officer reported, the faintest hint of anxiety tinging his voice. "Shunt all available particles and energy to our particle beams!" The XO cried. "Have the God's Grace do the same." "Sir! Even if you want to get more power out of them, you'll burn out the turrets in a matter of minutes. Seconds even!" An officer cried out. "Doesn't matter! It'll be too late if one of those things get ahold of us!" An imagine of the two light carriers being crushed and torn to pieces came to the minds of all on the bridge as the XO continued "Have the destroyers fire everything they have. Stop those ships now! I don't care if they have to ram those unknowns!" The Saint Tawy began to shift its course to just that, as if its captain had heard the order directly from the XO's mouth. The other destroyers ceased manuever, instead pouring the precious particles and energy into temporarily boosting the power of the point defense turrets. The effort seemed to make little difference - the beams had already possessed sufficient power, the trouble had arisen from the new evasive pattern the alien vessels had assumed. The particle beams, even with their power boosted, could not track their targets any more efficiently. One of the vessels was caught unaware by the abrupt fire from the Saint Tawy, and two of its massive tentacles were simply completely severed by its high-powered particle beams as they tracked towards it for the first sweep - but then it adjusted, and continued to close the distance, the invisible beams stretching through space attempting to cut it off infuriatingly unable to do so. Even worse, the very first vessel appeared to still be operational - a significant chunk of its forward hull was missing, but its hazardous spinning had stabilized and it had assumed a spiral trajectory along with the other two vessels. Apparently more than just an external hull breach would be needed to stop their functions. The alien vessels closed to just under 3,000,000 kilometers. "40 seconds to intersect!" The sensors officer called out in alarm. "Sir!" The comms officer called out, "God's Grace is breaking to port and powering up its FTL drive!" "Damn them!" Zuvim grunted, finally snapping out of his stupor. There was no way they'd be able to power up for a FTL jump now, regardless of how short the jump may be. "Have our escorts throw up a barrage of railgun fire. Don't aim for the hostiles, just try to cut off their avenues of approach." He turned to the sensors officer. "Where the hell are our fighters!" "Most of them are too far away to arrive in any reasonable amount of time" The officer reported. "Some are trying to get to a nearby FTL catapult, but their eta is still over an hour. There's a fighter squadron that was deplayed in launching due to some mechanical errors. It just launched a few minutes ago and is burning towards the nearby catapult. Eta is two minutes." "Two long! All ships break to port! Don't let the God's Grace pull too far away or it'll be vulnerable." The Saint Tawy, either never recieving the order or ignoring it, continued on its intercept course. Its railguns firing a barrage to either side of the first hostile ship, trying to box it in, as it fired the last of its missiles and particle beams down the middle. Several of the point defense turrets blew up or simply stopped firing due to being overstressed. Even so the barrage was impressive given that it was a single destroyer. The fleet had one advantage working for it - as the unknown alien vessels closed distance, aiming and predicting their motion became easier and faster. Sooner rather than later, all the firepower the Arbitrator's fleetgroup was throwing at them was going to hit them, regardless of their phenomenal velocity - Until the vessel pre-empted that possibility, all three falling into a straight line, the two most-damaged ships shielding the third behind them. It was now clear - they only cared about ensuring at least one of them reached the fleetgroup intact. The railgun barrages, having successfully penned the three craft into their single-filed formation, nonetheless seemed unable to hit them otherwise - the accelerated slugs were simply too slow relative to the speed of everything else on the battlefield. The last of the fleet's missiles slammed straight into the foremost vessel's upraised tentacles, the massive explosion rending the extrusions apart and coring out the vessel from the front to the back - the particle beams unfortunately, were unable to track their targets through the massive release of energy, blooming and losing all cohesion when they tried to penetrate the expanding explosion. When it faded, the last two alien vessels had closed halfway again to the fleet. "Twenty seconds to intercept! Proximal vessel has assumed an interception course for Saint Tawy, the distant vessel for the Arbitrator!" The sensors officer shouted, something approaching true panic manifest in his cry. The ship shook as first one and then two particle beam turrets blew up from the stress of overuse. Zuvim was no fool. He knew there was no way the Arbitrator could outrun or outmanuever the hostile ship that seemed determined to intercept it. All he could do was hope that the destroyers poured enough damage into it to disable it or that the fighter squadron would arrive in time and somehow succeed where an entire battle group had failed. More explosions rocked the fleet as point-defense turrets overloaded, one by one, their fire vanishing into the void, leaving the fleet with only their railguns. As the vessels closed, the slower weapon systems finally began to track. Alas, for the St. Tawy, it was too late. The first alien vessel smashed into it...and then the two vessels, without any fuss or fanfare, vanished. The Arbitrator was next. The image of the second alien vessel eclipsed everything else on the viewscreen, and then entire ship seemed to erupt as a quake larger than those from the overloads sent a shudder through its entire structure. The quake vanished. The end of the world was not forthcoming however. The sounds of stressed and bending metal faded into nothingness until only the normal hum of the ship's normal activity was present. "I need a damage report. Now!" Zuvim grunted. From the sounds he had heard earlier he knew at least one of the zero point generators was down, though the auxilieres were obviously still operating. "Minimal damage captain. I think the alien vessel must have decellerated to a near-stop just before impact, somehow. A few systems appear to have experienced a power-failure. Capacitors are drained, but generators are still functioning normally. All critical systems are green." One officer said, apparently having trouble believing his own words from the sound of his voice as he examined the viewscreen in front of him. "Captain, all other ships in the fleetgroup except for the St. Tawy have vanished from our sensors, and I'm getting...confusing readings. The two alien vessels appear to be gone, micro-debris around us seems consistent with their composite structures. I'd say they hit us and fell to pieces from the decelleration stress." The sensors officer reported. "What happened to the rest of the fleet..." Zuvim quietly whistled. "Perhaps you should be asking what happened to us" The XO responded just as quietly. "Considering how the only other ship we can detect, the St. Tawy, also made contact with a hostile vessel I think its safe to assume the rest of the fleet is safe and sound. We however..." His voice trailed off as he glanced at the tactical screen. The tactical screen was filled wholly with red. "Sir, long-range sensors are filled with a lot of anomalous readings. The planets seem to be out of alignment. And there aren't enough planets. And...the star is...too luminous..." The sensor officer trailed off as realization dawned. "Navigation cannot place our coordinate location. We appear to have been catapulted by alien FTL." The navigation officer called out. "All star charts are out of alignment. Systems are working to try and analyze the aggregate disc. We may be able to approximate our location." "Brilliant" The XO commented. "Send out unmanned drones to forcibly catapult ships to an area where they have a large force at the ready. Simply brilliant." "Have the marines prepare for antiboarding operations" Zuvim groaned. Not that it would do much good, the Arbitrator only had a handful of marines on hand. Even so, their handheld railguns would ruin the day of anyone who wanted to board the ship. "You think they're going to bother boarding us?" The XO questioned. The only answer he got was the sound of gunfire and the sensation of blood and brains splattering against his back. Zuvim crumpled to the ground, a pistol slipping out of his now lifeless hand. "Sir, I just lost all sensors. They appear to have been blown out by a high-energy pulse. Some form of ionizing radiation that completely bypassed the hull!" The sensors officer called out. "We're blind." He then turned and saw the captain, or what was left of him, splattered all over the XO. "Oh." He hissed simply. "All hands" the XO began as he wiped a bit of brains off the back of his head "prepare to recieve boarders." He turned to the sensors officer. "I want to know what's going on outside. Now. I don't care how you get it done." "Emergency teams are already on it. In the meantime, internal sensors are still functional. Local ship-gravity appears to be increasing slightly. No breaches in the hull or at any of the docking rings." The Sensors Officer replied. "The ship is moving, but thrusters are not engaged. We are being towed. Probably into a planetary atmosphere, and hopefully not that star." The navigation officer clicked. "I suppose all we can do is wait then" The XO quietly whistled. "Sir, local ship-gravity is...getting rather high." The Sensors Officer reported, and indeed, the XO was beginning to feel heavier. Much heavier. A few moments later, he was on the floor of the bridge. The gravity his body was experiencing at least six times the Nalloth norm by then - it was everything he could do just to continue breathing. All of the bridge officers were in similar straights, the fortunate ones being forcibly pressed into their seats. Somewhere else in the ship, there was the grinding, hissing sound of metal being burnt and torn through, followed by silence. After lying still for what seemed like aeons, the XO finally heard something else other than the ragged breathing of himself and the bridge crew - a slithering, wet, sliding noise, like an oily mop being dragged across the floor. He couldn't turn his head to see what it was - all he could do was listen. Whatever they were, they did not whistle or click or trill or make any kind of verbal communication. They were moving between every immobilized Nalloth officer in the bridge, stopping at each one...And every time, there was a faint humming keen that drifted through the air. Then more movement. A towering, collosal worm, plated in a dusken shell and with a thousand multicolored bristles erupting from its back, slowly slid its way in front of his vision using dozens of stubby, slime-covered appendages beneath its body. Its upper end erect in the air, it carried a bulbous, fleshy sac from its nubby appendages, with a cord running from it back to the massive creature's head. Right before his eyes, he saw it lean over the sensors officer and press the sac against their head - the fleshy thing seeming to unwrap itself into tiny tendrils that then closed around the officer's head like a trap. Again there was the whirring, humming noise, and the fleshy sac unwrapped itself to reveal only a gory, unrecognizable stump full of bone fragments and gray matter. It came for him next, slowly oozing its way across the floor - its stubby appendages were apparently having trouble with the smooth, machine-pressed metal, but the XO certainly wasn't going anywhere. Then it reached him, and the last thing the XO saw was the bulbous sac as it wrapped itself around his head.

[zombieaccount]

GCN Concordia Inexplicably, the ixion named Ignac turned out to be in the summit room having quietly rolled in and going about the verification process while insisting that she knew what she was doing the whole time buzzing Izilbi. No one really noticed the wheeled robotic drone-like thing rolling in, perhaps due to the stoor dominating the meeting like usual, if not because Ignac never really understood the concept of instinct despite being told about it two dozen or so times... But that is irrelevant now, for the summit meeting being harmonious as it could Ignac realized that it has not said a word to them! How horrid a mistake a diplomat for the summit could make! Ignac immeadiately cut communication mid-conversation with Izilbi and announced her presence in the most subtle way she could concieve (as much as a ixion can concieve, at least) The holographic face, of which is less a face and more a speaker with thick, crudely synthesized lips designed to speak the 'common' language using a modular and some other devices that do poorly at actually speaking English beyond baseline vocabulary (no real grammar), greets to the summit peoples "I am happy to announce my existence at this summit I see the meeting is doing well so far in terms of process however harmony in the galaxy is bad bad right now there is technocrats and uarshi spreading their monotonous ways of life all over the galaxy at our meeting in the gestalt our irregularly selected auditor has expressed his discontent about harmony in the galaxy and believes that we need to do something about the technocracy and uarshi to better the brightness of the galaxy to make sure things stay orgasmic regardless of quadrant or what force claims what where and when and that hocus and free will exists so I know for sure that galactic harmony can be achieved through mutual harmony with the bugs infesting around where we live" 122AIE8 Star System "Impressive all this is ~amazing~ so it is how much these sentient rocks that name themselves after a creation of mine go and go at this somewhat harmonious race of beings like humans eating them alive and screaming how harmonious such death could if not killed violently than and there when the best death well known is the one where you are reduced to ashes in a single highly explosive ~missile~ of which ecstasy-like in #resonance# oh how do we make sure there is harmony far all involved where oh the stims we could trade for better stimulants and ^creatures^ I hope oh i hope my associate isn't uarshi food so I get my payments" A ixion smuggler tells another ixion as its ship, one lacking in the size of most ixion ships due to its specialized purpose, casually docks at a space station that is in a star system currently under threat of siege by the uarshi. The star station is one that however, has been rather evacuated. ((Yes I know, a bit random, but basically it's just a smuggler trying to get its payment at a commerce station being invaded by uarshi and perhaps lead into something more... Not sure what.))