Gem Hound
Deity
If you are referring to the Xona, we are rimwards up past the Galactic Republic. Plus, if it was Jubblera we were conquering, it wouldn't be Gurlatch Aruhn, Wess, Hweelu, and Kurma. It would be the Species of your own group.
GalaxyNES- No Horizons
- Thread starter Lord_Iggy
- Start date
TerrisH
Mischief?
OOC: meh could have worked ether way. which is why I didn't name a species and left it ambiguous.. Random space faring species that conquered a non-space faring species.. both who will remain unnamed, and likely get eaten and never heard of again. non-space fairing might get something else.. haven't decided. story was more about introducing the Warp-queens re-connecting the Jubblera across the stars, allowing the formation of a Swarm-mind (which is not intelligent.. its more of a biological Internet the Jubblera can access to share/store information upon, and use for crunching larger projects together.)
I dunno, sounds a lot like you're referring to this:
When you write this:
At any rate, if the Jubblera really saw that, then I can only imagine that a Collectivity attempt to communicate through pheromones has gone terribly wrong, and that some poor Ullau researcher is getting swarmed by lustful Jubblera right now.
Gem Hound said:
When you write this:
TerrisH said:
At any rate, if the Jubblera really saw that, then I can only imagine that a Collectivity attempt to communicate through pheromones has gone terribly wrong, and that some poor Ullau researcher is getting swarmed by lustful Jubblera right now.
Luckymoose
The World is Mine
Pheromones, mmm, welcome to the cool side of the galaxy.
Gem Hound
Deity
Ssolor Nordos Part Three
The descent into the underworld of the Wess was packed with soldiers. Using the Wess under their control, the Xona managed to avoid the larger parties of soldiers, but the Wess were on high alert. They knew giant snake-like creatures had broken into their fortress, and the fortress was on lockdown. The only thing moving was the patrols. The Wess they ran into, were easily overwhelmed, and Nordos found that they wanted to escape the rule of their leader, Commander Xealot.
***
Commander Xealot stood in the command room, directing his troops. Then, some of his troops began to not listen to his orders and then, even more began to refuse his orders. "Send some soldiers to eradicate those rebels. You know what will happen if you disobey."
***
Nordos stopped in the living quarters and using his company of Wess that were now under his control, set up a temporary base. It was half done when the first grenades were tossed into the massive cavern. The explosions went off, and echoed throughout the massive cavern.
Nordos' Wess hid in the buildings and the Xona disappeared. The enemy slowed down after entering the cavern. "Search the buildings!" echoed in the cavern as the signal was given. The ambush was set, and Xealot's Wess were in the middle of it. The Xona charged out when the first plasma bursts shot into the streets ripping into the congested ranks of the enemy. The enemy, then funneled into the buildings. The fighting was fierce, but Nordos emerged victorious.
General Nordos pushed aside the dead and the dying after the battle. The smell of burnt flesh permeated the air and Nordos bent over and picked up one of the N-48 Plasma Bursts and fired it at the door. He liked this new weapon. He liked it alot. He then picked up two more. "Bring the ssurvivorss to what is left of the barricade Captain. They will join us ssoon enough." and then a wicked grin blossomed on his face as he went to turn the survivors.
Ssolor Koass Part Three
Several weeks had passed, yet the Gurlatch Aruhn still circled the ship. The loyal Aruhn sat coiled at the entrance, waiting for an attack at any time. Then, a high pitched scream was heard in the distance, another tribe had come. Yet, they still did not attack. Several days later, another tribe arrived. Their numbers were great, yet they still did not attack. Then, the fourth tribe arrived and the Gurlatch Aruhn were finally fed up with waiting. They attacked one month after the first attack. The horde was massive and it shook the ground. The Xona inside the ship, aimed their guns and began to fire at the onrushing horde. Sharp cracks reverberated from the shells on the heads of the Gurlatch Aruhn. Many were dazed, and the horde stopped dead due to the dazed Gurlatch Aruhn in the front. Then, they filtered around the dazed ones and continued. The largest one reached the ship first, and Koass went out to meet it, swords swinging in a frenzy. She remembered this time, to not attempt to slice through their heads and instead, blocked it's attack and stabbed it in the neck. It began to writhe and the Gurlatch Aruhn began to edge off. The dazed Gurlatch Aruhn, now dominated, joined the ranks of the Loyal Aruhn and stood guard over the entrance to the ship.
The descent into the underworld of the Wess was packed with soldiers. Using the Wess under their control, the Xona managed to avoid the larger parties of soldiers, but the Wess were on high alert. They knew giant snake-like creatures had broken into their fortress, and the fortress was on lockdown. The only thing moving was the patrols. The Wess they ran into, were easily overwhelmed, and Nordos found that they wanted to escape the rule of their leader, Commander Xealot.
***
Commander Xealot stood in the command room, directing his troops. Then, some of his troops began to not listen to his orders and then, even more began to refuse his orders. "Send some soldiers to eradicate those rebels. You know what will happen if you disobey."
***
Nordos stopped in the living quarters and using his company of Wess that were now under his control, set up a temporary base. It was half done when the first grenades were tossed into the massive cavern. The explosions went off, and echoed throughout the massive cavern.
Nordos' Wess hid in the buildings and the Xona disappeared. The enemy slowed down after entering the cavern. "Search the buildings!" echoed in the cavern as the signal was given. The ambush was set, and Xealot's Wess were in the middle of it. The Xona charged out when the first plasma bursts shot into the streets ripping into the congested ranks of the enemy. The enemy, then funneled into the buildings. The fighting was fierce, but Nordos emerged victorious.
General Nordos pushed aside the dead and the dying after the battle. The smell of burnt flesh permeated the air and Nordos bent over and picked up one of the N-48 Plasma Bursts and fired it at the door. He liked this new weapon. He liked it alot. He then picked up two more. "Bring the ssurvivorss to what is left of the barricade Captain. They will join us ssoon enough." and then a wicked grin blossomed on his face as he went to turn the survivors.
Ssolor Koass Part Three
Several weeks had passed, yet the Gurlatch Aruhn still circled the ship. The loyal Aruhn sat coiled at the entrance, waiting for an attack at any time. Then, a high pitched scream was heard in the distance, another tribe had come. Yet, they still did not attack. Several days later, another tribe arrived. Their numbers were great, yet they still did not attack. Then, the fourth tribe arrived and the Gurlatch Aruhn were finally fed up with waiting. They attacked one month after the first attack. The horde was massive and it shook the ground. The Xona inside the ship, aimed their guns and began to fire at the onrushing horde. Sharp cracks reverberated from the shells on the heads of the Gurlatch Aruhn. Many were dazed, and the horde stopped dead due to the dazed Gurlatch Aruhn in the front. Then, they filtered around the dazed ones and continued. The largest one reached the ship first, and Koass went out to meet it, swords swinging in a frenzy. She remembered this time, to not attempt to slice through their heads and instead, blocked it's attack and stabbed it in the neck. It began to writhe and the Gurlatch Aruhn began to edge off. The dazed Gurlatch Aruhn, now dominated, joined the ranks of the Loyal Aruhn and stood guard over the entrance to the ship.
Seon
Not An Evil Liar
Thachugi Waglafar stood in his own spacesuit, staring up into the countless stars. Below, the living ship contracted and expanded in a regular fashion.
Thachugi Waglafar had a mission, a clear vision of the future. Each and every step that he took from now on would need to be executed completely and without fail.
"El Presidente, is this really necessary-"
"Mr. Hagieth du Thuealinapolian of the west coast Waglantinam Sea, are you doubting my judgement?" Thachugi Waglafar asked.
"... No sir."
"Well then let's do this thing. The fate of our entire species rests on YOUR hands!"
"Yes sir," Hagieth said, grabbing Waglafar by the legs and lifting him up into the stars from the brow of the living ship.
"I'M THE KING OF THE MOTHERF*CKING UNIVEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRSE!" he cried out. The vacuum of space carried his voice exactly 0 cm.
All across the galaxy, psionics everywhere grimaced as they detected a new disturbance.
.......................................................................................................................................
Generations passed since the fungal infection took over the entire planet of Amur. The younger generations, the new spawns that grew out of the organic pools in the numerous jungles instead of being born, had no memories of what being an Amur was like. The older generation looked on with worrying eyes as more and more Amurians drifted away further from the appearance of the baseline Amur, favoring more "streamlined" squid-like fashion or strengthened and more bulky bodies.
None of their worries really interested Waglafar. He was always more interested in questions of life such as "How am I going to stop those goddamn clams in space from blackholeing my entire planet," "How am I going to capture these goddamn clams in space so that I can blackhole other people's planets," or even "Goddamn butterflies are still worthlessly weak. Stupid aerodynamics."
The people of Amur were thus forced to go on with their lives as the Amurian race were slowly replaced by something else entirely. De-Amurization, some called it. It was not a surprise when the living ships filled to the brim with space-capable infected life forms contained almost no soldiers that even resembled the baseline.
"People have to move on with the times," a spokesperson for the government, who looked more like a rock lizard than an Amur, said. "If we don't, we would just be left behind in the dust in this wide galaxy."
Thachugi Waglafar had a mission, a clear vision of the future. Each and every step that he took from now on would need to be executed completely and without fail.
"El Presidente, is this really necessary-"
"Mr. Hagieth du Thuealinapolian of the west coast Waglantinam Sea, are you doubting my judgement?" Thachugi Waglafar asked.
"... No sir."
"Well then let's do this thing. The fate of our entire species rests on YOUR hands!"
"Yes sir," Hagieth said, grabbing Waglafar by the legs and lifting him up into the stars from the brow of the living ship.
"I'M THE KING OF THE MOTHERF*CKING UNIVEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRSE!" he cried out. The vacuum of space carried his voice exactly 0 cm.
All across the galaxy, psionics everywhere grimaced as they detected a new disturbance.
.......................................................................................................................................
Generations passed since the fungal infection took over the entire planet of Amur. The younger generations, the new spawns that grew out of the organic pools in the numerous jungles instead of being born, had no memories of what being an Amur was like. The older generation looked on with worrying eyes as more and more Amurians drifted away further from the appearance of the baseline Amur, favoring more "streamlined" squid-like fashion or strengthened and more bulky bodies.
None of their worries really interested Waglafar. He was always more interested in questions of life such as "How am I going to stop those goddamn clams in space from blackholeing my entire planet," "How am I going to capture these goddamn clams in space so that I can blackhole other people's planets," or even "Goddamn butterflies are still worthlessly weak. Stupid aerodynamics."
The people of Amur were thus forced to go on with their lives as the Amurian race were slowly replaced by something else entirely. De-Amurization, some called it. It was not a surprise when the living ships filled to the brim with space-capable infected life forms contained almost no soldiers that even resembled the baseline.
"People have to move on with the times," a spokesperson for the government, who looked more like a rock lizard than an Amur, said. "If we don't, we would just be left behind in the dust in this wide galaxy."
tuxedohamm
Disguised as crow.
The Ksspopok had a minor crisis of confidence when they encountered their first intelligent life from another world. Even as space faring creatures fully aware of the likelihood that there would be other creatures out there, when the Meli-Telanoch Exiles were first discovered there was a fear by some that the Ksspopok had gone too far too soon and put every Poy-op at risk. The Ksspopok was able to calm the fears of most, but a couple farm planets not under direct Ksspopok control had planetary rebellions that temporarily reduced food supplies system-wide. This led to some governmental changes as one of the farm planets had been a member of the Ksspopok minority government. New deals were made and in the end, the Ksspopok remained in control, but gained a powerful government ally.
The Pokpoy was a two planet group that had not been part of the Ksspopok coalition prior to the first contact. However, during the intervening time, communication probes had allowed the Ksspopok to learn that the Meli-Telanoch were in fact exiles. Exiles that sought to reclaim their homeworld. While the original Ksspopok coalition had been overly peaceful-minded, the Pokpoy had always pushed a militaristic policy for protective purposes. Intelligence suggested to the Pokpoy that those that pushed the exiles out were a bigger threat than the exiles themselves. The Ksspopok mainly wanted to learn about and work with the newly discovered creatures. The final agreement would have the Pokpoy join the Ksspopok coalition. The Pokpoy would be allowed to learn and develop defensive measures which would protect the Poy-op and alleviate the fears that the Poy-op were unprotected; and the Ksspopok would be allowed to assist and interact with the Meli-Telanoch without rebellion at home.
The Ksspopok coalition crisis over, work imediately went into motion. Materials were moved into position and micro-gate constructors began making the jumps towards the system where most Meli-Telanoch were located. With time, the gate was finished. With the gate finished plantscaping began. The Ksspopok wanted to not threaten the exiles, and refused to use materials from the system itself. Stored material in Poy-op and material still arriving from Papoy was sent through the gate, and with intelligence gathered about the physiology of the Meli-Telanoch, the Ksspopok began construction on a small planet that should come close to what would be a habitable planet for the exiles.
There was no announcement to the exiles about the activity but communication probes were placed around the new planets space to alert any exile explorer as to what was being made should they get worried.
Within a few (Earth) years, primary construction would be complete. This would be followed by a short period of assisted planetary cooling. Once cooled, the planet would be seeded with the proper chemicals for its outer solid surface, followed by a proper hydro- and atmosphere.
The Pokpoy was a two planet group that had not been part of the Ksspopok coalition prior to the first contact. However, during the intervening time, communication probes had allowed the Ksspopok to learn that the Meli-Telanoch were in fact exiles. Exiles that sought to reclaim their homeworld. While the original Ksspopok coalition had been overly peaceful-minded, the Pokpoy had always pushed a militaristic policy for protective purposes. Intelligence suggested to the Pokpoy that those that pushed the exiles out were a bigger threat than the exiles themselves. The Ksspopok mainly wanted to learn about and work with the newly discovered creatures. The final agreement would have the Pokpoy join the Ksspopok coalition. The Pokpoy would be allowed to learn and develop defensive measures which would protect the Poy-op and alleviate the fears that the Poy-op were unprotected; and the Ksspopok would be allowed to assist and interact with the Meli-Telanoch without rebellion at home.
The Ksspopok coalition crisis over, work imediately went into motion. Materials were moved into position and micro-gate constructors began making the jumps towards the system where most Meli-Telanoch were located. With time, the gate was finished. With the gate finished plantscaping began. The Ksspopok wanted to not threaten the exiles, and refused to use materials from the system itself. Stored material in Poy-op and material still arriving from Papoy was sent through the gate, and with intelligence gathered about the physiology of the Meli-Telanoch, the Ksspopok began construction on a small planet that should come close to what would be a habitable planet for the exiles.
There was no announcement to the exiles about the activity but communication probes were placed around the new planets space to alert any exile explorer as to what was being made should they get worried.
Within a few (Earth) years, primary construction would be complete. This would be followed by a short period of assisted planetary cooling. Once cooled, the planet would be seeded with the proper chemicals for its outer solid surface, followed by a proper hydro- and atmosphere.
Gem Hound
Deity
Ssolor Nordos Part Four
Two Weeks Later...
*Ssssssssssssss*
The constant sound of the plasma hitting the doors weighed on Zealot's nerves. Reinforcements would arrive soon. The rebellion would be put down.
*crack* No soldiers can be spared Commander Xealot. You are on your own. *crack* The noise came from the radio and it tore him.
*Ssssssssssssss*
They were nearly through the doors. "Soldiers, we will take as many of the rebels with us as we can!" Zealot heard himself shout.
*Ssssssssssssss*
One more, and the rebels would walk into their deaths.
*Ssssssssssssss*
A small hole appeared in the door.
*Ssssssssssssss*
The enemy swarmed in. Time slowed as the super heated plasma flew past his face and hit the door. Rebels poured through and were cut down by the Imperial forces, yet more came through the doors. Then, a crushing force hit his mind. He ignored it, and continued to fight, without thinking. Eventually, the door became a soup of super-heated plasma and the rebels stopped pouring through. He saw himself order his soldiers to stop shooting, yet they continued. They had not heard him. Then, the force stopped.
In a last ditch effort, Xealot rushed towards the computers. He entered most of his code when he noticed that the firing had stopped. He looked around and saw that only one third of his group was still alive, of which all had their weapons turned on him.
Two Weeks Later...
*Ssssssssssssss*
The constant sound of the plasma hitting the doors weighed on Zealot's nerves. Reinforcements would arrive soon. The rebellion would be put down.
*crack* No soldiers can be spared Commander Xealot. You are on your own. *crack* The noise came from the radio and it tore him.
*Ssssssssssssss*
They were nearly through the doors. "Soldiers, we will take as many of the rebels with us as we can!" Zealot heard himself shout.
*Ssssssssssssss*
One more, and the rebels would walk into their deaths.
*Ssssssssssssss*
A small hole appeared in the door.
*Ssssssssssssss*
The enemy swarmed in. Time slowed as the super heated plasma flew past his face and hit the door. Rebels poured through and were cut down by the Imperial forces, yet more came through the doors. Then, a crushing force hit his mind. He ignored it, and continued to fight, without thinking. Eventually, the door became a soup of super-heated plasma and the rebels stopped pouring through. He saw himself order his soldiers to stop shooting, yet they continued. They had not heard him. Then, the force stopped.
In a last ditch effort, Xealot rushed towards the computers. He entered most of his code when he noticed that the firing had stopped. He looked around and saw that only one third of his group was still alive, of which all had their weapons turned on him.
das
Regeneration In Process
Borg Askinnath, we called it, though it was far from being a proper kuppelborg. It used to be a research station out in the wastes, held by hamme Irkner before they were cut off from it by the attackers, and then consumed by my Empire. It doubled as a fortified outpost, and as a forward control station for their clones – not that they ever got to use that. But I redeemed this place. With Kendra’s help, I picked the finest and most trustworthy specialists to help me. We expanded the station, reinforced its shielding, outfitted it with countless defensive measures to counter almost any threat we could imagine. We set up an actual, modified, smaller version of the domes used for the kuppelborgs, to make this place both hard to destroy and hard to detect if we needed to hide it. All steps were taken to allow it to function autonomously.
At the same time, we augmented the reach of their clone control device a thousandfold. Even that was just enough to cover one eighth of Destination at full power, but it would be a first step. Auxiliary stations would expand our reach, carrying the signal further, until it would be possible to cover the whole world. And from then on, we could work on spreading it out into space. I let Kendra take over for a few hours a day, and he came up with ways to tie the signal to our command ships and some other vessels. But there was no such thing as too much redundancy for this project.
The most important thing, however, was the throne room.
There was no actual throne in there, of course. Indeed, from what little we could find out, such an antiquated piece of furniture would not have been usable to me, or to any modern Hammenammir. Nor was it a place prepared for me to grant audiences in, although I was prepared to do so, for the lack of any alternatives.
Instead, it was a small, round chamber, where I would be suspended in a central booth, connected to a multitude of wires and other, more or less subtle devices. Some of the things I was connected to in one way or the other were there for personal maintenance, to keep me in a working shape. Others were there to bolster my mind, with its piling anomalies and abilities. Most important, however, was my connection to the transmitter device that hamme Irkner had intended to use to control their hidden army of clones. We upgraded it, of course; not just to spread the signal further, as we had described, but also to cross it with a more conventional network hub. Couple this with my augmented mind and… it would give my plan a decent chance. A chance is all an Ysir really needs…
---
As the surgeons go to work, I slip into a meditative state, helped by entheogens and the voices of our ancestors in my head.
Our ancestors once walked on their hind limbs in the ice age of our homeworld. Scoured by frost, they fled into more bearable regions, only to find them inhabited by fierce predators. But for our minds and God’s blessings, we would have been driven to extinction, or forced back into the cold, to eke out a miserable existence there. We never could have settled for that, though. We needed to win, and we learned to make traps, to work together and to turn predators into prey. But as we hunted down megafauna, we felt it: that we were meant for greater things. That our God-chosen enemies were far worse and much more dangerous than mere flesh-eating animals.
We worshipped spirits, who appointed shamans. Those shamans were the predecessors of the godar, of a sort. As we grew more numerous, and our prey more rare, the shamans saw the Enemy in rival packs, and used their powerful minds to make this understanding stick to all of us. We discovered war, and pursued it with suicidal glee. There hardly ever was another species that managed to drive itself so near to extinction with such primitive weapons, but we destroyed entire packs before the spirits were appeased enough for us to stop.
Then came the time of tribes and empires. The tribes clinged strong to the old, charismatic ways; the empires sought to curb our self-destructive natures through harsh laws and strict discipline. It’s strange, but no matter how long one listens to the old sagas, it’s still impossible for him to say clearly which side won in the end. Empires consumed tribes. Tribes rose against empires. Tribal heroes, like Askinnath the Bright, conquered empires, and then adapted their traits; in a few generations, empires rose again. But also there were empires that stretched themselves too thin… and found their armed forces fall back into tribal ways and return with a vengeance, led by magically powerful leaders.
We must have realized it at some point, though. We weren’t the Enemy either. Or perhaps we needed to destroy the world, just like we destroyed its ancient ecology, before we could realise that this, too, was beneath our talents as hunters. Our true prey had to challenge our skills, so that we could put all our energy to fighting it, and still not waste any of it. That was the truth: we were too good at war, and always overshot our mark when fighting, destroying our own world in the process. We were not and are not capable of holding back.
Throughout space there are other species with their own strange dreams. Some seek an ageless existance, others complete invulnerability; others still want the key to mastering all physical processes in the universe, or to spread themselves on all the planets in God’s tapestry. But we seek the Perfect Prey. Our promised Enemy, who God has allowed to exist only because there will be nothing for us to do in the universe otherwise, no other way for our wishes to be satisfied.
The Migrants and the Habitants had both thought to settle down and wait for a sign. Maybe the Habitants were right, for that. The sign has been given. If this is still not the Enemy we prayed for, then it shall do as early practice. Already, our astronomers and the first pilots to return to space were given their task. Even as we mopped up the rest of the invading forces on our planet, we will start looking for their source.
As soon it is found, we will begin to stalk them.
At the same time, we augmented the reach of their clone control device a thousandfold. Even that was just enough to cover one eighth of Destination at full power, but it would be a first step. Auxiliary stations would expand our reach, carrying the signal further, until it would be possible to cover the whole world. And from then on, we could work on spreading it out into space. I let Kendra take over for a few hours a day, and he came up with ways to tie the signal to our command ships and some other vessels. But there was no such thing as too much redundancy for this project.
The most important thing, however, was the throne room.
There was no actual throne in there, of course. Indeed, from what little we could find out, such an antiquated piece of furniture would not have been usable to me, or to any modern Hammenammir. Nor was it a place prepared for me to grant audiences in, although I was prepared to do so, for the lack of any alternatives.
Instead, it was a small, round chamber, where I would be suspended in a central booth, connected to a multitude of wires and other, more or less subtle devices. Some of the things I was connected to in one way or the other were there for personal maintenance, to keep me in a working shape. Others were there to bolster my mind, with its piling anomalies and abilities. Most important, however, was my connection to the transmitter device that hamme Irkner had intended to use to control their hidden army of clones. We upgraded it, of course; not just to spread the signal further, as we had described, but also to cross it with a more conventional network hub. Couple this with my augmented mind and… it would give my plan a decent chance. A chance is all an Ysir really needs…
---
As the surgeons go to work, I slip into a meditative state, helped by entheogens and the voices of our ancestors in my head.
Our ancestors once walked on their hind limbs in the ice age of our homeworld. Scoured by frost, they fled into more bearable regions, only to find them inhabited by fierce predators. But for our minds and God’s blessings, we would have been driven to extinction, or forced back into the cold, to eke out a miserable existence there. We never could have settled for that, though. We needed to win, and we learned to make traps, to work together and to turn predators into prey. But as we hunted down megafauna, we felt it: that we were meant for greater things. That our God-chosen enemies were far worse and much more dangerous than mere flesh-eating animals.
We worshipped spirits, who appointed shamans. Those shamans were the predecessors of the godar, of a sort. As we grew more numerous, and our prey more rare, the shamans saw the Enemy in rival packs, and used their powerful minds to make this understanding stick to all of us. We discovered war, and pursued it with suicidal glee. There hardly ever was another species that managed to drive itself so near to extinction with such primitive weapons, but we destroyed entire packs before the spirits were appeased enough for us to stop.
Then came the time of tribes and empires. The tribes clinged strong to the old, charismatic ways; the empires sought to curb our self-destructive natures through harsh laws and strict discipline. It’s strange, but no matter how long one listens to the old sagas, it’s still impossible for him to say clearly which side won in the end. Empires consumed tribes. Tribes rose against empires. Tribal heroes, like Askinnath the Bright, conquered empires, and then adapted their traits; in a few generations, empires rose again. But also there were empires that stretched themselves too thin… and found their armed forces fall back into tribal ways and return with a vengeance, led by magically powerful leaders.
We must have realized it at some point, though. We weren’t the Enemy either. Or perhaps we needed to destroy the world, just like we destroyed its ancient ecology, before we could realise that this, too, was beneath our talents as hunters. Our true prey had to challenge our skills, so that we could put all our energy to fighting it, and still not waste any of it. That was the truth: we were too good at war, and always overshot our mark when fighting, destroying our own world in the process. We were not and are not capable of holding back.
Throughout space there are other species with their own strange dreams. Some seek an ageless existance, others complete invulnerability; others still want the key to mastering all physical processes in the universe, or to spread themselves on all the planets in God’s tapestry. But we seek the Perfect Prey. Our promised Enemy, who God has allowed to exist only because there will be nothing for us to do in the universe otherwise, no other way for our wishes to be satisfied.
The Migrants and the Habitants had both thought to settle down and wait for a sign. Maybe the Habitants were right, for that. The sign has been given. If this is still not the Enemy we prayed for, then it shall do as early practice. Already, our astronomers and the first pilots to return to space were given their task. Even as we mopped up the rest of the invading forces on our planet, we will start looking for their source.
As soon it is found, we will begin to stalk them.
Admiral Farric was nervously passing around the bridge of his ship, something was wrong. This whole mission bothered him. He had no idea why the Judge suddenly decided to attack the Heathens out of nowhere. Of course he knew that someday they would have to deal with them, but he always figured that theyd be able to convince them to accept the Judge. But now they are here to force the System on them. He heard rumors from the boys in Intel that the Heathens had been smuggling rocket parts and advance tech, as well as evidence of produce several exotic materials. There must be fears that they were building some new weapon. He had his doubts though, nothing in the Heathen ideology suggested moves like that. But if the Arbitrator thought they were who was he to argue.
They sent out stealth units to shut down any automatic defenses so they could begin the landing over 20 minutes ago and so far none have reported any signs of resistance or even patrols. This is what probably had him most on edge. The Heathens may be fools for denying the Judge but they still knew how to fight.
Delta Five to Fleet Command weve made it to this sectors weapons platform, preparing to breach.
Rodger Delta Five carry on and report any new developments.
Command were inside the platform. So far we havent encountered any resistance
The sound of weapons fire comes over the radio.
Delta Five report have you encountered the enemy?
Negative Command it was just an automated turret. It got Krat, hes in the System now. It looks like the platform is abandoned, that noise should have alerted anyone here.
Roger Delta Five, other squads are reporting similar situations. Continue with the operation.
Command were in the control room preparing to shut down the defenses.
Roger Delta Five. Were receiving signals of activity just north of you in the sea; can you giving us visual conformation?
Will do Command, heading to the outside to see if anything is there.
Were here Command. The water appears to be draining into something below the surface. Wait somethings coming out of the water. By the Judge what is that its huge
The bridge was a frenzy of activity, all hands at the instruments trying to figure out what was going on.
Sir, weve identified four objects of similar design launching out of the ocean.
Farric was staring out the window trying to make sense of this situation, Track the objects with our missiles and be ready to fire on my orders.
Just has he had given the order some cried out, By the Judge their firing something!
Farric was in a panic now, Is it coming at us?
No Sir, it their trajectory suggests that theyve targeted the operators face dropped, The Judge save us! Theyve targeted every major city!
Then what are you doing target those projectiles with everything we have. Shot them down!
Farric was visibly shaking, who would do such a thing?
Sir, missiles approaching the projectiles in 3 2 1...and The operator stopped and stared at the screen, and nothing?
Nothing? What do you mean nothing? Did we miss?
No Sir, The missiles seemed to have passed through the targets.
Sir were losing the targets signals. It looks like they were some type of decoys.
Cheers started breaking out across the bridge.
What are all of you cheering about? Weve been played
****
Captain Aritic was pacing across the bridge of the Escape. This gamble was his idea and everything they had was riding on it.
Sir it looks like theyve taken the bait. Well clear atmosphere in thirty seconds.
Cheers erupted across the bridge and likely through the whole colony.
Lets wait until we leave this planet before we celebrate. Bring up communications with the other ships.
Yes Sir, communications are up now.
This is Captain Aritic of the Escape, it seems that we have made it and will soon be free of the threat of the Judge. Hopefully once we all establish ourselves we can contact each other but in case this is our last meeting I just want to say this. Good luck all and may you find your own path. Goodbye.
Aritic sat down in his chair, Set course for system 1N8H.
Course set Sir.
Engage FTL, lets hope this new world is kinder than our old one.
****
Ensign where are the objects now?
They have just broken orbit and appear to be maintaining a steady speed Sir.
Good contact Global Command I want every extra-planetary weapon targeting them.
Sir, youre going to want to see this.
What?
Theyre gone
What do you mean gone? Did they move to a new location?
No Sir. Theyre just gone.
They sent out stealth units to shut down any automatic defenses so they could begin the landing over 20 minutes ago and so far none have reported any signs of resistance or even patrols. This is what probably had him most on edge. The Heathens may be fools for denying the Judge but they still knew how to fight.
Delta Five to Fleet Command weve made it to this sectors weapons platform, preparing to breach.
Rodger Delta Five carry on and report any new developments.
Command were inside the platform. So far we havent encountered any resistance
The sound of weapons fire comes over the radio.
Delta Five report have you encountered the enemy?
Negative Command it was just an automated turret. It got Krat, hes in the System now. It looks like the platform is abandoned, that noise should have alerted anyone here.
Roger Delta Five, other squads are reporting similar situations. Continue with the operation.
Command were in the control room preparing to shut down the defenses.
Roger Delta Five. Were receiving signals of activity just north of you in the sea; can you giving us visual conformation?
Will do Command, heading to the outside to see if anything is there.
Were here Command. The water appears to be draining into something below the surface. Wait somethings coming out of the water. By the Judge what is that its huge
The bridge was a frenzy of activity, all hands at the instruments trying to figure out what was going on.
Sir, weve identified four objects of similar design launching out of the ocean.
Farric was staring out the window trying to make sense of this situation, Track the objects with our missiles and be ready to fire on my orders.
Just has he had given the order some cried out, By the Judge their firing something!
Farric was in a panic now, Is it coming at us?
No Sir, it their trajectory suggests that theyve targeted the operators face dropped, The Judge save us! Theyve targeted every major city!
Then what are you doing target those projectiles with everything we have. Shot them down!
Farric was visibly shaking, who would do such a thing?
Sir, missiles approaching the projectiles in 3 2 1...and The operator stopped and stared at the screen, and nothing?
Nothing? What do you mean nothing? Did we miss?
No Sir, The missiles seemed to have passed through the targets.
Sir were losing the targets signals. It looks like they were some type of decoys.
Cheers started breaking out across the bridge.
What are all of you cheering about? Weve been played
****
Captain Aritic was pacing across the bridge of the Escape. This gamble was his idea and everything they had was riding on it.
Sir it looks like theyve taken the bait. Well clear atmosphere in thirty seconds.
Cheers erupted across the bridge and likely through the whole colony.
Lets wait until we leave this planet before we celebrate. Bring up communications with the other ships.
Yes Sir, communications are up now.
This is Captain Aritic of the Escape, it seems that we have made it and will soon be free of the threat of the Judge. Hopefully once we all establish ourselves we can contact each other but in case this is our last meeting I just want to say this. Good luck all and may you find your own path. Goodbye.
Aritic sat down in his chair, Set course for system 1N8H.
Course set Sir.
Engage FTL, lets hope this new world is kinder than our old one.
****
Ensign where are the objects now?
They have just broken orbit and appear to be maintaining a steady speed Sir.
Good contact Global Command I want every extra-planetary weapon targeting them.
Sir, youre going to want to see this.
What?
Theyre gone
What do you mean gone? Did they move to a new location?
No Sir. Theyre just gone.
Update 27
Beyond the fringes of known space, beyond the outermost beacons that mark the borders of the progenitor civilization of Turamak Katzil, a collection of unassuming species, each living in relative isolation from each other, have all come under assaults from a never-before-encountered foe. Calling themselves Xona, these large, snakelike multi-limbed creatures have become a terror everywhere they reach. Possessed of a uniquely dangerous combination of psychic abilities, physical prowess and a culture that resembles nothing so much as a collection of disparate, bloodthirsty gangs called ‘Ssolor’.
Their unfortunate neighbours are the Wess Guardianship, the Kurma, Aruhn-Tch, and the Hweelu Tribes. The Wess are the most technologically advanced civilization among them, although they were forcibly cast out of interstellar space many generations ago, and now live in hiding, utilizing advanced technology to support their vast subterranean cities, and biosuits to augment their otherwise limited physical capabilities. Xona infiltration has been the most effective here, with the Wess having an excellent combination of vulnerability to mental control, and useful (stealable) technology. The Kurma are a species of sponge-like colonial organisms. Alone, they are little more than non-sentient aeroplanktonic filter feeders - however, in groups, they interface, creating minds of geometrically scaling complexity, with the intelligence to recognize the value of insuring against their species’ destruction by spreading their population over multiple worlds. Going has been slow against the Kurma, for though they are extremely physically vulnerable, mentally dominating a single individual produces the disappointing result of a single useless, barely-mobile minion, and the number of Xona needed to simultaneously dominate the entire population simply does not exist. Aruhn-Tch is the collective name of the Gurlatch Aruhn, a sentient, but uncilized collection of predators who resemble mammalian centipedes, who link their heads to their tails to locomote at high speeds in a wheel-like shape. Though they are consummate hunters, their lack of large-scale organization has rendered them vulnerable to assault by their slightly more orderly enemy. The Hweelu share similar problems in terms of political decentralization - these tripedal, mollusk-like creatures are constrained by a low dunbar number and a general lack of empathy for those outside of their immediate community, which has allowed their communities to be predated upon in a similar manner.
Closer to the main body of known space, the Galactic Republic’s remote proximity probes have detected a huge colony ship of unknown origins. The ship is running silently, apparently hoping to evade some sort of pursuer. An aggressive and somewhat hostile first contact set a gruff tone between the colonists and the Republic. According to the testimony of their leader Aritic, the ship belongs to members of a species called the Phaska, who are fleeing persecution and warfare on their homeworld and intend to start their civilization over once again, away from the terrible being that the colonists referred to in fearful terms as ‘The Judge’.
While this contact with a previously unknown species is of some interest, the Republic’s attention remains generally split between the subjugation of the Star-Forest at home, and the war with Ma’Autra on the coreward front. The Republic has won several border skirmishes, and has now begun to push out from its new base, in orbit around the Skriv homeworld of Zarr, and into the home space of the Eternal Union itself. Au’Tuc, the leading Maus of the Union, has pulled her forces back, allowing the periphery to fall to the invaders, in a manner that almost seems to be an attempt to goad the Galactic Republic into launching an attack into the core systems of Au and Uex.
Complicating the problems of Ma’Autra is inbound Rama fleet, whose movement has accelerated dramatically since the consumption of half of their titanic, planet-harvesting machines by a wandering Wera.
The Collectivity of Sanath maintains its firm vigil over the center of known space, focusing the majority of their attention in the conflicted region that once served as the border between the Association of Fplinmy and the Zan Shamai Empire. The threats of the Yplein have gone unrealized and Sanathi colonialism continues. The burned out husk of Shamai’s erstwhile throne world is beginning to be settled, as it is terraformed back to full habitability. The Jubblera remain as enigmatic and frustrating as ever, displaying both a preternatural awareness of Sanathi activities in the area, and an apparent inability or refusal to actually attempt to communicate. The only recent communication attempt, conducted by an enterprising Ullau working with a complex combination of pheromones, led to frightful mental trauma and the inadvertent destruction of his equipment by swarms of lustful jubblera. Elsewhere, Collectivity diplomats have descended on the homeworld of the Kog’Vlad, beginning to introduce this previously unaligned species to the wonders of Sanath, and the inevitability of benevolent galactic unity.
The former space of the Association of Fplinmy has become one of the most unstable regions in known space, as of late. While the ever-interventionist Sanathi press in from the counterspinwards front, heralds and spacefaring organisms belonging to the Galactic Social Democratic Union have begun to enter the region as well, preaching of a somewhat different view of what constitutes ‘benevolent galactic unity’. Further towards the core, the last pure-line Amur have found that their new colony world of Amur-sa was not as virgin and uninhabited as they had originally been led to believe. Mechanized lifeforms, of unknown origins, have been spotted stalking the peripheries of their habitations, greatly unsettling the already long-suffering Amur.
The habitant Ysir of Destination have at last been fully unified, under the singular network of Helgi of Hamme Oswig. Maintained in life far beyond his natural lifespan, the Network Lord crushed the last spawning matriarchs embedded in the crust of Destination, then immediately set out to reclaim his peoples’ place in the stars, and to begin the hunt for the ultimate enemy of the Ysir. Using the recently-acquired starships of Borg Arungveld, the Habitants have re-established a military presence in space, detecting vessels matching Fehan signatures floating a relatively short distance away, in deep space.
Fehan society continues to grow ever mightier, under the leadership of the fleet, even as the cradle of Fehan civilization itself, Helan, falls into disarray. Spurred on by advancing resource depletion, increasing marginalization by the Fleet, and the completely ossified social structure of the homeworld, a multitude wars have broken out amongst the various remaining states. Helan has been scarred heavily, but the Fleet has at last moved in, re-establishing order on the planet where their whole civilization began. Elsewhere, the Fleet continues to flex its muscles, easily intercepting and crushing a Surikahi spore inbound to Anlu.
Casualties mount at ever more disastrous rates for both the psionic supremacist forces of the Rachem Ascendancy, and the geno-industrialist juggernaut of the Kadanoff Unity. The latest phase in the war opened up with an impressive series of victories for the Rachem Ascendancy, as the stalwart fortress-world of Barum at last fell. The Ascendancy moved quickly to mobilize all of the captured manufacturing capacity, but a great deal had been destroyed in the brutal surface fighting and orbital bombardment that the world had sustained. Over Coeptru, the Ascendancy’s base of operations, the Kadanoff Unity’s force was graduall whittled down, until Rachemite ships managed to entirely overcome the enemy fleet, breaking the long stalemate. However, this would prove to be the high water mark of the Ascendancy’s advance. At this point, the sheer size of the Kadanoff Unity began to push back- the Unity had more engineers, more factories, more researchers… in essence, it could make better tools of war, and in greater quantities. While they possessed a potent advantage in close-range combat due to their potent psionic abilities, this advantage was becoming increasingly marginalized by the engineering of new, increasingly-resistant combat strains by the Unity. The Rachemites recognized this, and attempted a desperate advance towards Sapro, only to be interdicted and crushed by a much larger Kadanoff Fleet. The Unity jumped swiftly to Coeptru and proceeded to subject the planet to a vicious combined bombardment of conventional weaponry against orbital defences and habitat domes, and a murderous cocktail of precision-engineered viruses. With Coeptru sterilized and promptly re-occupied, the resurgent Kadanoff Unity now finds itself staring down the last remnants of the shattered Ascendancy, still fiercely holding out in the wartorn world of Barum.
Out on the extreme fringes of known space, Ksspopok and the Meli-Telanoch Exiles have begun to build a strong friendship, even providing space in their own home system for a new Samaynoch homeworld. While the friendship seems to be genuine, with the Samaynoch holding great appreciation for the Poy-Op tendency towards creation, rather than destruction, it can’t be denied that there is a distinctly pragmatic basis to the alliance as well, as the Exiles serve as a buffer against the quickly expanding sphere of influence of the Samaynoch Highclans. Unwilling to face the risk of going into a war unarmed, militaristic elements, recently incorporated into Ksspopok, have worked to develop some of their civilization’s first dedicated military spacecraft.
A short distance away from, and at the very edge of the knowledge of Ksspopok, the Chorn continue a massive buildup of ships in orbit around their home world, apparently part of some inscrutable intraspecies arms race. Observers are somewhat troubled by the apparently confrontational nature of this species, but for now, they are stil confined to subluminal space around their own home star system.
*****
A Fudirunin, dyed orange (as was the fashion on Pinnatisect), sat nestled up against the side of a Cherwel, inside a small observation station. The Cherwel’s hands were immersed in a viscous fluid, her dexterous fingers manipulating the massive data feeds passing through the facility.
“Stop, Nuren.” The Fudirunin’s voice was dry and crackly, like one who had not spoken in some time.
“Eh? What?”
“The gestalt of Nidkubra has gone on alert. Spotted something. Grant me a moment.”
The Cherwel Nuren’s digits twirled generating minute eddies and currents in the gel interface, bringing up readings from several other stations.
“S’pose it’s another one of those colonist vessels?” Nuren’s question had the practiced disinterest of someone who had seen far too many false positives.
The Fudirunin was humming gratingly, vibrating slightly as it did so. Abruptly it stopped, and shuddered somewhat.
“It’s not one vessel. We’ve got multiple readings… measurable separation…”
Nuren’s eyes moved up to the screen as the vast collection of vectors from all of the different observatories compiled, triangulating points on the projected galactic map.
“Not matching the readings for the colonists… it’s… oh no.”
On the projected starchart, a growing cloud of contacts were appearing on the rimward fringe of Republic space. Their distinctive superluminal signatures, rippling tears in spacetime, left no question as to their identity.
“Mother Almighty.” Nuren breathed, her body stiffening in fear.
“Zan.”
Map
Beyond the fringes of known space, beyond the outermost beacons that mark the borders of the progenitor civilization of Turamak Katzil, a collection of unassuming species, each living in relative isolation from each other, have all come under assaults from a never-before-encountered foe. Calling themselves Xona, these large, snakelike multi-limbed creatures have become a terror everywhere they reach. Possessed of a uniquely dangerous combination of psychic abilities, physical prowess and a culture that resembles nothing so much as a collection of disparate, bloodthirsty gangs called ‘Ssolor’.
Their unfortunate neighbours are the Wess Guardianship, the Kurma, Aruhn-Tch, and the Hweelu Tribes. The Wess are the most technologically advanced civilization among them, although they were forcibly cast out of interstellar space many generations ago, and now live in hiding, utilizing advanced technology to support their vast subterranean cities, and biosuits to augment their otherwise limited physical capabilities. Xona infiltration has been the most effective here, with the Wess having an excellent combination of vulnerability to mental control, and useful (stealable) technology. The Kurma are a species of sponge-like colonial organisms. Alone, they are little more than non-sentient aeroplanktonic filter feeders - however, in groups, they interface, creating minds of geometrically scaling complexity, with the intelligence to recognize the value of insuring against their species’ destruction by spreading their population over multiple worlds. Going has been slow against the Kurma, for though they are extremely physically vulnerable, mentally dominating a single individual produces the disappointing result of a single useless, barely-mobile minion, and the number of Xona needed to simultaneously dominate the entire population simply does not exist. Aruhn-Tch is the collective name of the Gurlatch Aruhn, a sentient, but uncilized collection of predators who resemble mammalian centipedes, who link their heads to their tails to locomote at high speeds in a wheel-like shape. Though they are consummate hunters, their lack of large-scale organization has rendered them vulnerable to assault by their slightly more orderly enemy. The Hweelu share similar problems in terms of political decentralization - these tripedal, mollusk-like creatures are constrained by a low dunbar number and a general lack of empathy for those outside of their immediate community, which has allowed their communities to be predated upon in a similar manner.
Closer to the main body of known space, the Galactic Republic’s remote proximity probes have detected a huge colony ship of unknown origins. The ship is running silently, apparently hoping to evade some sort of pursuer. An aggressive and somewhat hostile first contact set a gruff tone between the colonists and the Republic. According to the testimony of their leader Aritic, the ship belongs to members of a species called the Phaska, who are fleeing persecution and warfare on their homeworld and intend to start their civilization over once again, away from the terrible being that the colonists referred to in fearful terms as ‘The Judge’.
While this contact with a previously unknown species is of some interest, the Republic’s attention remains generally split between the subjugation of the Star-Forest at home, and the war with Ma’Autra on the coreward front. The Republic has won several border skirmishes, and has now begun to push out from its new base, in orbit around the Skriv homeworld of Zarr, and into the home space of the Eternal Union itself. Au’Tuc, the leading Maus of the Union, has pulled her forces back, allowing the periphery to fall to the invaders, in a manner that almost seems to be an attempt to goad the Galactic Republic into launching an attack into the core systems of Au and Uex.
Complicating the problems of Ma’Autra is inbound Rama fleet, whose movement has accelerated dramatically since the consumption of half of their titanic, planet-harvesting machines by a wandering Wera.
The Collectivity of Sanath maintains its firm vigil over the center of known space, focusing the majority of their attention in the conflicted region that once served as the border between the Association of Fplinmy and the Zan Shamai Empire. The threats of the Yplein have gone unrealized and Sanathi colonialism continues. The burned out husk of Shamai’s erstwhile throne world is beginning to be settled, as it is terraformed back to full habitability. The Jubblera remain as enigmatic and frustrating as ever, displaying both a preternatural awareness of Sanathi activities in the area, and an apparent inability or refusal to actually attempt to communicate. The only recent communication attempt, conducted by an enterprising Ullau working with a complex combination of pheromones, led to frightful mental trauma and the inadvertent destruction of his equipment by swarms of lustful jubblera. Elsewhere, Collectivity diplomats have descended on the homeworld of the Kog’Vlad, beginning to introduce this previously unaligned species to the wonders of Sanath, and the inevitability of benevolent galactic unity.
The former space of the Association of Fplinmy has become one of the most unstable regions in known space, as of late. While the ever-interventionist Sanathi press in from the counterspinwards front, heralds and spacefaring organisms belonging to the Galactic Social Democratic Union have begun to enter the region as well, preaching of a somewhat different view of what constitutes ‘benevolent galactic unity’. Further towards the core, the last pure-line Amur have found that their new colony world of Amur-sa was not as virgin and uninhabited as they had originally been led to believe. Mechanized lifeforms, of unknown origins, have been spotted stalking the peripheries of their habitations, greatly unsettling the already long-suffering Amur.
The habitant Ysir of Destination have at last been fully unified, under the singular network of Helgi of Hamme Oswig. Maintained in life far beyond his natural lifespan, the Network Lord crushed the last spawning matriarchs embedded in the crust of Destination, then immediately set out to reclaim his peoples’ place in the stars, and to begin the hunt for the ultimate enemy of the Ysir. Using the recently-acquired starships of Borg Arungveld, the Habitants have re-established a military presence in space, detecting vessels matching Fehan signatures floating a relatively short distance away, in deep space.
Fehan society continues to grow ever mightier, under the leadership of the fleet, even as the cradle of Fehan civilization itself, Helan, falls into disarray. Spurred on by advancing resource depletion, increasing marginalization by the Fleet, and the completely ossified social structure of the homeworld, a multitude wars have broken out amongst the various remaining states. Helan has been scarred heavily, but the Fleet has at last moved in, re-establishing order on the planet where their whole civilization began. Elsewhere, the Fleet continues to flex its muscles, easily intercepting and crushing a Surikahi spore inbound to Anlu.
Casualties mount at ever more disastrous rates for both the psionic supremacist forces of the Rachem Ascendancy, and the geno-industrialist juggernaut of the Kadanoff Unity. The latest phase in the war opened up with an impressive series of victories for the Rachem Ascendancy, as the stalwart fortress-world of Barum at last fell. The Ascendancy moved quickly to mobilize all of the captured manufacturing capacity, but a great deal had been destroyed in the brutal surface fighting and orbital bombardment that the world had sustained. Over Coeptru, the Ascendancy’s base of operations, the Kadanoff Unity’s force was graduall whittled down, until Rachemite ships managed to entirely overcome the enemy fleet, breaking the long stalemate. However, this would prove to be the high water mark of the Ascendancy’s advance. At this point, the sheer size of the Kadanoff Unity began to push back- the Unity had more engineers, more factories, more researchers… in essence, it could make better tools of war, and in greater quantities. While they possessed a potent advantage in close-range combat due to their potent psionic abilities, this advantage was becoming increasingly marginalized by the engineering of new, increasingly-resistant combat strains by the Unity. The Rachemites recognized this, and attempted a desperate advance towards Sapro, only to be interdicted and crushed by a much larger Kadanoff Fleet. The Unity jumped swiftly to Coeptru and proceeded to subject the planet to a vicious combined bombardment of conventional weaponry against orbital defences and habitat domes, and a murderous cocktail of precision-engineered viruses. With Coeptru sterilized and promptly re-occupied, the resurgent Kadanoff Unity now finds itself staring down the last remnants of the shattered Ascendancy, still fiercely holding out in the wartorn world of Barum.
Out on the extreme fringes of known space, Ksspopok and the Meli-Telanoch Exiles have begun to build a strong friendship, even providing space in their own home system for a new Samaynoch homeworld. While the friendship seems to be genuine, with the Samaynoch holding great appreciation for the Poy-Op tendency towards creation, rather than destruction, it can’t be denied that there is a distinctly pragmatic basis to the alliance as well, as the Exiles serve as a buffer against the quickly expanding sphere of influence of the Samaynoch Highclans. Unwilling to face the risk of going into a war unarmed, militaristic elements, recently incorporated into Ksspopok, have worked to develop some of their civilization’s first dedicated military spacecraft.
A short distance away from, and at the very edge of the knowledge of Ksspopok, the Chorn continue a massive buildup of ships in orbit around their home world, apparently part of some inscrutable intraspecies arms race. Observers are somewhat troubled by the apparently confrontational nature of this species, but for now, they are stil confined to subluminal space around their own home star system.
*****
A Fudirunin, dyed orange (as was the fashion on Pinnatisect), sat nestled up against the side of a Cherwel, inside a small observation station. The Cherwel’s hands were immersed in a viscous fluid, her dexterous fingers manipulating the massive data feeds passing through the facility.
“Stop, Nuren.” The Fudirunin’s voice was dry and crackly, like one who had not spoken in some time.
“Eh? What?”
“The gestalt of Nidkubra has gone on alert. Spotted something. Grant me a moment.”
The Cherwel Nuren’s digits twirled generating minute eddies and currents in the gel interface, bringing up readings from several other stations.
“S’pose it’s another one of those colonist vessels?” Nuren’s question had the practiced disinterest of someone who had seen far too many false positives.
The Fudirunin was humming gratingly, vibrating slightly as it did so. Abruptly it stopped, and shuddered somewhat.
“It’s not one vessel. We’ve got multiple readings… measurable separation…”
Nuren’s eyes moved up to the screen as the vast collection of vectors from all of the different observatories compiled, triangulating points on the projected galactic map.
“Not matching the readings for the colonists… it’s… oh no.”
On the projected starchart, a growing cloud of contacts were appearing on the rimward fringe of Republic space. Their distinctive superluminal signatures, rippling tears in spacetime, left no question as to their identity.
“Mother Almighty.” Nuren breathed, her body stiffening in fear.
“Zan.”
Map
Spoiler :
maybe I should soon join 
erez87
Lord of Random
- Joined
- May 16, 2002
- Messages
- 13,500
It says Yamal thereIt's not Yamal... He got destroyed by Turamak Katzil hundreds of thousands of years ago- keep guessing.
It can't be the head of the Hegemony, I'm not sure he should even be against Kena (he should be awfully weird, kind of like me
). I forgot who is the master of the Zan Network and the Creator of the Zan Suite. But it can't be them. Far too special (thou the first one should be awfully against Kena while the second should side with the hegemony, but have second thoughts).I didn't make up many more Zans
... Malwai wasn't my idea for example...
erez87
Lord of Random
- Joined
- May 16, 2002
- Messages
- 13,500
The one that killed that silly A.I. makers race.And that's what I get for posting an update at 3:30 AM. I thought I'd erased those.
What you see there is the former homeworld of Yamal... however, given his death, the system's current owner is a different individual.
Luckymoose
The World is Mine
Qurman
“It is the ends.”
“It is the ends.”
Luckymoose
The World is Mine
Hello, I've Waited Here For You
Such a beautiful ship, thought the Lauki captain as he sat in his commander’s position on the bridge of the Thousandth Pink Spine. He’d served his twenty long years of life in the fleet, earning, at last, the helm of a sizable cruiser. She was four times as old as he. Far older ships still served in the fleet, that much was certain, but she was not fresh from the nanofabricators either. He ran his graspers along the armrests of his chair, gently feeling the cool gel-like substance that connected him to all the ship systems, should he need them.
He hoped he would not.
They drifted in the dark emptiness, far from any habitable system in their charts, to explore the sightings made by an observation station at the rimward edge of Republican space. The reports were worrying. Zan were always worrying. But this could not be Zan, for the last Zan war had ended centuries ago, could it? If the Zan were on this side of the galaxy, they were everywhere. The thought made his delicate mandibles twitch. He was so close to retirement. So very close.
So far, nothing.
“Run the scan again,” he said to the officers on the bridge.
There were far too few Lauki on this ship, he noticed. The crew had been formed almost entirely of Fudirunin, though Verthommes, Cherwels and Lauki filled in the other roles, in that order. The variously dyed creatures were not of his liking, and some may say he was indeed xenophobic, but he would repute that given the chance. He held nothing against the Fudirunin, except their ineptitude at combat. The Verthomme were slow, but quick to assess and handle a situation when the need arose, as often it did on the aging Spine. The Cherwels were, well, oddly flirtatious beings that made him uncomfortable to his core. Far too friendly and far too interested in matters that certainly were none of their business. Still, they could navigate like none other.
They did as he commanded, despite their physical limitations to the roles. A Lauki crew could have done it better, no doubt, and by Mother they all knew it. The scan went through, once again coming up empty for this sector. Something wasn’t right. If a Zan fleet had been in the area there would be something left behind if they had moved on, some residual hint of their ships’ drives.
“Anything?” he asked.
Without turning, one of the Cherwel officers spoke. “Nothing, Captain . . . wait.”
He did not wait.
His grasping digits slammed into the electronic gel on his armrests, sending a holographic screen whizzing towards him from across the bridge. The Cherwel made a sound of annoyance, but his own screen quickly refreshed to replace the stolen one. The sharp hologram display shone in a bright blue, with dots of red and green gliding across the scanned area. A rippling pulse sent out from the ship every half second sent back an ever updating map of their situation. There were thousands, tens of thousands, maybe more, red dots that could be only one thing . . . Zan!
“A report must be sent,” he said. “Quickly!”
“Already on the way to the fleet, Captain,” a Fudirunin replied.
“Ready the defenses,” he commanded. “Prepare to flee.”
His crew went to work as the red dots swarmed in on the Thousandth Pink Spire. The jumpdrive was a newer model, but the technology still took a few moments to spin up before the ship could be sprung across space.
“Bring it up on the main display,” he shouted.
The main displays at the far front of the bridge, along the entire wall, had been giving information on the ship’s systems, but now they were repurposed to show video of the approaching Zan menace. They were barely noticeable in the darkness of the void. Blade like ships, ten or twenty times the length of his Spire, drifted towards them in complete stealth. There we no lights to show observation decks. There were no lights at all. They blended into the depths of space like nothing he had ever witnessed. They were black and cold, unforgiving.
The crew held their breaths.
An unfamiliar beep came from a nearby Fudirunin station. It panicked at the unusual alert, possibly thinking the ship was under attack, but soon cooled.
“Download incoming from the fleet. Mother is coming here,” it said.
“What?” the captain said. His confusion had little time to subside as the download completed, and the streaming of Mother One began.
Her hologram formed like a mist of blues and whites, dancing elegantly from nothingness across the floor of the bridge. She was projected from everywhere – the ships had long been built to allow her image freedom of movement – and was truly a sight to behold. Her serpentine body reminded him of a Cherwel, sort of. She was unique in every way. It is impossible to describe your immortal and omnipresent mother as anything other than perfect.
“Child,” she said to him, indifferent.
“Mother,” he said, acknowledging her with a bow of his head.
“The jump sequence has been aborted,” called one of the Fudirunin pilots, concerned.
“I have done so,” she said. “My children do not run from Zan, do they?”
“But,” said the captain, seeking her attention.
“Nothing,” she snapped.
His mandibles quivered. He wanted to jump towards Republican space, but she would not allow it. It was not a matter of simply saying no, he knew, but of accepting what Mother had in store for them.
She glided as a specter might, across the bridge, hissing in her old tongue. The old Lauki captain stood from his seated position and stepped towards the center of the bridge, eyeing the main display.
“They . . .”
“Are the scourge of life,” she said for him. “Yes.”
As they watched, Lauki and ancient artificial intelligence together as one, the Zan ships opened like the flayed skin of a softer fleshed being. From the thousands of cuts that tore in the smooth black ships, tens of thousands more tiny, red-eyed masses of razor sharp limbs spun from within, shooting out in a swarm.
The sensors overloaded, failing to jumbled messages of corrupt data.
He backed away, his legs bumping into the seat of his captain’s chair. “We have to jump, Mother, we have to.”
Her translucent form waved in an arching motion and the firepower of the Thousandth Pink Spire lit up the darkness. Missiles and beams and explosive projectiles of all kinds struck the oncoming mass of metallic doom. Mother One hissed louder and deeper in her old tongue, as if begging the Zan to come harder.
“Crew, arm yourselves,” he cried.
The Zan drones were on the ship in seconds. The Spire could not hold off such numbers. She could not. Their blade limbs clanked on the exterior of the ship. It convulsed from explosions.
The main display went dark.
The hiss of depressurization stung in his ears. The drones were clawing through the hull of the ship. Everywhere. Mother One still danced with no fear. Of course, she had nothing to fear here. She fired the weaponry herself, infinitely more accurate than the best sailor of the fleet. But it would not be enough.
The spidery arms tore into the side wall of the bridge. He could hear the firefights in the corridors beyond. The ship was lost. He slammed his palm into the neckline of his uniform, sending a small force-field about his head. The display within read forty-five minutes of oxygen. The other crew around him did the same.
He reached, then, for a compartment beside his seat, drawing out a small, but powerful, handgun. He fired at the clawing arms that tore into the bridge, but he was old and his shots fell wide.
A drone burst through the wall of the bridge, bypassing the sealed doors altogether. It clawed its way in as the lights failed into darkness. Emergency lights shown in yellows and orange, giving enough light to see the outline of the Zan creation.
Mother One still hovered, glowing as a beacon of true light in the bridge. Had she diverted the last power to herself? She floated towards the spider drone as it slowed to a stop.
She hissed in her old tongue and the blackness of the drone opened up, a single red eye zooming to fix upon her shape. The drone tilted, perhaps in confusion? And then . . .
It laughed.
Such a beautiful ship, thought the Lauki captain as he sat in his commander’s position on the bridge of the Thousandth Pink Spine. He’d served his twenty long years of life in the fleet, earning, at last, the helm of a sizable cruiser. She was four times as old as he. Far older ships still served in the fleet, that much was certain, but she was not fresh from the nanofabricators either. He ran his graspers along the armrests of his chair, gently feeling the cool gel-like substance that connected him to all the ship systems, should he need them.
He hoped he would not.
They drifted in the dark emptiness, far from any habitable system in their charts, to explore the sightings made by an observation station at the rimward edge of Republican space. The reports were worrying. Zan were always worrying. But this could not be Zan, for the last Zan war had ended centuries ago, could it? If the Zan were on this side of the galaxy, they were everywhere. The thought made his delicate mandibles twitch. He was so close to retirement. So very close.
So far, nothing.
“Run the scan again,” he said to the officers on the bridge.
There were far too few Lauki on this ship, he noticed. The crew had been formed almost entirely of Fudirunin, though Verthommes, Cherwels and Lauki filled in the other roles, in that order. The variously dyed creatures were not of his liking, and some may say he was indeed xenophobic, but he would repute that given the chance. He held nothing against the Fudirunin, except their ineptitude at combat. The Verthomme were slow, but quick to assess and handle a situation when the need arose, as often it did on the aging Spine. The Cherwels were, well, oddly flirtatious beings that made him uncomfortable to his core. Far too friendly and far too interested in matters that certainly were none of their business. Still, they could navigate like none other.
They did as he commanded, despite their physical limitations to the roles. A Lauki crew could have done it better, no doubt, and by Mother they all knew it. The scan went through, once again coming up empty for this sector. Something wasn’t right. If a Zan fleet had been in the area there would be something left behind if they had moved on, some residual hint of their ships’ drives.
“Anything?” he asked.
Without turning, one of the Cherwel officers spoke. “Nothing, Captain . . . wait.”
He did not wait.
His grasping digits slammed into the electronic gel on his armrests, sending a holographic screen whizzing towards him from across the bridge. The Cherwel made a sound of annoyance, but his own screen quickly refreshed to replace the stolen one. The sharp hologram display shone in a bright blue, with dots of red and green gliding across the scanned area. A rippling pulse sent out from the ship every half second sent back an ever updating map of their situation. There were thousands, tens of thousands, maybe more, red dots that could be only one thing . . . Zan!
“A report must be sent,” he said. “Quickly!”
“Already on the way to the fleet, Captain,” a Fudirunin replied.
“Ready the defenses,” he commanded. “Prepare to flee.”
His crew went to work as the red dots swarmed in on the Thousandth Pink Spire. The jumpdrive was a newer model, but the technology still took a few moments to spin up before the ship could be sprung across space.
“Bring it up on the main display,” he shouted.
The main displays at the far front of the bridge, along the entire wall, had been giving information on the ship’s systems, but now they were repurposed to show video of the approaching Zan menace. They were barely noticeable in the darkness of the void. Blade like ships, ten or twenty times the length of his Spire, drifted towards them in complete stealth. There we no lights to show observation decks. There were no lights at all. They blended into the depths of space like nothing he had ever witnessed. They were black and cold, unforgiving.
The crew held their breaths.
An unfamiliar beep came from a nearby Fudirunin station. It panicked at the unusual alert, possibly thinking the ship was under attack, but soon cooled.
“Download incoming from the fleet. Mother is coming here,” it said.
“What?” the captain said. His confusion had little time to subside as the download completed, and the streaming of Mother One began.
Her hologram formed like a mist of blues and whites, dancing elegantly from nothingness across the floor of the bridge. She was projected from everywhere – the ships had long been built to allow her image freedom of movement – and was truly a sight to behold. Her serpentine body reminded him of a Cherwel, sort of. She was unique in every way. It is impossible to describe your immortal and omnipresent mother as anything other than perfect.
“Child,” she said to him, indifferent.
“Mother,” he said, acknowledging her with a bow of his head.
“The jump sequence has been aborted,” called one of the Fudirunin pilots, concerned.
“I have done so,” she said. “My children do not run from Zan, do they?”
“But,” said the captain, seeking her attention.
“Nothing,” she snapped.
His mandibles quivered. He wanted to jump towards Republican space, but she would not allow it. It was not a matter of simply saying no, he knew, but of accepting what Mother had in store for them.
She glided as a specter might, across the bridge, hissing in her old tongue. The old Lauki captain stood from his seated position and stepped towards the center of the bridge, eyeing the main display.
“They . . .”
“Are the scourge of life,” she said for him. “Yes.”
As they watched, Lauki and ancient artificial intelligence together as one, the Zan ships opened like the flayed skin of a softer fleshed being. From the thousands of cuts that tore in the smooth black ships, tens of thousands more tiny, red-eyed masses of razor sharp limbs spun from within, shooting out in a swarm.
The sensors overloaded, failing to jumbled messages of corrupt data.
He backed away, his legs bumping into the seat of his captain’s chair. “We have to jump, Mother, we have to.”
Her translucent form waved in an arching motion and the firepower of the Thousandth Pink Spire lit up the darkness. Missiles and beams and explosive projectiles of all kinds struck the oncoming mass of metallic doom. Mother One hissed louder and deeper in her old tongue, as if begging the Zan to come harder.
“Crew, arm yourselves,” he cried.
The Zan drones were on the ship in seconds. The Spire could not hold off such numbers. She could not. Their blade limbs clanked on the exterior of the ship. It convulsed from explosions.
The main display went dark.
The hiss of depressurization stung in his ears. The drones were clawing through the hull of the ship. Everywhere. Mother One still danced with no fear. Of course, she had nothing to fear here. She fired the weaponry herself, infinitely more accurate than the best sailor of the fleet. But it would not be enough.
The spidery arms tore into the side wall of the bridge. He could hear the firefights in the corridors beyond. The ship was lost. He slammed his palm into the neckline of his uniform, sending a small force-field about his head. The display within read forty-five minutes of oxygen. The other crew around him did the same.
He reached, then, for a compartment beside his seat, drawing out a small, but powerful, handgun. He fired at the clawing arms that tore into the bridge, but he was old and his shots fell wide.
A drone burst through the wall of the bridge, bypassing the sealed doors altogether. It clawed its way in as the lights failed into darkness. Emergency lights shown in yellows and orange, giving enough light to see the outline of the Zan creation.
Mother One still hovered, glowing as a beacon of true light in the bridge. Had she diverted the last power to herself? She floated towards the spider drone as it slowed to a stop.
She hissed in her old tongue and the blackness of the drone opened up, a single red eye zooming to fix upon her shape. The drone tilted, perhaps in confusion? And then . . .
It laughed.
A Transmission to Fehan Fleet Command
Origin: Inner-Arm Research, Exploration and Diplomatic Expedition
Notes: Expedition has been out of contact for 212 cycles, Relative Helan Time
Though we highly doubt that this message will ever be read, given Fleet Command's apparent inability to respond to any of our transmissions over the last several hundred cycles, we will continue to broadcast for as long as is feasibly possible- for despite all that has happened, we are Fleet, and we have a certain set of standards to uphold.
Following up from our last report, we have escaped from our captivity, with enough stolen equipment to re-establish a contact with one of our entangled transmission buoys. Unfortunately, our self-liberation was not without casualties- Ensign Kiri had to be euthanized by our crew, following her lobotomization by an alien technique which our scientists believe to have been copulatory in nature. It is unclear whether the aliens are aware that Fehan reproductive methods render copulation unnecessary and highly damaging to our physiology. Kiri's loss reduces our number to 14, from an initial crew of 80.
On the plus side, a rough calculation suggests that this will allow our food supply to last upwards of six percent longer.
The locations of both of our captured vessels remain unknown, and we are no closer to discovering their locations than we were when we were first separated from them upon our arrival in this subsector. At present, we expect our escape and long-term survival to be highly improbable- unless, of course, you have been quietly receiving our messages all along, and have a rescue fleet waiting in the wings to sweep us to safety- which we doubt.
If, by some miraculous chance, you are able to reach us, then please do avoid the mistakes we made. Instead of following the standard first contact protocol, we advise you to open fire as soon as they enter sensor range, and don't stop shooting until the [redacted] rapist [redacted]-[redacted] bug-flower things are subatomic waste.
Hah. I wish. [redacted] you, you [redacted] [redacted]! You've been listening long enough! I've had it up to my [redacted] with you and your [redacted] silence, and every time I write one of these [redacted] reports everything that we have put up with just boils to the surface and makes me want to just beat your [redacted] cranium back into your [redacted] with a [redacted] [redacted].
Maintaining proper discipline amongst the surviving crew has proven increasingly difficult as of late.
[extended vulgar passage redacted]
Please send help. Our lack of telemetry equipment prevents us from providing exact coordinates, but we shouldn't be too far away from our last known trajectory, unless they actually have significantly relocated us, which is a possibility.
Signing Out, Once Again Without Anticipation of Response,
-Third Officer Rahikiki, Acting Commander of the Inner-Arm Research, Exploration and Diplomatic Expedition
Origin: Inner-Arm Research, Exploration and Diplomatic Expedition
Notes: Expedition has been out of contact for 212 cycles, Relative Helan Time
Though we highly doubt that this message will ever be read, given Fleet Command's apparent inability to respond to any of our transmissions over the last several hundred cycles, we will continue to broadcast for as long as is feasibly possible- for despite all that has happened, we are Fleet, and we have a certain set of standards to uphold.
Following up from our last report, we have escaped from our captivity, with enough stolen equipment to re-establish a contact with one of our entangled transmission buoys. Unfortunately, our self-liberation was not without casualties- Ensign Kiri had to be euthanized by our crew, following her lobotomization by an alien technique which our scientists believe to have been copulatory in nature. It is unclear whether the aliens are aware that Fehan reproductive methods render copulation unnecessary and highly damaging to our physiology. Kiri's loss reduces our number to 14, from an initial crew of 80.
On the plus side, a rough calculation suggests that this will allow our food supply to last upwards of six percent longer.
The locations of both of our captured vessels remain unknown, and we are no closer to discovering their locations than we were when we were first separated from them upon our arrival in this subsector. At present, we expect our escape and long-term survival to be highly improbable- unless, of course, you have been quietly receiving our messages all along, and have a rescue fleet waiting in the wings to sweep us to safety- which we doubt.
If, by some miraculous chance, you are able to reach us, then please do avoid the mistakes we made. Instead of following the standard first contact protocol, we advise you to open fire as soon as they enter sensor range, and don't stop shooting until the [redacted] rapist [redacted]-[redacted] bug-flower things are subatomic waste.
Hah. I wish. [redacted] you, you [redacted] [redacted]! You've been listening long enough! I've had it up to my [redacted] with you and your [redacted] silence, and every time I write one of these [redacted] reports everything that we have put up with just boils to the surface and makes me want to just beat your [redacted] cranium back into your [redacted] with a [redacted] [redacted].
Maintaining proper discipline amongst the surviving crew has proven increasingly difficult as of late.
[extended vulgar passage redacted]
Please send help. Our lack of telemetry equipment prevents us from providing exact coordinates, but we shouldn't be too far away from our last known trajectory, unless they actually have significantly relocated us, which is a possibility.
Signing Out, Once Again Without Anticipation of Response,
-Third Officer Rahikiki, Acting Commander of the Inner-Arm Research, Exploration and Diplomatic Expedition
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