Bil
Prince of Space
No problem 
SLYNES - Swirly Lights Yonder, a Never Ending Story
- Thread starter Bil
- Start date
Daftpanzer
canonically ambiguous
Great update 
And I apologise for my awesome luck! I guess it's the universe's way of balancing all the damage we will take later for being so naive and trusting
And I apologise for my awesome luck! I guess it's the universe's way of balancing all the damage we will take later for being so naive and trusting
Bil
Prince of Space
You betcha! 
I think I'm going to put off the story until tomorrow, but I'll let you know when it's written up. It'll be good to have a substantial interaction, I'm just sorry it wasn't between two PC's. That'll come soon, though, I'm sure.
I think I'm going to put off the story until tomorrow, but I'll let you know when it's written up. It'll be good to have a substantial interaction, I'm just sorry it wasn't between two PC's. That'll come soon, though, I'm sure.
TaylorFlame
Nuclear Whale
- Joined
- Jan 15, 2008
- Messages
- 435
I hate to gripe but if I got a sudden increase of 0.5e to my income doesn't that put it at 2e/turn? Otherwise, great update!
Anonymoose
KING OF MEESE
I'm waiting to hear from you before I post anything. We had some issues. Things will make more sense to everyone soon.
Bil
Prince of Space
You're right, my mistake! I'll make the correction, but it won't affect your present "available" economy as that was gained before your income changed.
Bil
Prince of Space
Lelinthian story up!
Thedreadedlock
Chieftain
Spoiler :
Hae and those training for space exploration are not the only Bako Tellians there are, and while the general consensus is an overall enthusiasm for the space program, most will not leave the planet. Along with the Hypertranslation of Haes diary there will also be the stories of Bako Tellians who are going to be bound to Bako, they may leave, they may not, but their primary focuses lie elsewhere. The stories that will be released will be: Med Fercury, frontlian of the band Faluta, arguably the second, I meant the biggest entertainer on Bako; Ets, a simple scorll farmer, trying to raise his crops and his children; and Clo, a Tellian of questionable character
Anonymoose
KING OF MEESE
Awesome stories, Dreadedlock. I will post a story after Bestshot posts his tomorrow, look forward to Worker Bil and some other very interesting developments.
Daftpanzer
canonically ambiguous
Coolness
@Bil I will have a story reply tomorrow. Great work with the Lelinthians, if I may say so Its interesting that I had a similar idea in my own head, for a race of psychic/scientist jellyfish, with servants on land. Except in my head, the land servants were actually the larval stage of the same species.
Anyway, I imagine my fleet is not well armed at all, and is badly scattered and disorganised, and probably has lots of mechanical problems. This will be interesting
@Bil I will have a story reply tomorrow. Great work with the Lelinthians, if I may say so
Its interesting that I had a similar idea in my own head, for a race of psychic/scientist jellyfish, with servants on land. Except in my head, the land servants were actually the larval stage of the same species.Anyway, I imagine my fleet is not well armed at all, and is badly scattered and disorganised, and probably has lots of mechanical problems. This will be interesting
Bil
Prince of Space
I don't know when to set the deadline, so I won't officially do so at all yet. I was considering Monday night, but if that's too soon, just protest violently and I'll consider changing it to a later day of next week.
TaylorFlame
Nuclear Whale
- Joined
- Jan 15, 2008
- Messages
- 435
I love the Lelinthians.
Also, could you send me the details of the system I just explored or did you stop that practice?
Also, could you send me the details of the system I just explored or did you stop that practice?
Bil
Prince of Space
Shoot, I forgot to do that, huh? My deepest apologies! On their way momentarily...
EDIT: Results of exploration sent to TaylorFlame, Daftpanzer, Fuschia, and Megaman_zx. The Distopteran exploration result will not be made public until that colony is somehow reconnected to the hive.
EDIT: Results of exploration sent to TaylorFlame, Daftpanzer, Fuschia, and Megaman_zx. The Distopteran exploration result will not be made public until that colony is somehow reconnected to the hive.
Lico Chaeh
It was a clear day, and the star Haedkhad shone down brightly upon a great field of the Thotha, the bright red organic mesh which carpeted much of the world. This particular field was in central Hitheth, one of the most ancient regions of Hletho civilization. Emerging from the mesh like some sea-beast breaching out of the ocean, a series of slightly curved, whitish metallic ribs extended into the sky at a 45 degree angle, held up by raw tensile strength, and a series of tethers extending out at particular visually pleasing angles. Between the ribs was a smooth fill of solar-energy cells, reflecting the bright blue sky as well as diffracting it into a bright rainbow of colour, slowly shifting as ones eye rose up the side of the sstructure. Beneath this sweeping structure was the body of a large research facility.
A human might be struck by the apparent isolation of this laboratory- indeed, by the apparent isolation of much of Thaej. There are several explanations for this. Thaej is just slightly larger than Earth, and possesses significantly more surface area. However, this fact is rather unimportant compared to the population of the Hletho, which has remained steadily in the low hundred millions for the last several millennia. Finally, due in part to the decentralized nature of political power on Thaej, and the historical tendency towards intense specialization by particular clades, many groups ended up founding their own tiny fortresses and settlements, distinct and separate from each other.
While it has been claimed that the Hletho have little appreciation for physical art, this sweeping statement should perhaps be clarified. While art for arts sake- paintings, sculptures, and the like- is rare and abnormal, a certain creative impulse towards art with utility is frequently expressed. This appears almost ubiquitously in Hletho architecture and engineering, where designs are made with very great consideration to mixing aesthetics with utility, an act at which the Hletho have become exceedingly effective, given their countless millennia of experience. Naturally, there is significant variation on architectural thought across Thaej. The Sahlons have tended towards more stylistically-oriented constructions, while the Rhoans of the equatorial badlands, at the opposite end of the spectrum, find a different kind of beauty in raw utilitarian design.
At any rate, our story begins with the emergence of one Lico Chaeh, director of aviation engineering, from the building in question. Rolling along an elevated track above the Thotha, he was en route to the nearby terminal, when his antennae picked up on the presence of a nearby group- one that had become all-too familiar in recent times. Inwardly, he winced, and prepared for the onslaught.
Hey! Hey! Hey!
Lico Chaeh froze, pinpointing the direction of the call.
A trio of females wheeled around the lone Hletho, surrounding him. The leader, still slowly revolving around him, burst out into a threatening staccato boast, a typical combative greeting.
Hey! Chaeh! You shrivelled Hithetho birthwaste! Eyes on me! You know I want my favours back! I dont need to wait on your useless asymmetrical self!
Nahir! exclaimed the exasperated male, Damnable great mother, you know that I cant reciprocate now.
Nahir, the leader of the trio, lolled her tongues in a mixture of frustration and amusement- a common Hletho emotion. With a casual move, she slid one of her arms past her belt, whipped out a blade and, in a deft movement, flipped it into an open position, pressing it against Chaehs soft axle (the central region of a Hletho body).
You know, out in far Hrolaton, the price on your life almost as high as what you owe us for the metal you took for that startraveler project.
Well then I dont intend to go there, do I now Betho Nahir? Now let me go on my way so that youll get your favours back sooner.
Im calling in interest this time. You know how much work my mothers mothers second sons wifes familys put into the forges for this?
The whole Betho clades worked hard on it, damnit, and my works just taking a little longer than Id expected for it reach a productive phase. You know that Lico clades hard at work, and were the best in the region. Itll get done!
Got to keep you motivated for success then, dont we? Nahir laughed and flipped the knife lazily back into her belt. Ill be around.
Youre always around. Now please, Ive got to get to the cylinder terminal to attend to some important business in Lehed.
Nahir clicked her jaws, a gesture which might be the rough equivalent of a raised eyebrow in human conversation.
Make it quick. You dont want us to bring out the long knives any more than we do.
Itll be done Nahir. Have I failed you yet?
Youre running dangerously close to it.
The females backed away, allowing Chaeh to pass by and enter the cylinder pod. The portal sealed, and the pod began to accelerate away. Chaeh kept his attentions focused on the females of Betho clade as they faded into the distance, before they disappeared from view. Relaxing, he tapped several panels around him, bringing up a workstation interface. In moments, he was entirely focused back on his work. Run of the mill death threats from his colleagues could wait.
It was a clear day, and the star Haedkhad shone down brightly upon a great field of the Thotha, the bright red organic mesh which carpeted much of the world. This particular field was in central Hitheth, one of the most ancient regions of Hletho civilization. Emerging from the mesh like some sea-beast breaching out of the ocean, a series of slightly curved, whitish metallic ribs extended into the sky at a 45 degree angle, held up by raw tensile strength, and a series of tethers extending out at particular visually pleasing angles. Between the ribs was a smooth fill of solar-energy cells, reflecting the bright blue sky as well as diffracting it into a bright rainbow of colour, slowly shifting as ones eye rose up the side of the sstructure. Beneath this sweeping structure was the body of a large research facility.
A human might be struck by the apparent isolation of this laboratory- indeed, by the apparent isolation of much of Thaej. There are several explanations for this. Thaej is just slightly larger than Earth, and possesses significantly more surface area. However, this fact is rather unimportant compared to the population of the Hletho, which has remained steadily in the low hundred millions for the last several millennia. Finally, due in part to the decentralized nature of political power on Thaej, and the historical tendency towards intense specialization by particular clades, many groups ended up founding their own tiny fortresses and settlements, distinct and separate from each other.
While it has been claimed that the Hletho have little appreciation for physical art, this sweeping statement should perhaps be clarified. While art for arts sake- paintings, sculptures, and the like- is rare and abnormal, a certain creative impulse towards art with utility is frequently expressed. This appears almost ubiquitously in Hletho architecture and engineering, where designs are made with very great consideration to mixing aesthetics with utility, an act at which the Hletho have become exceedingly effective, given their countless millennia of experience. Naturally, there is significant variation on architectural thought across Thaej. The Sahlons have tended towards more stylistically-oriented constructions, while the Rhoans of the equatorial badlands, at the opposite end of the spectrum, find a different kind of beauty in raw utilitarian design.
At any rate, our story begins with the emergence of one Lico Chaeh, director of aviation engineering, from the building in question. Rolling along an elevated track above the Thotha, he was en route to the nearby terminal, when his antennae picked up on the presence of a nearby group- one that had become all-too familiar in recent times. Inwardly, he winced, and prepared for the onslaught.
Hey! Hey! Hey!
Lico Chaeh froze, pinpointing the direction of the call.
A trio of females wheeled around the lone Hletho, surrounding him. The leader, still slowly revolving around him, burst out into a threatening staccato boast, a typical combative greeting.
Hey! Chaeh! You shrivelled Hithetho birthwaste! Eyes on me! You know I want my favours back! I dont need to wait on your useless asymmetrical self!
Nahir! exclaimed the exasperated male, Damnable great mother, you know that I cant reciprocate now.
Nahir, the leader of the trio, lolled her tongues in a mixture of frustration and amusement- a common Hletho emotion. With a casual move, she slid one of her arms past her belt, whipped out a blade and, in a deft movement, flipped it into an open position, pressing it against Chaehs soft axle (the central region of a Hletho body).
You know, out in far Hrolaton, the price on your life almost as high as what you owe us for the metal you took for that startraveler project.
Well then I dont intend to go there, do I now Betho Nahir? Now let me go on my way so that youll get your favours back sooner.
Im calling in interest this time. You know how much work my mothers mothers second sons wifes familys put into the forges for this?
The whole Betho clades worked hard on it, damnit, and my works just taking a little longer than Id expected for it reach a productive phase. You know that Lico clades hard at work, and were the best in the region. Itll get done!
Got to keep you motivated for success then, dont we? Nahir laughed and flipped the knife lazily back into her belt. Ill be around.
Youre always around. Now please, Ive got to get to the cylinder terminal to attend to some important business in Lehed.
Nahir clicked her jaws, a gesture which might be the rough equivalent of a raised eyebrow in human conversation.
Make it quick. You dont want us to bring out the long knives any more than we do.
Itll be done Nahir. Have I failed you yet?
Youre running dangerously close to it.
The females backed away, allowing Chaeh to pass by and enter the cylinder pod. The portal sealed, and the pod began to accelerate away. Chaeh kept his attentions focused on the females of Betho clade as they faded into the distance, before they disappeared from view. Relaxing, he tapped several panels around him, bringing up a workstation interface. In moments, he was entirely focused back on his work. Run of the mill death threats from his colleagues could wait.
Anonymoose
KING OF MEESE
From here on out, The Disopterans are going to have their stories told as two hives: The newly formed Nekopterans, and, of course, the Old Hive. The Nekopterans will develop with time to have some traits that the Old Hivemind doesnt have, but theyll still be closely allied with the Old Hive. As always, Worker Bil will be updated with every story post.
Disopterus: The Hive was doing what it always did: work. The loss of a few thousand workers and a hundred thinkers was not relevant. Their numbers had been replaced a couple of days after they left. The most startling development that the Hive was trying to work on was the newfound autonomy of this settlement on Nekopterus. The Hivemind was pondering this for days, first considering it a threat, but developing the thought more The new Hive would be an ally, for the good of the species. The Nekopterans were still Disopterans, they were just temporarily handicapped. The Hive decided to wait on that front. The other front that the Hivemind was dealing with was the rapid depletion of resources on the planet. Building swarm-ships was a very costly endeavor, so the Hive needed to stop hollowing out the homeworld and find some other resource. The next swarm-ship would be much larger than the previous ships, and would carry the Hivemind to new systems where it could capitalize on the resources while not destroying the planet where the rest of the Hive will be hibernating. By the time the thought was completed, several thousand workers were heading into orbit to work on the Great Swarm-Ship. In her chambers, the Hivemother stopped giving birth. For the first time in several hundred years, the Hivemother quit reproducing. The Hive was getting ready to move.
Nekopterus: The new Hive survived by abandoning the hope of reconnecting with the old hive. A few light-years from their destination the Thinkers banded their minds together to act as a net to catch the minds of the workers that were on the ship. This proved no easy task, because the Thinkers were normally only support for the Nexus of the Hivemind, the Hivemother. They managed to catch practically all of the workers, while the others were going into some kind of auto-destroy mode. The Thinkers had them eradicated. Upon landing, the new Hive became aware that it was on a desert planet with no apparent vegetation, save for some terribly poisonous creeping plant. (The way the Nekopterans found out was to have a worker consume the plant.) An enormous rocky spine breached the sand like some ancient beast, and the Thinkers saw the entrance to caves there. While the makeshift nexus of the Hivemind stayed in the ship, hundreds of workers were dispatched to the caves. The Hivemind saw very little through the eyes of the workers, only some timid cave-mammals, which had a volume of roughly two liters. One source of food had been found. In the second cave, the workers found ample space for the new Hive. The temperature was dropping with the onset of night, so the Hive relocated to the cave. Tech and protection equipment would be taken from the fleet tomorrow, and the search for water could begin immediately. Workers didnt need light to dig for water, they just had to know what direction is down.
Worker Bil: Bil felt an itch in the back of his mind. The Thinker that had worked through him had left so many residual thoughts for his little worker brain. The language algorithms didnt make any sense to Bil, but he was utilizing them. All he needed was a little more articulation than the startled grunt this monster had made. It was obviously intelligent, what with a fashioned weapon and some kind of material covering its torso. Bil had overcome his shock, and was waiting on something, anything, from the beast.
Disopterus: The Hive was doing what it always did: work. The loss of a few thousand workers and a hundred thinkers was not relevant. Their numbers had been replaced a couple of days after they left. The most startling development that the Hive was trying to work on was the newfound autonomy of this settlement on Nekopterus. The Hivemind was pondering this for days, first considering it a threat, but developing the thought more The new Hive would be an ally, for the good of the species. The Nekopterans were still Disopterans, they were just temporarily handicapped. The Hive decided to wait on that front. The other front that the Hivemind was dealing with was the rapid depletion of resources on the planet. Building swarm-ships was a very costly endeavor, so the Hive needed to stop hollowing out the homeworld and find some other resource. The next swarm-ship would be much larger than the previous ships, and would carry the Hivemind to new systems where it could capitalize on the resources while not destroying the planet where the rest of the Hive will be hibernating. By the time the thought was completed, several thousand workers were heading into orbit to work on the Great Swarm-Ship. In her chambers, the Hivemother stopped giving birth. For the first time in several hundred years, the Hivemother quit reproducing. The Hive was getting ready to move.
Nekopterus: The new Hive survived by abandoning the hope of reconnecting with the old hive. A few light-years from their destination the Thinkers banded their minds together to act as a net to catch the minds of the workers that were on the ship. This proved no easy task, because the Thinkers were normally only support for the Nexus of the Hivemind, the Hivemother. They managed to catch practically all of the workers, while the others were going into some kind of auto-destroy mode. The Thinkers had them eradicated. Upon landing, the new Hive became aware that it was on a desert planet with no apparent vegetation, save for some terribly poisonous creeping plant. (The way the Nekopterans found out was to have a worker consume the plant.) An enormous rocky spine breached the sand like some ancient beast, and the Thinkers saw the entrance to caves there. While the makeshift nexus of the Hivemind stayed in the ship, hundreds of workers were dispatched to the caves. The Hivemind saw very little through the eyes of the workers, only some timid cave-mammals, which had a volume of roughly two liters. One source of food had been found. In the second cave, the workers found ample space for the new Hive. The temperature was dropping with the onset of night, so the Hive relocated to the cave. Tech and protection equipment would be taken from the fleet tomorrow, and the search for water could begin immediately. Workers didnt need light to dig for water, they just had to know what direction is down.
Worker Bil: Bil felt an itch in the back of his mind. The Thinker that had worked through him had left so many residual thoughts for his little worker brain. The language algorithms didnt make any sense to Bil, but he was utilizing them. All he needed was a little more articulation than the startled grunt this monster had made. It was obviously intelligent, what with a fashioned weapon and some kind of material covering its torso. Bil had overcome his shock, and was waiting on something, anything, from the beast.
Bil
Prince of Space
I think that if I run a similar game to this again, I'm definitely changing the income system. It is a blunder, or rather, will be very obviously a blunder in a few turns. I don't want to change it in mid-game, unless you guys are okay with it. Basically, what I want to do is, instead of a new colony offering just a flat and immediate increase to your income, every colony adds 0.5e/turn and has a maximum of what it can add once fully developed. So, if you had a colony that could potentially give 1.5e/turn, it would start as 0.5e/turn and you'd have to spend an amount to raise it to 1e/turn, then again to raise it to 1.5e/turn, but it couldn't go any higher than that. I was actually thinking that it might be reasonable to just use the same cost as colonization, since you're basically doing the same thing (bringing in loads of materials and people to set up new infrastructure), so every time you spend 2e on a colony its income goes up. I think that might balance income and economy a bit, because I'm pretty sure it's going to be awful pretty soon, what with new colonies being built up around the galaxy. So, anyway, would anyone mind if I changed the income system, or would you rather I didn't? We have about 8 mostly-active players at the moment, so if 5 people say "no" I won't do it, and if 5 say "okay" I will.
On a side note, the stories are coming along great, guys! Keep it up! Also, keep in mind that you don't have to limit yourselves to one write-up per turn, you can keep adding to it if you feel like it. I just don't want anyone to feel too limited, but I don't want any pressure to write super-super extensive stories either!
EDIT: And if any new players want to join, they're still welcome. You'll basically follow the same entrance path that everyone else did, and essentially start with a "Turn Zero" civ, and can advance from there.
On a side note, the stories are coming along great, guys! Keep it up! Also, keep in mind that you don't have to limit yourselves to one write-up per turn, you can keep adding to it if you feel like it. I just don't want anyone to feel too limited, but I don't want any pressure to write super-super extensive stories either!
EDIT: And if any new players want to join, they're still welcome. You'll basically follow the same entrance path that everyone else did, and essentially start with a "Turn Zero" civ, and can advance from there.
Daftpanzer
canonically ambiguous
Contact -5 hours, local system unnamed, interplanetary space
Exploration Ship #12/7 relaxed its space-time bubble and fell back into normal relativity. Behind the thick disk-like plate that divided the craft in two, various pieces of equipment glowed bright electric colours, gradually fading as the seconds past. Thermal-dump panels then became more noticeable, glowing red hot against the star-speckled background. Meanwhile the front of the craft basked in the golden glow of a nearby star, which was now just a light-hour distant. There wasn't much to see from (what passed as) the ship's bridge. Admittedly, the crew were more used to visiting smaller, dimmer red stars, but they had seen it all before. After years in space, the procedure was drilled into them. Various systems had just failed, as they always seemed to after a 'run'; the ship's interface hummed various warning sounds at low frequency, something the Satellian crew regarded with none of the intended urgency - it had become the familiar heartbeat of the ship.
It was #12/7's turn to play the lead - one of the most space-worthy ships would skip ahead of the others and lurk on the edge of the target system, while recharging its drives and making preliminary observations. By the time the rest of the ships arrived, the lead ship would already be sending data about the nearby planets, and would be able to run to the assistance of any ship in difficulty. Or at least, that was the idea.
Eventually, the astrological sensors were activated, confirming the ship's position against the most obvious stars. But the planet-finding sensors had failed again, as had the communications equipment. The ship's basic optical sensors and anti-collision radar could not detect the multiple large alien craft, nor could the crew be aware of the radio chatter from numerous alien habitats in the system - the crew were fully occupied dealing with a coolant leak in the bowels of the ship, while the Captain had coated herself with an EVA membrane and had crawled outside to tie down some equipment pods that were in danger of floating loose again. Meanwhile the ship's faulty communications equipment began randomly broadcasting detailed real-time data on the ship's temperature control system into deep space on a variety of frequencies...
Contact -1 hour
Exploration Ship #6/7 returned to normal relativity and immediately began to pitch and roll wildly as its stabilizers fired uncontrollably; just one symptom of an auxiliary power unit explosion. Inside, the crew struggled to reach various override switches against the constantly-changing forces of acceleration. Distorted warning sounds and flashing flights added to the sickening disorientation. The holographic 'avatar' of the ship's computer appeared at random intervals, orating less-than-helpful speech bubbles of garbled computer code. It was an embarrassing sight, as seasoned space travellers flailed all six limbs like first-timers in zero-g; there was just a hint of panic amongst some of the younger crewmembers, including a certain communication specialist by the name of Murrumue Ulunn, who couldn't help but close his eyes and retract his mouthparts as far as they would go. But in the midst of the chaos, something bothered him, something he had just seen in at the edge of his vision... The special signals display was ablaze with top-priority alerts.
Contact -53 minutes
Engineer Ship #1/7 had a comparatively smooth re-entry into flat space. The Fleet Captain, a venerable quadruple-centenarian by the name of Jurninn (Satellians tend to lose their miscellaneous family and regional names as they climb in reputation) delicately stroked his antennae as he read through the Ship's status report. The fleet currently had no method of faster-than-light communication, other than using the ships themselves to form a relay. It would be about an hour before the status of the whole fleet could be known. Procedures were lax, and the fleet had become badly scattered in the previous months - some ships had already begun the long journey home, plotting a course to intercept and cannibalise the various probes and automated facilities that had been left in their wake.
#1/7 was the newest and biggest ship, almost a third of a kilometre long, carrying a forest of robotic arms and stockpiles of replacement components. But there was only so much that could be done out here. Every ship was in need of a full mechanical overhaul at a proper engineering base. The nearest of these was now over three thousand light years away. It had taken a special effort to regroup the remaining ships for these last few rolls of the dice, before heading back. Yet, belatedly, the fleet was starting to act like a single Kinship, with a single purpose. The great mythical 'Signal' had yet to be confirmed, but at their last stop they had detected something else - faint, anomalous radio signals from a nearby star...
So here they were. Several of the nearest ships called in within a few minutes - most had minor technical problems, which was nothing unusual. What was unusual was the omnipresent background chatter, corresponding to no known encoding protocols.
Contact -31 minutes
The crew of #6/7 had managed to halt their ship's erratic manoeuvring, and were now struggling to tidy up the various boxes and pieces of equipment that had gone flying loose about the interior. One unfortunate crewmember was receiving treatment after being impaled on a large screwdriver-like implement; her inner skin had not been pierced, which all were thankful for, not least because bodily fluids made an unpleasant mess in micro-g. Meanwhile, crewman Murrumue Ulunn was literally glued to his special signals console, his body slowly oscillating with excitement. The display was, however, blank - save for a few smaller screens, rehashing a corrupted version of the last received alien signals. Power had gone out to various core systems, and the Captain was quite clear that the inter-fleet communications should be brought online first.
The communications dish focused on what was believed to be Engineer Ship #1/7 - the largest ship-like object in the vicinity - and broadcast a rather blunt request for various spare parts and the assistance of an extra engineer team. It was however broadcasting to an alien vessel.
Contact -10 minutes
Fleet Captain Jurninn folded his front two limbs together in front of his eyes, a gesture of both contemplation and an acknowledgement of forces beyond his control. Big questions remained over the status of the fleet, but it was clear that some ships had life-threatening problems. Perhaps the last run has been just a little too long and taxing - but shortening them meant more stops and starts, which was equally bad for the fleet's bubble drives.
The biggest concern, though, was the visual and infra-red detection of various large, artificial objects on an intercept course... And preliminary analysis of the background chatter suggested that it was indeed some kind of deliberate broadcast, containing both numerical patterns and what seemed to be... alien speech. Jurninn's limbs stiffened, raising his torso slightly, as he heard the distorted sounds played over the ship's intercom, shifted lower in frequency for the benefit of his internal Satellian ears. The accompanying crewmembers were likewise frozen in place, save for their mouthparts and eyes, which turned to face each other. Jurninn was a comforting presence for all of them, exuding an aura of determined tranquillity. Even the ship's cheerful system's avatar maintained a dignified silence. For a moment they allowed themselves to bask in the significance of it all.
The spell was broken by a sudden warning-rumbling from one of the computer consoles. A younger crewman overcame his discomfort to suggest there were signs of... weapons... being trained on the fleet, a suspicion soon reinforced by the nearest ships. Who would put weapons on a spaceship? Was this a test? How should we react?
They had expected any aliens they met to be older, wiser, benevolent - looking upon them as innocent children, or at worst, ignoring them as insignificant. They would be holding all the keys. They would have no need for violence. No aggressive or ignorant species could ever develop true sentience. But of course, Jurninn thought to himself, ever since we started venturing into space, these things had not been turning out according to expectations.
Jurninn lapsed back into stroking his antennae, leaving his crewmembers to exchange opinions, while he used one of his free rearward limbs to dial up a list of the fleet's heavy-duty tools on the main display. He should at least give a courtesy consideration to the prospect of defensive manoeuvres, he told himself. Each ship was fitted with welding gear, that was a start. Most also had a workable mining laser, able to bore holes in non-manoeuvring space rock. Several ships including the #1/7 had stockpiles of nuclear explosives totalling several megatons, again designed for asteroid modification. But they needed to be delicately placed by drones, or EVA teams. Perhaps the most effective weapon would be the ships themselves - the core hulls were armoured to resist energetic collisions with space rocks, or each other.
No - It was all too surreal - too sudden. Nothing in his 449 years had prepared him for this. What he knew was rationality - the politics of entwining individual interests for the greater good. Logical progression. Enlightenment. Self-realisation and expression.
Semi-consciously, he had been listening to the chatter of his crew and the nearby ships. It all added up to the same conclusion. He provided a welcome interruption with his authoritive voice.
"Our priority is to raise #6/7."
"... #6/7 is still not responding. Long range visual suggests multiple system failures."
"Keep trying. The universe help us..."
The crew turned to face him once again, their lower body postures suggesting confusion and anxiety.
"This is the moment we put our communication specialist to the test."
Some of the crew nodded their front ends in a gesture of confidence. Others did not.
"For now, all other ships hold position. No sudden moves, or power flares. Every gesture counts now. We must assume they are watching everything."
"What if -"
Jurninn fixed all limbs to the floor, momentarily bouncing in the feeble artificial gravity provided by the ship's spin. He took a moment to gather himself.
"If, then, our contingency is #12/7. If we are... on the receiving end of hostility, our contingency is to detract attention from #12/7, by any means. We still need hours to recharge our drives. We can't run yet, but they can. If the worst happens... We protect them. Someone must get home."
"... #12/7 is also not -"
"Yes... We have no choice but to hope."
Contact -1 minute
Still around twenty light minutes from the rest of the fleet, and offset some distance above (or below) the system's orbital plane, the Captain of Exploration Ship #12/7 was finishing the last of her repairs to the outer hull storage compartments. It had taken longer than expected. The oxygen belt was running low. The magnetic feet pads seemed a little too strong today. She was tired, and perhaps slightly delusional - extended sessions in an EVA membrane tended to do that to her. She had to do a reality check when she saw a fellow crewmember crawling out to greet her, covered in a similar bright turquoise membrane. Apparently even the local intercom was offline. Through standard sign language, she established that her presence was urgently needed inside, something to do with coolant fluid seeping into the core electronics - not good. She had just started for the airlock when space suddenly got brighter. The hull was now bathed in blinding light. Above, something very big and shiny was coming closer...
Exploration Ship #12/7 relaxed its space-time bubble and fell back into normal relativity. Behind the thick disk-like plate that divided the craft in two, various pieces of equipment glowed bright electric colours, gradually fading as the seconds past. Thermal-dump panels then became more noticeable, glowing red hot against the star-speckled background. Meanwhile the front of the craft basked in the golden glow of a nearby star, which was now just a light-hour distant. There wasn't much to see from (what passed as) the ship's bridge. Admittedly, the crew were more used to visiting smaller, dimmer red stars, but they had seen it all before. After years in space, the procedure was drilled into them. Various systems had just failed, as they always seemed to after a 'run'; the ship's interface hummed various warning sounds at low frequency, something the Satellian crew regarded with none of the intended urgency - it had become the familiar heartbeat of the ship.
It was #12/7's turn to play the lead - one of the most space-worthy ships would skip ahead of the others and lurk on the edge of the target system, while recharging its drives and making preliminary observations. By the time the rest of the ships arrived, the lead ship would already be sending data about the nearby planets, and would be able to run to the assistance of any ship in difficulty. Or at least, that was the idea.
Eventually, the astrological sensors were activated, confirming the ship's position against the most obvious stars. But the planet-finding sensors had failed again, as had the communications equipment. The ship's basic optical sensors and anti-collision radar could not detect the multiple large alien craft, nor could the crew be aware of the radio chatter from numerous alien habitats in the system - the crew were fully occupied dealing with a coolant leak in the bowels of the ship, while the Captain had coated herself with an EVA membrane and had crawled outside to tie down some equipment pods that were in danger of floating loose again. Meanwhile the ship's faulty communications equipment began randomly broadcasting detailed real-time data on the ship's temperature control system into deep space on a variety of frequencies...
Contact -1 hour
Exploration Ship #6/7 returned to normal relativity and immediately began to pitch and roll wildly as its stabilizers fired uncontrollably; just one symptom of an auxiliary power unit explosion. Inside, the crew struggled to reach various override switches against the constantly-changing forces of acceleration. Distorted warning sounds and flashing flights added to the sickening disorientation. The holographic 'avatar' of the ship's computer appeared at random intervals, orating less-than-helpful speech bubbles of garbled computer code. It was an embarrassing sight, as seasoned space travellers flailed all six limbs like first-timers in zero-g; there was just a hint of panic amongst some of the younger crewmembers, including a certain communication specialist by the name of Murrumue Ulunn, who couldn't help but close his eyes and retract his mouthparts as far as they would go. But in the midst of the chaos, something bothered him, something he had just seen in at the edge of his vision... The special signals display was ablaze with top-priority alerts.
Contact -53 minutes
Engineer Ship #1/7 had a comparatively smooth re-entry into flat space. The Fleet Captain, a venerable quadruple-centenarian by the name of Jurninn (Satellians tend to lose their miscellaneous family and regional names as they climb in reputation) delicately stroked his antennae as he read through the Ship's status report. The fleet currently had no method of faster-than-light communication, other than using the ships themselves to form a relay. It would be about an hour before the status of the whole fleet could be known. Procedures were lax, and the fleet had become badly scattered in the previous months - some ships had already begun the long journey home, plotting a course to intercept and cannibalise the various probes and automated facilities that had been left in their wake.
#1/7 was the newest and biggest ship, almost a third of a kilometre long, carrying a forest of robotic arms and stockpiles of replacement components. But there was only so much that could be done out here. Every ship was in need of a full mechanical overhaul at a proper engineering base. The nearest of these was now over three thousand light years away. It had taken a special effort to regroup the remaining ships for these last few rolls of the dice, before heading back. Yet, belatedly, the fleet was starting to act like a single Kinship, with a single purpose. The great mythical 'Signal' had yet to be confirmed, but at their last stop they had detected something else - faint, anomalous radio signals from a nearby star...
So here they were. Several of the nearest ships called in within a few minutes - most had minor technical problems, which was nothing unusual. What was unusual was the omnipresent background chatter, corresponding to no known encoding protocols.
Contact -31 minutes
The crew of #6/7 had managed to halt their ship's erratic manoeuvring, and were now struggling to tidy up the various boxes and pieces of equipment that had gone flying loose about the interior. One unfortunate crewmember was receiving treatment after being impaled on a large screwdriver-like implement; her inner skin had not been pierced, which all were thankful for, not least because bodily fluids made an unpleasant mess in micro-g. Meanwhile, crewman Murrumue Ulunn was literally glued to his special signals console, his body slowly oscillating with excitement. The display was, however, blank - save for a few smaller screens, rehashing a corrupted version of the last received alien signals. Power had gone out to various core systems, and the Captain was quite clear that the inter-fleet communications should be brought online first.
The communications dish focused on what was believed to be Engineer Ship #1/7 - the largest ship-like object in the vicinity - and broadcast a rather blunt request for various spare parts and the assistance of an extra engineer team. It was however broadcasting to an alien vessel.
Contact -10 minutes
Fleet Captain Jurninn folded his front two limbs together in front of his eyes, a gesture of both contemplation and an acknowledgement of forces beyond his control. Big questions remained over the status of the fleet, but it was clear that some ships had life-threatening problems. Perhaps the last run has been just a little too long and taxing - but shortening them meant more stops and starts, which was equally bad for the fleet's bubble drives.
The biggest concern, though, was the visual and infra-red detection of various large, artificial objects on an intercept course... And preliminary analysis of the background chatter suggested that it was indeed some kind of deliberate broadcast, containing both numerical patterns and what seemed to be... alien speech. Jurninn's limbs stiffened, raising his torso slightly, as he heard the distorted sounds played over the ship's intercom, shifted lower in frequency for the benefit of his internal Satellian ears. The accompanying crewmembers were likewise frozen in place, save for their mouthparts and eyes, which turned to face each other. Jurninn was a comforting presence for all of them, exuding an aura of determined tranquillity. Even the ship's cheerful system's avatar maintained a dignified silence. For a moment they allowed themselves to bask in the significance of it all.
The spell was broken by a sudden warning-rumbling from one of the computer consoles. A younger crewman overcame his discomfort to suggest there were signs of... weapons... being trained on the fleet, a suspicion soon reinforced by the nearest ships. Who would put weapons on a spaceship? Was this a test? How should we react?
They had expected any aliens they met to be older, wiser, benevolent - looking upon them as innocent children, or at worst, ignoring them as insignificant. They would be holding all the keys. They would have no need for violence. No aggressive or ignorant species could ever develop true sentience. But of course, Jurninn thought to himself, ever since we started venturing into space, these things had not been turning out according to expectations.
Jurninn lapsed back into stroking his antennae, leaving his crewmembers to exchange opinions, while he used one of his free rearward limbs to dial up a list of the fleet's heavy-duty tools on the main display. He should at least give a courtesy consideration to the prospect of defensive manoeuvres, he told himself. Each ship was fitted with welding gear, that was a start. Most also had a workable mining laser, able to bore holes in non-manoeuvring space rock. Several ships including the #1/7 had stockpiles of nuclear explosives totalling several megatons, again designed for asteroid modification. But they needed to be delicately placed by drones, or EVA teams. Perhaps the most effective weapon would be the ships themselves - the core hulls were armoured to resist energetic collisions with space rocks, or each other.
No - It was all too surreal - too sudden. Nothing in his 449 years had prepared him for this. What he knew was rationality - the politics of entwining individual interests for the greater good. Logical progression. Enlightenment. Self-realisation and expression.
Semi-consciously, he had been listening to the chatter of his crew and the nearby ships. It all added up to the same conclusion. He provided a welcome interruption with his authoritive voice.
"Our priority is to raise #6/7."
"... #6/7 is still not responding. Long range visual suggests multiple system failures."
"Keep trying. The universe help us..."
The crew turned to face him once again, their lower body postures suggesting confusion and anxiety.
"This is the moment we put our communication specialist to the test."
Some of the crew nodded their front ends in a gesture of confidence. Others did not.
"For now, all other ships hold position. No sudden moves, or power flares. Every gesture counts now. We must assume they are watching everything."
"What if -"
Jurninn fixed all limbs to the floor, momentarily bouncing in the feeble artificial gravity provided by the ship's spin. He took a moment to gather himself.
"If, then, our contingency is #12/7. If we are... on the receiving end of hostility, our contingency is to detract attention from #12/7, by any means. We still need hours to recharge our drives. We can't run yet, but they can. If the worst happens... We protect them. Someone must get home."
"... #12/7 is also not -"
"Yes... We have no choice but to hope."
Contact -1 minute
Still around twenty light minutes from the rest of the fleet, and offset some distance above (or below) the system's orbital plane, the Captain of Exploration Ship #12/7 was finishing the last of her repairs to the outer hull storage compartments. It had taken longer than expected. The oxygen belt was running low. The magnetic feet pads seemed a little too strong today. She was tired, and perhaps slightly delusional - extended sessions in an EVA membrane tended to do that to her. She had to do a reality check when she saw a fellow crewmember crawling out to greet her, covered in a similar bright turquoise membrane. Apparently even the local intercom was offline. Through standard sign language, she established that her presence was urgently needed inside, something to do with coolant fluid seeping into the core electronics - not good. She had just started for the airlock when space suddenly got brighter. The hull was now bathed in blinding light. Above, something very big and shiny was coming closer...
Daftpanzer
canonically ambiguous
@Bil I hope my story is not too random
I approve of homeworlds being more important for the economy, at least to begin with.
I approve of homeworlds being more important for the economy, at least to begin with.
Bil, I'm happy with basically anything you do with the economy rules.
I like how colonial income is more variable. Over time, you can build up your colonies ever richer and richer, but perhaps to a point of diminishing returns.
As an aside, if anyone has ever played F-Zero GX, the purple regions on my map look a lot like 'Green Plant', only a lot more... purple.
I like how colonial income is more variable. Over time, you can build up your colonies ever richer and richer, but perhaps to a point of diminishing returns.
As an aside, if anyone has ever played F-Zero GX, the purple regions on my map look a lot like 'Green Plant', only a lot more... purple.
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