SLYNES - Swirly Lights Yonder, a Never Ending Story

[Daftpanzer]

@Bil, not up to date yet, this is just more background/spam

-

Interrupt: Part #1

The small band of heroes prepared for battle against the sinister alien invaders. Emerging suddenly from underground, the mighty hexapod walker machines took a moment to strike majestic poses and show off their kinship-markings, before stomping onwards through the dust and debris towards their waiting opponents. A whole army of alien kill-devices lay ahead, exotic shapes whirring and buzzing into action. Mighty weapons were let loose. The heroic walkers marched ever onwards through the neon flames and explosions, closing in to battle with drilling equipment and giant fists. One by one the heroic walkers stumbled and fell, until only one was left. And just by chance, the command-machine of the aliens was the only opponent left to face him. And so the two giant machines grappled each other in a duel for the whole planet. Inevitably the machines tired each other out, disabled and locked together in a tight embrace.

Time for the final showdown: hatches slowly hissed open, revealing the heroic Satellian pilot with shiny purple-grey carapace and just the right amount of aged ruggedness, facing the menacing lurid awkward juddery gangly upright-postured form of the sinister alien commander. The final duel was fought hand-to-hand on top of a smouldering, sparking pile of entwined metal. The alien was surprisingly well-versed in the ancient protocol of Hmmaiaan honour-duelling. There was a dramatic pause in the fight.

'I am finding this to be quite exciting!' exclaimed a psycho-emotional therapist by the name of Durmu Nurl.

'Hmm' said Murrumue Ulunn, a recovering survivor of close contact with the Lelinthians.

Exposure to Snuddian 3D digital-drama had inspired an outburst of amateur semi-animated works from the Satellian digi-culture kinships. The results were being roundly condemned by majority opinion as trashy, egotistical, pointless, over-dramatic and completely lacking in philosophical depth, to the point of being psychologically damaging to the audience; such works annoyed those who preferred to sample actual Snuddian drama in pure alien form. The minority enjoyed a new and interesting take on digi-drama.

The dramatic pause entered its second minute. Finally the scene faded from the air, replaced by text in various dialects: 'Signal-Flow Interrupt'.

'Maah! Not fortunate!' said Durmu Nurl.

'Hmm' said Murrumue Ulunn.

-

Gurunn Jurr, computer specialist/addict and part-time space traveller, sat alone on the red-brown wind-swept mesa-top that was his adopted home. He was surrounded by computer boxes, assorted peripherals, half-eaten fruit, power-packs, empty bottles of mild narcotics, tangles of cable and half a dozen screens of various sizes. A satellite-link dish stood on a tripod behind him.

His latest obsession had begun a few days ago, after taking on inspection and maintenance duty for the Hmmaiaan Orbital Infrastructure Guild of The Agreement. He had noticed a constant, nagging error report coming from one of the outer geo-stationary comm-satellites. The error code was unknown, and service was not affected, so the usual thing was to ignore it. Much of the orbital infrastructure and the computer systems that maintained it were hundreds of years old, thousands in some cases. There was a mixture of assembly languages and hardware specifications going right back to the dawn of the space-age. Sometimes it seemed a miracle that anything worked at all.

Gurunn couldn't help digging. He eventually translated the meaning of the error, and discovered that it was not an error at all, but a notice of a signal being received from another satellite. After more digging, he traced the source to an old space observatory, the Blue Hand Nebula Observatory #2, two thousand years old, but still active and tracing a polar orbit high above the combined gravity of big-brother planet Ahrmm and its moons.

At the beginning of the space age, there had been great investment in orbital observatories. Within a few centuries the most interesting patches of sky had all been examined. Scanning the atmospheres of distant exo-planets was tedious and ultimately pointless work in an age before faster-than-light travel was proved possible. The invention of new and more powerful instruments had occasionally revived interest, but most of the old observatories were simply forgotten over time; practitioners of the ancient arcane computer languages were a dying breed. These days the Bubble Drives were allowing observations at much closer range with more modern equipment.

Twenty centuries ago, Blue Hand Nebula Observatory #2 had been programmed to send a notice back to Hmmaiaa whenever it spotted something unusual. Nobody had told it that a miscellaneous comm-satellite had taken the place of the former relay station. It was mainly on the lookout for supernovae, but it found Lelinthian wormholes to be equally interesting. For the past few months it had been making detailed full-spectrum observations of a Lelinthian fleet lurking on the edges of the home system. The fleet had vanished now, but finally someone was requesting the data it had dutifully gathered.

Gurunn Jurr had decided to usurp control of several non-critical comm satellites in order to speed up the flow of data. This was very exciting, and potentially very important too. There was some corruption, which was to be expected from such old systems, but Gurunn soon had a blurry image up on his screen. For a moment he was back with his old Fleet, thousands of light-years away, looking at the scans from his ship's instruments... He recognised the outlines of these particular vessels.

-

 

[Daftpanzer]

OOC: lots more background/spam

Spoiler Accompaniment: Satellian home system map (reposted) :

Interrupt: Part #2

Ocean Grey Asteroid Station #3 traced an orbit along the outer edge of the Sleeper group, far beyond the orbit of Hmmaiaa and its sister moons. Saiaa Muu Narr, representative for the New Combined Technical Kinship of Marraa, was taking a moment to relax in the observation lounge. Big brother Ahrmm hardly seemed any smaller at this distance, she thought to herself. It was wonderful. Why anyone needed all those electronic entertainments, she'd never know. All people needed to do was look outside.

Of the four 'big' moons, Hmmaiaa and Saiumue were currently visible, serenely floating along in front of Ahrmm's turbulent cloudscapes. Hmmaiaa was a small blob, covered in the lusty brown-red of plant-fall, awaiting the onset of another storm cycle. Saiumue was the usual sparkling turquoise-white gem. Hmm... She wished she was back in one of those natural hydrothermal pools. The imitations were just not the same.

Twinkling lights and faint lines across the blackness betrayed the movements of spacecraft. Thousands of unseen satellites, capsules and vessels were likely to be out there in that particular volume of space, going about their varied business.

Her gaze turned to the ships docked at the station. One was singled out for special attention, flood-lit and ensnared by extra umbilicals and all kinds of miscellaneous equipment. To her trained eye, signs of damage were also visible on the few patches of exposed hull. This was Exploration Ship #6/7, the ill-fated ship which the Lelinthians had violated and then returned during the Transit Event. While others grappled with the implications of alien wormholes appearing unannounced, Saiaa and her colleagues had been working on understanding the ordeal suffered by the ship and its crew. Certain kudos-mongers of The Agreement were waiting patiently for answers... Back to work, grim prospect though it was. In fact, if she wasn't here, she wondered if anyone else would be willing to take up the task.

The returned body parts of the dissected crewmembers had something to say about Lelinthian surgical procedures and tools, but that was a limited line of inquiry. Unfortunately, of the few crew who had returned alive, none were particularly informative about events onboard; one had been taken captive straight away and had received surprisingly good treatment, while one had apparently been unconscious throughout, and one was currently experiencing mental difficulties. None had been able to make digital recordings, but the various senses of the ship had been watching events unfold. Most of the data had been lost due to system damage and/or possible tampering by the Lelinthians. Just enough remained to be useful.

Saiaa Muu Narr gazed at the 3D image of a Lelinthian, or at least the best current estimate of one. It was clothed in a montage of partial visual and infra-red images taken from 6/7's onboard sensors. Motion-tracker and even audio recordings had been used to refine the estimates for size and weight. The limbs of the model moved in awkward fashion, showing the estimated ranges of movement. It was a freakish projection, really. But the witnesses had said it was not too dissimilar from their memories.

It was bipedal, heathily chubby and vertically-arranged. It had two dedicated legs ending in solid boots, while another two limbs ended in four-fingered gloves - dedicated arms, held on the upper body, unable to touch the ground while upright; most definitely alien. It was clothed in a shiny suit, complete with a large helmet, which most likely contained an exposed head of some kind. It was small, even with the suit, only reaching shoulder height of the average Satellian. Saiaa found something inspirational about that... There was no doubt that these beings had achieved wondrous things.

As fascinated as Saiaa was by the Lelinthians themselves, her sponsors were far more interested in how the ship had been overrun. Early analysis had already been of some use in designing the interior defences of the newest Satellian ships. After some understandable confusion - the crew probably expected some kind of formal greeting to take place - the Lelinthians had quickly stormed throughout the ship. It seemed that a few of the crew initially locked themselves behind bulkheads, before attempting to liberate the vessel. Perhaps they witnessed some brutalisation of their fellow crewmembers and decided not to come quietly. It was hard to imagine her cousins acting that way, but such a response fitted the profile of the Captain, especially under psychological duress.

Bolt guns and welders were used as improvised weapons. Sound recordings suggested there was at least one Lelinthian fatality. It was not pleasant listening. There were also signs of a grisly hand-to-hand scuffle; perhaps this was where some of the miscellaneous severed Satellian limbs had come from. But the most damage was done by a large internal explosion, caused by an overloaded power converter. It was enough to rupture the hull, and it was most likely intentional. The Lelinthians had evidently done their best to clean up the mess, but the investigation was still picking up particles of flesh embedded in the surrounding surfaces, belonging to both Satellians and Lelinthians. Exposure to vacuum had made them difficult samples to work with. At least it proved that conventional biological forms were contained within the alien suits.

Consensus held that these bipedal forms were the one and only Lelinthians, the builders and captains of their mighty craft. Saiaa suspected there was more to it than that. The data from the motion trackers showed the boarding party stopping and hunching up at times, as if awaiting new orders from some higher authority. Although the boarders were certainly effective in their tasks, they seemed to lack a certain initiative. The Satellian survivors had hinted at the existence of another level of intelligence, one that the visible Lelinthians were apparently in awe of. One that even had the power to project thoughts and feelings - though that could be the result of some kind of technology, or an artefact of Satellian mind when placed under certain exceptional circumstances; she was not a believer in the ancient mystical arts of Hmmaiaa.

Perhaps a caste system? Highly specialised genders? Had they built sentient super-computers to rule over them? It was all very mysterious.

Now she had a headache. It was time to refresh her consciousness and give her serious-cells a serious break. Contemporary custom was to take some mild narcotics and immersive oneself in one of those whacked-out Snuddian 3D vision things. She was tempted to visit the rotation-hab-module and take a long bath instead.

-

'Yes. A whole fleet by the looks of it, and they lurked right on our doorstep, basically, for the past few months.'

'We only saw part of the Transit Event?'

'They've left now?'

'Yes, yes, months ago, so it seems.'

'Kudos to our cousin who stumbled upon it.'

Deep underground, the grand meeting room was as full as ever; every ceramic nest in the floor was occupied, everyone fully conscious. The customary narcotic-dispensing Hulunnurr plant had on this occasion been replaced by a kind of crystalline, automated musical instrument called the Jallurrn. Hanging from the ceiling, processors within the instrument analysed the body language of the attendees. Arrangements of chimes and soothing notes were emitted to disperse 'unconstructive' feelings. Whether it actually worked or not was a matter of debate. The untrained observer might consider it a random background annoyance.

'Hmm... Well... We had a agreement. I believe this violates it.'

'Actually, I believe we only agreed to leave them alone. '

'Ah... We didn't know they were super-light-capable then, let alone wormhole-capable.'

'Indeed.'

'And even after the Transit Event, we didn't think they could move whole fleets by such methods.'

The Core Director was glad that discussion had turned back to the Lelinthians. There were reports of a new contact being made at unnamed system HC/D, not far from Sneed, and things were not looking promising. A depressing trend was forming. Well, perhaps he exaggerated - one race of Snuddians was much more reassuring than none. He was content to let his colleagues continue while he thoughtfully touched and prodded his one currently-remaining antennae.

'So... How exactly does this change things?'

'We should be more paranoid?'

'They would have attacked already if that was there intention.'

'They might be about to do that. I propose what we see here is a reconnaissance flight.'

'Yes... Right under our snouts... I've said it before, we need full real-time monitoring of the whole void-sphere!'

'Hmm... At least, we need more than radar and tracking lasers. Unfriendly aliens will not follow our traffic-control protocol.'

'Indeed, our awareness is dangerously lacking.'

'Well... With these wormholes it hardly matters, they could be in orbit before we know it. What we need are defences for the inhabited worlds... We need to think about weapons...'

That was the representative for the New Combined Technical Kinship of the icy sister-moon Marraa. She was developing an alarming habit of being right about everything. Perhaps something about those glistening blue-white glacial landscapes served to focus the mind...

'Enough weapons!'

'Not enough. Clearly we're no longer isolated, but we're practically defenceless. I'm talking about weapons all the way down from spaceships to ground combat.'

Several members wiggled their mouthparts in displeasure.

'Dangerous resonance. We don't need to project such fears. Doing so will only invite the universe to fulfil them.'

'I call it being realistic.'

'We've survived, thrived for all this time...'

'Yes. Now we have to adapt to changing rules.'

'I can say one thing. I don't want to end my days being dissected by aliens.'

'Well... Gentlewomen.... Perhaps we should discuss recalling one of the fleets to act as permanent... Hmm... Guardian, for the inhabited systems?'

'A purpose-built fleet would be more fitting, horrors, if we go down that route of thought.'

There was one of those a pauses where it seemed everyone had decided to wait for the Core Director to express his opinion. This time he didn't get the chance to oblige, as the door of the chamber opened to let a stranger in. Such disruption of meetings was becoming more and more commonplace. His mild irritation faded when he recognised the intruder as the Adjutant Director, who was supposed to be handling a separate meeting pertaining to events in and around Sneed. His chastisement was muted to a polite 'Hmm?'.

The body posture of the Adjutant Director, back raised slightly and more weight on the middle limbs, was suggesting something rather dark and serious.

'Fleet One has been completely destroyed above the planet Sneed.'

'Blessed Ancestors!'

'Ahh!'

'The Lelinthians have reached Sneed?'

'Wait, what was Fleet One doing at Sneed?'

'No', the Adjutant said bluntly, 'Running. They call themselves the Geskani.'

The Jallurrn chose this moment to play a soothing arrangement of chimes.

-

 

[Lord_Iggy]

This is my conception of the Culud, sans any sort of clothing and equipment. As Bil is their creative source, he can feel free to overrule anything that he does not agree with in this image.

 

[Bil]

@Daft: Awesome stories! I love the idea of Satellians watching Snuddian TV

@Iggy: I actually like that picture a lot! Not quite how I pictured them, but I almost prefer it. Really cool work

 

[Daftpanzer]

OOC: yet more background/spam. Getting there!

Interrupt: Part #3

Harrumunn Rarr, representative for the Special Technical Kinship of Ulumm-Bukk, was looking at the latest prototype for the Ground Guardian concept. Its reporting name was Anti-Violation Suit Design #3. It was actually a hybrid between an armoured suit and a walker vehicle; it had an almost bipedal appearance, with shiny segmented armour. The front was massively reinforced, including extra-thick 'legs' to take the middle limbs, leaving the rear limbs to do little more than provide occasional balance. The front limbs were contained entirely within the suit, and used to manipulate additional controls. Various devices could be mounted on a swivelling 'turret' on top. Auxiliary turrets and/or robotic arms could be added if needed. There was no obvious sign of any vision-apertures in the frontage, giving the whole thing a kind of sinister, expressionless, detached-ness. It was a... Weapon.

It reminded him of the duelling suits worn by the inhabitants of the Karajue Highlands in ancient-ancient times; whenever food got really scarce, the males would joust each other riding on Gallgurrs - a kind of large hardy six-legged herbivore with two elongated and highly flexible mouth-snouts, a species distantly related to Satellians and now extinct - and the losers would be exiled, if they were lucky. The joust was a test of strength, courage, awareness, intelligence and discipline. If only such traditions had been embraced elsewhere across Hmmaiaa, Rarr mused to himself, instead of embracing the nonchalant polite graciousness of the current semi-industrialised age, then we might be in a better position for survival right now.

'It's hideous. Please show me what it does.'

He was back on Hmmaiaa, in an empty flood-lit underground storage area near the Great Undercity. It was not an ideal testing facility, but then no such facility yet existed. The main problem was that efforts were being redundantly - randomly - duplicated between those kinships in The Agreement and those who were independent. He had left his exo-colony home busy with its own important projects; underground factories and orbital facilities engaged in their respective tasks with pleasing efficiency; streams of molten metal and queues of hot components on their way for assembly. Here in the home system there were many more kinships of the technical arts, but each kinship had a smaller share of resources to work with, and each had its own way of doing things - entrenched traditions going back hundreds or thousands of years. Even within the Agreement, it was hard to organise any kind of concerted effort.

It might be said that Hmmaiaa was in a state of panic, and there was a sense of urgency. The truth was that Satellians didn't really do either of things very well. But, the mood had definitely changed. News of the 'battle' at Sneed had arrived at just the right moment to resonate with another scary mind-bubble regarding Lelinthian activities in the home system. The 'battle' also had the unexpected effect of changing the whole kudosphere; certain kinships had suddenly gained vast amounts of kudos just as a result of having members involved in the fight. Extra kudos was gained for heroic deeds and rumours of heroic deeds. Heroic deaths were the most respected of all. Details were sketchy of course; Rarr was among the few who were far more interested in learning about the technical aspects of the 'battle' - what weapons were most effective, what manoeuvres worked best, how had our ships fared under fire, what were the strengths and weaknesses of these new hostiles?

Anyway, the shift in the kudos-landscape had the result of dethroning the Core Director. It was actually fairly rare for an Agreement to survive such a transition of power. Good news. But while the new 'temporary' arrangement was a little more cautious in its outlook, it was still taking a lot of convincing when it came to the issue of armed defence. Rarr was fortunate that his kinship had accumulated much kudos from its inspired designs, and from successful exchanges with the Snud. But many of his fellow technical pioneers put themselves into kudos-debt in order to acquire the resources needed for experimentation; then, even if successful, they found themselves lacking the kudos needed to promote their ideas amongst the 'elite'.

Yes the 'elite', those triple-centenarians and upwards who seemed deeply uncomfortable with the idea of a changing universe, one that undermined their established wisdom and experience gained from the good old days. They disliked the idea that youngsters, not even a century old, could become the new experts in new and essential fields of expertise... Something they resisted to the point of being illogical and irrational. Or so it sometimes seemed to Rarr.

Kudos, regard, gratitude, whatever it was called, it was probably one of the stranger Satellian concepts for outsiders to grapple with. It functioned much like currency, and indeed there was still no standard hard currency across the Satellian worlds. In general it was gained by providing useful items and services, and it could also be exchanged for those things. Like money, its value only existed by consensus. But there the similarities ended. Kudos existed between specific kinships, or individuals. It was not uniform. It resisted numerification. It could appear out of thin air, and it could just as easily be revoked by consensus. It kept people honest and tended to prevent the hoarding of important resources. It also had its drawbacks. It was something we had not even tried to explain to the Snud.

Rarr was one of the few Satellians who had taken a serious look at Snuddian economic theory. The Snud had taken the idea of standardised exchange and made it universal, solid, mathematical, unyielding. It was not necessarily logical, but it was... Organised. There existed the very real and terrifying prospect that other races had taken the same mathematical approach to industry, to sociology, and to the business of fighting and conquering other races. He could only hope that there was some natural counter-balance to this, some kind of robustness, some psychological advantage that his species might have in order to justify its continued -

'Zzapp'

The suit had finally started shuffling forwards and firing its top turret, snapping Rarr out of his internal rambling. The smooth corners of the empty storage area seemed to amplify the loud electric crackling. The main weapon was, essentially, a typical industrial bolt-gun, adapted to fire superheated bolts of heavy-element material at higher velocity. The results were devastating, at least against static mock-targets.

'Ahah. Interesting.'

-

 

[Vertinari118]

@ Bil: Are you going to carry on the first contact or do you want me to carry on?

 

[Daftpanzer]

OOC: final spam, next is actual response to events!

Interrupt: Part #4

An orbital transport shuttle plummeted into the surface of Hmmaiaa at a place called the Murnnuruu Rockfields, not far from the Great Undercity. What should have been a graceful aerodynamic form was instantly transformed into a tumbling montage of jagged metal and ceramics, shrouded in expanding clouds of hot dust and flying gravel. Leftovers of reaction-fuel added spectacular blue and turquoise flames to the mix, bathing the usually grey-orange surroundings in strange colours beneath the Ahrmm-lit night.

Rescue VTOL's were soon directed to the scene by traffic control, warning-sirens casting a deep loud rumble as they went - the noise of volcanoes, earthquakes, cave-ins; instinctive omnipresent danger. To avoid delays, the rescue crews rested in their craft while on duty. Maian Unun Gurr awoke to find his vehicle already airborne and heading out under autopilot, rocky terrain flowing by under the all-round impact-glass canopy. He had to flip up a computer screen to find out what he was in for.

'Hmm... Unfortunate...'

As a former space explorer, Maian had spent a lot of time rescuing malfunctioning ships like his life depended on it - which of course it had done. Taking a break from exploring, he found himself well placed at Repair and Clean-up for Jurnnu Fields Spaceport. People were always grateful for specialist help in emergencies, and he found himself accumulating as much kudos as ever. Fixing machinery was his preference, though. He wasn't so comfortable with treating injured people. Satellians were built to last and he hadn't had to face any real mutilation yet, but this crash looked nasty. Once you got over a certain level of impact force, it didn't matter how strong your bones were. You turned to mush all the same.

'Supposed to be twelve people on board' said Murui, one of the VTOL's three other crewmembers. He was deeply attracted to her, especially now as she casually nosed over his front-right shoulder to see what he was reading, one hand gently leaning on his arm, one of her antennae playfully prodding him. Something about sex and death went well together; the next storm cycle was due to begin within days, and right now most of this world's small-creatures were busy fighting to the death, mating, and spawning, until they dropped down dead. All that mattered was fertilising their eggs and burying them deep before the storms hit. A minority of species, like Satellians, had evolved to endure all the storms threw at them, but they were not immune to the haze of perfume and pheromones - the particular lusty, vivacious resonance felt at this time of year.

'Hmm... No distress-call... No malfunction-warning...'

Maian's computer informed him he had an incoming call from his good friend and long-time comrade Gurunn Jurr. He didn't need distractions now, not even for something tagged 'urgent'. He was unsettled, perhaps due to his fear of an impending encounter with mangled bodies, or his internal guilt for running inappropriate thought-lines at a time like this. Just two minutes to the crash site now. Trying to regain focus, he started reading through the incident report again, only to be frustrated by the ongoing chatter from his fellow crew. He relented and diverted some of his brain-power to listening in...

'Never seen it like that before.'

'Its pretty. I don't like it.'

'Hmm... No... Something's going on...'

He looked up. Directly above, a massive glowing aurora was filling much of the night sky, ranging in colour from purple to bright blue. A number of distinct swirling vortices were visible in the centre.

'Transit Event!'

-

 

[Bil]

@ Bil: Are you going to carry on the first contact or do you want me to carry on?

I'm going to continue it, I've just been pretty busy over the past few days. Don't you worry, though, I'll get there.

I'm actually thinking about extending the deadline past Christmas, just so that there's a little less pressure on getting everything written up. I know a couple of you guys have just gotten into winter break, and a few of you might be pretty busy with the holidays, and as well, I'm going to be pretty busy over the coming week too, so it might be for the best. Hope I'm not putting anybody off, but I think it'll be a lot easier for me, and probably for some of you as well.

I'll get onto those stories again very soon, as it looks like I'm going to be snowed in this weekend, so I should hopefully have plenty of time.

And Daft, I'm really feeling immersed in Satellian life! Keep up the great work!

 

[TaylorFlame]

I apologise for having not written any stories, I've got about three that are only part written and I keep getting distracted before finishing them. I will try and get them done sooner rather then later, for this is a great NES and I want to stay involved.

 

[Daftpanzer]

@Bil I personally could cope with a deadline earlier than the 27th. I'm spammed out now and I'm pretty sure what my orders are going to be

Galactic Sector I/C - Mar Aih System

Emergency Meeting (New Protocol) #1 of The Agreement was now underway. It was notable for the fact that the attendees were not physically present at the same location. They were talking over mobile devices on their way to an old mining facility; under current circumstances the Grand Meeting Room was judged to be not deep enough underground. Some members were attempting to use the old elevators, while some were attempting to navigate the deep dark tunnels in small spider-like walker vehicles.

'I understand their Small Vehicle is headed for our sister-moon Maraa, not Hmmaiaa itself''

'Our honoured friend Saiaa Muu Narr is there. I propose that she greets them.'

'Hmm... But they are clearly hostile. Keeping their distance yes, but that friendly computerised voice is clearly demanding our complete submission. Lets not waste our energy greeting them.'

'Yes, but wait. We need to delay them... As much time as possible.'

'Hours, days, it makes no difference now. We needed years...'

'Every hour we have more improvised weapons gathering. We have a chance to organise the mobile asteroid bases and unarmed craft for possible suicide runs. We need every advantage to survive. That means time.'

'Amateurish efforts. Such things will not decide the issue.'

'We need every advantage. Lead them in circles!'

'All these billions of years, and now we have no time...'

Hurnnunn, the Arbitrary Director, found herself in one of those never-ending elevators, much to her dismay. She was three hundred and sixty years young, and she wondered if she'd ever see daylight again. She was well aware she was not first choice to head the Transitory Directorate. The first, and indeed second choices had both recently died violent deaths in orbit of Sneed. She rather wished she could change places with them now. A century of semi-retirement had not prepared her for this. The fact that the previous Core Director was now an unburdened yet still much-honoured participant didn't make her task any easier.

'Honoured friends, their is truth is all your words, as usual. I know my beliefs are not shared by all of you. But I believe the universe has put us in this situation to see how we respond... It wishes to stir us up, to lead us out of our stagnation. I would call this is a Grand Decision Point. We have the responsibility of re-programming the future according to our actions. We need boldness, consensus, integrity, and indeed honesty... Nothing underhand...'

'Hmm...'

'Well quite, what do you propose?'

'Honoured friends... I ask for consensus on the following. We take no hostile action, we prepare a landing zone on Maraa... But we also send a response, making ourselves very clear...'

Several minutes later, a connection was made with one of the general-purpose comm-satellites that had resisted the EMP effects of the Lelinthian's dramatic arrival. It began broadcasting a message in the direction of the huge menacing Lelinthian ships and their Small Vehicle, replying in the same encoding format as their first message. It was perhaps a little convoluted, but clearly it was not wise to underestimate the intelligence of the Lelinthians.

'We do not submit ourselves to any authority. We will resist violation. We must follow our own path, as must all peoples. We do not need rescuing. You do not have the authority. Approach only if you mean us no harm. We have never meant you any harm. Our hope is to remain at peace. There is much we can learn from each other, but we are happy to leave you alone.'

 

[Lord_Iggy]

Outskirts of the Krull System

Drifting silently through the vacuum of space, the Hletho Exploratory Startraveler Hraef was abuzz with activity.

Captain Baheb Thoh tapped several controls, checking a variety of sensory feeds.

“So this is-”

“Possibly what the Rhetho observed during its last moments.”

“Our actions then?”

Thoh’s arms twitched slightly as he considered the possibilities. The risks of this situation were immense, and the situation was terribly unfamiliar. The objects showing up on the scans were far too regular to be natural- there had been some unknown, possibly intelligent force at work in their construction. So far, the only known contact with objects such as these had resulted in sudden, inexplicable disappearance.

Slowly, Thoh began to speak.

“We have no leads on the fate of our fellow explorers on the Rhetho. Attempting to investigate the phenomena observed here may be our best chance to glean an understanding of what happened. Hadat Ra, begin an immediate wide-range broadcast, and keep it on.”

“Yes sir.” Replied the Communications and Sensors Officer.

“Nefis An, begin charging the Trident Apparatus- I need you to be ready to launch a short-range emergency escape jump at any time. Tutan Am, bring us towards the nearest ‘vessel’.”

The two crewmembers silently signalled their agreement and went about their work. Thoh looked uncertainly at the grey, blocky craft rapidly approaching. His arms were now completely still, steeled to any sort or dangers.

“Captain! We’re picking up resonance- that vessel is performing some sort of electromagnetic scan on us.”

“Any damage?”

“None sir.”

“Good. Flash the wide-spectrum lights. See if it responds.”

Outside, several lights on the communications array, emerging from behind the Hraef’s forward shield, began to flash rhythmically. While they had been originally intended as a short-range communication device for docking actions, they seemed to serve well enough for this secondary role.

“Their move. Be ready to jump.”

 

[Bil]

Stories tomorrow... promise!

I've been shoveling snow all day This is the biggest snow storm we've had since 1996, apparently.

 

[bestshot9]

Fenric Alexandrochs approached the council of clans. Constant war had left few of the original warlords alive, many replaced by their sons, nephews, or grandsons. The war had taken its toll on Alexandrochs as well; he was notably weaker then before. Stress had taken a large toll on his body, where once he had a powerful, dark rich red coat, it was now graying and dull. His face was gaunt and hollowed, his eyes dark and sunken in their sockets. He found little time nowadays to eat, the threat of more nukes always present.

“Sirs, I approach here, before you today, to receive my daily status on the state of the war in the different provinces.” he spoke to what remained of the council. Not only were most of the original warlords dead, but many clans had been wiped off the face of Halvalla, leaving their seats on the council forever empty.

The Bironochs clan warlord stood. “Grand Warlord, after years of stalemate, it appears that we are finally making a push in the south. The guerrillas who have been fighting down there for years, many from different clans, have finally organized, for the most part. At least it seems that way. We were able to coordinate with the head of the resistance, Jaeger Zorinochs to distract the enemy forces while we launched an offensive. The enemy was caught off guard, not expecting us to attack in the winter. We gained nearly ten miles before the enemy was able to establish a defense. We’ve just recently slowed down a bit, but the battlefield still remains mostly fluid.”

Happiness spread through Alexandrochs. This was the first good news in years. Though much of the barb lands had been nuked, it seemed to only stiffen the morale of the enemy. Since the initial launches, no more nuclear weapons had been fired. Against such a determined foe, they were useless. But now with these reports, and similar reports from other fronts along both the southern and northern border, Alexandrochs began to gain hope again.

“We must press on. We have been fighting for a very, very long time. But we cannot quit. At the same time, we face a deadly and determined foe. Just because of a few advances doesn’t mean he’ll give up any easier. We must not lose the initiative. We must remain aggressive.”

He paused to catch his breath, looking over the council. He had hoped to fire the audience members up, but all he received was a few nodding heads. The time for cheers and celebrations had long passed. Though the Ivkings, for the most part, enjoyed war, it was a tiring business, and this one had gone on for far too long, with no real end in sight. Until now.

------

Indicus crawled through the vera, silent as a menx cat, his insectoid companion following close behind, pistol held at the ready. The two had fought side-by-side for a while now, longer then Indicus could really remember. These past few years and mostly blended together in his memory.

He gripped his scattergun tight. It was still with him, having been with him since before he met his new friend, whom he named “Bil”, an old Halvallan word from an old Halvallan language meaning, “Lost One”. The little guy didn’t seem to mind his new moniker, so Indicus kept right on using it.

But their target was now in sight. During the chaos of the past few weeks, the feds had made noticeable advancements into barb-held territory. Indicus and Bil had used the confusion to their advantage, and stepped up their sabotage runs. Though neither belonged to any larger resistance group, Indicus knew of the existence of them. He only refused to accept any more help in getting his revenge on the barbs who destroyed his home.

Today their target was a large fuel depot. It had belonged to the barbs for a while now, very heavily guarded, no way the two of them could sneak in. But with the sudden withdraw of troops from the front, many of the depot guards and been reassigned to take up positions in the line, leaving just a bare skeleton security crew. Indicus would make them regret their mistake. This was the second largest fuel depot along the front, vital to the southerner’s war effort.

Little Bil had come in handy in more ways than Indicus had imagined. Not only did he turn out to be a tenacious little warrior, but he was also very loyal and had become somewhat of a nightmare among barbarian warriors. Just the mention of the “armored devil”, as the barbs called him, would put fear into the hearts of even the most stalwart and experienced barbarian warrior. So naturally, Bil went after the first guards.

They had worked out a new tactic. Whenever they preformed a raid, Bil would create a distraction, drawing the attention of the guards away from Indicus’ target. Indicus lay in the vera along the side of the road, the night sky helping to conceal him. Bil crawled past him and out into the middle of the road. He hissed at the guards and opened fire on them, drawing their attention immediately, then fled. The guards chased after him, while Indicus slipped into the compound.

He dodged the very few enemy patrols quite easily, most of the guards, unaware of the trouble at the gate, were content to go through the motions. They walked their patrol route, but paid little attention to their surroundings, which would result in deadly consequences. By the time Indicus had planted his explosives on the main fuel tanks and escaped, the gate guards had given up hope of killing Bil and had returned to their post. A few minutes later, the depot went up in a giant, explosive ball.

So long, gfala. Indicus thought to himself, as the mushroom cloud extended up towards the ever laughing face of Ikol.

------

The ambassador sat, waiting impatiently in the chief’s waiting chamber. Over the past few years his job had grown more and more irritating, more and more tiresome. As one of the few go-betweens between the southerners and northerners, it was his job to push the southern chief into action, but at the same time make sure he coordinated his attacks with those of the north. Since the initial opening attacks of the war, that had become a nearly impossible task. Now he had to get a reason for the sudden withdraw in the south.

“The chief will see you now.” the young stewardess said, motioning towards the door to the audience chamber.

The ambassador said no thanks, just mumbled angrily to himself as he stood up and entered the chamber. Where once the chief had been pleasant and friendly, he had experienced enough from the ambassador to grow irritable just by his presence. For some reason, the ambassador had that certain effect on people.

“Good day milord.” the ambassador said, not meaning a word of it. The chief snorted in response.

“I know what you’ve come to see me about on this day.” he said, turning to face the large campaign map on the wall. “The north has grown concerned, they want to know why we have given up ground so easily?” he did not sound friendly one bit.

“Yes, milord. They desire a reason for your warriors’ lack of will in face of the enemy. Their withdraw has hurt the entire war effort.”

“To hell with the northerners!” the chief suddenly, violently yelled, catching the ambassador by surprise, leaving him speechless. He had never seen the chief react so angrily before. “They pester me with plans, force me to do what they want. I give them what they want, my forces do their best, and one little mistake happens, and its all my fault. Do they not realize the ineptitude of their own planning? Had they given me the freedom to command my own warriors as I want, as I know how to do, we would not have fallen back. We would have Alexandrochs’ head on a stake by now!” ice cold fury filled every word.

He glared at the ambassador. “You. You are their tool, the menace they send to force me to play by their rules. You think you know my warriors better than me? You think you know this land better than me? You’ve never seen this land nor my men before, and yet you think you can command us! You are fools!” He reached for an ax which hung on the opposite wall as the map and turned to face the ambassador. Slowly he advanced towards him.

Fear spread through the ambassador like a toxin. The chief had lost his mind, he wouldn’t kill an ambassador from his ally? He was only doing his job, he couldn’t help the orders he was given!

But the chief stopped. Sighed. He lowered his ax. “I am short on men, I am short on supplies. My people have suffered, my lands have been ruined by the nuclear weapons of the ICC. If the north would only give me freedom in planning my own attacks and strategies, we wouldn’t be in this mess. You tell your prince, you tell him to shove his horn up his ass. My warriors are my own to command, from here on out.”

The ambassador could only nod. He cared not that the prince would be angry with this latest message, he was just happy Bos had decided to spare his life this day. He left the chief’s audience chamber without even a departing farewell. The sooner he was away from that madman, the better.

 

[Lord_Iggy]

Hletho
ECONOMY: 1e (+1.5e/turn)
TECHNOLOGY: 2
STABILITY: 4
FLEETS: 4 (-2e/turn)
Rhetho - (J/D-T) - Strength: 100%
Hraef - (I/F-T) - Strength: 100%
Tharaez - (H/E-R) - Strength: 100%
Zoroth - (J/E-B) - Strength: 100%
MILITARY: 1 (-0.5e/turn)
Army 1 - (I/E-R) - Strength: 100%
ARTIFACT: 0/50e

Actions
No spending this turn, funds are being gathered for new colonial ventures to Saokhad (I/E-T) and Hiukhad (J/E-B).

Around Thaej, the construction of a huge military vessel, the Hrkan, and a variety of smaller military vessels, will take place. Right now, the superstructure is beginning to form, and weapons tests are still taking place. Interest in colonization, right now, is diverting some attention from this project.

Startraveler Hraef will make first contact with the Orindi, then after a hopefully friendly exchange, move on to survey the systems in its region.

Startraveler Tharaez will survey the systems in its region.

Startraveler Zoroth will survey the systems in its region.

Startraveler Rhetho will complete its hopefully amiable visit to Lolan and leave. Unfortunately, the vessel is presently lost in space and out of contact with its last buoy. Its astrogators will be focused on finding their location while the ship travels to I,C.

 

[Lord_Iggy]

Above Lolan

Wahano Sam looked at Workman Uk for a few moments, interested by the talking box in the strange creature’s possession. Fascinating... some sort of translation device perhaps? Part of his mind wondered how these beings could have figured out Hlethan language so quickly, and came up with no clear explanation. Nonetheless, he couldn’t deny what he was observing right now.

Another part of his brain was busy considering a response to Uk. It would be rude to refuse a simple request from his host, and it would be truly fascinating to see the home of these alien species.

“I will come.”


*****


Aboard the Rhetho, the crew was considering the message rather spontaneously played by one of their guests.

“I thought Sam said they could only communicate with text.”

“Apparently not. Can they hear us?”

Lico Daeja turned to face the creature with the speakers.

“Do you understand what we are saying?”

A few moments later, a response emerged from the speakers.

“Correctly.”

“Hmm... I think they have picked up a rough hold on our language- they must be terrific linguists.”

“What of their offer though?” asked Taesh.

Wahano Mo joined the group, putting down a mobile console.

“I’ve just spoken to Sam- he’s received the same invitation, and accepted.”

Daeja spoke to the creature again.

“Do you want the rest of us to come?”

“Correctly.” Replied the mechanical voice.

“He wants all of us.”

“All of us?” asked Mo, “I’m distinctly uncomfortable with that.”

“Ah, where’s your Jethan spirit of ‘adventure’?” replied Taesh.

“I’m Bresian...” mumbled Mo.

“He has a point.” Said Jahn, “It is dangerous to abandon our ship in the presence of strangers-”

“As a gesture of trust though?”

“Can we leave one of our own behind?” asked Daeja to Workman Do.

“All require to leave.”

“That’s... rather demanding of them.” Commented Nahla, peering up from her astrogation workspace. “I don’t see why they would need all of us...”

A wave of alien emotion subtly swept over the minds of the Hletho.

“I see no reason to reject the invitation.” Stated Mo, “We can control the ship remotely, and determining exactly where we are can wait for a few moments. Crew, get to the airlock. It’s time to give a visit to our quadrupedal acquaintances.”

“We will come.” Said Daeja, enunciating clearly to Workman Do.

“Happy.”

Daeja smiled, although the creature did not recognize the gesture. The crew of the Rhetho traveled, along with their alien guests, towards the airlock. Outside, the Lelinthian fleet was docked at the vast tower, attached by thousands of tethers to the planet Lolan below. Their hosts waited, in rapt anticipation of willing first contact.

 

[Anonymoose]

Homeworld:
ECONOMY: 1.5e (+2.5e/turn)
TECHNOLOGY: 1
STABILITY: 7
FLEETS: 0
MILITARY: 1 (-0.5e/turn)

This turn, harvest from the other planets in the system and gather more resources with the Hive ship. I'll have a story before long.

 

[bestshot9]

Do I have to send orders? I see it as kind of pointless as I'm still involved in a major world war.

 

[Bil]

@bestshot: Nah, it's still not necessary at this point. Orders are only so I know what you're doing in space. So, unless you want to build some space ships or anything, it's cool.


Storiez:

Galactic Sector I/F - Krull System

Survey Technician Ulok was concerned. Her ship was receiving the broadcasts, but the computer couldn't determine what any of it meant, nor any details about the ship of origin. The flashing lights were an added concern; maybe their communications systems were damaged. Still, nothing was familiar about the craft, and the metallurgical scans revealed an odd hull composition. She sent the report back to Ship's Mayor Ool.

Minutes later, a message arrived for her that simply stated, "Possible alien contact. Maintain position. You'll be acting as a relay." She frowned deeply, pulling on her safety harnesses out of frustration. I hope I get a commission for this, she thought. A message was relayed through her ship to the unknown craft.

The transmission was layered, containing generic tones that counted out prime numbers, visual representations of the solar system as well as a vague representation of the location of Yellor and, in particular, the position of the Ogulia city-ship, and finally an audio recording of Orindi speech.

Ulok decided to nap, setting the computer to wake her when the next transmission was received and relayed.

--------------

Galactic Sector J/D - Planet Lolan

Uk escorted Wahano Sam out of the lab, taking the Hletho down the empty corridors, eventually meeting up with the Do and the other workmen, as well as the rest of the alien crew. Uk felt relaxed, pleased with himself, embracing the warmth of Lotholitel in his mind; he could tell that Do and the others were doing the same. The group followed Uk along the still-empty passage, eventually coming to a large chamber with sealing doors on either side.

The massive airlock was clearly designed to permit several dozen Culud at a time, though for now it was empty save for the twelve in it currently. The airlock cycled, though nothing about the atmosphere seemed to change; rather, it was a matter of additional air purification and pressure balancing between them and the station.

The outer door opened into a truly massive hallway, lined with Culud clad in silvery-gray, armored suits, each bearing some kind of armament at the ready, though not in a hostile manner. In the center of the hall stood an immense vehicle, its segmented legs seeming to just barely touch their pointy tips to the ground. At the top of the object was a massive dome, seemingly filled with water, along with two large eyes.

A voice greeted the aliens in a dull, lifeless tone, speaking a broken version of a common Hlethan language. It said, "Welcoming you here. I am Warden. We will be taking care of you for the now, until it is time for you to be going back to your where you came from. You hear that we are learning, and your language is a different sort of thing than what we have, but we can begin to understand. Your traveling vehicle has been studied while you were in the coming to this place, and from that duration we have learned many things about you and the where you have come from." The machine lowered on its legs to nearly touch the body to the floor, moving effortlessly and silently in the artificial gravity. The voice continued, "We hope you have a nice time in the place where we are. Do you eat and what kind?"

---------------

Galactic Sector B/C - Unnamed System

Arrus Zen couldn't make any sense out of the transmission. It was some kind of gibberish series of sounds, possibly a kind of formulaic message, though the computers and communications crewmembers couldn't discern any major patterns.

"It looks like a derelict," said the scanners crewmember, "I think the signal might be automated, possibly from a broken transmitter."

"Possible," Zen responded, "But it seems to be partly alive, does it not?"

The scanner said, "Yes, I suppose. It might just be some kind of organic mass. I'd like to send a probe, which could study it in closer detail."

Zen considered this carefully, concerned at the response that launching an object at it might evoke, if it is in fact alive. They couldn't foul up contact, though; this could be the third alien life form they've discovered in two years!

"Send it," he ordered, "But... perhaps lower the output of the probe's engines. I don't want it to seem like a projectile of some kind."

The scanner nodded, then set to work. Within an hour, the probe was away, heading slowly, slowly, slowly toward the entity.



OOC: I just realized that I never wrote up the other NPC race, the ones that the Lelinthians contacted. I'll have to get to work on that next! Also, if I forgot to reply to anyone, feel free to scream at me until I cry and get back to work!

 

[Daftpanzer]

Interesting

@Bil, just in case you missed it, I finally replied to your diplo in one of my posts above. Is it right that the Lelinthians have launched a small ship to make contact but it is not heading for my homeworld?

 

[Bil]

Knew I forgot something!


Galactic Sector I/C - Mar Aih System

The response was ignored. The craft continued on its way to Maraa, Workman Lud preparing his portable communicator for the task ahead. The contingent of Culud with him were mostly technical and sociological experts, sent to monitor the progress in Satellian technology and society since contact. Lud, himself, was a the closest thing to a communication specialist that the Lelinthians could offer, aside from some of the Wardens.

The pod entered the atmosphere, shaking gently from the friction, then slowly steadying as it plunged further downward. The thin air was filled with a distant, muted hum as the transport floated over the landing pad, guided gracefully by the pilot down to the ground. There was no fanfare, no grand spectacle, other than the presence of the strange, blocky alien craft setting down on the pad.

Several minutes later, the pod opened and out came Workman Lud, all by himself, carrying a small box with a speaker on the front and a series of strange buttons on the top. He looked out over the Satellians that were waiting for their arrival, watching the ship suspiciously.

"Hello," the box said.