Bil
Prince of Space
Holy snap! That turned out way better than I was expected, Daft! Kudos 
SLYNES - Swirly Lights Yonder, a Never Ending Story
- Thread starter Bil
- Start date
TaylorFlame
Nuclear Whale
- Joined
- Jan 15, 2008
- Messages
- 435
Explosions and New Friends
“Admiral, the ship is still moving. It’s sending a message.”
The bridges transmitter was silent for a moment. The linguistic computer was apparently refining its translation of the alien language. When it was satisfied, the transmitter broadcast the aliens message in the Geskani language. “Hello Chescani Fleet. We are crew of the Hulethon Exploratory Starmover Rehetho. We are here to explore, positively interact with, and communicate your species. We do not wish to cease movement, as it limits our capacity to evade, should we require doing. We will halt vessel if mutual nonviolence in this interaction is approved by you as is by us.”
Acting Admiral Jaru had little time to make a reply. The Loyalist Fleet had begun to mobilize. However, he did notice that a number of Loyalist vessels were simply failing to leave their docks. Evidently, the microbe had affected even the most loyal of the Singularities supporters.
“Greeting Hulethon visitors. I agree to this treaty. Do not be alarmed by the following violence. It is not directed at you. We will contact you shortly.”
The Communications Officer flashed his antennae to show he had sent the message to the alien ship, and Jaru resumed the commencement of an uprising. About half of the Loyalist Fleet seemed willing to commit to battle. They were heavily outgunned, but Geskani history had numerous examples of the smaller, weaker force prevailing in the face of a more powerful enemy. There was a reason as to why the jungle tribes of the South still existed.
The Loyalist Flagship fired a great beam at one of the attacking Rebel craft, cutting a gaping rift down the side of the vessel. Unabated, the Rebel fleet concentrated its firepower on the enemy Flagship, beams cutting into parts as mass drivers launched shells that destroyed whatever was left. The remaining Loyalist ships continued to push forward, however, but the resultant fire from the Rebel Fleet made short work of them, and after a skirmish lasting mere minutes, the few ships that had opposed the Rebels had been destroyed.
With the Loyalist Navy defeated, the landings began. Drop pods carrying Kuzo and rebel leaders began raining down onto Ges, focussed mainly on population centres and military facilities. After a few minutes, further proof that the microbe had taken effect was revealed when many population centres and facilities simply joined with the Rebels, though there was friction. However, fierce fighting erupted around the Geskani capital. It was apparent, however, that the fighting would continue for some time.
Jaru realised that contacting the aliens would need to be done soon. He sent a message to them in his native language.
“What is the purpose of your arrival?”
“Admiral, the ship is still moving. It’s sending a message.”
The bridges transmitter was silent for a moment. The linguistic computer was apparently refining its translation of the alien language. When it was satisfied, the transmitter broadcast the aliens message in the Geskani language. “Hello Chescani Fleet. We are crew of the Hulethon Exploratory Starmover Rehetho. We are here to explore, positively interact with, and communicate your species. We do not wish to cease movement, as it limits our capacity to evade, should we require doing. We will halt vessel if mutual nonviolence in this interaction is approved by you as is by us.”
Acting Admiral Jaru had little time to make a reply. The Loyalist Fleet had begun to mobilize. However, he did notice that a number of Loyalist vessels were simply failing to leave their docks. Evidently, the microbe had affected even the most loyal of the Singularities supporters.
“Greeting Hulethon visitors. I agree to this treaty. Do not be alarmed by the following violence. It is not directed at you. We will contact you shortly.”
The Communications Officer flashed his antennae to show he had sent the message to the alien ship, and Jaru resumed the commencement of an uprising. About half of the Loyalist Fleet seemed willing to commit to battle. They were heavily outgunned, but Geskani history had numerous examples of the smaller, weaker force prevailing in the face of a more powerful enemy. There was a reason as to why the jungle tribes of the South still existed.
The Loyalist Flagship fired a great beam at one of the attacking Rebel craft, cutting a gaping rift down the side of the vessel. Unabated, the Rebel fleet concentrated its firepower on the enemy Flagship, beams cutting into parts as mass drivers launched shells that destroyed whatever was left. The remaining Loyalist ships continued to push forward, however, but the resultant fire from the Rebel Fleet made short work of them, and after a skirmish lasting mere minutes, the few ships that had opposed the Rebels had been destroyed.
With the Loyalist Navy defeated, the landings began. Drop pods carrying Kuzo and rebel leaders began raining down onto Ges, focussed mainly on population centres and military facilities. After a few minutes, further proof that the microbe had taken effect was revealed when many population centres and facilities simply joined with the Rebels, though there was friction. However, fierce fighting erupted around the Geskani capital. It was apparent, however, that the fighting would continue for some time.
Jaru realised that contacting the aliens would need to be done soon. He sent a message to them in his native language.
“What is the purpose of your arrival?”
Haseri
Emperor
Fleet 'Crystal Tide'
"Captains, they appear to have fled underground, like a common crustacean. In retaliation, we shall strike the ground here, here and here. That should collapse the tunnels, squashing them, or driving them to the surface, allowing them to be picked off by our conventional bombers. We will exact revenge for every single Raer lost." Now, return to your ships."
"I can't let that happen Admiral." At the door to the command room on the Mothership, stood the lead diplomat to the expedition. The Admiral despised him, always getting in the way. He thought a peaceful solution was needed after the damned slugs opened fire on them. Now the diplomat was dripping wet, telling him what he could and couldn't do.
"You better give one good reason why not, talker."
"I've just spoken to Erfhe. He says we must stand down and return to the colony at Yalir immediately for repairs. We won't be returning this way. The slugs are to be left alone."
"What! Did you not remind Him how many men and ship we lost!"
"It was my suggestion to leave Admiral. We are accomplishing nothing here, and we are dangerously below optimum strength. If we are to make any progress, we must appear non-threatening. Reacting to them lashing out would be like a teacher hitting a wayward child: it at least accomplishes nothing, and at most makes things worse. We are leaving." The diplomat turned to leave. "Oh yes, one more thing. Erfhe said that if the Admiral goes against the order, Captain Aisair is more than capable of the responsibility of Admiralty."
Orders:
"Captains, they appear to have fled underground, like a common crustacean. In retaliation, we shall strike the ground here, here and here. That should collapse the tunnels, squashing them, or driving them to the surface, allowing them to be picked off by our conventional bombers. We will exact revenge for every single Raer lost." Now, return to your ships."
"I can't let that happen Admiral." At the door to the command room on the Mothership, stood the lead diplomat to the expedition. The Admiral despised him, always getting in the way. He thought a peaceful solution was needed after the damned slugs opened fire on them. Now the diplomat was dripping wet, telling him what he could and couldn't do.
"You better give one good reason why not, talker."
"I've just spoken to Erfhe. He says we must stand down and return to the colony at Yalir immediately for repairs. We won't be returning this way. The slugs are to be left alone."
"What! Did you not remind Him how many men and ship we lost!"
"It was my suggestion to leave Admiral. We are accomplishing nothing here, and we are dangerously below optimum strength. If we are to make any progress, we must appear non-threatening. Reacting to them lashing out would be like a teacher hitting a wayward child: it at least accomplishes nothing, and at most makes things worse. We are leaving." The diplomat turned to leave. "Oh yes, one more thing. Erfhe said that if the Admiral goes against the order, Captain Aisair is more than capable of the responsibility of Admiralty."
****
Orders:
Spoiler :
Battle over Ges
As intense electromagnetic beams melted through hurtling metals and composites, and mass rounds hurtled throughout space, the Hlethan Startraveler Rhetho followed an evasive, dodging, high speed path around the distant periphery of the battle. The viewing area magnified the explosions and violence to visible sizes in the command nexus of the ship, which held all of the crews intent eyes.
Theyre fighting themselves... murmured the normally reticent Habeb Jahn.
They may very well be. Responded Captain Wahano Mo, What could it be for, however? Or are those ships closer to the planet a different species?
A different faction of the same species, perhaps. Responded Nahla, We would do well to learn more.
Mo flicked his tongues in agreement.
Which is what we are doing by traveling so close to this battle.
Uncomfortably close.
The Bresians eyes flashed with an inscrutable expression.
Were far enough away to be safe- the odds of stray debris colliding with us are tremendously small, and the fleet has announced its intention to not attack us.
Yes, but we have no such guarantees from the other fleet.
It seems that such guarantees would be irrelevant- interjected Lico Taesh, The planetary fleet has been annihilated. This was much, much faster than the Battle at Maraekhad.
Yes. Either these Chescani have very powerful weapons, or very weak hulls.
If I may interject, suggested Lico Daeja, They may simply be more familiar with the construction, and means of deconstruction of their own vessels.
Indeed-
Captain Mos words were cut short by an incoming transmission from the same Chescani vessel which had sent the first message.
What is purpose of your arrival?
Shortspoken as always. Jahn, the threat to our ship is over unless our previous contacts have been duplicitous. Begin decelerating the Rhetho.
Done.
Mo turned around and began to record a response.
The purpose of our arrival is to explore this system and to make contact with your species. Your reputation has spread far through known space, and we do not wish to interact with your species in a militaristic manner. Similarly, we do not wish to be forced by yourselves into fighting a war for our defence. Instead, we seek to initiate diplomacy to increase understanding between ourselves and form a positive relationship with your species, for mutual prosperity.
As intense electromagnetic beams melted through hurtling metals and composites, and mass rounds hurtled throughout space, the Hlethan Startraveler Rhetho followed an evasive, dodging, high speed path around the distant periphery of the battle. The viewing area magnified the explosions and violence to visible sizes in the command nexus of the ship, which held all of the crews intent eyes.
Theyre fighting themselves... murmured the normally reticent Habeb Jahn.
They may very well be. Responded Captain Wahano Mo, What could it be for, however? Or are those ships closer to the planet a different species?
A different faction of the same species, perhaps. Responded Nahla, We would do well to learn more.
Mo flicked his tongues in agreement.
Which is what we are doing by traveling so close to this battle.
Uncomfortably close.
The Bresians eyes flashed with an inscrutable expression.
Were far enough away to be safe- the odds of stray debris colliding with us are tremendously small, and the fleet has announced its intention to not attack us.
Yes, but we have no such guarantees from the other fleet.
It seems that such guarantees would be irrelevant- interjected Lico Taesh, The planetary fleet has been annihilated. This was much, much faster than the Battle at Maraekhad.
Yes. Either these Chescani have very powerful weapons, or very weak hulls.
If I may interject, suggested Lico Daeja, They may simply be more familiar with the construction, and means of deconstruction of their own vessels.
Indeed-
Captain Mos words were cut short by an incoming transmission from the same Chescani vessel which had sent the first message.
What is purpose of your arrival?
Shortspoken as always. Jahn, the threat to our ship is over unless our previous contacts have been duplicitous. Begin decelerating the Rhetho.
Done.
Mo turned around and began to record a response.
The purpose of our arrival is to explore this system and to make contact with your species. Your reputation has spread far through known space, and we do not wish to interact with your species in a militaristic manner. Similarly, we do not wish to be forced by yourselves into fighting a war for our defence. Instead, we seek to initiate diplomacy to increase understanding between ourselves and form a positive relationship with your species, for mutual prosperity.
Vertinari118
Deity
OOC: I take it One is deceased? I've been absent due to school work but term's ending soon so I might as well slip back in. A PM giving me a summary of my situation might be good. However it might be best to leave the amoebas as very tough NPCs and allow me to start with a new race more suited to the occasional long absence without leave.
Daftpanzer
canonically ambiguous
Contact: Lost
'I want to go down there. It's my choice.'
'Acceptable'
'Hmm... Alright then...'
'However, I won't allow you to take this ship's only serviceable Lander.'
'Hmmph... How very amusing... I'll just hop out of the airlock, you suggest?'
As frustrated as Nammu Su Haiaa was, similar conversations were taking place on many of the ships of Exploration Fleet #1. The fleet had first postponed its original survey plan and dashed here to meet the giant 'world-ship' that the Helehho had been talking about. But that was starting to look like a naivety-test by the three-armers. By the time the Satellians arrived, there was no sign of the world-ship or of the Star-Traveller Harais. As for the planet below, the swift departure of the usually-inquisitive Helehho perhaps said something of their estimations regarding meaningful contact with the natives.
Tentative orbital observations confirmed the presence of large intelligent bipedal creatures: reassuringly large-bodied, but threateningly strong and fast, with technology including aero-wing flyers and rockets, and a good grasp of metallurgy and chemistry, especially of the explosive kind. At this stage the Satellians had already been hesitant to land, the captains unwilling to lose precious Lander craft and specialised crew, even if certain crew were only too enthusiastic about meeting new aliens. And then the lightshow had started; one of the native tribes had apparently bombed its enemies, and itself, with powerful nuclear explosives mounted on sub-orbital rockets. Radiation readings strongly suggested that this was not the first time such events had happened on the planet.
It was not pleasant viewing. Nammu Su Haiaa wondered what kind of mentality could be in ascendance here, such that nuclear explosions could be deliberately set off in the middle of an inhabited biosphere. It was evident how social violence could work to the advantage of certain species under certain conditions - they had observed it at work in the natural world, even on Hmmaiaa: the extermination of competition, the corralling of potential mates, the access to more diverse food sources. It seemed both the Helehho and Snuddians had followed this path to begin with. But a faction capable of building nuclear devices is inherently one that has been built on many generations of technical development, and ought to be inherently dependent on that technology for further progress...
To Satellian minds, that meant technology needed stability; the technologists needed peace and respect among their neighbours, in order to barter for resources from far away, and to exchange ideas and those unique talents that inevitably grew up elsewhere in different habitats and situations. Nothing else could work long-term. The advantages of stability, and of respectful relations, always emerged triumphant, gradually making violence and dominance less appetising, even if it was something of a natural instinct. The aggressors became stagnant mentally, and ended up having far less access to resources than those who sought fair and equal relations. There were exceptions of course. Sometimes warfare could be a way out of stagnation. But to Satellian eyes, these core ideas had largely been born out in study of Helehho and Snuddian history. And, looking at recent events in the local galaxy, they even seemed to be playing out on a pan-species scale.
And that's why Nammu wanted to get down there. She was curious. What did this planet say about the transcendent consciousness that many Satellians believed to exist? The inherent slant of the universe towards creating fun and exciting conditions for sentient life, the more complex it became? All expressions were possible, but something on this planet must surely be pushing backwards. Sentients were just not meant to live like this, in her view. Especially not those close to the galactic core, where it was expected that ancient, enlightened, sage-like races could be found. Something must have gone wrong... Maybe she could even play a part in changing things for the better...
The Fleet Captain, however, decided upon a cautious and indirect approach. And so, a wave of drones were deployed - albeit with some concerns about the possible implications of using Helehho and Snuddian technology - programmed to locate isolated settlements and to communicate using lights, holograms and radio waves. Assuming such things could be decoded, the natives would see mathematical formulae, the base laws of physics - as known to the Satellians - and basic information on Satellian biology, as well as various Satellian philosophies on life. The idea was simply to announce their presence to the various factions down there, make themselves known as interested observers, and wait for a reaction.
Consequently, on a frosty Halvallan evening, made mostly star-less due to a combination of cloud and the fallout that was still working its way out of the atmosphere and down into the water cycle, a lighter-than-air drone by the name of '#1' first appeared over a small village/refuge camp, a short distance behind the Confederate north front. Its main body was a three-metre spheroid containing hydrogen, which was not only lighter but contained at much lower pressure than the surrounding atmosphere. Small electric propellers were attached at various points, which could also act in reverse as generators. Tiny rocket thrusters provided emergency thrust, and an anchor of sorts was attached underneath. There was just enough buoyancy left over to support miniature cameras, computers and light-projectors. After alighting from their ablative atmospheric-entry sheaths, they were rather clumsy and vulnerable, which is why all the other drones had already crashed, gotten lost in wilderness, or been shot down by various assorted armaments. One drone was greeted by an amazing fireworks display of rapid-fire and air-fragmentation weapons as it inadvertently neared a Confederate staging area.
Drone #1, though, was able to go through several cycles of its light-display program, gathering a crowd of bewildered Ivking from the village. Most of the inhabitants were suffering from some combination of wounds and illness and it seemed, to the Satellian observers in orbit, that they were enjoying a distraction. Nammu and a fellow technician by the name of Aahru Harunn where currently in charge of #1, drawing an envious crowd of crewmembers to their console as the other probes were lost. Aarhu was a young male who seemed very interested in any observations of the native military devices; the hand weapons, the vehicles, the different types used by each side; he wanted to know how they were built, what their relative strengths were, how they matched up in combat, as if it was all some kind of game... Though he claimed to sympathise with Nammu's feelings, she thought he would be happy to sit and watch the natives fought with each other indefinitely.
Then the signal was abruptly lost. An orbital camera saw a small flash and spike of heat. Evidently a native had fired some kind of hand weapon, and it was a good shot, going right through the 'brain' of the drone.
After that, the Satellians spent another few days in-system, some ships exploring the other planets, while others waited for some kind of response. Sporadic signals from some of the drones suggested they were being disassembled methodically. But the Satellians still knew little about the native factions or tribes. They had no idea that an alien contact, of sorts, had already been made. They figured out that one tribe now dominated the centre of the main continent, but had no idea what the factions called themselves, what their ideologies were, if they had any. They had no name for the planet. In fact they had no name for the natives at all. For now they were officially logged as Sentient Biped #3 (Large), or simply the Large.
Nammu and many others wanted to stay on. There were some promising radio signals, and possible light signals from the planet below. But the Fleet Captain decided to move out. Impatience was not a typical Satellian virtue, but neither was wilful ignorance. For all they knew, an enlightened and powerful ally could be found in the very next system.
But, as a final gesture, during the Exploration Fleet's final few orbits of the planet of the Large, the Fleet Captain ordered every solar panel and every reflective surface to be fully extended, putting on a little lightshow for anyone who happened to be watching from the nightside of the planet, wherever the cloud and dust was not too thick. Then the sparkling lights vanished one by one. But their ghosts were left behind... A few geo-stationary satellites watching and listening for any abnormal signal cutting through the radioactive chatter. The Satellians planned to return someday.
---
@bestshot, apologies no landing after all. I decided it wouldn't be proper of me, not with the bad experiences my dudes had earlier on. But we are listening...
'I want to go down there. It's my choice.'
'Acceptable'
'Hmm... Alright then...'
'However, I won't allow you to take this ship's only serviceable Lander.'
'Hmmph... How very amusing... I'll just hop out of the airlock, you suggest?'
As frustrated as Nammu Su Haiaa was, similar conversations were taking place on many of the ships of Exploration Fleet #1. The fleet had first postponed its original survey plan and dashed here to meet the giant 'world-ship' that the Helehho had been talking about. But that was starting to look like a naivety-test by the three-armers. By the time the Satellians arrived, there was no sign of the world-ship or of the Star-Traveller Harais. As for the planet below, the swift departure of the usually-inquisitive Helehho perhaps said something of their estimations regarding meaningful contact with the natives.
Tentative orbital observations confirmed the presence of large intelligent bipedal creatures: reassuringly large-bodied, but threateningly strong and fast, with technology including aero-wing flyers and rockets, and a good grasp of metallurgy and chemistry, especially of the explosive kind. At this stage the Satellians had already been hesitant to land, the captains unwilling to lose precious Lander craft and specialised crew, even if certain crew were only too enthusiastic about meeting new aliens. And then the lightshow had started; one of the native tribes had apparently bombed its enemies, and itself, with powerful nuclear explosives mounted on sub-orbital rockets. Radiation readings strongly suggested that this was not the first time such events had happened on the planet.
It was not pleasant viewing. Nammu Su Haiaa wondered what kind of mentality could be in ascendance here, such that nuclear explosions could be deliberately set off in the middle of an inhabited biosphere. It was evident how social violence could work to the advantage of certain species under certain conditions - they had observed it at work in the natural world, even on Hmmaiaa: the extermination of competition, the corralling of potential mates, the access to more diverse food sources. It seemed both the Helehho and Snuddians had followed this path to begin with. But a faction capable of building nuclear devices is inherently one that has been built on many generations of technical development, and ought to be inherently dependent on that technology for further progress...
To Satellian minds, that meant technology needed stability; the technologists needed peace and respect among their neighbours, in order to barter for resources from far away, and to exchange ideas and those unique talents that inevitably grew up elsewhere in different habitats and situations. Nothing else could work long-term. The advantages of stability, and of respectful relations, always emerged triumphant, gradually making violence and dominance less appetising, even if it was something of a natural instinct. The aggressors became stagnant mentally, and ended up having far less access to resources than those who sought fair and equal relations. There were exceptions of course. Sometimes warfare could be a way out of stagnation. But to Satellian eyes, these core ideas had largely been born out in study of Helehho and Snuddian history. And, looking at recent events in the local galaxy, they even seemed to be playing out on a pan-species scale.
And that's why Nammu wanted to get down there. She was curious. What did this planet say about the transcendent consciousness that many Satellians believed to exist? The inherent slant of the universe towards creating fun and exciting conditions for sentient life, the more complex it became? All expressions were possible, but something on this planet must surely be pushing backwards. Sentients were just not meant to live like this, in her view. Especially not those close to the galactic core, where it was expected that ancient, enlightened, sage-like races could be found. Something must have gone wrong... Maybe she could even play a part in changing things for the better...
The Fleet Captain, however, decided upon a cautious and indirect approach. And so, a wave of drones were deployed - albeit with some concerns about the possible implications of using Helehho and Snuddian technology - programmed to locate isolated settlements and to communicate using lights, holograms and radio waves. Assuming such things could be decoded, the natives would see mathematical formulae, the base laws of physics - as known to the Satellians - and basic information on Satellian biology, as well as various Satellian philosophies on life. The idea was simply to announce their presence to the various factions down there, make themselves known as interested observers, and wait for a reaction.
Consequently, on a frosty Halvallan evening, made mostly star-less due to a combination of cloud and the fallout that was still working its way out of the atmosphere and down into the water cycle, a lighter-than-air drone by the name of '#1' first appeared over a small village/refuge camp, a short distance behind the Confederate north front. Its main body was a three-metre spheroid containing hydrogen, which was not only lighter but contained at much lower pressure than the surrounding atmosphere. Small electric propellers were attached at various points, which could also act in reverse as generators. Tiny rocket thrusters provided emergency thrust, and an anchor of sorts was attached underneath. There was just enough buoyancy left over to support miniature cameras, computers and light-projectors. After alighting from their ablative atmospheric-entry sheaths, they were rather clumsy and vulnerable, which is why all the other drones had already crashed, gotten lost in wilderness, or been shot down by various assorted armaments. One drone was greeted by an amazing fireworks display of rapid-fire and air-fragmentation weapons as it inadvertently neared a Confederate staging area.
Drone #1, though, was able to go through several cycles of its light-display program, gathering a crowd of bewildered Ivking from the village. Most of the inhabitants were suffering from some combination of wounds and illness and it seemed, to the Satellian observers in orbit, that they were enjoying a distraction. Nammu and a fellow technician by the name of Aahru Harunn where currently in charge of #1, drawing an envious crowd of crewmembers to their console as the other probes were lost. Aarhu was a young male who seemed very interested in any observations of the native military devices; the hand weapons, the vehicles, the different types used by each side; he wanted to know how they were built, what their relative strengths were, how they matched up in combat, as if it was all some kind of game... Though he claimed to sympathise with Nammu's feelings, she thought he would be happy to sit and watch the natives fought with each other indefinitely.
Then the signal was abruptly lost. An orbital camera saw a small flash and spike of heat. Evidently a native had fired some kind of hand weapon, and it was a good shot, going right through the 'brain' of the drone.
After that, the Satellians spent another few days in-system, some ships exploring the other planets, while others waited for some kind of response. Sporadic signals from some of the drones suggested they were being disassembled methodically. But the Satellians still knew little about the native factions or tribes. They had no idea that an alien contact, of sorts, had already been made. They figured out that one tribe now dominated the centre of the main continent, but had no idea what the factions called themselves, what their ideologies were, if they had any. They had no name for the planet. In fact they had no name for the natives at all. For now they were officially logged as Sentient Biped #3 (Large), or simply the Large.
Nammu and many others wanted to stay on. There were some promising radio signals, and possible light signals from the planet below. But the Fleet Captain decided to move out. Impatience was not a typical Satellian virtue, but neither was wilful ignorance. For all they knew, an enlightened and powerful ally could be found in the very next system.
But, as a final gesture, during the Exploration Fleet's final few orbits of the planet of the Large, the Fleet Captain ordered every solar panel and every reflective surface to be fully extended, putting on a little lightshow for anyone who happened to be watching from the nightside of the planet, wherever the cloud and dust was not too thick. Then the sparkling lights vanished one by one. But their ghosts were left behind... A few geo-stationary satellites watching and listening for any abnormal signal cutting through the radioactive chatter. The Satellians planned to return someday.
---
@bestshot, apologies no landing after all. I decided it wouldn't be proper of me, not with the bad experiences my dudes had earlier on. But we are listening...
Vertinari118
Deity
WIP
My WIP race template. I will finish it off tomorrow as I should be writing an English essay.
Spoiler :
My WIP race template. I will finish it off tomorrow as I should be writing an English essay.
Daftpanzer
canonically ambiguous
@Vertinari118 not to be rude but I think we have enough aborted races already, not to mention enough bipeds! Though I accept you didnt say how many limbs they have. But anyway...
Like if you don't have time (to fill in your template
), and have to abaddon this race too, Bil and the rest of us will still have to deal with it as NPC...
EDIT: Thread Elitism detected. Well its Bil's call of course, just sayin, great that you're back tho...
Like if you don't have time (to fill in your template
), and have to abaddon this race too, Bil and the rest of us will still have to deal with it as NPC...EDIT: Thread Elitism detected. Well its Bil's call of course, just sayin, great that you're back tho...
Daftpanzer
canonically ambiguous
New Perception: Part #1
The Core Council of The Agreement was once again in session, buried in the Grand Meeting Room of the Great Undercity. Meanwhile, up in orbit of Hmmaiaa, settled in his mood-lit nest-console, Saal Naarn was not even listening in. He didn't need to. Regarding this particular assembly, he had an image of all their personalities in his own mind; he could imagine what they were saying and why they were saying it. Or at least, he liked to think so. They would talk for day or two and then decide that something good must come of all this. It was a reflection of the mood sweeping the electronic collective, if not society in general. The gradual realisation of just how many had died in the fighting with the Geskhue, and just how many resources had been involved and expended, psychological resources being the most precious of all.
The fighting had occupied an unacceptable amount of Mind-Time. It was unhealthy. Fighting, even for survival, should not be an occupation as such. The universe would simply reconfigure itself to this, presenting endless threats and opponents for us to face. Saal would agree: it is time to rebalance, to express other aspects of ourselves, and to get out there into the greater galactic neighbourhood, before races like the Helehho monopolise all the fun.
Just then, an alert-notifier popped up on one of his screens...
one day we will all be with them in the black and deep...
'What?!'
---
Murrumue Ulunn was choking on fumes leaking from the fuel tanks. His consciousness shifted again, some point after the acceleration cut-off. He was simultaneously looking down upon his limp, floating body in the dull half-light of the Cargo Capsule, while also being far away, back onboard Exploration Ship #6/7, being surrounded by inscrutinable alien bipeds, the air filled with that endless warning-rumble and the oscillating globules of floating blood. He was also a young twice-moulted youngster, enjoying a communal meal at his old home kinship, with the rare company of both his parents, struggling to follow some conversation about ancient philosophy. He was also on the mesa-top of Nujunn-Nukk, sculpting stone with the help of his true love, Namaiaa. He was also floating in light, conversing with glowing balls of consciousness, the friends he knew well but had never met.
Once again... There was no vocabulary to express what he was feeling, what he was knowing. Language would filter and morph it into something far more mundane and meaningless. It was frustrating and lonely. The ones beyond could only empathise...
go into the water
He was suddenly in the middle of a storm, a real one, the likes of which he had not felt since his grieving-journey for his home kin. This time he had the disadvantage of being in the sea, with the real prospect of drowning, eventually. Mountainous waves pummelled him from all directions; it was hard to tell where the water ended and the air began, if there was such a boundary right now. Of course, this might not really be happening, although it did feel very real, and very loud, and very very cold - vacuum exposure was more pleasant than this, he thought to himself. For a brief moment, he was lifted high on the crest of a wave, and was able to see a massive swirling vortex of air and water approaching, one of several sisters in fact, illuminated in the darkness by near constant lightning overhead. Numb and weightless, he shut his big-eyes and waited...
---
A Malicious Action had been detected on the data networks of the home system. Its effects spread across private and public networks, causing quite a stir and leading to a surge of correspondence that was now clogging up the whole data system, making the original Malicious Action look quite trivial; it had simply been the sending of unwanted priority-flagged messages to several thousand accounts, apparently at random. It was only fairly recently, with the outbreak of hostilities with aliens, that large areas of the digital collective and data networks had started to restrict access. Some individuals even had consoles or electronic pages that required the user to pass biometric checks. With a combined population of around one billion, there was definitely such a thing as a psychotic Satellian. It was only a matter of time before someone with special technical expertise fell into this grouping. As in all cases where Satellians faced unknown threats, tensions were rather high. As soon as the source of the latest Malicious Action had been tracked down, a variety of VTOLs, Landers and Walkers began descending on that location.
The place was a simple mud-dome in the Rhammun-Ghurr Escarpment Region, currently on the dayside of the planet. The locality was registered to a forager-farmer Kinship. It was all a little too inconspicuous. There were a series of stand-offs as assorted members of Volunteer Anti-Violation Kinships, Combined Fleet specialists and concerned members of the local Kinships arrived one by one, some with more subtlety than others. Fortunately, no weapons were fired, the locale proved to be otherwise deserted. Once the dust had settled, those present could enjoy their impromptu gathering, while a couple of specialists probed the single console that had apparently been the source of the panic.
Gurunn Jurr, veteran of the Exploration Fleets and of the Snuddian liberation, was one such specialist. The console seemed to belong to local forager-farmers, with a history of use going back almost a century, although someone with considerable expertise had made big changes in the last few days, including the addition of an admirable access-barrier, especially given the rather out-of-date hardware. Back on Sneed, Gurunn had learned a few things when it came to operating Satellian battle-walkers and automated turrets, not to mention deactivating similar Geskhue hardware. He gained access by early evening, much to the praise of those present, only to find that there wasn't much to find. The console had definitely been the source of the messages, but it had been operating on a time-delay. The perpetrator of the Malicious Action had probably left several days ago, leaving little to go on. There was no sign of any follow-up programs, and no obvious trails to follow. The console was shipped off for further study, with a note of apology left behind for the local forager-farmers, who were presumably occupied in one of the deep cave-systems nearby. It was summer after all, and more than a little hot around these parts.
As evening fell, most of the vehicles departed, leaving Gurunn and a few fellows to carry on their discussions over a few bottles of chilled intoxicants. Gurunn had become used to the busy skies of Sneed, at least the parts where he travelled. The night sky was clear in this part of Hmmaiaa, down near the sea of the southern pole, away from the equatorial launcher-cities or any centres of, well, anything.
'Hmm.... One day we will all be with them in the black and deep... Not a very cheery message to put out there...' said one of the Volunteer Anti-Violation people, still clad in kinetic-resistant membrane and infra-red eyepieces.
'Well... Depends on your point of view I guess...' replied Gurunn. 'We all come from void, after all...'
'Hmmah... Hmm... Now we have to track down this attention-seeker...'
'Hmm... Well... If he or she seeks attention, we shouldn't have to wait long... I am concerned that all this was planned, as some kind of distraction...'
As he said this, Gurunn had the unpleasant and nagging feeling that he was right.
-
The Core Council of The Agreement was once again in session, buried in the Grand Meeting Room of the Great Undercity. Meanwhile, up in orbit of Hmmaiaa, settled in his mood-lit nest-console, Saal Naarn was not even listening in. He didn't need to. Regarding this particular assembly, he had an image of all their personalities in his own mind; he could imagine what they were saying and why they were saying it. Or at least, he liked to think so. They would talk for day or two and then decide that something good must come of all this. It was a reflection of the mood sweeping the electronic collective, if not society in general. The gradual realisation of just how many had died in the fighting with the Geskhue, and just how many resources had been involved and expended, psychological resources being the most precious of all.
The fighting had occupied an unacceptable amount of Mind-Time. It was unhealthy. Fighting, even for survival, should not be an occupation as such. The universe would simply reconfigure itself to this, presenting endless threats and opponents for us to face. Saal would agree: it is time to rebalance, to express other aspects of ourselves, and to get out there into the greater galactic neighbourhood, before races like the Helehho monopolise all the fun.
Just then, an alert-notifier popped up on one of his screens...
one day we will all be with them in the black and deep...
'What?!'
---
Murrumue Ulunn was choking on fumes leaking from the fuel tanks. His consciousness shifted again, some point after the acceleration cut-off. He was simultaneously looking down upon his limp, floating body in the dull half-light of the Cargo Capsule, while also being far away, back onboard Exploration Ship #6/7, being surrounded by inscrutinable alien bipeds, the air filled with that endless warning-rumble and the oscillating globules of floating blood. He was also a young twice-moulted youngster, enjoying a communal meal at his old home kinship, with the rare company of both his parents, struggling to follow some conversation about ancient philosophy. He was also on the mesa-top of Nujunn-Nukk, sculpting stone with the help of his true love, Namaiaa. He was also floating in light, conversing with glowing balls of consciousness, the friends he knew well but had never met.
Once again... There was no vocabulary to express what he was feeling, what he was knowing. Language would filter and morph it into something far more mundane and meaningless. It was frustrating and lonely. The ones beyond could only empathise...
go into the water
He was suddenly in the middle of a storm, a real one, the likes of which he had not felt since his grieving-journey for his home kin. This time he had the disadvantage of being in the sea, with the real prospect of drowning, eventually. Mountainous waves pummelled him from all directions; it was hard to tell where the water ended and the air began, if there was such a boundary right now. Of course, this might not really be happening, although it did feel very real, and very loud, and very very cold - vacuum exposure was more pleasant than this, he thought to himself. For a brief moment, he was lifted high on the crest of a wave, and was able to see a massive swirling vortex of air and water approaching, one of several sisters in fact, illuminated in the darkness by near constant lightning overhead. Numb and weightless, he shut his big-eyes and waited...
---
A Malicious Action had been detected on the data networks of the home system. Its effects spread across private and public networks, causing quite a stir and leading to a surge of correspondence that was now clogging up the whole data system, making the original Malicious Action look quite trivial; it had simply been the sending of unwanted priority-flagged messages to several thousand accounts, apparently at random. It was only fairly recently, with the outbreak of hostilities with aliens, that large areas of the digital collective and data networks had started to restrict access. Some individuals even had consoles or electronic pages that required the user to pass biometric checks. With a combined population of around one billion, there was definitely such a thing as a psychotic Satellian. It was only a matter of time before someone with special technical expertise fell into this grouping. As in all cases where Satellians faced unknown threats, tensions were rather high. As soon as the source of the latest Malicious Action had been tracked down, a variety of VTOLs, Landers and Walkers began descending on that location.
The place was a simple mud-dome in the Rhammun-Ghurr Escarpment Region, currently on the dayside of the planet. The locality was registered to a forager-farmer Kinship. It was all a little too inconspicuous. There were a series of stand-offs as assorted members of Volunteer Anti-Violation Kinships, Combined Fleet specialists and concerned members of the local Kinships arrived one by one, some with more subtlety than others. Fortunately, no weapons were fired, the locale proved to be otherwise deserted. Once the dust had settled, those present could enjoy their impromptu gathering, while a couple of specialists probed the single console that had apparently been the source of the panic.
Gurunn Jurr, veteran of the Exploration Fleets and of the Snuddian liberation, was one such specialist. The console seemed to belong to local forager-farmers, with a history of use going back almost a century, although someone with considerable expertise had made big changes in the last few days, including the addition of an admirable access-barrier, especially given the rather out-of-date hardware. Back on Sneed, Gurunn had learned a few things when it came to operating Satellian battle-walkers and automated turrets, not to mention deactivating similar Geskhue hardware. He gained access by early evening, much to the praise of those present, only to find that there wasn't much to find. The console had definitely been the source of the messages, but it had been operating on a time-delay. The perpetrator of the Malicious Action had probably left several days ago, leaving little to go on. There was no sign of any follow-up programs, and no obvious trails to follow. The console was shipped off for further study, with a note of apology left behind for the local forager-farmers, who were presumably occupied in one of the deep cave-systems nearby. It was summer after all, and more than a little hot around these parts.
As evening fell, most of the vehicles departed, leaving Gurunn and a few fellows to carry on their discussions over a few bottles of chilled intoxicants. Gurunn had become used to the busy skies of Sneed, at least the parts where he travelled. The night sky was clear in this part of Hmmaiaa, down near the sea of the southern pole, away from the equatorial launcher-cities or any centres of, well, anything.
'Hmm.... One day we will all be with them in the black and deep... Not a very cheery message to put out there...' said one of the Volunteer Anti-Violation people, still clad in kinetic-resistant membrane and infra-red eyepieces.
'Well... Depends on your point of view I guess...' replied Gurunn. 'We all come from void, after all...'
'Hmmah... Hmm... Now we have to track down this attention-seeker...'
'Hmm... Well... If he or she seeks attention, we shouldn't have to wait long... I am concerned that all this was planned, as some kind of distraction...'
As he said this, Gurunn had the unpleasant and nagging feeling that he was right.
-
Daftpanzer
canonically ambiguous
New Perception: Part #2
Saiaa Muu Narr had spent two years aboard Special Asteroid Base #1, strangely isolated in the heart of Satellian-inhabited space. The Great Battle of the home system had come and gone; for the crew of the station it was nothing more than a series of distant flashes, distorted and rendered out-of-sequence, the light travelling too slowly over such distances to tell the true story. But several months later, an unidentified solid object - perhaps, for all they know, part of a former Geskani or Satellian war vessel, or some kind or rogue missile - happened to collide with the base. It struck a portion of the natural rock surface, which was fortunate for the inner structures, but it did result in some ugly fracturing in the outer sections, kicked up a new cloud of debris and set the whole base spinning off-kilter. It was a rather frightening experience for Saiaa.
Through it all the Lelinthian Box remained silent, its screen still displaying the message she had entered many months ago. Saiaa had not fully given up hope of receiving a reply from the Lelinthians, but nor was she holding her breath. The Box became part of the scenery, an abandoned toy. She found new ways to enjoy things; she made friends with one of her fellow crewmembers, and was at least amicable with the other two. They talked, they played games, and even managed to agree on a schedule of maintenance jobs; such a long stay had not been planned, and there was work to be done on the algae-farm and air-processing units, not to mention finding and fixing the air leaks that were now springing up everywhere.
It reminded Saiaa or her first-century years as a travelling technician among the home moons, lending herself to the most eccentric technical projects, like early attempts at AI or FTL drives, or anti-gravity, or even teleportation; projects run by 'visionaries' without much in the way of backing from other Kinships, and inevitably with little or no useful produce to exchange for things, thus leading to them begging and scrounging and subsisting off microbes and making their own hydroponic farms out of scrap metal, and eventually spending most their time just trying to keep their habitats sustainable instead of making any progress towards those elusive breakthroughs that would leave the rest of their species indebted to them... But fun times, nonetheless. Comradeship and self-sustenance, or at least one of the two, leading to self-empowerment. Surely it was what every sentient being really wanted, engrained at the base of their varied psychologies, Saiaa mused to herself.
She snapped back to the present as she found herself floating into the hard, painful edge of a partially-opened bulkhead. Now it was time to leave, she was suddenly having second thoughts. To one side the Lelinthian Box still lay nestled in its special chamber, surrounded by a vigil of sensors, all inactive as ever. Saiaa finally turned away, and floated on towards the cavernous main hangar, which was looking slightly less tidy than when she first arrived, wherein a Standard Capsule and its autopilot were waiting to whisk her away, back out into open space at last. The irony was that the Capsule was far more cramped than most of the quarters on the station. Sudden acceleration added to her discomfort. A tiny porthole in the side of the hull was caught sideways in the glare of the docking-bay lights and could give no hint of the vastness beyond. Finding a suitable niche in the curving hull, she plugged in her electronic page and managed to access the exterior camera. She was rewarded with one last look at Special Asteroid Base #1 as it receded into the void, open-mouthed and mournful, seemingly being blown away by the tiny sparkling thrusters of the Capsule itself.
Saiaa had expected to rendezvous with a standard runner, the kind of ship with a short-hop FTL drive, no more than fifty metres long total. But as she turned the camera forward, she was surprised to see what looked like another space station looming out of the blackness, something a whole order of magnitude bigger, and stranger...
Harrumunn Rarr's voice then rumbled over the Capsule's intercom. Unlike Saiaa, whose extended isolation had cost her a role as representative for the Combined Technical Kinship of Maraa, her sometimes-friend Rarr was still representative for the world of Ulumm-Bukk and moving amongst the 'elite' techno-industrialists of the day.
'Hello friend. Do you like my new space ship?'
Saiaa was now calling up various schematics on her page and comparing them with the Capsule's visual and radar data. Yes, the 'Diplomatic Ship', the sculpture of the shipyards, interesting...
'A monstrosity!' Saiaa replied semi-jokingly. 'Out for a test drive?'
'A trial run, yes. Out of all the potential first stops, well, I thought you might appreciate this mode of transport, so I used my influence to that effect... Plenty of food and intoxicants when you get onboard.'
'Gratitude!' finished Saiaa. As much as she disliked the idea of being indebted to Rarr in any way, she was quite eager to see this new contraption. And hopefully it had the facilities for a nice hot bath...
---
Portmaster Hunf had accepted an invitation to attend the 'hatching' of the 'Diplomatic Vessel', and so here he was. His misconception was that such a large vessel would be free from the unpleasant effects his species normally associated with space flight. This proved to be only partially true. He had endured varying degrees of comfort and discomfort since leaving the Snuddian-Satellian Mercantile Relations Hub.
Hunf understood that the craft was the biggest FTL-capable object the Satellians had build so far, and this was some cause of pride and celebration amongst his hosts. The actual function of the ship had not been explained to his satisfaction; his hosts seemed content to use phrases like 'cultural exchange', 'open-ness', 'techno-artistic cross-pollination' and 'industrial-artistic cultural reaction to war-related deprivations', which he guessed translated as 'fun'. It had been a groundbreaking industrial effort, first involving the stitching together of several of the biggest shipyards the Satellians had in orbit of their central gas giant, as well as the transport of entire ship sections from separate shipyards in the Ulumm-Bukk system. Hundreds of the big Satellians could already fit inside the ship quite comfortably. And most of the ship's interior was still clean empty space, awaiting its final fitting-out as needs arose. In fact, around one-third of the interior was still in vacuum. In Satellian terms, its Hletho-inspired, smooth-curving, radiation-efficient hull shapes were truly radical, but this was also deceptive; the inner ship was composed of around 50% recycled obsolete spaceships and orbital stations, he had been told.
The main hull of the craft was fixed and solid, though there were various free-rotating sections inside, each providing a limited and alterable sense of gravity by centripetal force. Hrunf was in one of those now. Apparently, they were currently on the inside of a hollow wheel section, the mechanisms buried 'below' them. The wheel was about 120 metres in diameter at its tallest, its inner surfaces mostly covered in gardens of some sort, nestled into a larger, open, non-rotating section. Satellians seemed keen on arranging rocks of different shapes, textures and colours, in between weird abstract sculptures, and small metallic musical instruments that seemed to play notes at random to passers-by. Some Snuddian plants were noticeable, along with pools of water and some rather lazy fountains - one of which glistened a hundred metres above Hunf's head, and he dreaded to think what happened if the wheel stopped turning.
To Hunf's right, the gardens climbed up in various steps and levels, each with a smaller circumference and less 'gravity', until they concentrically disappeared into a large weightless corridor beyond. To Hunf's left was a large transparent dome-wall, which was apparently the very front of the ship, some sort of transmutable plastic-glass providing a shaded view of the starscape, which seemed to be rotating, though of course it was actually the 'ground' that was rotating, he understood. The starry dome was something that would have seemed far more appropriate as a ceiling. 'Up' in the middle of it, if someone somehow floated up there, was a separate zero-gravity observation lounge, which seemed quite popular with the Satellians at the moment. Most of the floating light-pods and narcotic-dispensers had been attracted in that direction, though some kind of buzzing, glowing drone was following Hunf at a distance.
Hunf would've been disorientated enough by all that. But above him, occupying the central axle of the atrium, and apparently free-floating between the forward observation lounge and the main exit-corridor, though it was actually steadied by thin wires, was a full-scale replica of the Hletho spacecraft known as the Rhetho, all eighty-plus metres of it. The reason for, or significance of, this was lost on Hunf, though the Satellians used words like 'resonance'. It was an empty shell, apparently, some kind of decoration, though he'd overhead Satellians arguing that the alien Trident-Gear was not a accurately represented, it was a metre too short, or something, some of them seemed quite upset about this.
Hunf was trying to decide whether to explore these spinning gardens and allow himself to get accustomed to semi-gravity again, and/or perhaps track down some new Satellian clients, or whether he should make his excuses and leave. The problem was that the Satellians seemed to forge a lot of their business dealings, or what passed for such, on occasions like this.
'Portmaster Hunf, your presence honours us!' said some Satellian who had appeared/floated out of nowhere, as the big creatures seemed to have a habit of doing in space. This one was apparently someone of some importance. Huehunn Moah was his name, Hunf finally recalled, just as the Satellian finished his first sentence. 'Will you be staying on for the trip to Sneed'?
'Umm...' replied Hunf, recalling his ongoing confusion regarding the Kudos concept and the nausea he'd felt on the short hop out to the middle-edge of this system. Somehow, perhaps the way the hull resonated and roared and seemed to pull at him in various different directions at once, it seemed even worse than his first interstellar FTL trip out of Sneed. And the Satellians had even been talking about adapting the compaction method of the Hletho, which was more accurate and efficient generally, but also rather more disturbing in terms of its effects on passengers. 'I might have things to do back at the Hub, you know...'
'Of course... But we could use advice when it comes to accommodating Snuddians, if you have any suggestions... We wish this to be a vessel for all races...'
If only Vrun was here, thought Hunf.
Saiaa Muu Narr had spent two years aboard Special Asteroid Base #1, strangely isolated in the heart of Satellian-inhabited space. The Great Battle of the home system had come and gone; for the crew of the station it was nothing more than a series of distant flashes, distorted and rendered out-of-sequence, the light travelling too slowly over such distances to tell the true story. But several months later, an unidentified solid object - perhaps, for all they know, part of a former Geskani or Satellian war vessel, or some kind or rogue missile - happened to collide with the base. It struck a portion of the natural rock surface, which was fortunate for the inner structures, but it did result in some ugly fracturing in the outer sections, kicked up a new cloud of debris and set the whole base spinning off-kilter. It was a rather frightening experience for Saiaa.
Through it all the Lelinthian Box remained silent, its screen still displaying the message she had entered many months ago. Saiaa had not fully given up hope of receiving a reply from the Lelinthians, but nor was she holding her breath. The Box became part of the scenery, an abandoned toy. She found new ways to enjoy things; she made friends with one of her fellow crewmembers, and was at least amicable with the other two. They talked, they played games, and even managed to agree on a schedule of maintenance jobs; such a long stay had not been planned, and there was work to be done on the algae-farm and air-processing units, not to mention finding and fixing the air leaks that were now springing up everywhere.
It reminded Saiaa or her first-century years as a travelling technician among the home moons, lending herself to the most eccentric technical projects, like early attempts at AI or FTL drives, or anti-gravity, or even teleportation; projects run by 'visionaries' without much in the way of backing from other Kinships, and inevitably with little or no useful produce to exchange for things, thus leading to them begging and scrounging and subsisting off microbes and making their own hydroponic farms out of scrap metal, and eventually spending most their time just trying to keep their habitats sustainable instead of making any progress towards those elusive breakthroughs that would leave the rest of their species indebted to them... But fun times, nonetheless. Comradeship and self-sustenance, or at least one of the two, leading to self-empowerment. Surely it was what every sentient being really wanted, engrained at the base of their varied psychologies, Saiaa mused to herself.
She snapped back to the present as she found herself floating into the hard, painful edge of a partially-opened bulkhead. Now it was time to leave, she was suddenly having second thoughts. To one side the Lelinthian Box still lay nestled in its special chamber, surrounded by a vigil of sensors, all inactive as ever. Saiaa finally turned away, and floated on towards the cavernous main hangar, which was looking slightly less tidy than when she first arrived, wherein a Standard Capsule and its autopilot were waiting to whisk her away, back out into open space at last. The irony was that the Capsule was far more cramped than most of the quarters on the station. Sudden acceleration added to her discomfort. A tiny porthole in the side of the hull was caught sideways in the glare of the docking-bay lights and could give no hint of the vastness beyond. Finding a suitable niche in the curving hull, she plugged in her electronic page and managed to access the exterior camera. She was rewarded with one last look at Special Asteroid Base #1 as it receded into the void, open-mouthed and mournful, seemingly being blown away by the tiny sparkling thrusters of the Capsule itself.
Saiaa had expected to rendezvous with a standard runner, the kind of ship with a short-hop FTL drive, no more than fifty metres long total. But as she turned the camera forward, she was surprised to see what looked like another space station looming out of the blackness, something a whole order of magnitude bigger, and stranger...
Harrumunn Rarr's voice then rumbled over the Capsule's intercom. Unlike Saiaa, whose extended isolation had cost her a role as representative for the Combined Technical Kinship of Maraa, her sometimes-friend Rarr was still representative for the world of Ulumm-Bukk and moving amongst the 'elite' techno-industrialists of the day.
'Hello friend. Do you like my new space ship?'
Saiaa was now calling up various schematics on her page and comparing them with the Capsule's visual and radar data. Yes, the 'Diplomatic Ship', the sculpture of the shipyards, interesting...
'A monstrosity!' Saiaa replied semi-jokingly. 'Out for a test drive?'
'A trial run, yes. Out of all the potential first stops, well, I thought you might appreciate this mode of transport, so I used my influence to that effect... Plenty of food and intoxicants when you get onboard.'
'Gratitude!' finished Saiaa. As much as she disliked the idea of being indebted to Rarr in any way, she was quite eager to see this new contraption. And hopefully it had the facilities for a nice hot bath...
---
Portmaster Hunf had accepted an invitation to attend the 'hatching' of the 'Diplomatic Vessel', and so here he was. His misconception was that such a large vessel would be free from the unpleasant effects his species normally associated with space flight. This proved to be only partially true. He had endured varying degrees of comfort and discomfort since leaving the Snuddian-Satellian Mercantile Relations Hub.
Hunf understood that the craft was the biggest FTL-capable object the Satellians had build so far, and this was some cause of pride and celebration amongst his hosts. The actual function of the ship had not been explained to his satisfaction; his hosts seemed content to use phrases like 'cultural exchange', 'open-ness', 'techno-artistic cross-pollination' and 'industrial-artistic cultural reaction to war-related deprivations', which he guessed translated as 'fun'. It had been a groundbreaking industrial effort, first involving the stitching together of several of the biggest shipyards the Satellians had in orbit of their central gas giant, as well as the transport of entire ship sections from separate shipyards in the Ulumm-Bukk system. Hundreds of the big Satellians could already fit inside the ship quite comfortably. And most of the ship's interior was still clean empty space, awaiting its final fitting-out as needs arose. In fact, around one-third of the interior was still in vacuum. In Satellian terms, its Hletho-inspired, smooth-curving, radiation-efficient hull shapes were truly radical, but this was also deceptive; the inner ship was composed of around 50% recycled obsolete spaceships and orbital stations, he had been told.
The main hull of the craft was fixed and solid, though there were various free-rotating sections inside, each providing a limited and alterable sense of gravity by centripetal force. Hrunf was in one of those now. Apparently, they were currently on the inside of a hollow wheel section, the mechanisms buried 'below' them. The wheel was about 120 metres in diameter at its tallest, its inner surfaces mostly covered in gardens of some sort, nestled into a larger, open, non-rotating section. Satellians seemed keen on arranging rocks of different shapes, textures and colours, in between weird abstract sculptures, and small metallic musical instruments that seemed to play notes at random to passers-by. Some Snuddian plants were noticeable, along with pools of water and some rather lazy fountains - one of which glistened a hundred metres above Hunf's head, and he dreaded to think what happened if the wheel stopped turning.
To Hunf's right, the gardens climbed up in various steps and levels, each with a smaller circumference and less 'gravity', until they concentrically disappeared into a large weightless corridor beyond. To Hunf's left was a large transparent dome-wall, which was apparently the very front of the ship, some sort of transmutable plastic-glass providing a shaded view of the starscape, which seemed to be rotating, though of course it was actually the 'ground' that was rotating, he understood. The starry dome was something that would have seemed far more appropriate as a ceiling. 'Up' in the middle of it, if someone somehow floated up there, was a separate zero-gravity observation lounge, which seemed quite popular with the Satellians at the moment. Most of the floating light-pods and narcotic-dispensers had been attracted in that direction, though some kind of buzzing, glowing drone was following Hunf at a distance.
Hunf would've been disorientated enough by all that. But above him, occupying the central axle of the atrium, and apparently free-floating between the forward observation lounge and the main exit-corridor, though it was actually steadied by thin wires, was a full-scale replica of the Hletho spacecraft known as the Rhetho, all eighty-plus metres of it. The reason for, or significance of, this was lost on Hunf, though the Satellians used words like 'resonance'. It was an empty shell, apparently, some kind of decoration, though he'd overhead Satellians arguing that the alien Trident-Gear was not a accurately represented, it was a metre too short, or something, some of them seemed quite upset about this.
Hunf was trying to decide whether to explore these spinning gardens and allow himself to get accustomed to semi-gravity again, and/or perhaps track down some new Satellian clients, or whether he should make his excuses and leave. The problem was that the Satellians seemed to forge a lot of their business dealings, or what passed for such, on occasions like this.
'Portmaster Hunf, your presence honours us!' said some Satellian who had appeared/floated out of nowhere, as the big creatures seemed to have a habit of doing in space. This one was apparently someone of some importance. Huehunn Moah was his name, Hunf finally recalled, just as the Satellian finished his first sentence. 'Will you be staying on for the trip to Sneed'?
'Umm...' replied Hunf, recalling his ongoing confusion regarding the Kudos concept and the nausea he'd felt on the short hop out to the middle-edge of this system. Somehow, perhaps the way the hull resonated and roared and seemed to pull at him in various different directions at once, it seemed even worse than his first interstellar FTL trip out of Sneed. And the Satellians had even been talking about adapting the compaction method of the Hletho, which was more accurate and efficient generally, but also rather more disturbing in terms of its effects on passengers. 'I might have things to do back at the Hub, you know...'
'Of course... But we could use advice when it comes to accommodating Snuddians, if you have any suggestions... We wish this to be a vessel for all races...'
If only Vrun was here, thought Hunf.
Hey its no problem about no landing Daft, this will still be a nice technological leap for the Ivking scientists anyways 
.
Sorry I probably wont be able to get a story in Bil, I'm on spring break and don't have a lot of time to write a proper story up, but I'll try to get a reaction to Daft's story up ASAP.
. Sorry I probably wont be able to get a story in Bil, I'm on spring break and don't have a lot of time to write a proper story up, but I'll try to get a reaction to Daft's story up ASAP.
Bil
Prince of Space
I have no problem with Vert coming back, and I'm interested in seeing what direction this new race goes in. Should be interesting, especially once I find a really good spot to stick them in!
@bestshot: No problem, I understand. Seems like a lot of people (myself included) have been a little too busy to post much in the ways of stories.
@bestshot: No problem, I understand. Seems like a lot of people (myself included) have been a little too busy to post much in the ways of stories.
Bil
Prince of Space
ORDERS RECEIVED:
Aiweh (Seon)
Bako Tellians (Thedreadedlock)
Capricocials (Thlayli)
Distopterans (Anonymoose)
Geskani (TaylorFlame)
Hletho (Lord_Iggy)
Iokolu (tuxedohamm)
Ivkings (bestshot9)
Myzokans (Frozen in Ice)
Pohm (North King)
Raer (Haseri)
Satellians (Daftpanzer)
Ulmans Kungs (At the edge)
5/14
Really? Five? I'm going to get started, but don't expect it to be finished today if I have to NPC everybody... unless I choose to run all these civilization into the ground!
Bako Tellians (Thedreadedlock)
Capricocials (Thlayli)
Distopterans (Anonymoose)
Geskani (TaylorFlame)
Hletho (Lord_Iggy)
Iokolu (tuxedohamm)
Ivkings (bestshot9)
Ulmans Kungs (At the edge)
5/14
Really? Five? I'm going to get started, but don't expect it to be finished today if I have to NPC everybody... unless I choose to run all these civilization into the ground!
Bil
Prince of Space
Krull System
Ostos shifted about awkwardly in his suit, bobbing around slightly as he adjusted his grasp on an anchor, which seemed to be there for just such a purpose. He studied the bizarre aliens, though upon his closer inspection of them, he realized that they were fairly structurally similar to his own. He briefly pondered why this might be.
"My species once warred with itself, long ago," Ostos explained to his hosts, "It was a terrible event that we carry with shame and mourning, despite the passage of time. Our home world was nearly rendered uninhabited, and surely the population there would have been destroyed had we not come to our senses and made efforts to stabilize the situation there. It took a considerable amount of time to come to any sort of agreement, even among the descendants of the victorious faction, and by the time a plan was formulated, life on the home world had reverted into a primitive state. It seemed that the descendants of the survivors had forgotten much of their history and technical capabilities in their dire need to sustain themselves. It is believed that the history of the Orindi is kept as a sort of mythology, likely quite exaggerated and misinterpreted, and otherwise they are ignorant of the city-ships. We have been doing all we can to aid them without disrupting the culture that has formed, particularly due to their more barbaric state of existence. We fear that if they are rushed forward, they will react out of panic and make our work all the more difficult. There is surely no easy way around this problem, and we are aware that it will have to be confronted eventually, but for now... well, for now we simply wait for them to be ready to confront us on our own terms."
Hadat Ra had been listening intently, mulling over the knowledge he was receiving. Before he could interject anything, Ostos continued his exhibition.
"When your explorer began sending probes into the atmosphere of the home world, it risked the delicate balance of ignorance among the people there. We had to destroy it in order to protect them from their reaction to the object. If it were not for the difficulties in communication at the time, or for our utter shock at your brash probing of our worlds, we would have been better able to explain ourselves then. Indeed, a number of primitives on the surface saw your probe and its destruction, discerning it as an omen of ill tidings to come. It took considerable effort from our surface-based operatives to calm those affected and avert any self-inflicted damage. We do not hold it against you, however. You were unaware."
It was by this point that Ostos realized that he was talking very quickly, and wondered if their translation capabilities were able to keep up with him. It was entirely possible that they were still waiting for the completion of his explanation. He felt slight embarrassment for having been so chatty, and hoped that the aliens didn't mind.
Ostos shifted about awkwardly in his suit, bobbing around slightly as he adjusted his grasp on an anchor, which seemed to be there for just such a purpose. He studied the bizarre aliens, though upon his closer inspection of them, he realized that they were fairly structurally similar to his own. He briefly pondered why this might be.
"My species once warred with itself, long ago," Ostos explained to his hosts, "It was a terrible event that we carry with shame and mourning, despite the passage of time. Our home world was nearly rendered uninhabited, and surely the population there would have been destroyed had we not come to our senses and made efforts to stabilize the situation there. It took a considerable amount of time to come to any sort of agreement, even among the descendants of the victorious faction, and by the time a plan was formulated, life on the home world had reverted into a primitive state. It seemed that the descendants of the survivors had forgotten much of their history and technical capabilities in their dire need to sustain themselves. It is believed that the history of the Orindi is kept as a sort of mythology, likely quite exaggerated and misinterpreted, and otherwise they are ignorant of the city-ships. We have been doing all we can to aid them without disrupting the culture that has formed, particularly due to their more barbaric state of existence. We fear that if they are rushed forward, they will react out of panic and make our work all the more difficult. There is surely no easy way around this problem, and we are aware that it will have to be confronted eventually, but for now... well, for now we simply wait for them to be ready to confront us on our own terms."
Hadat Ra had been listening intently, mulling over the knowledge he was receiving. Before he could interject anything, Ostos continued his exhibition.
"When your explorer began sending probes into the atmosphere of the home world, it risked the delicate balance of ignorance among the people there. We had to destroy it in order to protect them from their reaction to the object. If it were not for the difficulties in communication at the time, or for our utter shock at your brash probing of our worlds, we would have been better able to explain ourselves then. Indeed, a number of primitives on the surface saw your probe and its destruction, discerning it as an omen of ill tidings to come. It took considerable effort from our surface-based operatives to calm those affected and avert any self-inflicted damage. We do not hold it against you, however. You were unaware."
It was by this point that Ostos realized that he was talking very quickly, and wondered if their translation capabilities were able to keep up with him. It was entirely possible that they were still waiting for the completion of his explanation. He felt slight embarrassment for having been so chatty, and hoped that the aliens didn't mind.
Vertinari118
Deity
OOC: Scrap that new idea. The amoeba love to play around with designing species and when they were the dominant force on the planet they had no trouble keeping their creations under control. Now, however, the tables have turned and the amoeba are struggling to re-create paradise in a hell hole. Let us see what demons I can drag from its depths. The issue of space travel remains, well, an issue but I'm sure someone will be kind enough to step into the breach.
Bil
Prince of Space
So, no Interfectoris, then? Okay. Are you going to be playing as the Amoebas, or leaving them NPC and playing as something they create?
Vertinari118
Deity
OOC: Kill amoebas completely in a battle for dominance as one of their more viable creations and begin developing an actual civilisation.
Daftpanzer
canonically ambiguous
Hmm I'm not too happy with my stories this time... Trying to be too clever I think.
BTW I know I was moaning before about Lord_Iggy's income, but really I have come to accept this now. We will be a second-rate power and my dudes will be content to roam around in their giant spaceships
@Besthot I kinda figured your busy right now, not expecting a reply. I guess you have some of our electronics and stuff to keep your scientists occupied for a while!
BTW I know I was moaning before about Lord_Iggy's income, but really I have come to accept this now. We will be a second-rate power and my dudes will be content to roam around in their giant spaceships
@Besthot I kinda figured your busy right now, not expecting a reply. I guess you have some of our electronics and stuff to keep your scientists occupied for a while!
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