Nexus Year 2: Black Space, Crimson Stars

Near the Unknown Signal Source
90 Light Years Down Spin from Opal Swarm
FMS Scoutship Ironblood

Doctor Rapaja bustled around his laboratory. He was trying not to get too excited now not wanting another dressing down from the commander, but it was hard. So very hard. Ahead of him where wonders. This universe was alive with faster than light signals, mysterious exotic radiation, the possibility of dozens, hundreds of contacts with different alien groups.

This one in particular intrigued Rapaja. There was something about the ebb and flow of the signal that was almost hypnotic. It was like music. Analysing the signal he'd been inspired to play it through one of the programs that could turn graphs into musical scores and found it produced a haunting, alien melody.

What could possibly be producing such a signal? He'd find out soon.

"Doctor, this is the sensor station. We'll be emerging in a moment, are you ready down there?"

"R-ready and waiting sensors!" Rapaja felt a surge of nervousness. "All data channels open." His heart beat faster as he watched the screen. There was a momentary haze and the detectors registered a shower of exotic particles and then with the Ironblood emerged back into normal space.

The signal pulsed ahead. It was being emitted from some kind of structure, a very strange one. The device ahead was a great collection of slats and modules, appearing to lack solidity on the long range radar. It's edges where rounded, no right angles or corners, everything smoothed and relaxed, the lattice infinitely complex, drawing in the eye. Rapaja blinked, or tried too. It was hard to tear his eyes away from the web, his mind wanting to follow its complexity forever. It went down and down and down and. . .

There was a heavy beep and the display showed new data. Rapaja shook his head and looked at it. There were other FTL events occurring all across the system. Other fleets where warping in. He yelped slightly. Many of those looked like battleships. He considered the data for a moment then swayed. He suddenly had a splitting headache.

"Doctor? This is the bridge. I'm afraid the sensor operator has collapsed. I'm his replacement."

"Collapsed..." Rapaja blinked then suddenly remembered an old science fiction story he'd read when he was young. "That's terrible, now please... don't look at the main object in the system. I think it has some kind of strange effect on the eye."

"Some kind of... wait one." The sensor operator came back. "Doctor, what do you make of this?"

Rapaja regarded the screen for a moment and then frowned. Something had launched away from the object. Several things in fact. Now they were heading away from it... and one was heading straight for the Ironblood

Events Summary

All ships arrive at the signal source and witness the warped high dwelling within.

Objects approach them from it.

First contact procedures initiated by the NPCs present.

NPC Fleets present:
Alliance for Advancement
x1 Size 10 Alliance for Advancement Explorer
x1 Size 8 Alliance for Advancement Explorer
x8 size 6 Alliance for Advancement Explorers

Mnemosyne
x4 Size 10 Heavy Combat Carrier
x1 Size 8 Command Carrier
x12 Size 7 Tactical Combat Carriers
x12 Size 5 Light Combat Carriers
Lancers

Altima Expanse Fleet
x2 Size 9 Capital Craft
x4 Size 7 Battle craft
x21 Size 6 Interceptors

Bridge,
Battlecube Cabal

Status, cabal?

The thought echoed accross the network as Juno stared outwards. The blackness of space had been replaced by the blue and white spiral of subspace now - one marred only by the black and green silhouettes of the 50 battlecubes now huddled close together in formation. The reply took a moment but when it came it came with numbers. Glorious numbers that made Juno smile.

"All stations ready. The battlecube has been evacuated. You and I are the only personnel left on the ship. The fleet is only waiting your order."

She surveyed the fleet for a moment. A hundred thousand troops, crew and others - all willing to jump into the lion's den at her command. Rarely did she get to truly appreciate that feel - the weight of that responsibility. For the fraction of a moment, indecision froze her mind. Was this plan stupid? was she putting them in so much risk? It was a gamble, no less. A thousand million things could go wrong. A single thought arose to counter the doubt.

Sometimes...sometimes it pays to be refreshingly direct. Enough games. Enough of the shadows.

Admiral Juno grinned. All doubts vanished away. This may not be the best way. But it was the only one she knew. It was why she was doing it herself and with Cabal. With the flick of her finger she opened up the intercom and whispered only four words.

"Let's bring the light."

Instantly she could feel it in her veins, in her mind - Cabal was there; doing all the automated tasks - but he pulled away, backing off and letting her will direct the ship as if it were her own body. True manual control was invigorating. She could feel the surge of power to all the systems in the ship; the familiar spin up of the subspace drive tearing it's way through reality. Ahead of the entire group, the blue walls of subspace began to merge an ever-largening pinprick of interstellar space. She looked out through sensors, zooming in to study the narrow end of the O'Niel cylinder that now faced them with its ring of gun enmplacements and most importantly that circular airlock in the center.

A virtual hand rose up, willing a shield in place even as she surged forwards. Will became reality amongst the networked cubes, each one falling in line with a part of her will. Weapons went to standby as they surged forwards, a power flowing into the shields that rippled to life in front of the block formation. It was just in time as the blistering heat and impact a full-born alpha strike from the cylinder's defenses slammed into it. Juno grimaced; she could feel some part of the shield collapse and fold, a hot lance of pain striking through a few battleships - and by extension, her. The damage was superficial though; minor and as the enemy's guns cooled her mind moved before they could get a second salvo off.

Gunports opened up, while pinpoints of energy lit up from the battlecubes. Energy beams criss-crossed space, focusing on each defensive emplacement. Turrets exploded along the cylinder's surface, while missile launchers and slots were cratered by the impact of high powered munitions. They were accompanied by the surge of missiles that blasted against the airlock shield, knocking it out. It was only moments before torpedoes slammed into it. - the sheer number of torpedo impacts following simply shuttering the shield to nothing. In that single salvo half the defenses were knocked offline, while the airlock was now open to the approaching fleet, the shattered remains of it's doors floating into space.

Juno grinned, watching the remnants float away. The emergency forcefields were still in place of course - the bombardment had been precise. A surgical instrument far more refined than the savagery of the crimson. She surged forward now, diverting power to thrusters and shields. The timing had to be perfect. The concepts of minutes had long sine been abandoned. It was now all down to seconds as the ship sped up, thrusters and impulse engines accelerating the massive billion-ton mass of metal and steel towards the airlock. In the corner of her eye the distance ticked down quickly. 1000 kilometers.

At 800 kilometers, she could see it on sensors - and then with her own eyes as the return fire attempted to lock onto her cube. They were catching on; but it was too late. The few lasers that landed on the battlcube only bounced off the shields she raised up with nary a thought. Instead she picked up the pace; feeling the soft burn against her skin of the trace atmosphere, debris and in some cases bodies that had been blown out of the airlock slammed against her shields and hull. In the corner of her eye, the distance ticked down quickly. Seconds were now a distant concept, giving way to thousands of a second.

At 200 kilometers Cabal took hold, demanding a greater deal of processing power for the next trick. The shields moved, extending out from a simple square to cover the battlecube to a kilometer long 'wedge' that was focused only in front of the ship. The engines cut off now; inertia pulling them along. Power surged through those shields - and just in time as the distance counter ticked to zero. There was a spark of power and electricity that arced between the contact points with shields. She had to resist crying out as she felt the pain - the arcs roaring through her body, burning and searing the metal hull in so many spots.

A painful gamble it had been - but one that worked. It was just enough to highlight the main projection points. Juno had to resist ducking her head as fire from the rest of the fleet arced out; coming within a hair's breath of her ship as lasers smashed into the forcefield projectors, knocking them out.

Immediately she could feel the blast of the air as it surged out towards her, cooling the many molten spots along the cube's surface. With it came the cries of hundreds of individuals that worked the airlocks - some of whom unlucky enough not to get to a bulkhead in time were dragged towards the opening. She winced once, but her mind pressed on. Too late. Too late to back out - the only way now was forwards. The concepts of thousandths of a second was ditched for millionths. Her mind operated on the same pace as CAbal's - who was working tirelessly in the background, readjusting systems to work around the damaged portions. It was a futile gesture for what was going to come in next.

Once more power was redirected. This time from the shields to the weapons systems. Inertia kept the battleship moving - but critically that imapct had slowed them just enough to give her that few millionths of a second she needed. Her heart paced as she waited for the sensor data. As it came in she grinned. The gamble was going to pay off. The crash zone at the far end of the airlock was as expected. Multiple layers of metal sheets that were breakable to catch ships spiralling out of control without breaching the main colony itself. It was perfect, unmarred. In its many millenia, it probably never had actually caught a ship. Today though, Juno was going to have to ensure it could never serve that purpose ever again.

Her mind lashed out - the battleship glowing as weapons systems came online. Missiles, guns, torpedoes and lasers boiled the air between battleship and the crash plate; striking at strategic points and corners that Cabal had pre-outlined even as she hurtled ever closer to it. Lasers boiled the metal in a square pattern approximately the same size as the battleship, before the kinetic impacts of the shells forced them outwards, weakening the many intervening layers between her and the inside of the cylinder. The distance now was rapidly closing. They went from ten kilometers to barely ten meters by the time all the weapons were expended. Juno closed er eyes, relaxing a bit as the time ran down to zero.

To describe the ferocity of the impact from the inside was impossible. Ten billion tons of battleship moving at the speed of sound crunched into remains of the crash zone - the audible snap and creak of the metal causing a fairly sizable groan to echo through the entire cylinder. Only her cybernetics allowed the Admiral to survive her seat being ripped off the ground and smashed against the nearby wall from the force of it. Systems went offline then on - she could feel the horrible tangled mess of the hull as the cube went from a kilometer long to two hundred. Though she could also feel through the surviving face's sensors that familiar, sweet feeling of air as the battleship punched through the door. It whistled through the cracks and debris; both through her sensors and even through the ventilation in the bridge.

Her thoughts rang out to Cabal, still connected by virtue of wireless though it was slower. The AI was online but only could spare her an acknowledgement as it struggled to keep the ship stable in the turbulent new air. The cameras on the other parts of the ships came online, giving Juno a 360 degree view of the cylinder. It stretched along in front of them as they streaked through at half the speed of sound; the sheer bulk of the battleship causing a sonic boom as it flew onwards. Water surged upwards towards Juno as she passed by - the force of gravity so strong thanks to the proximity. Up ahead lay the prize; sitting in an island at the center of a lake, the palace stood, gleaming in it's opulence. A bowling pin, about to be knocked down.

Once more her will extended towards Cabal, adjusting the attitude of the thrusters, trying to adjust their flight course. The battlecube had the aerodynamic performance of a sluggish brick and it was showing. Their spead was decreasing - they were going to fall far short of the palace itself. Brick it may be, but it was a brick with rocket boosters. Juno activated the thrusters, diverting the last dregs of power. Her communication systems crackled, causing the Admiral to look back - the other battlecubes had already gathered around the airlock entrance, extending shields to contain the atmosphere in the cylinder. Drop pods were already flying in by the thousands, focusing on hitting major facilities - but the bulk headed to the palace.

She focused back fowards to it, grunting a bit in the twofold pain from both her body and the battleship's front, which was heating up in the atmosphere. Parts of it had become molten by now from the sheer amount of friction. Yet there was nothing to be done as they closed the distance. 400 kilometers. 300. 200. The palace was reacting now, Juno could see. The last ditch attempt to put up a cannon. It was much too late though. Far, far too late.

At one hundred kilometers, a bright lance smashed out from the cannon and into the battleship's hull. Several more potshots from tanks and other ground-based installations smashed into the sides of the cube as it passed by - but again it was futile in changing that course or arc. What did throw a wrench though was the cannon smashing into the secondary reactor - which gave out with a fairly massive explosion to the rear of the ship.

In that instant, Juno's mind was suddenly drawn to the fore - the connection flickering and failing she focused not on the cylinder - but instead on reaching out through the connection, giving Cabal the equivalent of a knowing hug. A soft, whispered 'thanks'. There was only acknowledgement from the mind; a promise to see her when the power returned. There was no doubt in the words before the presence faded away and Juno found herself quite alone in the bridge. The arc was solid. The only thing she could do now was hang on and wait.

Juno counted off the seconds. By now they would be arcing down into the palace's lake. Impact should be in three seconds. Two. On- the thought was cut off as her entire chair rig was slammed up into the cieling, causing her to cry out in pain at the loud snap of many of her ribs breaking. The cube hit the water, skipped once, tumbled forwards and then ploughed into the water with enoguh force to generate a tsunami. Thanks to the nature of the lake's shape though, most of said water was directed towards the palace itself. The battlecube itself began to disintigrate, breaking apart in the water - though a fairly large portion of it tumbled to stop right on the shores of the palace, the still-molten surface illuminating the entire thing with a powerful red and yellow glow.

Sol
Bastian Kazimir

“Understood. Begin withdrawal procedures, full defensive posture, and have the shuttles leave immediately.” Vindicator Calli returned her attention to Anchorite Allerson. “I appear to have ruffled some feathers.”

“Ah. The Kyburgs?”

“Yes.”

“That’s unfortunate. And it was going so well too. I’ll take responsibility for it.”

“We’ll share it.” Calli replied, making it clear she’d brook no further argument.

“As you wish.” The Anchorite answered with a slight bow.

“We will need an exit.”

“By your command.” He turned his head elsewhere. “Questioners! Prepare for long range extraction!”

Unit-D-893 was silent through the exchange. His link to the outside giving him a clear view of what was going on. The Arcadian ships had been prepared to destroy the ship to prevent his team from taking the Seed, and the Kyburgs had responded in kind. Already they were firing on the Arcadian ships, which were not retaliating, but rather taking the punishment and retreating rapidly. Already Unit-D-893 was preparing an escape plan of his own when he noticed that Vindicator was coming towards him, pulling off her helmet as she approached.

“Given you are our confederates in this matter, I give you and yours leave to come with us,” she said to him.

Come with you? He thought, but said nothing. He noticed that the cargo hold was rapidly filling up with the Arcadian knights, the unharmed carrying the wounded with them. “What are you planning?”

“A teleportation rite,” Calli replied. “Normally, such a thing is short ranged and rather limited in what it can transport. However, both can be increased by the proper multiplication of power and addition of a beacon. The Questioners and the Anchorite working together are sufficient to transport us to the Falling Towards Apotheosis, which serves as the beacon, as the Anchorite knows it so well.”

“Don’t this vessels defenses get in the way?”

“They certainly would,” Anchorite Allerson answered, joining them, “had we not disabled them around the cargo hold. We leave in five minutes. We had to compensate for the raising of the ships shields. Fortunately, such things are meant to keep things out, not in.”

The CON soldiers began piling in as well, wary and on guard around the men and women they had been in mortal combat with not so long ago. Men and women who just seemed to be taking this sudden turn of events in stride, as if it happened all the time. The Questioners walked the perimeter of the room, running their hands along the bulkheads, sometimes muttering, sometimes drawing invisible signs with their fingers, sometimes doing nothing but walking past.

And when it was done, the Anchorite stood in the center of the hold, watching the time tick by in the chronometer in his gauntlet. There was a flash, and the hold was empty.

FMS Ironblood
Signal Source
Command Deck

Captain Asoka was sweating. When was the last time he had sweat? It must have been years ago, when he was a simple mercenary fighting in wars for armies who did not want him. Here he sweat again amidst these colossi. Things would have to be handled quite carefully, as First Contact situations ought to be. To be honest, though, he had no real procedures for this sort of introduction. The Forge had automatically assumed that sentient alien life didn’t exist when the first ships launched into the stars and found only microbes.

Therefore, the program which had to be sent sent only played out in the languages of Earth, though many were dead. Images included flags and pictures of rulers and gathering and industry. That was as far as it went, though; no need to give unknown factions knowledge of your military capacity or location of your worlds. In this case, they didn’t even know the location of their world relative to where they were; they trusted the pathfinder programs implemented for ships like this one.

“I want whoever our signal operator is to block out the main signal with some sort of white noise. Do not look at the structure, no matter what you do.” He himself had some want to look at the warped thing; it had an incomprehensible beauty in its warped state, a symphony of metal in the endless void- He stopped himself before he got much further. He could not look at the structure, not listen to it, or all was lost.

“Helmsman, I want you to turn us towards the fleets in a passive position to signify we are no threat. Turn us away for the structure, tell Rapaja he can relax for now and stop talking about some bloody ships we can’t see with all these transmissions, and send the First Contact Packet like I explained several days past. The Helmsman obliged and soon they faced the fleet. When they faced it, the Captain smoked from his small hookah, faced hard as stone.

“That’s a big damn exploration fleet. It’s a shame that command doesn’t let us have things that big. Might be able to send a message to a new neighbor other than ‘the forge does not properly fund its scientific division.’” That provoked some nervous laughter from the crew. No one was really in the mood for comedy. For some time they stood in silence, the only sounds heard the Captain’s puffs and the incessant beeps of computers, until the communications station pierced through the anxiety.

“Captain, we’ve got what appears to be large pieces of data coming from all three fleets. They appear to be from different factions or even nations, but it’s too early to tell. Our translation programs detect some earth languages from two signals, but nothing we can read from the third. The third is also quite…strange. We can understand it, but it doesn’t seem to be sent from any wavelength.

That caught the Captain’s attention. “Do you mean to tell me that they are sending a signal from thin air?” The communications man could only shrug. “We don’t have enough information from them to say. Nothing here is understandable.” That made Asoka rub his temples in frustration.

“All right people, we are in a First Contact situation. You do not send messages to anyone without direct orders from me. You do not leave your post unless it is an emergency. Most of all, you do act unless under my orders. Should our First Contact attempt be horribly botched and we end up fighting, I will not flee to lead them to The Forge and have myself under a mock trial by the Workers’ Council.

“In that scenario we are doomed, so better to take control of our own deaths than to let an enemy do it for us. Don’t give them that satisfaction. Communications, put up on video and audio. I think it’s time we send a message to our new friends.” The crewmen obliged, bustling around and changing dials. A large holographic video screen was displayed, and Asoka straightened his collar and put down his hookah, clearing his voice.
“If you are reading this, it means that you can understand an earth language and it is time to begin step two negotiations. I am Captan Asoka, Captain of the Ironblood, and I speak on behalf of The Forge. Doubtless you already know much about us from our information package. Therefore, I will skip the introductions of the nation and explain our intent here.

“We are as you have thought us to be by not attacking us. A simple exploration ship which has emerged from the empty void where once we had neighbors and family. You see, several months ago, we had an event happen to us that drastically altered the political and physical structure of the outside of The Forge. We appear to be in an entirely new universe, as my scientist tells me. If we are the only ones here, we do not know, but it seems that notion has been dispelled by our meeting, has it not?

“We followed this signal from our home territories and have now stumbled upon it here. It has had some disturbing effects, though moderate, on my crew, so it is a worrying problem. For now, though, we would like to offer a friendly exchange of information beyond simple knowledge of what our nations contain. If possible, we would like to discuss what happened that brought us here, why this happened, and if it cannot be rectified, how much we can learn from one another and work together towards a common understanding.

“The Forge has resources in plenty, to be sure, and an industrial economy which cannot be challenged. Yet even the mightiest nation needs interaction, trade, and we extend our hand to you because of just that. You may also excuse us for our seeming lack of knowledge on anything within this strange new place. We have not been here long, and you are our first contacts within this mysterious ether.

“Thus, I am happy to welcome any meeting of the minds, so to speak, between our respective nations. We are a humble scout ship, barely the size of a corvette, so we cannot give you much of a threat, and I like to meet possible allies and trading partners face to face before I do anything else. I am sure there is much that we can discuss and learn, forging a many-year long pact of friendship and trade. This is Captain Asoka of the Forge Ship Ironblood, signing off.” He dropped back into his chair after it had turned off, taking a smoke from his hookah and breathing heavily.

“You see, keeping a warm smile and a straight posture for five bloody minutes of talking, if not more, is not a comfortable thing to do. If I could smoke a hookah and tell them everything in all the shades of emotion, I think I would be far more comely.” This provoked some laughter from the helmsman, while the communications team worked hard to run everything he had said through a translator and send it off to them. Now relaxed and comfy in his chair, he puffed little rings of smoke between huffs of his hookah.

“Now we have to wait for them to respond. I just hope they’re human, it would be most unprofessional of me to laugh at a six legged crab speaking Hindi. And someone please check on the signal operator and take care of Rapaja, he seemed rather nervous. I will not lose the man who instigated this mission in the first place.” As he smoked and stared at the fleet, his eyes wandered around and studied the vessels.

“Commander,” started the new signal operator in a trembling voice, “We’ve detected other vessels entering this area. A large amount, from many different directions.” The Captain groaned in anger.

“Another goddamn speech? Have they said anything yet? If not, don’t pay them any heed. If they have any sense of decency or intelligence, they won’t shoot up an exploration ship in the middle of a conversation with a rather big fleet.”

“They’ve said nothing, though there are many. They have come from many directions.” The signal operator continued to calculate things and make incessant beeps while the Captain sat in his chair and continued to smoke, his mood now sullen. At once he suddenly shouted.

“More! For twenty years all I have to contend with are asteroids, stars, and empty worlds, and now I have to deal with First Contact with who knows how many nations! I’m a Captain, not a politician.” Though I speak through a mask all the same, he thought. There was nothing more now, it seemed, but the ships there and his hookah. For a moment, he wished that was all there ever was.

Though it had been briefly detected, only Rapaja had noticed the strange ship that had emerged from the mega structure, and since then it had been ignored.

March 24th, 240AC (Nexus Year 2)
Central Administrative Authority
Efficiency Orbit
TNS Timeshatter

You would think with the invention of computers forms in duplicate were obsolete. Somehow, somebody from this 'nation' had found a way to make duplicate digital forms that had to be filled out individually. As she finished yet another form she instructed the computer to smartly fill in the other parts of the duplications and warn her of fields that had to be filled out personally; a peculiar piece of software handed over to the people of Tetyis by a posthuman oracle early on in the colonies history. She yawned as she looked at the pile of thin screens that held the other sixty six forms still waiting to be filled. Lead Captain Yandre Oslani laid her chair flat and turned on a favorite piece of classical music, trying to relax. Bleary eyes looked out towards the surface of Efficiency through her port floor to ceiling windows, the orbit itself the cause for dozens of forms itself.

She wondered at the sort of galactic civilization that would centralize administrative tasks in the first place. She wondered if the cowardly middle managers came up with the scheme (just to stay further away from dangerous rim territories) or if some forward thinking upper manager had hatched the scheme in a impressive display of political manipulation. As she laid there she began to sleep, curiousity playing with her imagination as she drifted to sleep. As she drifted off she could feel her loyal wife Asolti began to rub her back with a soft oil, a synthetic to relax her muscles. She fell asleep to the tender minstrations of her wife's fingers. . .

Six hours later

Awakening from her slumber she turned to her desk and lookeing at the stack of forms was momentarily tempted to ask her second to fill them out, until she realized with suprisingly clarity what the inside of a Directorate questioning room looked like, and her position in such a room. She turned back to the forms and started to fill them out when to starboard she saw a ten thousand kilometer tall hologram appeared of a brown tailed felinoid. A standard message played about the local nation and the captain keyed it to play via her earpiece. After telling her wife to retreat to the bedroom, for fear that she might hear the message and receive Directorate scrutiny. She looked at the forms and frowned - they may have not been as important as previously thought. She would still fill them out just to be polite, and to prevent Directorate questions as to what she had told the aliens. The message seemed to believe that there was still a empire they served - she mentally added 'inflexable' to the traits she had seen by the locals. She worried about their offer - and when they mentioned the lack of trade goods she smiled in quiet relief - she would not be on 'spot' for opening potential trade routes, always a relieving when she could avoid scrutiny by the everpresent Directorate. She quickly finished filling out the forms when she was alerted to a message for her, with all the urgent and important flags that it could. She looked at the message and got a shock when it was adressed from the Directorate Council for the entire fleet.

<_from_Directorate Council_8th fleet_>
After the message delivered to our ships (without proper care to limiting it to authorized personell), we have discussed the technologies of these people and have decided to allow you to contact the contact department of the foreign office of this system's nation in relation to the disfunction of the posthuman and precursor devices in our home system and to ask for help in investigating the matter. We would also like you to note that in future any messages from this nation's officials sent to republican ships should only be sent to the current location of the leader captain, although semi-public areas are adequate. We also desire that you create the message so as to seem more 'normal' while dealing with the government of the this nation, as they might pose a threat if they found a reason to cause incident with the socialist republic. This message is a matter of public record and will be seen by Directorate agents when you return, to explain this action. The Directorate Council, 8th fleet, takes full responsibility for this action.

After looking at the message a second time the captain noticed the usage of 'precursor', the opening being more informal than the end, and the excitability of the letter. The council was highly disturbed, was it? She congraulated the aliens for shaking the normally unshakable directorate agents in her fleet and getting them in a great amount of trouble with the directorate. She momentarily wondered if she could manage to pick their replacements with the reassignment board. She took great relish in sending the additional piece of information that the directorate would not be pleased was so cavaliarly thrown about to the aliens.

She decided to send a quick query along with the rest of the forms and quickly set off to finish those. When she was done, she sent the lot to the specified addresses, including the CAA's office of foreign affairs. The message was thankfully brief, “To the Contact desk of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Our nation has many black box items of note that have recently begun to malfunction or disfunction. We have little idea as to what these are doing and would politely request assistance in studying these items and their current refusal to communicate outside a cryptic message referring to our nation's nexus event. We would like assistance in understanding what various pieces of posthuman and precursor technologies have been doing; we think we know what they are doing but have no power to stop the process. Perhaps you might also help in further investigations to be discussed later regarding other items of posthuman and precursor manufacture. I have been instructed that in future dealings in your system to request that you restrain your messages to contact made with the leader of the ship or fleet in system, although semi-private contact is acceptable.” With great relish she sent the message along with the forms and waited for approval to visit the world of Efficiency and enjoy the sights and sounds of yet another, this time truly, alien world along with the rest of the official delegationt was already authorized by the Contact cabal itself in her government.

Near the Unknown Signal Source
90 Light Years Down Spin from Opal Swarm
Record Special Task Force

It had been roughly three hours since the fleet warped in- and in that three hours they had learned a great deal about the only other party to yet arrive insystem. The small cluster of ships numbered much fewer than the Record's considerable division, but Sensoria suggested they were no less formidable for it.

It was a first contact situation- or would have been, had the other ships detected the Record's contingent. However as with the Record's other encounters with races had gone, so too did this species lack the specialized Sensoria to discern the fleet's movements against the more energetic stellar background.

Atop the largest tower stood the Human Directive- and beside him several other Directives. Such a momentous occasion as this had necessitated their revival. One other was human, like him- but not like him, for the other directive was female- and patterned younger than his old self. The Wren Directive watched from a lounge chair, and the Tolsh Directive danced in the sky on membranous wings. Two others, cloaked in heavy wraps, watched from the overhang. Though attired similarly, they were each patterned on a separate race. The first was the representative of the Gray, a machine-life race that had joined the Record late into the Deep Dark. The other was the Kern Directive, and wore a containment suit that, had it been a true example of the species, would contain its luminous energy form.

Around the six there was much activity- as AI's and mental models monitored the Sensoria, studied and reported on information, and made ready for contact.

Still, the Record held off, waiting. The Titan had directed a brief moment of its formidable intellect towards the structure, before appending a system patch to the Datasphere- the structure was designed with a fractal method, and would draw Systems and Sentients into a sensory recursion loop.

"We've cracked the language barrier of the other fleet after observing their internal communications and comparing to base assumptions loaded from the Shard language package. Their transponders label them as the 1st Battlecruiser Squadron of the Nine Star League Navy- the lead ship reads as the LNS Derfflinger," reported one AI. In their august presence, the AI's dropped their pretense of communicating in complex data exchange 'art' and reverted to more straightforward methods.

"Good," the Human Directive commended, bringing up a screen and studying the contents. "Drop a drone thirty thousand meters from their formation, and send them our updated contact package. Then wait for their response- and we'll go from there."

He glanced up at the Titan.

"Anything yet?"


"No. The Nine Star League are keeping their distance, and the structure cannot discern us. If we approach however..." the Titan said- in a voice that was quiet but with a great weight to it.


"No. We'll stay here. If none of the other local polities arrive in the next six hours, we'll tease it with a drone."


"Directives, drone 1 is in transit... and receiving now," the operator reported.

"Sensoria coming up... and they're targetting it and diverting drones to investigate- and we're getting a ping off their own Sensoria," another interjected. "Orders?"

"Send the package, then trace the feed back through their lines-"

"Package sent, tracing feed now-"

"-Feed dumps into an isolated metric"

"-Wait, we're into the cameras."

"- Nice system. Poorly organized, but efficient. Linking into drone controller- that'll give us a route into their core system, I hope."

"That's odd... very secure... but odd."

The League was certainly adept at crafting sensor drones- and the eyes of several such drones swiveled back and forth- beaming data of the sector- and of the League's ships back to a secure and isolated console. From that console, data was checked, re-checked, and then isolated to a packet. Then that packet was transmitted to a separate equally isolated system. Efficient software analyzed the incoming data, queried warbooks, and made conclusions, before outputting its findings to two separate packets. The first returned to the drone controller- updated orders, flight paths, and alert targets. The other was transfered into the secure central computer system. From there, its data materialized on a viewscreen- abstract dots and symbols- and high gain quasi-realtime footage, updating every few seconds, of the native structure.


Unfortunately for the little data sprite, it lacked the capability to jump from the human interface system to the... human interface. Moreover, due to the nature of the system, there was no way to transfer itself into an outgoing packet and return its study of the system to the drone- so instead, it executed its secondary function. A quick study of the console, the incoming data- and the hostile mimetics contained within- the data sprite unpacked a program the Directives had written, located the only accessible access point from the available intermediares (the power controller) and uploaded it.


All across the bridge, screens flashed- fading to black in segments while other segments faded to white as the power controller acted.

//MIMETIC HAZARD DETECTED//

Still, the power controller for the control system only had limited access- a mere seven screens- of thirty- flashed their vital warning. Others continued to show the dangerous image, seen through a hundred drone eye-cams.

But then for each drone a second flashed into being, of design and make similar to the contact drone the Record had sent. Each of these newcomers physically blocking the Sensoria of the elder, with little drives emitting enough localized radiation to directionally blind those elders too.

From the drone the Record bade contact, a message.

"The native structure is arrayed in the form of a Class 1 Mimetic Hazard. Do not directly observe."




As the message processed, space changed. Twisting and distorting, half a dozen separate FTL events began. Ships of size and configuration unknown disgorged into the area- caught on sight by League drones and Record Sensoria.

Some were familiar, readings matching those in the Shard warbook- while others were wholly unfamiliar. Newcomers to this strange universe, just as the Record themselves were.


"Directives..." an AI began, then trailed off- watching the screens.

"I see them. Drop a drone in front of each their formations, same distance as the first. Route the warning and the update patch through them, then piggyback it on the contact packages," the Human Directive ordered. "I think the League has been sufficiently warned- retrieve our drones and ready a boarding force. It's time we learn just what it is has been going on here."

From his side, the other human directive- the girl- perked up abruptly as a piece of data entered her consciousness, flowing from the record and from her other self.

"Father, those are Altima vessels, like the one we encountered on the fringes," she said, glancing at her precursor.

"Right," the Human Directive replied. He made a gesture and a screen materialized. "Do we have a word for mimetic hazard?"

"I think we have one for mind control," a mental model shouted from a nearby tower. "Checking against translation matrix- yessir!"

"Very well, update the message and then transmit via point to point laser communications," he ordered.



From him the Record flowed, and his commands were met, processed, and became reality. Dozens of drones flashed out, each bearing a message, a warning, and a hope for peaceful contact. One such drone was different, however, and flashed into existence before a small swarm of vessels belonging to the so named Altima Expanse. Instead of radio, it flashed with ancient symbols- then initiated communications via laser such as to be received by the energy manipulating race.


Events

Record warns all incoming vessels about the mimetic hazard, transmits contact package and anti-mimetic patch to all ships except the Altima. Initiates laser communication with the latter based on linguistics study conducted with the Riptide.

Record also begins preparing for landing on the native structure.

Signal Source
The Place that men once lived but now is inhabited by those far greater

Once I was young, and now I have aged, and yet I have never seen a righteous man forsaken, with his children begging for bread. A man must look to this if he wants true peace, true inner peace. For the melodies of the endless void do not pause to listen to your vibrations, and you must listen to it. To open your eyes, you must first close them, and then you must understand.

“Captain?”

The hungry of this endless symphony want more for themselves, but in the end it is timeless and its flow is like a river piercing even the strongest rocks. A man must tlook o this if wants true peace, true inner peace. In cosmic rivers the piercing of the rock must be done across the ether, through the songs of the ancient and the long dead, utilizing new techniques in order to truly understand what lies beyond.

“Captain, are you there?”

In this time many chirp for their own notability but in the end they are simply a wisp in the wind of dust which blows away all empires, big and small. For a man must look to this if he wants true peace, true inner peace. The melodies of the maleficent have no place here in this wondrous song, the vibrations of the elders construed in forms that even a lowly being can understand. For this is the song of life, and this is the song of death.

“Captain, there are a lot of things that you need to take a look at!”

Softly now it sings a song of wishes and of times far gone, when men were men, not beasts who clung to little precipices of ideology to live. For a man must look to this if wants true peace, true inner peace. They taught it in the scriptures of the men who once lived, in times that at once have ended and have once begun. Not one man can say that they have disturbed the void in such a way as this chilling tune which pierces to the bone to unlock the potential of all beings.

“Captain, you’re needed in the signal operating station. Now.”

They squeak and chirp like little birds who try to flee from the flood, but to truly survive they must embrace it. For a man must look to this if wants true peace, true inner peace. The wars of foresfathers tarnished the remembrance of man and the protection which nature once gave us. This endless orchestra of light and sound will give us that chance again, but we must embrace it for it is not something which can be simply done.

What it tells a man it cannot say for it does not speak. For a man must look to this if he wants peace, true inner peace. To end the things that once we started, we must begin again. It offers us enlightenment and we silence it out of greed and fear and a misplaced terror. The men that once were can no longer be, and the men that are now will one day no longer be. A cycle of life that continues, and yet it can be stopped. One must simply stare, be silent, and listen to it.

If a man looks back he is lost, if he looks forward he is lost. To be a man who can do both you must understand both. The normal mind cannot comprehend such frequencies, an eye can only see straight, and fools itself in those ways. To bend the curve of the mind and to truly understand what is and what is not, you must first destroy the illusion by atonement. In atonement there is peace, in atonement there is justice.

Once I was told by a boy no larger than my leg that he had no family, no future, no money. These concepts had bound him and trapped him in a world which did not interest itself in him. Once I was like that too, until they whispered to me and I listened. They whispered to me and I listened! Men speak of gods and the absence of them, yet prove nothing. Here I listen to a god, and one greater than anything else. The leakage of divine power is clear from the very shape of the structure. A man can see with eyes but he cannot understand with ears.

Therefore, you must atone, and tune your senses to the melody. Be lost in it like a river of souls which goes forward and backwards simultaneously. Do not let doubt of this cloud you, for doubt must be cast away. Here there are only three things, the endless cycle of creation, revelation, and redemption.

All things are at once created and at once destroyed, and with them go the vestiges of relaxation and illusion of peace. When something is created it is a festering thing, an insignificant, ignorant boil on the perfect asymmetry of the universe. Yet it can be changed if one can simply listen. Other are here too, but it tells me that they do not listen. They refuse to be tuned, and in this, they are a failure.

The revelation comes next and with it comes the melodies of those who have already understood. The ether is not kind to those who listen, and if you are not ready, your mind will be lost. It has seen that am I am ready for it, however. Once I prayed to gods of ivory and wood with many arms and false faces, but now I do not pray. I listen.

Redemption comes for all and comes for none. It is not something out of legend, a hand to guide you. Redemption in a cosmic sense is more violent, more arduous. All things are redeemed eventually and cast back from whence they came. The destruction of civilizations is redemption, of a sort. It is not bound to the positive, though in the end it is positive. The singing shows it is thus, for a man must look to this if wants true peace, true inner peace.

Many around me do not yet understand though I play the song to them. I play it long and I play it with great fervour, and only do they begin to understand. Some go mad, some are crazed, and some attempt to block it out. They still obey the song when it calls to them and when it does not they want it to. They plead to it in their own way to give them peace, true inner peace.

Once I was encountered with a question in a time long since passed, in a youth long since gone. They asked me how the covenant could be so powerful it did not display itself. Here it is, I tell them now, in all its glory. A thousand small structures made one, and I am one with them. They send envoys of redemption but the others will not listen. It is not their choice, for redemption comes to all of us.

They all understand now. Once we were a crew of a nation weak and feeble, for it did not understand. They thought that the hammer and the anvil could solve the problems of celestial prophecy and that they would not heed the words of those more enlightened. Now the time has come for all, whether of the hammer or another creed, to listen. For once I was like them, but we, the crew of the FMS Harsha, a name no longer meaningful, have understood this. We stopped to listen, and now we are one whole. The cycle is complete.

A man must look to this if he wants true peace, true inner peace.

--

The crew of the FMS Harsha has emerged from the void and has been redeemed by the song of those who are of a knowledge old and wise.

Battleship Avent
Signal Source

The Shard forces were small, compared to some of the other forces out there. Avent had come mostly alone, save for a few small escorts – this was an investigation, not an invasion.

Avent altered herself, filtering the strange signal. The colour-haze displays across the ship greyed as spectrums of information were hedged out, protecting the systems. “It's structure has a memetic component.” Angles said. “There's something about it that triggers responses in the brain. Not Arar, though....”

Avent hummed. “No, something new.” Angles nodded. “It's launched several ships at that other vessel- and the Record is sending out a general communication to the other vessels. Trying to give them the means to guard themselves?”

Another loud hum.

Angles frowned. “We'll be on full alert, in case it's too late.” She reaches out, manipulating the haze of colours in the air. “Meanwhile, lets launch the pods. Locating signal source...”

From within Avent's ridges, several long spikes erupted, sailing through space. They shimmered, fading in and out, as they criss-crossed through space, heading towards the bizarre station.

****

Actions: Shard send drop-pods with Memetic-threat investigation crews towards the station, aiming at the signal sources. Preparing general greeting.

New Andover System
NAN/OM-02 Omniship Intarabus
Admiral Jaquan of the newly reorganized NAN 1st Expeditionary Fleet pondered over his new assignment. He had new staff made up of fresh reservists who hadn’t even seen fighting mixed in with old fighters long retired. Although the spacemen were qualified in technical terms, they were all unprepared for actual fighting. What unit cohesion that was there was because of AIs and their instantaneous communications setup. His training regimen had improved the motley collection of ships into something resembling a navy.

Now his next assignment was to take the 1st Expeditionary Fleet out and investigate an unknown signal coming from who knows where. Intelligence had divined the location of the signal and its immediate area. Further probing proved to be impossible and it was decided to manually send in explorers and check what is causing it. The briefing was already handed out over the network and the 1st Expeditionary Fleet burst in sudden activity. Ammunition is restocked, shields adjusted for the time stream, and spells were pre-casted.

Ahead of the fleet Dimensional Probes were mapping out a route for teleportation. Much of the immediate frontier was already mapped, so the squadron assigned to the expeditionary fleet worked off of that. Ignoring the conventional boundaries of distance by accessing parallel dimensions, the route was halfway mapped towards the source of the signal by twenty four hours.The fleet however was not far behind. With a simple spike in mana usage, the fleet suddenly occupied the desired space. This process continued, with occasional mishaps because of a missed asteroid, until its destination was nearby.

Now the Admiral was faced by the impressive crowd the signal seems to have drawn. The data packets that New Andover received from the CAA were informative, but formal first contact has not yet been initiated. As the packets were received and sent, alarms were sent up about mental interference of some sort coming from the object. The Record probe that came to them simply confirmed his fears.

<All ships initiate quarantine measures, lockdown physical and restrict non-secure metaphysical contact.>

With that order sent, he mentally commanded one of the probe’s AI to conduct a top-down scan starting from metaphysical construction to its physical construction. Meanwhile probable teleport coordinates were being scanned and examined for insertion and extraction.


New Andover Build Order
Quarterly Production: 60
Total Available Production: 60
Fleet: 350 Fleet Points
Support Limit: 600 Fleet Points

x2 Size 9 NAN/BB-5 Battleships (18)
x1 Size 8 NAN/OM-02 Omniship (8)
x1 Size 8 NAN/SPL-26 Spellship (8)
x4 Size 6 NAN/CRU-82 Cruiser Squadrons (24)

Leftover Production: 2

Fleet Reorganization:

NAN 1st Expeditionary Fleet
+ x2 Omniships (S8)
+ x4 [12] Heavy Cruisers (S7)
+ x4 [12] Cruisers (S6)
+ x4 [12] Destroyers (S5)
+ x8 [24] Frigates (S4)
+ x4 [16] Dimensional Probes (S1)

Exploratory Fleet
- x1 Omniships (S8)
- x2 [8] Heavy Cruisers (S7)
- x2 [8] Cruisers (S6)
- x2 [8] Destroyers (S5)
- x5 [20] Frigates (S4)
- x4 [16] Dimensional Probes (S1)

Mobile Reserves
- x1 Omniship (S8)
- x2 [8] Heavy Cruisers (S7)
- x2 [8] Cruisers (S6)
- x2 [8] Destroyers (S5)
- x3 [15] Frigates (S4)

Home Fleet
+ x2 Battleships (S9)
+ x1 Omniship (S8)
+ x1 Spellship (S8)
+ x4 [12] Cruisers (S6)

Miz'ri

The ritual building had been a church, a cathedral really. Dedicated the watchmaker god of the natives, who denied them any of the gifts or power a priestess of Lloth might have, but never the less holy ground. Miz'ri wondered if the Crimson had picked it just for fun.

Explosives shattered the wall in front of Miz'ri and she swung inside, bow gun already up and tracking a target she'd previously identified through the wall. The arrow knocked the guard down, its death spell piercing his armour and sending him spinning back. In the distance the massive blast of a truck bomb slamming into the local garrison shook the air.

There were more mages here than she'd expected. It looked like they were preparing a ritual that her assault force's interference had disrupted. She shot another guard, then dropped flat as the next drow behind her fired a gas bomb into the room. The mages dropped almost instantly as the gas began to disperse.

"Miz'ri." The voice of the force outside sounded in her ear. "Enemy quick reaction forces are approaching from the South East. We're moving to block them."

That was a fast reaction. Miz'ri frowned. "Eirin." she called into her speaking stone. "Come in here and look at this. Make sure you wear your mask."

Eirin

Eirin stepped through the breached wall, looking worriedly at the crowd of drow warriors now moving unconscious mages out into their waiting transports. She walked inside quickly, keeping Clasp gripping Command at her side. This new world was horribly frightening. Worse she was alone in it, except for the predatory drow.

Miz'ri stood to one side, her pale body covered in a slim suit of armour.

She looks hot even in that.

"Quiet Clasp." Eirin muttered absently. "You want me to look over the ritual yes?"

"Yes." Miz'ri nodded.

"Let's see." Eirin looked around, remembering the shape, then took a deep breath. "It looks like a ritual designed to create a very wide spread Geass... um... this is the rune of disease. Ummm..."

That'd make it spread by touch or breath. Quorin supplied. An infectious Geass... these Crimson are really something

Miz'ri was clearly talking to someone else. "Tell me what this is girl! We don't have much time."

"It's a geass effect which will spread like a disease. If it's caste, it'll spread through everyone and turn them all loyal to the crimson." Eirin said it all as one breath. "We should destroy this site."

"Oh I'm planning too." Miz'ri grinned. "Charges are already set." She put an arm around Eirin's shoulder, steering her back towards the transports. "Let's get out of here."

Unknown Signal Source

The IT fleet jumped back into realspace to find themselves in the midst of what seemed to be the grand central station of the universe as so many different alien species seemed attracted to the large unknown structure. Then they got a shock as the sensor AI's promptly censored over the structure, stating there was anomalous readings that were potentially hostile to organics. While a series of robotic probes and scoutbots were launched at the structure, Admiral Sevchenko focused on the other aliens in the system. Some of them riding ships bigger than his battlecruisers!

"This is the starship Dauntless of Interstellar Trust, Admiral Sevchenko speaking. We greet you with open arms and overtures of trade and peaceful relationships between our peoples. We are attaching a polymorphic translation program to this message for anyone who wishes to reply and hopefully desire to learn more about the Trust. We welcome any who would join our union of free trade and prosperity. To the honor of the Trust, Sevchenko out."

"Admiral." Sevchenko's flag captain, Kenra, was pointing at some sensor data now flooding the ship's receiver arrays. "There is a ship nearby, claiming to be of some organization called the The Forge. They're transmitting a message in an old form of Ancient Terra dialect."

"Put them through." Sevchenko then listened as he heard the alien, yet Human message. Finishing it, Sevchenko promptly began a quick response. "Captain Asoka of the Forge, this is Admiral Sevchenko of Interstellar Trust. We have recieved your message and are open to establishing diplomatic ties between your people and the Trust. We're comrades in arms for how we were both flung into their universe far from our home galaxies, and we stand a better chance of survival through mutual bonds of trade. We would be happy to recieve you aboard Dauntless, my battlecruiser is probably more suited for diplomacy than your scout, and perhaps we could talk over a shared meal between our cultures? It is a saying in the Trust that a good meal can conquer any racial barriers, but an exchange of trade goods may also be more practical if your time is short. For honor of the Trust, Sevchenko out."

With that, he sat, and waited until something interesting happened.

Actions:
1) Launch scout probes and robotic surveyors at the memetic structure.
2) Send a general first-contract message to all ships in the area.
3) Send a direct message to the Forge vessel in response to their first contact message and open up lines of diplomacy.

Million Diamond Pearls Megastructure
Mage's Study

“This is both troubling, and remarkable.” the Drow mage said, his hands gripping the yellowed pages.

Miz'ri nodded. “But you can use it, can't you?” She had taken to wearing a black, loose tunic, leaning back on the chair in the dimmed office, which had been converted to an arcane study. Symbols of warding bedecked the walls.

“In theory, yes.” the mage pointed at a curled rune, his leathery face twisting downward into a frown. “A virulent geas would be devastating to us. What you ask is if we can use the same effect to create a geas-breaker that will be manifest in all drow...”

“...one which we can carry with us to free any we come across, as well as spread by our usual means.” She finished. “It works well with our original plan.”

“It's not that simple.” The mage chided. “This could all be a trap; the spell here is easy to understand, but what if there are other components? An incantation like this could easily become an actual disease, or have an opening that could alter it back to its original form. And you plan to release it across the entire megastructure's news network?”

“Yes, but we can plan for that.” Miz'ri shot back. “The broadcast doesn't have to leave the tower live. We'll have to expose people inside to it, even if we weren't using the disease rune.” She pushed some papers onto the desk, a list of names. “There are ensorcelled Drow that are making public service announcements across news channels, undoubtedly to spread the geas. It will be easy to ensure some are there to test our counterweapon.”

The mage nodded. “Rather clever,” he admitted. “Very well. You will get us inside?”

“We've already got the anchor and relevant staff on our side. And I've got another mage to assist you.”

“The girl.” The mage smiled, clearly pleased. “I can feel her power when she walks in the room. Those artifacts of hers are potent, and she has the air of an apprentice mage about her. Will she help?”

“She will.” Miz'ri nodded. “She was imprisoned by the Crimson, like us. If not for revenge, she'll do it out of empathy.”

“Will she be at the station or at the external site?”

“The external. She is damaged; I wouldn't rely on her in the event of an escape if I could help it.”

“Very well. I will need to speak with her.”

“She's outside.”

“Well, send her in, then.” The mage turned. “We have work to do.”

Miz'ri emerged into the hallway. Eirin sat, holding her sword on her lap, head turned down. Her lips moved quietly; she was having another conversation with herself. Miz'ri doubted being able to rely on her in a tense situation, but the power was too much to pass up.

“Eirin, you know the plan?” she said aloud.

The girl nodded, looking up. Sometimes she didn't respond immediately, but not today. “I read your mission. You want me to amplify the ritual, right?”

“You said you have some power with necromancy. You should be able to affect diseases, allowing us to control the effect if something goes wrong, and to amplify it so it spreads much faster if it goes right.”

Eirin lowered her head. “I can....”

Miz'ri looked at her. “But...?”

Eirin didn't look up. Her living arm was clenched. “What will happen to me after this?”

“You'll come with us back to the Shard. They can analyze your condition and help you with your issues.”

“I...see.” Eirin said, with some hesitation. Her hand didn't stop tensing.

Miz'ri ignored it. “You should go in and speak with the mages. They're waiting for you.”

“I'm sure.” Eirin furrowed her brow. “They keep looking at me strangely. Staring.”

“Well, you are very pretty.” Miz'ri replied. “I can't blame them.”

She winced, lowering her eyes and seeming to shrink even as her skin flushed bright. Miz'ri grinned a bit. “Well, when we get back to the Shard space, you'll have to compete with a totally smoking fox-tailed girl, so you should enjoy it.” She turned. “She'll want to see you. She counsels a lot of Shard.”

Eirin didn't reply. She stood up, walking past. Miz'ri reached out, stopping her.

“You do this for us, and you will help bring the Drow into a new era.” She said, her voice grave. “This is the most important time of our lives. Your help can free the drow to pursue their own destiny.”

Eirin closed her eyes. “I know.”

“Good.” Miz'ri ran her hand up the girl's cheek, lingering a moment before taking it back. She sounded pleased. “Good.”

And the two parted, Eirin entering the mage's study, Miz'ri exiting onto the concourse.

She called you pretty! Clasp exclaimed. You sure you don't want to give her a hug? She might enjoy it?

“Shut up!” Eirin hissed, thankfully masked by the door closing.

****

Million Diamond Pearls Megastructure
Broadcast Tower

The drow mage kept his hood up, even when he and his fellow mages were alone.

The four of them had not been seen when Miz'ri brought them in, but he was still careful. He'd laced anti-scrying wards into the fabric, and they were still in enemy territory, despite their inside men and women. If he was caught, he'd lose his life at best, and free will at worst.

The circle was drawn before them. They had checked to make sure they were in the right place – right over the main server that managed all of the broadcasts. Their magic would effect all the data within, including the magically-charged broadcast. The ritual ward was prepared, altered to reverse the geas effect.

He touched the stone on his robe clasp. “We're ready.”

“Good.” Miz'ri responded into her speaking stone. She stood with three drow assassins, in the rafters above the main studio. “The anchor's about to make her broadcast. Outgoing team, are you ready?”

“We're ready.” The voice came. Seven operatives clustered at three broadcast dishes and the wire feed, prepared to prevent physical and data disruption of the broadcast. Other Drow were at other stations and broadcast hubs, ready to keep it going or shut it down as necessary.

“And the Outer Mage team?”

“Ready.” Eirin's voice replied quietly. She and other mages were nearby in the city, prepared to use her magic to amplify the magical disease when the real fun began.

“Observation team?”

“The geased drow are in our sights. Our free operatives are also present, undercover.” Spahir's buzzing voice replied, indicating magical telepathy from her stone. “We'll let you know how they react to exposure.”

“Good.” Miz'ri said. “First phase begins as broadcast does. Let me know the second you do; we don't have any time. Silence begins now.”

She looked down, watching as the blond woman sat at the desk. The AR images flashed behind her, making her appear as if she was sitting floating over the entire city.

“By the Divine's will through Zolta Island News, this is Saria Morgan.“ the anchor began. “We begin with the news ...forgive me, there's some static on the screen....seems to be a connection issue. It's passed now.” She paused, as the screen behind her stabilized. “We begin with the news...”

The static was gone too fast for viewers at home to see the twisting, arcane symbol that momentarily flashed amidst the interference, beginning the operation.

****

Action: Phase 2 of the Drow MDP operation begins.

Port Station, Somewhere in Space

Vakrim eyed the woman across from him speculatively, the augmetics encysted in his irises whirling. Framing her face like a halo, the Noosphere was furiously constructing an ad-hoc Corona around her. He made no motion as a clip of a Crimson adept being vivisected alive flashed in his vision. Ultimately, it was not his decision to make.

“Hrm...” he rumbled, tapping the table with his fingers as Amelie brought her glass back down onto the table with a bang, “Heroes, eh?”

He leaned forward, twining clockwork fingers together, “You have offered a stirring appeal, and a cunning reward, for us to join this Crusade in the reaches of the northern rim and fight these Crimson.”

Amelie narrowed her eyes at him, “...but.”

Vakrim nodded, “But! We are not truly at liberty to fly anywhere we so please at the moment.”

The woman sighed.

“You see,” Vakrim continued, “Before we arrived in this strange galaxy, the Il-Qhagan had signaled the Armada. Unless prohibited by circumstances or relieved by special dispensation, the lords and ladies of Dhanus must marshal their ranks behind Her and act obediently as her Arms in battle. As we are still in something of a state of emergency, and probably will be for the foreseeable future, that call to arms has not been relaxed. Any Dhanian ships you see prowling around this far from Sol are really acting as pickets and scouts, so haring off north would be something of a breach of discipline, you see.”

Amelie peered at him over the lip of her refilled glass, “Unless relieved by special dispensation?”

Vakrim grinned, “I knew you were a sharp one. Yes, if the Il-Qhagan were convinced, she will allow any number of us a reprieve from the duty of Armada. And I am sure you will find plenty of heroes to suit your needs.”

Amelie quirked her lips, “It would just so happen that I have diplomatic powers invested in me.”

“Ah!” Vakrim rumbled, pleased, “Then this may prove to be a simple matter entirely! Probably no more than a few days. Let me introduce you to my Lord...”

Events:
Political Gears begin grinding in the Dhanus Il-Qhaganate to join the Crusade

LNS Derfflinger
Unknown Signal Source

“Unidentified cyberwar attempt!”

The announcement, Dervish thought, was ultimately unnecessary; everybody on the command deck could see the effects for themselves, after all. The hack, however, appeared to be confined to sensor and drone control stations, and the techs manning them were specifically trained to deal with intrusion attempts. Sensors were, after all, effectively the only open access point to a ship's systems without physical access. A bustle of frantic activity erupted around the compromised systems, and in a few moments the screens went dark as molycirc cylinders the size of his thumb popped out of their housings, terminating the (potentially) infected processes by the simple expedient of physically removing the cartridges containing the programs. Moments later, they flickered back to life as the backups kicked in.

One of the techs, however, was conspicuously motionless, staring at his screen – and the structure pictured on it - until it went blank. Then, he twitched, rose to his feet with a warbling scream, and smashed both hands down onto the console. The touch composite didn't even flex under the hammering, and, frustrated at the lack of destruction, the man turned and leapt at the nearest crewmember. Both men tumbled to the deck, the sensor tech clawing at the other man's suit and pounding at him with his fists. He wasn't doing any appreciable damage – vacsuits weren't technically armoured, but they were tough enough to provide protection from the sorts of battering received when a ship was hurled about under the force of antimatter explosions, and mere fists just didn't compare – but surprise and superior position kept him on top of his target. All the while, he was shrieking a shrill uninterrupted scream.

“Holy shit!” Techs piled onto the two struggling men, dragging the screaming man away. It took four people to hold him as he thrashed and twitched.

“Security to the bridge,” Dervish snapped down his comm. “Memetic hazard!”

“Sir, what...”

“Whoever hacked us,” he said, looking around the bridge. “Maybe they could have been more diplomatic, but they have a point. Nobody looks at the structure, and nobody listens to the transmission. I want this hypercommed back home right now.”

The hatch opened, and four espatiers stormed into the compartment, weapons raised.

“Take him to the brig,” Dervish ordered, pointing at the tech who was now twitching and foaming at the mouth. “I want him restrained, and his radio and suit speakers physically deactivated.”

“Yes sir!”

“Comms, advise the flag of our situation. Then transmit a warn off to all the newcomers, and the natives; keep 150k klicks clear, or they will be subject to defensive action. Let the admiral handle the first contact, but make it clear we don't want to be disturbed.”

Some Time Ago

They called to him, a hundred thousand mouths. Dark bodies prostrate on the pale sand, suffering for him. Singing.

Im-ho-tep.

He stood at the dais and raised his arms and began the invocation. Words more ancient than the world shook the souls of those before him. The squirming sacrifice stilled and he plunged the knife. The red blood flowed down into the mortar.

His task was done and he turned to examine the foundations. Foursquare, vast as the things that swam in his dreams - some of them. Ready for him to raise his black pyramid to the lord of that place. Beyond the foundations the sands stretched away, lone and level til they met the sky.


Akihabara

Professor Carpenter ducked into a cafe of some kind. The angles conspired to hide him from the street as he weaved his way between the tables. There was a door at the back in shadow. He shouldered through into a kitchen, and then an avenue of lockers.

“Still on the run. However are they finding you~?”

The girl was sitting on top of the lockers, wearing a black dress and white apron, both needlessly short. She hopped to the ground, adjusting a frilled headband.

“They have powerful seers.” said Carpenter as he sketched on the ground. Three edges joined at right angles into a non-triangle. “Even I am not completely protected.”

“But your power! So vast! Have you squandered my aid?” She pouted.

“Not yet.” He finished the symbol and stood up. In the cafe outside, a boot crunched on glass. “I am an artisan, not a warrior, but I still have servants, and there are shells here for them.”

The lockers rattled, then the doors burst. Black-frocked figures lurched out. They bent wrongly and stared with anti-faces.

Master.

“You two, kill the ones in the front. The rest of you protect me until we have reached safety.”

He admitted to himself he wasn’t sure where that was. But right now, he had to get away. Two of the figures left for the storefront, and there was gunfire. Carpenter fled through the back, into a dark back street. The creatures flowed, leapt, crawled and insinuated after him as he ran through the alleys. The angles served him, kneeling to his architect’s eye and drawing him a crooked passage through the city. But the gunfire and false screeches of the creatures contacts with his pursuers were never far from him.

Alleys and turnings and arcades and shadows passed. Cables and awnings lurched out from the walls above him and barred the way to the black sky. He made the angles serve but they began to chafe under his hand, and his worm-hole through the city hemmed in ever closer, and the creatures following him thinned and thinned. Gunfire sounded past the corner behind him.

“You’ll have to fight them, you know.” The girl leaned out of a window above. “You’re getting tired, and they’ve been pacing themselves. That’s the one thing you humans are good at. Running prey down.”

Carpenter did not respond, but she was right. He would have to summon-

A jolt of pain shot through his head. He must not think of it so clearly.

“Ara ara, desperate indeed.” The girl leaned far over the sill and peered closely.

He would have to summon a certain thing. He pulled a jar of wax from a pocket and rubbed it between his hands. Protection was vital.

“Go and hold off the pursuers,” he said to his creatures. “Do not return to me.”

They left, as he kneaded the hot wax and crammed it into his ears. The sounds of his body became muffled and strange. He could hear nothing of outside, except the girl’s voice.

“Form of Razors~, oh so sweet~, it’s been so long since we chanced to meet~”

He spoke the incantation, stretching his mouth into strange shapes. As the last word left his lips, he felt a stab of pain and the copper taste of blood in his mouth. Nothing else happened, which was good. If he had noticed something, it would mean something had gone wrong and he would have paid the price. He could not afford that, not now.

He started towards the end of the alley, eyes fixed forward. Not a glance to either side, nor up. It seemed so distant. The silence crushed in on his ears. His instincts screamed at him to check behind him, for pursuers, but he kept fixed forward and walked.

A figure stepped around the end of the alley. Black and white armour, fully enclosed. They had circled around him while he waited. The figure turned to him, looked, looked behind him. Then it stumbled back, clawing at its faceplate, and fell over. Carpenter fancied it was screaming, but he couldn’t tell. He broke into a run again and rushed past the soldier. Perhaps there were gruesome sounds behind him as he turned the corner. His imagination scrabbled for nightmares to fill the silence with. Better than the noiseless void and the thought of what it obscured.

As he ran, he rubbed some grey sand from a pocket on his hand and it turned black. The warrens and angles closed in on him. He had stopped fleeing, it was time to fight. He was hidden by angles and served by them in the shrinking, shifting maze of passages. But he could only move, only look forward. His enemies looked in all directions for him, and paid the price when they saw the thing he could not.

A figure loomed from a junction and fell beneath the black hand. Blood was already trickling from the joints of their helmet, by the ears. They had listened too closely for the movements of their quarry, and paid the price. He kept his head forward. Despite the begging of his instincts he did not check behind him.

Another fell, and another. They stopped appearing. Kept their distance.

“So now what are you going to do?” The girl faded out of the shadows in front of him. “It’s only a matter of time before they do a little twist in an artilleryman’s head and turn a big gun here...”

Carpenter grimaced, then grinned. “The thing I’m good at.” He cleared his throat, and spoke loudly.

“I want to talk.”

Protectorate (NRKR) Command Carrier Orinoco

"So. Wagner." Atin looked at the display and the red data marks that described the position of the CON ships. "Pretty gutsy choice to command something like this."

"Our process analysis suggests it maybe they believe that protection from information hazard was the primary motivation, with a sixty percent confidence interval. Thirty percent is his record as a commander. He's actually renowned as one of the CONs most willy and subtle. Ten percent various internal political factors." Her adjutant, the ships artificial Sapience, Lotic spoke precisely as ever.

"Definitely some level of information hazards here." Atin looked at the screen. "Is the volunteer team ready to go?"

"Yes. They can launch when ready."

"Alright, deploy them. We can't afford for any of the other powers, much less the Shard, to get sole custody of whatever the hell that is."

There was the shrill of an alarm and the command carrier rocked. "What the hell happened now?"

Altima Expanse Capital Combatant Doselath

"... the smaller objects are firing on us. Some kind of electromagnetic beam!"

Osel swore. The anti-mana screens where useless against the electromagnetic weapons that seems so common in this universe. They'd be relaying on just the force shields and the ships armour. "All Combatants fire at will! Fire at will!"

The ship shuddered microshrines around the rip discharged a rippling hail of bolts. Torpedoes spat away, hurtling towards the first of the rapidly approaching geometric shapes approaching them. The range was desperately long. The enemy had fired from fire away. "Increase speed to flank. Begin evasions."

"The Fleet Commander signals we're to close in and engage the enemy."

The smaller ships seemed to be ignoring the shuttles and teleportation signals moving into the structure and be concentrating on the large ones. The nearest alien formation was opening up like some kind of intricate blossom, surrounding the shape attacking them and pounding it with a swarm of fire. Osel was amazed by their tactical skill and wished he had the same. Still, he had his own tricks. The attacking machine swung away and Osel took a breath. "All ships, teleport... now!"

The Altima formation instantly transitted through space and was around the other vessel. Torpedoes and energy bolts lashed out, pulverising it in a storm of magical fire. "More targets approaching sir."

"Put us bow towards them. Main armament fire at will." Osel frowned. They were in for it now.

Inside the structure

Delta-Three checked the reading on her scanner and looked around. The world she was seeing wasn't really real. There was far too much information contamination for that. Rather her helmet, implants and training allowed her to filter the view. She just hoped it'd be enough. "There's a power nexus around one hundred meters in. If this did used to be a native high dwelling it's completely changed in structure."

The team had found what might once have been a native airlock after some EVA from the shuttles. It had opened for them after only a little cutting, and they'd managed to cycle it, moving into a large zero-gravity tunnel.

"How's the blue reading?" The volunteer team's leader, Foxtrot-one was a soft voice Saxon woman wearing the dark wings of a Protectorate vacuum commando asked. Delta-Three had avoided learning anyone's name and was going by call sign. She figured that they where faceless anyhow, and it'd be better not to get to know people who were probably going to die soon anyhow. Battle language made it easy to think of yourself as a call sign. A part of the machine, not a person.

"Nominal. The environment doesn't seem to be too aggressive..." there was a distant, heavy chunk sound. Another followed, closer.

"You had to say it." The Foxtrot-One aimed her gun. The teams lights shone down the length of the passage. Sri magnified her view and saw long spikes of material slicing from one side of the passage to the other. "Everyone fucking move!" The team turned and hurled themselves away from the closing passage, rushing away from it deeper into the structure. They'd deployed survey drones already but they quickly outdistanced them.

The passage swung and curved crazily, branching every so often, and the Protectorate team had to choose branches at random. The point man swung around the corner and bulked "dead end! fucking dead end!" he called.

"Use your bar mine! Blow it!" The Foxtrot-One yelled.

The scout slapped the shape charge into the wall and withdrew a bit, then fired, the explosion knocking an opening in the smart martial. "Through! Quick!" They hurtled through and into a much larger chamber. The bubble was the size of a small city, filled with plants and buildings.

"Let's get three sixty security up." The vacuum commando looked around. "Don't like this."

There was a howl from one of the nearest buildings. Delta-Four realized the beings she was looking at might once of been human. Now though they were covered in a cancerous froth of interconnecting geometric shapes. Their skin crackled as they moved, charging out of the buildings towards the team.

"Open fire!" The protectorate team began to shoot, shells and micromissile lashing out in all directions.

Near the Signal Source

What had once FMS Harsha turned quickly away from the flaring energies of battle ahead. It's drives lit, their spectrums already changed as eager hands altered them inside. The cruiser swung around onto a new course then began to accelerate. A moment later the FTL drive fired and it was gone.

[OOC: All ships and landing parties have broadly similar experiences]

Somewhere In Talos Territory

"What is it?" Marcel Coulibaly asked as he entered the quarantine analysis lab, eyes fixed upon imposing looking...object that was in front of him and was consuming his immediate attention.

"We were hoping you could tell us," The scientist replied as she adjusted the name tag
attached to her lab coat, Marcel watching out of the corner of his eye while the word "Catherine" shifted a little to the left and right before moving back into place. "since you know, you are the Xenoarchologist..."

"That I am, though I'm not sure how much from my field I can tell you nowadays." Marcel replied wry as he began inspecting the artifact. "Where did it come from?"

"Just some sort of delivery we took in from Seraphim after they staged that rescue of those Sol people. They told us that the Sollies were quite happy to let them have it actually, for what it's worth" Catherine muttered.

"I'm sure." Marcel replied dryly as he looked over the object, mentally remarking at the intricate runes etched on it before a sudden burst of inspiration made itself known in his mind. "You don't mind me borrowing this right?" He asked as he suddenly stepped away and started wheeling in a bio-scanning device towards the artifact.

"Not at all, that's what this place is for...you think there might be some sort of alien life in there?"

"More of a hunch really." Marcel answered as he activated the device and began waving the detection wand over the object.

There was a brief few moments of silence as the machine did it work, and then seemingly the loudest detection beep either of them had ever heard from the device began ringing.

"You ARE good." Catherine replied, staring at the artifact

"From the looks of it, the "casket" hasn't been tampered with in a very long time, so whatever is alive in here is sealed in. I'm also getting some strange form of interference here..." Marcel remarked, as he turned around and eyed the scientist with a look of mock severity. "In my professional opinion, I think you should consider requisitioning a very different kind of expert for this artifact."

Censura's Isle
Secret Location

The commander's lips pursed. “Sir Censura, shouldn't you rest? Your injuries are severe, and stressing them will only slow recovery.”

Sir Alaria Censura sat at the end of the table. The automated wheelchair had set down. She dressed in her uniform, hands folded, as her military staff looked on. A liason from the Countess' office stood to one side, watching.

“I am resting, Commander.” she replied, as dry as bone. “Concern yourself with telling me where my would-be assassins have gone, and who sent them to end me.”

The commander nodded. “Very well. Your assassins escaped our notice; we couldn't locate their operation point or any discarded equipment. We can, however, extrapolate from the systems compromised and the blackbox logs.” he read from a sheet. “The assassins used a combination of AR hacking and automated sniper weapons for the initial attack. These weapons were taken with them, not abandoned, nor were any portable computers. Camera files were erased, but the onsite medical team could not comfirm the medic who attempted to treat you. None of the augment verification systems noted any unauthorized personnel, leading us to believe that personal bluffers and protean systems were employed.”

“So, professionals.” Alaria replied. “That's enough to confirm to us that this was a contracted assassination. Clearly someone of the nobility.”

Face went white. “Well, no, it could have been terrorist cells.” the commander replied. “Or alien influence. The...Final Paradise aliens may have sought to renew the war-”

“You were about the say the Shard, weren't you.”

The Commander nodded after a moment. “I was. I make no illusions I mistrust them and their intents. They've aided us greatly, and to be honest, I don't suspect them of killing you.”

“Well, good.” She nodded. “Because the Shard will come to our aid if I ask. They've protected me, and will continue to do so, which makes it your job to find who among our esteemed families would dare commit treason.” She pulled out sheets of paper. “Operations reports from Censura's intelligence network, indicating suspicious transactions picked up by some operatives in the noble families.”

The Censura representative started forward, aghast. “You've been spying on them?!”

“No, Minister.” Alaria turned to regard him with a cold glare. “You've been spying on them.”

The minister's jaw dropped. Alaria tapped the reports. “The Countess' concerns aside, this clearly shows large amounts of money being traded, and hidden from the market censors. This is consistent with assassination etiquette; also, there have been reports that several watched assassins were spotted in one of the noble districts, an indicator of a buyer.”

“But that won't tell you who ordered the assassination. Any noble could-”

“Yes. Any noble.”

The Commander leaned forward, face utterly serious. “Sir Knight, you cannot be-”

Alaria stood, in spite of her condition. She was paler than normal, and the medical patches on her arm and leg betrayed the horrid injuries beneath. “This is an act against the people of Censura's Isle, Commander. In more ways than one.” She hissed through her teeth, masking pain. “If you think that an assassination attempt on a knighted soldier of the Island, the sister to the Countess who governs, is a grave danger, then do you think it's a worse danger for being a direct threat against the Shard?”

“What?” The Commander said, over murmurs.

The knight slammed her fist on the table. Papers scattered. “YES!” She shouted. “This was clearly an act against the Church of the Paste! Against the faith based around Shard technology! It was them who they're after, because of xenophobia and fear!” She put both arms on the table, supporting herself in her rage and pain. “And what if the Shard feel threatened? We have achieved peace with them – they don't force their technology on us, they respect our customs! What if they intervene in this, Commander?”

The man said nothing. Alaria narrowed her eyes. “It would mean an end to the peace, Commander, and it would mean we'd lose out on one of the greatest opportunites the Opal has. Even if they choose not to engage in war, and just leave, then we lose access to everything – their paste, their biotechnolgy...their faster-than-light drives.” She cracked a smile. “Now I have all your attention. Good, because I don't want to repeat this. We are going to find the fool who hired these assassins, we are going to bring them down, no matter how many their are, and we are going to make sure that no self-important noble will shatter our peace and future prosperity because they don't have the ability to endure. We have survived so long on our traditions – the break now, when faced with a world-shattered new paradigm, is weakness and decay. I will fight for that, even if it means bringing down families of millenia.”

She sat down, glaring across the table. In truth, she could no longer stand, newly-grown bones aching all the way through. She barely had the strength to stand.

But she had the strength to fight.

****

Actions: Sir Alaria begins operations to discover and arrest nobles responsible for her assassination attempt.

Yakumo Ryoko's Private Hot Springs
Efficiency, Central Administrative Authority

"It's almost hypnotic, isn't it?"

The words of PSS Yakumo broke my reverie. I glanced at her, and she cocked an eyebrow in the direction I had been staring. "Quite so." I replied mildly. "There's something alluring about the rhythmic movements in copulation. And of course, DPSS Liu is very attractive, and from this angle her tails obscure just the right amount to give a strong boost to the titillation factor."

Ryoko gave me a cold look. "Theo, you excel yourself. You're increasingly adept at sucking the fun out of everything."

I chuckled humourlessly. "I'm an old man, Ryoko, and unfortunately not a dirty one. I've seen it all, only thing left is to join Tachibana across the river of death." I refilled my wine dish and dropped the bottle back into the spring. "I guess I'm a pretty shitty drinking partner. But you didn't invite me here just for a drink, I gather."

She took a drink out of her own dish before replying. "I suppose no invitation from me can be considered that, no matter what I think about it. Still, removing the greatest internal impediment to our operations is worth a celebration, isn't it?"

I raised my dish. "I'll drink to that."

I leaned back and submerged up to my neck in the pool, resting on my tails and leaving my now empty dish to float freely. It was a rare occurance where I could relax my whole body without shoving at least a few of my tails into a pocket dimension, maybe I should go for a dip more often.

Impsec. The defender of the Empire from all enemies foreign and domestic. The Emperor's left hand, the one that stabbed you while he was shaking your right. How did they construe the CAA as a threat to the Empire? My tails twitched at the thought. The Imperial Loyalty Geass could be bypassed, but what was their rationale? I frowned as I went back to comparing the Imperial Archive to my private backups, hoping to find something that would illuminate the issue. There were discrepancies, but they seemed so minor. Maybe if I put it all together...

I thought it looked like a flower, but that was merely a base pattern association. Fractals commonly occured in nature after all. But this was no natural fractal, it changed as I observed it, then changed again, yet I could still see the original image...

It vanished suddenly, and I was looking up into the concerned visage of Liu Qin. I was quite suddenly aware that I was clothed and lying on solid ground. She was clothed too, though the front of her robe was alluringly open. Maybe I'm a dirty old man after all.

Her words broke me out of my stupor. "You were out for over an hour. I overrode your subconscious processes and isolated that... thing. What was it?"

I blinked and gently stretched my mind but I felt no noticable damage. "I'm guessing a builder's stamp of some kind. I don't think it was malicious, but it was terribly complex." I poked at the thing now floating freely in my form, but away from my mind.

"May I take a look?" she asked. I shrugged and nodded my assent, and we merged. It was far easier and smoother than most of my other merges. But she was my cousin, and we were both youkai kyuubi, unlike the human-kitsune like Ryoko that made up the vast majority of the Imperial Civil Service. We separated fairly quickly and abruptly. What we found sort of demanded it.

"It's a Key." She muttered, half to herself. "Or at least I think it is. I only managed an extremely brief look at it on Manticore before those unknown robots absconded with it, but it tastes remarkably similar."

We both turned to Ryoko, who was waiting patiently though with a quizzical expression. I opened a gap to the Archives and pulled a blank copy of an Archive Retrieval Request Form through. It was, like all high level CAA documents, printed on entropy and tamper-resistant paper. Ryoko's expression merely grew more quizzical. I gestured excitedly at it. "It's how ImpSec got us here!"

"Coz, I think you'd better let me explain this before poor Ryoko's left eyebrow reaches her ear." Liu said with a chuckle. "We know that several of these Key things exist, and that they were found on worlds from different universes. As such, we postulated that they were dragged into the Nexus by whatever organization that's going around looking for them here." She gestured to me, and I passed her the form. She pointed at the header. "Impsec broke the Key up and embedded it into the CAA itself." Ryoko's eyebrow, which had lowered back to its original position, cocked up again. "Don't just look at it, read it."

For the first time in centuries I read, actually *read* the header of the form.

Imperial Archives (Central Repository) Retrieval Request Form
Imperial Archives (Central Repository)
1 Archives Boulevard, Integrity
Central Administrative Authority

I blinked at Ryoko's harsh bark of laughter. She walked over to stare at the form. "Brilliant. Insert it into the very concept of the CAA, through the single bit of our documentation that we never read. I'd never have thought of that."

Liu nodded. "And we didn't. I apologize for that lapse. We clearly have to improve our security heuristics, but we were expecting Impsec to work with us, not against us."

"I accept your apology, and I don't blame you. Though I wonder how long they've been sitting on this security hole..."

"Uhm." They looked at me as I cleared my throat. "This is fascinating, but why did they do it?"

They both stared incredulously at me for a moment, before Ryoko's face lit up in understanding, her tails swishing from side to side. "Of course, you're a history eater, and we never did file our observations into the Archives. It's quite simple really. We forecasted that the Imperial Heir, at some indeterminate point in the near future, would meet and fall head over heels in love with a very acceptable noble from the Tengu Union in our very star system, through a series of events orchestrated by us, leading to a restoration of relations between our two polities. All in all a most acceptable outcome."

"Most acceptable." Liu agreed.

"Now this would probably result in the largest expansion of the Imperial Civil Service since the conquest of the Magellanic Cloud Republics. Plenty of useful employment." Ryoko nodded to herself.

"So why does ImpSec oppose it if it's so great?" I asked, confused.

"Well," Ryoko scratched an ear. "There's a not insignificant chance that the Magellanics would react poorly. You know how rah-rah they are about "Humanity First" and all that." She sniffed. "A little civil war once in a while helps to purge unsavoury elements."

"And to do that they were willing to destroy the CAA?" I couldn't keep the horror out of my voice.

"I imagine they believed that they could take over the majority of our functions, and presumably our branch offices are still out there, dutifully continuing their work." Ryoko's face hardened. "It is imperative that we return to the Empire as soon as possible. If this Key can get us back, so much the better."

"We'll have to get into contact with either the Crimson or that Eschaton organization to figure out how to get this to work." Liu thought aloud. "And I think the Crimson will probably ask for far too much in return."

"Agreed." Ryoko nodded. "But how do we find a group of people who do not wish to be found?"

The second Extrusion

Wennia felt flesh all around her. For a moment she was thrown back out of the link, out of the mindscape and saw the world around her. Choking, claustrophobic warmth. Buried alive in a sea of flesh.

Then like a damn the darkness broke and thought flooded in on her.

There were no words. There was the impossibility of words.

A vast body, spanning the universe. Quickened only by reflex.

Lessoned. Reflex flung out a tentacle to attempt to retrieve the Shard that had been lost.

It felt other presences and reflexes fired it again. Patterns of darkness and light and bone and danger. Eaters. Survival instincts shivered through the vast bulk. It must retrieve, it must expand it must consume.

Warmth closed around Wennia, the vast thoughts dragging her deeper. Her eyes slowly closed, blackness of within replacing the blackness of without. She felt the rhythm of the Extrusion's many hearts, felt the rippling of energy through its many nodes and then. . .

Wennia screamed as the last thought slammed into her, tearing her free of the embrace of the vast flesh around her. A word. A concept symbology even the vastness could not suppress. THE KEYS

It burned into her mind like a sun. And there was light.

Wennia came too slowly, her eyes blinking open, ears extending. <<. . . down here. Cut the drill off, you might hit her. We'll get her out with the scalpel axes>>

There was a ripping and a sliver of light hit her face. A lit shaft opened above, with several Shard forms and curious pink creatures with long tentacles for mouths looked down on her. The latter wore heavy, long faced space armour.

<<She's okay... life force reads steady. Bring her out now.>>

Boarders of the Taran Federation
Battlemoon Wyrmwood.

They'd made it. Despite continual raids by Crimson aligned forces they were now entering the range of Taran destroyers and other covering units. Admiral Carniege watched as the sleek shape of a Taran Resolution class cruiser slid past the massive flank of the other battle moon.

"The Cruiser is hailing us sir." The communications officer looked up at the admiral's perch. "They welcome us to the Taran Federation and ask we follow them through the their early warning zone."

"Give them our compliments and say we'll follow them faithfully." Carniege grinned. "That was quite a journey."

"I'm glad that's over." Legate Karston groused.

"Don't get too comfortable Legate?" The Admiral grinned "Now we have to do the have to do the hard part."

Dreadnaught Gustav XI

He'd tried his best, but the Tau-Ceti fleet was good, and the technological advantage was not what he might have wished. Adolfus sat back in his chair. He'd lost good ships, not many but some. Any kind of engagement would lose him more and he thought that they'd need those more than a few dead Tau-Ceti transports. "Order the fleet back to base." The Throne admiral ran a hand across his beard. "We have preparations to make."

Tau-Ceti fleet arrives at the Taran Federation having taken 20 points of assorted damage from raiders and inflicted around 15 in return

Tazenda Destroyer Vigilant

"I still think they're really weird." Operator Rebecca Clover made a face.

Nina "Well yes, they're aliens, or future humans or something. I just think their ship is really pretty you know?"

"Meh. Give me a nice normal looking design any day." Rebecca pushed back a stand of blond hair and frowned at the feed. "I don't really know what we're even doing all the way out here when there's aliens on Tazenda. What if they turn out to be hostile. It's the Escort Fleet's job to protect our homeworld."

"I think like, three aliens are less of a threat than the throne or the Crimson." Nina sighed. "You're a total speciest you know that. You've got to throw off that kind of thinking now we're in a new universe."

"I just think we should stay separated from people who don't share our cognition. If they're that weird then dealing with them won't... hold it. I've got a large spike of exotic radiation." She looked up. "Looks like an FTL emergence event, a big one. A huge mass is gating out!"

"Trying to acquire it on passive sensors." Nina grabbed her visor and swung it around, visually aiming the ship's sensor turret at the brightly blinking red point of the emergence. "It's huge!" She gasped. "The emerging object is larger than a Mnemosyne Aggressor carrier!"

"Impossible! Is it a Tau-Ceti battle moon?"

"No, it's smaller than that... and the wrong shape." The object was Triacontahedral, its hull covered in vast whirls of black, silver and blue which drew the eye, forming strange patterns which teased at Nina as if they should mean something.

"What's happening? Scope! Talk to me!" The Captain came on.

"I don't know what it is sir..." Nina looked up. "It's huge... onscreen. Wait, it's emitting."

There was a moment, then a haunting, strident wash of radio and FTL signals washed across the Vigilant. "The Cacophony." Rebecca muttered, awed.

The vast ship began to move slowly towards Tazenda orbit.

Second Extrusion
Depths

<<I am fine.>> Wennia said.

The flayers backed away quickly as she rose up, the flesh around her swelling. She was buried save for her head, her left arm, and one tail; her skin was paler than usual, a sign of her stress. The meat undulated around her, setting her upright.

It slid away from her with a gurgling sound. Her jumpsuit was badly torn in most places, and her hair and tails were mussed, but there were no injuries upon her. The purple marks on her skin seemed lighter, more vibrant. <<I can feel Vel nearby – he's mired, but in no danger. There was some damage from the psychic attack's aftermath, but nothing significant.>>

The flayer watched her, trying to process what he was seeing. Her psychic presence wasn't like this before, was she? <<Will you be able to cut your way out?>> he asked.

<<I'll deal with that.>> Wennia walked along the fleshy chamber, towards a wall. It parted before her, splitting like a canyon into a great tunnel. <<You should return to your ship. It'll be unstable during the transition.>>

<<Transition?>>

The walls rippled; the chamber, carved with cutting implements, began to warp, becoming spherical. The flayers began to move towards their ship. The speaker turned back, looking at Wennia.

She stood amid the Shard, tails folding around herself. The flesh at her feet curled, revealing a ring of metal. It rose around her, lifting up.

<<I'll explain later.>> Wennia sent, as the Flayer ship rose.

The cyber-kraken watched as the fleshy sea began to rise, breaking into bubbles of bone, coral, and metal like water in space. Their landing ship shot towards them, ignored by the flesh, as the monstrous sea gathered together, curling into a fountain. Within it, a mind guided it, shaping it.

Amid the living substances, Wennia was focused. Around her, the mass awakened – millions of individual minds stirring, the force that held them back. Amid them, thousands of memories lurked amid the confusion and fear. Wennia gathered them to herself, holding them close, enveloping them in gentle control. She felt a strange feeling at the back of her head, as usual, but no more pain.

She needed to stabilize the second Extrusion. Then, she'd have to contact Recselve immediately.

There were things the Shard must know.

****

Actions: The Second Extrusion begins to change.