NationStates Jolt Archive

Colonial Senate
New Westminster City
Planet New London
New England Star System
32.5 Light-years from Earth, towards the centre of Galaxy

The Senate building was a vast conical structure, nearly thirty floors high and two miles in diameter. Situated directly in the centre of New Westminster City, it towered higher than any other building in the Metropolis; the Skyline Preservation Act had prevented any other building from being more than twenty-five floors in height. The exterior solar panels of the building shined brilliantly in the warm sun of the New London summer, temperatures reaching a warm but tolerable twenty-eight degrees Celsius at midday. Outside the entrance hall, twenty flags of different colours and symbols fluttered in the slight breeze from the tropical south, each representing a different Colony on New London, organised into a circle around a twenty first flag, a rich blue with a yellow eagle flaring in the wind, its talons outstretched in front of it.

Inside the Colonial Senate, once again at the centre of the structure, a large circular room that raised three floors to the ceiling was packed with two hundred Representatives, each from one of the ten administrative districts of each colony on New London. At one end of the room, the twenty-first seat of the Colonial President sat a single floor higher than the rest of the Senate.

The Colonial President was a fixed position in the Senate; the Representative of New Westminster was always the Executive head of the Colonial Senate. However, this was far from a dictatorship; the Colonial President could hardly commit any action whatsoever without approval from the Colonial Senate. Each representative was decided by internal vote in the respective districts, with several political parties putting candidates up in a desperate bid to achieve domination of the Colonial Senate. Currently, the Senate was at a near deadlock between the Liberals and the Conservative Democrats. Only a few smaller parties such as the Communists and the Imperialists were dotted around the Senate with one or two seats each. Often much argument and disagreement was passionately displayed in the Senate’s debates, and often there was deadlock.

However, the entire Senate was in agreement in this case – the first time in history that such a thing had happened. It was for different reasons of course; the Liberals wanted to expand the Federation’s horizons and unify them in a way never thought possible. The Conservative Democrats agreed. The Imperialists wanted an Empire, whilst the Communists hoped that this show of Empire building might help enrage the proletariat. Whatever reason, the vote was 200-0 in favour. The Unified Colonies Exploration Agency was formed.

The UCEA was given offices in New Westminster and a multi-million FedCred budget. A hundred Scientists and a thousand Labourers set to work on constructing Probes that would be launched in every direction in a bid to investigate the universe beyond their little paradise. It took three years to perfect a prototype Probe, the Explorer Series, designed to carry information on the people, culture and location of the Federation, whilst sending telemetry on its own location back to UCEA. It took a further two to produce ten of these Probes.

So it was, one warm summer morning, that the President of the Federation personally pushed the button to launch the ten probes from their pads at Fort Mountbatten, just outside of New Westminster. The ten launch vehicles soared skywards; ten burning lights of hope cutting through the atmosphere of New London, shooting out of sight. Onboard computers placed the vehicles in a Geosynchronous Orbit before expelling the final remains of their fuel to achieve Escape Velocity at different intervals. The Probes slipped the surly bonds of New London and flew out into the silent, unforgiving black in search of others.

^^^

OOC: Okay, this is an introduction of my FT nation – a little short, I know, but I’m currently doing exams which I will be finished with after Wednesday, so then I will have more time.

So, First Contact. :) Any FT nations, feel free to encounter a Probe and come a-looking at what launched them. The Unified Colonies is currently at a mid-advanced level; stable Nuclear Fusion reactors, Military and Commercial orbital transport craft (although nothing larger than fighters for the Military, carrying offensive nuclear missiles and short-range defensive laser systems for missile defence), that sort of thing.

Hope to RP much more soon. :)

*Thud!*

~Was the sound that echoed through the hull of the Svent Class Corvette 'Stormchaser' as something impacted the hull, something that seemed to be happening a lot for those sent out on deep space missions. The cloaking field around the ship distabilized, hurling the ship back into the readable spectrums.~

"Report."

~The captain said as he felt the ship shake suddenly.~

"Something hit us. Our sensors didn't see it until the last second because it came from the sunward side."

~Came the reply from the sensors officer, startled from his lapse of concentration due to the bordom of deep space exploration, and the lulling hum of the ships systems. As was the wont of sensor's officers during deep space exploration.~

"I swear if it was another probe that hit us... and bring the cloak back online."

~The captain began to say with a more commanding/irritated tone.~

"Aye, sir."

"Letur."
"Ya Opes?"
"There is a probe of unknow origin at 36-281-41."
"Backtrack it to it's probable point of origin, and let's go visit."

The Opesankel hit the engines and arrived shortly in the system 18875-DF.

"Take us in closer." Letur ordered as he glanced at the sensors.

The Opesankel headed toward the planet, stopping aproximately 5 light-seconds away from the surface. The ship sent an all channel message,
"This is the T.S. Opesankel, we met a probe that appears to have orignated from this system and would be interested in opening contact."

OOC: Just tagging for now

Sucellan Defense System Sector Alpha-Alpha-Alpha I
28:33 Common Sucello Time

Pitch black Star Destroyers sat in the shadows of the busiest space lane in all of Tannenmillian space -- Directly above the Capital City. The flatter than normal ships sat, engines cold, around the Great Planet, scanning. Almost the entire surface of the large destroyers were covered with large sensor domes capable of detecting a transmission as faint as a simple Tannenmillian Officer's cap or belt transmitter as far away as 2,000 kilometres. All known transmission types were sorted and sent to category-specific Intel agents that sorted through important information, such as enemy transmissions, and removed unimportant transmissions such as officer transmitter codes and minor commercial chatter. Among the high-priority transmissions were those of probes or drones. So naturally, when the small, dark hunk of metal was thrown from Foldspace and began disintegrating over the Great Planet, the Defense fleet was deployed immediately. By tracing faint trails from the drone's small engines, they were able to track a rough vector of where the probe may have originated. It was not on any conventional Intel Starmaps, which caused great concern to the Reichsführer.

--

Reichsführer's Palace
Porell City, Tannenmille
14:29 Capitaltime

With a brief gesture of his hand, the Reichsführer triggered the system that would shut off the Classified Newsnet terminal in his briefing room. He turned back around to the four men and women seated nearby. His close friends and advisors, looking to him for help. He reached down to the long desk that stretched before him, hand going for the small glass of scotch that had been prepared for him. Taking a slow sip from the cold liqour, he announced his decision.

"Mobilize the 3rd Exploration Fleet, one sensordestroyer and two Royal Star Destroyers as escort. Trace the probe back to its source. Prepare our message in Standard, Imperial Basic, and any other language these things might understand."

--

New England System
29:22 Common Sucello Time

A black Star Destroyer melts effortlessly into the emptiness of space after coming out of Foldspace near the seemingly only hospitable planet in the system. Sensor waves rippled out over the vacuum, picking up no starships. It then transmitted a simple signal over the secure Tannenmillian wire. Two Royal Star Destroyers, painted deep purple and blue, appeared next to and above the sensordestroyer, and four consular's ships appeared behind their escort. The Royal Star Destroyers began relaying their message: "We come in tranquility, for we have detected that this may be the origin of a probe that was discovered in our System. We are Tannenmille. We come in tranquility, for we have..."

Now the fleet sat waiting for a response.

Fort Mountbatten
Orbital Early Warning Radar Network
New Westminster


“Roughly one million, five hundred thousand Kilometres away, Sir.”

The Radar Operator punched a key on his console and switched the rotating blue screen of the scanner system to a video feed. Satellite Five-Three rotated on its longitudal axis and refocused the onboard camera lenses in the direction of the contact.

Major Robert Darlington, CinC Fort Mountbatten, whistled through his teeth and leaned on the back of the technician’s chair. The OEWRN Centre was a large room with several banks of consoles, each with a radar technician monitoring the scans of each of the fifteen EW Satellites that orbited New London. Currently, each of them was looking up at the large screen at the end of the room providing a live feed.

Darlington reluctantly took his eyes of the screen to look at the Radar Operator he stood behind. “Is it doing anything?”

The RO shook his head, brown hair ruffling in the violent motion, and took a breath before replying. “No Sir, it’s just…sitting there.”

The Major looked back at the screen and nodded slowly. “And it…just suddenly appeared out of nowhere?”

The RO shrugged. “Pretty much, Sir.” He glanced at his computer logs on a separate screen. “Whatever’s powering that thing, it’s damn fast…Sir.” He added the last part hastily.

Major Robert patted the man on the shoulder, acknowledging the man’s nerves. “Well,” he said, standing up. “I need to report this to-”

He was drowned out by the speaker systems in the room suddenly bursting into a string of noises. The consoles flickered momentarily and the entire room went silent. After a few seconds, the noise stopped.

Darlington took his hands from his ears where he had instinctively pressed his palms against them and shook his head a moment. “What the hell was that?” He called out to no one in particular.

The RO from earlier typed a few commands into his computer. “Wideband transmission Sir, picked up by the Satellite. It must’ve cut through onto this frequency.” The man shook his head. “Not a language I’ve heard before, Sir. Definitely foreign.”

Darlington looked back up at the motionless craft hanging on the screen in front of him. “Alien, more like,” he muttered. The Major turned on his heel and walked across to the back of the room, where an Aide handed him a red headset.

“Mister President,” he began, glancing over his shoulder. “We’ve got a Hell of a situation down here.”

^^^


Fort Stephenson SFB
Just Outside New Westminster City


“Dealer breaks ten.”

Flight Lieutenant Brian Engels dealt several cards out to the players and placed a ten in the centre of the table. Three of the other four players placed either a ten or several cards adding to ten in the centre. Engels eyed the top card and looked at his own. He swore to himself; his remaining hand was too high. But maybe he could bluff this…

“So,” he said casually, adding some FedCreds to the centre pile. “Anyone hear any rumours about new fighters?”

FLt. Tracy O’Donald raised the bet by four. “I know a guy down in R&D…”

Private Saunders, a base guard, let out a low dog whistle. This was quickly followed by a cry of pain and a wince as he dropped his hands to clutch his leg. O’Donald brought her boot back to the floor.

“I know a guy in R&D,” she repeated. “And he said that nothing was coming through.”

Engels saw the bet. “Well, if it’s top secret, he isn’t going to tell you,” he replied with a smile. “See the Card or Fold.”

Tracy sighed, and threw her cards on the table. They impacted just as the Base Alarm went off. The five looked at each other and scrambled from the table, overturning chairs as they ran for the hangers where the Farrow Class Space Interceptors sat, their noses raised slightly to the sky like darts. Within minutes, they were blasting skyward on hydrogen engines, each armed with an under slung nuclear weapon beneath each wing.

They were just four among almost fifty scrambled from their Alert Squadron. Other Interceptors across the planet were being armed and fuelled in case they were needed in combat. The Army went on alert for possible landings by enemy forces.

And this was just as the OEWRS began picking up several more vessels approaching the planet.

^^^
OOC: Okay, quick reply shot off within the last few minutes. :) Don’t worry, I do intend to play nice and not be a warmonger, but the obvious increase in defence is pretty self-explanatory to any civilisation first coming into contact with aliens, so don’t get freaked out OOC by this or anything.

"Sir, theres something on short range sensors that shouldn't be"

"What do you mean Ensign? And why didn't we pick it up before?"

"It's too small to be detectable on long range scans... it seems to be a probe of some sort"

The majestic Soverign-class ship S.E.N Rorkes Drift hung in space near a class four nebula, studying it in order to further the research regarding the use of nebula gases as possible power sources in future Snake Eater ships. The results were promising, to say the least. However, the focus of the bridge crew was currently on this new arrival. Commander Lankin, the XO of the Rorkes Drift, sat in his command chair,"Ensign, can you determine where this probe came from?"

Ensign Malloy studied the screens in front of her, tucking a lock of her dark brown hair behind her ear,"I believe I could, sir"

"Do so. Tactical, is it showing any weapons?"

"None," said the Drow crewman. The first to enter the Snake Navy, and a great virtue to his nation, the Queendom of Kaymiril, and to his commanding officers. Lieutenant Haldros was part of an exchange program, one of the Kaymirilian Air Force. With their space program barely off the ground, he would be among the first to use the Snake technology,"However, it does appear to be carrying some sort of message"

Like all Drow, he was softly spoken, but the benefit of a few centuries serving with the Air Force had had given his voice unmistakable prescense and power. He was fairly intimidating, even to the senoir officers...

"Sir, I believe I've managed to isolate the probes previous trajectory. Based on spatial phenomen, it seems to have come from Spatial Grid 076, near the New England system"

"Do we have any ships near there?"

"No sir"

"Alright, let the Captain sleep. Inform all departments we are leaving for the New England system"

"Yessir!"

*************************************************************
*Two days later, following high warp travel*
The Rorkes Drift came out of warp, having covered the distance much faster than normal, thanks to the new co-axial warp drives being fitted in all Navy ships. In his command chair, the Captain, Juan Francos, sat, staring at the viewscreen,"What am I looking at, Ensign?"

"New London, the fourth planet in the New England star system. M-class, population... 78 million people"

"Can we communicate with them?"

"It would appear so"

"Open a channel"

"Channel open, sir"

"This is Captain Francos, of the Snake Eater ship Rorkes Drift. We intercepted one of your probes, and came searching for its point of origin, hoping to make first contact. We await your response"

"Letur, no reply to the message."
"Then try again, include it in binary, hexidecimal, mathimatical code, and any languages that may work."
"Alrigth."
The message was re-transmitted, first in the original language, followed by the other methods.

As its dark matter* drive shut down the enormous craft slowed, becoming visible to the outside world. It was a large ship, very large. A colony ship with the outfit of a warship, with gothic-styling yet a certain eloquence befitting its builders. Uniquely there didn't appear to be any windows, or indeed, any lights whatsoever on the outside of the vessel. Combined with the fact that it was nearly black all over it was very hard to actually see the ship.

The behemoth came to rest as though it was lost. It did nothing, didn't move. No lights came on. It simply... hovered.



On board the vessel, three people stood in the dimly-lit command centre, looking out into the vastness of space via a large viewscreen, mounted on the front of the room.
One woman wore an elegant dress which looked like it had cost a lot of money -- in the late 20th century, maybe. Another woman wore some tight black leather clothes, and on top of these wore a black leather cloak which hung from her back like a cape with sleeves. A man wore a thin, loose, bright red silk shirt, with dark red trousers. All three wore sunglasses, of all things, and had very pale skin.

"Nothing," the woman in black said. "We may as well be travelling in circles. I told you it was unlikely there would be any habitable planets, much less life."

"We have looked at merely a fraction of the galaxy, and have all eternity to look at everything," the man said in an eloquent voice. "Do not give up on such limited results. We have all the time the universe can offer..."

"We do not, though," she said. "Our supplies run low. We cannot continue to clone what we have and expect it to be consumable. We require fresh samples lest we perish out here."

"Yes yes," he nodded, waving his hand in dismissal. "I did not become Prince without knowing the issues at hand. We will find fresh samples. Soon. But as you say yourself, we must keep looking."

At that, one of the many panels in the dark command centre started bleeping. The woman in a dress walked over to it and looked down through her sunglasses, tapping some buttons with her slender, pale fingers.

"What is it, Elizabeth?" the man asked, glancing over at her.

"Just some debri... wait, some kind of buoy or probe," she said. "It is transmitting... something through a simple communications system."

"It is not just one of the ones we sent out, is it?" he asked glumly.

"If it was broadcasting a Toreador signal we would be able to understand it," Elizabeth snapped. "This is of foreign origin."

"Excellent," the man slapped his hands together and rubbed them as though celebrating a victory. "Track its course. Once you have determined what sort of threat it poses, transport it into Cargo Bay 6 for analysis. I will inform the Elders that we have found... something."

"As you wish," Elizabeth bowed her head.



A few minutes later, the probe was enveloped with bright red light. Once the light subsided, the probe was gone.



* I know what dark matter actually is. I simply used it because it sounds ominous, nothing more. I have no idea how such a drive works, nor any interest in figuring it out.

OOC: Okay people, I'll post a response to all this tommorow - perhaps we can arrange some sort of meeting of representatives in New Westminster to start some relations/trade deals etc.

I just want to say thanks for the warm welcome by all. :)

OOC: You might want to maintain that buildup... I'm looking for a good war. I'll get something in here right away.

OOC: Bearing in mind he said he didn't want a war?

OOC: Bearing in mind he said he didn't want a war?

Well, I would get butchered pretty quickly in open conflict... :)

OOC: I don't 'do' open conflict.
IC

Like a black knife, its sinister form cutting through the black folds of deep space, the Fleet Escort Gremlin approached its charge, a troop transport en route to Epsi 3 with three divisions worth of ground equipment and soldier that were about to land under the command of Admiral Dominic Harte.

"X-C 131, this is escort Gremlin under Harte. Prepare for ship locking procedure."

"Transport X-C 131 acknoledges, transferring flight control to you now. Docking arm is currently ready for connection."

"Recieved, X-C 131, there may be a slight bump as the docking arm engages. Your faster than light drive will engage in approximately 1 minute and counting, this concludes the locking procedure. How are the kids?"

"Oldest just turned five, how 'bout you, Dan?"

"Jane has a cold- I'll talk to you in the lounge."

"Okay, see you in five. C-X 131 out."

Just slightly before the FTL drive engaged, the Gremlin's computer picked up a signal. Procedure dictated that it wait to recieve, in case it was something important. The slight delay caused a bump and a jolt, breaking the fragile docking mechanism that held the escort to the transport like a remora on a whale. Before it even began to translate the message, it restarted the FTL jump, nobody noticed the delay, and assumed that everything was normal.

Without asking anybody else, since this is an escort crew and not the brightest of bulbs, the computer decided that the source of the message was unknown, and should be contacted. It rerouted the drive and began to prepare to drop out, seeing as the source was very close, only a few hundred light years. However, the broken dockig collar meant that the two vessels did not turn together. The heavily armored escort sliced through the transport, while at the same time its external weapon arrays were heavily damaged. The computer barely had tiome to register this when the time came to drop out. As the real blackness of space replaced the surreal golds and reds of FTL travel, the crew of the Gremlin and those onboard X-C 131 who had survived the crash picked themselves up or screamed in agony, depending on whether they had been in the warship or the transport. The shipboard computer registered the errors that had occured and made a note to have them reported and corrected for later models. The two ships, fortunately having come unattached to eachother, floated near-helplessly in the system from which the probes had come.

Bridge of the TSS Concorde
New England System

After fifteen minutes of sustained translations being transmitted by the Star Destroyers, there would be a thirty minute respite before the frequencies were again broadcast the message of the Tannenmillian Fleet.

Vizeadmiral Lukatz Braitman was looking out of the bridge's viewport, looking back at the two purple-clad Star Destroyers and their escortees, the four Lancer-class frigates that held diplomats and ambassadors from Tannenmille. The frigates were likewise coloured in deep purples and blues, the governmental colours of Tannenmille. Across the side of all of them stood out the bloodred crown burst that signified allegience to the Sucellan Governance, the encompassing government over all of the Sucello System. As he peered out into the dark empire of vacuum beyond the transparisteel viewports, a rather small ship violently exited Foldspace. Red and orange tears streaked across the "sky", destroying whatever lay in their path. One of the tears gutted one of the frigates bow to stern, leaving the wrecked metal carcass to drift away, reeling from the blast.

"Report." the Vizeadmiral said coldly, eyes fixed on the vessel that had until moments ago been invisible, in Foldspace.

"Nothing hit our ship, sir. Minor foldburns on the second Star Destroyer, but nothing serious on any of the fleet, save for the Jetissoned Carbon. We estimate that none of the crew could have survived.

Lukatz stared out towards the skeleton of a ship that still bore the crown burst of the Sucellan Governance along its starboard side, slowly spinning and gaining distance from the fleet as the armor plating melted away, leaving nothing but the bare skeleton of the once formidable ship.

"Comm officer, direct a message towards the new craft. Use Basic, Standard, and then Esperanto and any other languages these things might understand, same as with this system. Tell them that we will aid their crew in getting off of that ship, or else they're dead. Tell the Mattefor and Function to produce an intercept course for the ship.

"Jawohl," replied the officer, who began rapidly tapping buttons on his terminal.

Vidia system Space Command

`Sir, we got a probe entering the system. Seems harmless, according to our sensors.`

`Very well then. Inform ISF headquarters and ask for instructions.`

8 hours later

The Aquiel class light cruiser, one kilometer in length, launched towards the coordinates where the probe had the point of origin. The ISS Tokaph has been assigned to deal with this first contact situation, and captain Ashock was quite eager to make his first meeting of this kind.

The last FTL jump made the ship appear only 400,000 km from the planet that seemed habitable.

`Lieutenant, monitor civilian frequencies on the planet and try to decode their language. Send the standard first-contact message once you figure it out.`

`Aye sir!`

Fifteen minutes later, a message was sent to the planet, asking if they wished to have a meeting with the Calpian Empire, to set the foundation of a future relation between the two species.

OOC: Tag! I want to see what SE does with my countryman.

OOC: Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about this - a reply is coming later today where I intend to invite reps from each nation present.

OOC: I assume that's my ship you're reffering to, Tannenmille? And small? Sure, the escort is small, but this is a transport we're talking about, hundreds of meters of cargo with a pressurized crew section. Stats are in my sig.
IC:

Lt. Major John Grelt was with his wife in their stateroom. And had been for some time, hours in fact. Master Sergant Jane Grelt was sitting on the edge of the bed, and as John opened his mouth to speak she cut him off:

"You're incorrigible, but I've got to go."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, my squad is going to land soon, and I've got to lead them. This is the assault on their final stronghold, and we could make the system capitulate today if we win."

John noticed that there was a message for him, a red light begining to blink indicating its urgency. He ignored it, his wife was about to go into combat.

"Are you sure? They'll be fine without you."

"I'll call you when I'm finished." She called as she began to fade from virtual reality. "My dropship is entering atmosphere now. I've got to brief the squad."

"Give 'em hell, hon." John flipped a mental switch and was transported back to his cybernetic body on X-C 131. He activted his communication uplink and returned the call he had so willingly missed. Commander Porrey, who was nominally in charge of the mission appeared in front of his 'eyes', an illusion creaed by his many implants. True to his heritage, he waited for the other man to speak first.

"Sorry to disturb your meditation, sir. But there's a problem. As the man best equipped to deal with it, we'd like you to come down to the bridge, please."

"What is the problem?"

"There was a message, and the computer screwed us over a bit."

"A bit?"

"Our two ships collided in hyperspace, a lot of damage, but the computer is taking full responsibility. Some sort of beacon probe. We're in some sort of first contact scenario, and you're the only one with any training in what to do. Also, we're being hailed by a number of larger ships."

"Have you responded to the hails?" John queried as he got damage information from the shipboard computer.

"No... not yet, we were waiting for you."

"I will do all the talking. Prepare an audio-visual feed, but wait until I arrive on bridge to open the channel."

"Yes sir."

The Legionaire unfolded his metalic body from the cramped storage compartment he had been in. As he walked toward the ship, he noiced the sad state of the troop transport. It was in no condition to do much of anything. Three cargo holds exposed temporarily to vacuum, over 3000 armored vehicles and thousands of tons of ammunition lost. Approximately 120 casualties- mainly to navy crewmen but a few soldiers as well. He couldn't get a look at the sensor readouts without a direct feed, but he could tell the escort had one quite a number on the transport, and that Porrey was scared. He assumed that the last detail meant both heavy damage to their escort, or at least its combat capabilities, and a fleet of enemy warships. Hearrived in the small bridge of the transport,fortunately designed for men in bulky armor, since it was a troop transport. The message from the Star Destroyers, which he recognized on the sensor screens was playing thorough his audio imputs. He began to bark orders in his commanding voice:

"Everybody out of view of the camera. I want them to be scared that we're all like me. Nobody make a noise, most of you had better just get out...Ready for feed to the one that is broadcasting. The others are unimportant secondary vessels. Begin"

The view inside his head crackled as for a moment as a holo-connection was prepared for him. Standing erect, his imposing shape projected fear. He was however, also a skilled actor in the art of impressing people.

"Kraziit. Li porribo daii." He barked in Imvadjian to those offscreen, using his harshest, most fear-inspiring synthesized voice. He then turned and looked the imperial commander in the eye, his narrow slit of a main scannner a dull matte black.

"I am the commander of this vessel. We have recieved your message, but do not require any aid. What little atmosphere is required is being maintained by out blast doors and containment fields. And a salvage crew is on the way, due to arrive within a few hours. Unfortunately the computer made some mistakes while in transit, and the accident occurred, we are most sorry about the loss of your frigate... I presume we will meet again on the planet's surface?"

OOC: Yes, and sorry for the mistake in size.

OOC2: Dammit, I've lost posts in this thread either two or three times, so I'm making it short and bitter. Most of the long and detailed stuff at the beginning was saved, so after that it'll get blunt.

IC:
Bridge of the TDS Rain
New England System

Admiral Mark Stormings sat in the command chair, screens displaying the position of the fleet, a visual feed of the crippled vessel, and then textual communications and the seemingly main planet of the system, with descriptions written in Basic off to their sides. To the Tannenmillians, Basic was not the Basic of Sol or many other systems. Basic in Tannenmillian society was German to the Sol residents of ages past, but the Admiral's voice cut into Mark's thoughts. End saved material

Transmission to Disabled Ship: "We understand, and our ships are returning to the fleet. I will take you up on the offer to meet on the ground, so we shall meet hopefully soon.

OOC: *Pokes*Is this still alive?*Pokes again*

Deep Space, 25 Lightyears from Augusta, the Democratic Republic of Halberdgardia

The sleek white shape of the Vespir-class cruiser D.R.H. Adjudicator cut through the inky blackness of the surrounding space like the beam from a lighthouse on a foggy night. On the outside, it appeared tranquil.

Inside, on the bridge, however, was an entirely different matter.

"Contact on hysradar, Captain!"

Captain Jack Somerson looked at the man.

"Report."

"It's small, sir. Just on the fringe of detection, it's about 1900 AUs out. Could just be space junk, but...it's moving at a good clip."

"We'll take a look. Hyperspace, give us a short jump. Three AUs from the target."

"Aye, sir."

The wormhole burst into existence, pouring waves of Cherenkov radiation, its toroidal nimbus twinkling with azure scintillations. It dissipated as quickly as it had begun, leaving the Adjudicator 1987 AUs closer to the object.

"Sensors, give me a hi-def hysradar scan of the object."

"Aye, sir."

Moments later, the sensors operator spoke up.

"It appears to be some sort of probe, sir. No weapons, just sensors, it looks like. Technology seems to be relatively similar to ours, perhaps a little behind ours, but that's impossible to say for certain without actually pulling the thing apart and looking at it."

"Can you trace its origin?"

"Oh yeah. Thing left an particle trail you couldn't miss. Tracing it back..."

There was a moment of silence while the tech plotted the trail on an interstellar map of the nearby systems.

"Roughly here, sir," he said, pointing to a system. "We've got nothing on it, but I think it's safe to mark it as inhabited now."

"That's quite an astute observation, Sensors," Somerson replied with a hint of amusement in his voice. "OK. Hyperspace, take us in. Fifteen-hundred AUs from the system's center."

"Aye, sir."

The wormhole's awe-inspiring display of exotic energy once again came into real space, then dissipated, putting the Adjudicator approximately fifteen-hundred AUs from the planet of New London.

[OOC: I'll wait for someone to pick us up before I continue with this.]

TRSS Wraith.... Intelligence Vessel, Tekanian Stellar Forces; Colonel Michael Hebert commanding....

The Wraith glides silently through the sector, it's cloak enabled and functioning....

A proximity alarm goes off at a console on the bridge...

"Colonel," says a young marine officer at the console.... "Unknown object drifting through the sector...."

"What is it, Major?" responds the colonel.

"Seems to be some sort of primitive space probe...." responds the Major...

"Plot it's trajectory to origin, and relay the information to Stellar Operations..." commands the colonel....

The TRSS Wraith continues its course....

"Sir, we've got incoming. It appears to be a probe of some sort. No weapons. It's harmless sir."
"Bring it aboard and see if it has anything for us."
"Yes sir."
The massive door on one side of the dreadnought class Super Cruiser slowly pulled into the ship, then was raised out of sight. After maneuvering into position, the probe's path took it straight into the main bay where it was tractored and moved to the much smaller science bay.

"Sir, were not getting a whole lot from this probe."
"Alright, let's see where this thing came from. Helm, plot a course to its orrigion...."

With a flash of bright light, the ship appeared in the system. It sent out the standard first contact message with wishes for peace, trade and alliance: as well as a history of Kazecistan and the Republic to which it belonged.

OOC: Yeah, it is still alive - I just haven't had chance to do a reply yet - after four hours of exams, I kinda just want to nothing for the rest of the day, if you don't mind? :)

A cruiser sped through space, the skeleton crew sleeping, and the monitors and instruments humming quietly, as the probe hit it head-on. Identified as a non-hostile object, the shields had not been activated, and the bridge had taken heavy damage.

The ship immediately activated the retro-boosters, coming to a complete halt, and activating the shields. The crew were awoken, and frantically worked on repairing the prow and bridge, while moving via the secondary bridge.

Quickly deciphering the language from the probe, the computers, the most advanced money could currently buy, coded it into the voice encoders/decoders the crew would use when contacting a new species, as the crew thanked the stars most fervently that this new race did not communicate via flatulence, like the last one had done.

The ship reached the planet, and communications began, in a monotone, as the probe had not contained sufficient launguage, even coupled with the transmissions they had picked up, nonetheless, they could communicate rather well.

"Greeting, citizens on United Colony. We are welcoming you as a new venturer of space, and are disposed well you towards. If you care would open meeting, diplomat would meet in choice of your place."

(OOC: Obviously, even a computer can't perfect a language in half a day)

The captain rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Do you realise the bonus we get for inducting a space-faring race as a trade partner. I'm only 23, and I could RETIRE!"

One of the crew replied, somewhat worried "Captain, if they don't have space-faring capability...?"

He smiled, in a self-assured manner, quite happy. "If they don't, I'm sure they're intelligent enough to adapt the engines off this ship. Don't worry, the bonus is assured"..

[OOC: While waiting for UC to come back and start posting again, I'm going to continue from my last post.]

Fifteen-Hundred AUs from New London, the New England System, Unified Colonies Territory

"Sensors, give me a full hysradar sweep, 2000 AUs. I want to know what's out there," Somerson ordered.

"Aye, sir," Tunde Sutton, the sensors operator, replied.

"Defense, bring shields up to full. Hyperspace, be ready to jump us out of here at a moment's notice."

"Yessir."

Tunde's voice came in a minute later. "Sir, hysradar's showing a lot of activity around here." Somerson walked over to the display Tunde was working at. "We're picking up strong transmissions from the nearest planet, which appears to be well within the life-capable boundaries, and I count eight, nine, ten different spacecraft of various classes and types. The only ones I can ID for sure are these," he said, pointing to a group of three ships on the hysradar display, "they're Tannenmillian Star Destroyers. Really big SOBs, those SDs. I'm glad they're on our side."

"Hail them. They'll be surprised to see we finally got into the space race, I'll wager," Somerson said, grinning. "As for the transmissions, are they in English?"

Tunde shook his head. "Definitely not, sir. Not any language I've ever heard before. If the planet is inhabited, they didn't come from Sol, or any other planet that speaks a language from Sol."

"Then we'll have to work on cracking it. Record all interceptable transmissions from the planet, and get the RI to work on translating the language with its decryption algorithms. If the RI can't come up with anything, we may just have to try some good 'ol binary code."

"Aye, sir."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Message to the Tannenmillian Star Destroyer TDS Rain

To Whom it May Concern
From: Captain Jack Somerson, D.R.H. Adjudicator, Halberdgardian Space Navy, The Democratic Republic of Halberdgardia
Re: Greetings

Greetings. This is Captain Jack Somerson of the Vespir-class cruiser D.R.H. Adjudicator. Good to see some friendly faces in this part of space. You may be surprised to see a Halberdgardian spacecraft. This would be because we only recently completed designing and building our own spacefleet. We're just now beginning to go interstellar. Your presence here leads me to assume that you encountered a probe as well. Do you have any intelligence on the inhabitants of this system? We have our shipboard AI working on decoding and translating their language, but it may take a while yet before our vocabulary is great enough to initiate communication. Any assistance you can provide in this regard would be most welcome. I look forward to hearing from you.

Respectfully,
Captain Jack Somerson
D.R.H. Adjudicator
Halberdgardian Space Navy
The Democratic Republic of Halberdgardia

Reply to the Halberdgardian Cruiser D.R.H. Adjudicator

Ah, I commend you on your nation's successes, Captain. I'm sure that once word of your new endeavours reach Aven, he will be most congratulatory himself. You were currect in presuming that we also encountered a probe. Did yours disintegrate upon entry to your system, or is this seemingly a phenomenon that has only occured to the Tannenmillian party? Regrettably, as our probe was lost, we were unable to discern any information from it other than its origin, so we cannot help you in that aspect. As they have not replied to our messages, we are beginning to surmise that they do not speak languages from Sol, or any system we have done trade with or come into contact, directly or indirectly, with.

Regards,
Admiral Mark Stormings
TDS Rain
Tannenmillian Navy

Grelt was pacing. The repair ships had not come yet, and there was no word from any superiors, only a confirmation message that they had recieved after a first report. His assesment of the tactical situation was not pleasing either, there were enough opposing ships in the system to make quick work of anything his tiny force might attempt. A ground battle they could easily win, even without air support, but any attempt at space ocmbat would be fruitless. Also, though the two ships had managed to reconnect using secondary docking tubes, his review of the Gremlin was even more depressing. The only good news was that his wife's assault had gone well, but she was being redeployed to blunt a counterattack on another system. Harte's entire 312 sector seemed to be collapsing in on itself. Only this ship had yet to be attacked, every other transport had been hit by raiders. He needed to contact somebody with this distressing news, and the primitives on the planet were not reacting to the messages the other ships had sent.

he could not wait any longer, he needed support from Nonistan itself, obviously Harte was too incompetant to be of aid. But it was more than likely that all the transmissions from his ships were being stopped. He was the ranking officer, and something needed to be done. Without stopping to ask anybody, he boarded one of the shuttles and tapped into its flight computer. He set a course for the TDS Rain sending the following message ahead:

This is Leutenant Major Grelt transmitting. We are experiencing unforseen difficulties, and I need to use some of your facilites. Requesting permission to dock.

Reply to the Halberdgardian Cruiser D.R.H. Adjudicator

Ah, I commend you on your nation's successes, Captain. I'm sure that once word of your new endeavours reach Aven, he will be most congratulatory himself. You were currect in presuming that we also encountered a probe. Did yours disintegrate upon entry to your system, or is this seemingly a phenomenon that has only occured to the Tannenmillian party? Regrettably, as our probe was lost, we were unable to discern any information from it other than its origin, so we cannot help you in that aspect. As they have not replied to our messages, we are beginning to surmise that they do not speak languages from Sol, or any system we have done trade with or come into contact, directly or indirectly, with.

Regards,
Admiral Mark Stormings
TDS Rain
Tannenmillian Navy

Response to the TDS Rain

To: Admiral Mark Stormings, TDS Rain, Tannenmillian Navy
From: Captain Jack Somerson, D.R.H. Adjudicator, Halberdgardian Space Navy
Re: Probe

The probe we encountered was in deep space approximately 25 lightyears out from Augusta, one of our planets. We did not intercept the probe, rather, we let it continue on its way, and followed the particle trail it left back to this system. I've no idea what happened to it from there. As for the language barrier, we had assumed that as well, but wanted to make sure. Our shipboard AI is making some slight progress in decoding their language based on media transmissions we picked up from the planet, and we will inform you as soon as we have a vocabulary large enough to initiate communications. For the duration of both our nations' expeditions to this system, I suggest we coordinate our efforts, so that we might more effectively learn about the beings here.

Respectfully,
Captain Jack Somerson
D.R.H. Adjudicator
Halberdgardian Space Navy

The Kazeci crew knew that there were other nations in the system, but had -planned to meet them when they met the new race as usual. However, due to the amount of com traffic between the other ships, they decided to get in on the action.

We are here for the same reasons as you, to meet this new race and establish relations. We would also like to establish relations with those of you whom we do not yet know....

If there is anything we can do to aid you or be of service... please contact us.

"Captain! Receiving a transmission, sir!"

The text of the message appeared in the Captain's virtual vision:

We are here for the same reasons as you, to meet this new race and establish relations. We would also like to establish relations with those of you whom we do not yet know....

If there is anything we can do to aid you or be of service... please contact us.

"Can you pin the transmission's source down?"

"Yes, sir."

"Send the folllowing message, then."

Greetings. This is Captain Jack Somerson of the D.R.H Adjudicator. We are from the Democratic Republic of Halberdgardia. We recently became a spacefaring nation, and we were sent to this system to investigate the origins of a probe that recently entered our space. We are already allied with Tannenmille, but are looking forward to making contact with other spacefaring nations.

We do have one thing we would like to ask of you: do you have any information regarding the language of the inhabitants of this system? Our shipboard AI has begun to attempt decoding it and building up a library of words, but is not having very much success yet. Any information you can provide us in this regard would be most appreciated, as we would like to make contact with the inhabitants of this system as soon as possible.

Please do not hesitate to contact me if you have any questions.

Ic: It is good that you wish peace and relations, as these feelings are mutual. We too have begun to decode the language. It appears to be close to that of an ancient dialect we encountered some years ago on an abandoned world. It does not match exactly, translation will be needed, but it is close. Transmitting all known data...

We hope these are the beginnings of a strong relationship between our peoples. If we can be of more assistance, we are willing.

Somerson sighed with relief as the text of the Kazecistani message appeared in his virtual vision. It was good to know that they were peaceful. In particular, they'd heard stories of a belligerent alien species that had fired eight-hundred-fifty-two nuclear weapons in the course of a single thirty-minute firefight between their forces and another force, that scared the shit out of them.

Somerson wrote up his reply.

The data you transmitted was most welcome. After several hours, our shipboard AI was able to apply this information to the dialect spoken by the inhabitants of this system, and we are now able to communicate with them with something like 99% translation accuracy. We are transmitting our information on the locals' language to you now...

We are also very glad to have encountered a friendly and peaceful spacefaring race, and we hope that this is the beginning of a strong friendship between our two nations.

Presidential Mansion “The Blue House”
New Westminster City
New London


“Mr. President, we’ve got to stop.”

President Maxwell Anderson leant back in his chair at the head of the table and looked down past the holographic display in the centre of the room to his military advisors at the other end. The holographic display showed a rotating New London and displayed the location of the Federation Razor Interceptors and the nearby alien spacecraft that were present. Several information sprites read off on distance, speed and weapons load out of the Razors, whilst several question marks hung over the UFOs.

The Blue House was the most unusual building in New Westminster. Amidst the conical structures and ultra-modern glass buildings, the Blue House was a 20th Century Neo-Georgian design set apart in a small area of greenery. Usually a peaceful scene, it was currently ringed with soldiers from the First Infantry Division, each armed with Laser weapons and preparing to defend the building from an incursion.

Inside the building was where the largest battle was happening. President Anderson was discovering rather quickly that his military and scientific advisors were split into two groups – and it was not hard to guess which each group wanted to do.

The man who had just spoken was a tall, heavyset General with five gold stars on each shoulder of his blue uniform. His chest was ringed with medals from previous conflict during the Civil War and the Reunification War, whilst a Scar ran down the side of his face as a more unpleasant reminder of the conflict. He leant against the desk where he stood in the Presidential Office and grimaced in slight pain before continuing.

“Mr. President,” he continued. “The idea that we should attack these ships is completely ludicrous.” He glanced across at there of the other six men present, each younger and with less medals – and more enthusiasm for war, Anderson thought cynically.

One of these young officers cut in before the first man could continue. “Begging your pardon, Mr. President,” he began, stepping forward a pace. “General Taylor is incorrect. We do not know the capabilities or the objectives of these species, and a first strike solution would show that our nation can maintain its own defence.”

“It is precisely why we don’t know their objectives or capabilities that we shouldn’t attack!” General Taylor looked around in exasperation at the younger man, who glanced away wearily. Taylor looked back to Anderson. “Sir, we do not even know if our weapons can harm them or not.”

“Due respect, Sir,” one of the other officers cut in, this one clad in the green uniform of the Ground Forces. He hesitated and glanced at the other officer. “I have to agree with General Taylor.” He glanced at the holographic display, pushing a button on the desk and instructing it to display the location and strength of ground forces. “We have the planet locked down, Sir, but there is nothing to stop these ships sitting in orbit and nuking us to hell if they so wished, and we couldn’t do a damn thing about it.”

President Anderson sighed, looking down at the display. He had only been in power a short time, and was now facing one of the biggest dilemmas of the Federation’s history. “How many of the vessels could we actually attack if we wanted to?” He asked cautiously.

General Taylor turned to the display. “Mr. President,” he began. “As you can see, we have two squadrons of fifty Razors orbiting the planet on orbits that cross at ninety degree angles.” He indicated the vessels each making a fast orbit. “The vessels are staggered to ensure that we have two Interceptors within firing range of the nearest vessel if we so wished. However,” he turned to Anderson. “The rest of the ships are very far out. We couldn’t hit them if we wanted.”

Anderson licked his lips thoughtfully. Taylor sighed and leant forward.

“Mr. President, this could be the day,” he spoke earnestly. “This could be the day that the Federation grows up. This could be the day where we stop bickering with each other and realise that there are bigger things at play in the universe than just our own petty interests.” He smiled. “And you would go down in history as providing that.”

Anderson sat silent for a moment. Then he leant forward and clasped his hands together. “Put the Second Infantry Division on high alert and have them dig in around the Federal Conference Centre. Keep everything else on nuclear alert.” Maxwell indicated to a man in the corner of the room; a junior officer stepped forward with a briefcase locked to his hand. Anderson looked to Taylor. “I want the Neutron Orbital Ballistic Missiles put on high alert.”

Taylor nodded. The President turned to one of these scientific advisors. “Lieutenant, what is the best way to send a message out?”

The young officer looked startled. Taylor felt a little sorry for him. The Lieutenant took a moment to compose himself. “We can rig the Orbital Communications Relay to transmit away from the planet,” he began. “The question is, what language, Sir.” He glanced down at his notes. “Our own monitoring has shown several dialects and languages in use out there, so communicating en masse may be difficult.” The Lieutenant looked up again. “I would recommend using mathematical languages, as we have the best chance of being understood.”

Anderson nodded. “Very well.” He reached for the headset on his desk and placed it on his head. “John, this is the President,” he spoke to his Minister for Communications. “Get on to the OCR Control and tell them that we’re invoking Executive Order 12. Tell them to crash the civilian broadcast and switch to Government control.”

<><><>

The Message was beamed out from the Orbital Communications Relay; a series of transmitter satellites that relayed information across the planet. The satellites were now turned outwards and began beaming a primitive message out into space in mathematical code. It was largely simple;

“We are the Federation of Unified Colonies. We ask for a peaceful meeting between representatives.” The message then sent a series of digits as a longitudal and latitudal location on the planet for the National Conference Building.

<><><>

Sergeant Mayborne of the First Platoon, Second Regiment, Second Infantry Division jumped down from the transport vehicle and banged on the side of the vehicle. “Come on, you sons of bitches,” he swore in a loud voice. “Get moving.”

He looked around, eyeing the many other trucks that were parked a few hundred metres apart, each with a platoon of soldiers spanning out across the distance. The Second ID was digging in to create a half-mile exclusion zone around the NCB. Shortly, the President would be arriving in the area for an undisclosed reason.

The digital radio in the truck suddenly cut out. Mayborne glanced around in slight surprise as the music was replaced by the Government Broadcast Message service, characterised by a series of bleeps. Mayborne suddenly felt nervous; the GBM hadn’t been put into operation since the Reunification War.

Suddenly the radio system stopped bleeping and a voice replaced it. “Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the Federation.”

Mayborne raised his brow. He banged again on the side of the truck and yelled at the driver to switch the radio to the truck’s exterior speakers just as President Anderson’s voice cut in.

“My fellow Federals,” he began. “I am speaking to you today on a matter of the greatest importance.” There was a slight pause. “Earlier today, I instructed our Armed Forces to be placed on high alert and to invoke Order 12 and suspend Civilian broadcasting. This is simply a precaution taken to ensure our nation is safe.”

Many of the soldiers and several civilian onlookers listened intently. “Our satellite warning systems have detected several craft in orbit that do not appear to be of Federation origin. This is no time to panic. We are in control of the situation and will do out utmost to maintain peace.”

Mayborne looked up and saw already that civilians were running home. He muttered under his breath; soon the looting and general disorder would begin, not to mention the crazy people who would be out waving ‘Welcome Aliens’ flags. Mayborne sighed, and turned to his squad.

“Okay lads,” he called, slamming a power pack into the charge lock of his laser rifle. “Lock power packs and adjust settings to crowd control.” On the side of the rifle, Mayborne rotated a switch; the rifle wouldn’t kill now, but would inflict heat burns on any assailant in order to deter them. Then they waited.

<><><>

OOC: Okay, this is the general invite to send some people down to the National Conference Centre to meet the government and start discussions. If everyone could post getting down to the place and into the NCC, then I would appreciate that and we can then begin IC discussions. Obviously, feel free to interact with each other. :)

Bridge of the TDS Rain

The Unified Colonies' message scrolled again over the panels, having been decoded and translated into Basic. Admiral Vengerd turned to the comm officer.

"Ensign, bring me a secure link to the TAS Adelphos. Transmit to them the navpoint and remind them to deploy a full platoon of troopers with them for security. This is an ambassadorial mission, but we cannot be too careful. At the slightest sign of danger, pull them out and bring in the warships."

"Jawohl!" the Ensign replied, fingers moving like water over the buttons in front of him, Basic streaming over the panel faster than the admiral could read.

---

Skies over New Westminster City
16:00 hrs Local Time

The TAS Adelphos banked lightly left and right, the viewport automatically showing the distance to and location of the navpoint that Unified Colonies had provided. They would be communicating by way of computer until the Halberdgardian ambassadorial crew arrived, as no records of the Colonies' language had been obtained by Tannenmillian Intelligence for translation. At the rear of the ship sat 40 Guard Troopers, wearing their black uniforms with proper rank insignia, as the Stormtrooper Armours and weapons had not yet arrived from the Huntaerian's many forges. The hum of the engines inclined in pitch and then was reduced to a low rumble as the frigate touched down on the landing pad at their destination.

Captain Francos looked at the message from the planet,"Someone tell me what this says, I recognize some of the formulae but I've never seen them in this configuration before"

Ensign Belquel, who had taken over Malloy's station on his duty shift, looked up from his console,"I'll need a moment to reconfigure the language matrix to decode this"

F -- "Alright Ensign, take your time. Lieutenant Haldros, what is the state of the planets defences?"

The Drow stared impassively at his Captain, speaking softly, a quality shared by all Drow,"They appear to have deployed some form of spatial defence fighter... I am reading one hundred signitures. It also appears that they have spce-capable nuclear weapons, all armed"

F -- "What sort of damage would we be taking if they opened fire?"

H -- *Consults his panel*"The fighters themselves would not present a problem, however the nucelar weapons would most likely cause severe damage to ourselves and the surrounding space"

F -- "Then lets hope they don't open fire. This is a first contact situation after all..."

There was a flurry of activity on the bridge for the next few moments, until Ensign Bequel called out,"Captain, I've decoded the message. I'm sending it to your station"

Francos read the message, then reread it just to make sure, before calling out,"Senior staff, breifing room, now"

**************************************************************
*Five Minutes Later*
Lankon looked at his commanding officer,"Sir, are you sure that's wise?"

F -- I'm well aware of the perils this situation presents, Commander

H -- The Commander makes a fair point. For you to transport down, alone, to the surface of a possibly hostile alien planet is tactically unsound

F -- And what would you suggest, Lieutenant?

H -- I would suggest that I go down with you, along with a discreetly armed security detail. We still have the Type-1 Hand phasers in stock, even though we are being re-equipped with pulse weapons

F -- Anybody else got anything to add?

Ensign Bequel looked up,"I'll keep a transporter lock on you at all times, we can have you out of there in less than five seconds"

H -- Agreed. A lock would be a tactically sound decison.

F -- Alright, it's agreed. Myself and Lieutenant Haldos, along with a small security detail, shall go down in the captain's yacht... she deserves some use, and it will make a good impression on our hosts if we arrive in an unarmed craft. Dismissed"

The bridge crew went back to their stations, where Ensign Bequel transmitted the following message in Basic, a number of other languages, and mathematical formulae:

This is the S.E.N Rorkes Drift, representing The Shadowy State of Snake Eaters. We are sending down four men to represent us. They are of a mixture of races, including human and Drow, and we hope to show you how diverse our culture can be

************************************************************

The ship moved into orbit quietly, and the yacht, a form of shuttlecraft, disengaged itself from the base of the saucer section, and flew down into the atmosphere. At the controls, Lieutenant Haldos used his natural speed and agility, higher than that of humans, to make slight alterations in course that would ease the ride. As said before, he'd been alive for almost four centuries now, and he'd spent almost all of his adult life in the Kaymirilian Airforce, starting as an Airmen, and working his way through the ranks.

The craft approached the area the United Colonies had provided, and settled softly into the dirt, it's retratacble landing gear extending. The door at the back slid open, but there was no bright light, merely the interior of a highly advanced nations most basic mode of transport. Inside were two humans (The captain and one of the security detail), a Drow (Lieutenant Haldos, also representing the Queendom of Kaymiril) and a Tau (representing Mal-Caor), a race encountered by Snake Eaters, who were very keen to conduct exchange programs. They waited for an escort

Sergeant Mayborne watched uneasily as the two spacecraft arrived inside the one-mile secure area. He shouldered his rifle and indicated for several soldiers to walk across. “You four, get together and come with me.” Mayborne pointed at four others. “You lot, go with Sergeant Trelawne and meet the second group.”

Trelawne nodded and began walking across to the vessel they would later know came from the nation of Snake Eaters. Mayborne took his group and walked across to the first vessel as the group on board disembarked. Mayborne was a little uneasy about forty men in uniform stepping off the craft and resisted the urge to raise his weapon. The other four shifted nervously.

Mayborne stepped forward, and saluted the alien group. “I’m Sergeant Mayborne,” he said, and then realised that they may not understand his language. “Erm…” he faltered. The four other infantry soldiers with him eyed the alien group with some caution. Mayborne thought for a moment, trying to find some way of appearing less threatening. Then he glanced at the other soldiers. “Shoulder arms, lads.”

The other infantrymen looked at him incredulously. Mayborne frowned. “That was not a suggestion!” he snapped. The four men reluctantly shouldered their weapons, and then Mayborne did the same and turned back to the group. He opened his hands in a disarming gesture. “Can you understand me?” He pointed at the Conference Centre. “We’ve got to escort you to the President.”

<><><>

Sergeant Trelawne meanwhile was greeting the other group. A rather stoic man, he stood with his arms crossed and his weapon slung on its carrying strap across one shoulder. He eyed the group inside silently.

“I’m Sergeant Trelawne,” he said in a stiff manner. He looked at the group inside. “We’ve been told to escort you to the President.”

He paused in the silent moments afterwards. “You don’t understand a word I’m saying, do you?” Trelawne asked the group. Some of the alien species looked particularly unusual that he could see. He glanced behind him at the other troopers. “This may take a while…”

`Did you translate the message lieutenant?`, asked the captain.

`Yes sir. Its on your console now.`

The captain read the message and ordered back to the bridge crew:

`Send a message to the planet that we are beaming down 10 people, and that they represent the four races of the Empire. Among them they will be four Sentinels. Ask them to calm their soldiers, since they will look somewhat...unusual.`

The message was soon sent, including a picture of each race, including the Sentinels (http://www.azerifleet.com/science/races/sentinels.jpg).

Fifteen minutes later, the ten calpians were beamed down to the specified location on the planet.

<><><>

Sergeant Trelawne meanwhile was greeting the other group. A rather stoic man, he stood with his arms crossed and his weapon slung on its carrying strap across one shoulder. He eyed the group inside silently.

“I’m Sergeant Trelawne,” he said in a stiff manner. He looked at the group inside. “We’ve been told to escort you to the President.”

He paused in the silent moments afterwards. “You don’t understand a word I’m saying, do you?” Trelawne asked the group. Some of the alien species looked particularly unusual that he could see. He glanced behind him at the other troopers. “This may take a while…”

"Actually, Sergeant, we understand you perfectly," said Captain Franco, stepping out of the main belly of the ship,"It just takes a few words and a little time for the Universal Translator to start working."

He motioned to the others to follow him as they walked down the ramp. Haldos was on edge... but he was the chief of security. He needed to be.

"Let me introduce myself. I am Captain Franco, captain of the vessel that intercepted one of your probes. This *motions to Haldos* is my chief of security, Lieutenant Haldos, a Drow from the Queendom of Kaymiril, on Terra. The other two members of my groups are both security staff. Ensign Lynch *motions to the human* and Shas'la Sa'cea Kais (read: Ensign Kais), a Tau warrior who is serving on my ship as part of an exchange program, similar in nature to that of Lieutenant Haldos"

TRSS Tiamat, Battlestar, Kali Class; Tekanian Stellar Navy.... Vice Admiral Marcus Plestus commanding...

The massive 3,060 meter bulk of the Tiamat cruises on approach towards the probe logged into the GEDRA database...

"Sir, we have the probe on scanners..." says the ships science officer... "Position and course matches the probe identified by intelligence..."

"Helm, intercept the probe, match course and speed...." commands VADM Plestus.

The Tiamat holds position in match with the probe....

"We're on station with the probe...." responds the helm...

"Commander Gentry..." says VADM Plestus, "any data transmission fromthe object....?"

"Hold, sir..." responds the science officer.... "Encoded telemetry signal... nothing directly pertinent..."

"Rematch seginal to origin...." commands VADM Plestus...

"Stand-by...." says the science officer..." Computer has calculated origin point.... Computer has identified location of launch as somewhere in the Zeta-nine sector... That region is not charted in GEDRA."

"Helm, plot course, prepare to engage the Kraskinov....." commands the Vice Admiral...

"Course ploted, calculations complete for Kraskinov insertion...." responds the helm...

"Engage..." the Vice Admiral commands.

Energies swell as the multitude of Zero-Point reactors inside the massive bulk of the Tiamat begin feeding power deep into the Tiamat's Kraskinov Wormhole generator..... Within moments a massive wormhole begisn tearing into the fabric of spacetime; exotic energies swirling from it's leading vortex; one side before the Tiamat, and the other, light-years away a few million kilometers from the planet of New London...... The TRSS Tiamat effortlessly slips through the wormhole, and emerges from the other end seconds later.... Cutting the energy, the wormhole slams shut; and appears to evaporate back into the space-time plane; as if it never existed [which it didn't, for all purposes; without activity from the Tiamat's Kraskinov Generator]....

"Any livable planets....." asks the Vice Admiral....

"This one here, closest to our position; silicate planet, nickel iron.... rich oxygen atmosphere.... Definitely a livable planet.... There are already other ships of various configuration near or on approach..." responds CDR Gentry...

"We're not the first to see the probe....Helm, take us into orbit...." commands VADM Plestus.

The TRSS Tiamat begins to accellerate and turns, heading towards New London....

A point in space slowly began to pull back, as though space itself was made of a sheet of fabric. It twisted and contorted space all around it, slowly spreading until it covered a wide area. Some stars were blotted out, others were seemingly stretched and mutated into bizarre shapes.

Almost as quickly as it had started, the distortion suddenly inverted and blurted out an enormous, Gothic-styled ship. Black as the night's sky, yet designed with a certain degree of elegance. The Toreador's Cityship. Despite its magnificence, there was something... unholy about it. A negative aura; it felt like a ship that had known only misery and sorrow throughout its existence.

With the probe it had picked up now contained deep within its belly, the ship pushed forwards with its exhaust-less propulsion, heading towards the planet it had tracked it to. It came to rest just outside of orbiting distance, holding position in the shadow of the planet. If it wasn't actively blocking and/or deflecting scans, anybody curious to scan it enough would not have found any lifesigns onboard.

Grelt picked up the message in his shuttle. He was torn between being among the first to make contact, seeing as he was already in his shuttle, and trying to reach Nonistan. He decided on the former, turning the shuttle away from the Star Destroyer formation and setting it to fly at top speed toward the planet.

Whie the powerul sublight engines of the small shuttle rocketed it towards the provided coordinates, he looked through its weapon locker, having left his own gun on the tranport so as to appear less threatening. He chose for himself a standard assault rifle, but loaded it with nueral stunners instead of the standard HE rounds. HE also set th eprimary ammunition's velocity to its lowest setting. As his shuttle approached its destination, he slung the weapon across his shouldres and resumed control. He set the craft down lightly next to the other dignitaries' shuttles, and activated its security measures before opening the hatch.

His sensors immediately picked up the militarty presence in the area, as well as well as the various lifeforms represented by the other dignitaries. As he walked forward, he noticed a pair of native soldiers approaching him. He stopped and turned, then decided to humor the poor lads, underequipped as they were, by allowing them to 'protect' him as he walked toward the nearby building. As he walked, the guard running to keep up while attempting to say hello, he noted the extent of the protective measures being employed.

OOC: Okay, a lot of people on here now, so gonna call it closed to new entries from now on. Sorry other people. :)

ooc: good thing I'm already in.

Ic: "Caption, we are receiving a message. It's in a mathematical form sir, not what we expected. Decoding...."
"Well?"
"They want a conference on the planet. They want peace."
"Send a ship and reply in the language we have deciphered."
"Yes sir."

Moments later a message went out asking for peace and landing clearance. A small sleek silver ship exploded from the massive bay on the side of the ship. It rocketed towards the planet at amazing speeds for it's size. It could out run any ship these new people had (FTL). In entered the atmosphere and changed course for a flight level equal to that of common atmospheric only craft. It awaited landing instructions.

OOC: And me

"Captain Somerson! Incoming message from the planet!"

Somerson was instantly alert. Shortly after their contact with the Kazecistanis, the media transmissions they'd been monitoring in an attempt to decode the language had suddenly ceased, to be replaced with what looked like the equivalent of NPR from the 20th century. They'd been alarmed by the development.

The text of the message rolled up onto Somerson's virtual vision, translated by the RI (OOC: the RI is the shipboard AI) into English.

“We are the Federation of Unified Colonies. We ask for a peaceful meeting between representatives.” The message then sent a series of digits as a longitudal and latitudal location on the planet for the National Conference Building.

"Well, I'll be damned..." Somerson trailed off. "OK, people, here's how we do this. I'll go down in one of the ship's shuttles. It'll be a small delegation, just myself and an honor guard of six Marines. My XO, Lieutenant John Stewart, will be Acting-Captain until my return. Understood?"

"SIR, YES, SIR!" was the unanimous reply.

With that, Somerson left the bridge for the shuttle bay.

Minutes later, he was briefing the six Marines (OOC: I'm basing the Marines in my Space Corps off the Marines from Halo/Halo 2; same type of weapons, armor, foul language, etc.) he was taking with him.

"Remember, this is a diplomatic mission. You are going in fully armed, but I do not expect you to have to use your weapons. And of course, your men will be on their best behavior, Sergeant?"

"Damn right they will be, Captain," the African-American sergeant (OOC: again, just like the one from Halo ;)) replied. He turned to his Marines. "Marines, you will honor the Corps and the Captain on this mission, am I right?"

"SIR, YES, SIR!"

"Mmm-hmm. Damn right I am. NOW MOVE IT OUT! DOUBLE-TIME!"

With that, the delegation boarded the shuttle, and launched into the abyss, headed for the coordinates specified in the message.

TRSS Tiamat.... Entering orbit, Planet New London....

The Tiamat gracefully pulls into orbit over the planet....

"Sir..." the science officer says, "I am picking up EM radiation from satalites in orbit.... Their appears to be a pattern... Running it through the computer..... Sir... It's a radio transmission, data only.... attempting to translate..."

A message scrolls aross the view screen....

"We are the Federation of Unified Colonies. We ask for a peaceful meeting between representatives.”

followed by a series of numbers...

"Tell flight to prep two ASF5's and a C-190..." commands VADM Plestus... "I am going down...."

Flight Deck, TRSS Tiamat...

Workers are pulling two oddish looking craft (http://thecomputerman.dyndns.biz/fleet/fleet/asf5.jpg) from stows... In the background a C-190 "Aurora" Transport (http://thecomputerman.dyndns.biz/fleet/fleet/aurora.jpg) is being prepped...

The workers carry two cylidrical objects to the two oddish craft, going under it; they load the cylinders into ports under the craft.... Moments later, the craft powers up..... and something starts speaking....

"C12-O3-M224 online...." says one craft

"C12-O3-M763 online..." says the other....

"Give me a diagnostic, constructs...." asks the crewman...

In tandem the two craft say... "All systems are functioning within normal parameters."

"Good constructs... You'll find Flight has loaded your mission briefing data..." says the crewman...

"Oh, great..." says M224..." escort duty... Don't we ever get to fight...."

"Oh shut up," says M763, "Be glad we get to stretch our wings for abit... Don't you like anything but fighting?"

"Well...." responds M224, "escort missions are dull, dull, dull.... I'd rather be blowing something up, than escorting some admiral..."

After a short period of time, Vice Admiral Plestus boards the Aurora.... The two ASF5's launch first, and do a circle of the Tiamat as the Aurora exits the flight deck... They then enter formation, one on each side of the Aurora as it enters the atmosphere... heading for the landing coordinates....

ooc: BUMP!

OOC: *Poke*Still alive?*Pokes*

OOC: He's probably got the same problem as me: on vacation for the 4th, and a limited internet connection, if he has one at all. I'd still like to use somebody else's communication systems for a call back to my homeworld.

ooc: You could use mine.

The Halberdgardian delegation's relatively small shuttle (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v465/neotheone175/NationStates/FT_Transport.jpg) shot out from the Adjudicator's bay, its twin plasma engines temporarily scarring the vista of deep space with a visible trail of particles. Somerson himself was manning the shuttle's controls, maneuvering it easily through the vacuum of space as easily as people of the 20th century maneuvered their automobiles on the highway.

It was hardly fifteen minutes before the blue-green globe that was the planet of New London filled the forward viewport. It appeared to be rather Earth-like in climate and relative geography, or so it seemed from hundreds of miles up. That assumption, though, would be impossible to confirm without a detailed survey of the entire planet by the Adjudicator's sensor suite, a tedious task that would take several days as it orbited the planet.

It was not long before they hit the atmosphere, and the familiar raging orange fires of reentry began to swirl around, then blanket, the craft's exterior. For earlier pioneers of space, reentry was one of the tensest moments of orbital expeditions, but these men were as relaxed as ever; the shuttle's shields were manufactured to withstand punishing energy-weapons fire, so they could easily withstand the meager-by-comparison furies of reentry.

Somerson throttled the craft back as they began to rapidly lose altitude, as the damage that could be caused by high-powered plasma exhaust on inhabited areas would not go over well with their hosts. Soon they were speeding over startlingly beautiful land and ocean vistas at merely supersonic speeds, and Somerson throttled the shuttle back even farther as they approached the supplied coordinates. Soon, they were moving over what appeared to be the central plaza of what seemed to be the capitol. Cutting his speed back from an atrociously slow twenty miles per hour to an even incredibly slower crawl, Somerson cut in the repulsorlifts, and hovered over an open patch of plaza before deploying the landing gears and executing an expert landing.

"Now," Somerson said after he'd run through the post-flight checklist, "we wait for the locals to show up."

The Aurora carrying Vice Admiral Plestus sets down with the two ASF5 AI driven fighters in escort.... 4 marine guards (2 armed, 2 unarmed) dis-embark from the Aurora... The two armed guards remain at the hatch to the Aurora; as the Vice Admiral and two marines begin to walk a short distance from the craft...