NationStates Jolt Archive

The banner hung over the dockworks as the band played behind. Admiral Grav stood on the dock as the newest addition to the Kaukolastan fleet, the KNS Grevados, a Virginia Class submarine, was christened. Grav threw the bottle out against the hull, and the champaign sprayed out.

The band struck up the Naval Hymn, and Grav turned to shake the hand of the new Captain. They shook hands, and the cameras flashed. In the crowd, a young officer was trying to press through the crowd. He broke free and approached Grav.

"Sir!" the Lieutenant huffed.

"What?" The Admiral replied, irked at the disturbance.

"We've got something... ExoScan Satellites picked it up-"

Grav's face went white. He nodded to the Captain, "I'm sorry, Anton, but I must be going."

"Yes, sir."

Grav got into the armored Limo with the Lieutenant right behind. "All right, LT. What's going on?"

"Well, sir, we were hoping you'd know... all our satellites have gone to bunk, and we're getting readings all over the charts."

"Could be a test by another nation."

"That's what we thought..." the Lieutenant swallowed some bile, nervous. "Sir, we picked up something coming into orbit. And sir... it's transmitting something."

Grav tapped the window. "Driver! Get us to the Citadel now!" he glanced back at the younger man. "What's happening now?"

"We're at DefCon One, all weapons are ready. We've scrambled everything we've got. Sir, everyone at the Citadel is scared out of their minds."

"Do the civilians know?"

"Not yet."

"Good. Keep it that way." Grav folded his hands. Now what? he asked himself.


OOC: SG, it's your ball.

OOC: Is this open? If not, dont mind me.

IC:
DGNT Contact group 32 had dropped satilites through most of the system, each about the size of a vollyball, and designed to monitor the planets for signs of intelligence.
So far a few had shown setnient species, but only one which had achieved space flight, though not very advanced, they apparently had satilites and nuclear weapons.
Now S-Scan 12 was receiveing something. Apparently messages had begun to fly across the planet, and the nukes were being readied. A quick call and a small stealth fighter with enhanced sensors was dispatched to monitor the situation.

OOC: It's open, but First Contact is set to be with Spacer Guilds. Once he drops in (literally), you can join. For now, I'm waiting on his post. It's gonna be chaotic. :twisted:

OOC: Nice, am I going to have an excuse to blow up your planet? :twisted:
Anyway, Ill just hang out up here in space and monitor until somebody makes a move.

IC
The fighter slipped into a high orbit, just inside radio monitoring range

OOC: Nice, am I going to have an excuse to blow up your planet? :twisted:

OOC: :shock: Please, no! Seriously, the first rule of this is that any fighting would be groundside and not ortillery. (I'll nuke the atmosphere to prevent it.) This is supposed to be first contact, not last contact. 8)

As the Phaiakian ship Arêtê approached from Venus, several Shuttlecraft launhced to transfer crew and cargo to the Klytemnestra. Ordinarily, nothing would come within 45,000 kliks of the surface- but Klytemnestra was Nightside, and a dip into the 90-min range would greatly decrease travel time.

As one of the shuttles approached perigee, the pilots felt a jolt, followed by a soft hissing sound.

"Whoa! Starla, telemetry?"
"Comin' in fast. looks like a collision to port. Uh... that hissing doesn't sound good."
"Definitely not good. If it doesn't fix itself in a minute or two, I'd better go make sure we're not losing atmosphere."

FastForward two minutes-

"Well, must not've been a major breach, if it was a breach. Hissing stopped."
"Ah, the wonders of gel-filled double hulls."

Quite without warning, another, very large, jolt rocked the craft.

"Holy Crap! Hold on to your seat! Dang, damage to dorsal hull. I've lost local stress and temperature readings... satelite is dead. We're running optical comms only."
"Confirmed. Starboard IAC is non-op. Significant pressure drop in cargo section."
"Lowering ambient temperature, isolating air flow to the affected sections... done. Trajectory?"
"We're headed down. Estimate atmospheric entry in 30 mins."
"HETs?"
"Port non-op. No data to starboard."
"Okeydokey. Do we have sight of Klytemnestra?"
"Affirmative. In crosshairs for optrans."
"CORA, open comm, target PGS Klytemnestra. Klytemnestra, this is the Phaiakian Shuttlecraft Arêtê Three, repeat, this is the Phaiakian Shuttlecraft Arêtê Three, we're experienceing technical difficulties. Unknown collision. Orbit degrading, estimate atmospheric entry in 30 mins. Starboard IAC is non-op. Attemtping to compensate via HETs. Standby for rescue."

"HETs are go for firing."

The response began to come through, just barely. "Shuttlecraft, this is the Klytemnestra. We are unable to reach you in time on your present course. Recommend attempting to boost your orbit by at least 40 mins."

"On my mark. 3, 2, 1, mark!"

The remainign IAC and HETs began firing. Unfortuantely, the damage was more extensive than the damaged sensors revealed. The result? Thrusters fired wildly. Attempting to correct only made it worse. Seconds after starting the engine burn, line-of-sight was lost to Klytemnestra. After that- well, firing ventral engines when you're upside down isn't a good idea, but the broken control circuits didn't know that.

(OOC: How to fit in 5CN- well, the cause of the jolts is wide open. Hostile kinetic weaponry, really friggin' huge lasers, accidental collision with a satelite....)

Grav entered the situation room. Already, the other heads of the government were there, Overlord Drakk, SecDef Vek, General Cross, Director Anderas, others he didn't recognise... probably the speaker, or maybe other Intelligence types, plus the milling uniformed officers.

Vek was speaking to Anderas, "...what do you mean there's explosions around Venus? Why the hell would Venus be blowing up?"

"I don't know, sir, but it appears that there are several space objects involved, near as we can tell... just what we don't know. If its going to collide with us..." he turned to Drakk, "Sir, I recommend that if they close with the planet that we detonate a nuclear warhead in their path. We can't allow whatever it is to strike us."

Cross countered, "And if it shatters and strikes us? Many radioactive bits raining on us? The world barely forgave us for the last incident with our weapons. Another debacle..."

Drakk cut them off. "We do nothing yet. We must wait and see."

Grav watched the tactical display with great interest. "I don't think it's an asteroid. It's a ship."

"What?" someone demanded.

"It's firing a propulsion system." Silence followed.

OOC: Nice, am I going to have an excuse to blow up your planet? :twisted:

OOC: :shock: Please, no! Seriously, the first rule of this is that any fighting would be groundside and not ortillery. (I'll nuke the atmosphere to prevent it.) This is supposed to be first contact, not last contact. 8)
OOC:
Dont worry, I dont use artillary. I suppose I should have said something more like 'Stripping the hydrogen from the water molocules on your planet, which then combust due to the heat generated by breaking the molecular bonds', but that doesnt have the same...feel as saying that your going to blow something up :)

IC:
The scout pilot first noticed the other ship when the side exploded.
At this point he was rather unsure of what to do, having been informed that the planet had acheived space travel, but in-system only, and very infrequently.
He beamed a quick message back to the Discoveror, and waited.

The tumbling shuttlecraft hit the atmosphere upside-down at a sharp angle, skipping back into space like a rock across a pond several times before finally sinking in, all the time violently buffeting the pilots.

"Hull temperature rising, cabin stable, for the moment. Ah! Yes, we've still got control of port and nose thrusters. I think we' can manage to stop tumbling on that... CORA, can you get us stabilized?"
Insufficient information. Assisted stabilization is possible if sufficient fuel is available. One fuel ruptured, telemetry unavailble for remaining tanks.
"Yeah, well, do what you can to keep us from dying in here."

The shuttle streaked through the sky like a meteor, leaving a trail of glowing ionized air. A few well-placed bursts from the intact thrusters flipped the craft upright, and further minor adjustments kept it relatively stable, although still annoyingly wobbly.

"Hull temperature rising, 550K, okeydokey, let's see if we can get ourselves slowed down before the nozzles melt off."
"Um... Cal, the nozzles are carbon fiber composite. They won't melt off anytime soon."
"Just trying lighten the mood a bit... forward jets, check..."
"You're sense of humor needs work."
"I know... nose thrusters, check... Okay. Lower forward jets, on my mark. 3, 2, 1- mark!"
Starla flipped a set of toggle switches, and almost immediately a series of warning lights started flashing red.

Lower forward jets non-operational. Fuel injection system non-operational.
"Crap. CORA, explanation?"
Most likely explanation is the entry of external superheated gasses.
"So it's too hot outside to fire the jets... But the nose thrusters work fine!"
Nose thrusters are at a sharp angle to the external airflow.
"Ah. Okay, we've still got upper jets. CORA, try to tilt us upward with the nose jets, so the ventral surface is flat-on."
Executing... done. Orientation altered 30 degrees in tilt axis.
"Good. Try this again... firing upper jets."
A long burst from the front of the shuttle pushed it downwards- but also backwards, canceling some of its forward velocity.

"CORA, status of EKs?"
"Electrokinetic cells operational."
"Good. Shutdown everything we can afford, and shunt it all to the EKs."

Now decelerating under the influence of reactionless lifters, the shuttle's relative airspeed started to decrease.

"Yes! We're good! Hull temperature at 525K and falling... altitude unknown, ground position unknown. CORA, can we open the windows?"
Negative. Retracting armor is not recommended at this time. External temperature is too high.
"Melt the windows high, or just blind-me-with-plasma high?"
"Cal, I don't think it makes a difference."
"Just my bad sense of humor again."

Several minutes later, CORA finally opened the windows.
"All I see is blue.'
"We're still tilted up."
"Right. CORA, status?"
Altitude 500 meters. Velocity 500 kph. Unable to indentify terrain. Minor body of water located 5 degrees port, 50 kliks distant.
"Head for the lake?"
"Definitely. I do not want to get crushed against hard rock."

The pilot had his descision.
Seeing the shuttle begin to enter the atmosphere, he immidiatly made a dive, and attempted to snag it with the shuttles tractor beam. He opened a comm to the shuttle.
"'scuze me, you guys look like you could use some help, my 'beam is to weak to get you back out of the atmosphere, but I can put you down a little easier than you would get otherwise, Ill see if HQ'll let me brin you some supplies, or, if your radio isnt working, just ignore this"

"Holy shi-" someone cut themselve off as the craft plummetted through the atmosphere.

General Cross grabbed the red phone. "Regalis Airbase! Scramble squadrons immeadiately. I want the airspace locked down."

Around the room, the noise exploded as they attempted to regain control of the situation. The Director of the ISA stepped up to Drakk, "Sir, I recommend that we cordon the area and lock down everything. We need to blockade wherever it crashes, make sure that we control the truth."

"I agree. Admiral Grav, get the Fleet out there. We need to get control here."

"Yes, sir."

DGNT Contact force, this is Prowler I, we have a crash on a pre-contact world, repeat, crash on pre-contact world, natives ahve spotted down site. I did my best to put the fellows down safely, and I am now in stealth mode over the crash, request instructions...

OOC: I hope you dont mind me saving your pilots :)

IC:
Aboard the Discoveror the cheif officers had met in the planning room and made a discision. It had been decided that the shuttle must have come from a capitol ship somewhere in the area, and efforts would be made to find it.
Eighteen of the ships prowlers were dispatched to find the ship and contact it, then offer assistance in recovery/concealment of their craft.

The shuttle slammed into the water, creating a very large wave and a cloud of flash-boiled vapor, floated a ways on the cushion of steam, and came to rest near the bank.

"I can't move."
"Well, duh. What do you expect when your being crushed under a whole friggin' gee of gravity?"
"This sucks. CORA, status?"
Life support operational. Blackbox systems operational. All other systems non-operational.
"How about Mayday?"
Blackbox system operational.
"Send the following message, in Russian, English, Hindi, and Interlingua. ahem. This is Sierra-Alpha-Tree. We have experienced total system failure. Exact location unknown. Two survivors. End message. Repeat continuously."

As ordered, CORA began broadcasting said message- but only very weakly, as it was omnidirectional, and restricted to battery power.

Vice Admiral Fedris lowered his field goggles. "Holy mother of God." he murmmurred as the shockwave dissipated, shaking the battlegroup. He pressed his hand to the observation deck glass and commanded, "Captain, lay in a course. We need to blockade that zone. Search for whatever hit out there."

-Meanwhile-
"Shit, Cap'n, you see that?" Lt. Plesk querried over the squadron channel.

"How could I miss it, Jack?" the flight leader responded. The three F-23Cs roared through the sky, their instruments sweeping the still roiling sea. They broke into three different paths and began to sweep. The lead plane carried intel gear, while the other two were loaded with Exocet anti-shipping.

"This is Sierra Foxtrot, do you see anything?" the channel demanded, a voice from the carrier Typhoon.

"Negative, Sierra Foxtrot. This is Flight Lead, and all we can see is roiling sea." He toggled his flight heading. "We're adjusting for a surface run."

"Roger that, continue with flight plan."

The three F-23Cs peeled out of their holding pattern and burned towards shore. As they approached, they saw a craft slammed into the beach, over the breakwall. "This is Lead, we have contact. Midsized object, metallic, it's beached on Osiris Isle. It's hot as can be, transmitting what data I have..." the burst transmission was sent.

"Lead? Sierra Foxtrot, we have confirmation."

But the Captain paused. "Plesk, are you on the channel?"

"Negative."

"Fergusson?"

"No, sir."

He keyed his radio, "Sierra Foxtrot, we're receiving a signal. I'm relaying it now."

On the bridge, Fedris raised his head. "English?"

"It could be a trap, sir."

"But if it's not, this could be the chance of a lifetime."

"Yes, sir."

"Move the fleet in."

"Yes, sir."

Unknown contacts approaching.
"Hostile?"
Unable to determine.
"Oh well. Not like we can really do anything about it. What's the status of the encounter tank, and/or suits?"
Telemetry for the requested cargo is unavailable.
"Well, this just gets better and better...."
"CORA, can you open the doors?"
Negative.
"A door?"
Affirmative.
"Do so. Alter the message. Unkown objects, this is Starla Vrainine of the Shuttlecraft Arêtê Three, Guild Phaiakia, Solar Republic of the Spacer Guilds. We have experienced near total systems failure. Two survivors of the crash. We are personally incapacitated. Please send help. End message."

"What's that sloshing sound?" Cal suddenly got an expression like a lightbulb had just gone on in his head. "CORA! We're in water, yes?"
The craft is partially submerged.
"Aha. So water is coming in the open door, isn't it."
Affirmative.
"Enough to sink us?"
Negative.
"Good. Start reducing the cabin humidity, if that function is still operational, anyway."
"What'll that do?"
"Give us a lot of extra hydrogen."
"I don't see what use that is now...."
"Well, you can never be too prepared."

Over the Crash Site:
The engineers clambered over the extraterrestrial craft, while choppers circled, their guns aimed. F-23Cs kept station, while the Fleet waited nervously. One of the engineers readied the plasma lance. On the hull, a Marine banged out in Morse Code: "Stand Back from this sound". It was assumed, that since the ship broadcast in English, they knew of the culture. Being unable to locate a reciever, the Military was forced to rely on hoping whatever inside knew morse code.

Everyone affixed their gas masks as the engineer lowered the torch. Moving slowly, deliberately, he scored the hull. He crossed over it again and again, but the hull was durable. It took seven full passes before the piece fell away, falling into the ship. The engineer vaulted back, and three Marines jumped on top of the ship, aiming into it. One of them barked through his mask, "Captain Stavos, KMC! Declare yourselves!"

Meanwhile...
"I'm sorry, we've had a toxin spill. You're going to have to report to decontamination." the Marine with the bullhorn ordered the crowd pinned into the hangar. "We'll test you and have you out of here as soon as possible."

A man called out, "I saw something fall from the sky! Did a plane crash?"

The Marine responded smoothly, "We are unaware of a crash at the moment. Please, remain calm." He retreated from the podium as the civilians were kept in confinement. Outside, ISA Colonel Deeks was waiting. "Sir, they're nervous, and just want to go home."

Deeks shook his head, "Sorry, Major, but we need to secure the area. Until we've completely redone their memories, no one can leave."

Behind them, Comanche Helicopters and VTOL Gunships were scouring the forest, while commando teams swept the towns, herding the people into "decontamination centers".

Unknowns attemtping forced entry.
"Not that we can do anything about it. What's that banging noise?"
Most likely morse code. S-T-A-N-D. New word. B-A-C-K.
"Stand back? Not bloody likely. I can't even stand, let alone do so back."

The interior was dark. There was a sound of sloshing water coming from the aft end of the chamber that had been cut into.

"Starla Vrainine and Cal Markov, Shuttlecraft Arêtê Three. I'd get up and greet you more directly, except that it's rather difficult to move right now. Captain Stavos, you say?"

"Come in! Thanks immensely for responding. Why didn't you just come through the door? Is it completely submerged?"

The chamber was illuminated only by the light coming through the hole they had cut, and a windshield window up front. The floor was significantly tilted. Water waved up and down a meter or two behind the hole, and the cabing extended forward some 6 meters more. Three rows of four seats, all empty, two on each side, were in between the Marines and the front of the craft. Up front, the two pilots' seats were occupied by reclining figures, silhouetted against the window.

Stavos dropped in, followed by several other Marines, all in full Biochem Gear. "You can't move?" He spotted the pilots. Human? "Do you need medical attention? Spinal injury?"

One of the soldiers scrambled out of the vessel, calling out, "Holy shit! They're human!"

Stavos dropped in, followed by several other Marines, all in full Biochem Gear. "You can't move?" He spotted the pilots. Human? "Do you need medical attention? Spinal injury?"

One of the soldiers scrambled out of the vessel, calling out, "Holy shit! They're human!"

"Ah... I don't think so. CORA?"
The synthesized voice of the ships computer filled the room. Biofeedback sensors do not indicate major skeletal damage.
"Good. Just some bad bruises then. I don't think we need medical attention, but I've never need planetside before. Might want to watch out for, ah... Cal, what's it called again?"
"Pulmonary edema."
"Right. Low-altitude sickness. Assuming they haven't been wrecked, one of the cargo bays should have a whole bunch of powered suits. We were taking them to Phoenicia, but it seems we'll get to use them ourselves now."

While definitely human in form, both figures were unnaturally tall, about 2.2 meters each. Starla, on the right from Stavos's view, had short blond hair and very Irish features. Cal looked more like a cross between Russian and Indian, with brown hair but extremely pale skin and viens that traced ridges across his hands, neck, and forehead. Both had large, almond-shaped, and very dark eyes, and both were dressed in light blue high-collared jumpsuits. Their fingers were also longer than normal, and their toes appeared semi-prehensile.

OOC: Sorry, was away in the woods for Thanksgiving...

IC:
The Five Civilized Nations Carrier Battleship, the Nahel Argama flew around the moon and headed towards the planet. It was going to finish what it had started, the destruction of the Spacing Guild's Space Fleet. The Nahel Argama's crew waited with anticipation as the vessel neared the planet...

Aboard the Klytemnestra....
"Commander, we've got a new contact. Big. Looks like a battleship, but I can't place the sillhouette."
"Understood. Keep sweeping, but keep an eye on it, and tell me if it does anything suspicious. Probably just another Earther, but you can't be too careful."
"Should we alert the Arêtê, sir?"
"Just tell them we're monitoring it. No need to start a panic."

*bump*

OOC:Sorry, was away with Computer problems. :?

IC:

Stavos motioned to the Marines, who set about to locating the "powered suits". Within moments, one of them returned. Stavos asked, "What are the suit capabilities?" he glanced over at the pilots. "Sorry, but I'm not putting you in a walking death tank."

OOC2: SG, what are the suit capabilities?

IC: Outside, the scientists had descended upon the vessel with numerous instruments, and the ISA was still sweeping the island.

Stavos motioned to the Marines, who set about to locating the "powered suits". Within moments, one of them returned. Stavos asked, "What are the suit capabilities?" he glanced over at the pilots. "Sorry, but I'm not putting you in a walking death tank."

Starla almost laughed.

"Ayeayeaye! You needn't worry. It's pretty much just a full body skinsuit with metal rods for support and servos in the joints. Oh, and a back pack with an oxygen tank and battery. It's capable of letting me stand up instead of being pinned to this chair all day, and that's about all."

Outside, the scientists had descended upon the vessel with numerous instruments, and the ISA was still sweeping the island.

Eight charred pits ringed the blunt nose of the craft, and the remains of ceramic nozzles were located at each of the front corners. The sides and top were adorned with rows of circular holes with bars sticking out of the centers, some intact, but most deformed and pitted. The back end had two large hexagonal tubes projecting from it, with rings of YBCO magnets on the insides. Also on top were the remains of a 3-meter medium-gain radio dish. The hull was composed of a centimeter-thick aluminum honeycomb shell, under which was a layer of ceramics verying from 2 to 6 centimeters in thickness.

The Marine returned. "Yeah, it's what they said. The suits aren't armed."

Stavos nodded. "Okay, let's get these people to their gear then." he motioned, and several of the masked soldiers moved forward to help the incapacitated pilots. As they cleared the cockpit, Stavos glanced around. Behind him, another soldier was taping everything. Stavos commented quietly, "I can't wait to see what tech we can yank out of this thing."

In the situation room, the ISA Director hurried in with a briefcase. "Sir, we've got another contact."

Drakk looked up. "Another? Like this one?"

"No sir, bigger. We got it when it crossed lightside on the moon. It's huge, and sir, it looks like its got guns."

Drakk let his head fall into his hands. "Christ. Stay on DefCon One, make sure the military is aware of this."

The Marine returned. "Yeah, it's what they said. The suits aren't armed."

Stavos nodded. "Okay, let's get these people to their gear then." he motioned, and several of the masked soldiers moved forward to help the incapacitated pilots. As they cleared the cockpit, Stavos glanced around. Behind him, another soldier was taping everything. Stavos commented quietly, "I can't wait to see what tech we can yank out of this thing."

"Ah, yes. Just hit the clip." Cal nodded towards the latch on his seat belts. "Comes undone pretty easy. Just, ah, be careful picking me up. You look a heck of a lot sturdier than me."

Starla rolled her head backwards. "What's that about tech?"

Aboard the Arêtê
"Captain, incoming message from Klytemnestra. They say they're tracking a potentially hostile object, but not to worry about it yet."
"Here that, Radar? Keep an eye out."

Stavos glanced at the female pilot. "I'm just amazed by how much I'm seeing here." The Marines release the pilots and and carried them towards the suits. They approached, and Stavos asked, "How do you open these?"

Stavos glanced at the female pilot. "I'm just amazed by how much I'm seeing here." The Marines release the pilots and and carried them towards the suits. They approached, and Stavos asked, "How do you open these?"

"Zipper down the front of the torso and each leg, clasps on the ankle, shin, thigh, and wrist."

Stavos did as the pilot had instructed and helped them in. Once they were set he asked, "You ready to go topside?"

Outside, Colonel Deeks was waiting to meet his uninvited guests for the first time.

Many thanks were said, and the two Spacers stood for a moment, getting used to controlling the suits.

"Topside, as in the top of the shuttle? Aye."

Starla carefully walked over to the hole in the cieling, reached up to grab the edges, and then said "Hello up there! It'd be nice to come out, but these things are only as strong as they need to be. A little more help, please?"

On the top, two of the Marines assisted in pulling the suited pilots out. Once they were topside, a man in a plain suit approached them. "I'm Colonel Deeks, Sub-Director of the Internal Security Agency in this sector. I guess I should welcome you to Earth. However, I'm going to ask that you come along with what I ask, because if you are seen in those suits, it would start rumors. And then panic. And we don't need panic."

Behind them, Stavos was extracting himself. He spotted Deeks. He dropped aside to shake hands with Major Ibrams. "Shit, sir. Deeks is here? Who's in charge?"

"Pleased to meet you. Starla and Cal, pilots of the late Guild Shuttlecraft Arêtê Three. We're Phaiakian, if that means anything to you... Well, seems like we don't have much choice than to do what you ask. Not much else to do. So. Where are we going?"

(*bump*)

"We'll be relocating to Base 13. Please, enter the Humvee." The colonel motioned to the parked HMMWV. "And, um, don't wave out the windows."

OOC: Somebody TM me when I'm needed...

In earth orbit, the LRRSV Elysium watches the Spacer Guilds craft crash. For the past several weeks, LRR had been attempting to dissappear from earth, but this was a different matter entirely. The small Olof Palme (http://screens.relicnews.com/fanart/images/Shade003.jpg) class scence frigate prepares to descend throught the atmosphere to the crash site, and de-ECM's itself. Firing a short burst of nitrogen from foreward thrusters, the frigate begins to drop twoard s the sea. Good thing for the floating hulls on the Olof Palmes.

"Prepare for re-entry. All crew, brace for gravitational shock!"
"All loose objects secured. Transmitting IFF code now. Their sattelites can see us now."
"Watch out for lasers."
"Aye, sir."

The captain looks out the viewport at the ocean below him.

"A good thrity years since I've felt water," he thought to himself.

"We'll be relocating to Base 13. Please, enter the Humvee." The colonel motioned to the parked HMMWV. "And, um, don't wave out the windows."

"By your command..." Cal gave the colonel a wink.

"What exactly is this 'Base 13'?"

Deeks shrugged, "Well, that's the closest secure facility. We do Special Projects there, and any more info would break classified rules-" he paused at the absurditity. "Of course, our classified is probably toys compared to what you have back there..." he motioned to the crash site, "But it's safe, secure, and has our best people in the region. Basically, we're gonna hide you there..." he looked around, a little embarassed, "And poke you with a few sticks for observation purposes." he pre-empted a response, "Nothing invasive! Just physicals and interviews and the like. If you have a way to get "picked up", please, go ahead, but we're going to want to gather data while you're here."

Behind them, an engineer had pried up a plate over some circuitry as another took pictures. The foreman could be heard yelling, "-no! That's a hazard symbol if I ever saw one! Don't fuck with pipes near the drive thingy!"

Meanwhile:

The radar on the CV went haywire again. "Shit, sir! We've got another incoming!"

"Scramble everything... again!" Commander Wilcox ordered as the fighters began to launch. "What the hell is this? An ET party?"

Deeks shrugged, "Well, that's the closest secure facility. We do Special Projects there, and any more info would break classified rules-" he paused at the absurditity. "Of course, our classified is probably toys compared to what you have back there..." he motioned to the crash site, "But it's safe, secure, and has our best people in the region. Basically, we're gonna hide you there..." he looked around, a little embarassed, "And poke you with a few sticks for observation purposes." he pre-empted a response, "Nothing invasive! Just physicals and interviews and the like. If you have a way to get "picked up", please, go ahead, but we're going to want to gather data while you're here."

Behind them, an engineer had pried up a plate over some circuitry as another took pictures. The foreman could be heard yelling, "-no! That's a hazard symbol if I ever saw one! Don't f--- with pipes near the drive thingy!"

"I see. I suppose that is the usual procedure in these cases. Your physicians are in for a surprise, though... um... 'picked up'?"

At hearing the frantic cry of the foreman, Starla turned her head to see what was going on. "Eh, don't worry 'bout it. The thing's junked anyway. Worst you can do is suffocate after releasing a cloud of purified xenon that displaces the oxygen in the air."

Deeks nodded, "Thank you." He turned and bellowed back, "Keep your damn masks on!" He smiled at his two guests, "Well, are you a team from a larger vessel, or out on your own? I'm just wondering how we could let your fellows know where you are and try to get you back." He shrugged, "I figure it's a good bet not to anger people with star ships." He motioned to the HMMWV. "We should be off."

"We were dispatched from the city-ship Arêtê, headed for the city-ship Klytemnestra. Big, kilometer-long things, about 53,200 kliks altitude."

Starla began to carefully climb into the Hummer, followed by Cal, as he continued to speak. "Something smacked into us near perigee, and knocked us into the atmosphere. Hence, here we are. Just so long as you didn't shoot us down, and I rather doubt that you did, no need to be worried about angering anybody. If you've got a calculator and can tell me the latitude and timezone, I can show you where to beam a signal."

The frigate's sensors, scrambled on re-entry, reactivate, seeing a horde of fighters coming after it.

"Make for the nearest port. Open an all-frequency transmission!"
"Aye, sir!"
"Greetings, people of earth. This is Commander Izak Ezim of the Space Vessel Nomad. We come in peace. Please do not shoot us down."

The frigate pulls vertical at the last moment, just missing the water, and screaming over the wavetops at unsafe speed. The spindly landing legs extend from the hull, and the frigate speeds for the nearest port.

"Sir, object inbound towards Artems Dockworks. They're broadcasting friendly intentions and wish to land."

"Good God! There are hundreds of civilians in that dock! If they see this-" Captain Corvin grabbed the phone. "Clear the dock! Get everyone out of there, ASAP! ET brought some friends!" He slammed down the phone. "Get a military presence there, LT. And tell the ship... well, tell it to be careful not to hit anything. And make sure the fighters don't shoot!

.:Meanwhile:.

Deeks was riding in the HMMWV with his two guests when the ship rocketed overhead. He glanced out, then returned, "Friend of yours?"

Cal stared out the window as the ship passed.

"I don't think so. The only we've got with landing gear... er, I think I saw landing gear, went by pretty fast... well, the only thing we've got with landing gear is a lot smaller. I guess they might be friends, as long as they're not what brought us down. Probably not a Guild ship, though."

*bump*

The frigate soars over the dockyards, looking for a place to land. A parking lot is soon spotted, and the frigate makes a sharp turn twoards the lot, slowing drastically as it descends. As the landing legs touch the pavement, the side door opens and a squad of engineers emerge.

They are met by a bunch of nervous Marines and ISA officers, all armed to the hilt. An ISA officer stepped forward, "What are you intentions?" he tried to demand, but his voice quaked a little.
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The HMMWV bolted through the dirt rodes, then onto real streets and through towns, blasting through every light and intersection, the gunner making civilians stay back. It entered through a large wall/gate, and proceeded into a base, where it slowed. MPs swarmed about, and Deeks stepped out. "Welcome to Base 13."

The HMMWV bolted through the dirt rodes, then onto real streets and through towns, blasting through every light and intersection, the gunner making civilians stay back. It entered through a large wall/gate, and proceeded into a base, where it slowed. MPs swarmed about, and Deeks stepped out. "Welcome to Base 13."

"A bit high on the security, eh? For our own protection, I suppose. Sorry, that didn't sound right. Never mind. So... military debriefing or medical examination first?"

"Physiological first." There was a doctor waiting, who took them into the hospital.

"Physiological first." There was a doctor waiting, who took them into the hospital.

"Right-o. Wassup, doc?"
Starla was a bit more subdued. "I just hope you have soft beds...."

"Well, I want to put you under CAT and MRI scans. Is there any objection?"

"Psht, radiation's no biggy. MRI means no metal, though, yes? Better have those soft beds if you want me out of my suit."

The doctor nodded. "It's padded, and we'll add extra to compensate for your low gravity tolerance... how did that happen, anyway?"

"Good. Five generations of microgravity don't put a lot of pressure on bone development. And Your muscles don't have to be all that strong when you don't weigh anything."

Deeks, in the corner, asked, "So your entire race is space bound?"

They are met by a bunch of nervous Marines and ISA officers, all armed to the hilt. An ISA officer stepped forward, "What are you intentions?" he tried to demand, but his voice quaked a little.
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The HMMWV bolted through the dirt rodes, then onto real streets and through towns, blasting through every light and intersection, the gunner making civilians stay back. It entered through a large wall/gate, and proceeded into a base, where it slowed. MPs swarmed about, and Deeks stepped out. "Welcome to Base 13."

The engineers, seizing the oppourtunity for humor, come down the ladder dressed in silver suits and heavily tinted helmets. One engineer comes foreward, and, in a well-practiced high pitched voice, addresses the marines.

"We are des people of twiton!!!!! We come in pezze!!!! We wish to makes you pawt of owa empiwa!!!!"

The other engineers giggle a little as they stand in formation behind the speaker. The engineers, however, will not strike the marines as very alien when they see what is inside the frigate. The majority of the crew is either bentusi, robot, and insectoid. There is even a sentinent gas cloud aboard. But they will be encountered later.

"Aye, 'tis. Why set down on an inefficient planet with a horrible surface area to mass ratio, when you can get virtually unlimited living space, building material, and energy elsewhere?"

*bump*

OOC: Sorry, I'm on break, posts will be sporadic.
IC: The officer shrugged. "Easier to construct in gravity, though. How far out do you reach?" He glanced around. "Hell, we're only in near orbit. Just started a moon attempt, and people are calling it suicidal."

At the dockworks, the Marines are very close to opening fire from nervousness, and claims of empire aren't helping. The ISA officer is trying to keep them calm.

The officer shrugged. "Easier to construct in gravity, though. How far out do you reach?" He glanced around. "Hell, we're only in near orbit. Just started a moon attempt, and people are calling it suicidal."

"Depends on what you're constructing. For you, ground is good. But bigger things you'd have a hard time getting off the ground. Lessee... there are rumors of Spacers flying as far out as Quaoar, but those are somewhat dubious. Knossos sent an envoy to Saturn a couple years back, but there's nothing big beyond the Belt."

OOC: Sorry, I'm on break, posts will be sporadic.
IC: The officer shrugged. "Easier to construct in gravity, though. How far out do you reach?" He glanced around. "Hell, we're only in near orbit. Just started a moon attempt, and people are calling it suicidal."

At the dockworks, the Marines are very close to opening fire from nervousness, and claims of empire aren't helping. The ISA officer is trying to keep them calm.

"Take uzz two youa leda!!!!!!!"

The engineers collapse in laughter at this point, and roll around on the parking lot.

*bump*

Deeks whistled in appreciation. "Well, then, let's get to sending the transmission..." the headed for the Comm Center. Upon entering, a tech rushed forward and whispered to Deeks. Deeks turned to them, "Well, here's the Comms Array." he pointed to the computer bank. "You can adjust the frequencies here, and the projection here."

OOC: Sorry about my delays, I just got back from winter break.

Deeks whistled in appreciation. "Well, then, let's get to sending the transmission..." the headed for the Comm Center. Upon entering, a tech rushed forward and whispered to Deeks. Deeks turned to them, "Well, here's the Comms Array." he pointed to the computer bank. "You can adjust the frequencies here, and the projection here."
Cal reached out to touch the controls, then moved back a bit in hesitation. "Ah. Thank you. Um... it's rather, ah...."
"It's not what we're used to, I think is what he's trying to say."
"Yes. Controls are not familiar. Eh... help?"

*bump*

*bump*

(OOC: I'm here for future posts...)

*bump*