NationStates Jolt Archive

"Hey Jason, What did one photon say to the other photon? I'm sick and tired of your interference. Haw!"

Jason couldn't help but smile. Bad scientist jokes brightened everyone's day. He also had a good one to fling back. "How many physical chemists does it take to change a light bulb? Only one, but he'll change it three times, plot a straight line through the data, then extrapolate to zero concentration."

John smiled at this and walked off. Jason was about to go back to his office when Oscar called him over.

"We're getting some oddly regular signals, Jason. They appear to be fragments of a television signal."

"What have you captured so far?" Jason was worried. The last time this happened, his radio telescope facility was overrun with wackos and so-called 'paranormal investigators'. The facility was remarkably fashionable, considering scientists don't make the best decorators. A hastily xeroxed joke was hung on Jason's window, "Give someone an attoparsec and they take 16.093 terangstroms!" All of the researchers couldn't help but smile when they saw this. Oscar had a bumper sticker that read "Geologists make the bed rock!". Jason's bumper sticker was "Quasars are far out!".

"Just this." Oscar tapped a key on his computer terminal, bringing up several images, the best of the many fragments that had been recorded in the past eight minutes.

http://homepage.mac.com/ambrosia512/css01.jpg http://homepage.mac.com/ambrosia512/css02.jpg
http://homepage.mac.com/ambrosia512/css04.jpg http://homepage.mac.com/ambrosia512/css05.jpg

Jason called his boss and left a voicemail. This was serious. The origin of the transmission was unknown at this point. They had the general direction, but they were still trying to determine the approximate distance of the signal's transmission point.

"Jason..." Oscar tapped another key and brought up a rather disturbing image of a dead body in the foreground and perhaps one in the background on the right.

http://homepage.mac.com/ambrosia512/css03.jpg

"Well, there's nothing we can do about that now. We have to wait and see what Simon says."

Simon arrived to work in his nerdmobile and bumper sticker that read: "Time travel is possible: at the speed of one second per second." He was aghast at the last picture but was intrigued at the first four.

"We need confirmation from other radio telescopes and to get the approximate distance via triangulation."

###Public Transmission, Radio Telescope Zelphon-7###

We received a transmission beginning on 26 May 2004 at 17:24:37 UTC. Could someone else confirm this and, if you are off-world, could you give us your time stamp on the signature and your location at the time so we can determine the approximate distance of the origin of the signal?

Right ascension: 22 hours 12 minutes 22.547 seconds
Declination: 44° 18' 23.227"

###End Transmission###

{Public Transmission}
o GCS Nuclear Cream Pie
x Radio Telescope Zelphon-7

I have confimed reception of the signal you indicated. I am sending you the data that we recorded. Its been refined as much as I can, but as I didn't have sensors pointed that way, there was only so much I can do. Best of luck.

Oscar, Simon, and Jason all huddled around the antiquated message terminal after the red light flashed signifying an incoming message.

"Well. How about that. Oscar, patch the incoming data through to the main cluster."

Oscar was already on his way over. "Right."

"How long until we get an approximate distance?"

"Approximate? Right about now. Exact, we'll have to wait awhile."

"Well? How far is the signal's origin?"

Oscar jabbed at the keyboard. "About three parsecs."

"When will we get an exact distance and location?"

"Exact? Maybe never, unless the data from Cetaganda was wholly accurate and we don't get confirmations from other sources. But we can get pretty close in about twenty minutes."

Simon paced off. We'll have to get other nation's aid in traveling there. Assuming we can get funding to begin with...

They needn't worry about funding. The news spread across the country and donations poured in.

###Public Transmission, Radio Telescope Zelphon-7###

We are requesting the aid of other nations in exploring a radio signal approximately 3.767 parsecs from Earth. Crew members, scientists, engineers, funding, materials, manufacturing facilities, will all be appreciated.

###End Transmission###


OOC: NOW its open. :)

'Hmmm,' thinks Alexander to himself. 'I have been wanting to go out and do some exploring myself. This could have potential." He quickly appraised this 'captain' and crew of his attention, and recieving generally positive responses, he fires off a message to the researchers. At the same time, he begins preparing his two kilometer-long body for a journey.

{Private Transmission, m4 Security}
x Alexander, General Contact Cruiser Little Rascal
o Radio Telescope Zelphon-7

I would love to participate. I can provide transportation to your destination, as well as a variety of small craft. I'm fully equiped with a variety of research laboratories and sensors. And best of all, I shall work for free. Interested?

The message sent from Imnsavale is received at the Eeorouh Comm-Sat Station. "Hey, Chief. We got an incoming comm from Imnsvale. Shall I shoot it to you?"

The Chief Operator, a young reptile by Sakkran standards, gives the go-ahead and then reads the message. He shoots it over to the Spaceport, and tags his own message at the end of it. "We oughta get in on this. We could always use a bit of exposure out there for peaceful missions, or something like that."

At the Spaceport, the newest in Sakkran tech awaits the go-ahead. The I.S.N. Corsaire hums a soft tune to itself as the Traffic Controller walks up to the ship. "Corsaire, can you hear me?"

"I hear you, Controller. What is up?"

"There's going to be a deviation from your flight plan. The people of Imnsvale need to get to some location 3 + parsecs out. Investigating a transmission source. Are you up to that?"

"As up to it as anything else. Tell the Handlers and i'll be on my way."

"Okay. We'll let them know." The Traffic Controller walks back to his office, and sends a reply to Imnsvale which is bounced from the Comm-Sat Relay.

[code:1:41b96e7b43] We have received your message, and help is on the way. The I.S.N. Corsaire will arrive at a location of your choosing staffed with pilots, technicians, and scientists. The ship is a sentient bieng in and of itself, and can maintain itself well.

Will you be including staff of your own, or is this a mercanary recon?

Eeorouh Spaceport[/code:1:41b96e7b43]

{Governmental Transmission, Standard Encryption}
x Eadwacer Þeoden
o Radio Telescope Zelphon-7

Frodmen, We habban mænigne hererincas ond we willan fultumian ge tobeon halas. Þa cunnan scieppan husas, scipas, ecges. Þa cunnan ofslean eowera feondas. þa cunnan libban ænige hwære.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/nationstates/eadwacer/eadwacer.jpg
Eadwacer, Mearclanda Þeoden

Scientists, we have many great mean and we are willing to assist you in your safety and wellbeing. They can build shelters, transports, and weapons. They can slay your foes. They can live anywhere.

Eadwacer, King of the Borderlands

The researchers readied their small scoutship, the Demeter, sized for about 50 crew members and a mid-level thinking AI, newly christened as Vidair. It would be launching from the Palshife Aerospace Complex in two days and everybody was rushing to get ready. The researchers were saying their goodbyes and franticly packing. Vidair would have all of their data aboard so they needn't worry about that. The only thing the researchers would have to worry about was Jiggs Casey. He could make anything out of nothing, but he had the uncannily dangerous ability to make nothing out anything.

###Private Transmission: Little Rascal###

We are very interested. Do you require anything from us, such as equipment?

###End Transmission###

A whole sentient ship? Wow.

###Private Transmission: Eeorouh Spaceport###

We will be including ships of our own and also, the ships of other nations who agreed to travel with us.

###End Transmission###

We're going nearly 12 light years away from Earth with a band of lizards. This ought to be fun. Not that I really have anything against them. Perhaps it just the stress of the past few days. Yeah, the stress.

###Private Transmission: Eadwacer, King of the Borderlands###

We would be delighted to have you join us. Will you be requiring transport or equipment?

###End Transmission###

The Corsaire gets loaded up with different building materials in it's 500 ton-capacity cargo hold. 75 tons of refined Resin plates, 25 tons of steel, 75 tons of vacuum-sealed foods, several hundred aid kits as well as several fully-manufactured micro-fusion generators. This all takes a few hours.

The 20 person crew, dressed in rubber flight-suits, enters the Corsaire through an organic double-hatch. The hatchway fills with an oxygen/nitrogen breathable liquid, and it takes a moment for the Sakkrans to suppress their instinct to breathe.

A moment of acclimation, and the second hatch opens. Using their tails to propel them, they swim swiftly to their stations. Neuro-interface helmet symbiotids are fastened to their heads, and they gain a direct link with Corsaire.

In short order, the fusion engines kick in. A gravitic fly-wheel lift engine allows for VTOL and makes for less stress in making orbital insertion. The ship heads of for the island in the South Pacific to rendezvous with the people of Imnsvale. In total, 1 day has been spent preparing the ship, loading supplies, and briefing the crew on their mission objectives.

http://www.andrew.cmu.edu/user/dsghosh/evosite/images/ships/scoutship.jpg

The scoutship was prepped for landing and the elastic ropes were checked one last time. These were relics of a gone era, but were kept to be a show for the populace. There were eight towers in a square and the ship was in the middle. The massive weights, each exactly one half the weight of the craft to be launched, sat atop the towers. The weights would fall to the ground and only then would the ship be released, harnessing both the entire energy of the falling weights in one quick burst, but also from the main engines. The ship would squirt out of the center like a rifle bullet and into space. The entire crew of 45 were to be put in stasis, excepting Simon, Oscar, Jason, Jiggs Casey, and the one Seldane crew member who wouldn't fit, even into an oversized tank. The crew was milling about, saying their farewells to family members and such. The ship was loaded with supplies and plenty of food. Lift off would be tomorrow.

Low Earth Orbit

Orbiting in a powered geosynchronous orbit above Imnsvale, Little Rascal and its crew made preparations for the voyage ahead. A swarm of drones and cargo-fitted Light Attack Craft surround the ship, as last-minute supplies are picked up and final modifications are made to exterior sensors arrays. Inside the massive rear hangar, space was cleared of the Imnsvaler craft, while quarters were prepared for the expected personel from nations without their own ships. A course was plotted, heading first for the outpost on Sedna to pick up the Mens Freodes, then onward to the final destination. Eventually, all was in place and the ship stood ready to receive his guests.

http://web.ics.purdue.edu/~chigbee/Cetaganda/imns/rascaldeparts.JPG

90 men split off from their survival training on frozen Sedna. Already a small village has been erected on the frozen soil, and a small greenhouse capable of supporting the population has been built into the ground. The men are waiting around for the ship with some good natured horseplay. Of course, the swords in use are sharp, and the spears and cross-bows are real, but there are no injuries despite that. Whats more is they know that they will be the first Freodens out of the solar system and into the great diamond sea.

Each man is clad in a powered armor suit, a combination space-suit, armor, and weapon.

http://mail.rochester.edu/~gr001k/ns/beaducaf-close-small.jpg

Their leader, second in command of Freod's military, Ecgþeow is there to lead his troops.

http://mail.rochester.edu/~gr001k/ns/ecgtheow.jpg

Dekker Bray hurried to General Garand's office, in lieu of some disturbing news...

"Major where the hell have you been?"

The eternally irate General inqured...

"Runnin' over here, sir..."

Major Bray responded with a quick salute...

"We've got a contract recon job that some egghead corporation wants done. It's an interstellar op, so you'll be travelling in the Blue Snafu..."

Dekker remebered the prototype spacecraft, and shuddered inwardly at the thought of riding on it...

"Gather your gear & get to the landing pad. Paxton & Marcel are waiting for you there. Move it, soldier!"

Dekker threw up a speedy salute, then hurried out of the office. He appeared at the landing pad a few minutes later with his M4 carbine in hand. His trusty long-slide AMT M1911 sat under his left arm, opposite a 440 stainless steel K-BAR knife. Marcel & Paxton where waiting for him, both armed with the standard G36K & SOCOM loadout common of RDMA frontline troops. They strapped in & Paxton sent the little ship into orbit...

Some two hours later, another ship came into view, a Cetagandan vessel...

"Blue Snafu to unknown starship, please respond..."

<Contact Detected via Picket Drone 14 - Bearing 355 x +14, dist. 30,000>

"Hmm, what have we here?" thinks Alexander, as he waits for the Imnsvaler craft to launch. "Identifies self as Blue Snafu, orbital analysis and VOYUER data indicates probable luanch point as Mercenaries Soldiers. No know prior interaction." He hesitates a second, then decides there's nothing to loose by responding. If they proved undesirable, it would be simple enough to get rid of them.

He hits the tiny craft with his primary scan, searching for any gunports or onboard fissionables and primes shields, then responds. "Blue Snafu, this is the General Contact Cruiser Little Rascal, Cetagandan Space Service. Please state your business."

OOC: A snafu is a mistake, BTW...

IC:

Paxton fiddled with the comm unit a bit more...

"We're here about some sort of recon assignment... Imnsvale eggheads picked up some sorta transmission. The General got wind of it, an' here we are... Mind if we dock with ya'll? This piece of shit ain't worth the metal it's made out of..."

[i]

"Acknoledged. Approach to five hundred kilometers. Your 'piece of shit' will be towed into an external docking slip from there by tractor/presser beam."

Using its gravitic lift engines, the Corsaire gently leaves Eeorouh Spaceport and enters low Earth orbit. The crew-members don their symbiotid neuro-helmets to maximize efficiency. A slight bit of disorientation, and they can sense all the ship senses.

"Corsaire, plot out a trajectory to meet with the Imnsvale ship."

I'm on it, Captain. Course plotted, and reccomendations made.

"Good. Open up your comm array so the Grass-Walkers can transmit out."

Of course. The organic ship snakes out long tendril-like protrusions from its nose, which end several meters in front of the ship. Comm array ready.

"Excellent. Gharaas, you may transmit when you are ready. Corsaire, unfurl your sails and get us under way at 1/8 speed." Three long solar sails unfurl from the sides of the ship and catch the solar winds. They fill out and then glow with a red luminesence as the ship picks up speed.

[code:1:d4daa07310] Attention Imnsvale launch facility. This is the I.S.N. Corsaire, currently under-way to rendezvous with your people in 1 hour. Please transmit approach protocols.[/code:1:d4daa07310]

"Vidair, calculate the appropriate approach vectors, warm the Molecular Ramjet and prepare the kinetic launch assist."

>'Jason, the weights were prepared last night. The proper vectors have been set, however.'

"Oh, okay."

The crowds were gathered for the occasion. Even though launches were a regular thing, people still turned out. The announcer began the countdown. At seven, the molecular ramjet fired up and the forces were so intense that the immense steel tower began to creak as the carbon-fiber scoutship almost lifted it off the ground. When the countdown reached one, the weights were released and the super-tensile ropes stretched to a hair's breadth. At zero, the weights hit the ground with a surreally audible thud and the latches were released. At T plus 1, the ship was already at 40,000 feet and accelerating. The seats were well padded enough that it didn't kill them, however. Cruising at orbiting altitude, they prepared to rendezvous with the Sakkran and Cetagandan spacecraft. The two other twin ships reserved for transporting the Freodians were launched from the smaller Lupercelia Lemma spaceport, which didn't have the theatrics of the weight towers, and the three travelled in a triangle formation all controlled by Vidair. The trio rendezvoused with the ships from Cetaganda (and the various people they were transporting) and Sakkra. The one seldane crewmember, Unhayt, who wouldn't fit into a stasis tank, marveled at the big blue Earth. She'd never even been in an airplane and he was amazed at how far she'd come.

Vidair steered the two ships reserved for the Freodians to be adjacent with the Demeter. Simultaneously, all three fired their tow cables to attach to the Cetagandian ship with the same super tensile ropes from the weight towers. Virtually unbreakable, they had to be cut with special tools. It was impossible to break them by stretching them and they would make fine tow cables.

"Well, this is it. Let's go."

(OOC: For the purposes of moving along, I shall assume that the Mercs docked.)

After making sure the Imnsvaler craft are secured, Alexander signals the ships around him.

"Good afternoon, everyone. This is Alexander, Mind of Little Rascal. Our first destination shall be the planetoid Sedna, where we shall be picking up the Freodan contingent of the expedition. We shall be making jump shortly."

While waiting for the ever so slow vanilla humans to resond, Alexander flicks a tightbeam to the Sakkran ship. "Hullo, little cousin. Are you capable of an independent jump to <coordinates>? I am capable of a tow if necessary."

The Corsaire receives the transmission from Alexander of the 'Little Rascal'. The sentient ship responds, with some boosted signal strength from the Grass-Walkers.

Greetings to you, Senior Sentient. I am capable of jumping to the coordinates under my own power, but I may need to be kept watch on. It is still fairly new to me, and sometimes mistakes will be made. The Captain has given me a jump-trajectory that seems good in theory. We merely await confirmation of the speed traveled.

The Corasaire watches through its sensor array at the tow-cables being attached, and begins sending out microwave oulses to sense what lay in their path in-system.

Unhayt just sat back in her seat. She had a certain sense of dread. If the fables are true, this is going to be an unpleasant trip.

Jason and Oscar walked around the ship and got more fully acquainted with the "amenities" offered. Synthetic food that was just as filling, if not as delicious. The water recycling system was a bit disconcerting to them. All liquid waste, waste water, and even moisture from the air was to be captured, filtered and purified to be drank again. It was cleaner than water from a well, but the psychological effects, especially for people like these, inexperienced with space flight, it was a jump to drink the water.

Vidair flicked off a short transmission to nearby space.

>'Is everybody accounted for and prepared for the jaunt to Sedna? Are there any last-minute items you all need to take care of?'<

From the Corsaire, five voices reply as one.

We are prepared. Our jump drives have already begun spinning up for the jump, and all calculations are confirmed. We await the order.

Within the ship, the crew finish situating themselves in the gel-soft chairs. "Drives have completed their spin-up procedure, Captain."

"Excellent. Have back-up engines on stand-by and ready to come online in the event of an emergency. Calibrate harmonic resonance fields . Nav, are we locked?"

"Coordinates locked in. Harmonic resonance attained. Everything shows green."

(OOC: For the purposes of moving along, I shall assume that the Mercs docked.)

After making sure the Imnsvaler craft are secured, Alexander signals the ships around him.

"Good afternoon, everyone. This is Alexander, Mind of Little Rascal. Our first destination shall be the planetoid Sedna, where we shall be picking up the Freodan contingent of the expedition. We shall be making jump shortly."

While waiting for the ever so slow vanilla humans to resond, Alexander flicks a tightbeam to the Sakkran ship. "Hullo, little cousin. Are you capable of an independent jump to <coordinates>? I am capable of a tow if necessary."

OOC: Great. I must be on a different time zone.

IC:

The three-man crew of the Blue Snafu remained on their ship, strapped into their chairs... All three where more than a little relieved that the Snafu was no longer in open vaccum...

"All craft have reported ready. Navigation reports next clear jump window is in twenty seconds...ten...jump in five, four, three, two, one..."

With a distortion in the starfield behind them, the cluster of ships disappears from Terran space to -

[DISCONTINUITY]

reappear a infinitely long moment later on an approach vector to Sedna, signalling their prescence to the men waiting at the outpost.

The crew aboard Corsaire unstrap themselves and float in the breathable liquid a moment. The Captain gets everyone to their assignments. "Look alive, everyone. Helm, triangulate our position. Comms, get some readings on communication traffic in the area. Sensors, give me some news on what's around. Let's go let's go."

The crew-members swim to their posts. The Bio-Med Techs start taking readings on Corsaire to guage the effect the hyper-spatial trip had on him.

"Vidair, status report."

>"Everything seems to be fine; I detect no change in any of my internal circuitry."

"And anything else?"

>"Everything is fine, Jason. You should trust the engineers."

The five got up and stretched as best as able in the closed quarters of the scoutship. They all felt a little woozy and the claustrophobia didn't help.

"So, when are we supposed to pick up the Freodians?"

>"I'm flying the two other ships over now, Jason."

"James, do you think this would be a time to for a briefing?" Alexander asks over the internal comms.

"Probably," replies James O'Connor, CO of the ship's crew. "It would be nice to meet the rest of our companions, at least."

"Excellent." Alexander switches over to the external comm, transmitting to main Imnsvaler ship, Demeter.

"Jason, this is Alexander. May I suggest that a meeting be held so that introductions be made and you can brief the team leaders on what data you have?"

Jason hops over to a message terminal, prompted by an alert from Vidair.

"Alexander, that is a fine plan. How about we meet in your ship in a suitable conference room after the Freodians have boarded our scoutships?"

Dekker Bray's voice crackled over the comm system...

"Whereabouts are ya'll havin' this shin-dig?"

"A conference room is being prepared as we speak. We should be ready by the time the other ships return from the surface with the Freodans. Everyone can feel free to dock and come aboard when they are ready. Flight control will guide you to the appropriate airlocks."

A briefing. Yes, that would be in order. "Ok, crew. I'm going aboard the Demeter for a mission briefing. Keep on your toes, everyone. We're in unknown territory." The crew salutes in slow-mo, being suspended in liquid and all. "Corsaire, could you inform the Imnsvalers of my arrival? And prep an umbilicus for me, would you?"

"Why of course, Captain." The Grass-Walkers lend their talents to Corsaire. and the message is broadcast to the Demeter. "Captain Ooruu will attend the conference. He'll be arriving via my port-side. I am extending an umbilicus now." A long, tubular tendril snakes out from the side of the ship. Within is a hollowed passageway. Ooruu steps into the access hatch, where the liquid is drained, and normal breathing commences. The second hatch then opens, and the Captain finds himself staring down the long tube.

Dekker, still clad in his desert-pattern BDU's, exits the rickety Snafu & heads down the long corridor of the ship. His long-slide AMT M1911A1 still hangs under his left arm, out of habit he'd forgotten to remove it...

Inside a small reception area past the airlocks, a man in Cetagandan uniform greets the Sakkran and man from Mercenary Soldiers. "Good afternoon, gentlebeings. I am Captain James O'Connor, the crew's commanding officer and Alexander's counterpart. Its a pleasure to welcome you aboard the ship. We expect the Imnsvaler leader, Jason, to arrive shortly, along with Ecgþeow of Freod. Is there anything you would need or would like to ask while we wait?"

"There is something..." Captain Ooruu states, his one eye looking at Captain James O'Connor, the other eye scanning Dekker and his armament. "I was wondering if a sensor-hack to Corsaire could be arranged so we can each find out what goes on ih system as it happens. Our systems should compliment each other nicely, rounding out the information gained."

O'Connor inclines his head, and his eyes go slightly distant. He then replies, "Alexander informs me that he has located a set of TYCS interface protocols that should allow our two ships to interface with ease, Captain Ooruu. With your permission, he will contact your vessel's intelligence and work out the details." He turns to Dekker, taking in the weapon and completely ignoring it in an instant, "As similar arrangement could likely be configured for you vessel as well."

OOC: I'm going to control your ships just a tad, if you mind, I'll remove it.

The Freoden build giant bonfires to outline the landing site, or they would if there were any atmosphere worth speaking of, so instead they illuminate the area with giant lamps. As the ships land, a wave of seriousness washes over the men. They file on board (after presenting the captain with a roast boar) and stow their gear.

Only after their gear has been stowed and they have moved into their quarters (little more than tossing their gear in) does the laughter and horseplay resume. A few men in each ship do not join in with the merrymaking and drinking, but instead remain armed and keep an eye on the proceedings and the ship. They may laugh at the jokes and listen to the music, but it is their job to make sure that the ship remains safe.

>"Jason, the Freodians have boarded."

"Good. Send them safety instructions and launch them up. Then tell the Ecgþeow of Freod to climb aboard the Little Rascal. And in the meantime, dock the Demeter with the Little Rascal."

>"As you wish, Jason."

After the docking procedures, Jason walked aboard, looking for where he needed to go. Blundering down a hallway, he stumbled upon the group.

"Salutations, gentlemen! I've been informed by our AI, Vidair, that the Freodians are on their way up; they should be in shortly. Oh, by the way, I'm Jason." Jason thrust his hand out in front of Captain O'Connor.

Dekker reguards Jason...

"You the Imnsvaler?"

Ooruu regards the inclined-head position of O'Connor, and does the math. "Ah. I take it Alexander is your ship's sentience. Excellent. Corsaire won't be alone, then. The TYCS interface protocols are present on all I.S.N. ships, so compatibility should not be an issue."

Then seeing the form of Jason blunder through the hall, Ooruu does his best to stifle a laugh. "Good cycle to you, Jason. It would be good to meet the Freodians. I haven't had much exposure to their people." Nictitating membranes slide over eye-lids, and a long tongue shoots upwards to lick the membranes. "Corsaire informs me he is ready for the hack now."

Ecgþeow walks into the room with the other leaders, bows to Jason, turns, sees the Sakkran and turns pale.

"Wyrm! Þu bis a micel wyrm nit ungelic se synscaþa þæt ofslëa mine ælder Beowulf."

His eyes flicker around and he catches his breath,

"Oh, you're a Sakkran? I have heard of you, but never seen your kind before, and it is quite strange to see. It is an honor to meet you, but I should caution you to be careful around my men, they are unused to beings such as yourself."

He turns cautiously back to Jason.

"My commander. I am Ecgþeow son of Cyneherd, the warrior in charge of these troops. Your words are our orders and we shall see that your men and your equipment remains safe."

http://mail.rochester.edu/~gr001k/ns/ecgtheow.jpg

Jason glances over to Dekker. "Yes, yes I am."

Unsure whether to offer his hand to Ecgþeow or not, Jason just smiles, a little surprised at Ecgþeow's deference. Jason was usually accustomed to taking orders, not giving them.

"I thank you, Ecgþeow."

Staring over at Ooruu, a little unsettled at his hygienic methods, he regains his composure, if only a little.

"Good to, uh, cycle you too."

Ooruu laughs a bit to himself, sounding much like a WHIFF as a small spray of salty salivary liquid jets from his nostrils. "It is a customary greeting. A cycle to us is much as a standard day to you."

Regarding Ecgþeow, Ooruu bows slightly. His translator has a difficult time decyphering the ancient language. "No cause for alarm from me. I will exercise caution among your peoples. I will advise my crew to do the same."

[Realtime Comms, m5 Security Protocols}
x Alexander (Little Rascal)
o Corsaire, Vidair (Demeter)

I've attached the details pertaining to a sensor hack to this message, please feel free to make any suggestions for improvement. I've also taken the liberty of creating an link to the briefing for the two of you if you're interested in watching.

====
"I believe this is everyone. If you'll please follow me," O'Connor leads the other men into a transit car. After a few minutes of travel, the car stops and they walk a short distance down another corridor. They arrive at a large briefing room. Inside is a rectangular table with several chairs around it, one of which is appropriately shapped for a Sakkran. On three of the four walls are large computer screens, with the fourth wall being floor-to-ceiling window looking out on Sedna. "Please, make yourselves comfortable."

In the corner floats a small drone. "Greetings, everyone," it says. "Jason, I have taken the liberty of contacting Vidair, and can bring up any information you need on the displays."

*Comm sent from Corsaire*

"The details look fine to me. I'd like to listen in on the briefing so I know what to expect, and can advise my Handlers accordingly."

*End comm*
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ooruu looks at the design of his chair. No back, but a bit of an extended post for his tail to wrap around. Good. He sits and wraps his tail aound the post, leaning forward a bit. He looks out the window over Sedna. Interesting. Is this why we're here?

He then turns his attention to the screen opposite him, and tries to make heads or tails of the information there.

Jason smiles at the drone. "Gentlemen, this is the sum of the information we know. Cue slide one, please."
http://homepage.mac.com/ambrosia512/css01.jpg

Jason continued, "at 26 May 2004 at approximately 17:24 UTC, we received a transmission of extreme regularity originating about 3 parsecs out. It cleaned up somewhat to produce these photos. Slide two, please."
http://homepage.mac.com/ambrosia512/css02.jpg
"We believe this to be some sort of building, or, because of the large black area in the bottom of slide one, possibly a space station. Slides three and four, if you would."
http://homepage.mac.com/ambrosia512/css04.jpghttp://homepage.mac.com/ambrosia512/css05.jpg

"Now, the most disturbing picture was slide five."
http://homepage.mac.com/ambrosia512/css03.jpg
"That is some sort of body in the foreground, in a pool of what may or may not be blood. Because this was a regular radio transmission, it is over twelve years old, given the distances involved. So it may be too late to help anything. We must prepare for what might confront us when we arrive. We have consulted some archives and found minor evidence of a seldane project in the distant past, but records are sparse on that point. The seldane are native to Imnsvale and have been around for over six thousand years. They are much like humans, except a little taller and more muscular. And blue-skinned. Do you have any questions, gentlemen? Something I may have skipped over?"

"Twelve years old. Twelve years ...." Ooruu studies the pictures intently; both eyes focusing on each slide in turn. "If that is a corpse, and I will assume as such, this almost seems more like a military operation, or at least special operations. What is the discernable condition of the habitations at present? And is there some manner of 'game plan' here?"

Dekker leans forward, squinting at the screens...

"I'd agree... I've got a few spare guns on the Snafu if we need 'em..."

The mercenary leans closer, attempting to focus on something in the blurry background... Slowly, he raises a finger to point at it...

"You sure there's just two corpses?"

Dekker leans forward, squinting at the screens...

"I'd agree... I've got a few spare guns on the Snafu if we need 'em..."

The mercenary leans closer, attempting to focus on something in the blurry background... Slowly, he raises a finger to point at it...

"You sure there's just one corpse?"

"Well, it would appear to me that we may be headed into a relatively advanced warzone. Though it is not easy to make out, the armor on the front corpse (I don't know if there are more) suggests a level of technical sophistication no more than a decade behind our own. Of course, it took the light twelve years to reach here, so it is entirely possible that at this point the residents may be significantly more advanced than we are."

Jason turns to Ooruu.

"Well, given the age of the transmission, after twelve or more years, one would expect the building or space station to be secure. There is no debris in the area as far as we can tell and no lingering ionizing radiation that has reached Earth. It seems to be somewhat safe."

Jason blinks at Dekker.

"I suppose there could be three... No matter. Hopefully there won't be more."

Turning to Ecgþeow, Jason remarks, "I suppose you could be right. They might have been ahead of us to begin with. If that is indeed a space station, it appears to be rather large, given the different colors of the walls, the open space and the ceiling shown in slide five as compared to the corpses."

Dekker's manner relaxes, and his loosely crosses his arms across his broad chest...

"Let's hope there isn't, and this is all some sick-ass joke..."

His eyes betrayed a hint of pessimisum, he knew better. Where there where three bodies, there where usually more, not to mention the people... or things... that killed them...

"Obviously, we will need to use caution," says O'Connor. "But between Ecgþeow's men, Mr. Dekker and crew, and this vessel's armament and combat parasite vessels, we should be reasonably well equipped should there be a need for violence. At worst, we will be in constant contact with fleet command. A CSS or TYCS squadron could be dispatched within hours if rescue is needed."
"For the moment, I am more interested in knowing if you have any expectations for the scientific side of the mission."

"Well, we expect possibly a new species to contact, as we were unable to find any sort of public record on any sort of project of this scale to that area. It is possible that there was a secret expedition, but after making our announcement public, we had no requests to avoid the area. The things we might learn from them would be astounding. We have all sorts of possibilities therein, including possibly trade, if their infrastructure is advanced enough and if this is a space station, it should be."

Ooruu cups his hand in his chin. "New species contact....I had best apprise myself of the SEACTO protocols, then. If there is a new species, we must detrmine if it is hoatile, and then if it is sapient. Thus far all evidence points to hostile, but this is circumstantial at this point."

He swivels a bit in his chair. "Are we certain that this is not the doings of a rogue AI, perhaps?"

"We would have gone through SEACTO, but our nation has not yet been admitted to the organization. No matter. As for the possibility of hoax, it is entirely possible, if improbable."

Rogue AI... Not Thermopylae again...it can't be...

Jason twitched and shivered.

"It could be some sort of television show or stage theater on their end. It's highly improbable that it was a hoax from some other part of Earth or the Sol system zone, as we had several independent verifications of the source of the transmission. In either instance, there must be some form of technological life on the other end."

"If it is not a hoax, and is indeed a technological threat, I would apprise my crew to load up their armaments with SPORE rounds." He holds a hand to his ear-hole and seems to stare into empty space. "Very good. Download it, please."

A moment passes, and he nods in a satisfied manner. "I have been apprised of the SEACTO (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=41874&highlight=) Charter, and have been informed that the Corsaire is preparing to take deep scans of the facility."

"If it is not a hoax, and is indeed a technological threat, I would apprise my crew to load up their armaments with SPORE rounds." He holds a hand to his ear-hole and seems to stare into empty space. "Very good. Download it, please."

A moment passes, and he nods in a satisfied manner. "I have been apprised of the SEACTO (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=41874&highlight=) Charter, and have been informed that the Corsaire is preparing to take deep scans of the facility."

Dekker reguards the Sakkran with a curious look...

"Why not use those nifty ranger-suits you've been developing..."

He seems to think a bit harder...

"And what the f**k is a SPORE-round?"

Dekker was familiar with most types of ballistic weaponry, as well as some of the more common energy weapons & the primitive gauss technology that the RDMA had been developing for use in space combat. This Sakkran stuff was totally new...

"A SPORE round is an empty caseless round filled with an organic version of a nano-phage. Pretty harmless to organic beings unless they swallow it, which is not advised. What it does, though, is dissolve inorganic material in a short time."

Ooruu uses his hands to mimic a hole opening. "Our armor cavalry uses it against power-armor clad opponents to basically leave them weaponless."

Dekker was somewhat confused by the nano-phage thing, but he got the rest of it...

"I see... Basically armor-piercing on a higher-level..."

He turns to Jason...

"When do we start this shin-dig?"

"We start the journey when everyone gives the go call. I am finished here if there are no more questions."

"We are ready to continue at any time," say O'Connor. "While we've been speaking, our navigation department has been reviewing signals data collected by various Triumvirate vessels and stations across the system. We've considerably refined our original destination. We should arrive within a million or so kilometers of the source of the transmission. The coordinates have been transmitted to Corsaire, Captain Ooruu. I assure every who we're towing along that there's no danger of us popping out on top of something else."

Captain Ooruu taps his earpiece, and seems to stare into nothingness for a moment. "Confirmed. We have received the coordinates, and Corsaire is making jump calculations now. I'd say we're ready to begin."

"Shall we make our way back to our respective ships, now?"

Jason clambered aboard the Demeter.

"Vidair, are we still latched on?"

"Yes, Jason. It would do you some good to stop worrying."

Unhayt might have benefited from that advice if she was able to hear it; directed sound was deemed more secure for space ships. Pointed right at the recipient, it was impossible to eavesdrop.

I know what we did to the Pithians was wrong. But it wasn't me! I had no control over it; it happened so long ago. I still feel bad. And this might not even be the Pithians!

Once the explorers are once more aboard their respective ships, Alexander makes a final check on the tow lines and the target coordinates. Signalling a countdown to the other ships, Little Rascal jump engine powers and, at the zero mark, engages. The shimmering event horizon of the molehole's normalspace interface sweeps over the ship and its small companions.

http://web.ics.purdue.edu/~chigbee/Cetaganda/rascaljump.JPG

After a momentary feeling of discontinuity, the ships emerge at their destinations, and Little Rascal immediately begins scanning the area on passive EM and gravitonic sensors.

OOC: I was wondering when this would make the Jolt-transfer...

As the Demeter floated in, they noticed the sun peeking in around some sort of planet or moon. It looked dead, but anything looks dead from this distance. They continued coasting as the Demeter flipped on its floodlights.

Nothing.

They zoomed past the rocky body in a manner of hours, nervously scanning it for life. But it was barren. Dead. Cold. But they had bigger things to worry about. Namely, the enormously colossal parabolic object staring them in the face. It dwarfed the entire fleet of ships, reducing them to cold cereal prizes that most children toy with over breakfast before school that day. Jason could just see some sort of celestial child (Think 2001: A Space Odyssey) toying with the Demeter, making spaceship noises with his mouth. The sunlight refracted through the hydroponics tubes that bridged the gap in the parabolic arms. There must've been thousands of glass tubes, all of them gleaming brightly. All of them just stood in silence and Vidair was forced to pipe up.

"Er, Jason... We're going to ram it unless we start decelerating pretty quickly."

"Ah. Huw. Sure."

"Object dead ahead, Captain. Commencing immediate decellearation."

"Look at that thing! Its huge! At least as big as a GSV! Maybe even the Alpha vehicle!" exclaims O'Connon, watching through the bridge's main screen.

"In a manner of speaking, Captain," replies the EI. "However, your human sense of scale has betrayed you. The object could, if not for those interesting clear tubes inside, easily hold Mars. Speaking of tubes, spectroscopic analysis indicates their may be some sort of plant life inside."

"Dear lord, that's huge. Um...any sign of targeting or detection scans? Weapons, engines, that sort of thing?"

"There does seem to be active power sources aboard. However, there is no sign of active scan at the moment, nor powered weapons or engines."

"That's good to hear." O'Connor watches the screen as more data is recieved and displayed. "Any docking areas?"

"There are some places that may be possible, but there are no open doors anywhere. It would require a active scan and a density map to tell. Should I deploy a drone network to begin?"

"Eh. Yeah, why not." A few minutes later, a few dozen drones begin to englobe the giant ship. Using mass sensors, this drones will create a composite 3-d image that will show large open spaces and any unusually dense objects. At the same time, Little Rascal begins active radar scans to try and locate a place to enter.

Dekker let out a low whistle as the object came into view...

"That thing a space station? It's huge..."

" Captain, we're coming up on the object now. My sensor sweeps of the area do not detect any active power sources. Organic life of a rudimentary nature in the hydroponics tubes. Other than that, it is as dead as a tomb."

"Maybe there's little in the way of organisms, but I have a sneaking suspicion that 'dead' would not apply here. Corsaire, get us around this craft towards the port side of it from us and do sub-surface scans. Let's see if we can get some manner of a schematic here. Highlight any possible points of entry."

"Will do, Captain. Preparing maneuvers now."

"Captain, my scan is complete. I've found no obvious points of entry. No airlocks, no hangar doors, no slips, nothing. Odd, isn't it?"

O'Connor leans forward, studying a hull radar map, and then clancing at a floating density map beside it. "We have breacher pods aboard, don't we?"

"We have three 'emergency hull bypass' modules for our Wasps, yes. Shall I begin preparing one of the riders to penetrate the hull?"

"Yeah, go ahead and begin. Those tubes in the center look like they should be easy to get through. Comms, open a channel to our companions."

"Channel open, Captain."

"Everyone, this is O'Connor. We can't see any signs of an airlock. Unless any of you have another suggestion, I think we may need to burn through the hull. I've ordered a breacher pod - I mean, a hull bypass unit to be attached to one of our riderships for that purpose. We should be ready in an hour or so. We'll include a docking section so that you can attach your ships directly to our new lock."

The P-space representation of the sensors officer turns to the captain. "Sub-surface scans show active circuitry in the vessel. Reccomendations, captain?"

Active circuitry...probably to power those hydroponics pods, bu one can't be too careful. Corsaire, at that point, pipes in the comm from O'Connor.

"Corsaire, return transmission."

"Ready, Captain."

"This is the crew of the Corsaire. We read and await your signal. Uplinking a sensor hack to you to show what we're seeing. A power source of indeterminate origin is supplying power to the hydroponics sections, and possibly other areas of the vessel before us. Reccomend caution on approach. A four person team is standing by."

Dekker stops gnawing on the toothpick in his mouth...

"You want me an' my boys to go in an' do a quick sneak & peek?"

Unhayt began to shiver and shake uncontrollably.

The fables are true. I know what we're going to find. These are all familiar aspects of Pithian construction. We are so going to fry when we get back home.

Vidair flicked another message to all of the ships.
Simon, Oscar, Jason, Jiggs Casey, and Unhayt are all ready to board the ship, if they can climb aboard one of the breaching pods. From my minimal scans, the hydroponics tubes look to be the simplest and easiest breach point. We must make haste!

The four-Sakkra team consisting of two technicians, one engineer and one trooper in TacSoft armor board one of the modified survey crafts aboard Corsaire. It's not terribly roomy, but there should be ample space if others are willing to be a bit cramped.

The trooper comms in. "Skeeh here. Maneuver thrusters read green. Life support, engines, sensors all go. Systems nominal. Ready to depart."

"Depart. May you find success." The comm from Corsaire comms in clearly as the hangar door slides open and the craft drops from the belly of the sentient ship.

The small survey craft fires maneuvering thrusters and angles toward the Imnsvaler ship. "Prep your crew, Demeter. ETa is one minute to dock maneuvering."

Carefully gliding in towards one of the tubes at a (hopefully) non-threatening velocity, the Wasp-class light ridership Rascal-3 begins final approach to its target. On the main disc-shaped hull, mission-adaptable modules are affixed in addition to the standard cockpit. On one side is a breacher pod, a boxy structure adorned with a pair of laser turrets and stubby tube opposite the main hull. On the other two remaining attachment points are cylindrical habitat modules. While they will be cramped, there will be space for explorers to bunk without displacing the ridership's crew. This would save time from having to do constant transfers back to the motherships. Other craft, such as the Imnsvaler ship, could easily attach to one of the adaptable airlocks on the craft.

Now within a few meters of the transparent hull, Rascal-3 carefully aligns the breacher pod and inches inward. Making contact, the breacher tube's rim glows as the intergrated disintegrator begins to neutralise the charge of electrons in the hull, causing the molecules to fly apart in a cloud of ions. A powerful gravity field directs these outwards and around the tube, out of the disintegrator's effect zone. After a few seconds, the hull is breached, and a temporary memoryform plastic seal is in place. As this is not a hostile boarding, time is taken to install a new, permanent airtight door into the hole.

"All ships, this is Captain O'Connor. We have successfully breached the hull with no resistance. We are ready to recieve you hear at any time."

The Demeter sailed towards the universal dock port, ready with both the Sakkran crew and the motley band of Imnsvali scientists. Unhayt paused to use the airsick (spacesick?) bag, nervous of what she'd find. They all scuttle down the tube and wait. Jason is in the lead, followed by Simon and Oscar. Jiggs Casey shifted his eyes to and fro, as if attempting to watch some manner of small flying insect. But Jiggs Casey was just eccentric like that. Imagine a mix of MacGyver and a terrorist and that approximates his personality and resourcefulness.

"Well, gentlemen," Jason spoke, "this door is the only thing that separates us from the station. Are we prepared for what's behind Door Number Two?"

Dekker nodded, now clad in an urban-patterned BDU/body armor ensamble, matching that of his two squadmates. He was armed differently... Due to his rank he was allowed to carry what he wanted, in this case it was a SOPMOD M4A1 carbine with an ACOG 4x sight and an AMT M1911A1 Hardballer. His companions each carried a G36K, as well as a Mk 23 SOCOM handgun...

"Open 'er up..."

They'd followed the Imnsvali team over, not knowing what to expect. Dead bodies on a static-garbled screen where never a good sign, but it might have just been a camera feed from a morgue or some such place... They all hoped it was just that, a mistake...

"Good evening, gentlebeings!" From the curving main corridor of the rider, a man in a skinsuit with a shock of fire-red hair enters the ready room just inside the lock to the alien ship. Around his waist is a tool belt, with a compact needler pistol at one hip and what looks to be some kind of flashlight at the other. "Leftenant Jacob Alexander da'Jesseth vor'Kolian, Imperial Corp of Engineers, at your service." While all Cetagandans speak english with a accent that sound like a combination of steriotypical British villan with a touch of southern american, his is especially pronounced. "I'm going to be the one coming along with your inside the ship, while the rest of Rascal's crew continues to study the exterior and, in needed, provides consultation on anything we find. I'm mainly an electronics and power systems man, but I do know a fair bit of structures as well. Hopefully I can be of service in helping figure out what makes this place tick. I'll be bringing along some scanners and comp interfaces, with QE comms so that we can bring our ships' considerable processing power to bear."

Behind him, what at first appears to be a bunch of equipment containers enters the room, which turns out to be a hunchbacked and rather mishapened man carrying said containers. "This is my assistant, Igor. He'll be helping me with the mechanical end of things, as well as serving as a medic - not that we expect to need one, of course." Lt. Kolian continues smiling the entire time, even when mentioning the possible need for a medic.

"Good evening, thirth," is Igor's only comment.

Skeeh keeps his personal cannon shouldered, but paws the switch on his Garu-12 pulse pistol. The sudden sight of such an .... interesting pair is moderately unnerving. In short order, he regains his composure.

"Indeed. Leftenant Jacob Alexander da'Jesseth vor'Kolian and Assistant Igor, well met. I am First Sergeant Skeeh, I.D.F. Rapid Infantry. With me are Bio-Tech Jhaar, Med-Tech Llhiit and Engineer Kwoor." All three bow slightly at the mention of their name and title.

"The transmission displayed bodies, and these three beings are an interim forensics effort to see what happened to these beings. While i'm sure they have either decomposed greatly or something, there may still be evidence of what transpired."

"A pleasure to meet you as well, First Sargeant Skeeh, Bio-tech, Med-tech, Engineer," replies Kolian, with a bow of his own. "I believe all we await now are our companions from Freod."

"There doesn't appear to be any obvious threat within the station, or at least nothing active. Our primary threats, are therefor, passive. Also, since this is a 'friendly' action other concerns exist. What do we know about the atmosphere of the station? Is it poisonous? Infectious? Pressured at all? Related to that, I'm pleased that we can burn our way in slowly, but this may not be sufficient should matters hit the fan.

"This is what I recommend..."

Ecgþeow lays out the placement of his men for a strictly "protective" detail, as opposed to a true bording party, though one is being held ready. Four Beaducafas will be in the shuttle and six will be holding onto the outside of it. All ten will be in full armor with boarding weaponry (this is the close-quarters non-explosive stuff). While the shuttle is cutting an opening, the six exterior Beaducafas will place shaped charges along the tube for rapid access should the airlock prove to slow (or a vacuum prove preferable). The remainder of the hererincas will remain behind on the mother ship with only a few of them armored up in full assault gear. After all, there are no expectations that he'll have to use them?

"Okay then, Vidair. Open the door!"

The door slid open to the left, seemingly moving in slow motion. A satisfying rush of air followed the first break of the seal; the pressure inside the capsule was more than the hydroponics tubes were pressurized to. Bright light filled the capsule, partially sunlight, partially from intense lamps to keep the plants growing.

However, much of the light was blocked from the wall of foliage in front of them. Plants of all sizes dominated the area immediately in front of them. There were even plants growing so big they pushed up against the top of the tube and curved back down. Clearly, this area was not meant to be trodden on. After hacking their way though with a machete, exactly like they used to in jungles, they came upon an open walkway. According to Simon, the air was completely human breathable, if the air pressure down a bit and the moisture content way up. The whole of the Imnsvale crew took off their confining helmets. Jiggs Casey inhaled deeply.

"Smell that? It smells like death!" he exclaimed with a demonic smile. Simon, Jason, and Oscar could not put their helmets back on fast enough. Unhayt had no real sense of smell, and was too preoccupied anyway.

Whoosh! The few people in the very front were nearly run over by an overzealous automated harvester drone, full of fresh vegetables. It rushed down the hallway, down to the temporary storage bin. Of course, "temporary" is only used in the most liberal sense. See, the vegetables were meant to be taken out. But now there was no one there to remove them. The bin was buried under a mountain of rotting vegetables. Jiggs Casey wandered down to the end of the hydroponic tube where the tube met the station proper and the putrefying mass of rotted vegetables and fruits lay. A stray vegetable tumbled down the mountain and disintegrated on the way down. The mold looked like it might be alive and animate.

"Mmmm..." he moaned.

Suddenly, as if summoned, part of the back wall opened up. Out slid a small, stainless steel tray dotted with holes. Fwoosh! Fire erupted from several distinct areas of the tray.

Jason wandered about in thought, "How much of this station is still operative? It must be awfully automated to have keep running this long."

"Oh, by the Pantheon! What a stench!" Immediately the technician replaces the rebreather mask on his nostrils. They look around at the surroundings while Skeeh keeps his eyes on the harvesters. Wouldn't want them thinking we're harvestable.....

The tech takes several breaths, and looks at the direction the harvesters were coming and going from. "There must be a central node; a nexus. Maybe it has logs we can peruse? Might give us some info as to what happened and when."

Snapping his helmet up, Kolian says, "It would require quite a bit of automation, but really if there's not much equipment usage it could remain operational for millenia, especially if it has any kind of automatic fabricators and resource replacement. I suspect if we follow these paths we will find some kind of maintenence shop for that havester thing that went past."

A definite chuckle rippled through the team as they watched the responses to those first breaths of the "fresh" air contained within the station. This chuckle was rapidly interrupped as the hererincas scattered and drew their weapons, tracking the harvester as it barreled past.

"Ok, guys, we agree that we don't tell anyone that we nearly got into a battle with a harvester drone?"

Æðelred chuckled, "What do you mean we won't tell? I'm sure þæt þa hlædiges will love to hear of your acts of bravery..."

"You tell them, you die..."

"At least it will be with honor."

"No, because I'll tell them about the time when þu wið a mihtig wyrm helles ond hwæt þæt wæs cuðlice."

The rest of the team turned to Æðelred, curious as to the rest of the story, only to see him turn red, noticible even through the suit and mumble something along the lines of, "Well, I guess that they don't need to know about the harvester."

Dekker emits a low whistle...

"Damn... 'Think we got a ripe one..."

His two team-mates remain silent, nervously scanning the dimly-lit(?) room, their eyes lingering in the pitch-black corners...

Jason walked to the end of the hallway and noticed a computer terminal with some text burned into the screen rather heavily.

http://homepage.mac.com/ambrosia512/IPII/term07.jpg

A row of 52 black squares atop a stainless steel tray mounted below the screen greeted Jason.

"Well. Uh. This is ...interesting... Uh, anyone know what the deal is?"

Unhayt glanced over, oddly less nervous than before.

"Yes, those are keys for the computer terminal you're standing at. You can't read them because your eyes don't react to ultraviolet light."

Jason blinked helplessly, "Anyone have any better ideas than to hit keys at random?"

"Excuse me," says Kolian, "but how do you know that its ultraviolet and not, say, into the infrared? We might be able to modify some of nightvision equipment in any case, but while we wait, would it be possible for you to tell us if the keys are at least in a known language?

Unhayt smirked, "How do you know a color is, say, orange, and not blue?"

She blinked, this was not her usual style. Something was different.

"In any case, these keys seem to be shifting. By that I mean it looks like the symbols are shifting, almost melting into other symbols, possibly to allow for a fuller alphabet on a smaller keyboard. Wait, there, I just saw some Roman letters, for a split second. This is most peculiar."

Unhayt was relaxing, however. She had next to none of the fear of what she was anticipating on the trip here. Once she stepped inside, she noticed the other crew members didn't have a clue and wouldn't blame her anyway. She was managing to actually treat this as a rather exotic adventure instead of a punishment or penance.

"There might be a way to force it to be a Roman keyboard layout, if we get lucky pressing buttons."

Unhayt gingerly touched one of the keys near the edges. "Drat, it's just cycling through hundreds of different characters."

Suddenly, as if by magic, the characters on the screen shifted into more gibberish. Still unreadable, but this was progress!

Meanwhile, Simon walked down a nearby nondescript hallway, light bouncing off the oddly polished steel.

"Boy, whoever they were, they had the flair for decor. All this polished steel! Woo! Wait, what's this (http://homepage.mac.com/ambrosia512/mp130.jpg)?"

Simon bent down to pick it up, noticing how thin it was compared to its length. He tapped with his finger in all the places he thought might be buttons but failed to activate it in any way.

"Maybe it needs to be plugged into something else for it to work... Maybe this is just a module for some universal device! I bet that's what it is!"

Skeeh glances over at the strange pad, and looks at his forearm-part of his TacSoft armor. "Hrrrmmmm....if it has a compatible AC port, you may be able to jump-start it with power from my armor." He flips open the panel on his forearm, revealing several buttons, a diagnostic display, and several in/out jacks. The inside of the panel sports several thin cables strapped to the panel casing.

Removing one of the thinner cables from the panel, he plugs it into his forearm, holding the other end out. The technician approaches, and inspects the device visually. "Human language, it appears. Should be compatible, but i'll not hedge bets."

"See if you notice any symbols remain constant or at least similar," Kolian advises Uhayt, while sitting on the floor nearby and tinkering with what look to be a pair of thin goggles. "That might be a key to start or stop the shifting of the symbol - or maybe a spacebar or enter key, which might also be useful. Igor, the micrometer tweezers, please. You're probably right about the reason for the shifting ability - you could have a wide variety of language sets so that crew from different language groups wouldn't have to learn a new language to operate the controls. Flux differentiator, Igor. All you'd need would be a few universal keys that everyone would learn to use to set the language. "

"No, but from what I can see, there are only about twelve different patterns before the cycle repeats. I wonder what it takes to keep it locked on one set. Especially if I can lock it on the Roman set; that'd be a big help."

She started pressing keys and they stayed on a set that was unfamiliar. However, they locked into that set, which was some progress. As soon as she stopped pressing keys, though, they began cycling again. But there was another interesting pattern. When it was locked on a set, the screen shifted characters, to distinctly different ones. When it began cycling, they shifted back. She locked onto a second set, and the characters on the screen shifted into a second pattern.

"Interesting. It could be some form of translator, too. The OS might switch languages based on what set you stop on."

Unhayt managed to stop on the Roman set, however, this was not the blessing it might have been. The gibberish just shifted into purely Roman gibberish. It was all Greek to them. She kept typing, but no characters registered on the screen. She tried the key marked "clear" and was greeted with a login prompt and password prompt.

"Do we have a hacker in the house?"

"Nope, but I think I know someone who is," drawls Kolian without even turning from his work to look. "Igor, see if there's some kind of access port for that thing, and plug in one of our interface units. We can let the our ships' EIs do the fiddly computer bits. After all, they do live in c-space and think a bajillion times faster than us squishy types."

"Yeth, thir." Anything that looks like an access panel is opened until a likely port is found, at which point a variable adaptor is used to hook up a QE comms unit, which itself is linked back to Little Rascal, and from there to the other ships.

'Well, well, what have we here,' thinks the EI aboard Rascal on the fleetcomms link to the other ships' EIs.

Dekker waited patiently out of the way of the tech teams. Electronics wheren't something he had great familiarity with. His two team-mates, which he'd already forgotten their names, stood nearby engaged in a hushed conversation...

"We're in!"

http://homepage.mac.com/ambrosia512/IPII/term09.jpg
"It's broken!" She trailed off. She hit a key and the warning disappeared. "Hurrah! We're in!

http://homepage.mac.com/ambrosia512/IPII/term13.jpg

"Man alive..." What antenna? What processes? She typed Yes and promptly a video displayed. It was full of static, but a faint mumbling could be heard. Something pages and books, continuing on to something about invaders and breaching pods.

"Can't hold ... above water ... suited men, like in a movie ... pods rammed us ... thieves ... caught in a fog ..." was what could be heard above the static and other loud noises of metal impacting metal.

The static message just keep looping over and over.

"Well, that can't be a good sign."

No, no that can't be a good sign. They'll know about it sooner or later. They'll find out. I should just confess now.

Kolian pauses at his work as the first loop plays out, then leaps up and heads for the console. "Now that's certainly ominous. Hmmm, interesting. I can see that text. I wonder if the fact that its red rather than the same color as the keys has any significance. Anyways, it looks like either the signal or the data storage is corrupted. Could be due to the age of the ship. Try entering a command like 'list' or the like. Maybe we can find a date stamp or get a list of files."

The four guards spread out securing the immediate area while four more cycle in through the airlock. "Guess we didn't need to blast this time." "Yeah, too bad, it's always fun." Once they have convinced themselves that nothing is about to jump out and kill them, six set up a permimeter while the other two watch the procedings on the terminal (IR HUD assisting, but not nearly as good as having it naturally).

"Hmm, hit is circolwyrde. Ic gruncie hit nit."
"Freond, gearwe þin hæfþ circowyrde ond nabbende, wilt asweltan."
"Ic nu gen gruncie hit nit."

While one of the two just watches, the other keeps his cross-bow leveled at the terminal.

Dekker shifts his M4 to a more comfortable position...

"Ya tried kicking it?"

He asks, only half-joking...

Unhayt kept prodding at the keyboard, rattling off all the commands from every command line system she could remember.

Not "list", "ls", "pwd", "dir" ... none of these...

A low pitched groan could be heard and suddenly the screen flashed a new message.

http://homepage.mac.com/ambrosia512/IPII/term15.jpg

"Uh, what the crap? Did I call up some text file? Either I'm missing something or this system isn't very friendly to outsiders."

The Trooper takes a peek at the message, and flutters his second set of eyelids a touch. "What in the Pits ..... Is this riddle time?"

The pair of techs look over, and seem to scratch their heads. Tympanum waver for a time as they look about. "Not so much a riddle....perhaps an omen? Or a warning? Ominous sounding. either way."

Several loud pops could be audibly heard. Pops and cracks, almost like some electrical device was shorting out or some lightening machine was running at a full load. The lights dimmed momentarily; the screen flicked completely off for several seconds. When it returned, it had changed yet again.

http://homepage.mac.com/ambrosia512/IPII/2/term01.jpg

"This is certainly a bad thing. I'm beginning to worry. Something does not want us here."

"You think so?" Skeeh sounds mock-incredulous. "Whatever is controlling the station is obviously malevolent. A rogue AI perhaps. I suggest we prepare for environmental controls to cease pumping oxygen, foul smelling it may be. If you have encounter suits of some fashion, I would suggest activating them. My suit's sensors will detect changes in atmosphere."

AT this, Skeeh slides his helmet visor down. The techs, meanwhile, gibber to each other in some strange techno-speak. "If there's a rampant AI here, i'd like a chance to study it a moment. Perhaps it could be valuable infi gained."

"'You must die! Suffocated. die.' Nah, that's not the least bit ominous." This statement doesn't stop Kolian from sealing his suit helmet. "Has anyone spotted any securcams or other sensors?"

Dekker shakes his head, he had no trust for anything mechanical capable of concious thought... Either he'd seen the 'Matrix' one too many times or he had a firm belief that something shouldn't be smarter than the things that created it...

"Or it could zap us to Hell & back... If you're gonna screw around with it I'll stand over here."

The mercenary takes several steps away from the console, nearly backing into the far wall...

The two Beaducafas watching the terminal visibly pale and quickly communicate the status to the others. "Dammit, I don't like computers."

"Ok, guys. Situation has gone from neutral to potentially hostile. I want this area secured. If it looks like a weapon, let me know and see about destroying it. If it looks like a sensor or a camera, the same thing applies. I don't want anything or anyone not from our party approaching us without permission. Oh, fortunately the threat appears to have a taste for good poetry. Thank God for life's little blessings."

I better just say this now. If I tell them all I know now, it might save us from complications later.

"Uh, guys? I have a confession to make."

Unhayt swallowed audibly, a single bead of sweat emerged from her blue forehead to drip down her nose.

"You see, I partly know what's going on. You see, there was a race called the Pithians, long ago. They lived on the island that Imnsvale currently inhabits."

Seeing the faces on the other crew members, she elaborates.

"We Seldane have been on Earth for far longer than you humans. We were confined to our island after the Rule of the Tyrants. We lived there with the Pithians and a few other ancient races that are of lesser importance. Anyway, a cataclysmic natural disaster occurred and we blamed it on the Pithians because they were an easy scapegoat at the time. We exiled them. To space."

Again seeing the faces on the crew members, she almost has the urge to laugh nervously.

"Yes, we had such technology. Basically, it was like this. We were formed. We developed technology akin to what we see today, some of it more advanced. Unfortunately, a combination of many political factors and the rise of other races, like human, contributed to the collapse of our society. We still have some ancient records, but many were lost when we migrated to the surface."

She relaxes somewhat, seeing their reactions were not hostile. After a short pause to allow them to take all of this in, she continues.

"So, we built them a spacecraft and shot them into space. We gave them plenty of supplies and food. After a period of several hundred years, with intermittent contact in between, we found it within ourselves to try and make peace; bury the hatchet, if you will. Unfortunately, we were already on our decline at that point and our industrial base had collapsed to the point where space travel was no longer possible. I'm quite sorry for not telling you all this earlier. This sort of knowledge is only known to the fewest of Seldane scholars. However, I do ask you that you not tell anyone about this on our return to Earth, we Seldane are in poor enough shape as it is without digging up old dirt."

Phew, I feel better now that I've confessed.

She taps at the keyboard more as the other crew members just stand there, stunned. Jason begins to blink nervously and Oscar mumbles somewhat. Yet again, the tapping produced an unintended result. Or the typing had no effect and it was coincidental this whole time; its difficult to say.

http://homepage.mac.com/ambrosia512/IPII/term08.jpg

"You know, now I'm really worried."

The techs look at each other with an expression (if you can read reptilian expressions) of What does this have to do with the price of tea in the Black Swamp?

Skeeh, however, does not catch this. "So are you saying that these Pithians may be behind what happened here? Perhaps more of an explanation how this might be pertinent to our situation ....what do you mean you're really worried?" His helmet cocks to the side almost comically.

"Oh no. I'm sorry, I should have been more clear. I'm saying the Pithians built this station. I can see it in the architecture and one of the character sets on the keyboard confirmed it."

She pauses momentarily, "And I'm worried because someone or something doesn't want us here and is still alive to stop us."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," says Kolian, holding up his hands. "So you're saying that this place was built by a race that could, possibly with good reason, bear a grudge against your people, and possibly humans as well? This, in addition to how it may have an EI that is a: senile, b: gone feral, c: programed by said people with a grudge and could very well hate us even if sane, or d: all of the above?"

He runs a hand through his hair. "For the moment, I'm going to suggest that we not ask our respective shipboard EIs to try any exploration of the computer system until we have more information. We don't want to attract any more attention or give away a possible surprise advantage. Maybe we should try to find an actual computer or control center, crew quarters, power center, or something like that. In fact, I wonder if this console can get a map to go along with the ominous threats."

"Well, they probably wouldn't bear a grudge against humans, remember, humans weren't around. But effectively, yes."

She blinked and faltered in her balance as she realized the gravity of the situation.

"But then where are they? Why are they all gone? Where did they go? There's no one actively here that really knows we're here, with the possible exception of this AI here. Maps would indeed be good, but I can't even get this computer to even follow my keystrokes. We should press on; we aren't accomplishing anything by hanging about in here."

Jason, the actual leader of this expedition, didn't seem to mind. Jason wasn't much of a leader to begin with and he though Unhayt was more knowledgeable. They exited the antechamber that they were standing in and entered the station proper. The antechamber connected the hydroponics bays and the station proper, it was generally used for tools storage and such. Entering the station proper was quite the shock, however. It was like a warm office building. stainless steel walls and floors with a few harsh lights gave way to tiled floors and wallboard, with lots of warm lighting fixtures. Some carpet could even be made out in the distance.

"Well, I deem this far more pleasant."

"Well, there's no obvious signs of any external violence, and the station is still operational, indicating there wasn't any kind of evacuation to a planet or somehting. The place is large enough that we may just not have seen them yet," remarks Kolian. "Of course, its also possible that the EI killed the inhabitants and used their bodies for fertilizer for the plants, or stuffed their sliced-up remains down the toilets, or into a CHON feed, or..."

Kolian stops talking, deciding that he didn't want to depress himself any further. He points over towards the other section, and says, "I'll just go follow Jason. Maybe there's a map in the public area. Come, Igor!"

Dekker & his squadmates followed at a safe (he thought) distance between the groups... The hair on the back of his neck stood up, something wasn't right. All this talk of AI's, EI's and bygone races had confused him to a point where he trusted no one, save the two unlucky bastards with him, and then only as far as he could throw them...

http://homepage.mac.com/ambrosia512/IPII/map.jpg
They stumbled upon a map posted on a wall plaque. It radiated light, almost as if it was a computer screen.

"Well, this is somewhat helpful, is someone good at mazes?"

Then, just as suddenly, all of the lines on the screen melted into another formation.

http://homepage.mac.com/ambrosia512/IPII/map2.jpg

"Yeah, someone wants to keep us here. They're playing games with us, like rats in a maze." She no sooner finishes her sentence when a small piece of paper flutters down from the ceiling.


Find the right way down through the maze, to the food, then find the exit. Push the exit button. If the food tastes awful, don’t eat it, go back and try another way.

"Great, a maze," says Kolian, rolling his eyes. "This is exactly what happens when you leave an EI alone for too long with nothing better to do. Well, I suppose its a way to spend the time until it tries to kill us. Who knows, maybe we'll find something interesting." He takes a picture of the image currently on the 'map', and loads it onto his visual augments' HUD. "We can do this the old-fashioned way, too. Igor, fetch some woven monofilament line. Something thick enough that it won't cut through something important, like me, but strong enough it won't get cut my any kind of moving walls or similar crap."

While waiting for his minion to return from the ridership, Kolian makes a show of checking his flashlight laser and the needle pistol and variable sword at his side. "Just in case we run into the minotaur," he says to Jason. "Feel like coming with me?"

Dekker's expression melted into a frown...

"I don't know about ya'll, but I ain't eating any damn thing we find on this heap. I say we look for another way, instead of wandering through this sick science fair bullshit."

His right index finger slid into the trigger guard of his M4. This was past weird, bordering on freaky...

"Eat? I won't be eating anything, not until I run it through a survival kit's field edibility tester first," replied Kolian slowly, as if explaining something to a child. "You are right, though, I'm sure there's other things to explore that are less maze-ish. Perhaps one of the other scientists has something for you to help them explore."

Dekker's expression didn't brighten any...

"Fuck that... I didn't come here to explore. I came to find out what happened to those folks. Let the eggheads do the exploring, and I'll cap stuff where needed."

"Exploration, recon, whatever you want to call it. Go out, wander around, don't get lost, try not to die without at least leaving a clue as to what got you. Something along the lines of 'arrrgh, the robots killed me!' will do nicely."

From behind Kolian, Igor says, "I have the filament lineth, thirth. Ith there anything elth?"

"Ah, excellent. Find some firm-looking bulkhead to attach the end to, and I'll take the spool. How long is it?"

"Five kilometerth, thir."

"It'll do, I think. If not, we can have longer spools sent over. Besides, even without the string we can make a map as we go through."

The nearby bare wall slowly parted into four quadrants, each retracting into a corner. Lights in the newly revealed hallway slowly flickered into existence with the audible *plink* that old-timey fluorescent lights make. As the hallway brightened, a dead-end in the distance could be seen, with several hallways fragmenting off into the inky blackness. The hallways themselves were wholly unremarkable, however, there were strange cuts on the railings lining the right side of the hallway and scuff marks on the wall, as if someone used some steel wool a little too vigorously.

"Anyone have a better idea than just to dive in? And did you find a suitable place to tie that cord to?"

Jiggs Casey fled down the hallway and salivated at the aforementioned strange cuts.

"This means something IS alive! And it thirsts for meat! And that means the smell of death can't be far off!" His abrupt cackling wasn't helping matters.

While Igor uses a hull-bonding adhesive to attach one end of the line to the floor, Kolian stares down the hall after Casey. He then turns to Jason. "Just out of curiosity, did you happen to do any psych screenings on your crew?"

Jason whispered back, "He seemed fine when we left. We think he went stir crazy during the voyage."

Dekker made a quick, deft handsignal. Defined by standard military handbooks as 'eyes-on', or simply 'watch the motherf**ker'. Crazy scientists where never something to take lightly. One of his now-nameless companions nodded an afirmative...

"Any blood?"

Where there was blood, there was usually something that left it there. Without any bone fragments or bloodstains, the marks could have simply been the result of a repair mishap. Dekker doubted this severely, but it was still possible...

"Lead on... I may actually do something useful on this intergalatic picnic..."

"Huh. Maybe the ship's psych should take a look at him once we get back," Kolian whispers back. Then, more loudly, he says, "Well, let's follow him before he gets lost. Hmm...I think we want the first right..." He sets off down the hallway with the spool clipped to his belt and wire trailing behind him while calling Casey back to join the group.