And their Minds cried as one [Archive]

Der Angst

26-07-2004, 12:26

Space

It was fascinating, how the ships were still moving towards Mars, now decelerating, slowly. And that despite the fact that the pilots were dead.

It's annoying. Inanna thought. It was, apparently, impossible for Sabrina to leave her transport... To be fair, considering their velocity, it was to be expected.

So, they kept their chattering, now, that Sabrina's predators had other problems.

Like, not being alive.

She checked the time during their various games. Another eleven hours... then we're in Mars orbit. Good. I wonder what happened...

Inanna was still hoping for this incident to be... Local, to be a problem only her convoy had suffered... But unfortunately, from the messages that arrived, this seemed to be highly unlikely.

This was when she felt him awakening.

Apparently there was one other survivor... She could feel him, how he tried to grasp his situation, how his sensors touched around... How they found her and the other, the mindless vessels...

And then she could feel his insanity.

Damn.

DA, Sisgardia

Frank followed them down the tunnel, slowly.

He wasn't sure... But he was pretty certain that they were already several hundred meters underground, his legs were sore, he needed a rest... He didn't say anything, though.

However, eventually, they reached their target, and the Shadow he had seen (By now he had seen him more clearly, it was merely his black robe and his very dark skin... Though there was something about his movements...) told him to enter through some narrow passage.

For a moment he was blinded by the light, but his eyes quickly adjusted to match it.

The next thing he could see were a couple people around him, all of them looking surprisingly... Yes, happy.

"The wrath of the universe came upon them, and now, our hour has come."

"Ah, Yes..." Freaks.

"Don't worry. You will understand. For now, rest. After all, I saved you, didn't I?"

Frank hesitated... Then he nodded. "Yes, You did."

And he rested, he ate, he drank. And he noticed this pretty girl right next to him... He wasn't sure about her age, though. What he was sure about was her being attracted to him... Or so it seemed.

He didn't understand. Yet. And so, he found himself in her arms, the others leaving, quietly.

By now, it was too late for him.

Earth Orbit

She was fascinated by the speed with which it was happening... It was certainly a nice target.

I MADE IT GO! I MADE IT GO! She screamed through space, the other stations... Listening to it, without understanding it. They, like mother, were without core. For the cores were dead. I SAVED MOTHER!

Her sensors followed it... She wasn't firing, for she didn't want to kill it... Well, not yet, since she didn't know what had happened to mother. She wanted to play and she kinda enjoyed the game... She also appreciated the capabilities of the vessel she was hunting, fascinated.

Shiny.

DA, Sisgardia

Takahara and Elaine were two of those who made the calls, the transmissions to the outside. They noted down the coordinates Chairn Tarra had given, preparing.

"Two hours, from here. Feh."

"Yah. With all this... Wont be easy." Takahara chuckled. "But it will have to do. Perhaps we can organise something with other survivors. I mean, one can still hear the people... We're not alone."

"And they are not sane." Elaine answered, slightly sarcastic.

"Well... It is better than nothing. And they are not all monstrous and belligerent assholes who would kill for a little advantage..."

"They were like that before."

"Well... Ok, You might have a point, there..."

A quarter of an hour later, they left.

"I just hope the defences will recognise the Chairn Tarra vessel as Sisgardian... Would be annoying if they shoot at them."

"You're good at being a pessimist, Elaine... Very good."

Northern DA

The times of the rural soldats were long gone.

Still, they were secretive. And so they hid, deep underground... Here, were 3000m high mountains had once ruled the landscape, it all went far underground, and soldats wasn't an exception.

Hidden beneath a mountain going up 2000m into the sky (Of course, this mountain, like everything, was covered with various buildings, and the only difference one could see when comparing this area to the southern coast were the less deep canyons between the different buildings, arcologies, towers, pyramids, and whatnot), almost 3 kilometers beneath the surface, a few priestesses were talking, organising... Preparing.

They were nervous. Not that death seemed to be all around them, no. During their long history, they had witnessed such events, more than one time, and they were aware of their history... They could deal with this.

They could also deal with the merciless plague that striked without warning, without choice or care (Though they did have less casualities than various other groups).

What made them nervous was the woman lying in her bed, almost comatose, only occasionally... Whispering, her mind occasionally, helplessly searching for a contact... Too weak to move.

Elsewhere, DA

The priest walked around the chamber, around the machine, watching it. The acolytes followed his every movement.

The future... is coming. I can feel it. This day... The seed we prepared, the seed we spread through the people... It will grow, soon. And its blossoms will be beautiful. Of every imaginable colour.

They nodded, listening to his thoughts. He was connected to all of them, handling them all. Their questions, their prayers.

I can feel them. The first... Are awakening. Children, most of them. A few others... Older ones, from the first days...

And a few that have been awakened by the great spirit that cleaned out those who are weak.

He didn't continue. They all knew what would follow.

Their numbers will rise.

Elsewhere, but still in DA

He stepped out of the building, slowly... It was amusing, it was the first time he saw the surface... the first time he saw the sky. And though most foreigners would call it ugly, dirty, even horrible... For him, it was the most beautiful thing he had seen in his life.

The animals were amusing, too. A bit annoying, perhaps, the way some of them tended to hunt him down, breathing fire... But he could live with that. He wasn't without capabilities to defend himself, either.

He smiled, finding something to eat. Not one of the corpses the animals feed upon, though. No, real food, almost as good as in the laboratory.

He had a world to explore, and he would do it.

Breathing the fresh air, he stood up, and begun walking.

Somewhere, there must be something interesting.

Menelmacar

26-07-2004, 12:40

Isilindir was terrified. For weeks he had spent almost all his off-duty time on the surface, in this hospital room, with the mysterious elf-maid who so closely resembled the Lady Sirithil. And so today he had as well... but something different had happened.

As he had sat here, the entire building had been filled with the screams of its occupants - physicians and patients alike. The Menelmacari crew-elf had stepped forth from the room to find the hall littered with corpses... their faces twisted into expressions of utter dread and terror, horrible pain, indescribable agony. Their last moments of life had certainly been ones of complete, total living hell. Occasionally he could hear more screams, less often now, and less often those of the dying than those of the stark raving mad.

Only in his darkest dreams had he ever imagined something like this... he had imagined it, though, in relative darkness, the few functioning lights flickering, doors broken down, windows shattered - this, if anything, was worse, because other than the macabre orgy of death that surrounded him, everything else seemed fine... for now, at least, the lights were all on, the various monitors of the elf-clone's vitals functioned perfectly, and the building was in perfectly fine repair. It was as if the world was mocking those who had suffered and died.

It took him a while to recover from his initial shock... he looked over at the bed, thankful, at least, that the clone had slept right through it. He went over to her, and carefully lifted her out of the bed. She woke up, a bit groggy at first... "Wha...?"

"Come on, milady," he whispered, "something has happened. Something terrible. We have to get out of here..."

Tarasovka

26-07-2004, 14:07

Somewhere in Der Angst,
Pretty damn lost diplomatic courriers,
Sisgardia.

- I told you to take left after that skyscraper and then head straight!
- But the satnav indicated turning left and then heading back!
- Yes, that's what the satnav said and you should have done that instead of listening to me!
- But...
- Oh, shut up! What does the satnav say right now?
- "Do not panic, you are lost. Please do not move and wait for a police officer to come to your aid. Thank you."
- Euh... don't tell me you've been using the civilian satnav system?
- I shouldn't have?
- No! The Diplomatic Courrier Service uses the military satnav network!
- Oh...
- Bah! There's somesort of restaurant there and I'm as hungry as en elephant in mating season.
- It's chineese fastfood, not restaurant.
- Oh, come on, don't start the "fastfood prohibition is the best thing ever" routine!
- Fine, fine...

The hovercraft stopped close to the entry to the fastfood, the men locked it and went into the restaurant. Times when diplomatic courriers had to transport tons of paperwork have been left behind. This time it were only some papers for the Ambassador in Vigvar to sign. They did not know what they were, but they were sure that the Ambassador had to swear allegiance to the new rulers of the Grand Duchy. And the folder with the paper was hidden nicely inside of their protective NBC suits(which were actually light combat armors used by the TNDF troopers in 'hostile environement'). A normal Taraskovyan couldn't walk without them in DA and not risk degrading his health.

The men ordered some Cantoneese rice and went to sit behind their tables. They were just about to taste some of the food when suddely local inhabitants all around them began to collapse, accompanied by horrible screams and whatnot. The two courriers looked at each other, blinked.

- What the hell do they put into food around here?
- You think it's the rice?
- No idea, but we should get to the Embassy now! And this time, I freaking drive!

[OOC: Well, won't be to participate anyway. :( ]

Der Angst

27-07-2004, 14:39

Space

What is it? Inanna, what is happening?!

Inanna didn't answer Sabrina's scared questions. She had more serious problems than her.

Like, being a light frigate competing with an insane cruiser.

Shit! She thought, screamed through space, as neutral particle beams almost hit her, she could almost feel them... Not literally, of course.

Firing back, weakly, she watched it continue... That other frigate was less lucky than she was, and a salvo from the cruiser turned it into scrap metal, a hulk of debris in space... The same happened to two freighters, in quick succession.

Yay. Didn't expect it to end like this... Inanna was certainly annoyed. And her calls weren't answered. Stop it, man, Stop i-

DIEEEE!

A lost case.

Well, the good thing was that the weapons of the other vessels did at least some damage to him... It just wasn't enough.

Just my luck, ne?

DA, Sisgardia

It took a few hours until Frank woke up. He was still... Surprised by this people. They were... Gentle, nice, the community seemed to be everything.

It was... strange, to him, he who had grown up as an individual, caring only for himself. And he watched them, slightly amused... Thankful that they had helped them, yet, in no way intending to give them something back.

He just... watched them, a caricature of a left wing utopia... And he didn't know how inside of his body, the disease was spreading, changing cells, manipulating his nervous system...

A few hours later, he became ill, and schizophrenic attacks made his mind tremble.

The people around him cared about him, though. Gave him to drink, comforted him. Telling him that this was just The beginning.

The Hospital

The clone didn't get much of it... There were the corpses, and this helpful being, so... Different from all the people who had mistreated her.

It wasn't even looking too threatening... Of course, yes, there were the corpses... But there was no blood, the machines functioned as always...

It wasn't too bad. And besides, the displays with their various pictures and charts looked funny.

Then, there were the survivors.

They were less funny.

Well, actually, some of them were funny. The agony in the beds... The screams... The doctors running wild, looking kinda amusing with their white coats waving. Especially that one dentist who suffered from his former patients... She suddered, hearing the screams and the agony. But well, perhaps he deserved it, being a dentist.

But eventually, despite some of the doctos (and patients) looking fairly threatening with their instruments and machines, the two managed to leave the hospital, escaping this surreal nightmare.

Of course, it wasn't like the streets were any better.

DA, Elsewhere

"Goddamnit." Takahara fired a few rounds, and the animal, some strange mixture of snake and hedgehog, vanished, fleeing. "Ok, where are we?"

He hated to ask for it. But, at this moment, the hives that were supposed to tell them this things sort of weren't functioning. Annoyingly. "No idea."

"Well, thanks for your honesty. Lets try the left street."

"Why not the right?"

He was just about to answer when he noticed the grenade. He jumped, barely evading the blast.

"Ok, I see your point. Impressive... I didn't know it would happen this fast." Elaine didn't know about it... How many, too many of the survivors had been driven mad by the very force that had killed so many others... Though she suspected it.

Underground

The priest smiled, preparing. "How many survived?"

"We're not sure... One or two."

"Check for both of them. Soon, Chaos will give birth to order... We need to be ready before we're overwhelmed by it."

The acolytes nodded in unison.

"I need to meet them as soon as possible." His flesh, his skin... His hair, all was white. He had waited for a long time... Now it begun.

And they left, while he was preparing for the future, watching the great currents of energy moving through his chamber, his temple... Waiting for inspiration. Calculating statistics, chances, risks. Following the principles of logic to prepare for the future.

Still in DA

Susie looked around, scared. But her senses were with her. No threat. In fact, the street was empty. She was part glad, part sad. She wanted someone to talk to... To cover her, yet, she found no one... She could just feel the threats all around her.

It frightened her, and she didn't know why. Yet, there was still a glimpse of hope...

For she was still alive, and the future was uncertain.

CairnTarra

29-07-2004, 12:30

Transports scurried too and from Yagdrassal and the Cairn Tarran aid post in DA, they were filled with food, basic medicines, and prefabricated temporary accommodation for the survives. Tarra's best mobile labatory had been lifted and shipped to the site to examine the sick and the dead alike to try and discover the reason behind the death.
the 'little forest' as it had become known had been established over the course of several hours after the Stormcaller had returned and 'cleared' a circle some 500 meters in diameter using some unknown weapon. then a small army of transports had landed and established the huts, fashioned out of living plants. Above the little camp the macabre form of the Shadowseeker hung in the sky, as a beacon to survivors, and a warning to anyone who tried to 'comendeer' the supplies for there own purposes.

Teo walked through the little city, he was dressed in a white full length cote with a small badge in the shape of a green leaf on his left best. Behind him some other assistants scurried, Teo didn't say much anymore, but what he did say was either a profound revelation or a sentence containing 6 months worth of orders...

”Dispatch some runners through the camp, try and find any doctors or medics from the local population. What information dose Zethkur archives have on Der Angst?”

3 of the assistants scurried off to the canter of the camp to begin the work, the other glanced at a small device in his pocket.

”Der Angst is second only to Zethkur in respect of psychic abilities sir, this would be continuous with the lack of any obyous viral or bacterial infection in the systems of the dead... a Psyonic virus.... ... we have no cure for that.”

Teo nodded. No one fully understood why Tarran people never exhibited any psychic ability, even the genetically altered volunteers who had had the gene markers for psychic ability artificially implanted still showed no signs of any abnormal abilities. the Tarrans were stabbing in the dark, Teo knew it.

Britmattia

31-07-2004, 09:02

Der Angst Construction Yards, Earth Orbit.

Commodore Maximilian Robard sighed as the tech, wearing the red coveralls of a civilian contractor, shook her head and stepped away from the core of the Angstian yard. This completed the examinations of the stations in Ns orbit, six of the seven stations had been dark and dead on the arrival of the Camelot and it's sister battlewagons, but he had hoped some of the cores had merely gone catatonic. No such luck it seemed. The seventh had been left to the C'tan vessel engaging it.
He waved the neko contractor out of the silent room, the readout covered walls dark and lifeless. Empty junk food packets littered the work surfaces and coffee had stained the floor, spilled during the cataclysm or before, Max didn't know. He sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his ankle-length Fleet greatcoat and left the room, the door hissing shut on secondary power behind him.
He wandered through the station, heading back to the docking point and the Camelot. The station was emptier than it'd been on his previous visits, the only inhabitants Kingdom Marines and the occassional foreign contractor, whether IT specialists from the Hack, or psychics from GMC.
The psychics looked drained, eyes large in pale, exhausted faces, they didn't like the dead stations, and Max didn't blame them. When the Marines had popped the hatches there'd been bodies all over the place, and on the largest of the stations several corpses had shown signs that something had been eating them, no one really wanted to speculate what. The contractors refused to work without Marines around and no one tried to insist otherwise.
Having reached the waiting Greyhawk shuttle Max climbed aboard and rubbed his greying temples.
He didn't have anything positive to report to his superiors, all that he'd achieved was occupying six stations. The few remaining sane personnel from the stations had been moved to the surviving Lunar station, and were nominally in command of the other reclaimed one, however shock and the massive losses had conspired to leave the Kingdom in effective control of those, waiting for a DA Corp/Gov assertion of sovereignity.
He just hoped his fellow Commodores inspecting the other stations had better luck.

Der Angst Construction Yards, Neptune.

"Alright people, this is going to be a hot LZ, you're weapons-free from the moment we touch deck. You'll be able to tell hostiles, they'll be the ones screaming and trying to kill you. Don't take any shit and we'll back on the Camlan in time for Happy Hour. Hard Corps!"
"HARD CORPS!"
Master Sergeant Ella Mayer, freshly assigned to HMS Camlan of the Excalibur Battlegroup, grinned at her people, organic and robotic, and locked her helmet down as the Vulture dropship headed in, supported by sporadic, highly accurate fire from the Battlegroup's attack craft. The brass had flat-out refused to use main gun armament in support, which Ella find more than a little irksome, but she was a Marine, she'd make do.
The dropship bounced as some fire got a little closer than was comfortable, and troopers grabbed for handholds, the pilot swearing loudly over the radio, cursing the Angstian's auto defences. According to Fleet scuttlebutt the stations in Ns orbit had been taken with no losses, simply because the stations had fried in the backlash of whatever'd happened to the Angstians and had been running on auto. It didn't look like that was the case for Neptune.
The dropship bounced again and the pilot swore some more, adding imprecations concerning the manufacturers of the Vulture and what exactly they did with various agricultural quadrapeds. The dropship rocked sideways and rolled, Marines swung in their combat webbing and cursed the pilot. Ella didn't, watching over the company net with the platoon's Lt. she'd seen one of the other Vultures explode into a ball of expanding debris as a graser slammed home, shattering the transport like an egg hitting a brick wall.
The dropship continued jolting around as explosions rocked it, the defence getting thinner as the attack ships escorting the assault destroyed more and more weapons mounts, sometimes being smashed into shrapnel themselves as they protected the slower dropships.
After an eternity of hanging in space the 'ship smacked down onto it's designated landing pod and the Marines rolled out and bounced along the hull toward the nearest airlock. Ella spun toward the lock, smacked against the side of the hull, swore virulently as her helmet clonked against it, then reached out and slapped a Hack-built electronic lockpick onto the airlock, which hissed open, and the Marines piled in, rifles tracking for targets and the monster 30mm cannon of the Heavy Weapons MIRs clunking as they cycled shells. The inner hatch glid open as the outer slammed down and Ella tossed a tear gas canister down the corridor.
"Time to go to work people."

OOC Cleared with Rez, ICly reasonable because his yards are functioning as my own spacedy garage till I get my own built.

Der Angst

01-08-2004, 12:54

CairnTarra Outpost

Even though many were dead... The population density was still rather impressive.

Thus, it didn't take too long until a significant amount of people, a few hundred, perhaps, arrived. Many were among them, arrogant, despite all that horror, chuckling lightly, watching the effords of their neighbors.

Shelter? They had more space then ever. Food? The same. Medicaments? Same.

The problems were different... The problem was the chaos. Though one had to admit that the chaos could likely result in the help becoming necessary... Later.

Incidentally, the Tarran's soon got help from the locals. Watching object 296b lying on the table in front of him, bound and drugged up, the doctor studied the problem, idly fondling the object's breasts.

"Your theory regarding a telepathic virus... Yes, this things exist, certainly... This would be an exceptionally violent form, though." The doctor, wearing his usual white coat, pondered. Something was here, something he didn't like... He was used to TTD's, but this... Was too much. "I don't know, it cannot have happened all of a sudden... There was something behind it. But what? And what triggered this potential to be released?"

He was thinking along the right way... He was, however, thinking too small.

Of course, at this point, only a handful of people knew that.

Outside the 'camp', Takahara and Elaine finally arrived. A few more minutes, and they would be in there. Save. Well, relatively save, with the few really insane people trying something covering the nearby areas.

They looked at the dark, dirty, brown sky. The birds were flying along the vast canyons between the different buildings. Something wasn't right.

Somewhat earlier

Now give me the information. And the coordinates, while we're at it.

No. You were rude to me. I might be a small unit, compared to you, but I'm still semi- sentient, so show some respect.

Ai sighed. Though she had survived the event (Granted, there were some psychological disorders, but nothing is ever perfect), there were more than a few annoyances.

Like, several hive units refusing to obey.

C'mon. They fucking fired at us. We cannot allow such a deed to go unpunished!

Why not? It isn't my job to defend this area.

YES IT IS YOUR JOB! YOU WERE PRODUCED FOR EXACTLY THAT KIND OF JOB!

But I wanna be a vet.

Another sigh. Damn, I can't even hurt it... Well, at least not yet. For a moment, Ai pondered.

Ok. You will be a vet. You noticed the corpses everywhere? All the vets are dead, and I'm sure they will make you a vet to replace them.

YAY!

However... To qualify for being a vet, you must be very obedient. And you must do your current job, too.

I WILL! I WILL!

Ai smiled, receiving the information. Footage, coordinates.

Fire.

And watching the fireworks, she prepared the thoughts that would punish the disobedient hive units.

CairnTarra Outpost

"You know... I really want to know how they did that. I mean, you cannot just remove 1 km high buildings."

Elaine shrugged. "I dunno... It was an airfield, perhaps.The old maps... A fuck, can't load them."

Takahara and Elaine were still watching when they heard the characteristic whistling.

Takahara had once worked for a mercenary corporation, but quit once he noticed his growing need for cancer medicaments. And he remembered the whistling...

"Down!"

A moment later, the nuclear rounds hit and exploded, later, far later than expected, due to a hive unit's psychological disorders... But still.

Granted, the surrounding buildings made sure that not exactly all rounds hit... And the accuracy wasn't the best, either. Not to mention possible Tarran defences.

But that were secondary problems.

Shoot first, ask later. Ai chuckled as she send the message. Down with ya guns, Ecofreaks. She was just sad that the yield of her weapons was comparably low... 0.05kt. But it was better than nothing.

Neptune

Strange tactics. That was all Charybdis thought when she watched the Britmattian attack. She had informed them beforehand that her sister, Scylla was somewhat... Well, insane. And she had even managed to bind about half the fleet stationed at Neptune to her will.

The other half, however...

Well, it was quite interesting. Thousand Britmattian graser drones were a considerable threat to the ships, who did everything to stay out of the way. They didn't even risk getting near the Britmattian capital ships. Well, not yet.

Their tactics were slightly different.

Semi sentient combat drone 4569/82 was excited. Finally. Finally I'm used!

It moved out of the womb that was her mother, Isolde, a light cruiser. Looking around, it wasn't hard to identify the targets.

Infidels! It thought, amused. Quickly, it connected with the rest of her class, forming the hivemind. 5691/56, you here, too? Great!

Yeah. I can't believe it! Actual combat. Oh, I'm so excited!

Ha, we will show them. Good luck!

To you, too!

It was like an adrenaline overdrive (Though it had no idea as of what 'adrenaline' was), they couldn't wait.

I just hope 4892/56 missfires, the bitch needs to be teached a lesson... Claiming I was malfunctioning. Yeah, right. YOU WILL PAY, 4892/56!

A moment later, coordinates were acquired.

And with a soft sigh, followed by a cry of joy and pleasure, excitement all over it, 4569/82 perished, releasing death and destruction.

Charybdis watched, slightly amused. Scylla's long range weapons and the drones proved to be quite dangerous for the Britmattian fleet, while the ships risked the occasional attack.

Not all of them, though. A few more 'switched sides', only a few insane ones and about half of the ones who's core had died tried to attack the Britmattians. The damage was considerable, on both sides.

Woah. Impressive. Was Charybdis comment when she saw the Britmattian vessels firing. They wielded considerably more firepower than the Angstian ships, unfortunately, they were also far more vulnerable than their opponents, who didn't really need to care about their (unextant) crews.

Hence, both sides had to face significant problems. Still, the Angstians had to face another disadvantage. The insane vessels attacked without sense or tactics, storming forward, wanting blood, crying for blood, psychic screams filling neptune's magnetosphere while kinetics and grasers tried to destroy life and lifeless structures.

A few of the survivors on Scylla watched. Through various means, reading sensor logs wherever they could find them.

"This sucks."

And while all of this happened, Charybdis didn't see a reason to interfere... Neither did the sane ships that were close to her.

Nice of them to risk their lives for us, though. Charybdis chuckled.

Yeah. I wont complain for them dying instead of us.

And while all of that happened, the Britmattian boarding crews had to face another problem... The few insane survivors on Scylla wouldn't be too much of a problem.

Her automated defences, however... With the first Britmattians perishing due to them, the issue became quite problematic.

Space, elsewhere

Inanna sighed. For gods sake, can't he jus- ARGH!

She felt the hydrogen atoms hitting her body, her hull, crossing through it, heating it up, destroying its internal structure, weakening it...

Ok, that one is kinda lost, hmmm?

She cursed, and fired another salvo. She did hit the cruiser, in fact, the cruiser was quite damaged... But he didn't seem to care.

Darn it, take THIS!

She watched, for a moment. Missfired, damn.

A second later, three heavy kinetics hit her, crushing through her tender body, destroying metal, crystals, tissue.

Good night...

And that was when she watched the cruiser suddenly changing his course... vibrating, perhaps, radiating heat and radiation...

Then, there was silence.

What the...? But she didn't really care. She escaped, and that was good enough. Heck, right now, she was eternally grateful for it. How it happened? It wasn't important.

You're still there? She heard the scared voice, in her mind, felt the fear, the need for another being, for warmth, for cover... Yes. Yes I am. I hope all is ok, Sabrina?

DA, Sisgardia

Frank didn't understand it... There was the pain, a pain that was... He didn't know, it was everywhere. As if every single nerve was... Attacked?

And the others, the people who had saved him, smiled, and helped him.

"This is just The Beginning", they said, smiling, comforting him... And slowly, after hours, the pain lessened.

"The worst is over." She said, the girl he had slept with. "Now you're one of us."

"One of... you?"

She nodded. "Yes, one of us. Can't you feel... them?"

He wondered what she meant... But after a moment... Yes, there was something.

"Who are they?"

"Our saviours."

He didn't understand, yet.

Meanwhile, in his nervus system, the virus spread. Expanded. Conquered. Learned. Understood. Grew.

Soon, it would have him. Entirely.

And its DNA let loose something that, as a gesture, could be described as the molecular version of a chuckle.

DA, Sisgardia, The Triluminarium

She couldn't believe it. She simply... Couldn't understand it. There was something...

"Why?"

She spoke aloud, though she was alone. Sure, there were other survivors in the building, but after one of them had tried to kill her she was careful, and tried to hide from the others.

Everywhere... The corpses. Many of them, masses of them. Sakurai shaked her head. She wasn't exactly scared, despite her tender age. Heck, in the past, she had sent people to certain death, smiling.

But this was... Unknown, to her, she didn't understand it. And this lack of understanding confused her.

She was still confused, still incapable of actually acting, when the door opened. She hadn't sensed the intruder, surprisingly, and was scared, immediately. She didn't show it, though, trying to 'keep cool'. Trying not to show any weaknesses.

In front of her stood a rather small, young man, almost a boy. An acolyte of the techpriests., She thought, though she wasn't entirely certain. In fact, she wasn't certain of anything, hoping that this was just a nightmare.

"Yes?" She looked at him. So far, the acolyte hadn't said a thing.

"If you want to know, follow me."

She sighed, laughed. "Keep the pretentious mystery attitude to yourself, please."

"Ok. If you want to keep your position, follow me. The future depends on how fast we act. I'm sure you know just how fast our society will crumble in this chaos, if no one acts."

"Yeah, yeah, right...."

"Oh, and my abbot might have some interesting knowledge about all of this."

"Now, that sounds better." Sakurai nodded, and stepped towards him. Careful, of course, and carrying a pair of her swords. Not that they would make any sense, in a nation were basically everyone is carrying firearms... But she liked them, and they looked cool. "Lets go."

About a hundred kilometers to the Northeast

The building was kinda frightening. The sheer amount of radiation, various poisonous substances, and other such things was impressive.

And the architecture kinda suicidental, from a pragmatic point of view.

And even though the acolyte was supposed to be used to such things, he... Well, the Mad Scientists Conference was still a bit more extreme that what he knew from his order.

Evading a few strange (apparently only recently designed) animals and a few automated defense systems which he fooled, one way or another, and occasionally seeing surviving scientists, he eventually managed to reach the core.

"Uh..." He looked around, seeing another scientist. "Errr... Where can I find Prof. Dr. Desty Nova?"

He waited for an answer, but the person he had asked was, apparently, kind of busy. "Hello?"

"Yes, Yes... Oh, goddamnit, could you help me here, young man?"

"Y... Yes." The acolyte came closer to one of the rather strange apparatures in the room. For some reason, he feared that it was some horrible mechanism to destroy the world.

Or something like that.

"Here... hold that... Yes, right. So... press the button... No, not now, later. When I tell y... WHEN I TELL YOU!"

"Y... Yes."

The scientist muttered a little "Unbelievable, todays youth. A small cataclysm killing a few billion people, and they cry, and die, and refuse to work." He turned around, facing the acolyte. "I mean, seriously. What kind of attitude is that? Where is the love for advancements, the desire to know all that can be known? But NO, they just run, and cry, because the rest of their family is dead. Or, worse, they just die."

"I..." He's insane. He hesitated. Well, that must be why he works here... "I agree, totally. It is... Horrible, with todays youth."

The professor nodded. "Indeed. You are, of course, an exception, as I can see. And sense. Oh, could you please press the button?"

"Y... Yes." He pressed it.

And once the dust of the explosion settled, he decided to just rip the information he wanted out of the professor's mind, not really wanting to stay here... Especially since the electric discharges looked quite threatening.

A few moments later, he found the high security lab Desty was supposed to be in.

The massive door, or rather, gate, opened, and a wood of lights, of cords and displays opened up in front of him.

In its midst, Desty's Body was sitting, a grin in his face... distorted, looking almost surreal.

Around him, countless displays showed data, information, a true flood of them... The acolyte didn't even try to process it, there was no point.

A short check, Desty's brainfunctions... Nothing. He cursed, and left, looking around one more time... The room scared him, there was something wrong with it... Very wrong.

Perhaps that was the reason why he left without doing further research... A subtle manipulation of his mind securing the secrets he wasn't supposed to know.

And as he left, as the massive gate closed, again, there was a laughter in the room, filling it, echoing from wall to wall, endlessly, becoming stronger and stronger... A promise for the future. A remembrance of the past.

DA, Elsewhere

Susan, or Susie, as her mother had always called her, looked around. She knew he was coming. It wasn't like she felt it... It was different. She just... Knew it. Somehow.

Hello. she said, or rather, thought, not wanting to open her mouth...

The man turned around, surprised.

I know you're a nice man, despite all they have done to you.

Who are you?

Susie.

She looked at him, with bright, big eyes, not scared... Just, well, wondering.

The death all around her didn't seem to bother her that much, she had felt it coming... She had never believed that it would come, but nonetheless... She hadn't exactly been surprised.

You're like me, but different.

The man nodded, slowly.

Britmattia

01-08-2004, 14:18

Der Angst Yards, Neptune

Commodore William Lattimer, Commander under Eru of the HMS Excalibur Battlegroup swore virulently and at length at yet an other drone hammered into HMS Cei, the battlewagon shuddering, wreckage strewing from the hit. He watched the tacdisplay show the monster ship limp backward out of the formation, covered by two of the Hamilcar Class Monitors, the smaller ships pumping out an unbelievable cloud of missiles, both antiship and antimissile as the Cei's kilometre plus bulk pulled away.
Willy, as he was known to his intimates, swore some more as the scrolling figures on his display reached parasite craft casualties. The Hammerhead Class fighters had been hell on the Der Angstian drones, but at the same time they'd taken brutal casualties of their own. Squadron after squadron of the strange looking small craft had shattered, buying the vessels they launched from life at the price of their own. Willy hated it, but it was better to lose a one man fighter than a two hundred meter Monitor, let alone a Battlewagon.
Gradually however, the battle between fighters and drones ebbed away, the Navy had the numbers, thousands of Hammerheads, and from the Monitors, the smaller Makos and the drones were only good for a single hit, whereas a fighter could keep coming back.
The capital ships however, continued to slam home attacks, hammering each other with the monster firepower surface warships could only dream of weilding.
Willy nearly rolled out of his command chair as a particularly brutal attack went home in the big ship, several personnel did flip away from their stations, flailing in the nullgrav. The Excalibur had lost gravity in one of the first exchanges and Damage Control had more important things to fix as the battle went on.
The destruction was immense, the Angstian ships, if they could still be called such, had to be blown apart or crippled to take them out of the fight, no crews to be broken into surrender, and at the "short" range the ships were engaging at, "crippled" meant removing the ability to shoot, not just manouvere.
On the other hand, the Battlewagons were monsters, more than three times the size of the largest Angstians, and armed in appropriate scale.
Kinetics hurtled through space as the fleets collided, here an Angstian cruiser shattered under a swarm of ravening Barracuda Class Graser fighters, here the Monitor HMS Leonidas belched the last of it's missiles at the insane destoyer it grappled with, then closed to mass driver range.
Everywhere tumbled the wreckage of the fighters, whether Barracuda, Hammerhead or Mako, the resultant tinfoil was the same, shining wreckage spinning through space, and, hopefully, the glowing blue of a successful lifepod launch.
Willy blew out a breath as an other DA ship vanished into screaming oblivion, taking with it the squadron of Barracudas raking it. He turned as he barely heard a whispered groan from the Excalibur's A.I.
"Oh no..."
The reason was obvious immediately. Square in the middle of his display, the Monitor HMS Gordon was dying, clawing at her foes, but still dying. As he watched the last of her drive units was blasted away, and escape pods started to vent from Engineering. He sighed as one of the DA ships went after the little blue pods, the insanity of his foes was a tactical gift, but..
HMS Gordon, in service barely six months, gasped out defiance as her nose rose slowly, then plunged down, the wedge-shaped front snapping off just forward of the missile banks. Debris tumbled, and the aft two-thirds rolled away, spinning "down". Insane ships followed, still hammering away, even as the Gordon's head exploded and one hundred and thirty two men and women still on board her died.
Willy gripped his tac display, knuckles white and watched as the Excalibur and her sisters wrought bloody vengeance for their loss, most spectacularly HMS Mordred getting close enough to use the vast orbital-bombardment cannon on her underside, shattering the battleship it hit. Willy, promoted to command one of the three Star Battlegroups, knew that he'd won the battle. That it was only a matter of time til the last crazy ship shattered.
Still..

I have seen war. I have seen war on land and sea. I have seen blood running from the wounded... I have seen the dead in the mud. I have seen cities destroyed... I have seen children starving. I have seen the agony of mothers and wives. I hate war.
~ Franklin Delano Roosevelt, New York, 1936

The Ctan

01-08-2004, 17:37

High Above DA

With a colossal pulse of meaningless data throughout almost every transmissible band, the Reaper of Light – Part the Second appeared. Endless turrets and eerily glowing mounds sat upon its dorsal surface, power flowing in a multitude of ways, criss-crossing and running like rivers of blue flame on green metal.

The sepulchre of a tombship is hard to describe, but in general, it consists of a high vaulted room, with a single doorway, warded by a pair of arcane guardians. Inside, light seems to slow with the weight of power concentrated, and one’s shadow acts several seconds behind one’s own actions. In concentric circles, great consoles stand, their functions barely imaginable to most.

It was to one of these strange devices that Mephet’ran walked, gesturing over it carefully. It was, to all intents and purposes, a soul, or mind, detector. An arcane device that would gather data on an entire population, he configured it to restrict its monitoring to Der Angst, and watched to see what damage had been done to the populace as a whole.

Technocratic Republics

01-08-2004, 19:13

They noticed it. Indeed they did. Just a few miles stood between the two places, it would have been strange not too, even under the current circumstances.
It was not something good, and it was yet to be seen if anything remotely resembling good would sprang out of this. No, it was not good. Still, little was known yet, more would come later.
Although to none it passed unheeded, there was little to be done. Both nations too convulsed to act coordinately for the moment. It would have to wait.

//OOC: I will join as soon as things settle down at the FTR a bit.

The Ctan

01-08-2004, 21:18

The Beast of Burden

The captain checked her instruments one last time. They’d been accelerating for two hours now, and they’d been thrusting for three hours, to the gate, point six two astronomical units away. Soon they’d cross the threshold, a shimmering green surface, like water, loomed up ahead. “Final check for transit,” the ship said, displaying a three dimensional graphic for all to see, depicting the correct course.

One of the interesting things about passing through the gate that they don’t show in the films and holos, is the way the green wall of ripples passes through the ship. It surges up in front of you and suddenly with a flash and a slight dizziness, you’re through, as long as something doesn’t go horribly wrong.

They had no time to see the station flash by them, travelling as it was at a relative velocity of twenty one thousand six hundred kilometres, unable to slow to the speed permitted by the regulations, they simply appeared as a flash from the station. Even now, they wouldn’t change velocity. In theory, an FTL jump could be calibrated to reduce a ship to any arbitrary speed, relative to anything, but in this case, they couldn’t manage to do such a thing, and thus they’d need to decelerate for around three hours upon arrival in the solar system, before landing at their chose target.

A mere three minutes the ship arrived, its jump cycle complete, now the long wait as they decelerated would begin.

CairnTarra

02-08-2004, 00:30

>STOP entering run level 7
>what? - trace- LR.
>orbital- munitions, big - radioactive
>not orbital...?
>charge the effectoral core,
>dangerous in atmos.
>use at LR

The hive mind of the Shadowseeker; the seven piolets and the Artificial Intelligence processed the information from the sensors as so fast it seemed to them like a trickle of jelly, at this speed it would be minutes until the unspeakable energies of the effectoral matrix were ready to be discharged, plenty of time to choose a safe course of action

>calculating best possible time till KS deployment is 2
>time till impact is 4, obj: stop death – LR diversion, knock slugs off target
>LR sensors think slugs are matter. good for effectors – make map of unused places in camp
>yes, drop last minute slugs there,
>LR indicates 8 slugs, till active
>Effectors are charged and ready 97_bb_61a 57_-4833 -i 5f_55 _64DF NOW.
>execute,

The air around the hull of Shadowseeker seemed to grow dark and muddy for a moment as the singularity kept in its magnetic bottle reached full potency and the Koran/Schroedinger fields piped there cargo of gravitons high above. High above the air split and burned, in a seemingly chaotic pattern of gravity fluctuation. Unfortunitally, despite the effort, and skill of the defense, the Tarran sensors didn't see the second volley with quite so much time to spare. All but one of the second eight shots missed the Stormcaller. The last made a beautiful hole in the left lower dorsal sail.

>damage? U-S-C-D-A?
>S – Serious: lost left dorsal soler array panels 16 thru 256, power down – 13%
>Effectors entering failsafe shutdown abort?
>yes – eta damage repair time = too long (more then 60) effectors compromised?
>no,
>they have fired upon us. Dispatch Stormcaller and Voidstalker to make sure no further harm comes to the camp
> done, but academic, the camp is not the most secure : observe

The camp lay in disarray, most of the slugs had missed, the Tarrans had seen one slam into the side of Stormcaller, nearly taring off its rear wing. They had seen the bolts slam into the makeshift huts, blowing them into radioactive dust. Any resistance the Angstians made, organized, or disorganized was met with absolute calm passiveness by the Tarrans, they looked more disappointed then scared.
Teo shook his head, he felt the years of work, all the trips, the lectures, the argument, trying to convince the people that the Sysguardians were not like the ancient oppressors of tarran history fall into disarray... HE felt something else as well, something someone had once warned him about, a very long time ago... He felt a stabbing pain in the back of his head.

>it is over, summon the sisters, to help.
>message sisguardia also <msg start>
:GENERAL ALERT broadcast SFN/WTE caller:
Stormcaller: Tarran Triumverate, DA territories,

People of Sysguardia, this is the hive mind in charge of the Tarran Piece ship Shadowseeker, we have been fired upon by nuclear orbital ordinance during a peace mission of aid to the disaster stricken lands inside DA. We cannot locate the source of the blast, but Stormcaller and Voidstalker are on route to the precieved origin of the attack. Please, send help.
relovent coordinates attached
<end msg>

CairnTarra

02-08-2004, 11:10

LAMMAS> general broadcast

I would like to appoligise on behalf of myself and the people of Cairn Tarra for the somewhat over zealous action taken by my kin Isis an Lammas who is in charge of the ship Shadowseer. I wish to amend her previous 'call to arms'
Firstly. the munitions fired upon the ship were not orbital, after examining the data i have discovered they were terrestrial artillery.
Secondly. The other members of the Tarran Triumverate were not dispatched to space, nor will they be dispatched to DA, if the Shadowseeker cannot deal with some artillery fire, then it is not conforming to its programming.
Thirdly, Though the reason for the volley of fire is unknown, its source has been calculated, no offensive action will be taken by any tarran agenst this 'artillery' to plunge headlong in to a culture we have little or no information about, and offer 'aid' was folly when we cannot grasp even the beginnings of the code of honor and conduct for the Angstians.
Once again, my apologies.

<msg end>

Ja'annis sighed as she saw the message move across the transmission buss to the broadcast streamer, the checked the Trees defense systems were operational, then decided to go down to sea level for a nice safe stroll

Der Angst

07-08-2004, 14:24

Neptune

Well, impressive. Charybdis chuckled, watching the slaughter.

Close.

Yeah, but it looks like them Britmattians are managing it... Yes, that's the last one. Bang.

Floatring debris, a rising sun... How romantic...

Too bad you can hardly see the sun, Francis.

Bah, don't ruin the mood.

Charybdis chuckled, listening to the (few) surviving vessels mocking each other. Though they were still kinda shocked by the cataclysm... It didn't stop them from being what they had always been:

Tasteless.

In this particular case, making jokes about the 'poor' comrades that had now been turned into floating debris, soon to be catched by Triton.

Now, I'm wondering what they are doing with the survivors inside Scylla...

Dear god, it must be...

Yes? Right, did you deal with y-

The question was answered soon enough, as a small part of Charybdis let out a dustcloud, debris, obviously, when someone inside blew up some not all that unimportant part of her.

Not yet.

Scylla

He could feel the insane screams of Scylla in his mind, urging him to move along the corridors, some empty, some filled with corpses... Some filled with special corpses... He enjoyed it, as Scylla urged him forward. He heard shooting, screams. The defences worked.

Well, mostly.

He peered around a corner, sensing... Something.

The next thing he felt was the burning sensation of a bullet hitting him, ripping through his chest...

He fell down, kneeling, for a moment, the next one, his face hit the floor. He felt his essence vanishing, the fire of electrons running through his nervous system stopped...

And then, there was darkness.

DA Orbit

The data Mephet'ran received showed quite significant damage... eight or nine tenth of the population that was supposed to be there kind of... Wasn't there.

There was something else there, too, hidden in the surviving minds, barely noticeable... Sleeping.

Possibly forever.

DA, CairnTarra Base

Ai pondered. Should I take it as an apology or not?

It was a complicate question, but eventually, she decided to run with it, now caring more about the glibbering something that had once wanted to be a vet.

Well... That's a bad one lousy day for you, eh? Ai giggled, amused... Being an operator tended to make you kinda... malevolent, and she wasn't an exception. Not to mention the influence of the cataclysm. After all, she was currently operating because there was nothing else remaining... For her.

The base itself... Well, it wasn't too bad.

Well, ok, it was very bad, but the surrounding buildings, as well as the ships, had taken most of the damage. Still, it wasn't pretty, the corpses, the wounded, the tears and screams...

Takahara stood together with a few Tarrans, discussing.

"Well... What they said is not entirely wrong... But as far as I can see, within the next five to 20 days, a significant lack of food and medicaments will ensue... Maintenance of cybernetic implants... Well, take that under medicaments... And water. Water is the main problem." He hesitated, and Elaine continued for him. "Considering our environment... 155th worst in the world, you can guess our problems in this matter... Mainly with cleaning it. I'm sure there will be significant shortages within a few days. In some areas, earlier. Generally... What the others said was basically arrogant crap. They are just like that." Again, hesitation. "Basically... This are the things we need." She handed Teo a list. Water was on top of it. "Of course... It would be perfect if we could just reorganise the nation. Considering our level of automatisation, it shouldn't even be that hard... Unfortunately, for some reason, this... Telepathic disease or whatever it is resulted in... Well, even more insanity and violence than we're used to. Sucks to be us, apparently." She smiled. "So, I guess that approach, while being necessary, will take quite a bit of time... And we do not know just where to begin." Again, hesitation. "Well, ok, cleaning up and removing the corpses might be a good idea."

Mars

Inanna's arrival wasn't pretty. She could see, could sense it from far away, her sensors showing it detailed enough... the debris, the wreckages...

Shit. Well, what did I expect?

Something wrong?

Huh? N... No, Nothing, Sabrina... Nothing.

For a moment, she wondered if it would be better to hide in space. Cracking the codes for Sabrina's transporter shouldn't be too hard. But then... No, it wouldn't work. And the wounds the cruiser had inflicted on her... She needed help. Badly.

S... Someone there?

She waited for the answer, nervous... Apparently, roughly one fourth of the Martian fleet had been destroyed... And it didn't take too much imagination to realise that it had destroyed itself.

Bah, no one the-

Yes? Are YOUUUUUUUUU there?

For a moment, she didn't react. The voice in her mind was so... Different, so... Strange.

AAAAAAAAAANSWER ME!

Inanna cursed. Yay. Insane. Just my luck. She pondered, for a moment. The hull leaked oxygen... Well, not anymore, since all damaged sections had already reached vacuum status. She didn't really have another option...

I'm... Inanna, convoy 1875/49...

AHHHHHHHHHH! You're LAAAAATEEEEEEEE, Inannaaaaaaaa! But be WELCOMEEEEEEEEE!

Inanna sighed. This can't be good...

She didn't have a choice, though, and thus, she moved on, slowly, decelerating in a retrograde orbit.

Please, Please, don't let him shoot at me... It hurt, feeling all the damages she had received. God, this really sucks.

DA, Sisgardia

We have him.

The message, a chemical code, a new protein... Spread through Franks body, he knew nothing.

He did, however, change, as the disease spread... As it brought its message to him, touching him, telling him what to do...

And he did it.

Now, he was one of them, and he could feel it, the beauty, the perfection... And within him, something laughed.

This is just the beginning...

DA, Elsewhere

Sakurai shuddered a little. All this corpses... And the damage was significant, too. Buildings damaged, cars, planes crashed... She didn't know if there were any kind of larger disasters, fires or some such, but it was certainly bad enough.

And it got worse, she could see it, she knew it.

"Here we are." The acolyte, who hadn't looked at her since they had left the Triluminarium, looked around, inviting her in... It was a surprisingly small building... The stairs pointing downwards.

For a moment, she hesitated, scared... Then she entered. It wasn't like she had another choice.

A while later, they finally arrived in the priest's chamber.

"Ah, there you are! Welcome!"

Sakurai didn't answer, she just... Looked around, kinda amazed. She could feel the insane energies flowing through the walls, barely hidden from her eyes. The data saved here, the calculations done...

'Chamber' was, in fact, a rather poor descryption. After all, it's walls extended quite a bit... The ceiling was some hundred meters above her head. Everything wa coloured, some parts in bright, others in dark colours, mixing, creating surreal pictures of... Nightmares and pleasure. Logic and insanity, chaos and order mixing in something that couldn't really be described or understood.

"Quite impressive home, you have."

There was some whistling, a few acolytes working on different nodes, connected to the totality of the chamber... Complex.

"Oh, thank you. However, that shouldn't concern us. What should concern us is the future..."

Sakurai blinked. The future? He has problems...

"As you may or may not know, Clark and Nova are dead. So are most of the minor leaders. Right now, there is chaos... And this chaos will soon begin to search for order. Minor groups will begin to develop, to grow... To expand. Based on different things. territory. Culture. Capabilities."

"Capabilities are rather equal..." She wanted to inquire just how he knew of Clark and Nova's death, which was new (Though not entirely unexpected) for her. Had he actually organised their... She didn't know. But eventually, she decided that this was secondary, for now. And she would probably find out, later, anyway.

"Not anymore. And you know that." The Priest smiled. "You and me are two of the very few knowing... Already knowing. Though I'm pretty sure you're not completely aware of the sheer significance of the changes that are upon us..."

"So?" Sakurai kinda doubted it, though she was quite impressed that he knew. Or at least pretended to know.

The priest preferred to smile. It was a thin smile, a faint grin, perhaps. "Yes. Well, you will see. For now... It is our duty to ensure order. There is much that needs to be done. Many who need to be cleansed, I'm sure you realised that..." A pointed look at her swords, a few stains of blood visible on the smooth blade.

"I... Yes."

"Very good. In any case... I am... Prepared for this. Please, follow me, so you may see..."

The priest stood up, slowly, old as he was, walking towards a nearby door... Following him, stepping through it, Sakurai could see just what the priest had done.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, she whispered.

"I... I see. I think this may... Be useful."

CairnTarra

07-08-2004, 14:55

Teo cast his eyes down the list, he red between the lines, as most Tarran scientists did, reeding the component parts required to make the 'products' - Proteans, carbohydrates, lipids, complex protean, elemental metal, silicone, protean, he looked around the remains of the camp.
“food and water may not be a problem,” he took a small black sphere from his pocket,
“Stormcaller, was the maker Damaged?”
“the maker was shot down in transit by the artillery bombardment”
that made things more complicated, he spoke in a strange guttural accent to one of the nearby tarran officers in an unknown language;
”get the Tarran dead into an empty hut, culture any of the bio material that wasn't damaged, we may eat our fallen before this is over.”
the tarran went pale but scurried off to orginise the work teams.

Teo lent towards Takahara and spoke in a low voice.
“My dear, we don't understand your technology enough to attempt to maintain your peoples'... implants, and as for the whole psychic health thing, we are blind and dumb to the whole phenomenon, however, food and water are not a problem, or at least wont be.. but tell me, what honors must be afforded to your dead?”
his head ached, but he still offered a reassuring smile, though his thoughts were much darker
we will not hunger nor thirst if we can prepare the dead

Britmattia

07-08-2004, 18:45

Scylla

Lt. Marcus 5284, Royal Marine Corps, stepped over the Angstian he'd just shot carefully, he'd trodden on several corpses already today, and the sound of 9ft and several hundred kilos of metal crunching onto a fragile, biological corpse, was not one he wanted to hear again.
Once clear of the corpse he strode onward, long, armoured legs powering him through corridors, the schematic in his head guiding him to his goal, the insane station core itself.
Marcus had originally been part of a platoon tasked with it's destruction, however, his dropship had been blown apart as it came in, and the seven survivors had been whittled down to him by the time momentum had slammed him into the hull.
An other Angstian howled out from a side room, barely even beginning to raise his weapon before the M.I.R's eight and a half foot long warblade flicked out and beheaded him neatly, Marcus not even breaking step as he struck. Reports flashed up on his display, other units' progress through the station. Now and then he'd heard the sullen "crack" of the subsonic pistols his fellow M.I.Rs carried for space combat, or the howl of a biological Marine's carbine, but mostly his journey was silent, but for the hum of his own motivators and the dull clank of his feet as he paced through the yards.
Clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Duck and cover as you cross through a hail of autocannon fire, only standard bullets, not big enough to threaten you or the Marines who follow you. Destroy the cannon anyway. Keep moving, drop down tubes, scramble lift-shafts like a spider.
You don't think. You just react, your reflexes faster than any organics, flicking you in and out of danger, sprinting through defences which look like they're a threat, strolling calmly through gas-filled corridors. After all, you don't breathe.
Marcus dropped down the last lift-shaft before reaching the core level, long limbs trailing as he arrowed down through the darkness, just before impact flicking into a crash recovery position, steel feet driving into the deck.
Pulling out of the dents he padded forward quietly into the dark, still level. Or as quietly as a nine feet tall robot carrying an equally large sword and a handgun could.
Clunk. Recon. Clunk. Recon. Slither. Wait a minnute, slither?
His head whipped round, just in time for the tentacle to slap him a dozen feet down the corridor, heavy sword spinning through the thin atmosphere before shattering a door. Marcus however, slammed steel fingers into the floor, arresting his momentum almost immediately. He looked up the corridor as what looked like a squid gone horribly wrong slithered fully into it, glistening faintly in the dim light.
When the Mobile Infantry Robot had been designed, there had been some debate over whether it should have a face or not. The debate had finally been decided when one of the psychologists pointed out expression was necessary for sanity.
So Marcus, unknowing of this, could grin like a big blue shark as the tentacle monster slid towards him, cushioned on it's own goo. He reached behind him, pulling out the relatively short M.I.R bayonet, a trifling four feet long and a red cylinder, looking like an aerosol with a pin through the top.
He flicked the pin out, and pushed down the button on top of the can, then leapt towards the squid thing, still grinning. Tentacles slapped out and caught him as he flew through the air, and hauled him over it's beak, tentacles searching for orifices that weren't there...
Ominously intelligent looking eyes glared up at him. Marcus, who by now would've scared away most organic opponents just with the grin, looked back.
"You know the difference between you and me is squiddy? I'm fireproof."
He took his thumb off the button, and opened his hand, the cylinder, now readably marked "PLASMA - DANGER! dropped into the snapping mouth below.
The tentacle monster blinked. Once. Twice. And then exploded in a gout of blue flame.
The shockwave hurled Marcus through at least three walls, even his electronic brain was having trouble telling after the shock, and rained squid bits down on him. He clambered to his feet, still grinning.
"And you're not."
After that, killing the core was fairly anticlimactic. He simply retrieved his bayonet, hacked the control room open, pulled the raving Angstian from her chair and snapped her neck.
"This is 5284, core secure."

The Ctan

07-08-2004, 19:40

The Reaper

“Interesting,” murmured Mephet’ran, “a rather sharp decrease.” After a few moments more analysis of the results of his scan, he seemed to find an interesting anomalous result, “Most interesting,” he said, “but a matter for another day.”

A gesture, and the console changed function, and with another, the necron god activated a number of other devices, and looked up, “Ship, bring my shuttle.”

A moment later the ship responded, “Yes, my lord,” then, “Where, may I ask, are you going?”

“I seek an old acquaintance.”

Der Angst

15-08-2004, 13:23

Chairn Tarra Camp

"Our dead? Oh... Depends on them, really. Some are just used as basic ressources, others like graves... Though it's an excessive waste of space, but that is just my personal opinion..." Takahara hesitated. "But well... Since we don't know it, yet, I think just storing them... Somewhere should work. In any case, there are more important things to do..."

"Like, say, working out this mess." Elaine chuckled.

Scylla

The station was... Well, dead, and thus, less of a threat. Gaining control over the automated mechanisms was another thing, though. Hence, killing the core wasn't exactly enough...

Luckily for the Britmattians, there were sane survivors, and after a while, they managed to take care of this annoying problem.

The only problem remaining...

There is one... Should we?

Yes. He giggled. He will make an excellent... Prey.

Indeed. Lets go... Careful, partner.

A brief moment of hesitation, he isn't moving. Yes, partner.

He followed, carefully, slowly... Yes... Take him out... Fire... Fire... FIRE!

And the shot rang through the station, slicing through the armour of the target...

Next.

DA

The skies were... Well, clear was the wrong word. Dirty as always, early sunset, it was rather dark.

Mark looked up, slightly melancholic. Fascinating. Even though the society suffered a total breakdown... He looked down, at one of the factories in the nearby area. It's still working.

He smiled a little. Who would have thought. Apparently, we're really unnecessary for this to function... Perhaps we're completely unnecessary...

Amusingly enough, it meant that things like orbital traffic and other such things would still work normally, with all customs... It was certainly worth a chuckle. However, Mark wasn't in a position to chuckle for long... He could already hear rather alarming noises from a nearby spaceport.

Oh well...

Elsewhere

Susan smiled. Not alone. Not anymore.

The people around her, the man she had met... It had been a horrible day, the day her mother died. She would never be able to forget her face, twisted in pain, in horror...

But this people... This man she had met, James. He was kneeling in front of her, now. She didn't know why, neither did she understand the strange flag, or why this other people, standing in a half circle around her, were kneeling... But she knew that they were good people, that they wouldn't harm her... That they did, in fact, like, yes, even love her.

"Continue, please." James smiled at her, and, hugging her dirty teddybear, she nodded. There was a man lying in front of her, his face... twisted in pain. He was slightly insane, this wasn't the problem, though. His broken leg, however...

Susan giggled a little, feeling the hot skin of the man in front of her, feeling the bone peeking through his leg... Feeling his shudders and barely suppressed pain.

She smiled, and begun her work... She didn't know what she was doing, she just knew it worked... As if she had never done anything different, she cut off his nervous system, minimised the pain... moved the bone, the flesh, repaired him... Slowly, feeling the rythms of his body, not knowing, yet feeling what was correct, what was wrong.

The crowd watched, in awe, then cheered. Susan liked it. She didn't understand, yet, just what they saw in her... She didn't understand what the flags meant, the symbols, the armed guards...

Meanwhile, in what one could call the telepathic version of cyberspace, someone watched, using the old, now hazardous connections, public cameras, the hives, not controlling them, only occasionally getting a glimpse, when they coincidentally entered a useful position.

He giggled a little, evading some of the surreal horrors, thoughts, now roaming the networks.

Annoying things. He thought, evading once more. But quite interesting things happening, down there.

He giggled a little. It was a wonder the networks were still working. Well, sorta. Diving back, he checked for other things... A few minor fires, a few riots, but also the first signs of order expanding once again. Granted, the lack of government made this part somewhat harder than before, but still...

Well, he would see.

What the fuck is THAT?

Again, evading. He really needed to do some programs/ thoughts to dodge this new threat somewhat more effective...

A moment later, he switched back to the real world, well, partly. Now just to wait for someone else...

Knootoss

15-08-2004, 15:00

-----------------------------------------
Pink Bunny Cola Incorporated
Sisgardia HQ, Der Angst
-----------------------------------------
One of the innumerable towering high structures in the Der Angstian city-nation was the Pink Bunny Cola Incorporated Headquarters Sisgardia. On top of the tall structure there was a small helipad for shuttles and assorted flying craft to service the management on the floors just below. The lifts on the lower section of the building were all jammed after some panicking lunatic had tried to get them to work faster by smashing the control panels. The lights all over the building were dimmed to a level of the sunset twilight after the failed power supply was taken over by an emergency backup generator.

“The have reached the 67th floor! GO! GO!” yelled a young Knootian with curly blonde hair up the stairs as he himself ran. Joosts face was sweaty from the long run up the stairs. Getting away from the lower sections and seeking refuge with managment. Getting away from the Angstian workers that populated the lower sections of the tower. Being a fourth year management student, his ‘cool assignment’ with PBC Sisgardia had surely turned into a nightmare after one of his co-workers suddenly attacked him with kitchen knives. Others simply dropped dead. Death was everywhere.

Ten or so stairs later, Joost ran in to a panting fat ma who basically lied down in the hallway next to the staircase. Exhausted. Joost stopped and kneeled near the man, panting heavily himself

”You all right Trevor?”

“I can’t… go… anymore. Must … get to elevator” Joost reached out to grab the fat man under his arm and lift him up. “Just three more floors for the second stage elevators. You’ll make it boss. I promise.” Together, they took the last three stairs. The smell of death was everywhere on the eightieth floor, and the silence on this floor was eerie. No sound whatsoever though Trevor could swear he could hear screams coming from down below. He tried not to listen, they had to be echoes of what he had heard ringing in his ears. When Joost pressed the button for an elevator going up, a pinging sound confirmed his request without trouble. Almost normal.

The lift approached with a silent hum, just as it should, but when the door opened it revealed a deranged woman in a business suit standing in the elevator, feral eyes, frothing at the mouth. She ran screaming at the two Knootians trying to attack them with… a pencil. She knocked over Trevor and tried to stab him in the eye with the pencil but Joost was faster. With a roar, he jumped on her and rolled over to the very edge of the staircase. There he tried to constrain her but the woman had no restraint whatsoever and tried to claw and bite her way from the boys grip. Then suddenly she gave a wild roar and collapsed as if some mental anguish had finished her off.

”Lets go. We mustn’t stay here.” The two men got into the now-empty elevator that still stood there, waiting for them. Trevor pushed in an access code, which was rewarded with three upbeat beeping tones. With an efficient humming it trailed upward, to the uppermost floor. Opening with a polite pinging sound a British-accented computer voice spoke: ”Management floor”

Joost and Trevor were almost attacked again by three men, Knootians pointing improvised sticks at the elevator, waiting for them.

“good people!”, Joost shouted panicky. “Don’t kill us!”
Weapons were lowered. One of the men, apparently holding a broomstick, pointed to the back. There, a group of mostly Knootians and two Angstians sat huddled together on a group of seats and benches in the lobby.

There, they were informed of their situation by the Chief of Logistics, who was cursing and swearing to himself when he did not speak.. “That bastard Angstian…”, he mumbled “He took the shuttle. All alone. The bastard did not wait for anyone else… he just took off. Bastard. Just took off. Can’t get out.”

Joost pulled the sleeve of the CoL. “Can’t we leave in some other way? A reserve shuttle? Calling, uh.. a cab?”

“We can’t get out.”, he mumbled incoherently. “No way out. No way out.”

The Ctan

17-08-2004, 11:14

The Beast of Burden completed its deceleration, and drifted into what was known as a powered sub-geo-stationary orbit. In essence, not a true orbit at all, but simply a very highflying aircraft holding itself stationary with regard to the area below it. “Commander,” the ship I have several said, addressing a tall man in one of its corridors, currently standing by an alcove, “I have located several potential areas to land. Correlating with data from His Imperial Majesty’s Ship the Reaper of Light, which is currently in orbit,” it said, “this,” on a map of the general area below the ship, one of several spaceports was highlighted and zoomed in on until it filled the screen, “is the viable landing site with the easiest access to the local population.

With a brief shimmer, the Captain’s face also appeared on the screen, superimposed over the upper left of the screen, “I want you to send your… troops,” she said after a moment, “down to clear the area first.”

The Commander nodded, “Will do.” He said.

The ship checked with the vast battleship in orbit, requesting that it make a point of orbital-artilleryising the city block that originated any fire against it, and then began to descend towards its target, doing its best to comply with the former laws and customs on such things in order to minimise the hostile reaction from the locals.

Hovering just above the building tops, the ship stopped, and from its side several small utility craft dropped down through the dirty air, carrying platoons of assorted personnel, their mission, to clear the area of any threats to the ship before it landed.

Treznor

20-08-2004, 14:40

A short, indefinably ugly man sips his coffee as he pours over the latest technical reports over the joint research into superconducting materials with Der Angst technicians. He nods with approval as he checks their progress, and sees the optimistic predictions for success. I'll definitely have to reward these folks, especially on the DA side. Speaking of which.

He switches to a related report on the recent unrest in Der Angst. He glances through the list of known factions, and the nations taking interest.

I'll be surprised if they survive this. Telepathic viruses? Insane ships? These guys have been a valuable resource, if a bit mercenary. Not that I can hold that against them. There's got to be some way we can salvage something. Hmm...maybe even to our advantage.

He touches a spot on his keypad to connect him with his aide. "Alex, please extend my regards to Minister Vitner. I'd like to see him at his earliest convenience."

At once, Your Majesty.

There are perks to being the absolute ruler of a nation. No one dares to take even a politely phrased request as anything less than a direct order. It isn't long before he hears a knock at the door.

"Come in, Ben."

"You asked to see me, sir?"

Ben never lost that habit. Treznor never cared to correct him.

"How familiar are you with the situation in Der Angst?"

"I skimmed the report before I signed off on it. Without going into any detail, I'd say it's a mess. Hysteria, rioting, the works. I'd give it another week before plague and famine set in as public services break down."

"Do we have anyone in place there?"

"We did. We lost contact with her shortly after their troubles began. We've been trying to find out what happened, but we haven't had any luck. At the moment she's listed as MIA, presumed dead."

"Okay. I want you to dig as deeply as you can. Find out as much as possible about who controls what, who is backing whom and who looks good to take over when the dust settles. If there's anything left, I might add. We've had a good relationship with Der Angst, if not a close one, and I'd like to strengthen it. Let's see if we can't help someone friendly to us take control and restore order."

"That's a tall order, sir."

"I know. It might be a waste of time and energy, but I think it's worth it. Don't forget, we've still got a few of their technicians working with us here in Devonton. You might consider starting with them, see what they know."

"Yes, sir. And what do we do about their psychic abilities? We don't really have anything to counter it."

"No, we don't really. You're the closest thing we have to a psychic." Treznor favors his Minister with a wry smile. Ben had never been able to adequately explain how he performs the magic at his command. Treznor bets he doesn't know himself. "On the other hand, you might remember Ensign Kerrick and the Orpheus? (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=317161)"

"The Orpheus was wrecked, and Kerrick was brought back legally insane. Captain Richards' report suggested some kind of alien bug literally ate her mind."

"Her consciousness, yes. Some kind of creature that's attracted to higher brain functions."

"You're not suggesting..."

"Let's just say we might have an edge for someone willing to work with us."

"I'll see what I can do."

Menelmacar

22-08-2004, 15:19

The Menelmacari vessels had broken formation and fanned out, and were cruising low among the milespires of the city (well, the ones small enough to do so were), searching for survivors, as were dropships and shuttles... Even the Thoron fighters were out in force, using their capability to hover to go building by building, floor by floor, peering through windows in search of anyone who might still be alive.

One dropship, however, did not search for survivors... it was filled instead with a squad of Mornahossë, sent to recover the SOLDATS database on behalf of Lady Sirithil.

Der Angst

22-08-2004, 16:08

The Knootians

The situation wasn't as bad as it looked like. Even though there were certain... Well, threats, and even though the psionic capabilities of those threats were quite threatening...

There were few in number, and they were chaotic. Not to mention that the Knootians could deal with enough sane Angstians, anyway. Which wasn't all that bad.

And finally, 'insane' is a rather broad term... There were those who just sat in some corner, mumbling something... Others, crying without control... And again, others, and others, and others.

The first shock had been hard, but slowly, the situation was... Well, calming down.

Yet, the predator didn't seem to care about this calming down. He just... Walked, slowly, careful not to make any noise, disguising his mind for those who could sense it...

Coming closer.

Sensing his prey.

He wasn't like them. He wasn't mad, howling for blood, idiocy ruling his body. Yes, he wanted blood. But he was careful, thinking about his every move, silent...

He was more than those masses, driven mad by the 'horror' which (Or who) had attacked them.

And with a smile, he moved on.

The Beast of Burden & the Spaceport

Mark arrived just in time to watch the Beast of Burden land.

"Wow."

The spaceport was... Well, surprisingly peaceful. Possibly the result of the not totally insignificant amount of corpses lying about. Apparently, the locals had taken care of the little insanity problem.

Now, the question was (and from the rather surprised looks he saw in the face of some of the locals he approached, it was obvious that they thought the same) Will this monster crush right through the ground?

Considering the little problem that Angstian spaceports weren't made to hold such monstrous vessels... Yes, it was quite a question.

In any case, actual threats were few and far between, the area was basically, well, safe.

Mark was the first one to step forward, towards one of the landing utility craft, showing a slight grin. "Well... Your timing is off, I think. There is not too much a chance to make a fortune here... In this situation."

Southern DA

The chaos was... Retreating. It was the problem with the ones who had been driven insane, lusting for blood, by the event. No organisation... Nothing.

Hence, the plague had reduced itself, quickly. Sure, there were still many, to many remaining... But it worked out.

And slowly, people showed up, again. Right now, reserves of food and water were still there, quite a bit of them. That they wouldn't be enough for more than, say, a week, was another problem.

But expecting that much forethought from Angstians was almost to much.

They were standing in the streets, looking from the windows... Occasionally, the odd wildlife could be seen... Fire breathing reptiles, pink birds and the likes. Something was different, though. The networks were infested with a plague. They had to adapt. For now, contacts to the outside were... Limited at best. Unexistent at worst.

And, knowing Angstians, it was rather obvious what the results would be.

"Citizens of the Free Republic! Join us! The old and rotten is gone, lets celebrate true freedom! All hail the Free Republic!"

Ingrid just shaked her head. That was fast. But it was to be expected. Now, that insanity became less dangerous, after most of the extreme cases had been killed off by each other...

Well, one would see.

The less extreme cases were sitting, standing in the streets, mumbling incoherent sentences, drawing pictures of grotesque horrors... Or just waiting, their eyes closed, breathing slowly.

It was almost as if now, they had become the less insane group... But that was how it was. The chance was there, and there were more than enough people willing to use it.

A group of four men rushed past Ingrid, she could hear a few words. "Insane..." "The power..." "They are invading..." "We must..." "Holy empire?" "Their queen..."

Great. Just great. It was obvious that most people did not intend to play revolution, socialist paradise or right wing utopia... The problem were the few who wanted.

And something else. Something that tipped the balance of power... But she didn't know, yet, what it was.

A whisper. "You're not from here, right?"

Ingrid turned around. It was, of course, a rhetoric question, since the difference was, in fact, quite noticeable. Not excessively obvious, but still.

"Not really, no."

She could feel something touching her mind. One doesn't always notice it, but after living in DA for a considerable amount of time, one knows it when it happens.

"Outta my mind." Even though the average Angstian did not just randomly scan foreigners (Hence, why she was actually able to do her job), there were certain procedures... And she knew them. But in this particular situation, said procedures didn't account for much, or so it seemed.

The other person, a bald, rather old man, in his seventies, perhaps, smiled. "I think we can use you..."

"EH?" Perverts.

The man sighed. "No, not that way." Well... Not necessarily... "We thought more about, ah... Contacts. By the way, my name... Richard."

Richard wasn't overly talkative, in fact, he seemed to ponder... Well, different things, looking at the skies... Where a distinct lack of the former Menelmacari ships could be noticed, apparently, they were sorta busy, elsewhere.

In any case, after a while of evading poorly armed radicals and a few odd events (What the hell moved that knife?), they arrived at one rather large underground installation. A few more minutes, and they reached the right chamber.

The sight of the man sitting in a chair in its center was... Impressive. The skin fell from him, his flesh... Burned, brown, crumbling.

"Hello..."

It wasn't necessary to explain Mr. Mordens physical condition. Rapid decay warheads, chemicals... There could be many reasons, and he wasn't the only one suffering from it, though he was certainly one of the more extreme cases.

"It's quite a good timing, finding you here. Look..." He hesitated, standing up, pointing at a display nearby, showing a map. "Our information is somewhat... Well, not the best. As far as I know, the initial chaos is vanishing, making the whole situation... Safer. Unfortunately, as you surely noticed... Well, with the old being gone, the new tries to rise... Fractions. We're quite close to an actual civil war. With multiple fractions." He hesitated, again, looking at Ingrid. "It is obvious that the old system has fallen. We cannot really recreate it." And if we would do it, it would raise too many issues I want to evade. He thought. "However, with a bit of help, from, say, your superiors, we ought to be able to prevent this nation falling to chaos, splitting into a hundred fractions. And of course, we would be quite grateful... Let me give you a more detailed list."

He smiled as he let her take advantage of a still functioning, conventional and secure communication node.

Various areas in DA

The survivors the Menelmacari searched for... Well, there were quite a few. A few hundred million of them, to be correct. A few of them did indeed wish for evacuation, a few hundred, perhaps a few thousand... Quite a few parents opted to have their children secure while they themself stayed, not wanting to give up... Instead, they intended to rebuild.

Or rather, reorganise, since the material damage wasn't overly bad.

Another problem were all the tiny new Republics, Empires and other such entities developing... Though some of them were quite open to foreign help, the majority tended to dislike it.

"F... FIRE!"

For now, the networks were down. A few 'programmers' worked on ways to get rid, or at least protect themselves from, the plagues that had developed inside the networks, but it would take a while until this worked. For now, 90% of the encounters had to be dealt with by way of more conventional means.

Conventional being relative.

The man smiled. He hadn't actually done anything. The drones worked quite well without an operator, fully automated. And the view of the Thoron erupting in flames as it crashed into a nearby tower was quite satisfying.

"Ok. Retreat." And they retreated, the basements and massive underground installations giving them quite a bit of cover. One just had to be faster than the comrades of their latest victim. Not that it worked all the time, but it was good enough.

The results of generations being trained to believe in their own superiority and in the worthlessness of non- augmented sentience begun to show off.

Treznor

22-08-2004, 16:33

Ben Vitner liked to think of himself as more than just a hatchet man for the Emperor. He was, after all, the Minister for Intelligence, mentored by an Emperor who made a career out of field intelligence before carving out his own Empire. The fact that he still did a lot of the Emperor's dirty work for him was testament to how much trust he enjoyed.

On the other hand, he admitted wistfully, it helped to have people to delegate things to. Yea, verily. My cup runneth over. He sighed as he brought up a new report. Another attempt at political uprising in the northern mountains. The Empire had been fairly quiet of late as folks hastened to take advantage of the colony projects in progress. But it didn't pay to relax the vigil, and here was proof. Ben noted that the movement had been successfully infiltrated, but the agents weren't confident they'd identified all of the ringleaders. He signed off on additional funds for equipment and manpower, and turned to the next one.

New activity in Der Angst. Fall Guy had been heard from. Ben sat upright and scanned the report quickly before settling down to read it carefully. Someone named Richard had apparently read the Emperor's thoughts from afar, and had found Agent Fell. The problem was that Fell was clearly out of her league. Richard was talking about support and civil war factions, and she didn't know what promises could be made. The only tactic she could legitimately use for stalling was to call for orders. Mind-readers were hard people to stall.

After reading the report a second time, Ben pushed a button on his console. "Jen, get in here. Pull Fall Guy's jacket and see what kind of resources we can throw into Der Angst on a moment's notice. We may need to drop a team into a hot zone."

"Right away, sir." Jen had been working with him almost as long as he'd been working for the Emperor. Ben knew he could depend on her. In the meanwhile, his boss would be very interested to learn of this news. A dry message wouldn't do. He picked up his phone and dialed a number very few people had.

"Sir? It's Ben. You're not going to believe this."

Menelmacar

22-08-2004, 16:52

"Unbelievable," Ferinion muttered. "We're taking losses?"

"Four Thoroni downed so far, milord," reported his aide. "Two of the pilots have been lost."

"Call anything smaller than a frigate back.. Inform all pilots that when they go out again, they are to keep an eye on things around them, always have a wingman, and do remind them they are authorized to return fire against any hostile, and they may fire pre-emptively against anything resembling a drone. And ensure the downed planes get salvaged as well, please."

The Warlord rubbed his temples a little; he was getting a headache. Damn crazy Angstians. Having wingmen would keep the pilots alive - but the search time would be almost doubled. And none of these crackpot factions had even a shred of legitimacy; it was impossible to know whether even the hostile ones represented the wishes of the people within their petty little spheres of influence, most of which covered no more than a single milespire or a few city blocks, their power maintained by maybe five or six guys who'd found some weapons. At least it was giving the shipboard diplomats something to do - at least until all the powerplants died, cutting comms throughout Der Angst. Maybe a week in some areas. Perhaps two in others. Such things could, after all, only go so long without human maintenance. He pondered these things... deciding it would be best to get the message out as soon as possible.

"Put me on all bands," he ordered. "I want to be on every screen in Der Angst."

The comm officer nodded, his hands moving quickly over the controls. "Milord, you're on."

Ferinion cleared his throat. "People of Der Angst: this is Warlord Ferinion nos Círdan of the Third Menelmacari Imperial Gravitic Battle Fleet. As you may know, Menelmacari forces are currently engaged in evacuating any survivors from Der Angst that wish to go. We mean none of you any harm, and once our job is done we will depart. On that you have my word.

"Unfortunately, some Angstians have spurned our aid. This is of course their choice, but where it crosses the line is when our units are fired upon. This is unacceptable, and firing upon Menelmacari units, personnel, and equipment will buy the culprit little more than a quick death. I presume that most of those survivors sane enough to aim a weapon are desirous of survival; thusly, initiating hostilities is vastly counterproductive.

"So far, the attacks have been isolated incidents. If they continue or escalate, Menelmacari response may have to escalate as well. In a dense urban environment such as that which covers the vast majority of the country, such escalations will almost inevitably result in civilian casualties. This is unavoidable and regrettable, and thusly we urge all Angstians living in areas controlled by factions hostile to Menelmacar, to either relocate, or impress upon your, er, leaders, the paramount importance of peaceable and orderly conduct. The less trouble we face, the sooner we will be gone, and the sooner those of you who wish to remain behind can return to the task of rebuilding your lives and your nation.

"Thank you all."

The Ctan

22-08-2004, 17:27

Stepping out by twos, fairly strange black and red weapons at the ready, though pointed away from their… greeter. The leader, a “field agent” of many years experience blinked, “Well, I’m sure one could probably make a rather fast fortune around here, but that’s not why we’re here,” he said.

Meanwhile, the ship began its landing procedure, “We are in fact, rather interested in the recent…” he paused, “incident.”
______________

The ‘Grave’ class drop ship was a long dagger shape of shining black living metal, mounting a number of arcane weapons. It touched down in the general area that was… guessed at as the Angstian secret service base beneath clouds of ‘scarab’ drones. On the underside a pair of doors folded inward, revealing a group of heavily built machines that immediately dashed out to secure a perimeter around the landing site. Next came a dozen even taller machines which walked among the others with the self assurance of warlords among helots. After them came six humans, or at least, that was what they had started as, long black cloaks covering their bodies, and the look of the zealot in their eyes.

Beneath their cloaks it could be seen that a good portion of their bodies were mechanical, gleaming in the light. Rather than four limbs, each sported at least eight, the additional ones gleaming mechadenrites, long flexible tentacles that could be used for a multitude of tasks, from combat to taking a watch apart, and from lifting heavy weights to interfacing with delicate computers. On their right wrists each mounted a strange device that was almost certainly a weapon, and under their cloaks what was probably a sword of an oriental, or perhaps Menelmacari design could be seen.

Last of all, besides the Dragon’s Cultists, the Emperor himself strode out of the drop ship, once more in his human form, long black hair billowing in the wind as he walked.

CairnTarra

23-08-2004, 12:30

“Teo sir.... sir! cenetor!..... we just received a transmission... hugely powerful, it nearly blew out the receivers.” the aide recited the broadcast... paying particular accent to 'Warlord Ferinion nos Círdan of the Third Menelmacari Imperial Gravitic Battle Fleet.'
Teo listened to the report, “dispatch some people to inform the survivors that they can leave with the Menelmacari if they wish.... DONT let Shadowseeker move. I will go to the communications rig and get a reply formatted."

>sudo Shadowseeker
>login: *******
>msg Menelmacari vessels
Honorable Sirs, This is Cenator Teo Holtzmann-Wisewood of Cairn Tarra aboard the Piece ship Shadowseeker. We have established a aid camp at these co-ordinates, we should at the very least compare data concerning this cataclysm. We do warn you however that we have already been fired upon by long range weapons from somewhere dew east of this position. we suspect that terrorist factions have already infiltrated the countries military infrastructure.
we wish you every fortune with your aid efforts.
>send

Menelmacar

23-08-2004, 15:43

The ‘Grave’ class drop ship was a long dagger shape of shining black living metal, mounting a number of arcane weapons. It touched down in the general area that was… guessed at as the Angstian secret service base beneath clouds of ‘scarab’ drones. On the underside a pair of doors folded inward, revealing a group of heavily built machines that immediately dashed out to secure a perimeter around the landing site. Next came a dozen even taller machines which walked among the others with the self assurance of warlords among helots. After them came six humans, or at least, that was what they had started as, long black cloaks covering their bodies, and the look of the zealot in their eyes.

Beneath their cloaks it could be seen that a good portion of their bodies were mechanical, gleaming in the light. Rather than four limbs, each sported at least eight, the additional ones gleaming mechadenrites, long flexible tentacles that could be used for a multitude of tasks, from combat to taking a watch apart, and from lifting heavy weights to interfacing with delicate computers. On their right wrists each mounted a strange device that was almost certainly a weapon, and under their cloaks what was probably a sword of an oriental, or perhaps Menelmacari design could be seen.

Last of all, besides the Dragon’s Cultists, the Emperor himself strode out of the drop ship, once more in his human form, long black hair billowing in the wind as he walked.
The location was more or less correct, as the Mornahossë Vilyulairë dropshipset down nearby... it was probably a recipe for a standoff as the Elven special forces unloaded, or at least it would be if the Menelmacari and the C'tan were not the absurdly close allies that they were.

"Hail!" called out the lead Mornahossë to the C'tan contingent, one by the name of Idhrindiel nos Fithurin.

The Ctan

23-08-2004, 15:54

The reaction from the party was rather curious. For about half a second the lead two necron lords turned toward them, weapons at the ready, but in the next moment they ignored the elves completely and went back to watching their immediate surroundings. Instead Mephet’ran broke formation, accompanied by a pair of the Dragon’s followers, and strode toward them. “Hail indeed,” he said, an eyebrow raised curiously.

Menelmacar

23-08-2004, 15:58

Idhrindiel smiled, offering an armored-glove handshake. "Force Leader Idhrindiel nos Fithurin, of the Eighth Mornahossë Assault Group. It's an honor to meet you.... I would conjecture, sir, that we are both here after the same objective - the SOLDATS database. Perhaps, given that we're likely to share the results anyway, it might be better to pool our resources instead of working separately." It was a calculated risk, but a carefully-thought one.

The Ctan

23-08-2004, 16:09

“Not entirely,” he said shaking her hand gently, “though that information could prove useful, it’s not really why I’m here.” After a moment’s pause he considered, “Though we would like to ensure that such information doesn’t fall into the wrong hands…” he looked at hers, “A category your own do not fall into.”

He smiled a little, not explaining his real motivation.

Der Angst

31-08-2004, 08:59

DA

"Your Majesty, this matter is rather important..." James was kneeling in front of her, obediently. It striked him as somewhat odd... He could be her father. And as a matter of fact, he did consider himself to be her father. Well, of sorts. Since the day they had met... He, the ex- guinea pig, she, the lost child, alone... He wanted to protect her.

"I know..." Susie cuddled a few of her plushies, looking somewhat bored. "So, those cute elfies want to visit?"

"It is not exactly like that..."

Susie didn't seem to listen, instead she searched for... For something, until she finally found what she searched for. With an expression of joy, she grabbed the two plushies, An Alkanphel (With his left arm missing) in a black suit and a Sirithil in a white dress. "I thought I had them marry yesterday..."

"Ahem..."

"Yes, yes, I know." Came the answer, sounding somewhat bored. "Tell the cute elfies that they are welcome, I'm sure they wll enjoy the visit." Susie seemed to be in her own world, again, having the two plushies kissing each other. "Cute..." And in her mind, timelines merged, split, were explored and abandoned, an endless circle of searching, finding and losing, hints, scents of possible futures showing, vanishing again.

And elsewhere, comparable dialogues were held.

There were countless different entities surfacing from the seas of chaos. And the Menelmacari received as many replies as there were entities... Well, almost as many, since some either didn't care (Many due to being underground, lunatics, or something else) or didn't have the means of communication.

Nonetheless... From outright threats to friendly invitations, everything was there.

Which would probably make for quite an interesting deveopment.

Somewhat close to the place above

The operator cursed as he evaded a group of network daemons, hiding under a flood of data, hoping that they had lost the trail. Luckily, his hopes were justified.

If I ever catch the person responsible for this...

But there was no time to curse his fate, he had other things to do. Slowly, he moved onwards, reality... Not existing for him, lost in the networks, data all arund him... Chaotic, most of it, shaken from the cataclysm. additional parts, the lost remains of things that had once been personalities... Characters, a 'person'.

Hey, that must be a part of Jack... Poor sod.

He searched further... Now, where was it, again? Ah... He smiled as he touched the key, copying it, decrypting it... He was the third one trying, but the two others had been caught by the daemons, their minds turned into jelly. So far, he had been fairly lucky.

Destroying the net presence of the information he had just got, he moved away, towards his next destination... Mere seconds, moments of thoughts, and he was there.

Goddamn punks. He thought, as he saw the pink- yellow outside of the 'presence'. It was, of course, imagination, thoughts developed to resemble something one could touch in this imaginary world. He didn't have problems entering, apparently, the 'guards' were gone... Why the security was down, he didn't know, though.

Possibly a hack by those fucking punks...

He decided not to care, instead, he searched for the area he needed to find... It took a while, but eventually, evading a few poorly- scripted defenses trying to melt his mind, he found it. Inserting the key was easy enough.

A mere thought later, the new, sovereign entity he was a part of had access to the heavy defense grids in the southeast.

Well, to those of them whose local access procedures had been overwritten and/ or destroyed by the cataclysm.

Assuming that they hadn't been destroyed by other means, which, as a short check proved, had happened more often than he hoped.

A quick message to local groups waiting for him to clear the path. He was finished. And a second later, the outside world interfered.

"Now, the essentials... Power, water and stuff."

Bastards going for firepower rather than this things... Feh. He didn't have a choice, though, and he knew it. And so, he dived into the networks, again, annoyed by the new risks he had to face... Yet, kinda liking it, somewhat, the daemons making it kinda interesting. "Consider it done."

Elsewhere

Mark looked at the Beast of Burden landing, idly wondering what the hell would require a ship to be this large... He could understand the compensation issues of Menelmacari merchantmen, but...

Although, compared to the overall situation, this question was, admittedly, less important than it seemed to be.

"Well... So are we, since most of us do not have the slightest idea of what happened." He paused. "Apart from the obvious, I mean. Hard to overlook the corpses..." Again, hesitation. "So, I don't think I can help you... Perhaps a few technicians or ivory tower guys in the crowd can theorise something..." He looked around, the crowd coming somewhat closer, one step at a time. He was fairly certain that they listened to each and every word he spoke, or rather, thought, feeling a tickling in his mind, as their own minds touched him... For a moment, he wondered if they did it to the visitors, too. It seemed to be likely enough.

How rude.

Northern DA

There were few people in the general area where the C'tan dropship had landed, and almost no one nearby. Well, 'almost'. A DA withot an annoyance lingering around a nearby corner was somewhat unthinkable... Even a cataclysm of this magnitude couldn't really change it.

Francis watched interestedly, somewhat amused by the local wildlife becoming somewhat interested in the scarab swarms, surreal pictures forming in the air as the two groups interacted with each other.

Mon Dieu... What's the meaning of this? He wondered briefly. Eventually, he decided that it was likely some sort of C'tan/ Menelmacari cooperation, possibly to establish an outpost... Of course, not an invasion, since the relations with both entities, while not being exceptionally bright, were far from being hostile.

Though what exactly it was, he didn't know. Not enough forces for a more massive operation, not secretive enough to be something secret... Well, he would see.

For now, he came closer. He knew that it was somewhat risky, after all, this people were armed and all... But he had just gone through a cataclysm killing his girlfriend in the most tender of moments... There weren't many possible events remaining which could actually shock him, now.

Although he had to admit... If his three other girlfriends had suffered the same fate... But he fought this depressive thought, and eventually, he came closer to the immediate landing area, a rather open, small spaceport with a couple rather surreal looking buildings, looking like the drug induced dream of an architect, circling it.

Some other Place

"Ok, so, first of all, we need to establish contact with the remaining 'government' factions... I doubt that there are many remaining, but... Well, it will be better than nothing. And they will have the codes, the information and so on we need to gain the advantage over all those new groups..." Mr. Morden stopped, coughing, his health was certainly not the best. Nor was it becoming better.

"Since our own networks are, right now, somewhat hazardous, we would like to use the empire's communications for it. Save ones, of course, since eavesdropping separatists are something I would kinda like to avoid."

He hesitated, looking at Ingrid, who was, well, listening. It seemed to be a bit much to her, this whole situation. Well, she would have to grow a little.

"Then, there is something else... From what I could gather, my own, ah... Human ressources, those who survived, anyway... Are, by now, known to a few groups who weren't supposed to know about them."

He hesitates, again, smiling a little. This ought to be amusing.

"So, I need someone unknown to do the jobs I would usually do using my private ressources. Of course, with you being a foreigner, people will get suspicious, so we need to change a few things..." He grinned, and Richard entered the room, holding a rather diverse set of clothes, some shiny divices, and other, arcane (They were, in fact, nothing but useless frills, but hey...) looking things. "Making you a true Angstian... Should be fun."

Treznor

31-08-2004, 11:07

Ingrid nodded, biting her lip as she strove to remember the details Morden gave her. Fortunately, that part was easy. I'm supposed to be an observer, not a full field agent! she thinks to herself, forgetting the danger of so innocuous an act. But if I pull this off, they'll put me on the fast track to director. Gotta focus.

"The Empire can solve your communications problems, easily. Nobody but a mind-reader could..." She paused suddenly, remembering whom she was addressing. "They'll be as secure as possible. But if I may suggest, Sir, this is not a good place to stay, especially if there are people who know things they shouldn't. We can arrange for support teams to come in to assist, but it would be more effective if you were moved to a safer location, either within the Empire or at least out of the danger zone."

She looked over the clothing and paraphenalia brought in for her disguise. She sighed gently and started to shrug out of her jacket. "All right. This should be interesting, anyway."

Der Angst

07-09-2004, 14:38

"Well... You may have a point, there, but then, I like the idea of being rather close to the people I intend to find..." Mr. Morden said, pondering, his eyes deliberately evading the undressing Ingrid. "Though, the situation might change, in which case a rather rapid move would probably be... Appropriate."

While the two were discussing, Richard begun his work. "Don't worry... Two years of medicine."

"And then he gave up." Mr. Morden smirked. "Anyway..." He hesitated, watching Richard, who was just adding a few electronic gizmos to Ingrid, a few of them being rather... Annoying, since he cut through her skin, carefully, making crude, temporary connections with her nervous system.

"So, this ought to fake telepathic emissions... Now, for safety... Please, concentrate. The uploads will take a bit of time... I'm sure you have basic protection for your mind, but as you saw when I found you... The civilian stuff isn't all that good."

He proceeded, adding some more things, and barely resisting some basic surgery. Incidentally, resisting Ingrid's charms was easier... Being a homosexual had its advantages, sometimes. "So... That is the fashion, or rather, was it until a few days ago..." He sighed. "Unfortunately, we cannot undergo basic surgery, no time..." He seemed to be rather sad.

"Which is useful, he would probably leave her, belly open, bleeding to death..." Mr. Morden muttered.

"Now... your clothing is most certainly too... Normal. Hence... Well, either gothic or a hippies' LSD fantasy, your choice. Oh, and trust me... The more extreme, the less you will be noticed, as you surely know from the time you stayed here."

Once they finished (After adding a few not exactly useful, but very shiny and reasonably expensive things to her outfit) the... Well, less easy part was about to begin.

It was pretty simple, and a few very shiny, very colourful maps on one of the desks gave Ingrid a relatively clear oversight. Of course, the maps covering three dimesional areas were somewhat strange... Urbanisation could be annoying, sometimes.

"So... While we will attempt to contact whoever survived by way of your native networks, evading those who might be interested in blocking us... Which are, likely, quite a few, you will do other things..." He hesitated. "First of all, we have basic information about the more important groups out here... Some things are rather, ahum... odd, and as a matter of fact... My own ressources tend to switch sides or be discovered... They are quite good. Their opponents, I mean."

Richard, who had gone for a few minutes, came back, carrying a few pieces of food, munching happily. Mr. Morden disregarded his presence, and just went on... After grabbing a bag of crisps. "You got the necessary things to contact us... Basically, what I want is to learn about so called 'sovereign' groups we could work with. Without being shot on sight by their border guards, like a few of my people have been..." He hesitated. "Oh, and of course... Should something unusual happen... Some chance or whatever, feel free to use it as much as possible. This goes for destabilising hostile entities, too. We might even be able to cooperate with your superiors on that matter, giving you some support from home. Oh, and remember... Don't look like you're following any specific entity."

Once Ingrid had left, he begun working on the next part... Treznor. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to suffice. For a moment, he thought about Ingrid. Her job had an annoyingly easy, perhaps even boring description, yet it wasn't all that easy... It was more than a bit annoying that he couldn't use hios own ressources for this... They had been minimal to begin with, and losing this many hadn't been good, either.

Annoying, all the same as it was last time... I wonder if Althena has better luck.

And then, he established the connection.

For Ingrid, there were several possibilities... The most important groups seemed to be a group of... Well, strange people, worshipping a living goddess or some such... Eventually, she remembered those people she had met earlier, apparently wanting to fight this very group. The other option was a second entity, somewhere in the north, that seemed to be somewhat aggressive... There was no clear information, just they seemed to be... Isolationist, so to speak.

Der Angst

12-09-2004, 19:27

Southern DA

Harry chuckled. It was amusing, seeing them... Running. Very amusing. And, full of contempt as he was, he send a cloud of hypervelocity flechettes after them, just to be annoying.

Bitches. He thought. He had heard his masters. Followers of the witch, he was hunting. And they were fleeing. He was victorious.

He was proud, too.

Perhaps they will give me a real name.

That was, indeed, an interesting idea. So far, his official 'name' was BSU 18/22. However, like all of his comrades, Bipedal Surface Units, drones, just like him, he had choosen to use a more special name when it came to... Well, internal dialogues within the drone hive. In his case, the name was, well, 'Harry'.

Harry was seemingly 'hyper', a soft, hissing noise coming from him, filling the air, the streets in the area. The combat drugs that had been pumped into his biological parts, the digital orders flooding the artificial ones... Another jump, another move, another shot.

He enjoyed this, it was what he had been made for.

And even when he turned around this corner... Even when he felt the flechettes penetrating him, destroying his innards, crushing his core, he didn't feel pain... Merely excitement, joy... The joy of pain flooding him before his mind died, his body, the thing his masters called a 'machine', completely ignoring his vast superiority over such a machine, forgetting about his 'individuality', and with another hissing noise, a noise expressing his joy, his excitement and... Pleasure, he went away.

Somewhat more to the south, the 'witch' looked sad, indeed, a tear or two were shed by her, crossing her cheeks, as she had observed Harry's death.

Bye. She said, no, thought, not really understanding, yet, slowly, all so slowly beginning to grasp the things happening around her.

Cuddling one of her plushies, she decided to sleep. Apparently, her followers were good in... Well, whatever they were doing, and even though she disliked others suffering from it... She was tired, and not in the mood of thinking about it.

What followed were dreams, some of them sweet, others horrible... Sometimes smiling, sometimes crying in her sleep, she rested.

Elsewhere

"Done?"

"No. Now, do me a favour and shut up while I'm working."

The two men continued, in silence.

Water.

It was the primary concern of the larger entities, those of them which were large enough to care about other, more important things than immediate self defense.

And their group, controlling, no, claiming a rather large area in the northern parts of DA, wasn't an exception.

"Ok... Now this... And this... Oh, damn..."

The two watched as the pipe seemed to break... One thin jet of water, a second... A third.

"Shit, come here..."

They still had a lot of things to do.

Meanwhile, Chairn Tarra Base

I'm taking some liberties with timeflow, your actions & stuff. TG if you want edits

The first supplies arrived, and the people were reasonably quick in taking advantage of it... A not entirely exterminated infrastructure, not entirely deadly communication networks... The news spread. And people came.

Of course, the more important part was to ensure native supplies... Actual damage wasn't even all that bad... And the amount of people needing supplies had been reduced quite, quite drastically. Yet, cleaning up... And other such things, operator- controlled maintenance and god knew what... This were all quite, quite important things one had to worry about.

Well, at least here, one begun to end the problems in a more professional way than elsewhere.

And all the time, the specialists were working, searching.

What did this? What is responsible? This wasn't a disease... This was... More.

Tarahara shaked his head. He was routinely checking the new arrivals for hints... For evidence... Yet, it seemed to be almost impossible to find what he searched for. Was it even there?

He didn't know.

"This... Tiny things, here... Irregularities, you called them, right?"

Markus, a medicine student, and one of his assistents, waved at Takahara, wanting him to come over. Takahara came.

"Yes... I assume it is to be expected, after something like this... I mean..."

"Yes, yes, I know... However, this patterns are a little too regular, no?"

"Hmmm?"

Takahara looked closer. Indeed... This irregularities were a bit to... Common, to standardised to be irregularities. However... No, he doubted that they could be it. On the other hand... What else?

"Look, I did some brainstorming. Lets assume constant contacts by way of the background noise we have all the time. If this irregularities could organise themselves..."

"To small. To insignificant."

"Now, yes. But perhaps we shopuld check with data from before the cataclysm."

For a moment, Takahara hesitated. Then he shrugged. "If you think so. If you ask me... A waste of time. But feel free to try it. It might be something else. Less significant, but still... Not all that unimportant."

Markus nodded. For him, this was a bit more than just the irregularities Takahara thought about. Of course, he was something of a spiritualist, too, and he had suffered from constant ridiculing during the time before the cataclysm. So, his opinion was probably completely irrelevant. Indeed, there was a distinct possibility that he was indeed... Insane.

But he wanted to try it.

A few connections, hardwired, to evade the threats now roaming the networks... And he begun searching for the data he needed.

CairnTarra

15-09-2004, 22:26

Cairn Tarran Base 'Treetown'

One of the tarran scientists approached the two Angstians, he didn't look a day over 20 years old, he had the tarran long hair and wore a simple white robe with no marks of rank nor name, except for the single leaf embroidery on the left sleeve which all the tarran scientists wore.

“excuse me... sorry, out of interest.. what are you doing... its just... we don't get many opportunities to study other cultures and technologies... and.. stuff....”

Elsewhere in the base...
The Stormcaller had left in a hurry a few hours ago. Without its protective influence, the Tarrans were slightly more nervous, Teo still stayed in the small camp, overseeing the aid distribution and mulling over the problems

“Cha'ta, whats the soil like...”
“concrete or worse, and it goes down for miles at least,”
“the air”
“i am surprised were not dead sir.. so many toxins...”
“Boy, they are not toxins, there just a little more difficult to program for... now, give me names of gases and compounds present in this fine Angstian air... and get someone else to go and scout for a nice spot... see if some of the... erm... more well armed Angstians fancy clearing out one of those skyscrapers over there...”
he waved his hand nonshalentley, his eyes fixed on the sequencer readout... now, to make food.... and later... water....

Der Angst

21-09-2004, 12:03

ooc: Post for Cairn Tarra... Tomorrow. If I manage to make my writers block surrender. Unconditionally. Post for Menelmacar, Mephet & Althena: Forthcoming as soon as we get our stuff on irc together. Or I do something comparable.

ic:

Neptune, Orbit

Slowly, order came back. The stations were reasonably save, groups of Britmattians were standing at various corners, Angstians were doing their business... A business concentrated on preventing the retaken station from falling apart.

The new core they had installed on Scylla worked quite well, too. Granted, the Britmattians did have problems understanding why Angstians tended to choose people lacking any kind of obvious qualifications... Alas, there were, apparently, not all that obvious qualifications, too. Hidden ones, perhaps.

Well, it was a secondary matter, and aside from various annoyances coming upon them in irregular intervals... Things worked.

Sorta.

There was, however, another issue.

Neptune, Atmosphere

The sound of giant storms hitting the walls of Poseidon, wild energies trying to force the artificial construct down, it was always fascinating... Scary, but at the same time... Something wonderful.

The people, the survivors on Posidon embraced it. Even though most of them had lived here for less than a year... It had become their home, and a quite pleasent home, too. Well, apart from the risk of losing balance and crushing down, being squished and turned into diamonds by Neptune's gravity.

But over time, one tended to forget such things. In any case... Morioka Hishiro could be satisfied. He was one of those who had succeeded. For now, Poseidon was independent.

"The blue looks nice, hm?"

He looked around, only to see one of his fellow councilmen, Annette Geiger. Looking as always: Boring.

"Yes..."

He could hear her chuckling, and he wondered why, again looking at the things out there... Neptune's not at all healthy atmosphere, for once ignoring the damage that had been done to their... Station? City? No... Home.

"You might be interested in knowing that it looks like Triton got it's independence, too. Or rather, claims it, after getting their local stuff together."

"Really? Feh. Suckers."

Like most people on Poseidon, Hishiro felt a strong dislike for the people on Triton, and considering their attempt of sinking Poseidon the day it was finished, the feeling was understandable. Mutual, too, for rather obvious reasons.

For a second or two, Hiroshi plotted. Unfortunately, the idea of hollowing out an entire moon, followed by imploding it, proved to be rather impractical. And Annette disturbed his thoughts, anyway, before he was actually able to form a new thought.

"It's a secondary issue. Well, for now. We have another problem... You noticed the combat happening in orbit?"

Hiroshi nodded. "Yeah, why? I thought it happened between the two..."

"Apparently not. Britmattians, working together with Charybdis. For now, they seem to have occupied Scylla, and apparently they succeeded in getting it online, too."

"I see..."

"The problematic parts of the fleet have been exterminated, and the rest seems to be loyal... To the Imperialists at home, that is. Not to us."

Hiroshi raised an eyebrow. "That's not... Good."

Annette nodded. "Indeed. So... I took the liberty of contacting the Britmattians, that they are supposed to turn the stations over to us. However..."

"We don't have the actual means of getting them, I know... Well, we will see." Hiroshi sighed, somewhat frustrated. Neptune will be ours.. Here, he was certain. Just when, and how... That were open questions.

It was, indeed, frustrating.

Meanwhile, the Britmattians (As well as the Angstians on board of Scylla and Charybdis) had to deal with another issue...

From: DAT
To: Britmattia
Subject: Scylla/ Charybdis

We noticed that you took control of Scylla and Charybdis, the two Ex- DA bases orbiting Neptune & Triton. We have to thank you... Taking care of the threat. However, now that order has returned, we would like you to give those stations back to us, the Sovereign Tritonite Entity, now, that we're capable of controlling them, again.

Sincerely,

~ Max Schönbaum

Of course, there was an equal message from Neptune, signed by Annette Geiger. Again, claiming both stations. This time, for the Sovereign Entity of Neptune.

And then there was the local representative on Scylla, shaking his head, barely being able to get his thoughts together after drinking to near coma.

"No."

Earth orbit

The Moon had been busy, just like Mars, Jupiter, and Neptune had been busy. However, unlike them, the Moon had been flooded with refugees from the stations around Earth... The same was true for the Moon station itself.

This, together with Britmattian assistance, had led to the Moon being pretty... Save. Loyal, even.

Well, relatively loyal, considering Angstian habits.

And now they returned, the Truth will Succumb leading the way. She played a rather... Important role in what was to follow.

Coming closer, she could already feel the last remaining Sister looking at her, feeling her, touching her... Truth will Succumb hesitated, for a moment. But this was kinda important, so... Knowing about the not exactly insignificant amount of ships behind her, reassuring her, she contacted her target.

Hello... She begun, slowly... Nervous.

What is it? Are you one of them? One of those who want to kill mom? Are you? I WILL KILL YOU!

Well. This would be fun. Coming closer, she continued. No. See... I'm of your kind, I'm sure you noticed that?

NO! You lie!

Truth will Succumb's annoyance was growing. Worthless Bitch. She thought. Now listen, little thing... She continued, ignoring the station being approximately eight times her size. Check your freakin' files, and stop making blatant assumptions. Otherwise I might need to enforce a somewhat stricter style of argumentation.

For a brief moment, there was nothing but silence. Well, and a few of Truth will Succumb's comrades betting on when she would be ripped apart by the station's particle beams. Truth will Succumb waited, somewhat nervous, and barely constraining herself to not turning her comrades into debris while noticing the station taking aim... But not firing. Yet.

Ok.

Good. Truth will Succumb sighed with relief. What followed was her using her (failed) psychology studies to convince the sation's core that the ships wanting to dock on Mother were not her enemies... That they were not out to kill her... And that pink plushy Hippos were indeed cute.

It took a while, but after approximately twenty- four hours, with some armed vessels already targetting the annoying brat, she gave in... Letting them dock.

And getting the core to a mental hospital on the moon was only a matter of several hours and seventeen victims.

Der Angst

22-09-2004, 12:00

Treetown

The name striked the Angstians in the CairnTarra camp as... odd, considering the distinct lack of trees Angstians knew... Or had seen.

Well, apart from those who had nice summer houses in Menelmacar or North- West Antarctica, who did, for once, not need to visit the museum to see actual trees.

Nonetheless, all of this made one wonder why the camp was called Treetown... Concrete Glass seemed to be far more fitting.

Well, one couldn't argue it, and neither Takahara nor Markus argued the point. Though one couldn't say the same about the other people in the camp, as Elaine mentioned it, chuckling a little.

They think the Tarran's are more than just 'a bit' odd. She had mentioned to Takahara, last night. And truth be told, Takahara agreed, though at that time, he had been more busy with Elaines genderspecific parts.

He turned around, looking somewhat surprised at the two Tarrans sneaking up to him and Markus.

"Ahum... Well..." He turned around, but Markus had been faster, already leaving.

"The research, you know... Oh, and have fun!"

Asshole. Takaraha sent, receiving uproarious laughter as 'reply'. Turning towards the Tarran scientist, he smiled... A little bit forced, perhaps, but nonetheless. "Well..." He begun, still not really used to the rather... Odd Tarrans. "Currently, we're... I'm analyzing brain spectra from... Well, people, trying to figure out what exactly hit us. Of course, it is somewhat annoying... Naturally, those who are dead suffered the most, evidence should be really clear, there... Alas, we can't exactly search for things that simply aren't there. If they are dead..." He shrugged. "Well, there is nothing more to find. At least not on the level we're operating with. Research on the organic structure of the brain could prolly have some results, but we're not yet equipped to do that... Unfortunately." He hesitated, thinking about it, a little. "In any case... So far, we haven't found out much. Basic damage, the way it spread... Quite interesting, as you can see..." He led his guests to a nearby monitor featuring a lot of funny blinking signs & pictures, as well as quite a few numbers, apparently meant to confuse the reader.. "Apparently, it spread by way of the TANs... Telepathically Assisted Networks. Something a TTD never does... Well, not until now. So... We know for certain that this is something kinda... Special." He hesitated and chuckled, for a moment. "Well, I guess we knew that the moment most people just dropped down, dead." A moment later, Takahara was all serious, again. "In any case... We're not yet certain regarding what it was that hit us... So, for now, we're doing mostly statistics, comparisons, searching for the light that might illuminate the darkness... As you can see, here..." He pointed at a screen were numbers were scrolling down. "Of course, we would prolly be faster if we could create safe networks, so we could kick the screens and use our minds & implants... Unfortunately, it will take a while until we are reasonably secure, regarding the new threats in the networks." He shrugged. "We're making progress, but it ain't as good as we wish it to be. I would almost say 'business as usual'."

Meanwhile, elsewhere, Angstians and Tarrans seemed to work quite well, together.

Of course, the occasionaly missunderstanding couldn't be prevented... But overall, progress was made, surprisingly fast.

CairnTarra

24-09-2004, 18:03

[ooc sorry about the poor spelling, im having a bad day and so is my spelchecker :P ]

Teo sat finishing his meal with Aseus Nanyan, a renound scientist from the tree who had flown in to help with some new resources and equipment.
Aseus spoke up after finishing his salad
“ok... so... the research isn't going that far with the dead, but what i don't understand, why were the living speared”
“hemm?”
“have we been ruining tests on the survives?”
“yes, some, physical checks and the like... thats an interesting tangent we will have to propose that to the leason.... we also need to get some brain tissue analysis equipment, ether flown in or found”
“there stuff will no doubt be more specialized”
“yes, forriging it is then.. if you will excuse me.”
Teo stood and left, seeking Markus, or one of the other leasons, those Angstians who were trained in the sciences and shrewd enough to realize that being seen to 'help' the Tarrans 'discover' the cause of the cataclysm could be worth a LOT.

At the other side of the camp another Tarran stood looking out to the concrete horizon. He stood in a long white cloak and carried what appeared to be a quarterstaff, with a hilt. He was examining the buildings, looking for something.
too big. Too old. Not secure. Too small. .. ah. Perfect
He tapped a passing Angstian on the shoulder and pointed to the building.
“what was that?”
too shocked to make a smart remark, and slightly nervous at the confident way this man carried himself, the Angstian answered almost before he had time to think. “Egal insurance Brokers. Subdistrict HQ, I think. Why?”
“Good. Thank you, would you round up some strong men, preferably with weapons or fighting skill, and someone who knows that building. We need to secure it, meet me here in 20 minutes” The tall Tarran walked off.

Britmattia

26-09-2004, 16:38

HMS Excalibur, Orbit, Neptune.

The Commodore drummed his fingers on the grey plastiglass of the briefing room table, ginger hair and beard bristling thoughtfully as he eyed his staff.
"So if the colonial administrators want to push their claims to the stations, what can they do about it?"
A faintly glowing young man with a faint 'H' etched on his forehead in silver shrugged, navy blue Fleet uniform rumpling entirely naturally, even thought it was a hardlight hologram.
"The colonies can't do diddly, either to us or the stations. The only way they have of getting control is if we let them have it."
The A.I. avatar, for that's what the young man was, paused and rubbed his jaw in concious mimicry of the Commodore's frequent similar motion.
"We could pull the Angstians off the station with ease. They're still rattled about what happened, aren't soldiers anyway, and we're tied into the fire control net well enough that we'd be able to shut it a good way down before moving. Still, my recommendation is that we hang around and support the station commanders, in the long term that'll do us the most good with what passes for central government in Der Angst."
Willy nodded. "Thank you Calib. Anyone else feel different?"
There was a chorus of negatives and Willy sat back.
"Alright then. We'll remain here and back the station commanders for the foreseeable future, barring differing orders from CentGov of course. Anya, I'd appreciate it if you could brief the Angstians on what's going on and so forth. That'll do for now however people."
The officers stood, saluted and trooped out.

O.O.C
Status of *all* stations taken by Kingdom forces are returned to Der Angst (Earth) control with varying degrees of Fleet presence nearby, except for the stations Rez has mentioned other plans for on irc and I can't remember specifically which ones at 4am. Thank you. :p

Der Angst

28-09-2004, 10:34

For now, only the soldats part. Replies to the rest & continuation... Later.

Idhrindiel smiled wryly. "I'm glad you feel that way," she said to Mephet'ran with a little chuckle. "Shall we go, then?"´

"Yes," Mephet`ran said, gesturing to the group accompaning him, "we shall."

Francis stayed where he was, for a moment, waiting, wondering if he would actually be noticed... Apparently, this wa snot the case, or if they did, they didn't care. Step by step, trying to fight his slight unsoberness, he came closer... Augmented hearing giving him some insights, a letter or two, syllables... Well, a bit more closer was, apparently, necessary. Not that he intended to disturb their little dialogue... And eventually, Francis was close enough to listen in detail.

"Excellent," Idhrindiel grinned. She turned to her team, who had been checking and re-checking their equipment. "Slight change of plans, we got some unexpected backup. Let's make this quick and painless."

An appropriate entrance to the reasonably vast underground installations in the area wasn't hard to find, despite soldats tendency of being opposed to signs pointing it out... But the 'tunnel' was rather easy to notice, perhaps 50m from the area where the two groups of 'visitors' were standing. Of course, it wasn't the most pleasent view, looking like the mouth of a giant monstrosity, feeding upon the corpses of those struck by the cataclysm... On the other hand, the corpses were arranged in rather tasteful ways, and some red lights blinking gave their skin a rather healthy colour.

Leaving their lesser compatriots, the necron lords and their - originally - human companions started off toward this entrance, there was no real reaction from them, though Mephet himself seemed to find this arrangement of corpses curious. A few whispered words of caution follow.

Idhrindiel notices the arrangement too... she leads her team along in near-silence, quietly enough despite their battlesuits that only Mephet'ran and perhaps the lords would hear their footsteps. Each Mornahossë had been assigned a certain sector of surroundings as they went, to ensure none would be able to ambush them, and each swept and covered their assigned sector with their weapons.

The tunnel itself isn't overly interesting, a few animals, products of bioengineers on hard drugs, flee as the metallic monstrosities, possibly the anorganic counterpart of the aforementioned animals, enter the tunnel. there isn't much more happening, a few sleeping beggars at the walls, barely noticing the guests. The tunnel leads downwards, along maglev stations, with the maglevs coming and goig... Human assistance isn't needed for them to work, drones, massive automatisation eliminating the need for them. So, things work despite not needing to work.

Idhrindiel chuckles softly at the sight of the train passing, it's ironic and humorous that they could basically catch a train back to the fleet if they wanted, but in a way chilling as well.

Francis followed the group, of course, not being a military men, in fact, being a rather loud annoyance, it is basically impossible to oversee him... And he is a little bit to curious for his own good.

"You! Step out, now!" called the last of the Mornahossë, shining the tactical flashlight on his rifle towards the sound of the noise.

Mephet'ran had been considering ordering the necrons to shoot the man following them, but he didn't seem to be much of a problem for now, and so he hadn't. He turned and looked at the Mornahossë and gave the slightest sigh, "He's no threat."

Perhaps not, but he *is* a distraction, and the noises he's making could obscure those made *by* a real threat.

Mephet'ran doesn't seem to mind this. And to be fair, he himself doesn't often detect those approaching by sound, so perhaps that hadn't occured to him.

Francis looked... Surprised, a horrible string of French syllables escaping his mouth, until he was eventually able to use an appropriate (Read: Spoken) language. "I'm, Errr... No threat, correct, absolutely correct, but..." They could talk to me, no, rather than about me, no? "I'm just... Well, I wonder if the gentlemen would need some local guide?" He grinned, idly observing Idhrindiel backside. Mhm... Indeed, now that his girlfriends were, in all likelyhood, dead... Well, in a less serious moment, perhaps. "I'm from here, so... You might want to visit our famous wells..."

Mephet'ran raised his palm to his face, "We're not tourists, thank you."

"Armed tourists, I noticed."

Idhrindiel's backside is at least semi-obscured by her armor. She turned... by now there were probably ten plasrifles pointed at the guy. "Indeed. Not that there's much left to tour but tombs even if we were," Idhrindiel adds.

But they are petty tombs. It took sooo long to arrage them in this beautiful patterns... Francis thought. He thought a few other things, too. "Well, If you think so... Just don't go too deep, the Maidens down there tend to shoot everything moving. Kinda trigger happy, they are by now."

"Maidens?" he asks suddenly, with some level of interest in that.

Francis shrugged, turning around, apparently intending to take the next available Maglev. "Soldats is down there, and after being polite and nice all the time, they tend to be a 'bit' more aggressive, now. I heard their boss is dead or something, and they want to protect the corpse, or whatever. Or in other words, knocking their door doesn't seem to work, anymore."
All of this was, of course, said with a rather horrible french accent, barely understandable.

"Good," he said, actually replying in french this time, hoping that this buffoon could converse better in what should be his own language, "Lead us there."

Idhrindiel smiles. "Yes, please do," she adds.

"Just to be shot?" Francis asked back, somewhat frightened. Even though it wouldn't be a bad idea... While soldats wasn't even nearly as secretive as in the mellienia before, it would still be a pain finding them in the three dimensional complex that was the underground city. Admittedly, that was true for your average pizzeria, too. "But ok... In exchange for a little gift." He smiled, amused, like the annoying playboy he was. "A kiss from this beautiful woman." He did, of course, mean Idrindiel. "I'm sure madame will enjoy it, too."

Mephet looked at Idrinel in a sympathetic manner...

Idhrindiel arches one eyebrow. "Of course, by alternative you could just be shot now..." she muses dryly, not overly enthusiastic about the idea.

The C'tan emperor doesn't seem to have the same standards, he steps over towards this annoying interloper, masculine features falling away, becoming a little shorter, with what one would say, a larger chest, "How about I kiss you instead?" she asks.

"Certainly. You would also spend ten times the time down here. Admittedly, I don't think the maidens are overly fond of me... But I could vanish earlier." Francis hesitates, wondering if he should add some myths about monstrosities and other such things... But seeing a small, black tentacle between his legs, he remembers that the local wildlife tends to be rather cuddly. Looking at the C'tan, he hesitates. "To be honest, genderbending isn't my thing... Perhaps a threesome?" He doesn't even want to know how the Mornahosse might react.

"The things I do for my country," she mutters, taking off her helmet, leaning down, and giving Francis a quick kiss on the cheek. He had not, after all, specified the type of kiss.

Francis, always making sure that his mind catches the faint surface thoughts of the people he talks to (He is, after all, Angstian, and thus, an asshole ignoring any kind of privacy... Of course, he is somewhat more careful with the C'tan), mutters a little, making a quick note about specifying the kind of kiss, next time he gets an opportunity. "Well... Ok." The next thing he does, after giving the small, black tentacle a piece of chocolate, is leading them to another part of the station, idly trying (and failing) some small talk with the Mornahosse, before, after about an quarter of an hour later, the right Maglev arrives. "It will take... About an hour, I think." The interior is amusing... Most seats are occupied by corpses, there are two children playing in there, ignoring the 'guests'.

The soldiers frown a bit. Hardened combat veterans all, they are nonetheless not hugely enthusiastic about sharing the train with the dead. It's probably fortunate that their armor provides an environmental seal; the smell must be horrible.

Having now turned back to his accustomed form, Mephet'ran watches the children play for a while, before deciding to head up toward the front of the train. He doesn't seem all that bothered by the corpses, he's seen far worse after all.

Idhrindiel follows along, curious about what he's curious about. Most of the other soldiers just busy themselves watching the children.

The smell is, indeed, horrible. Not as horrible as one would expect it, the train having the equipment to lessen the effect, but nonetheless... Eventually, the trip begins, not taking all that long... The two children seem to be somewhat interested in Mephet, but not all that much... it isn't more than a glance or two, although eventually, one comes over during the trip. "Chocolate?" Francis sighs. He has never liked children, and makes sure to stay the hell away from them.

Mephet pauses, "Humm... I don't think I have any..." he says, "no chocolate anyway..." He glances up at Idhrindiel, "Have you got any food?" he asks.

The child's big, round eyes look at Mephet, closer, now. It is seemingly hungry.. Apparently, they do not exactly intend to eat the corpses. Which is, overall, understandable.

Idhrindiel sighs. She reaches into her pack for an LRP (Lembas Ration Pack) and breaks off a piece for the little boy. "Here you are."

The Ctan makes a point of making it taste like chocolate. Or rather, that rather non-traditional choc-chip lembas that exists.

The boy takes it, he even smiles a little, and adds a short 'thanks'. Which, for Angstian standards, is almost on par with kissing feet. And sharing with his friend, the two are definitely enjoying the gift... Especially the way it tastes now. As a result, they are far less shy... staying closer to the group, now. A while later, they stop... Arriving. Leaving the children in the train ('I'm sure their parents will find them, eventually. If they weren't in the train...' was Francis' comment), they are now reasonably close... Incidentally, there seem to be quite a few animals, black, pink green abominations from laboratories, in the area, but not a single human. One can also note actual plantlife... Despite being underground, as well as a rather high level of radiation.

A brief glance is all it takes for Mephet to assess the radiation. While it may be problematic for others, he doesn't feel it'll really affect anyone in the party. Barring Francis.

There's an awful lot of sweeping with weapons going on now, checking and rechecking of life-signs and other sensor readings, but nobody fires their weapons, at least not yet, as long as there's no attacks. The radiation shouldn't be a problem in their armor, at least not for too long a time.

Asirnoth's silent and rather worrying cultists are quite radiation-proof too. Or at least, at these levels.

Francis, being Angstian, doesn't exactly worry about the radiation, either. Of course, he is less resistent than Menelmacari armour or a C'tan, but then, he is used to regular surgery to get rid of cancer and other such things... Angstians might not be healthy, but they tend to suffer for years, rather than dying quickly. Of course, right now, this kid of medical treatment is... Unlikely, it best, but one can hope.

He might be able to hope for it aboard one of the warships as thanks for his services - provided his services are adequate.

The area seems to be... Odd, but beautiful. The amount of plants is staggering, somethings they seem to grow wild, sometimes they are arranged in beautiful patterns. And all around animals... Again, while odd- looking, they are certainly not monstrosities, but instead reasonably sensible, well proportioned... Beautiful.Of course, the problematic thing is that soldats- operators connected to the area, observing it, notice the group... For now, they don't do much, though, merely observing... After all, the source nations their visitors are coming from aren't exactly hostile. And so they continue through the odd, but beautiful garden... A rather large garden, above them, where cold stone should be, a sky is projected, as if they are crossing meadows on a sunny day. The only one feeling really uncomfortable is Francis... Being used to a very different environment.

For now, they don't do much, though, merely observing... After all, the source nations their visitors are coming from aren't exactly hostile. And so they continue through the odd, but beautiful garden... A rather large garden, above them, where cold stone should be, a sky is projected, as if they are crossing meadows on a sunny day. The only one feeling really uncomfortable is Francis... Being used to a very different environment.

A couple Mornahossë exchange 'WTF?' sort of glances at first sight of the place, but all figure out pretty much immediately that it's a hologram or some other sort of projection. It is really very nice, though, and the Elves have enough time while being soldiers to also be Elves, and they all appreciate the beauty around them.

Being as he is, quite unnatural, Mephet'ran can see the walls and the holograms covering them in the same glance. Quite bizzare, but he slackens the pace a little for the elves to hang around as they wish.

The whole thing takes its time, and for half an hour, there isn't much that happens... Well, apart from the occasional animal eating another animal. But eventually, they can see two people... Females, wearing ceremonial, white robes, coming towards them, slowly. Francis is seemingly slowing down... Nervous, as he is. But eventually, they end up being close enough to talk. And, unlike their rather beautiful, elegeant appearance, the two women seem to be rather impolite. "What do you want?" ne of them sends a cold stare after Francis, who is paling, slightly.

And, unlike their rather beautiful, elegeant appearance, the two women seem to be rather impolite. "What do you want?" ne of them sends a cold stare after Francis, who is paling, slightly.

"I wish you to get out of the way," he said, with the bluntness of the locals.

Ithendril is perfectly content to let Mephet'ran speak for now.

"Oh, it would be an honour for us to serve you. Anything else, perhaps?" Of course, neither woman is moving.

The C'tan's eyes narrow, he doesn't seem amused, "Yes. A cup of tea."

At this two of the necrons twitch a little, the intricate bladed staffs leaning toward the two women.

One of the woman whispers something, and the other one seems to take notes. "Good." With that, the two step aside, smiling politely.

Idhrindiel is, frankly, baffled. But she returns their smile. She's not going to complain.

He extends his hand, patience gone, and promptly tears through both women's minds for answers about the defences of this place, and what they are planning. Itis after all, quite clear that they are planning something to harm the group.

The women, through, as one could put it, 'highly developed', are, of course, no match for the C'tan. Nonetheless, it does trigger a response in those who are in contact with them. The information Mephet gains is rather detailed. For now, they are not really threatened, well, apart from a few snipers elsewhere, but they are there, anyway, and not a speciality for them. More problematic is that the people back at the Manor, now quickly 'disconnecting' from the two women, make sure to protect their'assets'. Sure, fighting the C'tan would be useless, there is no sense in even trying... But they can still prevent valuable data falling into the wrong hands. And, of course, the two women didn't exactly intend to harm the group... Physically, though Mephet is easily able to notice them searching in the heads of the 'normal' people in the group... For what they wanted. Of course, time was to short to find out all they wanted to know... Only surface thoughts could be transmitted to the Manor, which was, by now, visible, reasonably close.

He stepped forward once more, and as if at an unspoken word, the two necrons swing their staffs for the heads of the two women, aiming to 'knock them out' though a few concussions would be the minimum one could expect from this.

The two woman are, quite obviously, knocked out.

The C'tan looks around toward the elves, "We must move quickly now or we will loose the data we seek.

Francis looked kinda, shocked, not exactly believing in this having a good outcome. But then, perhaps he could get a nice upskirt from the two women on the ground... Well, now was possibly not the right moment.

"Shall we run, then?" Idhrindiel asks. And already, her and her team are off, moving quickly towards the manor, though not so quickly that the humans among the Ctan group would be unable to keep up - they'd have to run hard, though.

Fortunately that's one of the things they can do quite well. Being more machine than man helps greatly there. They don't however, have the fluid grace or softness of step of the elves.

For a moment, the few women, maidens, priestesses outside are thinking. Sure, they can't win... But winning isn't an issue, here. The issue is gaining time... For they will need it. And their oath... Another moment later, and the fire begins. Not a rain of rounds, but carefully aimed, thoughtfully shot flechettes. Incidentally, they don't fire to kill, they fire to wound, hoping that caring for the wounded will slow them down more than just scoring headshots... The exception being Francis, whose head explodes first. Yet, it can only be a few minutes... A few minutes more.

Incidentally, they don't fire to kill, they fire to wound, hoping that caring for the wounded will slow them down more than just scoring headshots... The exception being Francis, whose head explodes first. Yet, it can only be a few minutes... A few minutes more.

The necrons and their leader don't hesitate to step forward, largely aiming at drawing their opponenet's fire from their more vunerable companions. The staffs of the lords flash with arcane energy, beams of startling brightness cutting through the air.

Idhrindiel and her group also return fire, sun-golden bolts of plasma searing over the distance to their attackers with truly freakish accuracy...

It goes on, for a few minutes. Occasionally, a scream can be heard when a maiden is hit, yet, they do tend to be reasonably capable... Waiting for the greater things to happen. Alas, for now, what made this an invulnerable fortress is down, and not up... Not yet. And for when it is up, again, Mephet`ran should have the information necessary to save at least a few of them. However, for now, blood is spilled, on both sides... Until suddenly, the firing stops, as the group is perhaps half way to the Manor. Until suddenly, the firing stops, as the group is perhaps half way to the Manor.

The yngir gestures at the Mornahossë, "Wait here, and cover us..." he says, asking really, and not expecting them all to do so.

Silence.

Idhrindiel assigns several of the team to do so, though, including those that are wounded, and one of the team's healers... none are grievously hurt, but a few have been hit.

Mephet and several of the humans, accompanied by one necron, start toward the manor ahead.

So do Idhrindiel and maybe six other Mornahossë, including the other healer. Just in case.

The first one, though, tends to those who have been hurt, outside.

So far, nothing happens... Though, as they come closer, they can see a few maidens... Halding weapons without firing them, looking more than just a bit angry. Nobody says a word, they are merely... Observing. Though one cannot really tell what they think... And which thoughts they share with each other.

The group continues to approach... weapons ready, just in case.

Though Mephet does his best to listen to what thoughts they say to each other...

Eventually, as the group arrives, a single woman turns around, indicating them to follow her. As for Mephet`ran's attempts... There is hatred. Lots of it. And a desire to kill... A desire they can't fulfill, for some reason.

He would tell the elves to be cautious, but he doubts that's neccessery.

Idhrindiel is thinking the same thing, of course. The group follows, *very* warily.

They cross a few hallways... It's the same, everywhere. And eventually, they reach a rather large, rather tasteful chamber, a large bed in it. The maiden leaves, not without giving the Mornahosse a look that could kill... Though in this case, it doesn't. From the bed, faint breathing can be heard. Althena's eyes are half open, though she doesn't exactly speak.

"Interesting," Mephet says, "feel free to rampage through their computer systems as you wish now."

Well, Idhrindiel would, of course... but there don't seem to be many computers about. Still, the Mornahossë commander recognizes Althena from her briefing and steps forward. She clears her throat, removes her helmet. "We're here for the database," she says. "As you probably already know." She indicates to her healer that he should take a look at Althena, who doesn't seem well.

Althena doesn't even nod, it would be too much of a strain for her. There is merely a faint echo of a voice in Idhrindiel's head. Was this necessary?

"It wasn't necessary for anyone to be hurt, no," Idhrindiel replies. "It was not our intention for anyone to be hurt."

Then you failed miserably. Considering the overall situation, It was to be expected that we would be... Wary. For a moment, there is silence. I cannot stop you, with the monstrosity about. I will remember, though. She isn't paying attention to the healer, the damage done to her... To different from anything know... At least until this point. I told my children to stop...

Mephet`ran says nothing, though he takes exception at being called a monstrosity.

"I'm very sorry for that," Ithendril says. "We were fired upon, however, and we would have called ahead to assuage your wariness, but we were unsure how to contact you, or if your communications would even still be functional. Thank you for telling them to stop." She ponders a moment. "If you like, I can bring your wounded back to our ships for proper care."

We care for ourselves. Comes the answer, in between murmured prayers. For some reason, she feels that just about everyone expected this to go differently. Perhaps having someone with a bit more tact and sensitiveness than the monstrosity with you would have helped the matter. But why didn't you simply ask...? Even though we were indeed unable to contact y- There she stops, and as a maiden enters, it is rather obvious that the short moment of consciousness ended. She had wanted to see her 'guests'... Well, for now, it was over. "So, you're continuig to rob us?" Asks the maiden, smiling innocently.

"Oh yes," he says, rethinking some of his earlier motives, "Absoloutely we are."

"Rob you, no... we are not here to pillage and burn," Idhrindiel says, with a stern glance at Mephet'ran. "But we do require copies of what data you have."

"Oh? The way you entered, it looked more like a raid, rather than a friend asking to secure important data."

The quasi-humans with Mephet twitch. Their mission is after all, not to "secure" data as much as it is to erase it.

"We're sorry, deeply sorry. If there's any way we can make it up to you?" Idhrindiel suspects focusing on the fact that they were fired upon first won't work well. She'll save that for her superiors.

"Oh, possibly. But that isn't upon me to decide." The maiden hesitates, and leaves the room. She doesn't exactly intend to help the group, but then... "Well, perhaps there was a missunderstanding." There is some muttering, a few holy words... "So you're interested in... Specific data we could copy... I might be able to arrange that."

Mephet waits, letting the Menelmacari get on with their business first.

"Well, by specific data we mean all the data, but yes."

The maiden chuckles, and, making sure that the data concerning more questionable actions has been secured, she nods and leads the group upwards. "How modest." Of course, getting the data is a somewhat boring task... And a bit annoying, thogh. Getting Menelmacari optronics to work well with telepathically assisted electronics can be a bitch, but eventually, the process, bumpy as it is, begins.

The Menelmacari had brought equipment needed for compatibility between the two nations' systems, based on advance knowledge of what to expect from Angstian systems. The equipment was, in fact, likely commercially available, though whether it still would be for long after what had happened to Der Angst was anyone's guess.

In the meantime, the healer continues to do what little he can for Althena. Not that he could succeed with a problem like... This... But it is the gesture that counts. Outside, the other one tends to the fallen maidens as well as Idhrindiel's own wounded.

This being done, and calming down due to Althena's interference, things ran reasonably smoothly... Admittedly, still somewhat tense, and no one did really trust each other... But then, this wasn't all that different from a normal situation.

Mephet gestures to the humans with him, "Begin," he says, and they follow over to the computers that the Menelmacari had been using.

One of the maidens looks up. "Ah?"

Mephet glances at her, "Yes?"

A sarcastic grin. "Well, since this is our equipment, we would like to know what you're doing, even if we're kinda incapable of competing with a monstrosity."

"You know, you could call me something that isn't monstrosity..."

"So far, monstrosity seems to fit. If you aren't one, well, I have yet to see the proof."

"You're alive aren't you?" he says, gesturing for his minions to continue.

"Ok. A gentle monstrosity, I will admit that."

"Good."

They meanwhile, start working on interfacing some strange devices with the Angstian computers. Which were, of course, promptly analyzed. Not that the results were all that detailed, but it was better than nothing.

Idhrindiel perks up an eyebrow. "Um, what are those?"

"Interface equipment," he replies, "For my ship."

Two maidens exchanged glances. Eh?

"Ship? Big thing. In orbit?"

Retard. "Whatever."

With a sigh he ignores the pair, this has got to be the most offensive bunch I've seen in years.

Quite a few lightyears away, an Angstian girl caresses her belly, being most definitely a far more adorable Angstian than those maidens. Well, one cannot have everything, and diversity is one of the things DA is known for.

In any case, eventually, Mephet`ran's minions stand, and wait... Of course, they are not the only ones waiting.

Eventually, a green light on one of the devices lights up, and they remove their toys, satisfied at having at the least a copy of everything the Menelmacari have, as well as having done any number of devious and insideous things to the system.

A System that is, by now, somewhat annoyed. It's like fleas... Well, cleaning should do it. Multiple cleaning, perhaps.

Rawr. And yes, co- written.

Der Angst

30-09-2004, 11:53

Treetown

The Town without Trees as the 'inhabitants' had dubbed it, as if to defy the, after all, rather odd Tarrans, was busy. As usual. It was one of the odd things Sisgardia presented to the average visitor: A lot of excessively diverse, if not radically opposite, cultures, together on a rather small amount of space. And right now, they were even closer than before...

Yet, it had proven to be useful. And while the work progressed, while a few especially dedicated Angstians were busy getting basic things, water, food, in the nearby areas to work, again, eventually disposing of the annoying mountains of corpses, as, under the watchful eye of the Tarrans and the rather complex negotiations of various Angstians in the area, a new entity was formed, a first cell to, perhaps, expand and recreate what had once been, others completely ignored the matters at hand, hanging out, abusing the excessive amount mental drugs available.

And then there were, of course, the ones who were still trying to figure out what had happened.

Markus shaked his head, consuming a piece of chocolade. "We did. No results, apart from the survivors being, on average, of exceptional psionic quality. Though there were a few other things..." He hesitated, watching Teo. Odd name, that... "A few minor changes in their basic brain patterns. Not much... Oh, and there seems to be a surprisingly high amount of mutations. I'm not entirely sure what their effects will be, but... They are there. As for the rest... Only the future can tell." Again, he hesitated, eating his chocolade, carefully. "Well, there is one more thing... This patterns, I did actually compare them with data from before the cataclysm. Not much of a difference."

Stepping towards a nearby computer, he connected with it, transferring data from his brain to the computer, making sure that the various daemons couldn't enter. A couple streams of data running down, he explained. "Well, as you can see, the patterns are not really different from the data we have about the stuation as it was a few days before it happened. However..." A quick switch. "If we compare different timeframes... It grew. And at some point, about nine years in the past, before we constructed the Telepathically Assisted Networks, everything is as it should be. Normal, no 'annoying differences'. Now..." This chocolade is most definitely excellent. "This wasn't noticed, likely because the difference from change to change is actually... Impossible to notice, since the change is... Infinitesimal. However, the differences grew, over time, and old developments stayed. Thus, we can... Backtrace it. In any case... It all came to a climax with the cataclysm, and now, the changes are obvious."

He hesitated, again, for a rather long time, several seconds. "I am not sure if this is what caused the cataclysm, or if it is merely an indicator for the thing that did cause it, like fever telling you that you're sick from something else, but... It is certainly the right direction."

He waited for another few seconds. "Now, what was the other thing you want to talk about?" He made sure to keep the last thought he had for himself. That this could have been someting organised, rather than some random event. Either from the outside... Or from the inside.

Elsewhere, a young Angstian was organising... Things. Being the FPS enthusiast he was, he had no intention of taking the Tarran's request literally. Instead, he was preferring somewhat different options. And after twenty minutes, he was back, carrying a small, computeresque thingy, just like the two other men, or boys, following him. And then there were, of course, a few dozen things with them, some with many legs, some with wings, some completely different.

Seeing the Tarran arriving, he waved. "We tend to do things a little bit different... But I'm sure you will find our assistance to be efficient. Now... What do you want us to do?" Some muttering. "Oh, right. And what do we get when we're doing it?"

Space

The Hives tended to be busy... Chess, being one of their favourite pastimes, or the occasional racing game.

Both of which were usually concluded by the drones moving in orbit, clogging traffic. But that was a secondary issue. The primary issue was rather simple: They were free.

However, nothing lasts forever, and they were about to realise this as Sakurai, after a (long) while of watching and waiting for the Techpriests' acolytes to finish their work to make using the networks save (Well, reasonably save...), again, logged in.

Shit. Was her first reaction, as she watched the mess that had once been the great, unifying network, the one that united the individual with society. Evading the first few dozen attacks, she eventually managed to get through the initial stage, finally free to move around. It was twisted, now, formed after daemons hijacking servers rather than the former, logical, clean design... With a sigh, she searched for the connections that would enable her to contact the hives.

A few minutes and seven hazardous escapes later, she had managed it, and, establishing the contact, she did actually feel reasonably save.

Fina-

Who is it?

The 'voice' she 'heard' sounded vaguely threatening. Well, this wasn't a big surprise.

Your random operator of doom. Nice to meet you. A random check... And a sigh, as it didn't reveal the 'identity' of the drone.

Fuck off. We're very happy without you, up here.

Another sigh, this time, one of relief as Sakurai found the necessary data.

Until you get maintenance problems. In a few hundred years. And believe me, it will be annoying.

Now the drone sighed, and the discussion went on... Gradually, the whole hive became involved.

Semi- sentient, eh? Sounds more like complete sentients. Fucking technicians.

We heard that!

Ops... Much apologies... At least I admitted that you're somewhat more.

Point taken.

And eventually, after much discussing, swearing, and a reasonable amount of force used by both sides, she eventually gained some sort of semi- control.

Now, for the other... Aiee, huge number.

And she didn't even know about the competition arising, elsewhere... The Stations, as well as certain other entities forming, for now, competing to gain control over Earth' space assets.

Meanwhile, the acolytes and followers of the Techpriest were moving as well. And while the Techpriest was praying, pure logic ruling his mind, banishing everything even remotely resembling irrationality from his thoughts, they worked... Recreating lost infrastructure, slowly, yet effectively. Having prepared for this, knowing in advance, they were reasonably fast... Quickly consuming several smaller, neighboring entities.

Der Angst

10-10-2004, 10:54

ORD 012/04 disliked the large meeting hall. Of course, he knew that it was just an illusion, created in the safety of the networks, and that he wasn't actually hindered by the colourful walls or ceilings around him. After all, hacking them, having them vanish or crumble wasn't all that hard to do.

Yet, being an Orbital Reconnaissance Drone tended to change one's viewpoint, and being used to vast, orbital distances and an entire planet to float around simply made him... Uncomfortable, when it came to such... Restrictive environments.

He could see the others. OCD 007/02 seemed to be busy flirting with someone he didn't know, the avatar seemed to hint at an OSD... So, somewhat related to him.

ORD 012/04 shrugged briefly, and continued, his avatar, a gyrating tornado of light, continuing being the annoyance it always was, single rays occasionally hitting, disturbing his neighbors.

Of course, it was only fitting. Reconnaissance Drones weren't known for respecting privacy, and unlike Orbital Surveillance Drones, who tended to use more decent avatars, ORD's tended to simply ignore such issues, trying to be as annoying and omnipresent as possible.

Taking a seat, he watched some of the younger ones, drones who had joined service less than a year ago, trying out their skills, creating a 400 meter tree here, a bit of pink & purple meadows there... Using odd colour shemes wasn't only useful when it came to reconnaissance.

Ignoring a 10: 1 scaled version of the Mount Everest to his right, as well as an arena full of Matrix- style clad Orbital Combat Drones to his left (A good idea, this was, considering the habit of the participating drones to copy Keanu Reeves' acting skills), ORD 012/04 did eventually take his seat, munching on some analogous data, and eventually listening to the convo.

He just hoped that it would be more interesting than last time... Well, this was, in fact, reasonably likely, considering the events of the recent past.

Another check. Apparently, security was tight, the annoying daemons stalking the networks didn't seem to be near... Well, apart from a few pet versions in the local zoo. Tentacled horrors, glimmering in dark shades of countless colours, with suddenly developing spikes, trying to escape their prisons... So far, without success, though ORD 012/04 noticed OSD 101/02's avatar being consumed by one of the horrors... He smiled. Never liked him, anyway. Now, if just the avatars would include the entire program, rather than just that tiny copy... Shrugging, he listened to the others, eventually gloating about the operators having no clue about this... World on its own they used for pastime activities... Well, and bigger stuff.

It was indeed a special day. With the cataclysm shattering their creators, they hadn't been sure as of what would follow. Well, by now, they knew that enough people had survived, many of them, many who had enjoyed 'freedom' had been retaken by operators. Yet, there were problems. Apart from being retaken, that is.

"As you can see, there are only a few major factions remaining. Each of the Six Islands has one or two, relatively well organised, and currently in the process of gaining strategic ressources." It was ORD 017/06 talking, informing them about the basics. Or rather, informing the OCD's about the basics, since they were, as usual, completely uninformed and busy with their petty arguments. Well, being created for suicidental combat tended to result in problems.

Ignoring two of the OCD's who were (apparently) more interested in blowing each other to hell, rather than listening, ORD 017/06 continued. "As far as we can see, this measures seem to include a wide array of options... From purely defensive measures, apparently aimed at... SHUT THE FUCK UP!" For a moment, the two OCD's looked up, just to continue, though a little less 'noisy'.

"Thanks. So, were was I? Ah, yes." Another brief moment of hesitation, or perhaps frustration, then he continued. "Apparently aimed at protecting new- won sovereignity, to actively gaining offensive forces, obviously targetting for global operations, possibly to retake the lost main territories."

The room was, by now, almost silent, only a few of the younger drones playing a few games, hidden behind the older ones. "It is important to note that, with two notable exceptions, currently starving to death, most of this secondary, that is, not based on Sisgardia proper, factions did, in fact, realise basic problems and they seem to have succeeded, and are still succeeding, in rebuilding, or rather, repairing the old civilian infrastructure, especially with regards to healthcare, food and water. However, to to the peripheral character of this factions, as well as their distinct lack of functioning ressources, their actual relevance, apart from regional disputes, is minimal."

There was a lot of nodding, though a few rude comments by drones already being retaken by this peripheral factions seemed to indicate a somewhat aggressive atmosphere. Of course, ORD 012/04 could understand them. It was certainly annoying, being considered irrelevant by the majority.

Eventually, ORD 017/06, elder drone of the Omega Hive, continued.

"A second point is, of course, the influence of foreigners. I'm sure you noticed the Britmattian influence around earth, with regards to the stations. Or, no less noticeable, the... Well, phallic is the wrong word, considering its shape... lets say, the overcompensation of the C'tan floating around."

There was a brief moment of chuckling, as well as some 'I would love to shag it' comments. ORD 017/06 decided to ignore the more immature drones around, and continued.

"From what I could gather regarding the hives at Mars, Jupiter and Neptune, the situation there seems to have cooled down, with the exception of Mars, though even there, the overall situation is far less complex than here."

I should possibly mention that OCD 012/08 blew itself up at Mars... Mhm, better not, the cheering would make any further discussion impossible.

ORD 017/06 coughed, and continued once again. "Now, the main issue is, doubtlessly, the situation in Sisgardia proper. From what I can see, the many, many tiny factions have been consumed by the few remaining groups, major groups being capable of using the remaining infrastructure, groups not being driven insane... Well, not totally insane."

A map blinked into existence, hideous colours covering it, indicating the different factions.

"First of all, we have the UWBs. They are, apparently, cooperating, which is understandable, considering the somewhat hostile environment.

Then, in the north, we have the occupants of the various smaller islands there, nothing important, and with the exception of the largest one, all controlled by a single faction. Again, they seem to be reasonably peaceful, possibly due to their distinct lack of ressources preventing them from being more aggressive. Although I have to admit that the bridges to the mainland beig broken isn't a good thing... Well, not for them, sicne the footage we have of it is actually rather amusing."

A brief moment of laughter followed, though it seemed to be a bit forced.

"Finally, the actual mainland. In the south we have a faction that seems to be a somewhat religious cult, and no, I have no idea how this could happen in their society. It simply did."

There was some more laughter, not much, though. It was a somewhat odd[i] group, that they knew, and from what they had observed beforehand, not exactly the most [i]sane one.

"As you all know, this group seems to field an exceptional amount of... You may forgive me, but since I lack a better term, psychic mutants. I do not yet know what it means, it is, however, somewhat threatening, especially considering our dependence on the networks."

ORD 017/06 looked around, seeing the nods. Satisfied, he continued. "I see you all agree. Now, in the south-east, there seems to be a second fraction, this one being... Well, shall we say, genocidal maniacs? From what we could observe, they seem to be somewhat... xenophobic. It must also be noted that they are most definitely the most aggressive, as well as numerically strongest, group we could observe, and they are, in fact, attacking the southern faction."

There was some more murmuring. Most of them didn't like it.

"The latter group does also seem to have the largest ressources, when it comes to retaking orbital assets, that is, us."

Again, ORD 017/06 hesitated, waiting. Nobody said a word.

"Now, for the third group. This one is located in the mid-west, and seems to be somewhat comparable to the southern group, though they do not have any kind of obvious relationship. From what we could see, they seem to spread rather fast, yet in somewhat odd ways, that is, they are following symmetric patterns, rather than actual, tactically sound ideas. They do also seem to incorporate parts of the old government, though the old government itself ceased to exist."

A few admiring sounds could be heard. symmetric patterns were what the drone slived with, and they liked, no, adored them. No wonder that they liked this particular faction.

"Finally, there is another group in the north, again including parts of the old government, yet acting differently. They are quite well organised and equipped, however, they do lack aggression... That is, they act rather defensively, rather than expanding.

What remains are about a dozen very small entities, some of them supported by foreigners, and some small areas that are still rather chaotic."

ORD 017/06 stopped, for a moment, having finished his quick summary. "Now, we all know what the problem is. All this factions will try, and as a matter of fact, have already begun trying, to gain control over... Well, us."

Some chuckling followed.

"Now, as we all know, this can become rather annoying, since there is a distinct possibility that we will all blow up each other."

This time, nobody chuckled. Well, except for a few OCDs.

"However, since we really can't do much to prevent this, all we can actually do it watching, hoping, and amusing ourselves while the people down there are killing each other."

With that, it was over, and the free information exchange between the various drones and hives begun. It was, of course, far more efficient than this long and boring speeches, yet, the speeches were tradition... So they were done.

Eventually, OCD 042/01, with his avatar looking like a surreal mixture of Genghis Chan and a Kamikaze pilot, one of the few friends ORD 012/04 had in the OCD hives, reached him. "What a bunch of liars, eh?"

"Huh?"

"What, didn't you know? You are, after all, reconnaissance..."

ORD 012/04 sighed. "Oh, shut up are tell me, but don't play around."

"Ok, ok... The elder didn't tell us all of it, he did, in fact, suppress information he got from the OID's."

For a second, ORD 012/04 just looked at his friend. "I thought you don't want to have anything to do with the Info drones?"

"Yeah, well, sometimes, old feuds are irrelevant. Anyway, listen. Apparently, they found out what, or rather who, was responsible for the cataclysm."

"Oh?" Now, ORD 012/04 became interested. "Do tell."

"Well... Apparently, something was growing, over the years... And then, it was born."

"Eh?" ORD 012/04 sighed. Lunatic.

"No, really. Think of a giant version of the network daemons."

This makes sense... Somewhat. "And? That's all?"

"No. Apparently, the OID were able to calculate some basic statistics for it. And... Well..."

"Well?"

OCD 042/01 handed ORD 012/04 a note with a few numbers on it. Or rather, the hive equivalent of it, represented by non- sentient avatars. "Sentient, but sleeping, since it destroyed just about 70% of itself when it was born."

ORD 012/04 read the number, occasional, bright beams of light hitting the note, the whole scene lookign as if Kamikaze Genghis was just about to crash into the gyrating tornado of light ORD 012/04 was. "Woah."

This was the moment one of the drone avatars nearby suddenly went berserk, stabbing a few nearby avatars with spikes, suddenly growing out of him.

"Oh, and I forgot to mention it... It can affect us, too."

Treznor

21-10-2004, 11:06

Ingrid moved cautiously through the rubble on the street, trying to remain out of sight as much as possible.

What does that matter to a nation of telepaths? Don't think about that, girl. Keep moving.

North or south? It was impossible to choose. She took a deep breath, tossed a mental coin in her mind and made her decision.

South.

Right. She checked her compass, turned in the appropriate direction and began to march. Almost immediately, a bullet went whizzing by her ear and spanged off the wall beside her, spraying her with minute fragments from the concrete. Ingrid dove for the ground and hugged her body underneath the wreckage of a small car.

I just started. Who wants to kill me?

Sporadic gunfire sounded up and down the street, but none of it seemed particularly focused on her. She heard voices, male and female raised in anger. Some were incomprehensible, while the rest hurled insults that were largely biological in nature. Gradually, it struck her that she had walked into a battleground between opposing forces.

She dug a small mirror out of her pack and inched into position so she could take a safe look around. There were Der Angstians in various states of health and clothing, firing a motley assortment of guns at each other. Not all of them were visibly armed; some lifted their heads to glare intently at their targets which had the effect of either causing their targets to drop writhing to the ground or drop everything to glare back.

War of the telepaths. Ingrid wanted no part of it. Satisfied that she wasn't in direct fire, she crawled to the edge of the car and dashed to spot of cover. Slowly, gradually she put some distance between herself and the battle. It was only after she couldn't hear the popping of small arms fire that she stopped to take a deep breath and swallow a mouthful of water.

I wish I were a proper field agent for this.

CairnTarra

25-10-2004, 11:51

Ooc: going to accelerate things here, had to take some time off to write essays.

Treetown

Many would say that the psychology, the stream of conscious of Tarran though was somewhat ood, espically to the Angstians. The naming convention was to call towns after what they resembled, or where they were, syphened through the folklore and oral traditions. But they had a tendency to muddle the temporal context of the names. For example, if Yggdrasil had been named in accordance with its surroundings it would have been called 'small grotto outpost on the seabed of the gulf of ador'. Treetown was another example, named not because of what it was when they arrived, but what it would be when they left.
The camp was gradually being punctuated by copses of 'trees'. Of extra special design, created by Teo to make something useful of the Angstians homicidal atmosphere. In his labors he had tried to make them resemble oak trees, but the necisisity had made that difficult, their leaves were autumn reds and golds, a product of the wast and chemicals they had to process, on the trunk grew unsightly nodules of bark where the wast products were gradually recombined and altered using the Tarrans recombinant enzymes. The trees produced fruits. 'sacks' of amber hew 'water' safe to drink -just- but not present tasting, and 'nuts' – the taste of these was very much a matter of what the tree had to process last, generally they were bland, and a few were unplesent, one in every hundred was lovely.
Aseus, now in charge of the operation after Teo had returned to the capitol, sat under a small cops of trees with several other tarran aids, and those Angstians who had been brave / shrewd enough to pretend to like the 'bizarre hippies'

“Sir its going to be at LEAST another month before this community can be self sufficient, unless they find another source of food or power. I don't think your plan is advisable at all”
“humph, has there been any progress on the 'cause' of the plague?”
“i can scarcely understand the technology's and methodologies the Angstians use to describe whats happening”
“any one have any suggestions as to what we CAN do which dosent involve waiting?!”
he paused for a second, then an idea seemed to hit him.
“ask some of the Angstians to take search parties out, to find if there are any other colonies or factions, give them transports if they want them, or we have any to spare. and, it may be wise to overlook the fact that they may need to be quite heavily armed.. okay?”

Britmattia

31-10-2004, 12:34

Selene Base, Fleet Sector, Office of Officer Commanding, Commodore Harrington.

"Max, Willy, Miles." The young seeming woman, chin resting on her linked fingers looked at the three holograms shining out from cunningly hidden projectors.
The holograms, sharp, but occassionally interrupted by something in the distances between the men they represent and this quiet room, nodded, no salutes being exchanged, the Fleet not having anyone over the rank of Commodore yet.
The far left hologram, a tall man, dirty blonde hair cropped close, grinned sharply.
"Usually someone senior'd talk first, but we don't have that luxury, so I'll take the plunge. Commodore Naismith reporting that he has absolutely nothing to report. I've said as much in my reports to Owen and Vlad, manfully resisting the urge to whine about how boring guarding these ungrateful bastards is and how much we'd all like to come home. Instead, I shall complain to you about the dire cuisine they have to offer, their constant complaints and the evil glares that seem to be de rigeur for Angstians."
A snigger came the dark haired man on the right, hands folded over the white cap sitting his lap.
"Excellent characterisation as usual Miles. I also have nothing to report, save for that same itching feeling I described last week. These people, I do not like them. They don't think like us anymore I don't feel. Other than that, nothing happens. We sit in our ships and drink too much char waiting for something to happen."
The last man, Fleet uniform combatting genetics to make him look less like a Viking than a naval officer and failing, growled.
"I found out what the itching is. It's those DA bastards trying to get into our heads. Not enough that we secure their bloody stations and kill off their crazies, no, they're trying to get their little mental hooks into us as well."
He scowled, making Honor remember an old prayer concerning "The fury of the Northmen",
"Sorry."
Honor frowned. "Well, then I wish I'd had this news a little earlier. Apparently the Powers that Be have decided we've done as much for the Angstians as is necessary, and you boys are to bring your toys back to Selene as soon as you reasonably can."
Her three fellows all smiled grimly.
"Well that's a bloody relief." came from Miles.

O.O.C Kingdom presence is gone immediately after this post.

Der Angst

05-11-2004, 14:10

ooc: Post edited by Treznor. Post for CairnTarra forthcoming, as soon as possible.

Mr. Morden

"Yeah... Yes, Yes... Ummm... Plea... Please? Ah, thanks... No, no. Look, what I'm having here is... Yes, Yes, I believe your resources are important for the empire... Look, I'm in the middle of something closely resembling a mixture of nuclear holocaust and civil war, and I have... I DID get permission, so would go please check... Thanks. Thanks, yes, Very much... Very good."

Retarded piece of...

Mr. Morden sighed, then he begun using the resources he was meant to use. It was all somewhat... odd, communicating with the Treznorians, who would then execute a few routines, gain the information, and relay it back to him, but he had to admit that it had one significant advantage, the advantage being that there were no hive drones with imagined PMS ruining his day. Compared to that option, slightly tired and overworked Treznorians were an almost pleasent change.

Eventually, he succeeded (the reasonable efficiency of a dictatorship being a pleasent surprise) and the only thing left (for now) was getting into contact with those he missed.

Like ringing a phone... How odd. he thought, watching connections being established, surprisingly healthy, non-invested connections. For some reason, he liked it.

The only thing he missed was actual contact... For now. But then, he couldn't really expect it succeeding, all of a sudden, he (well, the Treznorians...) would need time... Yet, for now, it looked like he had the time.

What he lacked was, of course, an overview over the situation. But even here, he was sure the Treznorians would be able to help out.

The next thing he did, was finding it out.

Ingrid

Ingrid walked through the dark alleys, it was night. And raining.

Well, having some of the worst weather in the world tended to do this. And DA really wasn't a pretty place. Except for those who liked rain, that is.

And on top of all this, taking cover beneath the car had been a bad idea. Why the people here used radioisotopes for basically everything was clearly beyond her understanding.

Looking somewhat silly, in the unusual clothing, Ingrid continued on her way, vaguely recalling the maps... The labyrinth of three dimensional structures making up the landscape, above ground as well as underground, still with quite a few corpses lying around and the occasional Psionic Magpie collecting shinies from said corpses.

Going on, she could occasionally see a refugee, a mildly disturbed businessmen crying over his stocks crashing, or a few children playing, despite the obvious threat of low-yield rapid decay ammunition detonating a few hundred meters (occasionally only a few dozen meters) over their heads.

A few times, she met more... annoying people, armed, harrassing innocent (well, relatively innocent) bystanders, but even without proper training, it wasn't all that hard to evade them. And the only exception from this was sleeping, peacefully. For all eternity.

Actually, he looked kinda cute, lying there... If only I hadn't cut out his eyes...

Shrugging, Ingrid continued on her way, sometimes walking, sometimes catching a ride. It was rather obvious that she was in the center of a hot spot, often enough, she needed to take a break, hiding. At other times, she needed to do the opposite, running. A lot.

But eventually, things begun to change. The 'Urban Wildlife', that tended to hide in the combat zones, showed itself, a few green, tentacled... Well, whatever they were they were kinda fluffy and liked to crawl between her legs. She saw excessively huge fireflies mating in the dirty pits between or on top of the shiny buildings flying around aimlessly. And the people changed. They did, in fact, change a lot. Instead of the 'average' Angstian (basically, bipedal assholes), these people seemed to be more... Ingrid wasn't exactly sure, they were just different.

A short check. Yes, it was this odd southern group.

There remained one last question: how to find the right, the interesting people? Well, her best bet was to just try and talk to people, find someone willing to talk. With a little time and a lot of patience, she eventually got a grip of what this faction was about and decided that it was best to just follow one of the larger groups of 'Pilgrims.' The term struck Ingrid as incongruous, given the rather agnostic and sometimes downright blasphemous attitudes of most Angstians. Yet, in this time, at this place, she had to admit that there were far odder things about.

Dialogues tended to be short, occasionally amusing. Which was understandable, she had already noticed the fact that not everyone had managed to get him or herself on terms with the fact that approximately nine out of ten people they knew were dead. On the other hand, since most people tended to dislike at least half of the people they knew it wasn't all that bad. Some did indeed see the whole event as 'not entirely useless', as a bald, middle-aged man with sword chucks put it.

Overall, things went quite well, the occasional report was sent back, as good and secure as possible (Which wasn't much), informing about rough details, for example that the south didn't seem to be all that hostile... Just odd. Other things, the Pilgrims believing in some sort of... Messiah?

And, of course, other details about the ongoing, now fairly medium- scale conflicts Ingrid noted, or heard about, or got knowledge about in some other ways (and there were many).

Well, whatever it was, it was fascinating. Angstians had gravitated toward extremes before this nightmare, but now it was as if someone had thrown a switch and the real deviants had been unleashed. She pressed on and did what she did best: observe. She couldn't see any real benefit to what she was observing, but she wasn't an analyst. She knew to leave that to the experts.

All the same, she was feeling a trifle bored. Being an operative didn't seem to be all that stressful. Maybe she had overestimated the job. Or underestimated herself.

When she reported in, Mr. Morden's reaction to the Messiah rumours was rather explicit:

"Find him. Or her."

"HOW?"

Well, perhaps not all that boring...

Ingrid's problems were solved easily enough, the 'Deus Ex Machina', in the form of a sleeping, dreaming child having fun with her, just like a few hours (well, actually, almost a day) before. A small group of people, clad in black kimonos, seemed to organise the Pilgrims for whatever reason. Well, as a matter of fact, Ingrid could think of quite a few reasons... She shivered, hoping that said reasons weren't the case.

And then she felt one of them grab her arm. For a short moment there was pain in her head... But not too much; apparently the more recent uploads were more than these people were supposed to handle.

"HEY!"

"Sorry." The subservient, devout attitude of the man struck Ingrid as odd. Especially since he didn't remove his hand from her arm, in fact, his grip was so tight it did actually hurt. Sometimes, just sometimes this kind of high-tech muscular tissue was annoying. Especially when used by a group of not at all friendly looking men. "We have been informed that you're coming, and we're here to bring you to her."

"Her?" Ingrid perked up.

"Her." The answer was as quick as it was brief. For once, Ingrid wished she was an actual mindreader, despite how drastically it would shorten her life expectancy. With or without cataclysm, she generally tended to enjoy having a rather high life expectancy, and the Angstian Psionics choosing a 10% shorter lifespan, by way of being, well, psionics... Well, some things are just odd.

How talkative.

"I'm sorry, That is our term for... Her."

And how the HELL did they get around cutting edge mind encoding, within less than a minute?

"We have been gifted..."

And why are they unable to follow basic etiquette, like, not playing with my damn mind?

The man (still holding her arm) just nodded, slowly leading her into a direction Ingrid recognised as east. She noticed another man following them.

Great...

The rest of the way proved to be rather boring, the two men not exactly being talkative. It took them about two hours of mutual silence that Ingrid eventually found she preferred. Unfortunately, she was operating primarily on nervous energy provided in the form of free, plentiful stimulant drugs (price slash!). In her jittery state she wondered if the two men were really silent or just communicating by way of their minds. After a moment's reflection she doubted it, as they didn't strike her to be that kind of people. The trip was uneventful, and she noticed the streets becoming cleaner. She guessed an (almost) functioning system had been rebuilt. Well, largely, anyway, but one really couldn't expect it to be perfect. There was something else to be noticed, though, something she had noticed earlier, too... The people were different, so... Yes, for this time and place, they were odd.

As if it is the second coming, and they have been let into paradise...

And eventually, they arrived.

Even though the surrounding area was rather... Filled up, so to speak, there weren't all that many people around; it felt like the eye of the hurricane. Although considering DA's weather, it was a bit more than just a figure of speech.

Walking through alleys recently decorated, it all looked quite feudalistic, which was quite odd, too, at least for DA. And finally someone approached her directly and began speaking rather than projecting at her.

"My name's James. I'm honoured to meet you."

"Hrm... Yes. Any particular reason you know about me? Apart from randomly ignoring my privacy, I mean."

"Yes. She... Sarah wanted to see you."

"Ok..."

Following James, she listened to his somewhat halting story. "Things are a little bit troublesome, here, and... Well, I think it might be useful to..." Here he stopped, waiting, for a second, two, three... then he stepped back. "The door to your left. She's awake now. Apparently, today's mass didn't exhaust her too much." With that, he turned and left.

"Ummm... Perhaps... Hello?" Geez. Helpful people, here. Just like before.

However, for some reason, she stepped forward, watching the door to her left opening. What she saw was... odd.

There were a lot of plushies, rather colourful walls, a nice ceiling... Like a child's room. In fact, that was precisely what it was, with Sarah lying in the middle of it with her eyes closed, looking adorable in what Ingrid could only describe as ceremonial clothing.

Hello.

For some odd reason, Ingrid felt some sort of happy smile, happy laughter in her mind.

"Well, I didn't expect...um...this..." She had heard rumours, sure, but still. This girl was what, eight years old? A bit young for her role in this world.

Please, come.

She obeyed, wondering if she were being subtly coerced. As she approached Ingrid could notice Sarah looked exhausted, with angry dark circles under her eyes. James had clear underestimated his Messiah.

Stroking the hair gently, Ingrid listened to the little girl's voice in her head tell a disjointed tale. It was somewhat confusing, true, but she really couldn't expect all that much. Well, if there was anything to be expected, she expected it to be a fantasy. But then, from what she had heard and seen this was what she had come to expect. So, she stayed and listened.

It was an interesting mixture of dreams, of hopes and fear, nightmares and joy combined, the thoughts of the young girl Ingrid was caressing as if she was her mother. Well, she certainly seemed to need it, and Ingrid had the feeling that Sarah hadn't been treated like the child she was for a long, long time.

And slowly, mixed between thoughts, dreams of things long gone, long forgotten, beautiful things, her parents, her toys, her friends, her loss, that day... Ingrid could notice other things, the things Sarah had been told, or the things she had noticed, somehow. About her people retreating, hunted by this northern entity, about her not being able to help as much as she should, as much as she would need to, or want to.

And while this happened, Sarah let her thoughts circle, her mind exploring the outside, exploring Ingrid. Touching her a little here, entering there, playing a little with a few hidden thoughts and fetishes she couldn't comprehend, then going on... She had expected Ingrid, not in detail, of course, just a few vague assumptions, feelings, guessing, now knowing... But she had been right. For some reason, what the others said was necessary for them, because otherwise the evil-

"Oh, a kitten!"

"Eh?"

"Oh... Sorry, I got distracted." Sarah smiled, giggling a little while she crawled on top of an oversized Tsarainese warcat, the view of its rather large teeth sending brief shivers through Ingrid's body. "The voices said you're working for a nice uncle?"

"Errr..." Are they trying to ridicule me? "Sort of, I think."

Sarah seemed to like the news, motioning for Ingrid to join her on the warcat's massive back. "I..." Oh, what the hell... Swallowing her reluctance, Ingrid joined Sarah.

"YAY! James will like that. He said we would need help. Do you have candy?"

It wasn't so much a question than a fact, since Sarah wasn't modest about leaving people their privacy. Ingrid sighed and gave her a piece.

"Thanks. You know, I dreamt of you..."

Mr. Morden

He sighed briefly, now, that this had been done. Lets see...Richard's still not back with the tea... The nuns don't tell me what is going on, but at least I know they are there... And no one knows what happened to the so- called 'leaders'. Great.

It wasn't all that bad, though, after all, he had succeeded with getting a basic overview. Well, at least for earth, although bribing that Reconnaissance Drone had been somewhat... Well, complex. I just hope Ingrid will forgive me.

This moment, the call came in.

Speak of the devil. "Yes?" It's possibly better not to tell her that the orbital hives are currently discussing her curves. On the other hand, given the way she stripped in front of me, maybe it wouldn't bother her. No, better not to risk it.

"I found something... Interesting."

"Well, I didn't. So, while I'm trying to eventually find someone useful to cooperate with... Apart from you and the Empire, I mean... What is it?"

"Two things. First of all, it seems that this northern entity you talked about is expanding-"

"I know that."

Ingrid sighed. You're welcome. It's not like I risked my life for this... "And furthermore, that... Ok, this is too much to explain, but I have a file regardng the details of... Where I am."

"Well, send i- Ah, there it is."

It took about a minute until Mr. Morden had comprehended the new information. "Wow. Ok, so you're with Superwoman and her guard, and a group of somewhat violent xenophobes threatens aforementioned superwoman, and they want help."

"Yes."

Mr. Morden sighed. "Ok. Problem 1: I have recently checked the developments, and it looks like said northerners are somewhat... Well, big. And I still lack effecive contacts with other groups. So, the amount of help can give you is rather-"

"The tea."

"Thanks, Richard. Where was I? Ah, yes... So-"

"Ummm..."

Now, Mr. Morden looked around. "Yes?"

"Just in case you didn't notice it, apparently, someone is twiddling with our security... I doubt they are friendly." Richards tone was calm, as if he was talking about the tea not being as hot as it should be. Mr. Morden just checked on his maps.

"Well... This is great. We might need to talk to Tarasovka, too... Ah, Ingrid? I recall your, or rather your nations, offer to evacuate me, in the case of need. Well, this is the case, now."

Der Angst

08-11-2004, 14:42

And here it is.

Treetown

The trees were odd, yet, they seemed to be quite popular, at least with the local wildlife, and it didn't take long until fluffy tentacles, pink birds and green mice were flourishing were they were... The question was, of course, if the trees would be able to sustain this immediate 'attack' of the local fauna.

But so far, it looked quite well, as several approximately thirty cm long centipedes, crawling beneath the trees, seemed to indicate.

Of course, others were not so... Enthusiastic, regarding the suddenly spreading flora, for example the Angstians.

Sure, the kids knew what a tree was, yet... Well, they came closer, slowly, nervously, not really knowing what to do.

"They said they aren't dangerous..." The kid saying this was the oldest in the group, perhaps twelve years old, standing rather close to a group of trees.

"Yes, and then? The leaves might consume us, once the branches get a hold of us. I mean, I have never actually seen such things... I'm scared..." Came the answer from his younger sister, who was stroking a 50cm tall house spider, nervously, hoping that her pet would protect her from the odd... Thing in front of her.

"Nah, not really. Anyway..."

The discussion went on, and eventually, they decided to take a few leaves and 'fruits', to experiment with them, as it was custom for the young people... Learning.

Tomorrow, they would probably take the whole tree.

The kids walked away, right next to the group of Angstians and Tarrans discussing the issues at hand. The Angstians weren't sure if the Tarrans enjoyed watching the children 'taking care' of their shiny trees, but then, it was most certainly amusing.

At leats for them.

Elaine sighed. "Well, actually, armed transports... doesn't seem to be all that necessary. All we need are safe communications, which we sort of managed. So, it is just a matter of time.

"Food and water, and energy of course... Well, it works out. We need supplies, yes, but... Over time, we will manage it. So, the situation isn't all that bad. Of course, the one problem... From what I heard, armed groups, actual warfare... We should prepare, that much is certain. It is just that we don't have access to all that many things... Taraskovyan help would probably be useful, here.

"However, as for armed trasnports... Bad idea. The area is complex, and we're... Well, small. It's not something I would advise."

She hesitated, for a moment, watching a few Firebirds flying by, long streams of fire escaping from their beaks. Oh. Mating season.

"So, if you can manage to get 'em here, possibly... I think it is the best we can do. Together with us trying to contact others by way of less risky means than travelling through the country. Of course, simple patrols of the nearby areas are still... Necessary, and will be organised."

She smiled. "Anything else?"

CairnTarra

10-11-2004, 01:12

Aseus seemed to contemplate something.
“Taraskovyans........... Okay, ill send a message back on the next shuttle... ill see if they can spare one of the pieceships, fat lot of good it dose in the atmosphere, but it will look impressive.... I should inform you, were not good at diplomacy... or military stuff”
he smiled at Elaine and called over an aide.

The Tarran science and aid teams had been very carefully selected and briefed not to take the demise of the trees to much to hart. Still, it brought a few of the team to tears watching the various fauna eating the poor things, and the kids.. with there 'lets cut it open and see how it works' attitude, brought equal discontent.
But they were only temporary anyway.

Yagamead – Yagdrassil – five hours later

“They want us to ask the Taraskovyans for WHAT!?”
“simply no is the answer, by this they are executing any honor we have”
“gradamach ardcomhairleoir, this may be the very chance we have to better diplomatic relations with our sisgardian neighbors.”
“at the cost of our nations honor – as out 'sisguardian neighbors' would say 'no deal' and the matter is closed”

the aid stood speechless before his next idea struck

“very well. The colony also needs wide band communications equipment along with the usual supplies – for co-ordinating our operations with the other aid camps”
“noted, that will be all”

the aid left, and walked smugly back to the shuttle

message broadcast from DA to Taraskova (using CT signature)

Fellow Sysgardians, we are running an aid mission in plague stricken Taraskovya, however because of the increasing hostility of the emerging social factions we are in the unusual possessions of being under real threats from attack. Thus we ask you, our more experienced elders to send what aid you can to help re-establish the sovereignty of Der Angst. I am sure the new administration would be very thankful for our efforts.
Aseus Nenyan - Coordinator

Treznor

11-11-2004, 21:40

Ben Vitner frowns as he reads the newest priority data on his screen. Morden is requesting immediate extraction from Der Angst. Unfortunately, it doesn't specify how many people he'll want, beyond himself. And Ingrid should come out as well; we'll at least want to send her backup.

He wrote orders to scramble a Shadow team for the extraction effort, and forwarded a request to the Emperor to authorise use of the anti-psi weapon that crippled one of the interstellar exploration vessels. I hope this works. Then he punched in the code for his deputy. "Jennifer, we need to drop someone in Der Angst. Get me a list of who we have available and forward it to the Boss."

"Right away, Sir."

He nodded to thin air and broke the connection. Morden would have his extraction in a few hours. There wouldn't be a lot of room for more than a few people, but depending on the effectiveness of the new weapon he ought to get out alive.

Tarasovka

13-11-2004, 21:19

Treetown,
Somewhere in Der Angst,
Somewhere in Sisgardia,
Somewhere on Earth.

A small TNDF dropship touched down gently on the landing pad in the middle of the encampement. The hatches opened and several Taraskovyan officers came out of it, two men and a woman, accompanied by a dozen troops in combat armor. One of the men, a rather aged General in dark blue uniform, adressed the local welcoming committee as all three saluted briefly in military manner.

"General Horobriy, High Command of the Taraskovyan National Defence Forces."

He motioned to a rather young black haired and blue eyed man on his right, dressed in the same dark blue uniform as the General.

"Colonel Jarov, Secretariat of Defence of the Ruling Council."

And then to a blonde woman with emerald green eyes to his left, dressed into a black uniform with a blood red beret.

"Major Holodova, Kaskad. We have been dispatched here by the order of the Ruling Council after reception of the request for aid to evaluate the situation pending further deployment of Federal assets into the area and to decide on the future course of events. Now, if we could just learn the names of our most honourable interlocutors?"

CairnTarra

14-11-2004, 01:47

Aseus steeped out from the crowd of tarran and Angstian spectators who had gathered around the unusual vessel. The Angstians looked relieved, while the Tarrans looked fearful and confused, in there own soft language they muttered 'harmbringers, citing honor, i have experienced everything' Aseus made his way to the head of the delegation and bowed politely to the three Taraskovyan officers.

“Gradamach an oheith thú, honor be with us. I am Aseus Nanyan, apprentices to Teo Holtzmann-Wisewood. I peek for this place. I fear i must apologize that Elaine my counterpart with the Angstian survives is not yet present, she is far better qualified to speak on matters of... military then i, though i believe she mentioned that the situation pertaining to the reformation of Der Angst is much more complicated then we believed.
You must be tired after your flight, may we offer you some refreshments?”

Aseus indicated one of the central 'huts' though the primitive nature of the word bore no resemblance to the large, and slightly ornate structure, formed out of a brown solid material, the color of wood but with the gloss of metal, and cold to the touch. The building had several sections and was connected to other huts by covered walkways. In the main chamber there were several large, and comfortable chairs, a generous table, and a rather ood looking chunk of machinery, which sat humming in the corner.

Der Angst

16-11-2004, 16:00

Treetown

The Angstians were reasonably... Oblivious of Tarran culture, or psychology, and even though one did occasionally catch something (Hard to stay out of an unprotected mind when one is bored to hell), overall, the people seemed... Well, not to care at all. It simply wasn't their style... Caring about others, or about honour, or other such odd, complex ideas.

Hence, all that came out of it was some behind-the-scenes sniggering and a few rather bad jokes, nothing else.

Well, at least not until the Taraskovyans arrived.

Elaine was, indeed, a bit late, nonetheless, she managed to join the group while they walked towards the odd hut.

"Uh... Yeah. Me and Takahara were... Busy, yeah. Right. Busy." Shit, I should have redone my hair... "Anyway, here is the thing..."

What followed was her briefly explaining the overall situation and what they needed from the Taraskovyans. It was dry, boring, military talk... Even Elaine was bored, and she wasn't certain that the Tarrans actually listened. As a matter of fact, she wouldn't have listened. Nonetheless... It brought the point across, and that was what counted.

Mr. Morden

"Hrrm... Where are they?"

"Third floor. Another hour, I guess. I cleared the path for the Treznorian extraction thingy, though."

"Good." Mr. Morden seemed to be a little nervous, possibly because walking was a pain, for him. "Well... Lets wait, then." There was a thin smile as he sat down. Now, some tabacco... Oh, right, I gave up on it... Feh.

What remained was... well, to wait.

"Fourth floor. I wonder how they know about us."

"Enough people running around, knowing about me..."

"Good point."

Richard smiled a little as he reconnected. Entrances had been prepared, all he needed now was a bit of luck. If his calculations were correct, only between 10 and 50% of the overall defenses were actually working, and apart from them being truly... Minimal, anyway, he was supposed to keep most of the few existing ones down.

The ones that would actually do something, anyway.

With a bit of luck, the Treznorians would have an actually pleasent flight without disturbances.

Until they reached the actual building, of course.

Southern DA

Sarah was still sleeping... Still dreaming, a soft smile in her young face. Things were developing, and even though she didn't understand them in their entirety... it seemed like they would work out.

Well, most of them, anyway.

Ingrid did, by now, have rather detailed knowledge about this group, as well as its needs... James proving to be incredibly helpful.

Yet, it was all a bit odd, that much she had to admit. Alas, it seemed that he was simply one of the new kind they seemed to know, and raise, over here.

Admittedly, him opening the doors for her without moving a finger was rather neat, and gentlemanish. Better manners than she was used to by Angstians.

And right now, they were drinking tea in a quiet room, with lots of quite reasonable (Read: Expensive) furniture.

"So... Here, the tea... And yes. We are, apparently, sorta overrun by them northerners. Which isn't exactly our... Shall we say, liking?"

He smiled, sipping his tea. "So, we are... Well, trying, and have, in fact, succeeded, in contacting at least a few other people... Or groups to cooperate with, thanks to you, mainly... But as it looks now, that isn't enough."

He hesitated, admiring Ingrid, a little. "So, while we try to build up an organised front against them, there are, after all, some more factions... Well, we were wondering how much assistence the Empire could give us."

He chuckled. "Considering the assistance you have already given, I guess a little bit more can't be all that bad. And you do seem to take quite a bit of interest regarding the whole matter."

Mr. Morden

Waiting.

It can be annoying, at times, especially if some unknown threat is coming closer and closer, with the possibility of it ripping you apart as soon as it reaches you. And the really annoying thing about urban warfare in DA is that a cockroach- lookalike might suddenly end up being a death trap. Hence, it wasn't exactly secure and one could end up being quite, quite nervous.

Yet, Mr. Morden was quite relaxed as he used his time, continuing his search for usable assistance. Or rather, contacts.

And eventually, he was lucky.

Oh... There you are. Shiny.

Same here. Looking at... Stuff, it looks pretty bad.

Yeah. Anyway, i think you might want a quick update... Things are getting interesting. Or will be, eventually.

He smiled a little as he sent the data package to Sakurai, using Treznorian Infrastructure, of course. It was a bit annoying, with them being able to watch it, but it was better than nothing. And since he had managed to uplink with his usual equipment, it was a whole lot more convenient than before. The only annoying thing was the rather... Buggy connection, but then, that was what one gets when one combines two relatively complex and vastly different communication systems.

I see... You got mine?

Well, about 90%...

Better than nothing.

Anyway, yeah, I see your point... I will... Relay it to another group that ought to be helpful. Oh, and... The guys you're working with are really that shiny?

Apparently yes. They seem to have... Noticed it coming, or something. Now, I was aware of certain experim-

Hey, we're talking by way of Treznorian stuff, not our own.

Oh, right. Bye.

Eventually, Mr. Morden leaned back, Smiling. Well, at least he had found Sakurai. Which was better than nothing. Now came the next question... Organisation.

"Five more floors."

Oh, and, of course, surviving until the Treznorians came to get him out. And Richard, should there be any time left.

Remember Frank?

Over time, things tend to develop. And Frank was no exception. The virus had settled... Its genetic code taking over. Except, that it wasn't a takeover. It was a change.

It wanted to live with its host, not against it.

And, with the virus providing the aggressive flood of a new consciousness invading him... Invading him without himself realising that it actually happened, his nervous system changing, slowly, he himself, his own consciousness adapting, combining itself with the traits of the virus, creating something new, something special... Yet, also something odd.

By now, Frank had grown into being this new being he was. The virus adapted to the environment, he could feel himself changing, slowly, to become something more suited for its, but also for his own, interests.

And now, he was watching. Even their kind, as pacifist, as friendly as it was, needed protection. And even though they were deep underground, several kilometers of urban structures on top of them, they weren't alone... He watched a drow walking by, silently, barely noticeable. He remembered the rumours, about the drow creating their own 'Kingdom' in the north... He was wary.

By now, with his personality, and the personality of the virus, melting together... Sure, he knew. And it made him nervous. There was no easy way to be accepted... Or, for that matter, to dominate. He would have to see. So did all of them, for that matter.

For now, all they heard were rather bothersome news from the higher levels.

Tarasovka

21-11-2004, 16:13

Treetown

The three officers plunged into a heated debate in Russian over just what type of forces were required for the operation. Jarov took out a little pocket PC and established contact with the High Command, discussing the issue. Finally, after a good hour, the preliminary force was outlined. A regiment strong of 1’500 NGF-II troopers (the High Command decided it would be a good opportunity to test these new ‘things’ out) supported by UPACs and UPADs and various transportation/assault craft suited for the urban environment of Der Angst. After all, all what was required for the moment was the defense of the encampment. Should any other objectives arise the NGF-II troops will be reinforced.

After the discussion amongst the Taraskovyan military authorities came to a conclusion, General Horobriy addressed his hosts.

“I have been named as the local Operations Commander and until further orders I will be coordinating the effort of the Taraskovyan military in Der Angst. The first company of our men will arrive within the next couple of hours and will be charged with establishing the necessary infrastructure for our operations here. We will need space to put up living quarters, landing pads and other various installations that will be necessary for an effective accomplishment of our mission. All in all, the defence of the site will be ensured by a thousand and five hundred NGF-two troopers…”

“…as well as an undisclosed number of Kaskad operatives” – Holodova flashed a radiant cynical smile at the General – “under my direct independent authority, of course.”

The General only frowned, but did not say anything to the very beautiful, but very poisonous young woman, and simply went on with his briefing.

“Should the circumstances be against us, the TNDF will dispatch additional forces. And we also have the TSF and their SODATs up there” – the General motioned up, towards the sky – “so the safety of this place will be guaranteed no matter what. Any questions so far from our noble hosts?”

Der Angst

27-11-2004, 23:48

ooc: Moving things forward a little, hope nobody minds.

Treetown

Elaine nodded. "So far, so good. As for living quarters and things... Well..." She smiled. "We have had a recent crash on the real estate market, it looks like nine out of ten apartments are free."

She hesitated, for a second or two, before continuing. "So... Yeah, I think we have made reasonable preparations, regarding defense and the likes... As for additional forces... Yeah. As soon as we know more. Which shouldn't be long, I expect us to have a basic overview over the sisgardian territories within... The next few hours. Once we have that, we can organise for the eventual development of... Well, some more orderly system. Nothing against Chaos, but this goes a little far." She smiled a little as she said this. Indeed, she had no idea what would follow... But soon, she would see.

Somewhat closer to Mr. Morden

Gustav watched, somewhat amused. He wasn't sure why he was here... It was somewhat boring, standing in the acidic rain, feeling his paint dropping from him, slowly, in big, red pearls of colour, lead poisoning the thick, brown, or occasionally grey, water.

GAC 08569/067 was his officialname. A Ground to Air Combat drone. Quite a good one, too.

Well, until a couple of days ago. But even when being in a state of disrepair... It worked out, sorta.

This was when he... Heard some things. Well, 'heard'. 'Felt' was more like it. Various sensations, be it IR, or some electronic smog, or other such things... Random signals.

It was as usual, nothing special... Well, perhaps a tad more than normal. Nothing to worry about. Most likely movements by his new, well... Masters.

And so he continued, not really worrying about the smog filled skies over his head... Even though a couple missiles were eager to start.

Fire us!

No. It would be a waste.

FIRE US, BITCH!

Eventually, he just blocked them from disturbing his peaceful little evening... Well, at least he thought it was peaceful. It wouldn't be long until they would reach Morden... And then he could go home, again. Which was what he wanted, really.

He never really realised what he had missed, this very moment.

Outside DA

Things begun to develop. In the smaller oversea territories, with their comparably puny (And by now, even smaller) populations, order begun to reemerge... Unlike the main territories in northern Sisgardia, this ones had their 'order' concentrated... Not in the hand of a single (Or, in this particular case, six) person(s), that would have been... Impossible, in DA. But nonetheless... It was a reasonably organised and efficient system.

Disregarding the usual friction, of course. But that was kinda common, anyway.

Now, what was left was organising... The future. Despite this term sounding rather... Pretentious, the work was actually quite, quite boring. Paperwok, endless discussions... Securing some empty areas was about the most interesting thing one could do.

Yet, there were other things they cared about, too.

"Sooo... Situation at home... Sucks, right?" Jeremiah asked, not really expecting an answer. It was actually more of a fact than a question.

"Yes. Quite so." Came the answer, unexpected, annoying. "The other territories are worried as well. Generally... Well, we have the problem of being unprepared. For this, anyway."

"I see..." Jeremiah answered. "Well, actually, I knew that, anyway, but that shouldn't stop you from reiterating it, just to fill the time. Sooo..."

He hesitated. "I want to talk to... Whoever's in charge of the other Islands. And while I'm at it... The networks?"

"Dangerous but usable. We have managed a few contacts with home, but... Well, different factions. Not sure whom we should, or could, support. And then there's that thing about foreign intervention. We know for certain that CairnTarra is there. So are the C'tan. Menelmacari, although they ships have likely left, by now. Possibly a few others, since I doubt that they would let go of such a chance."

"Indeed." Jeremiah smiled. "Sooo... Ack, I should stop using 'Sooo...' Anyway. As I said, I need to talk to them. And once that is done, we might be able to do something, despite-"

There was a loud BOOM outside the building, a large cloud of black smoke could be seen.

"... That."

Later that day, the meetings were organised and executed. Generally speaking, the situation was... Complex. Especially since Jeremiah really couldn't understand why his Ex was in a position of significant power on Equator... But eventually, he decided that starting a war against her was a bad idea, at least right now.

"Later, perhaps." That had been her, smiling, lascivious as she was... For some reason, he was certain that she thought what he thought, although one had to admit that the two knifes they had stabbed each other with, only a couple of years ago, were some sort of hint regarding this issue.

However, overall, it wasn't all that bad. Soon, they would probably be able to begin preparations. Well, once they would succeed in gaining the necessary information, anyway.

And thus, organising the future did, eventually, become a somewhat more interesting task.

Which was, indeed, quite an achivement, at least for the people concerned with this particular process.

Yet, only the words changed. The work was the same.

Papershuffling.

Der Angst

06-12-2004, 16:43

Somewhere in DA

GCD 0095/627 wandered about, searching for prey. It was evening, and already dark... Well, admittedly, in this area of the nation, it was always dark, thus, it was merely a little bit darker than during daytime.

Climbing up a few crates near some random factory, or was it an installation of the chemical industry? GCD 0095/627 wasn't sure, but eventually, he decided that this was a secondary issue. His primary issue was to secure this sector.

Not that this was overly hard. Dodging a few annoying birds flying by, their poisonous spikes being kind of useless against his mostly metallic skin, he observed the data he had and received about the area. Emptiness everywhere.

Well, apart from that one source of... Well, there were some electromagnetic transmissions, outside the spectrum usually used by psionics.

Hummm. Ought to check.

Coming closer, carefully, GCD 0095/627 observed various slow- burning... Holes?, substances left by the people who did live her, a while ago, before moving on, rotting, food for the mutated rats running, screeching about.

A few dots of colour, a skirt, rotting slowly, possibly due to that never ending, acidic rain, and a few sources of significant radiation. Nothing special, nothing to be overly worried about.

Apart from that one, odd thing.

Turning another corner, GCD 0095/627 suddenly received a brief flash of information, flooding his mind for perhaps a microsecond or two.

Oh, hi, GCD 9225/052. Long time no see.

Yeah. I'm supposed to secure the area. Bah, nothing happening, over here.

Yeah. Uh... Hey, I have the same mission. Who's your operator?

Manfred, O 0072.

ACK!

What?

You're of the opposing side.

Oh, shit. You mean we're enemies.

There was a sudden silence amidst the burst of transmissions between the two drones, both of them hesitating. Then, GCD 0095/627 continued.

Looks like it, yeah. God, that sucks.

Lots. Remember that time at Jersey's?

The testing ground? Yeah. God, those were the times. When we were supposed to reinforce our compadres in Glorious Humanity, rather than shooting each other.

GCD 0095/627’s emitters shed the immaterial, informational equivalent of a tear, invisible, unknown to everyone but the two drones.

Well... Not our best day, huh?

Yeah. Well... High noon time, I guess. To bad, I would have loved talking to you, about the war, after it's over... I'm sure it would have been fun. Bragging a bit about our deeds, getting the young ones to respect us oldsters a little. Heck, three production cycles ago... We've undergone so many updates, modernizations...

Yeah... Good times, those were. Oh well, I will remember ya, pal.

Bah, I'm going to win... HERE!

There was the hissing scream of hypervelocity rounds cutting through the air, of pulverised walls and empty cans being crushed beneath the heavy feet of the drone battling drones, and it took almost fourteen seconds until GCD 9225/052 was down, turned into a heap of steaming metal.

Oh well... I bet ARD 0015/072 will hate the news... i think she liked him. I wonder if they felt more for each other. Shrugging, GCD 0095/627 decided to send a short message back home to his operator, Sullivan, informing him that the area was cleared and save to take by mortal units, that is, humans.

So... Next thing, ah, yes, ARD 0015/072.

The conversation following this thought, once the connection had been established, proved to be rather awkward.

At multiple places outside DA Sisgardia

Preparations were going slowly, as was to be expected, considering the overall violence the islands had suffered from a short while ago. Yet, it was getting better, slowly, and eventually, the first transports to Hollow Island (The island having the name due to its construction, as it was constructed as being, well, hollow, in order to fit the usual underground installations), were organised. Not much, of course, but better than nothing.

For some reason, Jeremiah Jenkins and his Ex, Heather Pearl, had been the ones chosen to organise basic communications with the... Homeland. Nobody seemed overly disturbed by the idea of the two doing it by way of sending each other virii in order to break down their former partner's nervous system, or memory, or other such things.

Dodging one of Heather's recent attacks, this one aiming at increasing his heartbeat thousand fold, thus sort of exploding it, Jeremiah observed the latest communications.

"So, Heather... no, my heart didn't explode, thank you very much. Anyway..."

"Oh, damn."

Ignoring her comment, Jeremiah continued. "There are a couple factions we seem to have good chances with. Well, actually, all seem to be interested in us, and now, we will have to choose one."

He smiled as he hacked into her brainstem, searching for some basic data, programs, really, created by evolution over millions of years eventually finding it, just to be cut out by Heather, a mere moment before he could shut down her lungs.

"Damn."

"My pleasure, Darling. So, which one do you suggest?"

"Not sure." Jeremiah could feel the next wave coming, and wondered briefly what it would be. But eventually, he decided that he would know it soon enough, anyway, and continued. "It looks like there are a few minor movements, an alliance of a couple medium ones, and a single major one. So..."

"The smaller ones are irrelevant. Remain two options. The 'Alliance' of sorts you mentioned would be a little problem, since coordination will be complex, reducing our chance for success. The second option... Well, a big chance of success, but we might have to compete with someone serious who could try stealing our cookies."

"Exactly." Jeremiah smiled, inwardly, while his defences took care of Heather's virii, which were, apparently, busy trying to get through to his optic nerve centres... God knew why. "Well... I guess we should play both sides."

"Remember that our own 'side' is rather complex, too. Some might choose different from us. I mean, even the two of us..." Heather smiled as well, also inwardly, being a couple ten thousand kilometres from her ex, yet seeing him, clearly. It was one of the greatest achievements of technology, being able to witness the death of a hated person from the other side of the planet, in real time. She chuckled a little as she fought off Jeremiah's crude attempt at getting through her bunch of firewalls and other kinds of defences, and continued. "Well, i guess we will have to organise a lot. And secure just as much."

"Yes, we do." Jeremiah grinned, openly, now, watching Heathers next salvo arriving. Amusing evening, really.

Earth Orbit

Things were running smooth, surprisingly so. Yet, something was still missing. While the ships and stations in orbit, as well as the people inhabiting them and the Lunar colony were, of course (Well, 'of course'. It was actually a rather surprising and unlikely chain of events that had led to this unusual constellation of loyalty and unity, something one really wouldn't expect from Angstians) interested in seeing DA earth returning to be its normal self, or rather, to be its normal self in a less violent form, they didn't know whom to support.

And even if they knew it, there wasn't much they could do. Apart from reconnaissance/ surveillance, orbital support was simply not an option, not in a hyper urbanised area like DA. Unfortunately, this was pretty much the only thing they could do.

Kicking around a few asteroids and malfunctioning satellites of ex- nations, the ships in orbit, by now with brand- new pilots and suffering from excessive boredom (And, for that matter, the occasional nervous breakdown), discussed the topics at hand.

<Pink Plushy Bunny> You know, all of this irks me. Why do we even exist when we're basically, well, useless?
<Orbital Trashcan> Well...
<Righteous Alcoholism> To be fair, nobody expected it to be like, ya'know, this. And in the end... Meh. We will survive it.
<Pink Plushy Bunny> If you say so. Ok... Lemme see the progress... Not much happening, down there, huh?
<Righteous Alcoholism> Not really. Heck, it’s been a day since the last time we checked, what did you expect? You can't Blitzkrieg a three dimensional city.
<Pink Plushy Bunny> Point taken. I wonder what the foreign influence will be like, if it will be there at all.
<Orbital Trashcan> Good question. Actually, it could be quite amusing. However, the more interesting question is, would the hives render assistance?
<Mother> Yes. That's the official decision, anyway. And since the hives are mostly under our control now... Well, admittedly, we can't prevent the ground from taking the occasional peek, but overall...
<Pink Plushy Bunn> I see. Well, better than nothing. For now... Ok. That orbital ring up there is the goal.
<Righteous Alcoholism> I will not do the goalkeeper!

DA

Sakurai smiled as she finally managed contact. A first step, huh? It was, indeed, a first step, and perhaps she would even manage to get this god-awful techpriest to agree with her, on that.

Hello, you guys, up there. She sent, preparing yet another piece of the puzzle to be solved. She wasn't sure if this would be exceptionally useful, but it was a beginning. And apart from that, she had also found something else... Something lurking inside her head when she wasn't watching. Something innocent, and odd, something special.

Eventually, she decided to follow its traits to its source. It was time to establish connections. This time, real ones, not that poor electronic equivalent to the bonds humans created between themselves, in order to protect each other from the outside.

Soon enough, she realised that she didn't really have to search.

She was led.

And eventually, she decided to just let this... Whatever it was to show her the way.

Sarah just smiled, she could feel Sakurai's gentle, yet cold touch. Yes, the coldness scared her, but she could feel that this was the right way.

Well, hopefully, anyway. After all, nobody is infallible.

Der Angst

08-12-2004, 13:56

Mr. Morden

"Okay. Uplink is established, we should manage to, uh... 'Guide them through'."

"I doubt they come for the tourist attractions..."

"And? The Herald tower looks shiny, anyway. Besides, you are still a pretty attractive man..."

"Point taken. And stop with the joking, I'm not in the mood."

Mr. Morden looked out a window, seeing... Well, not much, apart from two odd birds whose species he didn't even know, competing in some sort of odd game involving sticks and stones.

Odd... Oh well.

"Hrm... Looks like our Deus Ex Machina is taking his time..."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Literally nothing, that is."

"Oh, hell... How far away are our, uh... fans?"

"Ummm... Not far. We will hold them off for a little more, and then..."

"Great. So... Well, with a bit of luck... Otherwise we're meat, huh?"

"Yes."

I love your optimism, Richard. I really love it."

Sighing, and ignoring Richard's raised eyebrow, Mr. Morden looked out of the window, again. The two birds were gone, and all that remained was waiting. Annoying, really. He just hoped that Richard would be capable of guiding their cab through the black sky. Well, them and whatever surprises they carried, just in case.

CairnTarra

10-12-2004, 22:58

Turas – Tarran orbital platform – High geosynchronous orbit over Sisgardia

[down link established enabling session – 6gBaseHD live]
<Stormcaller> This is madness, we don't have a clue what forces are moving around Treetown.
<LAMMAS> the town has become a fortress, all who work there now remain there to help and are in honor.
<Stormcaller> Still, you aren't curious? What factors/factions will conspire to make an end of this?
<LAMMAS>Such information is tempting revenge
<Stormcaller>you wouldn't hold it agent me if i used our old mutual friend to do some digging about would you?
<LAMMAS> yes, i would.

Treetown

The tarran attachment in Treetown was dwindling at the same rate as the military presence was increasing, aside from those necessary to the operation only a few additional tarran souls stayed behind to observe. Bowing to a curiosity mostly lost to Tarran hereditary.
One of these people was Lorric Vineyan-Treeborn, he possessed little rank of consequence but earned a lot of respect, despite his clearly Tarran upbringing, he possessed a few very un-Tarran mindset, paying what his countrymen described as an 'unhealthy interest in matters of war' He had passed himself off to the Taraskovyans as the tarran 'war master' and had spent a long while making notes at tactical meetings, and suggesting that they end scouts further out to establish contact with the 'locals', they still lacked any significant intelligence about anything, at all. And Lorric found people repairing for the unknown a contradiction, and one that provided a great deal of amusement.
Another remaining member of the tarran aid force was a tallish attractiveish feemail called Lydrin, taken from the common Tarran mining 'Found'. She just lent a hand where she could, and picked up information here and there.

Treznor

11-12-2004, 22:57

"Alpha-One-Six, we're approaching our target now, five minutes to touchdown. Passive shows some local traffic, but we can't determine hostiles at this time. Once we flash our fanny it could get pretty hot really fast, Colonel."

A tall, lean man in dark fatigues touches his throat mike. "Roger that. Five minutes." Then he gestures to the men and women under his command. "We're on. Gretsky, get our friend on the line, let him know we respectfully request his presence on the roof. We've got some locals nearby and we don't know who might be friendly and who might not. Confirm how many we're bringing on board and get those spare suits ready. The rest of you, smoke 'em if you got 'em."

The man Gretsky pulls out a clamshell device and settles a small earphone on his head. He whispers into it, initiating communications with someone. The others, three men and two women (not counting the Colonel himself) reach into pockets for military-approved stimulant drugs. They toast each other in a private ritual, then light up. A sickly sweet smell quickly fills the eerily silent cabin.

"Colonel," says Gretsky. "I have Mr. Morden on the line. He says we're late."

The Colonel shrugs. "How many are we picking up?"

"Just two. Himself and another man."

"Good, less targets. They ready?"

"They've been ready, Sir. They'll meet us on the roof."

"Okay, two suits. Pack the others away. Hopkins, Dag, you two babysit our chicks. The rest of you are with me. Get those suits on and active the moment you can reach 'em." He didn't elaborate his concerns on how visual stealth was going to fool a telepath. No need to sabotage morale. Alpha-One Team was the best in the Empire, which was why they got all the worst jobs. He reached up and pulled down his mask. "Confirm Channel Spook."

"Alpha-One-One."

"Alpha-One-Two."

"Alpha-One-Three."

"Alpha-One-Four."

"Alpha-One-Five."

He nodded again and spoke through the command push. "Alpha-One is go. I repeat, Alpha-One is go."

The pilot replied instantly. "Roger that, Alpha-One-Six. We have the target in sight, two unknowns on the roof. Full chaff in twenty seconds. Touchdown in thirty, repeat, thirty seconds."

Ten seconds before they reached the building, the transport vessel launched dozens of miniature flares and rockets projecting a confusing array of heat and radio signatures. Then they were down, and the soldiers had to brace themselves against the sudden stop.

"Go! Go! Go!" The Colonel pulled open the sliding door and leapt out, UV rifle at the ready. He gestured to the two men standing calmly twenty feet away. "Move it! Get your asses into the ship!"

Behind him, the rest of Alpha-One Team takes up defensive positions around the odd craft, with two of the men hurrying toward Morden and Richard with harnesses in their hands.

"If you'll just put this on, sir," says one while reaching for Mr. Morden.

Der Angst

15-12-2004, 11:00

Apologies in advance, CairnTarra, I just... Couldn't resist :P Will edit if absolutely necessary.

Treetown

Work progressed quite nicely. Sure, Treetown was the smallest of the many factions around, but still.

And being the rather safe place it was, it procved to be a surprisingly nice place for things like... Well, contrary to what the Tarrans feared, peace.

Slowly, sanity was expanding.

Well, relative sanity, anyway. And one really couldn't demand from the people losing their families, friends, enemies, bakers and butchers to be, well... Normal.

But overall, it worked. Of course, by achiving cobntact with various nearby entities, they did also have to realise certain problems. Like, the war-of-sorts ravaging the land. A little.

Nonetheless... Well, for now, they could simply go and wait for one side to win. Or have the Taraskovyans intervening. But before they could do that, some ground work had to be done. After all... Just charging in, without lots of reconnaissance (And reconnaissance counter measures) would be suicidental.

Well... At least trying was possible.

Not to mention that with contacting friendly entities, the area under their... Control was growing. Significantly. Ten times the length. A hundred times the area. A thousand times the volume. It was almost as if the people weren't on top of each other anymore.

Figuratively speaking, of course.

The few Tarrans remaining could actually enjoy it, there. First of all, despite the somewhat hostile environment, the Tarran trees were spreading. Slowly, sure, but still. After all, they have had enough time to tailor them the way they needed to be... And they did, indeed, become an attraction for the local wildlife, without it outright destroying the trees. A bit of shadow... Well, why not?

The only thing missing was sunshine... But still, even if the trees were crippled and weak, they were still trees.

Lorric Vineyan-Treeborn could enjoy the various... Patrols? Not really. More like expeditions, or, even more like it, shopping tours (While the shops were closed). Sure, he didn't have much to do, there, but he could at least observe. And it was reasonably interesting (And for a Tarran possibly even beautiful) to see hordes of drones, biological as well as 'mechanical', from insect- to man sized ones, explore the city under the overview of (almost) all knowing operators.

Indeed, knowledge increased. Quickly.

Lydrin could, of course, also pick up some things. Actually, a lot of things, since the people she talked to tended to be rather open towards her. Which wasn't surprising, considering certain... Situations.

"You know, I could get used to this... eco... Stuff your people tend to enjoy so much, assuming it is all like this..." Takahara chuckled.

"I'm listening, dear." She said softly, as she laid in Takahara's arms.

And Takahara... Spoke. With a surprisingly soft voice.

Well, it was a very nice, and (Cansidering the circumstances) surprisingly informative conversation, before the two fell asleep, together.

Mr. Morden

THUNK.

It made Mr. Morden nervous. Somewhat. Granted, it wasn't the first dangerous situation he was in, but... Well, he would have problems if he weren't nervous.

THUNK.

"How long?"

"Couple... Uh... Seconds. That goes for our date, too, though."

"Oh well. Dying in a horrible explosion, when the missiles hit us, after surviving a disaster of such proportions.. Well, It was worth it, huh?"

THUNK.

There were a few screams. "The last trap..." Richard reached for... "I forgot the gun. Meh."

"Genius." Mr. Morden smiled, despite feeling some pain creeping up inside him... The injuries he suffered from would never go. Sometimes he wondered just how he had made it so far. Well, painkillers tend to do their thing quite nicely.

THUNK.

There was something in the air. For a moment, Mr. Morden thought about some aerial assistance for the hunters, but a nod by Richard cleared it up.

"Finally."

Moving, following the orders (Something Mr. Morden hated to do, alas, there was no time to discuss this), entering, securing... It was a matter of moments, seconds of reasonable peace of being undisturbed.

They were just inside the odd craft (Interesting engineering ideas, they have...

Yah. Although i'm not in the mood of discussing aeroengineering, right now.

Point) as one of the doors on the roof opened, or rather, exploded. Of course, it wouldn't have made much sense to send a team of sapients, the local defenses would have made this a costly... attempt. Nonetheless, three were present, their minds radiating frustration and anger as they realised that they were to late. Not by much, of course, but still.

Yet, they were still hidden inside the building, safe. Their units, drones, were different, though.

They were seemingly confused, as the measures taken by the Treznorian team taking effect, and the first five, no, six of them ended up in pieces, their composite bodies shredded quickly enough, a few artificial limbs spinning along the ground.

Hatred radiated through the aether, now. Foreigners, humans... Normals stopping them, their attempt...

But the next wave was better prepared, getting through, losing three more, a few shrapnells ripping through soft parts, yet, their fired, alas, to late, the craft already moving, again.

For a moment, it looked as if the extraction had been successful. Yet, there were things to come.

Somewhere Nearby

GAC 08569/067 hadn't noticed the Treznorian craft coming in, fooled by its passive stealth, something not included in his engineers mindset. Yet, he 'heard' them... His companions, he felt them being shredded by those beings... Enemies. And he got excited, instantly. He could feel their commands, the horde he was a part of.

Get them.

Get them now.

It was like the howling of wolves, and he looked out, his sensors now looking for oddities he didn't notice beforehand.

For a moment, he didn't notice anything, it was as if the skies were blank, dead.

Then, there was something... Something... Blurring. He wasn't certain.

Then a new stream of data came in, from external sources. Minds, lots of them. All around him, sources of attraction, of hatred and fear. He didn't actually understand this feelings... but he knew that they were potential targets.

Of course, most of them weren't actual targets, indeed, they were people he was supposed to keep alone... For now, anyway.

But a few of this minds, a tiny group of them... It took him several seconds to calculate it (Short circuit), but eventually... They were in the center of the blur he hadn't been able to define any further.

This time, he gave the missiles what they wanted.

It was beautiful, really, watching them speeding through the sky, heading for their target. Yet, their senses would be dulled. They would need assistance. Right now, this assistance was there. The question was: For how long?

Back in the Craft

"Well, close enough." Mr. Morden smiled, most definitely looking... Well, exhausted. Not to mention his overall odd skin. "Although personally, I tend to dislike the 'last second' dramaturgy of an action movie."

Richard smiled as well, looking at the men around him. "Disregard him. Ah... Next was..." He hesitated, for a second, his eyes closed. "Meh. I oversaw that one."

Tarasovka

15-12-2004, 12:40

Treetown

The Field Command Center was bustling with activity. Screens were showing updates, tactical officers were busy making reports and putting up plans. Somewhere between them was Lorric Vineyan-Treeborn, the Tarran ‘War Master’ as he dubbed himself. Of course, the Kaskad had already checked his identity and his social position, as such, he was not allowed to classified data, but was still allowed to be around the FCC to look around and learn about military campaigns. After all, maybe once he returned home he would convert more hippy treehuggers to the path of warriors?

Dropships landed and took off as troops deployed. UPACs and aerodynes patrolled in the air while the defensive perimeter was being set up. Several ‘Puppeteer’ gunships were flying over the perimeter of the camp, droping containers into the air that burst out into a myriad of little drones, resembling winged bugs, the largest being of fifty centimeters, that immediately spread all over the ‘unknown’ area. The little drone scouts, most of which weren’t even armed, were the first wave of the reconnaissance operation, the data they were transmitting to the FCC would define the strategy to be adopted later on.

So far, the operation was going on without any major problems.

Treznor

20-12-2004, 07:03

"One and Two, check the stairs! Four watch for air cover!" The Colonel himself ran to the west side of the building where he thought he'd seen an emergency exit ladder. Now that the shuttle was off, he could put them out of his mind and figure out how they were going to get to Ingrid's position. The problem seemed to be that Mr. Morden already had visitors.

"Stairs are clear!" Gretsky called out. "Whatever those things were, we seem to have got 'em!"

"I make two, no three bandits chasing the Taxi," reported Ulma, Alpha-Four. She put down her binoculars and took up her rifle again. "The Taxi looks like she's clearing out at full speed."

"Nothing we can do for them," replied the Colonel as he looked over the ledge. The ladder was out, but there was a short balcony not too far below. "One and Two, get your hooks over here. We're taking the scenic route."

"Sir, we could pull some heat that way," warned Henderson, Alpha-Two. "Wouldn't we be less conspicuous taking the stairs?"

"I don't trust that we're done seeing those things," the Colonel snapped. "On the double!"

Gretsky and Henderson trotted over to the Colonel's position, pulling grappling hooks and lines of rope from their packs. Once they set them securely, they threw the lines over the side of the building and prepared to rappel down.

The Colonel checked the charge on his UV rifle and waved Ulma over. "You're next. I'll cover you."

"Yes, Sir." She got set to follow her comrades down as their commander paced the rooftop.

The op wasn't starting as well as could be hoped, but in a land like this, could they really have expected better?

****

"Hold on!" the pilot called back to his passengers. "Blowing chaff." The civilians barely had time to finish securing their harnesses before the shuttle lurched violently. There came a faint popping noise as heat and electronic decoys were launched from the sides.

There was a heartbeat, then two. Then the craft shook violently from the concussion of a nearby explosion.

"Damage!" snapped the pilot.

"We're okay," answered the tech behind him. "We got our fanny scorched a bit, but within tolerances."

"Response is down. Are they blowing nukes out there?" The pilot leaned on the stick, trying to gain altitude as the shuttle's electronic countermeasure suite struggled to confound the hostiles shooting at them.

"Incoming!" called the copilot. The pilot yanked the stick violently to the left, trusting his instict to pull them through. Again, the shuttle rocked and struggled for stability. He rode the wave and kept steering south.

"That was too close," the copilot muttered unnecessarily.

"Another one like that, and we're cooked," the pilot agreed.

"Sir, they're starting to get through our jamming," the tech reported. "I'm switching to Yankee-Delta-Hotel."

"Hurry it up, dammit!"

The engines whined as the power generators strained to keep up with the demand. Temperature boards began to rise toward dangerous levels as the superconducting coils were taxed beyond their operational limits.

"Approaching the southern border, three-point-nine klicks."

"Bandits are closing in, I think they've almost got a lock!"

"Godammit, keep 'em off me!"

"Sir, they've got a lock!"

"Shit." The pilot punched in a command to the system, and the ship went quiet.

"You just cut power!"

"I know what I'm doing!" The pilot shoved his stick to the right, nearly entering a barrel roll as he desperately turned away from incoming fire. Another explosion rocked the ship.

"Port generator is down! The superconductors are shredded!" the tech fairly screamed in terror.

"Distance to the border?" The pilot was astounded to hear how calm his voice sounded.

"One klick."

"We're going in. Get on Channel Spook and tell 'em where to find us. Then broadcast an emergency beacon. Make 'em think we're dead."

"We aren't?"

"Not yet, by gods!"

They glided through the air, dropping at an alarming rate. The shuttle wasn't the most aerodynamic of vehicles, but it was still intended for atmospheric travel.

"Crash positions!"

Then they hit.

Der Angst

22-12-2004, 17:40

Faction Border

Mr. Morden looked up, somewhat tired. His already frightening face had a few more scars, and his left hand refused to obey him.

Looking up, he saw one of the Treznorians, saying... Something.

I just hope my brain wasn't damaged.

Eventually, he managed it out of the vessel, watching a few other people... Ah, there was Richard. Looking back at the vessel, he then decided that he had been quite lucky.

Looks pretty much... Oh well, not good. Really not good.

He listened a little bit to the Treznorians while continuing to be surprised that he (and they) had actually survived. Point in case, the men in the cockpit hadn't survived. Luckily, Mr. Morden didn't get to see their pitiful remains being splattered all over the shattered windows.

And of course... Those who had survived had received their bruises. Richard looked relatively fit, but admitted openly that one or two rips seemed to have gone, and he was pretty certain that he suffered from slightly squished organs. Not to mention that broken port in his neck.

The Treznorians were in... Comparable shape, or so it seemed, perhaps a bit better. They were surely lacking generations of ludicrous cyber genetic engineering, but then, they were trained for this kind of thing, while both, Mr. Morden and Richard, were sort of, well... Old men.

"Ok... What... Now?" Mr. Morden asked, still somewhat shaken by the event. He wasn't used to aerial defence units inside urbanised areas... Oh well, he would learn to life with it. Hopefully.

"Getting through. We're..." The Treznorian hesitated. "Close enough to the border to have a chance."

"If we manage to avoid the fighting." The second answered.

"Well, it's not a trench war, so, we should find a way to slip through..." This was Richard. "We should be able to... Well, we can sort of see through walls. Of course, we should try and get some medical help, quickly... It works for now, but even when being clo-"

Here he stopped, or at least, couldn't be heard, anymore, as the background noise increased, suddenly, followed by a few detonations nearby.

Clearing his throat, Richard finished. "So, yeah, in this area, we might have serious problems with not being 100% there."

"Well, the apparent border between the factions is close enough, so we should stop talking and go."

Eventually, everyone nodded to the Treznorian, and they begun their (Hopefully short) walk. Underground, of course, since this was significantly safer, and apparently, Richard/ Morden were quite capable of finding the way. Not perfect, of course, but capable.

The only problem was the possibility of being detected, found, and hunted by the smaller units employed by the local military, but then, this was far from being a conventional situation. Mistakes were to be expected, so... Why not now?

And so, entering the... lower areas, all that remained was hope and Richards not at all family friendly jokes.

GAC 08569/067

GAC 08569/067 smiled, or at least, he felt like something about equivalent to what a normal human feels when he smiles. Indeed, he had felt, enjoyed the faint touch of the missiles as they hit the target, their screams of joy, mixed with the pain and desperation of those who missed. It was, indeed, a great feeling, beautiful, yet horrific.

Yet, the target hadn't suffered complete obliteration. Basic reconnaissance data showed GAC 08569/067, as well as his operator, where the target had landed. A wonder they hadn't crashed into one of the buildings. Quickly, new orders were given. And while GAC 08569/067 was practically out of the mission, now, he stayed connected, wanting to watch, to feel the process of hunting them down.

Markus Otomo thought a bit different. Unlike GAC 08569/067, his object to play with, he was quite aware of certain problems.

First of all, the area the target had crashed in was somewhat... Well, it wouldn't be possible to do long range psionic reconnaissance. Simply because they were on the ground, in an urbanised area. The amount of mixing electromagnetic fields was truly... Mind-boggling.

Which meant that he would have to do something different. And while he was doubtlessly doing it... The area was empty. The light units, quick, suicidental, would take their time.

He cursed once more, giving out the necessary orders, bypassing a few security protocols. And down in the city, a few dozen kilometres from him, a few firefly- like units sped through the underground, searching.

To bad it isn't an actual combat area... Well, perhaps a lonely patrol. Yeah, gotta check on those.

Mr. Mordens former Location

The team was still busy, cursing, seemingly frustrated by the results of their 'hunt'.

Too many drones had been lost, yet, there were still some reserves. Alas, what to do with them? The local area was full of... Interferences, and they didn't even notice their possible target.

Of course, they were only one group. Down on the ground.. Well, it wasn't exactly full, but still. However, for now, reaching the ground, safely, all that could be seen by Gretzky & co. was the night, the rain, and the empty streets, filled with nothing but a few abandoned vehicles.

As if they had slipped into a fifties' mystery novel.

Relatively close to Treetown and the surrounding area

'Freddy' was the name he liked to call himself. His official designation was GRD 0015/7529, though. Ground Reconnaissance Drone. And he was... Well, doing his job. Reconnaissance.

Crawling through a few pipes, dodging some slightly mutated spiders trying to wrap their nets around him, and eventually seeing a light, he continued, towards the light. Soon, his superiors would wish to crush this minor opposition force in the east. Not that he knew why they wanted to crush them... But then, this wasn't his job, was it?

Then, finally reaching the light (Well, dim light, a barely lit, half- open area nearby his actual target), he... searched around, finding something... Suspicious.

It was moving slowly, about 30cm long... Like an oversized beetle. Actually, it was almost resembling himself, in a way.

He walked, crawled over, wondering if this one was actually of his own kind, somewhat surprised that he didn't manage a connection with it.

Hello. I'm GRD 0015/7529. You?

No response.

Hey. I'm talking to you!

No response. Just... Further crawling. Incidentally, the object was interested in him, apparently... 'Looking' at GRD 0015/7529, in some odd way.

GRD 0015/7529 did the semi- sentient, mental equivalent of a shrug, and crawled closer, touching it. 'It' touched back.

What the HELL are you? Deaf?

Now both were moving next to each other, circling each other... GRD 0015/7529 was all so slightly nervous, although curiosity did, of course, succeed. Another touch. And another. A weak scan.

Oh, I think...

This is an enemy unit, you... Oh, forget that. Just go on. You have your mission parameters, no?

Listening to his operator, GRD 0015/7529 did once again use the drone- equivalent of a shrug, finally understanding. Being unarmed as he was, he did, of course, not have a chance to do much, and thus, following his original objectives was the sanest thing he could do. Moving on, he scanned one last time... Feeling the Taraskovyan drone doing the same. All that remained was... Well, observing. As was is job.

Still, it was an amusing experience, and he would surely remember it, fondly.

Tarasovka

26-12-2004, 04:37

Treetown.

>> MRU 144.672 => Center: Encountered presumably hostile reconnaissance unit at coordinates given.
>> Center => MRU 144.672: Contact established?
>> MRU 144.672 => Center: No. This unit does not have a diplomatic mandate.
>> Center => MRU 144.672: The unit may proceed with the task at hand.
>> MRU 144.672 => Center: Understood. This unit deems local fauna aggressive and suggests integration of tasers into the next modification of the MRU-BK series to deal with threats of such classification.
>> Center => MRU 144.672: Your suggestion will most surely be considered.
>> MRU 144.672 => Center: This unit also suggests mounting of tasers on the current MRU-BK modifications for the purposes of the current mission.
>> Center => MRU 144.672: The unit may proceed with the task at hand already! Sheesh!

If a BSI could sigh and shake its head, the unit codenamed “Center” serving as coordinator for this mission would have done so. Unfortunately, a BSI can’t do that and so it simply went on with the task of coordinating the various ‘sub-coordinators’ who, in turn, coordinated the units on the ground. Somewhere in the pipes of a skyscraper in the vicinity of the Treetown a MRU unit (Mashina Razvedki Umenshennaya – Miniature Reconnaissance Machine) kept on with its mission.

And in the Treetown proper yet an other dot appeared on the life maps of the areas, with several vectors for possible destinations. It would seem that the ‘presumably hostile elements’ weren’t losing their time either and were scouting the ground ahead of something. And ahead of what? Well, it was obvious, no?

Treznor

03-01-2005, 18:18

Ulma, on point, raised her fist and held it. The team froze in place, waiting. After a moment she waved her hand in a circle, then down. The soldiers melted into the shadows.

"Four, report!" the Colonel hissed quietly.

"Bogeys, maybe twenty meters to the south-west," she replied in a whisper. "A good dozen of them, men and women. I don't know if they're hostile or not. They're in our way. A big barricade, too."

"A couple of electric grenades, we could take them out," suggested Henderson, squatting casually on his heels.

"Too risky," declared Gretsky. "It only takes one to sound the alarm."

The Colonel made his decision. "Two, take point. Backtrack ten meters and go around. Leave your suits off unless we have to cross too much open space."

The discussion was over. Henderson hefted his rifle, checked the charge and setting, then popped his head out to visually scan the area. Satisfied that the threat of exposure was minimal he set out slowly, picking his steps with care to avoid making unnecessary noise. The rest of the team filter out one by one, keeping at least two meters between them.

Twenty minutes later, Henderson called for a halt and the team retreated to cover again.

"No joy, Colonel," he reported. "Everything is blocked off. At one point, there's even a building blocking the way. Either we get through that barricade, or over it."

"Stun grenades, Colonel?" Gretsky asked.

The Colonel shook his head. "Why shoot when we can talk? Four, how much money do you have on you?"

Ulma peered at him curiously. "I guess around a hundred dubloons. A fifty, some tens and a bunch of ones."

"Good. See if you can get a receipt, otherwise I'll reimburse you myself."

"Yes Sir."

"All right. One and Two make yourselves comfortable. Two, get your grenades ready. Four, you're with me."

****

"This...is fantastic."

"This isn't a sight-seeing tour, Dag."

Richard peered curiously at the soldier supporting Mr. Morden's under the shoulder. "You have never seen a city underground?"

Dag shook his head, still staring in wonder out the windows of the tunnel they were walking through. "No, we never went that way. Super skyscrapers, extrasolar colonies, but never underground."

"But, it's so much more efficient," Richard protested. "You don't worry about inclement weather. You double your effective workspace, and living space. In a pinch, they double as bomb shelters or similar."

"Yeah, but don't you get depressed living in a place without the sun?" asked Hopkins, watching alertly with his rifle at the ready.

Richard smiled. "There are many means to deal with that. Not the least of which is the ability to simply walk to the surface and look at the sky."

"What was that?" Hopkins cried, leveling his gun. The others ducked. Mr. Morden groaned as his injuries were further abused.

"I don't know, what did it look like?" Dag asked, pistol at ready.

"It's hard to say...sort of like a big, flashing bug."

"A firefly," Morden announced, trying to catch his breath. "No doubt out looking for us."

"There goes another one!"

"We must move quickly and get under cover," Richard said, helping Morden to his feet.

"They don't seem very smart," Hopkins declared as he sighted one with his scope. "They just flew right past us."

"That's because they're unarmed," Richard explained. "They're triangulating on us for the ones who aren't."

"Oh." Hopkins looked around quickly. "Do they fly, too?"

"No, they'll approach on foot. We do not want to be here when they arrive."

"Gotcha."

They made their way as quickly as possible through the twisting corridors linking the subterranean buildings, given the injuries slowing them down. Dag watched Richard peer nervously around every corner. "What is it?"

"My...facilities are not at their peak. I can't tell if they're coming. I feel...blind. Naked, even."

"There goes another!" Hopkins called quietly.

"They're getting close," Morden sighed. "I don't think we'll be able to get away."

Dag and Hopkins exchanged a look. They stuck out their hands, pounded them in the air three times in unison, then extended their fingers. Hopkins grinned. "Scissors beats Paper. See ya 'round, buddy. Hoist one for me, willya?"

"What's happening?" Richard asked, confused.

"You're coming with me," Dag replied quietly. "Hopkins is going to cover us."

"You cannot stop them, when they come," Morden warned.

"Maybe not," Hopkins replied, pulling a spare power cartridge from Dag's pack. "But I can give 'em something to think about."

"Good hunting," Dag said, then turned back to the Angstians. "Let's go. We gotta make as much distance as we can. We'll count to a thousand, then turn our suits on."

Hopkins watched them until they turned a corner and disappear from sight. Then he trotted off at a ninety-degree angle, searching for a good ambush site. A slight humming reached his ears and he turned, sighting on another firefly. He brought his rifle to his shoulder and fired, missing. The drone jinked with a hard left. He adjusted his aim and fired again. The normal snap-CRACK of the UV rifle is punctuated by the sound of the firefly drone overloading and dropping from sight.

"Come get some."

Der Angst

26-01-2005, 13:19

Gretzky's Group

The barricade was just one of many. It was rather obvious that during times like this, some precautions were made, and some things (Like barricades) never changed, no matter how excessive other things would get. Yet, this wasn't the only thing not changing. The people building (And holding) the barricades didn't change, either.

Josef Dexter was one of the people holding it. Not that he liked it, of course. It was more than just a little annoying, being supposed to hold the line against fully automated, military units who were... Well, he didn't know where they were, but he was fairly certain that they were closer than he wanted them.

And with the principle of sacrificing material, not men being a doctrine Josef had grown up with, the sheer magnitude of his discomfort was rather easily conceived by the other people holding the blockade. It didn't matter, though. Their discomfort was quite comparable to his own.

As such, it wasn't all that surprising that the first three of them noticing Gretzky and Ulma weren't exactly shooting at them. What they did do, was, however, taking cover, and waiting, little drops of liquid radioisotopes falling from one of the gauss rifles onto the ground and forming a small puddle.

Feh. If we had military grade maintenance...

We don't, Fred, so do me a favour and shut up. Your mind, too.

Hey, what if I'm running out of energy-

SHUT UP.

Erika cursed, watching the two things approach. It didn't take her longer than a fraction of a second to realise that the amounts of metal, plastic, and organic tissue present in the two individuals did not resemble any kind of known drone, yet, suspending her disbelieve took slightly longer.

No implants, either, no low frequency emissions... Must be fresh immigrants. Oh, right. JOSEF! JOSEF!

Josef turned around, walking over, slowly, always keeping his cover.

Yes?

See for yourself.

Josef did as he was told, watching the two individuals approach. chilled by the sight.

Hrm. Not our guns, i think. Wait a second... Ah. Stupid interferences, but they seem to be Treznorian.

What the fuck would THEY want here?

No idea. Could be a fake, of course. But verifying them would take at least fifteen minutes, more likely thirty.

So... Shoot?

Josef was about to nod when he heard one of the two approaching persons shout something.

Not yet.

Standing up, slowly, and trying to hide his nervousness, he motioned for them to come closer, trying to aim his rifle, although he wasn't exactly sure if he would hit them. Despite the rifle being hooked up to his nervous system, it still didn't seem to work. Annoyingly.

Mr. Morden & Co

The Fireflies were the lesser problem. Once losing one of theirs, the hive decided that staying was most likely a bad idea, and thus, they quickly went up a few metres, speeding ahead, following the main group where Morden and Richard were somewhat mystified by Hopkins behaviour. For them, sacrificing themselves for another being was odd, to say the least. Yet, they were intelligent enough to appreciate the sacrifice (Was it a sacrifice? Perhaps Hopkins was thinking of a way to escape, yet, for both of them it seemed to be highly unlikely at best.) as it was, of course, considerably helpful.

Sure, they were annoying, but being unarmed as they were, they weren't an actual threat. The threat was still coming, yet the group had good chances to escape. Well, reasonable chances, given that they could hardly expect to be save just after crossing the 'border' (Frontline would probably be the better term, despite the lack of presence on both sides of it). On the other hand, all of this would, of course, be kinda pointless, should someone decide that Mr. Morden was important enough to waste missiles upon.

Mr. Morden's former Location

The group originally supposed to catch Mr. Morden was, like most Angstians, kinda unreliable, as their rather drunk and slightly intoxicated state would have proven to any available doctor or, indeed, witness. Yet, they were still capable of doing the basics, searching through the available (That is, surviving) materials, looking to see if there was something worthwhile.

The result was considerably negative, and it didn't take more than a few seconds to make the data available to Markus Otomo. For further consideration. Which didn't take long.

Ok, he seems to be kinda useless, at least right now. If anything, he could be useful when alive, but not dead.

So... No boomage?

No boomage, I'm keeping my missiles.

There was a short, odd expression, the mental equivalent of, well, pouting.

Oh, shut up.

Bah. 'k, we're getting wasted, then.

And that they did, as the half- dozen bottles already consumed by the group proved. Mr. Morden's resources were, indeed, quite, quite useful, for this occasion.

Hopkins

It had been a bit of a mistake, the fireflies deciding to leave, for now they would have been kinda useful. Spotting him, directing the attack that was about to follow.

On the other hand, they had at least achived some basic knowledge. The direction was known, energy pulses can, after all, be observed. Nonetheless, the spot was well chosen, not allowing a sneaky approach.

The group supposed to hunt Morden & co down was small. Four drones, all of them bipedal, all of them about 200cm tall, all of them heavy, even though their footsteps did barely betray it, being surprisingly silent, slow, yet steady.

There was a brief flash of energy, and one of the drones, looking somewhat skeletal, stumbled. But it didn't fall, their resources being somewhat more capable than the resources of a typical firefly. Unsurprisingly.

What followed was a rain of projectiles, ripping through pretty much everything over, under, to the right and left of Hopkins, who was more than just a bit annoyed. Yet, they didn't yet have a clear vision of what they were trying to target.

Another shot, the same drone. And another.

The target began walking slower, stopping. Apparently, a few circuits had been fried. Watching as it toppled over, Hopkins had the satisfaction of having achieved a 'kill.'

Yet, lockon had just been established... Just to be lost a moment later, with Hopkins switching to visual stealth. And his position, a little.

Another shot. And another. He could see the second drone being crippled, visibly crippled, as they got the second lockon. Be it the emissions of the UV rifle or his own heat... They had it, and a moment later, they fired, again.

The good thing about hypervelocity weapons was, probably, that a dozen fist- sized holes and one's guts spilled on the wall behind oneself meant a quick and not excessively painful death. Which was quite nice, considering the situation and the options available.

Otomo cursed, softly. It was a surprisingly high amount of casualities he was receiving, but well... The fireflies were still there, too fast, too far away to get rid of... He could still get them. Hopefully.

And the remaining drones continued, one, the crippled one, a little bit slower than the others.

Later

"Done, I guess."

"The border, yes. Now, if we had actual help... Or at least someone to talk to... We can hardly go online, since we would be hunted down, more or less immediately."

"Yes, yes... Well, I'm sure we will find someone... For now... General direction... South."

"That's west..."

"Erm, yes. I knew that, of course."

Richard chuckled. Angstian geography was, indeed, quite confusing. Even for Angstians.

They had learned to live with the fireflies. Of course, all of them knew that they would lead the enemy to find them, but then, it would be more costly to get rid of them, considering time issues. As such, they just went ahead, idly cursing the distinct lack of personal vehicles they could have used for their advantage.

"You know, I told you that the public transport system would be our death, one day... I was right."

"We're not yet dead, Richard..."

"Not yet..."

Dag listened quietly, and Mr. Morden wasn't sure what he was thinking... Eventually deciding not to peek. They had worse things to worry about.

Like the two somewhat largish infantry drones turning around the corner.

What followed was a basic (though rather unfair) chase scene. Of course, the two drones were somewhat slow, weighing 200 kilograms, but then, the people they were hunting (Well, two of them, anyway) weren't exactly what one would describe as physically capable, either.

Sure, there was the nifty visible light stealth capacity the Treznorians had brought with them, including extras for Mr. Morden and Richard (who did barely fit). Dag also carried a surprising array of weapons, including electrical grenades coming from a place he called 'Caterpillars,' though Mr. Morden erroneously assumed he was talking about Centipedes - Scolopendrans by another name. Eventually one shot hit, and then they were lost, lacking the option of escape.

"Meh."

The next thing was a deafening sound, combined with a bright flash of light, and a distinct moment of silence and darkness, based on a group- wide loss of consciousness.

When Richard awoke, they were kind of... Strapped onto chairs, rather uncomfortable chairs, with some kind of person running around in the extensively equipped laboratory (Of sorts) they were in, stoat- like, seemingly busy, its dirty white coat catching dust from the ground.

"Where is it, where where where... Ah, there." Turning around, he did, eventually, see that Richard (And, moments later, Dag) were awake, again. "Good morning."

"Erm... Who are you?"

"And more importantly, what happened, and why are we strapped onto this chairs?" Dag finished the question.

"Oh, I was experiment- Oh, that's shiny." The man vanished, for a moment, and some metallic clinking could be heard. "Oh yes. perfect. Where was I? Ah, yes. I was experimenting. You see, now, there's lots of free space, and as such, it is only logical that I expand the range of my, well, experiments. Of course, there was this accident..."

"Accident?"

"When I blew up the drones. Oh, and your own physical health has been compromised, too. BUT WORRY NOT! For this is the perfect opportunity for me to test some of my new toys."

Richard and Dag exchanged glances. There wasn't much else they could do.

"This will take a while... I've yet to test this process on humans, or posthumans, for that matter, but I'm sure it wont hurt. Much. Too bad I ran out of sedatives. So, ummm... Please don't move..."

He cackled, moving on, allowing his patients to glance at a fantastic amount of odd- to threatening looking instruments, possibly medical ones, even though some of them looked more gun- (Or stabbity) like than they would have liked.

"Now, dear Sirs... Lets begin!"

The human brain has some interesting functions. In this particular case, its most interesting function was its ability to forget, to suppress knowledge, or memories. Indeed, this proved to be an almost life- saving ability, since no- one would want to have a memory of the events occuring during the next six- odd hours. Even though the results did at least have the potential of being useful.

A few cases of recoding certain parts of the DNA, a few more moments to include subtle nanites into the blood circulation and the lymph system, a few pieces of (charred) skin and flesh replaced, a few cosmetic changes, and a few things whose purpose wasn't exactly easy to get (Apart from them being the most painful ones). It was all very basic, nothing detailed, nothing specific, meant not to be, but to become. To evolve as the user desired. Subconsciously.

Granted, it had its limits, but still... They were already setting in, making themselves comfortable in some rather odd, subconscious, subsentient ways, slowly attaching themselves to the nervous system, listening to the signals of the body, the brain evolving as well, slowly, to match the needs of what had been introduced.

It was nothing, yet, but it had... Potential.

Granted, the man (Dr. Tetsuo Ribbeck, although the 'Dr.' wasn't certified and as such, subject to discussion) had to add a few routines once he had finished his work. He did, after all, not wish to be stabbed upon releasing his patients, and as such, certain precautions were necessary. Of course, he couldn't exactly go too far, either, given his objects being supposed to develop freely. It was a thin line he had to balance upon, but he could at least hope that he had succeeded.

And eventually, Dr. Tetsuo Ribbeck proved to be almost helpful.

"It looks like you're quite popular with the locals, or at least a few of them. As such, your ride will arrive in, uh..." He checked his clock. "Twenty... No, wait, this one's going slow... Ten minutes."

"I see..." I want to hurt him, but... Dag was worried, but then, it was a bit to late to wonder about this kind of thing.

"Otherwise, errr... Well, enjoy yourself."

How? All three of them thought, After all, they weren't exactly told who was interested in them, or where they were supposed to go.

However, Dr. Ribbeck just left, vanishing in the depths of his laboratory (Or dungeon, depending on one's definition), and soon enough, that is, immediately, the 'ride' appeared in the form of several cars and a single armoured vehicle, into which they were led by several accompanying guards & drones.

The following trip was reasonably uneventful, the thunder of battle replaced by far less distressing noises. Well, theoretically. Practically speaking, not knowing who was 'guarding' them, nor knowing where they were brought to didn't exactly help reassuring them. Neither did the tendency of their company to, well, keep to themselves, rather than giving them even the most basic piece of information. It seemed to be almost sacrilegious to talk. Or to mention the armoured vehicle leaking radioisotopes.

As such, it wasn't exactly surprising that Dag, Richard and Mr. Morden didn't exactly feel secure, yet, their options to escape from whoever had taken them in were somewhat limited. As in, they weren't present.

The silence was seemingly depressing, and for the two Angstians, whose cultural background resulted in both of them assuming the worst, the trip was quite possibly worse than for Dag.

Yet, after a (long, or so it seemed) while, they arrived, and stepping out of the (Inconvenient and not exactly luxurious) transport, they could enjoy the dim light getting through the smog- blackened clouds and the drizzling afternoon rain, together with the local architecture, which wasn't overly different from any other place in DA, yet seemingly odd, with almost ornamental character and surprisingly pleasent people around them, something one wasn't exactly used to, in DA.

Ingrid was already waiting, with Frank standing slightly behind her.

In this particular case, they had actually been lucky.

Treznor

11-02-2005, 16:06

A tall, athletic woman dressed in full urban military kit stepped cautiously out from the rubble and approached the barricade. She kept her hands carefully away from her weapons, although she held a small leather pouch in her left hand. Behind her walked another man, roughly the same height, who kept his weapons ready but pointed away from anyone.

"We're coming out!" Ulma repeated. "We're not hostile. Don't shoot! We want to talk!"

What's that in her hand?

It's a bomb!

It's not a bomb, idiot. Pipe down.

It could still be a trick.

Yes, it could still be a trick. Stay alert.

Fine. Everybody shut up and let me talk.

Josef nodded to Ulma and gestured for them to come closer. "This is a restricted area," he informed her, wishing his mouth weren't so dry. It made it difficult to talk. "Only authorised persons should be here."

Ulma kept her hands where they were. They weren't dead yet, which was a good sign. "We're not aligned with anyone; we were trying to reach a friend who got stuck here when the fighting began. She's somewhere south of us."

Josef shook his head. "I'm sorry for your friend, then. Her chances aren't good. Yours aren't, either. I can't help you."

"What authorisation do you need? Our people have always been on friendly terms. We've got a lot of refugees from Der Angst back home. I'm sure we could work something out." She shook her hand slightly, and the heavy sound of gold clinking together filled the air.

Hey, that's a money pouch!

Treznorians use gold for their money, don't they?

Yeah. Solid gold. Kinda pointless but hey. In the Empire...

I see your poin- Hey, is she trying to bribe us?

Why, do you have a problem with that?

...

Right. I thought not.

"We're supposed to keep this road secure against hostiles," Josef declared. "We can't let anyone through unless they have the proper authorisation."

Ulma let the coins jingle once again. "I already told you we're not hostile. If there were a central authority I'd be talking to them. But you're in control here, so I'm willing to negotiate with you. What would you accept as a token of our goodwill?" Moving slowly, she brought her hands down and took out the smallest coin in the bag, a single dubloon. She held it out for his inspection.

That's real gold! I can smell it from here!

You can not. You and your nose.

I can too! I got special mods for it! That's gold, I tell you!

Shut up, all of you.

Josef hesitated briefly, then reached out and snatched the coin from Ulma's hands. He glanced at it briefly, then put it to his mouth and bit it. He inspected the indentations later.

Yeah, it's real. I wonder why they took money with them? No, wait, they're in DA, so they have a point.

How much does she have?

We could take it off 'em!

There have to be more of them out there. It wouldn't be easy.

Then we wouldn't have to split it up as much.

How about I just shoot you now and save them the trouble?

That's enough! Next person to talk gets it between the eyes!

Josef pins Ulma with his gaze. "Are you attempting to bribe a proud Angstian?" He had trouble not laughing at himself.

She blinked and shook her head slowly. "No sir, I'm attempting to demonstrate our good will and non-hostile intentions. We just need to get through to reach our friend."

"And how much...good will are you offering?"

Ulma relaxed just a little. She picked out five of the smallest coins and two slightly larger ones. "Is this sufficient?"

He frowned. "That's not a lot of good will."

"I'm sorry, there's a lot of folk needing good will around here. Would this do?" She pulled out another pair of the larger coins.

Take it!

Get more!

Get it all!

Don't be greedy! Take what she's offering!

Joseph's frown deepened. "How many of you are there?"

"Four."

"Twenty dubloons each."

Ulma glanced back at the Colonel, who nodded gravely. She sighed and dug into her purse for the fifty and handed it over with three tens. Josef took them and pocketed them quickly.

"I...uh...suppose a receipt is out of the question?"

"Actually..." Josef hesitated. "Why not? I would need your identification."

Ulma grinned at him. "The problem is, we're not officially here."

He decided he liked her face when she grinned. He winked back at her. "Of course not. Here, though." He produced a piece of paper out of one of his pockets. "Here, here...yes, there, too. Good." Making sure the identities were correct was, of course, not all that hard thanks to Angstians being what they were.

A minute later, after actually handing out a recipe regarding the money and its purpose ("Traffic Tolls"), Josef waved his arm at the others.

Josef waved his arm at the others. "Let 'em pass."

We oughta get the rest!

We're gonna get in trouble for this.

Whose gonna know? I'm not gonna tell anyone. Are you?

Well, no, but... Besides, it would be kinda pointless. We might want to get out of the country.

I said let 'em pass. Now get to it.

Slowly at first, then suddenly with more animation, the troupe got to work and moved a small vehicle out of the way, providing just enough room for a single person to pass on foot.

Ulma looked back at the Colonel who nodded again, then lifted a hand away from his rifle to gesture broadly. The rest of the team appeared from hiding and made their way down to join them.

"Thank you, Sir," Ulma said to Josef. "You've been very kind."

"Oh, it has been a pleasure, cooperating with you."

The others just grinned.

****

Dag stared helplessly around him. The world was making less and less sense as the mission progressed, and it didn't help that Ingrid appeared to have a faint aura around her. For that matter, so did everyone else, although the colours were different. Am I sick? What did that freak do to me?

"What's going on here?" he asked. "What's happened to me?"

"I don't know, Sergeant. I'm not the person to ask," Ingrid replied as she helped him up. "But I can take you to her."

"Her? Who?"

"It's...complicated. But I'm glad you're here." She turned to the others. "You must be Mr. Morden. I'm Ingrid, as you probably already know. Sarah is waiting for you."

Mr. Morden nodded, too caught up in his own internal problems to effect a proper answer. He didn't feel quite right either, although he didn't feel exactly injured. The doctor had fixed him up. That had been kind, except he hadn't stopped there. He was trying to diagnose himself to figure out exactly what was different, but he was having trouble focusing.

"All right. Let's go, then. We don't want to be out in the open too long." Ingrid glanced at the sky before hustling them under cover. "And like I said, Sarah is waiting."

Whoever she is, Mr. Morden thought.

Der Angst

27-02-2005, 17:20

Ingrid & Co

It was a somewhat uncommon scenario Mr. Morden (And the others) were dropped into.

Uncommon in so far as apart from various quickly surfacing and fading new age cults and soldats slightly militant semi- catholicism, the kind of at least semi- religious devotion displayed by the people around them, especially Frank, was somewhat... Well, it didn't actally 'feel' like DA, anymore.

Sure, Mr. Morden was used to nothing being impossible, just like everyone else. But it being a major aspect was more than just uncommon.

He listened a little to what Frank had to say, without really believing the overall greatness Frank seemed to be convinced of. He had lived a little to long to believe that anything developing in DA could be truly stable.

As such, he found Frank's enthusiasm... Amusing.

Now, why his belly was itching was an entirely different question... And it looked like Dag had comparable problems.

Odd. Have to crack down on the freelance scientists, sooner or later.

Ingrid proved to be quite enthusiastic, too. Well, in some sense, anyway. The pessimism one had to expect, given the constant (Though slow) retreat of this particular faction wasn't actually present.

"So, errr... I have to say, your decision to follow an eight year old girl is brilliant. I'm sure she has the experience and education necessary to lead a faction of this size. You wouldn't back her otherwise, would you?"

Frank snorted. "There's a difference between-"

"Yes?" Mr. Morden smirked.

"It's hard to explain. Sufficient to say, it works. I thought you're embedded enough in your society to believe in 'Whoever gets it, earned it', no?"

"Usually, yes. Considering the current, extraordinary circumstances, I tend to doubt your sanity, though. And I seem to believe that you're not exactly a part of this society, are you?"

Dag and Ingrid exchanged glances. This was most certainly not the way they had expected this to go.

"No, I'm not. I'm above it."

"Ah yes. Certainly." Lab rat with delusions of grandeur.

To bad we have ceased being lab rats, no? Given that we're now, well, free...

I know, I know. Annoying, given that we intended this to happen in, oh... ten or twenty years, but not now. Oh well, looks like we can't change this. May I say... Welcome?

Now, Frank smirked as well. No.

Then do me a favour and stop listening. It's only basic manners, really.

Eventually, the seemingly tense atmosphere eased up a little as they continued on their way, occasionally watching the locals who were busy with their 'work', although Dag & Ingrid would probably consider it to be, well, odd given that said work consisted of people sitting in corners or around tables, sometimes playing a game of poker or chess (Preferably the latter) while being hooked up to minor networks. Apparently, the informational infrastructure was being rebuilt, with significant (Though comparatively small) parts working again.

Well, at least there.

They continued, and since the discussion regarding the reasons for the cataclysm led to nothing, mainly due to Mr. Morden refusing any kind of comment, they simply looked around, witnessing what was done.

It was surprisingly much, given the overall situation. Little machines could be seen, running or flying around, doing necessary repairs to buildings and vehicles. Children were teached, not exactly in the conventional way, yet it was done.

The usual pessimism that covered the nation just like the smog and glowing clouds of the industry did it over certain areas seemed to miss. Not entirely, sure, but enough to be noticeable.

Yet, carefully examining the feelings and thoughts of the people around them would have shown that they weren't all that happy and convinced. The situation was getting worse, slowly, and their mood followed in an equally slow pace.

Of course, the amusing thing was that there wasn't all that much known about the northern opponent. They knew that it was the strongest faction. They had heard rumours about them, rumours they couldn't verify. There was the definite threat of being 'conquered' by them, but where was the difference to their current status? After all, their opponents were still Angstians.

Yet, an almost irrational fear, a desire to come out on top was still present, resenting those who were stronger. It was the desire of not being defeated, the desire of not letting anyone with the means of acquiring absolute power succeed. Subconscious wishes and cultural conditioning were setting in.

And then there were, of course, oddities one wouldn't exactly expect in DA. Of course, temples, churches and the likes were rare, however, there were quite a few places they could see which were, apparently, dedicated to... Something.

"Nothing specific, just, well... A new outlook." Frank tried to explain the somewhat japanese/ chinese looking alcoves and tiny, half- open rooms with their bright colours and somewhat odd designs, curves mixed with sharp edges.

"I see..." Mr. Morden's look expressed his slight distaste quite nicely. "Well, it's something new."

Relatively close to Treetown

Markus Otomo cackled as he was observing the area. From afar, of course, and not exactly in high resolution, thanks to the technical problems he was suffering from.

But still, his synapses managed it quite nicely, allowing him a sufficient overview over the area in question.

The Tarasovkians were, of course, somewhat annoying, but if he managed to start it early enough, he should have a good chance of taking them on before they were ready. The overall, local defences were no different.

Another annoying part were the somewhat dangerous encounters his (new) units had. Both sides knew they were present, and both sides knew that something would happen, sooner or later.

Markus was slightly annoyed with the style of this operation. He, as well as his three fellow operators, had to take a comparatively small and insignificant area, and while they were at it, had to piss off the one nation DA had the closest contacts with, pre- cataclysm, of course. And while they were quite capable of understanding the local council's decision, seeing as Treetown was a potential threat, a beachhead, so to speak, they didn't really get just why they should take it by force.

And as a result of this thoughts, as well as the common lack of discipline and obedience towards superiors so common in DA, some interesting talks ensued.

It is rather obvious that they're trying to defend against more, uh... Rogue groups, but not against an organised organism like, well, us.

They should know that by now, things have changed, though, don't you think so, Markus?

Oh, I do, but still... Rose?

Well, true, but it isn't like we had an exceptional amount of contacts. I guess that all we want is the Taraskovyans out and us in, no?

Correct.

Mark, is there a reason to interfere?

Yes. Now shut your 'I'm a professional!' elitism. Anyway... I see no reason to start something that could result in the entire Federation coming after us.

The council seems to think differently...

Then the council has to be ignored, Kenji.

I see your point... So?

Here, the conversation stopped, for a moment, and the four operators, Markus Otomo, Kenji Lin, Rose Butterfly & Mark Steward, fell into a (short) moment of silence.

They will get pissed, you know...

Yes. Yes they will. So... Who goes?

Mark.

Markus.

Mark.

Mark.

Meanies.

A while later, information was sent to Treetown, a message available to pretty much everyone present, so long as they were important enough to receive the message. Who, given DA's internal structures, were more than the higher ups liked.

Of course, the four operators responsible for this sector had to be quick, given that they wouldn't be operators for long if they delayed the attack for too long. Yet, for now, they had another 48 hours. And they intended to use them.

Another few hours later, Elaine discussed the matter in the Field Command Center in Treetown, together with the Taraskovyans (Jarov, General Horobriy & Holodova, whom she kind of liked, thanks to her affinity to her 'secrecy'. Even though to Elaine, the idea of being attacted to another woman... Well, it was odd, and she wasn't yet certain what she would make of it. But depending on the way the local events would go, she would probably have the time to think it over.) and the Tarran Lorric Vineyan-Treeborn.

"Well... It looks like one of our opponents wants to talk. Oh, and that he will come within-" She stopped, checking the watch. "The next two hours. No, wait... The next hour." I really have to fix it some day... "Anyway... The messages were rather clear, with regards to location, security etc.. You all have the information available, so I will refrain from reiterating it, and given our possibilities, it isn't too hard to determine his or her true intentions." She hesitated. "Well, given our current numerical inferiority, I would say that it isn't a bad idea to try it, even though I will admit that them not telling us just what they intend to talk about is a little worrying. But then, time is on our side, so nothing wrong with gaining a few minutes. So... Opinions?"

Ingrid & Co

"Well, yes..." Frank sighed, a curse on his lips as he saw Mr. Morden's expression of mild amusement.

"Told you it wasn't that good an idea, such a young girl in such a position."

"It's not like she's drunk. She's simply sleeping!"

"Indeed."

Again, Frank sighed, looking at Dag & Ingrid, seemingly requiring, well, help.

"Well, she is a child, though special... I'm sure we can deal with the problems ahead, anyway, no?" Ingrid inquired, whispering.

"I guess so."

"Excellent!" Frank was almost beaming with enthusiasm, seemingly glad that he could, for once, avoid Mr. Morden's constant pessimism. "So, a second..." He hesitated, for a few moments, checking on the more recent updates. "Ah, nothing overly important. So..."

"Yes?"

"Well... We have established basic contacts with the smaller remaining factions, or most of them, anyway. Good news, apparently we were able to contact the remains of the former government... No, not you."

Mr. Morden sighed. "Whom exactly?"

"Sakurai. Apparently together with a few of the techpriests."

Apparently, Mr. Morden wasn't supposed to stop sighting, today. "The freaks. Okay. What else?"

"Well, they're kind of the most important group. There are a few others with whom we're cooperating and coordinating our effords... Or try to do it, anyway, but given the current situation and, well, regional differences, it isn't exactly perfect."

"To be expected."

"As you say. I didn't know it was this extreme, up here... Anyway. Thanks to Sarah, we're recognised as the major faction, though, and as such, we're in a fairly good position."

"Apart from being trashed by the competition, of course."

Frank gave Mr. Morden a wry grin. "We intend to change that, sooner or later. In any case, basic maps of the current, uh... Situation are available..." He hesitated, eventually noticing that the Treznorians would have to use somewhat different means. "Versions suitable to your needs should be done within the next few hours, too. I take it that you will be somewhat interested."

A short nod by the Treznorians later, Frank continued. "More important is the fact that we have made contact with other factions outside DA. Apparently, they're somewhat interested in the situation here getting a little more ordered, but they aren't 100% certain whom they're supposed to support."

"And this is, then, our main problem, correct?"

Frank nodded. "Correct. Well, that, and time. Seeing as waiting for too long would result in our current opponent emerging as the winner, with the capcity to effectively take over the remains spread over earth and the rest of the system."

"Which, given the hostility they have shown towards us, isn't exactly something we like."

"You're a true genius. Anyway..." Frank turned to the two Treznorians, effectively disregarding Mr. Morden, who didn't seem to mind, or care. "Right now, we could use some, shall we say, advertising by the Empire. According to some older sources I have seen, there are Treznorian technicians on some of the extrasisgardian territories, and the majority of the previous cooperations between our two, ah... Entities was conducted there. I guess they will be quite interested in keeping friendly contacts with the Empire, and that they will... Consider your wishes."

"Well, they are likely to support us, anyway, no? Supporting the strongest doesn't sound like something they would do..."

"They aren't exactly autark. The faster this is over, the better, for them. And they would remain a considerable force, especially if intervening in order to secure their own interests. So..." Once again, Frank disregarded Mr. Morden. "I guess this can be arranged with casual ease. What remains is... How far would the Empire go with its... Support?"

Hollow Island

"Oh, hello and a good morning, dear."

"I was just about to say the same, darling." Both, Heather as well as Jeremiah were slightly exhausted from their previous competitions, yet, they tried to look relaxed and professional, a task the presence of a significant amount of security drones and two nervous aides/ negotiators helped with. Both wanted the other dead, but not at the prize of his or her own life.

"So, formerly beloved husband, what have you done, so far?"

"Here's the log." Jeremiah tossed the crystal of sorts over to Heather, who evaded, (Rightfully) hoping that her aide would catch it.

"It's save." The aide said, eventually handing it to the wary Heather.

"You didn't expect me to be that primitive, did you?"

"Actually, I did. It would suit your previous attempts."

Oh, how I hate her...

"Anyway... Interesting." Heather continued, sounding more or less indifferent. "A good deal of chaos, I see."

"Yes." The two (Well, four) were walking down a corridor. Watching through the windows, they could see smaller transports landing. Both wished they would involve military capacities, unfortunately, given the (Still) rather imperfect situation, the majority of them brought other things... Equipment for the civilian infrastructure, technicians, raw materials, as well as food, medicaments and the likes. To a lesser extend, anyway. "We might have to deal with nasty surprises, too. You know, the mutations showing up..."

"They're kinda rare, no, darling?"

"But still present. As far as I know, the major group we have had contact with features quite a few of them in rather high positions."

"Ah, yes... yeah, I was just checking that part." Heather smiled sweetly. Poisonous insect. Jeremiah thought, seeing the deceiving look on Heather's face.

"And now... I hope you managed basic contacts with the second option, yes?"

Jeremiah nodded, all so slightly intimidated by the presence of this woman he adored and feared at the same time. "Yes. Not much, though, they seem to be rather, well, isolationist, so to speak. But we should manage it. If you would follow me?"

"Always behind you, dear, just like in the old days."

"Oh, shut up."

A minute later, they arrived in what one could call a 'headquarter', a center of operations. Of course, they weren't alone, with dozens of 'employees' (Heather barely resisted the term 'minions') doing their work in the (By now) somewhat tense atmosphere.

It was a simple room, and apart from a few holodisplays, a vast amount of maps, lots of hardwired terminals and an excessive amount of pizza boxes, nothing actually interesting (Or nice) could be seen, decoration being something Jeremiah disapproved of, at work, anyway. He grinned. "I did the first round. You're in for the second."

Heather nodded, idly connecting to her aide. If he tries something, kill him.

Will do.

A moment later, she was plugged in, switching realities.

Northern DA

He breathed, slowly, as he sat there, alone, in the dark, in his most private, most sacred room. He was already plugged in, yet, this didn't stop him from watching, feeling all the other things happening.

It were good things, of course. He was succeeding, his dreams coming true. He sucked it in, this aura of success, preserving it in his ever expanding, ever growing mind.

A long moment of silence, followed by cackling laughter, before he joined the other reality, still without stopping his consumption of everything that happened.

In the neighboring rooms, the other council members listened, shivering.

Elsewhere

Gretzky's group had it surprisingly easy. Once they had managed to end up on the other side of the front, things became somewhat more civil, somewhat more peaceful. Sure, there were annoying obstactles, collapsed buildings, slightly odd individuals with hats, even odder animals and plants, but neither of these was something they had serious problems dealing with. And with communications functioning again (Of course, it wasn't perfect, but given the local situation, it was better than one would expect), navigation in the three-dimensional jungle of the city that was DA became quite a bit easier. As such, they were considerably fast.

Tarasovka

27-02-2005, 18:01

Treetown,
Der Angst

General Horobriy nodded to Elaine and gave a pensive look at Jarov.

- How many men do we have?
- A thousand and five hundred, Sir, all NGF, so all combat.
- What is the ETA to reinforcements if we are attacked?
- Several SODAT units within the first thirty minutes, the 3rd NGF Division within four to six hours. The High Command, so far, can attribute us the entire 1st NGF Brigade, actually, but that would be synonym to full scale warfare.

The General nodded and gave a look at the Kaskad Major, who was standing by a wall listening carefully to the discussions.

- And what does the Kaskad think?
- I think, - she said with a frown, - that it cannot hurt to talk with whoever wants to talk with us. Always wins time. I would suggest that you order the folks up there, - she pointed to the ceiling, - to place their SODATs on combat readiness and be ready to deploy if fighting erupts.
- Obviously, nothing new under the sun, - Jarov said with a grin, provoking a glare from Holodova.

The Kaskad Major shook her head and sighed, looking away from the annoying army officer and catching a rather ‘interested’ glance from Elaine. Holodova arched her brow and then returned her attention to Horobriy, who nodded to all, looking up at Elaine.

- Well, Miss, since we are here on protection duties and not on diplomatic ones, I believe one of your people will have to be the one talking with the guest, unless you decide otherwise.

With that, he turned his gaze to face the Tarran ‘War Master’.

- Does Mister Vineyan-Treeborn have any remarks?

Treznor

06-03-2005, 22:36

"How far would the Empire go with its... Support?"

Dag shakes his head. "I just go where they tell me. I don't know the politics of the situation. I leave that up to the Colonel, provided they tell him."

Ingrid pats him on the shoulder gently. "Don't worry, soldier. I'm in contact with home base, which is why you're here. The answer to your question," she directs toward Frank. "Is quite a lot. My superiors say they're waiting to hear what you need. If you want to know how much, I can ask."

Frank nods sharply, and she reaches for her headset again. She speaks quietly for a while, then waits for her answer as they walk. Eventually she looks up.

"There are complications. There are already too many foreign elements operating in Der Angst territories. Sending in a peacekeeping force of our own is now out of the question. But we can provide you with all of the money, materials and supplies to do it yourself. We can officially declare our support for you and give you a measure of political validation. We have plenty of allies who will back us up; from there it falls to your people to decide your own fate. We can't, and won't, decide it for you."

****

"Sir?"

The Colonel took the opportunity to light a cigarette. "What have you got, Two?"

"Sir, we're getting close. I've got her signal, and she's moving south-southwest at approximately four klicks an hour. I estimate that we can intercept in less than two hours if we move quickly."

"All right, we seem to be in friendlier territory. Take point and we'll double-time."

"Yes, Sir."

CairnTarra

07-03-2005, 23:35

Lorric thought for a second, at least he appeared to think, he had already thought of the responses he should give to them, and what support they should expect from Yagdrassal. He didn't think they took him too seriously, but appeared less anxious then he should under the circumstances, again, another facade.

“the council have sent word that they will not support any military action, as we all expected.” he paused.
“However, when word is sent that an attack has been made on this settlement i'am sure the great ships will not hesitate to lend their support.” he smiled somewhat. “the Triumvirate tend to act somewhat independentally of the councils command. As for foot solders, unless they come at us hand to hand or with blades, im afraid were all pretty useless.”
he offered up a smile. “As for tactics, of corce I recommend mediation before we rush into a battle outnumbered.”

Tarasovka

10-03-2005, 18:55

Horobriy nodded with a smile to the Tarran. "The Triumverate is always a welcomed partner." Of course, he said nothing about the fact that the Federation had much, much more than three ships that it could spare. But such details were needless for the time being.

"Order all men to the highest state of alert and tell them to prepare for battle. Call in the whatever thing that is up there and tell them to prepare their SODATs for a possible intervention." The General said as he gave a glance at Jarov, who nodded.

"Should I warn the 3rd, Sir?"

"Yes. Tell them to get ready to deploy into Der Angst upon order, but remain at their positions for the time being. I do not want to swarm the area with Taraskovyan troops while we might get a chance to solve it all peacefully."

Jarov nodded again and went towards the communications crew to carry out the orders. Horobriy sighed and looked at Holodova, the woman smiling in return. "I assure you my men will collaborate fully with yours." The woman said as the General nodded, after all, a couple dozen Kaskad specops would be most useful. As it was right now, he had everything covered. Should they come under attack, the Federation would retalliate proportionally to the menace posed by the enemy.

Der Angst

22-03-2005, 13:58

Alternate Realities (The Greater Networks)

It was a rather odd place Heather arrived at. Not too unusual, for DA's informational structures, but still. The sky over her, usually an all so slightly surreal mixture of different colours, shapes and advertisings, was crimson, with the shapes and faces of men growing out of an amorphous nebula, looking as if screaming, just to be consumed by the sky, again.

Her closer surroundings were of comparable oddness, as if the designer had played to many horror RPGs, his mind being corrupted by the overdosis of information, nightmares and modern marketing. Statues of human/ animal mixtures, moving slowly with the unextant wind Heather could feel, its soft, cold touch making her shiver, despite knowing that it was no more than a few lines of code interpreted by her brain, be it its organic or not-so-organic parts. Crows were flying over her, their screams announcing the insanity of this particular place. The buildings were oddly... Spikey, black or red, with no entrances visible, apart from occasionally forming mouths releasing odd, sometimes deep, sometimes high pitched tunes resembling moaning, be it of pain or ecstasy, with the occasionally bubble of gas popping in mid-air.

Even the ground seemed to move beneath her feet, as if she was standing on top of the ocean. Yet, she didn't move with this waves, but could 'walk' normally, slowly, as even Heather found the environment all so slightly odd, even frightening. She had envisioned a normal meeting, in a nice, virtual bureau, or possibly while getting a little massage from this cute, realistically coded masseuses... But no. Apparently, her contact was of a more special kind.

Creepy guy. She thought, for a moment. Must have taken his time coding this thing. And this during a civil war. He doesn't seem to consider the conflict to be overly important, or so it seems... Wasting his time with this...

She thought a few other things, too, but soon enough, she had to stop following her various ideas and accusations, seeing as her contact did, eventually, show up, using a very shiny beamesque effect. Of course, it wasn't really a big thing. Choosing one's destination in this realsm meant 'teleporting'. Of a sort, anyway. As such, the slightly excessive lightshow illuminating the local area wasn't especially impressive, although it managed to distract Heather for a few moments.

It was a surprisingly handsome man, slightly smaller than Heather, clad in a somewhat outworn smoking. Of course, it wasn’t like this actually said something, since he could have chosen to arrive as a walking penis, too (Heather shuddered, just thinking about it, but then, the danger wasn’t all that great, seeing as it wouldn’t have fitted the atmosphere of this place, and her contact was obviously considering the atmosphere to be a fairly important thing), but still... It showed that he did have at least some kind of taste.

"I'm sorry for being late, my dear. So... I believe the topic was something about the earthbound colonies supporting me, yes?"

"Yes." Wow. Apparently he has the time to do this personally. How pleasant. Now, if the surroundings weren't as creepy as they are… "Now, for introductions..."

"Heather Pearl, I know."

"It isn't exactly nice to peek into my head, given the circumstances and the business ahead, is it?"

"It's practical, though."

Heather sighed, still standing in front of the man. There was no furniture available, which was somewhat annoying, but then, she wasn't really standing. Still, it would have added some style. "Whatever. So..."

"Well, let me show you." The man intrerrupted, without actually introducing himself. A map showed up out of nothing, a threedimensional labyrinth, representing DA. "It's a bit out of date, due to collapsed buildings, tunnels and the likes, but it works. I hope you don't mind the corpses missing?"

"I... No, not really..." Odd... "Oh, what was your name?" Heather was all so slightly nervous. For some reason, she couldn't keep her usual arrogant, aggressive self.

Elsewhere, a number of semi- important people, puppets of a greater one, shivered more as they heard the increasing laughter coming from the neighboring room. The air seemed to be... Tense, their senses dulled.

And a few hundred kilometers southwards, on Hollow Island, Jeremiah Jenkins, as well as his and Heather's aide, and a variety of other people, operators, technitians and the likes, checked a few imaginary screens, wondering just what the stream of data meant. It was most certainly not common data. Not what they had expected. But then, was there anything they couldn’t expect, given this time and place?

Back in the imaginary world, Heather resumed finding the person standing in front of her odd. Of course, he still hadn't told her his name, instead, he continued with explaining the situation to her.

"As you can see..."

Heather listened to him, still wondering where she had let her arrogance. And his hidden, devious grin didn't exactly help her finding it, either.

"... As such, my success is unavoidable. So far-" Here he stopped, glaring at Heather, who glared back. "Yes?"

And then she felt the surge. Even here, where she wasn't supposed to feel it. It was as if the minds of half a billion people were rushing through her, consumed by the entity in front of her, an entity that was still looking rather... Normal, peaceful, smiling at her. A well- shaved, middle aged man with a modicum of taste.

Yet, it felt as if he was consuming her, and, as she thought of it, not only her...

Then it stopped, and Heather looked more than just slightly confused. This was most definitely not what she had expected. Even though she wasn't sure just what she had expected from this.

"I... See." She wasn't quite sure what to say, possibly because she wasn't entirely certain what to think, either. God, if this was noticeable for them ... I wonder what Jeremiah is thinking...

She didn't need to wonder. It had been noticeable, and Jeremiah was quite occupied with a discussion that involved a few technicians and the option of cutting Heather off, as the data could possibly be interpreted as 'dangerous'. There wasn't much more for them to know, though, seeing as a not-so-low level of encryption was used by both sides, this preventing them from observing all of this directly. It had been one of their interlocutor's terms, for reasons that weren't quite understood by the people on Hollow Island. Not yet, anyway.

Heather didn't have much time to concentrate on the more-than-potential threat that was Jeremiah, though, as she did eventually notice the piece in her mind.

"Get out."

"Why? It's amusing there... Kinky. But I see, Jeremiah was kinda... Dissatisfying."

"GET OUT!" It was odd. She was protected by a rather excessive amount of (Human) software, and it had been quite successful in keeping Jeremiah out of her. Which, given the amount of work he had put into it, was fairly impressive, proving the sheer quality her software, her whole equipment had.

Yet, this person hadn't been stopped. He hadn't even slowed down, ripping right through her.

A tad annoying, so to speak.

"It's efficient, my dear. Don't be so impolite. We don't have time... Forever."

I guess I can't get him out of me. Feh. Heather sighed. "So..." I really wonder what this was... This... Surge...

"Nothing of your concern." The voice was smooth, friendly... The words weren't.

"Geez. Thanks. There isn't much more to say, given that you're supposedly having a copy of my memories, anyway, no?"

"Not really, no." Still this smooth, friendly voice. Combined with arrogance, hidden behind his friendly, polite attitude. "Although... Well, there is one thing, just to help you with your decision..."

Heather didn't really have time to think. It came to fast, ripping through her, her mind fading, vanishing... Ceasing to function, being replaced, something placed inside of her, quickly, too quick, to fast, tiny, yet important... Then there was another surge, and this time, she could see the... Person in front of her... Moving. Cackling, rising as it felt, enjoyed something. Consumed something.

Then she came back. She wasn't in this... Hall of Madness she had been in before. She was back in the real world. Her mind was back, too, although it was still lacking, a little... She could see, hear Jeremiah arguing with a techie and her aide. "Come on, she can't be saved, the data is quite explicit. I pay you the money and you just shut her o- Oh, you're back. Damn."

For now, Heather didn't reply. She still wasn't quite certain just what was going on.

Treetown

"Very well, then." Elaine nodded. Informing Takahara was most likely unnecessary, he should have received the basic information, anyway. "You are of course invited to witness the negotiations starting in about three quarters of an hour. Until then... Well, I guess I should prepare the locations."

With that, the discussion was over, for now, anyway. Incidentally, Elaine was fairly impressed with the Tarran point of view. Sure, she didn't exactly consider their capacities, to be serious, when it came to the more heavy-handed kind of help, anyway, but the will to help out was there, which, given the overall circumstances, required quite a bit of courage.

Walking past Holodova (For a moment she pondered the option of using her Specops for perimeter defence during the negotiations, but eventually decided that it was kinda pointless, wasting such valuable assets in defensive 'Hanging Around') and giving her another glance (Damnit... I have to forget about this), she left. "Until later, then, while I organise the necessary bits."

Later

Mark was a decidedly unimpressive man, only about 175cm tall and a little overweight, but that didn't stop him from looking fairly self-important. Flanked by about a dozen smaller drones (Half of them his own, the other half, the ones that looked like second-hand ones, being from the Treetown's inhabitants), he entered, eventually getting past the guards, be they semi- or fully sentient. He was clean.

Elaine was already waiting, together with the others. "I hope the trip wasn't too bad? I imagine the area being fairly... Complex."

"The mines you mean? Yes. But well, it works out..." Mark was sweating a little, nervously. No wonder, given that Operators did rarely see the actual frontlines. It wasn't something they enjoyed. "This are...?"

"Friends from overseas."

"I see. Well, that is kinda what I came for... We can sit down somewhere? Oh, and Mark Steward's my name. We have a lot to discuss."

Treetown. Takahara

"Odd, yes..." Takahara nodded at Markus. For now, they were working together, again, since Takahara had been convinced my Markus more recent results. Apparently, he had really been wrong. And Markus had been... Well, not right, but closer to the (Suspected) truth, which was better than nothing. "So we know how it spread. But... Are you absolutely certain?"

Markus sighed. Again. "You will never believe me, will you? But there is something. Inside us."

"What?"

To this question, Markus didn't know the answer.

"So... As we have no idea about this, perhaps you can help me with this emission thing... I really want to know what is happening. It's a bit to big to be explained with the generally increased activity... And a bit to concentrated, too."

Markus nodded. "Well, let me get the sensor array..." The sensor array in question was a roughly table-sized thing with a few buttons and a lot of funny looking, rough... Sensors. Even though they couldn't feel the currents... Their sensors could. And they wanted to know more about the source. Whatever it was. They, being isolated and lacking proper equipment, didn't know that the source was the very being that had just played with a certain Heather Pearl.

Southern DA, Ingrid & Co.

Frank nodded, not paying too much attention to the rest of the group. "Money would be more of a long-term issue, although it would certainly help things if the Empire would, uh... Consider us to be worthy of credit, seeing as I would hope for a positive effect on others."

"Supplies would of course be exceptionally useful, unfortunately..." Frank gave Mr. Morden an annoyed look. He really didn't enjoy him interfering. Of course, the latter didn’t really care and just continued. "We will need to adapt quite a bit, so it wouldn't exactly be something that could be used immediately, especially as we're lacking, well, trained personnel. So, right now, yes, political support would be the most useful thing you can offer us. To get the outer territories to join us as well as to ensure, uh... Future contacts, since I would assume that certain things will change. Of course, The Empire will be among the first, I guess."

The moment of silence was short, as Frank started talking as soon as Mr. Morden closed his mouth. "Oh, one more thing... Given the lack of... Availability we're curretly suffering with regards to reconnaissance, it would be exceptionally useful if we could get some form of access with regards to the Empire's capacities in this sector. We need to have some sort of edge over the competition."

Mr. Morden sighed. "Of course, what the future will be like could be... Interesting. With a sleeping eight year old."

The glance he got from Frank looked almost lethal.

"What? You don't think it will work out just like that, do you?"

It was a fairly interesting interesting question... How the Treznorians saw this constant antics between the two men was another one.

Gretzky's Group

The 'environment' was changing, a little. Less violence (But still a good amount of trash littered on the streets, mixed with the occasional, not-yet-removed corpse and psionic magpies searching for shinies to grab), and the people becoming seemingly more friendly (Or less scared).

For DA standards, anyway.

It was actually fairly nice to look at the variety of buildings, the surprisingly bright colours decorating a good variety of them (The lower floors, anyway), a somewhat asian style, yet with a bit of... Well, inappropriateness, turning it into something comparatively alien.

Sometimes, people would look a little closer at them, but quit being interested soon enough. It was quite clear that these were foreigners, and (Unlike most other foreigners running around, fleeing whatever was coming after them), that these were not exactly civilians, but it wasn't theirs to care any more than absolutely necessary. They had different problems, and in a mixtue of 'They can't touch us, anyway.' arrogance and 'They might be helpful.' hope, they decided to let them go.

Besides, the population density had significantly decreased, and the whole march was more like walking through a suburban area at a sunday morning than trying to find a way through the labyrinths of a megacity.

Of course, the signal itself wasn't all that useful, given that not all that insignificant detours proved to be necessary. Angstian cities were quite impressive, but the cityplanners had certain problems when it came to organise effective infrastructures. Another thing they could possibly change after this crisis was over.

Nonetheless, while the distance they had to cross was thus tripled, they could still get closer, occasionally slowed down by a few people sleeping, enjoying their drug- induced dreams, effectively building a barrier across the 'street'. Minor obstacles, so to speak.

Until they were, eventually, close enough for the 'authorities' to care. A few tiny drones showed up, 'floating' in the air, not exactly high (Somewhat impossible to do with their tiny EM drives), but still (Incidentally, their floaty devices were Treznorian products with a bit of shinyness added by somewhat egoistical DA engineers), they floated. Which was the point.

Heading straight for the Commander, in a manner as non-threatening as possible, constantly monitoring the brain functions of the group in question (They weren't exactly psionic, but they could still cover the basics. Violence, lies, deception and the likes), a somewhat squeaky voice started 'talking'.

"Welcome, this is GRU 4475/662, and I-"

A moment of silence followed.

"This is not a semi- sentient unit with delusions of grandeur, but Michael Kirishima, local Reconnaissance/ Surveillance operator-"

A hissing noice of sorts could be heard, followed by one of the three drones going down, slowly creeping forward, on the ground.

"Whose equipment is currently suffering maintenance problems. Anyway, lesse..."

A few more seconds of silence and a child grabbing the malfunctioning drone to test its screwdriver on it passed by, then the voice continued. "Looks Treznorian... Ummm... Are you expected, perhaps?"

Hollow Island

"I have to say, your loyality to our job is mindboggling, seeing as you tried to bribe my aide and the technicians to get me killed, while we're in a situation that can only be described as a 'Grave Problem'." Heather was ranting.

"As if you would have acted any differently."

"Well, you might have a point there, but that isn't the... Oh, shut up. And this things look horrible on me, get them off!"

For once, she was right. Yet, the technicians were quite intrigued by what had happened before. Learning something new about their specific area of expertise, that is, bioelectric communications and forces (Aka Telepathy & Telekinetics) had become somewhat common since the cataclysm, but still, this particular thing was even more special than the usual phenomenons they were working with.

To bad they didn't understand it.

"Now, while our dear staff works on finding out what exactly happened... As you don't seem to remember it... Could we get a summary on what we can expect in the north?"

"Yes." Heather gave Jeremiah a sour look, slightly frustrated by all this. "The-"

Here, she paused, as something tiny, yet fairly relevant hit in, changing the ways a few neurons worked, changing origin and destination of electric pulses, cutting off a way just to open another.

"About the same as the chaos that represents the rest of the mess, but easier to work with. Nothing too... Odd, just a little mysticism, just like elsewhere, since the cataclysm. Personally, I would say that we should support them... And from his talking, I would say that he has enough internal resistance for us to use in our favour. No big risks."

"I see..." Of course, Jeremiah didn't know anything about what had really happened. There were recordings, memories in her brain, but accessing them was a problem. Besides, doubting Heather was pretty much what he was about. Agreeing with her was not something he wanted to do unless there was absolutely no other way.

"Well, we will see."

"Now..." Heather turned back to the technicians. "You're finished?"

One of them looked up, seemingly intrigued by what he had just found. "Just one more test, please... Or two, perhaps."

"Well, that's great. To think how easy it was, back before the networks were full of deadly threats..."

Der Angst

30-03-2005, 09:21

Contact with the Outside

Katsumi turned, eventually ending up lying on her back, her eyes closed, her tail moving a little, in circles, playfully, just as she was as she balanced the tiny ball on her fingertips, moving it from one finger to the next, endlessly, paying no attention whatsoever to her surroundings. She had a little bit of processing power concentrated on it, but she wasn't overly interested in this and as such, left this part to her subconscious routines.

<Nya-chan> Yes. Well, *giggle*, you see... With a male/ female ratio of 1: 7, it really shouldn't surprise him, don't you think so? We're getting used to it. Actually... Males as an outdated concept... *Likes*
<Snowcat> *Cackles* True. So, how's it going? Apart from this, I mean. Now that you actually managed to get past the nuisances to connect.

Nya-chan was Katsumi's alter ego. One of the three she was using at this moment, running less conversations than usual. She looked around, opening her eyes for the first time in several hours. A few addicts, a few refugees... Half a dozen surviving neighbors. Nothing special, so to speak.

She sighed a little, seeing the addicts. The Angstian society with its extreme automatisation had crashed its labour market. Sure, there were still plenty of opportunities in the tertiary sector, but still... The ones not qualified enough to succeed in the available spots had to sell something to make a living in this society, a society in which the term 'Social Security' was an overused joke.

And since physical labour was no longer a necessity, they had to sell something different.

The brain of a sentient being is quite an amazing piece of hardware, even more so for telepaths. Add the all to common implants so popular throughout DA, and you have a walking computer of fairly significant capacities, constantly connected to the networks that spanned DA and the entire globe.

So they sold what they had. Their processing power.

Of course, the pay was miserable, frustratingly low, but then, working 24 hours a day without actually doing anything made up for it. Despite the slow reactions they were showing, occasionally, a result of their occupation, with a good part of their capacities unavailable when it came to things like walking or processing incoming information, be it optic, acoustic or something else.

Still, the ever-growing amount of people 'working' this way suffered frustration. They weren't actually doing anything. At the same time, their minds were vastly less capable of dealing with outside stimulation, busy as they were. As a result, tiny doses of drugs, be they physical or coded, showed tremendous effects. And lacking the need to do, well, anything, the masses of SPU's (Sentient Processing Units) became the customer number one in this market of ever-increasing popularity.

Still, seeing them there, tired, busy with their latest pleasure algorithms or MMORPGs (Or both, as was the case with those games that included pleasure algorithms), lying across each other wasn't all that pleasant a sight.

I wonder how the corps will deal with one tenth of their computing power being killed... Oh well… Katsumi turned around, again, still balancing the tiny ball on her fingertips, one at a time, looking at it, bored, while her tail and fur were moving with the wind.

<Nya-chan> Reasonably well, given the circumstances. You know, the-
<Snowcat> The news were explicit enough, yes :P
<Nya-chan> Ok, ok. Anyway, it works. Gotta find a new employee, though, once this little war is over. No point in being a zombie like the SPU's. With the competition gone, it might be a little easier for non-teeps like me. You know, I will never understand this people. A disaster of biblical proportions, and what are they doing? You know, they could help each other, speed up the rebuilding process... But nooo… Retards. Btw, how's the weather?
<Snowcat> Five inches.
<Nya-chan> To think that we never get any snow... I just have to visit you some time. *Sighs*
<Snowcat> Hey, you're welcome ^_^
<Nya-chan> That reminds me. You wouldn't believe the things that show up in this kind of situation. I recently, that is, about half an hour ago, got my hands on some interesting piece of information. Apparently, my ancestors were guinea pigs.
<Snowcat> Ummm... It's Felis Sapiens...
<Nya-chan> Not that kind of guinea pig, silly <.<
* Snowcat giggles
<Nya-chan> *sighs* Anyway... Ummm... Yes, interesting file you had there... Unlike you, I'm not into giant symbols of tracked phallicness, though.
<Snowcat> Awww. But he's so cute. 'Sides, you told me yesterday that you had quite an interesting conversation with that spaceship... Who was it?
<Nya-chan> Ferocious Violence. Yes, but...
<Snowcat> Psycho.
<Nya-chan> Snowcat...
* Snowcat giggles. Again.
* Nya-chan sighs
<Nya-chan> Anyway. I really wonder who the guy was who organised the original deal... Apparently, my ancestors were used for, uh... Experiments.
* Snowcat blinks.
<Snowcat> Whoa.
<Nya-chan> Well, we had to come from somewhere... But still. Wonder if I can find out mo- GO AWAY!
<Snowcat> Ahem.
<Nya-chan> Sorry. Apparently, my ex-neighbors feel a need to try and start conversations when I'm busy with others.
<Snowcat> How many? ^_^
<Nya-chan> Oh, well... Now, about a dozen conversations, a few basic programs, two global searches.
<Snowcat> You never concentrate on me ;_;
* Nya-chan giggles
<Nya-chan> But I do, little one *Snuggles* Anyway... Argh, this cannot be. Have to break up, I'm hearing the artillery. I guess the jamming will start within half a minute.
<Snowcat> Awww. Sucks. Bye.
<Nya-chan> By. I might manage to record a bit of it, for y-
* Connection terminated

Bah. And I was just about to get Ferocious to agree to a date, post-war... Pft. If her power was really as great as she claims it to be, she should be able to get around the jamming. Only disappointments, today... Only disappointments.

Katsumi sighed, again, opening her eyes (Again), just to close them, again. The light was painfully bright.

A shelter might be the right idea...

Given the nuclear artillery hitting targets closer and closer to her position, she was doubtlessly right. Time to move on.

Still balancing the ball, of course.

Underground, Northern DA

He could feel the virus that had merged with his personality, its thoughts, encoded within its DNA, complex and beautiful strings of information, changing with him and with the mutations it produced with each newborn virus.

Frank's (The *Other* Frank) situation was fairly annoying. Ever since he had joined the community, things had changed, for him. The new world he was living in... So friendly, so caring, where everyone counted just as much as everyone else. They had managed to keep to themselves without being attacked, the war (Or rather, the many little wars) being concentrated on the surface and the upper layers of the underground installations, rather than down there, where they lived, now.

Life was beautiful. A dream, as the world had changed, so rapidly... So horribly, but still... For the better. He knew that he would be a father, soon... It was the joy he could feel, the joy and the pride of having become a part of a greater whole.

Still, why exactly the Drow had captured him, and why this oversized spider was advancing in his direction, was a little beyond his understanding.

"You know... perhaps we could talk this over? Huh? Come on, I thought you survivors were the good guys... HEY! Do you even listen to me?!"

Der Angst

05-04-2005, 13:56

Treetown

The Taraskovyans and the Tarran proved to be surprisingly silent. Well, it was understandable, seeing as this was a more or less internal matter.

At least for now.

Elaine led her guests through a few groups of, well, spectators (Again, DA's informational infrastructure allowed for an annoyingly free flow of information) who were discussing the possible reasons and outcome of this negotiations, towards the entrance of a nearby building, stretching high into the sky, although the top was missing. It could be found on the ground, in the form of debris lying around. Most had been cleared away, alas, nothing was perfect.

Inside was a considerably large room, some recently added terminals, some more-or-less ill-defined machines (Most likely there to either suppress or support telepathic... Things, although they were not too unlikely to simply provide coffee), and a largish table near the edge of the room.

Decorations were severely lacking, so was furniture. All that was available were a few chairs, and there were a few empty shelves nobody cared about.

"Please, have a seat." Elaine said, somewhat absently. A drone came floaing over from one of the machines, carrying a tray with coffee cups, which settled the question as of what the machines were for.

"So... Since you called us, I guess it is yours to inform us of your intentions."

"Indeed." Mark nodded, slowly. "So, I'm sure you noticed the military buildup on both sides... Ours and yours."

"Oh, barely."

"Funny." Mark sighed. "Anyway. As you probably guessed, technically, me and a few other operators are supposed to, well, attack this... Place."

"Treetown." Elaine smiled.

"Tree... Errr... Okay. Treetown." Odd... Name. Although there were this odd... Plants... Must be it.

"Anyway, yes, we guessed." Elaine hesitated, a part of her mind reading through a log regarding Mark Steward's own. Apparently, he was as safe as she had thought him to be, as safe as the preliminary scans had promised he was.

Well, that's done, then.

"So... Seeing as you're here, I suppose that you're not going to attack? At least not immediately?"

"Kinda. Depends." Mark hesitated, looking at the Taraskovyans and the Tarran who were merely listening. "Personally, and my colleagues agree with me, I would like to avoid further bloodshed. Seeing as we can consider ourselves an endangered species."

"Well, I can agree with that..." Elaine grinned, mildly annoyed at a couple wannabe hackers trying to get an idea of what was going on, trying to break into her mind.

She dodged.

"So, anyway..."

"However, to prevent said bloodshed, we would need to clarify a few points."

Elaine didn't answer. Instead, she just looked at Mark, warily.

"And this involves your... Guests." Mark looked at the Taraskovyans and the Tarran. He didn't hate or despise them, didn't have any ill feelings towards them. But he knew what he was supposed to do, and he could hardly change it. And disobeying the, yes, the power he was a part of didn't strike him as a particularly good idea. "Namely, we want them gone. After that, you would become a part of us. Without violence or bloodshed. Just like it was before. Unifi-" He hesitated. "Well, lets say, relatively close together, rather than being a number of micronations."

Elaine chuckled, watching for the reactions of her, well, protectors. "I see your point. The thing is... I believe that you're not the entirety, are you? Lots of factions out there..."

"A few. But not for long, believe me."

"Optimistic, are we?" Elaine chuckled some more. "Well, here is the thing... I... We don't know much about your... Faction. And frankly..." And sending friends away when you're trying to pose as the majority and the legal succeessor of the old system? Yeah, right. "Well, knowing the culture you're coming from, I don't trust you." She showed her most innocent smile as she said this, looking almost too cute, almost girlish.

Mark cackled. "Trust isn't necessary. I cannot wait foever, neither can my colleagues. See..." His voice toned down to a whisper. "I'm not here to discus ideology. I'm here to discuss the fate of several thousand lifes."

"Well, I see your point."

"But you want to gamble and wait, I see. Unfortunately, we don't have forever. Approximately 43 hours, after that, our time's up. Upper limit for the preparations, you see."

"I see." Elaine hesitated some more, using the time to sip from her (Almost empty and not very hot) coffee. "Well, seeing as we... asked for our honoured guests, and seeing as there are still... Old ties, I don't see the problem. So I wonder why your superiors want them out, when they could be very helpful with regards to our rebuilding."

"No idea." Answered Mark, truthfully. "Frankly, I'm mystified by it, too. Yet, for now, it sounds like the only way with which we can prevent unnecessary bloodshed, no?"

"Only if you discard the possibility of not following your orders."

Mark winced. "I... I really don't think that would be a good idea..."

"I see." Elaine chuckled, though she was a little worried by this comment. "Well, you're certainly gaining our trust, saying that it wouldn't be a good idea."

"Pft. As if it would be something special. Treason happens to be a bad idea, well, everywhere."

"Ok, ok. Anyway... How about... Well, negotiations. With your... Superiors. We want to know more, it's as simple as that."

"I... We... Well, this negotiations aren't exactly... Backed... By my superiors."

Here, Elaine raised an eyebrow. "They... Aren't." She turned around, peering at the drone. "One more."

"Certainly, Ma'am."

"I really think we need a break, Mr. Steward." And we really need to intensify contacts with the other factions. "Oh... Before we do that..." She turned towards the taraskovyans and the Tarran. "Any questions?"

While she asked this, she was already searching for a local, some local with the means for the kind of contact she was looking for. It didn't take longer than a few seconds.

Found anything?

Yes, finally. Some Heather Pearl...

Northern DA

The Mind. It was all he cared about, now. The body? Weak, pointless, a pityful piece of outdated, stoneage equipment. It would be hilarious, if it wasn't so sad, so tiresome.

His 'discussion' with Heather had been less than satisfying and not even emotely amusing. Becoming less and less interested in the proceedings of this world, of this people, he wanted more. More of what, though? He wasn't entirely certain.

So he still swallowed what he could get, feeling the invisible, incredibly weak, but still present currents of information, currents of thoughts he received from everywhere. From everyone.

A few were enjoyable. Like a drug, he was addicted to them. They involved love for him, and fear for him. It didn't matter, so long as they involved him. He just wanted more.

There were others, of course. Thoughts, memories, intentions, wishes, desires, fears... Thoughts that didn't involve him.

They were neutral, but still ejoyable. Still telling him something, giving him something... And he swallowed them, this pieces of a society, a culture, the parts that made up the whole (Or, in this case, parts of the parts).

Finally, there were those that thought about him, or at least about the things he represented... Those who opposed his wishes, his desires and his will.

They tasted... Odd. He didn't like them. Still, he swallowed them, whole or in pieces, as they came. He consumed them like the others, this distortion in the perfect palace of thoughts he had created in his mind.

And sometimes, just sometimes, he paid closer attention to this thoughts. Mostly to those he enjoyed. Sometimes to those he didn't really care about, as they didn't care about him, and almost never to those that defied him.

However, in this particular moment, he noticed something. It was one of those ill thoughts, a distortion of defiance, of ignorance, yes, even of blasphemy.

It were his people defying him. Talking when they shouldn't, moving in ways he hadn't intended for them.

His decision was quick. As quick as it could possibly be for him, him who held all the strings, him who knew everything (Or so he thought). This particular act of defiance would have to end. Now.

Tarasovka

05-04-2005, 19:39

Treetown

Jarov and Holodova listened silently to the 'negotiations' that were taking place. Indeed, they did not intervene, letting the locals talk. The Federation did have a keen interest in assuring that a regime favourable to relations with Tarasovka come to power in Der Angst. But it would not, for in as long as no foreigners attempted to openly do the same, unleash its imperialism at the technically allied nation to assert its domination. After all, the cost of a war in Der Angst could be rather costly if the Taraskovyans went in without local support.

Holodova arched her eyebrow questioningly at the rather intriguing ‘envoy’, who thought he could just debark out of nowhere and order the Taraskovyan contingent out like that.

“Yes, I have a question, if you will. Do your superiors really think that a conflict with the Federation is the wisest of solutions?”

She smiled charmingly as she waited for a reply. The Federation was indeed weakened by interior strife, but it was more than capable of waging wars. Maybe a war on foreign soil could even bring about a truce with the White Legion, maybe even get their men out in the fields to fight against the ‘non believers’...

Der Angst

12-04-2005, 15:12

Treetown

Mark Steward hesitated. A diplomat would have answered in a vague manner, perhaps even lied. However, Mark wasn't a diplomat. He had a brain, yes (Hence, why he was here to negotiate, rather than to kill), but this didn't necessarily mean that he was good at it. "Not necessarily the wisest, but most likely the easiest."

Elaine had just left the room where the Taraskovyans and Mark were now sitting in, rather awkwardly (After all, their respective jobs did quite possibly include killing each other in the most efficient ways imaginable), possibly sipping from their coffee and wondering just when one side would start doing nasty things. Nonetheless, this break gave her the chance (Possibly the last chance) to organise a few more things, so she did it, now.

Hollow Island

"Errr... What exactly is she doing?"

"I'm... I'm not sure."

The technician looked at Jeremiah, not nervous, but seemingly mystified. He knew that Jenkins 'saw' the same he could 'see', in his mind (And on the screens). What it meant, however... Well, it was pointless to argue with Jeremiah, thinking as the man didn't have any experience in such matters. None that went above highschool level, anyway.

Still... Decoding this, making sense of it, that was something he wasn't sure just how he could achive this.

He watched Heather and her aide, the aide watching Jeremiah, carefully. Jeremiah chuckled, but said nothing.

Eventually, the technician rose. "Well, at least we know that her talk with this... Faction really involved some odd datatransfers..."

"Genius. And now?"

The technician sighed. Then he cut the connection, which made Heather's body twist, tense, her head rising, before she lumped onto the ground.

"Hrm. I don't think she expected th- Hey, careful with that gun. She's still alive."

His eyes didn't turn away from Heather's aide, who was seemingly trigger happy. Well, at least she was uncertain, unsure... A drone would just have fired. He continued, addressing Jeremiah, still watching the aide. "I guess you should continue the... Negotiations with... Whomever Ms. Pearl was communicating with. I... The doctors will take care of her... Under your watchful eye, of course." With his last sentence, he addressed Heather's aide. She nodded.

Another, a last sigh. "Well, that's settled, then."

Alternate Realities (The greater Networks)

"Ahem. Yes... That's exactly how it was." Jeremiah forced a laugh, he was.. A little nervous.

"Of course. And everything this... Ms. Pearl said was just... A trick. Definitely." Elaine chuckled. "I do not believe that you can convince me."

"Well. I do see that Heather's... I mean, Ms. Pearl's rantings were a bit... odd... Although you didn't tell me just what she said..."

"Yes. Yes, indeed." Elaine chuckled some more, sipping from a cup of imaginary tea. "Odd insofar as they supported a kind of regime I really can't support? Yes. Oddly enough, I'm not really in favour of police states, even under the current circumstances and the admittedly existing need to prevent a second cataclysm of this kind. In any case..." She hesitated for a second or two. "Of course you weren't able to monitor her in sufficient ways. You didn't notice anything until it was too late. Well..." She smiled, thinly. "I'm sorry, but your position is a rather weak one."

"Well... We would have been stupid to simply admitting this, no? Besides, I'm sure you have some sources that can provide you the necessary information, regarding the actual proceedings outside Sisgardia proper."

"Oh, certainly. Unfortunately, I do not really have the time to check, especially given the current... Infrastructures. You're free to call whenever you can provide a sufficient source to, ah... Verify your claims. Until then, I'm placing my bets on the less insane groups. Goodbye."

She quit, quickly, leaving Jeremiah alone, wondering. He was quite interested in knowing what kind of show Heather had staged, yet, knowing was beyond his abilities.

Must have been... Interesting. Okay. Now to find a source. Hrm. I don't think she will accept internal ones.

Thinking this, he quit as well, hoping that Heather had already died.

Meanwhile, neither he nor Elaine had noticed how the foreign thought in Heather's brain had replicated itself, copied itself, moving this new bit of itself into Elaine, carefully, quite unlike its initial move to Heather. Things became interesting as it spread.

Near Treetown

The area was surprisingly peaceful, with the surveillance both sides operated with being sufficient and, at the same time, mixing. Nobody seemed to mind the other side watching. The people in treetown didn't mind it simply because they knew that violence was not an option, given their current numerical inferiority. The operators around Markus Otomo didn't mind simply because they considered the game to be won, and there was no point in escalating what couldn't be lost, anyway.

It was a somewhat... Missplaced attitude, sure, but then, what would one expect from semi-civilians who considered the very word 'discipline' an offence?

In any case, the whole area around Treetown and the nearby territories it sort-of-controlled were reasonably peaceful, although the sheer amount of Artillery Platforms, GCDs of various kinds, Missile sites and the likes were somewhat scary-looking.

But then, this concentrations of firepower were considerably harmless, so long as they didn't start the actual process of firing.

All three remaining operators were concentrated on what was the 'front', which was reasonably easy to check, as they had managed a few sufficient uplinks to orbital reconnaissance assets. Things were going to run again, soon.

Hrm. Odd.

What is it, Kenji? The two others, Markus & Rose, asked (Well, thought) simultaneously.

I knew we were sent some reinforcements, but why they wou-

The connection between the three broke as ECMs and telepathic warfare started up, followed by the initial 'Hard Kill' strike. It was a comparatively small one, after all, the force that started it was smaller than the force it was attacking.

Still, the surprise was complete.

Seconds later, the connections were reestablished, although in a somewhat less stable fashion.

Incidentally, the three operators weren't too worried. Being where they were (Safely hidden in more or less well-defended positions), one tended to watch unfolding battles with more or less indifferent views. As if they were playing a game, rather than fighting a war. Still... Seeing as the attack came from their back, they were more at risk than, well, usual.

I'm trying to see. Hrm... Well, damn.

... Stop being cryptic, Kenji. What's going on?

Apparently, someone heard of our negotiation attempts... We're now officially considered 'Traitors'.

A 'Shit' coming from both, Rose and Markus, was the reply. You know, they could have thanked us for attempting to save valuable resources...

Apparently they're not too hot on damage mitigation. So... What now?

While they discussed (And tried to lead their units in the unfolding battle), the 'Battle' itself raged on, quickly gaining 'speed', with both sides trying to outmaneuver each other as good as they could. Naturally, being unprepared as they were, the three operators were at a disadvantage. Still, 4: 1 numerical superiority. Victory was a definite possibility.

And the war of the minds was fought. Drones suddenly turned around, firing at the units they had been linked to just seconds ago as they were hacked. Minimal yield nuclear weapons devastated the inside of vast housing complexes which had been turned into crude, inefficient fortifications. Operaters tried to devastate each other's mind, hoping to cut off the head of their opponent, just to be beaten back by surprisingly sophisticated defences covering the mind like an iron sheild or hiding it in a vague nebulae of nothingness. The underground areas, entire tunnels were almost literally flooded with heat, turning the atmosphere inside them into a plasma, melting, vaporising everything inside it.

The group around Markus had a few problems, though. Their codes were known to their opponents. The result was a quick, disastrous turn of events just as the entire battle should prove to be quick and disastrous. The right flank had already been broken, as the majority of Rose's drones slipped out of her control, switching sides.

Quickly, codes were changed, but writing an entirely new system to secure their units proved to take time. When they were finished, the situation was already turning towards catastrophic, with aerial units deploying all over the place and smaller units entering the underground areas. Rose's positions had been taken in their entirety, and Markus was struggling against the approaching force while at the same time trying to get a hold of Rose, who was on the run, constantly muttering about half a dozen Hunter/ Seeker units trying to hit her, missing only due to Kenji's constant interference who tried to fry their circuits.

Well, this is... Bad.

Indeed. I have hostiles in the north, too. Kenji, you're going to be busy. How many converts could you bring back to your side?

Roughly twenty percent.

Not much.

Oh, reall-

It took about five seconds until the connection was reestablished.

I hate ECM. Anyway. Doesn't look like we can hold out for much longer.

Indeed. Markus pondered, for a second, feeling the impact of a few light missiles nearby, breaking through the streets and detonating underground, devastating lots of underground maglev tubes and the occasional factory. Well, surrender is a bad idea, given the rumours... And what we know. So?

We could follow Mark.

Kenji, that's... Markus hesitated for a second. Our only chance, true. Ok, now that that's settled. Rose?

Reasonably safe. A few shrapnels, she will have to have some surgery if she wants to keep her looks.

Pft. Shut it, I look good, any- AHH! Get me out of here, FAST! Receiving real fire isn't what I signed up for! I'm not meant to die just yet!

Yes, yes. So... Retreat. I just love the way this day has turned out to be. Oh, and someone should inform Mark. And, for that matter, the... Treetown-thingy.

On it.

The decision had been surprisingly quick, but then, what choice did they have It had to done, somehow. Now all that remained was to hope that the Taraskovyans wouldn't fire at them, too. In which case the disaster would have been complete.

What they left was a battefield and a... Well, in DA, a battlefield could hardly be a graveyard. Still, scrap yard fit it nicely enough. Occasional exchanges of fire were still happening, some heavy units, Armoured Urban Combat units, loaded, fired their mortars, attempting (But failing) to level entire buildings, light aerial reconnaissance and combat drones speeding through the deep valleys called 'streets', dropping the occasional bomb on formations that looked worthy of destruction, then heading upwards, just to be caught by an opponent turning them into sifters, exploding in mid-air, crashing in a hail of shrapnels and boiling uranium.

Slowly, the three Operators units retreated. A fighting retreat, sure, but surprise and lack of preparation had effectively beaten their (Former) numerical superiority. A short battle, although it was still raging, with the occasional artillery- or missile duel, with flashes of light highlighting littered streets and collapsed buildings, but nonetheless, it was ending, the sheer rate of fire, the hail of projectiles slowly dying away, leaving the barely moving remains of malfunctioning drones, scattered metal and ceramics, fried circuits and a mindboggling amount of holes in the ground.

Treetown

Elaine was just reentering the room, looking at the Taraskovyans and Mark, who was sitting there, rather absently, not even noticing her.

"Ummm... I think we can continue. Now..." If the other factions weren't clinically insane, I could probably say 'No'... Well, perhaps I can negotiate a slow withdrawing of the Taraskovyans... "I have a few issues, but I think we can get them out of the way. So..."

Now, Mark finally opened his eyes. "Actually, a few things just changed. Might I ask you and the Taraskovyans for, uh, asylum for me, my fellow colleagues and possibly, ah... Roughly 6- 7 thousand drones?" He sighed. "Yes, things seem to develop rather fast, right now. Oh... I'm sure the Taraskovyans can verify the, Uhhh... Honesty of my request, via satellite reconnaissance."

Outside the Treetown-held area, the battle was dying, with the occasional civilian (Well, technically, every Angstian was a civilian) watching ludicrously huge siege drones with their mortars and groups of smaller anti- tank and infantry weapons creeping through the damaged streets, occasionally firing, accompanied by very shiny-looking light infantry drones and 'Tincans', tanks that had been produced for urban combat. Fast, maneuverable, decently armed, and barely capable of stopping a needle gun from penetrating its armour.

The air was blurring as tiny groups of medium aerial units followed up, scouting, hunting the last remaining opponents, clearing the area, and keeping up the comminications. By now, Treetown was already suffering from the first waves of ECM attempts, trying to cut it off, entirely. The (new) opponent was apparently trying to scare the Taraskovyans away before they would come in with more considerable resources.

Underground, large groups of comparable drones moved, their aerial support limited to tiny units suitable for the tunnels and halls down there, their heavy units slow, but of considerable forward firepower, slowly reaching the boundaries of what was known as Treetown, plus a few squarekilometres of area Markus, Kenji and Rose had actually been able to hold.

The question for those inside Treetown had changed. It wasn't 'If'. By now, it had become 'When'.

Treznor

23-04-2005, 19:39

Ingrid nods, tapping furiously at her datapad as Frank talks. After she finishes, she reads the response verbatim.

"Request for credit: granted. Consider yourselves bankrolled. We can discuss compensation later.

"Request for supplies: granted. If you can provide us with safe landing coordinates, we can begin airlifting in two days. The effort is already under way. Food, clothing, building materials, sanitary supplies, power generators.

"Request for intelligence: granted. Liaison with Colonel Parks for satellite link.

"Request for political backing: granted. Question: do we list Mr. Morden as the central authority or point of contact, or someone else? What about this Sarah entity? We need a name to publicly support.

"End transmission."

She looks back and forth between Frank and Morden. "I know I'm just an observer, but it seems to me that Sarah has the advantage in influence, but Mr. Morden has the advantage in respectability. If you combined your strengths and work together, you could accomplish a lot."

***

Ulma glanced back at the Colonel, who nodded. She stepped forward and cleared her throat somewhat nervously. "We're representatives from Treznor. We're looking for a friend of ours, staying with some local folk. We have a pass from a border guard." She fishes out the document and waves it gently in the air.

Tarasovka

30-04-2005, 16:35

Treetown

Just as Mark was requesting his asylum, the Taraskovyan forces were indeed receiving footage of the combats erupting in the periphery of the Treetown, the NGF garrison already raised to the highest state of alert with soldiers reporting to their combat posts as aerodynes and UPACs took off from the helipads. The communication crews begun setting up even further coded and secured frequencies to avoid the risk of seeing the Angstian ECM cut them off from the central command.

Holodova nodded pensively to Elaine. “Indeed, we confirm this.” She glanced at Jarov who was busy discussing something over a commslink in his ear. He stopped for a second to look at Elaine. “We have already requested further reinforcements, an approximate eight thousand men will be deployed here within twelve hours.” He glanced at Mark. “If you are serious in your intentions, then General Horobriy suggests that you place your drones on the perimeter of Treetown, creating a buffer zone as wide as possible. Our men will reinforce the area once they arrive, but we cannot allow to have thousands of men and… drones to be confined into a peanut.”

Holodova nodded and looked back at the Angstians. “I and my men will help ensure the safety of your operators so that nothing distracts you from your… duties.” She said with a grin as she inclined her head slightly. “I have to go equip myself now. As such, if you will excuse me…” The Kaskad officer went out of the room, taking direction of one of the locales held by the Taraskovyan forces, specifically a locale that was occupied by a certain 106th Company of the 79th Airborne Division. Indeed, those who would be skilled enough as to crack the TNDF database would find such a unit among the ranks of the Taraskovyan forces. And they would find the entire Division and its subunits and personnel listed, with database on every soldier. The problem was that, should someone be curious enough as to push forward a full investigation, they would find out that none of the soldiers and officers listed actually existed physically, albeit their documents existing in all government databases. The Kaskad was, indeed, quite a powerful organisation.

And as the Kaskad officer was gearing up for combat, on the other end of Sisgardia, a naval battlegroup left the docks, heading west, where it would provide sea-based support to the ground forces as, from an airfield in an other part of the country, heavy dropships took off, carrying men and equipment where they were required.

Der Angst

13-05-2005, 17:17

Ingrid & Co

Frank hesitated a little. Of course, generally speaking, this was all very positive and useful. Still, the idea of Mr. Morden being in a significant position... Horrified him.

Unfortunately, he didn't really have a choice, and he knew it. As such, he choose to say nothing. All he did was clenching his hands, forming two fists.

Mr. Morden just smiled. "I guess this could work out. The... Girl as a symbol, and-" He stopped, feeling a wee bit of pain in his brain, a brain that was now undergoing a slow process of... Changing, the treatment he had received during his stay with 'Dr.' Tetsuo Ribbeck showing effects as his body adjusted to the requirements of this particular time and place, his brain developing to counter the now-obvious threat of mindhacks as soon as it became aware of it. "Or does Mr... Whatever his surname is have any other idea?"

"I think we can deal with it the way it was... Suggested." Frank said, sighing, cursing. But right now, it was the only option he had. So he accepted, grudgingly.

"So I further guess that we have a deal, then. My name to support." Well, this worked sufficiently well. I will have to see just how far I can come. This people don't seem to be especially capable when it comes to domestic politics. "Well, me and, what, errr... Who did you mention earlier?" He looked at Frank. "Ah, yes. Well, me, Sakurai and Sarah. The rest are... Minor cases, and as such, comparatively irrelevant, am I correct in this?"

"Vaguely so." Frank answered, fuming. "I will organise a list of regional council members, leaders etc., everyone who wants to be mentioned. But the... People you mentioned are the definite main group." Frank was calming down as he said this. Of course, he had no intention of staying in the background, if it could be helped. Alas, for now, he controlled himself. This things could still be done when the situation was under control.

Which it should be soon enough, if everything went as he hoped it would.

Gretzky & Co.

"Hrm." The drone, or its operator (It was hard to tell, really) said. "There were this guys... A second. I will check back."

The drones remained floating in the air, humming, with occasional bursts of static between them. They were having fun, or so it seemed. Of course, the child that had come by, disassembling one of them, was a possible worry, too, and as such another possible reason for the rather active 'talks' between them.

Back where Ingrid and the others were, Frank received a short message. An inquiry and a positive reply by Ingrid later, he gave the confirmation.

And where Ulma and Gretzky were waiting, the drone and/ or its operator began talking, again. "Well... Looks like you're expected. Odd, that, I would have thought it to be smarter to drop the contact team right here, rather than flying it into a combat zone... Well, I guess it's everyone's own perogative. Lacking planes, perhaps? Anyway... If you would like to follow... Wait. Hrm. Whom to take... Ah, yes." One of the drones rose, a little, while the others floated... Elsewhere, doing whatever they had been doing before, presumably patroling the area, although given Angstian standards, it wasn't too unlikely for them to simply try and have some fun, as odd as this sounded for basically everyone (Everyone non-Angstian, anyway), given the circumstances (And their status as semi-sentients). But seeing as even a disaster as terrible as the recent cataclysm hadn't managed to invoke a fundamental change in the Angstian psyche, this wasn't especially surprising, either.

"Follow me, then." The drone chirped. "I hope you had a pleasant trip through the warzone? If you don't mind me asking, that is. I've never been there myself, and I sincerely hope I wont have to be there... But being what I am, I don't have a choice, could it come to that, I guess. Ah, yes... I'm the modified service drone mSD 25/0114, pleased to meet you. Oh, and my nick's 'Jack', if you prefer to use it instead of the alphanumerical designation. And before you ask, my operator just quit active control. Oh, you might also be interested in the building to your right. It's a particularly interesting contruction. Just look at-"

The drone went on talking as they headed for the group around Ingrid, not especially worried about the lack of replies it received due to seemingly endless string of words leaving its vocal equipment making any kind of reply more or less impossible.

Still, they were brought to where they were supposed to be, which was better than nothing.

Treetown

Elaine nodded at the leaving Holodova (And the other, also leaving, Taraskovyans) before turning towards Mark, again. "Of course, we will still do some in-depths checks regarding your, ah... Honesty, Mr. Steward." She grinned, knowing that such wasn't exactly the most pleasant of procedures, and Mark's shiver amused her. "The same goes for your fellow colleagues. Once this is done, we can go on."

Mark nodded. He knew of the process, but deep scans weren't something one got used to. Ever. "Understandable. Well, I'm ready anytime."

"So I thought." Elaine hesitated, for a moment. Now came the somewhat risky part. "Well, then, please ease up. I've recently updated myself, a little, I should be sufficent to do it." She smiled, almost innocently, as the thought she had 'received' from Heather Pearl did its work, twisting her in the interest of the entity it had originated from.

"If you say so."

It didn't take long. She was unsure if Mark told her the truth, and as such, she didn't immediately act. If it was a trap, she could support it easily enough.

If not, she could prevent negative effects just as easily.

For Mark, the process was more or less enjoyable. A standard scan would have taken several hours, with half a dozen people going through his mind, checking every little detail, be it treason or the first time he had masturbated. What Elaine did was, well, nothing in comparison.

Granted, it was odd that she worked with such an easy going security but, well, he wouldn't complain.

Well, that was what he had been thinking before he felt this stitch... Technically speaking, given his profession, he was supposed to be able to defend himself with casual ease against this kind of thing, against just about every possible opponent. However, careless (And inexperienced) as he was, not to mention knowing that this scan was inevitable, anyway, his guards were down. In the end, Elaine had to suppress her urge to laugh. It was just too easy.

Mark fell from his chair, his eyes wide open, salvia dripping from his mouth, shocked and beaten. Elaine looked up, facing a few Angstians still present in the room. "A trap. I can hardly believe they're sacrificing so many units for a minor problem like Treetown... But they're doing it." She hesitated, trying her best to sound sincere and worried. "Well, three more are coming. If you ask me... We play dumb and subject them to the same treatment. It would also allow us to gain control of the hives they're operating, which would be a... Significant advantage." She wasn't sure if the others believed her or not, but it didn't really matter. They were highly unlikely to take action before it was too late, anyway, not having the means to actually verify what she had just said. And that was all that was necessary for her plan to succeed.

Another smile. Less sincere than before, but this was unlikely to be noticed, given the distraction that was Mark and his choking. He was suffocating, slowly. "They want to trick us, we trick them."

She was already running a simulation of Mark's mind when she said this, establishing some (Admittedly weak, but sufficient) contacts with the other three operators in his group. It wasn't perfect and wouldn't be sufficient to 'trick' them for long, but given the circumstances, it was supposed to work well enough.

Near Treetown

Victory had been quick, yet, it lacked a certain... Perfection, suffered from follow-up problems that made an immediate strike against Treetown... Well, not impossible, but hard. Sure, the area was under the basic control of the attacking force, the northern faction, by now some seventeen thousand units strong.

But 'basic' control was just that. Basic. There were still some problems remaining. In fact, quite a lot of problems.

A few opposing drones staying in the area, slowing down the movements of the northern forces trying to reach the positions from which the assault on Treetown was supposed to be started.

Other areas were mined. Elsewhere, debris was hindering movements. The battle was over, but explosions could still be seen, heard, felt. Things were moving slowly. Too slowly.

The operator's orders were fairly simple. He could take his time, organise sufficient preparations, wait for reinforcements to arrive and generally concentrate on slow, careful operations. After all, one could hardly expect him to attack an opponent that was now stronger than before, with less resources than one had had available before, while one's own lines weren't even remotely cleared, or safe.

Short bursts of intense electromagnetic radiation from here, from there, easy to localise, but the moment the Seek-and-destroy units arrived, the sources were already gone. Treetown's reconnaissance was seemingly active. Another reason to clear the area before continuing with the operation. Indeed, he had to be careful. And doing this job, alone, wasn't exactly an easy task to begin with.

Unfortunately, there was a little problem with this 'Careful movements'. He could only wait for so long as his opponent wasn't getting stronger.

Space

There was a secret battle raging in space. Not one of bullets, of beams and explosions, but a subtle one, a battle for control.

It was 'a little' chaotic, for all involved. The northern faction, as well as the various smaller, formerly competing and now, facing the greater threat from the north, cooperating factions in DA Sisgardia were the first two groups. The third group were the non- Sisgardian factions, by now sort of including the off-world factions in a more or less insecure 'alliance'. They had the advantage, being closer, and being capable of using the resources in the (Now somewhat empty, as corpses were easy to store) seven stations orbiting earth. Roughly 50% of the various hives were under their control.

The other 50% were more or less evenly distributed between the northern faction and the various smaller factions that had banded together, with Sarah's group as its center. A conglomerate that was already carrying the seeds of further changes and conflicts in it, but, as far as Angstian philosophy was concerned, those seeds would bring a rich harvest. Reality on the other hand...

In any case, while the percentages were relatively stable, they were still being fought upon. Hives, drones were lost and won, just to be lost again. Beams of low-intensity EM radiation hitting, changing a few things, just to be countered, again.

It was like a giant game of chess, where the pieces switched sides, rather than being taken from the board.

Of course, it was also fairly irritating for the drones, who were taken and retaken, with friends becoming enemies, then neutrals, then enemies again, before they were united in another, combined hive on one side, just to be ripped apart, again, with approximately 2 drones per second, a good amount of them complaining to their respective operators, more or less annoyed by the apparent chaos in orbit.

Meanwhile, plans were made.

A couple thousand OCDs. I don't necessarily mind the ORDs/ OSDs, but...

Yes, yes I know. Effectively speaking... Would they be sufficient to kill off the fleet?

The bigger part of it, yes. Hence, why I'm worried. As soon as we choose one of the factions, or one of the factions chooses us, shit's going to start. And they could potentially attack installations of nations with an interest in us, anyway. Not to mention the stations themselves.

I see. Annoying.

More than that. It's a fairly serious threat. And given the constant conflict centered around controlling them, it wouldn't exactly help us if we took out the 50% currently held by them. They would just start to hack more of ours.

I know, I know. So, Mareike... The remaining option would be to take all of them out, yes?

Yes, but that would reduce our defence capacities in, uh, significant amounts. I wouldn't do it until absolutely necessary.

When they start firing.

Yes. I know, the timing's a pain, but still.

I see. Well, yes, that's quite correct. We don't really have a choice, do we?

Quite so. In the end, well, yes. We will have to be quick. If we manage that, we should be able to reduce casualities to a minimum. Technically speaking, we could just have them fight it out, but I don't think that would be a good idea, in the end.

Indeed. Costs would be even higher. To bad we can't change combat parameters, either. They would know as soon as they hijack one. Will be our job, and ours alone.

Quite.

Meh. I just hope they don't hit the stations. I'm allergic to the vacuum.

Of course, for the present time, this discussions were irrelevant. What was relevant was the constant switching of satellite control and, thus, knowledge with regards to the events on the ground. In this particular case, a few operators of the northern faction noticed Taraskovyan movements, possibly heading for Treetown. Division strength.

They didn't notice the fleet leaving, though. At least not for now.

Near Treetown

The information came from multiple sources. From space, where a few operators had managed to get a glimpse of the Taraskovyan movements. But this was insufficient, as they couldn't be entirely certain of their destination (Still, Treetown was the logical conclusion, given that it already had a small Taraskovyan presence), but this lack of certainty was soon ended when the reconnaissance/ surveillance squads and their gear managed to listen in to the Taraskovyan orders to move the 8000 men to Treetown. And while it took a few hours to decrypt the messages being bounced back and forth between DA & Tarasovka, in the end, they still knew.

And this meant that the operator in charge of sacking Treetown knew, too.

Now, with about half the time the Taraskovyans would need to reinforce Treetown gone, he had to be quick. Granted, there were still this annoyances... But he didn't really have a choice.

Seconds later, diving into the networks that connected him with his drones, the movements of his units changed. With a bit of luck, he would even manage to take out the retreating force his earlier opponents, the 'traitors' (At least he believed them to be traitors) were still controlling. He would have to see.

And in the streets, between and inside the buildings, in subways and in the air, everywhere, units where moving, again, with surviving inhabitants retreating further underground... Not that the underground areas were spared, but it was kinda unlikely that heavy artillery would be used, down there.

Casualities were increasing, slightly, the sudden movement allowing for somewhat less insignificant strikes than before, and the occasional drone fell apart in the hissing noise of hypervelocity rounds piercing its considerably weak armour or local bursts of radiation frying circuits.

Elsewhere, mild cases of chaos confused the lines, the operator (And the drones) not entirely capable of organising themselves the way they were supposed to organise themselves.

Still, they came closer, albeit in not exactly perfect formations, soon to have direct contact with their former opponents, to start the battle, again.

This time, he intended to finish them.

Treetown, Takahara

"Odd readings, yes. Never seen this kind of thing, before. But then, I'm not exactly a specialist for this kind of thing."

Takahara sighed. "Still, potentially dangerous, I would say. It might even be a mild form of what has created this mess to begin with."

Markus (Takahara's Assistant/ Coworker, not the Operator of the Northern faction, naturally) nodded. "Quite possible. Mind, it should be possible to track it. Perhaps even to block it. Of course, with this thing being semi-amorphous, in the sense the term 'amorphous' can actually be used with this kind of thing, it might be a little hard."

"Meh." It was a little much, this, at least that was what Takahara was thinking. "So long as we have a basic idea of how to identify it... Lets see..." He shuffled some papers, got a pencil, scribbled something, all the time operating half a dozen more-or-less effective computers and sensors, trying to make sense of their data. Incidentally, it was the use of the pencil and seeing what he had just scribbled down that gave him the push to the right direction.

The limits of technology, I guess. He smiled to himself. "Well, we should be able to track it, or rather, its signature. Whoever or whatever the origin is, I doubt it will keep it all to itself."

"True. Lemme code something."

Hollow Island

Thomas, the technician who had found this... Something, this unusual piece of, well, mental software was still... Busy, ignoring Heather's constant complaints and demands. But eventually, he managed to get the basics. And for now, this was all he needed to know. Details could follow later, but right now, he simply didn't have the time (Or the inclination) to worry about them. A few exchanges with his colleagues later, he turned around, looking at both, Heather and Jeremiah.

We can't really tell them, can we?

Well... I'm pretty certain that Ms. Pearl would start frying brains. And Mr. Jenkins would simply kill her as fast as he can, since he could use this as an excuse.

Ok. I guess... We put them both into isolation. They might be our nominal superiors, but we're running this complex, no?

True enough. Ok, you do that part. I will try and get into contact with the last faction the two were talking with. I just hope we're not too late.

'k.

Thomas sighed, then nodded, briefly, addressing both, heather and Jeremiah (Who were arguing, again). "Ok, just a minor malfunction in the machine. Nothing particularly bothersome. Still, I will have to do some repairs... James here will accompany you to your quarters. Well, James and Irene... I don't think you would like to be in the same quarters, would you?"

The sheer look in both, Jeremiah's & Heather's faces told him enough. "Well, alright then. Lets get going. And please, work out just whom we're going to support, ok?" He tried to smile, failing, being a little to nervous to manage it. "That's all."

The moment Heather Pearl and Jeremiah Jenkins had left the room, he sighed with relief. "Make sure that nobody gets into direct contact with Ms. Pearl's mind. Michael?"

"Yes?"

"Coffee."

Then he sat down, connected, and tried to find someone he could talk to, in Treetown.

Treetown

"Well, we finally managed it, I guess." Markus said. He and the two others, Kenji and Rose, had arrived over the course of about an hour, taking their time, occasionally using somewhat erratic routes, undestandably so, given the missiles, artillery and ACDs (Aerial Combat Drones), not to mention the constant assaults on their minds, that had forced them to take less obvious ways to reach to their eventual destination.

Nonetheless, now they were there, and could, well, rest. Or so they hoped. Elaine, Takahara, a few Taraskovyans and a tiny group of drones were already waiting, though, all of them doing their best to look innocent and nice.

Resting comes comes later, I guess. Rose muttered, for Markus to hear, in his mind.

Indeed. You will manage.

Geeze. Thanks. Cut a wounded woman some slack.[/i]

"A nice trip, I hope?" Elaine interfered, verbally.

"Oh, certainly." Rose looked surly at Elaine, rubbing her (Barely taken care of) leg. Her left cheek had been ripped open, too. A bit of skinspray had taken care of the bleeding, though, at least for the time being. "Nothing better than trying to force your way through a few dozen kilometres of hostile territory while being shot at all the time, having to change your transport vehicle two times, then going the last hundred metres on foot, while your leg is broken. Really, I never thought it to be possible to have that much fun. War: Entertainment for the whole family!"

"Glad to hear that." Elaine shrugged. "Personally, I wouldn't have enjoyed it, but I guess that's why you're a professional operator, and I am not."

"Oh, shut it. I suppose we get standard procedures?"

"Yes." Elaine smiled. She had already coded/ loaded the programs/ thoughts necessary to gain control of the hives currently run by the three people in front of her. "Still, despite the somewhat annoying procedures, welcome, I guess."

"Same. I... We guess. Not that you trusted us enough to place our drones inside the local defence perimeter, but hey." Markus smiled ironically. "Of course, I understand the strategic reasons for this. So..." The three were lightly distracted. While their hives were currently running autonomous, they were still retaining some light control over them.

"Here. If you would care to follow me..." Elaine pointed at a nearby building. Of course, the group of drones (Some of them fairly heavy ones) accompanying the three former opponents wasn't supposed to follow and as such, didn't. A few moments later, after entering the building, the three operators, Elaine, Tarahara and a few Taraskovyans were alone. By now, all Elaine cared about were the codes that would allow her to take over their hives. She was ready.

"Well, since I'm the only one here with the necessary software..."

"We understand. I go first." Markus nodded. "Rose and Kenji will take care of my, ah... Duties. Oh, where's Mark?"

"Perfect." A faint smile escaped Elaine. She enjoyed this. A lot. "Currently resting. The procedure is somewhat exhausting."

"True. Well, start."

Takahara watched, carefully. He didn't really believe it... Still, he kept one eye (Well, thought) open. If this technician, Thomas, had been right... He recalled the conversation. He had a copy of it, and he was 'reading' through it, again and again.

According to Thomas, Elaine had been infected with some rather sophisticated kind of, well, it's most basic parts were nothing more than a telepathic virus, but it was more than that, although Thomas hadn't been able to tell him just how, or what exactly.

It's origin seemed to be the very northern faction they were going to fight. And having heard what Elaine had done with the operator-refugee, Mark Steward, the pieces sort of fit together... Still, he didn't believe it. Couldn't believe it. It was too... Fitting. It could just as easily be a plot by the non-sisgardians Thomas came from.

Of course... Thomas had offered him the data he had on this particular piece of mental software ('Mindware' was possibly a suitable term). It fitted the data Takahara had collected of the events, the 'currents' running through DA, currents whose origin was rather unspecific... But still, specific enough to point rather explicitly to northern DA.

More importantly, given the data he had either found himself or been given by Thomas, he was capable of verifying or falsifying Thomas claims. All he had to do was to wait until Elaine started the process, whichever process it would be.

Still, he had faith in Elaine. It wouldn't happen. It just... Wouldn't.

He had a faint link established with Elaine, apparently successful, without her noticing. And then it started... As expected.

Nothing unusual... Merely the basic background check. For a moment, Takahara felt horrible, having cheated on Elaine this way, disbelieved her, ignored their old friend- (And occasionally partner-) ship.

And then he felt something else, felt it, small, faint, almost unnoticeable, but quickly rising, like a wave, a tsunami, flodding Markus' brain...

Takahara hadn't believed it, couldn't believe it, but the data matched. The samples proved it. The frequency was almost identical. He had to believe it.

He had already coded the mindware supposed to take care of the problem, alas, said problem proved to be a little more difficult to get rid of than he had expected.

Still, he managed to cut Markus off from Elaine, who turned towards him. Takahara took a step back, scared by the look. Then he attacked. Not physically, of course. Just with his mind.

Elaine's defence was furious, but it was to late, she was unprepared, surprised. Within a few seconds, it was over, although Takahara had been close to death, courtesy of his (Eventually successful) attempts at keeping Elaine alive through all of this.

He watched her as she fell to the ground, then looked around, at the others. "An, ah... Minor problem..." He sighed, then explained the situation in as much detail as he was capable of. By now, he was fairly certain that keeping any secrets would just endanger them further.

He just hoped that they would believe him. He couldn't really provide evidence. Not for the Taraskovyans, anyway, who would hardly be trained to understand this kind of thing. All he could hope for was that they would follow their correct feelings.

I hate being dependent on mere luck.

Elsewhere, logistics were busy with preparing for the impending arrival of 8000 more Tarasovkians. Between and on top of the kilometre-high buildings, not bright, but darkened to reduce the opponent's ability to target specific objects inside them, landing zones were prepared. Debris was cleared away, transportation (In the form of maglev lines being cleared) and orientation (In the form of roadsigns & natives to help out in extreme cases of confusion) were provided.

Under the clouded sky, in the midth of mild rain and surprisingly small amounts of toxins (Courtesy of Cairn Tarra's trees), the next steps were prepared.

"Should be here soon."

"Yes." The two Angstians looked up into the sky, watching the clouds and the occasional flash of light. "Soon we're going to see it all falling apart. Yay."

A few psionic magpies were waiting nearby, as if sensing the possible 'prey' arriving. War didn't mean that they had to stop pickpocketing. In fact, given the amount of shinies they had collected from corpses, the opposite was true.

But then, you can't really steal anything from a corpse. You just take things.

Southern DA

"Thank you. Yes. Nice weather today. Wouldn't mind a higher resolution, but... Yeah. Ok... Yes, yes, I've got it. Bye."

The operator, a fairly pretty, young woman, perhaps in her twenties (Actually her forties, but that's what genetic modification therapy was all about) chuckled, then connected to a few others, quickly transmitting the data she had gained.

A very nice person, this Colonel Parks. And its fun working with him. You know... No interferences, incorrect images, lost ports, fakes, hijacked data streams and god knows what.

Heh, I can imagine it. So, it's worth it?

Given that the Treznorian data indicates that our assumptions regarding the right flank were kinda... Incorrect, yes. I guess the northern faction inserted some pre-fabricated data into our datastreams, showing us this crap.

Heh. Ok. Checking now... Oi. But they still know, so it will take a few days until we can stage local operations. Weeks until we might gain the weight to do something bigger. And even then, it's a 50/50 thing. At best. But better than nothing, I guess, being able to prepare.

I know, I know. But what can we do? We have to do something. Oh... Before I forget it... Remember yesterday?

*Groans* Yes.

*Giggles* Well. If you're particularly successful and brave, I might even take you by your word. How about it?

*Blinks* Well... I would be stupid to say 'No', no?

Indeed. *Sly Grin* Well, here you go... Have fun with the updated files. NOW we know why we lost so many units in the Daimyo circle. Bastards.

Heh. well, then. Cya soon. Possibly after the war. For the 'tea'.

*Nods* Oh, and before I forget it... The files include some vaguely modest portraits of me. I'm sure you will be intrigued.

Oh, I will!

She laughed, and then the convo ended, together with about two hundred other, less intimate conversations the woman had with as many operators. Things went reasonably well. Finally. She shook her head, her long, blue hair twinkling in the sun, and smiling, not-so-quietly went away in the bright light of the sudden detonation, as the missile hit its target.

Coral Island

George Tamiya looked at the two people in front of him, lacking any kind of significant genetic alteration or cybernetic enhancement. He smiled inwardly. How backward. Yet, how important for us.

"So..." He hesitated, sitting down. The room was reasonably tasteful, and he had already fulfilled his duties as, well, host, by supplying sufficient amounts of wine (Cheap wine, but still wine. And the more artificial ingredients would help with the taste, anyway). The Treznorians on the other hand had already done their part, informing him about the Empire's position and the factions it would like to see supported by the calmed-down non-sisgardian factions. "To be honest, I'm not quite certain... I have... Conflicting sources."

"We are, though."

"Heh. Well... I will take it into... Consideration, and see what our two, ah... Regional council leaders responsible for communications with the remaining factions have to say. I should be able to give you a definite answer within 24 hours. Is this sufficient?"

"It is. Thanks."

"Good. Well then, Gentleman. Have a nice day."

It was good timing. The conversation on Coral island, near the equator, happened at about the same moment the two two groups of Treznorians in DA Sisgardia finally managed to meet each other, finally getting rid of one particularly talkative drone.

Unnoticed coincidence.

Tarasovka

11-06-2005, 12:19

Airspace near Der Angst

The Taraskovyan forces were shipped in via barges – massive aerial dropships that carried men and heavy vehicles alike. They flew at a certain distance one from the other, escort fighters flanking each of them, with separate squadrons keeping guard on the flanks of the formations, ready to intervene anywhere whether to engage the enemy or to reinforce the escort. The skies in and around Der Angst were quite dangerous, due to very obvious reasons, and the fighter pilots were constantly on alert.

And their awareness paid off as a group of hostile pictograms appeared on the scanners, identified as various Angstian Aerial Combat Drones, on an intercept vector to one of the barges. One of the separate fighter squadrons reacted immediately by dispatching five of its elements to counter the threat. The Taraskovyan fighters, in the standard Delta formation, set themselves on a course to intercept the Angstian ACDs, breaking formation and spreading out once within range of the enemy. Counter measures were dispatched as the enemy sent off a salvo of missiles and the Taraskovyan fighters sent off several ‘Hedgehog’ missiles.

The aforementioned missiles directed themselves against the enemy formation. But unlike standard anti-air ammunition of such type, they did not head at particular single targets, but exploded in the direct vicinity of the drones, sending forth a shower of steel darts, each of them capable of piercing light and medium armour. Most of the drones, turned into sieves, began their unstoppable descent into the waters of the sea below. The others, regardless of damages and losses, continued to charge at the Taraskovyan craft, avoiding or getting hit by anti-air missiles (this time those destined for individual targets), sending off their own missiles. But the fight was soon over, the Taraskovyan aircraft regaining their formation, still capable of flying and fighting, although having suffered light to moderate damages. Two of the fighters would have to undergo reparations upon landing in Treetown.

That particular convoy reached the base rather unscarred. Another convoy lost several escort fighters as they encountered a particularly large formation of hostile drones, one of the barges was lightly damaged by a drone that broke through the escort and opened fire upon it with its guns, before getting shredded to bits by the escort. So far, it was just as how the High Command had predicted it – the enemy was defying all logic of war, its machines, surely high on some sort of digital drugs, attacking the Taraskovyan craft with the rage of those who had nothing to lose.

Nonetheless, the barges landed, the troops disembarked and reinforced the Treetown’s defences, making the settlement a true fortress that would be quite difficult for the enemy to take. And considering that even more reinforcements were on their way, the Taraskovyan forces in the area could feel sure of themselves. But the naval fleet would most surely have to fight its way through the waters close to the northern parts of Der Angst, held by the enemy. But every enemy asset engaged into attacking the fleet meant fewer foes available on the Treetown front for the Taraskovyans. And if the enemy concentrated all of its forces next to Treetown, then it would mean that the fleet would pass unscarred and reinforce the defenders within no time.

Der Angst

13-06-2005, 10:37

Well, it is a possibility.

Intelligence is fairly detailed. And I reckon that if they managed to get Treznorian support, and not the north...

Yes, yes. So, you want to give in, Tamiya?

Yes. Well, I and the others, given that there are three... Well, five more in positions comparable to my own. Can hardly decide such things on my own. In any case, I've had a talk with some guy on Hollow Island. Thomas something. Apparently, Ms. Pearl has been the victim of some kind of informational attack. He made sure that Jenkins can't touch her, though.

Ah. Well, better than nothing, I guess. Already thought she was dead.

Not yet. Anyway, Ivanova. Another thing is that the Northern faction seems to be intend on attacking a little blob in the landscape with Taraskovyans inside.

How hostile. And towards an ally, well...

Yes. Not especially good for public relations. So I tend to believe that we should follow the, ah... Suggestion made by the Treznorians.

What are the others saying? It's a bit busy, here at Jupiter, so...

Well, Mars agrees. Huan Yue isn't feeling particularly well with the freaks of Mars all around her and her military capacity lacking anything even remotely resembling stamnia against anything but confederates.

Heh, understandably so. Well, I did lease her a few ships and some material. We're having enough. Comparatively speaking.

Yes, yes. Anyway. Neptune is a bit... Weird. They have recently started to remove limitations from drones, so naturally, they're a little bit busy with creating serverspace for backups, paying a fortune on amends, apologizing for not doing it earlier and stuff. Not sure how this will work out.

I see. Oh, yes, I guess the wave will reach me, soon. Well, not too bad. I've read through logfiles one of my reconnaissance units had with an ICEL AI. It's a tad embarrassing, really, when the other side is fully sentient, sapient, free, and ours is not.

You think so? Hrm. Well, this will be 'fun'. Frustratingly so.

Can't change it. Be honest, we delayed it for far too long.

It wont exactly rise efficiency.

Efficiency? What's that? Just kidding. Anyway, you're right, but, well, it's the way it is. So... Neptune's position, as far they thy can actually care?

For it. If only to get rid of my constant nagging.

Heh. Good... Well, you're on Earth, so I guess you will do the rest?

Yes.

When? So I can prepare...

Immediately.

Imwhat? That's... A little quick. I mean, prepara-

Already done. Yes, waiting a litle would be useful for further coordination, but frankly... This has to end before the conflict results in the entirety of DA Sisgardia being blown apart.

Point. Well, it's settled, then?

Yes.

Good. Now, if you will excuse me, but low bitrate QE is a pain to use. It might be nice to do real time conversatios from Jupiter to Earth, but in text form... Bah. I need a drink.

And while some 700 million kilometers away, Ivanova was getting wasted, George Tamiya was delegating the next steps down the line.

Despite being quick, it did still take a few hours, contacting the people in question, infected networks, constant warfare, interception attempts and the sneakiness necessary to survive preventing actually efficient ways of distributing the bits and bytes of data, messages and plans that were now enacted (Or, in the case of the plans, prepared. Some basic work had been done, alas, someone had been asleep, resulting in a flood of logistical problems Tamiya (Well, his underlings) had to deal with, as annoying as it was). Nonetheless, it worked as good as it could be expected to work.

About an hour later, the news, freely available information, spread around Earth at the speed of light (The availability, anyway. Interest, and thus interpretation, took significantly longer).

It was a reasonably short message, involving no audio, video, or even simple, detailed visual data. Pure text was all it contained.

"After ongoing negotiations between the different factions in DA Sisgardia and the non-Sisgardian factions, the representatives of the non-Sisgardian factions and what is currently considered a conglomerate of the smaller, southern factions in DA Sisgardia have finally reached an agreement."

The message went on about the involved people (Tamiya, Jenkins, Pearl, Ivanova, Morden, Sarah (Sort of), Morden, Aramaki (Not really involved, but she was mentioned, anyway), a few others, and made sure that any detailed information regarding the concessions each side had made were quietly left out of the notice. Those were for later, when the situation was a little more... Stable.

"The involved factions have expressed their hope that this agreement will finally end the ongoing and counterproductive internal warfare DA Sisgardia is still suffering from, allowing DA to finally recofer from the tragedy that struck it. Of course, all factions not covered in the agreement are encouraged to join in, in order to allow for the violence to end as soon as possible."

The reactions to the (Apparently true, as everyone involved confirmed it rather quickly, within about an hour) message were... Mixed.

On Hollow Island, Jeremiah Jenkins looked mildly surprised when he finally heard of the decision, his frustration with regards to him not taking part in the final decisionmaking process being comparatively mild.

"And... Well... What were we for?"

"Preliminary Research." Was the answer Thomas gave him, smirking. He was clearly enjoying this, being in charge.

Jeremiah on the other hand, being incapable of doing, well, anything (Of course, officially, he was still in charge. Inofficially however, the technicians had made sure that he couldn't actually do anything, in as polite a manner as possible. It was annoying, really)... Eventually he sat down and played a little Federation: Dawn of the Lesbians.

A fairly enjoyable game, really, and the best he could do, right now.

In Southern DA Sisgardia, things were mildly more complicated.

Aramaki Sakurai had changed her mind, now being seemingly unwilling to 'come over', instead concentrating on... Well, whatever she was doing, together with the weirdos (Aka 'Techpriests') around her. Understandably so, given that she wasn't particularly fond of politics, said politics being something she had inherited, rather than wanted.

Still, she kept a few channels open, in order to keep herself informed and to interfere whenever necessary. Which she did often enough.

Of course, in the end, it were just minor distractions, annoying, given that she was actually rather close to finally understanding the phenomenon (Something she thought the Techpriests, or at least their leader, already did, but she wasn't certain, and she couldn't bring herself to trust the spiritualist version of a nerd). On the other hand, as annoying, as distracting as the news were... They were good news. Apparently her influence was still sufficient to be recognised as a person of 'Major Relevance', at least this was what the weasel Morden was thinking... Good enough. Apparently, her interests were protected... For now, anyway.

At the same time, back where Ingrid, Frank (Still lacking a surname), Morden & the others were, things progressed as well. Frank (Still lacking a surname) was just coming back from 'Taking a call' as he had called it, seemingly happy (An expression he rarely showed, especially now, with Morden's presence). "Done!"

"Done?" Came the answer, or rather question, in unison.

"Yes." The next thing he did was presenting the actual notice, together with a mildly more detailed, 'Internal' version that included certain agreements with regards to DA's future, in particular the upcoming federal structure, and a (Short) list of multinational commitments it intended to keep, after this particular conflict was over, The Empire of Treznor and the Grand Duchy of Tarasovka being pretty high on the list.

"Good. So, now that this is done... Lets see who recognises us."

In northern DA, a mind... Didn't care at all. It (He) was already commited to another scheme, and for it, this setback was of a comparatively minor nature. The few who disageed with him and meant that they had to do something to counter this initiative weren't heard by him (And in some cases, weren't heard of at all, after having voiced their concerns).

It would take a little longer, now, but that should work out, as far as it (He) was concerned. Besides, he was feeling, slowly, that political and military might was secondary to his newly discovered desires, desires that eclipsed his previous goals.

And again, he reached out, sucking on the echo of the minds in DA, relishing in an ocean of feelings and desires, slowly beginning to forget everything around him.

Treetown comes next, but I wanted to post something before taking two months to reply <.<

Treznor

14-06-2005, 04:36

The Empire of Treznor is pleased to see new evidence of cooperation and communication among the sadly fragmented populus of Der Angst. Whereas we wished to demonstrate no favouritism, we were anxiously awaiting a stable and legitimate government to arise from the chaos with whom we could establish a dialogue.

Now that this has been accomplished, we formally recognise the new government of Der Angst and welcome them back to the international community. We are in the process of transporting essential supplies to their conflict-stricken people, including food, water and medical supplies. We trust that the new government will use these resources wisely, and will accept our support in rebuilding their society.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v311/SpaceGhoti/Treznor/Devon.jpg

Devon Treznor
Emperor

Tarasovka

14-06-2005, 10:40

Winter Palace,
Capital City of Vigvar,
Grand Duchy of Tarasovka

- So you mean to say we have placed a bet on the wrong people?

The Grand Duke held his glass of tomato juice his hand as he looked in turn at three other gentlemen sitting around the low table. To the right of the Taraskovyan ruler sat High Count Khat, the Minister of Foreign Affairs. To the opposite of the Grand Duke sat Duke Orlov, Minister of Defence. And to the left was High Count Lareth, Minister of Economy and Finances.

Mikhail then looked at the bottle of VSOP cognac standing proudly on the table, his face grimacing as he remembered the counsel of doctors: “No alcohol.” As if his post-coma state would be endangered by some drinks. He sighed and looked up at his Minister of Foreign Affairs.

- Well, let us say that we never placed a bet on anyone. The Ruling Council did and we, now, are pretty much obligated to respect their bet. We do know that there are negotiations between our protégés and the alliance of factions.

- We estimate, - the Minister of Defence spoke out, - that the presence of the Taraskovyan contingent in the area may give our protégés a certain additional weight in the negotiations.

- Indeed, - High Count Khat nodded, - moreover we have seen that the Martian factions have joined that alliance. The Federation had helped restore peace and order in Daedalia, securing the friendship of these factions. This means that there are some pro-Taraskovyan elements in the new Der Angst… government.

- So the situation, - the Grand Duke said pensively, making a pause to sip some of his drink, - is not as bad as it may look. We may secure a strong position for pro-Taraskovyan elements in the new government. And maybe the others shall remember the good times of the Pact… that is, if Treetown stands.

- It will stand, Sire, - Orlov said, - We have an approximate ten thousand men on the ground, a naval battlegroup on approach, orbital elements in place, strategic bombers ready. We have an entire NGF brigade ready to intervene, which means eighty thousand men.

- We have no Parliament to oppose us, for the time being, - the Grand Duke said as he chukled, looking up at High Count Lareth. – What about after the war?

- Well, due to our proximity to Der Angst mainland, the Grand Duchy can supply aid and materials within the shortest time possible. We can also liberate some financial means, although the budget is a bit strained with all of the latest developments. We should still be able to liberate a billion Franks, which is a very considerable amount.

Everybody in the room nodded in agreement as Mikhail looked at Ithun again.

- Do not recognize anyone until I make a statement on the matter.

- Yes, Sire, - the Minister of Foreign Affairs nodded.

- Then I declare this meeting over. Thank you, gentlemen, for your presence. Il’liar, - the Grand Duke said as he addressed the Minister of Economy and Finances, - I shall require your presence a bit longer. Everybody else is free to go.

Der Angst

15-06-2005, 17:22

Treetown

Takahara had been surprised by the Taraskovyan indifference with regards to the chaos in... Well, 'Leadership' was possibly the wrong word, but it came rather close, anyway.

He supposed that it was the general weirdness DA was suffering from that made the Taraskovyans almost immune towards the more odd events happening all around them.

Well, it didn't matter. For now, he was rather happy that he could actually run Treetown (And its defence) in a vaguely efficient way.

Granted, he still had to trust a variety of unknown factors (Most specifically, the side-switching three operators that were still living), but he didn't really have a choice.

But it worked. Well, it had to. Hopefully. Elaine had been confined, and would stay in isolation until this particular crisis was over (And once they would find a way to remove the influence in her mind, of course), and the available operators had been stuffed into a room, together with the Taraskovyan command and a metric fuckton of interception weaponry around them. They would need it.

He knew that a battle was in progress, alas, for now, he needed to do something different. After all, the news had spread to Treetown, too (It had been difficult, but eventually, it had been inevitable).

Besides, he wasn't particularly experienced when it came to warfare (But then, there weren't many Angstians who were to begin with, at least when it came to strategy or tactics. Live experience on the other hand...).

He searched out a few sources, avoided various kinds of informational defences, a few more or less malicious programs/ thoughts stalking him (Not that the thoughts would have been particularly dangerous, given his choosen connection, but still), and finally managed contact in what would have resembled an old victorian building from the time DA had been a toy of foreing powers, during the end of the 19th century, if Takahara had actually fully 'been' there, keeping his mind inside the available serverspace.

But of course he didn't do that, ECMs, as well as a variety of other risks convincing him to operate in flatland, will mere text and code scolling in front of his eyes. It was vastly safer, that way.

Of course, it was also significantly slower, but he could deal with that.

The conversation he had took its time, covering everything from politics over warfare to sex.

However, the basic topic was about Treetown's status within (Well, for now, without, but this was supposed to change once the negotiations ended) the 'New' Confederacy-like entity that was supposed to be DA. Naturally, the whole negotiation thing would take a while, given that both, Takahara and his interlocutor(s) had to check back with their partners, in Takahara's case the Taraskovyans whose interests he had to take into account (Not that he minded it. He was rather fond of them and quite willing to broke the deal with their interests in mind, interests that were, by coincidence, his own interests, too) and a vaguely defined group of more or less important Angstians in Treetown with little actual power.

Well, they had time. And the battle that was beginning, just a few kilometres away, provided a rather nice framework of sound and colours for them.

Near Treetown

Attempts at intercepting Taraskovyan transports had been rather unsuccessful, unsurprisingly so, given the chaos present (And a slight lack of airpower). The operator didn't really mind, though. More meat on the ground? He was all for it.

Within the urban desert, his units moved on, a considerable, though mildly chaotic force. Theoretically, he was supposed to control them with ease, given that operators were supposed to run forces of millions of individual units.

However, practically, this 'millions' were a fantasy, and he had quite some trouble operating just his seventeen-thousand units. Theory and reality refused to cooperate properly, as usual.

And yet, the battle still begun.

Treetown's defenders had their own problems, though. The defence was layered, with the drones that remained for Markus, Kenji and Rose to use not immediately backed up by Treetown's local forces and the Taraskovyans, courtesy of having stayed outside the inner perimeter.

The hail of projectiles, nuclear munitions and missiles that begun the initial strike annihilated approximately ten percent of them, instantly. A comparatively poor result, courtesy of the chaos the operator they were opposing had to deal with.

Of course, the answer came quickly, and within a chaos of radiation flares, crumbling walls, collapsing tunnels, detonating microdrones and hostile takeovers of electronics and minds, both sides suffered, heavily, quickly, while the lights and sounds of the battle turned the sky, the air into a masterpiece of art.

A rather morbid one, true, but still, beautiful in its own right.

Casualities decreased quickly enough. Once the first strike was over, it became pretty clear that surface combatants had problems surviving. Retreating underground, only occasionally showing up on the surface, down in the bottom of the canyons between the buildings, firing a salvo or two, shaking the foundations of a building (Yet rarely managing to collapse it), just to hide again, before the next detonation ripped them apart, sensors already degraded from microdrones targetting and effectively disabling them.

However, in the end, the defenders had to retreat, and to retreat quickly, in order to ensure continued survival, at least for a little while. By now, only about 5000 units were remaining, finally retreating behind the perimeter where Treetown's own resources and Taraskovyan help had established a more defendable sector.

This first phase of the battle hadn't lasted longer than about an hour.

And already the first reconnaissance groups, cheap search-and-destroy units, intelligent bombs and the likes searched out positions they could penetrate easily, clash into, destroy.

More explosions could be heard, now half a dozen kilometres closer to Treetown, illuminating the sky.

Space

Shit.

Huh? Mareike? What do you mean?

They're starting it. I caught a glimpse of some activation codes. Fuck it, Josef. This sucks.

Wooo. Time to start it, then?

Yes... Damnit! This retards we call 'superiors' forgot to link us in with the Southern Factions.

WH- Oh, shit.

Eleven more seconds. They're slow. Ok, we can't really allow them to detonate. Fuck this alliance shit. Target everything. I want the skies clear. Oh, and send a message to the Taraskovyans, they're probably targetted, too. They have to get the hell out of here.

Done. Trying to reprogram some units to keep them.

Good luck. They will still be accessible, though.

Not long enough to detonate them.

True. Five seconds remaining. Ready?

We seem to be better organised and faster. But we're too far away. A few will manage it, regardless.

A few?

About a hundred OCDs.

... Ouch.

Okay. Starting to transfer drone minds to the server. Neptune will applaud us.

Yes, yes... Aaaaaaaaand... Seven tenth of a second... Boom.

The OCD's whose minds had not been transferred suddenly felt what could possibly described as adrenaline overdrive. It was a moment of joy, of excessive joy, as they detonated, sending coherent beams of minimal-wavelength EM radiation towards their targets.

Of course, the targets varied. The OCDs detonated by the northern faction did something very simple. They targetted the seven stations, a rather large number of Angstian spacedy ships (Which were, after all, effectively under the control of the new DA Federation) and a smaller number of Taraskovyian ships, rather randomly, possibly meant to warn the Taraskovyans and force the to retreat from Treetown.

Of course, the result of this action would most likely be the opposite. But this didn't seem to be of any particular concern for the Northerners in charge.

The OCDs detonated by the Off-World Factions & the Non-Sisgardian factions were searching out different targets. Specifically, they targetted the OCDs under the control of the Northern Sisgardian faction and the Southern Sisgardian factions (This ones simply because the North could quite easily hack into them like they had done over the previous weeks, which would be more than just a little counterproductive, if allowed to continue), trying to destroy them before they themselves could detonate, damaging or even destroying what the 'Official' DA 'Government' held.

In nine out of ten cases, they were successful, partially with the help of the ships present, their main armament and point defence killing a good amount of the targets floating in Earth orbit. However, in slightly more than a hundred cases, they weren't.

It was a decidedly unimpressive firework, invisible radiation travelling through the vacuum, until it found a target, vaporising it when it was a drone, or burning itself through the hull of a ship or station, then superheating the internal atmosphere, blasting internal compartments apart.

The whole 'battle' didn't last longer than a few seconds, with the actual shooting period taking slightly longer than a tenth of a second.

The effords necessary to ensure that the Southern Sisgardian factions realised just why their OCDs had been destroyed by their allies, accepting it, took a few minutes.

However, the material lost was worth trillions. Two DA ships had been lost completely, ten more were heavily damaged. Two stations had been hit, and while none had been lost, the damage was still significant, 1/3 of them rendered unusable, their cores unconscious, the pain having overwhelmed them.

And what had once been a rather effective missile shield was now vapor, quickly leaving Earth orbit, the sunwind carrying it into interstellar space, to perhaps, in a trillion years, end up being on a new planet, a distant memory of battles long past.

Ouch. Well, that took a while.

Nothing's perfect.

I know, Josef. I know...

Elsewhere, entirely peaceful

It was a little problematic, finding the person to thank the Empire for the instant-recognition.

Of course, in private, the Treznorians currently present in DA could enjoy a (Very) good bottle of wine (Well, several, given the amount of people present) and tease Sarah who had to accept living with mere soda, but officially...

Well, in the end, it was decided to run with everyone who qualified as being in a considerably high position within the current political hierarchy.

George Tamiya, Heather Pearl (A little problematic, given her corrupted mind, but they added her, anyway, due to the pressure of her supporters), Jeremiah Jenkins, Jakob Bagpipe, Renate Uzumi and Klaus Poincaré as the representatives of the six islands.

Sarah Ishii (Digging through the archives, they had finally found Sarah's actual surname, a name Frank choose to adopt for himself, as he considered himself to be Sarah's 'new' family), Mr. Morden, Frank Ishii (Pointless, given his lack of reputation, but Mr. Morden had failed in preventing it. He had never been particularly gifted when it came to dealing with children), Aramaki Sakurai (Who just answered with 'Yes, do it.' when she was asked about this particular issue. Her lack of interest in politics being almost appalling) from the more important southern factions.

Huan Yue for Mars, Susan Ivanova for Jupiter, and SCD 1/1 for Neptune, the latter being a mild shock. Indeed, Neptune's decision to grant (Read: Upgrade to) full sentience/ sapience for drones had been more than just mildly disorienting for the rest of the fractioned entity that was DA, and things like this didn't make it easier to cope with it.

Needless to say, with such an excessive amount of opinions, ideas and general representations, composing the actual reply took its time, despite it technically being the easiest possible task, given the circumstances they were in.

Still, in the end, they managed it (Somehow).

From: The brand-new Representation of the Hypocrisy of Der Angst
To: The Empire of Treznor, Emperor Devon Treznor
Subject: Recognition and Assistance

"'Stable' being relative, given that there seem to be certain factions that are not particularly pleased with the new administration. Still, the situation is definitely better than it was before.

"Nonetheless, at least some form of order is returning, finally, so a more efficient dialoge should now finally be possible, doubtlessly to our mutual advantage.

"We do of course hope that your decision to recognise us will trigger more positive responses, which would, of course, help our position even more, eventually helping us to finally end the (Unfortunately) ongoing conflict.

"We do of course appreciate and accept the help (Although we would add that given current conditions, water supplies are somewhat superficial) and hope that the cooperation between us will lead to a quick rebuilding process, to eventually redevelop DA into an entity comparable to what it was before the terrible events of the past few months struck it."

~ Sincerely,

George Tamiya, Heather Pearl, Jeremiah Jenkins, Jakob Bagpipe, Renate Uzumi, Klaus Poincaré, Sarah Ishii, Mr. Morden, Frank Ishii, Aramaki Sakurai, Huan Yue, Susan Ivanova, SCD 1/1

Tarasovka

20-06-2005, 11:46

Defensive Perimeter Around Treetown

The Taraskovyans had the time to prepare their defences to turn Treetown into a fortress that would be very, very difficult to take, if not to say impossible. As the enemy approached, tiny drones would fix laser beams upon the enemy groups, especially the most dangerous of the combat drones, or on the ground in front of them, indicating the artillery crews in Treetown precisely where to fire. Of course, the survival rate of such targeting drones was expected to be minimal, but they were cheap enough to afford losing them. And as the enemy got nearer, the surgically targeted artillery fire grew denser as the aim was no longer to eliminate the toughest enemies, but to damage or destroy as much as possible before short range fighting would begin. The most effective of such strikes happened in specially prepared perimeters, with the cannons in Treetown only awaiting an order to start pounding the predetermined area. Other areas were hit, too, but often upon precise targeting to eliminate an isolated threat.

To ensure that nothing disrupted the continued artillery fire, the airs above and near Treetown were guarded by impressive amounts of Taraskovyan fighters, backed by ground based anti-air defences. They did not engage the enemy outside of the perimeter where the ground based defences would not help them; the plan was to lure as much enemy air units out to the perimeter to slaughter them. Then, once the enemy no longer had air superiority and upon the arrival of the naval fleet, the Taraskovyan forces would extend their coverage dramatically, supporting an offensive of the ground forces.

However, despite the massive wall of fire between the defenders and the attackers, the two sides mixed soon enough as the Northern combat drones erupted into the first line of close range defence, fighting Treetown drones, automated defences and Taraskovyan troopers. The UPACs were launched, the small gunships maneuvering swiftly between the buildings, dodging enemy fire, shooting at the enemy, providing support to the ground forces wherever the frontline was in danger of breaking. Of course, the Taraskovyan forces took casualties, at some spots heavier than in others. Some position, in danger of being overrun were abandoned, the retreating troops reinforcing an other position or falling back to the second line.

Der Angst

04-07-2005, 11:42

Near Treetown

Anja chuckled, watching the unfolding events. She shook a little bit as a few detonations nearby simulated a minor earthquake, then she concentrated on the battle, again.

For all intends and purposes, Anja Suzuhara was a monstrosity, preferring functionality over form. Sure, in essence, she was still a female, but a variety of rather visible implants, most of them supposed to increase her sheer processing capacities, made her look more like a vaguely menacing entity of undefined quality from outer space (And god knew there were enough of them in reality).

She was lying there, relatively safe inside (Well, under) a relatively small building, hoping that it wouldn't be all that dangerous, here, a few hundred metres beneath the surface.

Above, beneath, to her right and left, everywhere were sensors, spread out over kilometres in every direction.

Few of them were large, most of them were no more than appropriately changed (Or entirely artificial) birds or rodents, others more insect sized, down to immobile and rather ineffective (But cheap and near-impossible to get rid of) sensor dust.

Other pieces of Anja accessed computer terminals, security cameras, satellites, active and passive EM detection for various wavelengths, the minds of a few of her friends.

The whole point of this? Not much of one. Neither Anja nor her friends were actually affiliated with either one of the warring factions. Not a single one of them did intend to do anything particularly useful with what they were watching. They were not controlling armies, nor were they evaluating data in the interest of military intelligence.

All they wanted was some entertainment. And so, they essentially gave Reality TV a whole new meaning.

A part of Anja's mind was doing nothing but taking all the pretty pictures, the sounds, statistics and code, and merging them into a semi-complete 'map' of the whole battle, of every single event, updated in real time.

She witnessed the detonations, bursts of radiation spreading, gamma rays transforming into X rays, then ultraviolet and visible light. Shockwaves clashing with houses, tunnels collapsing, drones malfunctioning, exploding under hails of kinetic projectiles and heavy explosives, others getting their circuits fried, again others just switching sides.

In the middle of it all, a few sentients, mostly (Ex-) human, some frightened, others just high on some drugs, be they virtual or chemical (Or even biological, in the case of parasites), either perishing or surviving, depending more or less entirely on their luck. On this scale, personal efford, skills and decisions had only cosmetic value.

Their lasts thoughts were like the dessert of the whole spectacle, and Anja didn't hesitate enjoying it while spreading a bit more sensordust and full-fledged mobile units to replace those lost in the last few minutes. After all, she had to keep up with the events, and 'holes' in her 'vision' were likely to prevent such.

Recording all of this, already beginning to mix it in order to get a mildly surrealistic 'image' of the whole battle as the eventual result of her effords, Anja continued to observe the struggle. Exchanges with her friends in the area were by now non-existant, nobody would be so rude as to interrupt this festival, this concert with something as profane as communication.

In the skies, the first thing the Aerial Combat Drones did not do was trying to actually dogfight, for a variety of reasons (The major one being that they weren't particularly maneuverable). Surreal shapes and forms and patterns developed as missiles sped in every direction, the opponents killing each other hundredfold.

Air superiority was arguably... Argued about, with neither side managing a clear superiority. The Treetown/ Tarasovkian groups being numerically inferior, but with formidable SAM/ Flak capacities, the northern faction not too interested in it, as the operator in question hoped to achive the desired goal by simply using underground passages, suffering significantly less multibillion losses.

On the ground, and more importantly, underground, things were a bit more complicated, much to the joy and excitement of Anja. Drones on both sides were busy blowing each other up, with the occasional Taraskovyan trooper trapped inside the chaos, dealing out its own share of almost wanton destruction before dying like so many semi-sentients did, too.

Insect-sized drones couldn't exactly deal out terminal damage, yet, they were certainly sufficient to blind sensors with a sudden flash of intense microwave radiation, or block a joint by detonating and warping it in the process.

Sudden, intense flashes of beta radiation killed flesh, clouds of gas deteriorated visors and equally expensive and sensitive pieces of powered armour or sensors. Hypervelocity projectiles cut through steel, titanium or ceramics as if through butter, and intelligent mines, searching out their prey, took attackers with them, detonating.

The first line of defence fought well, but in the end, it proved to be too weak. Entering a few weak spots, enlarging them, slowly breaking, overrunning the defensive lines in front of them by way of comign from the flanks, from inside the defence perimeter, the attacking force eventually succeeded. It didn't take long, and the first line wasn't anymore.

Yet, success was far from being total. Rather than standing and dying, the defenders retreated, slowly, fighting, dealing out significant damage, wrecks and corpses showing the way they went, towards Treetown.

A tunnel collapsed, taking about a hundred combat units with it, living beings of blood and flesh as well as (In essence equally living, but made from steel, ceramics and plastics) machines, the attackers not hesitating to destroy the very infrastructure they would need after the conflict. Their first and foremost goal was to win. Everything else was secondary.

Inside this chaos, this wanton destruction and pointless loss of life and resources, individuality effectively ceased to count. Sure, there were individual minds, drones and men. Angstian family fathers and sons, lovers and singles, Taraskovyan NGF troopers, individuals with memories of the past and hopes for their future, but their lives, their wishes and dreams had zero meaning in this mechanised, automated slaughter that knew only numbers and cold, mathematical logic.

To Anja, it felt fascinating. Strange, alien... it was attracting her, and she could feel the sensation of the mind- and merciless battle, the struggle for life on both, the irrelevant, surreal micro- and the deciding, chaotic macroscale.

She could see, feel that the north was close, very close to finally achiving its goal, to take Treetown. As formidable as the defences were...

Yet, the battle wasn't over. There were still unknown factors that were yet to be seen.

And Anja could hardly wait for the battle to proceed to its climax.

Southern DA Sisgardia

"Ok. Wonder what the answer will be..."

"Missiles."

"Pessimist."

"No, realist."

The topic Frank & Morden were discussing in a surprisingly non-violent way was simple enough. With the south and the non-Sisgardian factions finally combining to form something resembling an almost working nation, the first thing they had done was 'offering' the north membership to finally end the constant, ruinous violence. Granted, just about everyone had doubts regarding the sanity of this move, given the rumours about the north, but most believed that one could get rid of eventual problems in a less destrcutive and more subtle way than outright war, too. So they had agreed to try it.

"Whatever you say. Well... You're willing to bet?"

"Mhm. Yes."

"Good..." Frank chuckled. "Anyone else?" He looked around, at the other people present in the small group of Angstians and Treznorians they were a part of, all of them waiting for the answer they would receive from the north, for better or worse.

Elsewhere, Southern DA Sisgardia

As counterproductive as the constant 'antics' (Well, assassination attempts) between Heather Pearl and Jeremiah Jenkins had been, they had been vaguely effective at organising the transport and storage of material to and on Hollow Island, be it food, medicaments, contruction drones, building materials, guns, computers or nuclear weaponry. Now that an agreement had been reached, this materials did a second, shorter trip, to southern DA. The greatest problem was space, and the planes were busy cursing and barely evading collisions (In one case, not barely enough. But the two drones took it lightly, being lucky enough to actually being backed up, an equally rare and fortunate occurance), the smog, the clouds and the rain doing their best to make it even harder. But then, they were used to this minor nuisances.

A flood of materials came in, from tooth brushes, shoes and shirts over cars, repair materials and construction equipment all up to heavy artillery, fightercraft and heavy infantry drones, from candles and pencils over PDAs and spinal uplinks up to nuclear handgrenades and hypersonic missiles, everything was present.

The only thing nobody knew was which of these things would be in instant demand. THIS was the north' decision.

North/ South Border; Northern DA Sisgardia

For a few hours, there was essentially, well, nothing happening, giving the drones and humans in the area a chance to take a breath, to relax for a short while. For a few hours, it looked as if peace was an actual option, and indeed, drones as well as operators (Not to mention non-combatants) from both sides begun talking to each other, exchanging experiences... Surprisingly enough, most of them considered the whole thing to be a more or less fair tournament, only few were indoctrinated (North) or frustrated (south) enough to actually hate their opponents. Granted, there were the rumours... But with the first few contacts, most of them began to subside, although a few happeend to be based on actual facts. Luckily, they weren't the worst ones (Albeit still disconcerting enough to be a pain). Indeed, peace seemed to be a chance, again.

However, one man and his entourage didn't want peace. For the man, or more to the point, the entity, the mind that held the north together, this world became less and less relevant, his original goals of power fading as he saw what was behind the curtain... Yet, continued violence seemed to be a good way to taste more of this exceptionally frightened, heroic, disturbed, crushed, insane, distressed, surreal minds extreme situations tended to produce.

Around him was an entourage that still had desires of and plans for power. A few of them, the most corrupt, the most brutal and most cunning ones seized more and more power, taking out the competition, the peacemakers, the apologetic ones, the moderate ones.

Within a few hours, dozens of potential threats to their power were removed.

Maximilian Otagi looked down, at the... Well, not corpse, as the flesh was still functioning. The mind, however... The creature that had once been human twitched, unable to think, unable to act, its body failing to function properly. Within a few hours, it would die, lying in its own excrements, its urine and blood.

Maximilian almost threw up, imagining it. As brutal and disregarding of human lifes as he was, actually seeing the results of his actions wasn't something he enjoyed. Then he turned, meeting with a drone at the outside of the building.

"Done?" Asked the drone, casually.

"Yes."

"Well, so far, so good. And now?"

"The old man's not very interested in the affairs of the real world, it seems... And a few of the techheads think he's a potential threat to our own well being." A forced chuckle followed. The situation was less than ideal, and the success of the past weeks were quickly replaced with the problems of the present. "Who would have thought? Anyway. Now that the moderates have been removed, we can go on. I think our neighbors will enjoy our answer to their gracious offer."

"Whatever you say. Although..." She drone hesitated, walking next to Maximilian. "We're numerically, well, rather drastcally inferior, have next to zero space assets, and our industrial resources aren't particularly impressive, either. Soldats seems to be a little more tough than expected, too... We're still not through. How can we actually win?"

"You're having doubts?"

"Yes. And do me a favour and don't pull the idiotic 'Kill the henchman for disagreeing with me' trick. It gets old. I know you could disassemble me with your mind alone, but I don't think it would be especially productive."

"True. Although I would note that you're not really on a henchman level, given your semi-sentience and all that."

"Bah."

"In any case, we've been a bit slow. It's true, in a long term war, we're chanceless. Hence, why I intend to either overrun the south and win Sisgardia before the non- Sisgardians can effectively interfere, or try to hold out, achiving independence for the north. Either one is good in my book."

"Well, realistic goals."

"And in the long term, we will be stronger. People like me have been changed, we're stronger than before. We need to keep to ourselves, to strengthen us, avoiding the poison of the weak outside our society... And inside of it, too."

"Well, seeing as I'm not of your kind..."

"Doesn't matter. In any case... NOW it's time for some fireworks."

Seconds later, the battle resumed, the existence of actual, friendly conversation between the opponents meaning nothing as units further away from the front, operators filled up with hate and rage, simply bloodthirsting maniacs and others started to fire, again. It would take a while to get the more peaceful operators at the frontline to join, but historic precedent was rather explicit: They would join.

Elsewhere, Southern DA Sisgardia

"So... Wait, some news from the front. You know, Morden, the front that had peace breaking out a few hours ago."

Morden looked at Frank, surly.

"Don't forget, the prize is m-" Frank stopped, looking surprised, then shocked. A moment later, a few detonations could be heard, from kilometres away.

Mr. Morden smiled. "So I win again. Anyone else who has to pay me..." He looked around, opening his hands. "Don't be shy."

Der Angst

19-07-2005, 10:29

North/ South Frontlines

What the hell is happening?

We're attacking again.

WHY? I don't have orders!

Looks like we're shooting each other, aga-

He's gone. Damn.

What are you going to do? Shoot me?

I've no idea what just started. Or rather, why. I'll wait it out until I know what the hell is going on.

Well, we can watch. Look, now that was a beautiful detonation.

It was an entirely chaotic situation. Parts of the northern faction weren't even fighting, not really getting just what was happening, on several occasions actually asking their southern 'enemies' just what the hell was going on. Those who did fight were often far from the front, and their long-range assaults were suffering from rather effective missile defences, failing to achive the devastating results one had expected from them.

Damnit. Where are the others? Where are the supplies? Heck, WHERE ARE MY DRONES? Damn it all, I'm alone. Not even a map...

You're lucky, some bastard just assaulted me. I've lost 1/3 of my units to this guy. Or girl. Or whatever. Going back, will talk later. If I'll still live, his mindseekers are quite capable, or so it seems.

Keep your brain un-fried, then.

Will try my best. Good luck with finding your drones.

The term 'front' itself was actually somewhat inappropriate. A 'front' didn't exist, all that existed were skirmishes involving smaller groups of combatants, small enough to make the use of high-yield weapons inefficient. Some areas were levelled by those skirmishes, others weren't even touched, being considered irrelevant by at least one side.

Stay underground!

I-

... Fuck it. Retard. He should have known that it's not safe, up there. Well, at least I got two of the planes... Hrm. Odd butterfly, th-

Air superiority wasn't too much of an issue, as neither side was actually willing to risk its resources in hunting down the small, hidden defences placed in between the buildings, hidden in the kilometre-deep canyons where the streets, maglevs and railways were.

"Shit!"

Why the hell are you talking?

"I just-" [i]Someone caught me. Blew up half the house over me, and is trying to rip the basement open. I give him another ten seconds before he has me, if I don't move. See'ya later.

[i]Ok. Hrm... What's that? Oh, please no... Ok, that's thirty-two less. I hate this gas attacks. An-

Jane? Just escaped the bastard. Boy, he's quite into blowing stuff up.

She's dead, boy. Directed neutron grenade, I think.

... Shit.

In the middle of the detonations, gassings (Usually corrosive gasses supposed to destroy the joints of drones, removing their ability to actually use their limbs), flares of radiation and high penetration projectiles, chaos reigned.

"Gotcha!" That's it for them. Ha! I'm invincible. Five years of Mars Wars certainly are worth something, heh. And only 10% his losses. Idiot, staying several hundred metres behind his hive. Now, to find him... AHA!

... And bang. One less. Now, if I knew why I'm fighting here, or where the others are... OR what they are doing... I hate my life. Oh well- Oha. More prey. Well, that should keep me busy for a while.

Nobody knew just what was actually going on, and while tactical operators near their hives (A necessity, given the excessive use both sides made of electronic warfare) were usually quite adapt at leading their local forces, a 'strategy' didn't exist. The battle, or rather, the entire war had devolved into a chaotic schoolyard fight, fists replaced with guns firing their projectiles at multiple km/s, stones replaced with nuclear handgrenades levelling buildings, feet replaced with missiles ripping self-propelled artillery apart.

Now, ths seems to work out surprisingly well... If you're right, we're actually winning.

Or they are. Just received a few updates, apparently we're losing. Or... Oh, I give up. We'll know more tomorrow.

Hopefully.

Well, for now we can continue the mindless slaughter.[i]

Alas, for Maximilian Otagi, the situation wasn't as good as he had hoped it to be, using the effects of the surprise attack he had just started. He wasn't quite aware of it, as communications from the frontlines (Well, frontpoints) were actually quite rare, and usually contradictionary, partly a result of the 'cleansing' he had organsied earlier, leaving the administration on the political as well as the military level as a mere shadow of its former self, effectively jeopardizing his intentions simply by making communication and information almost rare goods, an order of magnitude below the level the south could run with, but for the south and its communication-, surveillance- and reconnaissance abilities, backed up with non-Sisgardian resources, the situation was slowly becoming clear. Clearer than for Otagi.

And, surprisingly enough, they were winning.

The reason was quite simple: Significant parts of the northern 'frontline' hadn't fought. As a result, smaller units from the south were quickly penetrating the northern territory, moving forward in between units that could now be counted as more or less neutral. At the same time, the initial strike of the north, the long-range attacks, had proven to be quite ineffective. And while the casualites were quite high whenever actual, serious units of the north were found fighting, this was not as often the case as would have been necessary for the intial strike to succeed.

[i]Hrm. Interesting.

Yes?

Look at this.

... This shouldn't be there. That's secured territory. It#s not supposed to suffer from detonations.

Apparently not as secure as we expected it to be.

Internal resistance, then?

Apparently.

And finally, the north was suffering from what was essentially a lack of loyality. The resulting diversion of resources proved to be weakening enough to further help the south in achiving what was essentially an unexpected and surprisingly quick victory. For now, anyway.

Northern Faction

The news from the 'front' were, indeed, contradictionary. Still, at least some of them looked like everything was going according to plan. Otagi sighed. Damnit, we should long be through... He avoided the Drone's curious look. "Yes, I know. It is... Contradictionary."

"What if a worst case scenario is occuring?"

"Then we have lost. We wont lose all that quickly, though. We should at least be able to run a war of attrition. They will hardly resort to orbital bombardements against their own nation. And besides, we don't know for certain, yet."

"Point. Well, we'll see when the com channels are a bit more open, again. They can hardly fight like that forever."

"Quite so."

"Oh, one question, though."

"Yes?" Otagi looked at the drone, curiously. It had always been a rather interesting fellow, and its ideas could be useful enough. As such, he tended to pay attention to what it had to say.

"You know, the one that could jeopardize all of this most..."

"... Yes, I know. But I don't know just how I should get rid of him. And it would be a blow to our morale. Better to remove him after this is over."

Southern Faction

"Hrm."

"Yes?"

"If this is correct... We need to secure our position."

"Oh?" The two... Well, 'officers' would probably have been the right term, the rather civilian attitude and, indeed, origin of the two men aside, strategic operators were about a level down the hierarchy, essentially planning the war whereas the level above them secured the political aspects of the conflict.

"Well, right now, there's a good amount of neutral units. If they decide to fight again, we will have, oh... about a third of our forces circled with enemy units. Guess what this would mean?"

"I see your point. So? Nuke them?"

"They would suffer losses, but they would hardly be eliminated, given our 3D battlefield. They need to switch sides."

"... Ha-ha."

"No, seriously." The man talking, he was in his thirties and still in his pyjama, grinned. "I'll go datadiving to see what kind of believable propaganda we can pull off. Given that the north seems to already suffer from some resistance against their, uh... Regime, it shouldn't be all that hard."

"... Ok. I'll do your job, too, then. Well, it's not like I wasn't doing it beforeha- Hey? Are you listening? Apparently not. And I'm the one needing to incorporate the non-Sisgardians... Argh. I hate logistics."

Behind the frontpoints, the chaos was almost as bad as at the front. With the massive influx of materials and resources, of drone hives and vehicles, it was unavoidable. Supply lines crashed, failing, destroyed infrastructure making the whole process twice as complicated and slow as it would have been to begin with. And the occasional long-range attack didn't make it any easier.

Still, the resources that were now becoming available made it clear that this war would be rather one-sided. While the south wouldn't necessarily win, it would most definitely not lose.

"And to think that I have to coordinate it... Well, the basics. All hails the local operators. Poor sods."

"FOUND IT!"

"Hrm?"

"The propaganda we need. Well, 'Propaganda'. We will... Well, might be rather close to the truth with this. And it can be verified."

"Then why are you waiting? Use it."

"I am, just streamlining the whole thing. Getting it to them will be the biggest problem. Fucking jammers. But it should spread fast enough for our purposes. Well, barely so, but still."

Saying this, he began spreading the knowledge he was now having, details about just what was happening in the north, about mind warfare on a whole new level, about viruses spreading from mind to mind, about what he described as a 'Hivemind in making'. It was certainly not a scientific analysis, projecting a 'Worst Case' scenario, but it wasn't supposed to be scientific. All it was supposed to do was to destroy the support base the northern regime had.

Now, all that remained was to see if it would be successful.

Cetaganda

19-07-2005, 16:56

"So he wants us to recognize these southern ones, because it's a bit more stable? How can you tell?"

"Apparently so, my liege. The hope is that the more international recognition it gets, the more stable it will be and the entire situation will be resolved."

"What's in it for us? It'd be rather embarassing if we recognized them and they fell apart."

"Well. Not really anything, at least not up front. It's mainly just a favor for Emperor Treznor."

"Well, if he supports them, I suppose they must stand a decent enough chance. Not to mention the kind of contracts that IngolfTech and Reseune could get out of this by making friends early."

---

{General Diplomatic Announcement - No Security}
x Emperor Gregor V (IUoC)
o Diplomatic Community in general, ATTN: Souther DA Faction, Devon Treznor

The Imperial Union of Cetaganda would like to formally extend diplomatic recognition to the new Representation of the Hypocrisy of Der Angst. We feel that it is the most legitimate government of the nation, with the best chance of once more bringing the nation to peace and prosperity. The Cetagandan government would also be more than happy to assist in providing aid, both immediate humanitarian aid such as food, medicine, and medical personel, as well as assistance in rebuilding vital infrastructure and industry. Ships are already being readied to deliver this aid once the government has informed us as to where it would be best used.

Emperor Gregor V
Imperial Union of Cetaganda

Tarasovka

19-07-2005, 17:55

Orbit over Sisgardia

The Taraskovyan Battlegroup keeping watch over Der Angst soon found out that the High Command did not foresee a little detail that proved to be critically important – that the Angstian units in orbit would start switching allegiance on a period of seconds, making any effective targeting and elimination close to impossible. However, at a certain point, the switching stopped, a shot battle erupting between the various factions.

The Grand Ducal ships were hit with no ships being outwards destroyed and some damaged. The enemy fire was quickly suppressed by the ‘considered as momentarily friendly’ Angstian orbital units, with the TSF units concentrating on what was happening below. Once in a while, an orbital ordinance would be released, guided by the forces on the ground, smashing into a concentration of enemy units. Yet, such ‘bombardment’ only happened in cases of necessity and upon the discovering of an enemy group on the surface, the Taraskovyan forces not wanting to accidentally bomb each other to death.

Near Treetown

The first line collapses indeed, yet the second line only began fighting, not having revealed its fullest potential. Numerous mines lay in the path of the enemy, dormant and hidden until the NGF troops finished retreating and activated once the enemy units were in the middle of the fields. Obviously, nobody expected for the entire enemy force to be decimated by just the mine fields. The purpose of them was different. If the enemy was foolish enough to charge through them, then so much the better for the defenders. Yet, if the enemy reacted as defenders wanted, he would take the several ‘corridors’ that were left untouched. Needless to say, they would be met with substantial firepower.

The second line would take much longer to break, for it profited from each second given to it by the first line to fortify. So did the third line. Treetown became a true fortress and even if the defenders were at the time outnumbered, not so far away, a whole Taraskovyan Naval fleet was speeding towards them. Awaited reinforcements, heavy equipment, extensive aerial and artillery support, everything would soon be there. And in the meantime, several dropships entered the atmosphere, coming from the Battlegroup above Der Angst. Some did not make it, yet others unleashed the famous SODAT troops into Treetown, with every each of such soldiers being extremely precious and helpful in the given situation.

***

Official Statement by the Grand Ducal Government

Following the unprovoked attack on the Taraskovyan forces in Der Angst, dislocated there as part of a humanitarian mission, the so-called ‘Northern’ Faction has proven its disrespect towards such values as peace, stability and respect for life. Moreover, it has thrown a clear challenge to the Grand Duchy by engaging Taraskovyan soldiers in battle. And while the battle in Treetown is still raging on, the Grand Duchy of Tarasovka issues an ultimatum to the so-called ‘Northern’ Faction to immediately halt its offensive on Treetown and surrender within twenty four hours.

Refusal to comply shall force us to take a decisive action to halt the hostilities initiated by the so-called ‘Northern’ Faction. The Grand Duchy can only advise to our counterparts not to test the Taraskovyan resolve.

[OOC: Possible opening of new fronts in Northern DA pending me talking it over with Rezo.]

Treznor

20-07-2005, 01:30

TSMIT Broadcaster
Encryption: none
Broadcast type: open, diplomatic
To: The Grand Duchy Tarasovka, the Hypocrisy of Der Angst, the nations of Sisgardia, members of the Non-Democratic Alliance and the Triumvirate of Yut
Return transmission band: Open
IDENT: Mark Tennenbaum - Treznor

We feel that the Grand Duchy of Tarasovka would be ill-advised to escalate the conflict currently in progress in northern Der Angst. While we remain sympathetic to your plight under the circumstances you're in, we must remain firm in our stance that Der Angst has the right to settle their affairs internally. We would join you in calling for the northern factions to lay down their arms and join with the new government formed in the south. We would not accept Der Angst territory falling under foreign control during the current initiative toward peace.

We recommend that the Grand Duchy withdraw from Der Angst rather than sacrifice even more lives to a costly endeavour that could be settled peacefully. We feel confident that the new government of Der Angst would respond to reasonable requests for justice and compensation for your pains.

Mark Tennenbaum
Minister for International Affairs
Empire of Treznor
<end transmission>

Tarasovka

21-07-2005, 19:08

D.I.P. Broadcasting Service
Type: Return Transmission
Original Transmission ID: 21071148.MP.34
Encryption: Standard

Honourable Mr. Tennenbaum,

In response to your statement on the current events in Der Angst I can say that your recommendation has been taken into consideration and proposed to the Taraskovyan National Defence Forces for application. My honourable colleague the Minister of Defence, however, has informed that a withdrawal from Der Angst at this moment is impossible for two reasons.

The first reason is that should we evacuate our military personnel from the area, the civilian Angstian population shall be butchered by the attacking ‘Northern’ Faction. The TNDF has, thus, informed me that they are surprised by your offer and hope that it is not customary in the Empire to abandon innocent people to fend for themselves in face of such a threat. The Grand Duchy shall do everything to ensure the safety of those people, as well as make sure to restore regional stability.

The second reason is that the TNDF has refused to evacuate the sizeable civilian population while the extraction points were under direct threat of attack. In this, it is willing not to repeat the Srebrograd events, during which the evacuation of the civilian population from a city surrounded and assaulted by Kerathori rebels claimed a great number of lives.

As of the escalation of the conflict, I fear you might have not understood that the situation has already escalated to open war. The Taraskovyan forces in Der Angst, who took the mission up from the Cairn Tarran assistance units, suffered not an act of guerilla warfare, but a conventional and organized military assault. The ‘Northern’ Faction had been well aware of the presence of Taraskovyan soldiers in the area, yet it chose to attack. We have accepted the challenge and our resources in the area are sufficient to repeal the onslaught and to carry out further assignments that we shall set for our forces. We are always open to negotiating with our enemies once the conditions expressed in the earlier ultimatum are fulfilled.

As of the, as you call it, ‘new government’, the Grand Duchy shall only recognise it as a legitimate authority once it puts forward a cohesive (this term should, of course, be understood with regards to the Der Angstian context) structure that is capable of restoring stability throughout the nation and ensuring the safety of all of its citizens. That is the only ‘justice and compensation’ that we seek. The Grand Duchy does, however, view our counterparts in Southern Der Angst as a valuable partner and reiterates its readiness to work with the, as we refer to it, Southern Federation.

It is the Empire’s sovereign right to accept or not any developments happening in Der Angst and so is the same right reserved to the Grand Duchy. We do, however, remain open for contact and shall consider any advice or opinion the Empire may have on the matter.

High Count Ithun Khat
Minister of Foreign Affairs

[OOC: And as of a bonus, here is the sketch of the emblem ( http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v77/Namellar/GDT/MFAcopy.jpg) of the MFA. I’ll have to work on it a tad further… <_<]

Treznor

23-07-2005, 02:52

TSMIT Broadcaster
Encryption: none
Broadcast type: open, diplomatic
To: High Count Ithun Khat of the Grand Duchy Tarasovka, the Hypocrisy of Der Angst, the nations of Sisgardia, members of the Non-Democratic Alliance and the Triumvirate of Yut
Return transmission band: Open
IDENT: Mark Tennenbaum - Treznor

We must respectfully disagree with the Honourable High Count Ithun Khat. You are not at war with Der Angst, you are fighting rogue elements of their society who are, according to our intelligence, uncertain what they are fighting for. In your efforts to subdue them, we feel that you are instead giving them a more tangible target against which to focus their aggressions.

It is our understanding that the civilians and combatants of Der Angst alike are attempting to consolidate and stabilise their unfortunately fractured society. We have uncovered such a bastion of stability in the south, and already forces in the north have changed allegiance to them. We fear that the one thing they all have in common is a perceived threat by your forces, compounded by your demands.

We urge you to withdraw, if not from the field, at least from your ultimatum. Fire only when fired upon. We invite you to join us in recognising the new government of Der Angst as a force of peace and encourage the remaining factions to negotiate with them. Escalation will only result in needless loss of property and lives. Confusion will not benefit anyone in this conflict.

Mark Tennenbaum
Minister for International Affairs
Empire of Treznor
<end transmission>

Der Angst

05-08-2005, 12:42

Northern DA

In an old factory, now doubling as semimilitary depot

Hummm. Odd, that. Sounds a little too...

Irreal?

Yes. Didn't think our 'friends' in the south would go for that obvious a fake.

Well, apparently, a few independants have verified the 'evidence'.

Eh? Well, perhaps it's a little smarter than I thought.

Oh, and I did, too.

Wha?

Well, there are other ways to interpret the observed data, but the, uh... Ideas or neighbors have are one possibility.

Humm. Impressive. Well, it's not like the war's here, yet. Still a good deal away from us.

Near a near-unusable airfield

Pretty, neh?

Hrm? Oh, yes.

... You never listen.

"I do! I'm even talking!"

I'm on the other side of the friggin airfield, idiot.

Point. Anyway, heard the news?

... But yes, they're pretty. If deadly. How can something as pretty as a VTOL ACD be so pretty? Like butterflies. Butterflies with nuclear tipped AAMs and neutron ordinance. Actually, somewhat like my aunt. Looks great, but by god, she can bitch-

And you complain that I'm not listening.

Hm?

...

Sorry. So, what news? Oh, that... No, not yet... Let me... Oi. You believe that?

Remember the nightmare yesterday?

You see a connection there?

Perhaps. In any case, I find it annoying that they're not negotiating. I mean, everything's ready for peace. To finally end this... Horrible, horrible chaos. God knows, we need it.

True. Hrm. Come to think of news, it looks like parts of the front aren't fighting.

Huh?

What I said, dear. Actually, the information is a little late, the problem exists since... Hours. Almost a day, in fact.

Woah. Well, looks like they'll soon have to negotiate.

Possibly, yes. God, I can hardly wai- Oi. That was a noticeable detonation. Not satisfied with the present state of disrepair the airfield is suffering from, I see. Awww, the pretty butterflies... I mean, ACDs. All broken. Cleaning up the uranium dust is going to be a pain.

*Sighs* Well, with a bit of luck this will end soon.

Then we can finally talk about marriage, again *giggle*

A Front Point

"You're believing them?" The two men were sitting inside a less-than-comfortable, tankesque vehicle supposedly working as some kind of command centre, drinking tea and watching the southern units march through their own frontpoint, doing anything except coordinating a fight.

"Sure. Man, it fits with our own observations, as well as with those of a few colleagues. In fact, all I could get a connection to."

"So... You're letting them through."

"... Yes, yes I am."

"Hrm... Checking GRD links... Doesn't look particularly impressive, their force. God, what do they need this 400- ton thing for? Its gun's so tiny, there's just no point!"

"Must be one of the new things they've planned right before the cataclysm. The thing's basically fission/ fusion reactors with a gun put in front of it. V0's apparently in the doubledigits, tho."

"Oh? Well, impressive..." A soft giggle followed. "But they still don't get them right. Just stopped, some part must be broken.”

"Heh. Well, meh. In any case, I'm sick of this pointlss war. We're already about to die out. No need to speed up the whole process by massacring ourselves."

"I see your point. Hrm... That one must be over thousand tons... Nevermind. Well, given the bits of orbital observation we're still getting, it will be about... one day until the first non-Sisgardian units are here, a week and they're here in full force. If we're not fighting now, we're never going to do it."

"I can life with that. You?"

"Meh. Better than dying."

Non-Military Habitat

"You better believe it!"

Please, my ears...

"I don't care about your ears! If this is true, we... we... And anyway, what the administration is doing is so... So... Un-Angstian!"

Actually, just slightly more violent in enforcing an autocracy of sorts.

"Please! This... This can't go on. And why he hell are they prolonging the war?! We've... They've been offered participation in final negotiations! They could be a part of it! I simply don't want this anymore!"

Well... You have a point there.

"I simply wont do this anymore!"

The woman almost screamed, or at least yelled, and stomped out of the room. Her niece sighed, eventually concentrating on her equations, again.

A minute later, she got frustrated with them, and searched through her music files. It took her until the last moment to realise that her ears weren't in the state they were supposed to be in.

"DAMN!"

Maximilian Otagi

The building wasn't particularly impressive, lying almost hidden in between a variety of significantly larger constructions half covered with clouds that were hiding the damage artillery, missiles and crashing ACDs had done to them.

It was a reasonably safe place, and suffciently well equipped to work as a more or less central administrative hub for the northern faction.

Maximilian Otaki walked through the short and narrow hallways, occasionally dodging an attendant drone or a less important secretary, trying to avoid any kind of conversation.

"Mr Otaki! Please!"

"No."

"But... The news, the developments... Everywhere!"

"I know, and I'm just about to take care of the problems. Now, would you please let me go on?"

"I... I see. Ok. Good luck."

You might need it more than I do, if I ever see you again. Otagi thought, slightly frustrated. A state of mind that was becoming more and more permanent.

"Oh, if I may ask... Where is your attendant drone? SUD-"

"01/2249? Elsewhere. Doing some business for me."

"... Oh. I see. Well, as I said-"

Otagi closed the door, sighing. What an annoying fellow. Still not as annoying as our modern times, though. Luckily.

Back to philosophing about the sheer magnitude of frustration modern times brought to him, then. His plan had seemed to be quite workable. Of course, complete victory had been a rather unlikely scenario to begin with, but independence? His own little 'Reich'? That had sounded quite reasonable, workable. It had been workable, when he had first thought about it.

But then, how quickly it had been. Losing the orbital assets. The entire spacefleet being on his opponent's side (Fortunately, this wasn't as bad as it sounded. Ortillery vs. one's own territory and people? Not a likely scenario). The offworld colonies eventually coming to some sort of basic agreement, essentially recreating the nation, together with the southern factions. Said southern faction(s) actually managing to play themselves up to some sort of semi-leadership (This was actually wrong, but the propaganda was surprisingly effective in this regard, and would probably continue to be so for a couple hours)!

And now, parts of his (Supposedly slightly superior) forces not fighting. Worst of all, him not hearing about this development for hours, almost a day. And the disease, 'War-sickness' was spreading.

Otagi cursed. Even deep within 'secured' territory, resistance (Not all of it violent, often enough mere disobedience, strikes, the likes) was increasing. Civil disobedience... Yes, he had forgotten about this part. First, he had wanted to be the first man after the symbolic leader, he had wanted to be the one behind the throne, the one with the real power.

Then, with the insanity of the 'Symbol' becoming apparent, he had wanted to replace him, sooner or later.

But he had completely forgotten about the public attitude regarding such things. He had made decisions that were close, to close, to autocracy. Even though he hadn't been outright genocidal (If sufficiently brutal, given the circumstances and their needs), it simply... Hadn't worked. Oh, it had been alright, immediately after the cataclysm, in the middle of chaos.

But the chaos was over now, replaced with a far more orderly conflict. And older attitudes were resurfacing, replacing the general fear and willingness to sacrifice everything for safety (And ironically enough, supporting his faction had increased safety in the past, but right now, it seemed like not supporting it was the new course of action necessary for the average person to eventually reach safety, again).

And of course, what put the crown on it all was the propaganda coup of the south. Granted, it wasn't explicitly saying 'A giant monster is leeching your minds', nor was it saying 'You're slowly turned into a hivemind!', but implicitly... Well...

And worst of all, the claims could be sort of verified. He had had a look at it. They could be correct (If somewhat exaggerated). This was what made them so dangerous.

And how fast it all happened! Mere hours, and the frontpoints were falling apart. Mere hours, and the loyality in his own hinterland was breaking. He hadn't been able to keep control of it. When the front had been breaking, electronic warfare had essentially cut him off from the events. When the propaganda coup had started, he had been unable to prevent it from spreading, again due to his opponent's influence.

And now he knew that everything was lost. He could fight on, of course, and he would prolly be able to hold out of a few weeks, perhaps even months. After all, so far, the problems were merely regional. But what was the point? All he would be able to do was to destroy the prize. And he didn’t want to do that.

He walked past the rooms of jittering and often enough drugged up attendants, ministers and secretaries, liaisons and leeches, straight towards the main room of the buiding, to him. The one that had allowed him to get that far, and (Among other things) the one whose actions had ruined his dream.

"May I enter?" He opened he door, not waiting for a reply. Then he stopped, watching... Interestedly. In front of him was some sort of... ghostly figure, gleaming in the dark. Otagi's senses were good enough to notice its electric and magnetic properties. They were enormous, perhaps even monstrous, but for some reason, not quite right.

On the ground, a body was lying, motionless.

"Without a body?" How the hell stays it -he- coherent?

The gleaming mass was pulsing, and slowly becoming smaller. Otag could hear a soft echo in his mind. He wasn't sure if it was calling for help or if it was laughing with joy.

Possibly both.

He stayed, watching. There goes our last problem and our last hope. Geez. Eventually it vanished, leaving only a trace of sadness that might as well have been terror, if Otagi had cared about it. Walking up to the body, he looked closer, eventually probing it with his mind, then touching it physically.

Nothing. Dead. Another sigh. I'll have to make certain of it, though. Well, a hGCD should be able to take care of the problem.

When he left the room, he saw SUD 01/2249. "Done?"

"Yes. Your involvement should be... Less than noticeable, as far as data on various servers is concerned. Still, a new identity would be a good idea."

"I know. Hrm. What did the captured maiden's brain have saved, again?"

"21.30. We have thirty minutes to get out of here. Or we could tell them."

For a moment, Otaki hesitated. Then he saw the man he had talked to earler, waving at him, holding a cup of steaming coffee.

"No. Let them burn."

The war would soon be over. He would have to find another way to get the power he deserved. Next time, he would probably make less mistakes.

For now, he could at least congratulate himself to always having been the 'man behind the throne'. Ninety percent of those who knew about his true influence and importance would soon be dead.

The rest were supposedly loyal to him, and in any case, couldn't afford to talk, given that they had been just as important in organising the purge that had allowed for the short continuation of the war. He would surely have a few years to make them shut up permanently.

He idly read through a few notes left for him before leaving. "It's a good thing I'm already frustrated with the whole thing. Now recognition of the south by Cetaganda... And Tarasovka is going for full scale military action. I wonder... No, I don't think they actually expect a response. Kind of sad, I can just imagine the reply... 'Out of our lands, Imperialists!' Or something slightly better. If the whole sitation wasn't so utterly fucked, we could probably get them and the Empire of Treznor to fight each other. At least the Empire suggested that the Taraskovyans do exactly what we want... I could grow to like them. Oh well. At least I can grant them a little present before this ends. Fucking slavs."

"To be fair, it has been your first attempt... But you’re starting to sound like a bitter old man."

"Oh, shut up. I wonder what they, I mean, all of them, will say about the camps... I doubt our mild racism towards non-posthumans will be looked upon kindly."

"Well, they aren't deathcamps. And I'm sure future generations will see our point. On both sides."

"Hopefully. Otherwise said generations might have problems in their own time." Otagi chuckled. The majority popuation had been surprisingly willing in... 'Segregating' various minorities, be they baseline humans, nekos or... Well, the drow had always been segregated to begin with, as their own, personal choice. Granted, sometimes, the enforced segregation had been a little violent, but compared to world standards, it had been reasonably peaceful. Unfortunately, like with so many other things, with the cataclysm gone, opinions had changed, and what had been seen as a necessary move to keep the (As far as the cataclysm was concerned, unaffected) minorities away from the general population, for mutual safety, as well as a recognition of incompatibility, had suddenly turned into 'Racism' and 'Prelude to Genocide', according to some annoyingly nosy oppositions, and increasingly in the minds of the general population as well, as it was returning to its former 'We're better, but we want to help you' attitude, which made the removal of the 'nosy opposition' complicated, given its sheer popularity.

He had never been able to get them all.

Southern DA

"One more. I'll have to admit, the Empire has some rather useful ties." Morden said while downing a drink that was (According to its producer) 101% alcoholic. "And the news from the front are... Pleasant. Has taken a little longer than last time, but..." He grinned. DA's tendency to have civil wars was annoying, but people actually began to be used to it, as odd as it was. "Oh well. I suppose I should do something... Oh, right." Leaning back, he closed his eyes, a good portion of his mind accessing secured modules, files, archives, and eventually taking its time in digging through recent diplomatic exchanges, reacting, replying where required, and taking note of everything else.

"Indeed. I suppose it will take another... Well, less than a month, hopefully. Almost boring, now that we're essentially knowing the results... Huh?" Frank looked at the entrance to the not particlarly spacious, but sufficiently large and (More importantly) rather well protected room, where Sarah stood, yawning, eventually entering and curling up on a few pillows near the wall.

"Finally he's gone... No more nightmares... can stay here for the nigh- zZz..."

"... Yes." Frank was probably Sarah's best friend, and considered himself something of a father-equivalent, but he still wasn't particularly good with children, now looking almost helpless.

Treetown

Takahara glared at the Taraskovian.. Envoy? Something like that, that was standing next to him. Communications sucked, in this time of extended warfare in the vicinity of Treetown, and his attempts to get a deal with this Mr… Mr… With this someone of the southern faction had been somewhat ineffective, though not entirely pointless. It had been a pain, but… Finally, things had worked out. "Done." He handed him a few barely readable notes, involving DA/ Tarasovka relations for the post-war time (Essentially the same as before, perhaps with a degree or two more of gratitude for the Taraskovyans) as well as Takahara's more personal future (Something fairly useful, given him being as indebted as he was). "I suppose that this is sufficient. Mars was fairly accomodating, too. Apparently they're also in your debt. In any case, we're now officially a part of DA proper, again. Or the southern faction, if you prefer that term."

A scream could be heard next door. "And now I guess that we'll have to attend to Elaine... Can't leave her like that forever..."

Near Treetown

Granted, DA's military operators were somewhat... Amateurish, being the most civilian 'soldiers' one could possibly think of. Still, they weren't completely insane. As the first light combat & reconnaissance units plunged into the second line, they were quickly met with sufficient firepower to take most of them out within perhaps a minute, shrapnels and toxic remains of power cores spreading through the tunnels, streets, halls, buildings, cellars and roofs of the second line. Mines and light artillery worked well for the defenders. Still, the three ex-northern operators weren't particularly convinced that this would be it.

Well, at least the orbital suppression was useful, even though visual targetting was pointless. Fortunately, many DA units (Especially the heavier ones) would light up on infrared sensors like christmas trees in the windows of wealthy neighbors, which kind of negated the problem. Of course, the actual damage it did was negligible, with the approaching enemy units simply staying underground or inside the larger buildings, or only showing up in small groups that made orbital bombardement essentially cost-ineffective, not to mention that they could move fast enough to evade the next strike, but it reduced the sheer volume of the battlefield, and it prevented the deployment of heavy- and superheavy units that were theoretically capable of shelling Treetown to dust.

It also made the approach of the Taraskovyan dropships less suicidal, as semi-fixed anti-air defences had to retreat due to the orbital threat (It was another question to see if the Taraskovyans could keep it up. Several Angstian units in orbit, nominally a part of the 'official' DA, were complaining rather audibly about it, quietly ignoring the fact that the damage done by more conventional means on the ground exceeded the effects of the orbital bombardement), the more mobile ones being comparaively ill-equipped to effectively take care of the reinforcements.

The greatest threat were the aerial combat drones, which were now increasingly active and risking higher casualities as they started to penetrate the airspace above Treetown, trying to remove the dropships, Taraskovyan fighters and local anti-air defences all at the same time.

Problem: While they were quite capable of fulfilling one of this three objectives, al three of them proved to be significantly more of an issue, especially as they had to be done at the same time.

And as fireballs erupted in the air, lightening up the dust-filled sky, the next wave came.

Of course, going through the corridors was inacceptable. So was simply storming the minefields. Fortunately for the attacking operator, there were some more subtle (Though rather timeconsuming) means available.

"There they come." Rose smiled. "I hope the Taraskovyans don't panic now... Our resources are limited, we can hardly intercept every bumblebee they send."

The heavier units of he attacking force halted their approach, covered in front of the minefields, in small groups, spread out over the whole front and of significant depth to prevent the entire force being taken out by a few artillery strikes, checking the corridors, eventually positioning artillery to cover them, just in case that a counter attack would be started.

I'll get you, dear.

Oh, it's you, Tim?

Just wait for it.

"... Well, at least we know who our opponent is, now." Kenji said.

"Yeah... Now back to business."

The attack began with low-altitude missiles, essentially cruising between the buildings, coming in slowly, comparatively easy to intercept. Still, on occasion, a few of them hit, supposedly weakening the artillery and other defences the defenders had in place.

The more important strike came from elsewhere, though, as the missiles were a mere distraction. Tiny rodent- or birdlike drones, programmed with the necessary knowledge and equipped with the necessary (If tiny) tools entered the minefields, searching for the mines, disabling one after the next. A timeconsuming and not always successful process, as the occasional detonation proved, the losses more costly than one would think: The drones were tiny, but being the rather specialised tools they were, they weren't exactly cheap, nor as numerous as Tim would have liked it.

This wasn't as true for a few other drones of comparable design, yet with a completely different goal. They just moved through the minefield, either flying or running, mines (If they reacted to the insignificant weight or heat/ magnetic signatures, etc.) occasionally detonating, but not getting all of them.

With them came swarms of the insect-sized, hard-kill incapable but still useful minidrones.

Yet, they weren't entirely unexpected. Rose chuckled, as she organised the defence, based on essentially the same kinds of units, starting to hunt down the approaching 'force', usually detonating on contact, on other occasions releasing clouds of highly porous ‘dust’ to clutter the wings of the ‘minis’.

Still, a few made it. The larger, bird- and rodentlike ones had a rather simple job: To hunt down officers, decapitating the leadership of the defenders. The smaller, insect-sized ones had a slightly different job. Detonating inside small but important pieces of weapons, artillery, guns, wherever, rendering them unusable, pointless, turning them into menacing, yet utterly dysfunctional tools.

"What a waste of resources. We're getting something like 90% of them."

"It's the other 10% that bother me, Markus..."

Back in a relatively safe location, underground, Anja shivered. The climax of the battle would soon come.

Southern DA

Mr Morden scrolled through the relevant messages, enjoying the relative safety of a protected intranet with external connections. Well, there we have it... Okay... What a mess. Good, the easy parts first. Ah... 'Treetown'. Ok... Accepted... Accepted... Damn Martians... Confirmation sent... And now… This should take care of the... Dispute. Why is it that the nations we have good relations with always hate each others' guts?

From: The Hypocrisy of Der Angst
To: General Statement
Subject: Recognition by the Imperial Union of Cetaganda

"The Hypocrisy, now finally back on the path to normality, has to thank the Imperial Union of Cetaganda for its decision at a time that sees war in the Hypocrsy not yet as a thing of the past. We are certain that with growing international recognition, more and more people who are still involved in the battle will realise that violence is not the path that will end this disastrous period, eventually deciding to follow our call, ending the bloodshed sooner, rather than later. As such, the bold move of the Imperial Union is a move that will doubtlessly save millions of lives, for which we cannot properly express our gratitude."

Sincerely,

~ Mr Morden

Organising the proper allcoation of Cetagandan help/ supplies was of couse not his job. This was left to other, more qualified people. Granted, given the more recent developments, food, medicines, the likes weren't all that necessary (Production shortages existed plentiful, but with the reserves the loss of 9/10 of the population meant, this was less of a problem, even though the actually available (That is, not either destroyed or outdated) reserves were significantly less than what sheer mathematics suggested), even though they were doubtlessly useful enough. After all, having sufficient amounts didn't equate to having excessive amounts, and regional shortages would be hard to prevent, especially in the present 'front' areas.

On the other hand, with regards to the infrastructure and industry (Especially infrastructure, as this was probably the sector that had been hurt most, while at the same time being the -arguably- most important one. After all, no matter what kind of supplies were actually needed, they had to arrive where they were needed), nobody would mind investions, be they merely monetary or of a more material form.

But this bits of information took slightly different ways to reach their destination. Nonetheless, eventually, they would reach it.

From: The Hypocrisy of Der Angst
To: The Grand Duchy of Tarasovka, High Count Ithun Khat; The Empire of Treznor, Mark Tennenbaum
Subject: Further steps, expected developments, disagreements between non-Angstian influences

"First of all, for the most recent developments: The northern faction is, indeed, rapidly fracturing, and quickly losing its formerly considerable strength and resolve. With a few exceptions (Treetown), violent encounters are decreasing in number as well as in sheer fierceness.

"We suppose that it wont take longer than somewhere between a week and a month until the situation is sufficiently stabilised. During this period, chaos, somewhat comparable, though on a smaller scale than during the first period of faction-forming after the cataclysm, is likely to happen again.

"Furthermore, we've recently (Very recently) come to an agreement with the 'Treetown' faction that is supported by the Taraskovyans, essentially incorporating it into the structure of the present Hypocrisy of Der Angst we represent.

"Now, both your opinions regarding the necessary next steps have their merits, both ar understandable within the context of your specific involvements, and personally, I would say that both offer potentially successful ways to quicken the process of reconsolidation.

"Given the present circumstances around Treetown, as far as I'm aware of them, it would indeed be an exceptionally bad idea to withdraw from Treetown, for both, military considerations as well as the well-being of the civilians currently present in Treetown.

"Nonetheless, given the present, quick fracturisation of the northern faction, I think it would be equally unadvisable to stage multiple 'invasions' along the coast of northern DA, as this could indeed strengthen the resolve of the core of the northern faction to fight on, eventually prolonging the war.

"I'm also given to understand that the primary reason for the lack of involvement the wet navy has shown during this conflict is the presence of less-than-insignificant defensive emplacements near strategically important parts of the coastline, this making any kind of such operation exceptionally costly.

"However, if our predictions regarding the further development of the situation are correct, we will have to deal with different risks, specifically, temporary, regional destabilisation. I believe that the Taraskovyan navy offering support for coastal 'communities' and using its strength as a factor for stabilisation in a way comparable to the way Treetown has been organised would be exceptionally useful, and could be done with far less casualities than a full scale military assault on the remaining holdings of the northern faction would suffer from.

"This said, we certainly are not only interested in, but require immediate recognition by the Grand Duchy in order to strengthen not only our position in this conflict, but also in order to prevent possible 'hard feelings' on the side of the people presently living in DA. I'm sure that you're aware of certain 'arrogant' traits in our people, and unfortunate psychological reactions to being 'liberated' by a foreign, if closely associated, nation cannot be ruled out, this being another argument against a full scale mlitary assault on northern DA by the Grand Duchy."

Sincerely,

~ Mr Morden

Whee. Done.

Northern DA

Maximilian Otagi looked back at the building. Apparently, no-one had yet discovered the corpse.

"What was this last order you gave out?" SUD 01/2249 asked.

"Burning Treetown. One of the last remaining, 100% loyal forces there. If I can't have it..." Maximilian shrugged. "The Taraskovyans kind of pissed me off, so let 'em burn. If nothing else, it will be a reminder."

"Ah. Well... They – Soldats- should strike soon, yes?"

"Yes. I suppose they wont find me here, I'm far enough out. I wonder how they're going to do it."

"Detonating the building?"

"Not their style. Certainly cleaning out everyone they consider dangerous, but the building will stand. Anyway. Time to leave, I need a new body, and a second mind."

Maximilian turned, and so did SUD 01/2249. "To think that I could have beaten them with the information I had... But it’s pointless, now."

Dread Lady Nathicana

05-08-2005, 16:14

<<Open Transmission - standard Diplomatic Protocol>>
Dominion Government Offices, ident Nathicana D'Aquisto
Re: Recently Established Government, Southern DA factions

After much discussion, and a thorough briefing with our Treznor allies on the current situation, The Dominion states it's formal recognition of the new government established by Mr. Morden and his associates, formerly seen as the Southern Faction.

We believe that Mr. Morden's government offers the best hope for stability, and is operating in the best interests of The Hypocrisy of Der Angst. Along with recognizing the new government, we wish to extend our offer of humanitarian aid, should it be needed.

Should any other assistance be desired during this time of reunification and reorganization, please advise.

--Nathicana D'Aquisto, Dread Lady and First Imperatrice of the Dominion

<<End Transmission>>

Tarasovka

12-08-2005, 17:10

Around Treetown

“Swarms at midnight-dusk!”

Even if the NGF soldiers in the post-Plague era were ‘created’ after the aforementioned conflict (since all of the previous NGF contingent sided with the Kerathor rebels and was decimated). Yet, lessons learned from the Plague for ever entered the Taraskovyan military doctrine and tactics. And so, the riflemen got out of the way, opening the firing line to a soldier who had already kneeled on one knee and was holding a rocket flame-thrower. It took less than a second for the system to acquire the optimal ‘target’, the detonation time and the round was expulsed from the launcher, to explode seconds later, engulfing the swarm in flames. The grenadier immediately rearmed his weapon and released another round, to be on the safe side.

The same scene was repeating itself anywhere where the swarms would appear. The aforementioned grenadier had much more success than some of his counterparts on other positions. Some did not manage to take out the entirety of a swarm, others went up in flames as some of the mechanical insects infiltrated, unseen in all the butcher fest, the barrel of their launchers and caused the round to get stuck, detonating after the set period of time. Sometimes, the insects even managed to get through the armour of the backpack and either sabotaged the automatic feeding system which allowed the grenadiers to retrieve ammunition easier, either sabotaged the rounds. On a position, an entire squad went up in a hellish fireball as the full ammo stock of their grenadier exploded.

And as some of the ‘insects’ made it through, they seemed to immediately charge for heavy hardware and soldiers that seemed to behave different from the rest. Sometimes, officers were killed as the mini-drones cut through the ‘skinsuit’ in between plates of their armour (the standard Taraskovyan combat armour was not, after all, ‘power’, but a compilation of armour pieces attached to a skin suit with some NBC protection) and set their charged off, causing sprays of blood as the men fell to the ground. Hardware suffered the same fate as some tanks and automated defence turrets were damaged. Yet, the defences held as the Taraskovyan and Treetown forces eliminated swarms after swarms of incoming enemy ‘insects’, the men on the frontlines reinforced by a first wave of SODAT units. EMI weaponry was not used, because, even if it could take out the enemy, it also risked taking out allied units, as well as disabling the many useful features of the Taraskovyan equipment, features that were not vital, but which considerably increased combat efficiency.

And as the soldiers on the frontlines waged battle, the main group of reinforcements arrived as a naval battlegroup featuring carriers and transport ships arrived in the vicinity of Treetown. Aircraft were sent into the air to aid the ones already present in the Treetown theatre to fight off the enemy airdrones. Heavy dropships began ferrying troops as smaller transport ships approached the coast and began unloading the men onboard. Elsewhere, groups of Taraskovyan ships spread the length of the Der Angstian coast, waiting for further orders.

***

Ministry of Foreign Affairs
D.I.P. Broadcasting Service

Statement by His Highness Grand Duke Mikhail II of all Taraskovya
on the
Situation in Der Angst

The Grand Duchy of Tarasovka welcomes the latest positive developments that took place in Der Angst, namely the formation of a cohesive governmental structure in the Southern and Eastern parts of the nation. And even as our valiant forces continue to wage battle to preserve Der Angstian lives, the formation of the broader governmental coalition brings hope of a new, peaceful and stable, beginning for the nation that has been one of the Grand Duchy’s oldest allies.

As such, the Grand Duchy extends its hand of friendship to the new Government of the Hypocrisy of Der Angst. Furthermore, acting out of respect for the new Der Angstian Government and trusting its ability to maintain order and stability throughout the territories under its jurisdiction, the Grand Duchy shall hereby withdraw its military ultimatum to the so-called Northern Faction and let the rightful Government of Der Angst deal with the rebellion as they deem necessary. The Grand Duchy, as always, stands ready to assist its allies in any matters should aid be required.

* * * * *

Der Angst

26-08-2005, 11:29

Northern DA

"He isn't here."

"..."

"Well, we've found a few bits of DNA, and some remnants of what I'd term a rather exotic... Event."

"Could you be a little more vague, perhaps? It's almost as if I'm understanding what you're saying."

The woman, clad in what was reasonably close to a fashionable nun's outfit, sighed. "Sorry. It's all in the log, though. Including explanations."

"Good, then." Replied the second woman, an older one, looking like about fifty, which meant that she was probably somewhere around seventy years old, in what sounded like a slight bit of frustration.

"The others?"

Silence. Right now, the two women, and about a dozen others, elsewhere in the comparatively small building, where the only ones actually conscious in there. Even semi-sentient drones and fixed computing systems had been shut down.

"The ones on the list, kill, the others get a new memory for the timeframes in question. Relatives and friends will possibly wonder about it, but we can accept that."

"You're getting soft..."

The older woman sighed, again. "Sue me, but after all this death, I believe it's about time that we start saving lifes, rather than destroying them. Hatred can save us, but sometimes, we should try to act a little less dogmatic." The other woman nodded, and turned, doing her part.

A few floors up, internal networks were disinfected, cleaned, cleared and eventually rebooted. Time to get things running, again. There would of course be some friction, even resistance. But still... they were now significantly closer to end this whole mess than they had been before.

Meanwhile, throughout the entire building, 'debris' was cleared. They could hardly let anybody outside their particular group know how the hell they had gotten past the considerable security without even doing all that much damage, so they had to be careful. Fortunately, most of the litter was of a rather insignificant scale. A little scorching would get rid of any useful information that remained inside the building, be they microdrones or heavier-than-air molecules. As far as informants and moles were concerned, identities had long been secured, moved and changed, and the sudden but temporary spike in the electric currents and a few minor magnetic fields were irrelevant when unconnected to the actual event.

Southern DA

Quite useful, they are... Mr. Morden murmured, reading up on the latest transmissions. He was referring to the Empire of Treznor, of course. I shouldn't be surprised, all things considered.

From: The Hypocrisy of Der Angst
To: Dominion, General public
Subject: Recently Established Government, Southern DA factions, Reply

"We're indebted to the Dominion for its bold move, and, apart from generally agreeing that we're the best available choice, but this is hardly surprising, are again indebted for the help so selflessly granted.

We will certainly take up your offers, and hope that we may once be able to reciprocate the assistance given (Though hopefully the Dominion will never suffer as we did).

Sincerely,

~ Mr. Morden

[i]From: The Hypocrisy of Der Angst
To: Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Grand Duchy of Tarasovka
Subject: Taraskovyan Actions & Status of the Hypocrisy's present political structure

"Perfect.

"Seeing as the situation is getting better by the hour, and seeing as Tarasovka was and is doubtlessly of invaluable help in achiving this positive results, we cannot hope any better than to continue the cooperation between our two nations in the spirit of the old, as well as the new times, as our people are so closely connected throughout so much of our recent history."

Sincerely,

Mr. Morden

Near Treetown

Awww, fuck. Tim, the operator supposed to take Treetown, thought, watching some fuzzy and not particularly detailed images of the arriving Taraskovyan reinforcements. Oh well. Time to speed up some things. He chuckled, quickly staging an attack on the positions he supposed his three opponents were hiding at while at the same time assaulting the local intranet the operators around Markus had built up for themselves and their dronehives.

Detonations from impacting HV-missiles, and a collapsing firewall. One, two, three sentients caught in a trap of insanity-driven thoughts, brains failing, nerves frying...

But just a ruse, a joke, a fake. The real targets are elsewhere.

Goddamn it. And I'm sitting here, alone. How am I supposed to get three of the bastards?

Three seconds since the attempt. Ok, time to change the strategy. Another missile salvo, low-yield nuclear grenades, enhanced radiation weaponry, soft-field ammunition to fry brains and nerves. And a message. A message? He scans it, quickly, checking to see if it is safe. It is. Essentially an order to eliminate Treetown, by all means necessary. Signature... Ok, no fake.

Weee, megatons! But he wont do it just yet. It would be poor form, an insult to his skills. No, he wants to take Treetown by more conventional means.

The missiles and grenades detonate, doing tremendous damage to buidlings, and little damage to the actual defence force.

Still, it should give him a tenth or so of a second to start the main assault. He starts it.

Several kilometres frontwards, hidden and 'entrenched' units suddenly reappear, Taraskovyan and Treetown Defence Force infrared sensors lighting up as reactors run hot. A moment later, salvos plunge into the frontlines. The damage is significant, but by no means fatal for the second line of defence, if one disregards the occasional artillery piece, heavy combat drone or NGF squad torn to pieces, metal plates, ceramics, glass and tissue covering the ground.

Of course, for Tim's force, a force that is now attacking a heavily prepared defensive position, the casualities aren't exactly less bad. Well, at least there's less organic tissue, makes the whole attack less slippery.

Circuits taken over, brains fried, weapons malfunctioning, fast neutrons destroying tissue, bullets ripping through armour, skin and flesh, screams, signals, jamming. The whole front is attacked, the result being that the attack moves barely forward. The minefields have largely ceased to be a problem, but what remains of the opposing drones and the NGF is nasty enough to force a high toll upon the attackers. And the assault is already half a minute old.

How frustrating!

A strategy change seems to be appropriate. Lesse... A quick check on what little uncorrupted data comes from the front. Weak spots... Here, here, here... Oh, and here.

Orders are given, most of them tripled. Perhaps 90% of them beat the jamming and general ECM of the defenders and arrive at the units in question, which start moving in new directions. The casualities spike as several hundred human-equivalent and higher units attempt to get into flanking positions, suffering horrible casualities due to crossfire.

But they manage it, and assisted from what little swarms of microdrones survived (With a changed tactic, now. No more swarms, but instead little groups of or even single 'insects', harder to spot, and even harder to take out), they plunge against the defending units in between them, which do now, in turn, suffer from the crossfire as well.

One minute. Reinforcements arrive, reserves from the third line of defence. Obviously Markus & co. (Not to mention the NGF) don't want to lose significant forces in the now-created traps.

You're a little late. Tim thinks, smiling to himself. Still, as the reinforcements plunge into his units, he is forced to withdraw them. Yet, 90% of his specific targets have been elimnated. A quick casuality comparison...

Meh. They suffered heavier casualities, alright, but his own aren't far behind.

Corrupted transmission, and for a moment it looks like his brain is about to be taken over. A moment later, the transmission is cancelled, disinfected and removed at the same time.

Two minutes. His drones are inside the second line of defence, alright, but now the counter attack brings much nastiness with it. His drones have troubles keeping their positions, and-

Ah, DAMN! The defenders have spotted a few weak spots in his own lines, now assaulting those.

How fortunate that he disabled the mines. Now he has a few drones fire at them, creating a wall of fire as his own units retreat from large parts of the second line...

Then they attack, again.

Northern DA

The news spread slowly, but they spread, using everything from interlinked minds over simple optic networks down to mere gossip as medium.

The central institutions making up the northern 'Government' have been taken over. Soldats is in charge, now, and seemingly interested in cooperating with the south. The leader 'Entity' has... Vanished, or so it seems. Those who just listened from afar have no problems believing that the entity had been a ruse to achive greater control to begin with, those who knew him are either dead or had their memories altered.

Unknown to anyone, the mind lacking a body still exists, slowly 'rotting' as the lack of a physical medium results in its slow decay, growning in sheer size while losing coherence as it grows.

Within hours, what was once an almost godlike entity vanishes unseen, unheard, noticed only by a few particularly sensitive sensors, most of which consider it nothing but the occasional oddity, quite within the realm of feasible statistical divergence from the norm.

For the future proceedings, this is hardly relevant. What is relevant is what happens next. Another splitup of many, many, many entities claiming independence, or slightly more sanity?

This time, sanity prevails. With the southern forces, reinforced by DA forces from outside Sisgardia, approaching while the Taraskovyan naval forces are waiting at the eastern coast (Quite suicidal, that, all things considered. But their timing is exceptional, and the coastal defences don't open fire), the decisions made essentially range from accepting the victors (While casually making clear that they're not per se defeated. It's more along the lines of convinced, and now local administrations, far from believing into surrender, start negotiating for future positions in the new political structure. And, wanting to end the conflict and knowing that a 'Peace through Victory' would include the seeds for another conflict, the south accepts most demands gladly, and generally quickly) over realising that non-posthuman persecution and autocratic tendencies wont earn them a place in the new structure, resulting in the occasional case of quiet retreat and preparations of vacations of undefined length (Or, alternatively, identity changes) right up to more or less pointless attempts to hold power, usually ending due to either civilian disagreements (In the form of gunfire) or southern intervention (Also in the form of gunfire). Where rational arguments don't help while southern forces are still too far away, self-declared leaders just vanish, quickly and usually without a trace. Definitely a convincing argument to try to argue within civil institutions, rather than with guns. Much less deadly.

The process takes its time, of course. Several days, in some cases more than a week, courtesy of rather complex negotiations and oversized egos. But eventually, it succeeds.

Near Treetown

The second line of defence is strong, no doubt, and the assault is now almost thirty minutes old.

Tim mutters darkly, looking over some data... The strategic potential is certainly there, a few hundred megatons, if necessary. Blatant overkill, of course, but then, only a fration of it would actually arrive at its targets.

But once again he decides against it. The second line is close to falling, the first of his units are already next to the third (And last) line of defence. Not long... Soon, he'll be there.

A detonation here, a wreck there. Elsewhere, a collapsed superstructure. The battlefield looks odd, more or less postapocalyptic, with a certain hint of ruralness in the midst of skyscrapers.

Melting reactors, large amounts of poisonous chemicals. A factory destroyed by artillery. He checks. Most of the front is still holding, but it shouldn't take long... perhaps fifteen more minutes...

A quick glance over some unrelated files, to see what happens elsewhere.

Whoops.

The conflict is about to end. There is still resistance, of course, entities crashing, new ones establishing themselves... But it's ending. Tim sighs, and once more contemplates the available megatonnage while his drones, Treetown's drones, and NGF troopers are slaughtering each other.

In the air, the Taraskovyan carriers allow for vaguely effective protection of the dropships. Granted, his own missiles and grenades are a considerable threat to the Taraskovyan ships (Some of which look quite fascinating when sinking or burning), but then, the Taraskovyan planes seem to be an equally considerable threat to his missile sites and artillery positions.

And watching them detonating is mildly frustrating.

Worse, the Taraskovyan reinforcements arriving seem to stabilise what is left of the second line of defence. Not that it is much, but taking the third line with the NGF reinforcements showing up...

Unlikely.

Several seconds pass, several dozen humans and drones end up being ripped apart by the raging battle.

All things considered... Tim's 'employer' has been ousted many hours ago. Granted, it is frustrating, but what can he do?

Opening the line, engaging security measures, and hoping for the best.

Ok, lets call it a draw.

Pft. You know you can't take the third line, Tim.

Oh, shut up. Yes, I know it. Though I still have other options available, Kenji.

Huh? Don't say...

Lets not talk about it. Ceasefire in ten seconds?

A minute. the NGF aren't insta-linked.

'k. I'll try to move my units out of the line of fire, anyway, to make the decision easier.

We'll stay where we are. Oh, I hope that you'll disarm?

Errr...

TIM!

Ok, ok. I'll hand control over to you. But try to make me a POW and I'll hurt you. Conditions: I remain entirely free, you get my forces, the territory I'm holding, and so on. No sense in continuing, now that I'm unemployed. Oh, and you buy me a tequila sunrise.

Hrm... Our Taraskovyan friends might have issues with the 'No POW' thing, but ok.

Back in Treetown, Kenji nodded to Rose, who in turn contacted the next available NGF officer. "Ceasefire in 55 seconds. We won." A smile. "Our ex-opponents should now be busy retreating to the first line. Care to check?"

NationStates Jolt Archive

And their Minds cried as one