NationStates Jolt Archive

15 Kzinti stood before their Patriarch at the C'mef palace; the room had been completely deserted for privacy. The Patriarch Rrowl C'mef stood up from his throne and walked down the steps to his warriors each step filled with pride and dominance. "You stand before me, not as nameless warriors but as honoured warriors with full names" The patriarch let his words sink in "this does not come without its price"

He climbed back to his throne and retrieved 15 data pads from his armrest. He handed out the data pads one by one. " You will be scouting the home star of the monkeys, it is almost certain suicide but I know you will not fail me"

"We will not fail you honoured patriarch, " the 15 said with conviction, they saluted and left the Patriarch’s throne room.

“May the One Fanged God watch over you” The patriarch say with a wave of his clawed hand returning to his throne.

The 3 scout crews of 5 left the Throne room still in shock from the moments that had just transpired in the hall of the Patriarch. “I am Tro Ckraz” one of the Kzinti warriors mumbled under his breath. To earn a full name was like becoming a king among ants.
“I am Tro Ckraz!” he roared to his comrades, to the walls, and to the very air they breathed.

An hour later 3 eevlukzzz'tojahr battle scouts glided away from Epsilon Eridani and into a flash of a hyperspace.


~//~

It had taken little over a month in hyperspace to reach The Sol system, and it had stretch the crews to the max, but they persevered and continued their journey onward, everything had been painstakingly calculated so that the radiation spike would be blocked by the bulk of Jupiter. Immediately after entering normal space the three ships, the Striking Fury, Horizon of valour, and Red vengeance sped off in different directions before powering down and letting inertia carry them slowly towards the inner core of sol, it would take months for them to complete their survey of the Monkey home world. It would be asking too much of the One Fanged God to be so grant them a hasty and uneventful return home.

United Human Settlements of Emarius Prime Monitoring Station Sentinel
Edge of Sol System
0600 EST

"Report, Ensign. It's the hour."

Ensign Benetti yawned and brought his eyes back to the monitor in front of him.

"Hour or not, sir, there's never anything to report out here." The Sentinel was Emarius' closet direct contact with Sol. The UHS 'culture' was an amalgamation of elements from Earth; one could see everything from replications of American and Cambodian national flags to ancient novels being read on UHS city streets. Earth History was very much a large subject in school. Still, contact with modern Sol was not placed very high in the UHS.

Lieutenant Birkos sighed. "Be that as it may, Ensign...Just follow regulation. I need to send out our report."

"Well..." Benetti quickly scrolled through microwave readings and asteroid charts, stopping on a section about Jupiter. "Huh."

"What's that?"

Benetti shook his head. "Nothing. My mind must be seeing things." Seven months on a remote station only with another man can do that. No use to make a fuss and have Fleet send a ton of questionnaires and forms to be filled out

Birkos shrugged and punched in a few keys into a Comm station and the Sentinel's hourly report was sent to Emarius Prime.

Jupiter,Sol
Week 1
13:00

Lor C'merl The Captain of the Horizon of valour scream in annoyance. the constant flicker of the emergancy light was chewing on the last fiber of his patience, the air filters were just barely keeping the impatience/ annoyance scent of his crew out of the air replacing it with a more calming scent,the scent of a fresh kill.

Their mission was to drift towards neptune using minimal thrust adjustments only when absolutely nessicary and use Neptune's gravity to sling shot themselves back into the inner core of sol where they would at a low fraction of light make a run inbetween Mercury and Venus collecting as much data as possible before making a dash for the edge of Sol's gravity well and enter hyperspace before returning home, hopefully taking only a month and a half relative to complete their task. Whoever said Kzinti lacked patiences had never bothered to watch kzinti inteligence operations.

"Bal'lith-Sensor operator " Lor C'merl grunted in a hushed whisper fearing the monkeys would hear, he did not call the sensor operator by his full name because he had not decided it yet, unusual as it was.

"yes dominate one, what do you require of me?" He replied calmly as his eyes never moved away from the streaming data that was already coming in.

"how much of a energy spike would we create if we launched a sensor drone?" Lor C'merl asked, he didn't need a answer for he already knew it, No especially not so early into the operation.

"it would be to great of a risk Dominate one, I fear the monkeys would destroy us before we could smell their stench"

Lor C'merl cursed to himself as he sank his claws into the armrest of his crashcouch, it had be too long since he had taken action he could feel his own claws dulling themselves!

again he let out a furious scream as he slashed at the wall beside him creating sparks and leaving 5 long jagged scars across it.

by the One Fanged God! must he test my loyalty so cruelly that he would see me become as weak as the monkeys themselves?! does he test my faith and loyalty to the Patriarch?!

he turned his mind away from those thoughts, one does not question why the prey does not defend it's self from it's hunter, this prey requires patience and then it will be his to taste

Sky Marshal M'sha settles back at her console, reclining slightly in her seat, with the visor of her tailored green officer's cap tilted forward to cover her eyes. She doesn't quite doze--she is on duty after all--but rather meditates quietly, always half-aware of everything going on around her, much like a cat sleeping with one eye half-open. The analogy is perhaps appropriate, her felinid frame filling the chair, a definite presence even the battleship Vinegaroon's largish command room. The most recent "difficulties" didn't even deserve the title; the arguments between the various regional powers and Largent, erstwhile yet perhaps confused friends, had never gone past diplomatic arguments and such. So far, not much had happened since then, certainly nothing even near the Ardan Conflict sparked by Io or even the relatively minor Thelassi Incident a bit after that.

Across Vinegaroon's bridge, officers and technicians quietly go about their work. The strategic indicator display shows everything currently considered important in the Jovian Theatre, slowly rotating so its three-dimensional view can be fully comprehended, even though none of the holographic icons are exactly opaque. Lights blink and the screens surrounding the strategic indicator change from ship status screens to fleet readiness lists and onboard telescope or Voyeur ISR sat-feeds; this is taken in by the officers sitting in their semicircle of duty stations, all in various states of boredom and quietude. Back in the two-leveled technician gallery, enlisted ratings look over the raw feeds of the sensors via their 'trode skullcaps, working with Vinegaroon herself to determine what exactly is useful and what isn't.

An electromagnetic spike in the immediate vicinity of Jupiter, opposing Earth; three momentary infrared and visual light bursts in different directions. A few sensor technicians perk up, then look down from their location in the gallery at the 'ret sitting in the center of the room. "Ma'am?"

M'sha sits up quickly, bringing her seat behind her, ready for action and quickly sweeping the room with her eyes, the predatory glare invigorating her human crew. "Report."

"We just got a few sensor blips on passive, ma'am. Probable entry point-correspondent just outside Jovian FTL denial radius and what looks to be three hard burns going out in different directions."

"Ardan?" The Ardans have a shipyard in the atmosphere of Jupiter and always had ships about due to their presence on Io. They have to be watched at all times, just in case they struck by surprise.

"Signatures don't match up quite right with anything in the database, ma'am. Hyperspace entry of some sort, perhaps... one moment, tracking based on the burn times, apparent accelerations, and directions coming in."

The Sky Marshal waits for a few moments before the technician continues. "We've got one track which looks to be coasting towards Neptune; the other two we're not certain of but they would work for unpowered inner system insertion."

"FleetCom," M'sha says quietly, her tufted tail twitching slightly with the hunt, "direct the fleet to engage active sensors, sweeping the predicted routes of those vessels. Comm, send a message to the cruisers responsible for Neptune; tell them to keep aware. Relay up to headquarters. Also..." she pauses for a second, thinking. "FleetCom, set the fleet at Alert Condition Two. Have things powered, just in case."

The two officers addressed nod, immediately snapping to their duties. "Acting, ma'am." Across the Jovian Theatre Task Force, crews quickly come out of their boredom-induced stupors and follow their orders, sensor officers quickly directing their technicians to sweep conical areas with active radar, lidar, and delicate, sensitive gravimetrics. Nothing certain, but it never hurts to look... and it's good to make sure the troops alert and awake every now and then.

The Red Vengance had probably the most dangerous route out of the three and also the fastest. A straight through the core of sol slinging around the outside of mars over to venus then coming around again on a wide arc past earth, once far enough away they would accelerate to a high fraction of C and escaping into hyperspace.

"h'rrr launch a sensor probe" Ra'ith C'nesh bellowed to lar'al jatok the sensor operator, unlike Lor C'merl Ra'ith C'nesh wasn't born with the same finese and patience that was require in such a sensitive operation, perhaps that was why he was chosen for the most dangerous role, a good patriarch must know who is expendable afterall.


"Dominate One I do no believe -" Lar'al Jatok began to be speak only to be cut off by his impatience and clouded captain.

"I said launch a sensor probe!" he roared pounding his fist into his arm rest leaving a noticible curve in it. anger scent filling the bridge.

moments later the probe appeared on the holographic display jetting away from the drifting ship towards the home of the monkeys.

UHS Monitoring Station Sentinel
Edge of Sol System
1232 EST

"Say, Lieutenant, do you know when they'll have our AI reinstalled?"

Birkos continued reading. "I imagine there will be some techs to do it on the next relief ship. That'll be in five days."

"Great! I can't wait to have a real opponent for poker."

Birkos put down his book. "What are you insinuating? If you'd learn some chess tac-"

"A minute, Lientenant." Benetti typed in some lighting fast commands and turned back to his CO; "I have a thermal and electromagnetic spike in Mars sector AB4 thirty-two by one hundred-two.

"Oh?" Birkos brought up the scans on his monitor.

"It's sustaining. Must be an object. By the size, I'd say a probe."

"How'd it get out here without us seeing it?"

"Maybe it covered itself up in radiation during entry, then went silent." replied Benetti.

"You did see something before, didn't you?"

Benetti paused. "Yes, but there were three...and they were bigger..."

"Well, I'll get something over to Fleet." Brinkos typed off a quick message and sent it. "It looks something will keep us occupied until relief gets here."

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TYWS-BB Vinegaroon
Flagship, 2TEF, Jovian Theatre

"Infrared source, Jupiter-Mars corridor," the sensors technician announces. "Right origin to be a launch from one of our previous contacts. Doesn't appear to be heading towards anything yet... check that. Projecting path as a burn-assisted trajectory to Earth."

M'sha leans back in her chair, quietly steepling her strong fingers as she watches the display with intent yellow eyes. "Inform the Earth Theatre that they may have company soon. What does this say of the launcher's course? Also, is it in intercept range?"

"Launcher's course looks to be..." For a moment, the ship crunches the numbers while the technician trace lines in virtual reality, conferring silently with each other. "...wow, it's a complex one. They may be cruising for Mars, but it'd take quite the burn given what we've seen them do for them to break into orbit. It's really all conjecture at this point; the closest we can say is Mars Theatre."

"Inform them as well." The Sky Marshal growls quietly to herself; whatever is going on is involving every major deployment theatre of the Triumvirate--Jupiter, Mars, and Earth--and while that isn't hard to do, given how Triumvirate member states are spread out throughout the solar system and then some, it still doesn't make her feel any better about it. "Positions and interceptors?"

"Well..." The sensors officer takes charge here, looking over his executive summary. "Short of using jumpdrives, no one's in a good position to intercept short of the theatres involved. RCS Delta under Akagi is on the opposite side of the system. With full constant-accel gravyburns, there's no point in rushing out to meet and match velocities; by the time they do so they're already in-theatre."

"Hrrrr." M'sha rests her chin on her folded hands, eyes slitting slyly, bat-wing ears laying out flat. "FleetCom, dispatch a destroyer from our fleet to intercept the contact. Allow them to use targeting sensors but the objective is to contact, not to engage."

The fleet command operator nods and looks down at her console, quickly speaking softly into her headset as she opens a link to a ship at the edge of the Second Expeditionary Force's formation, the Puma II improved destroyer Atta Sexdens.

http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/tmbpuma2-2clock.jpg (http://www.weirdozone.0catch.com/projects/compyart/puma2-2clock.jpg)
TYWS-DD+ Atta Sexdens
First Squadron, 2TEF

"Orders down from Vinegaroon, sir." The communications technican aboard the destroyer's practically identical room tears off the onionskin that comes off the official teletype and hands it to the waiting hand of Commander Keith Lent, commanding officer of Atta Sexdens. Looking over it quickly, he immediately barks to his helmsman: "Helm, calculate full gravitic intercept of Contact Juliet-Two and execute. Executive, set the ship at Alert Condition One."

By this time, he's already stalking back to his seats as the lights take on a yellowish tint. "Sensors, full active, full ahead. Weapons on cold standby, defenses on warm standby. We've prey to catch."

Troopers run to their stations across the ship as klaxons call for general quarters, quickly getting the ship underway in full-distort gravitic. The Puma II is more advanced and stealthier than its predecessor; full high-distort used to cause a decent x-ray signature due to Hawking radiation coming off of the asymptotic distortion of spacetime--not exactly much, but those who knew what to look for (such as most of the Triumvirate's enemies) could see it coming, with the end result that full-burn was never used except when surprise wasn't of the greatest concern. The new modification isn't completely asymptotic. While the same amount of x-ray radiation was 'created,' it was shunted towards the aft and sides, which still makes it good for chasing someone. Sensors in full-distort also used to be a joke, but is now a matter of using Cetagandan molehole technology (originally adapted to peek through Langston fields) to peek around the barrier. All very complex [and technobabbly] stuff, but all ending up in the very simple result of Atta Sexdens chasing down an unknown projected contact at a very high acceleration (and therefore soon very high speed), looking out ahead of it with various active sensors.

Outer Sol
week 1, day 6
01:00

Ragnarok B'lef stared intently at the screen his eyes focused entirely on the data coming in, Ragnarok B'lef was one of the few that could be summed up in a few words "know your enemy, know victory". He feared and hated the monkeys with ever fiber of his soul.

their trickery knows no bounds they are honourless primates he thought to himself coldly as the ship drifted slowly.The only source of light in the entire bridge comming from his small moniter on the end of the left armrest.

Only the fear that the monkeys would destroy him while he slepted had been able to stay awake while his crew slept confident that they could destroy anything in their path. He on the other hand was not nearly as confident, they had entered the heart of the enemy, the gates of hell to put it lightly.

Ragnarok B'lef had commanded The Striking Fury many years and he had seen the ship at it's worse and at it's best but seeing a marred by impact craters and long twisting gorges caused by x-ray lasers caused by a single monkey ship and it's cowardly tactics and deciet, he realized just how cowardly adn honourless the monkeys were that day.

Ragnarok B'lef had studied Human history and had taken a perticular liking to the Norse Mythology, specifically Ragnarok the ending of the monkeys. he found it fitting to name himself after the destruction of the enemy he feared and hated.

The Striking Fury had the safest route in the operation he was to drifting along pass the backside of Mars, Earth, Venus, and Mercury. after passing Mercury he would let the sun slingshot him around passed saturn where he would leave Sol towards home.

To'uth Va'glar entered the bridge slow his tail swaying slowly back in fourth as he sat down at the sensor operators chair facing Ragnarok B'lef his eyes staring at the cold metal steal floor infront of him. his words we slow to form as it rare to speak to a superior officer off duty.

"Dominate one, you have not slept since we entered the monkey home system, one cannot stalk his quarry when he reacts slower than sun moves accross the sky"

"and I will not till I am back on the plains of our home" he replied, his temper rising a little. To'uth Va'glar's lowered his head his ears lying flat submissively, he stood up and left the bridge returning to his quarters.

Ragnarok B'lef returned to his console continuing to read the data as it came in.

"Contact Juliet-Two acquired, sir, on predicted course towards Mars. Estimated time to intercept, ten minutes."

Commander Lent nods, tapping his fingers lightly against his knee. "Got it, Sensors. Helm, update full-burn profile so we come out of high-distort at a range of ten thousand kilometers, matched velocities."

The helmsman nods, programming the modified course into his console. Automated timers switch over the drive directions, slowing down the speeding destroyer to match the scoutship's speed. At the distance and velocities relative to the scoutship specified by the helmsman, Atta Sexdens drops her high-distort gravitic, simply coasting along.

With the high-distort off, the asymptotic bubble around the ship vanishes, allowing light and energy to go back and forth as usual between the predatorial-looking Puma II-class destroyer and its surroundings. Where before all that announced its presence was an active radar pulse, now there is a complete warship, four hundred meters long, the four heavy naval particle cannon on its forward structure looking (rather intentionally) like fangs of some sort. All the obvious turrets are turned away from the scoutship, though, in a nearly-universal gesture of at least "we're-not-interested-in-killing-you-now."

After being given a moment's warning, the communications officer sets up a transmission on open radio and microwave frequencies, directed towards the scoutship. The loud click of the transmit switch being flicked announces to the bridge that the microphones are live; the Commander speaks into the silence, his message recorded and transmitted with the standard Triumvirate header and footer information, all in analog audio.

"Unknown vessel, this is Commander Keith Lent of the Triumvirate of Yut WarShip Atta Sexdens. We couldn't help but notice you passing through the Jovian system and towards Mars; we could arrange a tour if you wish. Please identify yourself and your attentions on this frequency; we will stand by for your response."

(OOC: So... Draconis... you didn't intercept the no-transmission-in-the-traditional-sense quantum entanglement orders but a verbal conversation on the bridge? Around Jupiter, a few billion kilometers away? I hope you understand my feelings when I respond "yeah, right." Who are you, anyway? What war? I'm confused.)

Ra'ith C'nesh swore loudly in Hero's tongue as the transmission played through the speakers lining the walls, he was pouring out fear, anticipation scent as he listened to it a second time, trying to see find the hidden meanings behind the words. he turned to his armrest computer and opened a channel to his weapons officer "zal'tok Kith perpare perpare for battle" he roared furiously as he stamped in a firing solution before turning his attention to returning a message.

those that had learned Hero's tongue would probably be able to translate the message easily due to it's shortness but those that didn't it was one of the more colourful insults in the already very colourful phrases of the Kzinti language.

He didn't wait for Commander Lent to finish reading his message, he barked at the engineer to power the reactor to full. not a moment later the Red Vengance's grav polarizers whined loudly pulling the ship away from the destroyer, randoming changing course without a hint of slowly down.

Ra'ith C'nesh smiled as he sealed the last of his combat armor, green lights trailling down the Holographic display reporting the missile tubes had been filled.

"Lar'al Jatok, activate active jamming, deploy the decoys!" he barked, watching the tactical display as 3 small decoy probes flew away from the ship in random directions creating similar readings to that over the Red Vengence although to a trained eye it would be easy to tell the fakes from the real ship.

it would take to long for missiles to reach them and the x-ray lasers would take light seconds to hit and most likely doing miminal damage to the monkeys, damn them and their infernal mockery! he thought as he began entering a new firing solution into the computer, his eyes never learning the tactical display.

"I suppose that went as well as could be expected," mutters Commander Lent. The quickest parts of any language to become common knowledge are usually the insults, and even though he didn't know the literal meaning, he understood the basic concepts. Wait a minute. He glances over momentarily at his executive officer. "Wait, that was in the Hero's Tongue, wasn't it?"

"Sounded like it to me, sir." The executive shrugs; one enlisted rating in the gallery nods, turning around in his chair to look over towards the officers. "It was, sir. And none too nice either."

"I got that much out of it," Keith replied, musing slightly. "Helm, continue to match basic velocity; no need to jink along with him." After receiving acknowledgement, he begins to muse to himself. Why would a ship that's apparently one of ours be running silent then power up to full weapons when hailed? "Sensors, get me a telescope visual on that ship. What's the estimation?"

"Nothing we've seen before," the sensors officer responds, "doesn't follow known distinguishable design philosophies either. Not getting anything off of any of the Trium's civil and military databases. Still... they're heating up, sir, and spilling countermeasures like it's going out of fashion."

Lent shrugs slightly. "Must be some sort of experimental or perhaps an under-the-radar ship. No wonder they wouldn't like being seen. Still... this is Space Patrol's job, not ours." The commander sighs. "Weapons, active defenses full. Point defense grids on hot standby; warm up capital weapons and prepare shooting solutions but keep it in the capacitors for now."

Atta Sexdens' turrets traverse into position with a soft hum from inside the vessel and absolutely no sound outside; the barrels of the broadband energy cannon and their attendant naval particle cannon move to where the ship is going to be rather than where it is. The scoutship is well within engagement range if need be.

"FlightCom, prep fighters for immediate launch, just in case. Comm, usual stand-down message in the Hero's Tongue." Commander Lent frowns slightly, looking at the orange-and-red craft jinking in the telescopic view, displayed in one of the screens beside the tactical indicator. "Weapons, coordinate with Sensors and come up with whatever power we need to knock them out but not kill them." Damned police jobs. We're not supposed to shoot at citizens.

Meanwhile, the communications officer comes up with a quick message and runs it through Atta Sexdens to translate. While the ship likes using a largish ant something like a panNorm as an avatar, she prides herself on being a pretty good actress and thus borrows a concept she saw the Territory battleship Ch'rowl Diplomacy using, making it a bit more masculine in both voice and appearance before transmitting in the imperative form of kzintsu'ng.Grrreksees'oz irgeeth k'toowst. Ztarw irgeeth k'tmughch'jeksh, 'w chsse hrowizhtt'ss irgeeth thukhu zhu 'kseekitsung kzin tsupoth.

Translation: "Surrender yourself now. If you refuse, we will not [bother to] kill you as a true Hero/kzin deserves.
As said above, she considers herself something of an actress and thus ends up being somewhat theatrical sometimes. The archaic kzints'utng either gives it the feel of an ancient play, an affectation, or someone really high up who is exceedingly annoyed (the lattermost of course being the intended attitude). She then adds a bit about complying with the wishes of the agents of the Patriarch, just in case they really are hyperidealistic Scolopendrans, the current running hypothesis. This really isn't much of a stretch; the national leader of Scolopendra and therefore one of the chief members of the Council of Yut where the Combined Services gets its authority is indeed the Patriarch of the Scolopendran kzinti. The rest of the message thus reads "Our authority derives directly from the Patriarch and if you comply, he may allow you to continue to serve him."

Several Weeks Ago

The Five Civilized Nations warship, the CNSS-2009 Volgograd, a vessel of the Excalibur Class, was released from its docking position at the Five Civilized Nations Nova Grenada Naval Yards, located in orbit around the Moon; its first venture into space after over five months of extensive repairs and refits to the damaged hull of the vessel. As the warship floated away from the dock, the single Echo Sublight Fusion Drive ignited and began to propel the majestic vessel away from Nova Grenada and Mars, and back to its normal routine of patrolling the Sol System.

Aboard the bridge, the veteran crew with years of experience, expertly steered the warship on a heading that would take it to Pluto. The ship's commanding officer, Captain Guo Zhong sat serenely in his command chair, staring silently ahead, as he waited for the powerful warship to clear the Moon's gravitational forces. For the first time in five months, the captain smiled, happy to return to his vocation as a commander of one of the most powerful warships of its size.

Within minutes, the Volgograd had cleared the Moon's gravity and slowly, but surely, began to make its way through the system, its Echo Sublight Drive accelerating the warship away from the Moon and towards a rendevuous with destiny...

Weeks Later, NOW

The Volgograd slowly began to decelerate, preparing to enter Jupiter's orbit for a rendevuous with another Five Civilized Nations patrol ship. As the vessel's nine Agile Multi-Directional Vernier Manuevering Thrusters ignited, slowing the vessel down, the scanners detected the presence of several other ships in the area. Suddenly, the keen communications gear intercepted a message from one of the vessels to another.

Grrreksees'oz irgeeth k'toowst. Ztarw irgeeth k'tmughch'jeksh, 'w chsse hrowizhtt'ss irgeeth thukhu zhu 'kseekitsung kzin tsupoth.

With surprise, the communications officer turned to Captain Guo Zhong. "Sir, I've just intercepted a transmission. Its not using any language that we've across sir... I've tried to cross-reference it to our database, but no matches exist."

The Captain frowned as he considered the matter. With quick and deft movements of his right hand, Guo Zhong brought up the transmission on his command chair's console. As he listened to the message, Guo Zhong's brow furrowed as his frow deepened. Shaking his head, the Captain glanced at the communications officer. "Very well. Link the message to the shipboard AI. Have it try to decode the meaning of this strange message..."

"Aye sir."

"Meanwhile, prepare ship for combat. We don't know what we're going to face..."

Slowly, the Volgograd approached the pair of vessels, while it prepared itself for the battle ahead.

OOC: Draconis Federation, while I enjoy a good fight, it has to be for a good IC reason, just having your ship's captain telepathically reading the mind of another ship's bridge from god knows how far away, then attacking for no reason while even trying any other possible option. I'm asking you do not bother posting in this thread again, if you'd like asecond chance TG and we'll talk about it.

(OOC: Flaming people is generally not a good idea. Flaming people in a thread that a moderator is actively participating in is not only not a good idea, it can almost be defined as patently "looking for trouble." Additionally, as I stated earlier, that transmission you intercepted was between two people talking to each other in a room far, far, far, far away from you. Reasonably, you have absolutely no reason to be here. 5CN does, because he actually intercepted a real, open transmission. That being said...)

IC:

"Jesus, why does this always happen? Comms, tightbeam something to those new contacts as soon as Sensors tells you what the hell they are."
Tightbeam communication to 5CN vessel

This is the Triumvirate destroyer Atta Sexdens. This is an internal Triumvirate situation and is under control; we will request assistance if we need it. Please stand down from combat footing and maintain distance.

Commander Keith Lent
TYWS-DD+ Atta Sexdens

Ra'ith C'nesh was dumbstruck few people knew Hero's tongue, ever fewer could speak it as well as a Kzinti could. The monkeys couldn't speak it that well, it wasn't in their vocal cords to do it that perfectly!

"Does the One Fanged God mock me so?!?!" he roared pounding his clawed fist against the wall to his right, his fur had bottled up and his ears were up on end, anger/frustration scent pouring into the bridge again. he forced himself calm, using his armrest computer he began recording a audio message in hero's tongue.

"The patriarch?! You mock my honour hairless monkey, Honour Patriarch Rrowl C'mef sent me on this mission himself, your cowardice knows no bounds do they? to try adn turn me against my patriarch?" his voice began to rise, his temper starting to get the better of him. "I am Ra'ith C'nesh! you will not sway my loyalty!"

with that the message was sent to the ATTA Sexdens, before Ra'ith's anger took him over completely.

The expression that crosses Atta Sexdens' face, if she had a face, would be priceless. Blinking metaphorically a few times, she performs the analog of rasing an eyebrow as her mind shifts around with the uncomfortable feeling of having had a rug pulled from under it. She continues, still in perfect, albeit archaic, Hero's Tongue, but obviously a bit more confused now. "Who? We're not talking about Speaker-Rrit? Patriarch of the kzinti, in Scolopendra?

"I believe we may have a case of mistaken identity... I for one am not a monkey, but rather the mechoptronic mind of the ship currently chasing you. We're mostly wondering what you're up to, but when we saw you were kzin we thought perhaps you were some of our citizens doing something illegal. From your speech patterns and dialects that possibility is being reduced to a very low order of probability. If so, then we really have no reason behind our chasing you except curiosity behind what exactly you're doing. If it makes you feel better, you aren't infringing on our space as far as we've extrapolated, simply entering and passing through regions in which we have an interest."

"Speaker- Rrit? scolopendra?" he paused thinking quickly" I demand to speak to this patriarch with only a half name!" had his patriarch known of other Kzinti colonies that existed? Was the mission more than just gathering information? he batted the thoughts away from his mind, he needed the others, the 2 other battle scouts that were in Sol gathering information.

I need the others they will know the path the patriarch and the One Fanged God have sent us down.

"Contact our brothers, tell them to meet here important events are unfolding before us." Ra'ith C'nesh spoke slowly, for once his mind was not thinking 2 steps ahead but it was blank.

Lar'al Jatok wrote the message as quickly as his shaking hands would let him, his mind was racing with thoughts, memories, and foolish wishes of glory and power. Soon the message away, the second highest level of encryption was used. The highest-level encryption was reserved only for the patriarch himself.

Striking Fury
Week 2, day 3
12:23

Ragnarok B'lef was sleeping in his chair, his crew not bothering to wake him from his 2-day slumber, he had finally succumb to his body's will to sleep. the crew functions without him during the time gathering data as they drifted slowly.

"Dominate one, we have received a message from the Red Vengeance they require us to meet with them, they claim it is of the up most importance. . . " Zrkag Bel'oth spoke firmly ripping Ragnarok B'lef from his slumber like a kitten from it mother when it came of age.

"h'rr.. What has that fool done now?" he stretched in the way only a feline could his pink tongue curling up as he yawned. It would of looked cute on a small house cat but when a kzinti did it, well it was more scary than cute.

he let his claws slowly extend and retract as he let Zrkag Bel'oth repeat the transmission now that he was fully awake. "Send a message back telling them we cannot meet them, as one of us needs to complete the mission should the others fail."

He half lied, he really just wanted the hell away from Sol as soon as he could, he dreams had turned to horrid nightmares about the cowardly monkeys and their trickery since he had left Epsilon Eridiani. Zrkag Bel'oth mewed to himself in displeasure, but followed his commander’s orders none the less. Zrkag Bel’oth finished up the last of the message. Sent it back to the Red Vengeance which would take at least an hour sol time for them to receive.

Horizon of Valour
Week 2 day 6
14:23

Lor C’merl stared at the transmission he just received; they were supposed to maintain radio silence till they were safely out of Sol. But it was important, perhaps The Red Vengeance had found something truly worth breaking radio silence. Lor C’merl quickly opened comm. Channel to engineering

“Yel’thal torok, power the reactor. We must reach our brothers quickly!” he closed the comm. Channel his ears rising and lowering quickly in what was a firm nod by monkey standards.

The Horizon of Valour slowly whined and moaned as it came to life, the red dimmed emergency lights were replaced with bright soft yellow lights illuminating every dark spot. The ship stopped dead in space for a moment or two before it turned around and speed off towards the heart of Sol.

Commander Lent taps his fingers against his knees, half out of idleness and half due to nerves. "Err... how are things going, Atta?"

-Sorry, sir. I'm currently holding something of a conversation with the kzinti ships. Apparently they're not Scolopendran.- The ship's otherwise gentle synthesized voice piping through the bridge's public address system has a slight clatter of Geiger counters to it, as if speaking through a very slightly rattling vocoder--just another antlike affectation she takes upon herself.

"Oh." Lent grins wryly to himself behind closed lips. "Carry on, then."

This doesn't distract her from her real concern at the moment, which is maintaining contact with that ship in practiced Hero's Tongue. "I would hardly say you're in any position to make demands. We don't know who you are or who you work for, although my guess would be some other Patriarch. So either you can answer those basic questions and we can see what we can do for you, or else you'll just have to go on wondering."

He remained quiet for several moments before simply replying "stand by" and muted the audio out, the bridge was quickly filled with perhaps the longest and most colourful line of insults, curses, and other colour phrases that were deemed of use.The air filters managed to clean out and replace the anger/frustration scent with the scent of a fresh kill, Ra'ith C'nesh managed after several minutes to smooth out his rich fur coat. unmuting the audio out receiver he sat back continuing to groom the odd spot of fur that resisted his earlier attempts

"h'rrr, Atta Sexdens... I require time to council with my brothers, they will be arriving here soon, a Sol day." he paused making sure the audio out reciever was after all unmuted " after which we will contact you, Ra'ith C'nesh Captain of the Red Vengeance " he cut the line a few moments after before storming out of the bridge towards the galley.

"I need to kill something.. "

The destroyer simply thinks what she wants to say, without transmitting it. Now that wasn't so hard, was it? Replying with a receipt of message, she turns around to report to her commanding officer, the good Commander Lent. Contact was made, and, after quite a bit of probably unnecessary difficulty--

-I was able to extract that he is Ra'ith-C'nesh in command of Red Vengeance. What exactly a full-name is doing commanding a scoutship is anyone's guess. It's my evaluation that this other Patriarch must hand them out like tin-plated medals from Cracker-Jack boxes.-

"Now, now, Atta," Keith sighs good-naturedly, "remember what we said about jumping to conclusions on insufficient evidence. Anyway, I think we've hounded these people enough. Make a report for me to rubber-stamp and we'll send it along to headquarters and the Scolopendrans; we'll let them be aware that they may have company soon." Moving slightly in his seat, he shifts his gaze from some point on the ceiling to the officers sitting around him. "Helm, disengage from the scoutship and plot a slow-burn course back to the fleet. Atta, inform the kzinti about our standard TYCS contact frequencies."

The Puma II backs off, now falling away from the scoutship then curves off gracefully at a distance, although not like in the movies--not banking at all, as there's no need--before zipping off in its own slight distortion of spacetime.

Mars/Jupiter Corridor
Week 2, day 4
18:00

The Horizon Of Valor had glide across the void nearly straight through the core of Sol, the reactor had be running red line for little under 24 hours and so far had proven it’s self stable but it was never wise to tempt the One Fanged God any more than it was necessary too. The small sleek craft that was the Red Vengeance slowly came into view as they began continued to speed ahead toward it’s sister ship.

“Dominate One the Red Vengeance is in sight shall I open communications?” Tro Ckraz spoke staring up at the tactical display that blanketed the curved front wall of the bridge, the read outs were giving out the general data that they did not need bother to read.

“h’rrr, yes open a channel and keep a watch for any monkeys that may decide to come to close” Lor C’merl spoke with a certain pride and distinction that made the men around him want to follow him, some even went to far to say he was a contender for patriarch should he ever decide to try and take the throne.

His Armrest Computer beeped merrily as he finished organize the data he had collected from his trip out towards the planet the monkeys had called Neptune, he also had picked up radio waves which had turned out to be some from of music that Lor C’merl had recognised from the monkey bars back in Epsilon Eridriana, They called it Rock and roll or something like that. They song sang about some man named Major Tom and the stars being different.

He played the song a couple of times as the ship slowed down getting into range for a secure live feed.

“Ra’ith C’nesh why have you called me here you have jeopardized if not ruined our mission! And where is Ragnarok B’lef?!” he roared expecting an answer immediately.

“Ragnarok B’lef is not coming he sent a transmission back saying he was going to continue the mission incase we cannot.” Ra’ith C’nesh paused trying to word it correctly; finally he spoke again “ I have discovered… that there are other Kzinti Colonies, Their Patriarch does not even have a full name! He is called Speaker- Rrit”

The news had struck him with the force of a swift kick to the chest, his bolted upright in his chair, a small amount of fear/surprise scent pouring out. “Another colony? Where are they?”

“I do not know Lor C’merl, I demanded to meet this patriarch but they would not allow it till they knew more information about us, that is when I sent for you and for your council” Ra’ith C’nesh said meekly as he sent the frequencies to the Horizon of Valor

Lor C’merl’s ears and tail twitched in a Kzinti version of a smile, Although Ra’ith C’nesh was young and hotheaded he did have him moments of wisdom and forethought, a good trait that not many had. Perhaps when they returned to Epsilon Eridiana he would take him under his wing and help him realize his potiental.

“I am glad you did Ra’ith, contact this ship and tell them we have reached our decision, I will talk to them when they return” he closed the channel abruptly as he leaned back, he would have to think, he would have to decide just how much he could tell them and what to leave out for example the location of their home, he would prefer not to be remembered in history as the Kzinti that brought the downfall of his patriarch.

“I am glad you did Ra’ith, contact this ship and tell them we have reached our decision, I will talk to them when they return”
TYWS-BB Vinegaroon

"Kzinti?" M'sha twitches one corner of her felinid lips up, ears winking silently. "So there are Heroes amongst the stars?"

On the other end of her connection, the CINCTYCS nods. "Exactly, Sky Marshal. From what limited information Atta Sexdens has provided us, they appear to match your old society greatly. That's why we want you to continue contact. They've derided Speaker-Rrit for having a half-name--"

"How little they know," she grumbles.

"--and we believe it would be appropriate if, as one of the two full-names remaining, you take care of this. You'll have to explain the situation, of course."

"I understand fully, sir." The kzinret nods, then pauses for a moment in thought. "However, if they are truly old Patriarchy, then they would respect a male leader more."

The Chinese man nods, his MacArthurs flashing bright as they reflect the light in his office. "Yes, but the only male full-name, as you know, is currently quite some distance away and not under our authority. You are making contact in the name of the Triumvirate of Yut first, not the Kzinti Patriarchy of Scolopendra nor the Federated Segments of Scolopendra. You do know that assimilation is a potential goal?"

"Of course, sir." M'sha growls softly. "I would be lying if I did not say one part of me yearned for it."

"Just make sure you learn more about their culture before you sign away the homeworld," the CINCTYCS warns. "Supreme Emperor Speaker-Rrit will brief you shortly as Patriarch. I know I do not need to emphasize this, but your duty as a TYCS officer comes first. The livelihood of billions relies on your choices and the execution of your duties."

"I will not forget, sir." M'sha bares her teeth ever so slightly, more of a challenge than a threat. "Will that be all? My apologies, sir, but I do not like it when my loyalty is doubted."

"No doubt here, Sky Marshal. Simply a reminder. Good luck."

* - * - *

"This is a great opportunity for our people," the Patriarch, Speaker-Rrit, says quietly in kzints'utng, gently fingering the rough-hewn sash signifying his title. "We have the opportunity to learn more about our culture, our history, our origins. We can learn, potentially, if our ancient legends are true."

"No need to remind me, my Patriarch," M'sha replies, even at a distance raising her chin and exposing her throat in an expression of fealty. "Yet... I wonder. If they are old Patriarchy, older than our own, older than the one we remember... where do our loyalties lie?"

It could also be a great threat," Speaker replies simply. "Do you think you could have attained your position in the old Patriarchy, even if it had the technology? Our people have attained amazing things. The kzinti are respected and seen as honorable throughout Sol, by all who know us. Would they think the same of the old Patriarchy?"

"The value of the Hero is inherent."

"No." Speaker grumbles softly. "The value of the Hero lies not in his blood but in his actions. His honor. His duty. We have bound ourselves in honor to our human brethren, and they are bound in honor to us. We shall not, on our honor, break those bonds--and respect comes in many forms. We have adapted as a people, as a culture--and we have a responsibility that trancends race. The Patriarchy--the Scolopendran Patriarchy--desires no more than contact and intellectual trade. Any more at this moment would be too much."

"And if they ask for more?" The question must be asked, but M'sha asks it hesitantly, a slight growl in her throat, knowing the answer.

"Then we refuse." Speaker replies quietly, but always firm in his voice--leading not through fear nor tradition but mutual respect.

M'sha motions her assent. "I understand, my Patriarch."

* - * - *

Response Transmission

I am Sky Marshal M'sha of the Triumvirate of Yut; superior to Commander Lent of Atta Sexdens, your previous contact; full-name of the Scolopendran Kzinti Patriarchy. I will speak with you on behalf of my various peoples, and we will learn from each other.

Sky Marshal M'sha
CO, Jupiter Theatre Task Force
TYWS-BB Vinegaroon

OOC: Ok Draconis Federation, thats the last straw buddy, you've been ignored by everybody in this thread including me, get the hint and leave. it you want to argue about it take it up with me in Telegrams rather than wasting space in the thread.

MODEDIT BY SCOLO: The DF/ZM subplot, which no longer has anything to do with this thread, has been split. (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=389808)

Jupiter
Horizon of Valor
Week 3, Day 1
12:00

Lor C’merl sat in the galley in his combat armor, it was the closest thing he had to something formal he was reading over the same data pad for the fifth time in a row, it was the mission objectives of their original mission. To say he knew it by heart was an understatement.

This Speaker-Rrit he has only half a name, things do not seem right. Have they given up on their honor and the One Fanged God? There are to many unanswered questions and they will not answer the ones that would put them at risk, as I would not answer them either

Lor C’merl grumbled his ears twitching occasionally as he played the monkey song, which he dubbed “Major Tom”. Lor C’merl figured this Major Tom was one of the early monkey warriors in space and it told of his glorious death. If there was one thing that transcended race was respect of the honor and bravery of their warriors and their deeds. What greater judge of the worthiness of a race than its warriors, however cowardly their tactics were deemed.

All Lor C’merl could do for now was wait patiently, for the ship to return, for answers, and for whatever would come before him

TYWS-BB Vinegaroon

"Ma'am, contact Juliet-Three is holding at the prearranged coordinates."

M'sha nods, folding her hands as she shifts slightly in her green-and-black naval Class A's, unfortunately the standard duty uniform for command crew. Sky marshal's insignia glittering on the high collar adapted for her kzinti neck, green cape draped over her shoulders, covering up her green shoulderboards. It was definitely the same uniform as the humans wore, simply tailored to match her frame. She doesn't let the nervousness show, keeping her emotions well under control in the framework of rationality and proper conduct that she needed to adopt in thirty relative years of human contact in order to excel. "Comm, open contact. Full audio-visual, tightbeam. Helm, bring us around, parley maneuvers."

The large battleship swings gracefully from formation, followed by a few picket destroyers and a frigate from the Second Expeditionary's command squadron, arraying themselves a polite distance away from Horizon of Valor, the rest of the fleet standing well off. Aboard Vinegaroon's bridge, immeditately after the kzinret hears the click of the transmit switch, she leans forward slightly towards the camera, looking severely businesslike. "This is Sky Marshal M'sha aboard the Triumvirate battleship Vinegaroon. On behalf of the Triumvirate of Yut I welcome you to Jovian space. I believe we have some questions for each other."

Lor C'merl step into the bridge holding the data pad in his clawed hands, the channel had already beened open as he sat down in his chair.

"I am Lor C'merl Captain of the Horizon Of Valor, what is you name?" he raked his clawed hand across his muzzle, the kzinti salute. asking the name of another Hero was considered a compliment.

he paused for a moment this Sky marshal M'sha was a 'rett, a female. His head cocked to the side in curiousity.

He forced himself to return at the topic at hand. He pondered which question to ask first.Finally the words formed and he asked his first question in hero's tongue.

"are there any other kzinti colonies out there?" he paused again trying to word it correctly, "what happened to you? why have we not heard from you till now?" he continued to ask questions each one poking deeper into the past of this these scolopendran, their patriarchy anything imaginable, Lor C'merl tried to be as subtle as possible when he asked but some questions there was no way to hide their intent.

Lor C'merl just hoped his questions didn't jeopardized this meeting, The Patriarch would want as much information as possible and it was his duty to get as much as possible.

M'sha returns the claw-rake salute, remembering it from her childhood; she also returns the honor. "I am M'sha. And your name, warrior?"

She thinks momentarily before answering the other questions, putting each one into context. "We only know of our own people, mostly in the nation of Scolopendra. Until your arrival, we were... unsure of the presence of any other kzinti. We certainly did not see any until intercepting your scout.

"We are unsure 'what happened to us.'" Her eyes lid slightly, slyly, her Hero's Tongue a bit archaic and different compared to Lor-C'merl's--almost the difference between Portuguese and Spanish, perhaps, but they could almost be considered different languages if they were not mutually intelligible. Kzints'utng, lacking other languages to vie with it among the Heroes, apparently did not have the tendency to diverge as human languages do. "Our legends say that we came from the stars, borne in ships of metal. Our particular ship could not be fixed, a punishment from the Fanged God, and therefore set down on the Tibetan Highlands of Earth. After famine, disease, war..."--she circles her hand around slowly, fast-forwarding a bit--"we realized our sin was not being true to the Patriarchy and so our ancestors founded a new one in its place. I suppose that if you lost a ship with a crew in the thousands in this area between one and two thousand years ago, you would have a good idea who our ancestors were.

"Why you have not heard from us until now is probably somewhat obvious, Lor-C'mel." M'sha's attitude is respectful, but it is the respect of equals--and now, thinking over the accusatory nature of the query, her voice takes on a slight tone of wry rebuke. You are not our lords, not quite yet. "If my ancestors were not able to send a message several thousand years ago, and given how good time is at increasing entropy, we can perhaps be forgiven for forgetting things which had disappeared from our ken.

"Now," she changes tack, leaning forward slightly while her ears wink, "as host, it is proper if I ask some questions in return. You are a good Hero; you will not show the way to your den. I, and the Grouping-Of-Three-Lords*, respect that. On behalf of self-same Grouping-Of-Three-Lords, I must ask--what interested you in this system? On behalf of my people, I must ask--assuming, of course, that your culture is the source of ours--why did it take you so long to come back?"

Lor C'merl's ears twitched in a smile as he stood up from his chair.

"we are scouting the system to see weather the monkeys were perparing for an invasion" his voice was ful of pride and conviction. "I do not know how you have fared with the monkeys but our experiences have been less. . . welcoming"

He ran his clawed hand across the wall to his left staring off into the void as memories of past encounters of foreign monkeys and monkeys from their own home fought against him and his patriarch.

"The patriarch is wise, he sees things most Kzinti wouldn't notice or would deem insignificant" his ears flicked again musing to himself" our last. . . patriarch did not have foresight to see his own cub take the throne from him"

He looked at Sky marshall once again with remorse his ears and tail drooping visibly "we are not your source, we seem to have a similar fate sky marshall M'sha we don't know what happened to our once galaxy spanning empire, we do know we fought the monkeys many times" Lor C'merl's eyes were filled with fury and intensity. His fur bottled under his emerald green pressurized combat armor. "we lost many times, there was peace, then war again, then peace again. we thought we were all that remained of our glorious Empire, it seems The One Fanged God smiles upon us still."

Lor C'merl sat down in his chair again leaning back comfortably all traces of his anger gone, instead replaced by a placid calm that radiated outwards in every direction "whats this I hear about your patriarch only having a half name?" he said jokingly his ears fanning himself slowly "and Sky Marshall M'sha do you have any other questions?"

M'sha's ears twitch, followed quickly by her tail as she leans back slightly in her seat, a utilitarian affair--modular and made of multiple adjustable parts, able to fit anything from a Sakkran to a human in relative comfort. Her opposite number's various actions of obvious anger were... attractive, in a strange animalistic way, echoes of an old past, and amusing in another--had she really been that undisciplined, once? "He is 'only' a half-name because he was too dedicated to take on a full-name for himself. To understand this, you must know our history.

"For a time, we were alone, and our technology apparently degraded--we were reduced to settlements of farmers and hunter-gatherers based on a Patriarchy, presumably the Patriarchy. All was well for a time until we were discovered and invaded by 'monkeys.' Another human nations, the Scolopendrans, intervened and saved our people but were unable to save the Patriarch. A good number of Conservators managed to kill themselves fighting nobly against impossible odds. This left us without a leader and without an established cultural hierarchy. We were forced to both adapt to a new system and adapt that system to us. Those who adapted best left with the colonial efforts from Earth before The Break and created the nucleus that makes up our people now. Anything after the Break is difficult to talk about, given the strange nature of reality and the relative and unequal flow of time. Nevertheless, we are fifty million strong now, and respected members of this culture. When it comes to humans, you need only find the right ones. So far, these particular ones have been most symbiotic.

"Led by Patriarch--our patriarch, mind, so no offense to yours--Speaker-Rrit, we organized to recreate our culture but modified to be more durable. It also follows our particular inclinations, so it is perhaps quite a bit different from yours." She leans foward, ears twitching as her eyes half-lid slightly. "You are surprised that I am female, perhaps? That would be one of them--I was given my full name by the old Patriarch due to my skills at hunting. I have honed them over the years to hunt... more dangerous prey, as you can see. Being better at it than male competitors, I have this duty. We are, on the whole, meritocratic."

Her ears wink again. "I can warn you now, one warrior to another, that this system preparing for a full-scale invasion would be... difficult. The Grouping-Of-Three-Lords is one of the greater military powers, spanning the system and then some more. It is still only a very small fraction of the total militarization of this system. The system suddenly uniting against any power and attacking in force is..." Her ears flicker again. "...unlikely. Do you, honorable Lor-C'merl, have any more questions for me?"

"would it be possible for our patriarchs to meet" Lor C'merl was alreayd certain of the answer, but it was he duty to ask. The patriarch Rrowl C'mef would know what questions he wanted to ask and want answers he could give.

Lor C'merl was rather surpised a 'rett had attained such high rank and a full name, but as she said they had to adapt, adaptability was a welcome trait that the patriarch's heros should all have.

"Perhaps," M'sha replies, "but probably not just now. I can inform him to prepare for contact attempts or set up means of communication. Do you have anything else, or shall we part ways to continue our respective hunts?"

Lor C'merl stood up his ears perking up slowly fanning his black dotted orange coat. "May the One Fanged smile on your hunt, Sky Marshall M'sha " Lor C'merl Said in english with a thick accent quickly followed by a monkey saluted, He perferred to keep his secrets, well secret.

The Horizon Of Valor backed away from the Scolopendran ship, The Red Vengeance following behind it as they headed out of the inner core of Sol, till The Horizon of Valorand The Red Vengeance were past Sol's gravity well and were free to return home in hyperspace.


h'rr, the patriarch will be pleased with the information we attained. not just of the monkeys but of our brothers. . . and sisters it seems He thought half awake in his quaters on his comfortable prrstet, a cross between a hammick and a couch. Lor C'merl let the data pad slip from his hands onto the floor with a clatter as the plastic contact with grated steel flooring.

The patriarch would be most please...

((OOC: I find this RP most interesting. A shame I wasn't around sooner. Hmmm... Quite question. Your race, El Sentient, is some kind of off-shoot of the Kilrathi from Wing Commander? And, what would be their opinoin of Demi-humans? In particular, catpeople/Nekos. Umh, if you want, I'll delete this OOC Post, to reduce clutter.
Hiyas Scolo/Tim!))

Sky Marshal M'sha leans back into her seat, steepling her furred fingers as she turns ideas, possibilities over in her mind. "Helm, return us to standard formation."

Another splinter colony, hrr? One that managed to retain its technology and the old culture... with all of its inherent strengths and weaknesses. "Lorentz," she says, looking to her executive officer on her right as she stands, "you are in command. I will be in my office working on a first-contact report."

"Got it, ma'am," the human replies with a smile. "Recommendations for if they come back?"

"Hrrr..." M'sha thinks for a moment. "If they come back peacefully--and with my people, in the old ways, 'peacefully' means 'not firing'--then get me. If they are hostile, fire first and ask questions never. It is quite possible they still have not adapted beyond our old tendency to scream-and-leap."

"Why would they do that?" The fleet admiral's confusion is perhaps understandable.

"They were worried about an invasion being launched from here. I informed them that this system, the home of their ancestral enemy, was not militarily united. A counter-invasion would be a reasonable response. Revenge is a key part in regaining honor, after all..." She chuckles softly at the look the admiral gives her, her ears and tails twitching slightly as her breath huffs through her nostrils. "Only a possibility, Adalai. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst."

She walks off the bridge with ears still winking, quite hopeful indeed.

(OOC: Welcome back ^_^

Actually, it'd be fairer to say that the kzinti (http://www.larryniven.org/kzin/introduction.htm), being the felinids dreamed up by Larry Niven and his buddies in the '70s, are what the WC Kilrathi are based on.)