NationStates Jolt Archive

Somewhere, between Earth and Jupiter, a large, powerful fleet was assembled. Those who knew the ship designs would be able to discern several nations represented; Crimmond, The Ineffable Empire, Barbarosea, and Wretchengard to name but a few. Military ships, though in abundance, were joined by many transport and construction vessels.
In the centre of this armada was a large object. This object was metallic, roughly sempispherical at the moment. Several massive power readings could be identified, on the inside. A substantial amount of armour could be detected on the outside.
Ships straying close would be warned once to back off, and then destroyed if it went unheeded.
Something was being built.
Something big.

OOC: Tags welcome, as well as IC comments. Brief first post 'cos I'm busy.

Earth Orbit
Hulls, much like any other, thick layers of ceramic and advanced alloys, some parts of these hulls however were passive optic pick ups. Networked together this vast simple optic passive system saw the object. Input was sorted, flagged and turned into data first by hardware and software then by human minds it was sorted into usefull information , more human minds would turn it into policy, and a few more would turn it into effect.



Approaching the Object
The sphere was barely 3mm in diameter. It’s surface was cooled to universal background. It gave of no radiation, and it was slowly going to pass within 300 kilometres of the object. Then it would activate, a tiny flash of intense exotic faster than light radiation would reach out, hopefully giving a partial snapshot of the objects internals. The tiny sphere would then turn to no more than what from the outside it appeared to be, a lump of slag.


2 light minutes from the Object
The light recon cruiser squadron was only two strong. Each ship was 220 metre long needle against the stars, her tiny forward signature pointed towards the object. The needle shaped cruisers mimicked as best they could background radiation and optic output of the universe around them. On their surface a squad of tiny drones with odd shaped instruments were simulating any energy output from high energy deep sky objects, there insectile forms heat sink covered and draped in active optic camouflage.
The surface of the ship itself was optically active, both receiving and sending out photons. It wasn’t perfect, the blur being obvious within a few kilometres but knowing the position of the possible viewers its effect was improved. The cruisers heavily muffled drives fought to hide their mass, and any gravity lensing effect they may have on even the lightest of touches of photons. The majority of the entire core of the ship was one huge long series of logic stacks and energy state processors, most of it handling the load from the passive stealth systems. On the surface if one looked closely ordinance deployment bay’s showed dotting back along the length of the oddly configured ships.

Behind each of the two cruisers lay a cable, no more than half a millimetre thick. Along it ever metre or so lay a tiny bauble of a sensor pick up. The cable too was trying to mimic background optic sources, its baubles altering its course to actually bend around deep sky high energy objects.




[[OOC ur ..um yeah gonna take a peak. Basically this is a glorified tag, with the possibility of intelligence gathering. If that’s alright. /OOC]]

Based on a few interacting analyses of probabilities and optimal responses, some things moved about a bit, other things changed the objects of their attention slighty, and still more essentially remained the same as before. Building in the middle of nowhere has its advantages and its disadvantages...

Metus, perhaps one of the more, well known gatherings. Still, I dont understand why they seem to be acting without the 'support' or understanding from Lord Melkor, with his lands being under a state of civil war. Unless of course this is with the support of Alkanphel. Still, they are acting on their own accord, and I do wonder why they happen to be under operation in this time of self-turmoil, wondered Hahn, commodore of the Jupiter fleet presense.

Indeed, many could speculate at exactly what was being constructed out here, yet not one would know except those involved themselves. Yes, perhaps it was something on behalf of Metus, but this appeared more of a GDODAD operation more than anything so far. It was not an immediate threat, but as the old Austarian proverbs told, one cannot ignore the small and minor, for soon the trickling stream turns to waterfall.

True, considering the lack of military grade fleets in the area on behalf on Metus did soften the curiousity toward what was, happening. But the small presense they did have there indicated that something was there, and intelligence was required, even at a high cost.

Jovian Orbital Station Network / Jovian Konania

While it worried him to see such large objects under construction, JOSN Commander Hargraves couldn't take much action-- no direct, urgent, imminent threat. Recon missions were prepped, but not launched quite yet, and the Jovian Fleets were placed in a higher state of alert. Some eyes turned to Io warily. Hushed conversations occured, and messages wwere sent to other Jovian League nations, but other than that, little more needed to be done.

[Taggedy. --Felix]

OOC: Intriguing.

IC: Several Mirfakan transport vessels from various corporations must divert around the conglomeration of ships to reach their destinations on Earth and other inner planets. Their commanders are sure to leave strongly-worded notice of their displeasure at having to waste time and fuel with their antagonists, but none attempt to defy the huge fleet.

Around the object work crews were busy, in pressure suits or in ships.

The fleet milling about was the Crimmond Second Fleet, officially signed to duties involving Metus. The comm traffic was of the normal variety, with large amounts coded. They knew that they were being watched, but the fleet was fifty ships strong, with swarms of fighters careening in and out of the formations. The complaints of passing ship commanders were ignored for the most part, or responded by a simple: You're more than welcome to try and run the line. We could use the target practice.

Three Crimmond superfreighters were approaching, the haulers longer than many nation's heavy druisers, hauling large amounts of electronics and weapon systems, which were offloaded and their systems distributed to the crews.

The flash of radiation was logged and fighters were sent to investigate, but the slagged metal was missed by them and it remained a mystery.

Dominion forces stationed at Io kept a quiet watch to ensure that NDA space was not infringed on if and when the usual orbit took them anywhere even remotely close to the Metus building efforts - as they always did. Space being what it was, a decidedly non-linear affair, Dominion traffic, both military and commercial remained unaffected. Easy enough to shift course slightly well ahead of time to go around if the situation called for it, while the builders held to their archaic ideas of 'lines' and the running thereof.

There was always someone out there building something or other - this was nothing new. Whether it was the latest version of 'deathstars', 'supercannons', or 'planetkillers', they all seemed to come and go, with either the more rabidly aggressive nations swarming the creators, or the odd effects of fractal reality taking hold. Another day, another massive project.

All in all, business as usual.

The mass of ships made him uncomfortable. Sol itself was too crowded for a Weyrean. There just wasn't space to build up speed, or maneuver, at least not without smashing into something, and the WSGS Windbag was too expensive to take out on a one-way ticket to the Gate, especially when its only real crew member was also its avatar. That the Sol Fleet was not actively taking part in current ops was understandable -- the traffic pileup over Weyr was an open invitation for someone to royally screw over a Weyrean shipping company, not to mention a few million Weyrean citizens if the cargo included fusactor raws or simple foodstuffs.

The Windbag's cargo consisted of one thing -- the Weyrean-made Reason gatling assemblies. It was Weyr's only contribution to the whole thing. Quite pathetic, by some standards. Those someones did not take into account that Weyr was not a military power in the normal sense of the idea. Were someone to attack the construct in question, the Star Guard would send all of its three Ship of the Line groups to help protect the construction. For now, the newest member of Metus was happily contributing one of the three things, by most accounts the only things, it did best -- gatling gun systems.

Only 9 Barbarosean ships were in the gathering, but more were arriving. Of the six military ones there, one was the National, Fredrick Barbarosea IV's personal ship. The other five consisted of 2 super-carriers, 2 battleships, and one new ship. It was called the Punisher, and for good reason. It broke off from the large gathering, and started slowly drifting toward the Earth-side of the station.

The 3 tugs were pulling one huge docking platform. It could manage to service all the ships around for atleast 4 months. By then, another 2, or maybe even 3 platforms would be pulled in. The crew of the docking platform, BSS X-ray had specific orders to use the portible docking platforms for odd ship dimensions. They were ready and willing to assist anyone, civilian or military.


TRANSMISSION FOR THE METUS FLEET CONVENTION
Encoded
Light Ray 4

TO: TST High Command
CC: Crimmond High Command
FROM: Barbarosea Space Command

This message is to be replied to in an orderly fasion.
Barbarosea has pledged both montary and resouses
to this undertaking. Fredrick Barbarosea IV is there,
overseeing political things. We propose, that since
the National has lots of space, and the most advanced
computer systems around, that they manage the
montary contributions and allocations of money, for
different things such as labor and compensation for
the deceased families, in the case of death of a
worker. Beyond that, we need the grade speficiations
for the metal that will be used for the outer armor.
Attached is the duribility statistics. Thank you.
END


Duribility Statistics:
GRADE # - [Duribility Rating/Auto-Regeneration (+=Y, -=N)/Flexibility rating] - Normal Price/Metus price**
GRADE 1 - [98% Duribility/+*/49% Flexibility] - NS/1987s/cube (1 cubic meter)
GRADE 2 - [98% Duribility/+/9% Flexibility] - 1842s/Free
GRADE 3 - [86% Duribility/-+/24% Flexibility] - 1659s/Free
GRADE 4 - [57% Duribility/-/41% Flexibility] - 1454s/Free
GRADE 5 - [29% Duribility/-/64% Flexibility] - 1596s/Free
GRADE 6 - [14% Duribility/-/87% Flexibility] - NS/Free
(Warning: GRADE 6 to be used for outermost layers only, not structurally sound.)

WARNING! Prototype alloy is unstable!
GRADE 7 (prototype) - [2% Duribility/&/96% Flexibility] - NS/Free

* - GRADE 1 has constructive software that allows it to "grow" while not under attack.
** - Metus price holds for this project ONLY
& - GRADE 7 is a expermental alloy that uses head to fuse atoms, thus creating a stronger alloy. Current attempts to reverse this process are underway.

The threats of the assembled guards are quickly relayed to Mirfak, and two Gels and a Hokal are dispatched by the Labule to see that Mirfakan interests are not harmed, as the meeting of nations is occuring almost directly between the Sol Sord and Earth. The three Mirfakan ships install themselves at the closest possible range while remaining outside the area being guarded. The hokal deploys its pylons, and all three ships place weapons on standby and defenses online, but take no direct aggressive action. They are here to draw a sort of "safety line," to discourage hostile action by either the guards or the passers-by. Of course, if a conflict were to arise, the three relatively small ships would be crushed by the superior force without much of a fight. Their commanders are banking on the opposing force recognizing them as neutral peacekeepers, and are prepared to withdraw if necessary.

OOC: Not that it matters (I hope), but for visualization and reference:

Gel class (assault ship): $100,000,000
The Gel is the foundation for the Labule's defense forces, excelling far beyond galactic standards in speed and maneuverability. It compensates for its weak shields with two highly accurate laser cannons, which it uses to shoot down enemy projectiles and weaken the shields of enemy starships. Its main weapon is the powerful forward-mounted antiproton cannon, used primarily for offensive purposes. The Gel carries no hoksas, making it more defensively vulnerable in planespace.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v88/Zorak950/NS/AssaultShip.jpg
(Shown with nose in closed position.)
Dimensions: 60x20x25 meters.
-Powerplant: One substance/antisubstance reaction chamber (100 petawatt maximum output).
-Ion engines: combat speed 20,000 km/s, maximum speed 100,000 km/s.
-Planespace speed: about 100,000,000 c. relative to normal space maximum.
-Maneuvering thrusters: turn radius at maximum combat speed 150 meters.
-Fuel capacity: 5,000 liters.
-Fuel range: about 20 days normal operation OR 5 days combat operation.
-Complement: 30 crew, 1 AI.
-Laser cannons (total 2, rating 3):
--Dorsal: 1 (180˚ X/Y-axis rotation, 360˚ Z-axis rotation).
--Ventral: 1 (180˚ X/Y-axis rotation, 360˚ Z-axis rotation).
-Fore antiproton cannon (rating 3).
-Shield power rating: 2.
-Armor rating: 2.
-Onboard/Detachable vessels:
--1 Calicke.
--5 Weko.

Hokal class (guard ship): $2,000,000,000
Designed as a complement to the Gel as well as a heavy hitter in its own right, the Hokal class guard ship is all but useless in close-quarters combat. It is designed for long range forward assault. With its pylons deployed it exposes auxiliary forward shield projectors, four offensive grade laser cannons, a high-powered antiproton cannon, and its main weapon: 56 hoksa bays, each loaded and ready with a hoksa that can be fired either alone or in formation with the ship’s others. Only the hoksas are used under normal circumstances. The ship’s energy weapons are reserved as last-resort offense and defense at close range. Guard ships must have the support of lighter craft to be effective in combat.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v88/Zorak950/NS/GuardShip.jpg
(Shown with pylons in open position.)
Dimensions (pylons closed): 240x50x50 meters.
Dimensions (pylons open): 150x220x240 meters.
-Powerplant: One substance/antisubstance reaction chamber (250 petawatt maximum output).
-Ion engines: combat speed 100 km/s, maximum speed 20,000 km/s.
-Planespace speed: about 20,000,000 c. relative to normal space maximum.
-Maneuvering thrusters: turn radius at maximum combat speed 1,000 meters.
-Fuel capacity: 20,000 liters.
-Fuel range: about 30 days normal operation OR 5 days combat operation.
-Complement: 100 crew, 1 AI.
-Laser cannons (total 6, rating 4):
--Fore: 4 (50˚ X-axis rotation, 90˚ Z-axis rotation).
--Aft: 2 (180˚ Y-axis rotation, 180˚ X/Z-axis rotation).
-Fore antiproton cannon (rating 4).
-Hoksas: 56.
-Shield power rating: 4.
-Armor rating: 3.
-Onboard/Detachable vessels:
--3 Calicke.
--10 Weko.

"T-7 reports docking clamps are released, Captain. We are free and clear to navigate. Escort craft are in position and waiting for us."

"Very good. Helm, begin countdown to initial burn." Captain Sollia sat upright in his chair and tried not to get bogged down in the monotony. If he checked his logs, he'd find that the Hera had made the Titan run ten thousand, four hundred and sixty-two times before. He himself had been in command over the last six thousand, nine hundred and thirteen times. However, it was pointless minutae that would only depress him if he actually looked it up.

"Aye-aye, Captain," said the middle-aged woman sitting at the Helm station. "Beginning our five-gee burn in thirty seconds."

"Captain, I have an advisory coming in from T-7," announced the man sitting at the Communications station. "Our flight plan will take us within range of new activity near the asteroid belt. We've been ordered to alter course to avoid it."

"Helm, cancel that burn. Comms, acknowledge that and alert our escorts. Nav, find out where this obstacle lies and get me a new plot for Titan."

"Aye-aye, Captain."

Sollia would almost care, but there was always something to adjust for in the run. The solar system was just too busy to fly blind.

"New flight plan laid in and cleared with Control, Captain."

"Very good. Helm, you may now begin your countdown."

"Aye-aye, Sir. Burn in forty-five seconds, mark."

Sollia mentally ran his own calculations on how many months he had before retirement. Space had been exciting when he first started, but now it was just routine. He wondered if he should have joined the exploration effort instead of signing up for the merchant fleet.

Nah. Probably would have been the same. Except for the lack of shore leave.

"Beginning burn."

The ancient Centipede groaned as the engines subjected it to five gravities of thrust, its maximum acceleration. Slowly, gracefully, the Hera pulled away from the equally ancient space station, both originally purchased from the Federated Segments of Scolopendra for the purpose of shipping biomass and similar goods.

One of these days, the Emperor ought to spring for a real fleet. Sollia mused as the anti-piracy escort vessels took up station around his ship. Meh. Probably after I retire.

Oh, certainly, there was still this nasty civil war being fought over approximately 50% of DA's Earth territories. As such, it (Or rather, the factions currently holding space capacities) wasn't exactly in a state in which it could do much. Apart from watching, that is. And this was pretty much what the Point Defense Cruiser Tentacled Beauty was doing. Watching as it wasted its time on its usual routes between the planets.

<PDC Tentacled Beauty> Yawn. Ok, what do we have here? Lesse... Sensors... On... ON I SAID! Goddamn piece of shit, they should be able to guarantee a bit more of maintenance and quality, by now. Ah, now it works.

Equipment was, indeed, a problem. Sure, one had the knowledge to produce cutting edge equipment. The thing one lacked were specialists and decicated facilities. As such, the Tentacled Beauty, while most definitely being useful, wasn't overly... specialised (And indeed, reconnaissance wasn't exactly its job), and thus, the results of the discovery weren't all that impressive.

Yet, there was of course the minor issue of several fleets and a reasonably big object orbiting the sun being quite, quite easy to detect, especially given the truly excessive amounts of electromagnetic radiation of all sorts radiating from the many sources.

Given this, Tentacled Beauty had it fairly easy when it came to gaining basic data.

<PDC Tentacled Beauty> Dear god. Okaaaay. Given that they are building it here, rather than somewhere safe, say, the Kuiper Belt or another star system, i guess this is a stationary object... Or a least not something they are especially concerned about when it comes to secrecy. Hrm. No, stationary doesn't make sense. Something deatstaresque? Oh well, we will see.

A report was filed, data send, and perhaps the Jovian (Not Mars, given its distinct lack of resources) command would care to explore this object further. For Tentacled Beauty, the job was finished, and she returned to her usual, daily schedule as quickly as she could without straining herself.

Cooperation with Konania should be ensured quickly (And efficiently) enough.

Odd.

They knew something was going on. Something related to those allied with the ones they had been attempting to ally with, even if they had been somewhat... Unsuccessful. They knew not what it was. That was what made the dead interested in their undertaking.

All they would do is observe. From a distance. It was always somewhat interesting for them to see what the living were doing, learning more of... Them. And it was a rare occasion when they made it so easy.

"Outbound insertion arc set. Standard velocity. Switching to automatics," the avatar, captain, and whatever else of the WSGS Ocean Twilight said over the company's command net. Perhaps company was not the best word for a group that included half the ships in the Sol Fleet. Most of them would be going to the mothball berths at Paradigm, then maybe a new home with some other freecorps. For the moment, the old craft were gaining velocity, on an arc used for a century by craft accelerating for translation, clearly marked out by beacons, swinging to come above the ecliptic and away from the more-normal shipping lanes of Sol.

Commadant Riza Hawksblood, of no relation to Fleet Admiral Hawksblood, dropped from the net. Even a Constructed Sentience couldn't always remain plugged into that constant data stream of telemetry and system status. It was still there, somewhere, but not inside her head.

"ETT is plus two days," two days of constant accel with inertial buffers, then braking and a slingshot around the system for anti-whatever patrols for the next few months. There were new action plans in the navCom. Something about the Triumverate or somesuch. Someone in Command was getting paranoid.

"Scanners clear," Ensign Olivia Grecki pulled off her overly large set of earphones. It had seemed strange to the Commandant when the scanner tech first plugged them in -- with the scanner net you could feel emissions hit a craft's hull. But scanner techs were a superstitious lot, as she had learned over the decades. Strange or not, the Ensign did her job.

"Screens at full spread," engineering reported, voice crackling on the CIC PA system. Twilight and her escorts wuld be going at a few thousand kays per second; a stray pebble could cause as much damage as an overpriced tactical nuke. Anything passing through them would alert autopilot if it was too big to be deflected.

Hawksblood slid out of her couch, restraints unlocking one by one. "Commadant, if you could report to my quarters at seven hundred?" Colonel...Riza decided she'd need to check her data storage arrays...stopped her for a moment at the CIC's hatch. Logic arrays clicked. Maybe there was something to the new action plans after all.

The IHGV Supernova, a Glorious Heritage class heavy cruiser, was serving as Ineffable base for this operation. As General O'Neill listened to the message, the ship's avatar, standing beside him in holographic form, was visibly affronted by the Barbarosean's claim to have "the most advanced
computer systems around".
"General, I am most disappointed by this claim. Surely they realise that even a ship-grade Aritificial Intellegence Entity such as myself, who can simultaneously talk to every person on board ship, control unnumbered millions of nanites and nanite production facilities, internal defences, point defence lasers tracking a hundred missiles moving at near-c speeds, guide several hundred thousand more identical missiles through enemy point defence to cause maximum damage to an enemy vessel, and keep in contact with the AIs controlling every other ship in the fleet and regulate everything on this ship from artificial gravity and power consumption to repairs, and a trillion other tasks every second, requires computers so vast that at my core I have over a tonne of quantum computing crystals, the sheer processing power of which is even beyond my capabilities to understand...What was I talking about again?"
"'Nova?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Be quiet. And transmit this message for me;

From: General O'Neill, Head of the Ineffable High Guard
To: Barbarosean Space Command
CC: Crimmond High Command
We have no trouble with you handling the money, if you're sure your computers can handle it -"Hmph."- I apolgise, my artificial friend here would like me to caution you not to underestimate those of everyone else.
As for the armour, I shall get back to you. My generals have differing opinions, as I'm sure will the others engaged in this project. But in any case, armour will be the last thing we add. It's a lot easier to build from the inside out I feel.."

"Done sir. Quantum encryption used for the Barbaroseans, twisted light laser transmission for Crimmond with a quantum-encrypted transmission containing the code."
"Very good. One more thing, when you said 'unumbered nanites", surely you can count them all?"
"Of course. I just felt you wouldn't care to hear the exact figure."
"Go on, I'm intrigued."
"Very well. At this moment, there are seven hundred and forty-four million, nine hundred and twelve thousand, six hundred and two nanites under my control. There are a further sixty-two million four hundred and twelve thousand seven hundred and sixty-seven nanites in neural webs, including your own, and another seventy-five billion eight hundred and ninety-"
"Enough!"
"You did ask for it sir..."

The Crimmond flagship acknowledged the transmissions, but sent no response to either. Though that would seem rude or strange to the allied ships, it was simply the natiophobic tendancies of the society that bred the fleet. The only people that normally had contact with the outside world were in the Admiralty.

---

Fleet Captain Andre Roussimoff stood on the deck of the flagship, the CSS Mjolnir, looking out at the semisphere being built. He looked down, as the 7 foot tall man did at everyone, towards his aide. "This is the greatest international effort Crimmond has been involved in. This project will launch our new era ahead by decades and will make us among the most powerfull again." He smirked and walked towards one of the concoles.

An engineer looked up. "The armor has yet to arrive, but the deflector grid's power supplies are being installed now. When the armor arives, we will imbed the grid into it."

"Weapons?" The wall of a man asked, quietly.

"Those are arriving, but we are halting their shipments until the armor begins to arrive. The outer shell must be completed wnough for amror installation before we can begin to install weapons."

((Financial Applications, TST, sorry.))

IC: Fredrick Barbarosea IV read the TST message, and pondered over it. Consider others? I did. I doubt our RBS Financial Tool has been distributed. This will eaisly handle this, and with the new system installed in the National I bet we have a pretty competive system. Maybe not as fast of a processor, but with programmed quantom atoms, and the special light-link, and communication to and from and Milky Way planet is instantanious. Hmm, not to metion the unlimited memory. Oh well, we don't have an AI for security reasons. Ok, I guess we'll wait on the armor shipments.

The giant man stared out at the slow construction work and looked then at his comm officer. "Send a message in response to the others."

To: Ineffable Fleet, Barbarosean Space Command.
From: CSS Mjilonir.


We shall avoid this meaningless argument about AIs and computers. We simply wish to update you on the fact that weapons instalation will be halted until such time as the armor is in place. Otherwise, the weapons will be on too weak a structure.

Fleet Captain Andre Roussimoff

In a future age of FTL Holovid transmissions, old-fashon e-mail style text messages still took up the least data, and therefore were still the cheapest. Not that the workers at Hermes Spaceline's HQ minded a certain anonymity to their spaceship commanding breatheran....


FROM: Hermes HQ
TO: Mars-Jupiter Route Ships
TOPIC: -WARNING- Navigational Hazard

International Alliance METUS has issued a warning under military threat to avoid area around object construction in mid Mars-Juipiter optimal trading path. Advise avoiding claimed no-go space. Reccomended flight paths listed below.
.
.
.
.


"Ye Gods!" Captain Draina cursed. An unmeasurable of available space and they just had to choose an orbit that straddled the Mars-Jupiter path of most efficiency for 1g ships for the next 6 months. All that was bad enough, that they did it just when Olympus-Corsica was brought back under Wazzu control and re-opened to Hermes trading...oooooooohhhhhhhh!!!!!!! It got to her.

It wasn't really the time, the large trading vessel had enough to keep her occupied for an extra few hours, and it wasn't the money, the corporation would just write it off...buy why here? she wondered.

There wasn't much to be done about it though, so she just pressed a small button on her console. "Hey, Jay? We've got a nav hazzard ahead, prepare for a course change, would ya? Oh, and ahh, swing the dish around, we may as well get a look at what's so important."



And so the trading ship changed course to METUS suggested standard and swung it's limited sensors around to get a look at the project...not out of some government/defense interest, but out of sheer boredome of the freighter's civilian crew. On the 6-15 day cruise from Mars to Jupiter, any entertainment out of the scheduled norm was welcome.

OOC: In otherwords...a fancy tag. Interesting reading guys.

OOC: I've waited for TST for...long time. I say we continue, k?

IC: The Barbarosean freighters waited for the go-ahead clearence.

Vilya Elenoston Sol Observation Point, Vilya Elenoston Space (Commonality Colonial Space, Vilya Elenosto Sol Orbital Colony)

Safe and sound inside the protection of numerous defensive emplacements embedded in asteroids pulled into position aroundabout the Colony, some thirty observation units turned their electronic eyes constantly through the 'sky', watching...

One notices a glint of light where one oughtn't be. Just that - a tiny glint of light. Immediately its programming dictates the next course of action: look more closely. The observation unit opens a small aperture - the aperture protecting internal components from the harsh dangers of space flight - and focuses in on that little glint.

It takes a few minutes to get the correct focus, however, as the mirrors and lenses on the telescope are not solid, but liquid mercury. Contained by the power of magnetism, they are utterly configurable, allowing for extreme magnification over obscene distances; and quickly, the lines of the ship are recognized easily enough.

Actually, the identity (as in name) of the ship may well be known soon enough - depending on whether or not markings can be found to match the ones on this ship, back at High Command.

Regardless, the discovery of this particular ship causes several other observation units to wheel around and join in.

They watch with the infinite diligence that only machines can, and report back in short laser squirts to Vilya Elenosto.

"What a shithole this system is. I mean, it's overpopulated, there are so many derelicts floating around that it's nearly impossible to navigate, and everybody insists on having a miltary outpost here. So that means you can never know when you're going to be challenged by a hostile force for visiting a friendly one. Bastards. We oughtta give everybody ten years' notice to get out, then start blasting everything. Clean it up a bit, they could move back when we're finished. Y'know hwat I mean?"

"Sir, what you're saying... it's borderline treason... well... not really, but you know what I'm getting at. Besides, that's a good way to lose your command."

"I don't want a command. Especially not here. What do i get for patroliong empty space for fifteen years? A transfer to an overpopulated system where I need to constantly be on edge. I joined the navy to relax, and being in Sol is bad for my nerves."

"Speaking of bad for the nerves, there's a large formation of ships between the fourth and fifth. Passive scanners are reporting something really big."

"Damnit. We were about to go home too. I was looking forward to having a patrol where nothing happened. I hate this system. Get the sensor crew to battle stations. Everybody else can keep sleeping. How many torps do we have?"

"Twenty. Despite, as you said this place being ful of activity, we are only here to observe."

"I know, I was just wondering."

"Yes captain."

The Nighthawk patrol craft maintiained its course, though it was now highly interested in the formation between Mars and Jupiter.

Tentacled Beauty was seemingly... Amused by the spacedy equivalent of a traffic jam developing around the object in question.

<PDC Tentacled Beauty> Wow. I have to say... well, actually I don't. seeing as I'm alone. Damn, can't they reintroduce the triple groups? I'm so lonely...

She drifted through space, zero acceleration, apart from the occasional centimeter-per-second-squared burst to correct its course.

<PDC Tentacled Beauty> So, what do we have there... That piece of scrap metal is bound to be Treznorian. Lotsa GDODAD shinies... They should learn the meaning of the term 'practical design. Looks almost Menelmacari. I guess they're becoming decadent. Well... what's this?

She checked her sensor logs, compared them with the database, curiously watching the object.

<PDC Tentacled Beauty> NOT a sol inhabitant. well, at least not from... Pluto, Neptune, Uranus, Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Earth, Venus or Mercury. So they could be from... Ops, no, they couldn't, we have only nine planets. I wonder what they're doing here...

Checking with Themisto took a while, lightspeed lag being one of the more annoying features of spacetravel, but it was a minor problem. Once receiving the (Positive) reply, Tentacled Beauty could go on, though.

<PDC Tentacled Beauty> Well, this took a while. Shit, I'm bored. Ok, lets go stalking. Heeeeeeeereeeeee Unknown Flying Object. Heeeeeeeeeereeeeeeeee.

And with this, Tentacled Beauty boosted a little more, roughly 11m/s^2 propelling it forward, on a course roughly paralled to the 'Unknown Vessel', which was to say, the Al-Imvadjah ship, her passive sensors open for pretty much everything.

The City of Isasrach, Tareldanorë, Earth

In the central control room of the city, a young man of Japanese 'extraction' named Kisashan Miyata leaned back in the comfortable chair he held before the expansive sensor terminals, his eyes variously on any one of seven screens or two expansive holograms, showing everything from file systems to views of trans-spacial disturbances.

There was little of interest, but every now and then, the computer would flag up something unusual going on around the solar system, and he would review it. One of the screens, a miraculous innovation that managed to seem three dimensional, as if one were looking into a tank on the panel, rather than two dimensional, lit up with a rough image of the object and its escorts.

Kisashan sipped from a mug of steaming mint tea, and casually hit the image with a fingernail. The screen zoomed in on it a little, and began increasing the resolution. Several new sensors and telescopes pointed themselves at it. It wasn’t really something new for people to be building things in the solar system, but just on the off-chance the ‘METUS’ ships did something interesting, he braced the heel of his foot against the panel, and pushed his chair, on a long rail, back about half a meter, and hit the record button.

The imput of the sensors was recorded and archived anyway. This button merely locked several of the sensors onto that region of space, and monitored it for significant activity – major movement, energy pulses, explosions, faster-than-light transits, that kind of thing – and flagged it for his future attention. The image on one of the holograms changed, showing the orbital space directly above them, and a few new satellites that needed to be examined and classified…

"Umm, sir, we've got a problem."

"Bigger than the gigantic formation of vessels sitting there? I'd call that more interesting, to say the least, than whatever crisis you've cooked up."

"When I first met you, you were a fat, jolly, bearded captain. Now you're thin and prone to snapping at people. I have to remember to ask for a transfer to a new vessel."

"You mentioned a problem. Perhaps you'd like to explina what it is." said the captain to the patrol craft to his first officer.

"Oh, yeah. We've got a minor break in one of the coolant housings. It's nothing to put the ship in danger, directly..."

"What do you mean 'directly'?"

"We're not leaking coolant, and there's no possiblity of explosion or anything of that sort, but..."

"I'm waiting."

"But it has comprimised the low observability. I'm pretty sure everybody out there can detect us."

"I hate my life."

"So do I, sir."

"Call up the rest of the crew to battle stations. There's no reason to be stealthy now. Full power to the engines, turn on active scanners. let's find out exactly what's going on here. And bring us to... there, the wreck of the Mannatel. That should give some pretty good cover from anybody who might want to shoot at us. And make it quick."

<PDC Tentacled Beauty> Huh? Now they're lighted up like a christmas tree. In space. I wonder if they're having their christmas equivalent, well, now... Although yes, it is delightful... Cute... Awww...

Of course, she was aware that there were no actual fireworks, merely full scale emissions one had to expect from spacedyships. But that didn't matter. After all, being alone in space, for weeks, tended to make people feel, think and act... Odd. And she could use the distraction, anyway.

<PDC Tentacled Beauty> Hummm. Salvaging operations? Why else would they heed for the wreckage up there... But they aren't a Zvarinograd vessel, they shouldn't be turned on by the prospect of salvaging crap... Like the Zvarinograder perverts are.

She sighed, moving on, eventually deciding that she would stay in the overall region (Relative to the big Metus thing orbiting the sun, naturally). Only about 4e21 cubic kilometers... Yes, it was a reasonably small area of space she could observe (While avoiding the bureaucrats at Jupiter).

<PDC Tentacled Beauty> Hrm. Well, lesse... eh? Oh, EM burst. Must be active scanning... SHIT, I'm leaking ions, starboard. How embarrassing. I hope they don't think of me as a lonely, backrupt pirate. ARGH, to think that the first impression is always the most important one >.<