NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: The thread this started in can be found here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=367798).

IC: The trap was set, and all staff was in position. It was a crisis just of this nature that Sub-Commander Sshrrakaa, her ships and her teams had been training for. "From this point, only P-Space Comm systems should be utilized. All other comm methods will maintain radio silence. Activate the stealth measures, bait the trap and move at your pre-determined times and at your appropo targets. All read?"

A chorus of voices comms "All in." One by one the separate task force captains and their ships checked in. The voice of Wheeland comes in like a whisper in her ear. "Sub-Commander, i'm reading sub-space signatures pinging off the sensors of the interdictor mines. Boarding teams report a state of readiness, and all drones are in position."

"Excellent, Wheeland. Keep your stealth up, and prepare yourself for a fight. Remember that these are expatriates and traitors to the Emperor and the Empire. I expect no quarter given. But cripple the command ship. I want the command staff alive for interrogation. Relay that to the others."

"At once, Sub-Commander." The voice of Wheeland subsides as she goes about her checks and duties, leaving the Sub-Commander to her thoughts for a moment. This will be rough. There is no doubt of that. The first priority is to secure the transport ship, and remove it from harm's way. A soft pinging in her ear-bud interrupts her ponderings, and Sshrrakaa presses a claw against it gently. "Speak"

It was the voice of the ship Concord of Task Force Seeker coming in on P-Space lines. "We have taken up position opposite yours as per your plan. Reading multiple sub-space sigs, ETA 30 sec until trap is sprung. Will engage apt targets. Out." Sshrrakaa stands swiftly and wheels about on her foot-claws. "Get ready, all. It's go-time!"

OOC: This is the set-up and will be continued later. If I neglected to give you an invite, and you actually have a part to play in this, let me know via TG.

Wheeland's FTL sensors picked up trace signatures of sub-space activity. Then the Interdictor mines all came to life, weaving a wide and inescapable web tangling the fabric of space. As this happened, the signal from Wheeland was sent silently, and the entire area was blanketed in disruptive radioactive material, rendering communications jammed. The encounter-suit clad Ranger troopers were all about the area the Rabid were set to come in on.

A small tear in space formed, and the noses of the pair of vanguard ships appeared. Then the transport and its flanking ships, and finally the rear guard ship, which was the command craft for the small group due to the markings on its vents. The ships of Task Forces Seeker and Watcher kept their stealth up while the ships made their entry. What little communication could be heard at this close range spoke of confusion.

Aboard the Ranger ships, Sshrrakaa watched in silence until the confusion grew to the level she felt comfortable with. Through P-Space comm lines, she uttered the command. "Into the black....."

The stealth measures were dropped, and the ships allowed the chain reaction powering their Neutron Cannons to occur. A scant 3 seconds later, all 12 Ranger crafts let loose with their heaviest weapon aimed at the engines of their pre-assigned targets. The satisfying lurch of the crafts was visible, and at first the response was scattered fire from the bandit ships. Wheeland's shields took whatever stray shots hit, and allowed the energy to coruscate over and around her hull shielding. "EFR measures are proving satisfactory, Sub-Commander."

"Very good. Hit the vanguard ship's engines again." A slight whining could ne heard aboard Wheeland as the focusing arrays harnessed the neutron radiation into a cohesive blast, and another shot was fired. The bodies of expatriate Sakkrans could be seen flying through space from explosive decmpression, and those the neutron blast hit desintigrated instantly, bringing swift death.

"This is Concord. I'm hit!" Wheeland's visual sensors showed Concord being pummeled by the rear-most ship. their fire was now focused and guided with unerring accuracy. Already water-blows were seen; liquid oxygen/nitrogen compound freezing in space. Most of the crews that were jettisoned in the blow pinged a quick 'all clear' signal, but some remained silent. "All staff, double-check your encounter suits and keep them pressurized throughout the conflict." Assent was given. "Abraham; Freud. You are my wings. Let's pull the fat out of the fire."

The ships leave their crippled target be, and begin intercepting maneuvers towards the command craft. Dual Hard-beam cannons lance out at the target, striking its weapon banks and comm arrays. "We want them alive, as much as can be managed."

**********************************************************

Meanwhile, the Ranger troopers had streaked towards the transport freighter. Sergeant Ggraak coordinated the approach to the airlocks, and charged up her Power-Claws. "Life-signs heavy in the cargo pods. Life support to pods run through ship. Recommend?" The quick coded message clicked off in her ear, and she responded. "Sever pods. Air inside should hold until rescue. Board pods to secure hostages. Main assault will commence as planned."

"Copy." Six groups of fifteen troopers broke off and immediately made for the struts holding the cargo-pods to the transport. The main assault groups, of which there were three, touched on the hull of the transport. An old laser-turret popped up on the ship's broadside near the Sergeant and began firing its laser at the troopers. Her power-claws snipped at the barrel of the turret, cutting it clean off. A swipe from her hand, and the turret just about popped out of its housing, dangling comically and held on only by several cables.

She dug her claws into the metal hull of the freighter, surrounding by her team with assault rifles and personal cannons at the ready. A clean circular cut with the claws, and she ripped the door away to be greeted by a pair of bandits in environmental armor, and brandishing old-style Chunk projectors.

Although the look of surprise was quite evident, they took little time in leveling their weapons. The bandits fired on Ggraak, shells impacting on the armor of her encounter-suit. The force made her lose her foothold, and she sailed out of the freighter's airlock.

I am not dead? Taking a quick scan, it was found that the shells were SPORE rounds. Useless against the Ranger's organic armor. Her team let loose with fire from their quad-barreled Assault Cannons, shredding the pair of bandits into unrecognizable parts. "Move fast and secure the ship. They know we're here now."

OOC: More later on.

"We've been boarded!" The human cried out as the two SigIdents of the fallen raiders blinked out a quick red, and then dissapated. "Damn! I knew it! The second we got shunted I knew it was a trap! Vrelt on that idiot commander!" The Sakkran raider thumped his fist on the command-chair, decorated with the head of the previous captain of the transport. "Can we get in touch with the other ships yet?"

"Nope. We've got a comms blackout from all the radiation in the area, and sensors are dicey at best. The ship's hull sensors read over 70 small objects all about the hull, concentrating mainly on the cargo pods. Interior sensors show over 3 dozen boarders." The captain strokes his leathery tendrils for a short time. "I want those pods empty of air. Decompress them now."

"Aye, sir." One of the bandits presses several keys on the pad in front of him, and a short time later a loud sound of machinery at work is heard.

**********************************************************

"We've got a situation." Corporal Khaagra comms to Sergeant Ggraak in a raised tone. "There's activity in the cargo-pod workings."

"Interrupt it. Sever the moving parts. Work fast." Ggraak is busy herself, and has no time to give clear orders as a grouping of bandits fires on her. She waves her clawed hand at the assault trooper next to her, signaling for cover-fire. His quad-barreled cannon is shouldered quickly, and he sprays the corridor with fletchette rounds, which bounce of he walls creating a flurry of ricocheted fire.

Close-range comms are activated, and she waves her massive hand. "Go!" Four of the power-armor clad Deep Ones follow behind the Sergeant, giving a bellowing roar as they charge. Blind fire pings off their armor as they approach. A downward swipe of her claws as she leaps over the fallen bodies of shredded bandits pulps the head of one still firing so that his neck ends in a stump. The others behind her acquire their targets, and rend them into large chinks with great swiftness.

"Keep moving to command center. Fast." The members of her team hip-shot down hallways and corridors as they pass on their way to their destination, never taking the time to aim and hoping that spraying down the halls with fletchette rounds would be sufficient.

"Reports!" Sshrrakaa wheels about on her heels in P-Space to look over at the avatar of the ship Wheeland. The tiny gecko-like avatar brings up multiple displays around her. "Concord is limping to the fringes of the conflict. Task Force Seeker shows all ships functional with some minor damage. Opposing ships show two disabled, two functioning seemingly independent of command, and the command craft itself currently under fire by our detachment. Multiple hull-breaches are evident on the command craft, and functionality is at 3/5ths."

Numerous red dots and yelloow triangles on the screens show Sshrrakaa all of this. A large blue dot sits in the center of the display, and the Sub-Commander points to it. "Can we discern the situation on the transport?"

A moment passes, and comm-logs pop up on the screen on the lower-right quarter of it. "I've been able to snatch small bits of communication from the boarding te....incoming torpedoes!" The displays snap open showing target trajectories of several missiles streaking towards the Wheeland.

"Counter-measures and point-defense, get on those. Evasive maneuvers, Wheeland!" The flanking ships in the small wing accompanying Wheeland cut loose with point-defense Hard Beam turrets at the Brilliant Pebbles missiles launched from the command ship.Several are destroyed, and counter-measures ghost the signature of Wheeland, throwing the targetting ability of the missiles off for the most part, sending them chasing a shadow. Three missiles, however, manage to impact the cruiser.

"GRAAAAH!" Wheeland's avatar winces sharply. Display screens show flickering areas in red where the missiles hit. Hull-damage from indirect hits mainly, with no breaches, but the outer-hull where they hit peels and blisters. "Plasma-charged warheads. Repairs will take time."

Sshrrakaa bellows out commands to the flanking ships. "Continuous fire on the weapons-banks of that ship. Down it. NOW!" In short order, heavy naval-grade Gauss cannons open fire on the bandit's lead ship, blistering its hull. Shreds of organic armor fly off in a cloud of debris, exposing the inner hull on the ship's flanks on both sides. Numerous hull-breaches pock the craft as crew-men of the Rabid ship are flung out into space. The weapons fall silent and the engines die on the command ship. "Surround and isolate that ship. If anyone aboard it survived, I want answers."

**********************************************************

Aboard the transport, Grraak's boarding party continues on its way. Outside of the transport, Corporal Khaagra gives curt orders to his squad as he punches keys on the over-ride control-panel. A small display shows a count-down to the pod's decompression. Not knowing the correct commands and passwords, he gets frustrated. "RrrrRRRRAAAA! To vrelte with this! Trooper! Hand me your launcher."

The Ranger Heavy Arms Trooper accompanying him looks quizzical at first, then shrugs and hands the Corporal his rocket launcher. Khaagra opens up the targetting display, and keys in the sequence to activate the launcher. Precise control, precise aim. Better not foul this up. The launcher is shouldered, and he activates the maneuvering jets on his encounter suit. "Better get clear. This could get ugly." The squad backs up a fair distance as the Corporal paints his target; the section of the pod's arm where it meets the ship itself.

The launcher's full payload of eight missiles is launched in quick succession. Explosion after explosion happens on the arm of the pod, and the Corporal waits for the debris to clear. The arm is still barely attached to the ship only by a couple of melted and fused hydraulic pistons. "Alright, people. Just like I did, and make your hits count." The rest of the Heavy Arms Troopers follow suit, severing the pods from the ship with their missile launchers, shutting off all power to the cargo pods. A comm comes in.

"Corporal, i've got news both good and bad."

"Good news, Ranger Scout?"

"The decompression countdown has stopped."

An audible sigh escapes his lips. "Bad news?"

"The cargo pods have no power whatsoever. This includes life-support."

The ships flanking Wheeland break formation and slow on either side of the Rabid command craft. Tendrils snake out from all over the Ranger cruisers, anchoring themselvs to the exposed inner-hull, closing the distance between themselves and the bandit ship. Soon, much smaller tendrils shoot out from the broadsides of the cruisers and attach themselves all about the target ship like web-work. Slowly it is towed away from the battlefield which is already winding down.

"Sub-Commander. We're being signaled by the boarding Rangers outside the transport." Wheeland's avatar pops up several screens, showing the scene outside of the transport.

"Wheeland, how much atmosphere is within those pods without life support?" Sshrrakaa taps furiously at her screen while eyeballing two seperate displays.

"With the twenty bio-signs within each of the six pods that I can scan, calculations show.....30 minutes with optimal conditions. 20 minutes otherwise. That is with the likelihood that cosmic radiation will soon penetrate the pod's shielding now that the power is off."

"VRELTE! Signal any ships that can break free of their engagements to retrieve those pods and unload their passengers. Time is NOT on our side. Maneuver to intercept a pod." Wheeland nods assent and sends out the coded P-Space message.

On one of the display screens, one of the bandit's ships blisters in a chain reaction that corruscates across its hull, small jets of flame shooting out from the hull at numerous points. The three Ranger cruisers engaging the now defunct target break off and bee-line for three cargo-pods drifting on the starboard side of the transport. One stands watch in the event a bandit ship tries to fire on the cruisers while the other two perform their maneuvers.

"Target in range of grappler arms, Sub-Commander. Engaging now...." From Wheeland's fore and aft sections snake out long, thick tendrils ending in pads. First one latches onto the pod, then another and another and so on until all twelve tendrils are firmly secured. "....and drawing the pod in at lock 12."

"Good work." A PA system is activated, and Sshrrakaa speaks into a small extension from her organic ear-bud. "All MedTech staff, to Lock 12. Full kit!" The tendrils slowly snake back towards the cruiser at an excrutiating pace, until it touches onto the lock. A minute after, the hiss of compression sounds from the hatch of the cargo-pod, and armed Rangers drop into the container, doing a quick sweep for weapons. They then wave down the MedTech staff, who drop in and immediately begin diagnosing the hostages.

"Slight radiation burns; head trauma, severe scale abrasions...."
"I need some synth-skin patches stat...."
"Requesting web-work for several hostages found in a state of torpor...."

The bustle of the MedTechs almost seems as strict and practiced as a military squadrons on maneuvers, buzzing from patient to patient like bees, administering medicines here, speaking calming words there, and making sure their help is where it's needed most.

Those that could move on their own, are escorted to a ladder lowered down from Wheeland. Those that can't move, are wrapped in a web-like cocoon which is then swiftly splinted to prevent movement. Water and glucose-based solutions are administered either orally or intraveniously. There are, however, some who have succumbed to the radiation illness, or complications from severe head trauma.

Twenty minutes pass. "Sub-commander, reports are coming in. We've managed to secure the pods. Loss of life from the hostages totals 24 beings. 38 are in serious condition,the remaining 58 are in poor shape, but stable." Sshrrakaa looks down at her hands, which bunch into fists. "Any reports from the boarding party on the transport?"

"None yet, Sub-Commander. Reports from ships Abraham and Freud show they've secured the command craft and have hijacked its systems. Bio-signs are active on board that ship."

Sshrrakaa's eyes narrow. "Good. We have a prize."

(OOC: Gonna wrap this segment up so participation can start soon.)

The boarding teams on the hijacked bulk transport had made their way to the command center, eliminating opposition and taking a few casualties in the process. Prisoners were taken, ship's logs and manifests secured and operational controls manned. The prisoners from the command ship, transport ship and the surviving bandit crafts were treated to a field court martial.

***********************************************************

"Begin recording the proceedings, Ensign."

"Aye, Sub-Commander."

In a room filled with the liquid-oxygen/nitrogen compound used aboard all Ranger ships, the light casts a slight yellowish tinge as everyone 'swims' in place; tails moving rhythmically. A tribunal of sorts composed of the Sub-Commander Sshrrakaa, Sub-Commander Kweel and Master-Sergeant Ggraak is in place at one side of the room, flanked by numerous Ranger pilots and troopers in armor. The bandit prisoners are manacled with weapons pointed at them by security.

"Field Court is in session. We are trying these prisoners captured for the crimes of treason, conspiracy and banditry against the Herpetological Empire; Murder, kidnapping and torture of Imperial citizens; espionage and brokering of national secrets; shall I go on?" The tribunal nods their heads in the negative. "No need. We here are all aware of the crimes."

"Very good." One eye swivels at the bandit's commander. "State your name and rank.

"You will get nothing from me. I curse your line, and spit on your ancestors mewling Imperial lap-dogs." A spitting motion is made, but is lost to the liquid surroundings. At this, both of Sshrrakaa's eyes zero-in on the commander. "Is that so? Do the rest of you share these sentiments?"

A cacaphony of shouting issues out of the mouths of the majority of the bandits, emboldened by their leader's actions save for a few who talk among themselves quietly. One then lifts his head.

"We will answer your questions."

"WHAT! You vrelte-eating rodent! I'll skin you...." The statement remained unfinished as a large lobster-like claw pops the bandit leader on top of his head, dropping him like a stone. The small clutch of bandits are removed from the group, and sequestered in a secure room.

"Very good. Aside from your leader there, the rest of you will have judgement passed on you. For all these crimes listed, as well as contempt of court and a blatant willingness for non-cooperation with the present authority, how say you?" Her eyes look to the other members of the tribunal.

Kweel narrows his eyes, then sticks out one clawed hand with the thumb-digits pointing downwards. "To the Void." Ggraak does the same with her hand. Her mouth-plates grind and gnash, and are translated a second later. "The Void-God take them."

Sshrrakaa looks at the bandits, who now are staring wide-eyed. "I third this. Since it will be assumed that these...." Her hand makes a waving motion over the prisoners present" ....creatures will only try escape, and will complicate matters on a military vessel, as well as having no rights afforded a citizen of the empire, they will be ejected from this ship with all due speed." Her eyes narrow, and her head leans forward, showing her teeth. "Space them."

The prisoners start howling at this, and thrash about vainly in the liquid medium. "This session is adjourned." The three then swim to a large hatch, followed by the security detail towing the prisoners behind them.

An hour passes, and an empty cargo-hold is filled with prisoners screaming and howling with anger. Curses and epithets are cast forth from them with venemous intent. Sshrrakaa looks to the Ensign at the controls, and nods her head. "Do it."

Controls are pressed, and explosive decompression sends the prisoners flying away from the ship into space. Moments pass before they seem to implode from the pressure of space, and then the chunks crystallize and freeze.

"Lets go home. Send a comm to Task Force Hunter to keep eyes on the base and monitor their activity. I'm sure Director Thress is eager to have some words wit our guests."

IN the massive hollow moon that serves as the Vubz System Coordination Base, ships drift into and out of the kilometers-wide docks, exiting and entering through a vast network of tunnels and passages. Troopers and maintanence crews go about their tasks and drills, and civian transports go through customs proceedings here. It's the equivalent of a major military airport.

Admiral Shaar is present to conduct inspections, and is awaiting a message of great importance. The control center she's located in is abuzz with activity, as it is every day. Thousands of holo-displays showing information on the entire system are active, and watched by military personnel of a variety of species. System traffic controllers maintain order in the space-lanes by directing incoming and outgoing ships. Data-pads are thrust into the First Admiral's hands, signed and handed back to their original persons while she walks and eyeballs the displays in passing.

An Ensign, Hrubban by nature, trots up on padded feet and salutes her swiftly with his ears at full height. His accent comes out as a slight purr on the 'r'. "Sirrah, this just came in from Watcher; eyes only." He hands her the datapad, and maintains his salute until she responds, and then stands at parade rest.

The data scrolls down before Shaar's eyes, and she nods her head slowly. "Good, good. This is good news indeed." The pad is shut off, and handed back to the Ensign. "Have attention brought to Director Thress of Skeen to come and pay us an audience. This will concern her. Get the 6TCF on the horn, and have Farentino of the 6TSSF apprised of our need to have him present. But do it quietly and discreetly. That is all, Ensign." She snaps a swift salute, which is responded to, and the Ensign scuttles off.

Shaar absentmindedly starts cracking her knuckles slowly. Now we'll get some information.

TYWS-SCV Sirius

Raphael Cavalleri Farentino, a suprisingly young man for a Sky Marshal, frowns inwardly as he stalks through the utilitarian yet spacious (for a human) corridors of his supercarrier, heading for the shuttlebay. Exceptionally gifted in offensive fleet tactics, he managed to score the highest combat officer rank in the TYCS through expertly managing a squadron through the Ardan Crisis; it certainly came as a surprise to him as the ex-Dominion Navy officer. Funny, that--they give me a whole fleet and then toss me out of the system. He snickers quietly to himself--if this was the Dominion, it could be taken as a quiet indicator of mistrust... but he knows better. This is the TYCS, and if they really mistrusted him, they wouldn't have put him in charge of a battlefleet.

He does have one complaint, though... and it doesn't exactly have to do with the Sakkrans, he finds as he ponders why exactly he's feeling so cross, walking towards the shuttlebays. They're wonderful people, and their opera... He grins to himself. That's an experience. They're huge and intimidating, sure, but that's just part of the appeal. It's Shaar that gets my worries up.

The Combined Services, just like any decent military, has a great respect for the chain of command. Technically, a Sky Marshal outranks any sovereign national military commander in his assigned region for needs of international coordination... but Raphael honestly has absolutely no idea where he stands in relation to Admiral Shaar. Technically, he outranks her in this situation because Task Force DIPTYCH is a combined Triumvirate effort... But, of course, I have no idea if she knows that. If she doesn't, I sure as hell don't want to be the one to correct her understanding.

"Something on your mind, sir?" Sirius asks, sitting down beside the brooding human that hasn't said a word aloud since leaving the bridge all the way to here aboard a Scarab-class utility shuttle. The starship's avatar is a piece of work care of its own fabbers, essentially a human-sized lycanthrope with glowing fiber-optic fur--an idea admittedly and blatantly stolen from another mechanoid, but appropriate for The Dog Star's avatar.

"Hrm?" Farentino peaks an eyebrow, then shakes his head to clear his mind. "Per carità..."--he grumbles to himself, then continues with his Northern Dominion accent--"I feel like I'm going to the headmaster's office at primary school all over again."

"Headmaster Shaar, I presume." The glowing werewolf nods serenely, affixing its crash harness before gesturing to the flight crew of the shuttle. "She is the domineering sort."

"Oh well..." Raphael looks over to his comrade and ignores the inevitable cognitive disconnect coming from remembering his past on the good, old, simple Earth and his current reality of living in a pulp science-fiction book he very well may have read as a boy. "You'll represent the fleetmind, no? Been thinking about the problem?"

"We've been almost literally eating bandwidth with the Sixth Combined, sir. We've worked some ideas out that should work; now we just want to bounce them off people in the ISN."

"Good." The human leans back in his G-harness, runs his hands through his straight, thick black hair, and closes his eyes, desperately trying to relax. The Sakkrans smell fear, after all. "Anything on our eraser-heavy carriers?"

TYWS-SCV Chironex, four and a quarter quadrillion kilometers away

"Actually, that was our primary concern, sir." The floating Mylar-balloon avatar whibbles in its blubbery voice, created by using a viscous colloid exposed to air as a vibrating medium rather than a more traditional enclosed speaker. "You shan't look poorly in front of the Sakkrans."

Sky Marshal Dieu-Hien nods, looking unconvinced... then again, his severe expression is almost a standard. Lightly built, having never gotten past his lanky teen years, yet strong, he is perhaps the most tenuous example of a psychologically immovable object one could meet. Manh Cao grew up a spacer in the Belt, and most people not in the know attributed his wiriness on low gravity or some such--no, just simple genetics and a mildly overactive thyroid gland resulting from a bacterial infection in aforementioned teenage years. If there could be a Napoleon complex associated with skinny people, the commanding officer of the Sixth Triumvirate Combined Fleet could be its poster-child. With ramrod-straight buzz-cut black hair greying at the tips, a weatherbeaten face the color and texture of raw yellowed sandstone, and black-irised eyes that rarely blink and even more rarely lose their mark, he draws attention to his serious visage and in so doing eliminates any possibility of the only image-deep frailty of his body becoming any consideration. His office is an extension of that philosophy, practically coated in martial-arts trophies and awards in lieu of wallpaper. "That is what matters. Shaar."

The metallic jellyfish burbles. "Indeed. If you would be so kind, sir..."

Manh nods again and puts on the sunglasses. Virtual light glasses, actually--direct stimulation of the optic and aural nerves for telepresence use--but they look like sunglasses and do indeed serve as them when the VL functions are turned off. "Please connect, Chironex."

This is how the TYCS gets to hastily-called meetings.

The data-burst along the P-Space connection with the Ranger ship Wheeland comes in and displays itself before Shaar's psychic persona. She's wearing her neuro-shunt helmet in her command chair, and winces slightly at the burst of information. The voice of Wheeland sounds all about her.

"Active feeds from the sensor probes scattered all about the asteroid field show automated defense grids are operative, but no increase in activity. ETA for ourselves is approximately four cycles at current rate. The data-burst will have an upload every few minutes. Included will be found sensor data for the rogue station."

Shaar looks over the data, noting the areas highlighted in the scanned area of the asteroid belt. "There are many points active. This is current?"

"Yes, Sirrah. Imperial remote codes for the defense grid have been tampered with, so our Skeen hackers might have minor trouble with it."

She closes those displays and opens up the information on the rogue nexus station, eyeballing it carefully. Emission data from the power supplies, radio frequencies and other comm traffic, sub-space insertion points and the makeup of the huge rock itself are shown, as well as more. "They're using an old Kreeg IVb Fusion Plant bank system, unless I miss my guess. Some odd readings, but enough there to make one think ..... heavy nickel and lead concentrations along the surface ..... i'll have to have some surveyors look at these readings. Hrrrr.... this is good." the displays are closed up, and Shaar's avatar bows slightly.

"Wheeland, this is valuable information. I'll have it dumped into some chits for a preliminary meeting. You have the gratitude of the Empire."

"I live to serve the Empror's wishes, sirrah." The connection is then severed, and Shaar removes her helmet. A short time later, an Ensign hands her the five chits that compose the data she had been looking at. An exchange of salutes, and she stalks out of the command station, a trio of underlings behind her.

Her hand shoots out from her side, pointing a claw at one aide to her left. "Get conference room 13a ready. Everything under power, all systems online."

"The war-room, sirrah?"

"Aye. We need the best space, and the most secure, for this plan."

"Sirrah, Director Thress has arrived. Her craft is docking now."

"Good. When she's settled in her quarters, have her come to my office. We have much to discuss."

The aide on her right puts a hand to his ear-bud, gives a low 'uh huh uh huh' sound barely audible, and takes his hand away again. 'Sirrah, Farentino's shuttle is making its approach vectors now to enter Vubz. And I have just been given confirmation that Sky Marshal Dieu-Hien of the 6TCF is coming in via tele-prresence." At this, they arrive at Shaar's office.

"Have a compatible holo-projector set up fast. And get some suitable quarters readied for Sky-Marshal Farentino." Her eyes level on the aide who committed the faux-pas of refering to the Sky Marshal in a comfortable tone. He bows his head low with his eyes closed. "Of course, Sirrah! I'll personally see to Sky-Marshal Farentino's quarters." He spins swiftly and leaves.

A short time later, the holo-projector is set up, and Shaar studies herself swiftly, making certain her uniform is spit-shine straight. The image of Dieu-Hien starts coming in, and she gives the I.S.N. salute while standing stock-straight.

The telepresence avatar of Sky Marshal Manh Cao Dieu-Hien snappily returns the salute in the TYCS style, elbow slightly against side, fingertips brought up to the edge of the eyebrow, then dropped. "Good cycle, Admiral Shaar." The greeting holds in it nothing but the most mechanistic formality. "Progress has been made in tracing Fleet RABID?"

His troops tend to call him the Vorpal Vietnamese whenever he's not around. Definitely sharp, always cuts to the quick and decapitates on a natural twenty.

* - * - *

Cutting from whole cloth... or utilizing an opening, take your pick.

Stepping out of the shuttle, Farentino is visibly relieved to see that Shaar's aide has come to meet him; he's far more personable. Behind him emerges the faintly luminous form of Sirius, currently doing its best Colour Out Of Space impression with its colors undulating gently.

Shaar drops her salute. "Good cycle to you, Sky Marshall Dieu-Hien. Progress indeed has been made. A data-burst from the Rangers has confirmed engagement and destruction of a contingent of Fleet Rabid crafts. Command staff have been taken prisoner and will arrive here for interrogation in four cycles time. Ranger Task Forces report a probable staging ground for Fleet rabid is currently being swept for information." She produces a chair and sits upon it cross-legged.

"Thus far, ProbeSatt info shows they are not yet aware we know where they are. If they do, they are making an excellent show of pretending they do not.
This could be advantageous, and will be fully detailed in the briefing room when all interested parties arrive."

*******************

The Aide, Lieutenant Zeert, bows slightly and salutes with one eye on the luminous avatar. "Good Cycle, Sky-Marshal Farentino. I will show you to your quarters if you wish. The Admiral is preparing for the conference. This could be a lengthy affair, after all."

Dieu-Hien remains standing, because he's already comfortably seated in reality and this puts them more at eye-level. "Excellent work. We are waiting for Sky Marshal Farentino?"

* - * - *

Raphael returns the short bow and forces his countenance to be theatrically stern. "Very good cycle, Lieutenant Zeert," emphasizing the rank in a friendly way as something incongruous when compared to their usual speech. "I suppose Admiral Shaar must've cracked down on customs-and-courtesies sometime recently--not that I'm at all surprised." Cracking a smile, he steps aside to introduce the ship avatar. "Lieutenant Zeert, Supercarrier Sirius. Supercarrier Sirius, Lieutenant Zeert--my unofficial point of contact when talking to or about Shaar."

"Honored," Sirius replies with a short bow, settling on a lemon-tinted glow. "Hopefully the Sky Marshal's sociable attitude has not gotten you in trouble?" It lifts one 'eyebrow' of fiber-optic fur, slightly and unconsciously lowering the luminosity to enhance the contrast of the gesture. "Apologies for asking, but I am new to this circle."

"If it did, it's wholly my fault." Farentino winks. "I'll be sure to be more straight-laced and uptight from here on out. Very well, Lieutenant, we may as well go see the Admiral right away if she'll have us. Have to get it over with at one point or another."

(OOC: Wink wink.)

Shaar nods her head once, letting her eyelids close slowly. "That we are. I've sent my aide, Lieutenant Zeert, to meet with him and get him accomodated for the duration of this meeting."

A data-chit is produced, and Shaar slides it into the port it was designed for. "I'm sending you a quick data-burst of comm-idents and frequencies of Rabid crafts as well as sensor-sweep data of the area around the Rabid staging area. If this is to be met with success, it will require cooperation and information flow of a frequent and free nature." The data-burst shows the routes that ships have been observed taking, the formation of the defense grids and their known capability and sensor ranges of the staging area.

"There would be more, but I would not risk a larger uplink at this point. One never knows if a snooping mole may be looking for a large root to gnaw at."


**********************************************************
"Supercarrier Sirius, good cycle to you. I hope our ship's avatars in dock have not been unkind to you?" As if on cue, three avatars in the shape of two small newts and an avian of some manner float past, chittering and growling at each other in a fashion that translation devices would be hard pressed to keep up with.

Zeert's eyelids close slowly and deliberately, as if pondering a great imponderable. The voice he speaks issues forth in a whisper. "Admiral Shaar. She is a harsh female, and the complacency and familiarity that once existed aboard the station has quickly dissapated like ghosts and fog in her presence." His eyes snap open again, and he straightens himself up.

"But that is not of anyone's blame but ourselves. We became slovenly in our culture and customs. So many new influences; it is what the Emperor has warned us of. But that is neither here nor there, yes?" He taps his ear-bud, and seems to nod away absentmindedly while his mouth seems to mutter without sound. "It appears the Admiral is in closed session right now. No ETA on availability, but orders of privacy are standing. I've requested a ping when she is free."

More muttering and absent-minded nodding, and then Zeert removes his hand from the ear-bud. "We have a station set up for you. We'll have four days of some briefing and Q&A sesions before our 'special guests' arrive. Ooh, you'll be bypassing the hatch-point of our newest member of the fleet. A prototype in many ways."

"If you are concerned about security, why are we using this channel, Admiral." It is not formulated as a question. "These continued caveats do not ease my mind." On his end, Manh Cao nods gently as he looks over the data sent, getting a quick feel for how everything is arranged. The motion is translated to his telepresence avatar, nodding as if ticking off points. "Very good. A more secure connection will be available shortly. Ask Sky Marshal Farentino about it."

* - * - *

Sirius bows, luminescent tail wagging gently. "They have been nothing but polite, Lieutenant Zeert. Likewise, I hope my prodigious bulk has not caused them too much trouble in those few times I have made port here."

Raphael nods slowly as Zeert speaks, light glinting off the hard, shiny black visor of his green combination wheel cap. "I'll keep that in mind," he replies in an equally soft monotone, then speaks up. "I will also make sure not to be too undue an influence, Lieutenant. Well, if the Admiral is in closed session I suppose seeing where I'm bunked would be wise. Sirius doesn't have my weaknesses and so can be available throughout, if I do not assume too much..."

The glowing bipedal wolf nods. "I will be available, sir. It's what I'm here for... and more kin?" Its ears perk up slightly at the mention of a new ship.

"That is most excellent, Lieutenant." Despite looking far more rigid and formal now, Farentino allows himself an almost crooked half-smile out of the corner of his mouth. "Please, lead the way."

"I shall do so. I will attend to matters here to prepare, unless there are any questions you may have?" The look on her face is one of a questioning sort as her hands steeple together.

**********************************************************

Zeert nods and raises his crest slightly. "Of course. Follow me, Sky-Marshall Farentino." A lilting tone is given to the titling as a beckoning hand waves him and Sirius over the the mag-tubes.

The clear tubes give a view of the expansive docks within the hollow moon. Numerous ships can be seen at dock, leaving berth or jockeying for position. Petal-like sails seem to open, unfurl and close again in a coded sequence. "They're speaking to each other, and don't want ops to overhear them. Almost like a strange variation of the semiphore code." Zeert keeps looking out the tube, eyes blinking only occasionally. Wonder what they're saying? Probably mocking traffic-ops. Always up to some mischief."

The tube-way seems to ascend for a good few minutes silently. "Ah, there it is." A clawed hand points towards a 1+ kilometer shape. Dual-hulled with a massive bank of engines at the aft end, it looked much like a giant tuning fork. Streams of small maintanence crafts swarmed about it, undoing the last of its mooring ties, while several cruiser-sized ships and one warship surround it, furling and unfurling their sails.


((OOC: Psst. The pic can be seen on the Trium Forum.))

"None to be broached now, Admiral." The wiry human folds his hands behind his back. "We will be the point of the spear. Questions and plans can wait until no one can overhear to blunt that point. Good cycle, Admiral Shaar."

* - * - *

"Hm. Anyone bothered to try and decrypt their code, Lieutenant Zeert?" Farentino asks in passing, following along obediently and doing his best to ignore the sense of vertigo huge open spaces tend to give him. He also tries to ignore the tingling of his sense of the absurd, walking around with a giant saurian and a glowing anthropomorphic wolf-thing. "Then again, maybe it's best to remain in ignorance. I'm not too sure I'd like to know the choicer things Supercarrier Sirius has to say about me to its friends."

The wolf chuckles softly, a sort of quiet snickering growl while its spun-plexiglas fur shimmers slightly in a patterned change in tint before returning to its neutral lemon color. "Nothing much, actually. You're not generally a topic of conversation--not interesting enough."

"Thanks. You really know how to make a man feel appreciated." Farentino smirks. "So, the new ship--what's she going to be?"

Shaar stands rom her chair. "Good cycle to you, Sky Marshall Dieu-Hien." A salute is produced and remains for a second before the comm-link is severed, and then Shaar turns and heads to her desk. Her ear-bud pings and she places a hand to her ear. "This is Shaar. Go ahead."

"Admiral, Director Thress' transport has docked. A detail has been sent to escort her to her quarters and brief her on events leading up to now."

"Very good. Let me collect myself here, and then i'll accept audiences."

**********************************************************

Zeert watches in a glancing fashion at all the activity all about them. "We've made an attempt at decyphering their coded language, but everytime we began to make headway, they would change it. After a time, we just decided to let them be, and have their privacy in what manner we can give them. Considering the service they willingly provide, it was the least that we could do, yes?"

At the mention of the new craft's duties, Zeert seems to perk up a bit. "Ah, the Basilisk-class, is what the design has been designated. General Gaarm and Admiral SHaar decided our current method of craft bio-engineering focused too much on one area of use. While it was good to some degree in he sense that the ships did their assigned tasks rather well, we would have to make huge fleets for relatively unimportant tasks in order to ensure no exploitable weaknesses were evident. So the solution was this design." A hand motions over to the craft now unfurling its massive sails.

"It's the jack-of-all-trades of the fleet. Point-defense capability, long range assault, deep space exploration, mobile hospital, war-carrier, torpedo ship and then some. This design fulfills all these roles. The issue is that it does no one thing in an exemplary fashion, but will be a great support craft for the smaller fleets we can now assign. And the promised maneuverability and speed the design allows should be quite a boon."

Chironex

The Sky Marshal removes his Virtual Light glasses and immediately glares without heat at the ship's floating Mylar avatar. "You will be able act as secure communications via Sirius and the Combined Services' QE links?"

Chironex bobbles as it burbles a response. "Of course, sir. There will be a small amount of lag given the low bandwidth of our absolutely-secure connection, but we can do it."

* - * - *

"So it's something like what the Queendom's Colonial Cruisers are rumored to be." Sky Marshal Farentino rubs his chin. "Interesting."

"I don't think so, sir," Sirius politely disagrees, folding its paw-like hands behind is back. "While the Colonial Cruisers are indeed cyborganic, as are most Sakkran ships, their potential lies in modularity, or so I've heard. I believe that this Basilisk-class is more intended to emulate a Cetagandan General Systems Vehicle or one of our own WarShips, all of which are more system ships than vehicles absolutely dedicated to singular function. My own armament and armor would make me a battleship, but my 'primary' function of fighter carrier makes me a supercarrier. All TYCS capital ships carry fighters, though; all are armed at least well enough to defend themselves; all have sufficient resources to operate independently for extended periods of time... which is why our ships tend to be larger than others'."

"Ah, thank you, ssSupercarrier Sirius." He thinks some more. "Yes, that makes sense."

"I'd hoped, sir," Sirius replies, then looks up at the Sakkran. "Of course, we could just ask--is that a fair estimation, Lieutenant Zeert?"

Zeert seems to snap out of a reverie of sorts. "Hmmm? Oh, quite fair, actually. There are some modular sections that aren't a part of the organism itself, and can be swapped out for specific needs and such. But your comparison is quite accurate. Ah, here we are." The glyph-like countdown stops, and the tube-doors open into another tunnel, much like the one they took to get into the tubeway itself.

Walking along an almost labyrinthene stretch, they bypass the hermit-like Burrowers clambering along the ceilings of the tunnels with their over-sized pads on their fingers and toes until they come to a set of double doors made of resin. "Here you go. 49B. For the remainder of your stay this will be your suite. Standard spartan accomodations, the way you 'Pendrans seem to like it." A sort of whistling chuckle comes out of his nostrils at that.

Raphael chuckles wryly. One of the problems with being in the TYCS, he had discovered, was that others tended to automatically assume he was one of those wonderfully Quixotic but unfortunately ascetic Scolopendrans. They did make up a good deal of the Combined Services, true, usually around a third; but sometimes he would find himself wanting for the finer things in life such, things as simple as proper officer's quarters. Still, nothing if not egalitarian... He remembers that from his previous conversations with Zeert his origin was never a matter of question, so the well-meaning Sakkran was of course unexpected to know, and it would be impolite to press...

"Thank you, Lieutenant." The Sky Marshal pushes one of the double doors open and glances inside; yes, it is indeed very Spartan (rough hewn rock?) but at least livable. "Sirius, I think I'll get acclimated for the long haul. Would you mind accompanying the lieutenant and getting a sitrep, if he'll have you?"

"Not at all, sir." The wolf-thing smiles slyly. "I've never been one for resting; you know that."

"Excellent. Good day, Sirius, Lieutenant Zeert. You... ah... know where to get me if you need me." He taps the standard issue communication box on his hip meaningfully, then steps into his assigned quarters, green cape rustling gently behind him.

A soft knock sounds on the Admiral's door as she sifts through the data she had gotten from the rangers. "Entrance." She already knows who it is, but puts everyone through the motions regardless.

Director Thress strides in, slowly but purposefully. Her eyes scan everything about swiftly; a force of habit. "Good cycle, First-Admiral."

Shaar eyeballs Thress a moment before standing and saluting. "Good cycle, Director." She takes her seat again and continues looking at the being she both admires on a professional level, and worries about knowing that she has operatives everywhere. Even in her own offices, perhaps.

"I can assume that your 'operatives' have briefed you on the situation?" A faint hint of purple shows on Shaar's dewlap as she says this more as a statement of fact rather than a query.

"My operatives keep me informed as best as they can. Which is why i'm here. I seek the source of information on our end. That being you." She sits in the chair opposite Shaar, crossing her legs.

It seems like a staring contest ensues between the two for hours. In actuality, it's just a few seconds. "Very well." She hits a key and a data-chit pops out of her system. She slides it on her desk to Thress who snaps it up swiftly. Digging her hand into her matte-black chamoweb outfit, a small pad is produced. The chit is placed in a slot in the pad.

"I'll look this over in my suite. I will see you again, at the briefing." Thress rises and turns silently, skulking out of the office as if pressure-sensitive traps lined the floor of the whole place.

Shaar rumbles lowly in her throat. "Damn sneaks. Probably bugged my office up the ying-yang while she was here." She made a mental note to have the place swept for bugs after the briefing, and signaled her aide that she was ready to do a bit of a meet-and-greet.

*********************************************************

Zeert nods his head as Farentino stalks into his room to acclimate himself. Walking back to the tube-way, he eyeballs Sirius with one eye. "Remind me to ask what service in the 6TCF is like. Might help to have comparative notes." He holds his PDA up, and cycles through screens and messages.

"Ah. I see the good Director has had her audience with the Admiral. Quite a bit of electricity between them when they are in the same room."

"If it's anything like the Sixth Superiority," Sirius replies with a slight smirk, "it is probably a bit less rank-conscious than I have observed the ISN to be. Our customs and courtesies are generally more relaxed compared to yours, Lieutenant... although I have heard that Sky Marshal Dieu-Hien is just as... professional as Admiral Shaar in his own way.

"Also, if it helps to place me in the scheme of things, a warship-mind is essentially equivalent to a Commander or a Captain, O-5 to O-6. I simply think 'Supercarrier' sounds more impressive."

It nods while Zeert relays the news about the meeting, then wags its tail a few times with a snicker. "I can only imagine."

Zeert lets out a short laugh. "Professional! That is a most .... genial?.... way to put it. So your Sky-Marshall is as much a stickler as our First Admiral, eh? That must make for memorable meetings and such." His head cocks to the side in thought.

"I wonder what would it be like if the two got together for some Paroo and biscuits? Hmmm...." A short time later, he seems to snicker when his ear-bud pings. "Yes, First Admiral?......Aye, sirrah.......Aye, I will inform them." His hand drops from his ear.

"The First Admiral has deigned to have me inform you that she is prepared for a pre-brief meeting. From the sound of it, she seems to be under stress." An apologetic look crosses his face at that point, with his crest fully flattened against his neck.

"Diplomacy is simply one of my many hobbies," the supercarrier's lycanthropic avatar replies with a sly smile. "I do think that a face-to-face meeting between the Sky Marshal and the First Admiral would be interesting to watch. He is not a man easily--nor, if rumor is to be believed, ever--cowed. Fortunately for us 'working stiffs' he is over four hundred light years away."

Hearing Zeert's bad news, the softly-glowing wolf shrugs. "No worries, Lieutenant; I am a supercarrier two and a half kilometers long. I think my hide is thick enough to deal with even a stressed First Admiral. Please, lead the way."

Zeert seems to give a shrug as they walk. "There is that. It's one advantage to being a ship-sentience, I guess. You can take anything us organics have to say with a 'grain of salt', as the humans say." He shakes his head visibly. "For the rest of us, well, it's been rumored that she has a habit of biting folk's heads off when she's really POed. Figuratively and literally. And I do mean REALLY pissed."

"This head-to-head should be fairly simple, though. Just a meeting to get everyone up to speed, giving them time to think and bring something to the table when it comes time for that."

He stops as they walk, holding his hand to his earbud. He nods his head absently. "Mmmm hmmm....mmm hmmm.... uh huh. Terrible. Did you inform Director Seerak of this? ..... Do it then. This is important...... So wake him up!" His hand drops and he mutters to himself a bit "....frrsssraaaagin hmrrrphlurbblebla."

"I don't think I have to worry too much on that regard." It nods as Zeert continues, then raises a fiber-optic eyebrow at the mumbling. "Should I pry?"

The transparent tube descends along the same route the three took to the Sky Marshall's suite. The nictitating membrane in Zeert's eyes seem shut, giving a translucent, milky look to his eyes. A nod of his head points out to the ships in the dock area, furliing and unfurling their sails at each other.

"It's them. One of their Handlers, a Grass-Walker, was in P-Space and caught a message from the one of the Ranger's ships to the flagship Tiamat. Their First among them left many years ago to explore deeper space. Nothing was heard from them for some time. Now it seems that the First Ones were found. Dead. And from the looks of it, the Rabid ships killed them."

The membranes slide back, and Zeert's eyes look normal again. "Now some want vengeance, others want to go immediately and bring the bodies back for Services, and all the Handlers are being hard-pressed to keep rampant insubordination from happening. Can't blame them much, but the Admiral will not like this one bit."

The tube lets out, and Zeert begins walking to the Admiral's office. "Ship insubordination on a wide scale; a security breach, this looks most poor."

Sirius bristles slightly at that. "The feeling is... understandable. Your First Ones are considered precursors of a sort to our own shipminds, although our connection is admittedly not as close.

"I will tell the Sixth Combined later. Right now it could only distract. Later, probably during the official briefing, it will... provide impetus."

"Hrrmmmm..." Zeert raises a clawed hand to his chin in thought. His eyes seem to roll back lazily as he strokes the just-forming leathery tendrils beneath his jaw. "That sounds good. The Admiral will have to know, of course, before she hears it from other sources. Otherwise she might believe I am not fulfilling my duties." The walk continues as he speaks.

"I am certain she will have the utmost discretion, and the idea of this providing the impetus during the official meeting will be favorable in her eyes. As gruff and stern as she is, she does have a love for the dramatic. It'll fall easier on her then. Ah...." His tone picks up at the end of the statement as they approach the Admiral's office; four armed guards flanking the doorway watching the approaching Lieutenant and the ..... wolf?

"First-Admiral Shaar has summoned us." Zeert hands the largest guard bearing the most pips on his lapel his pad, which the guard takes with one eye on the glowing wolf form, and scans through it. A moment passes and the pad is handed silently back.

The doors are opened by two of the flanking guards while the other two keep watch. The stretch of hewn-rock hallway curves about a corner to the door of the Admiral, adorned with the bleached skull of some large beast upon it. A simple knock, and the word "Entrance" spoken.

Zeert bows his head. "Sirrah, I present the shipmind Sirius, on behalf of Sky-Marshall Farentino while he gets acclimated to the station and his suite." A hand beckons out towards the wolf, while Shaar salutes and levels her eye on Sirius. "Good cycle to you, Sirius of the 6th Triumvirate Combined Forces. Do you have a titled designation, or is it for all purposes merely Sirius?"

"Supercarrier, Commander, or SCV-Nineteen will do as titles, First-Admiral Shaar," the warship replies as its distinctly wolfish avatar salutes Services-style before Shaar does and dropping it after she does, still glowing a lemon color. It lets the misidentification as Sixth Combined when it is actually Sixth Space Superiority pass; rumor has it that the current system is not long for this world and so the old fleets will mean very little very soon. "The cycle could be better, given recent events locally and abroad, but this too shall pass.

"I should inform you that I am authorized to speak for Sky Marshal Farentino as per our disposition, capabilities, and policies... I can't speak for particular actions, due to the nature of initiative in the Services." Everything in its voice suggests a very dry yet sly and perhaps even slightly wry smirk, but its visage remains cooly professional. "I have been and am still now in constant contact with Supercarrier Chironex, Sky Marshal Dieu-Hien's flagship, and the other ships of his Sixth Combined; between them and the ships of my Sixth Space Superiority we have already come up with very tentative plans pending additional information concerning Fleet RABID forces. These I am, of course, authorized and recommended to tell you.

"With requisite formalities and introductions out of the way..." The avatar relaxes from its previous posture of attention, folding its paws behind its back. "How can we help, ma'am?"

Shaar sits down at her desk, and fires up the holo-porojector. "Very good, Commander Sirius." She makes a mental note to chide her intel officers for their lapse in differentiating the 6th Space Superiority from the 6th Combined, although no visible clues show as to this thought. Before she can begin, Zeert raises up a clawed hand, which is met with the swiveling of one eye focusing on him. "You have words, Lieutenant?"

"Sirrah..." His datapad is produced and the datachit within popped out and handed to the Admiral. "There's a situation you should know of." Shaar takes the chit, and plugs it into her personal pad. Scanning the data, a low rumble starts to issue out from her throat with her dewlap showing a deep purple. "What a perfect time for this to happen."

"Think of it this way, sirrah. It has been recommended that you use this knowledge as impetus for the operation during the official meeting. And not only that, but if this leaked out to the public and their opinion turned against it, this will provide plausible reason for the operation. Remember how the populace rejoiced when the First were on their maiden voyage? The memory of that is still in the minds of the people. Show them this data if they protest, and I guarantee the protesting will turn into support."

Shaar kept one eye on Zeert for a time, and then raised her finger to her chin while her dewlap retracted. "That is sound reasoning, Lieutenant. Sound reasoning. And as for the reccomendation made to you, I assume it was from you, Commander?" The eye swivels to focus on the Sirius avatar. "If so, you must keep this secret. From all. Even Sky-Marshall Farentino. I don't need this going any further than it already has." She leans back and shuts off her personal pad. "I'll look over the datafeed on that later."

The holo-projector displays the information as given to Sky-Marshall Dieu-Hien, with a slight update from the Ranger's P-Space connection. "I got this information during the past few minutes. Seems the automated defense grid around the Rabid staging area has some foreign elements in it. As such, we had trouble detecting them as they were stealthed measures. But our probes show their locations now." Pips light up all about the asteroid field, with the heaviest concentrations in a 1,000 km radius around the base.

"Sensor data can't discern much about the capabilities of these measures, but what is known is they have elements of the Brilliant Pebbles system to them. Low-level radiation seems to eminate from them that blended in with the ambient radiation native to that area. What this means, we're not certain yet. I have my MilSci people on it to come up with their best theorys."

"It could be an attempt to mask their actual signatures," the luminescent lycanthrope replies as it compares this new display to the information being streamed to it--slowly due to the bandwidth limitation on perfect-security QE trasmissions--by Chironex so far away. "Still, if we have positions of what are essentially static defenses, they can easily be taken into account. They are networked, no? Perhaps there could be a way to compromise that network.

"Also... what foreign technologies are we looking at, or have we been able to tell?"

Shaar cups her chin in her hands as she thinks on that possibility. "Yes, it could be an attempt to mask the signature. As for the technologies, thus far we've not been able to discern their basis. What has me worried most is this..."

The display changes slightly, removing static defenses and other technological devices, leaving only the raw asteroid field. "The field itself is very dense, save for several routes that seem to have electro-magnetic measures active to keep them relatively clear, indicating heavy ferrous metal presence. Capitol craft would have a difficult time with it unless we wish to make our presence known."

The display zooms in on several sections of the asteroid belt. Large tumbling stones and multitudes of smaller ones collide with each other, breaking apart into smaller stones that scatter in every direction. "The tracked movements of these asteroids indicates a random series of paths, so projecting a path that was not prepared by the bandits would be a hazardous guess. Long-range weaponry would also be a crap-shoot, as these asteroids could possibly intercept weapons fire. Missiles and torpedoes may collide with them as well before they reach target. Between the static defenses and the belt itself, it could be a rough go." She presses a button on the terminal, and a series of chits pop out.

She slides them on the desk towards Zeert. "These will be for Sky-Marshall Farentino to peruse. This is the data we have thus far. I'll need to analyze it for a time, along with my staff. We'll produce our theories of engagement at the briefing proper."

"Potential options would be to high-distort in, although lacking good intelligence about the internal composition of the field makes that just as if not more risky than simply making our way in." Sirius folds its softly glowing arms, affecting a pose of thought. "We also have the potential of disrupting their own active electromagnetic systems via EMP linegun munitions. That would still announce our presence...

"This is an unexpected turn, admittedly, but I have some ideas as to how to approach this and am currently debating them with Chironex. Still... for the briefing, as you've said, ma'am. While aggrivating, this is still something we can adapt to with only a moderate amount of effort."

Zeert coughs slightly, raising his eyes from his lowered head to look at both the Admiral and Sirius. "If I may. Sirrah and Sir? There seems to be an option we're overlooking. The Rangers managed to infiltrate the field, navigate through it, plant probe and sensor satts as well as establish a data-feed linkup without being detected. Maybe we could contact their commander about this? Find out how they did it, who did it, technologies used? All that?"

Shaar looks at Zeert without any readable expression. Even her dewlap remains flattened. Then her membranes close over her eyelids and she rumbles slightly in her throat. "Commander Sirius, if you can relay this and get the all-clear from the Sky-Marshalls, it may be an avenue worth pursuing. In the meantime, you have the information I do. Let's break for a meal and ponder strategies."

The avatar smiles slyly. "Not overlooking, per se, merely leaving unbroached at the moment. I have been informed there are issues concerning security and am therefore being overly cautious in that regard. Nevertheless, a wise idea, Lieutenant." It then nods to Shaar. "At once, ma'am. Thank you for bringing us up to date."

"Of course, Commander." Shaar stands and gives Sirius a salute. "The briefing proper will be at twelve-hundred next cycle. Lieutenant, see the Commander to his quarters. it is easy to get lost in this place."

Zeert stands and salutes, motioning back the way they came. Shaar sits again, and goes over the data she just opened on the holo-screen. Over and over again she switches views, zooms in on some points, and rotates the whole map. After a long period of rotating views, adding and subtracting key data, and poring overt he whole thingnumerous times, she comms Thress.

"Director Thress, do you think you have some free hack-meisters about your offices?"

"Of course. They're not called Slack-Ops for nothing, you know. After the meeting, i'll get on the horn depending on who would be best suited for the job."

Sirius, like all ship minds, has the requisite patience to deal with only marginally insulting forms of hospitality--having no choice but to have an eidetic memory and a good deal of knowledge of Vubz' layout both from passive gravimetrics and from what floorplans it has the security clearance to have in its own databanks, there is very little chance it could get lost. Still, the gesture is taken as the kindness it is intended to be and it salutes snappily before leaving with Zeert.

Once well out of earshot, the supercarrier allows its avatar a very carefully calculated sigh of mild annoyance and tension but no insult, its glowing pelt shifting a bit down the scale to a dull pumpkin color. "I get the feeling, Lieutenant, that all of this is just so many motions," it says in a frank tone, accentuating its speech with appropriate circular motions of its paws, "before we actually get anything done. We--the fleets, both here and in the Up And Out--are discussing this amongst ourselves and we have a plan, a decent one, but we can't reveal it quite yet. Mildly annoying, but not anything of any great concern."

Zeert seems to chuckle a bit; the sound being like one with a hair caught in their throat. "Of course it is 'going through the motions' as it were. The Admiral usually operates independent of other agencies, and it must make her scales itch to be answerable to the Sky-Marshalls on this. Not only this, but until the prisoners arrive, everything she can plot is based on assumption, and she really hates not having definites before her."

He cups his chin in his hand as they await the next tube. "And the lack of Sky-Marshall Farentino's presence probably has her a bit uppity as well. Nothing against your fine presence, but she's of the old school of the I.S.N. Ship avatars still make her a touch nervous. Hell, artificial gravity makes her nervous." He laughs a loud cough at this as they enter the now-arrived tube.

He then shakes his head visibly. "That lady always takes waaaay too much on herself for her own mental health."

"I don't think I make the Sky Marshal nervous," Sirius responds with a growling chuckle, "but I do occasionally catch him in moments of wonderment. It's quite the mental stretch he's made from blue-water officer to supreme commander of local battlespace." It smirks a little more broadly. "I'm also certain it does chafe a little bit, but RABID is a Triumvirate-wide priority and it's a primarily Scolopendran and Menelmacari research system that's immediately threatened. This is the very reason why the TYCS exists and why there is an authority higher than the First Admiral. I wouldn't worry, though; we are not expecting to have to pull rank. That could strain things, and that's the last thing we want."

Inside the tube, it just folds its paws behind its back, glowing tail wagging gently as it speaks dryly. "Overachievement is a common flaw in this business."