NationStates Jolt Archive

The Journey Begins

Comet Shipyards, Lunar Polar Orbit

Jaina was a work supervisor, which meant she was quite low on the totem pole. She wasn't high enough to know where this was all going, officially, but off the record it wasn't hard to guess.

Before her, in giant vacuum-open hangers, stood two ships in her assigned work area; one of each of two versions of civilian clippers used in Wazzu. Her work crews were involved in a fairly simple but somewhat major overhaul. Simply put, the old, limited superluminal engines of the second type were being removed and carefully installed in the previously non-superluminal first type. Meanwhile, a larger, newer, more advanced engine was being placed in the second type's now vacant spaces.

The difference? The old engines couldn't jump more then a few lightyears, and then only between stars. The new ones...well, they could jump just about as far as you liked, though if you went too far at once you could kill the crew through dehydration.

And that was the kicker, she knew. Frankly speaking, Wazzu FTL systems stunk. The power players that still existed had said they were contacting Sunseti and WIckan corporations for better systems, systems that would hopefully be installed in a line of new ships that Jaina could see nearing completion in the distance...but the foreigners weren't answering.

Time was running short. The stopgap measure that Jaina's own project represented was nearing completion and people back home were mad. They weren't going to wait for the foreigners to wake up. If the foreigners didn't wake up and move fast, those few in power would have no choice but to take half-measures in their plan.

A plan to colonize a newfound planet. A plan to capitalize on a new home.

Over the next few weeks, Jaina's team would repeat the conversion process on several such ships, and she would be assigned one of the last pairs. And even as she finished the project, workers were already loading supplies into the 100 meter transport.

Stupid. She thought, remembering one of the classical rules of engineering. You try something to make sure it works BEFORE you stick all your assets in it. But she also knew what was going on. People were scrambling to get off Earth. The larger clippers that had been bouncing back and fourth between Brenards Star and here were all now here, being loaded. Some bean counter had set an unreal timeframe to appease people at home. As soon as her team and a couple others were done, the ships would leave.

Idiots. she thought again, and got back to work.

"Your ordering me to do WHAT?!" Jaina exclaimed to the funny looking man wearing the funny looking hat.

"I'm not ordering you do do anything Mrs. Rose," The man said calmly, "TransCorp has assigned you to the Independant Starship Pioneer. The ship will arrive within 24 hours to pick you up and take you to Acler."

"Acler? I can't go to Acler, I've a family! What am I-"

The man in the hat was holding up his hand. "Due to the possible length of the trip, your family has already been informed to pack. They are comming with you." Jaina Rose was about to speak up again, and again, the man held her from doing so with his hand, as surely as if he was actually touching her. "Mr. Rose's experiance is needed as well and your entire family will be plenty well provided for."

Jaina sighed. She was an employee, and a good one, but competition was always hot in Wazzu. There were plenty of people willing to fill her shoes. She could either agree, or loose her job. So with an angry look and a soft angry voice, she pushed the man out of our office. "Fine. But I don't want to see your face again until we leave, and hopefully, not even then. Now out!"

The man didn't argue. He had gotten what he had came for, and left quietly and calmly.

The little cabin was cramped, but not as bad as it could have been, and a couple of doors connected to the rooms where Jaina's two boys and young teen daughter would stay, so there was some amount of privacy. "Well," she said to her husband, "what do you think?"

"I think it'll all be alright." he replied, with a soft kiss on her neck. It was a trick he often used to try and help her relax. "The ship is adiquate, it's got a foreign drive so theres none of that sleeping buisness, and the young man who is getting us sheets at the moment seems nice enough."

"Yes, but, a year?" she asked. He kissed her neck again.

"It sounds like a great vacation to me. How many Wazzuians get to travel abroad, and I mean really abroad? Besides, it'll be good for the kids to get some experiance in a foreign country."

"A foreign planet?" she asked again. Sam just smiled.

About then, Jeffers came back with their bedding. "Ahh, look," he said, "If you guys are crew, one of you needs to report to the skipper, but the rest of you should get settled. It shouldn't be too long before we leave."

"You want me to go?" Sam asked his wife.

"No, I'll go," she replied, "company likes me more anyway." She gave Sam a teasing smirk as she said it, though it only came out half way.

"The skipper will be in the bay, clearing things up. Third door on your right, walk to the end of the hallway, and take the lift down two floors." Jeffers said.

With a small nod, Jaina left her family and new crewmate, and headed down to the cargo bay. Her husband let her leave without further word, and got back to getting his family preped.

*********

The lift deposited Jaina at the back of one of the ships 4 cargo bays, and even from here she could hear the commotion. An angry man was apparantly trying to stop a couple of workers from welding a rather large something to the inside wall of his ship while sounds of dock workers loading equipment pounded away.

The man became visible as Jaina made her way past secured items, rounding a corner about a large yellow container. It was evident from the mans clothing, posture, and anger at this violation that he was the man she was looking for. Also standing near him was the strange little man wearing the funny looking hat...the man who's face she did not want to see until she left.

With a breath of oily air, she sized herself up, and walked over to her new boss. "Captain, I am Jaina Rose." she said as she handed over her papers. "I've dealt with these people before, perhaps I can be of help?" Her voice and face betrayed her dislike of said people, but the Captain hardly noticed as he read her orders.

"Help? How? This man's got my ship hostage." he said to Jaina, then turned towards the man in the hat, "Would you mind telling me just what you are doing with my ship?"

The man in the hat answered just as calmly and politely as he had to Jaina less then 24 hours ago. It was an attitude that both Jaina and her new Skipper were finding unnerving. "Captain Logan, you are being sent to the Vernian Acler system in the Raumreich. These fine men are installing a Mangala Corp. NuSpace communicator free of charge so you can talk with the locals. Congradulations, this ten thousand begger peice of equipment is now yours.

"The good workers behind me are loading cargo that you may find useful to sell for Vernian currency, enough to pay for a one year long or shorter vacation there as the rest of your crew negotiates buisness there. The black crates are yours, the yellow ones are for buisness demonstrations by Mrs. Rose and her husband here."

Captain Logan was looking incredulous, but the ugly man in the strange hat kept speaking.

"You're stay will be determined by how long it takes your new crew members to negotiate, and you are not to leave them behind, though you may flee to another Vernian system if the Ortagans decide they want a 4th or 5th front in their little war...just be sure to take everyone with you.

"Beyond that, you are the captain of your privately owned ship, of your new crewmembers paid for you by Hermes Spacelines, and of this mission. It is under your command. Now, if you agree to these terms and conditions, and to the compensation outlined in this contract, please sign now and I'll be out of your way."

The man was holding out a small contract and a pen. It was short, simple, and there were quite obviously no loopholes. A simple deal and a LOT of compensation...and 2 more crew members.

"What do you think?" The captain asked Jaina and Rena, who had just walked over.

"Thats a lot of money Cap." Rena said.

"I don't know much about this kind of contract," Jaina spoke up, "not a spacer. I've never seen a deal like that. Do you get them often?" There was a little suprise in her voice.

In point of fact, Captain Logan had never had a contract like that, had never even HEARD of a contract like that. With little more thought, he signed.

How bad could Acler be?

The ships spread out around the nearby shipyard in Lunar Polar orbit. It was an overall unimpressive sight of small civilian ships, but for Wazzu, it was the largest convoy of FTL ships ever assembled, civilian or military.

This one was practically all civilian.

Together they formed up, turned towards Alpha Centauri, accelerated, and a short while later, made the leap into lightspead. They left a number of other ships behind...which would follow with colonists.

Next stop, the Raumreich. (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=9345813#post9345813)

Gregory Rand woke up as the IStS Dreamer exited hyperspace in the Alpha Centauri system. Someone was speaking over the ships intercom.

Welcome to the Alpha Centauri system and congradulations on completing your first jump. Greg's head was pounding. This was the shortest jump of this trip, a little over 4 lightyears, though you have been asleep for nearly 30 hours realtime. The uneasyness you are feeling is due to dehydration. Uneasyness? Is that what they were calling it? Under your seat you will find liquid nutritional packs, please drink one before getting up, it will help you feel better.

The pack tasted horrible and sweet at the same time, Greg's body craved the sugary, salty, artifically flavored water, and he pointedly had two before he got up and streached his sore body. The disembodied voice continued to speak.

Closeups of parts of the Alpha Centauri are available on vidscreen for anyone who is interested, and there is plenty of activity just now as the Liga der Raumreich is in session. For those like me who are interested in bathing, there is plenty of hot water available.

A shower! Thats what Greg decided he was interested in. Nothing like showering after...was it really 30 hours of sleep?

We are currently making for the wormhole to Yalta. The flight will take 4 hours and the over 500 light year transition will be instantanious and hardly noticable. Due to the length of the next jump, the ship will stall in Yalta for an extra 14 hours before we move on. Everyone is encouraged to make the most of this time. Exorcize, see a movie, have a steak and lobster dinner, and watch a movie or two. This is your time, enjoy it, you'll feel much better for it later.

The voice finally cut off just as Greg stepped into the warm water.

The first jump had taken a little more then 4 days to complete, and those aboard the IStS Dreamer had experianced a full 30 hours of it, thanks largely to relativity, and woken up thirsty and hungery. The second one had taken much much longer.

Thankfully, the 50 or so lightyear jump had required a much larger initial velocity, so the experianced time was little more then 5 days. A person can starve to death in that period of time, and when Gregory Rand awoke, he felt like he had.

The strange dreams that had kept him company were mostly forgotten as he scrambled as fast as his weakened body could for the so foul but so sweet nutrient packs his body desired. It was actually amazing how little a human being can fumble in such a state when survival necessitates it. Rand did not waste a drop.

But it was only while he was downing his second pack that his mind cleared enough to notice that someone was again speaking over the intercom.

...a no name star halfway to our destination. I am afraid that we will have to make one more 5 day jump, but I am giving us all a good few days to rest up before we make it. Believe me, I wan't it just as much as you do.

[i]In the meantime, the showers are of course ready to go, and chefs will soon be preparing the fattyist, greesiest, sweetist dishes they can muster. I encourage everyone to grab seconds, there is no better way to maintain a healthy weight on such long trips then to eat bad....

The disembodied voice, probably the captain's from the use of pronouns, went on. In the meantime, gregory pulled out a snickers bar and took it with him into the shower. It was something some might call odd, or even disgusting, but after a 5 day nightmare followed by waking up in your own dead skin and shed hair, animal motives took over.

He hadn't even noticed the other thing he had woken up in...a tall stack of nutrient packs...something he could not have consumed durring the jump.

******

Sometime later, Gregory found himself in the cafeteria as if nothing had occured in between his show and getting his food. A doubly large cheeseburger with all the trimmings sat in front of him looking fresh and half eaten. Had he forgotten to enjoy it? Another bite told him he had. It was suprising considering how good it tasted...or perhaps because of how good it tasted?

A sound in the background caught his ear, and he looked up. A tri-D was on, an MNN broadcast from Wazzu, through Mangala, using the Valinor Nu-Space network.

...and as you can see behind me, crews are already placing the Liquid Design engines in new spacecraft. These new Clippers and Cruise Ships will use Sunset's prefered method of superluminal travel, both faster then hyperspace systems currently used and without any of their drawbacks.

Cheers went up around the room as Gregory realized what what the lady had just said really meant. No more 5 day nightmares.

Though it will take time to recieve the drives and install them, the first batch should be ready for the main Praecipua colonization convoy when it leaves next month. In the meantime, existing ships with the same general type of drive system, namely those Cruise Ships now converted for use in colonizing, will continue to fly to the nearby Brenard's Star.

Gregory turned back to his burger, realizing its greater importance. What did he care for such things in reality anyway? He still had one more jump, then, he promised himself, he'd never go to any other star system again.

[[ooc: Wazzu FTL systems are based on CJ Cheryh's Alliance/Union universe, so the following is inspired (you might say lifted) from one of her books. I do highly recommend the books for sci-fi readers with a high endurance for slow starters.]]

"You never said hi to me durring your break." The voice drifted lazily into Gregory's head. "I felt abandoned."

"Uhh?" Gregory felt weird, as if the entire universe had turned itself inside out.

"Durring the break, when everyone got up to walk around and party for a few days, between jumps. I thought you'd at least say 'hi' as we passed each other in the corridors."

Gregory vaguely registered the voice as female, and it seemed somewhat familiar though he couldn't place it. His head wasn't with him just now.

"I understand," the voice said, "the drugs still have you down. Sleep a little longer, they'll wear off."

Gregory did just that.

----------

"How are you feeling?" the voice asked. It must have been sometime later, Gregory felt drowsy, but now exhausted.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked.

He more felt then saw the smile. "No, you are awake, we are in jump."

The realization came slow, but with sudden force, and Gregory paniced. Firm hands, gentle hands pressed him back down. "Relax, your not going insane."

"But...but..." he protested.

"Yes, yes," the voice said, "most people can't handle it. But you were awake last jump, kindof, you felt OK yesterday, didn't you?"

Gregory couldn't argue, yesterday, except for some tenseness at having to go through another 5 nights of sleep...was he really asleep at that time???...besides that, he felt fine. He had partied all week, and put on a good few pounds. "How?"

He felt the smile again, "There is no how, no one knows, it just is." Andrea said. Andrea, Gregory thought, thats her name the memory was vague. This put him at more ease then anything else said so far.

"So you do remember." Andrea spoke up.

"You can read my mind?" he asked.

The musical notes of Andrea's laugh embrased him. They reflected off his cabin in dim, multi-colored waves. He felt vaguely like he was inside an oil painting. More then that, it was the first time he sensed what was going on around him...at least more then Andrea's smile.

"Your expression betrays you." she answered. "And before you think you're psychic, your not, don't get trapped in that. Too many of us do."

What exactly 'us' was, Gregory now had a fairly good guess. But he was starting to feel exhausted again, and layed fully back down again. "I'm tired, can we talk later?"

He blacked out before he heard Andrea's "Of course."

-----------

Gregory sat up in bed, feeling much better, if still like the universe had gone to hell. He was thirsty, and reached down for a nutrient pack. A short tear later and it's contents were sloshing down his throat with the uncomfortable taste of loud. He pondered this mixing of feelings.

It was only a couple months ago that he read of people who had mixed associations, colors to words, sounds to tastes...he couldn't remember the name of the disorder. He knew he'd never had it, but here it was. Was it hyperspace?

The train of thought brought him back to his last conversation with Andrea, to her laugh, and in this he became more aware of his surroundings. He could feel his desk lamp giving off light across the room, why was that on? He stood up uneasily to go turn it off, fell flat on his face, and blacked out.

-----------

Gregory awoke in his bed again and wondered how he'd got back...a figure lay sprawled in a chair by the door. "Hello?" He asked, and the figure stirred.

A sleepy voice answered, "You shouldn't try and walk yet," Andrea answered, "you have no idea how hard you were to get back in bed."

It was a light hearted comment, but carried a grain of truth. "So then what should I do?"

"You are a walker," her voice replied, "the first thing you do is not talk about it to anyone who isn't...that means not talk about it outside of jump."

"Why not?"

"Hyperspace is scary. Most people can't stand it, mentally. Sometimes, ships go missing. People don't understand it, and they wouldn't understand us."

Gregory thought over this a moment, not entirely convinced, but decided not to press the issue. "OK then," he said, "what do I do now?"

He felt her smile again, and again, his sense of surroundings began to come back.

"Just, realize whats around you, how your getting it. Your brain is getting all kinds of crazy signals it doesn't recognize, and it is trying to make sense of them. It is like a def man suddenly being able to hear, or a blind man suddenly being able to see. You are awake, you need to give your brain time to adjust. It will."

"How long?" He asked.

"Another jump or two," she said, "until you can walk around."

"I don't want to take another jump." His stubborn words came out in halting colors, casting the room in a negative light. "After this, I'm done, I'm never going to travel away from Praecipua."

Andrea's expression lightened the room a little, if in a sad but determined way. "No! Don't do that!" she said. "You have the makings of a navigator! Think where you could go!"

Gregory was taken aback. "Where I could go? Where would I want to go in this? I have a job, I have a future, why do I want to be stuck here?"

Andrea took a while to respond. "I don't normally share my religious beliefs." she said. Gregory was taken aback. There wasn't much stigma against religion in Wazzu, most people just weren't believers. They thought themselves too smart for it. "It's just that, it really is a gift, you see? Not everyone can do it, it is such a waste to loose it."

This was definately a pill for Gregory to chew on. Andrea had been nothing but kind to him, and now she felt hurt. "I have no training," he said as an excuse, "no education for it. I'm just a construction worker."

Andrea was a bright person, one had to be to pass the rigerous education involved in becomming a navigator. A navagator had to understand everything from general relativity to Coltonian physics on an intuitive level before they could proceed to the job. But she was a person, and Gregory's excuse exceeded in changing the focus of her sorrow from herself to him.

"Don't think that!" she said, enthusiasm rising, "If you can be awake now, you can make the tests. And there are people who'll help pay for your classes you know. We help each other out, we do."

The emotions were draining Gregory, so he switched the subject as he reclined in bed. "How much longer?" he asked.

"One more day," her sorrow returned, "then you can leave. But I hope you change your mind."

She left, and a few minutes later, Gregory was asleep.

{Tag}

Gregory must of slept for a long time, for when he woke up, Andrea was wearing something else...and already on her way out. "Wait!" he spoke out, "I'm awake."

"Thats good," the voice came back, "because we make transition in 10 minutes. Enjoy the ride." The last thing Greg saw of her was her trim behind framed in her tight pressure-suit dissappearing behind a closing door.

Greggory sat up, but leaned his upper body against the bulkhead behind him. The drugs must still be wearing off, things were getting clearer. He could sort of feel the door, and see waves of sound bouncing around the room as he reattached his crash webbing and rustled his feet under his blanket.

He counted the long seconds until transition, wondering what his new home would look like. Would it be a double star? A triple? Would he suddenly find himself on a barren world orbiting a black hole? He knew that at least one planet in the system was habitable, but what of the rest?

Then it hit, transition, like suddenly slamming on the breaks in a car. The IStS Dreamer skidded into the Praecipua system, dumping velocity like mad in an attempt not to hit uncharted objects. As it did so, Greggory's sensory organs began to take on a more normal feel, and he lost track of several objects outside the ship he had never consciously realized had been there. The other ships? he asked himself.

But the fleeting moment was gone, and now his cabin's dull light and grey walls made up his universe. The ships intercom spoke up again, just as it had after the last two jumps, and Gregory recognized the Captains weary voice. "Welcome to the Praecipua system. We are the first ones here in a very long time."

Funny that, he thought, was I myself too out of it before to recognize that the Captain was drugged up too?

"I'm putting up a image in everyone's rooms, I hope you enjoy your new home." the voice finished. A flare of light lit up the wall space in front of Gregory and he looked upon his new system with somewhat of a feeling of dissappointment.

A bright blue star stood in the middle, and everything else just looked like other stars. Then artificial circles began to surround what Gregory had thought to be stars, and he realized with a start that these were planets. Some were brighter then others, and as (albet poor) magnifications came into place, it became apparant each had it's own color too.

Numbers and letters began to appear near the circles surrounding each planet and the systems single star. Data, classifications, mostly incomprehensible. But Gregory remembered enough of middle-school astrophysics to recognize some things.

The star was apparantly still G-type, if barely too light for the next spectral type up. There weren't too many rocky planets, in fact, all but one (the innermost) were on the outside of the system. Of the gas jiants, the second planet (first jiant) from the star was by far the most massive, a fet times Jupiter's own mass. Moons were still being plotted as Gregory's attention drifted to the third star in the system.

The circle around the second jiant had turned blue...the symbol for a habitable world. But how could a gas jiant be habitable? Then the answer resolved itself, as further data was collected.

Gregory felt the ship shift it's heading as more detailed information was presented. A moon, of slightly lower then Earth mass, had a nearly polar orbit of the planet. Apparantly, all the other bodies orbiting the planet had the same skew. Indeed, so did a few light rings, which the habitable moon was orbiting between. Gregory imagined it would be a beautiful sight.

"Thats it!" exclaimed Niko Loretti, as data from the first colonization fleet was handed in. "It's habitable all right. And look at that, not much different then Earth. Lower gravity, similar atmospheric pressure...and gahd, look at those geological features!"

"Easy now," the team leader cautioned, "we have a job to do, remember?"

"Err, right."

The second colonization fleet consisted of about 13 luxury cruisers and as many new civilian clippers as Wazzu could rush into service following receipt of drive from Sunset. That stood at 23 now, and would be a rull 50 by the time the current fleet managed to get all the way there, drop everyone off, and get all the way back. It was a long trip, even for these newer, faster ships. It was nearly a month long cycle of one counted all the stops and maintenence.

Most of the items that they knew would be necessary were already loaded, but who knew how climate and such would be for a habitable world that was only supposed to exist? The trick now was to figure out what else everyone would need, load it onto the ship, board the people, and send them on the 10 day trip to Praecipua.

Niko watched carefully for a landing site...it would determine the colony's future.

----------

2 days later, 13 luxury liners and 23 clippers began on their jurney to the Raumreich system of Praecipua, escorted by Wazzu's 4 FTL capible destroyers and 70 of it's 100 FTL capible gunboats...basically, quite nearly it's entire FTL Navy and all made possible by use of inported Sunset drive systems. They followed the same route as the last fleet. Travel under power from Sol to Alpha/Beta Centauri, take the wormhole to Yalta, then leave the system under their own power for parts unknown.

To anyone in the Raumreich, this was getting to be an interesting pattern. Wazzu was known for merchant convoys, but not beyond the A/B Centauri system.

Gregory said goodbye to Andrea later that day, claiming to an interested crewmember that he had met her in the cafeteria. As they parted, he left towards his construction job with some amount of sadness...and a buisness card. "Drop me a line if you change your mind," she had said, "we can help you get into the buisness."

That construction job continued over the next 12 days, as the second fleet loaded up passengers and equipment and made it's way through the Raumreich. It was hard work, and the days were long. There were no nearby shipyards, no nearby population centers, the only civilization within 50 lightyears were the ships that had taken him here, and they were getting ready to depart.

But with effort and several 12 hour days without break, a basic space station began to form.

It was small, simple. A couple small fusion reactors, a fuel processing center, no weapons and NO internal gravity. But it would serve it's purpose...a fuel and maitenence depot and place to control the colonization of the planet-moon below.

-------------

6 year old Donna looked out the window of the cruise liner that had taken her here. The harsh blue tinged light of the nearby star shone off the small station, but that is not what had caught the little girl's eye. Below it, her new home hung like a Christmas ornimant in space, a bright blue-green-white world unspoiled and protected by the Jiant it orbited.

"Mommy?" she asked, "What's it called? Our home?"

"People are calling it Sif honey," her mother answered half-mindedly from the couch while reading the news, "and the big on is Thor."

Donna was too young to appretiate the naming of planets after the gods of ancient religions, and did not know of the connections these names had. She just looked down at her new world with wonder and said it's name silently, "Sif."

--------------

Except for initial observations, nothing was known of this new world. It's flora and fauna, geologic activity, weather, it was all guesswork. It would have been great to study the planet in depth for the next couple decades, but who had the time? In the end, exploror teams picked the best site they could given what they knew. A high plateu that ran up to short snow covered mountains on one side, and down to the mouth of a great river on the other. The lack of fissures and volcanos and the open, fertile plains looked like a great place to start.

Habitation and light industry modules were shuttled down to the site, and the new colonists began construction of their simple habitats there. Land was partialed out in small quantities, just enough for a person to live in given their specialty. Everything from Automotive shops to farms to schoolhouses sprung up in a matter of nights...and all of it was prefab and very, very basic. No one could risk malfunction of complex machinery, who's spare parts would have to be imported at high cost from Earth far, far away.

This all made one thing quite clear. Life would be simple for a while.

Secret Encampment, Far side of Sif

The hardest part of being part of a secret crew of one of a few select secret ships while being stationed at a new colony was...you couldn't go to the colony.

Debbie sat near a camp fire made a world away from the real colony on the planet Sif, listening to one of her crewmates tell a ghost story. She wasn't really listening though, her mind was more wondering how long the situation would last.

No one turned to look as she got up and walked back towards her sleek black little gunboat, sitting among the 22 others that had risked detection by the Valinon when trying to sneak through the wormhole between Alpha Centauri and Yalta. As she walked past, she lifted her hand and felt the crafts smooth exterior.

Her gloved hand swept down the craft until she reached the porthole, and it opened to allow her entrance.

-----------------

Village Seed "Genon", ~83 Miles From Main Colony Site

"Whats that daddy?" 6 year old Donna asked, pointing to the sky.

Her father put down the peice of wall he had been holding, his muscle suit flexing to deal with the light but bulky section's leverage. "That," he said with some enthusiasm, "is a shuttle just like ours." A smile was on his face, it meant that the school he was currently building would soon be in use...and hopefully that he'd soon have more people to help him with his work.

"Just like ours?" Donna asked, somewhat confused and not remembering owning a shuttle.

"Just like the one we rode down on," he father made clear, "those are more colonists, from the next fleet. We'll have company soon."

"When?"

"Tomorrow most likely, and more people will probably come over the next few days. I'd best get back to work." He picked up the section of wall and clipped it in place, noticing once again his sixth finger. It made him happy his daughter didn't have any such externally evident genetic problems. "But tonight, I think we can all stay up a little late and watch she ships in orbit."

Donna smiled. She had never seen stars before comming here, and to see ships in orbit again would be a great excuse to stay up late.

-----------------

Colonial Transfer Station, Sif Orbit

Gregory was bored. The third fleet was made up entirely of the second fleet's ships...with a fair few additions of the same types. The first fleet was a lot slower, still on it's way, and was the only one to carry the parts needed for new space construction. Until it got here, Gregory would be reduced to un-needed maintenance worker for un-needed maintenance. He was really beginging to consider Andrea's offer seriously.

Construction work was good and fine, and he liked the feeling of comming home from a hard day's work, but at this rate it seemed he wouldn't be getting much of that. And to be honest, he was starting to miss the unique feeling of hyperspace...not that he'd admit to anyone he was awake durring any of the jumps...they would probably make him the colony's first mental patient!

-----------------

WTS Delorian, Somewhere in Deep Space Between Sol and Praecipua

Cheif Ray Dollard pulled on his coveralls and took one last look at his lover still sleeping in their rack. He smiled, feeling glad to be a Wazzuian. In most militaries, sleeping with others on the same ship would be...discouraged. But Ray's crew (as many others) was designed with all-military couples in line. People of the similar rank were encouraged to make closer bonds, and every effort was made to bunk such couples on the same ships.

It was only of the few factors that helped mitigate this long trip to Praecipua.

It was known that the Valinor would probably detect anything that went through their wormhole network, so Wazzu had given it a try with 23 of it's newest ships, each a small and stealthy gunboat. The Delorian was the exception...someone had to trailblaze a route to the far off system. Someone had to show the long way into the Raumreich so that future ships could make it it without anyone knowing...even if the trip took the better part of a year.

That put the Delorian at nearly half way. Yes, Ray was definately glad to be a Wazzuian.

Village Seed "Genon", ~83 Miles From Main Colony Site

The village schoolhouse was pretty basic, resembling an 1800's fronteer towns equivalent in everything but materials. Perhaps the greatest advantage of those materials at the presence was a very large window, through which Donna and 11 newly arrived children watched their parrents unload supplies and farming equipment...their games temporarially forgotten.

Though the 11 had all come in the most recent convoy, most had traveled on different ships and did not know one another (siblings being the exception). But to a child, this isn't usually as much of a problem as to an adult, and all 12 of them were already starting to make part of the communal pattern that would develop into the colony's next generation.

----------------

Therian Worldship Thssskt, In Deep Space ~2037 LY from Praecipua

It wasn't often that Senior Ship Lord Hhhkss left his Worldship, never-the-less visited that of another Ship Lord, but the Thssskt's Ship Lord was a trusted ally on the council of 13, and he had made certain to be clear that this was important. Extremely important. That accounted for the other oddity about the Senior Ship Lord on this trip, his mode of transportation.

Protoss High Judicator Adul stepped out of the Protoss jumpstep just behind his 'friend' and political ally Hhhkss. Despite worries of those of his own race, Senior Ship Lord Hhhkss had decided to call on a favor from the Protoss for transportation anyway...his Worldship was currently very very far from the Thssskt, it would have taken ages to arrive.

The Thssskt's Ship Lord, Krtss, stood before with a suprisingly nimble facial feature for a giant alien lizzard showing disapproval. It was not however his place to say it openly to the senior, nor would he endanger their mutual alliance with such poorly chosen words.

"I am happy you have made it here so quickly," Krtss said instead, "Senior Ship Lord. I feel this matter requires your soonist attention."

"Indeed," the Senior replied, "it is good to have friends willing to help in times of need." He motioned to the Protoss standing robbed beside him. "What is this important matter you mention?"

Krtss managed a slight bow before turning and motioning for the two to come along, though he secretly hoped the Protoss would stay behind. His wish went ungranted. As the trio started walking through the long corridors of the mighty Thssskt's interrior, Krtss began his explination. "A Ship Lord has been born, of a raw power I have not yet witnessed."

Had Senior Ship Lord Hhhkss had ears, they would have perked at this knowledge, instead, the large old reptile's telepathic presence perked instead.

Krtss continued, "He may one day rival you old friend, or perhaps, replace you."

Hhhkss did not have the largest ship, nor the newest. His ship extended from the time before the collapse of the Therian Empire, as did he. With that, it had a reputation that matched his own. But he was getting old. Soon, his mind would begin to slip. Most would worry about being replaced, Hhhkss looked forward to it. Have you contacted an Emissary?" he asked.

"One has already bore witness," Krtss' reply came back, "and awaits you outside of the hatchling's room."

"And?"

"And as all Emissaries, he is weak," Krtss made the comment with the most reverand respect for the religious icon, "he can not feel the hatchling's strength. He says the old souls debate inside him and await your viewing."

"Indeed."

<<A long, quiet, contemplative walk later>>

The trio stood outside the door to the hatchlings room, the Emissary behind them, and two of Krtss' finist guards in front of the door. They had already passed many others.

"I can not let the foreigner enter." The most senior guard announced boldly. It proved to be far too bold.

It was Krtss' ship, and he was the one who spoke up, "I trust the Senior Ship Lord more then you," there was naught but the slightest trace of power behind his words, "you are honored to follow my trust."

The guard seemed to wilt in front of his Ship Lord, and moved aside with only the greatist of difficulty, allowing even the Protoss to enter the sacred chamber.

Heat boiled from the room as the door opened, the the moods of the two Ship Lords brightened as the warm sand pressed between their toes. But soon after, a look and feeling of stunned silence overcame the Senior. He was staring squarely at the hatchling now playing in it's dedicated Nurse's arms.

After a short while, the smallest, scrawniest Therian spoke up. "The Ancients request your thoughts, Senior Ship Lord."

Hhhkss turned his head towards the small normal. "Reverand Emissary," he spoke with a deep bow, "I have but twice witnessed the strength apparant in this hatchling, once as a youngster chosen for service, and once granted my ship."

Gasps were not a culturial or genetic characteristic of Therians, but their shock was apparant. It was well known that in the time of Senior Ship Lord Hhhkss' youth, these were times of meeting the Emperor.

The hatchling was a born Emperor, the first in several millennia.

<<A time later>>

The council room of the Council of 13 was the same on every ship, 13 chairs around a central table, of which only one was ever occupied by more then a hologram...it was of course the ship's own Ship Lord. No holo-viewers were set up for other places at the table, so as Ship Lord Krtss took his seat, Senior Ship Lord Hhhkss stood behind him and to his right, and the Protoss High Judicator Adul stood to his left.

Holograms filled all the chairs except Hhhkss' as the other Ship Lords of the 13 Worldships alligned to Wazzu joined the conference.

"What is this Alien doing at our council?" asked Aan, 2nd in seniority only to Hhhkss himself.

"This one bears witness to a most critical of events." Krtss answered.

"Explain yourself," Ann countered hostilly.

Krtss waited a moment to allow tention to build. "An Emperor has been birthed."

The hissing, spitting, throaty language of upper Therian continued between holograms around the table before anyone began to calm noticing that the three holograms who called the meeting were still silent.

"This can not be, we are devided, reduced, the line of rulers is gone." A fourth Ship Lord spoke up.

"It is truth." Confirmed Hhhkss behind Krtss. "An Emissary agrees."

The first and third strongest shiplords, and a reverand Emissary, would not successfully be opposed. But one had the guile to see another door.

"And you," Ship Lord Aan motioned toward the Protoss, disgust noticable in his voice even to the alien one, "what is the value of your witness, how do you know of this hatchling's strength."

High Judicator Adul spoke very little Upper Therian, and with a bad accent. "I have felt like power in only three, leaders of the Conclave."

Hisses and coughs again spread around the table, it was heresy to say any other, especially an alien could equal an Emporer in strength...though here an alien was saying it. It could only be expected.

"An Emporer is birthed, that is fact," Krtss said, calming excited voices around the table, "our ships are not worthy of being his vessel, he needs no less then a planet."

"The humans have a planet." a lesser Ship Lord spoke up.

"The humans have many planets." spoke another.

"No," spoke the first, "our humans have a planet, a new planet."

"You would trust our Emporer to a hole infested with that scum?"

"Ours have not betrayed us, nor have others of their kind others of ours."

"They are still animals, barely able to walk alone!"

Aan broke the argueing with a swift pound on the table, who's sound very nearly vibrated the tables aboard all other ships. "The humans have colonized a planet in a violent sector of their space that even now is at war."

"Then the Emporer will need protection," Senior Ship Lord Hhhkss looked to Krtss, for it was clearly his ships responsibility to it's hatchling, "and guidence." he finished, looking to his oppnent, Ship Lord Aan.

As expected, the treacherous and cunning Aan reversed his opinion at this oppertunity. "Perhaps the animals can be trained."

"I can not think of another place." admitted another Ship Lord, though without pleasure.

"We few other options." said another.

It didn't take long to decide. The Thssskt would transport the Emporer to the new world of Praecipua, humans be damned if they try to oppose, and the Ship Lords Aan and Krtss would provide for the hatchling's needs until it reached the age of consent...until the Empire was to be born anew.

Colonial Transfer Station, Sif Orbit

Gregory Rand was laying "on" his bunk cursing the Therian child emporer when the vidscreen beeped for his attention. "Pickup," he ordered, and the room promptly put the call through.

"Hello." A pretty voice with a matching pretty face greeted. Greg struggled to sit up before he realized his bed's straps were still holding him down in the zero-g. A little figiting got him free as Andrea went on. "I was wondering if you'd given any more thought to Navigating?"

Gregs eyes narrowed, "Are you sure your not psychic?" He asked accusingly, though not seriously.

Andrea laughed. "You sound unhappy."

"Yea, well, the Empire is keeping me fed, and keeping my work going, but they don't have anything to pay me. Not how they operate, you know?"

Andrea nodded. Everyone who'd been stuck in the Praecipua system was well aware of the fact that had the Therians and Protoss not come along, the entire colony probably would have gone under. A lot of people were happy with that, but not everyone. Lots of people felt comfortable following as long as their needs were met and they had freedom to do as they liked. Others felt a need to push themselves.

"The colony wasn't the only ones hit, we've lost people too. We need crew."

"Your getting out of here," Greg realized aloud, "Aren't you?"

"You can't make a buck by letting a starship sit around doing nothing." Andrea replied.

"So then where are you going?"

"If you want to learn that, you'll have to join...."

-------------

Secret Encampment, Far Side of Sif

"I'm getting tired of these recycled pills" Debbie complained about her food suppliments. The 23 small gunboats had been cut off from supply for weeks longer then expected, and the 24th that came later didn't have much else to offer. There was always the local wildlife, but who know what effect it would have on the human digestive system? Debbie was almost ready to try.

"Oh, cut the complaining." Jeff Martin barked, "It's not any easier for us, and it's not making it any easier for us."

He had a point, even if Debbie didn't want to admit it.

"We could always head back." Eric Sanders suggested.

"Not without orders," Jeff said pointedly, "besides, everything we've intercepted says they aren't doing much better." Everyone knew that everything they'd intercepted wasn't much, but then, Sol was a long way off. GEC-42 wasn't much closer. They were more likely to eat better sooner if they waited then if they took off.

Just as that kind of thought was going to several dozen seperate heads, a familiar sort of presence disturbed them. Like one of their own craft landing, the 100 meter ship now practically on top of them had come in silently...practically being just a few meters over the tops of their own small gunships.

Mouths hung open. Nobody bothered to run for cover or ship. The one above was obviously one of their own, but they weren't expecting anything so "grand" so soon. Certainly the new clippers were still in development, no?

The large black ship drifted off to a large open part of the field to the side of it's 24 smaller cousins and landed with hardly a noise. Barely a minute later, a ramp lowered....

--------------

Therian Worldship Thssskt, Sif Orbit


"How goes preperations, Regent?" Ship Lord Krtss asked his previous collegue Aan.

"The humans are more industrious then I'd given them credit for," Ann replied bitterly, he was very definately biased against other species and did not like giving them any credit, "they are building our Emporer a proper fortress, despite my repeated attempts to find faults."

"And the Protoss?" Krtss probed.

"Those weak excuses for reptiles?" Ann sounded astonished. "It is not so easy to check their technology, I do not trust it."

Aan was not an honorable Therian, so it came as no suprise that he would distrust them, but Krtss himself felt similar. Despite his reverance for order and truth, no matter how hard it became, he did not much trust the Protoss either...and only suffered them because of his loyalty to his senior, Senior Ship Lord Hhhkss.

"Trust them or not, they will no try anything while the Thssskt orbits them, and should we be broken by another, the chance they are trustworthy may save our Emporer."

Aan hissed, he did not like this logic, but could not dispute it. The Protoss would be allowed to build their barriers as well.

OCC: Hey Wazzu, what's up?

I hate to disrupt the order of your post here, but I'm a bit short of RPs at present and would love to get involved in something. Is there any way LRR could play a part in what you've got going on here?

OOC: In here? That might be difficult. No one knows where the system Wazzu settled is yet except for Valinon and Wazzu. The human trading ships in orbit will be leaving soon for who knows where, but they don't really have anything to trade. No real local products just yet. They'll probably have to hit up Sol before they go anywhere, and if they do, then the best place to go is probably back to the colony.

Moreover, this is mostly just background for changing my nation.

Olympus-Corsica station in orbit of Jupiter however is one of the few places not affected by this mystery "disease" and probably has a backlog of things not being sent to or received from most other Wazzu assets in Sol. There is probably RP that can be started there (in a new thread) if you have an idea or two.

Just outside Stala Settlement, Sif, Pracipua System.

From upon a hilltop, 11 year old Donna and her father looked upon what seemed to have become the new capital of the planet-moon. A large fortress of odd metal had been constructed in the small city's heart, and several smooth, alien buildings stood not far away, supposedly warped in from another planet. Though most of the remaining buildings were human, the squat buildings just couldn't compare with their massive and ultra-modern alien counterparts.

Is this the shape of the future? Donna asked herself, Will all towns look like this one day? Only time would tell.

------------------

The Emperor's Hall, Stala Settelment, Sif

"Regent Aan," Ship Lord Krtss addressed his superior, "I bring reports of happenings in Sol."

"Report." Aan said lazily, as if he were the young Emperor himself.

Krtss held back a hiss, "The humans are regrouping, the Protoss have decided to stay at their 4th planet to help.

The Regent did not hold anything back, his hiss was loud, long, and full of anger. "They seek to supplant us already?!"

This comment was suprising to Krtss, seeing as they themselves were already attempting to position themselves as the new government. Not that the Regent was doing a good job of it, but at least this might focus his attention back on Sol.

"How can we fight this underhandedness?" the Regent asked himself. Ship Lord Krtss did not speak. It was in Aan's nature to be devious rather then honorable, it was the culture of his birth-ship. Aan would never have his suggestions taken by this principle, but given time, the principle would come up with his own idea.

And sure enough, he soon did, and announced it again as if he were the Emperor...as if his idea were undeniable. "They must not be allowed to accrue the local's sole support, even if they are only animals. Make plans to aid them, make us look their friends and equals. They appretiate such deceptions."

Krtss bowed. Aan may be the one who grew up full of deception, but Krtss was now pulling some of the strings. The Regent was so far blind to the weakness his position had caused him.

-------------------

IStS Dreamer, Sif Orbit

"We're WHAT?" Gregory Rand asked his shipmate.

"Being untied. The Therians are finally letting us leave." It had been over a month since Greg joined the ship, and the Therian Empire had refused to let the convoy of human ships depart. "Moreover, they are giving us trade goods to sell to the Marsies. We'll have our start-up capital!"

Greg's head swam. One minute they were playing oppressor, the next they were playing benifactor. Truely, alien minds were more confusing then hyperspace.

But Greg wasn't going to argue it. A few more days, and he could really start to learn the ins and outs of his new profession.

OOC: In here? That might be difficult. No one knows where the system Wazzu settled is yet except for Valinon and Wazzu. The human trading ships in orbit will be leaving soon for who knows where, but they don't really have anything to trade. No real local products just yet. They'll probably have to hit up Sol before they go anywhere, and if they do, then the best place to go is probably back to the colony.

Moreover, this is mostly just background for changing my nation.

Olympus-Corsica station in orbit of Jupiter however is one of the few places not affected by this mystery "disease" and probably has a backlog of things not being sent to or received from most other Wazzu assets in Sol. There is probably RP that can be started there (in a new thread) if you have an idea or two.

Ok. Ideas? Eh, not really. If you've got something, I'm up for it, but yeah quite fine.

The Emperor's Hall, Stala Settlement, Sif

The Therian Regent Aan watched as the pittiful little creature before him removed it's headcover and bowed. To Aan, most of the Earthlings looked alike, but somehow this one was uglier and more pathetic then most.

The effect of romoving it's top-garmet while bowing was to show a bald patch on the top of it's head who's disgustingness was rivaled only by the "hair" it had lost. And while the male's odd cultural wrappings were considered in good fashon by it's peers, to the Regent they seemed only to highlight the animals already disfigured appendages.

The bow shortly ended, once again showing Aan the smile on the human's face that even Aan, who's race had no likeness of a smile, felt unbecomming of a guest. "To what do I owe this interuption?" he asked, the menace thick on his voice all but lost to the little alien.

To it's credit, the funny looking man answered in the Regent's own language, it's voice heavilly accented by body parts not meant for conversing in Aan's tongue. "Destiny, fate, and a choice." said the man.

Had it been any other being, Aan would have laughed and had his guest literally thrown from the new fortress...but Therian culture had a position who's members resembled this man in not just looks, but action, and they were not of human decent! Startled but not showing it, the Regent sucked it up, overcame his dislike of listening to alien minds, and scanned his visitor only to find something yet more startling. As far as he could tell, the little man wasn't there. Literally not there. There was no mental block, no psychic contest, the human was simply not there...mentally. Yet the Regent could see the man before his very eyes. A very distressing situation.

"Speak." he managed, appearing authoritative rather then distressed.

"Your Excilency already knows, a war wages near us. I bring forcast, it's focus will change. This star system will be caught in the middle." The connotation was clear. Aan "served" the new-hatched Emporer, he was stuck here to guard and rear the young one. He could not flee a conflict gone bad.

"Yes, I know of this war," the Therian replied "they do not know of us here yet, they have no reason to look."

The man waited a moment before speaking, as if thinking. Still, Aan could not detect any such thoughts or emotions. "A winner will emerge, one that supports or one that destroys your rule. Your choice will affect the outcome."

"And why not let them destroy each other?" asked the Regent.

"Two reasons," the funny little man answered, "to consolidate your control over Wazzu, and to reap the rewards of trade."

"If I were to choose, what would I have to do?" the Regent asked, noncommitially.

"Travel to the heart of the Raumreich, and sign your place in history."

"You've given me much to think about," Aan admitted, "now leave me to consider my options."

The funny little man bowed, and left the hall.

------------------

Protoss High Council Room, Stala Settlement, Sef

And you are sure he will go? one of the three Archons floating in front of him inquired into his mind.

He is as powerhungry as you say, the funny little man wasn't psychic, but he let the thougts enter his mind so the Protoss could read, and has become as lazy as Ship Lord Krtss has informed us.

You understand that this really will give him power over your people, and influence ours. another of the high-three commented.

For now, our best chance lays with him. There will be enough challenges to his authority later, and the Emporer will be installed before he can cause too much harm.

You are not a profit, do not become overconfident in the role you have just played. the third thought to him.

The funny little man did not answer, just bowed slightly at the waist.

Good, thought the third again, We do all really understand one another. Perhaps we will all have a future role to play afterall.

And with that dismissal, the funny little man left the room, the Protoss' alien and strangely wise thoughts still occupying his conciousness.

In the middle reaches of the Pracipua system, space suddenly warped and twisted around a nexus of blue-white energy. The hammerhead shaped form of a Kriegsmarine Romanov-class destroyer explodes back into normal space. The destroyer rapidly brings its gravimetric engines online and lays in a course for Sif, a general broadcast reaches out across the ansible connection as the ship accelerates to join the wave of traffic constantly arriving at the new Wazzu colony.

“Pracipua System Traffic Control, this is the HMS Thunderhead of the Imperial Reserve Patrol Force. We are requesting permission to enter into orbit over Sif and take up station for forty-eight standard hours. Fregattenkapitan Marksman and Kommodore Broughton, of the general staff, need to conference with your colonial administration and security authorities as soon as possible regarding the current state of affairs in the Raumreich. Please respond.”

The reply took a while to come back....

Transfer Station, Sif Orbit

"What do you mean I can't reply?" the short Wazzuian asked the giant lizzard behind him.

"Not your choice," the Therian said in badly accented English, "forward to Stala."

The human sighed but complied. There wasn't much else he could do at the moment...not without negative consequences anyway.

------------

The Emperor's Hall, Stala Settlement, Sif

The Regent Aan looked over the piece of electronic parchment with it's hastily translated and transcribed wording. "I've no time for this! I've an escort to prepare! Send Ship Lord Krtss to speak with these people, or, wait, better yet," his tone hissed with mocking words, "kindly ask our good protector to assemble a war council. Invite these Valinor down. Krtss, his beloved Protoss, and our pets can discuss this matter as I secure our Empire."

The aide bowed as if to say "Yes, my Regent." and quickly left the room.

------------

Transfer Station, Sif Orbit

The short Wazzuian looked at the badly translated Therian order with some degree of horror. "They want me to transmit this?!" he asked reproachfully. The huge, armed Therian behind him grunted threateningly. "They will blow us away if I say it like this! I can say it, but I have to say it differently." the human complained.

The small man couldn't tell if in the intervening seconds the alien thought something like "the Regent's will can not be changed," or simply nothing at all...the alien was afterall alien. But he took relief in the large lizard's eventual reply.

"Then change it."

A half a minute later, the human's voice came back over one of the Sif system's few ansible connections.

"HMS Thunderhead, welcome to the Praecipua system. Please excuse our delay, you were not expected." the human made sure to fail and mention recent administrative changes. "A security board is being assembled in the capital Stala settlement. Please choose an orbit of your liking, we are not crowded here. Shuttle landing Co-ordinates follow this message."

------------
Elsewhere in Praecipua

Though the Valinor couldn't have known of the Regent's comments about preparing an escort, much of it seemed quite evident in the system. An enormous Therian ship, many kilometers long and wide and deep also orbited the habital moon called Sif. It was not a warship, merely a self-contained colony in space...the kind Therians everywhere now used in their interplanitary wanderings.

But in it's shadow lay the escort. A small fleet of Therian, Protoss, and even a few odd human ships some of which were not known to have superluminal capibilities...and should not have been able to arrive here. Even then, a few other ships enteedr the system too far out to identify, and directed themselves towards the shadow of the behometh city-ship.

The assembling fleet could only not be described as a flotilla because of it's use of many types of ships. Compared to those that had already died in the March War, it hardly seemed threatening. Amazing given recent events? Yes. And interesting due to it's unique make-up? Most definately. But hardly threatening.

It was about that time when the Thunderhead may or may not have received an FTL forward from Alpha/Beta/Proxima-Centauri. The triple star system had just recieved it's own ansible transmission. It asked the system to prepare for the arrival of the Regent of Wazzu...concerning the signing of the Proxima Centauri Accords.

Elsewhere in Praecipua

Formed and ready to go, swirling blue-white energy overtook the nearly 100 ships that had been laying in rest of the great Worldship's shadow, and within two minutes all had disappeared.

------------

Stala Settlement, Sif


Sitting now in a conference room in the Sif capital, Ship Lord Krtss cursed in front of his alien collegues. Not that any of them spoke High-Therian, but he had spoken with such vehemence that even the non-psychic humans seemed to catch on. "Aan forgets his place." Krtss' mouthparts moved around the odd human language's sounds. The others in the room were well aware of the cost of the Regent's recent move. Two worldships had been nearly emptied, the humans had to recruit untrained crew and recall retired veterans to run half their remaining ships, and the Protoss had not just donated fleets, but a great deal of concentration, resources, and energy to make the Regent's little fleet. Praecipua now stood nearly barren, the secrecy of it's location being it's primary defense...being the young Emperor's primary defense.

"The move was necessary," High Judicator Adul reminded everyone, "there is no time to waste in resurecting old powerstructures, nor in allowing them to argue amongst one another." It was another point everyone was clear on, and that everyone in this room at least seemed to agree on. The young Emperor would need a bad example to know what to avoid (that example being the current Regent), the Terrians of all sorts would need guidence in rebuilding, and the Protoss would need time to adjust living amongst aliens. And while all that was going on, some stable structure would need to be set fourth to persue the aims of the gestating government.

Ship Lord Krtss effected the Therian equivalent of a sigh in reply, but did not vent his frustration at the Protoss saying what he already knew. It was hard enough working with aliens, and that would not have made anything better.

"The Valinor will arrive soon," an old human spoke up then, "and due to their supprise arrival, we've not had time to discuss what we might do." Indeed, the group had never been formed before. No one was fully aware of the capibilities of the others, nor how those capibilities might mix. It was not likely anyone would give up all their secrets, nor even many of them, but every process had a start.

And with the old Admiral Raven's suggestion, the small group of military and government heads started earnist discussion in wait of the arrival of their guests.

A pair of Kriegsmarine officers enter secured conference room. The older of the two officers bears the single gold star of a kommodore on his collar, and the same insignia above one thick band of gold. His calm grey eyes study the awaiting Wazzu. His subordinate, wearing the single gold diamond of a fregattenkapitan above four bars of gold, is younger and moves with far more energy in his step--emphasized by a shock of red hair that sticks out from under his own peaked cap, colored white to demonstrate his command of a warship.

Both wear a small, silver cylinder on their belts and there appears to be a strange distortion in the air immediately surrounding their persons. A second black cylinder, bearing a blue and white crest commonly used to denote a fresh air supply in the Star Empire, is attached close to the first.

Kommodore Broughton steps forward and removes his cap, with Marksman following shortly after.

"Sirs," Broughton says, "thank you for seeing me. I wish I brought far more pleasant news, but I am afraid I do not. It seems the recent course of events in the Oversector may finally force the Star Empire to take a more direct form of action, and I am under orders from Her Imperial Majesty and Reichsprotektor Adonis to discuss what implications that has on your colonization efforts here. Would it be possible for us to dismiss to a more secure location?"

The "sirs" consisted of three fellows, the most obvious of which might be mistaken as a giant lizzard. Truely, Therians seemed quite large in life, this one looking every bit as strong as it did alien. Of course, this was one of the higher caste in Therian society, a society based on an almost Nazi-like focus on genetics and realist view of rule by the strong. It, ?he?, was only inferior to the Regent by position and age. The Emperor was still too young to be comarible.

The next noticable was the Protoss. Tall and thin as it's (his? her?) race often is, it was the only other being in the room besides the two Valinor to be glowing mysteriously in the slightly dim room. It looked up with unreadable facial expressions, alien thoughts passing behind alien eyes.

The last was a man, a human man. It might be little suprise he was the least noticable, being the as the average Wazzuian human rather short. What was a suprise was just how little noticable he was. Far from invisible, the man none-the-less seemed to fade into the background. This seemed a facet of his personality rather then of anything technological or mystical. Regardless, it was he who responded to the two guests, drawing attention away from the aliens.

"Gentlemen, I'd welcome you to Sif had I not arrived just a short time ago myself. This is a fully secure room, my collegues and I were just discussing what we expect you want to be discussing." The words came out odd. Odder still was that when he offered his hand he quickly pulled it back (the aliens seemed disinclined to immitate the human gesture, though one blowed slightly and the other nodded its head in greeting). The human opened his mouth, closed it again, opened, closed. It was a quick debate with himself. He realized introductinos had not been made, but something more important sprang to mind. "Ahh, are the two of you secure sir?" he asked the superior, "This is a quarentine zone...."

Broughton nods calmly, "Rest assured both Kapitan Marksman and myself have taken the quarantine currently in place in Wazzu territory. Both of us are wearing a Flickinger self-containing environment energy field and an air rebreather. Although I thank you for your concern, sir. Perhaps you would care to tell me if your medical and research communities have come any closer to isolating the disease that was plaguing parts of Wazzu?"

"Bits and peices as I understand, unfortunately all discoveries have been side effects. Or, at least thats the news I get not being in the medical profession. Some foreign MFTA officials say they are on to something, but it just sounds like the usual scientific and medical community gibberish to me. I hope they are right." The man sighed.

"Please forgive me, Kommodore Broughton is it? I've yet to introduce my fellows." The man first motioned to the larger of the two aliens. "Imperial Ship Lord Krtss commands the Therian Worldship Thssskt, which I believe you saw in orbit. High Judicator Adul," the man switched his pose to indicate the Protoss, "has the unique position in his society of being both a government and military leader. He is second in rank only to the Conclave Council. And I am Admiral Raven, the highest ranking surviving member of the Dominion military.

"Sirs, this room is secure and I am assured contains at least most of the basic equipment you might request, including a seat if you like." the man motioned a third time, by this time, it was becomming apparant his motions did not seem to match his age...they were slower and more careful, though he looked to be merely in his early 40s. "Because what we believe you wish to talk about, you most certainly have our full attention."

"It is a pleasure, My Lord," Broughton says nodding deeply to Krtss and then turns to the Protoss, "Honored Judicator."

With that he turns back to Raven, "I do wish that my arrival in Praecipua were to deliver more favorable news, Admiral, but I am afraid that is not the case. I will assume that you are all aware of the war currently being waged by the forces of the Ortagan Hegemony against the Verniian Imperium, the Wickian Concordat, and the Collective Protectorates of Liberated New Hope for the moment, at least in the basic sense."

Broughton takes a seat and gestures for Marskman to do the same, the younger officer rapidly follows his superior's example.

"To put it very mildly, Sirs, the course of the war is not boding well for the Verniians or their allies. The Ortagans have already secured the system of Erewohn--the most important system in the Imperium outside of Gregor itself--and have made offensive strikes against the Collective Protectorates and the Concordat. For the most part the Concordat seems to have repulsed the attempted invasion relatively intact, although the Concordat government has decided to evacuate its civilian population to safe havens in their own outlying stations and within the Star Empire, and are planning to launch a counterattack to discourage further Ortagan incursions into their space. The situation is less positive in the Collective Protectorates, and it appears the Hegemonic forces managed to kill Admiral Setties and most of his government officials. In the ensuing chaos a massive insurgency, being lead by the Collective Protectorates former clergy theocracy remannts, has erupted."

Broughton looks soberly at the assembled Wazzu, "With the destruction of most of the Verniian naval reserve at Erewohn, and the loss of their only major fleet base outside of Gregor--not to mention the fact that their entire alliance structure has been thrown into chaos by the additional attacks--, Her Imperial Majesty and Her Majesty's Government have come to the decision that the Star Empire can no longer chose to remain outside this conflict. The possibility of the Ortagan subjegation of almost all other nations within the Inner Marches of the Raumreich, plus the possibility of the Ortagans attempting to seize control of the Gregor end of the Alpha Centauri/Gregor wormhole terminus, is to great for us not to intervene."

"We will of course be trying to diffuse this conflict through any other means possible, but I personally--and most of the general staff--feel that the point to do so has long passed. But if the Star Empire does intervene on behalf of its allies against the Hegemony, it is most likely that the Ortagans will not respect the exclusive access provisions of the Imperial Reserve and may very well seek to penetrate the systems currently under our protection in order to establish forward bases to assault the dominions."

"Her Imperial Majesty and Her Majesty's Government realize that your nation wishes to remain self-sufficiency, Sirs, and that you have historically been unwilling to accept what many would consider to be free hand-outs. But we cannot in good faith committ ourselve to a war without at least attempting to reinforce and gaurantee the security of the colonization and less developed races in the Reserve."

"Therefore, at the very least, Reichsprotektor Adonis has ordered a task force from the Dominion of Pelledrine's Imperial Pelledriner Navy be dispatched to assist in the protection of the Praecipua system. This task force will arrive in two days time, and will remain present so long as the conflict persists. Rest assured, Sirs, that we are also doing the same in regards to the other inhabited worlds within the Reserve and that Praecipua is far from the only system receiving this sort of attention. However, Her Imperial Majesty and Reichsprotektor Adonis also wish me to answer any additional questions you may have regarding this conflict and also work to coordinate a joint defensive plan--and a possible evacuation plan--should the Ortagans decide to attack Praecipua."

Admiral Raven's face twisted not into a frown, but more into a sort of half frown, and he exchanged looks with his two compatriots. He wasn't psychic really, but he'd become used to the mental intrusion that the Therian upper society and all Protoss used to some degree or another, and he'd had enough training to organize his own thoughts not to be unplesent to the others. He was after just as alien to them as they to him.

"My collegues feel this is a mistake sir," he replied to Kommodore Broughton. "We've not been here long, so our sources of information in the Raumreich are...fetal. But even public networks across the Raumreich seem to be of the opinion that the Ortagan war machine is a giant. Even if we had all our fleet assets here, and even with your support, I do not think we could successfully fend off a concerted invasion effort.

"The three of us agree however that we have other means of protection at the moment. For one, we are still under self quarantine. If the reports of their Empire are true, and they are expanding to maintain power, then anything looted from us risks carrying contamination back home. So we don't believe there is a profit motive.

"For two, I don't believe anyone sees us as much of a threat at the moment, not the least of with a military empire the size of Ortaga. There seem to be other powers in nearby space that are far more deserving of immediate attention.

"Lastly, unless there has been a leak, no one but your own nation knows what system we have colonized. There are a lot of stars between here and Yalta, or Axis, or Pelledrine, none that are particularly strategic. As long as those conditions remain unchanged, there is little will nor ability to attack us here."

The Admiral sat in silence for a moment, possibly listening to the thoughts of aliens. "We are appretiative of Her Majesty's offer of assistance, and would gladly accpet, but I think we are in agreement: Starships are valuable assets that should be moved to the most effective places, both yours...and ours." He offered at last.

Broughton arches an eyebrow at the Admiral's last comment, and it is an interesting action to watch it slowly sink back into place. The Therian and the Protoss no doubt sense the spike in the kommodore's mixture of emotions, a strange combination of respect, fear for those who may be drug into the war, and a small bit of relief.

"Gentlemen," Broughton says quietly, "I am afraid that I am not in a position to countermand Lord Adonis' orders regarding the task force, but I will of course convey your wishes to him as soon as possible. Given the nature of the Star Empire's relationship with your nation, I have no doubt that it will be respected and the order will be recinded at once."

"Rest assured, Lord Adonis, the entirety of Her Imperial Majesty's Armed Forces, and myself will do everything within their power to ensure the location of Praecipua remains safe from Ortagan hands. However, I would tell you that if for some reason the location does become known to the Ortagans, although it is extremely unlikely, I would not rely on the quarantine to protect you. The Ortagan war effort is not entirely under the control of sound tactical and strategic minds, it is heavily influence by the warped hand of Ortagan politics, and the fanatics that operate at the highest levels of the Hegemonic government have made no effort to conceal their xenophobia. They have just finished launching yet another invasion into the space of the Wickian Concordat, despite the fact that the Wickians military and economy has already been pounded into a virtual husk by their previous engagements with the Hegemony. Given their level of hatred toward the Wickians and the Vaku, I would say that once they become aware of the nature of your colony's populace they may very well make an exception to purge a target they would view as such a crime against their supposed designs for a 'pure Raumreich'."

"Thankfully," Broughton says, "I do not have to believe that we will have to consider that option. But should you detect a possible Ortagan incursion, or if we do, the offer to assist in the defense of your colony--or at the very least the defenders of an evacuation effort--will stand."

Broughton eyes each of the Wazzu officials for a moment, "However, I believe we have a more serious matter at hand. Am I to interpret from your last statement, Admiral, that Wazzu may be considering participating in an allied action against the Ortagan Hegemony? If that is a case, I would most certainly convey this message back to Alpha Centauri, but I would hope you were fully aware of the consequences that war against the Hegemony may entail."

Admiral Raven did not appear to waste any time discussing this with his two fellows, he answered immediately. "Our cultures are new here, we don't have the intelligence resources that established nations do, but we do have access to the public nets. Granted there are efforts to keep sensitive information off them, more careful inspection shows huge numbers of experts and body politic have opinions public knowledge can't account for.

"We three are in agreement, there is a certain trust that can be placed in statistical opinions and historical examples; we do not believe the Ortagans would stop after their current expansion project, no matter the indigestion." And now the man did stop a moment, cocked his head, nodded, and spoke. "The Regent's fleet is a showboat, but given sufficient notice we can assemble something real. It won't be an armada," he said, making eye-contact with Broughton to make sure the point was understood, "but it can be a suprise."

Nodding again, mostly to himself this time, he spoke up in low tones. "We'll keep a few assets here to help insure discovery is not an issue. The risk of loosing the fleet is worth the rewards.

"Is there another matter to discuss?" he finally inquired.

"No, Admiral, I do not believe there is," Broughton says. "However, I would like to add this. Current Her Imperial Majesty and Reichsproktektor Adonis are working with the other nations of the Raumreich to coordinate an allied front--and an allied fleet. If this comes to fruitation, Grossadmiral Forrest will be placed in overall strategic command of the fleet."

"If it is your decision to commit your forces to this war, Gentlemen, I would highly recommend you deploy this fleet of yours to Yalta. It is the strongest staging point against the Hegemony we have on this side of the Alpha Centauri wormhole junction, and is also in a relatively central location between the possible allied powers and the Hegemony proper. If your fleet arrives there, it will be put to use in the best way that it can contribute in achieving victory over the Hegemony and the Solar Forces."

Broughton stands and offers a crisp salute to the Wazzu commanders, "Thank you for your time, Gentlemen. With any luck we can soon put this war behind us and go back to times that were far less interesting. I will carry your messages back to Alpha Centauri at once."

Broughton turns to leave and make for his shuttle. A little over an hour, the Thunderhead departs the system, headed on its return trip to Yalta and a Star Empire on the very eve of war.