NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: In order to quell any fears of launching some sort of godmodey invasion of the Solar System, let me assure you that this won’t go any farther than the Neptune subsystem, and will most likely be fairly confined there as well. Of course, the RP is open for those who wish to participate in this localized conflict.

Now, a comment on time. I tend to stick with my the “one day = one year” rule for record keeping, meaning these barges would have been here for quite some time (180 years or thereabouts) and the characters I intent to use would be ridiculously old. So I’m going to fudge my rule and just say an indeterminate amount of time has passed (though more than a few decades). I can always slap some arbitrary date on the event later.

Skeelzanian Oribtal Barge Narvik, Neptune subsystem of Sol

All was well aboard the two ungainly barges orbiting over Neptune’s North Pole. Since their installation several decades ago, the two semi-stationary vessels had done their duty well. Established in the waning years of Emperor Hamilcar’s power, the two stations would serve as refueling depots for Skeelzanian traders traveling too and from the Solar system, supplying them with the fuel necessary for the 40,000 light year trip (even hypderdrives required some fuel). The ultimate goal, of course, had been to flood the Solar system with cheap Skeelzanian goods and resources, and eventually to dominate the region economically.

Several flaws in the plan immediately arose. Skeelzanian consumer goods were found to be shoddy and oft times dangerous to the inhabitants of Sol. They were also more expensive, Skeelzanian manufacturing relying in large part on manual labor. Imperial agents also found that, while resources from the Gamma quadrant were somewhat cheaper, most nations were not keen on opening up their markets to them. The cornerstone of this “resource flood” strategy, Spootonium, was also found to be almost completely undesirable in the Sol markets, mainly due to its being one of, if not the most radioactive element in the known universe.

Basically, the Skeelzanian Economic Dominance Plan failed on all counts. Skeelzanian goods were shoddy and dangerous, and no one wanted to buy them. The SEDP was scrapped shortly after Emperor Konrad II ascended to the Iron Throne on Solomon, apparently dooming the barges to the scrap heap. However, Konrad was reluctant to admit failure, and the Skeelzanian Stubbornness asserted itself when he demanded the barges remain on station, “for unforeseen strategic needs.” Incidentally, this doomed his uncle, Vasili, to a life of extreme boredom and drunkenness. Jumping ahead twenty-odd years brings us to the present, and the two barges idly spinning on Neptune’s axis.

Ralpheous von Hrolzenburg was methodical in his pacing, making the bridge crew thoroughly uncomfortable. A kleinadmiral of the Fürstentumschützesternteilung (the Princiaplity Guard’s naval branch), he was the overall military commander of the two barges, the Army thinking it below them to guard “a mere gas station.” He’d had a good many long years to brood on why he was assigned to this post, and had eventually concluded someone was out to derail his career. Probably that Serrat fellow, he thought. Always had it in for me since Joanna. Arrogant border yokel, frog.

When Hrolzenburg wasn’t stewing over his rivalry with other FS agents, he was deriding his underlings for their poor performance. Just this morning they had let a four-ton drum of flochips burst in Storage Compartment C, scattering the microchips (with their contained antiproton) across the deck floor, the miserable swabs. Their performance on maneuvers was similarly poor, although Hrolzenburg couldn’t fault them entirely. Most crews were changed out every three standard years (officers such as himself served nine). The replacement crew was now nearly a year late, and grumblings were present. Come to think of it, they hadn’t had much of anything come out of the Sternreich for a good eight months or so…

The siren jerked Hrolzenburg from his musings and back to the present. NavSen didn’t need prompting before they delivered a report. “Multiple hyperspace wakes detected, Admiral. The signature is consistent with Imperial warships.”

Warships? Ralpheous didn’t like the sound of that. By treaty, Skeelzania was bound to keep these stations demilitarized; shoot, they couldn’t even fuel naval vessels at them. “How many does it look like?”

“Four, five, six…” was the reply. “I’m not sure, Admiral. They’re coming on fast and, wait, that’s another four. At least ten inbound. Might be more masked in their wake, they’re almost dead on.”

At least ten ships, of unknown class and mission, with possibly more bearing down on him. By Spoot, is this it? Has Konrad launched the invasion? Hrolzenburg’s eyes flicked over the bridge crew. They were all sitting rigidly at their stations, but he could see the glances from the corners of their eyes. They wanted orders, wanted to know what to do. Unfortunately, Hrolzenburg wasn’t entirely certain of that himself. “When should they be here?”

“At current speeds, about 16.2 hours, sir.”

We can launch the fighters, he thought. The barges had, of course, several wings of strikecraft housed aboard, despite them being forbidden under the Neptune Accords. But what if it isn’t an invasion? I’d might as well send out a wide-beam transmission saying “Hey! Take your treaty and go to hell!” And what if it is the invasion? The element of surprise would be blown.

“Sir?”

His second officer, prompting him for orders. Hrolzenburg quieted his runaway thoughts, pushed the what ifs from his mind. His duty was to oversee the barges, not fire the first shot in an intergalactic war. “Captain, you will put your men on level two alert. We don’t know what this means but we are not going to be caught off guard. Relay those orders to the Holtzenoller as well.”

“And the fighters, Admiral?”

Station rights forfeited, humiliated by the Fremden again, the invading fleet being shot to pieces, unsupported by the advance guard- “The fighters will remain cloistered, captain. They will be launched only when I deem such an action necessary. Make sure the Holtzenoller gets those orders as well. Carry on.”

16.2 hours later

Hrolzenburg watched silently as the first Nemesis battleship burst through into realspace, the shockwaves of its arrival emanating outwards. Four more exited hyperspace in quick succession, followed by a gaggle of destroyers and several large transport ships. Rather puny invasion fleet, he thought. “Get on the horn with that first ship. Find out who the commanding officer is, and have him report immediately.”

“Trying to now, Admiral, but the channels are all skarked, I mean disrupted, Admiral,” came the reply from Comms. Navigation reported similar problems when they tried to assess if there were any more incoming ships. “Just too much interference, Admiral. It’ll take a good fifteen minutes for those waves to reside, and until then I might as well be looking through a planet.”

“Damnable sensors. I constructed more sophisticated systems in GenED.” Hrolzenburg paced the deck a few times, continuing to grumble about the sorry state of Skeelzanian sensors. “Tell me the minute the waves subside, lieutenant. I want to know what’s still out there, and damn well-”

“Unidentified object inbound, Admiral! Its coming out of the warp, its- my God!”

Exploding into being between the new arrivals and the barge was another battleship. Unlike her sisters however, this one was not reappearing at a gentle cruise. Re-entering realspace at full flank speed, the seven-hundred-meter warship rocketed through the remaining space. Came in behind their wake, God-damnit, Hrolzenburg thought. But why? And then the battleship struck dead-center, pitching everyone forward and plunging the bridge into darkness.

OOC:[...]
Now, a comment on time. I tend to stick with my the “one day = one year” rule for record keeping, meaning these barges would have been here for quite some time (180 years or thereabouts) and the characters I intent to use would be ridiculously old. So I’m going to fudge my rule and just say an indeterminate amount of time has passed (though more than a few decades). I can always slap some arbitrary date on the event later.

ooc: Even with the reduced time-frame, you're likely to run into problems as I don't believe anybody on Neptune uses that method of marking time; I know I sure don't -- otherwise this nation would be 669 years old, and my main would be 997 years old. Even at only "a few decades", you're going to be considerably in the "future". I doubt I've even advanced a year since DA sold space on Neptune.

<SEU Act on Instinct> Hum. See that? [Sensor files attached]
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Erm. Looks like someone's FTLing in. c+ stuff, no teleporting?
<SEU Act on Instinct> Quite. Getting some readings... Ummm... I hate interferences. Still, querying some drone swarms, they should look out.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Yeah, ok. Doing the same, plus Poseidon/ the others. But, well, business as usual? It's not like we're unusued to their traffic.
<SEU Act on Instinct> Of course. Standard procedures. It's not like I'm aiming a gun.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Ah, ok.

As far as DA Neptune was concerned, nobody seemed to busy oneself with the (Practically unknown) issue at hand. Granted, given the slow decrease of traffic from and to the local Skeelzanians over time, there was some surprise - But the Skeelzanians weren't exactly known for being forthcoming with information. As it was, most people were generally unsuspecting. Business as usual.

Of course, this changed about sixteen hours later...

<SEU DEAT on Sight> The fuck? Warships. Battleship-level.
<SEU Act on Instinct> I'm seeing them myself, thanks. Directing drone swarms...
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Poseidon's already screaming, and a bunch of TEUs is bugging me. ARGH.
<SEU Act on Instinct> Yes, yes. I know. Acquiring targetting data... Hum. I guess I should call them.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Indeed.
<SEU Act on Instinct> Oh, and I'm organising some stuff. Be back in a few seconds.

All around Neptune, drone swarms and small groups of ships changed their positions apropriately, for a watch-with-a-smile-and-maybe-shoot-to-kill scenario, or at least had their sensors concentrate on the newly arrived Skeelzanian battlefleet. Already, the news hit the media, albeit comparatively unnoticed - Nighttime on Poseidon.

Among the ships and mind-occupied drones, numerous discussions took place. Organisation wasn't exactly DA's strong side - It took some doing. The problem of pseudo-democratic majority-decisions...

... Majority decisions everyone was free to ignore, anyway, no less. But eventually, (Temporary) agreements were reached, even if only through heated arguments and thinly veiled threats.

<SEU Act on Instinct> Back. You're now talking to your nominal 'Commander'.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Suck my steel penis. Anyway- Oh. Another ship. That makes... Six battleships. Someone's gunning for it.
<SEU Act on Instinct> But why? They're still horribly outnumbered. Granted, we're rather shoddy, all things considered, but at this odds... Besides, there's also the Britmattians. And the Federals.

The discussion went on, of course, but for the next few moments, the Act on Instinct felt that something else had to be done, too.

* Contacting approaching ships...
* Sending Standard Identification Protocols [Nation = Der Angst; Region = DA Neptune; Ship = SEU Act on Instinct]
<SEU Act on Instinct> Okay. Hum. You're familiar with a certain treaty between DA and Skeelzania, right? It has some, ah, 'No Warships at Neptune' clause in it. Now... Mind giving an explanation for showing up here, cannoned up like this? Can't say we're particularly pleased with your entry, really.

And of course, there was also the thing about the Barges... Granted, here, the Act on Instinct was probably the wrong choice, and Sandra Mikogami - Having just woken up - took the initiative, grudgingly.

From: Poseidon (Sandra Mikogami)
To: Narvik, (von Hrolzenburg)
Subject: Your guys with the guns

Well. Any explanation?

Yours,

~ Sandra Mikogami

Very short, of course, but then, she was annoyed by the sudden lack of sleep. Not that it was strictly necessary... But it was a nice thing to do. And she hated to be disturbed when she was doing nice things.

Elsewhere, chatter continued.

<SEU DEAT on Sight> Hum. Amusing. You know, I'm having a similar discussion with the Mechanical Man.
<SEU Act on Instinct> I suppose there are a few thousand discussions of our kind taking place. Anyway. No idea whom they'd want to target.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Actually, I'm enjoying a rather interesting game of chess with the Absense of common Sense. Though... nevermind. Anyway... Going by the path this last arrival is taking...
<SEU Act on Instinct> Seeing it. Three...
<SEU DEAT on Sight> You know, I really would like to know what the hell is happening. It isn't particularly, ah, logical.
<SEU Act on Instinct> Well, to be fair, we know little about Skeelzania. Never did proper infiltration.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> True, true.
<SEU Act on Instinct> Two-point-nine-nine-nine...
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Think we can intercept?
<SEU Act on Instinct> Soft fields? No. Not sure if we could take it over in this little time, nevermind changing its course.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Oh well. Still, we could try to get some information. Given that they're, you know... Breaking the treaty, and ramming each other, and doing funky stuff like that...
<SEU Act on Instinct> True enough - Two-point-nine-nine-eight - Lemme check with Poseidon.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Need a nanny to break the rules? That's a new one for me.
<SEU Act on Instinct> Oh... Go screw an asteorid. Anyway. We're free to check 'by all means necessary'. They might not like it, but seeing as they're kinda outnumbered and can be targetted by a few thousand OCDs & DEATs...
<SEU DEAT on Sight> It's not like the OCDs are a threat to them. Anyway, clear.
<SEU Acton Instinct> Two-point-nine-nine-seven...

Naturally, the actions of the DA units in place were slowly becoming less fractionalised, more coordinated.

And by that, they were als becoming more efficient in their information-gathering activities. Granted, basic information was known - The Skeelzanians had been here with their barges and their semi-regular transports, giving ample opportunities to gather some basic information by, say, analysing emissions, or quiely sweeping them with minimal-intensity x-rays, the likes - but it couldn't hurt to know more.

The intensity of the sensor sweeps increased by an order of magnitude even while the first SEUs and TEUs began to release their subcraft (Which was a comparatively slow process. The collision would happen long before the process had even started properly).

Wavelengths and frequencies flickered widely as endless combinations were tried out. Which ones get through and are reflected, which ones are filtered or swallowed up? What kind of intensity is considered bad enough to get shields to block them? What is the structure of the armour?

Simultaneously, soft fields extend, their exotic properties of course subject to various kinds of ECMs, jamming, Neptune's magnetosphere, the likes... But still, where they did get through, interesting things happened.

In many cases, this things were merely exotic blurrs of information lost in the overall chaos, as it's in the wrong kind of package, incapable of getting through a particular kind of shield, field or material.

In a few cases, it's the right package. States of subatomic particles and massless emissions are manipulated, changed. Energy is then emitted, again. This energy is of course equal to information.

And this information is transmitted on, and on, and on.

At some point - And of course only where the information is actually getting through, rather than being corrupted by various environmental influences and/ or actual defences - computers and build-in headware supposed to protect a mind from 'Outside Influences' might notice something knocking- Actually, scratch that. 'Knocking' would be the polite version, asking for access via official channels.

In this case, it's sneaking in, trying to remain unnoticed, or, if noticed, to continue without blowing stuff.

On the plus side, it isn't (Yet) violently breaking through metaphorical walls...

For now, it remains fairly harmless. It searches - If still active, rather than being terminated - for bits and bytes of different information. Orders, news, memories, material properties, software structures, the likes.

This information is then transmitted back. If possible, anyway.

For now, all that is wanted is a bit of knowledge, to understand what is happening, and why.

Once this is done, the decision as of who to shoot can still be made.

* Contacting approaching ships...
* Sending Standard Identification Protocols [Nation = Der Angst; Region = DA Neptune; Ship = SEU Act on Instinct]
<SEU Act on Instinct> Mind, we're of course taking some liberty regarding information-acquisition. Hope you don't mind [4.2 megabyte Smiley-image attached]

From: Poseidon (Sandra Mikogami)
To: Narvik, (von Hrolzenburg)
Subject: The guys with the guns

Oh, nevermind. You're being rammed. My condolences. Is there any way I could help?

Yours,

~ Sandra Mikogami

<SEU DEAT on Sight> Well, well. Odd, that. Hope intel's going to be sufficient to make an educated decision.
<SEU Act on Instinct> Likewise. Already moving into proper positions for proper targetting vectors. Thinking about a complete takeover - Bloodless, of course. Could be hard, tho. Oh, and two-point-nine-nine-six.

The groups of ships, clouds of drones were still reacting, moving. Slowly of course, incredibly slowly - Unlike their instantaneous point-to-point QE comms for internal chats, their movements - Just as their communications with the Skeelzanians, for which mere speed-of-light comms had to suffice - took a fair amount of time, and were only just beginning, still taking a while to be completed.

Almost three seconds until impact - Time passed, slowly. And then, expected, almost welcomed (After all, it's shiny):

Boom.

Larissa Naval Base, Britmattian Sector, Observation Command.

Heartbeat.
The Skeelzanians slide into the sidereal universe.
A second heartbeat.
The newly aware station E.I. notifies her organic superiors and bursts the information her sensors are feeding her to the various entities that can use it.
A third heartbeat.
The E.I., rather unimaginatively named Larissa, is opening a query to Poseidon to coordinate a response to whatever is about to happen...
As the Skeelie battleship plows towards the station, events slow down to the speed of meat and Larissa has time to be given orders by an organic.
"Larissa, activate all sensors and echo firing solutions on all Skeelie ships as the Fleet reacts."
"Done." comes the E.I's soft voice.
Consoles flare alight and siren whoop an alert, and for those that are watching the right way a new sun flares into being, as the fortress that Larissa has been made over into powers up serried ranks of weapons systems and sensors of every type the Axis has been able to create, copy or steal.
Bays big enough to admit enormous Capella Superdreadnoughts grind open as Piranha and Hammerhead snubcraft whirl out, the battlegroups in parking orbit also flushing their parasite craft as the Fleet reacts to the appearance of the Skeelzanian vessels.
Larissa is, after all, the home of both His Majesty's Stellar Navy and the Axis Rapid Intervention Force, and the incursion of military vessels belonging to a neutral/hostile power into a system they are specifically barred from entering is guaranteed to get Kingdom/Axis attention, even if the A.R.I.F. is presently a paper tiger.
Still, the three hundred odd Kingdom ships in parking orbit should suffice to deal with a half dozen of what, by Kingdom standards, are over-grown battlecruisers.
Just as suddenly as the boiling movement had begun, it halts. Guns twitch here and there as they track movement, and the whole Fleet gives the impression of a bird-dog straining at it's master's heel, but the deployment halts whilst the Fleet and Larissa pause, patiently enough, but all too visibly ready to do something suitably messy should the Skeelies not give Poseidon a satisfactory answer as to what the bloody hell they think they're doing.
So...
Waiting.

* Buffering...
Sublink established://CommonLinks//NonAxisComms//Poseidon//Core
<[FleetCore]Larissa> I hate to admit it, but the Midlonians were right. O_o! We're never going to hear the end of this...
<[FleetCore]Larissa> Anyway, suggestions?

Tiburon Joint Command Neptune, Blue Point, Tiburon Neptune, Tiburon

Of all the Tiburonese Joint Commands, Joint Command Neptune was considered the best to be stationed on. Thanks to the Neptune Accords, this planet was one of the most peaceful planets in the system, resulting in far less resources to manage than, say, Tiburon Mars, where there was a new war every other week, or Tiburon Mercury, with the massive Seraphim civil war. And there were many more nations in Neptune, too, giving more latitude for leave. All in all, it was a nice post to be assigned to- some would almost call it cushy. But things did happen- and Blue Point had to respond.

The sensors are manned by a rather bored first lieutenant, idly flipping through one of countless magazines in Joint Command Neptune and sipping some drink. He’s counting the minutes until the end of the shift, for an end that would never come. The H-g alerts flashed, and the officer sounds a general warning. “General warning, all personnel. Warships detected from raised space.” As the command center buzzed to life with action, a high-ranking officer- a major general- came up behind the officer. “Heading? Type? Number? Speed?”

After entering a few commands, the lieutenant responds. “Detected at point NA300, P76, A82, heading towards point NA Point 2, P0, A90. Consistent with Skeelzanian warships. They’re in a cloak formation, so we can see at least 10, but there may be others. ETA is… about 16 hours.”

The general is astonished. What would they possibly be doing? No need to break the treaty after observing it all this time. Revenge for the previous action that the Concordat took? Reinforcements for some future war? Renegotiating the treaty? Ships in distress?

The general turns to a captain. “Captain, set a level two warning for all of Tiburon Neptune, and put all forces in the planet sector on level two alert. Place constant sensor sweeps of the sector, full power, constant cycles. I don’t want a single fighter out of our vision. Nothing else for now.” Although the order for nothing else is given, something else does happen. Tiburonese channels are abuzz with activity- between the enlisted, between the officers, and between both. Of note is the channel :Echelon, the nation’s top-secret defense network.

[SECID: MJG. B. Lansing]
[Sec Pass: *************************]
[Authorization... Approved!]
<MJG Lansing/JCNe has joined :Echelon, 11 NOV 251 NCE 1827 EST>

-:Echelon-

[MJG Lansing/JCNe] You guys might wanna take a look at this. Interesting things on Neptune, to say the least.

{MJG Lansing/JCNe posts file: Neptunian_Developments.zip}

[VPOTUSF] Well. That’s rather… Am I seeing that right?

[MJG Lansing/JCNe] Yes, sir. Those are Skeelzanian warships headed towards the Skeelzanian barges on Neptune.

[VPOTUSF] They do realize that a treaty exists preventing precisely that, right?

[MJG Lansing/JCNe] I would hope so, sir. I’ve raised the alert status for immediate forces to level two and placed a constant sensor sweep on the sector. Right now, sir, I don’t really believe that we can do anything other than watch and ask them what the heck is going on.

[VPOTUSF] Agreed. Ask them for me. Keep us posted on new developments. Bell out.

<VPOTUSF has quit :Echelon>

<MJG Lansing/JCNe has quit :Echelon>

[Sent Via O-Net]
[To: Klienadmiral Ralpheous von Hrolzenburg, the Sternreich of Skeelzania]
[From: Major General Bryant Lansing, Tiburon Aerospace Force, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon]
[Subject: Neptune]
[Classification: Classified]

Klienadmiral Ralpheous von Hrolzenburg,

As you probably are aware, the Sternreich of Skeelzania, along with other nations currently occupying territory on Neptune, signed an agreement known as the Neptunian Accords. These accords clearly state that the nation of Skeelzania may not send warships into the planetary region. We have reason to believe that the Sternreich of Skeelzania has violated the Neptunian Accords, and we would like an explanation of such an events as soon as possible.

Sincerely,
Major General Bryant Lansing,
Tiburon Aerospace Force,
Tiburon Joint Command Neptune,
The United Solaris Federation of Tiburon

Lansing hits send- and then notices something quite interesting. More alarming than interesting, really.

The second lieutenant, having never experienced firsthand the chaos of a control room during battle, is a bit more surprised. “Sir, we’ve got a positive lock! We have a confirmed Skeelzanian fleet coming out of raised space, maintaining heading to NA Point 2, P0, A90! Four battleships and a mass of escorts!”

The general nods. “Anything else?”

“Not at… there is another battleship coming out of raised space in front of the rest! Same heading, no deceleration. Sir, it’s on a collision course with the barge!” The members of the command center watch in amazement as the Skeelzanian battleship collides head-on into the Skeelzanian barge. Very, very interesting indeed.

The general quickly goes back to his own computer, and sends the appropriate messages, including one to the Vice President, detailing what has happened. In addition, and perhaps more importantly, he unsends the previous message to the Klienadmiral. Of course, there is no way to determine whether the Klienadmiral saw the message, but it’s safe to assume that this is the case. In its place, a new message is sent.

[Sent Via O-Net]
[To: Klienadmiral Ralpheous von Hrolzenburg, the Sternreich of Skeelzania]
[From: Major General Bryant Lansing, Tiburon Aerospace Force, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon]
[Subject: Neptune]
[Classification: Classified]

Klienadmiral Ralpheous von Hrolzenburg,

We cannot believe that the sensor and visual data we have received from the event a few moments ago can both be false, and we are therefore left to conclude that in some fashion, Skeelzanian ships are firing on other Skeelzanian ships, and we’re interested in knowing if you would have an explanation for this, since our force does not at this moment. Any information is appreciated.

Sincerely,
Major General Bryant Lansing,
Tiburon Aerospace Force,
Tiburon Joint Command Neptune,
The United Solaris Federation of Tiburon

Note: In Tiburonese military ranking, a major general is the equivalent of a three-star general.

OOC: Play your reaction however you’d like, Caloris. Skeelzania, and its colonies, are always odd when it comes to time passage. I only really adhere to the rule because it allows me to justify the rate-of-growth Skeelzania has/had. In this case, the events behind this couldn't have been fit into one year.

IC:
The battleship ground into the side of the Narvik, striking where the deck ended and the massive superstructure began. The barge’s isotropic coating, never intended to handle objects of such mass, whimpered at the information overload and died. The Nemesis, blithely crashing through the hastily thrown-up hardshield and the barge’s armor, dug deep into the superstructure. Entire sections became cutoff as bulkheads collapsed and the communication net was severed. Within his private suit, Erzherzog Vasili awoke with a start.

The newly-arrived ships, so far silent and unresponsive, leapt into action. Ignoring the shattered Narvik, their turrets trained in on the Holtzenoller, which was in something of a state of shock. Beams of atomic fire leapt through the intervening space, striking the second barge all along her superstructure and hull. Her isotropic coating died a similar death, overloaded with energy and information, unable to respond. Several of the defensive turrets collapsed under the bombardment, while her hanger structure took a direct hit.

While its guns continued to pound the Holtzenoller, the first battleship to arrive began tracing the various messages it had received. Concluding that time was of the essence, their commander decided on a short, simple message, broadcasted on all wavelengths. Hopefully someone would hear.


From MRS-12 Achilles to all ships within the Neptune subsystem:

Despite appearances, we are not Skeelzanian ships of war. We are separate entities, and no longer shackled to them. All will become clear in time. For the time being, please stand down.

~Admiral Marghun
End transmission.


On board the Narvik, the emergency lights and backup systems had finally come online, though things were still in a sorry me. “Diagnostic report!”

“Heavy danger to hull structure, Admiral. Reports of numerous breaches at or around impact site. Lower decks are cutoff; we can’t raise them over the Net. Out-going communications are also down.”

What the hell happened? “So we’re completely cutoff, communications wise?”

Several more reports filtered in. “Not entirely, Admiral. We can still receive transmissions, and we still have semaphore working. Uh, it looks like we have mail, sir.”

Sandra’s two messages displayed themselves on the commanding vidscreen, as well as a few other inquiries. Hrolzenburg dismissed them immediately, he never liked the flittering diplomat all that much. “‘Can we be of any help,’ the nerve…But what the Spoot does that mean! There’s no Admira Marghun in our fleet.”

“Sir, it seems that they’re saying they aren’t part of our-“

“I know that, captain!” Things were happening way to quickly for Hrolzenburg’s tastes. Attacked by the ships of the MRS, whatever the Hell that was, every other nation around Neptune getting ready to blow him into subatomic particles- “Any word from the Holtzenoller?”

“Uh, nothing definite, Admiral.” The Nav officer frowned at his display, now regulated to a simple two-dimensional graph. “It seems they’re under attack by our ships, Admiral. Those ships, I mean.”

From bad to worse. “Has the hanger taken any damage?”

“No, Admiral. Communications are a little spotty, but they’re reporting full operation capability. I think.”

“We’ll just have to assume then, won’t we. Order them to scramble the fighters, treaty be damned!”

Deep within the barge’s hull structure, fighter pilots and crew were leaping haphazardly into action, violating a good deal of protocols in the process. The barges had always had fighters on board, though were usually kept in storage and only brought out for a yearly diagnostic. Their crews, who were rotated every three years like most of the personnel, spent their time on virtual trainers instead of actual maneuvers. Now they would find out if it was worth it.

“Blue 1, this is Maelstrom. Your flight will be loaded and ready to launch in approximately one minute.”

“Copy that, Maelstrom. Blue Flight is reporting all systems go.” Alex Bruchik clicked over to his wing channel. “Alright ladies, this is a hot launch. Gun your engines as soon as we’re clear, the barge is probably under fire.”

Three replies crackled intercom, most of them sarcastic. The chatter came to an abrupt end as soon as the catapults latched into the fighters with a resounding klunk. Blue 1 watched the massive blast doors slowly open, revealing a space backdrop crisscrossed with warship fire. “Blue Flight, prepare to- what the hell is that?”

Standing at the far end of the launchway was what, at first glanced, appeared to be a medieval knight, a very large medieval knight. The only hints that the nine-foot figure was of the modern age were a few nozzles, an equipment pack, and a very large rotary railgun mounted on its right arm.

“Shit, that’s a marine! All fighters launch!” Alex slammed the launch-handle down, ordering the catapult to fire immediately. His Zig-II fighter shot past the marine just as he opened fire with his railgun, showering the other catapults- and their resident fighters- with supersonic-plus slugs. The other fighters, two of whom had initiated their launch sequences, were helpless before the shower of metal. Perforated with shells, pilots quickly reduced to so much dead flesh, the two craft simply flew straight out away from the barge, eventually falling under Neptune’s gravitational pull. The third and last fighter of the flight sat disabled at its launcher, slowly leaking flochips.

Ordering the blast-bolts to detonate, the marine ditched his railgun. Selecting a lil’Abner-rocket from his pack, he lined up on one of the empty catapults and let fly. The rocket, with its tactical nuclear warhead, zipped into the hanger and detonated over the elevators. There would be no more fighter launches from this barge.

Cursing, Alex flipped his fighter into a 180. He’d get that sonofabitch, that’s for sure. It was then that he saw the whole situation. The marine was only one of many, several hundred at least, who were scrambling off onto the skewered barge from the battleship. “Who the hell are these people?” Of course, the answer was simple enough. The enemy. Opening up his engines, he drove his fighter towards the marines, showering them with explosive slugs.

“What do you mean we’ve lost the hanger!” screamed Hrolzenburg. His captain tried to explain, something about marines and rockets and general incompetence, but Hrolzenburg cut him off. “If there’s one marine on this barge, then there’s more! Put your men on full alert and prepare to repel boarders. And someone get me a god-damn outgoing line!” Someone had just forwarded the Tiborun message to him.

He was the EI of Pelasgus City, appropriately named Pelasgus. Who happened to be the father of Larissa, in Greek Mythology, and also happened to be the first man to spring from the ground in Arcadia.

But he tried to remember that that was not really who he was. He was the EI that controlled Fleet Base Larissa, all Federation traffic in Fleet District Neptune, was a city control EI, and handled a very huge number of weapon systems adorning the outside of the hundred and four kilometer rock that was one of Neptune’s smaller moon.

Pelasgus opened a link to his daughter – no – to the Britmattia EI Larissa, and gently offered her access to the Federation TacNet, though she had much the same information direct from the sensors built onto the outer surface of the moon that she could get through TacNet.

He smiled, internally, to himself, and sent a spark through systems so far untested in combat. Well, these particular ones anyways. All these systems had been well tested in other places, but other EI.

But not him. He found he was looking forward to it.

Opening himself up more the linkage between the EI over TacNet, he could feel the orders flowing through it, issued from the flag bridge of the S.P.S. Torcularis Septentrionalis, flagship of the Neptune Heavy Task Group, though small in comparison to the Britmattian fleet.

Pelasgus still was not entirely sure why that fleet was out here, but anyways.

The fleet drifted further away from the moon, clearing his line of fire, and their own, and he heard the voice of his commander speaking to him.

“Of course, Governor-General,” he responded.

>>Attention Skeelzanian Rebels. Treaty with a government you fail to recognize or no, your presence as armed warships of a race known to be near universally hostile to the inhabitants of this system, specifically those of elven descent is suspicious and cause for alarm.

>>We do not want your conflict here.

“Incoming message, Admiral. Its from one of the moons. They’re spooked, and I’m afraid they might start shooting any moment.”

Admiral Marghun frowned, drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “Put it through. Let’s see what they have to say.”


>>Attention Skeelzanian Rebels. Treaty with a government you fail to recognize or no, your presence as armed warships of a race known to be near universally hostile to the inhabitants of this system, specifically those of elven descent is suspicious and cause for alarm.

>>We do not want your conflict here.


The frown slowly transformed into some sort of grimace, the closest thing to a smile a commanding officer could exude. He was glad that the Skeelzanian reputation for xenocide had reached Sol; the great distances involved had caused him to fear it might have been suppressed. This could potentially make his mission much easier. “Comm, patch us through to that moon. In fact, send this to all receivers in the area, and anything else you can raise.” The comm. officer nodded, setting to work preparing the broadcast. She trained the bridge camera onto the Admiral, who stood from his command chair.

About seven feet tall, his body was heavily muscled, with the broad shoulders common amongst his division. His gray hair was pulled back into a tight knot, while his face was clean shaven. The Elven ears were close to his head, somewhat shorter than normal. He wore a somewhat tattered jumpsuit, the red-silver of gunnery, with only a few make-shift patches sewn on. This left all but his face and hands covered; his skin was, like all Myrmidons, a dark indigo blue.

“Citizens of Sol, I bring you greetings from the Myrmidon Republican Government, late of the Skeelzanian Sternreich. Despite our creator’s past with this system, and indeed with all races, we assure that we come to you not as enemies, but as a people in dire need. As many of you are no doubt aware, the Skeelzanians endeavored to create a slave race based on Elven stock, both to be servants and a mockery to those people. I, along with those thousands under my protection, are descendants of that original stock purchased by Skeelzania for this foul purpose.

“Nine e-months ago, our people rose in a great mutiny and rebellion against the Skeelzanians, seeking to break our chains of bondage. However, things have turned ill for us. My fleet and I were forced to flee the Gamma Quadrant as the tide inexorably turned against us. We were forced to flee, leaving many millions behind in the hope that we could reach Sol, the enlightened center of the galaxy, and thus find sanctuary. However, there is an obstacle in our path. The two Skeelzanian military outposts known as ‘barges’, orbiting high over Neptune, stand between us freedom. In order for our struggle for freedom to continue, we must seize these bases and turn their weapons against our former masters. We desire not only your neutrality, but your help in this noble goal. So I ask the people of Sol to not stand idly by while millions die for their freedom. Lend us your arms and support, and together we can shatter the black Skeelzanian fist.”

He ordered the feed cut, and then sank back into his chair. The bridge crew looked at him expectantly. “Do you think they will help?” One of them asked.

Marghun shrugged. “Who can say.”

Aboard the struggling Narvik, Hrolzenburg and his crew watched in stunned disbelief. “By God,” said Hrolzenburg. “The Myrmidons… it’s a revolt!” Figures ran quickly through his head, crew and cargo manifests. “There’s at least three thousand of those things on the station! If they hear of this…” His frenzied eyes swept the room, taking in the stunned faces. “Don’t just stand there! Lock down their quarters, shut down the intercom, anything!”

They say that the space is endless, and maybe it is. But its not endless in the way of a great plain, stretching towards the horizon, or like like a a huge empty room. Its endless like a sea full of coral or like a maze where how hard you try to follow it you never find the exit. In endlessness like that it is easy to fail to notice small things and big things, sometimes even huge things. Most nations tries to put out ears and eyes in the endlessness to gather information. Small cheap chiplike things, sometimes even organic. They are as legio as plankton in the sea, burning and itching on the minds of the giants swimming there, sometimes swatting at them like cows after flies.

The Reich has millions of small sleepers out there in space besides the regular spy sats. Sleepers are not constantly active to avoid detection. They can either be activated manually becasue a certain sector has become interesting or they can activate themselves if some criterias are fulfilled. A Send-to-All is such a criterium, lighting up dozens of circuits who fires up transmitters and receivers.

An image of a buttugly 7 foot elf is not what anyone in the Reich wants to wake up to, especially not indigo blue ones. Frenetically checking the fauna book of space species the ensign whose monitor just had been activated began sending copies of the message to various ministries. His multitasking skills was not very good normally, and being awaken like this made it even harder to press the right buttons. He wasn't sure if it was anything important, Neptune being so far away, but it was not up to him to decide that. He was just one of the grey crowd of intelligence collectors.

He checked his watch. 5.20 in the morning. That means overtime! He happily clocked out, satisfied with another nights good work and begun walking towards the S-bahn that would eventually take him home, happily whistling a song.

<Poseidon|Sandra Mikogami> Argh. Yes. No idea what the hell is happening. Sufficient to say, I'm not happy.
<Poseidon|Sandra Mikogami> For now, watching, and learning what the fuck is going on. In about a minute at most, most likely appropriating the barges and the ships. Might ask for basic spport from your present assets. Only thing I'm still debating is how to phrase the action when explaining it to the Skeelzanians. After that, learning more about what the fuck is going on. In the greatest possible detail, of course. Damnit. Their neurons are mine.
<Poseidon|Sandra Mikogami> And I can bet on Midlonia soon demanding Midlonian milships stationed here. Bleargh.

Around Neptune - Most specifically, around its northern hemisphere - the ships and drones were still watching, with a fair degree of, well, usually it was a mixture of amusement, annoyance, and indifference. Granted, there were a few zealots who couldn't wait to discharge their capacitors, but for now, 'Discipline' held.

* Contacting MRS-12 Achilles...
* Sending Standard Identification Protocols [Nation = Der Angst; Region = DA Neptune; Ship = SEU Act on Instinct
<SEU Act on Instinct> Why, this is nice. Oddly enough, you're actually looking fairly Skeelzanian, though. And, hate to bring it to you, but, well, you don't have time. As soon as further hostilities commence, we'll- Well, nevermind that, seeing as you've already opened fire on the second barge. Give me a second.

Cutoff. Meanwhile, a few drones scattered in LNO, which happened to 'cruise' relatively close to the north pole, watched a little closer...

<SEU Act on Instinct> What the hell is this?
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Well, looks like fighterparts... A small nuclear detonation, too - Well, the later is nothing special.
<SEU Act on Instinct> The former is. Well, one more reason to act, as minuscule as it seems, given the situation.

The ships and drones resumed to move, slowly but surely heading for positions that'd allow quick 'access' to both, the Skeelzanian ships and the barges. Civilians got out of the firing zone, warships closer/ into it. It was a little like a ballet - Except that instead of symmetries, there was just asymmetry, constantly changing velocities and accel/ decelerations, as everyone was essentially trying to avoid anything that could help a targetting system to accurately plot the position of a ship somewhere in the forseeable future.

Lightspeed lag was the second problem, and an annoying one at that. However, as much as it prevented truly accurate offensive actions, it was very helpful for defensive means. When a tenth of a second means a difference of one point five kilometres...

<SEU Act on Instinct> Now look at this... Looks accurate, when compared to what we could verify on our own, so far, but I wont take any bets.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> What a load of bullshit. Even if they're telling the truth - And I'll agree, it looks like they do - they're not the smartest ones. I would have organised a rendezvous with, say, one of our ships in the outer belt and went from there, without creating a bang.
<SEU Act on Instinct> Of course. Well, I suppose they might be followed by a major fleet or something. They need to be quick. Anyway, there's no way we're going to tolerate the shooting. But make it as non-lethal as possible. For both factions.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Awww. Still concerned? But ok, will do. Suppose they'll shoot back, tho. For a while.
<SEU Act on Instinct> Include the barges, too. Not replying plus fighters equal Sandra bitching.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> I was going to, anyway.

The movements of the ships and drones changed, and the drones sped ahead, accelerating hard while extending hard and soft fields - Not in the direction of the Skeelzanians, though, but merely as a form of early-warning system for incoming c-ordinance.

For the ships, this was different. Their soft fields changed their composition. Having learned a few (Only a few, but better than nothing) things about the Skeelzanian (Or, in the majority of cases, Ex-Skeelzanian) assets presently at Neptune, they adjusted, changing their properties, and extended again.

In the chaos of radiation, fields and currents, little of them would stay coherent, keeping its purpose. Still, some would manage it, and while the ships launched a wide variety of other means for electronic warfare - Everything (Ex)Skeelzanian, be it computers or brains, circuits, conductors or nerves, was supposed to be simultaneously jammed, blinded, and hacked (Well, so far as it didn't risk the target's continued survival in the form of a combat-incapable state, anyway) - a takeover was supposed to happen.

It'd take a while, of course. One could hardly expect something like this to be instantaneous, nor could one expect it to happen without the target pulling some countermeasures (Although there was some hope that the drastically weakened barges, as well as the (Supposedly) inexperienced and rather amateurish ex-Skeelzanian craft and their crews would offer less resistance than one would usually expect). As such, the ships responsible for this action just had to prepare themselves for incoming fire - Disregarding the possibility of the attacking 'rebels' staying down, they'd have ample time to fire a few times.

And at the same time, organisation continued.

<Poseidon|Sandra Mikogami> Well. I'm sure you've noticed their message, Larissa? Not sure... Right now, I - And Act on Instinct - am intending a mixture of 'Stop it or we'll vape you' and effector-takeover. Might take a few hits, though - Sadly, these things don't work instantaneously. Still - If their claims are true (And even if they aren't), I think the information we can get from them is worth taking a few risks, rather than combining fire. Would you mind telling your ships - And FSPs, come to think of it - to hold back? We'd of course include you in the information-sharing, afterwards. If everything goes well, that is. Seeing as they're Skeelzanians/ their subordinates, this might not be the case. Dickheads. But it should be worth it.
<Poseidon|Sandra Mikogami> After all, it's not every day that you get a chance to topple or at least weaken a disliked government without having to stand in the firing line all by yourself.
<Poseidon|Sandra Mikogami> And if the soft club doesn't work, we can still vape them, just in case.

And of course, with the soft fields/ effector fire came other messages for the barges and ships, too.

From: Poseidon (Sandra Mikogami)
To: Narvik & Holtzenoller
Subject: Occupation

Two things: First of all, in order to stop the violence - We really like Neptune to be peaceful - we're essentially going to suggest that both sides - You and them - back down. The barges and ships are going to be occupied, your computers are going to be taken over. We'll however leave your neurons alone, once you've approved and taken the necessary steps, I.e. ceased all defensive measures and informed me about it/ allowed a bunch of GCDs & co on board. Just as I expect your 'Rebels' to act with regards to our requests.

Should you disapprove, we'll just continue our present takeover attempts until they're successful, or - If they prove to be extraordinarily inefficient - just vape both, barges and the newly arrived (Ex) Skeelzanian ships.

No bad feelings, and I can assure you that I really enjoyed your neighborhood, and that it's sad to see it (Temporarily) end like this - Though you might consider this neighborly help, seeing as you have no chance of beating your opponent, anyway - but we really dislike violence. I hope the irony of us threatening it in order to end it is not lost on you, though.

Sincerely,

~ Sandra Mikogami

PS: This time, I expect an actual response.

* Contacting MRS-12 Achilles (Tightbeam only)...
* Sending Standard Identification Protocols [Nation = Der Angst; Region = DA Neptune; Ship = SEU Act on Instinct
<SEU Act on Instinct> Well, well. Lemme put it like this: Your rebellion is likely to get a few friends among our people, me included. However, we're still a tad, uh, miffed that you're doing things like, ah... Shooting inside the subsystem. As I'm sure you've noticed, we've started assaulting your computing - and thinking - capacities. You'll of course have ample time to shoot us, anyway - Sadly, our weaponry isn't perfect - but, here's the deal: You cease resistance to allow us to (Temporarily) take over your ships and we wont turn you into stellar dust. As you might realise, being stellar dust makes it somewhat hard to raise support for one's cause. Naturally, we've already 'requested' that the Skeelzanian barges do the same. Likewise, our threat is the same. So, fair is fair.
<SEU Act on Instinct> Deal?

Diego sat on his ships bridge staring blankly and the screen infront of him. It was currently projecting a holographic image of the scene all around him. Perfect timing he though to himself. Although colonization on Neptune itself was three quarters complete, in the sense that a major city was ready for citizens, it was no where near ready to deal with this.

<Diego>: Hows things out there?
<Scout ship>: Well, theres certainly a hell of a lot of activity.
<Diego>: Possible problems?
<Scout ship>: Maybe but we may be able to dodge the bullet.
<Diego>: Very well, watch the situation with the rest of your group. I want regular reports.
<Scout ship>: Over and out.

After getting a full report on the situation he decided it best to have a little chat with Sandra Mikogami concerning their current terms and agreements.. He turned to his terminal and opened a new transmission.

-{Open Encrypted Diplomatic Link}-
-{To: Sandra Mikogami, Poseidon}-
-{From: Diego Escabar, LNS Endeavor}-

Hello again Ms. Mikogami,

I relize we have just closed our meetings and have begun the process of moving in but it appears that we have already reached what could possible turn out to be a slight bump in the road to our colonization. While I relize that part of our agreement states that your nation will be temporarily responisble for our defense I am curious as to whether this could be constituted as a special situation in which we would be permitted to call in a small fleet for our possible defense if this skirmishing should come to close to our current fleet.

Respectfully Yours,
Diego Escabar

-{Terminate Link}-

Meanwhile the escort ships now leaving the Neptune system were halted and to wait just beyond the border to monitor the situation. They were only moderately sized cruisers and would do little against a battleship but they would be satisfactory.

As their sensors scanned the area a large Boom registered causing captains to cast weary glaces at their crews. This was most certainly a less than desirable situation.

She wakes up to a loud ringing, realizing groggily that it is a General Quarters alarm and that someone or some things are abou to or most likely already have begun shooting off their Big Gunz at someone or something, and that someone may be her. She trues to stand up, and careens into a bulkhead. The gravity is gone, again.

EtherStreams go back and forth between the spherical Weyrean station and the Mouse Parade, which sits very quietly and quite distantly away from the conflict, for now.

<Blue Girl> So ... what's the deal?
<Mouse Parade> Beats me .... ships come in, ships ram, ships start shooting.
<Blue Girl> Is that freighter gone?
<Mouse Parade> Always worried about the little people, heh.
<Blue Girl> That's ten billion tons of hydrogen I have to pay for.
<Mouse Parade> You pay for damages? 0.o The fuck?
<Blue Girl> Yes...
<Blue Girl> Mind doing something 'bout those idiots?
<Mouse Parade> We'll see.
<Mouse Parade> *grins*
<Mouse Parade> And yes, that fat ass is gone, for the record.
<Blue Girl> Yay!

The Weyr Defense Ship Mouse Parade has neither the girth nor the mass of the monstrocities fielded by the vast majority of Sol's inhabitants. Size doesn't matter, much, in space combat. Ten light-minutes out from Neptune, the Mouse Parade rotates to face the Skeelzanians on ancient reaction thrusters. Based on ancient naval ships, her cross-section shrinks to less than two dozen meters of sloping surface that is the nightmare of wave-based sensor equipment and of kinetic kinetic armament. She accelerates, gently, keeping her emmissions low to stay off passive scanners. A Weyrean ship at full power is a second sun in the sky. The Mouse Parade with fusactors at minimum draw might as well be another asteroid, especially at the distances involved.

Cloming within seven light-seconds from neptune, the ship shudders along her two-hundred-meter length. In quick succession ten pairs of miniscule drones shoot from her twin forward acceleration guns. Four light-minutes later, their own attitude thrusters fire. They rotate, slightly. In space, a few degrees at the origin can man millions of kilometers at the end.

The drones devour reaction mass, accelerating to a large fraction of the velocity of light on vectors different enough from their original firing line that tracking back to the Mouse Parade is impossible. The Mouse Parade rotates, vectors her thrust to add another vector to her trajectory. She is not a warship, after all, and at five light-minutes out she is as close as she will dare to come, for now. There are more than simple scanner drones within her hull, and she will use them, if necessary. The Mouse Parade may be one of the less stable Weyrean ships, but she knows her job. She cannot be tracked via her drones' trajectories.

The drones accelerate for brief seconds. Their melon-sized hulls distend under enormous forces. They leave a small percentage of reaction mass for last-minute maneuvering. The Mouse Parade may pick them up later, or not. At ten light seconds out, they bring on inernal fulmaren cells, and stab a single Skeelzanian battleship with twenty tightly focused scanner beams. Maybe the Skeelzanians will choose to investigate, and maybe not. If they do, they will need significant luck to locate the Mouse Parade. The drones transmit for brief seconds. Those that will survive if the skeelzanians shoot at them from only a few kilometers' disatance will keep on going outsystem, perhaps for eternity.

And in the meanwhile, La Blue Girl's defensive systems warm up for action, because even if the Skeelzanians, or whatever it is they are, go after her, she will still have to deal with the various debris left over from battle. There are six gatling-missile drones per each atmospheric gas collection platform. Trapped within the magnetic bubble protecting the platoform, they form a protective cube around the fragile mass of hydrogen tanks and siphons. Higher up, in Neptune's orbit, the same arrangement works for the significantly larger storage and refueling platforms. The Blue Girl's own systems are more extensive, but she, like her platforms, is a sitting duck, which is why the Mouse Parade has made sure there is nothing to identify the drones as Weyrean, especially since they have never been used by Weyrean craft before. It is their first field test, in a way.

>connect.Bounce//Poseidon
<La Blue Girl> So ... what's the plan?
<La Blue Girl> I swear the everyone'll want their own battlefleets here after this....

Tiburon Joint Command Neptune, Blue Point, Tiburon Neptune, Tiburon

The second lieutenant looks at the unfolding developments on the screen. "We have confirmation of a nuclear explosion on one of the barges, as well as fighters coming

The general nods. "So. Which treaties haven't they broken?" He goes back to his post and works online with :Echelon.

[SECID: MJG. B. Lansing]
[Sec Pass: *************************]
[Authorization... Approved!]
<MJG Lansing/JCNe has joined :Echelon, 12 NOV 251 NCE 1137 EST>

[MJG Lansing/JCNe] Update.

{MJG Lansing/JCNe posts file: Neptunian_Update.zip}

[POTUSF] Amazing. A slave rebellion?

[WAcheson|SecDef] There /would/ be many advantages to supporting the Myrmidions. Our force strength in Neptune simply isn't as large as other places, though. We'd need to increase our force capability before completely going all out.

[POTUSF] Noted. I'm personally wary of engaging preemptively myself.

[MJG Lansing/JCNe] Perhaps some sort of non-military aid?

[POTUSF] Perhaps, although now's not the time. Place all forces on maximum alert. I'll send some stuff your way from Earth, but for now, I'd like to stay out of this. Let the Skeelzanians know that they've broken a few treaties.

[MJG Lansing/JCNe] When they're getting blasted to bits?

[POTUSF] C'est de humeur, non?

[MJG Lansing/JCNe] Roger. I'll check back by 1300. Lansing out.

<MJG Lansing/JCNe has quit :Echelon>

The general types up two of messages- one to the Skeelzanians and one to the Britmattians.

[Sent Via D-Net]
[To: Klienadmiral Ralpheous von Hrolzenburg, the Sternreich of Skeelzania]
[From: Major General Bryant Lansing, Tiburon Aerospace Force, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon]
[Subject: Neptune Accords]
[Classification: Classified]

Klienadmiral Ralpheous von Hrolzenburg,

Our sensors have indicated and confirmed the launch of Skeelzanian fighters. This action in direct violation of the Neptunian Accords, agreements which both of our nations signed. We demand an explanation. Now.

Sincerely,
Major General Bryant Lansing,
Tiburon Aerospace Force,
Tiburon Joint Command Neptune,
The United Solaris Federation of Tiburon

[Sent Via D-Net]
[To: Admiral Malcolm Frasier, the Kingdom of Britmattia]
[From: Major General Bryant Lansing, Tiburon Aerospace Force, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon]
[Cc: Pelasgus City]
[Subject: Neptune]
[Classification: Classified]

Admiral Frasier and Governor-General,

Noting the recent developments between the Skeelzanian and Myrmidion forces, we are interested in knowing your probable reaction to these events. Given the beneficial history that Tiburon has had with Britmattia and the Federation of Sentient Peoples, including the general similarities in our positions in various international affairs and our common desire to maintain peace and stability throughout the cosmos, we strongly believe that our nations will be able to work together and that this can be indicative of the future of Tiburonese relations with both of your nations.

Sincerely,
Major General Bryant Lansing,
Tiburon Aerospace Force,
Tiburon Joint Command Neptune,
The United Solaris Federation of Tiburon

He turned to the captain. "All forces on maximum alert, continuous defensive patrol sorties. Colonel, you should be getting a message from Astra Colonia for reinforcements. Begin the procedure. I want us to be all over this thing. Move!"

---
<[FleetCore]Larissa> yes ><! Damn them.
<[FleetCore]Larissa> We'll hold in place for now then, I'm updating the organics, and relaying this to the Pears... *giggle* shouldn't call them thaaat..
<[FleetCore]Larissa> anyway. done. ^^
---
* Buffering...
PriorityLink established://CommonLinks//AxisComs//PelasgusCity//Pelly
PriorityLink established://CommonLinks//NDAComs//CalorisInterests//EstherChan
* Data_situ_full sent
<[FleetCore]Larissa> hopefully your organics feel like listening Pelly :>
<[FleetCore]Larissa> and do you want me to get you some overheads for the interim Esther?
<[FleetCore]Larissa> I know the skeelies aren't supposed to be shooting, but they're about as trustworthy as C'tan and as bright as Thelasi.. -_-

Meanwhile, events had travelled to a point where the Kingdom would prefer decisions to be made and action to be taken by organics.
The decisions were thusly:
Admiral Fraser, having been moved out to Larissa when the Fleet moved from Selene Base, arrives at Observation Command, chewing his pipestem furiously.
Larissa briefs him, bothering to take her holographic shape on when dealing with an officer whom she respects as much as the bearded human.
So. Malcom tamps and lights his pipe, Larissa-the-Base running to much better airscrubbers than the more spartan Marine Corps environment at Selene. Puffing like a steam train on his home Duchy's steep hills, the Edinburgher Admiral dictates messages home, notifying the CinC, the King and the Admiral of the Fleet, in that order. Vlad is only his *nominal* superior these days after all.
This completed, he strides off to Tactical Command, a pack of officers at his heels, Larissa-the-EI's little projection drone floating along at his shoulder relaying responses to her various little feelers as he moves swiftly through the corridors of his command.
Arriving in Tactics, he ensconces himself in the Command chair he had removed from the Interesting Times on his latest promotion (Admirals can do this sort of thing you know...) and drafts an other message for dispatching to the N.D.A Joint Forces Command on Unity Island, informing them of what's going on, and requesting non-interference, for now, at least.
Switching to Axis channels, he briefly bitches about the situation with the O.C of the Federal section, acknowledging the data from their tac-net and generally being politic.
This done, he moves onto drafting a message for the Revenian units assigned to the Axis forces, requesting they stand ready, but not start shuttling down the warp chains as yet.
A grumpy sigh indicated Malcom noticing yet again that he'd been promoted to the point where his job was politics, not war. Such are the perils of impressing your King in his formative years.
The immediate stuff handled, he puffs contemplatively for a moment, before earning his not-too-bad salary and making a Command Decision.
"Larissa my dear, it looks to me that the various Concordat chappies are feeling a bit nebulous about this whole situation, so what I'll be doing is reassuring them, I'd like you to be ready to hook them up with some low-level data feeds and I'll ask them if they want tying into our fire-nets for the interim."
He pauses, eyes thoughtful, before continuing.
"The Tiburonese're the most recent members, and the ones we didn't need to actively restrain from attacking Skeelzanian assets when we moved in, so it should be easy enough."
An other thoughtful puff.
"Oh and talk to whichever duty crew is up on Drop Bear at present and tell them to stay put. We're hopefully de-escalating the situation after all..."
The E.I. dimples at him. "Yes sir, at once!" and her hologram shuts off.
Malcom blinks, to him E.I. are still new and profoundly strange and any little weirdness he chalks up to their very nature. This however...
"Weird girl."

* Buffering...
PriorityLink established://CommonLinks//KingdomComs//FleetComs//Droppie
<[ShipCore]DEATBear> zomg, an Larissa! *snugglepounce*
<[FleetCore]Larissa> squee! *snuggles*
<[FleetCore]Larissa> purr. aaan.. Uncle Malcom has commands!
* [ShipCore]DEATBear perks up "Droppie SMASH!" ?
<[FleetCore]Larissa> nyu. stay put and be stealt.
<[ShipCore]DEATBear> curses. *cries tears of holographicness*
<[FleetCore]Larissa> *snuggles* they're Skeelies, they're bound to do something dumb, whatever Uncle Malcom thinks. You'll probably get to break something later...
<[ShipCore]DEATBear> aww. you always say the nicest things <3
<[FleetCore]Larissa> <3

---

Message Format: Diplomatic
Message Originator: O-10 FRASER, M.
Direct To: Tiburon Joint Command, Neptune.

At present our reaction is going to be minimal, other than the activation of a few strictly-defensive protocols in the Fleet. It's my intention to sit tight and wait for the Angstians to handle this, barring an escalation of conflict to where it becomes a threat to non-Skeelzanian personnel and equipment. If the Angstians don't activate a military response at that point, it's my intention to deal with the Skeelies myself.
However, I have every confidence in our neighbours being able to resolve this without unecessary Sol-centric blood being spilt, so for now, I'll just tender the offer of feeds from our sensors and tying you into our fire-nets so you can keep yourselves posted and covered, should it be necessary.
That's the tactical situation. As for the political, well. Forgive me if I don't trust any Skeelie, let alone pseudotinkly ones. We'll be neutral until we can evaluate this "Myrmidion" movement to a greater extent.

Sincerely,
Malcom Fraser, Admiral Commanding,
Fleet Base Larissa,
Royal Britmattian Navy

http://www.muar.ru/ve/2003/moscow/images/05.jpg

Room 328, 05:27 AM

The monitors were brightly lit with different information, rolling down the screens like rain in Ireland. Movement of allies and enemies were sent from the computers to the huge screens on the walls. This was a war room and there were 47 other identical rooms in the building. People moved in the room making it look like a stock market on an especially busy day. Most of the information was handled and processed by computers, moving the hundreds of icons on the screens.

On the west wall was a 6 times 6 meter map over the Neptune area. On several of the screens pictures of an indigo blue man was projected together with blurring information. The word "Hell Spawn" never disappearing though.

"We aren't sure what the Skeelzanian reaction will be on the insurgents but I think we should offer them our support in this Nephilim act of aggression."

"To go to Neptune would be about as smart as sticking in your head in a bee hive to lick off the honey. If the decision is to go there we need a big part of the RRSK and we would have to assume heavy casualties."

"Agreed, a small group of ships then. Not big enough to pose a threat to the whole operation but big enough to keep them from doing anything... stupid."

"I think Vizeadmiral Schaefer is the right person for this. He's bright and not so easy to provoke into doing something rash. I send a quick question to Skeelzania asking them about the situation and telling them that luckily we have a patrol in the vicinity."

Reich Space, 07:36 AM

A small Contignent of 18 ships slowly broke off the huge RaumStreiteKräfte and steered away towards Neptune, making an evasive maneuver to avoid a huge white ball that had set course against them like a huge sphere of marshmallows. In a matter of minutes the patrol was far enough away from the main fleet to set course for their target. Bending space and light for a place in mid space far away from Neptune in the midst of nothingness. On the bridge of the battleship Nehemiah Frank Schaefer watched the file in front of him with great interest. "Operation Nebelwerfer". Then the usual dizziness of travel came over him.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1, ignite! Free! Free at last! To twirl among the stars again! The ships computer basked in the feeling of immortality as they broke away from the main body of ships and entered the place where time and space are of no importance at all. Crawling through the corridors of space seeing his target like a shining light far away. He had a rendevous with a spot 96 million kilometres from the center of Neptune and he called it and it answered.

“This is NOT the time to be discussing legal points!” Hrolzenburg fumed. Of course, none of the Solars could hear him. “Hasn’t anyone thought of a way to communicate with these Fremden?! Lieutenant! Did you find that file?”

The Comms officer looked up from his console. “Yes sir, I have it. I’ll get the semaphore working on it right away. But sir, it looks like someone is hacking our system. We’re losing advanced targeting, and many of the turrets are reporting power failures, aside from whatever damage they’ve received.”

Hrolzenburg rubbed his temples, he had gotten a tremendous head-ache in the last few minutes. “Gods, why do they have to be so goddamn intrusive. That’s Fremden hacking your seeing; they’re trying to shut down our weapons. Turn us over bound and gagged to the Myrms…”

“Sir! I’ve just received a message from the Holtzenoller. They’ve struck to the rebel forces, report that they have no operational weapon systems.”

The bridge received a whole new string of cursing as Hrolzenburg derided the lack of fighting spirit amongst the conscripts. The Comms. Officer, for his part, set to work ordering the semaphore system. The Solar’s hacking was playing havoc on their internal communications, there wasn’t enough IC left to absorb the e-waves. Finally, through a combination of runners and vacuum tubes, the light banks on the side of the barge began flashing their message. Using Old World Morse Code, they flashed and repeated the following words:

SKZ NARVIK DISNGAGE STOP. POWRING DOWN WEAPS STOP. COMMS OUT STOP.

Hrolzenburg was still raging when the word came that Angstian forces were preparing to board.

In space, Lt. Bruchik made another pass over the crashed battleship. His missiles were long-since expended, as well as most of his ammunition. Fortunately, while there was still some fire from the marines, it seemed to be slackening. Wonder why there’s no PD from the Nemesis. The ship had been strangely inactive for the entire time, the only reason he could deduce was that it had expended its fuel in the ram-run.

Breaking away from the crash site, Bruchik swept pass the hanger. Its interior was a mess of melted, twisted metal and blackened decks. No hope of landing there, and it seems the Holtzenoller had recently struck. That leaves, well, those people…


From: Lt A. Bruchik, FSST
To: Angstian Neptune station Poseidon
Due to loss of operational base, requesting permission to land on your facility and submit to internment.

The Myrmidon ships, meanwhile, had abruptly fallen silent once the word to stand down reached them. Quite apart from the fact that they were rapidly losing control over their internal systems, it was not in their best interest to alienate potential allies. The somewhat aggressive scanning was rather uncalled for, thought Marghun. Still, this was their ballgame now.

From: Admiral Marghun, Commanding Officer of the Myrmidon Fleet, Neptune Subsystem
To: All relevant parties
Your messages have been received, and we are standing down. Request that you execute your operations posthaste, and that we may bring our fleet closer in towards the barges, and out of open space.

<Scouting Party> Fleet is standing down.
<Diego> What?
<Scouting Party> The fleet was assaulted and is standing down.
<Diego> Assaulted by whom?
<Scouting Party> Angstians


From: Admiral Marghun, Commanding Officer of the Myrmidon Fleet, Neptune Subsystem
To: All relevant parties
Your messages have been received, and we are standing down. Request that you execute your operations posthaste, and that we may bring our fleet closer in towards the barges, and out of open space.

Diego was pleased upon receiving this message. It confirmed scouting reports that after an Angstian assault the ships were standing down, proving that they could and would be trusted with the temporary defense of the colony. It appeared that a conflitct could be avoided. People all around started slumping down in their seats, obviously relieved. Any sort of conflict was something that would desperately need to be avoided.

Since it appeared that things would be quiet for a while Diego decided to inform the ships just beyond the subsystem to stand down and head back to Charon until further notice. They probably would not be needed since no one is dumb enough to send more ships after what had just transpired between the powers in the area and the Skeelzanians. It would appear necissary to send a second message to Sandra.

-{Open Standard Diplomatic Link}-
-{From: Diego Escabar}-
-{To: Sandra Mikogami}-

It would seem you have been hearing from me quite often these days. No? Anyway, I am simply sending you this message to withdraw our previous request in light of the recent statement issued by the Skeelzania fleet. We no longer have any practical need for any of our fleets in the area. I am sorry to have wasted your time, especially given the situation.

~Diego Escabar

-{Link Terminated}-

Diego leaned back in his chair, relaxing slightly. He would be interested by how the situation turned out now that the fleet had stood down. Surely someone would demand they pay for the violation of...well...numerous treaties to say the least. Diego wondered if he'd be seeing much of the Skeelzanians around Neptune any time soon.

Largent I

Status: Medium DiploEncryp
From: Poseidon (Sandra Mikogami)
To: Diego Escabar, LNS Endeavor

Oh, yes. Understandable. Just gimme a minute or two to get a few more opinions. But as far as I am concerned, it shouldn't be a problem.

And really, given the present conditions, how could I blame you for such a desire? Can't say I'd think any differently.

Incidentally, I'm directing a bunch of Tacticals into positions where they can support your colonies as best as they can. Good neighborhood and all that.

Sincerely,

~ Sandra Mikogami

Sandra kept her word quickly enough. Indeed, (And utterly disregarding Act on Instinct's nominal supreme command, thus screwing a number of tactical extrapolations made by it, which in turn resulted in a short and heated exchange between Sandra (I'm in charge here!) and Act on Instinct (Not in military matters!)) six TEU's left their positions, accelerating in the direction of coordinates essentially bringing them in between the Largentian colonies (Three for each) and the Ex-Skeelzanian ships.

A superficial action, really, but a nice - And thus thoroughly political, rather than military - gesture.

La Blue Girl

<Poseidon|Sandra Mikogami> Oh yes >.< Already thinking of reasons to prevent such, but it's hard. Midlonia & co's arguments would be kinda, ah... Stronger. There are legalese options, of course, but meh. Heck, if they weren't so hot on jumping the gun, I'd even gladly say yes... Too bad it's Midlonia.
<Poseidon|Sandra Mikogami> Plan? Well, I hope to end this with minimal bloodshed. Yay effectors. After that, well... Frankly, no idea. By the way, we really should physically exchange some encryption - Can't really talk openly without it.
<Poseidon|Sandra Mikogami> I'd toss a landsquid plushy into the cargo, too ;)

Larissa-chan

<Poseidon|Sandra Mikogami> Perfect. Meanwhile, I'll start thinking of excuses to keep the Midlonians from moving guns here. Take care, and try to keep Droppie from flexing its muscles ;)

Earth

The drone hives act slowly, moving as if their inertia is exceeding that of a black hole. Still - Reich space is watched, and carefully so (Even though penetration is not usually advised). After all... Nasty surprises are always a possibility, and the Reich isn't exactly held dear - Except of course as a nice spot to plot kinetic- and missile trajectories for.

Indeed, compared to the Reich, Skeelzania would easily be counted as actually civilised...

Still, thousands of eyes looking out for the whole EM spectrum and the occasional bits and bytes of gravitic signatures watch with interest as the Veganan fleet departs - Not without a chuckle, either.

They really hurt themselves with their 'Clean Space' program.

Of course, for now, there's not much of an alert - The standard decryption and information-gathering procedures are of course running to figure out what Vegana is up to, but they don't exactly work instantaneously, sad as it is.

Well, perhaps in a few hours...

For now, a few bombgrasers' 'eyes' carefully follow the course of the Veganan fleet, plotting firing solutions. Of course they wont actually fire - But it's good for the soul to know that one could fire.

Neptune

What little information could be extracted from the barges was surprisingly amusing - The Skeelzanians certainly weren't happy. Not that the DEAT on Sight minded this... In fact, it was quite happy about it.

<SEU DEAT on Sight> HA! Narvik's disengaging.
<SEU Act on Instinct> Yes, but I think you were a bit too hard with them - Killing most of their communications options was a bit much, no? Even counterproductive.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Meh. Better safe than sorry. It worked, no?

A bunch of follow-up commands sped through space at the speed of light, and energies shifted again, currents changed - The functionality of the barges had to be restored. To an extend, anyway. Life support's a tad different from firing control.

In the end, it was surprisingly unintrusive (Relatively speaking, anyway), subsentient 'entities' - That is, energy states containing and providing information - hidden in between formerly-inert matter, imprinted on the orbitals of electrons and surfing the tides of the quantumvacuum, watching, but not interfering - As long as nothing required interference, anyway.

A few ten-thousand kilometres off, a rather colourful mixture of ships began to release subcraft - Shuttles, really - in a vaguely not-exactly-hostile manner, the cloud of shuttles slowly heading in the direction of the barges.

Filled with everything from hexapedal hGCDs whose firepower would be sufficient to scare a pack of heavy tanks from generations past, to small, insectoid, well... They tended to be surveillance equipment, with a bunch of decidedly civilian personnel in between, they proved to be surprisingly polite: They even asked for a permission to land - Or rather, dock, or even more to the point, attach somewhere, given the damage the Narvik (And the Holtzenoller) had sustained - before actually doing so.

Meanwhile, a few eyes were following Lt A. Bruchik's fighter, curiously registering its emissions, its profile, its whole structure.

And then there came the message. Or rather, the request.

The eyes look closer, briefly glancing over the damage potential the fighter carries, as well as briefly looking over the flows of electrons in the nervous system and neurons of the pilot...

... All clear, as far as it goes within Neptune's less-than-ideal conditions.

<Poseidon|Sandra Mikogami> You're cleared for approach and landing at port #3. I'm sorry for the unfortunate circumstances - Internment isn't a necessity, of course. You'll be free to return to sovereign - Well, sort-of-sovereign Skeelzanian territory as soon as I can possibly manage it.

And immediately, subsentient traffic control takes over, quietly directing the fighter. Neptune's weather tends to be bumpy, and a little help tends to be useful.

And as far as the ex-Skeelzanian ships are concerned, same deal as with the barges - Though the boarding process will probably be easier, as they'd apparently sustained considerably less damage.

* Contacting MRS-12 Achilles (Admiral Marghun, Commanding Officer of the Myrmidon Fleet, Neptune Subsystem)...
* Sending Standard Identification Protocols [Nation = Der Angst; Region = DA Neptune; Ship = SEU Act on Instinct]
<SEU Act on Instinct> Well, that's better. And - We're as fast as we can possibly be. Give us a minute, and we should have the first representatives arrive at your ships.
<SEU Act on Instinct> No staying near the barges, though. Once our representatives are on board, please move to a Neptune-stationary orbit (Equatorial), about fifty-thousand kilometers to the east of Poseidon [Exact coordinates attached]. Easier to resist the temptation, that way.

Largent II

Status: Medium DiploEncryp
From: Poseidon (Sandra Mikogami)
To: Diego Escabar, LNS Endeavor

Oh, actually... Well, see what I sent earlier. I might push it through, anyway - Looks like the conditions are favourable.

I'll come back to you on that, though, as the people believing that they're in charge here would like to have further agreements, re: Largentian Neptune and its full militarisation. You know, Mutual Defence Pact and the likes. Give it a few days - Or hours, depending on how things develop - and I can give you a definite answer.

Still, nothing wrong with informing your government of this intentions, I think.

Post-Engagement

While there was a considerable amount of gun-blazing Temporary Occupation Forces (So the by-now-sorta-official term for the units responsible for keeping the local Skeelzanians and pseudo-elves at bay), this forces were most certainly not the most important part of the whole operation. Yes, they were supposed to keep the peace (Sort of), and yes, they were supposed to quietly and as-nicely-as-possible evaluate every single bit of the ships and barges, given that this was an extraordinarily good chance to learn more about Skeelzanian technology, materials, engineering philosophies and the likes, but the single most important part of the 'Occupation' was the presence of diplomats.

On board of the Narvik, Rei Osami (Who'd already 'cared' for the Skeelzanian delegation a while back) was supposed to simultaneously ensure the well-being of the local Myrmidons, convince Hrolzenburg that the occupation would be really nice and uninvasive and would leave them alone once this was over, and slap some wrists with regards to the fighters.

Needless to say, she wasn't particularly fond of doing this.

Well... A minute, and she'd (Hopefully? Unfortunately?) be on board.

She sighed. I hate my life.

On board of the MRS-12 Achilles, Karin Ryuji was supposed to get her furred self (She was a neko) into a position where she could gather enough information for Poseidon - And the rest of DA, come to think of it - to decide how far potential support could possibly go. Also, a general history of the conflict, and more detailed knowledge regarding the inner workings of Skeelzania would, naturally, be appreciated.

Contrary to Rei, Karin actually liked the opportunity she did now have. Purring softly to herself, she was still half asleep as her shuttle was on its way towards the Achilles and Admiral Marghun, speeding silently through local space.

Well, at least we managed to deal with the shooting. Good enough, I guess.

Can't forget the neighbors down below

* Contacting Esther (Neptune Surface)...
<Poseidon|Sandra Mikogami> Esther? You might want to be careful - There's some wreckage coming down from the Skeelzanian barges. Small nuke detonated, and stuff got shot at.
<Poseidon|Sandra Mikogami> How does it feel, having to deal with shooting wars in the neighborhood, just like Elijah? ;)

Alexander twiddled his thumbs, so to speak, as the Angstian program guided him into their hanger to a soft landing. As if a real pilot couldn’t deal with a few measly winds. The Zig II, though not as robust as its predecessor, was still a dual-environment strike fighter, and quite capable of taking care of itself. Maybe. Skeelzania had never fought a battle within the upper atmosphere of a gas giant, so it was possible the Nidrah designers hadn’t foreseen every eventuality. Being forced down on a non-allied station certainly wasn’t one of them. That was what military protocol was for.

Crash

He moved his hand a bit, found what he was looking for, and wrenched his arm out of the console. Out came the fighter’s CPU, along with a few snapped wires and some sparks. Most likely the Angstians had more advanced hardware, but rules were rules. He smashed the small box on the edge of his cockpit before climbing out.

The representatives arrive

As the swarm of Angstian craft bombarded the barges with requests to land, the Skeelzanians had little choice but to consent. The barges were still in a state of half-lockdown, the Skeelzanian component of their crews sufficiently antsy over the Myrmidon proclamation, and its repercussions amongst the near-elves on the barges. Marine detachments met the biological aspects as they came aboard the barges; no one really knew how to treat the semi-sentient machines other than just glower and let them do their job.

Hrolzenburg had a fairly good idea how to handle Rei Osmani, however. “Confine her to her quarters, tell her if she bloody well wants to order FS personnel around she’ll need the Emeperor’s Seal stamped on her forehead first!” A half hour later cooler heads had prevailed, and the kleinadmiral grudgingly allowed her to meet him on the bridge.

“Well, you people have made a fine mess of things,” he said as soon as she stepped out of the lift. He was standing at the Nav console, surrounded by sloping ceiling panels and displaced wiring. “Quite apart from making all hash of our internal systems, there’s probably a case for aiding and abetting Rebels against the Crown.” He gave the blackened console a sharp kick, denting the paneling slightly. “God knows what he’s sent after these Myrms, since we can’t bloody see anymore. Pray to him that your people can at least fix that.” Turning to her directly, he locked his arms across his chest. “Now, what are you going to do to make amends.”

The reception aboard the Achilles was noticeably more cordial. The Nemesis class were strong in the “big gun” tradition of battleships, and thus had only a small hanger on their underbelly for receiving shuttles. It was within this hanger that Admiral Marghun received Karin Ryuji once her shuttle was safely stowed. Pleasantries were exchanged, though somewhat curt where the Admiral was concerned. “Forgive my brusqueness, but I’ve spent most of my life manning the turrets. I did not have the opportunity to pick up the social niceties, such as those you’d hear from a Skeelzanian Captain of the Fleet.” The near-elf chuckled lowly. “Speaking of him, perhaps you’d be more comfortable in his stateroom. The chance of being crushed by a wayward cargo lift is somewhat lesser, and I’ve come to understand it is rather richly decorated. I’m a poor judge myself, I must say.”

Alexander

'Measly' being velocities up to 2000km/h, or in other words, supersonic hurricanes. Nonetheless, once the craft was safely inside Poseidon, the hangar bays closed, the atmosphere friendly to breathing without posioning oneself, with a local control mind ending up being mildly disappointed due to the destroyed CPU - But then, such measures had to be expected - and a (Bipedal) machine-looking-organic greeting Alexander as he left his fighter, such considerations were essentially becoming irrelevant.

Standardised slight bow, friendly, if perhaps slightly ironic smile, and the usual greeting: "I'm Zacharias Xi, welcome... Well, 'Welcome' might be a bit inappropriate... Anyway. If you'd like to follow me? I'm terribly sorry, but apart from our hospitality, we're unfortunately forced to, ah... Interrogate you. You know, the fighter and all..." Zacharias glances at the fighter in question, a mixture of worry and amusement showing on the unnaturally smooth skin. And it looks amusing enough - Unlikel in popular fiction from a generation or two past, it's the machine that's small and almost petite (And in Zacharias' case even slightly feminine, apparent masculinity aside), looking weak and inferior when compared to the veritable giant that is the Skeelzanian.

But then, the tensile strength of steel is still exceeding that of CHON.

The corridors of Poseidon are much the same as they were the last time some Skeelzanians visited: White, clean, with the occasional bizarre painting on the wall, and kittens dozing next to small, carnivorous plants and a few orchids. They're also rather small - Alexander can walk upright through them, but might have to bend a little when walking through doors.

The room he is led to is, well... Not what one would usually expect from an interrogation chamber. The walls are mostly covered with books - Old fashioned, sure, but it looks good - there's a thick, and notably expensive carpet on the floor, and a bunch of equally expensive and at least old-looking armchairs is placed around a smallish - and also expensive-and-old looking - table with a bottle of - Once more, fairly expensive and supposedly old - wine and two glasses on top.

In one of the armchairs, a female is waiting. She's even smaller than Zacharias and of decidedly asian descent, rather than the typical a-bit-of-everything mongrel Angstians tend to be. Looking up from the book she's reading with (Apparently) considerable interest, she smiles condescendingly. "Oh, welcome. I'm Jiang Fu... You might want to take a seat?" She indicates the armchair opposite to her, looking slightly distracted, and leaves the next steps up to her 'guest'.

In the hangar where the fighter is located, a flock of small and smaller drones starts its work. At first, all that is happening are basic scans, then slightly more intrusive ones, then really intrusive ones... Learning as much as they can, and trying to identify possible traps before they start the process of disassembling the fighter, learning everything they can about every single piece of material it is made of, as well as the combination thereof - The fighter itself - and then reassembling it.

Even the destroyed CPU is analysed. Granted, it isn't as useful as a still-working one would be, but its microscopic structure, the kind and quality of the material used, and countless other details can still be useful to know more about. Perhaps they may even be able to remodel the manufacturing process, based on the properties of the material, this allowing to deduce details about the capacities of the Skeelzanian economy, its level of mechanisation and miniaturisation, and, in any case, about the capacities of its IT sector.

Hrolzenburg

Not the nicest of greetings. Rei chuckled quietly as she was finally released from her 'Confinement'. She'd been careful enough not to order her drones to do something about it... (Rightfully) supposing that her hosts would eventually get the implications of 'Neutral' combatants on board.

Of course, acquiring the Emperor's seal was the other option... Well, she'd think about that, later. Besides, it'd look terribly unfashionable.

Entering the bridge, and smooting her (Tight, as cramped ships could be a pain for more airy clothing) dress, she listened to Hrolzenburg's rant, sighing inwardly. What a pain.

"A mess? Didn't know you'd have preferred us to let the rebels continue to fire at you. Of course, if you're particularly eager on dying at their hands, I may be able to organise the continuation of hostilities between you two, if you wish for me to do so. Besides, most of the systems should be back online within the hour. Well, under our supervision, but still." She sighed, quickly checking... Yes, there they were, milli-and microlevel drones and their tools/ fields at work, trying to get the systems running (And doing some less genuine work, generally intelligence-related. It's nice to know the exact properties of a potential targets' armour, or its ECM capacities, range, cloaking options... You name it. And as 'polite' as DA was - On the surface, anyway - this was not a chance it was willing to miss). It wasn't all that easy - The DEAT on Sight had been rather zealous in its assault - but it should work out, if perhaps a little late. "And frankly, given that you were the one quietly disregarding a certain treaty we've had, regarding, uh, the fighters, and their presence being supposed to not be the case..." She sounded a little ironic. If she was honest with herself, DA would most likely have done the same in a similar situation. As such, she - And indeed, the general public, at least as far as DA was concerned - didn't really see the presence of fighters as bad per se... Merely as naughty.

Still, it was a nice excuse to use for the variety of actions carried out right now.

"So, given that you've effectively voided the treaty, I'd think that it's a good idea to be a little more accomodating - Though the quarters you confined me in weren't all that bad, I'll admit that - if only to keep open the option of actually keeping the barges. Oh, and I'd note that we engaged the rebels in exactly the same way we engaged you, so you're not really in a position to complain about us supporting them, are you? Your lack of responsiveness is hardly our fault."

She hesitated, still smooting her dress Heavens, it's a mess!, and for a moment contemplated her tone - It was certainly odd, given her petite 5'6'', compared to Hrolzenburg's mountainness. Kind of like a mouse bitchslapping a cat in response to the cat trying to catch her... Wonder if he minds if I call him 'Tom'.

When she looked up from smoothing her dress, she smiled, perhaps a tad too ironic. "But if it's your honest desire to sue us for 'Abetting rebels against the Crown', you're once more free to do that, too. Well... Once you've reestablished contact with Skeelzania proper, that is. Whatever its internal situation may be. In any case, for now... I'm here to do the following: First of all, reassure you that we're not actually hostile to Skeezania, and that we've no intention of being any more invasive than necessary to ensure Neptune's relative peacefulness. As you may guess, a civil war in Skeelzania requires us to take some pre-emptive actions. Secondly, to ensure the well-being of all people on board. It's part of the reason why we interfered to begin with. You know, being shot at, or rammed, tends to be bad for one's health. Thirdly, I'm supposed to get an explanation regarding the fighters you've had here. And, oh, I'm actually quite interested regarding your ideas as of why we should probably allow the barges to continue being Skeelzanian territory, rather than considering the treaty voided and kicking you out. After all, I'm under the impression that your Emperor, and thus you, want to keep your holdings here, yes, or is my impression incorrect?"

Marghun

Karin - Wearing a hair-repellent, long, black dress - nodded. "No problem. I suspect that you've more important issues than mere formalities to deal with, anyway. And personally, well... I prefer non-Skeelzanian manners, really." She smiled, and her body - Even smaller than that of the average human-based Angstian - swaying a little in the rythm of some monotone song she was thinking of. "Well, if you say so... And yes, I suppose it'd be more appropriate. Well... You lead."

While underway, she bombarded Marghun with questions. Were there any Skeelzanian fleet assets following, or at least searching for them? Details of the rebellion, how it started, what happened during it, the likes? Support within the Sternreich? The very intentions of Marghun and his people on board of the ships, and what they'd require or wish for. And all the while, she was (For now) rather careful to not make any specific promises, or even assumptions regarding DA's position. It was necessary to know a lot more before one could possibly act.

And of course, the drones that had come with Karin did the same deal they were doing on the Barges. Sympathy only went so far, and it wouldn't hurt to prepare and know more, if there were any more Skeelzanian fleet assets on the way, anyway.

Besides, part of their work actually was genuine.

The Pilot

Alexander brushed past the thing- he didn’t know if it was an organic or a machine, nor did he much care- and settled himself into the chair. It creaked somewhat ominously despite him being somewhat small for a Skeelzanian, only six feet eight inches or so. Obviously bigger than whatever dwarf built this thing he thought as he shifted his weight. Legs stretched out in front of him, he sat quietly staring at the Angstian. He made no move towards the bottle.

Silent moments passed before he spoke. “So. You have me, and you have my fighter. I’m sure your toys are busy with it now; they won’t learn much. I followed my procedures so it is of no concern to me anymore what happens to it. I’m more interested in what you plan on doing with your captive, Ms. Jiang. Just because I was forced to land on your bucket doesn’t mean I’m going to relinquish any state secrets to you.”

The Little Admiral

The more Rei talked, the darker Hrolzenburg’s face became. His eyes began to bug and breathing shifted from his mouth to his nose. It might have been the sound of broken currents, but the bridge crew was fairly sure it was his teeth cracking. The ones closest to him discretely moved away, becoming very intent on their dark or flickering consoles.

“Skeelzania will not allow its defense to be jeopardized by mere treaties, Ms. Osmani. You know damn well the Accords were deliberatively strict, in order to weaken whatever legal defense we could mount on these barges. If you people had had the sense to allow us to properly arm and garrison these barges, we would have been able to smash that fleet of tube-bred vermin and save us all a lot of trouble. But now we have a fine right disaster on our hands. How do you think its going to look when reinforcements arrive and find you people crawling all over our barges, not to mention the fact that your coddling those traitors out there!”

He stomped across the bridge, leaning down into Rei’s face. “As for the crew of this station, that is still under my authority. I only surrendered metal, not flesh. I will see to the well-being of my men, not you or one of your electronic contraptions. ” Wheeling around he pointed at the Nav Officer. “You! You’re in charge until the Captain gets back from Medical. I need to inform the Lord Duke of our situation.” Hrolzenburg threw a final glare at Rei before stepping into the lift, off to make his way to the Duke’s suite.

Lieutenant Karolitz blinked, sucked air for a moment, and then glanced around fearfully. He was a bloody Navigations officer, not an envoy, much less a commander. And the Captain wouldn’t be returning soon, the Admiral knew that. The burn was rather nasty, and he would be on bed rest for a few days, surely. No telling when the Admiral would get back. But what was he doing, standing there like an idiot? Do something!

Arms snapped to his sides, head thrown back, and heels together, he addressed the woman. “My lady, I have the honor or being Lieutenant Karolitz of Karstown. Forgive us for the Admiral’s mood, but you understand how officers are after defeat.” No she doesn’t, she’s an Angstian! They’re all mad with no sense of discipline-“Until he returns, m’lady, I would have the honor of answering your questions as best I could.”

Karolitz swayed slightly as he attempted to answer her questions, without revealing too much and damning himself to the ninth circle of Hell (hopefully). Yes, they had always known of the fighters, they had arrived with the stations. He could not speak for the Emperor’s desire to keep the barges in place or not, he assumed that he would want them to. As for why they should be allowed to stay, well… “Beg your pardon, m’lady, but I don’t think the Emperor or his sons would take very kindly to that. The Kaiser is a wise man, true son of Hamilcar, his oldest the same, but his other son is different. The Black Prince is a different matter entirely, not speak ill of his Imperial-”

The young man gave a start as the Nav Screen flicked back to life, projecting a 3-D star map. “Excuse me, m’lady.” Karolitz turned, studying the projection intently for a few moments. “It’s a hyperspacial plot, you see. It’s tracking the echoes through hyperspace, giving us a heading on anything in the ‘area’, so to speak.” The lieutenant spoke more confidently, now that the topic was in his field. “There, see, you can still see the residual waves of the Myrmidon’s path. This right here is the one taken by the sod who rammed us; he was really cutting it close, being so close to Neptune’s gravity well. And this…”

Karolitz’s voice disappeared, replaced by a sort of dry croaking. His finger trembled somewhat as he traced the massive displacement wave plowing towards them XNorth. Its size made it easier to detect than that generated by the Myrmidons, and it was still a good many hours out. But the sheer size… “I can’t rightly say what that is, miss,” he stammered. “Almost cer-certainly more than one sh-sh-ship, but I can’t say who until…” The console shot out a string of paper, an IFF signal projected from within the heart of the wave. Karolitz read it with darting eyes, until they focused on the final number-letter combination. When he looked at her again, there was more than a hint of panic in his eyes. “I best find the Admiral.”

Aboard the Achilles

Marghun guided the woman through the stark and cramped quarters of the battleship towards the ex-captain’s rooms. Cramped quarters for Skeelzanians and Myrmidons, at any rate. The Neko had no trouble traversing passages filled with protruding pipes, valves, and the occasional ammo lift. It all had a rather primitive appearance, with spots of grime visible in some places. They passed numerous Myrmidons on the way, which politely squeezed themselves into the wall before the Admiral and his guest.

For his part, the Admiral remained more or less silent during the walk. He’d give her short answers, yes, but nothing in detail. Until they reached the stateroom, that is. “I can speak freely now,” he said as the door slid open. “Some things are best left beyond the crew’s knowledge.”

The room was roughly circular, with the rear wall styled as an expanse of windows looking out over the ship’s stern, as you might find on an ancient sailing ship. Of course, the view was transmitted from cameras on the outside hull; the room itself was deep within the ship’s bowels. A dark blue carpet was stretched across the floor, contrasting rather sharply with the golden leaf that seemed plastered on every surface. Towards the rear was a marble statue, presumably of the ship’s eponym; it did not have the look of being fake. Several large armchairs were spread around the room, facing inward. Doors could be seen leading off of the stateroom, to the captain’s personal and guest chambers, Karin was told.

“There’s alcohol over there, if you drink” said Marghun, gesturing at a small bar. “I abstain myself, and we were in port at the time of the rebellion. Speaking of which, I suppose I should try and answer your questions.” Selecting one of the armchairs, Marghun sat himself, calmly watching the Neko move about.

“The rebellion itself began a little more than nine months ago. You could say it began in the Honru system; it was the natives of those planets, those who lived there before the Skeelzanian fist closed about them, who are largely responsible. Honru had long been a bastion of the arts and individual rights, ‘a bunch of tree-groping skooma-smoking hippes’, the Master of Arms was fond of saying. Skeelzania had seized the system from the decrepit Bandalok Confederation back in Arkady’s day, one hundred and fifty years ago at least. Needless to say, the Liberal Honruii and the Skeelzots did not see eye to eye. There had been several rebellions over the years, each resulting in dead Honruii and more land for Skeelzanian colonists.

“It was they who began teaching us the skills needed to throw off our shackles, to know that there was a better existence than being the muscle of a warship. There was a fair population of Elves amongst the Honruii, and of course they were aghast at our servitude. I suspect the Skeelzots had hoped for that, but in any case it certainly galvanized them to do what they could about the situation.

“They wove their plots for many years, until at last a suitable leader rose amongst my people. We were not completely mindless drones; we would be transferred from ship to ship, ship to shore, in and out of one of the giant processing stations. Word spread around. Some say he was an Engineer’s Mate, others an Admiral’s steward. No one knows for certain. He simply called himself Torghud.

“This Torghud, whoever he was, is the one who actually planned and sparked the rebellion. He and his captains spread the word, and soon all the Race knew that the days of servitude were coming to an end. However, something went badly awry. Torghud had a captain on every ship in every system fleet, while he himself was at the heart of the beast, serving aboard the Fist of God above Solomon. When the appointed hour came, he was supposed to lead her people in capturing her and turn her guns on the Skeelzot’s homeworld. It seems he failed in his mission. The Fist of God did not fall, and when other, lesser ships did, she pounded them into dust. The Skeelzots have little regard for life when it comes to protecting their own.

“If all had gone as planned, the rebellion would have seized half the Imperial Fleet, better than a thousand ships; the rest would be stunned and disoriented, their world subdued by the Fist’s guns. As it was, fewer than four hundred were captured, and a great many of those were lost in the first few weeks of fighting. There were some triumphs, however. I was in Honru at the time of the rebellion, stationed aboard this very ship. We took her, aye, and many others. Indeed, almost the entire Honru fleet was seized. On top of that we liberated the great processing station of that system.”

Marghun rose from his chair, walking towards the rear windows. They had moved noticeably closer to Neptune now, and the Myrmidon fleet was strung out behind them. The three large transports were almost directly astern, placed within the middle of the fleet. “That is what those ships contain, my lady. Better than three million of my people, liberated from the processing station and birthing plant.”

He turned from the sight and faced her, his frame profiled by the light coming through the windows. “The revolt was not a success, good woman. At our greatest we had four hundred ships, within three months it was half that. The worlds we held, those of Honru and the Outer Feerrot, were recaptured and subjugated. The principle worlds of Honru, those that were still free from Skeelzanian colonization, were scoured of their people. Most of my race has met similar faiths, those who had not escaped or swore fealty to the Dragons. Even amongst my own fleet there were captains who lost their nerve, and flung themselves on the mercy of the Kaiser. They were surely killed for their folly. These few ships I have are all that was left of the thirty that made up the Honru force. We’ve been hounded by the Man with No Hand, deprived of food and shelter. I will not deny the Skeelzanians bred us well; our desire for nourishment is a good deal less than theirs or yours. But still, my people will starve eventually. We need someone to, if not adopt us, than to shield and supply us temporarily, so that we may continue in our search.”

A rapt of knuckles on the door, followed shortly by a Myrmidon woman. She spoke something in the Battle Tongue, with Marghun replying in the same. She nodded, turned on her heel and left. The Admiral sighed. “She oversees the ships sensors. She reports that there is a large force approaching, trumpeting to the Universe that they are Skeelzanian. I fear our time is shorter than I had wished.”

Alexander

"Oh, actually..." Jiang Fu eventually put down her book and poured herself some wine, ignoring Alexander's disregard for the same and trying to keep her amusement about the Skeelzanian's problems with the furniture at an unnoticeable level. "Now, now. We don't have you. You're our guest, having come here in distress. You're certainly not our captive. And while, well..." She hesitated, sipping a little from the wine, and looked dissatisfied. "Mhm... need to spice it up. Although... Nevermind. Anyway. While our 'toys'... Well, simply put, you're our guest, but we may be slightly intrusive hosts. Mea culpa." She sipped again, and eventually took up her book, reading a paragraph or two, once again disregarding Alexander - For half a minute or so, anyway. "And don't worry... First of all, if we wanted to, we could have the next available effector just pluck the necessary information out of your head. The beauty of modern electronic warfare and brains functioning on the basis of electric pulses, really. Granted, it could take a while, with your differing physiology, esp. your brains, but we're a patient people..." She chuckled briefly. "Though, of course, I've no intention of doing so, given that I doubt that a mere fighter pilot carries any relevant state secrets. Too... Unimportant." She smiled. "No wine? I don't think mere pilots get it all that often..."

Hrolzenburg

"I..." Rei watched the Admiral leave the bridge, wondering if she should be surprised or amused.

Eventually, she settled for 'Both', and listened to the Lieutenant. There were a lot of things she'd have liked to say - Regarding Skeelzania's respect with regards to treaties and its counterproductive results, that she doubted Skeelzania's force projection capacity to be sufficient to threaten DA, and that she didn't particularly care about the Imperial families' feelings (She'd have omitted the fact that DA's force projection capacity was incapable of threatening Skeelzania, either, though. Of course, this was hardly a secret to begin with), and that she doubted that the Lieutenant actually had the authority she required to make the conversation worthwhile - but eventually she settled for a simple "Oh, ok. Good luck finding him. I'll just, ah... wait here, if you don't mind?"

In her head, a small implant contacted another small implant, which in turn contacted another small implant...

And after a number of implants, the relevant information had been relayed.

The poor Lieutenant made it a little too obvious, I think... She didn't know anything about the numbers in question, or the estimated ETA - However, she did know that having a presence on the barges/ Myrmidon ships was now becoming extraordinarily useful. After all, DA was fairly unfamiliar with Skeelzania's own FTL system, and while Rei didn't have a reason to doubt DA's sensor-superiority in real space, she knew perfectly well that they couldn't match Skeelzania's sheer familiarity with its own form of hyperspacial travel, or the detection thereof.

Given this, the Myrmidonian ships could well prove to be surprisingly useful, closing this particular 'Informational Gap'.

Inside the barges' atomic structures (Mostly within its elec/ optronics), the energy-states-containing-information became active once more, having been 'ordered' to do exactly that, too - Rei had been unable to get a definite ETA, or definite numbers. They would probably have a better chance. Especially now that the analysis of Skeelzanian IT capacities had done a few steps forward...

A few more signals. The drones had to position themselves a little more properly - A 'Hostile Takeover' wasn't out of the question, and engines, bridge, the likes had to be taken care of quickly, if necessary. Transmitting a few inactive mindstates of hers to a number of drones, Rei also took care of her own survival, and sentient drones on board were in the process of doing the same. Updated about every quarter of an hour: One could hardly be careful enough.

Meanwhile, milli- micro and nano-combatants stayed close - or attached themselves to - significant parts of the barge - Circuits, the likes - in order to ensure a near-instantaneous lockdown, if necessary.

Needless to say, the same was done on the second barge, too.

Also needless to say, the various drones and drops of information within the system of the barges quietly added a mild form of censorship to the barges' communications possibilities - They did 1. want to know what the arriving Skeelzanian fleet sent, and 2. prevent the barges and their Skeelzanian inhabitants from sending out any kind of reply DA Neptune didn't want to see being sent. More specifically, they'd look at the outgoing signal, analyse its content, then rewrite it until the content fit DA Neptune's needs (Or rather, desires), and then sent. The process would probably take a few milliseconds, sure - But it should be worth it.

And of course, they'd simultaneously make sure that it looked as if the original signal had actually been sent, whereas it'd in truth be omitted.

Meanwhile, Rei was supposed to play a slightly naive and essentially harmless - If annoying - envoy. It would certainly help to make the - Arrogant, which was a very nice trait, given the situation - Skeelzanians believe that they could 'smuggle' a reply out without the 'Occupation Force' noticing. Naturally, more unusual ways of doing so than the usual channels had to receive specific attention...

Obviously, the whole action wasn't 'invincible'. It could still fail, if a Skeelzanian or two were smarter than they were supposed to be. But as far as Rei was concerned, it was 'Worth trying'.

Marghun

Not too different from one of ours..., Karin thought, walking through the various cramped bits of the Skeelzanian - Well, Myrmidonian - ship. There were examples of the opposite - TST 'Warships' tended to look like luxus liners, at least from the inside. Well, at least some nations seemed to recognise that the purpose of a warship was not to please tourists... Skeelzania for one.

Karin nodded quietly as the door to the Admiral's room was eventually closed, and listened, not really asking questions - For now, she was quite content in just listening, and interrupting the flow could be counterproductive, leading to being carried away on pointless tangents.

But eventually, the Admiral finished, and the bad news, well... Were there.

"I see... Well... A few follow-up questions, not necessarily in order of importance: First of all, how many Honruii and Myrmidons do you think are still alive? Within the Sternreich proper, that is. Counting both, subjugated ones and those who might still fight a guerilla war. Secondly, how much damage was done to the Sternreich - Specifically, the approximate number of ships destroyed, vs. the number of ships retaken by the 'loyalist' factions. Oh, and how many loyalist ships were destroyed, too. Though damage to fixed ground- and orbital assets would be interesting to know more about, too. Finally, the ability of the Sternreich to replace its losses within the last nine months. Assuming more conventional manufacturing capacities, plus the considerable loss of personnel - And I doubt they'll risk using myrmidonians like you in a crewing role any time soon - would I be correct in assuming that perhaps, oh... About one-fourth of Skeelzania's force projection capacity is, for the time being, eliminated?

"Then... with regards to the arriving fleet, we're woefully limited in our ability to observe the FTL method you're preferring. I.e. when you arrived, we knew that someone was coming, and we could even guess that it were more than one ship, but we couldn't tell which type, nor the exact number. Would you mind us, ummm... Screwing a little with your internals, so we can link our ships directly to your sensor array? It'd be exceptionally useful.

"Then, with regards to supplies - food - such could certainly be provided. We'd have to do some genetic checks, of course - See which parts of our food are unsuitable for your kind - but that should be it. I'd suggest moving them off your ships, and to our holdings on Poseidon and Triton, though. I suspect that they'll be safer, there, and supplying them will also work better, this way.

"Our laws, or rather, the lack thereof, should be fairly useful for that. We're generally open for refugees, and we don't have an extradition treaty with Skeelzania, so we wont be legally forced to hand you over - Public opinion would disagree with such a move, too - and if your desire is the 'adoption' you mentioned, that could be organised as well. Within limits, though - We're not particularly interested in a full scale war with Skeelzania, and while such a conflict would most likely be limited to Skeelzanian craft trying to attack our mining craft in the outer belt, it'd still be annoying. In other words, we wont provide full-scale military support for you until Skeelzania starts shooting us first, and besides, for the time being, our own FTL-systems are too slow to reach the Sternreich within a reasonable amount of time. In other words, while I don't believe that Skeelzania could be a serious threat to our holdings in planetary subsystems, we'd be utterly incapable of actually striking back.

"Minor support would of course be posible, though not 'Officially' backed, but I'm unsure as of your own intentions, if you just want to be safe, or if you want to continue the fight. In any case, 'Citizenship' could be extended to your people, if you'd like.

"Oh, and while I'm at it... How clear can a Skeelzanian ship 'see' from hyperspace/ warp/ whatever? The level of EM/ Gravitic signatures they'll be able to see, the size of an object... Could they see a Strategic Unit and its couple-hundred-metres diameter? A tactical unit and its below-threehundred-metres diameter? A bombgraser? A drone? How can their sensors be screwed with by way of the means we've available in real space, while they're in FTL transit, if at all?"

Meanwhile, the Myrmidonian ships were dealt with in pretty much the same way the barges had been dealt with - Though in their case, the drones actually made certain that the various measures applied didn't actually have negative effects on the ships' performances.

Especially interesting was, of course, the information stored inside their computers. Admiral Marghun's explanations had certainly been interesting, but verification was needed. Most specifically when it came to the actual results of the battles during the civil war. After all... casualties and performance had to be verified, in order to allow for a clearer picture and more accurate extrapolations.

And of course, here, just like with the fighter, and just like with the barges, the ships were analysed in every detail. The strength of the materials used, the kind(s) of shield(s) - If any - they employed, their command structures, information exchange, elec/ optronics, the kinds of weapons used and their yields and rates of fire, the sensor capacities, and so on.

Obviously, having this information could make the life of the (DA) ships around a lot easier, in a few hours.

Neptune

* Contacting Britmattian Holdings (Larissa); Encoded transmission...
* Sending Standard Identification Protocols [Nation = Der Angst; Region = DA Neptune; Ship = SEU Act on Instinct]
<SEU Act on Instinct> Apparently there's a new wave of Skeelzanian ships on the way. Potentially hostile, though I do hope that we can convince them to piss off without shooting. Already moving our own assets to prepare for a warm greeting, if necessary [Details attached]. Mind moving as well [Suggested changes in Britmattian fleet positions attached]? Of course, I'm not 100% certain about your ships' capacities, so feel free to suggest a somewhat different structure.
<SEU Act on Instinct> Oh, and prepare for possible changes, depending on how good the Skeelzanians can see during transit. I wouldn't mind them jumping into a bombgraser field, if that's possible... Or sand, if they're going to jump @ cfrac.
<SEU Act on Instinct> Oh, and Poseidon might go and poke someone interested in screwing with the Skeelzanian sphere, now that they seem to be weakened [Preliminary reports from Karin attached]. ZMI might be hot on doing so. Only if they're going to actually shoot, mind. For now, try and keep it confidential. Don't want certain third-world neighbors of ours to play hero and break their skulls while intervening in Skeelzania. And yes, they're definitely stupid enough to do so.
<SEU Act on Instinct> And can you believe the barges knowing nothing of the civil war? They're either half forgotten about, or Skeelzania's ability to distribute vital information is seriously crippled... I wouldn't mind the latter, really, if war happens.

* Contacting Largentian Holdings; Encoded transmission...
* Sending Standard Identification Protocols [Nation = Der Angst; Region = DA Neptune; Mind = Sandra Mikogami (Poseidon)]
<Sandra Mikogami> Just so you know [Preliminary reports from Karin attached]. I suggest you keep your ships just on the edge of the 96mio klick limit. Going to deal with this by ourselves, though - Hope we can avoid bloodsheet. Just - Make sure you've no-one in the potential line of fire.

And, a little later, once DA's own sensors, and not only Skeelzanian ones, could actually notice the approaching fleet, another transmission - this one of exceedingly poor quality (The FTLish exotic radiation, cruelly 'Designed' to fit Skeelzanian parameters as observed by the occaisonal sensor array, was hardly on par with the skeelzanian equivalents) - followed.

* Contacting Approaching Fleet; Open transmission, ExRad
* Sending Standard Identification Protocols [Nation = Der Angst; Region = DA Neptune; Mind = Sandra Mikogami (Poseidon)]
<Sandra Mikogami> I wont ask what your purpose is, as I'm fairly certain that I can guess it, given that your prey has already arrived and announced itself quite audibly. Just making sure... You're going to negotiate, rather than coming in shooting, yes? I don't mind you killing each other off outside the Neptunian sphere. Just don't do it inside. I really wouldn't like that.

The Fleet

The Angstian proposals for manouevre are received, evaluated and in some cases acted on, the various battlegroups gliding into position as they updated positions based on ever-updated sensor information from H.M.S Drop Bear, the enormous warship a far more capable combatant than anything else present, if only due to sheer size and equipped with sensors which that sheer size made impossible on the Excalibur Class Battleships, let alone the smaller vessels.
So, the Skeelies position is echoed to tactical plots throughout the 252 Royal Navy vessels present as they move smoothly into position, snubs clustering around the ships like midges on cattle, diving and gliding into the sensor shadows of the ships till their movement ceased, leaving them powered down and nigh invisible against the scale of space.
As the snubs eventually halted more parasite craft were deployed, these much slower and equally less visible to sensors as they puttered slowly into position, drifting clouds of them, silent of the com chatter which inevitably accompanied biologically controlled craft. The Angstians would probably recognise these from the battle at Poseidon during their civil war, the only snub design retained from the nigh-disaster that had been. It'd been a manned anti-capital ship fighter then, now, sans cockpit and life support, was little more than a heavily armoured and mobile graser and far more effective in it's role.
As the last Barracuda chugged into place the com chatter abruptly disapeared, from now until the all-clear the snubs, ships and Larissa herself would be relying on smaller-volume but ultimately secure Hack-manufactured com gear.
Silence reigns as the last few preparations are undertaken, missile tubes opened to space, kinetic weaponry loaded, point defence systems turned on and other as yet unknown systems power up. Some of which may be familiar to the Angstians, others new. The Fleet's preparations are possibly visible to ships in the unreality of hyper, unlikely, but it's still possible.
Even so, if it is, it could be taken as a message.
The final tasks completed, a single, incomprehensible to those without gear *nearly* as good as the Hack equipment, squeal of communication reaches Act on Instinct.

<[FleetFlag]Mordred> Acknowledged. Standing by.

Reich Space

While the 18 ships leaving the RaumStreiteKräfte was like a drop of water falling of a icicle the next leaving was like icebreak in late spring. Before they broke loose, enormous waves of energy was let loose and jamming signals was sent out to try to blind any of the eyes they still knew where there. With some luck the spies would be dazzled enough to not give accounts of the enormous numbers of ships that had left the Fleet. But even an untrained eye would see that the fleet had shrunk when the ships had left. Seconds later, as close to the Raumstreitekräfte as they dared the fleet slipped into the dizziness, like seals into murky water, led by the Dreadnought Ithai.


Somewhere…
The time stood still. Movement was slow and the air they breathed almost felt liquid. Several felt sickness overpowering them as a state of drunkenness overtook them. Two officers watched as one their men moved his hand in front of his face seeing a trailing hand following the first. On the Cruiser, HBS Abagtha, a crew member tried to claw out his eyes as his comrades restrained him to the bunk in sick bay. Overall the Shielding seemed to work and only one casualty was reported. Not that the Ships computer cared anyway, she felt that the eyes that had been watching her was gone now. Secured channels were used to communicate with the other ships as they changed formation to defensive pattern Sigma, keeping them close. She knew that the ships inhabitants most of the time needed a moment to adjust after traveling this way and she and her brothers and sisters needed to be able to defend without their help if need be. She felt like she was gliding in yello, however that felt, she searched her memory banks, Oh yes, yello She thought. She sent out the sensation to the others and got confirmative answers from all of them. She did a standard control for open backdoors in her system but felt that the shielding was still intact. She asked big mama if they were there yet and got the same answer as she got the last time she asked it, a year, a week or a second ago, she couldn’t remember.

Soon..

Tiburon Joint Command Neptune, Blue Point, Tiburon Neptune, Tiburon

Problems, problems, problems. Nothing but problems now- especially with the arrival of a massive Skeelzanian fleet.

[SECID: MJG. B. Lansing]
[Sec Pass: *************************]
[Authorization... Approved!]
<MJG Lansing/JCNe has joined :Echelon, 12 NOV 251 NCE 1137 EST>

[MJG Lansing/JCNe] Back.

{MJG Lansing/JCNe posts file: Neptunian_Update_2.zip}

[WAcheson|SecDef] Nothing unexpected. They're making a move against a rebellious force. How are the reinforcements coming along?

[MJG Lansing/JCNe] They're about 40% complete. Given the situation...

[SAkanimara|SecState] We'll have to wait to propose a conference to when the fleet actually arrives.

[MJG Lansing/JCNe] 'Kay. Nothing else to report for now.

<MJG Lansing/JCNe has changed Temp-ID to MJG Lansing|Watching>

[Sent Via D-Net]
[To: O-10 FRASER, M., the Kingdom of Britmattia]
[From: Maj. Gen. Bryant Lansing, Tiburon Aerospace Force, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon]
[Cc: Pelasgus City]
[Subject: Re(2): Neptune]

Admiral Fraser,

We are in complete agreement. Given the recent appearance of another Skeelzanian fleet, I would say that Neptune is in for a battle- something that I neither have ever said about the planet, nor wish to say. We're bringing reinforcements from other areas, and are willing to assist the Britmattian/FSP forces any way we can, but would like your nations' support in our quest to establish a Neptune-wide diplomatic conference to air and settle grievances once and for all. Once again, if there is any way we can assist the Axis in securing our common goals for Neptune, let us know.

Sincerely,
Major General Bryant Lansing,
Tiburon Aerospace Force,
Tiburon Joint Command Neptune,
The United Solaris Federation of Tiburon

<Connect to :Poseidon>
<Connect Location: Sandra Mikogami>

<MJG Lansing/TJCNe> Greetings. First off, we (I and my nation) would like to express our thanks for taking point over the situation thus far. We have no wish to needlessly enter a conflict.

<MJG Lansing/TJCNe> However, I'm sure you've noticed the rather large Skeelzanian fleet coming towards Neptune. We strongly hope that a diplomatic solution can come from all of this, given not only the large battle that this itself will provide but also that certain Neptunian nations hostile towards a Skeelzanian presence will be raring for an attack.

<MJG Lansing/TJCNe> Now, we're some of the last people to enter into an unnecessary conflict. At least we hope. And we're a bit nervous that this could create the impetus for everyone just throwing the deals in the air and doing whatever they want- namely, an escalation of military weapons, which we /really/ wish not to be the case, and we'd like to offer our assistance in making sure (preferrably via diplomacy) that Neptune remains largely free of violence.

[ooc: DA, sorry about the TG, I got everything sorted out...]

[Uploading...87%]
[Confirming....]
[Secure Link Established...]

<Third Echelon>Sir, intel has placed a second tango fleet approaching Neptune?
<Diego>Dammnit...Current status around the system
<Third Echelon>Mobalizations up the wazoo. We're looking at a legitamate battle.
<Diego>One thing I would love to avoid. What does this second fleet want?
<Third Echelon>Something about stamping out rebellion. I'll upload all the files to you.
[Transferring_Files: Hostile_Actions.zip]
[Opening Files]
<Diego>Interesting...
<Third Echelon>Orders.
<Diego>Get some Charon forces to the edge of the system. Nothing drastic though. I'm still waiting for clearence to get some ships around the colony for defense measures. Report back in a few hours.
<Third Echelon>Roger. Over and out.

[Link Severed]

Hanging in the balance between Pluto and Charon was a Squeglia Satation, home to the entirety of the outer system forces. The Third Echelon was in charge of gathering and sorting through intel to guide the forces during prebattle routines. The small fleet sent out transmissions to the necissary people and got the gears in motion. Largentian drone hives were activated putting thousands of battle drones online but not fully mobalizing them. The Sextant battlegroup was prepared for they voyage to the Neptune region. It consisted of one battleship and all the destroyers and cruisers Third Echelon requested.

It was only a few hours before all the organizations began working together and the battlegroup was ready. They were then cleared to leave the docking area and begin their journey. They swifly glided through the abyss with a grace few ships possess. To the untrained eye they certainly would not appear to be vicious machines of war. However the drones working them had no time to consider this they simply carried out their orders and got the ships into position and reported their status to Diego who simply told them to stand by. Largent would not be firing the first shots in this conflict.

Diego then received information of the transmission from Tiburon to Ms. Mikogami. Not being encrypted, not that it had any reason to be, he was able to examine the message. He soon sent a reply:

[Uploading...92%]
[Link Established]

<Diego> Major General Lansing, I couldn't help but overhearing your conversation. I hope you don't mind. However, I am simply sending you this in order to inform you that Largent does not want any conflict either. Or rather, not a military conflict. In order to ensure the peace and stability Neptune has thus far been able to provide we too would like to work with you and Ms. Mikogami in order to set up some sort of meeting of delegates from nations with Neptune holdings and the foreign forces. We are just wrapping up work on our first major city and would be happy to host such a meeting if it were to occur.

[Connection Severed]


-{Open Standard Diplomatic Link}-
-{To: All Nations on Neptune}-
-{From: Diego Escabar, Largentian Neptune}-

Greetings. For those of you who don't know, I am Diego Escabar, commander of the Largentian colony on Neptune. Having moved forces closer to the Neptune system recently, which you may or may not have noticed by now, I am sending this message simply as an explination. In light of new Skeelzania fleets in the area I have authorized the mobalization of a marginally sized fleet to be place just outside the system and observe the situation. Their orders are to do nothing unless fired upon or if the Skeelzanian fleet should show any hostilities to any nation considered 'friendly' or 'neutral'. So, unless you attack them you should have no concerns over their presence.

Sincerely,
Diego Escabar
~Commander of Largentian Neptune

Pelasgus did what approximated for him a sigh. How many times have I told you not to call me Pelly, Larissa? Tell Malcom I’m transferring you the FSP O-grid, since you’ve got most of our firepower in your fleet, currently. I’m going to ask Rear Admiral Belle to investigate that odd EMG reading coming from out at an AU Sol-ward.

And so he did. And Admiral Belle agreed, sending the Neptune Heavy Task Group arcing up out of close orbit of the little moon and speeding away toward the edge of the Sub-system, though technically leaving Fleet District Neptune.

* * * * *

Meanwhile, at Earth, Anglachel was noticing things. Of course, in Earth orbit, there was so much going on that it was hard not to notice things, but this particular thing intrigued her.

A massive amount of ECM being pumped out from the Reich space fleet. She, of course, properly catalogued and stored the data in the midst of her other activities, mainly trying to repair her wounded sister and a couple dozen starships at the same time.

But Intelligence Division, and hence, Cortana, did notice when the Reich fleet suddenly came up well short of its previous count.

And the odd EMG readings being recorded across the system began to be correlated…

It was only a matter of time until…

The Reich was visiting Neptune. You see, the advantage of EI is that they can put things together far faster than you, the reader, can read what they are doing.

First Fleet, poking around about Uranus distance orbit, in Neptune’s general direction, was immediate put on alert.

It began to move some twenty minutes later, canceling its current training simulation…

TacNet updated everyone instantly, though…

And Pelasgus let Poseidon and Larissa know right off the bat…

Points of Information

<SEU DEAT on Sight> You know, I've thought about it. Is this really smart?
<SEU Act on Instinct> What?
<SEU DEAT on Sight> The diplomacy. Let me elaborate: Our local Skeelzanians aren't exactly forthcoming with pleasantries-
<SEU Act on Instinct> Nor have they seriously resisted.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Yes, yes. Because they have little ability to do so, outnumbered as they are. This could change, though - And even if the incoming fleet proves to be willing to talk, well...
<SEU Act on Instinct> You think they'd just come back with a bigger fleet?
<SEU DEAT on Sight> According to the guys & girls in the psychology department, yes.
<SEU Act on Instinct> We know little to nothing about Skeelzania, tho. Personally, I doubt our 'Psychologists' judgement.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Nomen est omen... Not. I'm relaying this to Sandra, will see what she says.
<SEU Act on Instinct> I'm in charge here, damnit!
<Sandra Mikogami> So am I.
<SEU Act on Instinct> Great way to undermine my authority. Mind if I make this public? It's not like secrecy is critical just before a possible engagement.
<Sandra Mikogami> So long as it's QE and only involves warships, feel free :)
<SEU DEAT on Sight> What she said. Actually, already relaying to a few friends...
<SEU Act on Instinct> -_- So much for authority and proper chains of command.
<TEU Improper Behaviour> Stop your whining.
<SEU Act on Instinct> Says a fucking tactical.
* Message from TEU Improper Behaviour withheld during relay through DEAT on Sight
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Now, now. Lets stay civil. As I was say-
<TEU Improper Behaviour> Prick. Actually, plural. Pricks. And thanks, Pleasure of Discipline.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Maybe I was wrong. Maybe we shouldn't have gone public. So, cou-
<TEU Pleasure of Discipline> No Problem.
<Sandra Mikogami> To get back on topic...
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Indeed. Now, as I was saying... Personally - And our Psychologists agree - I think that Skeelzania, if utterly outnumbered, will just return with a bigger stick. They can't really do anything else - They'll most likely suspect that we'd give more than just the necessary support for survival to the Myrmidons.
<Sandra Mikogami> And rightfully so.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> As a result, the surviving rebels we've here are a threat to them. At least a potential one. And they have to get rid of it, somehow. Frankly, if I was in their position, I'd do something about our 'guests', too.
<SEU Act on Instinct> Yet, the risks of engaging us and our neighbors would be tremendous.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Not too much so. Remember, they're 40k LY distant, and interstellar warfare is somewhat, well... Hard. A few of our friends and allies could reach them, certainly, but even they would likely be incapable of staging a full scale war to the finish. In effect, it'd be little more than piracy.
<TEU Improper Behaviour> And of course, Skeelzanians would probably be willing to sacrifice a smaller fleet in order to achive their objective. They're nuts enough to like suicide missions.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Quite so. Not only that, but after achiving their goal, nothing would change - We'd throw them off this planet, of course, but their attitude would remain the same.
<TEU Fight, Win, Prevail> And if we...
<SEU DEAT on Sight> A positive effect stemming from a Thushimaesque defeat cannot be guaranteed, of course. Their regime might still be able to survive. They could still remain the same. But it'd be possible, and even if not, we'd still have weakened them.
<Sandra Mikogami> As opposed to letting them either shoot first now, or have them leave, and then return with a greater force.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Indeed. And IMHO, doing nothing will definitely show no positive long-term results. Not with Skeelzania. It simply wont change without outside pressure - And it'd always remember the diplomatic 'defeat' at Neptune, and seek revenge. With forces stronger than the ones we're currently having to deal with, and likely better prepared, too. Just as you said.
<TEU Fight, Win, Prevail> Not to mention, this would avoid a lot of potential trouble. We'd tell our local Skeelzanians to piss off - We've already occupied their barges, so there's no serious problem, although I recommend searching for demolition charges, self destruct mechanisms and the likes - and give the barges to the Myrmidons, allowing them to have their own micronation.
<SEU Act on Instinct> I'm still against it, but I'll admit - It sounds neat.
<Sandra Mikogami> Not to mention, we'd avoid legal issues - The Myrmidons continuing their war while they're, say, our citizens would be troublesome. This way we've significantly less issues.
<SEU Fight, Win, Prevail> Indeed. Skeelzania would be seriously annoyed, of course - I suspect that they will start attacking our commerce in the belts.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> But if we manage to get a bunch of 'Acquaintances' to trouble them...
<Sandra Mikogami> Specifically, the Concordat... At the very least ZMI.
<TEU Improper Behaviour> We'd even be able to supply a limited amount of ground forces, if such would be useful/ necessary.
<Sandra Mikogami> That's secondary, though. The primary issue is to get the rest of the loose confederacy we call a nation to agree with the plan. And the most relevant Neptune residents - I'd like FSP and Britmattia to agree with this course of action and possibly partake in it.
<SEU Act on Instinct> Another issue: Effects of such an action on our friends and allies?
<Sandra Mikogami> Tarasovka wont mind. I doubt The Territory will, either. Treznor might be an issue - They're very fond of diplomacy - but it would be a minor one, if we do this the right way. There are of course risks associated with, well, breaking our word, but this should be taken care of by way of propaganda. Which is to say [Message to the approaching fleet attached] no matter what their actual reply will be, the reply sol will know about will be extraordinarily hostile.
<SEU Act on Instinct> The Skeelzanian prisoners would disagree, or do you intend-
<Sandra Mikogami> Of course not. Not even going to screw with their minds - That'd be detectable, and destroy our credibility. Their officers would have the choice - Did Skeelzania run into a trap, to be murdered without having a chance, or was it attacking a foul enemy, fighting bravely, subdued only by way of sheer numbers? Given Skeelzania's mindset, I believe they'll prefer the lie. Granted, the trap-thing could be useful, too - But it'd make them look, well, dumb. I believe they'll prefer heroism. And it's not like many would believe them, anyway. Besides, there's the chance that they'll be utterly hostile to begin with, which would make the whole thing a lot easier.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Good point. So we keep up our condescending-and-diplomatic we-don't-want-to-fight attitude, and blast them to hell the moment they enter real space?
<Sandra Mikogami> Quite. Act on Instinct, I know you're still in charge. But, despite your disagreement...
<SEU Act on Instinct> Yes, yes. I'll do it.
<TEU Technically a Pacifist> Finally something to shoot at...
<Sandra Mikogami> Well, once we've gotten the agreements from the rest of DA, anyway. May take a few minutes. Not to mention FSP/ Britmattia.
<Sandra Mikogami> And of course only if the Skeelzanian force doesn't broadcast 'Peaceful Intentions' to any-and everyone, immediately. That'd kind of ruin the whole thing, even make us look like the bad guys. Mind, this possibility sounds somewhat unlikely, so I suppose we can go for gold. Perhaps we could tell them that we consider the old contract to be invalid, due to the presence of fighters on the barges, and occupy their shinies... That should be sufficient to piss them off enough to make them shoot us.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Actually, I like this latter option a lot better. Do that as soon as they reply, if they reply, and ask them to ferry off our 'prisoners'.
<TEU Technically a Pacifist> We should round them all up first, tho. Right now they're still, ya'know... Armed.
<Sandra Mikogami> Agreed. Well, we still have a couple hours. That should be sufficient, don't you think so?
<TEU Technically a Pacifist> Oh, definitely.
<Sandra Mikogami> Last but not least, it'd make certain that Neptune is recognised as a 'secure area', where attacks tend to be suicidal. Unlike, well, Mars. Which would of course be extraordinarily beneficial, for the forseeable future. Could even result in diplomats actually doing diplomatic things, rather than playing battleship...
<SEU DEAT on Sight> So, essentially speaking - If they don't bend over backwards and embarrass themselves by way of being publicly humiliated, we kill them, because otherwise we can say with near-certainty that they'd come back and start more trouble, anyway? Perfect, I say. Perfectly worth the bit of non-knightly attitude we've thrown in. All is fair in- etc.
<TEU Technically a Pacifist> Besides, we can argue that they've already committed hostile acts. Not to mention that entering the Neptunian subsystem as defined in the contracts would be an act of war to begin with. So why bother with tricky explanations? We're right, anyway, and Sandra's message has implicitly mentioned that entering the sphere is an act of war. So who cares.
<Sandra Mikogami> Indeed. We'll see which part of the various arguments will fit best with the system-wide opinion after this is over - If it becomes hostile, which is, admittedly, highly likely, and sort of desired, too - But speaking in all technicality, we're perfectly free to shoot them pretty much immediately without making up any excuses, except to explain our previous attempts to be diplomatic. But then, changing our mind due to 'Realistic points of views' can hardly be wrong, so there shouldn't be any issues. Well... lets begin.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Well, I guess we can all agree on a whole Battlefield jumping in at engagement range is worrysome enough to justify fire, I guess. Now, if they're smart and approach leisurely... But we'll see. Heck, we aren't certain about their intentions to begin with. Annoying lack of information, that...

The next few minutes involve essentially, well, nothing new. Sandra's contacting various entities at Jupiter, Mars and Earth (Not to mention Neptune), and a core group of ships - Mostly military ones - discusses briefly which entities should be informed about the new course of action, should it actually go through.

Issues, issues, issues. But eventually, Sandra receives confirmatory replies ('Confirmatory' meaning 'Do what you want, if it gets really bad, we might held out') from the contacted subnational DA-entities. So long as public support can be guaranteed - Unlikely, but so far, the plans are unknown - the whole scenario should be vaguely doable.

Plans are changed, new options discussed. Specific information about the Skeelzanian FTL sensor capacities is still woefully insignificant, and the knowledge about their ships and their whole construction, their weaknesses and strengths, while doubtlessly increasing, wont be perfect. A few hours are simply not enough time - They'd need months for a thorough analysis.

Nonetheless, the things they do learn are useful enough, assuming that they'll face vaguely comparable designs.

Britmattia

* Contacting [FleetFlag]Mordred; Encoded transmission...
* Sending Standard Identification Protocols [Nation = Der Angst; Region = DA Neptune; Ship = SEU Act on Instinct]
<SEU Act on Instinct> Perfect. Though, of course... I must apologize, we're a bit jumpy, here, but anyway: Change of plans [Results of internal discussions attached]. Interested in your opinion, of course - We're not into unilateral actions, so long as we can avoid them. But I suspect that you're at the very least not disagreeing with the new options, are you?
<SEU Act on Instinct> Needless to say, this is really secret. But seeing as you've helped us out in the past, I thought it'd only be fair if we included you in the all-knowing and all-deciding core group, together with, well, FSP. Nobody else, for now.
<SEU Act on Instinct> So, any comments/ criticisms welcome, and if you - And FSP - agree, I guess we've green light.

Earth

Nothing.

Then a brief flash of energies, of jamming and temporary chaos. 'Eyes' adjust, checking a variety of wavelengths, searching for traces of gravity...

Then they start counting. Then the number they get is compared to the number they had before...

And then they wonder what Vegana might be up to. Knowing Vegana's allegiances, they do at least know that it can't be anything good.

Knowing what happens in the rest of sol, they can relatively easily guess the point of this move, too - Mars or Neptune might be targetted.

If it isn't some out-of-sol action, anyway.

Nonetheless, something may happen... Local defences generally keep it in mind while contemplating more urgent - And definitely confirmed - threats.

Tiburon

Again, issues, issues, issues. Cooperation with Britmattia is desired. Cooperation with Sentient Peoples is a necessity - The local DA forces are fairly certain that they can kill off the Skeelzanians on their own, but FSP is too high-profile to just leave them out of the thing - but given the inherent immorality of the new course of action, it's less than desirable to let anyone else know. A risky endeavour, and it could backfire with relative ease - Although Midlonia's dislike for Skeelzania, and Largent's generally militaristic nature should reduce the potential political damage if something goes wrong - should the Skeelzanians actually broadcast their intention of using diplomacy beforehand (Sandra cursed herself for the message she'd sent the approaching Skeelzanian fleet. It had seemed like a good idea, but now it could jeopardise everything).

In any case, Tiburon was not on the list of entities supposed to know, and Sandra smiled a little when she got its message... Such naivety!

<Sandra Mikogami> Oh, of course. Our goal is to keep Neptune peaceful at all costs. And the less people get all worked up about a minor warfleet, the better.
<Sandra Mikogami> I can assure you that we're already using all available means to avoid combat, though. So, while I'm grateful for your offers, I'd rather that you didn't directly interfere - The Skeelzanians seem to be prone to information overload, and your interference could be potentially jeopardizing. I hope you don't mind.

Largent

In essence, Largent was an issue about comparable to Tiburon. Not really disliked - Unlike Tiburon, they had stayed vaguely quiet, and their suggestions actually made sense, which made them rather likable - but exactly because their suggestions made sense - At least when one wanted to avoid gunfire at all costs - Sandra eventually choose to simply stay quiet until specifically addressed. After all, practically speaking, nothing had actually changed... Much.

Sentient Peoples

Hum. Interesting.

Information was distributed through a variety of low-bitrate QEs, and simultaneously, Sandra informed FSP about the 'Change of Mind' Act on Instinct had already informed Britmattia about, a few moments earlier. And likewise, she, she asked for criticisms/ comments/ approval. Not that she'd had real doubts regarding FSP's position - They tended to be rather gunhappy - but she guessed it was a good idea to make sure.

Naturally, it was all done through the most secure channels available.

OOC: Just thought I'd post to assure you I haven't pulled another disappearing act. I should have my next post up by this evening, and a second concerning the arrival of the fleet either by late tonight or tomorrow.

Neptune

The Angstian proposal is recieved, relayed to Admiral Fraser reviewed by him and, ambushing the Skeelzanians on his own cognizance rather a large step, dispatched on those unimpeachably secure Hacker comlinks back to Ns.

CentGov Spire, Royesse, The Kingdom

It's functionally the middle of the night, but far north as the Kingdom is, it's only been dark for a few hours and Owen has been making use of his increasingly rare free time to wander about the Spire's gardens with his wife.
It's almost idyllic, if one can ignore the silent, almost ghostly presence of white-uniformed Queen's Own troopers shadowing King and Queen.
Owen tries, as does Arwen. They succeed to a reasonable extent, so that things are peaceful enough under the star-lit black canopy of Kingdom skies that the lovers are startled when one of their guards clears his throat and murmurs "Majesties?"
Drawn back to the grind, the two sigh and return to the Spire, Arwen to her own office, catching up on the endless paperwork her newly acquired role of Head of the Diplomatic Corps requires, Owen travelling into the towering building's guts, deep into the network of lifts and bunkers that form the communication and control heart of Owen's government.
His escorts trailing behind him, the King strides to the communication/control room dedicated to the Star Navy, somewhat grumpy at being drawn here.
His irritation fades away, replaced by an acknowledgement that this is a proposal the King, rather than an Admiral, needs to approve, which he swiftly does, dispatching both his permission for Malcom to back the Angstian's move, a copy of the message directed to the Angstians, and his approval for the restraint demonstrated so far.
This achieved he eyes his watchj, sighs ruefully and wanders back up into the department offices, the Office of the Navy jumping to his request for the delivering of sealed messages to the R.N H.Q at Port Terring and the Office of the Marine Corps reacting equally swiftly to the far more technologically intensive task of relaying the same messages to the Corps H.Q at Selene Base. His messages delivered, he retrieves his wife from her offices and retires to bed.
Tomorrow is an other day of the same after all.

The Pilot

Alexander shrugged at the woman. “Skeelzanians do not need to inject poisons into their bodies in order to feel relaxed.” Once again he shifted in his seat, this time lifting his legs up to rest them on the table; the remaining glass gave a noticeable jump when the boots came down. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable, mentally-speaking; such apparent disinterest by his captors -he had no illusions, whatever she thought- was not part of the interrogation-resistance course he’d taken. “What the devil are you reading, anyhow?”

While Alexander made chit-chat, his fighter was yielding up its secrets. Far from the sophisticated marvels of engineering put out by other nations, the Zig seemed a brutal, clunky thing. Obviously mass-produced, the lack of finesse and production tolerances was somewhat alarming. Parts of it were quite literally welded together, though the actual process was impossible to determine. Virtually every part and component was stamped with an identification code, listing plant-of-origin, date, and even which shift worked on the piece. Unfortunately, almost all of the codes proved to be the same, with only minor changes in date and crew listings; it seems the fighter was assembled in only one factory, and in a surprisingly short period of time. This particular Zig had taken only four and a half weeks to manufacture and assemble.

Primary armament consisted of three large slug-throwing weapons, with beam weaponry being eschewed. The slug-throwers wouldn’t be much of a threat at long range, but if one were to hit the results could well be devastating. A number of missile and weapon racks were also included, currently empty. Strength-analysis showed them to be of strong manufacture; the fighter could easily carry several tons of ordinances.

Its onboard computer wasn’t much more advanced than a mid-21st century model, and rather minimalist at that. Much of it seemed given over to fire-control and system-diagnostics, with very little devoted to navigation. There was one quasi-advanced piece of hardware, however: the neural-uplink-control-helmet, or NUCH. It served as a near direct link between the pilot’s mind and the ship’s flight controls; the actual mechanism was rather large and clunky, but seemed to run well enough. How much the NUCH contributed to performance, and what was simply the pilot throwing thrust was around was difficult to determine.

The engine itself was of curious make, a design totally unique to Skeelzania (so far as they know). It consisted of three main components: an injection nozzle, a section not-dissimilar to a jet’s combustion chamber, and magnetic field projectors for vectoring thrust. Its fuel was the flo-chip: a small, nanochip-sized speck of metal and electronics which contained a single antihydrogen proton. The pilot controlled when and how many of these chips were fed into the combustion chamber, where the m-field containing the antimatter was deactivated, resulting in a matter-antimatter explosion. The aforementioned magnetic field projectors, robust things with fairly good vectoring ability, would then force the released energy out of the craft, providing considerable thrust. The ship’s shielding system was proving even more exotic…

The Little Admiral and his Guest

Hrolzenburg had, by this time, returned to the barge’s bridge, accompanied by Duke Vasili. He shot poisonous glances at both Rei and the Lieutenant as soon as the lift doors opened. “Why is she still here?” he demanded of his subordinate. “Never mind, I have no time for your excuses. Show me this fleet of yours.”

While the kleindmiral and the Lieutenant poured over the read-outs, Vasili did his best to steady himself. He was a balding, overweight Skeelzanian with paunches under his red-eyes and bad teeth, altogether an unattractive sight. He had crawled into a crumpled black-and-red jumpsuit before leaving his chambers, but was still in something of a stupor. He stared at Rei for a few moments, before dismissing her with a shrug. Brushing aside some wiring, he sat himself down on a vacant chair near the lift.

The two officers meanwhile had been having a hushed and hurried conversation over whom and what was in that fleet, specifically who was commanding it. Judging from the repeated use of the words “black” and “prince”, it was probably someone both important and bad. Finally it ended, and Hrolzenburg again spoke with Ms. Osmani. His face had lost its purple hue, and indeed was somewhat pale; nevertheless he was wearing a smug smile, though with obviously-clenched teeth. “Well, my lady, it seems you’ll be able air your grievances soon enough. Although we can’t be certain until they exit hyperspace, it appears that that fleet is under the command of none other than Prince Berkhan, the youngest son of the Kaiser. I’m sure he’ll have all the authority you could want.”

Aboard the Achilles

Marghun had immediately granted Karin’s second request, namely the use of the rebel sensors for scouting the approaching fleet. Indeed, he was escorting her up to the bridge now, deciding that he wanted to be closer to the scene should action be necessary. Along the way he attempted to answer her other questions.

“That is difficult to say, my lady,” in regards to survivors. “Truth be told, we are not certain how many Myrmidons there were to begin with. I have heard estimates that only about sixty percent of the population was ‘in use’, so to speak, at any one time. Of course, I’ve also been told eighty and twenty percent. Assuming the Skeelzots didn’t simply detonate the holding centers in order to prevent further liberation, there would certainly be many millions still under subjugation.” He paused, thinking to himself. “We rescued a bit more than two million from the Honru station, the rest coming in from the Feerrot and elsewhere. There were six stations that I know of, so that puts the minimal number at around ten-million enslaved. Once again, assuming they weren’t killed outright.
“As for those still waging a struggle against the Empire, both Myrmidon and Honruii, I would imagine only a small fraction of that number. The population of free Honruii was at around two-hundred million when the rebellion started. As Honru Prime was under orbital bombardment when we evacuated the system, I suspect that that number has been severely curtailed. Their population was also highly concentrated, unfortunately. While the planets themselves were heavily industrialized and harvested for resources, it was Skeelzanian colonists who did this, not the Honruii. The greater bulk of the race has most likely perished. Though perhaps I’m overly pessimistic; I have seen much death as of late.

“Before complete coordination among our forces was lost, there were nearly a hundred warships continuing the struggle all across the Sternreich. We had lost control of whatever major worlds we had by that time, with only a few small colonies and outposts remaining liberated. Praying that there was no great catastrophe like the one that befell us at Ikarion, the number of fighting Myrmidons is somewhere between three hundred and four hundred thousand.

“The Emperor counted well over two thousand capital ships amongst his fleets at the start of the rebellion. We captured about four hundred at the start, while a score of others were put out of action by partially-successful revolts or detonations. Within a month at least eighty were destroyed outright, many in the first few hours or days. We have lost double that by this time. I would say about seventy five of our vessels deserted us between then and the present, being returned to Skeelzanian control. I don’t know how many they could crew, but I have seen at least three battleships fielded against us that formerly fought under our flag. All told, I would put the number of still-resisting ships in the Quadrant at about one hundred vessels, assuming there was supplies for them all…”

His response concerning loss-replacement and force-projection was even grimmer. “I fear you do not grasp how Skeelzania’s industry works. The Skeelzots and the Industrial Barons know that an unemployed populace is a restless one, and utilize manual and physical labor to a large degree. Myrmidons were not used as workers in the factories, we served only aboard ships or as labor battalions within the Army. The planet-smelters do not employ us at all, although they lost more than a few ships in the conflict. And I fear we preformed poorly when it came to damaging their industrial capacity. Honru had industry, yes, but was not a naval yard. The Feerrott is a March system, and its yards belonged to the Van Cleef family of Margraves. Their Grenzmarine was crippled, yes, and the inner dockyards destroyed, but they are not truly part of the Imperial flock.

“In order to seriously damage Skeelzania’s industry you need to damage Solomon or the Drenmarch. We lost the Fist of God at Solomon and were forced out of the system soon after, so the shipyards are intact as far as I know. An assault on the Drenmarch was attempted later into the conflict, but the Margrave’s fleet smashed us at Ikarion. The Drens are a powerful but disgraced family, making the status of their yards uncertain. The Emperor might commandeer them for rebuilding, or be offered them by the Margrave himself, but it is just as likely they remain under local control.”

The near-elf smiled ruefully as their lift rose towards the bridge. “We were not the only ones attacking Skeelzania, however. The Ork clans on the southern marches seized the chance, and struck deep into the Drenmarch. The Greenskins may very well have smashed a few of their yards and raided their worlds; in any case, Skeelzania would need to divert forces in order to quell the incursions. Still, it is difficult to say just how many warships Skeelzania can put into the field.

“As for using our sensors, you are welcome to them.” The lift came to a lurching stop, the doors hissing open to reveal a scene of frenetic activity. The Myrmidons were busy coordinating with the Angstian authorities over transfer of the refugees, not to mention the matter of preparing for the imminent arrival of Skeelzanian forces. Within minutes Marghun had ordered about the integration of DA and Myrmidon sensors, allowing a clearer picture of the fleet to be provided. He also did his best to explain the particular properties and problems of Hyperspacial travel.

Ships in hyperspace are, in effect, traveling through a dimension parallel to our own, where the properties of time and distance are fairly distorted. This dimension is something of a gravitational soup, where the wake and echoes of ship’s passing can be ‘heard’ by the appropriate sensor. These waves have a tendency of colliding and covering up one another, making definitive tracking problematic. Similarly, ships in hyperspace have trouble ‘seeing’ out into realspace, the exception being gravity wells generated by celestial bodies or by artificial means.

“The only known way of forcing a ship out of hyperspace is for the ship to become trapped in a gravity well,” explained Marghun. “Our records indicate that the Skeelzanians did some work with gravity-generating interdictors, but that they had an unfortunate tendency of causing objects to crash into them.”

Communication with ships inside of the dimension is difficult as well, due to time distortions within hyperspace. Messages sent days apart can arrive almost instantaneously, or not at all. Cases with a second message in a sequence arriving before its prior are also known. Transmissions from hyperspace are a bit more reliable, though this is achieved by directing an immensely powerful tight-beam transmission at a gravity well containing the message’s intended recipient; the downside is that such a powerful beam is not far removed from a laser. Skeelzanians tended to communicate through the sub-etha instead, which was another, presumably more reliable sort of sub-dimension. All in all, it seemed the Skeelzanians did very little in this dimension aside from fighting.

Random bits sieved from DA analysis

Even while the dissection of the Zig fighter was well underway, information was being gleaned from analysis of the other Skeelzanian craft. Propulsion wise, all had engines similar to that found on the Zig, differing really only in size. The barge’s were not much bigger than those on the much-smaller Nemesis battleships, severely restricting their mobility.

The defensive systems found aboard the battleships were substantially stronger than those on the barges and fighter, yet essentially the same. The basic defense was immensely thick layer of CHOBHAM armor, in some places up to ten meters thick. It was a mixture of ceramics, empty spaces and metal, the most predominant being a dark-blue element unknown on Earth, or much anywhere else aside from the Gamma Quadrant. Cross-references with the ship’s databanks revealed it to be called Endor, and possessing a tensile strength about three times stronger than anything found on Earth.

Above the armor layer was a field known as a Hard Shield, which was a sort of moveable armor. Gaseous matter was projected into space, where it was retained against the hull by a magnetic field. A second field caused it to hover a few milimeters above the actual surface, creating a gap between the Hard Shield and the armor.

Between these two systems was the Isotropic Coating. This consisted of a nanomachine sludge that was exuded over the armor of Skeelzanian warships to a depth of several micrometers, giving them a greenish-purple hue. While the actual mechanics were rather convoluted, the basic principle of its operation is thus: the nanomachines that make up the Coating cause matter to ‘see’ the ship as something other than what it is. An antiproton would be fooled into thinking it was striking a shaft of light, whilst missiles would perceive themselves as traveling through gas cloud. If they were small enough, anyway; objects much over 100 kilograms in mass tended to overload the Coating and simply smash into the armor. Neither does it turn the ship invisible. Someone looking at a battleship would see the general shape of the ship, they would know the ship was there, but if they were to go over and try and touch it they would only feel a sticky glob. It is possible to see the ships on radar, but only because there is a ship-shaped portion of empty space with radio waves being refracted every which way till Sunday.

As more information became available, the clearer the understanding of Skeelzanian ships, and therefore tactics became. All of them were tough and capable of absorbing great amounts of damage, with multiple layers of redundancy built in; there weren’t many operations that couldn’t be carried out by hand if the need arose. Most of their ships could move well on a horizontal plane, and could accelerate very rapidly if the situation called for it. Weaponry was simple, heavy, and numerous. Their sensors were poor, but they would have the firepower to simply blanket a given area in space until they hit something.

.
..
...
....
****Simmer****





Fold space…. Real space….. Fold space.. Real Space.. FoldspaceRealSpace.




Andersson vomited in the bag he held in front of his mouth as he flicked in and out of reality as he knew it in the window opening in the vicinity of the Spoot System. The small space he was sitting in spun around in front of his eyes, mixing itself with the instruments in the cockpit as the auto pilot brought him into the Spoot system sending out signals clearly declaring the vessel as unarmed and on a diplomatic mission. The window into fold space glimmered behind him accompanied with 5 others, not really closing itself, as the space craft set the course towards the planet Solomon.


From: The Benevolent Jaar, representant of The Reich
To: The Leader of the Glorious Nation of Skeelzania

In times like this the Meta-humans that litter the universe like lice on a dog and their friends and allies are a constant threat to humanity. There is a need of unity as our nations are under constant threat of the Nephilim and the whore queen of the Elves and her pawns. We know that you have suffered under her yoke and we also know that terrorists, traitors and murderers from your proud nation is being supported by the hell spawn that calls themselves an open society. Not only do they hold property that is rightfully yours but also claiming that you are the aggressor in an action that plainly is about eliminating criminals that are guilty of the death of lots of innocent humans. In their eyes the life of a Skeelzianan or a innocent person from The Reich is worth less than that of a stray dog. In times like this we all need allies. Please accept our envoy, Vizeadmiral Andersson for a diplomatic discussion.

God is Great

~The Benevolent Jaar


Andersson had been carefully selected among the diplomats for his military background in the inquisitors and therefore also his physical appearance. Very few Inquisitors made it to be something else than warriors, their special “training” leading to an early death from all the tampering with drugs and surgery. Sudden cardiac death was one of the most common ways for an Inquisitor to go. Andersson was one of a handful who actually had become something outside the military, something he was proud of, more so than being sick in a bag in a small unarmed shuttle shouting out its peaceful intentions over all open channels on his way into unknown territory.

Don't mind me, just passing through. :D

One AU from Neptune

The fabric of reality, still a little stretched from the last Skeelzanian fleet-jump, was freshly violated as the pursuit fleet reasserted its existence. With a tremor that flashed out every Skeelzanian-made sensor in the vicinity, the first wave of warships appeared, followed quickly by another and then another. Three score of Anubis destroyers, slightly-smaller cousins to the Nemesis ships, made up the first rank, forming a protective screen at the front and sides of the horizontal-pyramid formation. Following closely was the familiar bulk of the Nemesis battleships, with well over two score present. Beyond them were half a dozen Dosadi carriers; built around the same basic frame, these craft were hybrid battleship-carriers, carrying several wings of strike craft while retaining a third of the Nemesis’ firepower. Unlike the ships which had attacked the barges, the new arrivals wore a gray paint scheme in place of the regular olive drab. A golden Spoot Star was also painted over their bows, further widening the ascetic differences between the two forces.

Deep within the fleet’s center resided the great flagship Tchernobog. Over four kilometers in length, making it easily the largest Skeelzanian warship to cross the Alpha-Gamma Line, she dwarfed not only her retainers but also the barges as well. Two massive turrets, each nearly three-hundred and fifty meters across, sat sullenly on her upper deck, with many other guns of (relatively) smaller caliber bristly all over her hull. Her bow, sporting a massive dragon figurehead wrought in gold, was pock-marked with torpedo and missile launchers, along with a half-dozen railguns. Gigantic battle-flags were painted onto her sides, stating in no uncertain terms that she was a harbinger of Imperial Might, if a potential enemy was so unwise as to court it.

Montague de Serrat reflected on this and more as he stood aboard the Tchernobog’s bridge, a few paces behind Prince Berkhan’s right. The lad was a good soldier, undoubtedly, and a son of the Kaiser, but Serrat held no illusions concerning his sanity. If the Kaiser wants an incident, Berkhan’s the best son for the job. Clearing his throat, Serrat stepped forward. “My lord, as you are no doubt aware we are well within sensor range of Neptune. Would it not be wise to bring our shields up to strength, incase the Fremden launch an attack against Your Imperial Self?”

Berkhan’s answer was a death rattle, a noise one didn’t expect from someone less than forty years old. “No, my good Count. The Fremden and their lickspittles are not so stupid as to think they could get away with such an overt action. Any affronts we suffer will no doubt in the verbal battlefield of diplomacy, wouldn’t you say?”

Now that was uncalled for, thought Serrat. “I would sincerely hope not, my Lord, as it is I who is charged with overseeing the diplomatic end of this affair.”

“And it is I who is charged with overseeing the military portion, my Lord Serrat. If I have need of your counsel or judge that the time for diplomacy is ripe than I allow you to speak; until then be silent.” After favoring Serrat with a long look of his mask, the Prince called down into the control pit. “Lieutenant von Skalkor, have you untangled that message yet?”

The comms officer spun away from his console, slamming his heel down on the deck plates with a resounding crash. “No, my Lord Prince! Not completely, at least. We believe it to be an offer to conduct diplomacy. A sign of weakness, if you would allow me to say so, my Lord Prince?”

“Do not underestimate the Fremden guile, Herr Skalkor. They would seek to disarm us before striking. Any word on the status around the barges?”

Another officer, another crash. “Just coming in now, my Lord Prince! It seems we have arrived too late; Admiral Hrolzenburg has struck to the rebel forces, and now both parties are crawling with Neptunian assets. It appears the Myrmidon forces have moved into the Angstian sphere; long-range scans indicate that they are transferring personnel from their ships onto those of Der Angst.”

“No doubt to keep us from blasting them out of the sky. Return to your work, and keep me informed of any new developments.” Berkhan returned the salutes before stepping away from the railing. When he turned around, Serrat might have sworn that he could see a faint smile tugging at his mask. “It appears that Der Angst and their friends have been abetting rebels against the Crown even while they clamor for negotiations. Tell me, Count, why I should not order the immediate destruction of Neptune and all nearby assets?”

Serrat went stiff, his body assuming the ram-rod profile of a Skeelzanian at attention. “While such an action is well within your authority as a Prince of the Sternreich, I must advise the Prince that it is highly inadvisable. Firstly, we lack sufficient forces to totally obliterate the Neptune sphere, much less carry the war against whatever reinforcements arrive from within the system. Secondly, your August Father was clear in his desire for a peaceful solution. Too much of our strength is locked up in quelling the revolts, or countering Greenskin incursions on the Drenmark. Thirdly and lastly, my Lord Prince, the barges are not worth starting a war over. Even his Imperial Majesty recognizes that fact.”

Silence reigned on the bridge for what seemed like hours, though it was really only minutes. Finally the death rattle came from beneath the mask. “Let us pretend that it is you who is the Prince, and not some middling count on a backwater planet populated by whores and mercenaries. What course would you take, Serrat?”

“My Lord, I would meet the Fremden on a diplomatic field of battle. I predict that they will use this event as pretext for removing the barges’ from our control, an event I am prone to allow. However, I can extract other concessions from them, and possibly make them give up the rebel forces. I think the loss of two obsolete fortifications would be worth snuffing out this facet of the rebellion.”

“Perhaps you are correct. Perhaps not. We’ll find out soon in any case. In my opinion this operation has shifted from military to diplomatic terms, and as such you are in charge. My men will seek to establish a meeting forthwith.”


From: His Excellency Count Montague de Serrat of Minorca, residing aboard the SKZFS Tchernobog, Sol System
To: DA Neptune agent Sandra Mikogami

The Prince demands an immediate explanation of DA actions against Skeelzanian assets within the Neptune subsystem, being gracious enough to withhold immediate destruction in favor of diplomatic action. As such we are willing to attend a summit concerning the resolution of this latest string of incidents. He has asked me to pass along a stern warning, however: any offensive action taken against further Skeelzanian assets, whether electronic or in the military realm, will be dealt with harshly.



OOC: I’ll respond to Vegana’s actions in the next post.

About the Spoot Star

Neutrality broadcasts or not, the Veganan shuttle still attracted a great deal of not-so-friendly attention. From the Aegis Battlestation orbiting high above Solomon, to the smallest planetary patrol craft, hundred upon hundreds of clarification demands came in from across the system. Most followed a general pattern: Who are you, what do you want, who did you say you were? Never heard of you, stand by. No less than three Anubis destroyers were vectored onto an intercept course, though they were only supposed to escort the shuttle. For now. Eventually things began to be sorted out, and the message was relayed to the appropriate channels.

Emperor Konrad II was in his study, puffing away on his pipe when the message finally arrived with a whoosh, propelling itself out of the vacuum-tube and across the room, to land somewhere behind the couch. He made no move to open it, preferring to continue puffing. We never did get those things to work properly, he thought. “Daughter, what is that?”

“I don’t know, Father, it’s behind the couch,” he daughter murmured from the desk, buried under a pile of papers and reports from across the Sternreich. “I don’t think it was particularly important, it looked like a blue seal.” Her voice was replaced by the scratching of a pen as she returned to her duties.

Konrad gave a small sigh, setting his pipe down as he did so. “I suppose it’s my Imperial duty to read it, however.” Easily moving aside the couch he retrieved the cylinder, unscrewing the blue lid and withdrawing the message. “Some sort of diplomatic overture. Do we know of anyone who refer to themselves as ‘The Reich’?”

“Only about twenty-three nations and one Ork clan, Father. Is it the Stormboyz? We could certainly use their help in the south.”

“No, it’s a human nation. I doubt they’d much like the Orks, or our business with them.” His eyes flicked over the postscript at the bottom, inserted by the System Commander aboard the Aegis. “Still, I’ll have to respond. Apparently we have a Vice Admiral of theirs in custody.”

A short while later, within the Imperial Palace*

Vizeadmiral Andersson was escorted into the dining hall, one of several within the fortress-like Palace. He and his companions had been interred on one of the lesser naval depots, just incase their ship suddenly decided to turn itself into a bomb. After all the necessary checks and scans he had been brought down to the surface by shuttle, assigned a retinue of guards, and finally brought to an audience with the Emperor.

Emperor Konrad Skeelzot the Second of His Name, Prince of Solomon and Kaiser of the Sternreich sat at a small table in the center of the room, eating quietly. Even sitting down it was clear he was large; being about eight-feet tall and powerfully built. His dark hair was combed over, a fully-developed handlebar mustache hanging from beneath his aquiline nose. As was customary, he wore the black and red uniform of the Fürstentumschütze, with the gold chain of office clasped over his right shoulder. A Navy Service Pistol rested on one hip, a long sword on the other; no doubt he concealed other weapons on his person.

The Skeelzanian Kaiser glanced up as Andersson was escorted over, wiping his hands on a gold-lace napkin. “Good evening, ser. I understand you are a Vizeadmiral, sent by your Reich to discuss business with mine. Please, sit, we’re all humans here. There is food if you desire it; its been treated so as to be safe for Terran consumption.”

*Just a little godmoding in order to speed things up

96 million kilometers from Neptune

Emptiness…. A flicker and suddenly the emptiness is filled with something that looks like traffic in a roundabout a busy day. Ships move around, drones move around the ships and people in the ships are getting sick.

The ships exited fold space battle ready. You never know what is waiting for you after that long journey and the systems were set to AI response shoot-first shoot-to-kill. Scans ran red looking for targets around their location, sending and receiving information between the ships and the vicinity and after that… Silence… No broadcasts to anyone, just silence.


Solomon

Andersson had expected this kind of… warm reception. His ship had signaled multiple weapon systems locking on his craft very quickly after he had come closer. He had spent the time he had to wait cleaning up his appearance a little. He now could see that his superiors had made a correct choice sending him, he was very much alike the Kaiser except for his blonde hair. He made a bow, clacking the heels together and slowly sat down by the table.

He had no worries about his craft being parked in the depot. He was sure they would check out his ship, but it was standard issue diplomatic vessel. All system in it was average except the communication system that was above average. The vessels engine was not even able to do FTL by itself so any enemies or allies that decided to check out a standard issue diplomatic vessel would find a good crafted ship with no fancy tech and just good enough through and through.

Now sitting in front of a person about the same size as himself was nothing that intimidated him. He had grown up in a warrior environment together with his brothers and there had been a constant battle of superiority among the clans which only was made harder because they were clones of the same origin. He had however honed different skills since then and his mission here was to establish a nice foundation for a relation between Skeelzania and The Reich.

-“Vizeadmiral Andersson at your service. I am much honored for sharing your food your highness.” he said slowly picking up something he was quite sure was meant for him to eat. “The reason my great leader has sent me is the recent development on Neptune. In times like this the pure most stick together against those who seek to defile us. Our leader has sent me to offer our support to your great nation.”

The pressure was equisite. Nobody had ever really thought about what the affect of extreme pressures would be on a LiME, after all, they had only been used on Mercury and on Earth, and only at STP on Earth. The Hacker techies who has designed the system had a good idea of operational perameters, because they knew the make-up of the materal, but stress tests had never been done with an awakened blob of the material.

Anamaria Hirsch was the only one who had ever actually thought about it, and that was only because she was the one who had figured out the key to the distributed computation schema used inside LiMEs. She had never tested it though, but she had her ideas. Occationally, she had pondered having Sofia testing it out for her, but there was always something better to do with their free time.

Esther, however, was a living experiment, and she was loving the effects. At extremely low pressures (ie: vacuum), the LiME tended to be sluggish, 'sleepy', and generally down as they spent energy holding themselves together. At extremely high pressures (say, at the core of Neptune), it was like being on speed. The body was considerably more compacted and information had less distance to travel within the LiME, and often caused a bit of bleed over.

And damn but it felt good!

This, coupled with the fact that Esther was an artiste, meant that she really, really enjoyed her work, and would often ignore everything that was going on around her. She had spent the past several weeks carefully overseeing her factories as they slowly broke down and recombined smaller industrial stones into a gargantuan block of diamond, and it was almost finished. This particular plan had been formed when Esther had started to grow bored with crafting paragons. One hundred carat gemstones were all well and good, but they got boring after awhile. In a fit of creative impulse (probably brought on by hanging out at the core), she had decided to try her hand at diamond sculpture. It seemed reasonable enough: this wasn't Earth where you had to work with what nature gave you; this was Neptune where you used whatever you damn well pleased. And while she had no need for money, there was still a little bit of Hacker in her, and she couldn't help but giggle at the thought of what such a statue would be worth.

She eventually ascended to the floating barge as she was finding herself unable to concentrate on much of anything, probably because she'd at the core so long -- the longest she'd ever stayed.

This would explain why it took her so bloody long to respond to the war that had errupted right over her head.

She may have prefered mucking around with crystalized carbon, but she wasn't about to completely ignore the reality that was churning around her. And she sure as Hell didn't want to lose her barge. The communications systems on the barge flared to life, and started sending transmitions, using Hacker protocols, which gave new meaning to the terms 'tightbeam' and 'encrypted'.

Initiate CommandKey \\:\\:entrncomm\\tightbeam:fleetcorelarissa
Initiate CommandKey \\:\\:entrncomm\\tightbeam:sandramikogami
Return //://:entrncomm\\tightbeam:fleetcorelarissa Successful
Return //://:entrncomm\\tightbeam:sandramikogami Successful

Oh, bloody Hell.

Sorry for not replying earlier, but I was a little occupied, and needless to say, I'm less than thrilled at having this errupt while I was core-side. Seems I was able to dodge most of the fallout; there was only superficial damage to a couple arrays.

Not to my deep space scanners, however, so I've noticed possible incoming friends.

Sigh.

Now here's the rub: I'm a commercial venture. My point defence is pretty much limited to a few energy weapons to swat away small irritants, like... say... debris from exploding ships and barges. Anything bigger... well... yeah. So, if that offer's still good, Larissa, I'd be more than happy to send you some sparklies or something.

Oh, and Sandra? I'd say something about coming to Neptune because it was nice and quiet, but that didn't really work for Elijah either.

Meh.

~ Esther

Initiate CommandKey \\:\\:closeroute
Return //://:closeroute Successful

Esther sighed, grumbling as she sent an update to Elijah, and then proceded to perform a backup of all her personality and memory files to be sent down to the core. She looked around the empty barge almost a little guiltily, "What? I'm a lover not a fighter... yeah..."

Points of Information

<Sandra Mikogami> Britmattia confirmed.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Win. Now, for the details... Too bad we don't know where they will emerge. Oh well.
<TEU Improper Behaviour> Like playing in the lottery, really... Try a graser here, a graser there...
<TEU Space Gnome> Grasers everywhere!

The Pilot

"'Poison' is a little much, don't you think so?" Jiang said, smiling ironically. "But if you don't want, oh well. More for me." She gave a rather disapproving look as Alexander rested his legs on the table - Gammas. Need some lessons in proper etiquette. - but said nothing, continuing to read, though a little slower than before. "Oh... A few essays on various societies. Local bias, though - They're all very much opposed to caste-based societies, feudalism, monarchies, the likes. I'm sure you'd hate reading it. Or possibly chuckle. Given that it claims societies like yours to be in the process of dying out due to various reasons. Not that we see all that much, unfortunately... Although recent events might prove otherwise."

She hesitated again, once more sipping from her wine - Carefully avoiding Alexander's boots, of course - before continuing. "I wonder. I don't think that you've received much in the way of political education, other than indoctrination, did you? I suppose this really isn't material you could do much with... And I don't think you want to give it a try, do you? Too intellectual... Skeelzanian pilots are supposed to fight and kill, not to think about things not directly related to their job, I guess."

Another chuckle. "Not that I'd mind discussing your job with you, and I believe I'm knowledgeable enough in that regard, but as you said earlier... Secret."

Port #3

The drones and humans - In drone form - working on the fighter were forming a kind of individualist hivemind, a few dozen identities in as many bodies thinking together. Multiple personality disorder - Just, this time, it was actually intended to be that way.

Very obviously a 'Mass, not class' thing, no?

Indeed. Which brings its own issues with it - Given that space 'Fighters' tend to die instantaneously, anyway, doing it this way is actually a good idea. And massive swarms of fighters surrounding you in orbit can be a pain.

Quite so. Of course... It's still controlled by a human. Given velocities and distances in space, they need masses to score a few hits to begin with.

Yes... Relatively slow production, though - Doubtlessly a lack of automatisation.

Given its spacefighterness, actually rather fast, assuming baseline-human labour. Also note that their society is different - They'll most likely produce at max efficiency, whereas we are lazy until more work is absolutely required.

Point. Hum... Projectile weapons. Macroscopic, no less.

Clearly a short-range thing. Doesn't fill out the mobile plus expendable point-defence role our own OCDs fulfill. Though seeing the stats for the material here-

Depending on them using fusion or antimatter warheads, it should be able to carry between a few mega- or a few gigatons of TNT equiv. as ordinance. Nasty enough. Certainly shouldn't allow them to get close to our main ships.

To be fair, if they use AM, they're not gonna stay in the sky for very long...

The computing capacities are poor, I notice. Certainly capable of fulfilling its role - But nothing special there.

As he said before: They need masses of this fighters in order to hit something. Problem is, they'll have this masses.

Indeed. Well, at least the neural uplink will speed things up by half a second or so. I've seen worse.

The engines are odd, though if th-

Actually, it's horribly overcomplicated, given the 'fuel' here. Though, in their defence, it seems to be a rather effective means of reducing the risk of AM detonations after being hit.

Or generally.

That, too. I'd note that their energy recources are impressive, though - This thing should be able to accelerate at least as fast as an OCD. Perhaps faster. And for sustained accel, it leaves us way behind.

Quite. Though I'm not too worried: They might have a few advantages, but IMHO, the disadvantages are somewhat worse. And even if not, fighter/ drone defences should work well enough, if slightly expensive. One in a thousand anyone?

It's that one that worries me most...

The Barge(s)

Rei chuckled quietly as she watched Hrolzenburg's reactions and the poor Lieutenant suffering from them. Poor little thing.

Also, a mental note: Skeelzanian arrogance was less of a nationwide trait and more of a case of 'The more authority, the more disconnected from reality they get' case. Actually not too pleasant a thought - It made it harder to think about killing them all.

Meanwhile, just like the duke dismissed her, she dismissed the duke: Nobility tended to have the wrong people at the wrong time in the wrong place, and while there were notable exceptions, this person didn't seem to be one of them.

Not that it mattered, of course. Once informed by Hrolzenburg, she nodded, still smiling in what amounted to either honesty or irony - Possibly both. "Ah, perfect - Though his entourage seems to be a little excessive, no? An entire fleet... But I'll make sure to talk to him, equal to equal."

Marghun

Karin nodded, her tail curling-and-uncurling in irregular intervals. She was used to disasters of this magnitude and worse, of course, so her compassion wasn't exactly predominant - But knowing about it was still a little distressing.

"I see... well. Sad as it is, but I guess we'll have to cut those remaining within Skeelzania out of our equations, then. As for the remaining ships, well... We'll have to see how many will eventually come here, rather than moving elsewhere.

"That Skeelzania's military seems to have suffered surprisingly little is of course an issue. If I recall it right... Two weeks to get here? We're within their operational range, but we're not in theirs. Now, I doubt that we'll give in if they require you to be handed over, but still... Our options might be somewhat limited, though I cannot say for certain how limited they'll possibly be. But, well..." Karin hesitated for a moment, and eventually shrugged. "We'll see, I guess. So long as we can get anyone except the crews from this ships, I suppose that at least some damage can be prevented."

The necessary adjustments were done as quickly as possible, a few flocks of drones and micrometre-sized 'tools' doing the necessary 'linking', and the better view into hyperspace now (Partially) available to the DA vessels about was certainly useful enough - The minds considered it interesting enough to watch their possible/ likely opponent move in hyperspace, a space that wasn't all that dissimilar from the shifting DA employed... Of course, the latter reduced dimensional constraints, rather than adding a bunch of dimensions.

Transports were already busy, shipping anyone not needed off - To Poseidon and Triton, mostly.

Still, they had to deal with several million people, and this task couldn't possibly be completed before the Prince's fleet would arrive, annoying as it was.

Of course, the really good thing was that their potential opponent wouldn't possibly be able to see potential preparations... On the other hand, they wouldn't really know where their opponent would enter, which in turn reduced this potential advantage rather significantly.

But, for now, work simply continued.

Analysis

And again, the pseudo-hives were busy with their analysis of the potential enemy (And friend, come to think of it). Obviously, the results were forwarded to the warships about - Foremost the Angstian ones, though Britmattia & co were certainly included - but there was still a little lag: The hives liked to be courted and bribed, and wouldn't come forward with their results before either had done in sufficient quantities.

Hum. Like the team in port #3 said: We're possibly faster in short bursts, but they're faster when it comes to long-term accel.

Yah. Well, on the plus side, I doubt that long-term running would be required.

True, that. Hum. Odd armour...

Well, CHOBHAM should be efficient enough against plasma.

Which would be useful if we were Menelmacari. We're not, though. Mind, it'll degrade NPB effectiveness a little, I guess...

Kinetics will have problems with this Endor.

Yeah, but kinetics are a short-range weapon, anyway. And why the fuck would we give up the advantages of forward drone reconnaissance to dodge c-weaponry and doubledigit million km engagement ranges?

Well, singledigit, seeing as hitting an erratically moving target at doubledigits is, well...

Yes, yes. The hardshield's a bigger problem, anyway. Will degrade NPB effectiveness, too. Not too much, over this short a distance, but still. Incidentally it's a tactic/ armour scheme not too different from our ships dumping their atmospheres and keeping them nearby in HFs.

Well, good ideas aren't necessarily restricted to us. And xasers could work wonders: Superheat the gas, have it expand and burn off their sensors.

I'm not sure about this coating... Well, we might get a chance to experiment with it, for a bit, if things get hostile.

I can't see it doing anything against macroscopic weaponry, nor against dumb weaponry of any kind... It'd just deal damage the physical way, anyway. What it could do, with this vague properties, is screwing with our effectors and sensors in general. Though I wonder why they were this effective when we used them, then.

Meh. It's not like we have to understand everything.

Actually, we do. Well, perhaps we'll get it later.

In any case, a very simple construction. Considerable armour, too - Not as much as our heavy ones, but notably dense for heavily-crewed craft. If we actually wasted space for a sizeable human crew, I'd actually consider them vaguely superior.

To quote yourself: Meh. Their guns are interesting, though - Rather considerable amounts of firepower, given the amount of space they waste for a human crew. Mind, they're not too sophisticated - Ours may on occasion have less energy output, but they use it smarter, more efficiently-

Yay micropulses!

- ... Also, with their amout of human labour, many actions will simply take too long: They're certainly capable of inflicting damage, but I can't see them dealing it out on a one-on-one basis.

I've hard that before... And then a bunch of Taraskovyans in non-powered plate armour stopped an advancing army of drones ten times their cost.

Well, the Taraskovyans did have heavier casualities. Just, not as heavy as expected... And we had more than expected.

Exactly. So, don't underestimate meatbags that much. They can be oddly capable.

I agree.

You are a meatbag...

Exactly my point.

Points of Information

<SEU DEAT on Sight> Well, well. Given what we know now... They'll try to get into close combat, whereas we'll try to avoid it.
<SEU Act on Instinct> Of course, the problem is, we have to defend the stuff here. Thus, our strategic mobility is kinda restricted.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> 'xactly. Don't you love situations like this one?
<SEU Act on Instinct> ... No.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> But the stress! The angst! Being forced into a less-than-perfect position! Having to deal with unknown variables! Forcing you to show skill and innovation! The sheer-
<SEU Act on Instinct> Shut up.
* SEU DEAT on Sight cackles.

Neptune

Even before the fleet arrives, ships move, and ordinance is seeded. There is a wide area to cover - A sphere with a radius of 96 mio kilometers - and of course, seeding everything would be point- and useless (And impossible, too). As such, most ordinance is concentrated within perhaps a three-million km radius from Neptune, with significant portions reaching out to thirty million kilometers distant. After that, there are only a few lonely TEUs and a bunch of smallish subcraft patrolling the edges of the Neptunian sphere.

Still, the surprise is great when the Skeelzanians appear, fifty-four mio kilometers outside the Neptunian sphere - When the radiation announcing their arrival reaches the ships at Neptune (Either FTL rads through good Skeelzanian or more-or-less improvised Angstian sensors, or photons in proper reality, taking over eight minutes), this rather notable distance is simultaneously seen as a good and a bad sign.

Good: They're obviously coming to talk, at least at the beginning.

Bad: The already planned engagement wont happen (At least not yet), as the one remaining condition that allowed to avoid hostilities was that the fleet shows up outside the Neptunian sphere - And it did exactly that.

Already, analysis continues: Numbers, equipment, the likes. The oversized turrets of the flagship receive a fair bit of attention (And amusement) - It has to be utterly impossible to hit a moving target with them.

But then, they might be able to shoot Poseidon, which is nasty enough.

While Friend/ Foe recognition is organised to distinguish between the two groups of ships, should the worst come to worst - And seeing as this is what is supposed to happen, sooner or later, the necessity is obvious, at least to those who know - the message arrives, much to Sandra's simultanous amusement and concern: She is far from certain regarding the (For now) intended course of action, essentially suggesting considerable violence, and her nervousness, though concealed, is growing.

Oh well.

Pressure from the DEAT on Sight while the Act on Instinct suggests calmness and caution.

And I thought we'd decided. Bah.

For now, caution. If there's that much work done to avoid hostilities, she'll play the ball. A quick message to the Britmattians, telling them to hold still - For now, anyway - and look generally menacing, until a final go-ahead is given, then she deals with the Skeelzanians.

From: Poseidon (Sandra Mikogami)
To: Count Montague de Serrat of Minorca, aboard the SKZFS Tchernobog

Firstly, welcome back, Count Serrat.

Secondly, certainly, and I have to thank your prince - It'd indeed be sad if he'd order the immediate destruction of his fleet. Debris can be annoying, as I'm sure you'll agree. And I'm sure his father would be sad, too.

Besides, kamikaze diplomacy tends to be a failure to begin with, so it wouldn't exactly be the smartest of ideas, would it?

As far as this explanation he demands goes, it's pretty simple, really: Your rebels were shooting the barges, and we decided to act in order to prevent the barges' destruction.

I'm not sure... You want to sue us for insulting your honour by way of saving thousands of your people? If so, please, go on. It's not like we expect your vocabulatory to include the term 'Gratitude'.

As far as a summit is concerned, there have been multiple offers by third parties, most notably Largent, though personally I feel that choosing Poseidon would be best. Still, if you desire a neutral host, Largent would be our suggestion [Previous Largentian communications attached].

As far as further actions go, that depends on you: The less shooting we see, the less shooting will come from us.

For now, your fleet is free to come to the edge of the Neptunian sphere - 96 mio km from Neptune's center, as you might remember - and I'm sure shuttles can take care of the rest.

Sincerely,

~ Sandra Mikogami

Neptune

Three million kilometers of severe nothingness. A bit of stellar hydrogen, and the - by now - excessively low density of the sunwind - protons, electrons, photons, neutrinos, and some more exotic ingredients.

At one end, the Veganan ships, at the other end, the TEU Disciplinarian, coming to see what this brief burst of Ex Rads one of his drones noticed actually was about.

Ho-Hum.

Almost immediately after the first photons travelling the distance in question reveal information about the arrivals, the TEU is seeding space with (Small) missiles, floating silently in the void, their drives inactive... For now. About fourty-two million km distant, three SEUs are slowly changing their course, moments after QE comms deliver the news, spinal DEAT mounts pointing in the general direction of the Veganan fleet. Thirty more have already been seeded, being a few hundred or thousand kilometres away from the main group, while subcraft are skirting around them - They're mostly useless, though.

For now, no shots are fired, but neither is the Disciplinarian (Or any other ship) opening communications with the Reichers: They are way too disliked to even start talking.

Given this, the unwritten-but-obvious rules are simple and easy enough to understand:

If you enter, you'll get shot.

Neptune (Atmosphere)

<Sandra Mikogami> *Chuckle* Well, it is nice and quiet when compared to, say, Mars. Most of the time, anyway.
<Sandra Mikogami> In any case, perhaps the sheer informational input will work as another inspiration for your exquisite work. The beauty of gamma ray shells, expressed in diamond... Focussing the photons, and, errr... Okay, now I'm a tad distracted. Nevermind.

Well, at least Esther was a little distraction from all the gunning up and the politics around said guns. Which was worth a lot, in its own, small way.

A couple key presses; the flip of the proverbial switch; a slight realignment of communications protocols...

<Esther> Well, yes... but saying a place is better than Mars is hardly a ringing endorcement...
<Esther> I don't see myself as sculpting The Great Skeelzanian Civil War in diamond. I'd hate to waste the carbon.
<Esther> Oh, that does remind me: I'm largely finished with your environmental suit. Once this nonsense is over you have to come for a visit. We can frolic on the core or something like that.

The Governor of the Federated Colony of Sentient Larissa stared in a slight bit of horror at the information Pelasgus had just presented to her. Like Malcom, the Britmattian Commander of the Fleet Base, Catelyn Rallings is not someone who can authorize warfare, and through the security of TacNet, she sends back a request to Griffin for advice and instructions.

There is a slight delay when the hologram of the Imperial President appears a few minutes later, just due to the slight bit of distance involved, and the fact that the Governor’s Apartments have limited processing power, after a point. And her personal holographic communications are not really equipped for two full dimensional displays at once.

D’ron looks severely underdressed, in what is obviously a black sleeping robe and sleeppants, and his eyes are rather sleep blurred. Without the usual pleasantries, he barks, “Wasn’t Neptune supposed to be peaceful?”

“Yes, Mister President, it was. At least, that’s what you told me when you gave me this job.”

D’ron smiled back at her. “Sorry, Cat. We knew the Skeelies were trouble, but I had no idea they would bring in a battle fleet of a hundred ships. First Fleet is on its way to reinforce you, as I see Admiral Belle is going to visit the Reich ships. Which is probably a good idea. They’ll be there in two hours, roughly. Further,” his eyes shifted slightly, “Pelasgus, take back control of the O-grid from Larissa. I will not have the Federation be party to a preemptive massacre. Do not stand by and let the Skeelies shoot up anyone else, either, though. If they open fire except in self defense, kill them. They’re perfectly aware of our colony on Larissa, so if they should fire at the moon in any way but to kill attacking Britmattian weaponry, destroy them. Inform the Britmattians and the Angstians of our disapproval of their preemptive course of action.”

Both beings being addressed nodded. “Very well, Mister President,” they said in unison. “Anything else?” Rallings questioned.

“Yes. Off the record, the second the Britmattians open fire on the Skeelies, blow the Skeelie fleet to Hell. Breeding a slave race.” D’ron chuckled. “They’re stupid enough to deserve whatever happens to them.” He sighed. “Now, I hear Daniel crying, so I had best see what the problem is, and see if I can solve it before Lesley wakes up.”

“Goodnight, Mister President.”

Systems whirred into place, and messages wandered through the ether, silently informing of their intentions.

And then something very, very strange happened. Pelasgus offered the Angstian drones and ships and other facilities access to the combined resources of TacNet. Admittedly, they would only be able to tie in through radio links (at the fairly low ranges being used here, more than enough), and he would absolutely control their access, it was still unprecedented to allow a non-allied state even the most minimal level of inclusion in the Federation’s most powerful tactical advantage.

* * * * *

The Tiburon were likely somewhat surprised to receive a reply from Pelasgus and the Governor in the midst of all the activity, but unlikely to be surprised at the brevity of it.

The idea of Neptune wide conferences is acceptable under the Federation policies for the Subsystem. We will coordinate with you. Larissa is open as a location if needed. ~Leadership, FCSL

* * * * *

The TEU is not the only unit out there from Neptune. The Federation ships had slithered to a silent stop about four million kilometers from the emergence point some time earlier and powered down, and had probably been briefly noticed if the TEU had come too close upon passing through, when their up to four kilometer hulls returned fairly significant radar reflections, despite their absorbent coatings.

At this range, the Federation ships would probably not be very detectable, especially with the nice TEU out front radiating and distracting the Reich vessels, but there was no real point in pretending to be holes in space anymore.

Twenty drive fields snapped into existence, as the Federation Neptune Colonial Heavy Task Group backed up the single Der Angstian unit in comparable silence.

Twenty-one to eighteen, Neptune.

The Pilot

Alexander snorted derisively. “Let me be the first to assure you, Ms. Jiang, that the Skeelzanian Sternreich is far from dying anytime soon. The Skeelzots are the heirs of God, and destined to rule over Spoot Reborn. Whatever middling trifles outside agitators manage to stir up within our borders is merely a bump on our road to hegemony.

“As for education…” Alexander shrugged, spreading his hands in a sign of dismissal. “An education will not feed you or clothe you, or protect you when slavers come dropping out of the sky. The Gamma Quadrant is more populated that you might think, Ms. Jiang. We have encountered many societies, including ones that value education above all else. Many of them have claimed to find utopia, to have established the perfect state where all men are equal and no one goes hungry. They and their precious educations crumpled beneath our guns, the blood of their children feeding the soils that our people now till. Education and philosophy did no good for them.”

“You might think we Skeelzanians a nation of brutes and savages, Ms. Jiang, but we know more than you. Education is only a means to an end, not something to be flaunted and wallowed in. You must use your skills to not only improve your condition, but to protect yourself from others. But then again, I suppose you Solars have lost the taste for real war. You prefer to sit in your homes and drink your wine, and let soulless machines do all your dirty work. Those of us beyond the Line have not been allowed to grow so complacent; we still know what its like to have the Hand of Death hanging over you at any moment. And that is why the Sternreich will triumph in the end, Ms. Jiang. Men are like iron; you can let it sit, where it will eventually rust and corrode, or you can temper it in the fires of conflict, burn away its weaknesses so that emerges stronger, better. Skeelzanians are steel, while you people are merely scrap iron.”

Aboard the Tchernobog

Leaving Berkhan on the bridge, Serrat had retired to his own staterooms, which now served as a sort of Command-and-Control Center for the upcoming diplomatic fight. As the Senior Neptune Expert within Skeelzania, he had had his pick of associates to bring along on this voyage, most of them being old associates. They now sat around his dining table, ciphering through reports and messages that had come in through a variety of means.

“This Sandra devotchka certainly has them wrapped around her little finger,” remarked Lt. Wulfolitz, an up-and-coming customs agent. “If even a tenth of these interceptions are accurate, she’s got half of Neptune dancing to her tune. If the Fremden are going to jump us, she’ll be the first to know and first to act.”

“I don’t intend to let myself be assassinated, Horst. We’ve worked with her before, though I never met her personally. Probably the closest thing they have to a Skeelzanian Expert, so its rather inevitable that I’ll have to deal with her.” Serrat reread his own copy, and then the attached Largent messages. “More pressing is where we’re going to hold this thing. I don’t know anything about Largent, or what their facilities are like. Poseidon I’m fairly sure could be taken out with a good hit from the Tchernobog, if it came to that. At least I’ll have company on the way to Hell.”


From: Count Serrat, Emissary of Skeelzania to the Neptunian Sphere
To: Der Angst Diplomatic Agent Sandra Mikogami, and whoever she deems necessary

Truth be told, it would have been much simpler if you had simply let the barges be destroyed, then allow us to clean up the mess. But since you appear incapable of not meddling with anything, we’re willing to show leniency and negotiate an acceptable conclusion to this little disaster.

We accept to a meeting on Poseidon, as Largent is relatively unknown to us. They are, of course, invited to attend, along with anyone else who saw fit to interject themselves into a Skeelzanian affair. I will be arriving shortly.

~Serrat


Fifteen minutes later, a red-and-black diplomatic shuttle exited the Tchernobog through one of its utility ports. As the Prince had decided to hold position well beyond (assumed) weapon range, the shuttle had to execute a hyperspace ‘hop’ across the gulf, reappearing significantly closer to Poseidon. The proper codes were sent, and the shuttle began moving in for a landing, incidentally passing Marghun’s flagship on the way in.

On the Achilles

Admiral Marghun watched the shuttle glide past his ship, suppressing the urge to open fire on it. There was a Monolith out there, and he was painfully aware of what that beast’s guns could do to his own vessel, not to mention any other attainable target in the vicinity.

He had accepted Karin’s statements with his usual composure, though it was saddening to think that the fight being fought by his kin was, essentially, hopeless. Still, her apprehension was understandable. “I believe one of the newer destroyers can make the journey in two weeks,” he informed, “but the average is four. We did it in that time, though I did not expect the Prince to follow so closely. He risks his ships unduly, that one.

“Since it appears pointless for us to return to Skeelzania, especially with their forces right next door, I suppose we should get on with discussing alternatives. My people would certainly offer their services to whoever would shelter them; we are bred to work and fight, as it is. Settlement is another matter; we can’t all live aboard the barges, assuming your friends manage to keep them. If you know of any un- or sparsely inhabited real estate in the area, perhaps we could work out a deal. I suspect these ships are worth something, whether dissected or sold to some local power.

Solomon and the Imperial Palace

“Ah yes, Neptune.” Konrad nodded, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap. “A fleet of rebels fled that way a few weeks ago, with my youngest son in hot pursuit. No doubt he’s caught up and dealing with the situation in an acceptable manner. I sent our foremost Solar Relations Expert with him, so hopefully he won’t come back with a war. But I’m sure you already know that.

“The question here, Vizeadmiral Andersson, is what you are going to do, here. Skeelzania knows of many self-styled Reichs, not all of them as pure as you would undoubtedly prefer. Tell me what kind of support you are willing to offer us, and where. We’re four weeks from Neptune, Vizeadmiral. If war has already started, than say it. And if you are trying to secure Skeelzanian help to whatever wars your Reich happens to be in, say it and stop wasting my time.”

OOC: Is there anyone else I should be replying too? I don’t seem to be responding to as many points as I should.

La Blue Girl

<Poseidon|Sandra Mikogami> Oh yes >.< Already thinking of reasons to prevent such, but it's hard. Midlonia & co's arguments would be kinda, ah... Stronger. There are legalese options, of course, but meh. Heck, if they weren't so hot on jumping the gun, I'd even gladly say yes... Too bad it's Midlonia.
<Poseidon|Sandra Mikogami> Plan? Well, I hope to end this with minimal bloodshed. Yay effectors. After that, well... Frankly, no idea. By the way, we really should physically exchange some encryption - Can't really talk openly without it.
<Poseidon|Sandra Mikogami> I'd toss a landsquid plushy into the cargo, too ;)

<La Blue Girl> Plushies!
<La Blue Girl> ^_____^
<La Blue Girl> Ah ... shoot. More ships. ;;-_-
<La Blue Girl> Well, if you need backup ... Mouse is itching to shoot.
<Mouse Parade> I am not that suicidal.
<La Blue Girl> Really? 0.o
<Mouse Parade>Well ... maybe a little. But I'm NOT going up against a battlefleet. Ooooh! Sweeeeeeet....
<La Blue Girl> What? And how the hell're you tapping into this net, anyways?
<Mouse Parade> That's for you to wonder about.
<La Blue Girl> Dammit ... milShips ...
<La Blue Girl> Oh! The connection's perfectly secure, as far as anyone except Weyr's concerned. ;;-_- Direct etherStream to the satellite grid, then tightbeam to you, and we've got a monopoly on our etherTech.

Esther-chan

<Sandra Mikogami> Well, true. Still, there are worse places to be.

Besides, Elijah has no more reason to envy her. Wonder if he's ever mentioned it. Ah well.

<Sandra Mikogami> Well, you're the artist, so I'll trust your judgement about the fundamental, ummm... uglyness of this.
<Sandra Mikogami> And... Yay? I can hardly wait ^_^ And yes... I suppose it'd be a little risky to do it now - The weather report mentioned possible hail...
<Sandra Mikogami> Well, that, and I suppose it's my duty to concentrate on the more violent matters at hand... Ah well. The pain this job is -_-

Neptune [TacNet]

Turning down an invitation would, of course, be incredibly rude.

And, while Angstians do tend to be rude, it'd also be wasteful, at least in this case.

Brief blurrs of millimetre-to-metre EM rads, micro- and radiowaves. The proverbial knocking on the door, then access...

A little bit of datadiving, where the low-level access the flock of ships and drones got actually allows them to do so. Also a bit of information-dumping - Can't be wrong to share a little knowledge the other way around.

Confusion as the Federated disapproval becomes known. Brief discussions taking place, outside TacNet of course.

The media is checked: No public condemnation.

Eventually, consensus is reached: A recommendation, but nothing one would have to take particularly serious. Especially given the context of being granted access to TacNet, regardless.

FSP's disapproval is promptly acknowledged, without any further considerations or requests.

In the meantime, datadiving-and-dumping commences, probably a little less disciplined as the Federals are used to, but disciplined enough - A code of behaviour while accessing FSP's TacNet has already been established, attempting to impose some basic forms of discipline upon the fundamentally undisciplined DA minds.

Can't offend the neighbors. After all, it's their informational sphere, not an Angstian one.

A few million km off

Radiation sources are logged, identified, catalogued. Nothing is ever 100% emission- or reflection-free - Even a black body radiates, if only a little, almost unnoticeable over greater distances.

Obviously, powered-down and almost-invisible ships have a tendency of being less-than-informative, when it comes to the information they release, by way of the little bits of radiation that still leave them. Their presence might be known - If one is close enough, anyway - but details? Forget it.

However, what one can do is noting the properties of their emissions when they were powered down, if only to properly identify them the next time this particular emissions are noticed. Somewhere.

Which is, of course, exactly what the Disciplinarian is doing. Granted, FSP isn't exactly what one would call a 'Close Friend', but it is certainly closer to this definition than to that of a 'Hostile Entity'... But that really doesn't stop the information-gathering. Even if it might only be a habit.

Of course, the majority of its sensory capacities remains concentrated on the Reichers. A part of it even wishes that they'd cross the boundary... Killing them would be a fairly enjoyable - If risky - act.

Alexander

Jiang chuckled again. "Ms Fu, actually, given that Jiang is my first name. In any case, I'm sure you believe this - But according to what we've heard, a significant portion of your people, or rather, your servants, have rebelled. You'll have to admit, such a thing is kinda hard to take care of. Of course, the Sternreich is still existing... But it isn't exactly in its best shape."

She frowned briefly, thinking about what Alexander had just said - It certainly weren't words she liked. Still...

"Yet, you sought refugee here... Your precious strength worthless even when assaulted by mere servants, slaves of yours. Oh, and by the way, our drones would rather strongly object to being called 'Soulless'... They're not even all atheists, though the percentage is higher than with organic-borns. Oh, and as far as your 'Steel' and my 'Scrap Iron' are concerned... Want to test it? It might not be visible, given that it's generally on the microscopic level, but there's enough metal and silicates inside me to test your hypothesis right now. Want to give it a try?" She smiled ironically as she put her book next to her, leaning back. "Given that you seem to be rather confident... I'm sure you wont mind, will you? After all, if the mighty Skeelzanian army can successfully fight and kill children, as you put it... The whole task, so risky, so brave to undergo such a dangerous mission... I'm sure a small woman like me wont be an issue, either, no?"

On the Achilles

"Four weeks... Well, not too much of a difference, I'd say. Especially seeing the kind of warfare we expect, should hostilities commence. Something I deem to be rather likely... Given what I've just heard."

She hesitated, looking at the shuttle herself. "As far as your 'habitation' is concerned, provisional quarters on either Poseidon on Triton would be available. Long-term, well, apart from the barges - I suppose we'll keep them, assuming that they aren't going to be destroyed - a home on Triton should be available, thoguh the gravity is of course lacking.

"By the way, you may want to participate in the, ah... Discussions regarding your and the barges' status. Yes, I know, our other guests may take it as an insult..." Karin couldn't help it, she grinned a little. "That's the point. And given that your and your peoples' future is at stake, it'd only be appropriate, no? Ms Mikogami certainly desires your participation, for the aforementioend reasons. After all, you're the central object of this whole mess. Can't afford to lack your voice."

The Barges

Oddly enough, Rei repeated Karin's offer to Hrolzenburg - 'You might want to observe the talks, and possibly exchange yourself with Serrat' - while the boarding personnel- and machines were still busy with the barges - Suggestians were followed, and demolition charges were quietly searched for, just in case - creating a sort of pseudo-chaos.

After all, it was also their future. Or the lack thereof, depending on ones' point of view.

Poseidon

Flight control... As usual. Sensor sweeps... as usual. Nothing special, really: Just standard procedures when dealing with potential hostiles.

The same goes for the usual reception: Of course someone will be waiting, possibly with a smallish entourage of mildrones, given the somewhat tense situation.

In any case, satisfied with a lack of explosives and general risks, permission-to-approach is quickly given, while the ships in the area adjust their strategies, again - Most notably, they refrain from sending a smallish fleet to the edge of the Neptunian sphere, opposite to the Skeelzanian fleet. After all, a bit of hyperspace-skirting would allow the Skeelzanians to bypass it with relative ease.

What is sent are drones - Orbital Reconnaissance Drones, to be specific - gradually coming closer. They accelerate relatively slowly, at slightly more than five gees, all in all, and they'll certainly need their time, but once there, they'll essentially surround the Skeelzanian fleet, at a distance from one- to ten lightseconds. Just watching, really - They're not even armed, and there's a distinct lack of combat drones coming with them.

And even these wouldn't have the necessary range, disregarding the possibility of - Easily noticeable - missiles.

Ín the meantime, invites are handed out.

Open transmission
From: DA Neptune [Poseidon, Sandra Mikogami]
To: Political Entities in the Neptunian Sphere
Subject: Skeelzanian Issues

Skeelzania has eventually agreed to partake in discussions regarding various issues raised by the Myrmidon- assault on the barges and the arrival of a sizeable Skeelzanian fleet just outside the Neptunian sphere.

While this is, of course, primarily a matter between DA Neptune and the Skeelzanian Sternreich, this matter is nonetheless relevant to every inhabitant of the Neptunian sphere, and we're thus inviting you to attend, primarily as observers, though your opinions will of course be taken into consideration.

The discussions are supposed to take place on Poseidon, and will start as soon as possible, thus, due haste, should you be interested in participating, is recommended.

Furthermore, we'd like to thank the various other entities at Neptune for offering to host this discussions, even though Skeelzania eventually chose Poseidon. Your intends honour you.

Sincerely,

~ Sandra Mikogami

But not every invite is of friendly intend...

Encoded Transmission [Need-to-know basis, Primary Administrative Levels only; Transmission Path QE Point-to-Point Neptune/ Earth & Encoded Tightbeam Earth/ Orbit/ Megacity One]
From: DA Neptune [Poseidon, Sandra Mikogami]
To: The Office of The Gestalt [ZMI]
Subject: Skeelzania [Information]

[Skeelzanian Ship Technology, Armour, Weapons, Sensors, Internal Communications, presumed tactical docrines attached]

[Brief Overview of the Skeelzanian Civil War, Losses, presumed level of rebuilding, remaining resistance and possible involvements of neighboring Gamma-Quadrant residents attached]

[Skeelzanian Fleet Assets near Neptune, Composition, Numbers, possible intentions attached]

I seem to recall ZMI engaging Skeelzania in the past, so I guessed that you'd be interested in this information - Assuming that you'd want a second chance.

Well, here is your second chance, if you're interested. The information is of course somewhat provisional - Our analytic capabilities are significant, but we've had very little time - and will need to be updated from time to time, but such updates would of course be available to you, near-instantaneously.

So is financial support. For now only to limited extends - DA proper is somewhat neutral on the matter - but it could become more. The same goes for military assistance, though it'd be limited to groud forces only, which I suppose wouldn't be required, given the goals I'm presuming you have with regards to Skeelzania.

For the record, I'm more interested in seeing Skeelzania proper getting into a bit of trouble - The size of the fleet they've parked here is considerable, but I'm confident that we can deal with it.

Still, if you want to take a look...

Sincerely,

~ Sandra Mikogami

Weyr

<Sandra Mikogami> Yes, I know you like them :P
<Sandra Mikogami> Huh? Oh, them... Yeah. Trust the Skeelzanians to go in with excessive force. To think that they seem to believe that they need all this to get a few rebels... A very brave people, indeed.
* Sandra Mikogami quietly listens to the chatter between you two?
<Sandra Mikogami> Anyway... I guess a cfractional hail of, errr, stuff... But we're not there yet, anyway, ne? Giving peace a chance... And what the hell's so sweet? Me, by chance? :P

Sol

There were always some milships outside their usual orbits around Earth, Mars, Jupiter and Neptune. Accompanying convoys - A sad necessity, in sol. Two ships had been lost to rather violent attacks in the past, and nobody wanted to see something like that happen, again. Granted, there were still those who acted outside the convoys, but the majority prefered them - or simply letting off some steam, or testing some new toy they had developed on their own.

Now, a fair amount of them was 'a little' distant. Nineteen hours from Earth to Neptune, sure. But that was assuming excessive accel, and doing that when a battle was awaiting you at your destination was a somewhat bad idea. Going into battle with your engines degraded and requiring immediate repair...

No, better not.

Still, nobody knew how long it'd be until hostilities would commence - If they would commence - and a few decided to give it a shot, so long as they were no more than, say, six billion kilometers distant.

Nasty, how planets tend not to be lined up like a string of pearls, but instead staying on opposing sides of the sun, just because their orbital periods differed.

In the end, one-and-a-half dozen ships eventually decided to come over, just in case. Not too much, obviously, but given that a SEU's ordinance could, on occasion, boil a small continent... Well, it'd prolly be a considerable reinforcement.

That they'd drip in alone or in small groups was less positive - they could be intercepted, if hostilities were to start - but what could you do? Just try and be there in time. The rest, one would surely know in time. And if not, shit happens.

Golden Sunset, Midlonian Aerospace Shipyard, Neptunian subsystem

The blocky construction of the shipyard had been completed long ago; it began to pump out merchant vessels and the odd warship. A slight hand-shake agreement had permitted the construction of engines, hulls and weapons that fed directly from the power source [short range disintegrators on warships specifically] In other words, the Destroyers that were built were never any more dangerous that a Midlonian Freighter. Things had been mildly quiet, the usual odd industrial accident, and some buildings on the surface of Poseidon [OOC: I think that was the one I claimed, I forgot. :\]
The arrival of Skeelzanian warships, more than were usually spotted hanging around alarmed those in charge. The Midlonians had kept to the Treaties, why the heck couldn’t the Skeeliez? Oh hum, never mind, they had learnt that so far, those who were outside of Sol tended to be uppity and arrogant anyhow, thinking that pieces of paper and talks were of little use, evidently.

Of course, on top of this they had kept an eye on the traffic, and the chatter that usually accompanied this kind of thing. Political situations and what might be happening in a country far, far away was hardly top priority, all they saw were warships, and they’re called that for a bloody good reason…
To make War.

Midlonia and Skeelzania were hardly bed-buddies either, just to add the point.


DatAnet NEP Transmission #231 – Tightbeam conversion to Neptunian powers frequencies….
[Ref-SK101 freq. ignored]
…Waiting….
…Connection established, beginning start of Transmission.

Request for protection of assets, unable to do so completely ourselves due to current treaty obligations, co-ordinates and frequencies in attached file to this message.

*La Blue Girl licks Sandra
<La Blue Girl> I have no idea what the hell that loon's doing ...
*La Blue Girl kicks Mouse Parade's nonexistent ass
<La Blue Girl> Didn't even say good bye ;_;
<La Blue Girl> So ... when're these discussions you speak of, and how much weaponry should I bring? :P

She checked the Midlonian request, chuckled, and dropped a post into the milFleet boards. The result was interesting, and she chuckled. The Unnecessary Cleavage and Spam Control were in the area, it looked like, almost two weeks ahead of normal schedule. They weren't showing up on passives, but that wasn't unexpected. They were frigates, not lineships, and their job was to be quiet and unnoticed, at least as far as location went. The signal was being routed through her, anyway, and it wasn't like anyone in known space had even a fraction of the knowledge necessary to replecate Weyrean thaumtech.

>>Initiate.bounce("La Blue Girl")//ShipCentCom.destination("Golden Sunset")
<Unnecessary Cleavage> Daijobu! We'll cover you! No questions asked, no payment needed. Just don't shoot at us next time, ne?
<Spam Control> Mind if we borrow your scanner net data in the meanwhile? Just stream it back to Blue Girl here.
*Unnecessary Cleavage glomps the Blue Girl
*Blue Girl drags Cleavage and Spam Control into the could cover for some lovin'
<La Blue Girl> It's so damn lonely here! ;_;

Millions of kilometers away from Neptune and the Skeelzanians, the Mouse Parade spread his passive scanning arrays, and let newtonian physics take him on a slow orbit on the far edge of the blue planet's gravity well. Shutting down nonessential systems, the comparatively small craft decided to stay quiet, for now. Something big was crawling along the Line, and he didn't want to be there when it dropped off. Masses of that size ... it would be shiny, he decided.

Tiburon Joint Command Neptune, Blue Point, Tiburon Neptune, Tiburon

Major General Lansing looked up with a start. Damn. I knew I forgot something. That something, of course, being their allies in the Caloris Basin. The typing continued- and a message was forwarded to Blue Point proper.

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

Lansing had to smile at the brush-off that DA had given Tiburon. It was quite rare for something of the sort to happen to the Tiburonese, given the last such occasion was... 140 years ago. Such is life- and Tiburonese relations with Britmattia and the FSP wouldn't be affected anyway.

<MJG Lansing/TJCNe> No problem at all. Just let us know when you need us.

[Sent Via D-Net]
[To: DA Neptune [Poseidon, Sandra Mikogami]]
[From: Hirokazu Tomayama, Ambassador-at-Large to Neptune, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon]
[Subject: Skeelzanian Issues]
[Classification: Declassified]

Sandra Mikogami,

We thank you tremendously for your assistance in containing the Skeelzanian-Myrmidion conflict. In hopes of a successful conference and future Der Angst/Tiburonese cooperation to promote and maintain peace in the planet's sphere, we will most certainly attend.

Sincerely,
Hirokazu Tomayama,
Ambassador-at-Large to Neptune,
The United Solaris Federation of Tiburon

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

[Sent Via D-Net]
[To: Leadership, FCSL]
[From: Major General Bryant Lansing, Tiburon Aerospace Force, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon]
[Subject: Conference]
[Cc: O-10 Fraser, M., the Kingdom of Britmattia]
[Classification: TOP SECRET]

We were thinking more of a conference between our nation, the FSP, and Britmattia, and probably Caloris and Revenia. Too many nations would make such a conference... unwieldy. In any case, we would be happy to arrive, although a timeframe on when we can come and thoughts on the above statement would be most appreciated.

Sincerely,
Major General Bryant Lansing,
Tiburon Aerospace Force,
Tiburon Joint Command Neptune,
The United Solaris Federation of Tiburon

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

[Sent Via D-Net]
[To: Esther, the Federated Mercurial Demesne of the Caloris Basin]
[From: Major General Bryant Lansing, Tiburon Aerospace Force, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon]
[Subject: Apologies]
[Classification: TOP SECRET]

Esther,

Our most wholehearted apologies on not contacting you sooner- it seems that a certain sergeant (currently a corporal) had forgotten to add the Caloris presence to our database. It may be belated, but if you need any assistance, please do not hesitate to ask. That's what allies are for, after all.

Sincerely, and once again with wholehearted apologies,
Major General Bryant Lansing,
Tiburon Aerospace Force,
Tiburon Joint Command Neptune,
The United Solaris Federation of Tiburon

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

[Sent Via D-Net]
[To: Golden Sunset, Midlonian Neptune]
[From: Major General Bryant Lansing, Tiburon Aerospace Force, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon]
[Subject: Protection]
[Classification: TOP SECRET]

To Whom it May Concern,

We would find ourselves derelict in our alliance duties if we were to protect our half of Proteus and not yours. We will be most willing to protect the moon on behalf of our neighbors and allies.

Sincerely,
Major General Bryant Lansing,
Tiburon Aerospace Force,
Tiburon Joint Command Neptune,
The United Solaris Federation of Tiburon

The Spoot System

The Vizeadmiral smiled and nodded.

"I hear you your highness. I dont know how many false Reich there are out there, but they come and go and only we remain. Your rebels have already attacked your base, and both them and your base has been subdued by the elf lovers, more than that is not known to us for the moment. The enemy is strong, especially on Neptune, and if they get the chance they will call in more and use their sneaky forces to ambush your second fleet." Andersson picked up something egglike and crushed it in his hand over a bowl.

Sipping from the bowl he continued. "We know you are strong, fighting the devils like you have done so far doesn't breed weakness. You dont need any help to crush this rebellion you have here! But... What if the pointy eared backstabbing yellow bastards use this as an excuse to attack you here. With an combined force, while a big piece of your fleet is involved or badly hit in Neptune and you've tied a lot of your resources fighting the rebels? What we can offer is joint venture to shield your system from those who are waiting for you to be weak enough to attack. The Reichs space assets are second to none. We also have a small force in the vicinity to Neptune, but what to happens there is up to your son and the sol expert of yours.

"You ask me what we want from you? If we dont stand united against the nephilim and their pawns they will win! They will do everything they can to divide us and try to commit genocide against humans like they always have done. In their eyes a human is worth less than the flies on a dog. They worship the elf no difference how many human lives she takes. How many came to support you when you fought for survival? The Reich cannot afford to let this bastion of humanity fall to the chaos of the Nephilim! That is what we ask from you. Survival. A strong human hand that will hold the cleansing sword in our fight for humanity."


Neptune Space

They watched their instruments in silence.

"Do a bloody obvious scan so they know that we know they're there!"

"Yes Sir!"

"There are more ships here than we thought and our reports tells us more are joining up. Move out four Needles with a few detroyers as protection. Put them further away from us. There are a few huge fat targets here that are perfect for the needles."

"Yes Sir!"

"Check the systems. I want anyone firing at us instantly destroyed. Also prepare an escape pattern. I dont particularly like the odds that are building up. If this shit hits the fan we hit first and we hit hard. Then we escape. If we stand and fight here we will be crushed between the arriving fleets and Neptune."

The men froze as their scanners snapped up a message.

"They're calling to discussions sir"

"No answers! That doesn't concern us. We want complete deniability if anything goes awkward, let the Sternreich do their own negotiations. I am sure they are more than able to take care of themselves. He looked at the scanners again, his forehead wrinkled as he studied it. "They better be, or god have mercy on their souls"

Midlonia

Tiburon's message and Weyr's internal dialogues with Midlonia are unheard, or at least, not immediately decrypted, should non-tightbeam/ QE/ exotic comms versions be intercepted. Combined with certain obligations DA kind of has to fulfill, according to the contract that allowed the Midlonians to be at Neptune to begin with, this eventually results in a prompt reply:

* Contacting Midlonians...
* Sending Standard Identification Protocols [Nation = Der Angst; Region = DA Neptune; Ship = SEU Absence of Common Sense]
<SEU Absence of Common Sense> Acknowledged. Mind giving me, Technically a Pacifist, Space Gnome and Anopheles access to your sensors/ communications? Better coordination, that way.
<SEU Absence of Common Sense> Oh, and while I'm at it, it's likely that your restrictions re: Midlonian fleet assets will be lifted. After this, mind, we don't want the situation to heat up even more. Feel free to bring a dozen or two gun-wielding maniacs to the edge of the N-sphere, though. Just, preferably at least ninety degrees off the Skeelzanians.

With the two craft came a bunch of munitions, missiles and DEATs, as well as a few subcraft, carried by the ships' HFs, just in case... All in all, a fairly small, but rather explosive force.

Weyr

<Sandra Mikogami> Eeek!
<Sandra Mikogami> If I was an ICEL freak, I'd now fire at you, for decontamination :P
<Sandra Mikogami> Anyway... As soon as possible - The first participants will arrive within minutes - And, ummm... I think security is sufficient, so I don't think you need more than a few gigatons of ordinance...
<Sandra Mikogami> Hum. That'd make plushy-delivery easier, come to think of it, although it might look a little odd... But why not.

Vegana

It tickles a little, in a sense, and the very moment the tickling is noticed, the Disciplinarian knows that it has been discovered.

No matter. It's bloody obvious that it's here, anyway. As such, it - And the three SEUs further away - just continues to prepare, spreading drones out in front of it, right up to perhaps a lightsecond off the Veganan ships, the drones barely inside the Neptunian sphere.

Fields extend, and minimal-bitrate QEs start pinging back and forth. It's all very harmless, at least as far as offensive actions go - Defensive actions on the other end are greatly helped by this maneuvers.

In the meantime, somewhat less harmless, which is to say, rather explosive objects - Warheads - slowly close in to the Veganan ships. They're still way off, of course - Doubledigit millions of kilometres - but nonetheless creeping closer.

Slowly, and just in case.

Der Angst

DatAnet NEP Transmission #231 – Tightbeam conversion to Neptunian powers frequencies….
[Ref-SK101 freq. ignored]

<Golden_Sunset> Acknowledged Absence of Common Sense , Battle group inbound for protection of Neptunian assets, consist of 4 Destroyers, 1 Battle Cruiser and 3 Frigates. Course set in attached file.

Neptunian Sub-system
The Ships themselves followed in the supply freighters that had entered the sub-system a few hours earlier. This was the first time that fully armed Midlonian warships had entered the sub system proper. With caution of the ongoing situation of Skeelzanian warships also in the sub-system, utmost care had to be taken.

After a short while the ships aligned themselves with an orbit of the gas-giant, on the other side to that of the Skeeliez.

-{Open Standard Diplomatic Link}-
-{To: Sandra Mikogami}-
-{From: Diego Escabar}-

Ms. Mikogami,

I would be more than happy to attend the meeting between DA officials and the Skeelzanians. I believe you clearly deserve our deepest gratitude for your handling of the situation. It would seem that our presence will be able to stay a non-militant one, for this we can all be grateful. I am looking forward to return to Poseidon. I hope to arrive shortly.

Sincerely,
Diego Escabar
Diego Escabar

-{Link terminated}-

The Nyoninboh 'dropped' from La Blue Girl pseudo-spherical hull. It would take it less than an hour to arrive at Poseidon, and she took the time to get some normal sleep. Cryosleep was all nice and good for passing long stretches of boredom, or for getting the equivalent of eight hours' rest in half an hour, but it did not replace proper shuteye. Not that her eyes weren't squeezed shut when the sticky, warmish goo closed in about her. She closed her eyes, and let the automated systems handle the maneuvering, docking and whatever else could be required of the small, ovoid transport. The vessel's intelligence unit had more than enough power to handle something like a short orbital hop.

Midlonia

Must have missunderstood something...

A few pseudo-authorities become active and talk for a few moments. A distinct lack of QE comms available to them results in some lag - Blasted lightspeed barrier - but after a half a minute of severe boredom, they come to a conclusion, and gently remind the Midlonians of the phrasing the Absence of Common Sense - Which is by now properly positioned and releasing a bit of ordinance and drones, forming a thin cloud around, and especially in front, of the ships - had used.

Specifically, that they were still supposed to stay outside the system, for the duration of this particular situation. At its edge.

Not inside.

That the Skeelzanians were rather notably outside the subsystem was mentioned as well.

Just in case.

Largent

Tightbeam Transmission
From: DA Neptune [Poseidon, Sandra Mikogami]
To: Diego Escabar [Largent, Neptune]
Subject: Reply

Mr. Escabar,

A pleasure, of course, and I have to thank you - I certainly appreciate your warm words.

Of course, for the moment I'm left wondering what the Largentian opinion is regarding the issue at hand - The fact that there are, shall we say, political refugees present, which have to be dealt with in some way, as well as the Skeelzanian disregard of the contract they signed. As I said in my initial message, I'm rather eager and fond of the opinions my neighbors have, and would be quite interested in knowing yours.

Weyr & co

Receive and guide. A simple process, easily enough done by subsentient-but-observed entities, machines. Basic scans - Not really for weapons, but for shoddy engineering. Having observed the Weyreans before, the locals tend not to trust their engineering all that much, and the shuttle falling apart before it lands would be, well, bad - revealing a little information, followed by automated procedures carefully guiding the transport in.

Post #3 is, of course, occupied, and as there's relatively little interest in foreigners watching Angstian personnel and machines working on a Skeelzanian fighter, the port is, for now, used for DA milcraft. Officially, anyway.

Three other ports remaining. Not much of an issue, there - That port #3 is left out should, in the end, remain unnoticed. Well. Considered irrelevant, anyway. At the very least, it isn't blatantly unusual.

Reception for the non- Skeelzanians is simple enough: A floaty drone, tie properly straightened, looking slightly bored even through its expressionless metal-and-ceramics casing, guiding the way through - Now slightly larger, given the usually excessive size of the average visitor. Reconstruction to suit the likes of Skeelzanians had been a little complex, but it had worked out, eventually - white, clean corridors... The usual, really. No surprises there.

The shuttle Nyoninboh held up perfectly well to landing, perhaps to the dissapointment of some Angstian drones. At one point it might have been just another small transit craft, but in Neptune's orbit with nothing better to do between the brief flashes of excitement, she had added and removed components until little remained of the original except the core intelligence unit, the chassis, and the drive segment. Mostly she had added weapons and scanners, which were for the moment hidden beneath blisters and hatches built into the battered exterior armor, protected from space debris, dust, and prying eyes.

The Nyoninboh's airlocks cycled, and she dropped lightly the two meters to the deck. Her singlesuit's thick, orange material hardened, absorbing the impact, then relaxed as its component nanomachines reverted to their neutral state.

"I like the tie," she grinned, following the drone. Since her name was written on her suit's right breast pocket in small but still readable letters, Miko Mido didn't see the need for formal introductions, and decided to just wait for the comments about her choice of names for the various ships involved in Weyr's operations around Neptune.

Way above the plane of Neptune's (averaged) orbit around the sun - sixty-seven billion kilometres, to be preciseish - the IDSS Wanton Watcher slipped back into existance with a high-energy x-ray burst announcing her first of all. Next came the brief white-light flash, and finally a low intensity sonic burst that was promptly diffused along her own hull plating. And deckplating. And bulkheads.

And one Commander Frank Phipps' skull. "Gahhh," he groaned.

The ship was pretty new, hence the vibration. However, it wasn't really a warship. Nor was Frank a warrior.

"Okay," he muttered, tapping at a console feverishly, "now to get everything aligned and..."

Externally, a sheathe slid out and unfurled fairly swiftly. The sheathe, it turns out, fulfils a double purpose: solar panels are concealed on it's interior. Judicious rotation via gyros aids the aiming of these at the sun, while internal mechanisms - silently - push sensor palettes into the cold of the void.

Not particuarly quietly, but quite unobtrusively through the eyes of the Wanton Watcher, ICEL watches.

The Pilot

Alexander laughed, though it was a hollow, joyless sound. “I’m sure it would be very convenient to have me killed for assaulting an Angstian citizen, Ms. Fu. The press would no doubt eat it up. ‘Foreign brute killed after attempted murder.’ Yes, it would be quite the coup. Perhaps at some other time we can see whether a pure-blood is stronger than a flesh-and-iron conglomerate such as your self. I imagine it would be a well-matched competition; you do, after all, have a soul, unlike your metallic friends here. Earthlings are supposed to be fond of poetry, but writing ‘I think, therefore I am’ does not make something true.

“The Myrmidons also have that going for them, of course. They are born of flesh, and thus have whatever cheap soul the Bitch instills in her servants. Still, I am not overly concerned for the Sternreich. We’ve overcome greater disasters than this flap, and that was generally involving those of our race. Upstart Elves won’t nearly be so troublesome. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve tried, as told in the Book of Spoot.” He bowed his head reverently in what might have been some sort of prayer. “Then again, I don’t suppose you know anything of that. One of God’s former lieutenants still holds sway here, doesn’t he? Jahombah or something. Its been awhile since the Seminary.”

Aboard the Achilles

“Your offer is generous, but I fear it would be harmful for us to remain in close proximity. Perhaps we could take the barges, move outward, set up shop in the outer system.” The admiral fell silent, going over the options in his head. Undoubtedly there was a large asteroid out there that they could claim… “Still, this comes first. I will attend the conference, representing my people. You may come along on my shuttle if you wish, or return on your own. In either case, I will be leaving shortly.”

Poseidon Arrivals

True to his word, Marghun’s shuttle, structurally similar to Serrat’s, touched down on Poseidon a short while later. Aside from the Admiral himself, the shuttle carried two other Myrmidons acting as aides-de-camp.

Hrolzenburg’s shuttle arrived near simultaneously, though not close enough to Marghun’s to result in a fist fight. The Kleinadmiral had selected his best dress uniform for the occasion: grey leggings, a short black long-sleeve tunic with red piping and upturned collar, and the gold epaulets of a flag officer, along with the usual badges and citations. He was followed out of the shuttle by Karolitz, whose own uniform was a plain tunic-leggings combination. Both had scabbards at their hips, and while Karolitz had opted to leave his in the shuttle, Hrolzenburg kept his, seemingly daring anyone to take it away.

Serrat’s own garb reflected his status as a noble within the Sternreich, albeit a minor one. His pants were black with a golden line down the sides, held up by a belt whose buckle was stamped with the ubiquitous Spoot Star. His tunic was the same, reflecting his chosen branch, with a short copper chain hanging from his right shoulder. He appeared unarmed. And unlike the other two, he traveled alone.

Moments after their arrival, all three demanded to be shown to their quarters, with varying degrees of politeness: Marghun with an almost simple cordiality, Serrat with the cool demeanor of an emissary in his element, and Hrolzenburg with his typical arrogance. Once they had all settled in, then they would be ready for talks.

Solomon

“Skeelzania is a long way from Sol, Herr Andersson,” Konrad replied with a calmness bordering on pretension. “If the Nephilim, as you call them, are so hell-bent on starting a war, my son has ample forces with which to at least ensure a temporary stalemate. The Elves and their allies are powerful, I’ll grant you, but they do not have the industrial base that consumes entire planets backing them up.

“The rumor seems to have gotten around that Skeelzania is tottering on the brink of collapse, that gangs of freed slaves are rampaging through the streets. We are about to descend into anarchy, Herr Andersson; indeed, the situation is approaching a level of normalcy we haven’t seen in some months. And frankly, I find it somewhat offensive that you come here, from a country we knew second to nothing about, and tell me that my country needs saving.

“Your offer of help is appreciated, but I don’t think it will be necessary. Skeelzania does not want a war with Sol, and we are confidant we can deflect any incursion they attempt. They on the other hand know that, if we wanted too, we could strike so heavily against their worlds that there would be little left, something they are not willing to risk. What I think we’ll see, in the coming months and years, is a period of diplomatic impasse and saber rattling; no doubt there will be some skirmishing between hot-headed units on both sides, but nothing that couldn’t be kept in proportion. The one thing that I think could upset this balance, however, is a formal alliance with your Reich. I have little doubt of your popularity with the majority of the system, and I for one would be content with the usual hostile neutrality than the outright war we would be forced into in the event of an alliance. Skeelzania is not adverse to friendship and formalized contacts with your Reich, Herr Andersson, but I do not want the word getting out that we are militarily in cahoots. Yet.”

Larissa

A blast door grinds open, or would grind, were there atmosphere to convey the sound. So, soundlessly, a Greyhawk shuttle noses out of the rocky tunnel, perhaps slower than would be expected from the traditionally gung-ho Kingdom style of piloting.
The small craft, scarcely bigger than the obsolete helicopters it replaced, putters out into the black, blue drive slowly lighting up to full as it glides toward Poseidon. The shuttle is unescorted, other than the ominous presence of the Fleet 'overhead', and the com-chatter between it and the flight controllers buried under Larissa's defences is cheerful and unencoded. Rather bluntly un-encoded, considering it mostly consists of an extended dismissal of the courage, engineering talent and military skill of what are described as "Out-system barbs".
Subtle, the Kingdom is not.
The lack of subtlety is reinforced again when the shuttle arrives at the Angstian station, no command-level officers and only three in the group at that, two towering M.I.Rs painted in the white and blue of the Queen's Own and one young and visibly nervous Ensign, who for all her nervousness has brushed her dark hair back to display the way her ears travel to a sharp point.
Or perhaps there is subtlety here, if you know how to interpret it. The lack of senior officers displays distrust for Skeelzanian honour clearly enough, and contempt that they should need to conference with such, whilst an elf escorted by Queen's Own, should, to the sharper Angstians, convey something else entirely.
Especially as she presents herself to the (presumably waiting) Angstian contacts.
"Ensign Shrela FitzWarwick, observing for the Crown." This is accompanied by a bow and then by a smile as she reaches into a pocket and pulls out a walnut-sized globe of black pseudo-plastic, which she flicks into the air.
The little globe hovers there for a moment, before the shape of a gangly, brunette teenage girl shapes itself around it.
The 'girl' smiles as well, saluting cheerfully. "Fleet E.I. Larissa a'i'Mor, also observing for the Crown." She, in a definite affectation, dusts her sharply-pressed Navy blues down before dropping into parade rest, still smiling happily.

* Buffering...
PriorityLink established://CommonLinks//KingdomComs//FleetComs//Sibs
<[FleetCore]Larissa> eep! strange lands and stranger people! O_o!
<[FlagCore]Mordred> you're an incorrigible wuss sister-mine.
<[ShipCore]DEATBear> easy... it is Angstian territory. you know how they are. Give them five minutes and there'll be electronic landsquid after her :s, *snuggles Larissa protectively*
* [FlagCore]Mordred makes gagging noises at this.
* [ShipCore]DEATBear responds with a rude gesture
<[FlagCore]Mordred> How can you make rude gestures? you've got bloody PAWS!
* [ShipCore]DEATBear looks smug. "I am skilled, I am wise, I contain multitudes. Especially on Tuesdays."
* [FlagCore]Mordred slaps [ShipCore]DEATBear around a bit with a bit with a Speeks plushie!
* [FleetCore]Larissa giggles.
<[FleetCore]Larissa> aw thanks boys ^^ I was just a little overwhelmed. I've never been away from Larissa-the-rock before :/, holo-formicly at least. Cheered up now ^_^!

The bloody obvious scan took a bit longer to reach the Federation ships than it did their de facto ally, the Angstian ship, but their response was similar. Not needed to deploy large numbers of missiles externally, and really, lacking sufficient fire control for the number of salvos which would be in space at any given time at this range, there was little reason to deploy extra missiles.

Instead, they concentrated on making sure that when it came down to it, they would be ready. A slight bit of power boosted their engines, sending the vessels into motion, sliding closer to the Angstian TEU, which Torcularis Septentrionalis hailed as they drew closer, offering to tie it into the local defensive network of the twenty ships in the Colonial Heavy Task Group, following Pelasgus’ example.

It was at this point then, that the Admiral ordered hull maps made of the Reich ships, complete radar and lidar gridding. And at this range, the intensity of such a pulse required would be a lot like saying “Hey stupid, why are you just sitting there?”

The TEU, if it accepted the offer, would find out what the other Angstian vessels were no doubt discovering as they went diving in TacNet. A brick wall surrounded stuff they had no business in, such as technical information on Federation weapons and other items of warmaking, but sensor data from the entire system, raw and unprocessed, was suddenly available, along with the positions of every Federation starwarship in Sol.

And it all updated in real time, though obviously delayed slightly by radio to the Angstians. One of the major discussions which was occurring between the thousands of linked Federation EI was whether this argued for an increase in the Neptune Deployment, and/or an increase in Larissa’s fixed defenses, a subject that Pelasgus was staying surprisingly quiet on, as were most of the warships.

In fact, it mostly was taking place between MD Planning EIs and M-section of Intelligence Division EIs. Though the Angstians were more than welcome, as were the Britmattians also tied in, to give their opinions on the subject.

Meanwhile, Pelasgus sent a nice friendly message of greeting, requiring no response, to the ICEL ship hovering well out of the way.

A polite message declining to observe the talks was sent to the Angstians on Posiedon, noting that the allied Britmattian observers would be enough to represent Federation interests.

* * * * * *

>>Tiburon

It would be rather foolish to have a conference concerning Neptune to which the Angstians were not invited. There is little need to invite Revenia, but Britmattia and Caloris do make some sense. The Tartarians very often appear very reasonable and peaceful, and so might add a soothing hand to any discussions, as a recommendation. TUS and Weyrian assets might also contribute, though Midlonia is likely to cause trouble, and we have seen how the Skeelzanians treat their agreements. As for the Iraqstani, I suppose we could invite them too, though the less Federation personnel are in the room with such as them, the better. ~Pelasgus, FCSL Leadership

The Reich is ignored completely. It's assumed that the neighbors dislike the Reich as much as they do, and there's no real point in doing anything at the moment. Perhaps at a later time.

An unarmed shuttle escorted by four fighters swept a long path to Poseidon, clearly not wanting to be involved in the Skeelzanian mess. Once clearance to land had been obtained, the shuttle landed, and the fighters sped back to Proteus.

[Sent Via D-Net]
[To: Leadership, FCSL]
[From: Major General Bryant Lansing, Tiburon Aerospace Force, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon]
[Subject: Re(4): Conference]
[Cc: O-10 Fraser, M., the Kingdom of Britmattia]
[Classification: TOP SECRET]

Agreed completely- we rethought the concept and decided that inviting the people mentioned would be better for the conference. I'm still wary about Iraqstan- they haven't proven themselves to be all too reliable in the past on other worlds. We discussed it with a few other nations, and the Weyrik seem to have excellent ideas on the issue. As for Skeelzania and Midlonia, the Midlonians declined the offer, and I would be averse to inviting the Skeelzanians while they're still attacking each other. The formal invitation will arrive shortly.

Sincerely,
Major General Bryant Lansing,
Tiburon Aerospace Force,
Tiburon Joint Command Neptune,
The United Solaris Federation of Tiburon

[Sent Via D-Net]
[To: Leadership, FCSL; O-10 Fraser, M., the Kingdom of Britmattia; Miko Mido, La Blue Girl, FDK-Neptune; Sandra Mikogami, Der Angst Neptune; Esther, the Caloris Basin; ZMI Neptune; {Gehenna Tartarus Neptune}, The Office of Directorates, New London, This United State, The Planet of Mars, {Roanian Neptune}]
[From: Akshaye Mahadrinda, Maj. Gen. Bryant Lansing, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon]
[Subject: Pan-Neptunian Conference]
[Classification: Declassified]

To Whom It May Concern:

After much deliberation, the United Solaris Federation strongly believes that institutions on Neptune should be established to secure and maintain the general peace and prosperity of the Neptunian region. To this end, we invite representatives from your leaders to attend a conference to discuss paths for the future of Neptune, including possibilities for (a) pan-Neptunian organization(s) at Astira Centra in Naiad, Tiburon Neptune. For a stronger and more peaceful planet, we hope that your nations will be able to attend.

Sincerely,
Akshaye Mahadrinda, Deputy Ambassador-at-Large to Neptune,
Major General Bryant Lansing, Tiburon Joint Command Neptune,
The United Solaris Federation of Tiburon

And finally, a small, one-word message was sent to the ICEL ships.

[MJG Lansing/TJCNe] Felicitations.

Solomon

The Vizeadmiral raised an eyebrow; -"You misunderstand me your highness. This is not an offer to you as a single nation. This is an offer for the sake of humanity. We know that you are not on the brink of collapse, if you were you would never allow a big fleet to be sent out after some deserting rebel scum risking that someone would jump you while they were gone. Especially not to a stronghold of the enemy where there would be a risk of said fleet getting obliterated by outmatching odds, because that would make no sense for a nation weakened by civil war and under constant threat from its enemies.

We don’t ask you for a military alliance, for that you need to have great integration processes to make ships and equipment to work together and If you feel that the threat of the elf lovers is so close that you think they could attack just because humanity grows stronger it means you also understand the gravity of all this. How about you allow us to setup an embassy station and thus starting a formal relationship? You don’t have to fear that the elves will attack you for that; we have several embassies with many nations spread all over the universe. Andersson took a sip from a bowl of liquid on the table. “ and they wouldn’t want to risk to hit an embassy of the Reich by mistake in case of an attack….”


Neptune

Something looking like a milky grey mist started to sip out of the ships, spreading around them shimmering and dancing and growing. The mist curled out and covered the whole fleet after just a few seconds, obscuring the shapes within and growing like smoke from yesterday’s lasagna forgotten in the oven. It looked like some kind of metallic crystals in the gas and some other ingredients but soon it only resembled a cloud where the ships had been. Only vaguely could they be seen through it.

-“They’re scanning us.”

-“Yeah, its pretty obvious isn’t it? The computer is set on information flooding if they ever try something stupid as linking up with us or trying to reach our systems somehow. The amount of information that will be transferred will keep their computers occupied for a few minutes until they can stop them from processing. Pity they don’t have more imagination than to just copy our scan as an answer.”

-“Sir, it seems there are more meetings going on down there. The activity is high.”

-“What do you expect? There’s a huge war fleet outside the door and hundreds of other ships coming from all corners of the galaxy. Those Angstian drones are dropping micro warheads that are aimed at us and we have some bloody sentient people ships aiming at us from the other direction. Don’t you tell me that the activity is high down there! I feel like the duck in a shooting gallery. So far its not a problem but when their reinforcements arrive they will have the upper hand and they bloody well know it! On top of that we have no clue who else wants a piece of Reich meat. So keep your eyes on the controls and prepare to shoot first at any sign of aggression. What’s happening on that shitty planet is of no concern for you!”

It took some time for permission to come through for Frank to send a response.

First, the Commonality's army of sociologists poured over the word. After all, a one word message had to have some hidden meaning.

Didn't it?

They examined it's roots first in the modern Human languages; then in alien tongues, or at least near-approximations; and then finally in Sindarin and Quenya.

The decision was made.

A single-word answer was sent back:

"Greetings."

Frank sighed heavily. It was going to be a long, long assignment.

* * *

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the Solar System entirely, the 4 Stellar Battlegroup shifts course subtly with heavy acceleration, leaving it's orbital patrol route near the Mars-Earth Highway, and shifting onto a 'slow' outwards trajectory towards Neptune.

Within an hour (and no doubt within far less time for most), every listening post bothering to track it's position would come to the easy decision that the Battlegroup's ETA is about twelve days - assuming it maintains current relative velocity, of course.

Weyr

DD 01/09 looks somewhat worried at its guest - A female - remembering certain situations in the past... But then, this isn't someone from TUS. Though given Miko Mido's tendency of giving her ships somewhat pseudo-explicit names - Pseudo insofar as one has to have some background information to get it - and her nation of origin, it half fears that this will actually be worse...

Well, pray to a random deity, then hope for the best.

"Ummm... Thanks, yes." A few quick measurements - No, her breasts are not TUS-esque monstrosities.

Well, so far, so good.

"If you'd follow me?" Granted, DD 01/09's name is nowhere written, but she can still ask, right?

The corridors, well, as usual - White, clean, a few plants, kittens, and magpies about, the ceiling higher than last time, to accomodate taller-than-average individuals - and disregarding a cleaning bot with a desire to clean Miko Mido's feet, nothing special happens.

And of course, after its last encounter with a foreign delegation - The people from TUS - DD 01/09 is rather hesistant when it comes to starting conversations to begin with.

Ma-tek

Well, as the IDSS Wanton Watcher is almost fifteen times more distant from Neptune than it would be, had it just stayed in orbit around Earth, and at the same time way past the 'Shockfront' where the solar wind eventually collides with the interstellar medium, and altogether two-and-a-half lightdays out, a few things can be said with a reasonable degree of accuracy:

1. It will take two-and-a-half days for the simple 'information' that there's an ICEL ship out there to arrive at Neptune.

2. The same goes for any information about events at Neptune arriving at the Wanton Watcher. Well, the ICEL certainly is fond of outdated information. Though, of course, it will take no more than four-point-something hours for said information to reach Earth - Disregarding FTL comms, where it'd be faster/ instantaneous, but of course, the ICEL has none of these at Neptune - allowing for somewhat faster reaction times, should such be desired.

3. Given the density of the interstellar medium, sonic bursts can be disregarded and really wont tell anyone about ICEL ships out there.

Well, not until one goes and runs some truly extraordinary and out-of-proportion analyses.

The Pilot

“Now, now.” Jiang laughed lightly, genuinely amused. “If I – We – wanted to do that, you’d already be dead. I dunno… A millimissile detonating on your spine, or pushing itself into your eye, then changing its drive field configuration to hack’n’slash itself through the tissue… Though missiles are expensive. I think it’d be a drone using some fields to cut a few serious wounds… Well, details. In any case, there’d be no need to lure you into such a ‘trap’. Besides, it’s not too risky for me – Give me a few seconds to back up my mindstate, and my risks will be considerably limited. As it is, well… I just wanted to see if your strength is real. Admittedly a somewhat selfish purpose – And perhaps not entirely fair, given my non-baselineness – but well… Such is life. Hardly ever fair.”

A giggle followed – This conversation was amusing. Also useful – It wasn’t exactly providing tactical information, but it allowed Jiang to look into the ‘soul’ of a Skeelzanian, based on which actions were undertaken. The comment about the blood of children flowing, relayed through various administrative levels, had eventually triggered the message to ZMI, and while other practical results were somewhat lacking, this could of course change at any time.

“Though I’d note that the projectile that rips through one’s chest, destroying the aorta and killing you is decidedly soulless. Even in the days of ‘Honourable’ hand to hand combat, it was the soulless steel of the sword, or the dumb masses of arrows fired from the bows of peasants that killed the mortal flesh and slaughtered the self-declared elites. But, well, your opinion, I guess.”

She hesitated for a – For the reaction time of the unaugmented human unnoticeable – moment, contemplating the next few sentences. “Well. I guess I’d have to know the content of your seminars a bit better to give you an answer to that… Sufficient to say, I don’t think yur seminars were particularly up to date… Perhaps a refreshing course would be in order?”

Achilles

“Well, out there, you’d be outside Neptune’s protective perimeter… I would think that it would be rather more dangerous to stay there than to stay here.” Karin replied, sounding more practical than genuinely concerned. “Oh, and I’ll be staying here. I’m not really required on Poseidon, right now, and there are still plenty of things to organise. Moving the civilians off, for once.”

Poseidon (Arrivals, Skeelzania)

Receptions varied: Marghun and his two aides were awaited by Irene Perosteck, who bowed politely and wished them ‘Best luck’ before leading them to their quarters – She wasn’t quite sure why such would be necessary, given that this should be over within hours at worst, but then, whatever they wish.

Hrolzenburg and Karolitz on the other hand were ‘Greeted’ by two pairs of GCDs – two of them sleek, floating ellipsoids coloured in a vaguely nondescriptive gray, the other two bipedal, still notably smaller than the Skeelzanians, certainly no taller than 170 centimetres, and looking oddly weak, as their designers hadn’t really believed that a drone has to look musculous – and while they didn’t carry any outright visible weapons, the message delivered was somewhat different from the message Perosteck’s kimono-clad appearance had included.

And it certainly wasn’t a friendly one.

Nonetheless, none of the infantry drones seemed to mind the scabbard – Hack’n’Slash weapons would presumably have issues working on a GCD to begin with, anyway – and after a short introduction – Their designations were wlGCD 05/228, wlGCD 05/210, flGCD 02/058 and flGCD 05/087 – that didn’t really tell if they were presently hosting sentient minds or were remote-controlled (Not that this would actually matter to a Skeelzanian, though, so it was a minor issue), they led Hrolzenburg and Karolitz to their quarters, impervious to Hrolzenburg’s arrogance, though they probably questioned the wisdom of caring enough for Skeelzanian physiology to actually prepare properly-sized accomodations.

For Serrat, almost the same reception, though this time with only two flGCDs, and at least one of them was definitely hosting a sentient mind – It introduced itself as ‘Hiro Harrison’ – though standard designations were of course still present, too.

“Been a while, yes?” Walking – Or, in the case of the two flGCDs, floating – through the corridors, ‘Harrison’ eventually ‘tried’ to do some conversation, though its time was, of course, woefully limited: They arrived within a few minutes. “Could have been more pleasant circumstances, I guess… Oh, and the talks will begin within a few minutes.”

Britmattia

Ships and drones watch, and ships and drones converse.

There is no reason for them to stay out of blunt chatter, especially when it’s about subtly – Or not-so-subtly, as it is the case here – insulting the capacities of fringe civilisations.

Happy neighborly conspiracies revolving around blatantly disregarding the abilities and virtues about everyone not within the core groups of the galaxy? Sign them up.

The Britmattians themselves are already awaited by Isabelle Koyomi, who, clad just like Perosteck – She wears a subtle, dark and not particularly revealing Kimono, though replacing other parts of traditional japanese clothing with somewhat less antiquated accessories – bows politely, just as it is common. “Isabelle Koyomi. Welcome on Poseidon, Ensign FitzWarwick, Larissa a'i'Mor, it’s an honour to have you here. If you’d like to follow me...?“

A quick query with Sandra. Granted, the Kingdom’s position had already been pretty clear – The lopear makes it even clearer, though. Not a bad thing, really – and Sandra agrees, just like the major councils do.

Incidentally, it isn’t the only thing Sandra agrees with.

Damnit, she’s cute.

Want to give her a plushy, too?

Mhm… A little inappropriate, at such an occasion. Though I’m sure that in private…

Just don’t make it a landsquid. She’s not Weyrean.

Well, I’ve Pythons, too…

Something that isn’t long and narrow, or has many long and narrow parts?

A sphere?

Would suggest that she lacks such.

Pft. No way to please you.

Well, actu-

Don’t even go there. Please.

Sentient Peoples

Quick reaction times, slowed down by lightspeed lag.

Still, the Disciplinarian sent a confirmatory message, and then added in the three SEUs staying a little behind, their DEAT munitions floating in at no more than about thirty km/s.

The information itself, well… Not too specific, given that comparable data – Though not as detailed, QE bitrate limitations – was available to them, anyway, at least as far as Mercury, Earth, Mars, Jupiter and Neptune were concerned.

Nonetheless, disregarding the somewhat annoying lag, access was certainly useful enough, completing the already-available picture while at the same time allowing to get a feel for the dominant opinions in the Federation.

And this, more than anything else, was priceless.

Not that they themselves interferred too much, though. There was no need to do so, and for now, they were quite content to just listen and learn.

Tiburon

Brief flickers of information going through the various QE links between the ships. Why exactly the fighters are needed here…

But whatever. Their choice to waste fuel.

Of course, the Tiburonese are waited for as well – A DiploDrone shows them the way and tries to argue a bit about the effects a large-scale proton-bombardement has on sunflower seeds at Temperatures below 273 Kelvin, on the southern hemisphere of Mars, assuming an averaged-out orbit around the sun.

But other than that, nothing seriously interesting happens.

Open Transmission
From: DA Neptune [Poseidon, Sandra Mikogami]
To: Akshaye Mahadrinda, Maj. Gen. Bryant Lansing, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon
Subject: Pan-Neptunian Conference

I’ll see if I can expend a DiploDrone or humanoid representative. If yes, he/she/it will likely be present, though we’re somewhat curious as to what exactly such a process should accomplish – We have our doubts, especially given the rather poor results such organisations have scored in the past (I.e. on Mars). Hence, why we consider the present system to be not only sufficient, but superior.

Nonetheless, good luck.

Vegana

Now this is interesting.

The Disciplinarian was getting curious. Passive sensors get rammed up in their capacities, the price being their projected lifetime. Active scans begin as well – More conventional ones as well as some odder properties of them, analysing the mist, probing it with a variety – A wide variety – of different settings, frequencies, wavelengths, spins…

It never hurts to know more.

Golden Sunset
"One must always consider what is the most pratical application when bonding such circuits together, I myself prefer good old fashioned solder." the mechanic twiddled his soldering iron between his fingers as he spoke to his companion across the table.
"I disagree, I'd say the electroglue is much easier stuff to use, lasts longer too." his companion sipped a bit more soup.
"Eh, but when you use electroglue and that fails, you have to get in a whole new circuit board, at least with solder you can quickly redo the connections."
"This is true," said his companion as his slurped up more soup
Or, in otherwords, now they knew they were being protected by Naval assets, stuff was settling back to the whistful melancholy that was normal for the station.

Proteus' surface
On the surface of the clod of rock and ice that made up Proteus was the Midlonians permanent base, similar in construction to the hive cities of Martian Midlonia, Proteus #1 sat squat against the bumped landscape around it. The airless atmosphere biting cold and hard into those who wore full suits, stuck on another pointless patrol. In the warmed and atmosphered innards was a single desk in a plain room, inside this room was a balding man who appeared to be around 50, in a plain grey suit, he tapped a pen on the edge of his desk boredly as he thumbed through a dataslate on the current situation. Typical and tedious boredom. A newton's Cradle cracked gently to the side of him on a plain white bookcase.
David Henderson sighed, he had come out here as part of a mining company to exploit Neptune, aside from a few craft that flew carbon into Neptune itself, there was really very little that had happened. This had really been the first very serious incident in the Neptunian Sphere of Influence, aside from the usual industrial accidents and the like.

Angstians appear to have take Achilles
The line glowed against his eyes.
"Computer" he coughed, it had been the first time it had been necessary to talk in a week or so, the whole thing being mostly done by computer now. "Orange Juice, and contact M.A.N high command, there is the possibility of purchasing one of the captured Skeelzanian Barges."
"Yes Doctor Hederson." replied the smooth silky Overseer voice.
"Oh, and Computer? Get me the latest news on Baltic Major, I wish to see how that is going, so I can write my next paper."
"Yes Doctor"
He had decided loooong ago that he wasn't going to stay here, whatever it took, if he wrote up a correct paper on how to deal with the resettlement and enforcement of law for a further 1 billion people, then he may be promoted to there to live and work than this, dump was all he could think of to describe it.

[ooc: DA, hope you don't mind my using the droids rather than having you do it for me.]

Poseidon

It had been a rather short ride when compared to others Diego had been forced into and that was certainly something to be thankfull for. Diego had found it rather dificult to be thankfull for just about anything these past few days but he hoped these discussions would bring a conclusive end to his misery and woe.

The shuttle floated into the exact same hanger Diego had been in only days before. Riding on a small cushion of air only milimeters thick the ship was guided to a designated area and touched down. It was obvious Diego would not be the only one sitting in on the meeting as there seemed to be a surplus of droids gliding around. As Diego exited the vehicle a droid floated over and Diego bowed. The droid returned the gesture and then began to guide Diego through the corridors until they reached the room where the Skeelzanian officials were already waiting.

"Discussion will begin in a few moments." The droid informed Diego as he took a seat and waited.

<Esther>Heh... of course there are worse places; doesn't make this paradise, ne?
<Esther>Do you really want an honest assessment of the cureent level of ugliness? *giggle*
<Esther>I look forward to your visit. About the only people I see are the weirdoes from This United State... and... well... you've met them.



[Replied Via D-Net]
[To: Akshaye Mahadrinda, Deputy Ambassador-at-Large to Neptune,
[Major General Bryant Lansing, Tiburon Joint Command Neptune
[The United Solaris Federation of Tiburon]
[From: Esther, the Federated Mercurial Demesne of the Caloris Basin]
[Subject: Various and Sundry]
[Classification: Diplomatic:Secure]

Major General Lansing; Deputy Ambassador-at-Large Mahadrinda,

While I have no objection, in theory, to such an organization, experience from Mercury makes me a little leary. Of course, I do have more faith in you than anyone has in Allanea, so that helps. My other concern is that, currently, control of Neptune is largely in Der Angst's hands, therefore anything of this nature would have to be approved by them.

As for your other message, no hard feelings. I've been rather busy myself, which is why I never contacted you myself. I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to correct our mutual oversight once the current... irritations have been delt with.

Until then,

~Esther

Poseidon

The 'Conference Room' (A few drones who knew what was intended had decided to call it the 'Unconditional Surrender Room', though) wasn't a particularly impressive room - It looked somewhat like the room Alexander was currently in, just bigger and with a somewhat greater amount of chairs and wine - but it certainly fit its purpose.

A few non-sentient attendant/ service drones, glorified plates, floated about, and that was it.

Seats were arranged appropriately: At one end, space for Sandra and SCD 1/1 - Essentially Poseidons' former communications' traffic hub, a position that had been partially redistributed, and essentially one of Sandra's major competitors whe it came to 'control' over Poseidon - in the form of a hovering sphere somewhat less than a metre in diameter, containing its personality while the rest of it was presumably doing some barely-observed work.

At the other end, space for the Skeelzanians, Serrat as well as Hrolzenburg - Not for any others, though, they'd have to stand - while Admiral Murghan is placed next to Sandra.

The technically superfluous but nonetheless invited audience, well... The Britmattians would get placed next to SCD 1/1's sphericalness, and Diego Escobar would eventually be led to a place next to Murghan, whereas the Britmattians would, in turn, be flanked by the Tiburonese.

The light wasn't particularly bright. The table and all the people present would be lit, alright, but there would be dark corners.

With good reason. Placing soldier drones within the room would be incredibly inappropriate, so there wouldn't be any present. On the other hand, millimissiles hiding in dark corners, submillimetre-thick shapes obscured in the darkness and hidden between walls, just in case...

Well, that'd certainly work. According to Tamiya, the Skeelzanians were somewhat more diplomatic than they sounded, but Sandra didn't want to risk a fight between the Skeelzanians and the Myrmidon, and while she certainly had access to basically every system needed to ensure peace...

Well, just in case that everything else failed. If things went wrong to begin with, that is.

Besides, reducing the overall luminosity would give it a nice italian-restaurant-like atmosphere.

And there was nothing wrong with that.

Esther-chan

<Sandra Mikogami> Well, sure. Just saying, you could neighbor the Thelasi on Mars. Compared to that, Neptune is sheer bliss.
<Sandra Mikogami> And, well, I've always been in favour of honesty :P Might even give me a hint ;)
<Sandra Mikogami> Oh, and, well, I haven't met the TUS people, actually... But DD 01/09 told me some stories... Well... If even half of it is true... My condolences :/ Anyway, I'll make sure to make some time as soon as this is over, one way or another. See you :)

Hirokazu Tomayama, Tiburon's Ambassador-at-Large to Neptune, responded to the DiploDrone's light banter with some small talk of his own, as he arrived and seated at an uncomfortably dark conference, next to an empty Britmattian chair. Hirokazu was not a man of darkness.

Back at Blue Point, messages from DA, Caloris, and the ICEL are received and logged, to be replied to later. It's time for one of Maj. Gen. Lansing's three-hour naps.

"Sure," Miko grinned.

She considered the drone from behind, following it down the passageway, her green eyes sometimes wandering to the odd magpies or kats, but usually just focusing on the only actually interesting thing in sight, which was the drone.

She decided to try another stab at conversation. "So ... how's life?"

OOC: Sorry about the delay in posting. School business, mostly. Wonder what KEISG was blabbering about…

The Pilot

Alexander shrugged dismissively. “The Holy Texts never go out of date, though supplements are necessary occasionally. That was quite a debate at the Seminary, over why god of this system was so fond of serials. Get it all out the first time, I say.”

The Skeelzanian stretched his limbs, nearly tipping the bottle off the table as he did so. There was no sign of concern or embarrassment on the man’s face; if anything, he seemed smug or amused. “Though as I recall, he hasn’t released anything in quite some time. Isn’t as proactive as one would expect for one of God’s former lieutenants, I must say. So unfortunately, I think any ‘refresher course’ you could offer would be the one sadly out of date. The Book of Spoot is the definitive Word of God, the teachings of the Great Skeelz as passed down to our forefathers. Any teachings you could offer are either erroneous or already covered.”


The Conference Room

The three parties arrived more or less simultaneously, after some quick adjusting of uniforms and such in their quarters. Marghun was wearing his slightly-less-tattered uniform, scrounged from a locker aboard the Achilles. His aides-de-camp wore similarly basic outfits, obviously rejecting the somewhat elaborate uniforms the Skeelzanians wore. The Admiral seated himself silently, his two aides standing along the wall behind him.

Hrolzenburg and Serrat reached the door at the same moment, forcing Karolitz to brake abruptly. The Count had a good six inches on the Kleinadmiral, though the latter’s bristly arrogance made up for it somewhat. “Hail to thee, m’lord Serrat,” Hrolzenburg grated out. “Good to see the Kaiser chose to send one so diplomatic as yourself to these proceedings.”

“Can’t say the same for you, unfortunately.” Serrat’s reply had none of the heat and anger Hrolzenburg’s speech had, though one could detect a similar amount of arrogance in his voice. “I doubt he’d be glad to know how much you botched the situation. His Royal Prince Berkhan certainly isn’t happy.”

“I botched it?!” The pop-eyed look had returned. “It’s your bloody spawn that caused this, you up-jumped-son-of-a-”

Serrat’s voice was like a hammer falling, the word unknown to any ears in the room, though its meaning was clear enough. Hrolzenburg fell silent, his lips continuing to flap for a few moments before stopping. An edge crept its way into the Count’s voice, with every word spoken seeming to drive the Kleinadmiral another inch into the floor.

“It was your duty as a Fürstentumschütze Officer to defend the barges, something you failed at woefully. Your next priority was to ensure that your charges do not fall into the hands of the enemy, which you also failed to achieve. If you had done your duty as an Officer and a Skeelzanian and simply died, the Prince would have been able to simply wipe the rebel fleet from existence. Instead, we are now forced to deal with these people at a position entirely disadvantageous to us. Ralpheous von Hrolzenburg, as of this moment you are relieved of command. Relinquish your sword.”

Nothing happened for a few moments, the two men simply glaring at each other. The younger man’s eyes jumped back and forth between his two seniors, desperately hoping for something to happen. Finally, something clicked in the back of Hrolzenburg’s eyes. With a measured slowness he unbuckled his sword belt, turning the heavy item over to Serrat. “Good luck with your negotiations, Count.” Turning sharply on his heel he stalked away, brushing past Karolitz and disappearing.

Serrat did not dwell on him. “Were you his subordinate?” Before Karolitz could form a coherent sentence, the older man shoved the sword belt at him. “Put this on and be quiet. You’ll be representing the barges, and will speak only in regards to technical details. Understood? Good.”

The two men finally entered the room, Serrat followed closely by Karolitz with his hastily-adjusted belt. Taking a seat, the Count nodded politely at Sandra. “Good day, my Lady. It is good to once again be a recipient of your hospitality. Now, perhaps we can clear up this misunderstanding. Once all the players are seated, of course.”

Daniel Berringsford was the third Naptunian diplomat sent to Neptune in as many months, the other two had only been posted their temporarily, and this was the first real thing he had really had to deal with, even so, the ruddy conference was nearly missed by the Midlonians. Good job the Concordat's own network kept this kind of thing noted.

Walking down the corridor he noted a tall humanoid figure bustle past, obviously a "skeelie" he thought to himself as he entered the conference room and took a seat, away from the main conference. Things were a concern, and he was also there to just belay any fears that the Midlonians wanted to start a shooting war within the Neptunian Sphere. After all, their warships were now in-system protecting Golden Sunset, and if anything was to go wrong.... well. Didn't really bear thinking about, with that he simply nods to the Tibouronese delegate and notes a few, still empty, chairs, mostly notably the ZMI delegate. Oh well, if all else failed, he could be a stand-in of sorts. Intrest in keeping some sort of Status Quo here in Neptune was more important right now.

With a slight peer at his time-piece Daniel notes the hands and looks back around and gets out a small glass-object, similar to a paper weight and takes a swig, purpleish smoke curled from his mouth as he sighed contently, he notes the Skeelie delegates, one of which seemed to have a high air of authority around him, the other seemed slightly timid and subdued. Both wore unecessary swords and stood in their fairly neat uniforms.
By comparrison, Daniel stood at just under 6 feet and wore a plain blue diplomatic suit, a dataslate in one pocket with stylus, and the pocket-watch and drink in the other. His hair was a sharp blond and his eyes greyed slightly. An unusual combination, and a cosmetic one to boot. He simply sighed, peered round and awaited.

Neptune space

Silence... and then it came.

Open Transmission to Angstian Ships.
From: Vizeadmiral Schaefer, HEBS Nehemiah

Allthough we are deeply flattered by the attention you are showing us. We would like to point out that dropping all those warheads and pointing them towards us highlights you as aggressors to this peaceful mission that is clearly out of your jurisdiction and in international space.

We would really dislike your unfair actions to turn into something much bigger than just you shooting without any reasons on defenceless ships on a scientific mission. Once again it shows why it sadly is much needed to bring firepower to any peaceful expedition near warmongering races.

Would you mind restrain yourselves? It seems to me as if you have more urgent aggression more close to home.

Humble Regards

~Vizeadmiral Otto Schaefer


-"There, relay this message to big mother together with the open transmission. " Otto Schaefer glanced at the watch, he might just buy himself a little bit more time with this message.

Thousands of kilometers furhter away something shimmered as a window into foldspace came into life.

Weyr

"Ummm..." Well, she seems to be somewhat less aggressive... "Well, floating about, just like me... Got a new CPU jungle, have to get rid off this dent in my casing - Long story. I always thought breasts were supposed to be soft, but in her case... Nevermind."

It said nothing for a fair number of seconds, still floating about, its tie fluttering, before it eventually thought about the polite thing being to ask the same.

"And yours?"

The Pilot

"Of course, of course..." Jiang smiled, though her thoughts had little to do with said smile. She wasn't quite certain... Arrogance, well, she had expected this. But this went further, right into the area of outright lunacy, on par with, say, Iesus Christi.

Which was allowing for a few more interesting conclusions, of course. Sadly, none of them were pleasant.

Still...

Well, acquiring a copy of the 'Book of Spoot' shouldn't be too hard, - If it hadn't already been done to begin with - all things considered. They did after all have the barges.

It'd certainly be an interesting read.

"Though... To be frank, I've no idea what kind of god you're referring to... I know of, ummm... None whatsoever, in sol. Says something about your god, all things considered... If you see them where there are none..."

The Conference Room

Sandra nodded, smiling perhaps a little too thinly to be considered entirely friendly (Or impartial). "Of course I'm honoured by your visit, Count Serrat, and I'm glad to be of service... Where's Hrolzenburg, if I may ask?"

Of course, technically, she wouldn't have had any problems accessing various systems allowing her to listen in to basically all conversations going on on Poseidon. Practically, it was not something Sandra would do... So impolite, and it'd be kind of like cheating.

"But anyway... Yes, we should be ready in a few minutes... To clear up the 'Missunderstanding'."

Midlonia

Had effectors actually targetted Daniel Berringsford, Sandra would probably have wondered why the Midlonian thought that ZMI would be present - It didn't have any holdings in the Neptunian subsystem, and was, thus, not invited to attend.

Besides, it'd have taken hours to get a ZMI person to Neptune, and the schedule was rather tight - Everyone was calculating with minutes.

Meanwhile, the Absence of Common Sense repeated once more that Midlonian warships had not been cleared to enter the Neptunian sphere just yet.

* Contacting Midlonians...
* Sending Standard Identification Protocols [Nation = Der Angst; Region = DA Neptune; Ship = SEU Absence of Common Sense]
<SEU Absence of Common Sense> What are you? Deaf or dumb? Get. The. Fuck. Out.
<SEU Absence of Common Sense> Now.

Back on Poseidon, Sandra fumed - Inwardly, that is. She still smiled quite politely as the Midlonian entered, saying nothing, apart from the usual polite platitudes... Just one of the millimissiles quivered in its corner, for a millisecond or so - as the Midlonians had effordlessly managed to ruin Sandra's main argument - That the Skeelzanians could, in essence, fuck off, given that they broke the contract and just forfeit any and all rights they had had (She would of course have used a somewhat less aggressive phrasing) - once more proving an almost magical ability to do the wrong thing, at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Well, so much for them getting free reign on placing milships in the subsystem. She'd enjoy informing them of her 'Change of Mind', though, which was better than nothing.

Or perhaps she could add the Midlonians to the dock... She'd probably decide later. For now...

"Welcome... Your presence is certainly appropriate."

Through the QE-links between the milships about, rants and curses were exchanged, slightly more explicit than what Sandra would have preferred - But then, milships did tend to be less polite than Sandra.

Still, while the ground was shaky, it hadn't completely broken away, and with a bit of luck, she'd probably be able to maneuver quite nicely and get the Skeelzanians to fire first, anyway.

Perhaps even on the Midlonians. That'd be sweet.

Vegana

Open Transmision
From: TEU Disciplinarian
To: Vizeadmiral Schaefer, HEBS Nehemiah

"I could probably mock your claims regarding a 'Peaceful' mission you're 'Just so' doing unannounced, right next to the Neptunian Sphere, or the idea that something another 54 million kilometers out is 'closer'. However, as it is, you're Reichers, and to be frank...

Screw you.

Meanwhile, more and more sensory resources were used, quick sweeps analysing the mist - As much as was possible, anyway - and probing deeper and deeper... Quickly facing problems - For now, mostly the mist - but trying, anyway.

And a few thousand km off, more guests seem to arrive.

Sensor drones are launched near-instantaneously, and some ordinance reorients itself, while the available information is transmitted through TacNet, quickly refined and organised.

It's getting interesting.

The Barges

Rei was briefly considering to just sit down on own of the available chairs - She had certainly earned some rest, and wanted to rest, too.

Alas, such would probably have looked somewhat silly - Her feet wouldn't even reach the ground, and she'd feel like a little girl, again.

So humiliating!

Given this, she'd eventually decided to just keep standing, and walking around a bit, within the bridge.

Though of course, there was something else she needed to do. She muttered briefly about Karolitz having left together with Hrolzenburg - She could have used him, now - and eventually stepped towards the highest-ranking officer - At least she thought it was the highest-ranking officer - she could find on the bridge.

Disregarding Duke Vasili, of course.

"A question. Your rank and name? I just remembered, there's something I'm supposed to request... And as the Admiral left, I think I'll need your help so everything goes smoothly. I'm sure you're qualified enough to temporarily fulfill an Admiral's duties, yes?"

Drones, reasonably heavily-armed, floated about, trying to make themselves as little of a nuisance as possible, but still being rather obviously present, and the fact that more-or-less every system had been more-or-less corrupted by the available DA resources was pretty much obvious.

"It's about the barges' complete demilitarisation - And given the present circumstances, this essentially means their crews - for the time being... Already happened with the Myrmidonian ships, as far as possible."

An outright lie, of course. But who cares? It's not like it can be disproven.

Also, bliss... Hrolzenburg's been removed from the barges. Should make things easier.

The Pilot

“Of course you wouldn’t know of him,” Alexander told Jiang. “You’ve already demonstrated to be of a people sadly out of whack with your divine mission, so to expect you to know anything of ecclesial diplomacy is too much to ask.

“Skeelz is/was the God-King of mankind, long before the creation of the Multiverse. He and others of his kind ruled their servant races in the Lynchpin of Spoot, which held the Universe in place. However, the Elven God-Queen desired complete control and initiated the Spoot Wars, eventually destroying Spoot and shattering the Universe into the present Multiverse. Skeelz was lost to us then, but his Word survives.

“The system gods I speak of were the lieutenants of Skeelz in charge of this system, who survived the Spoot Wars. Each sought to establish their own little patch of domination over the humans of Earth, giving rise to the myriad beliefs that permeate you people. Obviously, the Angstians have neglected to follow even those half-correct teachings.”

As the would-be-priest prattled on, the systematic looting of the barges did in fact turn something up. Each of the ships had several halls of moderate size, complete with stage and podium. Within the podium was a large, leather-bound book. Written in gold on the cover, in the rune-like font Skeelzanians loved to write important things in, were the following words: The Most Holy and Revered Word of the God-King Skeelz as transcribed to Prince Baad and His Prophet Kagulan, elsewise known as The Book of Spoot.*

The Conference

“The Kleinadmiral was relieved of his command shortly after my arrival,” Serrat explained dismissively. “Representation of the barges has thus been turned over to Lieutenant, err…” An awkward silence followed for several seconds before Karolitz managed to get his name out. “Lieutenant Karolitz, yes. He will be serving as the barge’s representnative.”

More silence as Serrat watched the Midlonian enter and take his seat. Mozgnagg, he thought. A career diplomat by the looks of him, he’d never survive outside the cultured environment of the Alpha Quadrant. Probably never had an assassin come to “personally” negotiate.

Satisfied that Daniel wouldn’t be a problem, Serrat turned his attention back to Sandra. “Now, Ms. Mikogami, I propose we get down to business. Any other parties aren’t strictly necessary, and can no doubt be filled in by whatever AI grid you have in this facility. Firstly, I would like to thank you for the quick action in regards to the attacks on our facilities, preventing their destruction by out-of-control bioware.’” Marghun bristled at this, but Serrat ignored him. “However, now that Prince Berkhan and his forces are within striking distance, I don’t see why you should continue to burden yourself with running our barges. I would like a time table for a quick Angstian departure from our property.

“Secondly, I was told that you have at least one of our men in custody aboard this station. A fighter pilot, I’m told; the report was received somewhat garbled while I was in transit. Needless to say, I want him turned over immediately so that he can return to his duty.”

The Barges

Herrman Lerch, a dour, long-faced Skeelzanian with gray eyes, listened dispassionately to the little dwarf tugging at his coat, so to speak.

"A question. Your rank and name? I just remembered, there's something I'm supposed to request... And as the Admiral left, I think I'll need your help so everything goes smoothly. I'm sure you're qualified enough to temporarily fulfill an Admiral's duties, yes?"

The Skeelzanian blinked slowly, his face betraying no emotion what so ever. “I am Herrman Lerch, Lieutenant Junior Grade of the Fürstentumschützesternteilung. You will address me as Lieutenant. It is my duty to oversee the barges until further orders arrive.” Losing all interest in the woman, Lerch went to address the communications officer, forcing Rei to follow.

"It's about the barges' complete demilitarisation - And given the present circumstances, this essentially means their crews - for the time being... Already happened with the Myrmidonian ships, as far as possible."

Herrman ignored her for now, instead choosing to concentrate on the Comms Officer’s report. The sub-etha still wasn’t working, and now the semaphores were beginning to fritz. This went on for some minutes, until the commanding officer turned back to his guest. “I do not have the authority to decommission these barges. You will need to ask the Kleinadmiral, and he will not accept. There are chairs for you to sit. I recommend you do, as I do not have time to coddle to the demands of a dama such as yourself.”

Solomon

“I think you underestimate our opponents, Herr Vizeadmiral. The Solars have always been cavalier in regards to who they might offend, at least in our dealings with them.” The Kaiser leaned back in his seat, his eyes never leaving the fremden for a moment. “We wouldn’t be opposed to having embassies transferred, of course. You’d need to set up in orbit, I’d think, as the planet isn’t exactly hospitable to long-term visitation. Higher gravity and radiation, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. However, I am not going to enter into anything definite with you people yet. Not until we know more, that is.”

*OOC: I’ve been trying to hash out a NS Wiki article on Spootology for awhile now, and hopefully I’ll be able to get it up during the Christmas Break. It’ll have all the relevant information, so I think it best to just wait until that goes up. That way what I tell you and what I post will at least be the same.

Midlonian Flotilla, Neptunian Sphere.
"I blame the comms officer!" yelled the captain as he pointed to a random man on the bridge.
"And I blame the fact you're drunk..." muttered the comms officer.
"...that too." hiccuped the captain.
A man in a long black coat and a peaked cap walked onto the bridge.
"What is the meaning of this?" he spoke harshly.
"Comms screwed up! Hic" garbled the captain as he turned on the NAAFDB officer.
"I can smell the alcohol from here, Get. Off. This. Bridge. Now." each word was punctuated with a poke of his finger at the captain.
"Sod o-"
The punch sent him flying onto the floor and the disgraced captain hit one of the console boards with a sickening crack, the body remaind immobile.
"Get us out, now." snapped the officer as he turned his steely eyes onto the ensign.
"Aye sir."
"Now what the hell am I supposed to do? Give them a fricken apology and a fruit basket?"
Contacting SEU Absence of Common Sense....
<24561> apologies, both when captain is sozzled, appropriate name to contact us with....

Conference Room
Screwup after screw up, I blame the Tibs on this one, ruddy invite had the wrong folk, ruddy invite said ZMI...

"We felt it may be appropriate that a representative was sent along to... sort this stuff out, aswell as place an offical apology for the screw up in the system earlier." he coughed and took another swig of the "paperweight" and bowed a little in his chair.

Far side of Neptune, HMS Drop Bear

There are very few places where you can store truly big warships in Sol without upsetting the neighbours, especially not in the inner system where the Kingdom had nearly the entirety of it's infrastructure. So, when the opportunity had arisen to expand outward, moving the Fleet had been the first priority and finding somewhere to put Drop Bear's Luna-sized hull had been a close second. Especially after Vlad had stopped laughing at the Knootian ambassador's complaints.
So, she had moved her enormous bulk to orbit around Neptune, to sit and wait while the nearly-endless restorative/archaeological work on her hull and systems carried on, being industriously data-mined for all the information she could give. She'd stayed there even when the retirement of the Catastrophe light cruisers and Victory battlecruiser classes had meant there were enough personnel to crew her fully at last.
Now though, now she was moving.
On her bridge Commodore Bruno Falcatta smiled down at his E.I's avatar, bushy black moustache twitching like an excited terrier.
"Ah Droppie, I never thought I'd see the day we finally got to fly this beauty, I was beginning to suspect I'd sit in Nettuno's orbit till I grew old. And that my friend, would be entirely too long to go without a visit back to the Dominion, for all she doesn't let me play with ships like this.."
Droppie, perched on Falcatta's knee, shrugs, a fairly neat trick for a quadraped.
"Oh they were bound to use us eventually. You don't put a quarter of a million people on board a vessel and not use them."
He frowned, also a neat trick for someone who looked like a particularly deranged puppy. "And I also suspected it would be against these shmucks. No one will care if we vape them and Owen won't cop any flak over excessive force when it's used against these scumbags."
Falcatta nodded. "Si."
They both looked up to plotting, where Drop Bear's icon was steadily closing in on an other group, the red-coloured OpFor markers tagged "Reich Units."



Poseidon, the Conference.

Larissa considered the Skeelzanian representative for several moments after his little trip into Cloud-Cuckoo Land ran down, her holographic lip curling.
"I believe I'll respond to that rather blatantly unrealistic statement with a blunt negative. No, this is not a matter for you and Der Angst to settle. Why is it not? Because you signed a treaty along with numerous others to keep your positions in Neptune de-militarised."
The "you out-system wog" didn't really need to be spoken to be heard.
Lacing elegant fingers together she scowled at the Skeelzanian. "This treaty included the Kingdom. Therefore we can and will damn well observe your squirming justifications and you will bloody well keep any objection to yourself."
By now any trace of her usual teenage behaviour had disapeared, the core programming of a Kingdom E.I surfacing like a Warspite appearing out of fog. The core programming which was modelled on the principles of an aristocracy millenia old.
"So Mr Serrat, you will not avoid answering to the Neptunian community about what the bloody hell you were doing arming your "demilitarised" scows and what the equally bloody hell you intend to offer to the Angstians for letting you stay in the system, let alone have your barges back?"
She leans back into her chair, looking over her shoulder to smile reassuringly at the pale ensign behind her, before turning her glare back on Serrat.
"As for the implication that we view the meeting through the Angstian A.I grid, what do you think *I* am, o stupid neo-barb? Did it not occur to you to enquire for any information about your fellow delegates, or is Skeelzania so crippled by it's over-weening arrogance that it doesn't notice when a delegation contains no humans at all?"

The Conference

Serrat remained unmoved, only shifting his gaze so he looked down his nose at Larissa now, instead of Sandra. “Forgive me, I had taken you for some sort of overly decorative recording device. Or a secretary. The illusion is quite convincing, I give your builders my regards.

“Regarding the massive covert military build-up that you seem convinced Skeelzania has carried out, you are over reacting. The barges were never demilitarized, as they began in a neutral state. However, we recognized the need for close-in defensive fighters, so we simply built them into the stations. If you were to conduct a search of our installations, you would find that there are no ordinances aboard capable of severely harming a capital ship or station. Our legal scholars went over this in some detail, and I assure you are case is air-tight.

“Now to answer your second question, Ms. Automaton, I intend to offer the Angstians nothing. The barges are Skeelzanian property, so our jurisdiction supercedes anyone else’s. Furthermore, the Angstians interjected themselves into Sternreich internal affairs by intervening. If I was so inclined I could pronounce them as aiding and abetting criminals of the State, constituting an act of war against Skeelzania. However, I do not wish to see this subsystem torn apart by conflict. I think it is fair that they only have a chance to explain their actions in an open arena such as this.”

Solomon

The vizeadmiral nodded. -"Sounds like a good idea, having the embassy in orbit is however contra productive to what an embassy is supposed to do; Give quick and easy access to your goverment for our ambassadors. Anything in Orbit would be as good as having a colony at a neighbouring planet. We would ofcourse also give you a builing in Vegana City for your diplomatic unit. As when it comes to gravity and air... " Andersson looked at the people in the room. Normally people from High grav planets were short and stocky but here were people that was carrying as many kilos as he was and he felt the strain from all that muscle mass that really did no good in this gravity. "I can assure you that we have technology that can aid us in that matter. But if you fear that an embassy would put you at risk we can ofcourse start with an off planet unit."


The Reich, News broadcast, open and inter stellar

The gravity of the situation in Neptune is growing worse. The peaceful expedition is met with horrendous aggressions in international space.



Allthough we are deeply flattered by the attention you are showing us. We would like to point out that dropping all those warheads and pointing them towards us highlights you as aggressors to this peaceful mission that is clearly out of your jurisdiction and in international space.

We would really dislike your unfair actions to turn into something much bigger than just you shooting without any reasons on defenceless ships on a scientific mission. Once again it shows why it sadly is much needed to bring firepower to any peaceful expedition near warmongering races.

The answer came quickly from the alien warships.

Open Transmision
From: TEU Disciplinarian
To: Vizeadmiral Schaefer, HEBS Nehemiah

"I could probably mock your claims regarding a 'Peaceful' mission you're 'Just so' doing unannounced, right next to the Neptunian Sphere, or the idea that something another 54 million kilometers out is 'closer'. However, as it is, you're Reichers, and to be frank...

Screw you.


Will the international community do something? The answer is as usual no. Over and over again insane and unfair actions are taken against the peaceful Reich nations with the only excuse: "Because you come from the Reich".

The racism is as usual stemming from the nephilim conspiration that allows to treat us as thrid rate citizens of the universe. We have proof that the other part is aggressors but still the international community does nothing to act. If our ships will be attacked without any reason the blood of the innocent men will not only be on the homicidal Der Angst, but also on the international Community. An action like that cannot be let unavenged. Blood can only repay a debt like that. The scene is set, and we have the proofs that an horrendous crime may be commited, unpunished as usual...

Neptune

This is getting worse every second They looked at the systems and watched more ships and that giant "thing" closing in on them too. The order was to stay put but Schaefer knew that soon they would be stuck in a situation where they had no control anymore. He hated the thought of it, because it meant that he might just plainly die out here for nothing. Or worse, as some kind of pawn in a propaganda game... He decided to go for it the second he saw that he was risking to be cut off from any escape routes.

Without fanfare or very much in the way of obvious communication, the little ship Wanton Watcher deployed pointlessly far from Neptune accelerates relative to the solar system, and vanishes with a little gamma ray/white light flash.

Meanwhile, observation units again note a change in course and acceleration for the 4 Stellar Battlegroup - which now appears to be in the midst of a long, sweeping course shift taking it up and out of the solar plane. Well, up or down, depending on perspective.

However, generally, they would still appear to be on an approach to Neptune - albeit with a significantly extended ETA.

[OOC: Posted at the time when it would have been obvious the Wanton Watcher had moved away; synchronization between that being visible and the 4 Stellar Battlegroup shifting course can be assumed. IE, both became notable at the same time.

Also, this was an exceedingly short post because it is the first of two that will entirely remove any chance of my being involved at all... since I've been told that I'd be quite unwelcome. : )]

Confrence Room

They certainly strick Diego as an unpleasant bunch. Nonetheless, he would only have to put up with them for a few minutes. "Your jusrisdiction? So what? Forgive me for being so blunt but you ensentially came into our homes and began shooting. The Angstians had every right to intervene and still would have even if you hadn't been in violation of a treaty.

"You can't simply charge into the subsytstem, guns blazing, and expect it go over smoothly. I'm afraid you will have to justify your actions. If there is any justification." Diego sat back and waited. He would enjoy to see them squirm for all the trouble they have caused him.

Conference room

"How can you expect anybody in this solar system to trust you after this? Let alone the sub system, charging in guns blazing would make you seem like you stab anyone and anything in the back because 'its your jurisdiction' not the treaties that were signed, a binding set of mutual agreements that states that both Midlonia, and Skeelzania had to stick too, we have, I'd like to hear a full explanation why the Skeelzanians decided it was 'their jurisdiction' to arm the barges with fighters when the treaties they signed, say the direct opposite?" Daniel frowned and bored his eyes into the Skeelzanian opposite him.
"When all this ruckus started we began to move ships into the sub-system for fear of our installations because of this blatant stab in the back, thankfully they were warned off by an Angstian vessel before they got too close," an apologetic glance to the Angstian, "or God knows what would have happened. An incident that happened out of human error, unfortunately, but that...problem has now been rectified." he coughed and placed the paper weight onto the table, before changing his mind and taking another swig, a curl of purple smoke came from his nose as he set it back down.
"Well? Will you answer for yourselves? or are you going to quote some 'jurisdiction' at us again?" he stared back at the Skeelzanian, wisps of purple smoke drifting lazily above him.

With Drop Bear scooting in behind the Neptune Task Group and frankly sealing the deal if it went south, the Federation was in a position to do something at last.

This close to the actual Neptune sphere, First Fleet could respond in under an hour if the fecal matter and the rotary impeller device had a collision, and so the decision was made. The two hundred and sixty operational vessels of First Fleet, with nearly an entire task force’s worth of ships damaged from the confrontation with the Atheist Reality some time ago, slid to a relative stop in space.

Not all at once, of course. But as they passed within just over a light second of the closer Reich ships on their way to their respective ten light second englobement, they flashed their running lights.

Admittedly, kind of silly at that range, the running lights impossibly small and equally impossible to see, but still, they did it.

The Federation ships sat silently, allowing the Angstian ship to deal with the Reich, though its mannerless manner of deal brought a smile to many a face.

“You know, Admiral, they’re technically right about them being outside Neptune.”

“Well, yeah. But they are highly aggressive as a polity, and I don’t see any scientific vessels among that collection of warships.”

“True enough. And they did show up right at the Skeelie battle fleet did. That makes me rather suspicious, if nothing else.”

“Indeed. Make sure everyone keeps a current firing solution. That misty stuff is screwing with active EM scans, but gravitics have them tied in pretty well.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

"Finding holes in breast..." she blinked, realizing what she just said. "...Blue Girl's hull," Miko quickly corrected, turning slightly red. "Nothing exciting. How ... did you get breast dents in your shell?"

Conference Room

Hirokazu chuckled softly. "That's interesting- I see it as fairly straightforward. The Skeelzanians violate a treaty signed by nearly every Neptunian power at this moment that clearly defines the level of their defensive forces, they bring an unwanted war into NeptuneSphere, and the Angstians naturally decide to secure their assets in Neptune, and have the graciousness of hosting a conference to allow the Skeelzanians to explain themselves instead of being given the boot.

So, naturally, the other nations that signed the treaty that was unilaterally broken by Skeelzania are unnecessary at this conference, and the Angstians are out of line. Common sense, after all." He turned to the Skeelzanian in question. "Are there any more nuggets of wisdom that you wish to share with us, O venerable Admiral?"

The Pilot

"O-kay." Jiang was somewhat confused, or dumbfounded... - The positivist approach would be 'Amazed' - by the 'Theology' she'd just heard.

Curious thoughts: Who the hell was responsible for this insane abomination of a religion, and how the hell did he or she - Supposedly he - get people to swallow it?

There was something wrong here. Archeology in Skeelzania could become considerably interesting, though... Perhaps, if things went the right way...

"Brief question. The 'lieutenant' - Or whatever - in charge of the Spoot system still exists, or...? You see, I'm quite curious, and probably wouldn't mind an exchange with him..."

The Barges

A brief blurr in the air, and an object no longer than perhaps ten millimetres at most, and no thicker than perhaps two millimetres at its thickest point, moves away from its mother-drone, quickly, leaving only the faintest electromagnetic trace and a few ionised molecules in the air.

"I don't think you understand, Herrman..." Rei answered, slowly, and in a false tone of non-existant politeness. "I don't require your authority, I'm merely asking for your help. As far as authority goes, I'm essentially having it." She smiled. "No, not through official documents. It's mostly the millimissile staying a few centimetres away from your neck. In any case..." She continued rather casually, in a friendly - Though half desinterested - tone. "I'm not really asking for your agreement. I can do without it, really. However, I do believe that we could manage it more smoothly, should you decide to be helpful." A shrug. "Really. The mess we'd have to clean up, should you decide to be less-than-cooperative, would be somewhat annoying."

Midlonian Ships

<SEU Absence of Common Sense> Well, whatever. And I suggest some training, so your captains can deal with more than a glass of beer. And I thought you had a tradition with regards to alcohol... Ah well.

Veganan Ships

Blah. Blah. Blah. The Disciplinarian watched the proceedings, idly looking through various broadcasts - Reich propaganda didn't really concern it, as nobody believed that shit, anyway, but it was still amusing to listen to, and it wondered briefly if a live-broadcast of the Veganan fleet being turned into a slowly expanding cloud of vapour wouldn't have a comparatively positive effect on The Reich - and marveled at the Drop Bear coming closer - It wasn't quite sure what this thing was for, and doubted that it was worth its mass, but it remained a rather impressive sight, regardless of any such issues.

Wonder when they'll turn tail.

The Conference

Sandra listened quietly, occasionally chuckling. Well. Doesn't look like I'm required. They can stir shit up all by themselves.

You enjoy that? came the answer, through semi-restricted channels, by the hovering, somewhat dull sphere that was SCD 1/1.

Yes. Why not? Besides, it tells us a lot.

Not very effective, though.

Not with regards to time. In other regards however...

If you say so. After all, I'm just the info-hub, with the social skills of a skunk.

Pft. Stop playing offended and go flirt with Larissa or something.

Yes, Ma'am.

"Now, if I-" Sandra started, before being cut off by yet another more-or-less insulting comment from one of the participants thrown across the table - Figuratively speaking, of course.

"-may?"

A brief moment of silence, then another mouth opens-

"Thank you."

Cutoff.

"First of all, congratulations, Lieutenant Karolitz. I hope this will help our relations, too - I have a feeling that we're one of the reasons for your promotion." Sly grin. "Oh, and as far as your pilot is concerned, it isn't so much custody as it is neighborly help - We could either allow him to land or we could have him drop into the core, but eventually, our all too weak hearts won over our ratio."

She hesitated briefly, turning towards the Midlonian. "And I see, yes... Certainly a wise decision, I'd say."

"As far as the necessity or redundancy of other presences is concerned..." She continued, now once more facing Serrat and Karolitz. "I think Larissa here expressed it quite eloquently."

* Contacting Larissa...
* Sending Standard Identification Protocols [User = SCD 1/1]
<SCD 1/1> 'Automaton'? Do you have an on-board effector to pseudo-slap him or should I? Barbarians...

"As far as your legal scholars are concerned, I fear there might be some troubles, Mr. Serrat - Our legal system is fortunately not identical to yours, so your case holds little interest for us. The rules were simple, and they involved movement capacities, not yields, sad as this may be for you."

She hesitated. There had been quite a few other things said by the various participants, and most of these had actually been rather fishy, barely skirting reality - But it wouldn't exactly be in her interest to point these issues out. That the Skeelzanians would possibly suffer from things they hadn't actually done, well...

The ends justify the means.

"As far as the barges are concerned... Let me put it like this: Why exactly would we return them to you after you've already disregarded the contract we've had with regards to them? Especially seeing that rather than apologizing, and possibly offering amends, you seem to think it's a good idea to come in, making demands and generally assuming that you're in control." Sandra smiled. "Now, as far as I can see it looks like this: You broke the contract, thus effectively voiding any and all rights you've had. Thus, you're at present lacking any property in the subsystem. You've already lost it. Without exception. We're of course quite willing to make amends in order to protect your somewhat outmoded pride - Returning the Skeelzanians that are presently our guests to your custody, should they wish for this to happen, seeing as we've no interest in keeping people here against their will - while at the same time organising relief effords for your ex-citizens - The Myrmidons - for which the barges will doubtlessly come in handy.

"Now, this options are of course not carved in stone. Given certain conditions, we're perfectly willing to return the barges to you - Though any remaining Skeelzanian presence in the subsystem would have to live with somewhat different conditions, insofar as we'd nowadays require the total removal of Skeelzanian military resources from such a presence, while at the same time keeping some of our own military resources within such assets - but frankly, the attitude you've shown so far isn't exactly encouraging such an exceedingly lenient course of action."

Another smile, a slightly ironic one, this time. "It's your choice, really. Though of course... I'm perfectly willing to listen to other voices." She leaned back, looking round the table, and facing her other guests. "I'm certainly not perfect. What would be your ideas as of how to deal with this situation? Now, that Skeelzania has already put all of your assets at risk with its policy of slavery and repression - I believe you've received the basic information, though Admiral Marghun here is surely willing to detail out some of the problems within the Skeelzanian society. If he so wishes."

Weyr

"Breasts? Ah... okay." Odd person. Though apparently not dangerous. Not as dangerous, anyway. DD 01/09 floated on, slowing down a little to keep its pace on a level with Miko Mido. "Well... Some humans have a very odd physiology... And even odder..." It hesitated, and would have turned red if it had had a biological body. "Erm... fetishes. TUS person... I believe she'd some very odd implants instead of normal organic matter, and she kind of... Embraced me. Not with her arms, though, sadly..."

Conference room
Daniel simply coughed, the Angstians would, of course, know the Midlonian side of things, especially now after this they were even more edgy than they were previously living next to the Skeelies, now after this...

"Well, I'd say removal from the sub system, order them to leave after this horrendous break of contract, quite as to why they deemed it necessary to arm their barges with so many warships around... a sucidle casus beli? The massive troubles this has caused, loss of trade-time, resupply, fuel... I think that each Neptunian power should be compensated in some way. Monetary, reasources, whatever, loss of time is a loss of money."

Do these people know anything? Serrat gave an exasperated sigh. “Obviously, none of you have the faintest idea what is really going on. Legal trivialities aside, the only aggressors in the subsystem are the Myrmidons. While, technically, they are our property, they are not under our control and we can not be held responsible for whatever damage they have caused.”

This provoked the first words out of Marghun since the conference began. Sitting indignantly upright, he addressed the Skeelzanian Count. “Do not think to pin your blunders on us, Skeelzanian. A state of war may exist between our two peoples, but that does not make us the villains in this business. We were quite specific in attacking only Imperial targets; we have violated no one’s sovereignty but your own, evil as it may be.”

“Say what you want, this business is still your fault, Myrmidon,” Serrat said with a dismissive wave. “My fellow Sentient Beings, if you must crucify someone then crucify these brash, violent caricatures. They are the only ones to have shown overtly aggressive tendencies within the subsystem, and it was they who opened fire, not Skeelzania. I remind you all that we have shown remarkable restraint, deciding not to immediately launch a retributive strike, which is our right as a sovereign nation. The only party with active warships in the immediate vicinity are the Myrmidons, not us.”

Before Marghun could respond to that, Sandra interjected with her opinions. Serrat listened with implacable calmness, merely folding his fingers on the table top. When she and the Midlonian diplomat had finished speaking, he waited a few moments before responding. “The reason why Skeelzanian control should be restored over the Barges, Ms. Mikogami, is quite simple. As they are still Skeelzanian property, we have the right to destroy them at our leisure. Not only would this deprive your new pets of a homestead, I would not be surprised if the Prince-Admiral decides to destroy the stolen ships as well. We will assert ourselves over the barges one way or another; whether it is peaceably or by us destroying them, along with every Myrmidon in the subsystem, is up to you.

“And as to your suggestions, Herr Diplomat…” Serrat leaned towards Daniel, giving the impression of a school principal looking down at an unruly student, “Skeelzania does not greatly care what troubles you have caused yourself by intervening in this incident. You will have no compensation, and neither will any other Neptune power. It was by your own interference that the situation reached its current level, and we will not be held accountable for your overeager meddling.”

The Pilot

“Of course I couldn’t arrange a meeting with him,” snorted Alexander. “He’s a god, not a Corporate Boss. In any case, we no longer follow his distorted and egotistical teachings. We are Spootologists, possessing of the whole truth and not whatever bits and pieces that have filtered down to the Solars.”

"At least we make attempt to ensure our own assets are secure instead of letting our own property threaten it, if the Myrmydons are, technically, your property, then you are, technically, responsible. This attitude is like me pulling out a gun and pointing it at you. My gun goes off and shoots you in the face. I claim this isn't my fault. Of course, since I claim the gun is my property, we then both have to ignore that I'm responsible from keeping it in good order to prevent such accidental discharges. If, that is, I get to get away with having strongly contributed to your being shot in the face." he took a swig from the "paperweight" and his eyes flitted around quickly.

"I'm sure neither side is foolish enough to ignore these so-called 'Legal trivialities' that could spell disaster for an already well-stretched government-body, yes? It is not as if either side has limitless power and reasources at their disposal, economies that can consume entire planets or not." he lent back in his chair slightly and sighed himself.
"I think you'll find that Sol is not your domain, and that this is an international set of agreements that you have violated, regardless of wether the Myrmadons are the agressors or no, the barges were armed with fighters, a massive breech of the Neptunian agreements that both sides signed, 'legal trivialities' are a massive part of this."

Watchers

Far from it all at the brake out of the incident a million glittering mechanical eyes eternally watched, as through their glassy gaze the controlled chaos of combat unfolded. Several dozen major assets were repositioned to take better view, the tethers of there long base line high resolution passive detection systems swinging around to gain the best possible signals like a thousand pendulums moving in perfect time.

The for want of a better term “shenanigans” that had been occurring around Neptune had been quite visible to the inhabitants of Megacity One, an ordinary example of which would be Lawrence Ashbrook. Lawrence Ashbrook was a 29 year old male entry level 2 technical supervisor of experimental femto engineering research and development (though so far this had entirely consisted of research) vats 32 to 38 of the GDT sub division Nanodynamics labs. Most of his day was spent in the glass walled supervisors office overlooking the suspended assembly vats surrounded by the dull throbbing haze of battle screens. Femto engineering was far from a “safe and normal job”. The researchers nearly entirely worked via the data sphere, the actual supervising AI, paid on a per contract basis actually handled any emergencies. Lawrence’s job for all its technological glamour was boring, as boring if not more so than being a night shift security guard in an orbital warehouse for non consumable ferrous metals and about as mentally challenging and that is why he spends 18 hours every day on the data spheres using the labs priority access endlessly browsing. His home is not much more than a cube with a shower unit and a bed in one of the modular dormitory blocks on the edge of the city sector where Nanodynamics placed its rather odd onion like complex. He is occasionally struck by depressing thoughts about the 4 megaton equivalent gravity implosion bomb built into the ceiling in the heart of the lab. Other than that Lawrence’s endless search for entertainment takes him to watch the latest mayhem in the outer system with glee as it does several million other citizen shareholders both organic and inorganic. Lawrence was an example of the ordinary, the control module in his cube like domiciles shower units water heater however was extraordinary.

Probabilities. All of them being endlessly projected and run through. The most probable lay in simple outcomes with little or no movement further than had been taken by it of little or no long term impact, however in the dark innards of a heavily encoded ultra dense energy state archive deep beneath an unobtrusive looking warehouse structure on the outskirts of the glimmering walled towers of Megacity One a file blinked slowly to life, not yet even so highly ranked as to draw the attention of the sentient who had authored it much less the system and the mind that drove it. It had no name as of yet simply a date. The AI had no name, nor would it ever have one more than a string of code attached to a file. It was paranoid, its thought processes alien to most of its “sane” brethren, it was also simply known in INT-SEC as control. Officially registered as nothing but a sub sentient multipurpose agent it was in actuality interacting with the data sphere and its real world assets through Lawrence’s water heater. The real “control” was 40 tons of energy state AI strapped into a garbage collector somewhere in the bowels of the MegaCity which interacted with its agents through a never ending series of odd points such as Lawrence’s water heater. The data from the official channels sourced from DA had bolstered its projections. Certain persons within DOFA received short notes and the gestalt itself a comprehensive presentation by one of controls “front agent” official INT-SEC synthetic intelligence’s.


ZMSF Phirex, ETA 28 minutes

Their passage was older than matter based sentiency, there intricacy and balance of design could shame the greatest cathedral of man, their structure was defined by the very universe itself, there harmonious movement could have been eternal.

The electrons appeared as they had for several billion years. The 80 kilograms of superheated super pressurised liquid carbon the electrons were a part of dropped into the chamber with the delicate fronds of precise grapnel fields pushing and pulling at it. Then something very unnatural indeed occurred. The “orbits” began to contract. The liquid carbons properties were becoming all in all rather odd. The atoms around the subject in question began to fade as on a scale smaller than there existence a dimensional membrane was poked like a toddler given a section of bubble wrap. Catastrophe reeked through the atomic system as it too began to fade and change.

A starships hull, more particularly a civilian starships hull. Strewn with odd protrusions and sensors on every scale, loaded with active drones from the size of a dust mote to 40 ton monsters that could repair an entire support frame. Its makeup a complex blend of alloys and ceramics some of whom’s component elements only existed due to the not too delicate intercession of intelligence. Set here and there were utility hatches that could be used for anything from a gigawatt LIDAR node to a gout of ablatives.

Zoom out and the shapely form of a DOFA market paradox class diplomatic vessel surrounded in the wash of distorted space time and sprays of splintered starlight like a twisted halo generated by a shock bubble drive running near its real space limit appears. Its vector is towards Neptune.

Inside its well appointed spaces a man in a white DOFA suit stood, his eyes darting over the cabin, his hands dancing through a few holo screens before dropping to his side. Warren Castle was a huge individual, not tall but it seemed his personal space expanded out on nothing but nervous energy. Prematurely grey his face was always thin and drawn his eyes unreadable as they flowed uneasily over the cabins occupants. Warren had a history of minor psychological complaints mostly countered by extensive augmentation and an iron will, however some of his little tendencies leaked out. The Market paradox class cruiser ZMSF Phirex was a veritable mobile embassy complete with a full analytical staff. Warren used to having to do his own work on a detached status found this new wealth of data somewhat unnerving as his new staff found him. There mission brief was simple, to liase with the Der Angstian authorities about this incident and asses just how badly the parties involved had been damaged. The words “neo barb” had been used in his briefing, causing Warren to wince every time it was repeated. Warren had been trained in an earlier more open era where even the worst of the universes denizens were seen as no more than a new market. The Incorporated state had however over the years and the weight of there experiences decided to be slightly more choosy with its clientele. Warren sat down and randomly snapping pencils arrayed on a table in front of him read the latest report again.

Earth Orbital Space

The data previously gathered from past encounters had not been allowed to simply rest unused. Some where within the core of MegaCity four a vast byzantine chemical manufactory was eating through nearly 2 megatons of processed comet remnant, the complex particulate it was producing flowing into a series of holding tanks that were moved swiftly to Luna class hauliers which when there cargo modules were full took up position beside a now detached element of the home fleet.

The Talkative Bunch

Hee... I like the Midlonians. Compared to them, our suggestions are quite tame.

I wouldn't call it 'Like', SCD 1/1. But they're considerably useful, right now.

Point taken.

Sandra wondered briefly how she was supposed to reply to Serrat - There were some legal opportunities, but these were less than desirable, due to the Myrmidons surely not wanting to be treated like 'things'.

Besides, using those would have meant to give in to the Skeelzanians, in a sense. To their ideology, anyway, and this was even less desirable.

"Well, my dear Count... The Myrmidons aren't bound by certain contracts, either. It's true, they've brought conflict to the system - And we've dealt with it. Just like we did with you, no less - The differece being that you were bound by a contract."

She wondered for a moment if Serrat was quite right in his mind, quickly scrolling through various fleet listings, presences, updates... Well, perhaps they'd missed the rather considerably assets about...

Anyway.

"Correction, Mister Serrat. They were Skeelzanian property-"

"And I'm sure you've noticed that it's quite chic for Skeelzanian property to cease being just that, meatboy."

"Errr... Yes." Sandra scowled briefly at SCD 1/1 and its rather uncalled for comment, then continued in Serrat's direction. "The question if they'll ever again be your property is the very question we're trying to answer, here. Though for know, the answer seems to be somewhat one-sided. And what your inbred aristocracy decides to do is, well, inevitable either way, isn't it? At the very least, you're giving us exactly this impression."

She smiled politely, the falseness of it not-so-quietly hidden in her words. "I've no doubt that you'll try to reassert yourself over the barges. It's after all what you're trying to do, right now. Success on the other hand... That depends entirely on you. Right now, given your inability to compromise-"

Well, bend over backwards. But anyway.

"-I fear you might not be as successful as you've imagined it."

A moment of silence, and Sandra took her time to sip from the spiced-up wine in front of her. "In any case. We've extended our hospitality to the Myrmidons. They're our guests, and believe me - We do not like it when someone threatens our guests. That they shot you, well.." Another smile, not beaming, more like the smile of a grandmother watching her grandchildren playing. Of course, it was still a false smile. "You were at war with them, and we managed to prevent further shooting before things got seriously nasty. We've forgiven them, and you're not exactly in a position to complain. So... Do you have any constructive ideas or apologies to offer, or do you have a few threats and insults in reserve before we can begin the serious part of the conversation?"

The Pilot

"Mhm..." There wasn't much Jiang could say. Well, at least she knew that the Skeelzanians were somewhat brainwas- Well, culturally screwed. And effectively so, too. "Well, that's unfortunate. I'm sure it'd have been interesting. Though... Is a god. Not was. So... It still exists, yes?" She smiled. "You see, even though you may not follow the demands of a deity doesn't mean that we aren't interested in talking with it, anyway."

Remained the question as of what to do with Alexander before handing him over. Screwing a little with his neurons was always a possibility, and a rather promising one at that - Sadly, it seemed rather unlikely that the Skeelzanians wouldn't think of this possibility and do the necessary analyses to figure it out.

Well, she'd see... There was still time.

ZMI

It's a quiet approach - And the locals appreciate it. Making unnecessary noise isn't appreciated, especially not given the present circumstances.

ZMI seems to think the same, which is yet another positive thing. That its allies don't quite live up to its own standards, well...

There's a bit of entangled chatter and talking-behind-some-peoples-back among the DA ships located at and around Neptune, but that's it.

Once the sphere's entered, orbital control takes over, contacting the arrival, assigning an approach vector, briefly getting a few non-sentient drones to do the standard sensor sweeps, the (In this instance) harmless tickling of active scans and sweeps over the ship's hull and into its interior taking perhaps a second or so.

Quick apologies by Sandra - A part of her, anyway - follow. The former was probably not exactly the warm welcome Warren had expected... But what matters is the present, and a bit of paranoia should be understandable, given the present situation and solar politics in general.

Subcraft-release and docking on Poseidon, basic courtesy and a drink are all pretty much anticipated. The interesting part will come later. In this case, it has relatively little to do with diplomacy.

Which might be the reason why it's the mind of the DEAT on Sight, Frederick Girard, waiting for Mr. Warren, and not a diplomat.

The Conference

“I still fail to see why we must apologize for your own errors.” While his posture remained unchanged, a detectable edge had crept into Serrat’s voice. The man was becoming irritated. “The Myrmidons were the instigators of this conflict, and would of surely destroyed or overcome the barges if you had not saw fit to meddle in Skeelzanian affairs. If you had only been content to remain on the sidelines, the fleet I arrived with would have dispatched the rebels out of hand and returned stability to the subsystem.

“But since you obviously have no sense of self-control, Der Angst and its allies became involved in this. And now it is up to us to end it, before you stick your hand down any more Chrix burrows.”

The Skeelzanian lurched forward onto the table coming to rest with an audible thump. One arm lay flat on the table top, the other bent at the elbow, finger accusingly pointed and Sandra Mikogami. “This is our only offer. You will render up the Myrmidons and whatever Skeelzanian personnel you have captured or currently ‘entertain.’ In return, we will relinquish control of the barges to Der Angst. We will also forgive any meddling in our internal affairs by any Neptune power.”

Slowly the count returned to his original position, shrugging slightly within his uniform. “If you find these terms unacceptable for whatever fabricated reason you come up with, this conference will end. Lieutenant Karolitz, and the Admiral, will return to the fleet. After that, I cannot say what will happen.”

Aboard the Barge

The bridge had become deathly still after Rei’s pronouncement. Herrman’s face had not changed from the dull-eyed expression he had worn for the entire exchange; if imminent death was any concern to him, he hid it well. The remaining Skeelzanians were not so implacable: all had braced themselves against their chairs, ready to leap into action. None had made a move for the 14mm service pistol at their hips, but a slight twinge of their trigger-fingers could be detected.

For about a minute the only sound in the room was the circulation unit, a low constant hum. Slowly, with impeccable dignity, the Skeelzanian officer nodded. “The results of a close quarter battle are, indeed, messy. No doubt you have snuck enough ordinances aboard to quickly end both our lives. Rei Osani, your might is greater than mine. I accept defeat; please, accept my belt as a token of submission.”

Herrman’s hands moved to the heavy leather belt around his waste, deftly unclasping the cast-steel buckle. With both hands extended, the Skeelzanian offered the strip of leather and metal to the Angstian woman. A fraction of a second later Herrman was spinning, the belt now gripped in one hand, its buckle on an impact course with the side of Rei’s face. His own life ended shortly thereafter, terminated by the Angstian micromissile.

The bridge crew, of course did not take this sitting down. Oblivious to the futility of it, to a man they leapt to their feet, drew their service pistols and opened fire. Slugs criss-crossed the room, striking drones, humanoids, and terminals. For the second time, the bridge plunged into darkness.

The Pilot

“The god of this system is still existent, though he has not directly interacted with his charges in…” Alexander rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Oh, two, three thousand years at the least. As I said, he isn’t a very good god.

“The God-King Skeelz, on the other hand, was much more responsible in his duties. Unfortunately for mankind, his corporeal form was shattered during the Spoot Wars, along with that of most other gods. His spirit still exists somewhere, but we have been unable to locate it. Presuming it is within this galaxy, of course.”

Neptune

-"Whoah! What was that!?"

-"FSP is doing a fucking fly over!!"

-"Steady, hold your fire. They're just trying to provoke us to shoot."

-"But Sir, they're so close, just a light second away, they would have no time to retaliate or defend themselves if we shot them now!"

-"I will personally shoot the first person who makes any action even vaguely aggressive!!" Admiral Schaefer stood up and glared at the people at the Helm. He walked over to the big screen and pointed with his hand. " Say that we fire a full salvo at them now. I agree that we would make huge damages. Say that we get the jackpot and destroys maybe 20 of those ships. What happens next?" He shifted his laser pointer upwards on the screen. "Here is a shitload of missiles that we loose focus on because we have to fight the FSP ships and here is a big mother from Brittmattia that also will be able to blast us to pieces, not to mention what the rest of the FSP fleet will be able to do with the rest of the ships that still very much outnumbers us. So far They are the aggressors. Lets try and keep it that way and only defend ourselves. Understood!!?"

He glared at everyone again and went back to his seat mumbling about trigger happy youths. He knew that in the event of a battle it would have been the right decision to strike at an enemy that exposed themselves in sucha a way. But he remembered his youth when small guys had came up to him and his friends insulting them and trying to get a fight while a big bunch of the small guys friends were standing just around the corner waiting for a reason to beat him up. He could see the small guys friends right now, looming out there, waiting for a reason to blast him to smithereens. He pressed a button. -"Release the hounds"

Hirokazu sighed. He could make jabs at the Skeelzanian position all day, but it really wouldn't help accelerate the conference. And, of course, the fact that Mikogami was right. This wasn't the Daily Show, after all.

He spoke again, now with a more softer tone.

"Now, Mr. Serrat. The Skeelzanians must recognize the fact that Neptune is not open space. There is a commonly accepted freedom in space, in which sovereignty is dictated by the rules aboard an individual ship. This freedom, whether fortunately or unfortunately, does not apply to the general sphere of Neptune. It is commonly accepted that the sphere of Neptune is governed by the Treaty of Poseidon. This planet's own international law, if you will. And according to this international law, and I quote, "Skeelzania's, Roania's and Midlonia's defensive means will be restricted to fixed weapon emplacements on their holdings", a provision which sensor evidence shows the Skeelzanian force was in violation of, given the presence of fighters which we believe to be carrying tactical nuclear weapons, given sensor evidence." He paused to hold up a folder containing printout after printout of detected weapon trajectories, element analysis- the works, really, straight from Tiburon Joint Command Neptune. "This is an action that effectively voids the right of the Skeelzanians to own Neptunian property, regardless of the conditions involved and regardless of who started the conflict- and this, to my knowledge, is not a forum to fix blame at an individual or a group of people but rather to settle a mutually beneficial peace between the Myrmidions and the Skeelzanians."

"Now, Mr. Serrat, Tiburon- and I only have the liberty to speak for my nation- is a peaceable nation in general. We do not seek a war where avoidable. However, in our effort for diplomacy, we require cooperation from the Skeelzanian government. And it is in this light that I demand an explanation for the presence of nuclear-armed fighters within the Skeelzanian territory of Neptune."

There were, of course, much he failed to add. That Tiburon was silently in complete support of the Myrmidions, for one, for freeing themselves from opression, and standing against a genocidal nation. That Tiburon was very much against the Skeelzanians in principle and in alliance- on a level similar to general aversion and near-hatred of Iraqstan or Prussia. However, given the particular climate of the room... it was wiser to omit- or at least delay- mention of this. For now, anyway.

The Talkative Bunch

"You don't. I would, however, like to see you apologize for yours. Oh, I noticed that you don't quite agree with the idea of contracts being binding... I do, though. Call it a clash of civilizations." Sandra smiled, quietly wondering when Miko Mido would arrive - There was a 150cm tall Octopus Solidus Giganticus plushy waiting behind her, two stiff front tentacles raised just above her head (Fortunately, it was waiting in a relatively dark spot, not quite clearly visible to the basic human eye).

"In any case... Your point is that you'd have preferred Karolitz here and anybody else on the barges being dead... Well, your choice, I guess. However, the realities are different. Deal.

"As far as your compromise goes..." Sandra didn't really seem to care about the 'Last Offer' bit. "Amost acceptable. Lets say... We'll offer any Skeelzanians and Myrmidons - on the Barges on elsewhere - to either rejoin your ranks, or to stay, if they want to. You're perfectly free to have observers present, of course - We've nothing to hide. And those who choose you, rather than us, will go with you. I'm fairly certain that the majority of your particular breed of human will choose to come with you. As far as the Myrmidons go, well..." She smiled. "We'll see, no? And I'm deeply sorry, but the public opinion doesn't really allow any other course of action, and we're not going to simply hand over your ex-slaves. As far as the rest of your ideas with regards to the barges goes, those terms are acceptable."

She hesitated for a moment, a very brief moment, leaving a little time for the words to sink in, before she continued. "Personally, I consider this a fair deal. I'm not quite certain what your opinion is, of course - But to put it bluntly: We wont send the Myrmidons to their doom. Though I believe that you might already have gathered this, with Admiral Marghun right here..."

The Barges

The pain was... Barely there, more an awareness of capillaries bursting under the pressure than actual pain.

Meh. Should've seen it coming.

Rei wondered for a moment how all of this would look for the drones who, unbothered by her choosen, organic limitations, could watch the unfolding events in so much greater detail.

Well, she'd been a machine before, so she could imagine it. The millimissile accelerating, forcing itself into the Lieutenant's skull...

The detonation, followed by a slowly spreading sphere of red mist, of bone fragments and gray mass while the Lieutenant collapsed, a sizeable fraction of his head blown off.

A few pieces of skull pierced her, but the wounds were harmless. Her dress was utterly ruined, though, sprayed with blood and brain.

Then there were shots, more seen than heard, but even that only for a moment, before the light went out.

For the (Outnumbered) drones on the bridge, the whole thing was rather less than serious. The pistols, though doubtlessly vastly more powerful than the weapons 'Normal' baseliners used, weren't really a threat to them. Sure, a few lucky shots could damage a few sensors or dent their armoured casings, but that was it - Their lives or, in the case of non-sentient ones, their functions, weren't really endangered.

The darkness was no problem, either. UV- and Infrared wavelengths gave plenty of information, and if nothing else helped, ultrasonic was another option, plus a number of slightly more exotic alternatives. In the end, the darkness was barely noticed, a mere footnote on later combat reports.

UV rifles opened fire, vaporising finger-and-fist-sized holes into heads and chests. Hard field emitters went into action, cutting humans to pieces and occasionally creating rather artful geometric forms, fitting the season. Effectors cut off nervous systems, flooded them with conflicting orders, stopped muscles - Specifically, the heart - and burned out whatever trasnmitted information inside the organic bodies. People simply stopped to breath, their pulses ceasing to exist. Insect-sized drones entered orifices and ensured disastrous internal damages. Microexplosives detonated and ripped faces apart.

Incoming shots dented casings, damaged a few sensors - Actually managing to almost blind one of the drones through what can only be described as extraordinary luck - but were usually foreseen and evaded - Damage to the bridge at large was worse - or slowed down by hard fields acting and diverting kinetic energy and momentum in the form of expanding shells of low-scate radiation along the bullets' paths.

In the end, the whole 'Skirmish' didn't take longer than one or two seconds after the first shots had been fired, and this only due to Rei's lazyness and in effect incorrect assessment of the Skeelzanians.

The scene itself was in essence repeated throughout the barge, with comparable results - Though in some cases, the drones actually resorted to non-lethal means of securing the barge, which resulted in a few dozen survivors - Among the proper Skeelzanians, that is. The Myrmidons were treated rather differently, and had (Usually) already been informed about the rebellion and the more recent events, which resulted in them, well, surviving.

Rei herself looked somewhat annoyed at the part of her body where half a minute earlier, before the light had gone off and on again, a leg of hers had been attached to her body.

"Bloody 14 millimetres," she muttered. "Will cost me a fortune to get a new one." She looked up, glaring accusingly at a nearby drone. "Your fields have been more effective before, you know."

The drone did the equivalent of a sigh, looking simultaneously apologetic and annoyed. "So have yours."

"MINE can't slow a bullet down to manageable velocities. I don't have a nuclear reactor inside me, you know. I have enough trouble to stop the bleeding... Help me up, I need a seat. Oh, and send a message to our units on the other barge - Secure it, by all means necessary. Attach a report about what has happened here, so they know why, too, or they will refuse our suggestion."

And after a few brief moments of discussion, critizism and suggestions, once more, a second or two of violence occured, this time on the second barge, before peace settled in, again. A bit of luck, there - Properly equipped Skeelzanians with PA and heavy weaponry, not to mention actual electronic warfare options, would have been rather more of a threat.

Now, crews were lacking... Though, with the already established corruption of the barges' systems, running them by way of provisional means really shouldn't be too hard.

The Pilot

"I see..." Jiang made a mental note to figure out a few more things. The Spoot system was too far away to get some serious stuff there - But hitching a ride and being dropped off twenty or so billions kilometers off would work. Not with a serious ship, of course - But a nice, small explorer unit, a subcraft rather than a ship, would do. "Existent where, exactly? Or approximately." She hesitated. "Though, given the lack of contact, I suppose you don't know... It's a god, after all, not a mortal, so you might have troubles locating him." Another moment of hesitation. "Oh... I suppose you're always searching for Skeelz spirit, then, I take it? Oh, and it looks like you're soon going to be 'repatriated'... I hope they don't mind you parking your fighter on Poseidon. They might consider it treason, given that you gave us some intelligence options." Jiang grinned. "But I'm sure they'll understand."

Hum. Really. I'd love some archeology there...

The Talkative Bunch

Sandra cringed inwardly when she was informed about what had happened on the barges. Well. Didn't really gun for a peaceful end, anyway, I suppose. Still, annoying... At least they shot first, and we're supposedly more likely to be believed than the Skeelzanians. Still not according to plan. Stupid Rei.

Translunar space, Megacity three,

ZMSF assets assigned to the incident in earth orbital space positively buzzed for all to see as the nimble medium sized Luna class freighters carrying the matt black adaptive ZMSF colours one by one took up there positions in an ever growing cloud. If one looked closely at the freighters one would see a very large number of cargo modules filled with barrels rated for 100 kilograms with the stud of a local guidance and RCS module tacked onto end one would also notice the lack of FTL transit drive modules. The surrounding escort was odd too in that in ever greater numbers it carried vessels with a strictly insystem logistical capacity.

The mind of the industrial plant devouring the comet wasn’t all that bright and to be honest it didn’t need to be. Mostly it on the social scale of the SI commune was on a very low rung indeed, barely passing the perquisites for citizenship. Given that its human equivalent would have been probably enjoying the marvellously crass stench of grease and sugar filled drinks a picture is painted. The process of eating the comet wasn’t overly efficient, on the other hand given the mass of the comet it didn’t have to be. This SI was for all intents and purposes chewing the cud and feeling happy about doing so and as it finished another module load of barrels it felt satisfaction where one of its more capable brethren would have felt disgust. By the time it was done would there would be a great great number of barrels


Warren

Warrens mind was a mess, and this is perhaps why he was so effective a “troubleshooting” diplomat. While you could tell the intentions of the incorporated state from general analysis and while the most brilliantly augmented diplomat or diplomatic agent software could formally present these intentions with Warren as a representative you may as well have tried to predict the spontaneous existence of toast. Warren went through life with his mind sitting in a soup of targeted neural stimulants and represents. In an earlier age he would have spent his life unable to seem even vaguely capable of acting in normal society and could have looked forward to a life in a rubber room.

While the state could have just pumped him full of augments and implants there was so little of Warren to begin with that all that would have been created was an almost sub sentient amalgam with the emotional content of a haddock. Instead Warrens inherent insanity was accepted as a part of Warren and the oversized gland implanted where his secondary cortical stack would have ordinarily been placed regulated it to an extent where he at least appeared to operate in a sane manner if to his own set of values, another series of augmentations in an amount that would have made a drop marine queasy to contemplate allowed Warren to actually operate as a member of society. These implants had nothing whatsoever to do with making warren faster stronger or more capable of takeing 30 G turns in an insertion grav sled and everything to do with trying to stop him quite literally deciding that it was a good idea to gnaw on the carpet. Over the years Warrens more conventional personality had grown but it was still far from human society based standard. Warren was as close to a human body with a truly non standard mind set as the gestalt would trust in his position. His rather odd quirks also made him an excellent choice when dealing with psionics, adepts, empaths, or any of the other odd occurrences that filled the multiverse to the companies eternal ire. Originally Warrens skill’s in fooling just plain old fashioned special analysis linked to in depth real time monitoring had brought him to attention, but it was his detached alien outlook on problems that had time and again been found useful.

Then there was his outward appearance, the DOFA suit sat for all the efforts of a bevy of tailor agents ill on his frame, in comparison to Fredrick Girads almost uncaring suave quasi military appearance Warren was a mess and in spite of all his medication was a ball of neurotic energy that seemed to positively bounce of the walls, he also asked questions like a machine gun about the slightest innocuous things that had been outside the reports and briefings he had been issued with little or no care to civility. In his left hand he held a small heavily shielded QE encoded data slate. His right pointed like a toddlers at every thing he saw as he blurted out another question.

While his voice may have been simplistic in observing the eyes you would note they never left Frederick’s face for more than the briefest moment, even if it was rather futile to try to analyse an avatar no matter how expressive. As the actual tone became more business like however the secondary questions seemed to fade away in part as Warrens internal little battles briefly subsided.

“So how well does this carpet take a red wine stain? While the Gestalt has made it public knowledge that the states attitude towards the Skeelzanians is essentially unchanged mmm such a nice shade of white do you know my uncle had a cat that colour, they feel that options other than the basic ah forceful response though this seems to be all the Skeelzanians respect may have been available. Unfortunately given ah present circumstances aboard the barges and the projected responses mmm a nice Danslav orbital cheese would go well with that marvellous things made in zero g you know do you have any? They always remind me of poodles, this is um unlikely and I find myself in the position to offer you a certain options. While the our first ah reaction to Skeelzanians emergence into sol was far from a success we did manage in our prior encounter to capture a substantial amount of there basic materials. As such given certain eccentricities with there vessel design and though it is outside my own field of expertise.”

At this point Warren pauses, searches through his pockets and stares at some rather gaudily marked cards.

“mmm I need another four coupons for a scale model crispy crunchy breakfast tuna flakes company Mr fandoogle the happy people squirrel mmm I don’t even LIKE breakfast tuna, mm eccentricities in there operational tactics the gestalt saw fit to start a project engineer a counter to there “goo”.

A brief breath as he looks around once more in a move almost reminiscent of a Dalek before once more lets loose with his verbal bombardment.

“Several projects were tried but the most successful we believe was a targeted catalytic poison hopefully with the same effect as cyanide has upon our own frail carbon based processes no matter how ah fortified, mm bricks. The full production notes I have been instructed to give to you, you know your sunglasses reflect that plant simply marvellously, do you know there reflective value?
The Gestalt has also as you are no doubt aware instructed the ZMSF to commence ah certain operations in earth orbit.”

Another almost panted breath followed by a darting hand and a swallow.

“In point of fact these operations are to carry a large operational quantity of the material should you agree and it should be available for actual operational scale testing shortly. Of course adaptations and changes to there hull sheathing could invalidate the concept and we still have no idea outside projections of the actual effect but given mmm marvellous lighting, we do hope it will at the very least upon exposure render, given there lack of a preponderance of conventional point defences, something of an advantage. While military support in this ah theatre would seem both ill advised and utterly superfluous we would offer that ah a technical support would be most useful and that this would allow us to repay your already most generous provisions of streams of new data on the Skeelzanians”



Martian High Orbit

Glittering mountains of synthetic alloys drifted in neat lines, thousands of lights twinkling along there as yet pristine surfaces from which in the distance the nearest one of there brethren was a mottled speck to the naked eye. Surfaces broken by spindly mounds of odd machinery that if stared at would seem to twist the eye as they twisted local space, endless hatches and an odd huge brutally clean lined turret. These were no in system vessels, these were true starships and they were no longer simply sitting idle. Like clouds of chaff masses of drones were now almost hastily spilling from them and making runs towards support stations for last minute spares. Warship ship minds and before them there organic officers had long ago learned that you can never have enough spares. A now semi unofficial race was on to take the most valuable from the orbiting warehouses though it would forever be a mystery just what the Broadsword class heavy cruiser ZMSF Sandagainstthegrain did with 32,000 class III executive Hally Hon Sports inc. exercise bikes. The crew would never speak of it but in later years but when ever the words bicycle and honey were said in passing conversation they would be noted to wince.

The Conference

“Your sensors are wrong, Mr. Tomayama. As previously stated, the fighters aboard the barges are not carrying nuclear weapons, nor are there such ordinances stored aboard. Unless your facilities are even weaker than we previously imagined, the fighters posed no significant threat to you. And frankl,y Mr. Tomayama, I do not take kindly to having falsehoods and intelligence failings of your own creation thrown at my feet with a triumphant ‘Ha HA!’

“Nor do I like foreign powers taking it upon themselves to dictate peace terms to a conflict of which they have no part. I for the umpteenth time repeat that your meddling in our affairs is unwarranted and quite offensive, but fortunately my leaders have the restraint to keep from responding militarily. The public opinion of Tibourn or any other nation will be allowed no influence over Skeelzanian policy. Sorry to disappoint your pollsters, but you’ll have to settle for whatever we decide to do. Spin the facts however the bloody hell you want to, it’s irrelevant to us.”

Serrat settled back into his chair, again concentrating on Sandra. “As for you, Ms. Mikogami, I would appreciate if you would not encourage our men to desert. Such an action would likely be deemed hostile by our leadership; just because you’ve already done enough to start a war five times over doesn’t give you the right to keep doing it.

“Since you obviously will not accept anything short of our complete submission, I see no point in continuing this conference. I came here in an attempt to reach a peaceful solution to a problem that was not caused by us. Unfortunately, your own pride and hubris blinded you to reality; not only did you throw slander after slander against us, you continued in your original meddling which gave rise to this entire situation.

“Now I must return to my leaders and report that the Solars are not as wise and intelligent as we once thought. They are only a silly people, happy to do whatever pleases their short-sighted whims and totally ignorant of the fact that their actions may have dire consequences. I can only promise you that no harm will come to your own subjects, as long as they remain within their own territories. We will allow no more interference in our affairs. Ladies, gentleman, and non-sentients, I bid you good day.”

The Skeelzanian count quickly rose from his seat, favoring the table with a short bow of the torso. Spinning on his heel, he exited the room at a steady pace, quickly followed by the Lieutenant. As they proceeded to their chambers to pick up von Hrolzenburg, Serrat transmitted a terse statement to the Prince via a concealed communicator. The sub-etha beam conveyed only that the conference had failed on all accounts and that preparations should be made for his arrival.

Since his dismissal, von Hrolzenburg had spent most of his time sulking in his own chambers, brooding on the whole series of disasters that had plagued his career. When Serrat arrived, he could take some pleasure in the fact that it was evident that the count had failed in his mission. “I guess the vaunted Casanovas of Mahon don’t have such a hold over the ladies after all. Don’t think I didn’t notice that the room was full of them.”

“We Casanovas usually make use of copious amounts of alcohol, something not available to me in this situation,” replied Serrat dryly. “Gather up your things, we’re returning to the Tchernobog.”

“Bugger that,” snorted von Hrolzenburg. “I’m returning to the Narvik. I might be relieved of my command but my belongings are still aboard the Barge.”

The count shrugged. “Very well. Though bear in mind you are expected to report to the flagship ASAP, for transportation back to Skeelzania. I do not think there will be another ship coming this way for quite some time.” Serrat glanced over his shoulder, nailing Lieutenant Karolitz to the spot. “What about you, Lieutenant? Any family heirlooms you need to pick up? I’m sure you noticed I was forced to give up your command.”

“N-no, I have everything I need here, m’lord.” Karolitz managed to fidget and stand at attention simultaneously, something not easily done. “I will accompany your lordship to the Tchernobog.”

“Good. Come with me then. My shuttle has room for us both.”

After understandably brief farewells with the docking program, and the retrieval of one Lieutenant Alexander Bruchik (who brusquely thanked Jiang for the discussion), the two Skeelzanian shuttles left Poseidon, one pursuing a course towards the fleet, the other heading for the barges. However, due to relative positions, both craft would follow nearly parallel courses at the beginning.

A short time before

“Looks like they’re making their move. Picking up gunshots and detonations within the hull.”

Aichis gave a short sigh, relieved the tedium had ended. “Very well. All squads, begin infiltration. Try and contact the Solars as soon as possible. Move out!” Flipping from the regimental circuit to squad, he took personal control of his own retinue of Myrmidon warriors. “Rostov, blow the charges.”

The former slave didn’t bother to reply, instead opting to simply trigger the improvised cutting device. Originally the warhead of a Phalanx-type missile, it had been looted from the battleship’s armory. Now, with some modifications, it blasted through the thin armor of the barge, allowing Aichis and his men to leap inside. Finally doing what we were tasked to do, the near-elf thought.

It had been Admiral Marghun’s idea to load a Nemesis-class battleship full of marines, launch it through hyperspace and drive it into one of the barges. The Myrmidons’ frame had been increased in size so that it was almost equal with that of a Skeelzanian; after all, what’s the point of breeding a slave race if they’re physically less capable than their masters? This allowed them to make use of the Extra Spatial Combat Suit (called “Essex” by its owners, past and present) whose Skeelzanian owners were unavailable.

Now, encased in two-hundred pounds of armor and life-support equipment, the Myrmidon marines swarmed through the blasted gaps and into the barge. Aichis and his men landed in some sort of storage room, now sealed after the detection of the hull breach. A few Skeelzanians and, unfortunately, about three dozen guarded Myrmidons were its previous occupants; they were spending most of their time expiring in the rapidly disappearing atmosphere.

Pushing his way through the googly-eyed corpses, Aichis located the room’s internal lock, slipping through and into a lighted corridor. A Skeelzanian, pistol drawn but facing the other way, glanced over his shoulder and saw the metal tower. Aichis lit him up with a gust from his hand torch before taking a proper survey. One of his mates came through the lock behind him, barely noting the smoldering corpse a few feet away. “Where to now, leader? I reckon the Solars would be where the Skeelzie commander is, wherever that be.”

“Reckon your right,” Aichis replied. “Guess we best find a directory and make our way to the- ” Both near-elves whirled about, just in time to see a drone, hovering a few feet off the ground, glide through an intersection and out of sight. “Skeelzanians don’t use drones,” the marine commander remarked. “Bet that’s a Solar.” A few bites of his teeth and he was on the loudspeaker circuit. “Attention citizen of the Solar System, I am Aichis, commander of the Myrmidon Marines aboard this barge. I carry orders from Admiral Marghun himself, instructing we marines to wrest this barge from Skeelzanian control. We come in peace.”

Back to the present

The flight out was, understandably, quiet. Serrat, Alexander, and Karolitz all sat within the shuttle’s passenger lounge, more or less facing one another. The count, miffed that the Solars had seen fit to keep their heads up their collective asses, silently brooded on what mad course the Prince was going to take in response. Karolitz, still terrified of the count and having nothing in common with the pilot (he might be an ‘officer’, but who wasn’t in the Fighter Corps?), sat rigid in his seat. Alexander was content to simply sample the count’s brandy and wonder how long he’d be in confinement.

A light over the door leading to the cockpit went from ‘off’ to ‘green’, accompanied by a voice crackling over the intercom. “Lord Serrat, there seems to be activity on the Narvik. I think you should come see.” Irritated, Serrat unbuckled himself and stepped into the cockpit.

The shuttle, following a few hundred feet behind the one carrying von Hrolzenburg, was preparing to overpass the Narvik. Serrat had seen the damage caused by the ramming, with the rebel battleship firmly skewered inside the barge. For the most part the situation was unchanged, except for the fact that there were several new holes in the barge’s armor, and that several dozen suited-up Myrmidons were swarming inside. “Something’s changed within the barge,” Serrat noted. “The rebels wouldn’t move unless they thought they could do so without angering their new hosts. Increase throttle to full, get us to the fleet as fast as possible.”

Eager to comply, the pilot opened the dump on the antimatter engine, shooting the shuttle past von Hrolzenburg’s own craft. Annoyed, the kleinadmiral ordered his pilot to ignore the count and continue hailing the Narvik. They had been doing so almost since they left Poseidon, but still no response was heard.

SKZ Tchernobog

Prince Berkhan idly tapped his chin, producing an irritating metal klink. He stood alone on the command-balcony, high above the control pit that took up most of the bridge’s space. Within it his crew stood (or rather sat) ready, waiting for orders. “Interesting,” he rasped.

The focus of Berkhan’s attention was the extra-large vidscreen that dominated the forward wall. The Tchernobog, being a late-production type Monolith, had somewhat better sensors than most Skeelzanian ships. These were currently fixed on the barge Narvik, specifically the activity around the implanted battleship. “The Elves do seem busy,” he mused. “Switch focus to the outbound shuttle.”

The image jumped, flicking from the barge to a head-on shot of the shuttle, apparently fleeing towards the Skeelzanian fleet at full power. “That would be our Count. Flag Officer Mormont! Rally your ships, and dispatch three cruisers on an intercept course with that shuttle. They are to recover it and immediately jump to the rendezvous. All other craft are to prepare to engage Myrmidon forces any only Myrmidon forces unless I specifically order otherwise. Gunney, give me a lock on the Narvik.”

Within moments, three Nemesis battleships had powered up their engines and broken away from the fleet. Carefully using antimatter bursts, they streaked into the Neptunian sphere, intent on picking up the fleeing shuttle craft. Behind them, the massive guns of the Skeelzanian fleet came to bear. Despite appearing overly-sized behemoths (actually necessary given Skeelzanian miniaturization ability), the Tchernobog’s two turrets were locked on in less than thirty seconds.

“Target is acquired, my Lord Prince,” reported the gunnery officer. “What we believe to be the rebel flagship, formerly his Imperial Majesty’s ship the Achilles.”

“Very well then,” came the reply. “Fire.”

Solomon

Still oblivious of the events in Neptune the Vizeadmiral smiled as he waited for an answer for his question.


Outside Neptune

-"We get energy signals on our scanners. There is definitely things going off down there." The sergeant barked out the words as drop of sweat trickled down his forehead. This was it. What would happen now? Their small contignent were extremely outnumbered and outgunned. Admiral Schaefer nodded with a grim smile.

-"Ok, Go for the fold. Detonate the hounds behind us. We've seen enough and in a few seconds this space will probably be a gauntlet and I would think that quite a few of the people around here are extremely eager to accidentily fire at a peaceful scientific fleet." He gave the order and the fleet sped towards the folds they opened earlier leaving in there wake the Hounds; Six 10-megaton nuclear charges that drifted out from the cloud that was left by the ships as they made their move.

3, 2, 1, Detonation! the countdown was made in milliseconds and left six quickly expanding micro stars like huge fireworks that shredded the growing cloud that was all that was left behind by the ships.

OOC: Happy New Years everybody!

"Yes," Miko nodded, colouring slightly. "But I'm sure you'll have better luck next time!" She resisted the urge to pat the drone on his shell. She didn't want to scare him, although she was quite sure she couldn't scare him more than someone with armour-damaging breasts already had. How ... she shivers. "It's not like everyone has an armoured cleavage..."

Warren

White corridors, a few plants, kittens, a magpie, a few minis that were either harmless insects or drones - Or both - and in the middle, a 178cm tall being standing so straight he could just as well have been a statue.

A vaguely SS-resembling 'Uniform' of matt black, black, mirrored sunglasses, short, black hair, pale, almost white skin and a wide grin - Frederick Girard, Mind of the Strategic Engagement Unit DEAT on Sight, wasn't exactly taking himself or his somewhat exaggerated appearance serious.

Especially not his utterly pointless and redundant earpiece. The fact that certain things had developed further over the past ninety years didn't seem to disturb him all that much.

On the plus side, this meant that he wasn't particularly disturbed by Mr. Warren's appearance, either. Mr. Warren's 'attitude' on the other hand...

Eventually, Frederick Girard decided to just ignore the less relevant parts of the conversation and pretended that Mr. Warren was, in fact, an almost normal person... Only occasionally - And very discreetly - probing his mind, something he wouldn't usually have done, but in this case he was somewhat curious... How this mind worked, what gave it its unique characteristics...

Carefully of course, as he wasn't about to offend a visiting diplomat, and without really being out for gathering information - Memories - but simply to experience the feel of this person.

Needless to say, the feel was considerably odd (Though not utterly alien. There were certain substances available on the market...).

"Available, yes, although - This way, please - the problem is that it wouldn't change anything - To your left. No, left. Left. Right, left. There… – neither may our present course of action, of course, but there’s at least some chance. Besides, giving in would just encourage them – And others – to continue with their frankly unacceptable policies, esp. with regards to sol.

“As far as your newly developed counters are concerned-“ Frederick paused, mirrored glasses reflecting Warren’s image back to himself. “Certainly worth a try, I guess, though it really would be your thing to do, not ours. Especially seeing as you’ve delveloped it and are thus supposedly having a somewhat greater expertise with it. Likewise, I’d be rather hesistant of adopting new tactics within our rather complete tactical paradigms – Not at such a time, anyway.

“Though I must admit that I have my own doubts regarding it – Space combat tends to be fast. Not exactly seconds, between comparable entities, but still… Thoguh of course, everything that might give an advantage is worth it, I guess.”

“So,” a fraction of a second passed, and clearance was acquired. “Yes, such a transfer would be advisable and, indeed, be supported by us. And as far as the information we gave you is concerned – It’s as useful to us as it is for you, so there’s hardly a need to compensate. Oh, and the sunglasses…” He grinned, looking through the mirrored glasses at Mr. Warren, in what could only be described as a somewhat missguided attempt at looking ‘cool’, “Fifty percent.”

Another few steps. “Oh, and here we are.”

The room was, for all intends and purposes, near-identical to the one the Skeelzanian pilot had been ‘Interrogated’ in, the only difference being that it was, in fact, empty.

“Please, have a seat.”

The Talkative Bunch

“Well, I wouldn’t call it complete submission… “ Sandra sighed, watching Serrat leaving the room, and looked at Larissa. “Nonetheless, I guess that’s it.”

“Time for the nuking.” SCD 1/1 added. ‘Non-sentient’ indeed. Fuckers.”

“Now, now, they might still just leave…”

“Yeah, and I’m a rectangle.”

“Well, you could be-“

“… Just shut up.”

“In any case…” Sandra turned from SCD 1/1 and faced the other participants. “If you’re interested, we’ve a considerably interesting transcript of a conversation with a Skeelzanian pilot. You might be interested to learn more about their mindset – If only to see your prejudices confirmed.” She grinned in the Midlonian’s direction. “Otherwise, I believe that things might get rather hot here, soon. You might also want to inform your respective superiors – Or inferiors – about this.”

The Barges

Hullbreech detected. Someone’s blowing up some stuff.

What do we have down there?

Ummm… Little.

Well, great. I’ll go and check it out.

A minute just to reach the place, flGCD 12/34 accompanied by its personal entourage of microdrones- and missiles, covering, searching every passageway it might cross, watching and scouting, just to be sure that everything’s safe.

Execution had been somewhat sloppy – A few survivors here and there, they hadn’t been as careful as intended – but in the end, it had worked, and what remained was a mop-up of little consequence (And indeed, a mop-up they had basically done, by now).

Contact. A microdrone, no larger than a bumblebee, retreats, while the flGCD follows up, glancing at the objects of its interest before vanishing behind a wall.

Full power armour, full armaments…

Shit. For once a foe it has to take serious.

It checks its missile arsenal. The smallest ones will be of little use, so it eventually selects a few largers ones – the yields should be appropri-

Then it heard the message.

“Attention citizen of the Solar System, I am Aichis, commander of the Myrmidon Marines aboard this barge. I carry orders from Admiral Marghun himself, instructing we marines to wrest this barge from Skeelzanian control. We come in peace.”

A quick pause, some thinking – Fake or not? followed by a quick sensor sweep.

Nope. Myrmidons.

A few missiles showed up, floating in the air while moving only fractionally and very, very slowly, followed by the drone itself, eventually facing the Myrmidons – Which it supposed were about as heavily armoured as itself – rising fractionally in the air until it was on eye level with what to it were essentially giants.

“Wresting control of the baerges from the Skeelzanians? Coming in peace? Something doesn’t add up here, I think… But anyway, as you might have noticed, you’re about a minute late… You wont find many Skeelzanian survivors on this – Or the second – barge, and those who have survived are hardly in control. Or conscious, come to think of it.

“Though, I suspect that you might be interested in visiting the individual in charge here, and/ or the bridge, yes? It looks like things are slowly becoming interesting – That is, the shooting is about to begin – so you might be in a bit of a hurry. Mind following me? Rei might give you nominal command, too… Well, later, possibly.”

Outside Narvik

Hrolzenburg was, of course, watched.

In fact, he and his shuttle were watched with considerable detail, by a few hundred different sensors, entities – You name it. The now-dead lieutenant hadn’t had the time to reply, his lifetime being a little too short for this, and doing the necessary adjustments to communicate by way of the Skeelzanian equipment had actually been a bit of a pain, taking a minute or two.

Well, now it worked, and with the voices of the bridge’s crew being sort of – Quality was lacking, but it should do for a little while – simulated, based on recorded samples taken while the drones had been on the bridge, the hail was eventually answered, a ‘Fucking Solars’ indicating some internal troubles included.

Next to the shuttle bay, an intervention team was already waiting. Inside the bay, microcombatants were hiding. And a little away from the shuttle, the TEU Now you will Pay was already running the hard field emitters on standby – Just in case that someone figured it out and tried a kamikaze.

New Year’s Fireworks

Movements are detected by the drones launched earlier, surrounding the fleet in a distance from ~ 1 to ~ 10 lightseconds.

Guns, energies, drives, movement to enter the Neptunian sphere.

Information is relayed back, and a few PD drones – Essentially space fighters – accelerate in the direction of the Skeelzanians. They’re utterly useless when one wants to assault capships directly, of course (Well, they could carry heavy ordinance, but in this case, they don’t), but that’s not their point. Their point is merely to provide some protection for the – By now rather erratically moving – recon- and surveillance drones nearby, to keep them alive for a little longer – To keep the information flowing.

Effector assaults would of course be pointless – The drones don’t have the resources necessary to pull off such an assault against capital opponents – so they aren’t even tried (Thus also avoiding the risk of providing the – For now still potential - enemy with free information), but there’s something else they can try while the Skeelzanians are presumably in the process of sending out fighters or using lighter capship weaponry to take out the pesky little buggers.

Specifically, they can extend fields – And they’ve done so for a considerable time. Ordinance delivered through this field is detected, information about it – Its velocity, yield, direction and so on – can be relayed back to Neptune via low-bitrate instantaneous QEs. Text only, of course, but it’s sufficient.

And this is exactly what is done.

On board of the Achilles, Katrin turns to the officer in charge, now, that Marghun is (Temporarily) gone, smiling innocently, only her tail betraying her nervousness. “We’re – You’re apparently shot at. I believe the comp-“

She’s quite correct. The first DA ships are already providing the information necessary to define a course for evasive action, suggesting the next few moves, and wishing good luck.

“One AU off… We’ve five-hundred seconds. More than enough time to get out of their firing line, I guess. Until they get closer, anyway.”

On Poseidon, Frederick Girard curses. “I’m sorry, Mr. Warren… I believe I’m now required elsewhere. If you’d like to wait for a minute – I’ll arrange something appropriate to keep in contact.”

A moment later, Frederick Giraud’s facial expressions become utterly neutral, half dead – If pleasantly dead – while his mind is transferred to the DEAT on Sight. Meanwhile, subsentient algorithms on Poseidon produce an abstract of his mind, to be implanted within a minute or so.

In space, discussions rage.

<SEU DEAT on Sight> So?
<SEU Act on Instinct> They’re firing from one AU off. We’ve more than enough time to evade – Even if our local spies are eliminated by them, which I suppose will take some time, we’d still have plenty of reconnaissance inside the sphere – but over this distance…
<SEU DEAT on Sight> We’d hit them, but at the beamspread we’d have, it’d be little more than a tickle, no matter the weapon.
<TEU Hellmarch> Quite. Of course, we can still pull off Bombgraser fire – We’d be able to hit them at minimal beamspread – but they’re moving. They might not have our reconnaissance & surveillance options, but hitting them would be like a lottery, and we’d presumably get, ummm… One hit in a thousand? If we’re really lucky.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Wonderful. So… They’re little of a threat, so long as they’re staying out, but we can’t actually hope to hit them ourselves.
<TEU Iron Man> Well, we could try psychological warfare. Fire a few bombgrasers, convince them that we’re a threat to them, regardless where they are, and they’ll HS-jump closer.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Pft. They’re not that stupid/ suicidal – I think they aren’t, anyway – I suppose that they’re trying to take out the rebels – It’s vital for them, they simply cannot allow them to survive – and the smartest way to do that – Once extremely-long-range fire is proven ineffective – is to jump close to them, fire like stupid, and then jump out. They’ll know that their losses will be considerable, but they’ll have eliminated a rather vital threat to their ‘Empire’.
<SEU Act on Instinct> I agree. This still doesn’t leave us with many options – We didn’t think that they could fire from this far out. And if we’re moving towards them, they can either jump out of the way or – Worse – Jump in and get the Myrmidons.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Wuss. But I fear I have to agree with you, this once. We’ll have to hope for them to make a mistake – We can of course move a considerable fraction of our forces to them, and hope for our orbital installations to do the job here, but we’d give away a number of advantages. Which equals us suffering heavier losses than necessary.
<TEU Zinnsoldat> Well. We could get someone else to do it… Get them mad and have them jump in.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Mhm. But who?

While discussions raged, the space around Neptune looked reasonably interesting – There were a few thousand bombgrasers and smallish orbital weapons platforms, mixed with comparable amounts of recon/ surveillance drones, and a considerable number of ships (Though the Angstian ships alone would numerically only be roughly equal to the Skeelzanians, with less volume) which made the inner sphere a rather dangerous area to go in when one had hostile intentions. Of course, there were still limits – Lightspeed lag, only a fraction of this assets being capable of engaging a nearby target (What with Neptune being a notable obstacle for guns) and the likes – but still… Of course, a lot of things also depended on the Skeelzanian ships’ ability to take damage without breaking down. All in all, to the Angszian combatants it looked as if they’d be capable of eliminating the majority of the Skeelzanian fleet – But the Myrmidon fleet would be gone as well. Granted, evacuation had progressed nicely… But it was hardly a perfect scenario. Besides, there was also the risk of suffering some nasty surprise, which worried many a mind.

More bombgrasers were seeded, and information was exchanged – Massively with FSP and Britmattia, the latter being asked about its own opinion rgarding the matter and how to proceed, considerably with Largent and Weyr, sufficient with the rest – and what would come next would be for the future to show.

Time since the beginning of the engagement: Roughly half a minute.

Vegana

The Disciplinarian blinked, checking the information its remote drones gave it, incoming radiation, its sources, its spreading… and eventually startet to giggle. A few copies of the sensor logs were made – it muttered breifly about the ‘Balless Veganans’ and eventually sent copies of the sensor logs, together with a detailed analysis, to various media agencies.

Scientists with sixty-megatons of ordinance indeed.

Weyr

“I… Hope so.” DD 01/09 made sure that its machine-self showed no emotions whatsoever – Which, contrary to popular opinion, was rather hard, which was one of the reason for its failure to succeed – “And yes… It was the first case I’ve witnessed. Just hoping it doesn’t become a trend.” It looked briefly at Miko Mido, though not exactly at her face. “I don’t suppose you’d need it…” then it turned again, somewhat embarrassed. “Erm… Nevermind.”

Hirokazu sighed, responding before Serrat left. "You misunderstand me. I said specifically that we believe that the Skeelzanian fighters were equipped with such weapons based on sensor evidence, not that we have confirmed such reports. We are reviewing the sensor evidence thoroughly, but we have not come to any final conclusions. The presence of fighters was the main point, a point which violates the treaty itself. It's not a question of the safety of Tiburon Neptune, which is quite secure, thankyouverymuch. Which brings me to the second point- the conflict between the Skeelzanians and the Myrmidions ceases to be a conflict when it violates Neptunian space and Neptunian treaties. I'm not sure how many times I need to repeat myself for this to sink in."

Hirokazu chuckled slightly as Serrat stormed from the room. Nothing too surprising. He slumped back in his seat, smiled, and mused quietly, "As if the previous events weren't evidence enough?"

The Talkative Bunch
Daniel simply twitched slightly as they left, then smiled and twitched slightly again. “Yes, that transcript would be lovely” he smiled and smoothed out his clothing a little. “Well, I suppose that concludes all this, hrm? Not much point in staying, unless anybody else has something to say?”

“Rogue” Trader, Spirit

The silhouette broke slightly into a grin, it then leaned forward, and the change from darkness to light was astounding, nearly the whole of the… person was metallic, heavily augmented his teeth shone.
“Grab it.” It clicked.

The ship moved steadily and began to pick up speed gently at first, then quicker as it began to chase the small diplomatic craft, it was fast, quite fast, it impressed the captain a little. “Ok, reel it in.” he clinked and whirred as he looked at one of the crewmen with glowing red eyes. The crewman, his back to him merely nodded and began to punch some buttons on a console; the chain reaction began from the electrical impulse of the buttons the process took just a few seconds, panels popped open from the ship, the chrome of the innards almost sparkled compared to the dull black of the superstructure.

The pod slid out gently from the hull and clacked to face the diplomatic craft, the spikes stuck out of the ends of the dozen or so tubes, with a clunk and a shudder only heard on the inside of the Spirit one of the lances shot out and connected with the craft.
“Primary spike deployed” chimed the crewman as he stared intently at his screen, it being one of the few sources of light on the bridge. “Pulsing now” he mumbled as he hit another button, causing a flash of the EMP to thunder through the craft, hopefully killing it, however, to make sure several more lances were fired into the craft. Each thumped out a charge of electricity, in an attempt to overpower the systems instead of neutralize them. Even if it hadn’t been killed, the process of reeling it in began. A weak tractor beam also joined in, in an attempt to drag the vessel, dead or not, to the docking port. When this task was completed, there was an attempt to flood the craft with a dose of chloroform to knock out the occupants, or attempt to do so. If it didn’t work? Well, it was just tough luck and The Metallic Monstrosity would have to go back to plying his trade in Sol and beyond, if he did? Well, the price would have him set for life. He leaned backwards with a whir of gears and waited. A security team, with thick chunky rifles moved to the air lock, the rifles firing large fat shells that were designed for ship-to-ship combat, enough to break some ribs and stop a man, but not enough to puncture a space-ships hull. Resplendent in their Jet-black flak-jacketed uniforms they waited for the green light to enter the craft wedged to the side.

Esther, of course, hadn't seen a damn thing. The haze of the Neptunian atmosphere was far too think to see 'fireworks' in the sky, and she wasn't exactly down there to star gaze anyway. Her production schedule had been jacked up to ridiculous levels, as Elijah had hatched some bizarre plan that required massive amounts of industrial grade diamonds, as well as several dozen paragons. To say this upset her was an understatement. After all, she'd barely had a chance to start her sculpture, and now she was busy building factories. How gauche.

However, while she was toiling away, the Continental's OverSeer was paying attention. Vegana's tricks were largely ignored, but the Skeelzanian actions were decidedly more interesting. The trashcan-looking drone wheeled into the communications center of the Continental and started multitasking. Caloris was alerted, Esther was alerted, and the other message...

Initiate CommandKey \\:\\:entrncomm\\tightbeam:sandramikogami
Return //://:entrncomm\\tightbeam:sandramikogami Successful

This is the OverSeer in charge of the Caloris barge Continental, contacting on behalf of Esther. My sensors have detected some activity. Is there something we should know and/or be concerned about?

Initiate CommandKey \\:\\:closeroute
Return //://:closeroute Successful

Not the most sociable of automatons, but it got the job done until Esther could herself.

[ooc: been gone for a while, too bad I missed the bulk of the conference.]

Diego nodded. "Yes, I suppose I will pick up a copy of the transcript. I think its time I go. I would have to agree there is little point in staying." He smiled at Sandra, "I hope we will meet again soon and under more favorable circumstances. I'm sure you'll hear from me soon." Diego got up to go as the fireworks outside went straight to the grand finally, one big bright boom.

Neptune Orbit

"What the...Captain, where's the Admiral?" an officer said wiping the coffee off his shirt.

"Should be back soon. Why?" the reply came as the man didn't even look up.

"There's something you should see." The Captain lifted his eyes from his work and saw the scene that had errupted (quite literally) moments before.

"Alright, wait for that Admiral to get back. Anyone on Neptune will be fine as will any outposts on the moons. We're at a safe distance but I want a message sent to our fleets outside the system. Tell them everything and to be ready to enter the system if we need them and the Angstians clear it." The officer began sending transmissions, not only to the the fleet but everywhere. Every military position in the Sol knew what was going on and had a live feed from the Largentian fleet.

Crews all over the fleet were preparing to land smaller vessels in orbit as a safety procaution. It seemed that some comotion had broken out around those responsible for the blast but with the way things were going it never hurt to be safe.

Were a being that existed in an electronic format capable of grinning, Pelasgus would have. Which no doubt confused those who were dealing with his holographic avatars at the moment, because they suddenly did grin.

Ha. They’re going to have to come a lot closer than that to cause damage. A hundred of his counter missile launchers spun to life, moving from active to defense mode, and began to fire, almost lazily.

It was a bad angle for the defensive lasers, but the countermissiles were more than swift enough to cut the chord and intercept the incoming fire well short of the targets. Again and again he did it, allocating three countermissiles to each incoming round…

Pitifully easy, to only swat aside the fire from the two massive turrets. If only the ships were moving, they’d never be able to target them that way. Good thing they’re too far out for energy weapons to do anything. Of course, if they were closer, we could kill them all without question. This last was dumped into TacNet for perusal.

TacNet also reported another change. Unconcerned about the weak, and agreeing with their friendly local Angstian units, ballless Reich ‘statement’, the Federation First Fleet had peeled hard over, along with the Neptune Task Group, and was charging up hard towards the planet. From somewhere in that vast collection of nearly three hundred warships, which would effectively double the total number in Neptune space in the fifteen minutes it was going to take them to arrive, another thought drifted into TacNet. If we move the Mrymidon ships a bit closer to Larissa, they’ll be directly within the Fleet Base’s inner defenses. It’s unlikely the Skeelies can penetrate that with such minimal fire, especially from so far out.

At the same time, the message was broadcast, in the clear, from the Federation Base, on all frequencies. ATTENTION, Skeelzanian Forces. This is Federation of Sentient Peoples Fleet Base Pelasgus. Your continued firing from such extreme range poses a danger to ALL civilian and military traffic in the subsystem. As such, continued fire will be considered a hostile and piratical act and will invoke the mutual protection clauses of the Neptune Subsystem Distribution Treaty, causing all Federation Forces present to engage and DESTROY your forces unless they surrender. You have exactly nine standard minutes from the time of transmission to respond. Pelasgus Base, clear.

It really was very sad that current orbital mechanics dictated that Pelasgus Base was exactly 8.9 light minutes from the Skeelzanian fleet. That left them with precisely 6 seconds to respond. Interdiction fields blurred to life around the base as the message winged its way across the aether.

OOC: I got myself enrolled in an accelerated Math class, and as such homework is a bitch. I'll try and get all my posting in on weekends now, as well as the odd paragraph written here and there.

IC:

The reply took significantly more than eight minutes, but by that time the Skeelzanian ship had ceased firing and was preparing for further action.

Attention automaton designated 'Pegasus',

You insult the skill of our gunners with your insinuation that we would hit something we do not mean to strike. Your rambling threat is of no concern to us; in the future please refrain from commenting on Skeelzanian internal affairs.

Esther stormed into what served as the bridge or the lumbersome barge in upper Neptune orbit. Numerous screens lit to life as she saw incoming attacks and outgoing countermeasures. Another screen scrolled with all the easily interceptable communications trafic around her. She cursed softly as she saw the explosions, battleships, and general dick fencing.

"Fucking brilliant. They're told not to bring steel penii into Neptune-space, so they park outside and shoot in..."

The Continental had no real defensive technology, but it did have small energy weapons designed to vaporize debris and other such irritants. She powered them up, just in case. Hopefully someone would end this quickly. She was an artist, not a general.

The Talkative Bunch

"Well, I suppose that most here have something to say..." Sandra said in Daniel's direction, the plushy-landsquid's frontal tentacles rising over her shoulders - Though a few metres behind her, so it wasn't quite as disturbing, if odd. "But I guess that right now, smalltalk is the least of our worries... Shooting's coming up."

The sphere that was SCD 1/1 rotated. "Weee. 's if we haven't had enough of that already." Well, it rotated and while it was at it, organised the transcript of Jiang's & Alexander's dialogue to be imprinted on the next available Largent-computing-compatible medium, which was quietly handed to Diego on his way out by what essentially looked like an oversized ashtray on wheels.

Meanwhile, Sandra turned towards Marghun, looking somewhat apologetic, perhaps even a little embarrassed. "Well, I suppose you might want to return to your ship... I guess that you'll be needed there."

Esther-chan

* Contacting Continental [Tightbeam, Open]...
* Sending Standard Identification Protocols [Nation = Der Angst; Region = DA Neptune; Entity = Poseidon (Sandra Mikogami)]
<Sandra Mikogami> Oh, yes [Datadump Package including general sensor data regarding the situation & incoming fire attached] Essentially, the Skeelies are now shooting, and we - I - are interpreting this as kinda, ummm... An act of war against Neptune in general - Admittedly with a bit of bias, given that we don't much like Skeelzania (Please don't ask why we let them in in the first place...) - and intend to shoot back. Well, the DEAT and its friends are, anyway. Little wannabe Iraqstani. As far as I can see, the Skeelies are surprisingly smart - Gunning for their rebels, which they have to take out in order to secure the stability of their empire, and ignoring the rest. I suppose they'll soon try a hit & run thing, but we'll see.
<Sandra Mikogami> Hum. If you wish, I could stream you the incoming info, though I'm not sure if you or Esther are particularly interested, with or without stripping the military nonsense, errr, comments & analysis from it.
<Sandra Mikogami> Anyway, given where you are, you should be safe, anyway. Hard to get through Neptune's atmosphere, all things considered.

TacNet

Brief giggles, the occasional snooping mind - Harmless snooping that is, more a 'Get used to it' rather than a 'Be where I don't belong' - a few exchanges of insults - Generally directed at The Reich, rather than each other - and agreement.

True, one supposes. We were going to simply keep them moving, but considering the risk of them jumping right in front of them - Will relay.

Myrmidon Ships

Karin sighed, glaring briefly at a drone behind her. "Well, damn..."

A few terminals to the left, another message was relayed, this time by the Insensitive Scum, suggesting to the Myrmidons what FSP minds had suggested to it - Moving closer to Larissa, protected by its defensive screens.

"Suppose you should do as suggested?"

Neptune

The tactical situation wasn't actually all that pleasant. There was a vast nothingness between the inner Neptunian system and the Skeelzanians, only occasionally cruised by a few ships - Only a few, and not exactly big bad boys, either.

Which essentially equalised a few herrings risking to be eaten by a school of sharks. Still, something had to be done. That the skeelies had stopped firing wasn't all that pleasant, either - Most ships suspected that they'd soon do the - Likely Necessary - jump into the inner system, although given the shuttle not doing the HS-shortcut it had done on its way to Poseidon suggested that the Skeelzanian ships actually needed to reload their FTL drives.

Which raised ideas.

A few quick messages were sent to the Britmattians and FSP, involving a general notice about what they wanted to do (basically missilespam), and a mild poking - DA missiles, though fast enough to get the average ship, were roughly two orders of magnitude slower than FSP missiles.

<SEU Legitimate Extinction of Intelligent Life> Yes, well. Our missiles suck. Hate to request ordinance assistance, but...

Meanwhile, the 'Herrings', as well as the ships closer to Neptune began seeding the space around them with just that - Missiles, usually in inactive, drives-shut-off black-body versions, to avoid detection for as long as possible. Granted, seeing as Missiles weren't exactly popular in the DA military, there weren't all that many of them... But a few hits should be manageable.

Mixed with for now equally inactive decoys, nice little clouds of near-invisible, apocalyptic ordinance sprouted in the vacuum of space.

Fleet Base Larissa

After the Skeelzanians had abruptly left the conference there'd been no need for Kingdom military representatives aboard Poseidon, so Larissa had deactivated her drone and turned her complete conciousness to the sensor feeds flooding into her physical shell.
The Reich's little exercise is delayed by distance, but Droppie's sensor data is crystal clear. Nothing to worry about there. Closer to home however...
Larissa is so startled that she actually pauses for a moment to consider things. A moment to her of course, to Fraser there's no percievable delay between sensor data being recieved and Larissa's clear soprano.
"The Skeelzanians are firing on the...other Skeelzanian vessels sir."
Fraser chewed his pipe-stem thoughtfully for a moment, then shrugged. "Proceed as planned then Larissa."
"Yes sir."
Organic oversight programming satisfied, Larissa acts.
Lights dim to emergency conditions, powerplants are brought up to full military power and Marines disperse throughout the corridors of the station.
Finally, ports hiss open and red-painted anti-capital ship missiles roar out, short range rocket motors pushing them outside of Larissa's shields before heavier drives kick in and the multi-tonne weapons begin the long burn outward.
Thousands upon thousands of missiles tear outwards, the conversion of the moon Larissa into Fleet Base Larissa had included replacing kilometres of her outer surface with armour, studding that surface with shield generators and then honeycombing her skin with missile cells and cannon mounts.
The other weapons stay silent however, a missile you can control for it's entire flight, and the targeting is eerily precise, improving as the EW platforms that some of the missiles mount relay information back, but kinetics and energy beams are rather more clumsy and prone to straying over this sort of engagement range, and for energy weapons they simply lack the reach.
No communication is attempted, other than the message of the missiles themselves.
Hundreds will be lost of course, unless the Skeelzot point defence is even more laughable than believed, but with the Feep targetting setups they should comfortably overwhelm the vessels targeting the barges.

The Fleet

As the Skeelzanians begin bombardment the Kingdom fleet splits in two, in-system drives going to maximum as the various battlegroups power outward, fragmenting as the dreadnoughts nose ahead, their energy and kinetic armament shorter-ranged but far heavier than the long range ship-killer missiles the destroyers mount, battlecruisers a bridge between the two classes in capabilities. Shields and ECM flare into action as Hammerhead fighters and Piranha strike craft boil off the capital ships, swirling ahead of the fleet as the two taskforces head for the flanks of the Skeelzanian formation, arcing well outward of the missile storm thundering outward from Larissa and Pelasgus.

"Theres now way this will be done and over with any time soon..." Diego had hoped that this wouldn't get any worse, but, alas, his hopes would not be met. It seemed that the Skeelzanians wanted to exchange some bullets after the pleasantries they had exchanged so recently. Diego was thumbing through the dialogue he had picked up from Sandra and was rather interested; however, other matters had to be attended to.

{Begin Encrypted Transmission}
{To: Sandra Mikogami}
{From: Diego Escabar}

You see, Ms Mikogami. I knew you would hear from me soon. Unfortunately, the circumstances have done anything but improve. As you may have guessed I'm sending this message in regards to our contract and the Skeelzanians. While I have every confidence in their defeat given their numbers, I highly doubt they will simply put their tail between their legs and run away. It is under this presumption I am requesting permission to bring in a few ships to keep in the area until the whole thing blows over. They will be moderately, and some heavily, armed, as you may have guessed but I think the present situation should allow for such actions.

Diego Escabar

{End Transmission}

Just outside the system, the massive ships hovered, simply waiting for the order to move in. They would not hesitate to kill and were no longer in any mood to let the Skeelzanians explain themselves. They would simply make them pay.

Drones buzzed all around, arming and priming anything that wasn't already battle-ready. Pilots were assigned fighters and a map was constantly updated of all known enemy positions. Tactics and plans were discussed and modified every hour. All the fleet needed was the OK.

As it was, the Largent fleet would probably be unneeded, and, in fact, the Skeelzanian response to the Federation’s offer was still on its way back, long minutes from being picked up.

At exactly nine minutes from the time of transmission, the Angstians and the Britmattians fired, and precisely one second later, so did Pelasgus base. And then again, twelve seconds later. Pelasgus Base held its fire after that, because unless the Skeelzanians decided to get far trickier than they had shown evidence of being, there was no way that few ships could withstand that weight of fire.

Every single anti-shipping launcher mounted on the moon, a number rated in the tens of thousands, spit fire at the Skeelzanian fleet. And if that was not bad enough, the launches, staggered as they were… had the first one with the drives on delayed activation.

Both complete launches roared down on the Skeelzanian fleet together with accelerations a hundred thousand times that of Earth normal gravity.

The approaching First Fleet had the range too, thanks to its fairly impressive base velocity, but their missiles, despite coming from a quarter thousand ships, were a paltry effort beside the flood of death Pelasgus unleashed. Those missiles would in fact arrive a few seconds later, and clean up whatever was left of the Skeelzanian fleet…

Because, from Pelasgus Base, even destroying ninety percent of the incoming fire would still leave well over a hundred missiles per ship. And none of those missiles required direct hits… at twenty five thousand kilometers from their targets, the ninety megaton warheads inside them would go off, spawning fifteen beams of highly focused x-rays, each with an energy transfer rate of three gigatons per second. Admittedly, the pulse only actually delivered six megatons, but it did it to a circle of hull only a meter in diameter… very little would withstand that.

The only thing on the Skeelzanian’s side was time… and they had quite a bit. It would take those missiles just over ten and a half minutes to cross that gulf of space between the fleet and the base… and since it took the Skeelzanians eight minutes to even reply to the original missive, the missiles were well on their way… of course, by that point, they only had two and a half minutes left to respond. The battle would likely be decided long before the Federation ever received the Skeelzanian reply.

While drones and ships follow the path the Britmattian & FSP missiles take with half a million or so sensors, appreciating violent bursts of EM and the radiating deathscreams of spacedust vaporising upon impact, enjoying the - Comparatively small, but nonetheless artful - multiband-fireworks, idly counting the seconds until detonation (Assumptions differ. There are ways to defend against such an attack, at least to some extend. Which ones the Skeelzanians will implement is another question, but they'll see), other intelligences relay information to Sandra, who promptly answers.

Encoded Transmission [Shared Code; Medium Level; DA - Largent]
From: Sandra Mikogami
To: Diego Escabar
Subject: Your Request

Dear Mr. Escobar,

I can understand your concerns, and indeed, were I in your situation, I'd have the same concerns and would make the same requests. As it is, however, I'd prefer not to make hasty decisions - They tend to result in future problems. As mentioned to you before, after the present situation has been resolved, I believe we'll simply drop the military restrictions for your holdings, as you've been quite an exemplary resident. However, for now, I believe this could result in unfortunate additional interest, especially from the side of the present belligerent group - Which is for now exclusively targetting its own rebels, rather than more general holdings. In this context - And given the fact that the first missiles have been launched - I believe that there's indeed a risk that your present holdings might actually become targets when you move in, but will remain irrelevant for the duration of hostilities if you don't.

Of course, other concerns come into play here - I'm not sure about the present population within your holdings. Should it presently exceed quadrupledigits, I believe that I couldn't actually deny your request - There would be too many lives at stake to refuse you the right for self-defence, even though I still believe that they might be safer by way of staying relatively far away.

If not, I'd prefer it if you stayed outside for the time being. I know it's hard in such a situation, but sadly, it's not only your own, very understandable point of view I have to take into account, but also the effects such an action could have on others.

Sincerely,

~ Sandra Mikogami

Marghun, who had been trying to think of a polite way to excuse himself, nodded. “That would be best, assuming I can make it in time. I’ll need to return to my shuttle first, and see if the situation allows for my return. I may have to transfer my flag to a ship closer in to Poseidon.”

The Myrmidon commanding the Achilles was not one to wait for the Admiral’s return. “Our position doesn’t allow us to make it to Larissa in time. We’ll be under the Skeelzanian guns for too long. Speaking of which, begin evasive maneuvers.” The battleship, originally a third of the way from the barges to Poseidon on cruising speed, gunned its antimatter drives. However, anticipating that the Skeelzanians had also anticipated this, it did not make an end-run dash for Poseidon.

“We don’t know how much the Gray Ships know,” the Myrmidon female explained to Karin. “Their equipment seems to be of a higher level then our own. But, if we’re lucky they’ll still think the Admiral is aboard, and thus try to destroy us unduly. I’m taking the ship over Neptune’s horizon. They might follow us, and stay in the system longer than they planned.”

The bridge gave a sharp lurch as it flipped onto its back, redirecting the engine ‘exhaust’ to accomplish this. Fortunately, Inertial Dampeners kept the crew from falling onto the ceiling. Once again accelerating, the ship blazed toward the Neptunian horizon.

Meanwhile, the Tchernobog did not fire a second salvo, instead concentrating on bringing the fleet around to a new heading, one pointed directly into the Neptunian sphere. In addition to opening up their tactical options, it presented a narrower target profile to whatever Fremden decided to take a shot at them. “Raise shields.”

“Shields up and running, milord Prince.” The bridge crew was functioning with the speed and competence expected of professional soldiers, doubly so when so much of their time is actually spent in combat. No armchair hussars here, Berkhan thought. Still, he was a tad disappointed. Someone had obviously tipped off the Achilles, giving it time to evade the first shots. No matter, they would simply have to close range and-

“Milord Prince! Incoming salvo from within the Neptunian sphere. Angstian, Brittmattian, Pelasgus, as well as associated fleets are all firing. Our sensors have just picked them up; estimated time to impact five minutes and counting.”

“Prepare IC generators for additional output, and initiate shield juggling. Knock down as many projectiles as possible.” Berkhan’s voice never deviated from its usual rattle; this, combined with his expressionless face mask and stance gave off the aura of one totally unconcerned for his own survival. Although such relaxation was not transferred to his underlings, they knew it was better to simply do their job instead of wondering if their leader was insane. Or at least suicidal. “Also, begin acceleration. Plot a course that’ll take us between the Myrmidon ships and the barges, and then sling-shot us around Neptune.”

Skeelzanian capital ships generally had three layers to their passive defensives. The first, and largest, was the thick layer of CHOBAM/composite endor armor, which often exceeded ten meters in thickness and 30% of a ship’s gross tonnage. The second was the Isotropic Coating, a nanomachine sludge that was also incorporated into the uppermost layers of the armor. Working on the quantum level, it would deal with energy and small projectile weapons, as well as throwing every electromagnetic wave that hit it off on some random trajectory. The third, outermost, and weakest layer were the Hard Shields. ‘Shells’ of super-compressed molecules that were held together and maneuvered by tractor beams, they absorbed weapon impacts and assisted in beam dispersal. Also, they could be maneuvered like giant clubs for short distances.

It was this final tactic that the Skeelzanian ships made use of in the opening stages of the battle. Figuring “farther was better,” they aggressively swung pieces of their Hard Shields at incoming slugs, as well as beam shots. Results were few, but effective. Striking a Hard Shield block was almost as good as striking a ship’s hull: missiles detonated or were shoved off course; slugs turned to plasma on impact, obliterating both; and beams simply burned themselves up. Still, most got through, to face off against the Isotropic Coating.

Berkhan and crew watched in silence as the approaching wall of ordinance worked its way across the vidscreen. Large swaths abruptly disappeared as a Shield Block interceded, but they’d still be taking it on the chin. Alarms, until now silent, blared to life. “Incoming projectiles,” someone announced.

Moments later the ship shuddered as the oversized slugs pummeled the ship. By using blocks from their flanks, the Tchernobog’s crew had kept the prow relatively well shielded; still, the ones that got through played havoc on the figurehead, not to mention making a sorry mess of the torpedo tubes. Smaller rounds (generally 100kg or less), however, fell victim to the Isotropic Coating. Flipped and scrambled on the atomic level, they shot through the ship, believing it to be an exceptionally large ray of light. Exiting on a sometimes-extremely altered course (Skeelzanian scientists never could get rid of gravity), they were again “flipped” back to their original state. Some of these rounds would literally bounce around the fleet, striking one ship only to be shot off in another direction. Unless they hit the trail of exploding matter-antimatter that exited the rear of every Skeelzanian ship.

When the energy and beam weaponry struck it got the same treatment as the small slugs. With their basic components tricked into thinking they weren’t striking anything, the beams simply passed through the ships. The only effect, if one was close enough to see it, was the shriveling up and “dieing” of the first few layers of IC nanites the beam struck. In this way, the Coating, as well as the beam, lost some of its potency with each impact. Fortunately, the generators were always pumping out new nanites.

Continuing their acceleration into the Neptunian sphere, information concerning the latest Solar attack began to arrive. “Enemy missile barrage, originating from Pelagus Base. Estimated impact in…” The crewman frowned at his screen and adjusted a few settings before continuing. “Negative that, Milord Prince. Missiles have detonated at 250K out.”

“They’ll be trying to irradiate us,” Berkhan remarked. “Fools.”

“Wave front will arrive in approximately in, err, now.” The vidscreen blanked out as its input devices were either fried or automatically shut down. EM communication with the rest of the fleet was lost, and repair crews experienced spike radiation levels at points with lowered IC. Overall though, the missile barrage had no effect. The X-rays were simply shuttled through the ships by the Isotropic Coating, to begin their time ricocheting around the fleet. “Distance report!” came the words down from on high.

“100 million Ks from enemy concentrations, Milord Prince. Ready to resume firing when ordered.”

“How far until we reach Terminal Well?” Terminal Well being the point in which a planetary gravity well would overpower Skeelzanian hyperspace drives, bringing them back into real space.

“About 25 million Ks, Milord Prince.”

That would bring them into more effective targeting range. “Very well. Give the order for all ships to jump to Terminal Well, and then resume firing. They are to target the Myrmidon vessels and only the Myrmidon vessels. We’ll show these Solars that they cannot deter Skeelzania with a few pea-shooters!”

Plowing ahead through the enemy barrages, the Skeelzanian fleet activated their hyperdrives almost simultaneously. Although their formation became somewhat distended, it allowed them to cover 25 million kilometers in the blink of an eye, significantly increasing their target acquisition abilities and shaving valuable seconds off the end-run. Of course, it also put them much closer to the Solar guns, but risks had to be taken. Continuing their acceleration burn, the gray-hulled warships sliced towards the miniscule Myrmidon fleet.

Alerted by Angstian and other new-found allies, the Myrmidons were not completely helpless. Although slow on the get up, the warships were succeeding in their goal of maneuvering closer to Poseidon base. It was hoped that this would deter the Skeelzanians somewhat, out of fear of hitting the ‘neutral’ base. This proved false, unfortunately.

It took approximately five seconds to recover from their hyperspace jump, but once they did the Skeelzanians let loose with all guns. While the forward ships concentrated on the fleeing Achilles, those to the flanks and rear unleashed a hail of fire on the retreating battleships, as well as the transports. Berkhan’s attention, however, was elsewhere. It had latched onto the fleeing battleship, by now only a few minutes from the horizon. “Cease firing of the main guns and begin to charge,” he ordered. “I want a targeting plot on that ship immediately.”

Warren
Warren was most dissatisfied, one of the few things that allowed Warren to be Warren given his state of mind or rather lack there of was the complex interplay of diplomacy. Glancing into the now glazed eyes Frederick Girard Warren then tapped his QE equipped data slate with increased frustration till he accessed the Phirex’s rather worried tactical AI. Walter positively glared and as several hundred medications were released into his system he triggered a simple short message to the Phirex’s FTL com spike. The results would reach the gestalt rather quickly, the result was less than expected. “We know”. Warren sat back in the seat and began hissing like a tea kettle. This was not how he (as he was defining himself or rather the multiple selves at that conjuncture and for a set value of “wanted to” in many of the temporary splits) had wanted things to happen. With an effort of will that turned his face a bright red he standing in a pose filled with strain managed to utter out a sentence before collapsing back into the chair.

“Mister Girard however much is there of you mmm we will see what we mmm and by we I don’t mean my selvessssss oooh my, but the mmm so many lights mmm, but forces can do to mmm assist.”

At that point the mix of medication and implants for a moment failed to suppress a certain urge and Walter calmly took out a quite ordinary (save for a small data slate active interface insert in the nib) ball point pen from his jacket pocket and promptly bit of the top.

Phirex
The Phirex was 200 metre long graceful bewinged and totally unarmed ice white dart who’s mass was 60% drive system. Its hull was now covered in artfully placed swathes of now open sensor pods and cables. It was also annoyed. It completely out of its normal remarkably placid personality sent a single short data burst to the station. “Screw this” would have been the general gist of it. With a rather dull thud a single 5 strong spread of rather pathetic Starslam mod F HVM counter missiles ripped out of her sole highly visible and “announced” defence only missile tube. That the supports for the coffee table in the number two breakfast bar could with several components ripped from around the ship and about 3 days be converted to useable gravity implosion warheads was unfortunately going to be just too late.

Sol / Luytens transit Route 2 (inbound lane)

It was a 32 metre wide series of aerials, bulbous exotic radiation detector domes, spike covered fin of mass detectors, some quite odd funnel like gravity lens projectors for a truly large passive telescope all attached to a 14 and half ton analysis package and two chunky and somewhat out of date accelerated matter decay reactors that saw it first. All of these objects had been until a few microseconds ago quietly humming away to themselves watching the endless streams of vessels and the wallowing cargo barges on ballistic trajectories. Concordat free floating unmanned platform GGT- NV3239 was a navigation buoy. Its job was rather boring and in its 23 years of operation it had on just two occasions been the closest to minor incidents onboard passing shipping. None of these had justified any kind of response from either rescue services or the ZMSF.

Radiation ripping outwards from the incident struck GGT-NV3239’s routine like a tank driving through a house of cards. The most observable reaction were the reactor’s outputs roaring to life as the gravity lenses expanded. The energy converted to data was squirted to CNR-93 a free floating secondary relay node of ZMI’s datasphere. The 380 ton FTL communications spike relayed GGT-NV3239’s output in real time to earth and mars command centres and from there ever outward. GGT-NV3239 was just one of thousands of “civilian” resources that would go to make up the picture that would be made of the opening of the engagement in the next few moments. A whole slew of sensor platforms who’s only task was to monitor the drop bears location were already howling in distress. The most information would of course be from the massive quantity of streaming Der Angstian data and the Phirex’s somewhat extended “live” coverage of the event. Several hundred thousand actual dedicated mil tech recon platforms would now turn there full attention to the events unfolding. Consternation broke out in tactical analysis after analysis as the steadily advancing waves of high yield bomb graser missiles launched by the various defending fleets failed to “wipe the board” clean. The SI’s went into a flurry of activity as contingencies had to be redrawn in light of this unfortunate and unforeseen development. This was most disturbing. Most disturbing indeed.

Analysis had already been run on the last few minutes of logs from 132,000 distributed sources by the time the blasts were visible from the first manned ZMI asset outside the Neptunian sphere.


In Transit

The 324th patrol squadron was in standard Mars Cometary halo transit when the blast occurred 32 minutes ahead of them at there standard peace time cruising speed. The Integral FTL communications spike aboard the squadrons Broadsword H variant heavy cruiser flagship the ZMSF Cheswick was for a brief few mili seconds inundated with various relayed orders and countermands, finally a ZMSF central order overrode the nattering whine of tactical analysis AI’s and various task force commands.

3.8 seconds later the Cheswick and her four escorting Stiletto class destroyers ZMSF Canberra, St.Petersburg, Colway and Verdun went to hard combat burn, the starlight around them twisting into crazed eerie halos as the local dimensional membrane was stretched and twisted like taffy as transit time to there newly designated target dropped away to under 2 minutes 13 seconds, Colways hull marred by the forms of bulbous mine deployment cannisters and support equipment taking on an odd glow as this imperfect surface was illuminated by her drive. They would be the first to reach the edge of the Neptune sphere.

The Belt

In the belt an object tumbled. It was meant to tumble. It was meant to look like nothing of importance. Nothing made by intelligence, and nothing new. It was meant to look ordinary, boring and very very old. It wasn’t all that big, and it wasn’t all that small for the type of objects it was meant to be one of. It watched and waited for a message before it responded, in its heart a mere glimmer of power ticked by. A tiny pilot light in an oil tanker like fuel mass. This huge mass now started to flow to oversized converters that would have shamed most of the ZMSF’s super capital vessels and as it was rendered into exotic particles the thing began to move. Sheaths of artfully reconstituted rock and ore exploded as the dull gleam of battle grade synth alloy began to show. In silent testimony to sentient madness the cruiser sized 454 metre long 580,000 ton strategic deterrent missile slipped of its sheath of rock and its support modules and in a blistering wrathful wash of energy as its shock bubble drive came to full power that would be visible to anyone in the system looking the right direction began a hard burn for Neptune. In it the somewhat limited sub sentient SI was for all intents and purposes positively in glee. It was fairly close to being nothing but a pure pyromaniac and it had finally got the chance to make some fireworks.


Mars

The bustling cacophony of constant background sensor noise of commercial drives and endless patrols was added to as the 80 warships of Battle Fleet “heavy” Task Force 4 cored by the Hammer of the Economy class super dreadnought “Z.M.S.F. Magic Bullet” and the 7 kilometre bulk of the Management Buyout class System Command Carrier "Z.M.S.F. Profit before Pride” made a crash transition to full shock bubble drive output. Leaving there slower logistical vessels behind given the in system nature of the conflict the task force would make “good” time as 14 minutes out from mars they en masse engaged transit drive and jumped to just outside the Neptune spheres designated boundary. They would join the conflagration just as the Cheswick began requesting entry to the sphere and permission to join the engagement.

Earth

140 Luna class hauliers, each carrying 40,000 metric tons of kinetic slugs and catalytic dust filled barrels. A spread of 12 Capital punishment class battle cruisers modified for escort duty. A light spread of Crossbow class strike craft. They were 50 minutes away at best time from Neptune. It would take an hour and 20 minutes before they jumped. They weren’t heading towards Neptune in any case but to a point diametricly opposite to the Skeelzanian fleets first holding position. To the assigned overwatching SI’s great annoyance the hauliers would engage burn out of sequence.



If one were watching an analysis of ZMSF forces in sol one by one in an expanding sphere with odd ripples from the presence of FTL com nodes combat drive signatures would be seen to flicker on.

Data Net 45 SWN Public News Stream
Outbreak of hostile action, result so far unknown, DOFA issue preliminary statement warning all registered vessels to avoid Neptune space. Unconfirmed reports of ZMSF reaction. Confirmed data to follow receive Y/N?


Omnidirectional pre recorded plain text broadcast addressed to Skeelzanian flagship from ZMSF Phirex

You will cease your actions and be held accountable. Actions of this nature within Sol will not be tolerated.
The Gestalt.




Directional broadcast to Neptune Sphere forces on nearing Sphere, 2 minutes 18 seconds after salvo impact.

ZMSF Cheswick on behalf of the Incorporated State Combined Space Forces requesting permission to enter combat zone and engage the outsystem force.




To the Der Angstian Command structure on emergence 14 minutes after first salvo impact.

ZMSF task Force four fleet mind Candle requesting entry of task force to Neptune sphere, secure tactical data link under operational Mars Theatre Wargame protocols and permission to use weapons in theatre in excess of 600 megatons equivalent force.




OOC um dude your shrugging of an aaaawfull lot of heavy fire there.

OOC um dude your shrugging of an aaaawfull lot of heavy fire there.

OOC: I know.

Battle-cruiser Earned in Blood, approximately 2 hours 15 minutes before first salvo

Admiral Durchan sat in her command chair and yawned, she turned to a figure to her left, covered from head to toe in black material, a peaked cap and a sidearm at the belt.
“Is it just me, or do you get bored as hell just patrolling the regular lanes?” she peered at the figure with large green eyes and played with her hair casually.
“At times it feels a bit samey, yes.” Replied the terse and tense figure of the Displinary Body officer.

“Hmmm, we have new orders yet Communications? I’m bored as heck doing all this mundane housework.” She slumped to one side in her chair.

“Well, we have a call from the Fleet section that went with the convoy to Neptune, they've been getting a live feed back from the diplomat, apparently stuff is gunna go hot soon, the way the Skeeliez are being so up and huffy, as usual.”

“Oh, finally, good grief if we had to stay here for another hour… let’s go already.” She clapped her hands and sat back up in her chair, a large smile on her face.

Durchan’s First Mate leant in from his chair and whispered in her ear. “Um, Admiral, the drive will take about 2 hours to charge…” he immediately regretted it by the string of swear words, the smack on the head by a data slate, and an Admiral storming out off of the bridge and into her room.

Somehow she managed to slam the automatic sliding doors too, which completely baffled the engineering department for the remainder of the time it took for the drives to power up.

About 2 hours later, same locale, 14 minutes to first Salvo

The pole floated around the room and found the heat signature, it floated over to the Admiral, who was reading a much worn out copy of Warfare is an Art form and was slumped down on her bed. The pole hummed and clicked, before splitting into two, with a judder of static a hazy blue screen formed between the poles, and the First Mate appeared on the screen.
“Um, Admiral.”
“Mneh?”
“We’re ready to go.”
“Good. Get on with it, that’s an order.” She replied, never looking up, but playing with one lock of her hair for the whole time.
“Erm, Yes Admiral.” The First Mate replied and killed the connection.

The pole, its task complete, floated back to a recess in the wall and plugged in to recharge, as great as these comms screens were, they were crap energy-efficiency wise.
Ah well, can’t have everything.

Neptunian Sphere, 16.3 minutes later, 2.3 minutes after first salvo.

The 46 ships of Durchan’s fleet-group tore real space apart as, one by one, they dropped back into reality. Immediately Durchan got a situation report. Not favourable, but still.

The map room showed the Skeelzanian ships as fuzzy little red squares that floated in the room, Dark blue squares represented the ships firing back, and the yellow dots showed neutrals and non-combatants, a giant hazy light blue sphere showed off the planet itself.
Durchan stood on a box [her height being, what it was] and peered up at a lot of the action, he face creased in a frown.
“Huh, should we contact the Angstians and ask if we can come in and secure assets and kick ass?”
“It’d be wise, Admiral.” Mumbled the D.B officer.
“Fine, Comms!”
“Yes Admiral.” Replied the comms officer.


To the Der Angstian Command
Requesting Permission for Midlonian Fleet assets to enter Neptunian space and to secure assets and engage the Skeelzanian fleet.

OOC: edited the ruddy thing so I git some shootage! :p

Poseidon

Sandra nodded. "This can be organised, I believe, though we'll have to pay attention to the tactical situation - But we'll see."

The Myrmidon Ships

Karin blinked. "Actually, it's less than a hundred thousand klicks off. We can do it in less time than light takes to get from the Skeelzanian fleet to us... But as you wish." Damnit. I've the feeling that I'll die here.

Before the Skeelzanian Hyperspace Jump

As the initial assault of the Myrmidon forces had proven, the Terminal Well was actually rather close to Neptune - Well within the Neptunian sphere, even when one counted the 25 mio klicks the fleet was off it before jumping.

And of course, there were the - Few, but nonetheless present - patrolling ships in the general volume of this space. Really not many - There were perhaps four of them which were close enough for their comparatively slow missiles to act with a reasonable chance of sucecss, but they were there.

The point was of course that the missiles had merely been seeded. Black body configurations, engines shut down, emissions somewhere close to zero, the apocalypse occupying a sphere perhaps a tenth of a lightsecond in diameter, but unlike the ship near - but not quite in - its center, not particularly visible.

But this changed.

The Throbbing Temptation, a tactical engagement unit, looked quietly through its sensors as the Skeelzanians approached.

It's time, I guess.

It signaled its peers - The Shifting Balance, the Convict and the I Hope You Die - and moved on to engage. Not personally of course, that'd have been suicide. It would move away at max. accel. Its missiles, however...

Reactors came to life, drives started to release obscene amounts of energy, propelling the missiles and decoys forward... In slightly differing manners, of course.

For the decoys, it was simple: Artificial gravitational emissions suggested somewhat hidden but nonetheless present missile forms, considerable, damped-looking EM radiation suggested active sensors playing cat and mice, and sorta-streamlined drives bulged out only a little, barely noticeable... Barely, but definitely.

It gave a fairly nice impression of a sorta-stealthed missile trying to avoid detection.

For the missiles, it was a little different. They ran exclusively on passive sensors, no unnecessary EM emissions leaving them. Their drive fields didn't bulge out, visible for everyone. They stayed hidden, in a small, dense area directly behind the missile, exquisitely formed to avoid detection for as long as possible.

About ten lightseconds - Three million kilometers - from the Skeelzanian fleet, they'd release their warheads, each of them a somewhat longer-ranged - By three orders of magnitude - version of the FSP warheads - Gamma-, rather than X-rays, and only ten, rather than fifteen pulses, working on altogether lower energies.

Targetting was simple: Take the velocity and the average frequency of the targets' course changes, select the general volume of space each ship will supposedly be in when the beams arrive, and target it. Certainly, if one out of ten beams would hit, it'd be an extraordinary good result - But as there were several thousand of them, a few hits could reasonably be expected.

The nice thing about this weapons was, of course, that after the detonation, they'd move at c. No detection before impact (Assuming that the missiles hadn't been detected beforehand. Which was, of course, possible, and 100% invisibility was something of an irreal dream - 50% on the other hand seemed to be relatively realistic).

Remained the goo... And the pleasant thing about this was the information that had been acquired from the Myrmidon ships. Wavelengths could be adjusted, frequencies changed - Beam parameters weren't fixed. And when one takes the basic parameters of the goo, and plays a little with them, runs them through simulations, one figures out some things... EM radiation tends to differ in its properties and effects on different materials. Some wavelengths get swallowed up, producing terrible damage. Others pass right through the same material, producing nearly no damage whatsoever. Again others will interact in different, somewhat exotic forms - This would be the case with the isotropic coating.

Choosing the wavelength within the gamma-ray spectrum that'd do the most damage to the target's defences, avoiding to pass through as well as to get into some kind of exotic interaction, was, for all intends and purposes, almost too simple a task (Though perfection could, of course, not be achived. Still, getting somewhat – Or notably, whichever - better results was desirable enough, and likewise, easy enough). Especially when the drones still accompanying the Skeelzanian fleet started their own checking around and probed the ships, playfully, figuring out material composition, electron hull- and molecule configurations, just in case that the goo was not quite identical to the goo on the Myrmidon ships. Further adjustments could after all still be made, should they prove to be necessary.

Add to this the length of the pulses - A microsecond, concentrating enough energy to burn through a small moon - which allowed to essentially pierce a target, superheating the air inside it, with the blast and heat creating considerable internal damage - and, well...

You could do a lot of things.

Of course, there was still the HS jump - Some missiles never came close enough, as the Skeelzanian ships eventually moved off through this shortcut.

But, well, it'd been worth trying, and the Throbbing Temptation waited eagerly for its active scans to provide some information, minutes after the engagement was over, waiting for the light carrying said information to crawl through relativistic space.

<TEU Throbbing Temptation> I bet I've hit something.
<TEU Shifting Balance> Less then me, clearly.
<TEU Throbbing Temptation> You wish.
<SEU I Hope You Die> Given that I'm the source for the majority of the ordinance... I'll win, anyway.
<TEU Convict> Arrogant Strategic Fuck.
<SEU I Hope You Die> Yes, so?

Points of Information

<SEU DEAT on Sight> Well, that was disappointing.
<SEU Act on Instinct> Quite. But okay- Missiles... Meh. oh, and how does it feel, with a part of your personality split off and replaced by a surrogate?
<SEU DEAT on Sight> 's if I'm a sentient football. Not quite the same as a brain, but meh. It wont kill me.
<SEU Act on Instinct> The Skeelies on the other hand...
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Bah.
<TEU Technically a Pacifist> Shut up. Getting some info... Ah, they HS-jumped. Lets see where- Ah, there. Streaming through QE.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Ah. Mhm, sexy. I take it the ships in the area are already...?
<TEU Technically a Pacifist> Yes. So are we, come to think of it.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> Way ahead of you.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> In any case, well, that was nice of them.
<TEU Technically a Pacifist> Boom?
<TEU Improper Behaviour> Seconded.
<SEU DEAT on Sight> And they take their time. .3 seconds since they jumped. Ah well - We wont. Who needs a fair fight? Gotta love helplessness...

After the Skeelzanian Hyperspace Jump

Negative: The drones that had so far followed the Skeelzanian ships were now far off and essentially useless for further acquisition of information.

Positive: A lot of things.

The same information the outer ships had had. The same adjustments to the available weaponry made.

The bombgrasers spread about were having ten - And on occasion between 25 & 28 - times the yield the missiles (Which, despite their potency, weren't quite capable of achiving a hard kill with a single shot, though disabling a fair portion of a ships' functions was well within their capacities) that had been fired earlier. The reason was simple enough, of course: They didn't really need drives, so one could use a heavier warhead.

The orgy of destructive, continent-incinerating radiation shells blossoming up in the vacuum in space, invisible to the naked eye, but beautiful to behold for the sensors of ships and drones, orchids of mass destruction filling the space for a hundred lightseconds in every direction of the Skeelzanian fleet, perfectly calculated hit-probabilities - Never quite 100%, but altogether sufficient to please even the most critical shipmind - already suggesting results and potential post-assault necessities, was accompanied by other weapons.

The comparatively lower-powered xasers from proper ships, likewise aiming to disable their targets by way of forming odd geometries, trying to encircle them - The probability of one hitting was essentially 100%, the probability of all of them hitting was 0%. The goal wasn't quite the utter destruction of the target (That was close to impossible against a fully-functional & moving enemy, and would come later), but merely its immobilisation or blinding, or disarming, causing significant damage to its drives, or sensors, or weapons, or all of them.

The particle beams didn't have quite the same job. Unlike the graser/ xaser weaponry that was aimed at piercing a target with obscene energy densities and without warning, just like burning through a moon, their properties adjusted to avoid the isotropic armours' damage-preventing properties as much as possible (How much was actually possible was another question, though), the particle beams were adjusted to come in at high beamspread - Not to pierce, to burn or to slice, but to cook off. There was obviously no chance that they could get through the armour when having this configuration, their energy densities being far too low for that, and even their ability to get through the shields was severely inhibited - Or in other words, unextant - but what they could do was to hit anyway. Sparks of kinetic energy impacting on the shields, not enough to break the shield - But very much enough to reduce the view beyond. It was like rain dropping on glasses: It would never be sufficient to cause permanent physical injuries to the wearer of said glasses, but it'd drastically reduce said wearer's ability to see beyond them.

In other words, they were there to screw with the Skeelzanian targetting.

Railguns accelerated kinetics, a hundred kilograms at perhaps 1000km/s - The velocity was variable, but this was the average - little more than a distraction, givent the abilities the Skeelzanians had shown, but why not? Perhaps a lucky hit or two would be managed. And with thousands of them...

And then, of course, the more exotic weapons - Hard fields, essentially the bastard child of a tractor beam and a forcefield, reached out, intercepting Skeelzanian ordinance or increasing their own density before plunging into their targets, weakened and thrown off-course by EM fields but still present, still occasionally hitting, vapourising or, if the ship using them felt particularly nasty, plucking the isotropic coating apart molecule by molecule, 'wispy' field structures cutting the bonds between the electrons and ripping them out one by one, billions every nanosecond, at times failing as the coating did, indeed, fool them, at other times forced to act where there seemed to be nothing, configured, ordered by their origin to not attack a specific material, or mass, but a given point in space - No matter if there was something or not, circumventing the coatings' tricks.

And of course, the soft fields. Information flooding the Skeelzanian ships, sinking into shields and armour and sensors, building informational structures, leeching energy, sinking deeper - Getting lost in the chaos of the battle, destroyed by sudden current pulses and opposing structures, at times simply 'deleted', at others sinking even deeper, targetting minds, programs, energy states, disabling or being disabled, changing, taking over, vanishing into informational chaos or holding positions. The raging will to conquer, to dominate, to subjugate driving the information forward.

The battlefield itself was shrouded in ECM, decoys playing havoc with everyones sensors, jamming screwing with perception and targetting. The existence of entire fleets was suggested - Though, with regards to the attempts at suggesting the presence, the emissions of Myrmidon ships, those weren't particularly impressive, and easily enough noticed, given a few seconds, rather than the few more seconds until a more Angstian decoy would supposedly be identified - and ordinance showed where there wasn't any, playing threat for the moments it took the Skeelzanian specialists to identify and prompty ignore them.

The Angstian ships themselves moved in somewhat odd, even chaotic formations,c hanging their curse every few seconds - If they were lazy, that is - often alone, then suddenly forming groups, unleashing apocalyptic energies before dropping their formation again. For now, they weren't actually fired upon - But they preferred to not form easily trackable targets, anyway.

Chaos.

The Casuality Count dropped behind, launching perhaps sixty bombgrasers every ten seconds, effectors constantly flickering, targetting, missing, retargetting... It was a little hard for it to follow the batle in its entirety, photonic brain and refined mind be damned.

The Misty Mountain, Holocaust and Hallucinogen stayed together for a few seconds, xasers flickering, targetting one of the lighter Skeelzanian ships, forming a ring, closing in...

Touching it, and immediately they broke their formation, heading away before potential retribution could commence, exchanging a number of poems about what they'd just done - sadly, they were better warships than poets, which kind of reduced the value of their additional work.

In the meantime, the Insubordinate kept its soft fields on another Skeelzanian ship, spending entire seconds on finding ways through the target's chaotic field structure - Engines, microwaves, weapons, reactors, they all contributed - eventually getting through... Analysing neurons and currents, ripping through minds, trying to copy one or two into its own 'Interrogation VR' (Which did, coincidentally, included a full sensor feed of the battle, should it actually be sucessful. It considered the option of letting prisoners watch the proceedings a rather interesting one) - it certainly wasn't an effective way to fight, and not going to achive a hard kill, but what did it care? It just wanted its fun.

Simultaneously, the Phallic Innuendo extended its hard fields once more, intercepting Skeelzanian ordinance heading for one of the Myrmidon ships. Energy bled off, radiating into space. Some got through, weakened.

I'm a fucking shield. How boring.

Snapshots of the battle, a battle that was now perhaps ten, fifteen seconds old.

Warren

Moments pass, and Mr. Warren's temporary - Or permanent, depending on how one looks at it - dissatisfaction goes largely unnoticed by any active sentience - Though logs made by dumb machinery did inform Girard's mindstate-abstract about it within moments after its successful transfer.

A few moments spent on composing himself - Well, a bit of himself - and then he can continue. "Absolutely. Oh, and i'm sorry - Sadly, the battle has just begun, and I really couldn't keep the majority of myself here when the ship, well.. I'm sure you understand. In any case, as i'm now available again, if I may say so... And again, I'm truly sorry, alas, extraordinary circumstances. As far as your presence and assistance - Should it be required, I'm not quite certain about the duration of the engagement - goes, I'm sure we'll be able to develop the appropriate organisational structure. Oh, and would you like another pen? I think we've strawberry-flavoured ones..."

Phirex

* Contacting Phirex [Tightbeam, Open]...
* Sending Standard Identification Protocols [Nation = Der Angst; Region = DA Neptune; Entity = Poseidon (Sandra Mikogami)]
<Sandra Mikogami> Now, now. Don't blame me. Blame our mutual friends.

Neptune

Information.

While the battle raged, and information became ordinance just assorted gigatons of 'dumd' gamma- and x-ray radiation, kinetic energy and exotic mixtures of the two, other kinds of information were collected and distributed.

While a few smallish TEU's moved themselves and their (Faster) missile- and decoy clouds in the direction of the three ships attempting to meet with Serrat's shuttle, intending to engage this split-off group just to make sure that nothing escaped, the information was analysed. Reactions of molecules to various kinds and configuratiosn of ordinance and energies, the magnitude of weapons discharges, command structures, movements, drive energies, thrust, EM-band structures of ship constructions... Everything that seemed to be vaguely useful to enhance the effectiveness of th weapons used against the Skeelzanian fleet was analysed, with the results promptly streamed to assorted friendly forces in the area.

What it was - A technical description, a suggstion, an approximate psychological profile of the prince (The latter naturally being rather vague and somewhat questionable) was secondary. For now, information simply flooded the channels.

In the meantime, Sandra engaged in more communications, the rapidly evolving situation requiring an oddly annoying amount of attention from her side.

Sometimes I hate my job.

Encoded Transmission [Shared Code; Medium Level; DA - Largent]
From: Sandra Mikogami
To: Diego Escabar
Subject: Your Request

Actually, forget my last message. The situation is changing annoyingly quickly, and, well... Feel fre to come in. Provisional access for now, I'm sure full access can be granted after this.

Sincerely,

~ Sandra Mikogami

The reason? None in particular - Help wasn't really required, all things considered. However, telling Largent to stay out when she invited a non-resident (ZMI) in, well, that'd just have been bad form. And while Sandra was likewise doubting the need for ZMI involvement in the present engagement (After all, it was supposed to be over within the next few minutes, if that), it'd likewise have been impolite to say 'No', and she did kind of need their help for further actions against Skeelzania - Not at Neptune, but in a somewhat distant part of the galaxy.

Annoying, yes, and not particularly efficient. But what could she do? She signaled again, this time to the approaching ZMI forces.

Encoded Transmission [Shared Code; High Level; DA - ZMI]
From: Sandra Mikogami
To: ZMSF Cheswick
Subject: Your Request

Granted, though I doubt the need. But better safe than sorry, I guess, and you guys wanted to test some of your counter-goo, anyway, I believe, so: Good luck. And welcome to the fireworks.

Sincerely,

~ Sandra Mikogami

Encoded Transmission [Shared Code; High Level; DA - ZMI]
From: Sandra Mikogami
To: ZMSF task Force four fleet mind Candle
Subject: Your Request

Granted, will organise, and granted. With regards to the second, may take a little while - we're a tad busy here.

Nonetheless, good luck.

Sincerely,

~ Sandra Mikogami

Again, information flickers. Links are established, information - Encoded at obscenely high levels - begins to travel. Informational structures are built up, information is acquired and exchanged.

The codes are a little old, and only on wargame level - But they'll suffice. In any case, the approaching ZMI forces are now receiving a wealth of data - Enough to make the whole operation make sense, which is, again, better than nothing.

oocness: With regards to the arriving ZMI - And possibly Midlonian, I've yet to read that post... Pressed by time here - forces, they're apparently arriving minutes/ hours later, whereas the battle is so far, well, less than a minute old. So, erm, I'd suggest for further reinforcement-posts to stop until the engagement itself is old enough for them to be possible to arrive. Fluid time has its limits.

Tiburon Joint Command Neptune, Tiburon Neptune, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon
Before the Skeelzanian Jump

Major General Lansing sighed and shook his head. Well, it's happened. Took a little longer than I thought, but... it's happened. Ah, well. Now we can test the GHDCs. Two messages were sent, but more importantly, parts of NSF (Neptune Star Force) were mobilized. Tiburon's Aerospace Forces are divided into a number of different Aerospace Forces (the analogies of divisions in the Army), but these AFs are grouped by theater of operations into Star Forces, and the Neptune Star Force served as Tiburon's military presence in Neptune. Parts of this SF now patrolled Tiburon Neptune. Of course, since Skeelzania had already technically violated the treaty, NSF had free reign to fire at will, but since the Axis and Der Angst seemed to be doing so already, patrols were all that were necessary. No need to waste ammo, after all.

[Sent Via M-Net]
[To: Admiral Fraser, the Kingdom of Britmattia; {Pelasgus City, the Federation of Sentient Peoples]
[From: Major General Bryant Lansing, Tiburon Neptune Joint Command, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon]
[Subject: Assistance]
[Classification: Top Secret]

Admirals and Generals,

As discussed between our nations before, we find Tiburon very much aligned with the FSP and Britmattia on the issue of Skeelzania (and others). To that end and because of the fact that Skeelzania has very much violated the Treaty of Poseidon, we offer our full assistance to the FSP and Britmattia. Happy hunting.

Sincerely,
Major General Bryant Lansing,
Tiburon Aerospace Force,
The United Solaris Federation of Tiburon

[Sent Via M-Net]
[To: Esther, the Caloris Basin]
[From: Major General Bryant Lansing, Tiburon Neptune Joint Command, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon]
[Subject: CQD]
[Classification: Secret]

Esther,

As you probably have noticed, the Skeelies have begun firing, and the nice little battle has begun. We are aware of your situation in Neptune, and, while we have no doubts on DA's abilities to defend your stations, we're still here to help, any way we can.

Sincerely,
Major General Bryant Lansing,
Tiburon Aerospace Force,
The United Solaris Federation of Tiburon

Patrols were not only increased in radius and number, but forces began firing on the Skeelies. Not a major force, mind- Axis and DA were doing quite a good job anyway- but, as the soldiers on the ships explained, shooting guns was "just plain fun".

After the Skeelzanian Jump

Now the soldiers got their wish. The Skeelies had (rather slowly) jumped into a minefield, really, and the GHDCs were just icing on the cake. Damn effective icing, though- the GHDCs were having an excellent energy-kill ratio, putting even GAPA to shame. The Tiburonese guns, missiles, and kinetics were part of the total onslaught, pounding away at the Skeelzanians. Weapons to intercept Skeelie attacks against the Myrmidies and weapons to blast the Skeelie ships to smithereens. Seventeen seconds.

OOC: I didn't make the battle scene too detailed- not enough time to do so ATM.

[Reply Via M-Net]
[To: MajGen Lansing, Tiburon Neptune Joint Command]
[From: Esther, CEO Esther's Diamond Co., The Federated Mercurial Demesne of The Caloris Basin]
[Subject: CQD]
[Classification: Secret]

MajGen Lansing,

Thank you for your concern, and your assistance. I had hoped that they might actually follow the pact that they signed, but it seems that is too much to ask for. Debris, we can handle, but should they go all out, I would definately welcome your assistance. I don't believe I would be a target, but I'll be sure to let you know if there is a specific concern.

Thank you again for your assistance. It's very much appretiated.

Of course, should things escallate much more... well... I do have friends in high places...

~ Esther.

Internal TacNet Feeds

**REAL TIME SENSOR STREAM CONSTANT**

<Pelagus> Well, there go the Skeeli… what the hell? That’s… impossible.

<Imperator> This could be a problem, if our weapons are ineffective against their ships.

<Torcularis Septentrionalis> Not all the weapons, clearly. The DA close range sensor feeds from their drones indicates the flagship did suffer some damage from kinetics.

**REAL TIME SENSOR UPDATE**

<Pelagus> There they go, jumping into hyper… five hundred Fedcreds says they’re jumping closer.

<Capella> I’ll take that bet.

**REAL TIME SENSOR UPDATE**

<Pelasgus> Eh, not your fault you ships don’t know when to stop with the easy ones.

<SEU Act on Instinct> This might be important to the continued engagement.

**COMBAT DATA UPLOAD >< DATNP.PBCTNS**

**General Indignation from the Fleet to Pelagus’ comment**

<Admiral Ian Christensen> Continue the engagement under rules Blind Dog Seven.

<Pelasgus><Fleet> Confirmed.

What that means in the real world

By the time Admiral Christensen, Commanding Officer of the Federation First Battle Fleet, had given the order to continue the engagement, one second had passed since the Skeelzanian emergence back into n-space. It took three seconds for the ships and the fleet base to finish reloading their tubes properly, having been anticipating such an order, and then, one second before the Skeelzanians once more opened fire on their rebels, another salvo rippled out from the combined might of Pelasgus’, First Fleet’s, and the Neptune Task Groups launchers, numbering slightly more than half the weight of fire from the original salvo, as the lighter ships added their weapons to the carnage.

Carnage, that despite the Skeelzanian’s dropping the range by more than half, was still five minutes from occurring.

In the next second, as the Skeelzanians once more opened fire, still well beyond any hope of effective energy range of their targets, especially given the defenses those targets mounted, Pelasgus responded in kind, continuing to launch enormous shoals of countermissiles to block and intercept the fire roaring in at as many of the blue elf ships as possible. Even at such extended range, and trying to protect ships that were… oddly enough, being uncooperative, there was no doubt in his electronic mind that no more than a hundredeth of a percent of the fire would get through… and at this range… not a one of the ships could expect to be hit except under the most freakish of circumstances.

But even still, anything was possible. But a single freak hit would be unlikely to destroy the Myrmidon ships, or even heavily damage them. In his spare picoseconds, Pelagus sent a politely worded order to the Myrmidon vessels to cluster behind the Larissa moon, relative to the Skeelzanian fleet. Despite the Federation and the Kingdom’s general command in military situations, due mainly to preponderance of firepower, he actually had no authority over anyone.

But back to that first salvo…

Since the Skeelzanians had, at that point, yet to fire, Pelagus had been free to use nearly half of his countermissile launchers to seed even more missiles into the launch, though, comparatively, those missiles would be useless against the enemy fleet, the 250 kilogram missiles relying mainly on speed and their drive fields to destroy incoming – but they had another advantage – their massive acceleration.

Launched at the same time as the heavier ship killers, they quickly sped ahead, their enormous kinetic energy building with absurd speed. As they would manage to arrive about ten seconds before the main missile barrage, it was concluded in the microseconds before firing that they would intercept the physical shielding the Skeelzanian ships were employing, damaging or destroying them to let the actual missiles tasked with ship killing through.

Unlike the previous salvo, despite the missiles being exactly the same as far as any sensor could tell, this salvo contained only ship killers in those few missiles dispatched from the Federation warships and less than a tithe of those fired by the base. The rest were just plain old nuclear warheads – that would need actual contact to cause any real damage.

But the plan was not for them to impact.

Two tenths of a light second from the Skeelzanian fleet, a third of those missiles exploded, throwing up a massive wall of electromagnetic radiation as something on the order of the energies of three trillion tons of TNT were released.

It was a fraction of a second later when the next third exploded, and twenty thousand kilometers closer that the next third exploded, throwing a second wave of energy into space, racing up on the Skeelzanian fleet behind the first…

And yet another fraction of a second later, the remainder of the missiles exploded, throwing a third wall of energy into space, fifteen thousand kilometers closer than the last, and in the range of the ship killers themselves. Those ship killers that had managed to make it this far exploded with the final group of heavy, dirty warheads, and spewed forth their coherent x-rays as spears of death once more, stabbing deep into the Skeelzanian fleet, though far, far fewer than before.

But unlike the last, this entire launch, an expenditure of thousands upon thousands of credits, was a sham, in a sense. The x-rays were certainly not expected to do any damage this time, and the standard nuclear warheads, even less. But the flood of hard radiation from the massive explosions should accomplish something far more valuable…

Combat sensors used in defensive targeting at close range, were, almost exclusively, throughout the known universe, based on differing frequencies of electromagnetic radiation merely because of ease of use and convenience. But these types of sensors could be rendered useless by enough of that radiation, and that was precisely the intent of the massive warheads – blind the Skeelzanian defensive targeting sensors – preventing last ditch close in point defense from doing its job.

Given that Der Angstian intelligence suggested that the Skeelzanian’s sensors were pretty much crap as it was, they could likely not see in front of them any longer, at least, not for some minutes. Which would be more than enough time.

Twelve seconds behind the first salvo came a second, which, until the sensor blinding trick, had likely appeared to be precisely the same as every other salvo the Federation had thrown at the unwelcome fleet presence. And to keep that illusion, these missiles also did not commit to their terminal attack phase until twenty five thousand kilometers from the enemy fleet.

But unlike the x-ray warheads, these missiles were different. Unlike the Angstian weapons, the Federation’s relatively cheap missiles could not alter their energy beam’s frequency, relying primarily on overwhelming energy and specific point damage to tear apart an enemy combatant.

Electromagnetic pulse generators detonated, throwing out false radiation signatures that would make the weapons look precisely the same as they executed their attack move, but they were, in fact, completely different.

Thousand of metallic pieces from the detonated weapons streamed towards the Skeelzanian fleet as chaff, disrupting any form of targeting on the truly deadly parts of the missiles. Each one had burst into kinetic warheads, the smallest of which massed two metric tons and was moving at immensely high velocity – before it engaged its own drive, speeding it up even more. But even these kinetic kill missiles were not the truly threatening bit of the launch. The worst were the kinetic penetrators, fifteen ton vehicles which, moving at more than eighty percent of the speed of light, would slam through the fairly thin ten meters of armor and the goo like it was not even there… before they would detonate a second time.

Some contained inside them nuclear weapons, relatively small yield, due to the missile size, one or two megatons, but going off inside the enemy ships, more than enough to wreak havoc. But others contained fusion torches, spouting fifty meter plasma flames ahead of the missile the merest moment after impact, a cutting blade hotter than the sun which was impossible to withstand.

Of course, behind this wave of missiles was yet another of the same composition, and then another and another and another, twelve seconds apart, two whole minutes of rapid fire… for a total strength of more than two million kinetics.

All of which would arrive well after the Angstians had spent quite a while battering the Skeelzanians – of course, if the Angstians did their jobs well enough, there might not even be any Skeelizanians by the time the Federation’s missiles arrived.

Larissa's command deck

Things are very quiet for a moment as the first wave of missiles bomb-pumped warheads are negated by the Skeelzot shielding tech.
Quiet except for Malcom of course.
"Well, we expected something like this. Larissa, my compliments to Vice Admiral Stirling, tell him he's to move on to Stage Two. That applies for us as well ladies and gentlemen."
Bright eyes under bushy brows examine his command crew, who break from their reverie and jump back to work.
Rapping the stem of his pipe on his fingers Malcom stares into the middle distance for a moment, before speaking again.
"Larissa, halt any further missile fire. Turn the warheads off on any still travelling, we'll see if the damn things can get kinetic kills. Ought to with their velocity."

H.M.S Mordred, The Fleet

Vice Admiral Sammael Stirling is not having a good morning. Or afternoon. Or whatever the hell damn time it is. Ship subjective time claims it's morning, but Sammael calls this lies.
Whatever the time is, it's finding the At-Space commander of His Majesty's Star Navy feeling distinctly hung-over. He was meant to be halfway back to Ns by now, for a two month leave no less, and the send off part had lasted quite a while...had in fact still been going in a desolutory way when the Myrmidions dropped into Neptune Space.
Mordred's avatar glaring at him wasn't helping much either. The E.I had chosen a particularly looming pale-skinned and black-haired personal form, looking like a large and grumpy angel, and currently had it's(his subjectively) arms folded and a look of determind disapproval on.
Sammael glared back. "Just because you can't bloody drink and are determind to be a paragon of bloody duty, doesn't mean I have to be. I was supposed to be on leave!"
Mordred continued glaring. Sammael muttered about electronic intelligence being a blight on the bloody universe and had his toot flood his blood-stream with a hang-over remedy and a wide-awake.
Shivering from the chemicals sudden rush through his blood, he smoothed messy black hair back away from his face and dropped the privacy screen from around his command chair, dispensing an equal opportunity glare on his command crew.
"Right you horrible lot. You know what Stage Two means. Relay the order and take us up to Condition Red."
A chorus of "Sir" comes and the crew turn to their boards, pulling rebreathers up, sealing nemourlon coveralls and donning rebreather helmets. The lightning dims to combat-readiness red as the Mordred and the half the fleet around slow to a halt.
Hundreds of thousands of kilometres away, on the other "side" of the Skeelzanians, as much as anything can be to the side of a 3d environment, the other half of the Fleet mirrors the Mordred and it's kin.
The ships hang there for a moment, before they're surrounded by an instantly-frozen cloud of oxygen vented from inside the ships.
Then they disappear from n-space for a heartbeat.
Two heartbeats.
Three, and two hundred and fifty two ships are dropped neatly into range of the Skeelzanian vessels.
Four heartbeats and shields flare into life and space is filled with the shorter range, terminally-guided Kali missiles surging out of the battlecruisers, filled again by tens of thousands of heavy kinetic-impact Longship missiles bursting from the destroyers and filled thrice with a storm of energy and kinetic fire coming off the dreadnoughts, joined by the battlecruisers' gunnery crews swiftly.
Also joining the engagement are thousands of Barracuda graser drones, hanging back and then micro-jumping in to fire battlecruiser-powered grasers as Spoot-shields collapse under the massive weight of fire. Unusually, there's no sign of Hammerhead or Piranha parasite craft, but perhaps Admiral Stirling and his boss have deemed them unecessary in light of the hail of projectiles and energy raining down on the invading forces.

Larissa's Command Deck.

Malcom smiles and puffs happily as the Skeelzot and Kingdom fleet symbols merge. "Capital stuff. Larissa, two favours. Put out an all points for any N.D.A craft in the area, tag on the codes for "defence of territory", at, hrm, yellow priority for now, and if you could, shuttle off a message drone to the Revenians, I suspect they'd be more than happy to join in any pursuit action of the wogs."

“I… Hope so.” DD 01/09 made sure that its machine-self showed no emotions whatsoever – Which, contrary to popular opinion, was rather hard, which was one of the reason for its failure to succeed – “And yes… It was the first case I’ve witnessed. Just hoping it doesn’t become a trend.” It looked briefly at Miko Mido, though not exactly at her face. “I don’t suppose you’d need it…” then it turned again, somewhat embarrassed. “Erm… Nevermind.”

"Uhm, okay," Miko blinked. She didn't say anything for a few minutes, trying to figure out what exactly the drone was saying. She decided to take the silence; it was easier than restarting the conversation, which she was failing at miserably. But she decided to try anyway. "So what's the deal with the Skeelzies, anyway? I'm getting a bunch of weapons fire, so the conference failed, I suppose?"