NationStates Jolt Archive

Neptune, the great indigo sphere of fierce winds and swirling storms, bobbed innocently through the starlit emptiness far from its bright fiery star. Everything appeared normal, as normal as things were for the blue giant, its large moons, and set of thin dark rings. Ships passed by innocently, and not so innocently. Great comets came and went, clouds clawed upwards like bursts of cool fire from atmosphere, and the Great Dark Spot – the Eye of the Sea God – spun and spun and spun away, like it had since last anyone could remember. And it was in this dark planet-sized storm, that something was miraculously born from the unrelenting winds.

Desire, yearning, and an insatiable hunger; strong sensations ripple through the mind and body of any living being near the vicinity of this new existence. A great thing; ship, asteroid, or station; what exactly it is, is entirely undefinable. Sitting still like a ship locked in the summer doldrums, in the spinning gaze of the great Neptune’s spinning dark eye. Both solid and spectral at once; all encompassing and empty, sitting unperturbed by the chaotic world of darkness and unrelenting winds.

Ripped from some great dimension never before chartered, or the creation of some mad scientist, no one knew. It was just there as if it always had been, though it had not been there but a minute before. Transforming a great storm into an ever-changing landscape of vivid colors and shifting forms.

Angry iridescent vortices of violet and azure, mingle with wisping clouds of blood and emerald, into a great tempest of flickering light, bleeding from the crystal like surface curling pyramids, and spires; twisting cubes, cylinders, and spheres, and a myriad of other bizarre shapes geometry could never explain and eyes could not fathom; all morphing into and out of temporal existence in the blink of an eye.

Heat endlessly radiates from within; a soft and soothing feeling of warmth reaching beyond the barriers of space and time into the bodies and minds of any nearby creature. Carrying an unspoken message not detectable by machine or ear, but understood somehow by the subconscious, then translated into the active mind.

"The portal opens amidst a wild vortex-
At the eager steps of the curious.

That beg for entrance into this aperture of frightful uncertainty-
Into a land once forgotten.

To commune with lingering spirits in places wandering the past-
And find the future."

A strange music reverberating through the mind, promising serenity and enlightenment, growing stronger and stronger the closer one came. A sound made by instruments unknown, played by beings unknown, that danced with the object’s pulsing, seemingly living light. Piercing into the soul of man and alien from the now glimmering eye of Neptune, from a great glowing cloud of mystery beckoning desperately for a response.

Foreplay

Well. That's unusual.

An understatement.

Very, very much of an understatement.

But then, the organic and anorganic - and anything in between - sapients in the Multiverse (And this is, of course, including the doubledigit-or-so millions located within the Neptunian sphere) are used to 'Unusual' events. And over time, one's ability to wonder is depleted.

Still, when the planet one is orbiting (Or hovering inside) suddenly starts exhibiting conditions that are most definitely not explained through weather forecasts, one can't help but to wonder just a little.

A little more than that, actually. Granted, the last time Neptune actually saw live-shootouts was a while ago, but one learns not to be all that carelessly self-satisfied, reacting only after the issues start suffocating everyone's everyday-lazyness.

As such, the more-or-less immediate action following the transformation of Neptune's present eye (They do have a tendency of dissolving and then re-establishing themselves elsewhere on the planet) is a rather more than basic scanning milgrade routine.

The results however, are decidedly dissatisfying. Absurd geometry, absurd mathematics and physics - the minds doing the analysis do have the capacity to sort-of grasp it, understanding is something decidedly different, though.

For seconds, hostility is presumed.

This is about the time the message sent - by unknown means, which just pisses off the minds in question, and sends them into another fit of wildly-indulged theorisation and research -, understood well by the more-or-less organic entities around, and understood not quite as well by the more-or-less machine entities said organic entities tend to inhabit, arrives.

Hostility continues to be presumed, and built-in procedures filter out what can quite accurately be described as a mild form of (Non-chemical) drug.

Well, at least they try. After all, one cannot really make rational decisions when lured in by siren's songs.

More Foreplay

"Well. They do have style."

"Yes. Like the Osage did."

"Hrm. You may just have a point."

Sandra leant back on her chair, eyes closed, breathing slowly. She didn't appear to be worried, but considering that she was sitting on a ten-plus-trillion ton platform inside Neptune's atmosphere - which is to say, it wasn't utterly unlikely that she and her habitat could've ended up inside the oddity that had shown up - it wasn't particularly surprising that she was worried.

A few dozen minds were already working on the issues - How could this happen? Why did it happen? How can we prevent something like this from happening again? - but, so far, results were few and far between, and decidedly insufficient.

Granted, it's not like anything else was to be expected, given the few minutes that've passed since the initial event. Still, it's worrying.

"So... What are we going to do?"

"Until you can call up the ghostbusters, I doubt that we can do much, can we?"

"Well. Now that you mention it, there are a few people specialising in such cases. We could..."

"Oh, shut up." Sandra sighed. "Apart from a mild degree of 'Influence' displayed - and we really aren't in a position where we could complain about such - nothing has happened. Yet. And as of now, we're simply lacking information. Nothing wrong with acquiring more of it, no?"

"I bet the ships that can fly away think the same."

"Well... yes, they do."

"Not to mention, the, um, message this... newcomers sent wasn't exactly the clearest, either."

"This is true. But, well, maybe we'll be able to get some more rational response from them, come time. Which is what I'm trying to do now."

"Great."

<Sandra-chan> Anything new?
<DEATy> Nope. We've confirmed location - 's if that requires any efford - we can block out or redirect most of their 'Influence' on your average organic mind - and if I may be so bold, boy, do they like to overact - but that's about it. The structures they use in the ex-storm, well... Lets just say that it'll take us a while to get it. For now, it's all just pretty colours and weird movement. Mind you, I am keeping records - it's much better than a lava lamp.
<Sandra-chan> Hee. Well, keep going. I'm going to try to have a talk with them. Which just might be problematic, since we can't replicate their methods - wonder if they even have a concept of EM. Well, if nothing helps, I can pulse it through the atmosphere - they should notice that.

On Poseidon, well... It wasn't quite confusion, and the initial surprise at the somewhat emotional influence had gone - most residents were blocking or redirecting it, dumping it into pre-constructed data dumps to take a closer - and safer - look at it, though a few more spiritual individuals (Generally identifiable by their mildly esoteric look and the prettily coloured pills they tended to carry with them) just sat or lied where they'd been, smiling as they let the pleasant wave of incorporeal promises and general warmth and light sweep through their minds.

The others just linked up to datafeeds on the new object - as far as they were released, anyway - to be disappointed by the decided lack of information and/ or to enjoy the pretty colours shifting about.

No more Foreplay

The message radiated as a wave - electromagnetic, of course, but also as sound, pulsed into the atmosphere.

Confusion, anxiety, and curiosity-
Caused by the unusual.

Lacking knowledge, we wait and watch-
Uncertain how to continue, but wondering.

Can't decide without knowing more-
Having seen you, tell us more, about yourself.

"Sandra?"

"Yes?"

"... Next time, let a poet compose such a message. Your abilities in the field are... Questionable."

"Oh, shut up."

KARA> An oddity...
FIDO> Indeed.
SYNCH> It is oddly attracting.
FIDO> As are many oddities. Do we have any kind of... exploratory unit available?
KARA> I do.
FIDO> Excellent. Dispatch it. Let's see what we shall see.

******

A drone. Crude as drones go, but oddly sophisticated at the same time. It's mostly sensor, armor, and engine, with the emphasis being on "engine" - a bold explorer intended for possibly-suicidal trips into unknown realms. Realms where its mission is to mindlessly dive into places where no autonomous sensor drone has gone before.

And take notes. Taking notes is a plus.

******

Said drone is teleported from Mars, via a wormhole of dizzying power consumption, to a point exactly .6 light-seconds from the surface of Neptune.

It hangs briefly above the coloured maelstorm. Then, turning, it dives in, at velocities hypersonic by tens and hundreds.

******

We're gonna get there, and if there's any chance at all, we're gonna damn well get there first.
-Mareka Exskel
-Augmented Military Technocracy Exploration Division motto

A lot of planets tend to have at least marginal FTL-inhibition fields running, to prevent assorted kinds of somewhat unpleasant surprises - cfractional kinetics leaving $FTL_Medium at appreciable fractions of c, tactical FTL jumps, the instantaneous appearance of fleets measuring hundreds of ships.

Neptune does, in fact, not have any such fields running, owing to the absurd conditions that tend to be necessary to run them - either they consume absurd amounts of energy, which still aren't sufficient to prevent a successful burning-through, or some exotic kind of FTL is unaffected, anyway, or whatever achives the effect screws with computing on scales where Einstein fails and Planck takes precedence.

Of course, just because nothing is inhibited doesn't mean that it cannot be interdicted.

And while this doesn't usually happen - having filed a schedule, doing regular trips back and forth, or simply announcing oneself a while beforehand works wonders to get a free passage, so does FTLing in OUTSIDE the inner parts of the Neptunian sphere (Specifically, outside the range of the various displacers around) -, the Augmented have done no such thing.

.6 lightseconds off the planet's surface. .3 lightseconds off the closest vessels on interdiction 'Duty'.

When information can be transmitted faster than light, things can go very, very quickly.

Invormation, collected in rather less-than-relativistic realms of reality, is relayed. Photons bounce through the hardware that makes up subconscious routines on ships. A few messages are fired off, informing the conscious parts of them about what exactly is happening right now.

Input: Velocity of the incoming object, as well as its overall dimensions.

Output: Oddly shaped geometries collapse, doing the equivalent of pissing into the face of everyone used to conventional four-dimensional arrangements of reality.

The collapse is caused on both ends, and the Augmented drone's in the middle of it.

Correction. The collapse is caused on three ends, and the drone's reappearing on said third end, ending up mere centimetres above the surface of Triton.

Velocity is a vector. The vector's pointed straight at Triton. And conservation of energy and momentum are fun things, too.

Organics and Machine Intelligences watch the surface of their gas giant home-away-from-home boil equally interestedly and the ensuing New Age lightshow and contact initiation are the most interesting thing to happen in months.
Certainly, this is the first time Larissa Base has gone to Condition Orange since the Royal Stellar Navy and it's friends kicked the ever-loving snot out of the Skeelies.
So, grasers and missile launchers snarl into wakefulness, thousands of men, women and robots move to General Quarters.
The Fleet itself barely responds, other than to dispatch a Battlegroup toward the anomaly and spread out into it's traditional Ominous Globe battle formation.

The twenty-four ship Battlegroup glides towards the anomaly, unperturbed by the brief appearance, and then disappearance of, the drone, moving blithely towards their goal, parasites gliding out of the internal hangars without interrupting the trundling progress of BattGrou 38..

Glorious fireworks ensue, both physical and emotional.

For every action there is a reaction, although not necessarily an equal and opposite one.

******


TO: Der Angst
SUBJECT: Compensation for destroyed property

You are hereby billed $75 USD, the replacement cost for one (1) unarmed Augmented survey drone, occupied at the time with a peaceful exploratory mission.

You are also billed a further $125 USD, the replacement cost for one (1) presentient RI Fourth Class drone pilot, lost in the destruction of aforementioned unarmed Augmented survey drone.

Thank you, and have a nice day.

******

Another survey ship. This one not a drone, but rather, a frigate: the electronic warfare model. Weaponless, of course- it would not "do" to teleport weapons into Neptunian space - but more than sufficiently equipped with communication and sensor equipment to do the job of the deceased probe, with a decent helping of FTLi and spatial stabilizers into the bargain.

Unlike most Augmented ships of its class, the frigate actually posesses an occupied crew bubble. Killing presentient AI constructs is one thing: killing sentient organics is quite another.

It, like the deceased drone, ignites its engines and begins a (slightly more sedate) descent towards the anomaly.

There are few psykers in the Dark City: those with such powers are considered amusing toys and succulent meals of unrivaled delicacy and flavor. There are a few, though, who tap the power of their minds and souls to carve out a kingdom for themselves. Those who do are respected indeed, for they overcame the longest odds to achieve power and domination in the Dark Eldar's cutthroat society.

The Faceless Lord is one of these. He leads the Death's Fist-in-exile, the keigh who had rebelled when the matriarch bitch Mieka had been deposed and supposedly murdered. He had also killed Mieka's wych-child, Nascia, some years back, and still possessed her soul in a crystal phial. He was pondering his rise to power during his daily meditations when he heard the call of the Anomaly. It intrudes into his consciousness like a strand of music, breaking his concentration and eliciting an annoyed sigh from the Faceless Lord.

He extends his consciousness out through the twisting labyrinth of the Webway, towards the source of the call. There, in Sol, hated Sol, there is the source.

I hear -

The Dark City tilts insanely while light and pain sear his mind. He feels his throat burn, but cannot hear his own scream. The light then fades, and he is no longer in the exiles' pleasure-temple deep in the bowels of Commorragh.

-you.

Of course, this isn't Mars, so as the Khrrckian frigate proceeds towards the subsystem, one of the Royal Navy's numerous patrolling battlegroups goes active with it's targetting setup on the foreign warship.
This, while a breach of protocol outside of the Neptunian subsystem, is par for the course here.
Accompanying the probe of enough sensors to read every bolt and rivet on the frigate's hull is a terse, verbal-only hail from one of the dreadnoughts targetting the smaller vessel.
The voice is genderless, smoothed into neutrality by the transmitting system, but the tone is definitely chilly, even without the faint hint of a clipped accent giving it a sharp edge.
"Attention foreign warship, this is H.M.S Fisher King, be advised that the Neptune sub-system is closed to non-native warships. Repeat, the Neptune subsystem is closed to foreign warships."
The speaker, whoever they are, pauses, then continues in a slightly less curt manner.
"If you are responding to the hail emanating from the planet we can understand your curiousity but we will not allow you to enter the sub-system in a warship without prior and express permission. Any attempt to continue into the system will see your vessel crippled, as I'd appreciate not having to spend His Majesty's ordinance on that, please find an alternate method of entry. Fisher King out."

Meanwhile, BattGrou 38's flagship, H.M.S Camlan aims broad-spectrum radio antenna at the Neptunian surface, such as it is and broadcasts the standard first contact hail, with the addendum that the R.B.S.N. would like whoever this is to know that it's collective trigger finger is rendered more than a little twitchy by the presence of unknowns next to it's organisation centre.

"HMS Fisher King, we would like you to note that our vessel posesses no weapons and is totally unshielded. It poses no threat whatsoever to you and your planetary installations. Further, we would like to note that this level of electronic equipment and reinforced FTL drive systems are standard outfit for exploration vessels, and that our vessel is not classed as a warship."

"If you do attempt to fire upon our drive systems you will be responsible for attacking an unarmed, peaceful target, as well as knowingly causing the deaths of three Augmented crew members by disrupting this ship's drive containment systems. In such a situation, we shall react accordingly. Proceed as you wish."

******

As the exchange of words takes place, the systems of the frigate begin an exchange of data. Sensor dishes unfold, drinking in torrents of data both visual and otherwise. Antennas and comm lasers chatter, sending first-contact messages plummeting into the maelstorm. The ship itself begins to slow, at a rate which should leave it poised at the edge of the anomaly.

Flag Bridge of H.M.S Fisher King

Commodore Lois Walker sighs, disconnecting the whisker-com from Larissa Base as she ends her brief consultation with Fleet Admiral Fraser, before opening a com-channel to Fisher King's operational bridge, the bass voice and drawling Sea Islands-accent of Captain Seabing acknowledging her.
"Ma'am?"
"We've got confirmation from Admiral Fraser, Ronnie, if they want to play dumb, they get the inevitable result. He would prefer if we only disabled them, but everyone knows the rules about Neptune by now. It's on their own heads."
The irritation in Commodore Walker's voice is discernable, but the tall and stately brunette doesn't show it on her face, serene and upright in her command chair as the King's flag crew echo relay orders to the rest of BattGrou 24.
"Aye ma'am." comes Seabing's acknowledgement, before he continues.
"I'll give them a one minute evacuation countdown then ma'am."
"Very good Ronnie. Six out."

***

Seabing's voice replaces Walker's on the next communication with the Augmented vessel
"Augmented ship you have failed to comply with my instructions and thus I have no choice but to follow standard procedure for dealing with unwanted and unapproved visitors."

Parasites emerge from Fisher King's hangars, two flights of Hammerhead interceptors escorting the unit of Piranha anti-shipping fighters on a zero/zero course intercept with the Augmented vessel.

"I'm giving you a one minute evacuation countdown, then my parasites will disable your vessel prepatory to boarding it. You can stop now or you can force me to fire on your ship. Your choice. The boarding, however, is not optional, and, given the intransigence you people typically display, I expect you will be enjoying accomodation at His Majesty's pleasure for some time to come. Fisher King out."

Even as the Captain clears the channel, a single Valkyrie assault shuttle moves out, carefully trailing the strike craft, but boring in towards the Augmented ship just the same.

Meanwhile, throughout the rest of BattGrou 24, Commodore Walker's orders bring the other vessels up to Condition Red, just in case the intruders try anything tricky.

Terence placed his feet up and looked up at the sky. The communications had been frightening, but had quickly ended anyway. "Diagnostic?" He asked, idly.

"Unusual energy readings from the eye, and the orbiters seem to be arguing with people according to chatter." His aide said through a carrot. "I recommend an investigation. Whatever is there is obviously something people want."

Terence sighed. "We should send word to His Majesty... but I agree. This opportunity should not be missed. Ready a shuttle and send a team in the next dawn, pending for action by the orbiters."

"Fisher King, your willingness to fire upon unarmed civilians has been duly noted. However, one way or another, we will be leaving the area within sixty seconds, as per your oh-so-polite request. See you on the other side."

******

The frigate's delicate sensor arrays fold back within its protective hull. Its FTL drive spools up, peaking at operational power within a few seconds.

But the frigate neither disappears nor slows. Instead, its engine roars back into full-power thrust, driving the frigate straight down again, like a spearhead on a shaft of fusing hydrogen, towards the anomaly.

Within twenty seconds, it will dive straight into the heart of the maelstorm. From this, there are three outcomes. Either the ship will encounter a solid or some other ineffable barrier, and be destroyed (unlikely, given the seemingly insubstantial nature of the anomaly), or it will encounter nothing substantial, plummet into the upper layers of the Neptunian atmosphere, and FTL out.

Or, and this is what its pilots are hoping for, the anomaly, upon being encountered, will perform some as-yet-unknown operation upon the frigate, with consequences unforseeable.

A few small, baseball-sized sensor drones are ejected aft of the frigate, to observe the proceedings. The frigate's energy shields are held ready, but remain offline- so as to minimize the possibility of disrupting the anomaly.

Fifteen seconds.

Sounds… The bulky man moved towards with noise with an agility that belied his size. His armour was hanging loosely from his left torso and a tube from his life support system was hanging from his back. Sergeant Bretriere had no clue where he was. He had no clue how long he had been lost or how he got to this site. But the training he had received since he had been bred and raised as an inquisitor told him to move towards the noise.

Everything had gone wrong late in the mission. He had been part of a team who had gone in to raid the space elves together with forces from Whispering Voices. They had entered the pagan webways to find the nest of the Nephilim and plant nukes there. There had been hard fights and after planting the bombs he had lost his team and tried to find them again. His scanners had told him where his team was but the maze never led him in the right direction. Every time he thought he was close to them the maze turned and he strayed away from his team again. The distant flash that must have been his object had made his screen turn black. His partners no longer were in range and it had all happened so quick! He walked towards the last known destination and tried to find the way but the winding path led him this and that way and he had no clue where he was.

Sometimes he thought about committing suicide. But suicide was a sin and he had been brought up to root out sin wherever it was. This was the first sound except his own breath he had heard for a very long time. Whatever or whoever it was he wouldn’t let it away. He contained his growing madness in a very small box inside his mind.

Dust fell off his armor as he moved onward with a catlike grace. He didn’t use the battle drugs yet, he needed to know what made those noises. Holding his rifle in the left hand his right hand opened and closed like a clasping claw as almost 200 kilo of inquisitor drifted towards the noise without making a sound.

There! A shadow is moving away from him as he increases his strides and his speed, resolute to catch his prey. His scanner sees neither heat from foot steps nor no body heat but he sees the quick movement as the shadow cuts a corner and disappears from his view. Adrenaline pumps through his body as his legs push him into a long leap towards the shadow.

He feels himself floating over a lengthy space and almost as if he’s weightless he passes the wall and goes through it. Everything is white and then black. As he drifts into unconsciousness he hears it… Sounds...

The security force ran his fingers over the diagram. "The anomaly is here." He pointed to a blue swirl. "The Fighters will enter through it, and pursue and destroy any intruders, then secure the area. Once the whatever has been reached, contact the base and we'll send a pick-up ship."


That had been nearly 4 hours ago. Now that a plan had been made, the Roanians acted quickly. A temporary base had been set into place near the anomaly, close enough for the very heavy atmospheric fighters to patrol and attempt to rip anything to shreds that they might find. They considered it amusing the orbiters had almost allowed the Augmented to slip through the net, though considered it par for the course for humans. Still, wasn't likely to happen again, and anything that did would be destroyed down here.

At least, that was the assurance that Eilasa Tel'Mar, First Pilot, had been given. She slid into her seat and waved to the other pilots in her team. "Ready?" She called.

"Ready!"

"Ready!"

Then they sprang into the Neptunian atmosphere. The fighters shook heavily, but their thick frames held in place. The engines flared, and they took off as fast as they could through the thick storms. When they reached the air over the anomaly, they looked between each other. Eilasa radioed over to the others. "Ready for dive." Diving was not a common event for the Roanians, who disliked the pressure it put upon their bodies. But the fighters helped stabilise that.

To Eilasa, it was all a bit of fun. She loved to fly, and since she didn't have wings like some other Roanians, this was the closest she'd get. Her eyes glowed brightly with happiness as the others spoke in. "Ready."

"Ready, Eilasa."

Then they dove into the spot.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v369/Roania/Lakutika/Eilasa.bmp

Command Bridge of H.M.S. Fisher King

The bridge goes absolutely silent as the Augmented vessel lights it's drive, but for an ensign's quickly-supressed hiss of suprise.

Captain Seabing goes stiff, one hand clenching angrily on the arm of his command chair, before he shakes himself and barks an order.
"Guns, blow those little pricks out of space."
"Aye Sir, acting."

One turret of the dozens which have been tracking the frigate ever since it entered Neptune-space belches a blaze of fire, the relatively tiny distances involved allowing the burst to scythe into the Augmented vessel within seconds, certainly long before it can reach the anomaly.

"Divert the Valkyrie to pick up survivors, have the Piranha return, Hammerheads to escort the Valkyrie."
"Aye Aye sir."

Flag Bridge of H.M.S. Camlan

One of the benefits of the Royal Stellar Navy's growing primacy over it's wet-ship counterpart is that, for officers involved in it since it's creation, promotion has been pleasingly rapid.
And so it has been for the former Captain Hendrix, now Commodore Hendrix, BattGrou 38 Commanding.

Her former ship Tristan was part of the flotilla, but one of the benefits of Flag rank was choosing her flagship, in the selection of which one of the prime criteria had been the ship's A.I. not being one of the melancholic Arthurian ones which characterised the Bloc I Excalibur Class Dreadnaughts.

So, Melissa's pixie-like form is flanked by the anthropomorphic-Rook chess piece Camlan uses as an avatar, silent and grave as Melissa leans forward to transmit an other message into the anomaly.

"To whomever it may concern, this is Commodore Hendrix of the Royal Britmattian Stellar Navy. Make yourselves, and your purpose known, so that we can advance whatever agenda has brought you here to Neptune..."

Fascinating.

Across the endless reaches of space and time, between one ellipsoidal body and the next, the ideas and thoughts and beliefs of billions- trillions, more precisely- blend together, riding points of energy in various directions. Words, sights, and sounds, travelling billions of miles in fractions of milliseconds. A small proportion of this chatter, this manifestation of a need to interact, is the collective dialogue of Tiburon's defense network, and a division of this is the dialogue of the Neptunian branch of this network. A division that, amongst its legions of employees working one task or another to in some way keep this nation safe, finds in its collective chatter one word to sum up their observations of this new entity. Fascinating.

It is unusual, to put it mildly, to have an entity simply appear. It is possible to detect the incoming vectors of vessels that utilize technology (known as "FTL technology") to skirt around the laws of relativity, so to simply see something appear is quite odd indeed. To have an entity that doesn't match known national registrations- or, for that matter, the very classification of a ship- is more so. Add to this the poetic- and cryptic- message, and the enigma grows deeper.

And, of course, there is the message itself. It is not Feynman's poetry of science so much as it is a classical sort of poetry. The message, itself, is straightforward- explaining the reason for the attendance of the entity. There is naught to do other than respond- preferrably in kind- and wait for the future. The defense network is prepared for an assault, of course, as it must be, but Tiburon welcomes all at first, as it has, as it hopefully will for its entire journey through time.

The response is bracketed by the conventions of T-Net messages. It is not a preference so much as it is an integral part of a T-Net message, the packaging of the valuable information inside.

[Sent Via D-Net]
[To: Entity N-0901N279-Alpha]
[From: {Neptune Department, Division of State, the United Solaris Federation of Tiburon}]
[Subject: A Response]
[Classification: Declassified]

Searching throughout eternity, the wanderers came
To a land beyond compare, a light in the depths of wilderness.
The guard in blue stood at the gates, watching them closely.
Welcoming the wanderers, but prepared for his demise.

The guard, ever watchful, ever waiting, ever prepared,
Knew nothing about the oncoming rains- would he find,
A shower of bounty, to bless his people's crops?
Or a deluge to wash them away from the sands of time?

He welcomed the wanderers to the gates of the light,
And wished to know more to help them obtain,
That which they had been searching for forever.
He asked the questions which had naturally come to mind.

And just like the guard of the light of the wilderness,
We too ask of you those questions which come.
We wish to know more of your purpose in coming,
To help you upon your quest through the stars.

A purpose of peace? A purpose of war? Or is it
A purpose of exploration? Or of settlement?
We wish to help you with all that we can
And ask you these questions to fulfill this promise.

But while we ask you these questions and wait for a response,
We wish to assure you we mean you naught but well,
If your purpose too is one of harmony, then,
Welcome to Neptune, from the nation of Tiburon.

Meanwhile, an unmanned exploration probe is launched from Naiad into the vortex itself. It's lightly armed for defensive purposes, consisting primarily of sensors and communications equipment. The shape of the probe alone shows that it is by no means a weapon of war. What will come from the probe is anyone's guess.

Being shot is always an unpleasant. But being shot while flying an Augmented Technocracy Generation V EW frig/"exploration vessel" is somewhere below the lower end of the scale when it comes to "unpleasant".

Shield systems blink on impossibly fast. But as strong as they are, the ship isn't designed for combat, and is horribly outclassed by the massive turret gun that has just been fired at it. The shields absorb no more than a quarter of the blast before they buckle and implode.

The shield generator bursts in a flash of vaporized metal as the Britmattian gun tears into the frigate's hull.

Paradoxically, this is the thing that saves the crew. Miraculously, the diamondoid-and-Invincisteel crew pod is expelled from the wreck by the blast of the exploding shield generator. Even more miraculously, the Britmattian round has merely clipped the edge of the pod, sending it tumbling wildly without actually breaching its integrity.

Unfortunately, the Britmattian round has breached the frigate's engine. While most of the fuel is hydrogen, which is harmlessly expelled from the engine's fuel tanks upon impact, the engine contains a single magnetic containment bottle, connected directly to the afterburner unit.

Within it is a microscopic amount of antimatter- only a few grams. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) a few grams of antimatter is a lot of antimatter.

The blast wave sends the stricken, dented, venting crew pod plummeting towards the Neptunian anomaly. Its edges begin to glow as it encounters the upper atmosphere.

Then it plunges into the vortex.

Opening her eyes, Helena Jacobson tried to remove the last remnants of her dream. The strange voice seemed to echo around her head, repeating the words over and over again. What the dream had been about, she was not sure. There were no images that lingered with the words; it was almost as if the voice had spoken to her in that tiny gap between sleep and awake. That brief instant when the subconscious and the conscious gave over to the other.

Sitting up in her bed, she rubbed her eyes bringing herself to full awareness. It did not usually take her long to pull herself from sleep, but today was somewhat different. The dream refused to be pushed from her mind, and despite her awakened state, the words continued to run around her head, mystical poetry read by a far away voice.

Finally pulling herself together, she got out of bed and headed for the shower, knowing that there was nothing that could wake someone better than feeling the spray of chilled water rushing over warm skin.

* * * * *

Clank! Clank! Clank!

“Damn it, will you just work?” Helena hit the valve with the wrench, having given up trying to turn it properly. She had been trying to pry it off for the last twenty minutes, and had, at last, given up trying to play fairly. “Damn it!”

She threw the wrench across the room, hearing it clank to a stop on the metal walkway that lead to the entrance hatch. She rubbed her hands agitatedly, swearing under her breath.

“Hel?”

Helena looked up, seeing the form of her assistant looking over at her from the hatch. She had not heard him come in, which really was no surprise, considering the noise she had been making. She opened her mouth several times, as if she was about to speak, but no words would form.

“Are you all right?” The young man bent down and retrieved the wrench from where it rested on the floor.

Helena ran her fingers through her hair, brushing the dishevelled from out of her face. “I’m just tired of this damn piece of crap.” She smiled and shook her head. “Rough night sleep. I’ll be better in a little while.” Her hand stretched out for the wrench.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jason grinned, holding firmly onto the wrench as he drew near. “I’ll finish up here.”

Helena sighed. “You’d think the fact that we were finally walking among the stars, we’d have less problems than we are having now. If I have to write one more report back to Tartarus explaining another delay in our project, I can see them pulling the plug.” She moved slightly, allowing her colleague access to the valve.

“They won’t pull your funding,” Jason assured her, his voice actually making her feel more confident. “It cost a fortune to get you up here. They aren’t going to let you back down to earth before they get something out of you.”

Laughing, Helena nodded her head. “You have a point there.” She moved a little further to the hatch, before looking back to Jason. “You get that fixed and the drinks are on me tonight.”

“It’s a deal.”

As she walked the rest of the way to the exit, she heard the familiar sound of clanking and turned to see Jason grinning wildly, before he repositioned the wrench and began working on the valve.

* * * * *

Looking at the paper in her hand, Helena focused on the data that had been retrieved on their first successful experiment. Things had not been going all that well since they arrived on Triton, but despite the troubles, Helena was glad that she had been able to join the first group of scientists that had set foot on the furthest land owned by the Empire.

She began tapping away at the keyboard, beginning to enter her initial findings. Her finger moved rapidly over the keyboard as she read the information from the document in her hand and writing it in a more clear fashion for those less scientifically minded.

Having typed for several minutes, she looked up at the screen, her eyes wide as she read back what she had written. She stared, not moving, not doing anything, then suddenly she grabbed her jacket and headed out of the lab, at a brisk pace.

* * * * *

Jason entered the lab, the wrench held loosely in his hand. “Hel?” He called not seeing her. “Professor Jacobson?” He moved across the lab, heading for the computer that his boss usually worked at. The screen was on, and there was the beginning of the report that he knew she would have to send to her superiors to justify their work. His eyes scanned along the lines, a frown marring his features.

‘The portal opens amidst a wild vortex - At the eager steps of the curious. That beg for entrance into this aperture of frightful uncertainty - Into a land once forgotten. To commune with lingering spirits in places wandering the past - And find the future.’

And then it was gone. Quickly departing for some other time and place unknown as quickly as it had coming, seeming to evaporate utterly into nothing. The lights stopped glimmering and the sounds stopped echoing. However, the anomaly from places far and uncharted did not leave alone.

Gently ripped from where they had once been, taken through a universe of feelings and sounds that could never in words be described. Then they placed down upon a world of great size, scattered into two groups, one on each of the planet’s sides.

The Faceless Lord would find himself face first in dirt when he awoke, as would Sergeant Bretriere on the other side of this world. Both atop giant plutons of rock scarred by winds with strength nothing flesh and blood could withstand, but there were no winds now that they could notice. The great ashen plutons seemed to be lined in perfect rows only a few kilometers apart from atop, standing upright like battle-ready soldiers.

Elsewhere, Eilasa Tel'Mar would find herself in a field of grass not far from the Armoured Sergeant, while Kuru was close to the Faceless Lord in a similar field of grass. Both staring up into a sky of distorted light.

However, the Augmented who was left behind, Hakta as he was named, was transported to a world of blue. A blue star in a blue nebula orbited by a planet of blue oceans not much larger than Mars itself. Meanwhile, Eilasa's own friends would wake up without their fighters on a world at the edges of a massive galaxy, surrounded by massive trees and pristine lakes under a sky of black-green from a faraway star burning a bright orange, keeping that faraway planet eerily warm.

Melissa Hendrix was no longer within the safe confines of her warship, instead now near the shore of a river wider than the eye could comprehend, extending far beyond the horizon, rushing past with great strength. Still near though to the currently unconscious Dark Eldar and the Augmented.

Helena Jacobson would wake up atop a giant hill of soft green not beyond shouting distance of Bretriere. To her left and right she could only see these hills as they clustered around those great symmetrical, cylindrical spools of rock rising about half their height. On the worlds other side, near Dark Eldar, the Tiburonese would awaken to a gust of air softly howling at the mouth of the cave in which he was lying, not too far from a sort of staircase built into the wall it seemed, leading up to a point of light high in the ceiling.

Sandra would feel a great many things similar to those who had also entered; indescribable and wondrous as well as frightening and horrible. Experienced, remembered, and forgotten all in the same instance. Next thing she would know is that she was facing a sky of shining stars distorted by what one could only assume was a thick atmosphere of some sorts, within seeing distance of Bretriere and everyone else in that group.

A Doltan Mortain was laying in a small valley, tied and groggy as he roused near a giant out cropping of stone with what looked like a cave somewhere far beyond his reaches. He could hear the roar of a river not too far away, and strayed off in the direction for the most part, staring up into a strange sky. As was Tehun Yrclp, near another outcropping of great height on the other side of the strange world. Staring up with childlike fascination at what he saw. A spinning galaxy of contorting red, that flickered from invisibly faint to almost unbearably bright. Another string of red snaked across the sky, the arm of the galaxy in which the system resided perhaps, or something else he could not guess. It glowed just as brightly as that galaxy, and almost as bright as the silver planetoid of massive size that dominated the northern sky: with multiple eyes all appearing to stare down upon him with intense indifference, as its head moved so utterly slowly and gracefully across the sky.

Doltan, and everyone else near, would look up and see much the same thing, only without a pulsating galaxy of red. And the planet this time was the color of skin separated into great bands, some darker than others, spinning rapidly around the cloudy surface. Rings of ivory and steel beheld much of the sky in front of a great many bright stars, also appearing to spin themselves. Near the horizon line he could see a strange thread of silver that seemed to wrap around and slide between the great spools of rock, a sight that would surely not go unnoticed by anyone else either. The same could easily be seen by the Dark Eldar from his high vantage point, though it would appear more distinct; like a living vain of glittering silver that could not be more than a few dozen kilometers away.

Eilasa's eyes opened slowly. A little gasp left her mouth at the feeling of the grass tickling her back. "Light..." She sat up straight and looked around. Was this Paradise? She had never believed in that aspect of Church of Light doctrine, and she doubted that it would resemble rolling fields. That seemed a very human way of looking at the world. And as such, she refused to accept it. What was the next explanation?

She had fallen down into the pressures of Neptune's atmosphere and the life was slowly being sucked out of her, and this was an oxygen-deprivation hallucination. Not the one she would have chosen, but certainly not unpleasant. Despite the lack of, say, Prince Caurentin in a swimsuit and a beach in which to swim in. Or any buildings. Rather bland hallucination, in point of fact. She'd always heard that they were generally exciting. She rejected that one, too. Besides, she didn't really feel all that dead.

What did that leave? Her eyes flashed and dimmed in thought. The young Roanian crossed her legs behind her and rested on her arm, playing with the grass a little. 'What does that leave...?' It would be easier if there was another Roanian here to plan with, to bounce off of. She'd settle for a human, in fact. Someone. Anyone. Eilasa placed her right hand on top of her left arm's armour plate. Fighters. Report in. She didn't even get a buzz. Her eyes narrowed. They weren't here with her. They were either dead, or she was light-years from Neptune, or...

Finally, she came to a decision. It didn't really matter. She could decide where she was when she had someone else to decide with. If there was anyone else. Eilasa shrugged, and stretched a little. Then she ran her finger down another 'circuit' of her armour, and it folded up and collapsed into a box on her belt. She reached down and gently adjusted her spider-fabric dress, tightening the belt and making sure all the knots were in place. Then she reached for her holster and drew her force-pistol.

The force-pistol was standard issue for all Legionnaire pilots, even those on Neptune, where there was unlikely to be any need for one. Now she was glad to have the extra weight as she slid a finger down the ammo-circuit, priming it for fire but not activating the trigger yet. Finally, she made a verbal call. "Lau-esa?" She called, adding, "Hello?" The young woman stood up and went down the hill, looking for someone else. She immediately noticed the harsh and forbidding landscape beyond the grassy knoll, and shrugged, heading in that direction.

The Faceless Lord stirs slowly from the black abyss of unconscioussness. The strains of music still echo in his ears; his last thought before the oblivion still lingers in his mind. He brings a hand up to his forehead, trying to drive away the mist still clouding his thoughts.

Slowly, slowly, he sits up, extending his thoughts outside of the tight confines of his head to take in the landscape. How odd. Pastoral... even Arcadian land? How different from the twisting alleys and towering spires of the Dark City. There, and there, too, the thoughts of other living things. Not all of them possess the vigor of awareness. Perhaps they were rendered senseless by the voyage as well.

He caresses the hilt of his lightweight combat blade, and the advanced polymers of the handle shift themselves in response to his touch, conforming to the shape of his fingers. At last he draws it, deciding the blade might be necessary in this strange place. He pushes himself to his feet and turns this way and that, his featureless mask seeking some sign of which way he should go. Finally he turns towards one of the nearer bundles of thought and begins making his way across the land towards it, running with all the swiftness of his race across the rolling hills.

What the fuck

A moment - or an eon - ago, Hakta was staring at a electronic tale of systems gone to hell, a holographic harbinger of his own firey death.

Now all he sees is blue.

What the fuck just happened to me

"Is anyone here?"

The call echoed out, both through air and through space, pumped by the military comms unit in Hakta's Exskel Class IV (Scientific) armor.

For a moment, The only answer was the lapping of the waves.

I'm here.

"Is that you, Poly?"

Yes. Emergency protocols dictated that I copy myself into your secondary memory banks. About half of me is here. I don't know where Kuru is.

"What do we do now?

Survive. And explore. This looks like an incredible place.

Green scrolls through Hakta's vision. A list of materials and elements needed to build a self-sustaining shelter. A plan for bootstrapping his armor's supply of canned nanopaste into a functional light-duty fabrication plant.

"Yes... We'll live."

We'll leave them there. They are a tale for another time.

******

Kuru, however, is another matter.

What the fuck.

Kuru begins to stand. The weight of his armor drags him back down.

Systems offline... First damnit. Boot.

He cranes his head, gets a glimpse of the problem. The left side of his armor is dented, scorched. Mental shouting makes it finally come online, but it moves slowly, sluggishly. Red error messages fill half his vision. All that is left of his primary power supply is a blackened smudge.

The blast was on his side of the pod. Fortunately, his data store is mostly intact.

A flash of green among the red.

ARE YOU ALL RIGHT

Yeah, I'm fucking all right. I'm running on fucking secondary though.

GOOD. I AM WORKING ON A PLAN TO PROVIDE ADDITIONAL POWER.

Just who are you anyway?

POLYSYNCHRONICITY AI UNIT PARTIAL BACKUP #2 SERIAL 88027470B

Great. I get the idiot half.

A noise. Something appears on sonar and radar, approaching. A glint of radio wave off of weapons-grade polymer.

What's that?

An attempt to boot his armor's weapons systems fails dismally. Kuru sighs, rears carefully up onto his hind legs, and draws his close combat weapons - a pair of heavy power sabres. The cold metal grips feel reassuringly heavy in his claws. A brief thought, and they begin to whine as the Kenn-Baker force fields coalesce along their leading edges.

I don't know where I am, I don't know what happened, but hell if I'm going to let anyone fuck with me again. Poly, gimme some boosts.

THIS IS DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR FUTURE CONSTITUTION

Shut up and do it.

The injector dispenses speed and power, in liquid form.

Blinking open her eyes, Helena was unsure whether she was actually awake, or was experiencing one of those weird moments of waking inside a dream. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and let her gaze flow around her surroundings. If it was a dream, she decided it was one of the most peaceful she had had since arriving on Triton.

Her fingers moved against the grass, tickling her skin. She smiled suddenly, feeling herself relax. It has been a while since she had sat out in the sun, surrounded by grass and hills. For a moment, she lost herself in thought, wondering exactly when the last time had been, as a sequence of events shot through her mind, each one creeping a little closer, until she finally settled on the occasion. A tiny grin spread over her lips and a sparkle appeared in her eye.

As quickly as it came, she pushed the thought away. Now was not the time to reminisce. There was a whole world around her, new and inviting. And she wanted to make the most of the time before she woke.

A jolt of memory suddenly jarred her to full consciousness. She was not asleep. The last thing she could remember was hearing a voice, calling. Her mind once more began playing back events, though they were newer than the previous ones. They had happened only moments ago, when she had been working in the lab and then…

And then what? Her mind tried to fill in the blanks, but there were more important things to worry about. She suddenly realised that she was not caught in a dream, safe in the knowledge that she would wake up. There she was, standing on a beautiful green hill in the middle of somewhere. Somewhere being the closest she could get to understanding where she was.

She pushed herself up onto her feet and dusted off her body, regardless of whether she needed to. Her hands seemed to have a mind of there own, which was useful, as her focus was now fully on her surroundings. Each aspect was giving a quick inspection, as she tried to get some bearings.

Her mouth opened, ready to call out, but she stopped herself before a sound could be uttered. She did not know where she was, did not know what was out there. Not wanting to draw attention to herself before she had time to think, she slowly began to walk downhill, her eyes flicking suspiciously, searching for any signs of danger.

He felt himself drifting in nothingness as the sound grew stronger and stronger. He had no body but he recognised this place, he had been here before, it was called semi-awareness. His trainers had told him to use it, to master it and he felt his conciousness slowly surface through the nothingness into this world. His senses were suddenly alert and without moving he tried to quickly get an understanding of his surroundings. He remebered his training. If you wake up from being unconcious, dont move! If any nearby enemy wants your dead you would already be with God. Keep control" He saw some numbers in his screen but they meant nothing to him, the only thing that mattered was that he wasn't in the maze anymore.

He moved his head to the left to get a better view. He was on something flat, with no covers in sight. He felt his gun in his hand, apparently he hadn't let go even while unconcious. He started to go through his body, part by part but couldn't detect any damage. He slowly rose and looked around, tasting the air. Where was he?

There was a brief moment of, well... Sandra had experienced similar things after consuming substances - or programs - designed to have somewhat relaxing, or astounding effects...

But this was different. Specifically, it was - well, felt - a degree more real. Or maybe not. She wasn't sure.

And then there were stars.

Stars?

There weren't any stars supposed to be there. For that matter, neither was it supposed to be this... fresh?

And the sounds of nature definitely didn't belong into Poseidon (Well, unless one had asked for them).

She sighed, and eventually sat down on the ground, looking at the sky, and then around.

Well. At least it's been a quick trip. Now, how to get back...

And looking around, she could see others. One, two, three others... Four, five, six...

Oh, wait. That's rocks, not people. But rocks don't shout or move... okay, rock one, three and six are people. Or animals. Or machines. I'll see, I suppose.

The question was, of course, who - or what - this people (Or animals, or machines) were.

Big planet. Small Sandra. She felt a bit alone. A bit frightened. And this particular body of hers was almost entirely organic, and perfectly civspec.

Fuck.

Well. Cursing and being frightened by whoever else was out there wouldn't exactly help her. And one of the rocks/ people was moving to another one on a particularly unpleasant looking bit of soil, shouting incoherently...

Disliking the idea of being outnumbered (Just in case that she was dealing with a tribe of mythical monsters or whatever - in this particular universe, the likelyhood of such happening was great enough for her to consider this a possibility), she turned towards the last of the three rocks she'd 'Identified' as, well... Moving, and presumably, or hopefully, being alive.

She walked for a bit, getting ever closer, and watching the object walking down a grassy hill (Which oddly enough reminded her of herself, and her own confusion), eventually shouting at it in... Well, language was a problem.

Eventually, she settled for "HELLOOO?", primarily because even in the likely event that the language - well, actually, Angstian was a terrible bastard of a language made of half a dozen others, but anyway - was unknown to this... something, she suspected that the tone and the gesture would get the meaning across.

"HELLOOO?"

Incidentally, by now she was close enough to identify said 'Something' as more-or-less human.

Well. That's something.

Wakefulness.

Melissa shakes her head, muzzy with returning...awareness, sanity?
Whatever happened was clearly insane after all.

She rises to her knees, sitting back on her haunches and stares down at the river, wiping her hands on the tough fabric of her uniform trousers.
As she takes in the immensity of the swiftly-flowing water, the wiping of her hands slows and becomes mechanical, thought disassociating from action as she tries to process what has happened.

It's all too big, too much, too strange, and the Commodore pounds on her leg with a balled fist, inarticulate sounds of loss and confusion leaking from her.
The impact of her fist on her leg, however, is enough to bring her slightly back to herself.

A convulsive jerk, and she totters down towards the water's edge, a small figure in blue coveralls trudging down towards the river.
She reaches the bank and kneels, staring into the water, then leans forward to scoop up a handful, before halting convulsively at a faint chime from her implants, the sub-sentience of her personal data unit popping up a standard Unfamiliar Territory Warning to remind her what looks like water isn't necessarily just that.

Melissa flops back and blows out a breath. The implant's quiet chime and the businessleike, formal-but-not tone of the warningbrings the Royal Navy's comfort and security back to her, so close she can hear the hum of her ship around her.
A single tear slides out of one squeezed shut eye, before the frightened woman shakes herself back into being Commodore Melissa Hendrix, veteran of half a dozen battles and officer in His Majesty's Navy.

A brief test with a grass stem establishes the water isn't wildly acidic, and a quick swallow and quicker breakdown by her body's implants leads to enough trust that Melissa splashes her face with it, before rising unhurriedly to her feet, pulling her sidearm, checking it's load, the weight of the handgun and the ritual of the ammo check settling her even more.

The Commodore braces herself, returning the weapon to it's holster before turning down the riverbank and setting off at a measured pace downstream, face set and brown hair tucked carefully under her gleamingly white cap, the very model of a King's Officer.

Even if she is lost in space.

He breathed in deeply, tasting the air as he did it, letting it roll over his toungue and into his lungs. He savoured it like a fine wine, nothing in the maze had been like this. He took two staggering steps before regaining control over his body again. While continuing to scan his surroundings he did a system check on his gear, most of it seemed to have survived the time in the maze and more importantly his travel here. How did he get here? And more importantly, where was he?

He crouched on the ground checking the pebbles lying in front of him. Common dirt, nothing strange or special that could tell him where he was. He stretched out and looked around while increasing the power of his head set. Listening to the surrounding with his head set amplifying the noises around him he heard movement from west. He found it curious that there were no wind that could disturb his hearing but only the sounds of something moving.

There is nowhere to hide here. Better to confront whatever is coming. He thought and started to move towards the sounds.

Slowly the joy of running, something most adults forget with the passing of their childhoods, is penetrated by a new awareness. Or rather, several new awarenesses. The Faceless Lord and the other are no longer the only conscious beings in the area. He slows to a stop, gripping the handle of his combat blade tightly. He can make out the armored form of the one he had sensed awakening first. It is not of the Kindred, true or otherwise.

Wariness steals into his limbs and mind, for surely the mon-keigh would not be well pleased to encounter him here, far from the relative protection of other Keigh. Now, then, he falls into an aggressive comnat stance, his blade held low from where he could strike with speed, like a serpent. But he reamains where he is. Now is a moment for patience, to wait and divine the intentions of the others.

Eilasa sighed when she crested the hill, and then she tilted her head to the side. Her eyes gleamed. She could almost feel other beings, and it irritated her when she realised none of them were likely to be Roanian. Still, there was such a thing as being polite. She danced back and forth on the balls of her feet, almost like a fencer would. If she had her wings, this would be easier.

With a thought, she pushed out on her back, closing her eyes and bending over. Her body throbbed with the effort... but her wings didn't pop out. She sighed, and shook her head. A false hope anyway.

Then she dropped to the ground, landing on her feet. Several of the other beings were close now, and she thought her keen ears could detect movement. She looked up at the sky, and then gasped, temporarily distracted by the stars and lights. 'Light be praised...' For once, she was distracted.

Helena was surprised to hear the words that she had almost yelled coming back at her from across the way. Her eyes gazed around, searching. The area around her that she thought was devoid of life suddenly seemed full of it. Not to far away, she could see a woman walking in her direction. She paused her movements, standing staring, then she began to walk slowly in the direction of the only other living creature.

“Hello?!” She called as she walked closer, her eyes still flicking around in case it was some kind of trap. Her ears were working overtime trying to discern any other noises.

With the other woman as her focus, she picked up her pace, feeling oddly less afraid than she was at first. The fact that she was not all alone in this strange place helped, and the thought that the other woman may be as equally as lost as she was made everything seem a little easier.

Stopping a little distance from the only other living being around, she was suddenly alerted to her mistake. It was not just the two of them, there appeared to be others. Staring off into the distance, she spotted another walking towards them. Wherever she was, it appeared that she was not the only one to be lured there.

“Hello,” she said, smiling politely while still looking lost and confused. Her eyes were now back focused on the other woman’s face. “I’m Helena, Helena Jacobson.” She was grateful that she still knew that. “I…ah…I don’t suppose you know…?” She shook her head and stopped mid sentence. No point sounding like a complete idiot.

((No need for a post from me yet, I was wrong.))

[cut as cleared]

A human voice, somewhat anxious, vaguely feminine.

Sandra was happy. Okay. So this one wont try to eat me. That's a start.

She looked closer at the woman she was now standing in front of, listening, and trying to smile reassuringly (Sadly, she didn't quite succeed).

"Know...? Oh, that. No, sadly not... I'm pretty clueless myself, really. Well. I suppose we've collected a fair deal of information, but it's not like it'd be useful... Without the machinery needed to analyse it. I fear we'll have to resort to simpler methods. If there are any, that is."

For a moment, Sandra considered Helena's clothes, her language, her look... Well, everything, really. "I don't suppose... Tartarian Triton? I suspect we ended here in pretty much the same way... Oh, and I'm Sandra. Sandra Mikogami."

She looked around for a moment, specifically looking for the two other, well, moving things about. "Hrm. I suppose they, too, have our problem."

(Oh. I thought everyone was locked in the pylon stuff, and there were green meadows between them. I'll edit my post forthwith.)

Carefully walking down the hill Bretriere watched two fidures standing at the bottom of the slope. They were talking and he could hear a few words of their conversation. "Tartarian Triton.... ended here in... same way... Sandra Mikogami..... Hrm. I suppose they, too, have our problem." As he focused on the two figures talking he almost missed a third person walking down from another direction. He decided to let his weapon slide along his side. He felt comfortable that these were not a threat he needed fire power to handle. He swept the surroundings as he walked towards them, these were the first living beings he had seen in a long time and he savoured the sight of them. Three females. Hell! Even an elf would have been a welcome sight in that maze.

He walked slowly towards them as not to scare them and stopped a few meters away raising his hand in a greeting.

-"hi" The words felt wrong the second they left his mouth. He heard his rasping voice an dsuddenly felt unsure of how they would interpret it. He hadn't heard any voices for a long time except his own voice during the small rants he kept having to try to stay somewhat sane. He had never been a great talker but his loneliness screamed for acknowledgement, to hear another voice, to be able to communicate again.

Helena felt suddenly a lot more comfortable. She was not sure whether it was because Sandra had recognised her country of origin or because she seemed as equally confused as Helena.

“Yes, I’m from Tartarian Triton,” she said with a smile. “I’m Helena, Helena Jacobson.” She would have normally continued with ‘it’s a pleasure to meet you, Sandra’ but that really did not seem the correct thing to say in this event. “I admit, now that I’m here, I’m not really sure how I got here. Everything seems to be a little foggy.”

In fact, she could not really clearly recall much other than waking up that morning. Although she did remember some strange voice that now seemed to have vanished. She could not even remember what it had been saying. For a moment, she was not even sure whether she was in a dream or not.

Before she had the chance to say anything else, she was distracted by the voice of one of the other people that she could see. The man’s voice sounded warm and a little confused too, so she ventured that he too was a guest of this strange place.

“Hi,” she replied, greeting the newcomer with a smile. Her eyes flicked over to the other known inhabitant of the land and waved, hoping to attract the group together. If they were going to sort out what was going on, they might as well go over it once together rather than in dribs and drabs.


[ooc: Roania, the wave is aimed at your character.]

Eilasa would, at first glance, resemble an elf. Certainly she was smaller than Menelmacari elves, and very much shorter than a Dark Eldar woman her age. The wind swept her hair back from her face, revealing the tiny, delicate points of her ears. She turned around upon realising someone was trying to contact her, and she turned, frowning when she saw precisely who was contacting her.

She was perfectly formed, as Roanians generally tend to be. A wonderful specimen of womanhood in almost every way, from her curves to the gentle rise of her chest, to the softness of her face. Her smile could launch hundreds of spaceships.

And then you reached her eyes. They were beautiful, in their own way. But there was something disturbing about the gentle glow, a glow that filled the entire eye and hid the pupil and iris completely from view. They seemed to draw the attention to them, too, no matter how much the eye might want to linger on the delights of the rest of her body. Within that gentle blue glow unknown years looked out, belying her appearance of a young

And while she was looked at, she had begun to walk towards them, her dress gliding across the earth slowly. She didn't like humans particularly. But she hated the solitude more. So when she reached the others, it was with a genuine smile that she placed one arm over her stomach and bowed slightly. "Salim. Hello." She murmured. "I suppose none of you happen to know where we are?" There was something else about Eilasa, too.

She looked ready to run if they turned hostile. And she looked more than able to run fast enough to get away At her side, a small rectangular metal box shone faintly of its own accord, unlinked to the kind glow of its owners skin or the stars above.

Helena smiled at Eilasa, and felt a slight sinking feeling in her stomach. She had hoped that someone would know something about where they were, but it appeared that all those in the vicinity were as lost and confused as she was. She brushed her fingers absentmindedly through her dirty blonde hair, which never seemed to look tidy, subconscious of the look of the woman who had just joined them.

“Unfortunately,” she replied with a slight frown, “we all seem to be in the same position.” She gave an uncomfortable laugh, then pointed to herself. “I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Helena Jacobson, and before I arrived here I was working as a researcher on Tartarian Triton.” She turned to Sandra. “This is Sandra Mika-ah…” She paused, looking a little sheepish as she feel silent, allowing the first woman she had met to introduce herself

UNKNOWN HAS CEASED MOVEMENT. SECOND UNKNOWN HAS APPEARED. SIGNAL IS FAINT. EITHER DISTANT OR ORGANIC.

Ping all the actives.

INSUFFICIENT POWER TO PING.

What the fuck?

INSUFFICIENT POWER TO MAINTAIN POWER SABER ACTIVATION
POWER SABER OFFLINE
INSUFFICIENT POWER TO MAINTAIN ACTIVE SENSORS
ACTIVE SENSORS OFFLINE
INSUFFICIENT POWER TO MAINTAIN MOTIVE ASSIST
MOTIVE ASSIST OFFLINE
INSUFFICIENT POWER TO MAINTAIN 100% CPU
CPU #2, #3, #4, #5 OFFLINE

Crap.

Kuru sags under the weight of his armor as its systems deactivate. He falls back to all fours, then collapses to the ground.

Fucking hell... Poly, get me power RIGHT FUCKING NOW, do you hear me? RIGHT FUCKING NOW.

I AM CURRENTLY. WORKING ON A PLAN. TO RESTORE POWER. LOW CLOCK SPEED. REQUIRES ME. TO DEDICATE ALL RESOURCES. I WILL COMMUNICATE. WHEN I AM DONE.

Poly! Poly? You fucking come back online right now, Poly...

For the first time since he arrived, Kuru speaks. Unsuprisingly...

"[i]...ffucking hell..."

A yell.

"Whoeverr you arre, you might as well come out."

"...fucking no-good AIs..."

Mortain walked about those verdant hills for quite a while, away from the river whose unending groan eventually disturbed him into retreating, before stopping to consult with himself, Where in the name of H'sanbo am I? He thought to himself. He'd been wandering about aimlessly for the greater part of fifteen minutes before the inclination to stop and ascertain his whereabouts hit him.

"Let's see..." he said to himself, "... I was uh... oh yes!" He yelled, though too loudly. He cursed at himself for disturbing those around him with his shouting, then he cursed at himself for cursing at himself for disturbing the activities of people that seemingly did not exist. Then he resumed his revelations. "I was walking back to my house when I heard that strange voice and its cryptic words... and then I am here. So I have learned nothing it seems."

He resumed his short travels across the tops of those massive hills, edging towards the closest of those monumental pylons that seemed to watch over him with stoic indifference. He began to get rather tired, relying more and more on the wood staff he had with him as the seconds wore on.

"Mother was right, I should have gotten into better shape sooner." He said as he panted heavily. He stopped, to rest at first, before then analyzing what seemed to him to be several other beings not wholly unlike himself. They walked on two legs, just as he did, and wore cloths, just as he did. Though suitably different in style; he wore loose and baggy robes of simpler fabric that was also blood red in coloration. They were also all female, totally unlike the rather thin man with short blonde hair and tanned skin.

All the same he made his way slowly towards their location, though silently as he feared gaining their attention for now; he didn't know whom they were. Though he did know that he needed to seek them out.

--

"It is... Magnificent!" He screamed as his eyes continued to journey across the infinite sky existed so far above. Tehun was almost jogging through the fields of waving green, apparently oblivious to his predicament.

"Hahaha! This dream is perhaps the best of them all! The great stone mountains of odd shape, the hills, the grass, the... ouch!" He said as he stumbled and landed face first into the ground, as graceful as a drunkard fresh from an inn.

First there was pain, then more a horrifying realization, followed by more pain of the psychological nature. "Where... am I?" He said, stuttering. He felt his well shaven face with strong hands, quivering with fright.

"Helllloooo!" He screamed suddenly after the longest moment of silence, when the sky appeared dark instead of light, when the howling wind seemed to carry with it an ominous message telling of his doom, rather than one of jovial welcome he thought he heard from nature's mighty voice.

"Helllloooo!" Again he screamed into the wilderness not far from a pylon that climbed off into the vastest vastness of the sky. The tall middle aged man now cowered like a frightened animal, with thoughts racing and sweat pouring; he was about to break as his perception of the world around him had not but a few moments ago. Where am I? Why am I here? Who else is here? Are the friendly? Are they monsters?

He was sprinting now, away from that great stone giant and on towards another, then he changed direction and made for a river, then a forest, then back to where he had come from, before stopping completely upon the top of the largest hill in that great valley in which the powers that be had placed him, sitting now, calm it seemed.

Far from home, on some world wholly alien to him in every regard, he ran his hands across his face to clear away the sweat, and then through his thinning hair, which was a mix of snow and raven feathers in its coloration.

"Where am I!" He yelled with unbridled fury, before collapsing back into the grass, with wide green eyes focused at the menacing sky.

"Sandra Mikogami, yes. And no - although I'm looking out to find someone to blame. Not sure whom, though. In any case..."

She turned, looking closer at Bretriere, her first thought being a simple Woah. Hardly surprising: With three more-or-less unarmed, unarmoured, and - in two cases - very much non-military individuals about, the presence of a PA'd soldier known to none of them wasn't particularly reassuring.

"Hello... I guess that you're not from the Neptunian sphere, like we are. Um. You don't happen to know just how you ended up in this place? Unfortunately, we don't..."

"I am Eilasa Tel'Mar." Eilasa flashed her teeth, a far cry from the close-lipped smile of just moments ago. Amongst Roanians, it would be recognised as the expression of irritation it was, especially as the eyes brightened yet more. She didn't like not knowing where she was. "The only explanation is foul magic." Was Eilasa's contribution. "Though I admit that's generally a catch-all for anything we don't understand, here it certainly seems...proper." She reached for the box on the approach of the power-armoured one, distrusting this new factor but not activating her trump yet, since the last thing Pilot-Armour was designed for was long stretches in terrestrial combat. 'A human male.' Despite her best efforts, her lip curled and she tensed. She inclined her head towards Bretriere anyway, then froze, one of her ears twitching under her hair.

She turned her head slightly, sure that she was being watched. The force-pistol she had been carrying loosely found itself adjusted just slightly, as she subtly slipped into ready position, her eyes darting back and forth. 'There's always flight...pity I don't have that option.'

His eyes darted over the hills as Eilasa spoke and his lips drew up in a snarl. "Foul magic indeed." ;he spat, "Who else would know more about that than an elf!". He continued to look around himself as he slowly advanced at the group. If that hellspawn makes any dandy moves I'm gonna blow her back to the seven hells she came from! His scans showed nothing with bodyheat in sight but his systems had taken a lot of punishment during his time in the labyrinth and he knew that nephilim could come up with nasty lethal surprises that many times where hard to discover until it was too late.

As he came closer his vision blurred a little and he became unsure of what the three women really were. Eilasa looked very much like nephilim usually did but something was different, something that made him hesitate from shooting her. Maybe it was the loneliness from all that time or maybe it was some other kind of foul magic that kept him from doing it. He looked at her face, her armament, those cursed pointy ears and came to the conclusion that she was some kind of halfbreed. He had seen that type before in the wars. They were usually frowned upon by the hellspawns but yet somehow doomed to idolize the full elves in some kind of sick way. He decided to let go of the urge of killing her. After all he didnt know what the other women would think, and he couldn't bear to be alone again. He slowly regained control over the boiling feeling of adrenaline that had been rushing through his body.

He nodded to the others as he let the freighttrain of adrenaline pass through his body and slowly ebb out with the choir of a thousand voices screaming for blood in the back of his head. Still positioning himself so that he within a fraction of a second could close the gap to the spawn woman before she would lift that weapon of hers to fire.


-"I'm afraid I know as little as you about how I got here, last time I knew I was a long way from Neptune. The only thing I know is that I am a hell of a lot closer to Sol now than I was yesterday. How did you arrive here? Is there a town or a base nearby?" He silently prayed that he hadn't ended up in some remote colony. He couldn't remember if he ever heard what nations colonized Neptune but he was grateful that he carried no insignias or anything else that could identify his origins.