NationStates Jolt Archive

Starlane Station II
Near Sanara Prime

The nanocycles flashed down on the station’s main view screen. They were watching a relatively small portion of space, just a few million cubic kilometers, which was delineated by the station on one hand and navigational buoys down its length. The station’s observatory had a lovely view of the star, some fifteen light years distant, around which Trilar orbited.

The same catastrophic event which had wiped out the Trilarians on Sslaa IV had also sent rippling effects back along the starlanes, those natural interstellar highways which had previously connected the Trilarian Empire. Imperial ships, both freighters and men-of-war, could of course still traverse interstellar distances without the starlanes, but the tradeoff was one of speed. “Off-roading”, a fast Trilarian ship running at full power could accelerate over a period of several cycles to a speed approaching 18c before it had to start decelerating for the approach to Sanara. In total, a one-way voyage took about eight cycles. Messages could not travel faster than light, so they had to be encapsulated on the ships and carried to the destination, making it sixteen cycles for a message to go and a response to come back -- longer than the rule of most Lords Chancellor.

With a starlane, acceleration increase exponentially until journeys were measured in milicycles rather than cycles. Moreover, messages could be flashed along a starlane instantaneously, so that the only lag was those few hundred nanocycles at the relay stations on either end of the starlane. The Trilarians had been so long dependent on them that their sudden cessation of function was a devastating blow to the Empire’s commerce, industry, and military. Devastating, but not irrecoverable.

No one would ever say that the Trilarians, for all their conservatism, did not have imaginative minds. Less than thirty cycles after the disaster, they had a prototype for a functioning artificial starlane. A massive orbital generator over Trilar “beamed” a starlane between itself and the receiver station over Sanara. It was only about ten kilometers broad by fifteen kilometers deep -- miniscule compared to the size of a true starlane and ludicrously skinny in proportion to its fifteen light year length -- and would only be able to accommodate four “lanes” of traffic, but it had several advantages over the naturally occurring lanes. For example, it flew in direct line of sight from Trilar to Sanara, without the ‘kinks’ of natural starlanes, which could add several milicycles of acceleration and deceleration to a journey.

But all these predictions were just so many dreams until a ship successfully navigated the artificial starlane. And that starship was due to arrive on the Sanara end -- now.

Director Ooroo cranked her head with anticipation, waiting for the distinctive purple flash and energy spike which denoted a starlane exit.

“We’re at T-plus five hundred nanocycles,” said a young engineer, his cranial membrane inflating and deflating rapidly with anticipation. The Trilarian words sounded like a combination of grunts and rocks grinding against one another.

Trilarians are aquatic creatures. They tend to be a dark green, though there is some differentiation of coloration within the species. Most are between one and a half and two meters long, with long, eel-like bodies and a large fin to provide locomotion. An inflatable mohawk-like membrane runs along the skull just above the gills; its original purpose was to frighten off predators by appearing to enlarge the size of the Trilarian’s head. Four long webbed prehensile fins, called manipulators by the Trilarians, allow them to alter and control the environment around them. Their eyes and pupils are large in proportion to their bodies, a result of the deep and dark natural habitat of the species, but are mounted on the side of the skull, making it difficult for a Trilarian to look straight ahead. The males and the females being virtually indistinguishable to outsiders.

In polite conversation, Trilarians will appear to “stand upright” on their rear fin, providing balance with their webbed manipulators. When in a hurry, they will put their heads down, tuck their manipulators to their body, and swim with powerful up-and-down motions of their tail, aided by convulsions of their eel-like lower body.

“T-plus five thousand,” droned the engineer. Ooroo swished her tail in anxiety. It was perfectly natural to be this late on a journey of more than a dozen light years, of course.

“T-plus fourteen thousand.” The ship was now more than ten earth-minutes late. from what Ooroo remembered of the pre-Catastrophe ‘lanes, that was almost unheard of.

“Look there!” called another young engineer, indicating the direction with his manipulator. Sure enough, there was a purple flash just a few thousand kilometers from the station and a ship blinked into existence as if from nowhere. Most of its deceleration had been done inside the starlane, of course, and only a little headway remained to be slowed before it came to a relative stop just a few hundred kilometers from the station.

“Research vessel Purity, this is Starlane Station II. Do you read, over?” asked Ooroo tentatively over the designated channel.

The message flashed to the small ship, resplendent in yellow with its magnificent orange fins, almost instantly. Ooroo’s answer came mere nanocycles later.

“Affirmative, Station II. This is Purity! All crew and equipment is in good shape. Total time elapsed since leaving Trilar -- 2.417 milicycles.”

Ooroo deflated her cranial membrane and slumped her manipulators with relief. The mission was a success -- the stars were once again open to Trilarian exploration, Trilarian commerce. A journey that had taken close to twelve earth-years could now be done in about thirty-one hours. Stations similar to the first one at Trilar could beam starlanes wherever they were needed, and along those ‘lanes could move the ships of the empire.

In the back of her mind, Ooroo did wonder just a bit at the vast amount of energy used in the creation of the starlane. She knew that other races had technology which would allow them to travel faster than even a starlane and sensors that could detect at vast distances. Most of all, she wondered at the landwalking Sakkra, those relatives of the Trilarians expelled from the home world millennia ago who had evolved into saurians. There had been no contact with them since the starlanes were destroyed, and no one could guess how they would react to a Trilarian reemergence onto the galactic scene, nor of what new technology they had developed while they had been licking their wounds.

The search for the mysteriously disappeared Trilarians had wound down by this point. Their colony of Sslaa IV had been deemed inactive for more than a few years, and expeditions into deep space had been all but halted. It had basically been chalked up to yet another one of the many fractal implosions that seem to happen with alarming regularity. It was hoped that the small team sent to Arteme might be able to shed some posthumous answers on the occurences of the fractal phenomena, but no-one was really crossing their claws too hard on that.

"Alright recon team TS-056. You have your routes and timetable uploaded to your ships. Armaments are fully prepped and sensors have been calibrated. Good luck on your search." The voice of the Expedition Coordinator seemed heavy with weariness. This would be the 60th search group he sent out, and if his tablet showed true, it would be near to being his last. An astounding lack of reults was the cause. and soon he'd have to find some other work at the Vubz station.

"Roger that, Vubz. We'll try and bring back souvenirs if we find anything." The three Gecko-class (http://www.5amfunnies.com/sakkra/space/corvetteform.JPG) corvettes and one Merchant Navy freighter left the orbital station, made their way outsystem and engaged their Harmonic Drive engines, leading them out to new and unexplored regions to search for answers and signs of the Trilarians. Their next stop would take them along the system rim of Sanara Prime, where contact with the Trilarians had first been resumed in the past.

The Search Coordinator leaned back in his chair and started contemplating a drink. "They won't find anything but dust and rocks, i'd wager."

Sanara Prime, which had been nothing but red sand and burned rocks each time the Sakkran scientists had visited with it now teemed with Trilarians. Not only that, but the two gas giants and the asteroid belt which made up the rest of the Sanara system showed signs of exploitation mining and there was a large orbital shipyard over Sanara Prime’s north pole.

Grouped together around the pole were the seven aquadomes of Sanara. Trilarians, being aquatic, are ill-suited to a harsh desert environment such as that found on most of Sanara and, as a consequence, are forced to live in gigantic pressurized tanks. The oldest of these communities, Sanaravent, still showed signs of its brush with a SPORE weapon thirty cycles back and Bandavent, the capital, had a giant memorial to Emperor Taee, who had died when that aquadome suffered an ortillery bombardment.

Four of the aquadomes were ‘new’ -- that is, built after the Sakkra and everyone else lost contact with Trilar. The shipyard and extensive extra-planatary excavations were also uncharted. Starlane Station II was one of the farthest-flung of the outposts, with the burning heat of Sanara being little more than an extraordinarily-bright star viewed from the station with the naked eye. The system was guarded by two ancient battlecruisers -- Repulse and Revenge -- and their attendant cruisers and destroyers. More than thirty cycles, however, with no contact with the Sakkrans, the Antarans, the humans -- anyone -- had worn away at the Navy’s efficiency. The main fleet -- ten battleships and another two battlecruisers -- was stationed at Trilar, anyway, since more than 85% of the Trilarian population still lived in the home system.

((ooc: Blah, shouldn't post late at night. The "From" in the title is, of course, not supposed to be capitalized. I can't seem to fix it, so if some passing mod would care to make the change, I'd be much obliged.))

EDIT: Thank you much!

Recon team TS-056 wound its way through sub-space, emerging here and there along various assigned checkpoints to transmit status messages to Vubz. The Harmonic Drive engines were not as fast as some FTL systems, but they were still faster than others. Emphasis was placed on energy efficiency and accuracy of entry/exit points. It left very little in the way of a warp-wake that could be detected easily, didn't require pre-set lanes to travel through, and didn't need to be spun-up or have energy collected to make the entry. But while it was in use, real-space sensors had incredibly limited range. As such, it was like jumping nearly blind.

A little over 7 cycles had passed, or one earth-week, when the recon group made it's way to the most extreme outskirts of the Sanara System. There was no brilliant flash of light to herald their arrival back into realspace, nor any area-wide distortion or anything like that. They just seemed to simply slide out of nowhere like someone sliding a letter out of an invisible envelope.

The commander of the recon group was in the Merchant Navy freighter. It was modified with additional plating and an extra compliment of defensive weapons, but aside from that was relegated mostly with resupply of the three corvettes. "Alright, let's see what's going on....helm, keep us at our current heading around the system. Comms, cycle through the snoop-programs we have on board. All ships form a diamond pattern 500 kilometers distant and we'll swirl ourselves in slowly."

Several hours pass uneventfully as the ships make a slow, cyclic approach through the System Rim, when the ship designated Recon 3 pipes in. "Sir, we've got a possible contact. It sounds scratchy. I'm filtering it through now."

Affir..........on II. .... is .....y! All ................................ shape. T..al .... .l..se. ..........ving Trilar -- 2.4............les.

"That's the best I can manage considering the radiostatic noise in the area. Orders?"

The commander listened to the filtered broadcast for a moment. It was terrible quality, broken at many parts almost to the point of unintelligble, and nearly painful to listen to. He would have dismissed it as distant background radio transmissions except for the mention of Trilar in it. "Maintain current distance, divert power from your engines to your sensors. Activate sensor hacks to all ships and increase our area of search. Keep it low profile, though. I don't want to be sniffed out before we really find out anything. If you get painted, slip into subspace and head for Vubz. This ship will pull back and coordinate from outsystem."

The corvettes spread themselves out to 5000 km from each other as they dropped their speed. The Merchant freighter pulled further away from the system's rim and matched speed with the corvettes, listening and watching with borrowed sensors for any scraps of information they might glean.

With all the celebration on the situation -- someone had gotten out their Oaach, a stringed instrument with an air-filled center bubble, and struck up “Faith in the Old One” -- no one chanced to notice the instruments which read incoming sensor sweeps. Trilarian electronics technology still lagged at least a generation behind that of the more advanced Sakkrans, of course, and it was doubtful the sweeps could even have been traced even had they been noticed.

Not that there was anything subtle about the Trilarian presence in the system, which had not been there just a few milicycles ago. Small, non-FTL freighters plyed the lanes between Sanara Prime and the outlying mines and posts, construction was underway on a large warship in the orbital yards, and all the Klackon-like activity was coordinated by a central control system which noisily broadcast traffic information.

((ooc: Since that’s about all i can do, as my ships aren’t likely to pick up the Sakkrans until they make themselves known, I’ll just provide some OOC information about Trilarians and their empire.

A “cycle” in Trilar is equal to about one and a half years. A milicycle is closest to twelve hours, and a nanocycle is about 1/20th of a second. I’m going to have to come up with some intermediary units, of course, but those are the units expressed in the Master of Orion III back story. More than likely, I’ll just confuse myself, scrap the whole mess, and say that the Universal Translators are picking up times too.

Trilarian technology and culture is based on what’s described and observed in MoO3, with my extrapolations and interpretations. I’ve no science background at all, which will probably become increasingly obvious as I attempt to describe their physiology and technology.

The Trilarians originated in Antaran genetic experiments to breed aggressive front-line troops for aquatic battles. On the planet Trilar, they modified both the eel-like creatures which would become known as Trilarians and the squid-like Nommo. However, as Antaran genetic experiments were wont to do, this one went awry and the species of Trilar became artistic, creative, and utterly unmilitaristic creatures. Even after the Antarans abandoned them to fend for themselves, the Trilarians and the Nommo would revere them as the “Old One”, never connecting the sacred god with the hated and feared Antarans. For thousands of cycles, their culture evolved and flourished, using underwater power sources and eventually even reaching out to the surface and the stars.

(note: this next paragraph only contains what the Trilarians think happened. In all likelihood, it differs from Sakkran accounts and, as the events described are thousands of years in the past, no one can truly know what happened or if the two races are even related to one another.)

However, this off-planet exploration led to a rapid creation of new wealth in a glorious but stagnant culture. Trilarian society devolved into a vicious civil war that nearly destroyed everything which they had built up. The rebellious, new-wealth faction was eventually beaten down and exiled in pressurized aquadomes to the surface of Trilar. Humiliated by this, the rebels turned to experimenting on themselves to let them “landwalk”. Early attempts were disasters -- the shape-shifting Darloks, viewed as an abomination were one such experiment -- but at last the rebels (now calling themselves ‘Sakkra’) succeeded. With a ‘good riddance!’ from the establishment, they launched themselves in a fleet of cryogenic colony ships, not to be heard from again for hundreds of cycles.

The wounds between young and old, new and conservative, were driven deep into society. The Nommo, who had always been treated as second-class citizens by the Trilarians, nonetheless felt themselves the true heirs of the Old One and, after receiving no recognition for standing firm during the civil war, demanded the right to leave Trilar. The Trilarians were in no position to refuse and the Nommo also launched into the stars. To date, they have not been seen again, although a small minority of Nommo remain on Trilar and are still mostly regulated to menial tasks with little hope of social advancement.

For more than one thousand cycles after the second exodus, the Trilarian Empire has struggled along, undergoing periodic clashes of liberal and conservative, building layer upon layer of civilization and always grasping to try to regain vague visions of a glorious past. Yet, for all their conservatism, Trilarians can be remarkably creative scientifically and artistically when they need to be. Many consider the Trilarians to be xenophobes because of their violent reactions to the Sakkra, but in general Trilarians are thoughtful, patient, and cooperative -- their saurian (possible) cousins simply bring out the worst in them.

/ooc))

Several extreme-range circuits are made around Sanara Prime, with sensors picking up all manner of comm activity and ship traffic. "It's like a full-blown Jugg Week over there. Wasn't this system barren in the last recon sweep?"

The commander looks over the sensor readings again. "This is ..... different. Fractal events usually completely wipe out all traces......but they're going at it like nothing happened.....just picked up and carried on.....what in the Pantheon is going on here?"

A petty officer entered the bridge at that moment, holding a datapad in his hands. "Situational report, sirrah. Detailing opinion as of last time we had contact." The commander took the pad and read it over. "I see. Divisive opinion from the Trilarians on their opinion of us. So if we attempt contact now, we might get fired on. Hmmmm...." He closed up the datapad and returned it to the officer with a thank-you.

He leaned back in his command chair, scratching at the just-new tendrils on his chin. "But we need a clear picture for Vubz of what's going on there, and we'll need to go in closer to get it. We're a recon team, after all. Comms!"

The pair of 1 female human and a male Sakkran turned in their chairs at the same moment. Aye, sirrah!"

"Patch a sub-space comm feed to Vubz. Give a log of what we've seen here so far as a rider on the comm. We're going to investigate."

"Aye, sirrah." The pair turned in their chairs and began compiling the data needed and prepped to send the feed in a pulsed sub-space communication packet. "All ships, prepare to approach Sanara Prime SLOWLY. Keep your shields and weapons on standby and ready to engage at a moment's notice, but don't take any hostile actions. If fired on, defend yourselves if you must; disarm them if you can. But no casualties. Let's see what's going on there."

The three corvettes signaled assent, and tightened up in a diamond formation with the freighter in the rear. They approached Sanara Prime at 2km per second without trying to hide themselves. Weapon batteries were made ready, but targetting systems as well as weapons and shields seemed powered down.

Even if their approach was as stealthy as a bull elephant, it still took the Trilarian listening station closest to their approach vector several thousand nanocycles to notice the Sakkran vessels. Even then, the traffic controller merely grunted at what he assumed were merely stray Trilarian vessels -- how annoying that they hadn't properly registered a flight plan! During his entire tenure, some fifteen cycles, he had never seen a non-Trilarian ship and could barely even grasp such a concept.

Then...

"'Scans indicate air environment?' What in the depths?"

The technician played with a few levers. Then he turned and swam at full speed for the communication panel.

-----

"Her Majesty's health," proposed Rear Admiral Coosano, spreading his manipulators and bowing his head in thoughtful subservience.

"Her Majesty," repeated the primary officers of the battlecruiser Repulse, assembled in their wardroom for the Admiral's weekly lunch. Then they set about their meal. It was primarily Ogaan, a prey fish developed in Sanaravent, garnished with a kelp-like plant called Quaan and with a small side of the Holondaa -- a tiny tube-worm from Trilar's vent communities considered a delicacy -- which the Admiral had imported at great cost (and delay).

Their meal was interrupted, however, by the excited petty officer who burst in, begging the Admiral's pardon, to inform them that the officer of the watch sent his respects and that the landwalkers had come back.

"Sakkran? Antaran? Human?" asked Admiral Coosano as he burst into the battlecruiser's bridge. Systems were powering up now, including those -- such as the missiles -- which had not been used in a generation and a half.

"I think they're saurian, sir," said lieutenant Hun, who was on the sensors.

"You 'think'?"

"Begging the Admiral's pardon, but I haven't ever seen a saurian vessel myself," said Hun, deflating his cranial membrane in shame. "There's only so much you can learn from datapads -- and these pads are twice as old as I am."

"Well, we can't very well shoot on the assumption that they're Sakkran, which we don't know," said Coosano, "nor on the assumption that they mean us harm."

The bridge crew looked at him.

"Captain, will you kindly lay us on an intercept course for the newcomers? No haste needed. Mr Aolmes, make to Revenge: 'form line astern flag'. And make to the rest of the fleet 'take up defensive posture Gamma-one'."

"Make your new course green one-seven, z-plus twenty-five," said the Repulse's captain.

"Green one-seven, z-plus twenty-five aye, sir," repeated the helmsman.

"Execute."

"Coming about to new course."

"Engines, all ahead two-thirds standard acceleration."

"All ahead two-thirds standard, aye sir."

"Execute."

Looking rather like intergalactic fish, the Repulse put her nose over towards the Sakkran ships. The tiny escorting destroyers struggled to get in position ahead of her while Revenge followed some two thousand kilometers astern. At the Admiral's orders, they broadcast prerecorded messages on all frequencies and in all languages indicating peaceful intention and inquiring about the stranger's identity.

The sensor hacks from the corvettes were displayed in the freighter's multiple screens in front of the commander. "Sirrah, we've got positive contacts. 2 battlecruisers and a score of escort ships. They're on an intercept course at the moment. Readings on their exterior schematics ..... wow! Those are some old ships!" The sound of surprise from the sensors officer made no atempt to be masked.

The commander's crest raised up in irritation. "Recon 1, this is no time for editorializing. Keep all observations in standard protocols." His crest sank back to half-height. "Even and ancient bow can be deadly efficient in the right hands. Stay alert."

The freighter's comm officer spoke up. "We've got hails coming in on all channels, audio only. Shall I respond?"

The commander thought for a moment as he surveyed the sensor hack's information. "Not yet. Come to a full stop and get all the information you can manage from this range. Wait until they're nearly in weapons range and then respond on audio only."

"Aye, sirrah." the comm officers collected samples of the pre-recorded hails and analyzed their frequencies while the sensor stations conducted broad sweeps of the area with microwave radar, P.S.L.I. detectors and multi-visual sensors. After a time, a response was sent. "Recon 3, send this message on all audio channels used."

"This is recon group Exeter, on an exploratory fact-finding mission; Captain Hrreg speaking. Long range sensors showed a surge in unknown traffic and signals from this system and we're investigating the nature. Please respond with identity confirmations."

"This is recon group Exeter, on an exploratory fact-finding mission; Captain Hrreg speaking. Long range sensors showed a surge in unknown traffic and signals from this system and we're investigating the nature. Please respond with identity confirmations."

"Recon group Exeter, this is the Trilarian second battlecruiser squadron, Rear Admiral Coosano commanding. We do not understand your communication regarding surge in traffic. Please respond."

On the bridge of the Repulse, the battlecruiser's captain turned to his Admiral.

"Hrreg -- that certainly sounds like a Sakkran name."

"Yes," was all Coosano would condescend to say. He was watching the sensor readouts on the Sakkran vessels.

"For all the Trimuvirate's vaunted research prowess, they haven't changed much in thirty cycles," offered the captain again. "These corvettes are almost identical to the last silhouettes made."

This time, Coosano ignored him completely. He was too busy to listen to half-witted prattle. "Hasn't there been a reply yet?" he barked at the communication officer.

"Begging the Admiral's pardon, I haven't been able to send our message yet," said the ashamed officer. "The translators -- ach, you know how they are. It's still encoding. Should be done in a thousand nanocycles or so."

Coosano merely folded his manipulators and waited while the communication was laboriously translated and sent off.

Hrreg clacked his claws against the arm of his chair in irritation as he listened to the reply. Dammit, they're probing my subterfuge. Come on come on, THINK! If one looked closely, they might actually see the top of his skull pulsate with effort.

That is, until his First knelt down and seemed to whisper something in his earhole. "Ah, right right. We'll go with that. And keep sending quantum entanglement communications home." He opened up the comm channels again, routing it through the corvette. "Rear Admiral Coosano, our remote hyper-spatial sensors indicated an upswing in warp activity here. For a length of time, there was no activity here and then there was. The sensor was too far off to get accurate silhouette information, so we were sent to investigate." Phew, that should hold them for a bit.

The commander signaled to send the transmission, and turned to his comm officers. "Make sure you add to the entanglement transmissions that we have positive Trilarian contact, along with silhouette info on those ships."

He turned back to the display screens, steepling his hands together. "I bet Sslaa is gonna look like an angry hornet's nest when they get this."

"They're obviously lying, sir," said the Repulse's captain, manipulating a datapad. "There was an upswing in local warp activity about three centicycles ago, when the Trilar convoy departed. Since then, traffic's been steadily decreasing: it's down about 27%."

"Begging the Admiral's pardon, but the Sakkrans have always had designs on Sanara Prime," butted in Coosano's flag lieutenant. "I heard from my broodtach about how they bombarded our aquadomes twice the last time we had contact with them. They probably just want to wipe out our presence -- I'll bet the landwalkers love that dry environment. Sir," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"They are drawing us out towards the fringes of the system, sir" noted the captain. "They could have another flotilla ready to drop in on the planet -- or the starlane, by the Old One!"

"All the signs indicate that you are right," said Coosano. "Make to Hardy and Havoc: 'maintain current heading. acclerate all ahead full'" Those were the leading destroyers in their screen. "Make to the rest of the fleet: 'maintain current heading. accelerate all reverse standard.'"

"And the Sakkrans, sir?" prompted the communications officer.

"Oh, yes. No use trying to bluff them. Signal: 'Sensor logs indicate relative decrease in local traffic levels over past few centicycles. Please explain your purpose in this system.'"

Meanwhile, the main body of the Trilarian fleet was starting to slow down perceptably, while the two destroyers surged ahead. These were not strictly combat vessels: all their space was spent both on engines and on highly precise but low-power point defense hard beams and anti-missile rockets. In close combat, the weapons would serve well enough against an unarmoured foe, but they had nothing like the stand-off power of the battlecruiser's thundering missile broadsides and spinal mount mass driver.

The translated message comes through, And matched with the actions the Trilarians executed. Herrg is not happy about it as his neck-crest raises to full height and a slight combat scent is wafted about. "They know i'm lying and calling me out. Alright, let's try this a different way...."

A message is composed and sent back again. "Purpose is as stated. Fact-finding and reconnaisance. Time-lag may be to blame for us not noticing the traffic decrease."

Herrg has the message sent out and comms to his escorts. "Two escort destroyers are coming your way. Sensor hacks don't see any heavy offensive weaponry. Ready your EFR shields, and if you're fired on, pinpoint their engine's exhaust ports and disable them. But do NOT shoot to kill."

"Aye sirrah." The voices of the three corvette's commanders echo as one. The energy-gathering sails on each of them folds, furls and retracts into each ship, making all firing angles of their weapon banks available. Each of the corvettes spreads themselves out and forms a vertical delta-wing formation.

The frieghter, meanwhile, holds its position and makes its own preparations. "Swap out the forced-plasma warheads on half the compliment with SPORE rounds. Program them in with time-delay radial burst of 5 seconds. If it gets hot, we'll need a cover field for their probable missile strike."

"They may have a point on the time-lag," said Repulse's captain. "When the Trilar convoy was assembling and departing, local warp traffic increased by about 65%. They might have noticed that spike."

"Harumph," said Coosano, agreeing somewhat. "Our best course of action would be to draw them into the inner system, where we can cover them from the orbitals and the missile base.

"I consider that unwise, sir," said the flag lieutenant, greatly daring. "They may be armed with SPORE rounds -- one impact on an aquadome could kill tens of thousands."

"We'll keep them over the southern pole," said Coosano. "There, we can cover them with an overwhelming superiority, but the planet will shield the aquadomes. When we have them there, we can determine just what this is all about."

"And if the SPORE rounds are not line-of-sight weapons?" insisted the flag lieutenant.

"Then we will have to trust to our point defense systems," retorted Coosano, "which were installed at such a great expense." His harsh tone put an end to any discussion -- it was not good for discipline, to see his orders questioned.

"Very well then. Make to the Sakkrans: 'Submit that proper records could be pulled up from Sanara central library. Please proceded to [coordinates] while they are located. Destroyers Hardy and Havoc will escort you."

The two destroyers, nearing the intercept midpoint, put their helms hard about. Once their heads were pointed back at Sanara, they resumed accelerating. In reality, it was a slowing effect while their momentum continued to close with the Sakkran fleet, but they would regain forward momentum some thousand nanocycles after drifitng astern of the corvettes and their freighter.

Aboard the freighter, the First of Captain Hrreg looks at the screens showing the escort destroyer's movements, flanking the recon group. "Orders, sirrah? It's like being invited to stick our hand in the hornet's nest."

Hrreg keeps grumbling to himself as he reads the Trilarian message. "They want to bring us closer to their defense placements. It's an opportunity to get a planetary read with sensors, but it's also staring down a Projector Barrel. Let's keep our cover story intact for now, but I want a prepped entanglement message ready. In case one of them gets twitchy and fires on us." Hrreg signals to the comm officers, and one preps a packaged message while the other sends a reply.

"Complying. Will proceed to coordinates [xyz] under escort." The corvettes and the frighter activate their fusion drives, timing it with the destroyer's decelration point, and proceed in-system at matching speed. "All corvettes, when we reach the coordinates, keep those sensor hacks up if you can, and project all avenues of cover for us. If it turns rough, we need to get out of here at all speed."

"Acknowledged, sirrah"

The two destroyers kept position close and abaft the Sakkran fleet as they were escorted to a point high above Sanara Prime's southern pole. They could see the dull yellow and red surface of the planet, but not the blue-green of the aquadomes clustered around the northern pole. Sanara rotates with a steep incline, so that it's magnetic north is pointed well away from the star. Trilarians have never been known to like warm environments.

The missile batteries and battlecruisers were on alert, of course, for any sign of double dealing. They kept their target locks off, but a few minutes notice could see several dozen tubes trained on the Sakkran vessels.

After quite a long silence, a strange-looking craft made its way towards the Sakkrans.

"We have brought up the diplomatic craft Envoy," a communication told the Sakkrans. "She was designed thirty-five cycles ago for negotiations with landwalkers. A face-to-face meeting might help solve the many unanswered questions."

Hrreg listened to the communication. "That's just grand. I'm not briefed to play diplomat! RRrrrrrgh!" He paced about the bridge for a moment. " iassume they mean for me to go to their craft. If that's the case, you have the conn, First."

He started getting into his EVA suit, a modified Horde armor made for civilian purposes, meaning stripped down of all weaponry and a bit lighter on the plating. "Remember, if things go sour here, i'm expendable. You get yourselves out and make for Sslaa. Got it?"

The bridge crew and the First saluted. "May you walk on warm sands." The Captain saluted as well and made his way to the airlock. "Let them know i'm ready." The multiple hatches opened, and Hrreg's suit activated as he stepped out into the void of space.

The airlocks cycles behind Hrreg as he entered the Envoy. There was a hiss of pressurizing gasses -- any external sensors he had would indicate that air was now optimized for Sakkran physiology. The room was a little darker than might have been comfortable, but that was probably because of the large sheet of transparent aluminum (“Hellooooo, computer!”) which separated the room into two halves. On the other side floated three Trilarians, respectfully swimming on their tails with manipulators extended. If it made Hrreg feel any better, the relatively low pressure which the tank had to maintain to keep from breaking such a flimsy barrier -- the ship’s designers had decided that it would be better to have as few barriers between the two delegations as possible -- was even more disconcerting to the Trilarians than the low light was to Hrreg.

“It is refreshing to know that they are just as ugly as the textpad pictures,” said one of the aides floating at the back of the Trilarian half of the room.

“Kindly save your snide remarks for another time,” snapped the Priatch Sanaravent, who had been appointed ambassador. “I am activating the translator unit now.”

Envoy, along with her sistership Consul, had on board a fancy Psilon-built universal translator capable of picking up any of the major Orion languages and, after only a few seconds work, converting it into a passable facsimile of what was said. It was far beyond Trilarian linguistic technology but -- as there were only two in the entire Empire and no more could be acquired after the Antaran attack which leveled the Psilon homeworld thirty-three cycles ago -- it could not be spared from service for reverse engineering.

Hoping that it worked after all these cycles, Sanaravent pulled the lever which activated the unit and began.

“I am the Priatch Sanaravent, viceroy of this planet and representing Her Trilarian Majesty. If you will forgive my bluntness, I will come directly to the point. It has been more than thirty cycles (~45 years) since any Sakkran vessel has come to Trilarian space. What makes you come here now, and why with the excuse of peak traffic? There have been dozens of traffic surges over the past ten cycles alone -- why did you not come then?”

Hrreg enters the room separated by the thin transparent barrier. The Trialrian group on the other side of it was looked over by him briefly. Hmmmp. I've seen wierder. The sound of them 'talking' to one another annoyed him a bit. Kinda like one of those instances when people speaking a language you don't understand talk in hushed whispers around you, looking over once in a while. You get the sense they're not talking about how stylish your footwear is.

After a brief time, the speech is translated. After listening to the question, Hrreg held upa clawed hand. "Priatch Sanaravent, if i'm to answer that question accurately, i'll need time-stamped records of your time here. Nothing specific or sensitive, just proof that you have had an uninterrupted stay here. Then I can answer your question in a way that will leave no misunderstanding."

Sanaravent waited a bit before he replied, even longer than it ought to have taken for the translation to go through.

"Sanara has been settled by Trilarians continuously since the Annexation Act during the reign of Emperor Dooaen. Our central library has records of every cycle since then -- some two hundred and fifty in all. If you require proof, they are yours to peruse.

"I must admit that I find your implications disturbing. Why does Sakkra need proof of our habitation?"

Hrreg's neck crest raised up, and a slight scent of nutmeg issued out of him by the scent-markers on his forearms. "You're saying you've been here continuously, without interruption, for over 350 sol-years. You're saying....." His eyes widen as his head seems to dip down. When he speaks, it's in a whisper. "You don't know.....none of you know what happened."

His head picks up and looks at the Priatch. "You want to know why we need proof, and why now, of all times, we check for the increased traffic? Because for a span of about three of your cycles, your colonies, your ships, your people, nearly everything relating to the Trilarians had ceased to exist."

Hrreg pulls out a datapad and holds it in front of him like an exorcist brandishing a holy symbol of some sort. "On this you can access the logs for the numerous search efforts that got sent out after your civilization vanished. I've been through this system three times since then myself. It was barren except for the base framework of your habitats. Everything is in here."

((godmoding some sort of crazy Sakkran-datapad-to-Trilarian-computer interface))

Sanaravent reviewed the data in gulps, as the Trilarian expression goes. It all seemed impossible, and yet he was no inclined to disbelieve Hrreg. Sakkrans are known for many things in Trilarian culture -- brutality, disorder, malice, bloodshed, and betrayal -- but cunning is not one of them. Had Hrreg been a human, Sanaravent may have been suspicious -- but this!

“Impossible to believe,” he said. “Look here -- your records show the SPORE bombing of Sanara and the conference at Bandavent to have been a bit more than three cycles ago. It’s been ten times that, at least -- how long, Raen?”

“31 point ... four-seven cycles,” said the advisor, looking the information up on a datapad. “About 47 sol-years.”

“But look!” said Sanaravent. “You have the settlement of Sslaa IV the proper amount of time before the SPORE bombing ... and re-contact between our civilizations the proper amount of time before that.”

“It occurs to me, Priatch,” said Raen, “that the starlanes vanished just a few milicycles after the conference at Bandavent.”

“That is highly circumstantial,” said Sanaravent. He meditated for a few moments, then remembered Hrreg’s presence. “Oh! Please forgive my rudeness, captain. We are simply -- amazed by this information. If these records are to be believed, then there are thirty cycles which passed here that did not pass in Sslaa.” He paused for a moment, then added: “Did you know about the collapse of the starlanes, captain?”

"I can't say that I know about that." Hrreg nods his head left to right, mimicking the human gesture. "I know the main travel route of the Sslaa IV colony was no longer in use about three of your cycles ago."

"It is most odd," meditated Sanaravent. "The starlanes' collapse left us isolated here, just at the moment you were discovering we didn't exist. Never in my life have I heard anything quite as extraordinary as this."

He paused.

"Do you have any ideas on what might have happened? I'll be a landwalker -- pardon the expression -- if I do."

Hrreg paced the limited floorspace he had. His hand cupped his chin as he went through the physical approximations of 'hmmmmm'ing and 'huh'ing. "All I know is that something along these lines has happened to other cultures in the past. The only thing being that no memories of them ever existing are left as well, and they never, or at least extremely rarely, resurface. It's referred to as a 'fractal event. We've taken to calling it a fractal implosion as it seems all traces of a people seem to collapse on itself and vanish."

He stops pacing a moment, and activates a mini-pad on his forearm. "I've sent an entanglement message back to Sslaa of your returning. It should arrive and be decrypted in a few hours. I can see what the brain-trust there says about it."

"'Fractal implosion,'" said Sanaravent, mulling over the unusual words. "Well, I still don't know if 'returned' is the correct phrase -- after all, it is only in your frame of reference that we were ever missing at all. Nonetheless, I will follow your example and send a message back to Trilar -- the new starlane will help cut down that relay time a hundred fold. In the mean time, is there anything my government can offer you, to help with your operations or make your stay more comfortable?"

Hrreg tries to put on his best diplomatic face. "By your leave, I would like to return to my ship and see that everything is running smoothly there. It would ease my crew's nerves, the situation being what it is."

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

By about this time, the entanglement communication had reached Vubz and been relayed to Sslaa V. Shortly after it had been decrypted, a flurry of activity took place. Commands were given, new task forces had been hastily assembled and sent out, and the Imperial Datastream was abuzz with the news.

The Search Coordinator's station was wild with an abundance of personnel that seemed to literally crawl out of the vent-work. The sentient ships that were off-duty and had taken vacation time in the dual asteroid belts in the system began assembling and flocking to whatever open military and civilian stations were about. In the Sslaa system alone it comprised an exodus of over 600 individual ships, ranging from corvette-class crafts up to the command platform-styled ships. All were awaiting their orders, resupply and crewing.

In the Sol system, the activity levels in all the Sakkran holdings went to active status. Ships at the Orbital Platform in high Earth orbit began forming lines and awaiting orders from the clan-leads of their groups. In Titan, several flights of cruisers convened with a few wings of war-carriers, wondering what all the noise was about.

Hrreg tries to put on his best diplomatic face. "By your leave, I would like to return to my ship and see that everything is running smoothly there. It would ease my crew's nerves, the situation being what it is."

"As you will," said Sanaravent. "I do not know how much it will mean to your crew -- or to you, captain -- but I give my word that in all my best ensure that no harm comes to you or your ships while you are in my system."

--snip stuff happening--

The news was also relayed back to Starlane Station II and, in due course, flashed on to Trilar. It arrived scarcely a milicycle after the successful opening of the starlane had been reported.

The reply was something less diplomatic than Sanaravent's "warm" welcome to the Sakkrans.

"Do not let the landwalkers near sensitive equipment. Reinforcements are coming."

Back on the Trilar end, the starlane was given its first major stress test as the five battleships of the First Battle Squadron slipped into the lane and began the long journey to Sanara, accompanied by their escorts. Stouter and slower than the battlecruisers, the battleships could absorb more hits and fling more missiles.

Yellaorbor, Lord Chancellor to Her Trilarian Majesty the Empress Jaan fretted about his chamber at the news. Legally, he was only the holder of the Seal of State -- in essence, the Empress' signature. However, as that seal needed to be fixed on every outgoing piece of legislation, he ended up wielding most of the power of the state and was the de facto leader of the privy council. This power was tempered by the fact that he served at the Empress' pleasure, and a mere word from her could see him dismissed if he were lucky, or executed if he were not.

He was not a particularly smart fish, Yellaorbor, and he knew it. The keys to his power were longevity, a sycophantic pandering to royalty, a clean nose, and plenty of friends. He had managed to keep Her Majesty appeased for six cycles on end, about twice as long as any Lord Chancellor since Leoluss was arrested, and had no reason to see anything change. The sudden appearance of landwalkers meant that international diplomacy -- a skill few studied and fewer practiced -- would have to again be the order of the day. Yellaorbor knew enough about himself to know that this contact would be the end of his reign, and perhaps his life.

In his mind, the reopening on the starlane and the reappearance of the Sakkrans were interconnected. Perhaps if the starlane were shut down -- but no! He knew Her Majesty was an enthusiastic supporter of the starlane, and had himself given it an enthusiastic bid in the hopes of retaining her favor. If he now insisted it be shut down...it did not bear thinking on.

With a defeated deflation, Yellaorbor decided the only course of action was to report the latest news to Her Majesty and try to weather whatever storm was coming.

Hrreg didn't vocally reply to Sanaravent's last statement. He simply bowed hid head with eyelids closed, and made his way back to his freighter. After the double-hatches closed, he depressurized his EVA suit and headed back to the bridge. The walkways were pretty sparse with personnel as it was, with everyone being at their stations.

Entering the bridge, his crew snapped a quick salute and the call of 'Commander at present!' went out. He opened up the comm display on his chair, and the incoming message log prompted up. "157 messages already? Comms, filter them out for command-level briefs and put the rest on their appropriate tiers." The pair of comm officers turns and salutes. "Aye, sirrah."

Eeeeesh...what else is there? Command requests for briefs...bleh, i'll send them some boilerplate. Incoming ship queries....guh. I'm not organizing this mess. Hrreg sighs a deep, mournful sigh familiar to borderline civilian officers of the Imperial Navy.

There had been a time when the Eeolan Memorial Station and the orbital fortifications which surrounded it had been an integral part of Trilar's defenses and transportation network. It bordered the old starlane, long since vanished, which had connected to Sol. Eeolan was the departure point for billions of tons of shipping and their first call on returning home; the massive orbitals which had guarded it provided raw firepower in the case of a saurian invasion.

Now the station was abandoned, so much drifting hulk metal, and the orbitals had been redeployed to more key locations in the inner system. The only Trilarians with anything to profit by visiting Eeolan at all were those smugglers and illegal salvagers who either used it as a base for their operations or were slowly gutting the station by pilfering its systems and hull. One such salvager was made fast to Eeolan today, slowly removing a section of the outer armor with heavy claws and cutters. The sign painted above a hatch -- “Property of the Trilarian Empire -- Do Not Trespass” -- didn’t worry the two Trilarians working the ship overly much. This was their third trip out here, and the profits from the first two indicated that this was a safe, lucrative business.

“Attention pirate vessel,” was a communication that made both Trilarians stop bickering over a minor point of storage and turn the communication panel with an increasing sense of dread. “This is Her Majesty’s cruiser Bandavent. Cease all operations and prepare to receive a boarding party. Repeat...”

That was as good as a death sentence. They had been caught red-handed, and everyone knew what happened to pirates in the Trilarian Empire. Hurriedly, the tiny salvage ship cast off from Eeolan and started powering up its FTL drive. Their only hope was to escape with superior acceleration: their ship had been designed to operate short distances from Trilar, to recover hulks that had been leaving the system.

“Cease the buildup in your FTL systems,” said the Bandavent’s communication officer. The cruiser was old and slow and had been designed for use only within the Trilar system: while it could out-accelerate the salvage vessel at sublight, it could not even reach high relativistic speed. “We will fire into you if you do not cease all power to the FTL drive.”

To prove its point, Bandavent launched a salvo of mass driver bolts from its spinal mount over the salvage vessel. They would not be able to see the rounds, of course, but it would set off a series of alarms in the cockpit. No change was observed, so the Bandavent fired again, this time hitting the salvage ship amidships. High pressure water burst from the side, freezing into ice immediately. However, the flow soon stopped as an emergency hatch closed. It was obvious the ship had not suffered mortal damage. A third salvo was in launcher when the salvage vessel’s FTL drive flashed and the ship vanished in a purple flash.

The purple flash of a starlane entrance.

In the Sslaa system, a veritable log-jam in space had occurred. The standard civilian shipping lanes were experiencing delays of six hours due to the dual steroid belts just about emptying out; hundreds of the living ships of all classes flocked towards Vubz, mostly to see what was going on, some to be crewed, outfitted and briefed on their orders. This nearly caused several ship-to-ship collisions as some of the younger and more excitable ships didn't heed stellar traffic regulations. They'd probably get penalized for it later, but for the moment the system's authorities had their hands full just maintaining a semblance of order.

The first wing of ships was within Vubz' cavernous docking section. These comprosed 3 Wyvern (http://www.5amfunnies.com/sakkra/space/warshipform.JPG)-class warships, 2 Gator (http://www.5amfunnies.com/sakkra/space/Bcarrierform.JPG)-class battle-carriers and 25 Iguana (http://www.5amfunnies.com/sakkra/space/destroyerform.JPG)-class destroyers. They had been freshly crewed with the military staff aboard Vubz. It wasn't quite a full crew compliment, but it was better than just having a skeleton crew aboard. The orders were given, and the ships left their berths, exited Vubz through the massive tunnel-network leading outside, and made their way towards the system's edge to engage their Harmonic-drive engines.

The orders were fairly simple. Investigate, report and if needed, self-defense. It would take them about two Sol days to reach the Sanara system at best speed.

Two days: very nearly the same amount of time that it would take a squadron to traverse the starlane from Trilar to Sanara. Not, of course, that Sanaravent had any intention of allowing a fight to occur. Meanwhile, the news of the landwalkers was stirring up quite a storm across the aquadomes, despite the government's belated attempts at censorship. In Bandavent and Sanaravent, the two communities most affected by the bombardment of Sanara thirty cycles before, mutterings were dark and gloomy. In the other five domes, apprehension but not outright doom prognostication held sway.

The new starlane, which allowed for instantaneous broadcast of messages between the two stars, fairly hummed with messages shooting back and forth -- an inquiry from Trilar, a reply from Sanara, and so on ad infinitum. Finally, two imperial decrees came out to Sanara. The first was a message to the people of Sanara Prime. It urged quiet application to duty, guarded trust, and loyalty to the Empress. The second was to be handed over to the Sakkrans when they arrived:

It gives Us great pleasure to once again welcome you to Our little corner of the galaxy. Pray do not be alarmed by Our defensive precautions: they are just that, defensive. We have asked all of Our subjects to display the utmost civility and respect to your Excellency and We trust that your Excellency will have the respect to do likewise to your Excellency’s command.

We must ask now about Our colony on Sslaa IV. When the starlanes collapsed, We lost contact with them and were unable to reestablish it, as your Excellency is doubtlessly aware. We pray that they are well and trust, if they are not, that it should not be by your Excellency’s hand.

We are saddened by the lack of formal contact between Our empire and your Excellency’s and would pray your Excellency to take a message to your government asking for a proper exchange of ambassadors. We would welcome a Sakkran mission in Evenvent and the chance to have Our minister return to Sslaa.

We look forward with great joy to this second contact and to a new phase of coöperation and peace between Our empire and your Excellency’s. Pray be so kind as to forward Our message to your Excellency’s superiors as soon as it is convenient to your Excellency.

By the Old One, We remain:

Leeolaana Jaan
IMP TRILARIAN

((ooc: Oh, and sorry about the long delay. I thought I was waiting on you -- for some reason this post wasn't showing as having any new replies. Must have accidentally triggered it without noticing your post. d'oh))

As a rule of the Imperial Stellar Navy, the commanding officer was never positioned aboard the largest capitol ship of the fleet. This only applies when it's a full-fledged war wing. For an exploratory mission though, it didn't apply. And this was a great relief to Lieutenant Ssaard. He'd been on the over-cramped Iguana-class ships before, with their nearly dog-brain sentience. And the Gator-class seemed to have some pervasive trouble with their air-recycling system that made his sensitive nose more than a touch queasy.

But aboard the Wyvern-class, he felt quite satisfied in the commander's quarters. Leather furniture was a luxury in the military naval-wing. An onboard visual entertainment system made the trips through sub-space more bearable, as well. But at the moment he was reading the brief supplied to him of the Trilarian people, as far as was known, and their opinions of the Sakkrans, which made him glower just a bit. He was expecting to be face-to-face with an oversized trout in a fish-bowl spewing venom and curses at every other turn. It was then that the whistle signaling a return to normal-space sounded. Ah, we're here already.

The 30 ship group made their real-space entry at the system's edge. No brilliant flash of light, no big blue gate opening, no wavering of the area around the entry point or anything else. They just simply seemed to slip out of a pocket. The spatial distortion signature, for those with the ability to detect it. was comparitively low. The group made its way in-system until they received the communication prepared for them.

The ship's sentient core, in the shape of a six-foot long iguana, had its avatar perched on Ssaard's shoulder, mimicking the act of reading the message with comical round-framed glasses on. "Not exactly what the brief described, eh Lieutenant?"

Ssaard scratched his chin with a claw. "No, not at all. Seems quite genial, in fact. I wonder if it's a trap."

"Really now, don't dust off that old chestnut. They DO have diplomats, after all. This was probably prepared by them. No-one says 'Die and turn to rust on my blade' at a first-meeting. Unless they're completely crazy, of course."

"Right, right. I'll send out a reply."

"And i'll put it through the diplomatic filter, of course. Your writing style is so stiff and banal."

Ssaard turned one eye on the avatar of the Martinet and made a shooing motion with his hand, which passed through the iguana's head. Then he composed his reply, which was run through the 'diplomatic filter' and sent out.

Good tidings to you.

I am afraid that the colony stationed in the Sslaa System had ceased to be at the same time we lost contact with your peoples. Indeed it was not caused by us, but we had sent several teams to investigate the mater, and their hands returned empty. Perhaps some answers can be found from the data on your end, combined with the slight data we have?

Your message for an ambassadorial exchange will be delivered to our Emperor, and i'm certain he will not refuse it. He has stated his desire to work in conjunction with your people in the past, and i'm certain this has not changed.

We look forward to our future together.

Lieutenant Ssaard
I.S.N. ship Martinet

The reply was obviously penned by a different manipulator:

On Her Trilarian Majesty’s Battleship Thunderer
Fourth milicycle of the Second decicycle of the Thirty-first cycle of Her Majesty’s Reign

It would be Her Majesty’s greatest pleasure to share what little information we have on the collapse of the starlanes and the intervening cycles. Our library in Sanaravent is quite well-stocked and now has a nearly instantaneous uplink with the main library on Trilar.

We will allow one ship at a time, unarmed or with all weapon and defensive systems powered down, to approach Sanara. If that is unacceptable, we will provide transport on our own vessels from your position to the planet. Please do not take this as an insult: our fleet’s first mission is to the safety of our planet and our people, and it would be most regrettable if blood were shed as the result of a misunderstanding or an accident.

By the Old One, I remain:

C. A. Oranbonaus
Priatch Harravent and Viceroy of Sanara Prime

The immense intersystem traffic noticed by the first survey ships was still there, to an extant. While the volume of traffic exceeded what was previously recorded, nearly all of it was bound inwards -- towards Sanara Prime. The asteroid mining and other commercial ventures were obviously being abandoned and their personnel evacuated into the defensive perimeter until everyone was quite certain that there was to be no shooting.

The fleet itself hung between the planet and the starlane, with a few scouting forces spread out to cover the approaches. Defensive systems were powered up, but the missile ports -- and thus the offensive punch -- remained closed.

-------

Meanwhile

The Trilarian scout zoomed along a starlane at twenty times the acceleration which should have been possible.

“Readings remain constant, captain,” reported the navigation officer. “The computer indicates that, if this is the starlane, we shall have to make an adjustment of red seven, z-minus three in seventeen microcycles to remain in the starlane.”

“If we miss the turn, lieutenant,” said Captain Urallan, “how long will it take us to meet up with the theoretical divergence of the starlane?”

“If we correct course exactly one microcycle after exiting and remain at a constant acceleration...” the navigation officer muttered to himself, punching figures into his computer. “We ought to reenter the starlane after about fifty-six microcycles.”

“Turn mark in fifty nanocycles....twenty-five...”

“Hold your course, helm”

“We’ve passed the optimal turn point. Edge of the starlane theorized in one microcycle and twenty-five nanocycles.”

The scout exited the starlane with a flash of purple light ((unrealistic, I know, but it’s what we see in MoO ;))).

“Position fix!” snapped Urallan

“We’re about a third of the way between Trilar and Sol.”

“Turn mark in fifty nanocycles,” chimed in the helmsman.

“Helm, execute the turn. Get us back in the lane.” Then the captain grinned. “I hardly know how it is possible, but this would appear to be the actual starlane that ran between Trilar and Sol. The natural one.”

Ssaard looked over the message. It wasn't something he felt all to comfortable with, going unarmed and undefended into a territory populated by beings he knew didn't exactly like the saurian people. In fact, it smacked of something only a naive neonate would do.

As such, he looked at his First, a human female of nippon-jin descent. At 5'3" she wasn't tall by human standards, let alone Sakkran. But it had become somewhat traditional to have half the crew compliment aboard any ship composed of the immigrant species with the Sakkran holdings. "2nd Lieutenant Suzuka, prepare yourself for departure. A datapad of the records relating to your mission will be readied for you aboard the shuttle." His thinking was along the lines that the Trilarians might be less reticent in the presence of one not covered in scales. And with her braided hair and spectacles, they might find some manner of charm in her. Or something. Who knows?

Either way, she saluted snappily, heel-turned and made her way to the hangar. Ssaard snapped out a quick reply message, and then rifled the appropo data-files down to the old shuttle's data-feed.

Viceroy Oranbonaus,

An envoy aboard one of our shuttles is being dispatched with her team in order to foster cooperation in this investigation. All your requirements will be met as it is a diplomatic shuttle brought on board for this purpose. I hope that there will be a fruitful endeavor before us.

Lieutenant Ssaard
I.N.S. Martinet

((ok, think I'm settling back into the rhythm of work. Finally.))

Suzaka's shuttle was met by a Trilarian diplomatic craft halfway between the Sakkran fleet and Sanara. While humans were not universally trusted in the Empire, it was a significantly more diplomatic choice than a full-blooded Sakkran would have been. A comm signal indicated that the Trilarian shuttle had the Viceroy on board. It maneuvered to interface with the Sakkran vessel as both continued on their way towards Sanara.