NationStates Jolt Archive

The ships ghosted silently through the void, moving between the realms of the physical and temporal with a silent grace that hid the unspeakable power that kept them real. The strength of the Empire ghosted through that infinite abyss, set on one goal. The Eternal Empire of Jordaxia had proclaimed its support for the Galatic Empire, an example would be made to be sure that no others would trod the dark path that they had taken. Among the networked crews it was known that a significant portion of the Scellian Wall of Battle was in the fleet, and it was lead by one of the mightest ships ever built. The ESS Imperia lead the mighty taskforce whose sworn duty was to subjugate those who would strike at the Alliance.

When killing a snake you cut off the head, and then deal with the tail. When the fleet reentered the Dimension the would be right on top of Pluto, in the Sol system. They knew that defenses must be heavy, and when they emerged they planned to be right on top of Pluto. However every commander knows the importance of recon, so five of the most highly specialized intelligence gathering ships ever created were to be the first wave. They're escort was to be ten of the same class, however the warship instead of the scout.

The glistening transparent sphere that marked the location of the dimension in question loomed closer as the fifteen ship prepared to enter realspace. They would remain until forced to leave, or utterly destroyed, and hopefully would provide accurate information on the defenders. With all EM, gravitic and spacetime sensors keyed up the raiding party broached the surface and vanished. Instantly they appeared above the plantoid of Pluto, the five Destroyer XXIV's scanning furious while the ten Destroyer XXV's prepared for the enslaught of whatever defenses where prepared to react.

Otagian Sol Command, Jupiter, Sol System

Admiral Jerell was relaxing in his room when the QUETZAL override activated.

--Admiral, report to the bridge. A Scellian fleet has materialized above Pluto. We fear they are attacking the Jordaxian population there. Prepare for immediate Mobius travel to defend.--

"Shit!" Activating his ansible implant, he buzzed the rest of the fleet.

"Attention, my friends. This is the Admiral speaking. An attack is occuring against our ally, Jordaxia. We will move to aid them. Report immediately to battlestations. All Guilders, prepare to move to the outer orbit of Pluto. We'll box them in, trap them between us and the Jordaxian defenses. Reinforcements have been contacted by QUETZAL, and are en route. We will show the Scellians what it means to invade Sol! On my mark, engage Mobius. MARK!"

And like that, the fleet changed places.

OOC: Sol Fleet = 2 Echidna Dreadnoughts (Spirit of Bacchus and Oedipus Rex), 24 Arachne Gun Cruisers, 30 Helen Carriers, 100 Achilles Missile Frigates, 100 Hector Frigates and 5000 Super-Stingship Fighters.

#Tag# For extermination purposes.

KHGV Sword of Inevitible Justice, Inner Sol System, 90 MSK Below the Eliptic from Terra; Generating a 20 MSK-Radius FTLi Field:


Commander Venus O'Bannon, Captain of the Watch, Kanuckistani High Gaurd Vessel Sword of Inevitible Justice, idly nursed her mug of hot cocoa as she watched over the Battleplate's graveyard shift; lights low, scent of recent rainfall in the air, the soft sounds of a well-oiled command crew forming an ambiant background - a slight nip in the air to keep personel alert, lest they doze off over the idle hours.

O'Bannon gave a mental chuckle at that, settling further into the massive war machine's sinfully comfortible command chair; 'Enough idle musings,' she reluctantly concluded, keying up a half-read document in her mind's eye with an errant thouht, 'Paperwork's not going to finish itself.'



Several minutes passed befor a voice sounded at her side; the vixen momentarily reflecting upon the discouragingly small dent she had in the Bean-Counter's Toll made befor turning to face the source of the sound.

"Ma'am," the baby-faced feline began, offering her an intangible, holographic 'sheet'; "SolNet's picked up the sudden apearance of just over a dozen contacts near pluto; CIC makes it fifteen vessels of unknown configuration, probally warships - five of them pinging hard."

The Commander nodded, eyes upon the holo-sheet; neural lace navigating menus as she spoke, "I see it's been tagged a probible recon picket..."

"Yes ma'am," the junior officer promptly replied, "Given recent developments revolving around the Galactic Empire..." his words dying off as she held her free hand up.

"Just dump a full transcript of NavInt's analisys to my 'lace."

The youthful feline, baseline indistinguishible through the fur-dye - atleast, Venus suspected it was dye; it had been impossible to tell for centuries now, and she didn't feel like checking the personel files for something so trivial - simply nodded and keyed his own lace.

Commander O'Bannon uh-huh'd, eyes unfocusing as she reviewed the sudden wealth of information; half a minute passing befor, blinking, she handed the holoSheet back.

"Thankyou lieutenant."

"Commander."

Several more moments passed as the vulpine officer considered the situation, mug once again finding it's way to her muzzel, befor her mentally keyed the comm.

"Admiral McKenzie's Office," the Admiral's Steward began after a fistfull of seconds, sounding suspicously perky for someone who shouldn't have been awake for another three hours.

"Sorry to wake you Al, but it looks like something might be up," she began apoligeticly; not that she had ever caught one of the High Gaurd's Stewards sleeping - rumormill had it that they didn't, which, as far as she knew, might very well be true, if they had the right 'augs.

"Should I wake the Admiral?"

"No, not just yet; it might still turn out to be nothing. But it would probally be a good idea to get his uniform ready, just in case..."


OOC:
MSK = Mega-Strato Kilomater, or Million KM.

90 MSK = 5.0 Light Minutes
20 MSK = 1.1 Light Minutes

Location: ISV Terminator, presently orbiting Sol III.

The ISV Terminator hung over Earth like a great bird of prey, lazily content in its own superiority. It's mottled blue-purple hull reflected the light off of Sol with but a hint of the star's brilliance. It was one of the twelve warships of the Human Empire, a venerable veteran of thousands of years of near-constant conflict. Imperial ships were built to last, be they destroying a planet in the name of the Emperor, purging aliens with orbital fire, or deploying troops to cleanse underground bases. Oh, there had been refits, of course. Indeed, the present Terminator was a far different animal from that which left the shipyard's berth.

Untold thousands of weapons emplacements glittered ominously over its six kilometer long hull, each shining as bright as a tiny star, blinding any who would look upon it. But these emplacements were not the most powerful weapons the Terminator could call upon. No, at its prow there were a pair of great jaws, almost like the beak of a raptor. The 'main guns.' They, the Slicer and Planet-smasher respectively were the most powerful weapons that the Terminator could call upon, but they rarely were. They were hardly ever needed, for the more 'normal' weapons were in general much more effective at destroying enemy ships. The big guns were not so much legitimate weapons as they were tools of intimidation. The threat of their use gives them their potency.

In command of the vessel, the Emperor had placed one of his most trusted, and ruthless leaders, Star-General Septimus. A thin man with deep, sunken eyes and a pale, corpselike face. Septimus had personally ordered the destruction of entire planets; the deaths of whole species. And now? Now he was loitering bored in Sol waiting for something to happen. 'Something' did.

"Star-General, I am detecting a small fleet of warships that just FTLed to Jordaxian space. Some of them appear to be attempting to deep scan the area. Their formation suggests that this is the first wave of an invasion force." The Terminator’s controlling AI, Haas, said as he checked and cross-referenced the sensor returns he received. The vessels were unknown, but their proximity, their weaponry, and their formation all told Haas that they were Xeno vessels moving in to attack Jordaxia.

"Are they human?" Septimus asked quietly. There were few things in the universe that gave him more pleasure than killing Xenos. Well, perhaps breaking the will of a defiant Elf slave-maiden, but few others brought such a gleam to his eye.

"Unknown. I don't believe so. Whoever these ships are, they appear to be moving in to attack our ally." Haas replied after scanning the vessels with the short-range sensors. To a sensor system that can scan for thousands of lightyears, an AU or two is excessively small.

"...Move us into local Pluto space. If the Xenos try anything, annihilate them.” Septimus ordered loudly, with a particular look in his emerald eyes. Malevolence danced between them, no doubt imagining how much pleasure it would give him to eradicate this alien fleet. He could only hope that he would be able to hear their screams as they died, and perhaps to recover one of their skeletons for his bone-pit.

A heartbeat later, the Terminator sped away from Earth orbit. Its Gravitic drives accelerating it quickly, from rest to a quarter cee and beyond. All in less time than it takes a man to sneeze. Within seconds, the monstrous vessel was bearing down on the Scellian fleet. Although indeed, ‘bearing down’ is hardly appropriate. The Terminator was still two light-seconds away, the outermost limit for its short range weapons.

And then? Then, it simply stopped as abruptly as it had started. The Jordaxians would recognize the vessel’s design, its smooth, forward-swept features. They would know that it was there to help them. The Scellians however had never seen the vessels of the Empire. They could but guess at the Terminator’s purpose here. They were also… inexperienced with the sheer death and destruction it could mete out. Although, depending on what they did next, they would become very experienced ‘ere this fight be done. Provided that any survived, of course…

Patrol, Outer Sol System, DSAIIs Look Over There and Gosh Aren't Explosions Fun?
"Sensors detect fifteen ships having just appeared in the vicinity of Pluto."
"Confirmed. Look familiar to you?"
"Nope. Don't think we've ever encountered these."
"Agreed. Definitely not Jordaxian."
"Friendly, d'you think?"
"Doubt it. Look, they're deploying in a defensive formation."
"That doesn't mean they're not friendly."
"Well then, let's go introduce ourselves."
"And warn them that they just happen to be in territory belonging to our ally, and that if they don't shift they can expect to be at the centre of some pretty little explosions?"
"It's like you read my mind."
If warships could smile, the Gosh Aren't Explosions Fun? would be wearing what could only be described as a wolfishly-gleeful grin.
The fact that these warships could meant little, as the superconducting neural web embedded in the brains of the ship's senior crew meant they were aware of the ships nearly as soon as the AIs were.

The two DSAIIs broke off from their patrol route and accelerated towards Pluto, and would be within weapons range inside fifteen minutes. A small foldspace drone was dispatched to Ledan HQ, and two heavy cruiser battlegroups would be present within half an hour.

A short message was broadcast:
"Unidentified vessels, this is The Ineffable High Guard Vessel Gosh Aren't Explosions Fun? You are, as you may or may not be aware, within Jordaxian space. By the ESUS Constitution we are required to inform you that, if you do not vacate said claimed volume, we shall have to be more firm with you.
If you make any hostile move towards the Jordaxians, us, or any other ESUS vessels, we will open fire. That is all."

EXPRESS MISSIVE TO SCELLIAN GOVERNMENT

CEASE ALL HOSTILE ACTIONS ON JORDAXIAN SPACE.

THE GODULANS ARE ALLIED WITH SEVERAL ESUS MEMBERS, WE ARE SEEKING TO RECTIFY THIS MISUNDERSTANDING.

REPEAT, CEASE ALL HOSTILE ACTIONS ON JORDAXIAN SPACE.

~Baron Skye

Secondary Missive to All Involved ESUS Members:

It has come to our attention that several nations of the ESUS have taken up arms alongside the empire against the Triad Consortium. The Empire's agents, glib tongued and evil-minded, call upon your obligations to one of your members who is allied with them.

Yet make no mention of our own formal ties to several of your members.

Please, in the interest of rectifying this situation, we request that a meeting commence between the ESUS and the Triad Consortium.

You have been deceived, friends.

OPEN FIRE, OPEN FIRE!!!!! Were the cries of the Topsy Turvy King. He was in the 'upside down room of his castle, dangling from the tall back of a seat fastened to the roof. His legs kicked in the air. A few feet below a guard in a playing card shaped uniform had just informed him of the foreign presence above Pluto. He always did like Pluto, for no real reason at all.
My leige, what action would you recommend we take, if any?

Firstly, Call me the Head Honcho. Secondly, we must muster the cavalry! That's the solution. A decisive strike at the heart of the enemy. Tell me, are the horses ready? It will be a perilous strike, but worthy of memory! The one that brings me the head of their commander will be my knight Commander. A worthy honour, surely?

Of course my.... head honcho. I'll summon the lancers immediately. He snapped a salute at the King, and ran off down the hall as fast as his uniform would allow.


In the stables of the castle, glassy windows allowed the blackness of space to seep in. The horses were no longer phased by it, however. As they ate the hay provided for them, men strolled in. Wearing the same uniform as the everyday guard, but slightly adapted for riding a horse. They placed their long lance down beside each of their mounts, and started to place the armour on them. It was a full covering metal armour for their torso and head, metal blinders keeping their vision focused. on the legs, a looped armour allowed the horse to move, to gallop full speed at the foe. When the armour was on each and every horse, more men piled in, mounting the beasts. The horses walked the length of the stable, entering a large, wide room at the end. In a smooth, unified motion, a muzzle was attached, finally completely immersing the horse in its metal suit of armour. A similar mouth piece went on the guards face, and they stared out from behind glassy eyes, protected from the vacuum of space. The doors snapped shut behind them and apprehension was in the air. And then it begun. The large metal wall-like door in front of them flung open. Air rushed past them, and they leaped out commandingly into the void. Galloping across the silent darkness of space, it, in truth, accomplished nothing. There was nothing for them to gallop on. As the castle began to shrink behind them, another jolt occured. From their legs, rocket flame plumed, accelerating them ever faster. Where the fuel came from was a mystery, but it flamed out into the void. Silently the armoured cavalry sped across space towards the foreign presence, lances ready.

Aboard the vessels Wraths Blossom and the Little Wolf

Admiral Daibai, Queen Mutei, and the ISIS battlenet were in neurite conference. The intruders had just been spotted, emerging above the Homeworld.

These are military targets, yes? Queried Daibai.

Most assuredly, Admiral Daibai. Military grade sensors are probing the area, and there appears to be weapons signatures on the other vessels but I can't be sure. We'd need to get a closer look to be sure, but it's a 99% probability. Roughly. was ISIS' response.

And we can assume that it's a response to our declaration of support of the Galactic Empire? Asked Queen Mutei

Again, this seems the most probable cause. A tactical error on their part. They have struck whilst we are at our most ready. as you are both aware of, the battlefleet you have assembled has not left, and so can be used in defensive operations. I am in a position to requisition a few more ships, but this will be scant help. By few, I mean less than ten.

I don't think it really matters. We've already spotted a Facehuggerian vessel on the proverbial horizon, and TST and many other ESUS assets in the system are very active. Trust the alliance to mobilise the armada the moment a threat appears. Still, it may take time for them to arrive. Issue an ultimatum to our visitors. Order them to remove themselves for Jordaxian space, or we'll be forced to treat them as hostiles. Do something that appeals to your sense of theatrics, ISIS. was Mutei's response.

As you wish. How does this sound?
"Foreign vessels, you have been detected intruding space of the Eternal Empire. You are ordered to remove yourselves before an overwhelming response is allocated to remove your status as a threat. Do so now."

I'd say that's.... acceptable, wouldn't you, my Queen? Daibai asked.

Mutei nodded her agreement.

Before any weapons had been fired, or even brought to bear, the desperate message from Godular arrived. It appeared that something was happening elsewhere, and with no action taken besides sensor sweeps the force slipped away vanishing from the Dimension. The massive fleet stationed without the Dimension heard the words of Godular, and swept back towards Scellian space. They had been in realspace less then three seconds.

"Admiral! The Scellian ships have blinked out of real-space."

"Damn! The cowards run when they see the reality of their blunder. Do a full dimensional scan, find where they're going."

"Yes sir! Shall we engage if we discover their destination?"

"Not yet. Send a probe, but no combat vessels."

The admiral turned, and walked back to the stepping disk that took him to his quarters.

"Oh, look, they're gone again."
"Curses. Despite our ability to think and converse almost instantaneously, our bodies remain rather slow."
"I'd hardly call us slow, brother. Relative to light, we're pretty darn fast. It's space that's ridiculously large."
"That's true. Still, it looks as if our message scared them off, eh?"
"Well that, the other ESUS forces that began to converge on the area, and that strange message from a nation I've never heard of regarding what I can only presume to be events I've never heard of."
"You don't read the news very often, do you?"
"Not particularly, no."

OOC:
"Damn! The cowards run when they see the reality of their blunder. Do a full dimensional scan, find where they're going."

Whats your definition of a dimensional scan?

OOC: STC, hyperspace, subspace, Warp, foldspace and continuum scanning. That and simple extrapolation of your directional facing.

OOC: If you read my post my ships are extradimensional, if your sensors don't extend that far then you can't see them. Read my factbook right at the beginning, I explain my tech there. Its in my sig.

OOC:
FTL travel by dimensional means is when a ship briefly leaves the dimension but travels parallel to it, the ripples caused by such a fast moving extradimensional object is shown by a faint gravitic wake. The faster or larger an object in parallel to a dimension is the larger the wake it creates. Ah. thank you. Simple gravitic scans would also work then, so the STC scanning should easily find the wake.

OOC:I realized I hadn't updated that and went back to change it, however you found it first so I guess I have to live with my mistakes. :headbang:

The faint gravitic wake produced by moving so close to the dimension ended in a system that was essentially uncharted execpt by a few nations. Of them all were Scellian allies in the war against the GE, so it was unlikely that the information about it had been given out.

EDIT: If you look back now I fixed this, however the fleet was still using the old method of travel, but in the future this will change.

==============================
Penguenian Imperial Station Providence Gate
The Office of Intelligence and Alliance Coordination
Oberon, Neptune
==============================

They looked all the same to him; small, dark, quiet. The glow of the displays and projections were almost beautiful; the multitude of little colored dots representing identified, enemy, and unidentified ships. Despite the cramped and uncomfortable, it he liked the nearly identical layout of the tactical map chambers scattered across the Dominion.

“I think it’s now safe to assume they aren’t Jordaxian, Chief,” he said, turning from a smaller console to the central holo-map, his frameless glasses reflecting the map’s splendor as he pushed slid them up his nose, “That would explain why we’ve got all these blue dots moving towards those purple dots right?”

“That’s correct, Admiral,” a chief replied in an eerily monotone voice that almost made the Admiral cringe.

“And the blue dots are allied ships, correct?”

“That is correct, sir,” another crewman responded.

Grand Admiral Nicholas Myers of the Penguenian Imperial Armada stood there, for a moment, silent; blankly staring at the holo-map activated before him. He was in Sol by chance, only stopping at the station for a last refueling before the jump back to the home worlds. What was supposed to be a short pit-stop had turned into a few hours of fascination-induced analysis.

“Well, you boys are in luck! They say I’m an expert diplomat,” the Grand Admiral finally exclaimed, “How about we launch the fleet? Or maybe part of it? No... how about the Anshar’s fighter wings. Yes, launch the Anshar’s fighter wings!”

It took a moment for the ranking master chief to respond, taken aback by Myers’ brash and confident attitude, “Err, sir... don’t you think it’d be prudent to meet with some... higher ranking officers before doing... that...” he commented expertly, “I do believe that Kilo-Commander Tyrol is the ranking officer of the 1st Fleet while the Lord Admiral is away.”

Myers shot a devilish glance at the master chief, a wide grin forming across his face, “It would appear, Master Chief that I am the highest ranking officer on this station,” he paused for a moment, “and I’m quite sure that Mi-ka – Lord Admiral Luminus would not mind if I took some of his fighters out.”

“But, si-“

“No!” Myers snapped childishly, “You have your orders, Chief, if you can’t carry them out from here, then tell someone who can. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir...”

“I will be on the Anshar momentarily,” Myers continued as he exited the chamber, his voice trailing off as he moved towards the trans-lifts, “and make sure they have a flight suit and interceptor ready for me!”

==============================
PDV-Anshar: Leviathan Class MKIII, Flagship of the Penguenian Sol Fleet
Docking Bay One, Providence Gate
Oberon, Neptune
==============================

“It was only his knee, Kael! His knee!” Myers remarked towards the holodisplay on the wall as he activated the depressurization on his flight suit, “Aah, I forgot how well these things fit after all that air is pushed out, oh how I wish Nachi was here,” he continued sarcastically.

The white locker chamber bustled with the ambient noise of forty pilots preparing to sortie. They were ready, none could remember the last time a combat operation had happened, and they were happy for it. Most, in fact, managed to ignore the Grand Admiral arguing with the “SOUND ONLY” that shown on the holo-display.

“Nick, you know you aren’t fit to be the second highest ranking officer in the Armada, right?”

Myers smirked at the display, knowing that his friend, Lord Admiral Mi-kael Luminus could see him, “Nonsense! The man wouldn’t let me on the ship, and you know how good Nachi looks in a flight suit,” the Grand Admiral continued, “My actions and comments were completely true and justified,” he finished with a smile.

“I hate you, you know that, right?” Luminus replied coldly.

“Lies! All lies, my friend,” shot Myers in return.

“No I really do ha-“

Myers grinned, “Aaw, this is touching, you can’t bring yourself to say it!” he said, wiping a ‘tear’ from his eye. A few more moments passed, “Kael, you there?”

“I win, Nick. You aren’t taking the fighters out”

Myers smirked again, “Ally under attack plus Penguenian forces near equals help, Kael, I hardly see how you win.”

A chuckle came over the holo-display, “Jordiaxia isn’t under attack any more, the unidentified ships bugged out,” Luminus proclaimed, “Now, you don’t need to take the fighters out. I win.”

“Oh well, you got me beat, Kael,” Myers conceded, “and yes, I’m an incompetent officer, I know.”

“I was kidding, Nick.”

“So incompetent, in fact, that I know that the Anshar can track cloaked ships.”

“Oh no, no you’re not.”

Myers continued, ignoring his friend, “can track ships in eighty different kinds of FTL transit.”

A groan came over the holo-display.

“And can track ships through countless dimensions and timelines.”

The “SOUND ONLY” that shown on the holo-display blinked off, revealing a live feed of the Lord Admiral Mi-kael Luminus, “You’re not taking my ship, Nick.”

“Yes I am, wish me luck,” Myers replied, winking at his friend lightyears away, “Goodbye.”

With that, the holo-display was shut off, and the order was given to launch the Penguenian Dominion Vessel: Anshar. Within the hour, contact had been made with allied forces and the Anshar was hanging, waiting, in Jordaxian controlled space.

Immediately upon recieving the coordinates of the wake's destination, a Guilder flipped open a door, pulling a probe through with him. Dashing along the continuum, he pushed it out again, at the cooridinates he had been provided.

Bursting into existance, the probe immediately began scanning the system. Any planets would be scanned immediately, as would any traces of additional dimensional jumps. All this data was broadcast to Otagia and its allies via ansible.

The Necroscope Guilder stepped out of the continuum on the bridge of the Oedipus Rex.

"Admiral, the probe has been delivered. I await your orders on my next assignment."

"Good. Now, lets see what our probe found..."

The ships watched as the footsteps across the STC, they berated themsleves for making such a stupid mistake in a time of war. They were sure to be derided when they returned, and those who were not on the frontlines would laugh at them for their simple mistake. The ships were configuring for a full extradimensional trasnit when the reports if an incoming probe arrived. It was the concensus of the force that they were not going to make the transit before the probe arrived, though they would before any further ships could.

As soon as the probe reverted to realspace the entire fleet began to jam the sensors and any transmissions. The entire region of space twisted and writhed beneath the efforts of the ECM, the fleet was a vortex within space that was nearly impossible to see within. An enemy fleet may have had a chance, especially with advanced ECCM of their own, however a simple probe had no hope of penetrating the interference. Then with a twist the fleet was gone, breaching the Dimensional barrier like an SLBM leaving the water. Unlike their previous travel, in which they were akin to a submersible reaching the surface and travelling upon it, the fleet stay well away from the Dimension and the deadly ripples it would produce. They could only hope that the probe could not see past that Dimension and it the intervening space beyond.