NationStates Jolt Archive

Twelve Days Ago, around 2000 hours GMT

The shaking stopped.

Peeking out from a battered, twisted sheet of photocell and a fine dusting of metal flakes and paintchips comes the dull red glow of a slitlike photoreceptor. It peeks left, peeks right, flickers, and begins to move.

Unfolding "his" (even in mind "he" is an "it," but common language lacks an appropriate neuter pronoun that can maintain comprehension) nanolathe and disintegrator gun arms from over his head, the Core Commissar pushes away the fragmented debris covering him and stands up in a cloud of fine metallic powder. He looks up from whence the extensive energy and kinetic bombardment came--as if it would do any good, the attackers firing from far outside visual range at the static target known as the planet's entire surface--and shakes a nanolathe emitter, lacking a fist more appropriate to the gesture. Looking back down, he idly kicks one of the larger bits of debris, a bit of thin armorplate with a scorched Core insignia on one side.

"Damned starships," he mutters aloud, and the sound carries decently well in the thick, soupy, toxic atmosphere of Core Prime. Or what was once Core Prime. Still, it's planet-shaped, made of mostly metal, and its ecosphere consists solely of pollution, so it has all of the primary characteristics of Core Prime, if nothing else. "Damned starships and their unfair ortillery."

Letting out an electronic sigh, the Core Commissar wanders over to the nearest Moho Mine. Once a weakness is discovered, adapt and cover it up...

About twenty minutes later

...and cover it up with a few kilometers of essentially solid metal. Standing in the caverns made by the von Neumann machines (the universal constructors, not the computer architecture) used to extract the resource needing no name other than Metal for the Core, the Core Commissar smiles internally. He smiles internally for his thickly armored "face"plate has no mouth to smile externally. Such is the disadvantage to being a patterned mind.

Whistling a nice little Soviet-esque ditty about the freedom inherent in working for a glorious cause in his mind, he looks around, nods, and levels his nanolathe at the ground.

Zero-Second: 2028:00 GMT on Monday, 24 October (RT)

Exactly 5.623 seconds later, the now fully-formed metal extractor stops glowing, all its constituent construction nanites having gave their extremely short lives to become part of this complex-in-construction simple-in-operation machine. The three-pronged requisite turny bit slowly pops out from the recesses in the extractor's curved walls, raises up a few meters, and begins to spin.

The Core Commissar has no idea why it spins. All he cares about is that once it starts spinning, there's a little tickmark in his executive summary at the bottom: Metal +2.0.

Proud of his work but with no time to admire it, he leaves the metal extractor to keep on spinning dutifully so he can build another... and another... and another...

101,990.6 seconds later

The Core Commissar squeezes between two Krogoths and a field of several thousand solar collectors, sneaking past to see a brigade of advanced construction collectors build up a region of Silencer nuclear missile launchers to protect from space attack. Checking his executive summary, the Commissar whistles low. Fifty-four million launch sites with seventeen billion missiles in the magazines.

Impressive... but not particularly useful until someone manages to park in orbit again, and the Commissar grumbles quietly about never finding out who did it the first time. Still... the one ship of theirs which did crash due to an unfortunate navigation error was long-since repaired and waiting to whisk the Core Commissar for a mere pittance of energy to somewhere else, where he could build a Galactic Gate to ease logistics to... besides, having a few hundred Galactic Gates underground that lead nowhere is pretty useless...

Not to mention, thinks the Commissar, methinks this place is getting a touch crowded.

Twelve Hours Later

Well, certainly something to be said for the shipbuilders, the Commissar thinks as he watches the world of blue and white grow ever closer on the minimal display screen of the salvaged intersystem cutter. They build these things to go fast. And indeed, fast accurately describes how well this needle-shaped craft plies through the waves of the aethereal sea between the stars, cutting the time it takes to get the absolutely arbitrary distance between Core Prime (which maybe somewhere in the vicinity of Sagittarius A*, or maybe not) into a mere matter of hours.

There is something that all the old space-age rocket scientists like to say; "we exchange time for energy and vice versa." The Hohmann transfer between cocentric circular orbits is the absolute lowest-energy transfer orbit possible; however, it also takes the longest. Elliptical, parabolic, and hyperbolic fast transfers take more and more energy to cut down flight time; eventually the curve begins requiring things such as constant acceleration which absolutely demand calculus-based solutions rather than relatively simple geometric extensions of Kepleran geometry. The same concept applies to interstellar travel, as it is simply exchanging one set of orbits and barycenters for another... and a few dozen thousand light years in a mere twelve hours requires a great deal of energy indeed; in fact, all of the stored energy of Core Prime was dumped into the vessel for its journey.

That took some doing, but fortunately the Shipbuilders have higher-density battery technologies than the Core.

Needless to say, this is why interstellar warfare is an inherently silly concept, economically speaking. Then again, that is why the Commander was invented; simply spend the resources to move a single unit that can build a base and then go from there. Something like the von Neumann universal constructor concept, but with less chance of being gooey. Maybe khaki goo; khaki can be a nice color.

Unfortunately, landing wasn't part of the calculation when it came down to energy supplies and so the Core Commander supplies a little from the energy stores in his backpack as the cutter glides down to a gentle landing in a grassy field using technologies that give physics as it is commonly understood in lesser civilizations a definite uncomfortableness. Stepping out, the Commander looks momentarily at the bright yellow star (classified as a G2V yellow dwarf) illuminating the planet's blue skies from beyond its white clouds, then down at the grass under his feet and the tree waving gently against the side of his vehicle, untouched by its gentle landfall.

Raising his nanolathe, the Core Commissar sends a stream of nanites towards the tree; they quickly consume it and return full of the tree's constituents back to the Commissar. Whatever it is that makes life life; be it some sort of spiritual component or just the imperfectly-refined energy from the sun above, is collected and stored as "Energy" in the Commissar's backpack; solar collectors and wind generators can collect it too but organisms are surprisingly rich in whatever this not-at-all specifically named resource actually is.

Not that it matters. Stomping a few feet to the side, the Core Commissar begins work on a solar collector.

Zero-Second (Earth): 0458:39 GMT on Sunday, 06 November (RT)

8.05 seconds later, the completed structure opens up its photoplate petals to the sun like a squat pyramidal flower cut down into the shape of a trapezoidal prism.

Another fortnight, another planet. Almost literally.

Four Days After That

The Commissar taps a foot impatiently, then squeezes between two Pulverizer anti-aircraft missile towers to get a view of the coast. It had been four whole days. Anyone who knew the Core knew that any action must be so swift as to be immediate for it to have any effect. That his invitation to join the worker's paradise simply went unnoticed seems...

...insulting. People just have no respect for the up-and-coming, he mutters in his own mind as he sends an order to one of the fleets surrounding Core Island, their number stretching out to the horizon like a growing cancer of steel upon the waves.

Just a reconnaissance force. And by "reconnaissance," what's meant is something more along the lines of "reconnaissance in force." Ships form up, core, line, and picket, with submarine defense ring around all; they then head off at full speed towards the waters of Ilek-Vaad.

This will have to get someone's attention.

After having a good long laugh at the brazen hypocracy of the gestalt consciousness of Ilek-Vaad (somehow believing that the Commissar's ships floating properly on the ocean due to buoyancy make them the "wrong tech level for participation" against a force with [experimental] warships that fly), the Core Commissar gives it a second chance before reality decides not to swing that way and in the meantime sends a quiet change-of-orders to the recce-in-force fleet.

Next stop, Sarzonia. Let's see how this one goes.

Generally, conversations with greater consciousnesses, the underlying pulses of superorganic nations, is something generally not possible under accepted rules of existence. Fortunately, NS Earth is already so broken that another bent rule probably doesn't matter.

Wrong tech level for my participation.
Heh heh. Coulda fooled me.
>>Heh heh. Coulda fooled me...

~TCC~<<

Oh, really?
Indeed. My ships float on the water due to buoyancy and don't have anything fancier on them than maybe a 16" equivalent. You have experimental warships that fly and hypersonic interceptors that fly faster than the missiles they fire.
And what about your star ships?

Why don't you tell me whose puppet you are and then I'll make a decision.Or I could just ask the Mods.
What's it matter to you, and what makes you think they'll tell?

So you mean the -one- starship I didn't even build and don't even know how to reproduce that was used as a plot device to get the Commissar from Point A to Point B and, having expended all its energy in the trip, is now useless?

Read a little closer, friend.

~TCC~
OOC: It is as Scolopendra would say an 'internally inconsistant' plot point.

Once again, whose puppet are you?
Eh? Not sure how, given that all that was done was it being fueled and then shipped off. It doesn't even enter into the equation anymore.

And again, why should it matter?
OOC: Never mind. It's obvious that you are attempting to draw me into some sort of tech flaming thread where you can point out my 'technological' hypocrisy, for whatever benefit you seek to gain and you are not serious about an RP.

I will let the Mods sort it out.
Afraid not, friend. Was just going to poke around with a much too silly number of warships so you could have, as I suggested, a turkeyshoot to show just how nice all your stuff was by the absolutely horrendous -and silly- casualties you would caused on my stuff. Easy breezy fun, no more or less.

Still, your loss. Have fun with the tattling.

OOC: I'm confused...

And someone didn't notice that I posted my own responses as well... really, man, get over yourself and read for content and meaning. Sorry for even bothering. Suggestion to everyone else, watch the hair-trigger on that one.

Oh well, any publicity is good publicity, in some eyes...

OOC: I'm confused...
Long and short of the story: I offer Ilek-Vaad a turkeyshoot so he can show off his fancy guns, he thinks I'm some "Concordat" guy and starts accusing me of trying to draw him into a flame war. I figure it to be somewhat hypocritical for him to declare tech-level disparity because the stuff I can actually use (given that the plot-device-starship is now non-functional) isn't any better than his (in most cases, it's not half or a quarter or a tenth as good); he takes it personally, goes from there.

A simple "no thank you" would've gotten through this a lot quicker and easier and with less arguing, but I'm not the paranoiac of the bunch it seems. Anyway, would you like to wrassle?

OOC:You can send a fleet after me! I have a few weapons I want to try out anyways...

OOC:You can send a fleet after me! I have a few weapons I want to try out anyways...
Aha! Someone who gets the idea!

I'll post after I get my homework done. Does that work?

OOC:Thats fine with me... just one question... do you want it to be a ship battle or a surface-sea battle?

To me, they're one in the same... unless we're trying to discount submarines. The only ships I've got are ones that float in the water.

OOC:Maybe I should clarify, I meant Ground-Water combat when I said Surface-Sea Combat.

Oh... and I see you like the game Total Annhilation(an assumption since your using the Core). Have you heard of its spiritual successor? Supreme Commander?

With every passing breath. ;)

Lessee... the build-time spreadsheet says I have... uh... I'll just say "a lot" of various transports so we can make it ground/sea combat if we'd like. I've got nothing to lose.

Well... I have a lot to lose, but that's pretty much the point :D

OOC:By ground-sea warfare I meant... ah forget it. Lets just make it pure naval/air... although a ground battle would be interesting. IC edit forthcoming.

IC:The 4th, 3rd, 2nd, and 5th Carrier Battlegroups were holding exercises just outside the Red Tidean waters. The 2nd and 4th were in one 'fleet' the 3rd and 5th in the other. H/K-1 VTOL Surface Attack Aircraft, armed with fake Long Range Anti-Surface Missiles(LRASMs) of the air-launched, anti-ship varient, distinguishible via the yellow paint, had they been real missiles they would be painted white. Above the low flying H/K-1s were the faster and more nimble H/K-2 VTOL Interceptors. At first they had come towards each other firing fake ALRAAMs. Now they were 'dogfighting' with simulated QMAAMs and simulated gattling guns. The fleets themsleves were still steaming towards each other, conserving their missiles until they got within range of the surface varient of the LRASM.

They say that in war, everything is fluid.

Warlord #90 would not only agree, she would furthermore go on the record that it is sick and tired of it. Changing maps, suggestions of faraway clamor and changes of mind, new directives always coming down from the Great Patriotic Commissar--Move here, Move there, Guard this point, Patrol in a circle while I'm thinking, Move... MoveMoveMove... dammit, no, not like that, don't bunch up, can't you go in a straight line?--it was just getting tiresome. Finally, the Commissar gave up, set the rules of engagement to Roam and Fire at Will, and directed Warlord #90 to take her flotilla and go annoy someone.

Now, Warlord #90 isn't a foolish ship, so she wondered for a few moments why the Defender of the Proletariat would think that randomly annoying people would further the goals of Universal Revolution. The problem with this was, of course, that her little patterned mind dated from the days after the Commissar came to Earth and so never heard about what happened a few weeks ago. The Commissar, Beneficial Father-Equivalent to the Patterned Worker's Paradise, thus being considered in her extremely limited knowledge infallible, was inevitably followed to the letter.

Eventually, the Vulture radar planes idly circling overhead in an uncanny resemblence to their namesake detected some contacts off in the distance. Quickly alerted, Warlord #90 told the Phantom-class electronic warfare boats to activate their radar-jamming systems, slowly turned the fleet in some semblance of order towards the contacts, and steamed along.

IC:Hanging lazily back, over the Red Tidean Coast, watching the simulated naval battle, was a E-230, a super powerful version of the AWACs. With the second most powerful radar Red Tide had to offer, aswell as a LADAR station, they could easily burn through most jammers, algthough how well depended on how close they were to their enemy.

Currently it was monitoring the 'battle'. It wasnt assigned to one side, rather it was in an observational role. Then, on the edge of its radar radius, its operators detected some jamming and other radar aircraft.

"The hell?" one of the several operators on board said, "Someones trying to jam us!"

"This was NOT in the briefing." Another one said.

They agreed to pump some more juice into the RADAR so they could see farther. At current power, they could see the same distance as about 20 miles farther then a regular AWACs. So when they pumped up the power, they were surprised to find an enemy entire fleet heading towards them.

Quickly and efficeintly they contacted the 4 battlegroups admirals and said the same thing.

"Unidentified enemy fleet heading towards your location! Recall your aircraft, arm them, and prepare for possible contact!"

Then they called their air force superiors, who told their superiors, who told their superiors. and so on until the news reacehd Red Tidean High Command. They then contacted the fleet admirals, the battlegroups were authorized to engage the possible enemies if engaged.

OOC: Sorry for the delay. Now, concerning my forces, would you like them weak (i.e. using ridiculously short TA engagement ranges) or vaguely realistic?

IC: The disposition of Warlord #90's fleet is rather basic to someone with souped-up Aegis System-class radars. Corvettes make up a curved picket line, followed by a battle line of destroyers, backed up around core groups of battleships. Cruisers take up the rear, and missile frigates follow along in the rear. Interspersed throughout are anti-air frigates with their distinctive highly-placed turrets.

Underwater, it's not as easy to tell due to the sonar jamming (basically a predetermined shifting of sonic frequencies based on a particular algorithm shared amongst the fleet) but said methods do have the disadvantage of letting everyone know that something must be down there.

OOC:Vaguely Realistic would be nice...
IC: The Red Tidean Battlegroups formed up into standard formation, that is, the MOCKINGBIRD Frigates formed a circle around the heavier ships, as did the TIDAL WAVE Destroyers, the M- and G-Battleships formed up behind them. The carriers sat right in the middle of this force. The H/K-1s took off, loaded with Anti-Ship, air-launched versions of the LRASM. They were combat versions. H/K-2s flew ahead, preparing to intercept any enemy fighters. Also, TU-22RT Bombers took off from airfields in Red Tide, they wouldnt be there when the first salvo was fired.

A warning message was sent to the unknown fleet.

Message From Red Tide Goverment to Unknown Fleet
"You are approaching Red Tidean Waters and are not authorized, identify yourself and adjust your couse away from our nation."
End Message

OOC2: Here is the composition of a single carrier battlegroup:

1 TSUNAMIS Class VTOL Supercarrier
5 M-Battleships
5 G-Battleships
12 TIDAL WAVE Class Destroyers
24 MOCKINGBIRD Class Frigates
12 TC-2C ASW Helicopters
1 Dark Star Reconassiance Drone and launcher
35 H/K-1 VTOL Close Air Support Aircraft
55 H/K-2 VTOL Fighter Aircraft

Times that by 4.

OOC: Then I shan't use completely ridiculous numbers, then...

Warlord #90 RIF Task Force ("#1")

Core:
10 Warlord-class Battleships
20 Executioner-class Cruisers
10 Missile Frigate-class... well... Missile Frigates

Battle Line:
40 Enforcer-class Destroyers

Picket:
20 Searcher-class Scout Corvettes

Air Support:
1 Hive-class Light Carrier
2 Vulture-type Radar Planes

Submarine Support:
15 Snake-class Submarines
5 Shark-class Attack Submarines
1 name-eludes-me-at-the-moment-class Sonar Jamming Submarine

IC:

The fleet slows a little, ships bunching up a little more than they ought as the simple patterned 'brains' inside the armored hulls try to occupy the same arbitrary point at the same time. Grumbling internally, Warlord #90 sets them straight before replying in a much too cheerful voice, probably like something Masamune Shirow would come up with.

"Greetings, Comrades of the Seas! We come on behalf of the Great Patriotic Leader the Core Commissar to offer you entry to the Glorious Workers' Paradise! All this offer requires is for you heroes of the proletariat to report to the Core Commissar for inprocessing and patterning so we can work together deathlessly in equal glory for eternity!"

She's chipper and enthusiastic, if nothing else.

"They sure are bunching up..." The men on the E-230 noted, then the message comes in. They kicked it up the tree, this one reached the Red Tidean High Command and the Defense Minister. Then the response was kicked all the way back down.

Message to the Core Commissar Fleet From Red Tidean High Command
"No, absolutely not, we do not need 'patterned minds', nor do we not want to be absorbed into your nation. We suggest you turn around NOW."
End Message

The H/K-1s and -2s were patrolling at at the deadcenter between the two fleets. The Tu-22RTs were still on their way, about 2 hours out, unless they went to afterburners.