NationStates Jolt Archive

Unexpected Arrivals (NFT/FT, Intro)

The Aven Armada
05-02-2006, 05:27
Tyranis System, Aven Prime
Military Spatial Observations Station, Aven Armada Headquarters
4:01 AM Aven Time

The Communications Center of MS 013, bristling with activity during the day, was nearly empty this night, with only four spatial monitors at their stations. A fifth was currently standing at a small, food-laden hovercart he had pushed in, pouring himself, and the others it seemed, from the four extra cups on the tray, some coffee.

With a sigh, one of the monitors leaned back in his swiveling chair, propping his legs up on a nearby table. “Say Ana, ever wonder why they have us work night hours? It’s not like we ever pick up anything besides the usual freighter or two, and we aren’t at war or anything.”

The woman to his right looked up from her terminal, glancing at the speaker. “I don’t know, Jim. What about those Aarexi? I heard they were gathering an invasion force or something.”

One of the monitors sitting behind them let loose a chuckle. “Don’t believe everything you hear. That rumor’s been going around for the past few years. Besides, they wouldn’t dare break the treaty.”

The woman shrugged, returning to her computer. “Yeah, but I don’t know…”

The original monitor chuckled for a second, before resuming his work as well. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway-“ He stopped mid-sentence, something on his screen catching his attention. “What the…This is weird…Anyone else’s equipment saying that there are four large ships-make that six ship-…ten ships?”

“Yeah, I’m getting that too…Wait, that’s twenty ships. What the nerk?”

Each of the monitor’s eyes widened as they watched ship after blip after blip appear on radar, the number of vessels soon nearing one hundred, not including the multitude of smaller craft, about frigate-size, that accompanied them. The massive swarm of vessels, all moving in a triangular formation, were headed towards the same point: Aven Prime.

“Oh my God…”

“Twilight Views” Apartments
4:24 AM Aven Time

Arthur Iraan, general of the Aven Armada, lay asleep in the nondescript bed of his apartment, a small pool of saliva, the eventual happening of dozing off with an open mouth, gathering on his pillow. The sun had not yet risen over the horizon, and would not for another three hours, leaving the two moons to shine amidst the stars and the General to continue with his rest, undisturbed by any sun that would shine through his window.

What would disturb his rest, however, was the officer that would come barging through his door in five seconds, seemingly oblivious to the time. As the door swung around and hit the wall with astounding force, the resulting crash causing the general to stir.

“Sir! Wake up, emergency!”

Iraan slowly got to a sitting position in his bed, rubbing his eyes as he frowned at the officer. Taking a glance at the LED display of his clock, which read 4:25, his frown turned into a glare. “Damn it, Aerck. I told you to never wake me up before six! It’s the middle of the night!” He grumbled something vulgar as he found himself being pushed out of bed. “Alright, alright, I’m up! The least you could do is let me get some coffee…” The general, still in his nightshirt, started towards the kitchen, grabbing a mug from the cabinet. “What’s this emergency?”

“Sir, about twenty minutes ago, several monitors at headquarters picked up the energy signatures of a large number of approaching ships, nearly four hundred and of large size.”

The sound of shattering crockery filled the apartment.

The general’s stood still, wide-eyed in disbelief, and surrounded by the shards of his favorite coffee mug. “F-…Four hundred?! What the hell? Are they hostile?”

The lieutenant seemed to ignore the fact that his commander had just asked one of the stupidest questions he’d heard in his twelve years of military service. “I’d think so. The monitors found the signatures to be of Aarexi origin.”

“Aarexi? Those damn, treaty-breaking…I knew we should have checked out those rumors of them building up a fleet.” Muttering a curse, Iraan stood up, sliding into the robe hanging on his nightstand. “Well, let’s get going.”

Several Billion Kilometers from Aven Prime
Bridge of The Transgressor, Flagship of the Aven Armada
6:19 AM Aven Time

General Iraan sat in the uncomfortable, neosteel captain’s chair, located on a raised platform in the middle of the Command Center of The Transgressor. Around him, against the curving wall of the large, circular room, sat Spatial Monitors, technicians, and various other officials, punching various data streams into their computers. As he sat, watching them work at their terminals, he quietly wondered why they couldn’t have put some padding on his chair. The cold metal was beginning to annoy him.

He turned to look out the window that spread across the entire wall of the bridge, observing the other two hundred-or-so ships of the Aven Armada. Despite that it was smaller than the Aarexi fleet, the vessels themselves were more impressively sized and defensively equipped. Not that they were actually that big; massive ships had never been very cost-effective for the people of the Aven Empire. They were simply of a more imposing size that those of the almost-barbaric Aarexi, whose shoddy, makeshift ships looked like they could barely hold together in the vacuum of space, and many times didn’t.

Returning his gaze to the bridge, Iraan let loose a sigh. “You,” he ordered, pointing to a nearby monitor, “what’s the status on the Aarexi fleet? We should have encountered them by now.”

The designated officer turned in his swiveling seat, looking up at the general. “I don’t know sir. It’s like they just…Vanished. Their signatures aren’t appearing on-screen anymore, and the radar isn’t detecting a thing.”

The general let loose a long-winded curse. “They’re up to something…I just know it…“ He turned to look at a nearby attendant. “I’ve had one hell of a night. Get me some coffee-“

Before he had a chance to finish his sentence, one of the communications officers spoke up. “Sir, incoming transmission from Commander Ikari!”

On the main Vidscreen, located in the exact front of the bridge and measuring a grand fifteen by twenty-five feet, blinked as it came to life, revealing the face of a very worried-looking, middle-aged man with dark, neatly-trimmed hair and a mustache to match. He began to speak, but was interrupted by an explosion and the shaking of the surrounding area. As the screen settled, he began to speak in hurried tones, with the occasional dust-filled cough interrupting his words. “General Iraan! What the he-hell happened?! Don’t tell me, it does…doesn’t matter now! The Aarexi are launching a full-out assault on the planet! Get back here on the-“ Another explosion rocked the building the commander was in, and the screen instantly went blank, leaving the crew, wide-eyed, to stare at the darkness.

Arthur stared at the screen in pure, undisguised horror. This wasn’t, couldn’t be happening. By all reports, the Aarexi vessels were supposed to be coming from this direction. If they were already at the planet, the Armada should have passed them by now. It was impossible. Their scans hadn’t even detected-

A massive explosion of blinding light suddenly filled the senses of the general and knocked out whatever he was thinking, coming from outside the command bay window. Turning, Iraan turned just in time to see an Aven ship, a Mariposa-Class cruiser and one of the largest ships in the fleet, erupt into a massive firestorm, the blast unleashing a shockwave of rippling energy and disorienting all the nearby ships.

The general quickly turned back to the officers around him. “We’re under attack! Prepare the weapons, and order the troops to get the hell into their fighters! Lieutenant, have you pinpointed the origin of the attackers?”

An important-looking man, garbed in a medium-blue military outfit that was adorned with several medals and sitting on a slightly lower platform to the left of the general, turned to look up at him. “Forty-two degrees to the port side! Scans are detecting at least two hundred vessels approaching!”

“Two hundred…” Iraan, already irritated that they had let the enemy slip by, slammed his fist down onto the armrest of his chair with a, “Damnit!” Sighing, he turned to look at a communications agent. “Fine then. Order all ships to launch their Proteus and Predators. Leave the Hornets in case we need them later.” Muttering, he lay back in his chair, this time speaking to the entire crew in the bridge. “Aim all XIM missiles and particle beams at the enemy, and keep the railcannons online for any fighters they send! Save the orbital mines in case we need to make a, God forbid it…Retreat.”

Several Billion Kilometers from Aven Prime
6:23 AM Aven Time

The first signs of the Aarexi fleet came into view, and they were just as sloppy and crudely-made as one would expect. The vessels, while numerous, appeared to be welded, at horrible, ill-formed angles, out of rusted pieces of mismatching metal, similar to those one would find in a junkyard. No one ship looked even close to another, despite that it was obvious some, especially those of the same class, were meant to be by their basic shapes. However, despite their rudimentary appearances, they were equipped with some fairly powerful weaponry. No one quite knew how the Aarexi, with their simplistic, and downright shoddy spacecraft, managed to create the sleek technology that their weapons employed, without having the brains to incorporate it into their ships. But they did, and if not for the fact that their vessels would often implode upon themselves due to the strain on their basic power cores from these advanced armaments, they would be one of the greatest forces to be feared in the galaxy.

The fact that their weapons could almost raise them to that level of power was the main reason that General Iraan was worried. Sure, the numbers were about equal, since this wasn’t the entire Aarexi fleet; sure, the ships of the Aven Armada had stronger defensive systems, and of course, the Aarexi ships tended to blow up one-out-of-five times. But that didn’t make up for the fact that they both outnumbered the Aven vessels and that their weapons held incredibly destructive potential.

Iraan was going to need some coffee.

Unknown Galaxy
Unidentified Space
11:49 AM Aven Time

Almost as if someone had opened the zipper that held together the coat that was universe, a large, tear-like, light-filled hole appeared in space, growing in size until it became a massive, swirling vortex of pure, shining white light. The interior of the portal, which looked similar to that of a wormhole’s, blended in with everything else in it; it was all pure white, with each curving tendril of energy barely discernible from the next.

Several darker masses became visible within the maelstrom of light, revealing themselves to be fairly large vessels, and left the nexus of energy that they had entered only minutes ago. Together, the ships numbered eighty-seven, a meager remainder of the once-majestic fleet. Of that measly gathering, there were only eight Mariposas, the pride of the Armada, left of the thirty-two they had begun with. Scattered among these still-impressive vessels were the groups of smaller ships, mainly the corvette-class Maddox’s and GPU Military-Grade Transports, along with the odd fighter here and there that hadn’t been able to return to a hanger before the jump.

Iraan sat upside-down in his chair, a slight malfunction on the part or whatever activated the jump. He stayed like that for about a minute, still disoriented from the recent journey the Armada had just resurfaced from; the engineer had told him that he would feel as if he was drunk for the first few moments, but to him, it felt like he had both the drunken stupor and the hangover that should have come later. He watched a badger dance across his vision as he struggled to right himself. “Damn scientists…Damn DF Drive…Damn…Just damn it all…I need some coffee…”

By the time he had gotten up, the dimensional tear had closed and the fleet was already well on its way to…Nowhere, exactly. He remembered that the scientists had also said the jump would leave their system drives depleted of most of their energy until they could recharge. Iraan rubbed his throbbing forehead as he took a glance around the bridge at the other members of the crew. He was about to question the absence of the lieutenant when he fell from the ceiling and back into his chair with a thud. “Everyone alright?...I don’t mean you, lieutenant. Put your hand down…Would someone get him to the medical bay? Thank you…Now, I just want to know two things. Where are we, and where’s my coffee?”

A spatial monitor to his right swiveled to face the General. “Unknown space, sir. The Dimensional Fold Drive was untested, remember? According to the system log, we experienced a malfunction in the stabilizer number four twelve seconds after entry. For all we know, we could be in a different system, galaxy, heck, we may even be in a separate dimension. The spatial re-entry knocked out our sensor array for the time being, so we can’t get a clear signal on where we are. The Fold Drive’s also down, along with all jump systems.”

Arthur muttered something under his breath, more likely than not something obscene. “Sensors offline, fleet decimated, jump systems..." He shuddered at this last thought, not wanting to experience like that again. "We can’t survive out here forever. Hopefully this...Whatever it is we’re in, has some other life out there. Passive life, of course. Worst case scenario, we just hopped, skipped, and jumped ourselves right into the Aarexi home system.” He muttered as he leaned back in his chair. “Activate a distress beacon, and get me some coffee. I feel worse than those Aarexi bastards look. And I mean all of them.”

With those last words, the button was pressed that would activate the distress signal, powerful enough to be heard for lightyears.

And Arthur got his coffee.

((PS: By "for Lightyears," that's lightyears by Aven audio equipment, which isn't exactly the most sensitive of machinery. As Other-Dimensional humans, their technology has developed much more erratically for its seperate branches than what would generally be expected.))
The Aven Armada
05-02-2006, 20:12
((Minor Bump))
06-02-2006, 07:18
The Pulse of the Distress Beacon found itself on the Sensor Array of the mighty Scythe Class harvester ship, which had been operating along, just fresh from striking a world. Within their cargo bay, the aliens had been mainly been placed in statis, while On one deck of the ship, several of them had been strapped to the table while the Ghostly forms of Wraiths hovered over them, Operating on the poor creatures for unknown reasons.

On the Observation Deck of the ship, the Untouchable looked down across the craft. Her long blond hair fell across one shoulder. She looked back, she was the only one on this ship safe from the crew. She shivered, thankful she was up here, unable to hear the screams as the Wraiths below performed their operations on the aliens without anesthetic.

A door opened, well...a portal opened, and one of the Metal Necron forms exited the lift. She stepped back in fear...and a look of pure terror crossed her face. In every one of the Metal Skelitons she had ever seen, there had always only been hate in their eyes, but there had never been thought. But the one before her took that away. There was a cunning in its eyes, almost like it was ready for her...waiting for her to fail.

"We have found the distress call of your kin." his mechanical voice droned out. "The Master has chosen that you shall negotiate with them..."

"The Master wishes me to bring them into his plans?" She asked, suprised. The Master did not usually show care for mortals beyond his Untouchables, he allowed their existance, but rarely did they encorperate into his plans.

"In a manner of speaking. They are scared...weak...ripe. The master hopes you will offer them a world, where they may live."

"A world where, if he wishes, he can take a few of them and no one will ever know?" she said, her mind indignet.

"Yes" the Necron said, his face remainded the same, as did his voice. She sighed, he may posses intelligence, but he did not posses Emotion. He was still one with the rest of them.

"Very well, take me to them." She said, resigned.


On the far side of the fleet the 3km Long Craft put its Drives to Sublight. The Craft hung there, looking deceptingly fragile, for it was a mastery in creation. It hung there, before attemping contact with the fleet.

We are here to answer the Distress Beacon you sent out

((OOC: Do you have MSN or any other IM service?))
06-02-2006, 07:46
OOC: I'm assuming this is open? If not I'll delete later.


Still in the midst of their generations long journey to find not even they knew what, the Jeshandi streaked through hyperspace, nearing their exit destination: a mostly empty system. A place to realign for the next jump. As the ageing and antiquated fleet exited hyperspace, aboard the flagship Valheru, one call rose above the others on the bridge.

"Car'a'carn! Message from the frigate Serpent. They have picked up a distress signal from a race calling themselves the Avens or something like that." An old man, his face like creased leather and a white topknot weighs the risk to his people from answering the call. An armed conflict in the state his ships were in might bring the clans to the breaking point. On the other hand, the precepts his people live by demand that he answer their call.

Growling, he heaves himself to his feet. "Message to the fleet: Align along the coordinates sent from the Serpent. Make best speed and assist these people as much as possible."

"Car'a'carn, that means the clans will be spread out, the larger ships will arrive after the weaker ones."

"It is a risk we must take. Send a message to these 'Avens'. Tell them that the clans of the Jeshandi are coming. And Inform them that in order to get there as fast as possible the fleet will be arriving piecemeal."

"As you say, Car'a'carn." The messages were sent, and the fleet entered hyperspace again. The Car'a'carn's thoughts were filled with dread over the smaller ships being alone before the rest of the fleet shows up. After all, they were nomads. Thier ships weren't made for extended, large scale engagements.
06-02-2006, 08:13
((OOC: Sorry, Just something I noticed, you put both NFT and FT in your title. Which one is this for? NFT or FT, because my nation does not go near NFT...not by a long shot))
The Aven Armada
06-02-2006, 18:28
((You know, I typed up this long reply, then when I try to post it, I get kicked out for "not being logged in." Anyhoo, this is a codensed version of my original post.

To answer your question, I'm putting myself at Low-Tech FT, but not into NFT, so I guess this would be more FT than NFT.

And yes, I have IM, I'll send you my address from the main NS page))

Despite the "decrepit" appearence of the ship, it was still looked upon with unease by the fact that it was more than four times the size of the largest ship in The Armada.

Arthur happened to be looking out the window of the bridge, sipping his coffee as he watched the vessel and contemplated his next move.

"General Iraan, we've recieved a second transmission from a seperate location. A group calling themselves the Clans of the Jeshandi. The sensors are back online and show that they're en route to our location, and should arrive soon."

The General turned on his feel, back towards the informant and away from the window. "Excellent. Now, as for that big ship out there-the one that originally sent us a transmission-I want a full systems scan of it. It's big, and I don't like big. Big generally means war...And send them a reply." With that, he returned to gazing at the collossal craft and drinking his well-deserved coffee. "By the way, I want you to dispatch the repair teams to fix any damage done to the ships' hulls."

"Yes, sir."

((To the Necron Ship))

We thank you for the quick response to our request for assistance. As you have probably already noticed, we have recently escaped from a...A brush-in with an enemy fleet. New to this...Galaxy, as it is, we have little knowledge of the area. If you would, could you tell us where we are, and if there is a nearby life-supporting planet from which we could make our repairs?
07-02-2006, 09:46
((OOC: Yea, that annoyed me to, the way I do it now is when it says that, hit back on your browser, copy or cut the post, put it somewhere, and then log back in, and then just paste the post and your good.))

The Ship hung in space, the scanners would only be able to get through the surface, they would be able to dectect the Lighting Arcs and Gauss Partical Whips. Then a Vidmessage

If the Transmission was accepted, then they would be greeted with a womans face. The woman was striking, long blond hair drapped over one shoulder. She looked at those before her, who would be speaking, and began speaking.

I am Iniara, an Untouchable of our Master. I know of Several worlds, they are however underdevelouped, and lack major facilties. the only other offer would be to take repairs in one of our shipyards, although your men might not enjoy that, since I even find my Masters searvents disturbing There was a pause, before a set of Coordinets where sent over. This world should suit your needs. We also would like to ask if you wish any help in finding your world and ridding it of the Invaders?
07-02-2006, 17:35
At the edge of the system, space flared white as ships reverted to realspace. A good two dozen ships ranging from 100 to a full 300 meters long hung in a seemingly haphazard cluster. After another couple of minutes or so Another 5 ships roughly 450 meters pop into the system. Then a message is sent out:

"I am Carpelis, captain of the heavy cruiser Fall of Hamsa. I am highest ranked among those who have arrived thus far, and ask that the 'Aven' commander contact me. We do not know your ways and so this may seem abrupt, but this is how it must be."
The Aven Armada
07-02-2006, 22:26
Arthur watched as the transmission played over the main viewscreen of the bridge; he passed his empty coffee mug to a nearby officer for a refill before he spoke a word.

"Send them a message. I want a full holoscreen transmission."

The image of a clean-shaven man, likely in his mid-to-late thirties and wearing full military gear appeared onscreen. He wore an extraordinary blue-grey cap, on which was sown the aeronaught symbol of the Armada. "I am General Arthur Iraan of the Aven Armada.” He coughed before saying, “Former, galactic homefleet of the Aven system…I thank you for the coordinates, as well as the offer, but I don't think I'll want to be going back there too soon. It's a...Complete hellhole, now that our people have..." The general paused for a second, as if filled with a spark of pain from his memory. He took a deep breath before going on. "Anyway, it's good to see another human out here, even if it is among another species...If you aren't human, of course, no offense meant. You just strike me as one of our people from an outer colony." He sighed again, brushing off the last of the pain-filled thoughts of his former home. "I do believe we may take a visit to these shipyards of which you spoke...We are in need of repairs, and there is only so much that fission welding can do without proper gravitational adaptation. As for those other planets you spoke of, would you mind transmitting us those coordinates as well? We could stand having a...Temporary residence."

As the red recording light clicked off, Arthur sunk back into his seat and grabbed the nearby, recently-filled coffee mug that the officer from before held.

He had barely taken a sip when he was interrupted by a, “General Iraan, the Jeshandi peoples have just arrived and are requesting to speak with you.”

“Me?” he groaned. “Why me?”

“Probably because you’re the highest-ranking officer sir.”

“Oh, fine, fine, put them through. Oh, and can you get me some of those little, round biscuits? I’m starving.”

As with the message to the Necron vessel, Arthur once again appeared on screen, although holding his dull, blue mug of freshly-brewed coffee with him. “Alright,” he said, “I’m here.”
08-02-2006, 01:10
((Hope you don't mind another one joining the fun.))

The PSN Senses Fail had barely escaped from Reach before the civil war had ended (thus she lacked any knowledge of it being over). She was a Fallen Angel Type S Destroyer, easily one of the rarest Phalanixian ships since the Battle of Epsilon Eridain. Traditional Fallen Angel classes had been under the super cruiser designation (due to their massive length of 9.5km) however the Type S was unique to her class being only 3.2km she barely tipped the scale as a light destroyer let alone a full destroyer. It didn't matter much because she easily ranked up there with other powerful ships that the PSN once had.

The ship had a history of escaping harm by only a matter of minutes and this was one of those times. She had just finished a rapid space fold to escape a hostile system only to remerge (in the classic flashy style of a space fold) near several vessels, and as usual she looked dead in the water.
"Sir, the fold operation was completed safely, but um there are several large warships roughly three thousand kilometers to our port side," the Ensign manning the tactical console said.
"Just bloody wonderful, first we get shot at for trying to gather information on our mission and now we get dumped in front of several warships with a depleted fold drive," he muttered, "Maybe they won't have noticed the sudden gamma ray spike or the blinding flash."
08-02-2006, 05:47
The Woman laughed, a rich sound, before she spoke again.

I am human, to a sense, although there have been several mutations done to me which make me less then human, while others which make me more then. I am afraid I will have to hand you over to my associate, since I know not the location of my worlds, at least not the coordinets.

The screen disolved, and in its place, the image of a Metal Skull came up. Its eyes looked out with a green glow. It was encased in a robe with Markings that would make no sense to the Captain. In its hand, it held a Long pole, which had a glowing section that was green on the end, and its face held a ridge. When it spoke, it was a cool voice, compleatly emotionless.

Your ships are permitted to Dock at the Inoquis IX Shipyards, the world is dead, so once you arrive, we will use the Yards Gate to send your crew to Iliqoas IV. The Location for the Inoquis system is being relayed to your computer, however, should you wish, this craft will tow you.
10-02-2006, 15:26
Facing the image of Iraan is a rather plain man who's only distinguishing feature is the massive scar down his face. "I see you, Arthur Iraan." he began formally, "I am captain Carpelis. I have only limited negotiating power...and..." he frowns, seeming frustrated. "We do not know your ways or customs, so I do not know how best to put this; so I will be blunt. We offer freely what aid we can give up to and including battle, rescuing survivors, and that sort of thing. If someone with more authority comes you may get more, but that is all I can offer at this time."

Off to the side a voice called out, "New contact! Unknown capital ship reverting to starboard. Estimated range: three-zero-two klicks, bearing is roughly parallel to us. It's alone, no escorts. And it's huge."

Hitting the mute button, the captain turned. "Ready all staions. If that thing so much as twitches the wrong way I want it neutralized." Unmuting the transmission, Carpelis gave a hard stare at the image of Iraan. "A friend of yours you forgot to mention?"

(OOC: The Jeshandi tend to be rather paranoid around outsiders. I'm just assuming that Senses Fail came out by me as he said several ships and Valshare's got one over by Aven, whose got a good chunk of his fleet there. If Phalanix says different I'll edit.)
11-02-2006, 04:02
(( OCC: Don't worry at all, I was afraid you hadn't noticed me. >< ))

The Sense Fail seemed to slowly come to life after a minute as her external lights flashed on, mostly just the running lights that blinked red.
On the bridge Agent Maxell shook her head as she watched Captain Davis swear up a storm and bark out orders.
"Get the Shadow Strikers ready for possible combat and were the hell are we?" he cried out not expecting a response as the birdge crew was busy as it was.
Maxell had heard enough, "Davis," she called out, "Shut the hell up. Can't you see we are in a tight situation, if we do one small thing wrong we could be killed. If you continue to be like this I will have to remove you from your command."

(( OCC: Please excuse the shoddy post, jsut waiting for the others to notice before the big post comes into play. ))
The Aven Armada
11-02-2006, 04:38
Arthur listened, bored, as the monitor in front of him continued to prattle on about the appearence of several new craft in the area.

"That's enough, ensign. I get it. New vessels." He took a long, hard drink of his coffee. "Now, I want you to send the command to all Zukov, Echagi, and fighter-class vessels to head to the coordinates provided to us by the owners of that massive craft out there." He motioned towards the Necrontyr ship out in space, beyond the small fleet. "The Maddoxes and Mariposas, our ship included, will follow shortly."

He pressed the recall button on his terminal, and the screen in front of him once more flickered to life, showing the face of the Jeshandi captain. "Now, I'm afraid we don't have any "friends," as you call it. We're...New here. We did pick up a fluctuation in the nearby area as well, however. You're closer to it than we are; can you get any readings off it?"
11-02-2006, 04:59
((OOC: Several Small changes to my nation happened, nothing really affects what you know of my nation though.))

When the craft arrived, they would see before them the shipyards of what they believed to be the Inoquis IX Shipyards, the truth would be, had they known, that the shipyards, which where obviously still under construction, where in fact the Shipyards Orbiting their home world, Rahe. Below, the people would see the sprawling cities of the planet, and in orbit, the shipyards tractorbeams would guide the craft into the bays that had been designated for them.

The craft that had been with them moved off, heading towards one of the docks to meet with the leaders, messages where sent out telling the crew where to go once they had gotten off their craft. they would be transported to Iliqoas IV, where they could relax while the Necrontyr repaired their ships.
12-02-2006, 04:38
Capelis looked Iraan in the eyes. Well, he looked Iraan's image in the eyes. "It appears to be a capital ship, at least four or five times larger than any of mine." Muting the transmission again, he looked at the comm operator, "Get me that ship."

To Sense Fail:

"Unidentified ship, this is the Jeshandi heavy cruiser Fall of Hamsa. We ask you to make contact with us now, please."
12-02-2006, 05:19
"Atleast they aren't shooting, unlike last time," Davis muttered, "Prepare a response."
"If you'll allow me, I think a friendly female response than an agitated male response would do much better," Maxwell said before signaling to the COM officer to start recording, "This is Major Claire Maxwell of the Shadow Realm of Phalanix."
12-02-2006, 05:36
"I see you, Claire Maxwell. I am captain Capelis. May I ask what you are doing here?"
12-02-2006, 06:36
"Well it's a very very long story and no this isn't one of those crappy excuse stories, this one actualy true," she said, the sarcasim evident in the last bit, "In other words we got a very unfriendly welcome in a system and was forced to preform a rapid spacefold to escape, due to the speed we fold at little time was given for a course to be ploted. So it was just pick a direction and run."
12-02-2006, 06:51
Capelis muted Maxwell, and turned to Iraan, unmuting him. "They claim to have made a blind jump to escape some unpleasantness. They also claim to be from Phalanix. I've never heard of them, perhaps you have?" in his head, he was fretting over how long till the rest of the fleet arrived. That was one rather large ship, and it could probably maul his force before the Avens could respond. If the would.