NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: Abh, and me. That's it. The Maker-Mind won't be killed, if anyone's wondering, though.

"Commander. The Abh forces have arrived on Citadel. They gained access through the gate. I assume this was authorized?"

"Yes, First Magnate. You are, of course, correct. Recent data indicates that the rift has 'softened', if that means anything. We have no idea how long this will last, and, as such, I have taken the liberty of ordering an assault. If we can pull this off, it might be possible to disable the Maker-Mind, and ensure the safety of the New Realm for millenia."

"But.. fifty capital ships? It would take us a hundred years to replace such! If this fails, commander.. I will have your head."

Commander Exaionae smiled. His name was taken from the great First Magnate, the First Magnate who had presided over the rise and fall of the New Realm, centuries ago. It was an honour to be named such, he reminded himself. In the absence of the NeuraNet, commanders were bred to their station, and cybernetically enhanced to the extent of the Realm's abilities.

It was time, though. The New Realm forces were inevitably inferior to Maker-Mind forces. Outnumbered, outgunned, and outplanned, at every turn.. but this could change. A strike at the node of energy they had detected could change.. everything. Everything, entirely. He stood, and saluted the viewscreen.

And, as he did, he looked out, into the void of space. Fifty ships from each nation. A strikeforce of one hundred ships. Within the Maker-Mind, ten would've been too many, and a thousand too few. It was possible - remotely, agonizingly possible, that they could put an end to it now.

Abh ships, refitted with one-time Truespace shields, were orbiting a nearby world. He spoke into his communictor. "Abh forces, this is Commander Exaionae. There is little time to lose. If you could prepare to activate your Truespace shields, we will be heading into the rift momentarily. Keep in mind that this is probably a one way trip. If we make it in, which is.. unlikely, the chances of us making it out after we complete our mission is minimal. If any of you don't understand that, you can leave now. For those of you who are staying.. we have an AI to kill."

The hundred ancient, groaning ships jetted forward, their speed belying their age, and the numerous upgrades that had been performed on their hulks from time to time.

He spoke once more. "If any non-vital crew are awake.. freeze 'em. Any non-vital thought activity should be shut down. Chances are, we won't need our guns, or our shields. Exaionae out."

It was nothing short of a miracle that Star Forces engineers managed to mold the Truespace shields into the new line of cruisers that had just rolled off the assembly lines. Fifty of the new cruisers had been created so far and all of them had been sent to Citadel for what most likely was a suicide mission. Only the bare minimum of crew had been assigned to the squadron leaving all non-essential personnel off. At least there would be less casualties this way. The crew had been assigned along with their individual commanders but the problem came down to who was going to lead this mission. Many of Star Forces admirals were currently occupied either with engagements or seeing to the defense of the Empire's territory. Most hoped that Admiral Trife would take the mission as most assumed him to be insane. Unfortunatly, this particular mission lacked a certain artistic flare and granduer that would go well with his memoirs. He respectively declined to lead and opted to stay with his fleet and help Admiral Wakaple with the defenses.

That brought it down to the lower ranks of Captains and Commanders. No one truly in their right mind actually wanted to go on this mission but all of them would if they were commanded to. Yet the unexpected happened when a young commander volunteered for this assignment. Commander Abriel Dashnue who had had a limited military record up to this point with some of the more distinguished battles of his had been during the Shadow Wars and minor skirmishes with the Galactic Empire. When asked why he accepted the assignment, he simply stated that there was no one else and an Abriel must lead when others will not. After his departure, the Imperial Admiral made a mental note to promote him to full Captain should he actually come back.

Dashnue looked out over the other forty-nine ships that had been assigned to his command. Their inky black hulls invisible against the darkness of space and simply shadows in the light of the rift. Locks of blue hair fell over his face just far enough to cover his left eye. It was the exact same hair style that his father favored, before he became the fortieth emperor on the Jade Throne. "Commander, we've just received word that the Realm forces are ready to depart."

Light glanced off his single winged tiara as he nodded his head. He took the few short steps up to the upper deck of the bridge and to his command chair. His finger glided over a glass panel on his arm rest and pressed a series of blue buttons. A glass display screen slid out from the side of his chair and turned to face him providing a holographic link to the rest of the squadron. "Attention all vessels, Realm forces are ready to move into the rift. All ships are to activate their Truespace shields at this time. Once we are inside the rift, we will limit our energy signatures by leaving all weapons and shielding systems off. There will be no communication unless it comes from this ship alone. Once we are on our way, all personnel are to enter a state of meditation to limit brain activity until we have reached our target. Good luck to you, and I'll see you on the other side."

The glass panel slid back into his chair. Dashnue turned his attention over to the communications officer. "Contact the Realm commander. We're ready."

"Ready? Good. We're accelerating into the rift barrier as we speak. Those Truespace shields we possess are vital - if they go down, we go down. However, Truespace and whatever the hell lives inside the rift are like.. antimatter and matter. Thus, we're going to be virtually sensor-blind the entire time we've been in there. Luckily, we've already plotted out our course. The map has already been uploaded to your computers, and you'll need to follow it exactly."

Tenath Exaionae sighed. It had been a long time since they'd ventured into the rift. Generally, there were hundred of thousands of enemy ships in there - and a Battlesphere within the rift is the equal of most capital ships when fought within the rift. But now.. the lattice was virtually empty. And, even more importantly, they'd tracked the location of a major energy node - believed to be the new personage named Manifest.

A node of energy was normally invisible, but this one was so large, and so prominent, that they could track it from outside the rift. And, as such.. a strike at the node was worth a shot. Destroying a node could quite possibly collapse the Maker-Mind's entire war efforts for some time. And, if that happened.. the New Realm could enter the war. It would free up the Abh and Dornalian fleets in the area. And, most importantly, the Maker-Mind could be pushed back. If the mission succeeded, it could herald.. peace.

Tenath spoke again. "As soon as we reach the plotted area, we'll need to open fire with everything we've got. Keep this on a closed circuit, Commander, but we've predicted we'll lose 97.5% of our ships at that point - four or five might survive. As soon as we unleash our volley of fire, we flee like the cornered rats we'll be. There's no glamour in this. We're leading our men to die on a hope. But that hope's.. something we've cherished for hundreds of years. Tenath out."

Spreading out, as to not display too much energy, the Realm fleet sped towards the rift. As they entered.. they blinked. It was like looking into smoked glass, which warped and melted incessantly. The ships were twisting and writhing, looking as if they had already been destroyed.

A single message came through. "We're fine, Commander. Let's show the Maker-Mind that it's not the only one with tenacity.".

Tenath's transmission was funneled to Dashnue's consul providing a holographic image of each commander. The young Abriel nodded at the commander's plan letting him know that all was understood. With some of the latest weaponry thrown on to these ships, they had hoped that it would prove enough to severly cripple the Maker-Mind. All they had was one shot and it wasn't likely that they wouldn't get a chance to pull the trigger again.

Fifty black cruisers spread out with their Truespace shields activated and headed into the rift. The twisting and bending of ships happened as they entered the rift but they also passed through without loss. As was predicted, scanners were completely useless. Dashnue only hoped that the holographic projectors would work to give a better visual of the outside when needed. Other than that, the tactical display map on the floor of the bridge was completely blank. Unnecessary ship systems were immediatly shut down including the inertia dampers. With the whole crew being Abh, they weren't needed. Crew members relaxed every muscle in their body and closed their eyes. They were still linked with the ship so it wasn't like they were completely unaware of their surroundings. Thoughts slowed and became almost nonexistant as they enetered a state of meditation.

"We're in. Follow the path. No more speech."

And the commlinks were shut down. Weapons were shut down. Shields were shut down. The ships glided silently through the rift, and Tenath's voice was silenced. And the rift burned. Outside, sights to scorch eyes, monsters born of insanity and hatred, creations that dwarfed the ships utterly, thousands upon thousands of metres long, twisting, and writhing, in the pain, and the life, of the lattice.

It was eerie. The ship was silent, and the tactical display was briefly updated. And then - a tentacle of some kind, silver-red in nature, crashed into a Realm ship. It had begun.

Tenath looked at the screen, and swore. The ship had been torn in two, and summarily consumed by the lattice. Thousands of tiny, flocking, silvery beings attended to its destruction, as if it were a whale, and pirahna had come to feast, celebrate its death. And he could do nothing.

PROGRESS: 3%

The metre looked grim. And another ship died. Another. And another. Three dead. And then.. the assault ceased as abruptly as it had begun. Three ships dead. Six percent progress. Fifty ships, it seemed, would die, before they reached their goals.

And then.. a single sensor network was all he used, his ship guiding the others. Strange, silvery objects were attacking the Abh ships. He had no idea how many, or of what force.. he hoped the Abh were fine. Four ships.

The attacks seemed to be random. Eight ships! He shuddered. Almost a fifth of his force gone, at a tenth of the distance. Ten ships. Fifteen percent.. He winced. He knew the men were gone. And, at this rate.. his fleet would soon be gone also. It was not far, in the lattice. Distance didn't mean all that much. In terms of corporeal time, they had been there for a mere fifteen seconds. It would only take them two minutes to reach the enemy. But the journey was dangerous.. dangerous enough to kill them all..

Dashnue was still linked into the ship so in a sense he was his own personal scanner without the mess of energy emissions. He could see a feel everything around him and what he saw would shock and horrify any rational being. Their were rumors that a species actually lived in the depths of Hyperspace but it seemed those rumors were made manifest.

He watched as a ship infront of his own was swarmed by...something. Organic mass floated past after the creatures finished dismantling the ship layer after layer. There was no hope for anyone on board and life pods would have been useless in this environment. They couldn't return fire or power up shields unless they wanted to give themselves away. All that the rest of the captains could do was sit, watch, and hope that they weren't targeted next as a tasty snack. Though it was hoped that the cancerous organic armor would at least give the beings an upset stomach. Dashnue looked around at the losses. He couldn't really be sure how many ships had gone down since almost all sensor relays and energy sources had been shut down, but his Froch reached out to the area around him and where there had been an escort there was now nothing. He easily pushed the ship forward to meld in with the rest of the fleet.

Direction? Forwards? Left? Right? In space, direction meant little. In the lattice, direction was merely a convinient way of solidifying your form to manifest it upon the material realm.

Fifty percent. It had been days, it seemed. He knew it had only been seconds. Within the Truespace shields, the speed of light remained constant, and relativity likewise. Without it, they could be in there for... thousands of years, and only spend a second in actuality. Or vice versa.

Sixty percent. Sixty-five. They were moving faster, now. They would approach Manifest within a matter of seconds. A very, very small number of seconds. Amusingly enough, they had projected the journey to take some eight years, from the viewpoint of the travellers. A few hours, from the viewpoint of those outside. Of course, that was only an estimate, based of previous incursions into the rift. And this one... seemed different.

Eighty percent! They were travelling at speeds that dwarfed galaxies, made the universe itself seem like a mere road to traverse! If they had been able to control it, they could've been in a thousand places at once, conquering gods, smashing their enemies without faltering, and slaughtering those who stood before them with the power that was carrying them onwards!

Yet it was like a river, and they were like a twig. They could choose their path, but only as much as a rat, perched perilously on that twig, could shift it a touch to the left, or to the right. The sense of insignificance was.. dwarfing. Tenath felt... a mutter. A whisper. A sense of.. being. And then it was gone.

He shook his head. "Strange", he muttered. And then he looked... It was a monstrosity. Burning lights, massive nodes of energy, come together, to form.. insanity. Hatred. Whatever you wanted to name it. But it was hateful, almost indescribably so. Aesthetically, it was beautiful. A thousand painters, each painting a thousand masterworks, with a thousand years to spend on each could not have equalled it.

It was not monstrous, nor was it deformed, ugly, but the sense about it.. corroded nobility, fallen hope. A sense of haggard sanity, hiding away the precious scraps of the mind where it could, simply to survive. For a moment, Tenath felt pity for it.

And then he spoke. "Fire".

Whathappen?Nononononononono! StopitstopitburnshurtsPAIN! I AM MANIFEST! YOU ASSAIL ME! YOU DARE EVER THIS!

Weapons lanced out through the deadly, corrosive rift, hitting the creature. But it did not die. It merely weakened. Another barrage, and another. Then.. it seemed to become weaker. It was then that Tenath noticed that the Abh forces were not with him.

As the voice assaulted him, he used the powers of his mind to construct a shield, a mindshield, to protect him from the overwhelming command of the voice. To challenge Manifest outside the rift was risky, and often doomed. To challenge it within the void... Tenath could not have imagined what would have happened if they had not struck first.

And then... it struck back. Massive shields of sanity were lowered, and lances of ravaging fire ripped into ships, tearing them apart with casual easy.

DIEDIEDIEDIEDIEDIE! BETRAYERTRAITORHATEFULENEMYLEAVEDIEDIE!

Tenath's hands went to his head, and he moaned. The voice was coercive. To disobey was... getting harder. And harder. As his ships died around him, he fell to the floor, screaming. The pain was incredible, he could not even stand! They had never had a chance! They had struck a god, and it had unveiled the power it had!

And then... the pain ceased. Tenath felt a jolt of power flow through him, and he looked at the sensor screen, his neural connection giving one last burst of information before failing against the assault. The Abh were here. He spoke.

"Fire. We've hurt it.. but.. just kill it. Please!".

And, with those words, pain took him, and he knew no more...

The remainder of the Abh fleet finally approached the impressive sight that was Maker-Mind. It reminded the young commander of a particular work of nuero art that some Abh were fond of. Each orb playing and feeding off the other but all united creating a larger more impressive whole. His mind searched from his fleet to the Realms and then Manifest. A single message was sent throughout the fleet aimed at the other commanders.

"Awake."

Energy and power began resonating from the Abh fleet as crew members awoke from their medititative state and brought weapons, scanners, communication, and defensive systems online. It all had been planned out so that vital systems would be brought back in a second's notice.

"Fire."

Heavy capital class particle beam cannons started firing on the Manifest node followed by heavy pulse cannons and rail guns. The last bit of ordinance to accompany the barrage were two turrets on each organic ship. Violet beams of energy screamed out towards the node as their Hyperspace Tap cannons came online and funneled massive amounts of energy into a concentrated point. More and more ships moved in adding their fire to that of the Realms in a desperate effort to destroy Manifest and its insanity.

PAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIN!

A scream of untold anguish echoed from Manifest. And then.. it was gone. Calm rippled across the lattice, and there was peace. For a moment. The foremost personality of the Maker-Mind had been slain, and there was a power void to fill.

No...

No!

This... cannot...be!

NEVER! NEVER! TO FALL SO FAR!

The voice echoed through the lattice, through the minds of the assembled allied fleets.

Oh, yes. There will be a reckoning for this. There can be no less. A RECKONING IN BLOOD!

The voice screamed. And the power of the voice was felt. And, with that, lattice-matter coalsesced into *real* matter. And ships appeared out of the empty lattice, torn from the stuff of creation, woven from the fabric of reality. They took shape, Realm ships from centuries ago, cunningly reworked to fit today's standards.

Men and women simply became aboard the ships. Where there was once nothing, there was power. Hundreds of crewmembers, the powerful Grand Master operative humans, those with metafaculties that surpassed those of so, so many, aboard the ships. A thousand ships.

And, outside the lattice, Battlespheres died, in their thousand. The vengeful wrath of a new-born being had been felt, and it lashed out, with nothing more than sheer willpower, again, and again. Matter was torn from the great, slumbering Incarnation, unnoticing, uncaring, in the dreams of dreams, that smashed the world.

And a single body incarnated itself aboard the flagship. The Deathwalker, it was named. A ship only heard of in legend. The shattered shell of the ship lay in one of the graveyards that had been made by the Maker-Mind, but this was the ship made anew.

And finally, aboard the bridge of the Deathwalker, came a single body. Red lightning flickered around it, slowly taking shape, as the arms, and legs formed, personality taking over matter. And Magnius spoke. His voice was amplified by his sheer mental force, speaking into the minds of those assembled there.

"And so, I recreate myself again. It has been long, since I have lived. Long, since the Maker-Mind spent itself in crushing my very essence, dissipating me among the entire length of its existence."

The voice was quiet.

"We have fallen far, we of the Realm. We sit, cowering, cowering from those who seek to destroy us. No more. This will be our day to rise. Our day to live. And there will be a reckoning for what has passed. The betrayal of the Union has not gone unnoticed, and the friendship of the Federation has likewise been noted."



"And I live! I am Magnius! I have come back from death itself to lead the Realm back to glory! We will fight! And we will win!"

Exultant mind-power, overpowering those there. A High Master's metapsychic power, amplified by the lattice itself. And then he spoke, his voice serious.

"I advise we leave. In my joy, I forgot Manifest. You did not kill it. You merely made it.. angry. I have taken the liberty of instructing your ships to move towards the nearest exit-point. There will be time enough for planning once we leave."

The ships ghosted along, swiftly towards the nearest escape point. Zegenthis. The former pride of Magnius's Realm. And Manifest lived. Gibbering, it seethed after the tiny ships, like a tidal wave against a few wooden toy boats. Escape was their only option, now. That, or be dashed against the shore...

With a single blow, half of the remaining New Realm ships were gone. Magnius frowned. The Abh seemed to be doing better for it, and... two seconds to the exit point. And Manifest struck...

OOC: A few progidous losses would really spice up the story - we may escape with a thousand ships, but massive losses would discourage us from being stupid enough to venture into the rift again.

OOC: No problem.

Celebration and joy resounded throughout every remaining ship of the Abh fleet as Manifest was brought low and the Maker-Mind was left in a state of disorder. Dashnu breathed a sigh of relief as he was holding his breath the entire time the attack was carried out. Now they alliance and the Abh had room to breathe with one less foe assailing them on all sides. It was one small victory that would need to be magnified a hundred times over to bring the Federation on top.

Commander Dashnue's senses started feeling oddly fuzzy and staggered. Then it became apparent as more energy was beginning to well up. "Run! Get the hell out of here. All ships maximum speed immediatly! Head for the nearest exit."

Ships in the back row were practically vaporized as they encountered the furry of Maker-Mind lashing out at its attackers. Inertialess drives took over and began throwing the ships at top speed to try and elude the Maker-Mind's wrath. Another ship was pierced with a tentacle of energy while another was swallowed by some mysterious force.

This is one long freaking two seconds.

And then, without pomp or ceremony, they were gone. The rift receded around them, like a tide would, and they were left, once again, in reality. Sweet, sweet reality.

Magnius smiled. Where were they? He didn't... this was.. no. He knew this place. The sun was the same, if nothing else was. It had been the capitol of his New Realm. The jewel in his magnificent crown of stars.

"No. No, no, no, no, no.. No...", he muttered, feeling weak. Slashes of red fought with flickers of blue, and they were safe regardless. Worlds had been scourged, here. But he recognised them nonetheless.

He traced his hand in the air. He thought he had known the extent of the Maker-Mind's power. He had expected this. Yet.. it still hurt. And then his sense of command reasserted itself, and he spoke.

"Thank you, allies of the New Realm, the Abh. You were our allies before, and, despite our fall, it seems that you have come to our aid once again. This has all been.. strange. I am almost three hundred years out of place. But I have returned, nonetheless. I give to you my thanks."

He bowed, deeply, upon his ship. There were no holoscreens on, but the sentiment was the same, regardless.

"But now.. now, we have a war to fight. If you'll excuse me."

He opened up a channel to the Realm forces. "This is First Magnate Magnius Exaionae, rightful ruler of the New Realm, by means of my rank, and my power as a metapsychic operant. If the commanding officer here would care to speak to me..?"

He waited. And, for a few minutes, in the Citadel fortresess, there was great excitement, suspicion, and.. they answered.

"This is Dirigent Orius. I demand to know your purpose in this system, and from where you came. Furthermore, we require proof of your ident-"

Magnius sighed. He could feel the man's mind. Petty, and small. Perhaps loyal, but petty nonetheless. He reached out, through the void, feeling the man's mind. They were at a close enough range to utilize metapsychic powers without significant delay. And he.. squeezed.

He was a High Master Coercer, with enough coercive ability to mindscrew almost anyone he chose into compliance. And he was augmented by.. something. It appeared he still had a link to the lattice. The power that was available for him to use was immense!

The man spoke. "I-I.."

Magnius's power over his mind heightened.

<Say this. Say "I acknowledge you as the rightful ruler of the New Realm, First Magnate.>

"I.. I ack- ugh!"

<SAY IT!>

The force was compelling. And the Dirigent spoke, his mind little more than a puppet of Magnius's.

"I.. I acknowledge you as the rightful ruler of the New Re-Realm... First Magnate."

Magnius's mindvoice came in over to all of the Realm troops, and naval officers there.

<Is that enough for you? Or shall I make a more.. pertinent display?>

Two minutes later, there was merely a loyal following, loyal to the First Magnate. Without any coercion. And Magnius smiled. And spoke over the communications systems to the Abh once more.

"A thousand ships, allies. I believe it is time that the New Realm rose once more. Let us show our committment to you, and your cause. Where shall we go?"

Every officer and crew member breathed a heavy sigh of relief once they had returned to reality. Finally, it was over. In one corner of the universe, an enemy had subsided for a time providing them enough time to regroup and rethink their strategies.

Captain Dashnue drummed his fingers against the arm rest. A message was streamed back to Magnius. "One for has been put down for now, many more remain before us. Now is the time to regroup and reanalyze our strategy. A meeting of sorts must take place where we can discuss our next target. The destination is yours to choose."