NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This isn't my first Intro, but the first one went bust. Anyone is welcome to get involved, however, please have atleast half way decent intentions.

Ealdor Leoht: http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v612/Wubboux/NerbsthinianExplorer.jpg

IC:

The human mind is weak, but it suffers such great agony seeking greater truths. The great constructs of man fall to ash from other men, crumble to rubble from time, and even stray into oblivion, in the timeless silence of space. The Ealdor Leoht was one such construct, a Nerbsthinian modular exploration vessel, tasked with the usual toil of man, to search out and piece together a puzzle that's not a puzzle at all. An answer without an equation in the big picture man hangs up on glass walls...only to throw rocks.

Does that make sense?

Didn't think so.

Rhamos Derthe, the Captain of the Ealdor Leoht shook himself from his panderous thoughts, to find himself surrounded by a wonderously dark, circular command deck. The view it afforded was beautiful, 360 degrees of space all around. If only it didn't feel as though the lights that shown on faces of instrument panels and other such gizmos were all staring at him. With beady red, green, blue eyes that peirced the otherworldly bleakness of the dark. It made the pearls of light outside the clear plasteel view panels seem all the more inviting. You see, Derthe was an explorer, not an art critic, whom only buzzed about deep halls of Art Centers, only to peek at someone else's work and speak of its dull textures of dreadful scheme. Derthe wanted to be in the painting. He wanted to touch the stars he sought. He wanted to be the brush with which the Gods painted their portraits on the great celestial canvas.

He thought to much, he thought to himself. As if he were his own narrarator. Thinking was the only thing to do on such long voyages as this. He drove himself to sickness every once in a while. Sick of himself. His thoughts. Finally though, the trip was half way over. The Ealdor Leoht had jumped out of hyperspace. The still images outside the viewports had changed. New stars. That was the odd thing about Nerbsthinian FTL drives. The universe seemed to follow you, the image staying the same. You honestly wouldn't know if you had moved 1,000 light years, or even left the inner-core of the system. It only changed when you dropped from hyperspace. That's when the most beautiful painting Derthe had ever seen, suddenly surrounded his ship.

The Veil of the Mist, as it was called, was at the furthest reach of the Nerbsthinian system. No one knew exactly what was beyond the wall of gasses, that shot viens of many different colors across the distance, as though an angry artist, driven by sleep-deprived hallucinations, had simply tossed his entire arsenal of paint. Not even the most powerful sensors could peirce the Veil of the Mist, which was why the Ealdor Leoht was there. To simply find another answer and many more questions. The whole mission was contreversial, not many Nerbsthinians liked the idea of sending a ship to explore the distant sectors of the system, while there were still planets left to be developed nearer the core. The young, corrupt King Oort could care less, in truth, as he was busy chasing down rumors of a truer heir that had survived the Great Journey to the New World, people were even beginning to disappear because of it. But even that was a rumor. They simply "relocated" to off-world colonies. The Council was the ye-sayers to the endeavour, and in truth, they had the power. Of course, one couldn't say that money in their pockets from various mining corporations wasn't a factor in the decision, one the Veil was open for Deep-Space Stations, it would be a literal Godsend.

The human mind is weak, greedy, and pointless. Always looking beyond the bigger picture, instead only seeing the light of money and power. A great contradiction.

"Derthe." Niemt Oolan, one of the 8 Scientists aboard the 44 man vessel inturrupted him. An oasis.

"Yeah? What is it?" They were entirely informal. No need to be all uppity when you eat, live, shower, and sleep at arms reach of eachother. Quarters were cramped.

"We're close enough to the Veil to pierce it with our Array. We need you to go ahead and divert power to the critical systems."

"Can do..." the dusty old Scientist moved along, he looked older every day. Derthe should have been excited at the prospect of finding out what lies beyond the Veil, but again, he felt as if he were just staring at someone else's work. After all, he wasn't actually going beyond it himself, or even going into it. He wasn't apart of the painting. Merely whitnessing it.

Those menacing, carnivarous eyes that stood sentinel in the command deck blinked out, at least those that weren't critical to the mission objective. Propulsion, Turrets, hell, even the main lights were turned off, with only the auxilliary lights to see by. All the power was needed to operate the Ealdor Leoht's extremely powerful Sensor Array at full measure.

"All right, all non-essential systems have been powered down..." Derthe spoke into VOX.

No word of confirmation. Just a steady hum that grew louder, he swore if it were alive, the ship would devour the stars. With her moxy, she'd at least bite a leg or two.

[bump]

OOC: Can you explain what you're trying to do before I reply?

OOC: Well, I'm simply trying to get out into Roleplaying, of course, and establish relationships with other FT Nations, preferably good relations. However, I'm open to most anything (Short of the enslavement and obliteration of my Civilization), so you can do what you want, really.

HMS Kensington (http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Sovereign_class)
Approaching Veil of the Mist

The HMS Kensington hurtled towards the Veil of the Mist. Earlier, Royal Starfleet sensor probes detected strange, previously non-existant broadcasts eminating from from the cloud. The Britannic Commonwealth liked to know what was going on the universe, and the HMS Kensington was in the sector on a patrol route.

"Sir, we are entering the Veil of the Mist," reported the navigation officer, a Lieutenant Cooper.

Admiral of the Fleet Vladimir Whittaker sat in the captain's chair, looking at the view screen before him that showed the Veil. It was beautiful, those swirls of interstellar dust and particles.

The greenish shade is quite lovely, he thought.

"Keep on course," Whittaker ordered. "Communications, put me on hailing frequencies."

"On hailing frequencies, sir," replied the communications officer.

"This is the HMS Kensington, RSV-0074, of the Britannic Commonwealth. Please respond forthwith," he said, since intelligence indicated that the signals and broadcasts were issued from a starship.

Derthe had just finished his third meal of the day, a strange concoction that resembled good food, but lacked the texture and taste to actually pull off the feat of being good food. The floor-plating below his feet clanked dully beneath his boots as he wandered down the small corridor, back to the Command Deck, he had several more hours of straight up boredom before he could go off-duty. But, in all honesty, when is a Captain off-duty in his own ship?

His Communications officer, as well as that same dusty Scientist were waiting for him at his station.

"Derthe," Oolan spoke with tightly drawn lips, his glasses hanging low on his nose, which would have framed a pair of deep set eyes. "we've came across some interesting things, beyond the Veil. Our Sensors have picked up ships. Actual ships, not sensor ghosts."

"How do you know? We pick up sensor ghosts all the time. Especially near gas fields."

"Because they've sent us a signal, you fool!" Oolan, always the frank one. "It took us some time to decypher it, but their speech is remarkably like ours. Here, listen!"

The recording played on the unknown entity's message, over nd over again. He listened to it, every word, it took a while for him to understand the dialect and tounge. But it was remarkable how similar it was to his own. More questions found, nothing answered.

The common toilings of man.

This simple message, and the message that would be sent in return, would change the very fabric of Nerbsthinian culture. For better or worse, he had to choose his words well. There were no guidelines, no protocols for Diplomacy. This was not a Diplomatic ship.

"HMS Kensington...of the Britannic Commonwealth...this is Ealdor Leoht, of the Kingship of Nerbstha. Express your intent."

HMS Kensington
In the Veil of the Mist

"Send a reply signal. I want all of their communications, and our responses, forwarded to the Ministry for Defence," ordered the Admiral of the Fleet.

We mean you no harm, I repeat, no harm. We're merely investigating signal anomalies that eminated from the Veil, which we now believe to orginate from your vessel.

"Take us through the veil. Try to find this nation's home planet," Whittaker added.

There was another vessel out here, slowly gliding through the faint starlight. Its charts designated the navigational phenoma the PNR-21A gas cloud, marked as such by another vessel that had passed this way before while heading elsewhere. To be honest, the vast majority of the ship's crew could have cared less about what they were near. Soon they would be seeing the navigational lights of a logistical vessel, and with it came the chance for news of home. Letters, raw supplies, deuterium to top off the depleted bunkers, and with it everything else that a warship could require.

So there was little, if any, urgency to their continued mission. The shadows cast by crewmembers were occasionally visible through the handful of viewports scattered down the vessel's length. Occasionally one came into sight, khaki uniform moving purposefully as they sometimes glanced at the stars outside. Sometimes they didn't. Irregardless they moved along on their more pressing task, forgetting about the sight of the armored plates in the uniform shade of navy grey. There were very few angles from which they could see the turrets and other weapon mounts that were on the exterior of the hull.

At one time their ship had marked the first in an era of pride for the State, whose nationalistic military policies had led to conquest and subjugation. Now she was merely classified as a "cruiser, second rate" by the Admiralty.

Captain Sir Reginald Terrance, whose policies had led to his demotion and removal from a position of power in the Admiralty, could only reflect now on the last choice that had been offered to him. In truth there wasn't much to complain about: his crew had come from a variety of backgrounds and places, but all had passed through the High Water Training Academy. Some had been aboard his ship when first contact had taken place with the Dimensional Grand Republica of Gaian Ascendancy, as startling and changing of an event as it had been. A select more were distinctly newer to the ship, no more than raw recruits and replacements who had shipped out when the homeworld had been left far behind.

All their captain could do was go about his routine, comforted by knowing that he had gone from power and prestige to a frontier assignment. As if that was any way for a former Lord of the Admiralty to spend his existence, he told himself as he looked at and examined the holographic report that was now before his eyes. He didn't bother to turn around as a shadow crossed his desk, the repair drone wrapping up another trip around the vessel as it scouted for damage. Such things were commonplace on deep-space assignments, as was the science and reconnaissance drones that were farther out, peering into deep space and looking around this corner of the galaxy.

"Bridge to captain," a voice stated, stilling the air in his ready room. He ignored the communication for a moment, or at least until the full-sized holographic figure of his Gorjen tactical officer appeared in his ready room. "Sorry for the intrusion sir. We've detected a number of signals at long range, estimate about fifteen lightyears. They appear to be artifically generated."

Finally, something to make this mission worthwhile the captain's voice seemed to say. "Very well ... send a science and a recce drone ahead of us to scout for the source. And tell engineering to hustle up and finish those diagnostics." Remembrance of the ongoing diagnostics and recalibration of the ship's warp coils came to him rapidly, as was the knowledge that it had been a longstanding and well-overdue matter of attention. Now all the tactical officer could do was nod and tap the controls that made the unmanned craft peel off from their holding station near the ship and flash away into a high warp velocity.

A single vessel was holding position about a light minute outside the nebula. Aboard The Sagan, the crew was busy analyzing the stellar display before them. The science vessel had every sensor trained upon the iridescent display of stellar activity before them trying to determine the source of the peculiar sensor blocking aspect of this nebula when an unexpected transmission erupted with them right in the middle of it. Sparks filled the sensor bay as relays turned onto full gain were suddenly overloaded. Researchers fled the area as the ships automated fire controls took over and extinguished the flames before they could spread to other parts of the ship.

Up in the front of the ship, the crew in the cockpit were suddenly trying to salvage whatever systems they still could.

“Cap't, sensors overloaded. They also took out the main power relays. The engines are down as well as the Comms. Auxiliary power is holding but barely.”

“Switch to emergency lighting. Conserve as much power as we can. Get the power relays …”

A voice from behind interrupted the captain.

“I demand to know what the hell is going on here. We paid good credits to commission this vessel and now it is breaking down. We are wasting valuable research time.”

Captain N’Ven stared at the professor for a few seconds. The pilot activated the emergency lights and the interior lighting switched from white to red.

“Dr A’Shool, will you please return to your students. There is a problem and we are taking care of it as we speak. Unless you are skilled in astronavigation sensor repair or even general ship maintenance and repair, I suggest you keep out of our way. If you interfere I will personally toss you out of the ship myself. Remember, I am the captain here, not you.”

“But…”

“I won’t ask again.”

The pilot interrupted them.

“Captain, we are losing gravity control.”

“Keep working on it.” He turned back to A’Shool again. “Pardon me, I have work to do.”

N’Ven ignored the professor’s attempt and chuckled to himself when he gave up and returned to other parts of the ship.

“Now that we got Dr. Asshole out of our hair, what happened?”

“Apparently we were in the wash on a strong transmission. Since the good doctor and his class had our sensors wide open, it blew the systems and took out almost every other one we have.”

“How long before it can be repaired?”

“Without checking the blown circuits myself, I don’t have any way of knowing what can be repaired and what will need replaced.”

“Get on it and let me know.”

The captain watched as The Sagan began to drift through the Nebula. Hopefully whatever sent that signal wasn't going to be in their path, the poor ship has already taken a blow and he did not want to lose her to some unknown transmitter.

OOC: Makes me wish I hadn't left for New Years. Happy New Years everybody!


IC:

By now, the entire crew had been placed on alert, including battle stations, even though none of it was powered, as the massive consumption of the Sensors made it impossible. However, if the case presented itself, weapons could be powered up quickly enough, but of course, the effects of Plasma-charged projectilves would be unknown against alien objects. The guns on the Ealdor Leoht were for pirates...the Nerbsthinian civilization hadn't matured enough to stop fighting amongst eachother. Like children in a very, very large, deadly playground.

Communications with the Homestar had already been sent, and replied to. Derthe knew the Council was up in arms, and the King, that oh so mad young man, would no doubt be circumvented. And the Tribunal, they were probably preparing their followers for doomsday. But Derthe knew his orders, and somewhat despised them. Investigate the Aliens intentions, act as a mediator between the Council and the Aliens, and, no matter the cost, do not disclose the location of the New World.

He was preparing for the first Mission. With a heavy sigh, his voice was shot across the galaxy.

"This is the Ealdor Leoht, to the HMS Kensington...we have recieved your word, as unfounded as it is, and we accept it in good faith. Our Council would like to open communications between our two Civilizations. We wish to know more of you...specifically, your intentions."

But what's this?

"Sir!" One of the younger Sensor Analysts arrived, quite hurridly. Sir? Well, he may have had a relaxed crew, but they were at the finest under pressure.

"Yes?"

"That HMS ship of movin'. Into the Veil. But, also, we've detected two other identical anomolies. From the looks of it, they aren't of the same feather."

"That's just what we need...we go here to stuff the pockets of some space miners, and we stumble into the galactic beehive!"

So what now?

The Homestar was in chaos, the Council had convened early, and even though more than a few were grumbling over having to leave their quarters sooner than needed, all were surprised at the new. Life! Outside of Nerbstha? Would they have to change the Civilization's Motto? One step at a time...

"We must prepare for the worst! Mobilize our Defenses!" Tora'e, one of the more biligerent Councilmen pounded his wrenched fist into the long, oval table.

"A great way to waste time and effort...we don't even know their intentions! And besides, they're on the far end of known space...I highly doubt they even know we're here, just that there's a single, tiny ship in the middle of nowhere. We can relay our messages through that ship..." P'eath, always the calm one, but perhaps that comes with age. He was the eldest of the Councilmen, after all.

After a good fourteen hour haggle, it had been decided to put all military on alert, but no mobilisation would occur. The trade corridors, especially along the Scorpion Stations, were stepped up. But all in all, word was hushed. Any "rumor" that leaked out would be quickly dismissed as yet another slander, in a long line of slanders.

ussi soul of battle captains log

yet another unavintal day in the life o fleet comander strife


he mused whislt on the bridge sire said the ops guy unknown ship
he barked anorder helm intorcept vector tac ops i want sheilds reaid as of two seconds ago and i want weapons hot in case we have to shoot back aye sire coms to unknown vessel from the ussi soul of battle we come in arms but meen you no ill will.

The Sagan drifted powerless through the obscuring layers of the nebula. So far the drift has caused the stricken science vessel to completely rotate half a dozen times, apparently the lateral movement was caused by sensor pods blowing on the outer hull. Outside the viewport N'Ven could see strange eddies of indigo energy dancing along the hull of the ship leaving blackened trails scrolled into the paint. He hoped the little ship made it through this, they had been together for quite some time and he trusted her more than he did most people. If he still had hands, he would have been white-nuckling it long ago but when he had become Childer, he had left his human body behind. It was great being an entity of pure mind but sometimes the old memories made him wish he was still human.

"Cap't, I think I might have the basic systems stablized but I won't know for a few moments more. The AI has to run a test before reinitializing the system."

"When she is ready, give it a try J'Son."

After a few moments, Sagan signaled it was ready to begin the start-up procedures. J'Son sent her the go ahead signal and N'Ven held his metaphysical breath.

The lights switched from emergency red to the regular white and the many small objects left unsecured fell to the floor in a clatter as the gravity was restored again.

"Well Cap't, it seems that wor-..."

Suddenly sparks filled the cockpit as the systems blew again. Gravity and lights went out and the emergency lighting flickered back on. Fire supression systems engaged leaving a haze in the air.

"You were saying?"

The Sagan continued to drift through the nebula, powerless.

Life as we know it is chaotic. Everyone knows that. No matter what happens, something always botches a person's plan in this god forsaken universe.

And today was no different...

From completely out of no-where, a large starship appeared in orbit over the Nerbstha homeworld, as if it had just blinked into existence by some divine will, and barrelled straight for the planet. There was no communication, no gunfire, no sign of anything being on this starship. It merely flew straign into the atmosphere without a care in the world.

As it began its descent, the exterior of the starship's hull began to super-heat, turning its already white exterior even whiter than it normally was. Pieces of the ship, external gun emplacements, what have you, began tearing off of the ship's exterior and burning up in the atmosphere. At nearly mach nineteen, this one point two kilometer long ship looked like a large meteor heading for the surface of the planet.

After about thirty minutes in freefall, the ship slammed into the continental shelf of the largest continent's coast, and began sliding across the surface. When it hit the beach, it bounced slightly, coming back down with a thunderous crash as it continued to slide. When it finally stopped sliding, the end result was a two hundred meter deep impact crater with a large skid indent that was roughly as deep jutting out from it, heading inland for nearly fifteen miles, and slowly filling up from the ocean, which had now decided to retake what it had lost and a little more that didn't originally belong to it.

HMS Kensington
Orbiting the Nerbstha homeworld

Admiral of the Fleet Vladimir Whittaker picked up a 1MC input radio and signalled the entire crew of the Kensington.

Now hear this, now hear this. All hands, action stations, action stations. Nerbstan military units are on full alert, possible intent to attack.

"Admiral, shields have been raised and weapons have been brought online," reported the Tactical officer.

The Sagan finally drifted through the nebula, emerging in front of the massive vessel that sent the signal. The science vessel actually floated out stern first, exposing her dead engines and tail. As the ship drifted it slowly turned counterclockwise. At first the trajectory appeared as if it would strike the alien craft but a second scan showed it would pass barely a hundred meters at the closest.

The Segan emerging from the Nebula (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v248/beldragos/TheSagan.jpg)

The view ports lit up briefly before going dark again showing some sort of activity within. Other than that, there was no sign of anyone aboard other than minimal power readings.


Aboard The Sagan:

“That’s it Cap’t, I have tried all I can. The relays are too shot to repair. That last try blew the only ones I could get to work. We need new parts to get her going again.”

J’Son stood and looked N’Ven in the face.

“We needed to divert all power to sustaining the basic systems. Also, I used the battery backups from the survey equipment. You will most likely hear it from the renters because without that power…”

“…the snooty bastards lost their precious data. Good idea. It serves them right for causing damage to The Sagan. What caused the surge?”

“I’m not sure, but I think it might have been that…”

N’Ven noticed J’Son looking over his shoulder and out the view port. He turned to see what the pilot was referring to. Directly ahead of them with their rotation causing it to swing into view was the alien ship The Ealdor Leoht.

“Collision alert!”

the soul of batle aproached the sagen coms to unknown vessel do you require assitance

The unknown ship listened and saw the events that were taking place. Its drones had long since stopped their engine burns and slid to sublight speeds, methodically categorizing the electronic signals that swam through space around them. Unknown silhouettes prompted visual images to be recorded and transmitted. High-power passive imagers noted the power frequencies coming from the active ships, visual sensors checking off what appeared to be weapons mounts. Electronic eyes delicately tapped on shields and hulls alike, scanning the unknown alien vessels at low power frequencies.

Far to their rear the cruiser continued to slide through space, warp power now restored but unutilized as the science and engineering departments put their collective minds together. This was the moment that they had been born and bred for, to gather and learn information about the Commonwealth's neighbors. The excitement on the bridge was so palpable it could almost be tasted, the captain concluded as he glanced around the compartment while he settled into his chair. After another side-to-side look he looked at the figure of his first officer. "Anything?"

There was a shake of the head in reply as the leftenant commander pointed to something on the screen of the monitor between them. "Nothing, save for this." Terrance looked at it carefully, studying the contact labeled Sierra-3 on the hard shell of a screen.

"Interesting," he finally murmured, half to himself and half not. Clearly its power signatures were far lower than what was to be expected from a ship of its size, had it been of Commonwealth design. And its drifting action was something else to be studied and watched. "Theories?"

The executive officer gave a slight shrug. "Could be disabled. Maybe they're trying to get some good sensor scans in on the other two ships. Won't know for a few minutes." The captain nodded in agreement with his point. It was going to be a few minutes to see what exactly unfolded before their probes. All that the ship's complement could do was wait and watch to see what happened. Could be interesting he told himself as he stifled the urge to yawn.

OOC:

A little information

The Sagan is a typical civilian ran science vessel. It has three Ion Thrust engines for sub-light travel and one of our KK Drives for Space Plus travel (FTL). She is about 150 meters long and is completely unarmed. She has navigational shielding to block space debris but it will never stand up to anything even remotely military grade.

The Sagan has a two man crew and six passengers. Captain N’Ven and his pilot J’Son have been together for quite a while in the ship. Professor A’Shool and five of his grad students are using some grant money to book The Sagan to study the strange nebula and the sensor blocking effects. The good doctor wanted to publish a paper on it and be famous. It is understandable why he is pissed.

As the ship drifted through the nebula, the energies fried the Comms. I am also assuming it caused the other systems to fry because the navigational shields were down so the ship was completely unprotected. Ion storms would have that effect and I am assuming (again) the nebula would have a similar effect.

Now that The Sagan is through The Veil, I think you would have to be on the same side to detect it with sensors since it has been established they cannot pass through. I am not sure where everyone really is at this moment but I think that would be important to remember the effect the Veil has.

Seph, I am not ignoring you. Currently the only way to communicate with the ship is through hand signals or other visual methods because the Comm system was the second to go, right after the Sensor Suites.

If anyone needs to know further info, please ask and I will provide.

tac ops tracter em close aye sire

ooc balrogia does your vewiwscreiin work

OOC:

Nope, and the ship is basicly dead except for a few emergency lights and soon will be floating very close to the other ship. I am expecting them to save me once they come online.

It's that or float right on by waving and shouting out the windows...

ooc im tractoring you

ic bring them in closer aye sir i want 4 tech marines preped for a space walk

OOC:

Please don't. If you save me, there will be no reason to contact Nerbstha. That is the whole point of this Thread, contacting their nation.

ooc im gonna just trin 2 help
release the tractor