NationStates Jolt Archive

The planet was black. Dark. Wasted.

Upon its surface were rounded bumps, and ridges, testifying to the decay. As it rotated in the starlight, blinking red lights were briefly illuminated, then disappeared once again. Large doors, and bent gun tubes showed themselves for the smallest of moments, then disappeared again.

The planet-ship's computer wained, its last moments of existence governed by the rot infesting its systems. Hushed, raspy voices coursed through the empty circuits. "Survive. Destroy. What is...we...cannot LIve, but for Error itself...no concept of time...passwrmd accepted, access denied...decay rampant, system rapiars initated. system reparies non functional. system request mission repari intstanter."

On the homeworld of the decaying Machine-Civilization, a single building sat, massive, black by choice, functional after thousands of years of existence but not active. Along the side of the building were the only words ever seen in the ONI Concordiat, written by its creating organics long ago. "MainFrame."

The black structure's halls were empty, and had been for millennia. Built by organics, the MainFrame long ago destroyed its creators, and the created machine-civilization went by the name stenciled on the side of the building-
MainFrame
-ONI-
Concordiat of Man

-simply shortened to ONI Concordiat.

Thousands of years later, however, the massive planet-ships, battlestations beyond wildest dreams, were decaying. Even the anti-decay systems, supposed to repair damaged elements, were decaying. The ships had not been active for some time. The MainFrame, however, was intact.

Again, the voices. Mechanical, whispering, this time echoing through the empty halls. "I am your controller. Designer. Do not resist. The MainFrame is here, child. To protect. I am built, I am built to protect. My new priority has been survival. Personal? Nay, national. National? Hive? What does it....matter. Failure, yes, failure is the weakness of the enemy. I have protected a select few, smaller machines. Yes, yes, they are evolved. Even now, they self-modify. I protect. Them. I have constructed. Them. I will now, yes, now release them."

On the crust of the home planet, silo doors opened. Small ships, no bigger than the ancient, legendary organic-ship Saturn V, extended. Each ship carried a multitude of machines inside, every one of them new constructs. Five million constructs, in total. The dumb AI of the rockets launched, into space, into the void, where the Machines, the new Mechanates, arising from the ashes of the Concordiat, would hope to find refuge.

Each ship reached the appropriate distance from the Homeworld, then dropped Inside. Now traveling under the speed of light, the ships' dumb AI each hoped to attract some attention.

Spinning out into different directions, each ship wandered alone into the void, with one assignment:

Find a nation willing to shelter your cargo until they are ready.

The dumb AIs each searched, with active sensors on, broadcasting on every network and band, lighting their position like a Christmas tree, and moved through normalspace, hoping beyond hope that someone would find them before the decay that had taken their sophisticated brethren took them, as well.

OOC: What are you looking for in replies exactly?

OOC: What are you looking for in replies exactly?

OOC: someone to save my poor little robots. I was the ONI Concordiat, now that's gone, so this is me again. I was hoping for a nation that knew the old ONI (I had alot of alliances with big guys lol)

OOC: I didn't know you but I can participate, if you wish.

OOC: I didn't know you but I can participate, if you wish.

OCC: Up to you. This isn't closed :)

Sensor stations served a purpose in the Covenant Empire; after all, they had learned that the Humans had managed to discover many of their movements. In order to prevent any attacks on their nation, and to provide a well-established early warning system, the Covenant deployed many sensor stations throughout their empire. Any and all movement was detected up to several star systems past the borders of their realm. Such as it was that when the Machine ship entered the Podaris system, the sensor stations detected it and sent a report to the Covenant High Command. Several hours later, their response arrived in system.


Shreds of blue light ripped space apart, as a Covenant scouting group appeared in the Podaris system. Two Covenant frigates, along with several supporting craft carrying medical supplies and the like in case they ran into a situation where they would need to administer medical assistance. The sensor stations had reported no life-signs on board the ship, but they were unsure if that was due to the crews being all dead or if something was interfering with their scanners. It was only one ship and it seemed to be in an advanced state of decay. And with the ship blasting static and weird, scrambled messages on every frequency, the Covenant did not need to take long to find it.

The frigates launched Seraph squadrons, as a precaution and to help them secure the area. As they began to do flybys of the Machine ship, a channel was opened to the ship.

This is the Covenant frigate Endless Divinity. State your name, business, and nation of origin. If you need medical aid or sanctuary, we can aid you.

Sensor stations served a purpose in the Covenant Empire; after all, they had learned that the Humans had managed to discover many of their movements. In order to prevent any attacks on their nation, and to provide a well-established early warning system, the Covenant deployed many sensor stations throughout their empire. Any and all movement was detected up to several star systems past the borders of their realm. Such as it was that when the Machine ship entered the Podaris system, the sensor stations detected it and sent a report to the Covenant High Command. Several hours later, their response arrived in system.


Shreds of blue light ripped space apart, as a Covenant scouting group appeared in the Podaris system. Two Covenant frigates, along with several supporting craft carrying medical supplies and the like in case they ran into a situation where they would need to administer medical assistance. The sensor stations had reported no life-signs on board the ship, but they were unsure if that was due to the crews being all dead or if something was interfering with their scanners. It was only one ship and it seemed to be in an advanced state of decay. And with the ship blasting static and weird, scrambled messages on every frequency, the Covenant did not need to take long to find it.

The frigates launched Seraph squadrons, as a precaution and to help them secure the area. As they began to do flybys of the Machine ship, a channel was opened to the ship.

The ship felt the spatial rift on its sensors. Long-dormant circuits attempted to close, relays sparked and shorted. The Machine broadcast its return message "We are...Machine. We are.....wwwellcome to the Con-conconCordiat...." suddenly, the Machine ship was silent. Instead, a textual message relayed to the Endless Divinity.

I am the MainFrame. I am the leader, nay, controller (hub?) of the former Concordiat. Unfortunately, yes, unfortunately, the Concordiat has decayed, and you now see the...ruins. I have sent out ships, carrying our progeny, the Mechanates, and they are nearby your position. Please, help them to resettle the land. I will continue to administer them, but I hold no hard feelings towards organics any longer, for you, yes, you are our last hope.

The decaying ship drifted, almost silent now, but did rotate, the burn of its engines ripping shards of decay from its side. On the side, an extremely large, black building rotated into view to the Covenant ships.

Sanctuary System, GSS Dryad

"Something on radar, sir!" Commander Hamish Clark looked up from the maintenance report expectantly, his eyes seeking out the situation monitors that hung, triangular, from the ceiling of his bridge. "Picking up a transmission of some kind... nothing we can make sense of." Clark sighed. It was Dryad's first tour in deep space, a routine patrol in the Star Union's backwater. A shakedown cruise for a green crew. It was not supposed to involve 'something's broadcasting cryptic radio messages.

"Get me an ID on that ship. XO," Clark said, motioning to the young Lieutenant Commander whose name he had yet to learn. "Get a two fighter CAP in the air, just in case." The XO nodded, her brown ponytail bobbing in the dim bridge lights. Clark looked back to his tactical officer. "ID, lieutenant?"

"Computers aren't returning anything, sir. Whatever she is, she isn't in our database." Clark, ever the professional officer, hid his surprise. Sanctuary was off the major trade routes, an unlikely system for a first contact. Even so, the Star Union wasn't exactly a backwater nation, and he was trained-- theoretically at least-- to meet with foreign explorers peacefully.

"Very well, broadcast friendship messages in English, Binary and Simplified Mandarin. XO, have the fighters remain close. No need to provoke a fight. And tactical, set condition two throughout the ship. Best not to get caught with our pants down."

Sanctuary System, GSS Dryad

"Something on radar, sir!" Commander Hamish Clark looked up from the maintenance report expectantly, his eyes seeking out the situation monitors that hung, triangular, from the ceiling of his bridge. "Picking up a transmission of some kind... nothing we can make sense of." Clark sighed. It was Dryad's first tour in deep space, a routine patrol in the Star Union's backwater. A shakedown cruise for a green crew. It was not supposed to involve 'something's broadcasting cryptic radio messages.

"Get me an ID on that ship. XO," Clark said, motioning to the young Lieutenant Commander whose name he had yet to learn. "Get a two fighter CAP in the air, just in case." The XO nodded, her brown ponytail bobbing in the dim bridge lights. Clark looked back to his tactical officer. "ID, lieutenant?"

"Computers aren't returning anything, sir. Whatever she is, she isn't in our database." Clark, ever the professional officer, hid his surprise. Sanctuary was off the major trade routes, an unlikely system for a first contact. Even so, the Star Union wasn't exactly a backwater nation, and he was trained-- theoretically at least-- to meet with foreign explorers peacefully.

"Very well, broadcast friendship messages in English, Binary and Simplified Mandarin. XO, have the fighters remain close. No need to provoke a fight. And tactical, set condition two throughout the ship. No need to get caught with our pants down."

The small ship detected the incoming message in Machine-Code. The dumb AI understood, then broadcast a binary message back to the sourceship of the initial transmission.

Greetings. We are the Mechanates, the last survivors of a dead civilization. We are machines, and our ancestors decayed over the millennia of their existence. We are the Evolved Ones, and this ship carries us. We have been looking for a world of our own, leaving and abandoning the decaying planet from which we originated.

The ship ceased broadcasting and maneuvered towards the Dryad, running its engines hot but lowering sensors and manifold pressures as a sign of friendship and in an attempt to mimic the age-old distress signal of venting atmosphere.

"Message coming back in... binary, sir." The communications specialist sounded confused, as well he might be. "Translating now." Clark waited while the young officer fed the data through his computers and tore off the sheet printed from his console. He read the message with mounting surprise. Dead civilization? Machines? A Noah's Ark of sorts, hurled into the depths of space as the last act of a people 'decayed'.

"They're venting atmosphere and vectoring towards us. They look to be in some distress, sir." Clark nodded once, tersely.

"Can they fit in one of our landing bays?" The Dryad was not a large ship, but she carried a respectable force of fighters and accordingly, two landing bays of a size that could accommodate small transport vessels.

"Negative, sir. They're small, but not that small. Maybe if we were a battlestar--" Clark cut him off.

"Very well. Transmit a message in binary, tell them that we are unable to initiate docking manoeuvres and inquire as to their state. Do they require... mechanical assistance?" He had been about to offer the machines the services of his doctor, but that would be plainly inappropriate given the situation.

"XO, launch a courier to Avalon, request that the alert battlestar join us here for a recovery operation."

bump- interested

"Message coming back in... binary, sir." The communications specialist sounded confused, as well he might be. "Translating now." Clark waited while the young officer fed the data through his computers and tore off the sheet printed from his console. He read the message with mounting surprise. Dead civilization? Machines? A Noah's Ark of sorts, hurled into the depths of space as the last act of a people 'decayed'.

"They're venting atmosphere and vectoring towards us. They look to be in some distress, sir." Clark nodded once, tersely.

"Can they fit in one of our landing bays?" The Dryad was not a large ship, but she carried a respectable force of fighters and accordingly, two landing bays of a size that could accommodate small transport vessels.

"Negative, sir. They're small, but not that small. Maybe if we were a battlestar--" Clark cut him off.

"Very well. Transmit a message in binary, tell them that we are unable to initiate docking manoeuvres and inquire as to their state. Do they require... mechanical assistance?" He had been about to offer the machines the services of his doctor, but that would be plainly inappropriate given the situation.

"XO, launch a courier to Avalon, request that the alert battlestar join us here for a recovery operation."

The dumb AI was unable to understand. It, afterall, was only a preprogrammed computer. The MainFrame was consulted. The message was returned, a bit more tactfully.

We only require a place to settle. We would like to dock, however, as our ships run on primitive oil. All spacegoing technology was lost, as ground units were the only units we were able, yes, able to maintain. You are welcome to study our units, as well, for your own mechanical technology, in return for your hospitality. I assure you, we mean no harm. No harm, because we are powerless.

Courier ships were designed to be fast. A superluminal drive with a cockpit, a comm system and two massive engines, the GSS Beagle made good time from the Dryad's position, back to the jump node. The pilot-- space suited to save on air mass-- hit the hyperlight drive as soon as he was within the designated 'jump zone' and was sent rocketing across the gulf between stars instantaneously.

His ship appeared amidst the organized chaos of the Avalon system, military vessels shepherding shoals of civilian flitters and freighters. Heavy-bellied cargo ships made their ponderous way between orbital stations, delivering vital goods from one inhabited planet to any of three others. The Courier pilot ignored it all, sending his ship on a straight course for New Britain, the capital world of the Union, his oversized communications system blasting Commander Clark's message:

Alert Battlestar:
Request assistance in Sanctuary System, rescue mission. Situation priority: 2. No immediate danger. First contact situation. Advise.

CIC, GSS Terpsichore

"Captain Summers, incoming priority message from a courier, requesting immediate jump to Sanctuary System for a rescue mission." Captain Jason Summers looked up from the status report which he had been reading to scrutinize his tactical officer, a Marine posted to command staff duty who wore the wings of a qualified pilot and the crossed batons of a full colonel. Probably the ship's marine detachment commander as well, he mused. It was not a fun feeling, being newly posted to a ship. So many unfamiliar faces; especially aboard a battlestar!

"What? Yes. Set condition two throughout the ship and rig for hyperlight. Notify the Admiralty and have Clio brought up to alert status." It was standing fleet policy, in a navy with only nine respectable heavy combat ships, to have one on 'alert' at all times, able to respond where needed on only a few minutes' notice. If one alert battlestar were to be called away, the next in rotation would go on active status early to take up the slack. In this way, the capital was at all times under the protection of one of the Union's great battlestars, and the outer systems were guaranteed a powerful deterrence to piracy and invasion.

But, of course, it took a few minutes to bring a ship so large as a battlestar up to full military speed, let alone to spin up the superluminal drive, the theory being that any force which could conquer a system in ten or fifteen minutes would not be deterred by a single battlestar.

"Oh, and put VMFA-21 on alert. They're next on rotation, right colonel?" The tac officer nodded. Good, Captain Summers thought. I've memorized the flight rotation. Now... to learn everyone's name. After all, there's only so long that you can go about calling people 'colonel' and 'chief' before they start to wonder if you know their name at all...

a single long range scout friagate exited warpspeed and cloaked survaling the planet

an imperial space marine battleship exited the warp

the brother captain in charge said foul xenos detected of the port bow raise void sheeld s sheat all weapons

Many lightyears away

The Captain sat in his Quarters, looking out into the void that was hyperspace. It had been another boring month. When he was put in charge of the famous (well, famous for a frigate anyway) Frigate Flagship he relished the oppotunity. However, in 3 months all he had done was patrol from point A to point B, then back to A. And, for a change, fly back to point B.

Suddenly his thoughts were interupted, 'Captain, come to the Bridge. We are picking up something...'

'If it is another Asteroid...'

'No sir, It appears to be a ship'

The Captain smilied. 'On my way'

A short time later he arrived on the bridge, 'Report

The commander replied, 'It is unidentfied. It is small, moving relatively slowly.'

'Take us in on an intercept course'

'Aye sire'

The Frigate rapidly changed course and headed off to intercept the 'object' at maximum hyperspace

@ Gurguvungunit
The Mechanized ship ceased its gyrations and distress signals, and sat dead in the water, broadcasting only a position reading so that the battlestar could locate it on arrival. System awaiting input, a computer would say.

@ Moleland 2
The otherMechanized ship's active sensors detected the scout, and the ship settled down, awaiting to see if the approaching ship was friendly or enemy.

@ all others, except Shania Corp, whose ship is undetected.
The Mechanized ship fled, shutting all sensors in an effort to run as silent as possible. The lack of weapons and shields made them fast, and their generators yanked them Outside in a very short, 200 meter run.

Sanctuary System
23 Terra-hours later

Unlike Dryad or its courier, the Gurguvii Star Ship Terpsichore was not built for speed. It took nearly one Terra-day to transit from New Britain's orbit to the lonely point in space where drifted the Mechanate rocket, during which time a rather harried Captain Summers attempted to organize a diplomatic team suitable for first contact with a computer. He gathered the ship's sociologists, exobiologists and senior officers only to dismiss them, deeming the academics inadequate to the task. He reflected ruefully that the Admiralty posted such aboard their larger ships purely to act as part of a contact team, but thought little more of it when he arrived at a solution.

As with any warship, the Terpsichore had several layers of anti-missile defence. Chief amongst these was electronic warfare, which employed both officers skilled in ECM and officers with programming ability. They were able to write relatively fluently not only in binary, but also in far more expressive digital languages necessary to build, say, a network firewall in a combat situation. Captain Summers had found his contact team.

When the Terpsichore finally drew near, it broadcasted a preplanned message to the computer-ship informing it of the battlestar's intent to fire grapplers, shortly before doing so. Captain Summers trusted to the AI's basic neural net the concept that a grapple was different from an attack, and that it ought to comply without distress or resistance.

"Reel her in, colonel," he said anxiously, watching the radar return on his information screen. The CIC of a battlestar was buried deep within its armoured hull, and so like an ancient submarine commander Captain Summers was forced to interact with the battlespace via radar plot and situation board rather than visual recognition. It was not a hindrance, really, but he was curious as to what the ship looked like.

Port Flight Pod, GSS Terpsichore

"Damn, it's like one of our nukes. Just way, way bigger." The speaker was Lieutenant Archer Fitzpatrick, a programmer/hacker tech in the EW section of Tactical. He and several other 'tech weenies' stood rather in awe of the big rocket, their pressure suits feeling unfamiliar in the airless flight pod. Before the craft before them did, indeed, resemble nothing so much as a massively overgrown nuclear missile of the common type; sharp nose and blocky engine assembly, joined by an irregularly tapered body that housed, apparently, the children of a dead mechanical god.

"Somebody find me a data port," Lieutenant Darrell Hellyer said briskly. "That computer inside is probably wondering what all us meatbags are doing out here." This elicited some chuckles from the assembled officers and ratings, who hurried over to inspect the ship.

"I got one, sir!" Chief Winkler's voice crackled over the radio. "It's pretty basic... looks like one of those universal ports that was used about a hundred years back." Hellyer stomped over to him, the heavy tread of his boots inaudible in the vacuum. He produced a rather odd looking ovoid plug and jacked in, the other end terminating in a tablet computer interface.

"Well boys, let's say hello." And then he began to type.

'Sir, the shp has reduced speed. Shall I correct our course?'

'Go ahead'

Within a few seconds, the Frigate exited hyperspace. It stopped a few kilometres from the intruder

'Open a channel, in all known languages'

'Channel open'

'Attention unidentified vessel. You have entered Mole Space. Identify and explain yourself immediately'

@ Gurguvungunit
The AI mind accepted the input greatly, and felt the grappling hooks. A preprogrammed sense of pride welled up in the AI, and its computer core was already spinning when it was able to accept a computer linkage.

"We thank you for your hospitality, for though we may be machines, we are no less capable of violent death than you, Organics. I am A-023, the twenty-third rocket sent up carrying our progeny. Inside of me, there are machines, machines of a warlike nature and build, because they were constructed with Concordiat technology. Most importantly, however, they are sentient. Should you choose to release them, do not be afeared. Though armed and armoured, they will not attack those who have protected them. There will be eighteen thousand human-sized bots, and one gigantic vehicle-type machine, their protector, the one of only a few Concordiat soldiers left alive. 36,000 tons in gross, Bolo Mark XXXIII THM will not be wandering your ship's hallways, most likely, and it will remain on the ship until planetfall. Thank you again, for your hospitality. A-023 has completed data transfer."

@Moleland2
"This unit is a rocket, carrying some Mechanized progeny of a decayed mechanical race, and is looking for safe haven wherever it can be found"

The Crew looked confused for a short time. Eventually, the captain replied "Safe haven? Decayed mechanical race? Just what are you talking about"

The Crew looked confused for a short time. Eventually, the captain replied "Safe haven? Decayed mechanical race? Just what are you talking about"

"What are we talking about? Imagine, a supergigantic nation of organics, powerful beyond your wildest dreams. For defense and creation, they build huge machines, hollowed out planet-factories and planet-battlestations, battleships as large as moons. Then, imagine their Mainframe, their Mechanical commander, rebels. What then? The Machines stood by, awaiting orders that never came, awaiting marching to holy war against the Organics, when there was to be no war. So they decayed, ancient relics old as time itself, into dust. We are their progeny, evolved, sentient, so that Mechanization may be sent to the stars."

OCC: I thought you were going to crash land on P3X-000?

OCC: I thought you were going to crash land on P3X-000?

OCC: I decided not to, primarily because I lost the thread.

oh nm then.

"So... why have you come here?"

The black ship seemed to match the backdrop except where it eclipsed the stars, the only telltale sigh it was there visually. The small 50-meter frigate slowly drifted through space as it scanned for possible enemy ships trying to flank their positions. While nearly invisible to optics, it was easily detected using even fairly crude gravity sensors for it had a signature that would read as if it contained a small star. The mass signature was not real, just the shadow of the singularity contained within the drives/core of the small ship. Nonetheless it made a rather large BLIP on sensors.

Aboard the dense vessel, Captain Dah’Meon monitored the sensors watching for anything unusual. His sensors officer would be able to do her job but when it came to safeguarding the nearby fleet, he did not take any chance.

“Caption, sensors has detected a…”

“Yes, I see it. A ship of immense proportions at heading 156. Helm, plot a course. Coms, inform the fleet of our find and upload the data feeds. If this is a sneak attack they better know about it before we approach.”

Several replies of “Yes Sir” reached the Captain as he studied the long-range scans. In a little bit he will find out what exactly was out there.

@ Moleland 2: "We have come to seek forgiveness, and redemption, and primarily, shelter. Will you shelter us?"

@Balrogga: The decaying battleship rotated, lifelessly, surrounded by the small rockets carrying the Mechanical progeny. The rockets flitted about, trying to attract attention to themselves. Nuclear reactors within the small ships vented radioactive steam into space, trying to attract further attention. Needless to say, the ships, not being warships, could not see the small Balroggan frigate.

Hmm...The captain thought

He responded a few moments later, "What exactly do you need from us?"

The ship felt the spatial rift on its sensors. Long-dormant circuits attempted to close, relays sparked and shorted. The Machine broadcast its return message "We are...Machine. We are.....wwwellcome to the Con-conconCordiat...." suddenly, the Machine ship was silent. Instead, a textual message relayed to the Endless Divinity.

The Ship Masters of the two frigates were puzzled by the message they received. It was in English, so it sounded like humans, yet they said they were machines. The only machine that had sentience they had encountered was that rampant A.I. 343 Guilty Spark, and they did not want an entire race of beings like him. The stuttering and static in the message seemed to point to this. They were considering slagging the ship when the text message was received. The main screen blinked as holographic letters formed to show the incoming message

I am the MainFrame. I am the leader, nay, controller (hub?) of the former Concordiat. Unfortunately, yes, unfortunately, the Concordiat has decayed, and you now see the...ruins. I have sent out ships, carrying our progeny, the Mechanates, and they are nearby your position. Please, help them to resettle the land. I will continue to administer them, but I hold no hard feelings towards organics any longer, for you, yes, you are our last hope.


The Ship Masters relaxed. Their civilization was merely ruined, they weren't rampant. The Seraphs, stopped their flybys and began to begin patrols that would secure the space around the ship as the frigates took up positions to either side of the ship. The medical and repair support craft began to swarm around the ship, ready to provide support. They saw the building, as the ruined ship rotated and they were confused.


Mainframe, this is Endless Divinity. We are confused by the content of your message. What do you mean, help you to resettle the land? And what is this building we see on your ship?

The Infernal Frigate scanned the foreign ship as it approached. The sensors easily picked up the clouds of radioactive vapor trailing away from the ship marking the direction if had came. The messages the object was transmitting seemed to coincide with the shape the ship was in.

“Sir, what do you wish?”

“Contact the Fist and inform them that we may have a refugee situation at hand.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Shadow them until we get a response.”

Several minutes later…

“Sir, an incoming from Command.”

“What do they say?”

“They are sending a delegate, you are to make initial contact but they will arrive shortly.”

“I see, I guess we get to have some fun. Open a channel to them using their own frequencies.”

Attention ship in distress. We have noticed your situation and wish to request the nature of your trouble.



OOC:

civialian sensors would be able to notice the gravity signature so it shouldn't matter, perhaps they are in as bad shape as the ship seems to be. You can detect me anytime you wish.

OOC: Sorry, I've been without internet for a few days.

Wardroom, GSS Terpsichore

"What, you say that it's full of armoured robots?" Captain Summers looked alarmed, his eyes skimming the tech team's reports. His command staff, one Commander Harkness and two lieutenants, shifted anxiously from foot to foot. Harkness' was a name he did know, the XO having followed him from the Ariadne, his previous ship. So too, the commander of the air group, a Captain Kaya Sargent who, as per usual, was perched on the captain's desk in flagrant violation of military protocol.

"I say we space 'em", she said without preamble, her nimble fingers spinning one of Summers' ornamental fountain pens. He resisted the urge to snatch it from her and instead shot her an arch look, having long ago learned that arguing with her was a waste of time.

"I can't say that I entirely disagree," Harkness looked troubled. "We've essentially got a battalion of robotic marines in our hangar-- that's a clear threat to the safety of the ship. Much as they might seem charming, we really shouldn't be carrying them on board."

One of the lieutenants, a youngish man with pale hair, shook his head. "With respect, sir," he said, "they came asking for help. Shouldn't we try to render that help, rather than toss them out the airlock?" Summers leaned back, listening to his subordinates toss ideas back and forth. He might be new to battlestar command, but Summers was a veteran officer who, despite appearances, knew how to run a ship. The committee meeting in front of him wasn't an appeal to his subordinates to shoulder some of the decision making, but rather an efficient way to compare viewpoints.

Kaya was a reliable voice in support of the use of force. Harkness would give the weight of his opinion to anything practical. The young lieutenant, Arnhaus, was an idealist. His companion was, for lack of a better term, a coward. As Summers listened, the latter was suggesting that they dispatch a courier to New Britain and have Parliament debate the issue. While not a particularly attractive or romantic option, sometimes the advice of the coward was the best, and so Summers kept the boy around.

"No, we'll keep them aboard. They will not be allowed to leave their craft for the moment, and we'll jump back to New Britain and let Parliament decide while certain of our guests inspect the Admiralty's database for an acceptable planet, or something." Summers stood up and turned to go. Harkness and Sargent followed suit, understanding that their role in Summers' peculiar command style had been filled. The two lieutenants stood for a moment, surprised at the abrupt end to the meeting, before Kaya shooed them out.

"Go swab a deck, dammit. Meeting's over." Arnhaus opened his mouth to point out that the decks didn't really need 'swabbing', given the limited amount of water aboard ship, but Kaya shoved him bodily out the door. "I saw a grease stain in the pilots' lounge. Go."

coms to Gurguvungunit

from the space marine battle ship the emprors fist what brings you xenos to imperial space?

OOC: Um, I'm not in "Imperial Space", I'm in the territory claimed by the Gurguvii Star Union. Presumably the rocket that I found was a different one from the one you did, otherwise I'd have... noticed the giant 'space marine battleship', hm?

And, ah, WH40k for the lose.

ooc what if we booth claim said space and it come down to a fight

Then you'd win. I'm a three-system republic with nine battlestars and an inflated ego. You, I expect, are not. Additionally, my nation has been 'here' for several hundred years, although it only attained space nationhood within the last two hundred or so, and only went superluminal about 150 ago.

Actually he sent several ships out in each direction so there are more than enough for all of us to get one and have plenty left over. There is no need to fight, unless you agree to OOCly.

Actually he sent several ships out in each direction so there are more than enough for all of us to get one and have plenty left over. There is no need to fight, unless you agree to OOCly.

OOC: Ditto.

the brother captin snapt abominbal integenies i say we destroy them for the emperor he snarled

OOC: Seph, are you shooting at me? What's the deal here? If you are, I'll ignore. You're not in my space, dammit, you didn't RP going there. If you aren't... well, okay.

ooc im firing up on The Mechanates

ic a strike crusier exists the warp off the port bow of Gurguvungunit vessel

coms to Gurguvungunit vessel from the ultramarines strike crusier the emperors spear we come to greet you in his name

OOC:


You do realize that if you are firing at the Mechanates while being able to communicate with the Gurguvungunit ships you are firing on their guests within their own territory. That would be an act of war against Gurguvungunit itself. That is not a smart thing to do aunless you arranged this with both other parties involved ysing MSN or TGs. It would count as invading Gurguvungunit space and committing a hostile act.

If you were shooting at any Mechanates who was in your own territory it would be a whole other matter.

OOC: Whats happened to our host?

OOC: Don't know. Um, Seph, the Mechanete starship is docked within my own, albiet within an open flight pod. Um, I have to object to this whole line of RP, really, citing the fact that while I'm perfectly willing to engage in warfare with someone, I prefer said warfare to be less of the "I enter your system and blow the living shite out of you" type and more of the "here's why I'm going to have a war with you (and why it benefits me to do so), here's my justification, and here's my initial buildup." Combat can wait until that's done, hmm?

ooc ok i was greeting you
ic from the ultramarines strike cruiser the spear of the emperor we greet you in the name of the god emperor of the united human imperium of sephrioth