Myenya
27-09-2008, 16:54
OOC: Closed for now. TG with suggestions or wishes for involvement.
The war had come suddenly, without warning or any true understandings of cause. Weaponized enemy ships had materialised just outside the system, picking off scouting craft and sensor arrays, diving in great scything arcs across the skein of reality. They had destroyed the vessels that hung around Hupindu, shattering gas-collectors with precise blasts of energy, before huddling about the vast orb, waiting, watching. A second sun had erupted into life as they ignited it, an immense fusion reaction tearing through the gas giant and blending with the screams of millions of Aeroforms. Atrocity and attrition reigned over half the system.
The MHU Brighter Days Ahead, fleeing towards the inner system, was destroyed by concentrated missile barrage, despite its best attempts to save or displace most of its passengers, the brain forced to watch, crippled, as the modules and smaller shuttles it had sent forth were cleansed from the universe in punishing grids of fire. Then the guns had turned upon the ship, and it had thought no more, it's last concious imaginings relating to the why of it, rather than the how.
Suicide launchers smashed open the great orbitals, disgorging a rain of debris and bodies towards the shield below. Long range missile popped the habitats like ripened fruit, watching with apparent glee as they vomited out machine flesh and human seeds. It was everywhere, insatiable and inescapable. War. Madness. The tyranny of the lesser forced upon the enlightened because they possessed the will to struggle, to change, to alter the very fabric of their society.
Gurget Jian stepped out of the ShieldSpire and watched in horror as the first energy blasts hurtled against the great shield, green-blue fields crackling and buckling, turning red, as though the sky itself was reduced to blood and gore by the sheer evil of their assailants. He felt a scream leave his lips as the punishing hail of fire tore through at last, the Spire buckling, the earth itself cracked and broken. Then he felt nothing at all.
Mountains crumbled into dust, forests were razed clean in bursts of atomic fire, searing the land, poisoning the air. The seas boiled as they turned their relentless fire upon the oceans, precise, meticulous, the waters boiled off, evaporating into the torn and rent atmosphere like an immense sigh.
There was another, smaller sigh.
“End simulation” The voice rose, though it was still quiet, regarding the frozen image. Myenya burnt and broken, a husk of its former immense beauty, the system itself reduced to ashes and ruin. “This is what it could come to then? This is one of the strands that logic dictates could happen?”
Most assuredly. The Second Child Dilemma, Our projections take into account a technological worst case scenario while extrapolating attack patterns from various accounts and hints accrued from the conferences while the Brighter Days Ahead and myself hosted, co-hosted, had equal part and blame in.
“Hmm.” The man sat, hands clasped in front of him, deep in thought. He was one of many delegates that sat around the broad amphitheatre, who had sat in stunned silence, watching the projection of what might one day come to pass. He was Fasjit Grui, elected as the voice of his peers amongst the people of Bizmar, or Secondary Orbital Habitat, or Second Child Dilemma, depending on race, preciseness and locale. The others represented other habs, other ships, other groups within Myenya in general. Each had heard the votes of their peers and still contacted them now, whether through direct neural dataverse access, or via a number of screens at each seating position.
“My friends, we are called here this day to address the serious matter that lies before us. As have been made clear by the positive and negative aspects of our recent diplomacy, and the species encountered therein, we have come to understand that we are not only not alone, but we lack understanding. We have thus undertaken a number of exploratory and diplomatic missions to other worlds, to other systems, and to other peoples throughout the stars.
However...This does not directly concern those undertakings, but rather the necessity of emergency war plans, by which we shall create prototype warships and warship capable brains.”
The Vigilante Assuredly Nothing There has volunteered its mindstate to be reworked into a warship analogue.
“So noted. These orders would be undertaken immediately, or in the event of hostilities by a number of trustworthy MSF's which would decamp to secure or at least remote locales. I believe that prototype considerations have already been contemplated by our fellows, the Brains?”
That they have. The ruined images of Myenya faded, to be replaced by a ship concept, a long, almost phallic object. Smooth, rounded, a cylinder of sorts. It had no obvious signs of weaponry, nor anything that would seperate it from any other class, save its distinctive shape.
I present the primary concept for the NEM classification.
“NEM?”
Necessary Evil Mobiles.
The war had come suddenly, without warning or any true understandings of cause. Weaponized enemy ships had materialised just outside the system, picking off scouting craft and sensor arrays, diving in great scything arcs across the skein of reality. They had destroyed the vessels that hung around Hupindu, shattering gas-collectors with precise blasts of energy, before huddling about the vast orb, waiting, watching. A second sun had erupted into life as they ignited it, an immense fusion reaction tearing through the gas giant and blending with the screams of millions of Aeroforms. Atrocity and attrition reigned over half the system.
The MHU Brighter Days Ahead, fleeing towards the inner system, was destroyed by concentrated missile barrage, despite its best attempts to save or displace most of its passengers, the brain forced to watch, crippled, as the modules and smaller shuttles it had sent forth were cleansed from the universe in punishing grids of fire. Then the guns had turned upon the ship, and it had thought no more, it's last concious imaginings relating to the why of it, rather than the how.
Suicide launchers smashed open the great orbitals, disgorging a rain of debris and bodies towards the shield below. Long range missile popped the habitats like ripened fruit, watching with apparent glee as they vomited out machine flesh and human seeds. It was everywhere, insatiable and inescapable. War. Madness. The tyranny of the lesser forced upon the enlightened because they possessed the will to struggle, to change, to alter the very fabric of their society.
Gurget Jian stepped out of the ShieldSpire and watched in horror as the first energy blasts hurtled against the great shield, green-blue fields crackling and buckling, turning red, as though the sky itself was reduced to blood and gore by the sheer evil of their assailants. He felt a scream leave his lips as the punishing hail of fire tore through at last, the Spire buckling, the earth itself cracked and broken. Then he felt nothing at all.
Mountains crumbled into dust, forests were razed clean in bursts of atomic fire, searing the land, poisoning the air. The seas boiled as they turned their relentless fire upon the oceans, precise, meticulous, the waters boiled off, evaporating into the torn and rent atmosphere like an immense sigh.
There was another, smaller sigh.
“End simulation” The voice rose, though it was still quiet, regarding the frozen image. Myenya burnt and broken, a husk of its former immense beauty, the system itself reduced to ashes and ruin. “This is what it could come to then? This is one of the strands that logic dictates could happen?”
Most assuredly. The Second Child Dilemma, Our projections take into account a technological worst case scenario while extrapolating attack patterns from various accounts and hints accrued from the conferences while the Brighter Days Ahead and myself hosted, co-hosted, had equal part and blame in.
“Hmm.” The man sat, hands clasped in front of him, deep in thought. He was one of many delegates that sat around the broad amphitheatre, who had sat in stunned silence, watching the projection of what might one day come to pass. He was Fasjit Grui, elected as the voice of his peers amongst the people of Bizmar, or Secondary Orbital Habitat, or Second Child Dilemma, depending on race, preciseness and locale. The others represented other habs, other ships, other groups within Myenya in general. Each had heard the votes of their peers and still contacted them now, whether through direct neural dataverse access, or via a number of screens at each seating position.
“My friends, we are called here this day to address the serious matter that lies before us. As have been made clear by the positive and negative aspects of our recent diplomacy, and the species encountered therein, we have come to understand that we are not only not alone, but we lack understanding. We have thus undertaken a number of exploratory and diplomatic missions to other worlds, to other systems, and to other peoples throughout the stars.
However...This does not directly concern those undertakings, but rather the necessity of emergency war plans, by which we shall create prototype warships and warship capable brains.”
The Vigilante Assuredly Nothing There has volunteered its mindstate to be reworked into a warship analogue.
“So noted. These orders would be undertaken immediately, or in the event of hostilities by a number of trustworthy MSF's which would decamp to secure or at least remote locales. I believe that prototype considerations have already been contemplated by our fellows, the Brains?”
That they have. The ruined images of Myenya faded, to be replaced by a ship concept, a long, almost phallic object. Smooth, rounded, a cylinder of sorts. It had no obvious signs of weaponry, nor anything that would seperate it from any other class, save its distinctive shape.
I present the primary concept for the NEM classification.
“NEM?”
Necessary Evil Mobiles.