NationStates Jolt Archive

The asteroid quietly made another trip around the gas giant. The 144,501th trip, to be exact, each trip taking a little under three weeks.

One of the few remaining working systems onboard had made this observation for ninety-two years.

Hardly long enough for the ship's systems to collapse so quickly. The battleplate sat precisely three minutes ahead of the asteroid, orbiting in exactly the same period. While the running of even the ship's most mundane systems meant that it lit up the night sky like a tiny sun, it had not been noticed permanently so far. After all, it was in a virtually worthless system, in neutral space.

And, of course, the automated defense system still worked, and had obliterated any ship coming within a few lightminutes. While the FTLi had failed with the removal of the battleplate's AI, it was still an exceptionally potent weapon.

If one got closer, a tiny series of letters would be visible above the eighteenth hangar of the ship: Work of Supererogation.

This was not particularly important. The ship was in no position to respond to any hails, regardless of whether or not they knew its name. Almost all of the systems had shut down; a single matter-annihilation plant kept the point-defense and railguns working. The gravitics had long since ceased to work, this would have implications later on.

It was inevitable that someone was going to enter the system. Or at least, highly probably. Over ninety-two years, the only ships had been automated explorer-probes, the occasional smuggler, and nothing more.

This was about to change.

Amidst the stars, on the frontier of Kewenic space a small ship formed in the middle of a out of the way system, it was one of many hundred of probes, with flashing red lights and very basic AI programs sent to investigate the anomaly of this system, but like the many others that appeared literally right next to the Battle plate, it was vaporised.

The probe, unlike the others had managed to survive the fraction of a second it needed to broadcast a image, back to a Stella observatory deep within Kewenic space.

There was only one thing in the frame, and nothing but the thing the looming hulking form of a Battle plate , not just any battle plate, upon further observation even if the workers manning the station didn’t know it, it was a battle plate belonging a age old, and nigh invincible power, that vanished.

Approximately four days after the photo of the battle plate.
There was a sickening crunch, and the sound of something splattering over a wide area, and a Trinulthite door, buckled as something was thrown into it, no mean feat as Trinulthite was commonly used a warship grade plating.

“What do you mean, you have discovered a Super massive derelict near us?” A raspy voice could be heard from behind the doors, as they slowly creaked open. The face of a haggard old man appeared from the dark room, slowly walking out, the stop tapping of his walking stick echoed down through the long empty hallways of the Kewenic High Command.

“It means exactly that sire, we have found a Derelict, but it unlike no other, it produces power that is almost 1/4th that of the nearby sun, and it dwarfs some of the planetary bodies such a ship is worth salvaging” A quaky, yet identifiable voice of someone young and strong replied as a tall mid 40’s man appeared from the darkness, well he appeared to be a man, but before the old mans eyes the form twisted and turned, till it was nothing but a oversized snake and slithered away.

The old man, stood outside the doors, the pale light seeping through the closed windows reflecting on its decorative patterns that showed a lifetime of battle, and deception.
The man yelled, in his raspy chilling voice
“Arachni! “ he yelled once, and then again “Arachni you accursed fool, present yourself now”
“Aye sire” Arachni answered as he stepped around one of the many branching paths and doorways, bowing and prostrating himself before the man, muttering the many praises required.
“What is it you required Seer Ssven ?” Arachni asked, as he looked upon the stone floor
“take a fleet, which you deem appropriate and take this derelict.

And so, as Arachni retreated down the winding hallways followed by the berating voice of Ssven, which carried far he gathered a fleet and set out for the system.

A week later, and at a gathering ground.
Arachni stood on the bridge of his cruiser, and over looked his fleet, he had assembled, a surprisingly immodest fleet to take this derelict, depriving the garrisons of many frontier worlds yet unsettled by Kewenic people, and depleting several exploratory fleets by a mere 25% he had assembled a force, that numbered in at about forty two Cruisers Eighty seven Destroyers, and well over three hundred Vanguard frigates, chided by many a System seer, and fellow fleet seer’s as he gathered this mighty force to take the Derelict.


The Fleet formed inside the system, far from the Battleplate, but not agonisingly far and immediately set a course for it at top speed, wondering who would leave such a valuable thing here.

Memories long in music sleeping

Shimmering energies running across ley-lines of power, long-hidden artefacts slowly bringing to life what had once been an object of incomparable power.

Matter is turned into energy, energy is used to hurl matter into the void quickly enough to pulverize the surfaces of planets, and crush the hulls of ships. While it is only dust, so is anything it hits.

The hauntingly beautiful notes of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake play out in the dust, if one cares to notice a pretty mathematical pattern and translate it into music. It is a hint, though not the kind most are apt to take. If it is noticed, the avoidance of the mass-drivers will become much less difficult.

No more sleeping

Onboard, a malevolent intent finds purchase against a hostile universe with weapons, electromagnetic waves focused one-by-one against every single Kewenic ship in the navy. Hardly enough to destroy an invading enemy, but enough to test their strength. This is all that is desired. All that is needed.

No more dumb

Warning. You are now entering restricted space. Warning. You are now entering restricted space. This ship is protected as per directives issued by Strata 189. Ignoring this automated message may have repercussions.

A second annihilation plant hums with joy as it is given new purpose and life. It is one of thousands, but suddenly the ship burns a little brighter, eclipsing the asteroid nearby.


Delicate phantoms softly creeping

Of course, the defenses the ship possesses are not negligible. As the Kewenic fleet entered the system, they would have no doubt noticed tens of thousands of asteroids, scattered as asteroids are wont - with seemingly little purpose, or even enough momentum to have taken them anywhere. Moving so slowly, it seems almost as if they are not natural formations at all.

Which they are not.

With a sudden and ridiculous change of momentum, they begin moving towards the Kewenic fleet, each set to intercept the fleet before it reaches the battleplate. Inside, thousands of Von Neumann drones buzz angrily, ready to fulfill the purpose for which they were created.


Softly back from the old-world come

A thousand worlds away, a single man stands atop a mountain, watching the distances. He pauses, and laughs.

"Fish are easily hooked by the right bait. Yet a worm may not do for the more tantalizing fish. Those who are the largest, with the sweetest flesh, must be tempted with juicier morsels, until the prize offered seems worth the risk.

He shimmers and disappears, and the mountain is levelled, the desert around it transformed into plate-glass as the planet's surface is heated far beyond the capacity of life.

Faintest odours around them straying

"I cannot agree with this. It is a course most immoral. Playing the tempter, and for what, you damned Mephisto?"

"It amuses me when you call me by that name, Jaen. Yet I am as I have always been - simply moreso. It was our policy when strong to dominate the weak through their own agreement, to make such alliances that benefited all. We no longer have such a luxury. What do we have left?"

"Three of the greatest starships the universe has ever seen, each with enough destructive capability to destroy entire navies?"

Suddenly straying

"One of who's AI committed suicide, another whom went mad, and a third who can barely be considered sane. Supererogation agreed to help us because it's practically a child now. It obeys, but a dog cannot be expected to mastermind a war."

"What about Mars?"

A chuckle.

"You honestly expect an empire to come from that band of useless misfits? Watcher is a rogue. Those who remain do not possess the technical ability, nor the ambition to rebuild our glory. There are twelve of us left, Jaen. Twelve, out of some ten billions. It cannot be recovered. Not in the way we have known before."

"Nevertheless. They are innocents, seekers after knowledge."

"So we were, before the Republic. Before the Maker-Mind. Before the Galactic Empire. Before Kara. We have never been anything but foolish innocents, too naive to make use of the power we could have grasped had we but chosen to do so."

In chambers dim

Lights go out, and shock ripples through the ship. Barely enough to register on the bodies of the two, it should not have existed.

"What was that?"

"You were ever a fool, Jaen. Court has found us. Again. He cannot kill us, being obedient, but his madness impels him to try. If I could reach out and destroy him, I would, merely to remove such misery from the universe. Do not worry yourself. The protocols aboard this ship of ours are more than sufficient to protect us."

Whispering silks in order swaying

A body wrapped in a thin veil of gauze sways in, self-possessed, and utterly aware of it. A chuckle comes from Jaen, and he looks away with some modesty. The other man merely stares - as though the figure were not even there. After a moment, he speaks.

"Fool. You can no more reproduce than I can. We changed ourselves, if you do not remember?"

The voice is feminine, but with a thin undertone of contempt.

"I like it, Baej. Or Mephisto, as I understand you have taken to being called these days. There is little enough occasion for pleasure in our lives, so I take it where I can."

Baej lookes over at Jaen.

"Are we to accept this.. this frivolity? In the face of such adversity?"

Jaen shakes his head ruefully.

"She was a fine Master-Commander. The only one of us with a proper grounding in combat. To be honest... where would we be without her?"

The woman inclines her head.

"It is good to see that some of us retain our sense."

A door slides open, and another walks in

A second woman, this one dressed in plain grey uniform.

"Baej. Jaen. Aria. I see you are all here. I greet you in the name of the Council. I suspect this will be a tiresome meeting."

Baej grins.

"What happened on Gelasmo, Kivasah?"

"We'll shut up about that, Baej, and we'll do it fast."

Laughter, now.

"Did the locals kick you off after they found you were an augment? It's not as if they were anything more than Class Fours, in any case. Barely hitting nuclear. We need post-industrial societies to fuel any sort of empire, as I told you."

"We could've developed them in fifty years, you insolent-"

Her voice stops abruptly, anger cut off by silence.

Glimmering gems on shoulders slim

The fifth does not bother entering by the door, but merely appears at the table. She is in a dress that makes formality itself seem but a rude child with a snotty nose, gems glimmering amongst the almost impossibly intricate patterns on white cloth.

"I, Ellisandre, greet you in the name of our mission."

Baej looks over at her.

"Ah, Ellie. You've always had a preference for the dramatic. Any success?"

She laughs, and it is as soft as water running on crystal.

"None. Then again, I'm trying to suborn a predeveloped society. Those irritating Hegelids are simply too religious. Using them as a pawn is possible, but not as a base."


Courage advancing strong and tender

Another door shifts open, and a sixth walks in. His face is carved from the earth itself, sharp angles and straight lines defining his ugliness more clearly than any bulbous nose or warts could've done. Each feature is carved perfectly in its own right, but does not fit with the others surrounding it. It is a sculpture of incredible precision made by a sculptor with no sense of perspective or distance. It is a face unusual in its ugliness, yet with a capacity for forgiveness that made all in the room feel safer.

"Aegid."

"Greetings, Baej. Ellisandre. Kivasah. Jaen. Numia. It is well to see you once more. Are your dreams of empire well?"

"Failing. What of you, Aegid?"

"There is no corner of our space left untouched. Many refugees remain, but are no longer Realm. They are something else now, and I do not care to reclaim them by force. It is better to let such things die, rather than to reach into their graves and drag them out. The horror may be buried in this way, and forgotten in time."

Grace untender

Ellisandre speaks.

"Fool. We must and will recover our body. It is no corpse, for all that it has been buried alive. As long as a spark of life remains, we must coax it into a grand fire! If the fire of others is required, let us take it! What could matter more?"

Fanning desire

Aegid smiles.

"I forgive you, Ellisandre, for what horror you may unleash upon the unsuspecting. You may even be able to forgive yourself, in time."

Suppliant conquest, proud surrender

She sighs.

"No horror, Aegid. Merely necessity. Can you not see that?"

"I know that my life is not worth sustaining if I must leech the blood of others for my heart to beat."

"You may be right. Yet you were only ever a Fifth. The rest of us here held some knowledge of the universe before Kara."

Courtesy cold of hearts on fire

"He is one of Twelve, Ellisandre. We are not so many as to be able to quabble over former status", Jaen rebukes.

Her eyes, once warm whilst trained upon Aegis, are as cold as ice.

"We may be Eleven Jaen, if you do not cease your seemingly endless whining."

"What of the others?", Baej asks, quick to head off an argument.

"They are not coming. Three are in the Old Realm, three in the Ancient. They are looking for secrets to our recovery. There is much we have lost, you see."

An image is summoned on the table before them all, and they all lean in to see it.

Willowy billowy now they're bending

In space before them, the firefight has escalated. As asteroids approach the Kewenic fleet, thousands of drones burst out of their fragile shells, hurling themselves with gleeful abandon to their deaths, in order to harm those they were made to hate.

Circling around the Kewenic fleet in their tens of thousands - for that many spew forth from each asteroid, they are insignificant next to the fleet before them, even as the fleet before them is insignificant next to the ship it hopes to take.

Low they're bending

In the room, the silence speaks volumes. Will these be the ones to take the prize?

"It is a rare gift from the Realm that does not have a hook inside."

The observation is trite, and Aegis smiles gently at it.

"There was a time when there was no need for hooks. We merely beckoned, and fish leapt out of the water, and into our hands."


Down-dropt eyes

This observation is sobering. A mood of euphoria is replaced by one of uncertainty, and just as quickly by sorrow. If it could be forgotten, it would. It cannot, so the few who remain seek to rectify what has caused it.

The six there feel a mood of companionship, for their sorrow is the same. Some have accepted it, and with it death - with their acceptance comes great kindness, for there is no real desire left within them, except to make the last moments less painful.

Others have rejected pain altogether, as unnecessary, and hope to heal the nigh-infinite breach, if only to keep on living. Their struggle for survival is desperate, by day they must fight against enemies to continue their breath, at nights they must fight the despair in their own minds.

The last are those who have accepted the death, but not only of themselves. If they must die, why not everyone else? If their life can be ensured by the death of others - well, all the better! This trap is the creation of this mindset.

Out of the six, the first tenuous cracks have already begun to form. At present, they ally out of necessity.

For now.

Stately measure and stately ending

A planet waits to die, with mere seconds before it ends. Dignity is the last thing it may wrest from its slayer's grasp, and the only one that seemed to have a meaning at such a time. In a second, ten billion die. From a community of minds that was all-encompassing, all-loving, to the abrupt loneliness of twelve. Some had gone mad, at least on the inside. They had survived both the initial destruction, and the madness that had taken so many others. In the vestiges of their sanity, dreams of greatness remained.

Music sobbing, and a dream that dies.

Another volley is spent on the Kewenic fleet, the battleplate firing more and faster as the fleet approaches. What had once been Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake was now Hoffstetter's Serenade. Another pattern, though slightly less obvious.

In the far reaches of space, six watch, their dreams all riding on the same battleplate - some to fall into an abyss of despair, others to come true beyond their wildest dreams. They are not the same dreams, but not one will admit it.

A laugh comes from the corner of the room.

"And so the circle goes on. The whipped is now the master, and the lash has but changed hands."

Arachni growled, as reported flooded in from across the fleet, his bridge crew turned to look at him, each of them well over a hundred cycles, and glanced upon him with deep eyes, wondering what would happen next, he started out into space, looking from the screen barely noticing the explosion of a dozen or so Frigates, “dam it” he thought, “why couldn’t this be easier, out of four hundred years, the one derelict I’m sent to take has to have active defences”

He roared out loud, and grumbled “ What are you looking at, by the great keepers many eyes, don’t sit there fight back!”, and so at the beckoning of Arachni, the fleet fired at the asteroids, great clouds of plasma and rail guns were exchanged with the asteroids, point defence guns nailing puny fighters by the dozens, the fleets course unchanged, besides the increased thrumming in the engine rooms of the ships, as they increased power and moved in erratic patterns towards the derelict.

Arachni ordered his frigates, to boarding speed which was mainly max speed and slow down right before impacting the ship to release boarders, he knew his fleet would be decimated in a prolonged fight with this derelict, so he intended to get every ship possible wedged onto the derelict.

Frigates ducked and weaved in erratic patterns, as more fell to fire, but for the most part, most lived long enough to reach there intended target, and board it.

The cruisers and destroyers on the other hand, still had a way to go, as the drones collided with the ships, and died in there thousands, the fleet still continued on, and there was a inaudible groan, as a Kewen cruiser, suddenly blossomed, and created a intricate flower pattern in the dark space, with its flaming entrails.

"One. Already. A pity. They're not nearly powerful enough to serve as a base for the reconstruction I desire."

The battleplate sat, and, as ships approached, a flare of power emerged from the ship. Already bright enough to eclipse the planet nearby, the wave of radiation release would be enough to scour the traces of any ships nearby from existence. Ships further away would be damaged, but it was still a titanic effort - and the craft had not yet begun to unveil its true capacity.

[[ProtocolDefense::LevelOne]]

The hangars remained open, inviting. While the Kewenic ships were accelerating to ramming speed, they would quite easily fit inside, should they make it to the battleplate.