NationStates Jolt Archive

AST Elysion, Sub-Space Continuum, En-Route to Gamma Draconis

Captain (j.g.) Hatio Hou sat aboard the sparsely occupied personnel transport, so accustomed to such trips between distant stars that she did not even notice the low-level hum of an activating Sub-Space motivator that permeated every surface surrounding her, and considered whether she should be ecstatic or terrified. Outwardly she was perfectly calm, immaculately attired in the uniform of a Captain of the Klonor Space Corps, a uniform so new she could imagine it still carried the smell of its packaging, and her face bore the professional calm that all officers of the Corps learned to master long before they were ever granted a command of their own, but her appearance of certainty did not change the fact that she was warring internally over just how she should feel. She knew how she was supposed to feel, being granted command of an Iceni class Frigate, the newest and most technologically advanced of all Klonor ships, especially at her (relatively) young age, was an honor and privilege that should have had her dancing in the aisles of her small transport, but the circumstances surrounding this “honor” left her more than a little perturbed, and she could not shake the feeling that there were going to be unpleasant twists ahead. It was nothing definite that she could put her finger on, there was no malevolent figure cackling in the background or twirling a moustache, but try as she might there was no way to ignore the mountain of peculiarities that surrounded this promotion.

She had first heard of it only the day before in the form of a personal letter from Admiral Lillith Miller, commanding officer of the 3rd System Fleet, that had informed her of the promotion, and her new duties aboard the Iceni Magni. That alone was bizarre, promotion to command rank was a process that was usually drawn out over weeks, possibly even months, that drew the candidate into a complicated web of review, analyses, and quantification that was more than a little invasive, but which left everybody involved with a clear picture of exactly where they stood, and to first hear about a promotion in the letter which told her she had it was quite outside the norm. Admittedly it was not so unheard of as to immediately raise alarms, there were times when the pressures of circumstance took precedence over the formality and procedure of the Corps, but it was still unusual, and Hatio wondered what circumstances had pushed her so dramatically up from Commander, the rank she had only held for little more than a year. Add to that the fact that her orders, to immediately report aboard the Iceni Magni and assume command at the earliest possible opportunity, contained no command actions, no information on what she should do after she took command of the Frigate, and it would be obvious to even the most junior of Ensigns that something was in the works. Unfortunately, as every member of the Corps could attest, that “something” could be either very good or very bad, and as Hatio rode the Elysion through Sub-Space to Gamma Draconis, she still could not determine which way the wind was blowing for her.

The sudden, muted tone that came over the shuttles speakers, alerting the passengers of the approaching transition from the n-Dimensional tunnel of Sub-Space to Real-Space, brought her out of her reflections and she decided, as she had always known she would, that she really could not control how she would feel. Until the Admiralty decided to let her in on just what it had in mind for her and her new ship she could do nothing but spin her wheels, going around and around in her mind with the same sparse bits of data and never reaching a satisfactory conclusion, and right now her only real option was to stop worrying and deal with whatever came. This obvious bit of wisdom, which she had known from the beginning but which had not stopped her from stewing for the entire trip, was finally accepted just as the Elysion crossed the Sub-Space threshold, accompanied by a slight internal kick that was over before Hatio could even be completely certain she had felt it, and oriented itself towards one of the vast construction yards located at the interior of the system, darting through space at its maximum safe acceleration and chauffeuring Hatio Hou to her new ship.


ASF Iceni Magni, Repair Facility XL1, Gamma Draconis Military Installation, Gamma Draconis, Associated Systems of Klonor

It would be injudicious to say that Commander Anton Mis, second in command of the Iceni Magni, scampered down the empty passage of the Frigate after he got word that his new Captain was due to come aboard, after all it was only appropriate that he be at the hatch when she boarded her vessel, but his hurried gait and obvious rush clearly gave the impression of haste. However, he arrived at the forward docking hatch of the Iceni Magni just as it finished connecting to the waiting Elysium Transport, and he had just enough time to smooth his uniform into its proper position and assume the appropriate air of simultaneous relaxation and rapt attention, so perhaps his scampering was worth it. Numerous other officers of the Iceni Magni, as much of the command staff as could be spared from the refit which was currently rearranging the entirety of the frigates interior, arrived in similar fashion, but all with just enough time to compose themselves properly and come to a straight, strict attention as the hatch before them receded into the hull and a tall, slender woman in the uniform of a Captain stepped forward.

She’s so damned young!

Such was an inappropriate thought for an executive officer to have when he first met his new commanding officer, and it was not strictly accurate considering that the average life expectancy in Klonor was in the range of five hundred years, but he could not help himself. He had no doubt that her skills, whatever they were, merited her this command, not even being an Admirals Pet could earn somebody as prestigious a command as the Magni without exerting the effort the earn it, but that was still his first thought as a woman who might very well be his daughter - well, no, she was not quite that young, but she could certainly be his little sister – stepped forward and offered him a crisp salute that would have done her instructors at the Regulus Facility proud.

“Permission to come aboard, Commander?”

It was an old tradition, and more formality than anything else, but until she actually assumed official command of the ship she needed Anton’s permission even to leave the docking tube of the shuttle.

“Permission granted, ma’am. Welcome aboard.”

He returned her salute with just as much crisp as she had shown, perhaps even a bit more, then extended his hand with a smile.

“Commander Anton Mis, ma’am, your executive officer. This is Lieutenant Commander Vernon, Lieutenant Commander Cunil, and Lieutenant Tisomen, I’m sorry the rest of your staff couldn’t be here, but the refit is occupying most of our available manpower at the moment, and we need every officer at their station to make sure we don’t fall behind. General Hidiian expects a lot from the Iceni Magni, and he hasn’t given us a chance to slip up.”

She accepted his offered hand with the perfect degree of pressure, neither officer felt any overriding need to start their professional relationship with a petty contest of strength, and turned to give the assembled officers a quick, professional inspection, before turning back to Anton.

“Perfectly understandable, Commander, I’d hate to start my first day aboard with a production delay. I only caught a quick glimpse from the Elysion as we spiraled in from sun-side, but the repairs looked more extensive than I’d been lead to believe by Admiral Miller, and I’d love to get the Iceni patched up as quickly as possible; to be given such a ship and to have her stuck in dock seems like a cruel gift, but we go where we must.”

“Of course, ma’am. If you’ll follow me?”

Turning smartly, quietly dismissing the assembled officers back to their already delayed work assignments, Commander Mis lead Captain Hou to the bridge of the Iceni Magni, forced into a roundabout and lengthy route as countless corridors, access junctions and lifts, not to mention the entire Phase Gate network, were blocked off or sealed for construction. The further they walked, the more Captain Hou was troubled by what she saw, because it was clear that this was not simply a minor refit, the entire ship was being stripped down and rebuilt. She had been told that she would need to supervise the final stage of the Frigates’ refit once she assumed command, but Admiral Miller had said nothing about the pure scope of the project. Once again, Hatio wondered just what it was that she had been given.

Aboard the bridge she was met with even more confirmation of her fears when she saw that no less than three command consoles were simply gone, pulled out of the floor to make way for some entirely new system. She did not know what the construction techs were installing, but she had a feeling she would not like it if it meant they had to displace her Beam Command station.

Still, she had more pressing concerns to attend to, and she stepped over to the Command Console and stood before the Captains Chair, ready for the final ceremonial act before officially assuming command. Taking a deep breath (Completely without being seen, of course, since it would never do for a Captain to look nervous when addressing the crew) she activated the All-Hands intercom and paused as a piercing tone sounded throughout the ship. She knew that not everybody could stop what they were doing to look at the nearest comm panel, some equipment would be downright lethal if its operator just stopped and started watching a Vid, but 90% of the personnel aboard the Iceni Magni did stop, and she waited until she was sure she had as many as she would get before she reached into her pocket and pulled out a thin sheet of archaic paper, used only for ceremonial orders from the Admiralty. It crackled as she unfolded it, and she turned to a visual pickup as she read.

“From Admiral Lillith Miller, Commander, 3rd System Fleet, Klonor Space Corps, to Captain Hatio Hou, commanding officer, ASCv Aech-jee, Klonor Space Corps, Thirty-Fifth Day, Fourth Month, Year Four Thousand One Hundred and Ninety Three Off Sol. You are hereby directed and required to proceed aboard the Associated Systems Frigate Iceni Magni, FR-Five-Six, there to take upon yourself the duties and responsibilities of commanding officer in the service of the Duke. Fail not in this charge at your peril. By order of Saiderj Richard Ihm, Supreme General, Klonor Space Corps, for His Sire the Duke.”

The words were stilted and formulaic, they had been repeated without variation for millennia, but Hatio still felt a small internal kick when she read them; they might not have been poetry, but with reading them the people aboard this vessel suddenly became her people, this ship was her ship, and she, and they, knew it. Turning to Commander Mis, she sketched another salute and completed the ritual.

“Mr. Exec, I assume command.”

“Captain,” he replied with equal formality, “you have command.”

“Thank you Mr. Mis. Now, if you would be so kind, I’d like to be brought up to speed on the refit we are currently undergoing.”

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Hatio Hou had spent the entirety of her adult life preparing for this moment; two and a half years at the Officers Selection and Training Facility of Regulus, graduating with a special commendation in spatial recognition and advanced tactical analysis, then four years working the grueling path from Ensign to Lieutenant (s.g.) and promotion to Chief Astrogator aboard the aging cruiser Haliaetus. After the Haliaetus she had been granted her first command, a small, converted Poseidon freighter, so outclassed by modern warships that most members of the Corps did not understand why the armed freighters were still used even for customs missions, but God how she had loved that tiny, outdated ship! Then more time as an Executive Officer aboard a proper warship, a turn as tactical officer aboard the Colossus itself, and then – finally! – the coveted Commanding Officers course after eleven grueling years. She thought she had died and gone to heaven when they gave her Aech-jee, for the middle-aged corvette had been her very first Inter-System command, and the months she had spent in command had been pure, unadulterated joy, but this…command of a Frigate was emerging as the most coveted position within the Corps, for the Iceni class was the latest technological development of Corps R&D in Ross 128. They were rapidly assuming their proper position as the Klonor Space Corps’ eyes and ears, its escorts and its raiders, the stuff of independent command and opportunity; they were faster, sleeker, and more capable than the Cruisers and Corvettes they were slowly displacing, and if they lacked the solid power of the larger Destroyers, their technical systems more than compensated. It was no surprise that the Iceni itself, the lead ship of the class, served as the command flagship of the 3rd System Fleet, nor that Admiral Miller, who could have requisitioned a behemoth Achilles if she had chosen to do so, selected it as her personal vessel. Until, and if, she was promoted to Flag rank there was no way Hatio could find herself in a better position than she was, except for one small problem…General Hidiian had gutted her.

Two of her Beam Cannons were gone, as were all of her Mk.I Laser Turrets, and her magazine capacity for the four Missile Launchers she retained had been almost halved, leaving her with only one Cannon, seven Mk.II Laser Turrets, and two Flak Guns. She had lost more than two-thirds of her anti-capital ship armament, and what remained was so grossly out of position that it would be impossible to concentrate her fire at all; her only remaining Beam Cannon was bow-mounted, which meant that anyone attacking from the rear, above, below, or off to either side would be completely out of reach of her greatest offensive weaponry, and the Turrets, effective though they were in their own duties, were not in great enough number to compensate. This might still be a serviceable arrangement, the Launchers were capable of delivering a 360 degree field of fire if necessary, but the lack of storage capacity meant that her next heaviest weapons, the ship-launched Tsunamis warheads that still delivered a punch despite their age, would need to be rationed like air in a vacuum. All, Hatio though bitterly, so the yard dogs of Gamma Draconis could install the most inefficient, over-designed, and generally worthless piece of technology she could think of.

The Disruptor Cannon, she admitted, had potential; nobody who had seen a single wing of Athena Bombers take down a Heavy Cruiser unsupported could possibly contest that Disruptors were not a vital and impressive piece of Klonor technology, and if it truly was possible to improve what had once been solely a fighter-level weapon to capital ship standards then Captain Hou would have been the first person to offer her right arm, maybe even both of them, to get the project off the ground, but the problem was that the Corps scientists hadn’t done that. True, they had made it bigger, much bigger, and increased its range proportionately, but nobody in the research department seemed to realize that the range of space combat increased exponentially, not proportionately, and the finished product they had unveiled, a Disruptor Cannon which could completely neutralize an opposing capital ship at ranges up to and including 10 Units, was completely and utterly useless since most space combat took place at over One hundred Units. There were times when circumstances forced combat into tighter areas, the geography of a system or the specific goals of the combat forces might draw opposing combatants into knife-fight ranges, but those were the exception, hardly the rule, and Hatio had never seen a fight which began at standard distance close to such range. It might make sense to install the new Cannon aboard a Juggernaut or Battleship, something with the room to carry it and which had the armor and firepower to survive to close to these ranges, but on something as small as a Frigate it was pointless, plain and simple. She now understood why Admiral Miller, who had usually taken a personal interest in her career and commands, had been so terse and brief when informing her of her promotion and transfer, if Hatio had known what was truly coming she might very well have found a way to sneak out of it. Now, having officially assumed command, the only way to get off this ship was to formally request a transfer, citing either cause or concern with the equipment or personnel under her authority, and doing so would likely forever ruin her chance of future command. No, as much as she hated it, she was stuck aboard the Iceni Magni, and she would have to make the best of her that she could. Which, given the upcoming war games where General Hidiian planned to showcase the “success” of his personal project, did not seem to be very good at all. Still, she now understood why she had been granted this command, her record and advanced scores practically screamed “tactical genius” and General Hidiian had clearly wanted to stack the deck in his favor; Hatio was confident enough in herself to admit that frankly, without the touch of smugness or arrogance which would have colored the thoughts of another officer who just labeled herself a “tactical genius.” Unfortunately, tactical genius or no, simply surviving to effective engagement range seemed unsolvable, and no amount of shifted paradigms or box-leaving would change that; the Iceni Magni, for all its technology wonder, was simply too small and vulnerable to even think of closing with a Destroyer or Battleship, especially now that its ability to reply to incoming fire had taken such a hit.

Of course, that did not mean she was not going to try, and even as the daunting task loomed large, Captain Hatio Hou had a small idea that, at least, gave her a chance. Admiral Miller herself had tried something similar years earlier, albeit with a thug of an Achilles class Battleship instead of something as fragile as a Frigate, and she had had support that Hou could not count on, but the theory was sound. It would not work with any older class of ship, but the improvements to the Iceni Frigates covered more than just its weaponry, and slowly a small grin, so small Hatio would not have even sworn it was there at all, began to rise.

ASD Aquitaine, Flagship, First Combat Division (Simulated), Gamma Draconis Military Installation, Associated Systems of Klonor

Vice-Admiral James L’Nesic, division commander of the garrison vessels of the Gamma Draconis Military Installation, smiled as the points of light on his command display arranged themselves so perfectly, almost as if they were taking his orders personally, rather than simply reacting to the actions he had already taken. His heavy capital ships were driving straight through the system, already gaining on the massive Arcadia installation he and his ships were to “seize,” and the defensive formations that were supposed to stop him were falling apart like so much wet sand. He had suckered General Hidiian and he knew it; Hidiian was always a bit too straightforward, never quite able to look beneath the surface, and when the screening elements of the First Combat Division (simulated) had emerged from Sub-Space at the edge of the system, arranged in perfect escort position around what appeared to be the heavier elements of L’Nesics’ squadron, he had obviously assumed it was the main “attacking” force and sent his own ships out to meet them. It was not a poor plan in and of itself, the defender forces had maneuvered and arranged themselves as well as anybody could hope, but it ignored the fact that the goal of this war game was not for either force to destroy the other, but for one to seize the station, and for the other to protect it. Hidiian might very well have destroyed L’Nesics’ ships in direct combat, he had a slight edge both in numbers and total firepower, but L’Nesic had no plans to ever let that confrontation come about; when the defenders hopped to the edge of the system they found themselves confronting screening elements, two destroyers, and a large mass of decoys and drones that had amplified the LORTAT signature of the two destroyers into that of a fleet, letting the bulk of the attackers forces slip unopposed into the heart of the system, unopposed except by the standard cruiser and corvette garrison which was always stationed around an Installation such as this one.

Unfortunately, Admiral L’Nesic, despite his smile, was not completely satisfied with the way things were. He was sure that Hidiian would fall into the trap, as he clearly had, but the General had many subordinate officers, many of whom were just a bit too clever for the Admirals liking, and he had a suspicious feeling that while the General was out thumping his chest, one of his Captains or Commanders was setting up a nasty surprise, the General had been too predictable until now for those officers to have been dragged along, which meant they were waiting for him, and that meant-

“Admiral, ergometers detect the formation of a Sub-Space Node! Bearing oh-eight-seven by zero-three-six, range oh-one-point-three uni…mother of god!”

The shouted command did not startle the Admiral, combat officers made it a practice to not be “startled” unless they wished to be late combat officers, but it was still unexpected, as none of the vessels of General Hidiians’ fleet had made the hop from the edge of the system, and nobody else within the stellar-boundary had moved, either.

“Emergency evasion! Come about to course one-one-three by—“

Admiral L’Nesic did not even get a chance to finish his evasion order when the Iceni Magni, emerging from the Sub-Space Node not even two units away from the massive Destroyer, fired its Disruptor Cannon and the shields of the Aquitaine, which could absorb the Beam from a Battleship, died in a sudden surge of energy and the sole remaining Beam Cannon aboard the small Frigate fired, impacting just behind the extreme bow of the ship and ripping through its entire length, emerging just before its stern, leaving the massive Destroyer as a dead husk in space.

At least, that was the readings which were splashed across the bridge of the Aquitaine as its sensors detected the low-power training shot from the Frigate, analyzed the likely damage, and informed Admiral L’Nesic that he had just been killed by a ship less than half his length, and only a fraction of his total tonnage, which was at this moment opening another Node and vanishing right back into Sub-Space, disappearing before any of the other vessels of the First Combat Division (Simulated) could get anything close to a proper targeting lock.

ASF Iceni Magni, Stationary Orbit, GD-VII, Gamma Draconis Military Installation, Associated Systems of Klonor

“Smug” is never a polite adjective to apply to someone, especially a Captain of the Klonor Space Corps, but there are times when it applies ever so perfectly. The destruction of the aggressors flagship, so sudden and devastating, especially at the hands of such an insignificant ship as a Frigate, and the loss of its commanding officer and strategic coordination equipment did not quite lead to a rout of the other aggressors, Klonor personnel were too well trained to fall into panic at something as minor as the instant “death” of their superior, his subordinates, and 2.3 kilometers of flying armament, but it had lead to a breakdown of communication, a lack of coordination, and their ultimate defeat when General Hidiian brought the rest of the defensive force bearing down on the aggressors, defeating them in detail as they lost the inter-ship cooperation which was the hallmark of the Klonor Space Corps. All of which was owed, without a doubt, to the downright brilliant strategy devised by one Captain Hatio Hou, Commanding Officer, ASF Iceni Magni. So, when that same Captain Hou sat in her quarters, preparing to read the general orders for the next round of war games, she was smug, aware of it, and not in the least bit inclined to change that in the least.

Making a Sub-space hop so close to an object of sufficient mass, like the mass of a Hecate class Destroyer, was a nearly suicidal action, calculations off by even a fraction of a decimal point would lead to the destruction of not one but both objects, and nobody would have expected somebody to attempt it a war game, not even one of such importance. Even if somebody had been inclined to try it they would not have been able to do so, as not even a Pegasus stealth fighter could have gotten that close to the Aquitaine without being detected, so no other ship could have received the precise coordinates necessary to make such a hop possible. Nobody, that is, except somebody with the new Gravitic LORTAT sensors that came standard aboard the new Iceni class Frigates, and which combined the two independent sensors systems aboard a Corps ship to create an effective sensor range, at least when it came to simply locating mass, that could be measured with the radius of entire stellar systems. With those it became simple child’s play (If that child happened to hold several advanced degrees in astrophysics, Sub-Space matter/energy conversion, and gravitic analysis, of course) to calculate such a precise hop that left the Magni off the bow of the Aquitaine at a range that simply could not be comprehended by those not intimately familiar with the latest ships of the Corps, and the Knossos Sub-Space portal built right into the hull of the Iceni class let the Magni make the short jump from beyond the stellar-boundary, something which was likewise impossible for any ship besides an Iceni, which all combined to place the Magni at the perfect range for its new weapon, with such total surprise that even its firepower inferiority would not matter, and let it deliver the crushing blow that won this game for General Hidiian. Yes, Hatio was smug indeed, and she deserved it.

Unfortunately, smugness often has a limited shelf-life, and hers shattered into tiny pieces when she read the general orders which General Hidiian had delivered for the next day: She would be doing the same thing all over again.

It was a brilliant plan, but was is the operative word; its key feature had been surprise, putting a ship which nobody could see into a position nobody thought it could possibly occupy, and if they did it again then everybody would expect it. They likewise might not think to try the same trick twice in a row, but they would be prepared for it, they would comprehend it, and they be able to react in time to blast her tiny ship out of the Void before she even fully emerged from her Node. Suddenly, smugness did not seem so appropriate as Hatio looked ahead to what she knew would be a quick and immensely satisfying (To the other side, anyway) “death” of her and her ship.

ASF Iceni Magni, Sub-Space Continuum, En-Route to Kaus Borealis

Thirteen. Thirteen damn war games. Thirteen times repeating the same damn maneuver, when it had been a miracle it worked at all the first time, and thirteen rapid, sudden “deaths” of the Iceni Magni, only twice able to take another ship with it. The aggressor forces had seemed to take a particular delight, a relish, in destroying her Frigate, and there was even one game where she would swear, outside of the range of any senior officers, of course, that they actually broke off pursuit of the prime objectives to go straight after her. Admiral L’Nesic might have congratulated her warmly when they met aboard General Hidiians’ flagship after that first victory, publicly giving her the credit she was due and waving away thoughts of retaliation, but he still put every bit of effort he could into making sure it never happened again, and he had been quite successful. Now, with General Hidiians’ once glorious example of “his” strategic brilliance tarnished with the ilk of defeat, he was doing his best to sweep it under the rug, pretend it never happened, and just move on to his next project (It was only scuttlebutt, but Hatio heard he was trying to develop a way to mount a Nexus Cannon aboard a Cruiser. She had been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt with the Disruptor Cannon, but if he pulled this one off, she would proudly and publicly eat not just her own hat, but the hat of every officer under her command). So, despite the fact that they had given a brilliant and unprecedented victory in that first game, a victory which would still earn him high praise despite lackluster performance in later endeavors, the ship and crew of Captain Hatio Nelson found themselves transferred, without warning, to the newly constructed Military Installation within the Kaus Borealis system.

It was political exile, and they knew it. The Kaus Borealis system was the newest system claimed by the Association, occupied largely to balance out the maps made of the Association which concentrated every military installation in the Lower and Eastern Sub-Space Networks, which left the North-Western portion of the map curiously devoid of blue dots. Officially it was to provide security and quick response for the almost as new colony in Tania Austrailis, and that might have been a legitimate reason, except the colony there was quite literally in its infancy, the first “native” born colonial was only three months old, and the 9th System Fleet, permanently stationed within the system as was tradition for all Colonies of Klonor, had more personnel aboard its ship than lived on the entire planet. The Military Installation was, in essence, a rather expensive waste, and if it might one day prove to be a vital and integral portion of the network of defense installations safeguarding the realm of Klonor, it had a long way to go to reach that point. As such, the ships dispatched to that distant outpost were those that were not wanted anywhere else, those which had made enemies of important Admirals or powerful Assemblymen, and which were essentially ordered to stay out of the way of the “proper” Corps. The Iceni Magni did not belong there, no ship stationed there truly belonged there, as no Klonor Admiral would let the performance of a ship under their command suffer so greatly as to actually deserve exile, but it had displeased its master, as all ships there had, and it was being swept under the rug. The only option available to her and her crew was to suffer through it, wait for some other hapless ship to displease a paper-pusher Flag Commander, and then move back into proper rotation. That thought stuck in Hatios’ throat, as it always did, but she accepted it and moved on, as she always did.

Just as when she had been aboard the Elysion, the small tone of an impending Sub-Space transition drew her out of her internal reverie, and Captain Hou felt it appropriate to be aboard the bridge of her ship as they arrived on their new station. They might be though incompetent, but they would not act that way, and she would do her duty to the best of her ability, even if her superiors felt she no longer could. So, stepping to the door of her quarters she pressed a complex sequence of numbers into the keypad inlaid against its frame and stepped through on to the Frigates’ bridge.

“Captain on deck!”

The shouted command welcomed her appearance, as it always did, and she returned the few salutes that were offered to her. Standing besides Command Mis, simply observing, not assuming command, she eyed the monitors that displayed the vast swirling tunnel that was Sib-Space, and then felt the familiar internal kick as the Frigate made the transition to Real-Sace, arriving at its new home, and its new duties.

OOC:

Look, I know what all of you are thinking, but I think it's important to point out that the word "plagiarism" has such a nasty sound to it, don't you think? I prefer "creative adaption" myself, and they do say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery ;)

Okay, yes, this entire post is essentially an almost carbon-copy of the introduction of one of science-fictions' most kick-ass heroines, a space-born Horatio Hornblower or Admiral Nelson if there ever was one, but I'm more than willing to give credit where credit is due, and David Weber can take all that he deserves (David Weber, if you actually do read this then..then..well, then I simply must state that you are GOD!, and the very fact that you are reading a post of mine makes my life worth living....I might have maybe overstated that just a bit, but I read the entire Honorverse inside of a week because, honestly, it is well-written, well-developed, and well-done overall. Kudos, and keep up the good work!)

Now, on to the more RP-related aspects of this post, this is an RP that is (obviously) heavily inspired by On Basilisk Station, and will actually take the majority of its plot from that novel. However, before you fret and wonder what the point of RP'ing a novel somebody already wrote is, I must point out that that is only where the plot of this RP starts; this isn't going to be the Honorverse-in-Klonor, it's going to be our own nations with our own histories, personalities, and actions, but I wanted this opening post to springboard off the conflict between the PRH and the Star Kingdom of Manticore. What I would like, essentially, is somebody to assume the role of PRH in this situation; since I'm not automatically assuming that everybody, everywhere has read the Honor Harrington novels, I'll explain: what I need is somebody (That'd be you) to formulate an overly complicated, unnecessarily complex plot to seize this unimportant and unprotected system from the Associated Systems of Klonor for some nefarious reason, which my personnel must uncover and thwart, despite all the obstacles that will somehow keep arising to block their actions. Like I said, this isn't Honor-in-Klonor, you don't need to know anything about the books to which I'm referring, nor do you need to actually act like Haven if you are familiar with the universe, or you actually could do that if you want to, since it's entirely up to you (Isn't that what NS Role Play is all about?)

This RP is semi-open, I don't have any roster of players, but I do ask that you TG me (And wait for my response) before joining in. I've found that if you leave an RP completely open it tends to get swamped beyond control, and not just by new players; when a player as awesome as me gets involved (Come on, you all know how great I am) everybody want to jump right in ;) Other than that, my only requirement for participation is proper spelling/grammar/punctuation. I'm aware that I'm something of a grammar Nazi, I recognize it's not necessarily fair for a medium where many of the participants do not speak English as a first language, or have not yet completed their education, but it's who I am. I'm sorry, but I'd like you to honestly look at your writing and think if it qualifies before asking to join. The odds are that I'll probably feel too bad to actually reject anybody on those grounds, I'm a nice guy and I'll try to suck it up unless I actually receive a telegram with "i wunt to plea wit joo," but also think about yourself, do you really want to RP with somebody who's such a douche that he'd look down on you for your spelling? I know I sure wouldn't.

Other than that, let's bring on the play!

EDIT: Oh, and don't worry, I promise this is the only 14-page post in this entire RP. Not even I could crank these babies out every day.

OTHER EDIT: Come to think of it, I wouldn't even want to crank out these things, even if I could. I'm a big fan of quantity, but after a while it just begins to grind.

OOC: I have completed the opening post of this RP, yesterdays post was only about half of it (Sorry, I jumped the gun and posted before I was ready), and we're now ready for participants.

Chazakain, I've included an OOC bit so people know what the heck I'm talking about.

OOC: Well, we've gotten a few nibbles, parties interested in playing the invaders and neutral observers. Anybody else want to get involved?

OOC: Come now people, even semi-plagiarism isn't a walk in the park, and 14 pages takes a lot out of somebody; surely (Yes, yes, "Don't call me Shirley," stay focused people!) we can wrangle a few more participants out of this.

OOC: Oh stop your gritching, I'm here, I'm here...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If the Iceni Magni, Captain, crew and ship, thought they were in the warg-house, they were sadly overstating their case. They at least hadn't been kicked out of their home. I had! Me! Who had done nothing that I had the faintest notion of as deserving exile? I wasn't a paragon of virtue, but my number of black marks was vanishingly small.

My oh so revered-as-the-goddesses-they-were sisters, the twin Co~ Empress's of the Celestial Imperia of Nova Nippon, had sent me here, to this third rate and a back water of said third rate at that. Yes my mother is the Shogun, the Lady Tetsuko, blessed of the Kami and Kami born, Ruling Lady of Ryu Kinshasha in her own right, and Kensai -the same as theirs but I was adopted, as was a very normal custom in the Imperia and technically held no difference between blood and adoption. But I was not Kami born, not Deity touched, though I do have a modest Gift.

Oh they gussied it up with the promotion I had already earned and a slew of titles and land - yes I guess having a star system all to myself is nice, but I didn't want one. All I had wanted was the battle cruiser command I had worked hard to earn and wanted more than anything else in the universe. By the swords I had forged myself; I had no idea how to be an envoy...

Here I am, in the back of beyond of the Backside of Beyond, Envoy of the Imperia to a nation called Klonor. I - and this is said with an extremely disparaging sniff - the only one I felt I had truly earned was that of Captain - "I am Prince of the Blood, Captain Darius (http://www.atddm.com/Darius.jpg), Ruling Lord of Chey'tan in my own right, Kensai and Lightweaver." Yes I am Kensai and as good as my honored mother, which is to be expected as she herself trained me. That too I honestly earned. Lightweaving is my Gift.

I looked out at the newly colonized system as we kited inward, the starcraft (http://www.atddm.com/nnships.jpg) Kuro Kaze, my mothers own legendary battlecruiser bringing me to this hateful exile. The , tuft eared, six legged, silver eyed Auriiki (http://www.atddm.com/auriiki.jpg) curled on the couch beside me, Aten, lifted his head and purled a questioning "Harerrrre?" at me. I understood him clearly, most couldn't. Auriiki throats were different and took those unused to the vocables some time to learn to hear what was said. They also spoke in a range that most humans couldn't hear. However I am a Novan, and though we mostly look human, we are not.

I had been given two gifts which did please me, well one wasn't exactly a gift, more like a visible reminder that apparently I did have some worth. An Imperial Wraith (http://www.atddm.com/wraith1a1.jpg) had chosen to be my guard. They come at their own rare choosing and that one had chosen me, raised my spirits immensely. His name is Raze.

The second welcome gift I wore beneath the traditional deep crimson robes and veils ( http://www.atddm.com/novan2a.jpg ) of a Novan Warrior. The robe and veil were liquidly flowing, almost indestructible starsilk and thin, unbelievably supple verrleather of the highest quality and workmanship, and was, despite its appearance, highly protective armor. Under I was clad in the gift - the finest armor the Tanaran Empire made, the formidable nano-Matrix armor called Paladin Armor, one layer of nano matrix crystals thick - billions of Matrix crystals, but able to absorb and dispel the shock of even hyper rifles at close range, as well as prevent the passage of toxic gasses and substances. By my Will, it was currently invisible, transparent, and covered me from head to toes, even across my eyes, an unfeelable, undetectable second skin. I had just enough of the psionic ability to use the Paladin armor.

Soon the Kuro Kaze had settled into high orbit and I stood after responding to the captain’s advisement there of. I had stayed away from the bridge very deliberately; it would have been too painful. But my valet and aide, Kestrel, had my bags packed, Aten riding on my shoulder – yes he was full grown and weighed in at just over sixty pounds. But we Novans are stronger than Humans, and he was no real weight to me, as used to him as I was. Raze stood out side the doors to my quarters and would be faithfully at my side once I exited them. His subliminal hum of anticipation had what I had come to know as an interested, eagerness about it. He is my height, some six foot three and weights about as much as I do. We are both muscled like the warriors we are and move similarly. We had taken to sparring together regularly. It was a small solace and I am sure he knew it.

I settled my robes and swords minutely then taking a deep breath strode forth and without a backward look headed to the main hanger. We use transporter technology as a civilization, but as a people mostly prefer not to. Besides the speedy and agile starcraft, the Gyrehawk ( http://perigrinemoore.googlepages.com/Warlock.jpg/Warlock-full;brt:56.jpg) I’d be piloting could double as a fighter if need be. It would hold the four of us, and one or two more in comfort and was well armed and armored.

OOC: I do not "gritch," I kvetch.

IC:

ASF Iceni Magni, Kaus Borealis Military Installation, Associated Systems of Klonor

Anton Mis, Executive Officer aboard the Iceni Magni, Commander within the Klonor Space Corps, and veteran of hostile action on three separate occasions, not including the recent Epsilon Pegasi situation that was already being described as "the closest Klonor has come to returning to the Divided Peoples," sat aboard the bridge of the Frigate and did his best not to fidget and squirm. For such an officer it really should not have been that hard, he was currently under no significant pressure or expectation, there was no danger facing himself or his ship, and he had accomplished his only active orders over ten minutes ago, but that did not change the fact that, any minute now, he was going to break into a cold sweat and start visibly shivering because, unfortunately, Captain Hou was still standing there!

The Frigate had emerged from the Kaus Borealis Jump-Node twelve minutes earlier, it had been queried by and responded to the standard defenses found in proximity to every Jump-Node the Association controlled, and then it had notified the ASI Akunęhsyę̀niˀ, the only Installation yet constructed in the system and the administrative head of the 8th Combat Fleet, of its arrival. After it had notified the local Arcadia Installation, which still served as the central hub of any Klonor system despite their aged design (Records from the era were spotty, but the Duke maintained that the Arcadia was in use back by the Duchy itself, even before the rise of the Klonor Empire), the Iceni Magni had waited...and waited...and waited, and after ten minutes, already seven minutes longer than any reasonable Klonor administrator should have taken to respond to the systems newest arrival, the combat hardened commander was ready to start quivering in his boots, because throughout all this Captain Hou continued to stand behind him, just watching, and it was driving him up a wall. She did not assume command of the vessel, it was Mis's duty-watch and there was no need for her to relive him, but she wanted to be present for the initial introductions and station keeping orders, so she stood behind his chair, waiting for the local Admiral to get around to acknolwedging their presence, and she knew Mis was practically twitching in her presence.

Intellectually, she knew she should not be here. Assuming command was one thing, Commander Mis would have easily and calmly stepped aside and assumed his position as her executive if she would only sit in the chair, but by not assuming official command she left the responsibility of authority on his shoulders, and by standing behind him, watching everything he did and obviously judging his every move, even if it was positive judgement, she gave the impression of a lack of faith in his abilities, and a spectator put added pressure on a subordinate to do something, even if there was nothing to do, which was why Anton was so worked up, and all this was not beneficial to a positive working relationship. She knew this, but she refused to leave until she heard their orders, and Anton could not very well order her off her own bridge, so he shook, and she waited, and everybody was wondering what the hell was taking so long. Honestly, was it that hard to send a burst transmission? It did not even have to be complex, an official greeting and orders to assume a station keeping position near the station, maybe even just orders to await further orders, but nothing? Not even an automated greeting from a junior com officer? Damnit, say something, even something pointless, just make an eff--

"Incoming transmission!"

The personnel aboard the bridge of the Iceni Magni were well trained and experienced, none actually took their eyes off their station or made an obvious effort to pay attention to the shouting Lieutenant, but it was still perfectly clear to everyone present that somebody could belch right now and everybody would notice it.

"Commander Mis, we are receiving a Direct Beam Transmission from the Akunęhsyę̀niˀ....compliments of Admiral Grimaldi, we are to rendezvous with the Novan vessel Kuro Kaze and arrange formal welcomings to Prince of the Blood, Captain Darius.

Any com officer would never dream of putting a tone of disbelief or incomprehension when relaying the orders of an Admiral, but this one was certainly dazed enough to think about trying it. On station for less than an hour, without even meeting the commanding officer, and they were receiving orders to begin active operations? No briefing, no personal introductions, not even a intelligence packet? What were they welcoming this "Prince of the Blood" for? What services were they expected to provide? Why was he in Klonor? What were the relations between his people and Klonor? Hell, what species was he? Sure, this station was not the pride of the Corps and one might expect orders that were far from the edge of brilliance, but these were not the orders of a disgraced or incompotent Admiral, they were orders of an insane Admiral.

"Co-ordinates to follow, to proceed at best possible speed."

Commander Mis was as confused as everybody else, but at least now he had something to do and, after glancing at Captain Hou, who said nothing, he nodded to Lieutenant Tisomen, acting astrogator.

"Very well, Lieutenant. Acknowledge receit of message and query for additional instructions, including post-interception orders and background brief. Lieutenant Tisomen, plot a course, best possible speed, and prepare for rendezvous."

Rising, he turned to Captain Hou and snapped a crisp salute.

"Commander, having received official orders and being instructed to an extra-national rendezvous, I assume command for the remainder of the duty-watch."

"Aye, ma'am, you have command."

Satisfied that the ritual was completed, pointless as such rituals often were, but all the more important for that very fact, Captain Hou seated herself and Commander Mis repaired to the seat normally reserved for the executive officer of the watch, displacing Lieutenant Commander Vernon, who in turn took his own position, and the effect trickled down throughout the bridge.

Outside, in the void of space, the Iceni Magni rotated, orienting itself towards the systems interior, and with a flash of blue and a ripple of space, the tell-tale signatured of an opening Sub-Space Node, commenced the brief hop that took it into the vicinity of the Kuro Kaze.

I eased the Gyrehawk out of the main hold as the KuroKaze's captain informed me that the newly arrived Iceni Magni- under the command of one Captain Hou - would rendezvous and escort. Their arrival foot print shown clearly on my sensor suite, and I nodded to myself.

"Hai" I replied and sailed the Gyrehawk out of the KuroKaze's shadow as five K'Tann fighters, much smaller than the Gyrehawk but lethally armed and unbelievably fast, fell in about me. I didn't bother to voice a protest -it was a standard escort for one of my position, and would have been done even in the home system.

Soon we were well away from the Battle Cruiser waiting for the Klonoran frigate to arrive. We wouldn't do anything to give the Klonorans reason to become nervous. I wondered momentarily how big their various classes of ships ran. Then pulled up the sensor readings to study the Klonoran frigates signature. The Gyrehawk was big, nearly a hundred meters long. However like all of it's design, the jump drive module fully half of the current length -could be uncoupled and the combat module operate purely on sub light engines. The Desitter Translation engines were large, power hungry monsters.

I had also wondered why the frigate was so slow to react our presence. Then I saw them make a microjump, ending up tidily close to our position. Good ship handling I thought approvingly - insystem micro jumps weren't easy. I broadcast a message to the Iceni Magni advising them of my readiness to be escorted planet side. Another benefit of having my own ship - relying on no one for transportation.

"Greetings and salutations Icini Magni, and all honors to Captain Hou. This is Captain Darius, aboard the Gyrehawk and ready for escort.”

The five protective fighters peeled away as the frigate arrived, returning swiftly to the KuroKaze

ASF Iceni Magni, KB-I Planetary Orbit, Kaus Borealis, Associated Systems of Klonor

It would still be nice to know what, exactly, our role here is supposed to be.

Captain Hou looked at the tactical plot being projected just to the side of the captains chair, a dramatically scaled representation of the immediate area around her own ship, as well as the Novans (Whoever they were), and and rolled through what she knew of her duties.

I am to meet and welcome Captain Darius.

That was, at this moment, the full extent of what she knew. Admiral Grimaldi had included no additional information, and until she had the chance to roll through the data files on this nation (species?) she had never previously encountered she was remarkably in the dark. Even so much as half an hour would be sufficient for a rudimentary background brief, all Corps ships were kept as up-to-date as possible on the diplomatic workings of the Association and there was likely something buried in the Magni's databanks that could shed some light on these workings, but until she had a chance to read some of them she would have to play it wildly by ear, and this was something she did not quite enjoy doing.

On her plot, she saw the small icons representing "Captain Darius" and his escort shift position, the escorts peeling away, and her com officer raised his hand again.

"Incoming transmission, ma'am, vessel identified as the Gyrehawk, Captain Darius aboard. Transmission begins: Greetings and salutations Icini Magni, and all honors to Captain Hou. This is Captain Darius, aboard the Gyrehawk and ready for escort. Transmission ends."

"Original language and vocal analysis?"

"Transmission broadcast in clear Hinlish, ma'am. Vocal patterns are within standard 2.3% shift for humanoid linguistics."

Captain Hou paused for a moment, then nodded at the pickup above her head.

"Begin recording, Lieutenant, and prep for transmission. To Captain Darius, Prince of the Blood, aboard the Gyrehawk, greetings from the Duke Klonor and representatives of the Association. We extend an invitation for you to board the Iceni Magni for an official welcome and commencement of relations. Forward docking bay A3 is currently open for tender, and we await your convenience."

"Transmission sent, ma'am."

Turning to Ensign Sorel, the operative information officer aboard the bridge, Captain Hou quirked an interogative eyebrow.

"Ensign, I believe we will soon be playing host to a group of foreign nationals aboard the Magni, and I'd appreciate being able to at least pick their star out of the sky. I'd like a preparative summary before they dock, and since they're on their way I believe you might be a bit pressed for time. As such, I think a quick start might be in order."

Ensign Sorel might have been new to bridge duty, and he might be about to faint from the fact that his captain, knew his name, but he also knew that when a captain would like something, an ensign made it happen.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll prepare an update at once."

"Thank you Mr. Sorel."

Outside, the forward docking lights of the Magni began their standardised rotation, signaling an active docking port, and low-power docking beams prepared to guide a ship into the hatch.

Head bowed, Throth knelt before the altar. This was the day. His day.

"Penitent Commander Throth Atanar! You have been blessed. For in the destruction of five tainted vessels, you have proved your worth in the eyes of men, and in the eye of the Flame. Your period of penance is at an end!"

His form kept tightly controlled, Throth did not move an inch. His immaculate bluegreen cloak quivered with the breeze, revealing scarred flesh underneath.

"You have come through a trial of temptation, and are to be cleansed!"

Throth shuddered quietly. He had been to the temple many times before, and seen this ceremony twice. Once, it had been his father. The second time, it had been...

No. Leave the thoughts of horror for another day.

"All evil will be burnt from your body by the Flame, and you shall be.. remade. You are among the luckiest of men."

Father. He had been the reason he had done this. After the ceremony, his father had.. left. No, he had still lived with them, but his words had been cold. The only time he remembered his father showing any emotion after the ceremony was when he had passed the tactical exam, scoring ninety-two percent.

His father had shown sudden, fierce joy, wrapping him in his arms - the first time in years.

Ever since then, this had been his dream. To advance through the ranks, to become a man who could earn the respect he so desperately wanted. He suppressed a chuckle. Most men did not so openly admit their desires for such weak, earthly things.

His thoughts turned to the past, learning tactics and strategy, weapons training, kissing in the grass, the scars on his back for skipping one single class... It had been worth it.

The priest standing above him was cloaked in swaths of red cloth, not even his hands were uncovered. In his hand sat a vial, glimmering with white light.

"You come among us weak, mere flesh and corrupted spirit. Through the Flame, the flesh will be made whole. The spirit will be made pure. The mind will be given focus. You will serve the Flame for the span of your days. Do you accept this burden? Do you accept this honour?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

Throth barely croaked out the words before the vial was opened, and the white fire in side spilled onto his head.

He screamed-

Memories raced past, green fields, running races, eating dinner with a girl he had liked, despite her inferior genetic status.

He sat down at the cafe, and looked over at her face. It was pretty beyond any girl he'd met before. This was forbidden, but it didn't matter. His marks allowed him some latitude; no matter how badly he disobeyed, he was too valuable to kill out-of-hand.

He laughed at her strange expression, and reached across to her hand.

White fire roared in the door, tearing through the walls and floor, the girl's face bubbling and melting with the heat, her name torn from his mind as he was seared out of existence.


He was sitting by the fire - fire? Why did that seem dangerous? The fire was red and burnt merrily along, as he scratched the head of Pak, his dog. A glimmer rose in the fireplace. Pak was only a puppy, but he had got him in return for passing his first exam, for his seventh birthday. He had owned him for three weeks.

He stared at it. There was something.. he couldn't remember what.

The fire was... white.

It exploded in titanic fury, scouring his dog out of existence. He raised his childish hands up to his face, but they were flung aside, and he screamed as he was consumed.


He looked on in fear, as his father lifted his mother up with one hand.

"Do not question me. It is the will of the Flame. The boy must learn. If pain is part of his training, we cannot neglect it."

"He's twelve! You can't do this!"

"Oh, I think you'll find that I can."

The hulking form tossed his mother across the room. She crumpled, and hit a wall. Throth felt tears running down his cheeks, hot tears. Burning tears. He looked down, where the tears hit, fire burnt. White fire.

His father looked at him in surprise.

"Stop crying, boy. This is necessary."

He did not even seem to notice the fire that destroyed him.


Pain was in every limb, burning pain. Surely he was dying. Or dead. He could not remember where he was. Who he was. The stars whirled around him, and they were made of fire.

"Fire! No! No!", he screamed.

And then he opened his eyes.

He was in the temple. The priest stood before him, and he could feel the satisfaction emanating from those robes.

"Sainted Commander Throth, it is well that you have survived. We have a task for you."

He raised his head. His pupils were inky black, reflecting every glimmer of light that came at them.

"I serve the Flame."

"Then you are among the holiest of men. But this is not the time for compliments. The Purifying Arm of the Fleet has readied six hundred worlds lifeless in the last eighteen years. Each system has been added to the defensive ring around the Flame of the Faith. Nevertheless, there are.. obstacles. Most of those we have destroyed were scarce able to resist. There are entities with greater power than this. Few could destroy the Flame on their own. Yet a mere six systems coreward from our outermost refueling system, there lies a nation. It is named Klonor. The single system we occupy, and the method through which we destroy all who enter any purged system means none have yet found the Flame. The sphere of defensive systems we have set up around it ensure its security."

"I am to destroy this Klonor?"

"Not quite. They are not aware of their purpose, yet through captured traders and other scum, we have become aware of theirs. They are weak in spirit, though strong in arms. They may well be able to resist us if they are unified. In the service of the Flame, deceit is sometimes necessary."

Necessary. The word was a bitter sound, though he did not know why.

"I see. Then I am to deceive and destroy them?"

"We are not yet so prepared. It would take the Purifying Arm, the Guardians of the Flame, and the Sentinels of Darkness combined to stand a true chance. Even with the element of surprise, the lengths required would mean leaving the Flame defenceless for a long period of time. It is a risk unthinkable. They are yet irrelevent, apart from the interference they place on the Search, and their eventual Purification. The trail of artifacts pertinent to the Flame seems to end at a single world vaguely under their jurisdiction. You must take it quickly, and excavate what you can. If we can understand all the secrets of the Flame of the Faith, we may yet accomplish our great purpose."

"What assets will I have?"

"You will be given six ships. You must take the system by stealth as much as possible. A single battleship, an accompanying cruiser, and four picket frigates. Our refueling stations in the vicinity can only support that many ships. If you need more, they must be requisitioned temporarily, and only if you are likely to take the system."

Throth grinned, baring snow-white teeth.

"Consider it done."

"Excellent. Go with sanctity, Commander Throth."

In bluntest honesty, the ensign wouldn't find much. Because the Celestial Imperia had not, until most recently, interacted with any outside our home region, having retreated from contact with the wider universe some ten thousand years ago.

However he would find some. The humans of Terra called it the Hoag Object. Those who lived there called it the Celestial Ring - architected and constructed by the Xa' Cz'inni at the direction of their creators, some four billion years ago. Though the Imperia wasn't even really part of the Ring's stellar structure (http://www.atddm.com/crm1.jpg), but a much smaller circular galaxy that lay "beyond" the Ring.

Our numbers are substantial but our worlds are not overly populated, and our economy is in excellent condition. We have not been involved with any external wars, and had only one internal one in three thousand years. Of course that one had just been fought, but the right side had won. The Imperial Court had been purged, cleansed of the taint and rule of Chaos and the Divine Ones, the twin Co- Empresses had ascended to the Throne of Heaven. My younger half sisters, the Empresses Aiko Luminar Amaterasu`kami and Indigo Noor Chai'kamar`kami, were doing an excellent job so far.

To Captain Darius, Prince of the Blood, aboard the Gyrehawk, greetings from the Duke Klonor and representatives of the Association. We extend an invitation for you to board the Iceni Magni for an official welcome and commencement of relations. Forward docking bay A3 is currently open for tender, and we await your convenience."

Not that Darius envied them one whit. He had no desire to rule anything more than his own battle cruiser Which I had earned before beings shipped off to next to nowhere. He thought momentarily furious once again behind his mask of seemingly imperturbable calm. But rigid discipline, the hall mark of a samurai, thumped hard on his anger and flattened it, so that he could attend properly to the business of bringing the GyreHawk up to docking bay A2 with no bumps, nudges or miscalculations.

And he did it to his satisfaction, unneedful of the docking beams. Once the barely heard thump and hiss of the universal hatch making positive contact faded back to silence Darius stood. Hawk, the ships cyber sentience, would handle shut down procedures as he normally did. “Standard security” Darius requested and the C.S.’s holograph bowed low. The subliminal hum of a swarm of defensive nanobots soon rode on the cool air of the GyreHawk as Darius joined the others at the boarding hatch.

Kestrel let Aten leap from his arms and on to Darius’s shoulder before giving his normal small bow. He was small and wizened but no one should ever make the mistake of thinking him helpless. He had forgotten more of the arts of war than most would ever know. And he was as much mentor as caretaker. Once he straightened from his bow, he handed over my honor blades (http://www.atddm.com/mystlong.jpg). I slid into the harness that would hold them across my back, my hands gentle on the scabbards that housed the ancient blades. That done he circled me with a critical eye, then nodded slowly. In his most stringent observation he was satisfied that I would bring no obvious disgrace to the Celestial Imperia.

The Imperial Wraith swarmed agilely down the short distance of the docking tube and activated the hatch release. He would be the first out, to ascertain that there was no danger to me.

Background

Of all the countless civilisations in the known universe few are quite as improbable as the Combined Goblin Collective. First, it is not a “collective” as Terran politics would have it, rather the term is used to remind the civilisation’s component entities that they are supposed to be working in the same general direction. Second, the idea of a goblin civilisation is a peculiar one since goblins are, on the whole, short, violent and amazingly paranoid. Third, well, they can’t even seem to build an airtight spacecraft which one would think is somewhat necessary if you want to occupy the several hundred worlds ‘governed’ by the Collective.

Rather fortunately for the goblin genus two of its component species possess elements of the goblin magic that allow them to impose some form of control over the other species. Unfortunately, without the presence of any goblin praestantia or goblin gladia the diminutive green creatures tend to misunderstand things rather impressively, overcomplicate or oversimplify everything and generally ruin anything they come into contact with.

It is against this genetic background that a certain goblin fleet was travelling through space, generally minding its own business ferrying personnel and materiel back and forth between several of the Farseeker Colonies when the Blade Goblin admiral commanding the whole lot fell rather seriously ill and, with the grim inevitability and unseemly speed of plot movement, died. Since it was not a fleet actively engaged in combat, command passed to a certain Commodore Clovesrale who took to heart the last words of his admiral. “Take the food supplies to the station”. Unfortunately the commodore had been preoccupied with trying to work out whether a stain on his uniform was still edible and so heard “take the station” at about the same time as the fleet’s rather erratic sensor net picked up a space station a good distance out of the fleet’s way and not even remotely related to Da Big Gard Stayshun in Demsizminegeddoff System where the fleet was supposed to be heading.


Sumfink Shiny, Big Shyp, somewhere in space in the general vicinity of Kaus Borealis.

“Roit. Dis stayshun den, wossit like?”

This from the fearless and cunning leader of the fleet, Commodore Clovesrale, currently shaking a bottle for the last drop of precious alcohol.

“Nub much in daffenses, we can prolly blow id up.”

Cloverale peered into the bottle and threw it to one side with a crash.

“Da Lord sed take da stayshun. Kin we board id?”

He looked blearily up, then up some more, to the impressive ten foot height of the fleet’s Strike-General, a Roktroll by the same of Stars-Gleaming-on-Polished-Marble, generally shortened to “Starry”. Starry grunted something to the effect that, without a Lord or Prince on the flagship, his trolls were not attacking anything.

The commodore started to swear at the Strike-General before remembering that he was four feet short and didn’t even come up to Starry’s waist, and that he was a bag of meat stuck on some bones and encased in skin whilst the troll was pure rockmuscle.

“Humph. Geddout den.” As the towering officer left the goblin in command decided that there was only one thing to be done. “We’ze gonna hav ta be sneeki. Somefink small ta take out inside uv da stayshun an’ bring in da more gobo troopz, den we hit dem shyps neer it.”

“Rite. So den boss, we send in a sneeki shyp?”

“Nub...dat too obveeyus. Fust we find out stuff...send out a syentificatory shyp.”

Shortly afterward a small, spherical ship popped out of SupaSpeed in the system containing the Kaus Borealis station. It was only about a hundred metres across and its exterior was what appeared to be a dull black rock, a peculiar element found upon a handful of goblin worlds that was wholly unreflective and resisted the penetration of the vast majority of instruments. Some goblin scientist somewhere had worked out that this made it an ideal coating for ships that were supposed to be sneaky although its scarcity meant that only the military and espionage fleets possessed more than a couple of ships armoured in the black stone. A number of sensor devices poked out of small holes in the substance, scanning for whatever could be detected about the station and its attendant ships. Its small size, the vastness of space, and the coating stone made it extremely unlikely that it would be detected...at least until the goblins inside screwed something up, which considering the competence (or lack thereof) of the genus was fairly inevitable.

[[Sorry its a rather poor offering, mind is rather full of twelfth century pilgrimage at the moment and blank to pretty much all else. Bloody dissertations!]]

OOC: Wow...I am remarkably torn between a newfound love of all things goblin, and an urge to repeatedly smash my head against a pointy metal object after having read that...that...can we even call that "speech"? It looks more like the illegitimate offspring of 1337 and a pre-teen texter that was raised by an AOL chatroom.

I think I'll settle for giggling while I shudder at my souls' innermost depths.

IC:

Either the Novans possess an odd perspective on what constitutes a "proper" uniform, or this is not Captain Darius.

Captain Hou eyed the Imperial Wraith with carefully concealed dislike--no, not actual dislike, but certanly discomfort; the notion of allowing armed foreign nationals aboard a Corps ship was heavily frowned upon, and had been since even before the formation of the Association, but since Captain Darius, whoever he was, appeared to hold some form of official government position, diplomatic necessities required her to make some allowances. She did not like them, since it always seemed obvious to her (If not some of her superiors) that just because a visiting dignitary was a member of government did not mean he was not some crazed loon ready to drag her and her subordinates to the afterlife for some perfectly insane reason, but she had to grin and bare it, which meant allowing this obvious bodyguard to board her ship. The fact that Darius himself clearly bore two archaic, but still perfectly lethal, swords did not improve her mindset at all, and for the first time she could recall she wished that KSC dress uniform had not done away with the traditional sword component several centuries ago. Normally she was in wholehearted agreement, it had served absolutely no purpose apart from being "traditional" for an officer to carry a sword, and after the Reformation the Duke had personally ended the practice that did little more than annoy his officers and (occasionally) actually injure them, but at this moment she wished she had something sharp a pointy within reach. She did not exepct any actual need for armament at the moment, nothing about the situation indicated any sort of hostility or danger, but she had always been, and would always be, uncomfortable when facing an armed individual when she herself was empty-handed.

Of course, the Marine honor guard off to her side collectively had enough armament to render large, gaping holes in anything which did look threatening, so I suposed she was not empty-handed afterall, but that was rather beside the point.

Once the Captain emerged from his ship, welcomed aboard the Iceni Magni with the standard, jarring burst of music the Duke always said was supposed to "set the mood," the welcoming honor guard snapped to a perfect, ramrod straight attention and Captain Hou stepped forward and offered the crisp variation of a salute the Corps members offered to those who were outside their standard chain of command. Few outside Klonor, and remarkaly few even within Klonor, could detect the subtle differences between the formal greetings, but it was more for the benefits of fellow Klonori than for anything else; it indicated respect to whomever they were meeting, but also a clear statement of distance.

"Captan Darius, welcome aboard the Iceni Magni. I am Captain Hatio Hou, commanding officer and representative of His Sire the Duke."

I hid a wince at the sharp blast of noise, and was very glad that such was not a Novan custom, but then again given our acute hearing it had never even occurred to us to have such a painful welcome.

"Captan Darius, welcome aboard the Iceni Magni. I am Captain Hatio Hou, commanding officer and representative of His Sire the Duke."

I found my lips quirking at the clearly - though carefully hidden- discomfort on the part of the Icini's captain. And carefully noted that only the honor guard bore any weapons.

"Thank you Honored Captain Hou, for the welcome. His Grace the Duke is most generous to allow my visit."

At her salute, I let my face veils fall aside, the Klonoran's were not an enemy and I was an envoy, so a gesture of trust was highly appropriate. Besides it felt right.

My eyes meeting hers I bowed deeply – Aten’s weight making no difference to me, as I was well used to it. - then returned the salute crisply. In Novan I requested the Wraith to turn his weapons over to the Icini's arms master. The Wraith was, in and of himself, a weapon, he did not need extras, and it would settle our hosts somewhat. "Madame Captain I have ordered my guard to hand over his weapons to your arms master, for safekeeping. I am sure while in your company there will be no need. However" my eyes twinkled " I am bound to carry mine, it is law, but further most custom and tradition" And I was willing to wager that she understood that those two most often outweighed law by a vast and often unbridgeable distance

“Might I introduce my companion Aten” I gestured upwards.

The Auriiki made his own formal head dip from his sling perch, his true hands on my shoulder and added “Ammm honooored to voyaaage a new starrrzz” in his careful buzzing Common. I wondered if they’d met nonhuman sentient yet. The Auriiki were very small, just sixty pounds average, for a fully sentient people, but they lived a nomadic Bronze Age culture by choice, not because they were incapable of more.

“And Kestrel,” I indicated my steward “He keeps my life running.” Stewards were a fact of life. When one got to be of Captain’s rank it was simply impossible to do for oneself, no matter how irritating it might be, and one could only acquiesce gracefully and be eternally thankful.

Formalities aside, I stripped off my gloves and held out my hand, for either a warriors clasp or a human’s hand shake, or the possibility of kissing the back of her hand. Mother had seen that I was well raised. “And please, just call me Darius.”

They would quickly learn that gallant reflexes were as deeply ingrained in Novan culture as the bearing of swords and courteous behavior.

Why is it that whenever people explain something as being a "custom," they really mean they've got no good reason for it, but they're gonna do it anyway?

Klonor had its own share of downright odd traditions, heavily ingrained societal expectations that had no reputable origin or identifiable need (Including a plethora of Corps activities that seemed overly antiquated even to other members of the Association), but one of those traditions was a rebellion against doing something just because it was a tradition (To quote Supreme General (retired) Yunger Keane, "'Tradition' is just Hinlish for 'It's broke but we ain't fixing it'"). As had been the case with Corps uniforms several centuries ago, when common sense (And self-preservation) pointed out that something was just plain pointless, the Klonor quickly kicked it to the curb and moved on; aboard a space going vessel of any competent modern military, the most likely avenue of attack was from a hostile vessel several thousand kilometers away, during which carrying two long, heavy, pointy objects posed more of a danger to you than anybody else. Unfortunately, not every nation was was so obviously brilliant, and at times they were still dragged down by archaic rules that had no real place in the modern world.

"Of course Darius, I understand completely, and rest assured we won't feel threatened enough to try and absconed with your accessories."

Extending her own arm, Captain Hou clasped Darius' offered hand and exerted the proper amount of strength; enough to give the impression of firmness, but not too much pressure to be comfortable. First impressions being what they were, it was important to not appear overly concerned with giving the tighter grasp.

"If you'll follow me, we have set aside a small meeting room for privacy where we can conduct our business without bundling about in the midst of daily operations. This way, please."

Turning, she gestured towards the nearest exit from the docking bay.
_________________________________________________________________

Lieutenant Commander Vernon sat in the command chair aboard the bridge of the Iceni Magni and pondered the bizarre events that had stameped over the ship in just the past few minutes. With the Captain and Commander occupied with their guest he was officer of the watch, the current senior officer, but routine station keeping required little in the way of actual commanding, and was more of a superviosr role than an participant, critiquing and advising more than ordering. This, in turn, gave him ample opportunity to think, provided he always kept some small corner of his mind on the operations of the bridge (It would never do for a command officer to be caught daydreaming, no matter how routine his current duties might seem), and his current thoughts were cloudy.

It might not look like it to an outsider, after all the ship had only received simple orders to rendezvous with a foreign dignitary, and that was almost routine activity for a Corps vessel, but the current situation of the Iceni Magni was just damn odd. Again, it was not the duties themselves, it was the way those duties were given; no explanation, no briefing, and only minutes after arriving on station. That just was not how it was done in Klonor.

The officers and enlisted personnel who served the Klonor Space Corps were aware that Klonor was a powerful nation, its size, technological advancement, and long and varied history combined to produce a military machine that was, on any scale, a "big fish." However, the members of the Corps were also aware that they were a big fish in a much bigger pond, which was chock full of other fish just as big as they were. Big though Klonor was there were larger nations, advanced as they were there were smarter peoples, and old as they were there were societies and cultures that made them look downright infantile. Klonor would never be able to count on simply overwhelming any opponent that set itself against the Association, even though nobody had been so foolish in several centuries, so it made sure that it got the best possible performance out of its resources, especially if those resources were its personnel, and that meant explaining to them just what the hell was going on. This odd lack of information was odd not just because it was bad action on Admiral Grimaldi's part, leaving Captain Hou holding the bag with no support, but because it went so squarely against nearly one thousand years of Corps history.

That, in turn, meant that there was something else going on here, that meant that if the Cap--

"Commander?"

Commander Vernon instantly snapped out of his musings, turning to face the lieutenant (j.g.) who had addressed him with the usual mix of urgency and trepidation that any junior officer used when addressing one of his superiors, and quirked a curious eyebrow.

"Yes Ms. Loris?"

"I have a slight massometer contact, bearing one-nine-seven by oh-three-four, at a range of approximately three AU. I'm reading the effects off a mapped group of asteroids approximately four thousand kilometers from its probable location. If it's there it can't have more mass than a corvette, and I would normally peg it as a sensor ghost, except the asteroids are shifting too precisely for it to be a normal gravitic anomoly."

"Do we have a LORTAT ping?"

"No, sir, and an asteroid that big would show up even at this range, but I'm only dragging its gravitic wake right now."

That got Vernons' attention. The Mass Effect Analyzer (Massometer for short) was one of Klonors premier anti-cloak technologies, it observed the motions of visible objects and precisely analyzed their movements, mapping out what physical objects were exerting gravitational pull on them and deducing the probable locations of any local gravity field. More than one stealth ship had been given away by the micrometeorites pulled in its wake, and any massometer warning was given special attention by a sensor officer. Unfortunately, as most people knew, space was chock full of stuff, and nobody, not even the great Associated Systems of Klonor, could locate and map every bit of interstellar junk floating around out there, and that meant that something like 97.3% of all massometer contacts were just a moderate sized asteroid or comet that nobody had bothered to register before and the other 2% were civilian merchant ships that had gotten lost. However, that left .7% of contacts that genuinely meant something, and Saiderj Ihm had made it clear that he did not care how many resources or hours it wasted, if you could not positively identify what was setting off the system, you damn well found out what it was.

"Contact engineering, have Lieutenant Womack pull an maser out of stock and prep it for launch, let's take a look at whatever's hovering out there."

"Yes, sir."

Moments later, a small sensor probe kicked off from the Iceni Magni, puttering out towards the contact which might or might not have been there, just to see what it was (or was not).

"If you'll follow me, we have set aside a small meeting room for privacy where we can conduct our business without bundling about in the midst of daily operations. This way, please"

Her comment about absconding with my 'accessories' had me chuckling. I had worn swords all my life; they were a part of me. Unlike the problems encountered by those who bore their blades at their side, I encountered few as I carried my across my back, and I could maneuver agilely even through most tight confinement.

I spent the time that took us to reach the meeting room with a part of my attention taking in the Iceni Magni with eager eyes. I adored starcraft of all sorts and the Klonoran frigate was of a type new to me, far different than those of the Imperia. She seemed to certainly uphold the highly respectable reputation of the Klonoran Navy.

I was not worried about the Wraith's weapons being in their hands. They were biokeyed to him and I, and would not activate for any not with the proper biology. I could feel his discomfort though I ignored it. Turning them over was the properly diplomatic move.

Part of my attention was on mulling over her comment. I had been sent to be an Envoy, one step below a formal Imperia Ambassador. But my orders from the Empress's had been nebulous compared to the usually succinct and unambiguous missives that descended from the Thrones. I was unsure if I was supposed to be an envoy to the local system with its miniscule new colony, highly dubiousor the Associated Systems of Klonor , then why was I here instead of Deneb or SR-2091?, or with the Klonoran Navy? I hoped Captain Hou would be able to answer my questions

Wodahellizdat, Speshul Syentificatory Shyp, Approximately 3 AU from Kaus Borealis

Goblins are generally fairly ugly. Some liberal politician or professor somewhere would classify such generalisations as incredibly racist or bigoted and they would normally be right. They would also not have met the goblins in question. Ranging in average height from eighteen inches to five feet the lesser goblin species are not the tallest or most majestic of creatures, add in the long and pointy nose and ears, the warts, discoloured fangs, the most jarring possible combination of hair dyes and all the dress sense of a drunken hobo with an obsession for anything that glints and an observer could imagine that bigotry is a little superfluous when dealing with these creatures.

This is certainly the case of the crew of the imaginatively named Wodahellizdat. Most of the Bridge crew are hunkered over their instrument consoles and are poking buttons, twirling dials or liberally applying that most diverse of maintenance tools, the sledgehammer, to their equipment. Many of them appear to be drinking the sort of alcohol that would make any decent sommelier in the known universe turn in his wine list and retire to the nearest asylum for the insane.

In the centre of a complex network of wires and cables sits the ship’s captain, a spectacularly ugly example of the species goblin callidae, the cunnin’uns, who goes by the name Taybul. He is currently holding a sheaf of paper with results of the vessel’s ‘scientific’ deductions with one hand and exploring the contents of a box of something that was once, very long ago, edible.

“So den, we’z got sum uv da info. Bud dems shyps iz a bit nasty. We got anytink more?”

His yellow eyes looked down at the goblin who was currently assumed to be the second in command.

“Nubyet, boss.”

There was a cough from behind him as another goblin, this one a little bit weedy and wearing some very, very large spectacles.

“Dere’s sumfink cummin taword us.”

“Wot? Show me.”

A screen fizzled into life and showed the rapidly approaching probe. Meanwhile, the probably-second-in-command was glaring at the bespectacled goblin with some combination of fear, loathing and anger while he tried to work out whether or not he was trying to claw himself up to his exalted not-quite-official position.

“Hmm...Blazt it oi fink.”

“Bozz? Den deyz know we’z ‘ere.”

This rather obvious piece of information appears to have stumped the goblin captain, who ponders for a moment.

“Foreyez, can weez pretend ta be sumfink else?”

The bespectacled goblin, apparently very originally nicknamed “foureyes”, pondered for a moment before answering.

“If weez hidez da gunz an’ enjins an pull in most uv da instumentz, den we prolly can pazz az a lump o’ rok wen dey getz close an seez uz.”

“Hidez da gunz? Wot iz we? Cowardz?”

There was a pregnant pause as most of the other goblins looked at their fearless leader. He coughed.

“Roit. Cuvver up da enjins an’ weel look like a weerd freeky meteor fingy. Send da info we’ez got ta da fleet.”

It took a matter of moments for goblins holding their breath and climbing out onto the hull (some goblins have yet to work out that moving about in a vacuum requires more than just overcoming the lack of air. Fortunately for these goblins, since they do not know about the problems they do not affect them. This strange magic is probably the only reason the species is not yet extinct.). The strange little creatures actually managed to do a pretty good job, with only one or two bits of shiny metal actually visible, although such things would be visible to the probe the cowardly greenskins were busily praying that it would mistake them for an unusually regularly shaped asteroid.


Sumfink Shiny

Clovesrale looked at the information sent from the Wodahellizdat and swore as he spat out the contents of the bottle labelled “Da Meedyum Stuff”, a bottle that another goblin had drunk and then helpfully filled with petrol. Normally this would not have mattered terribly, but Clovesrale had a rather more refined taste than most of his fellows and the only petrochemical he would tolerate was diesel.

“Urk. Roite, dey dunk hav much inna way uv shippin’. Leds try an’ send a few shyps in an’ see how far dey get.”


General Vicinity of Kaus Borealis

Six smallish Goblin warships dropped out of SupaSpeed and were moving rapidly toward the space station. The crews inside had been assured that there was little in the way of defence for the station and that, as the first ones into it, they would get the best loot.

The ships ranged in size from one hundred and fifty metres long to three hundred, and all armed with enough weaponry to go on a warship three times their respective sizes. Engines shooting trails of flame behind them they advanced, innocently ignorant that their commander had sent them out to die so that he could choose an effective plan.

The KuroKaze had not yet departed the system. Her current captain under orders to loiter a bit in the systems outer envrions untill they were sure that Prince Darius had not flubbed things in the delicate opening stages. Not that he had been expected to. He had been properly raised, and he was very suited for the post, despite his feelings to the contrary.

So the BattleCruiser was still in system, and her sensor and commo nets still active. The goblin spy ship had been noted, cataloged and kept an eye on as interesting but not obviously dangerous. It was crude enough yet deviously enough constructed enough that several eyes were on it, as was a whole host of sensors. However that had been all, as if their hosts, and owners of the system, weren't overly concerned...

However...

The Kuro Kaze and the GyreHawk simultaneously detected the Goblin attack ships coming into real space. Despite the face blanching quality of the engineering, the mixmatched ships were too close to the station for comfort, on an assault course, with very heavy weapons running hot.

Both ships advised the other - The Kuro Kaze went to combat stations and making ready for a micro jump to bring them back deeper insystem - while the GyreHawk sent a message over his internal cyber link with Darius advising him of the event....

"Captain Hou, I think we have a problem" Darius said with scant courtesy, but calm urgency as he activated the Holo display function on his bracer. The bracer projected a small but clearly readable tactical display of the six unknown ships moving hard in on the station. "Kuro Kaze and GryeHawk have spotted six heavily armed, unknown ships heading in on an assault course for the station"