((Greetings. Decided to set my folks world into the fray, in the futuristic setting. Is there any place in particular I should place specs, civil, military, or otherwise? Just lemme know.

Also, if anyone is interested in joining this culture, PM me. Otherwise, feel free to post as anyone happening about here.))

Deep in one portion of a galaxy, filled with many stars of varying shapes and colors, lay another sector different than so many others, unique all of them in their own ways. This sector had a star, blue in color and fairly large, surrounded by only a handful of planetoids. The primary of these, the first to show signs of life before the other habitable spheres were colonized, was named Nalinathris, after the central and most powerful country to arise. This planet was a covered with greenery and civilization, and a massive ocean surrounding the land mass. The sector of space was eventually named Baliente, after the only large continent on the planet. As the other planets were colonized, two were named after standing nations, Beltair and Arithinal both being full of greenery and similar life forms, while the third was given a new name, Systego. The other two planetoids lacked atmosphere enough to settle properly, and so were left merely as military and research installations, named Al'Meiro and Al'Yaz.

Each planet had a spattering of stations, military and civilian, and ships flying to and fro, stationed in orbit, or moving out into space in search of near-flying asteroids to mine. Although the Al'Azen planetoids, those being Al'Meiro and Yaz, were the primary military installations, the largest concentration of ships was stationed around Nalinathris, those vessels being equipped with weaponry of the most advanced the Baliantans had created, let alone seen. For though they knew, by divination, scientific advancement, or common sense that they were not alone in the universe, they had yet to come across any specific group of aliens. But the military was ready for it, as were the politicians, whatever may find them first; war or peace.

Space

The ship KKT Stalin limped from hyperspace, trailing radiation and atmosphere. All along the 1.7 kilometer long factory ship, spewing clouds of black particulate matter from gaping wounds along it's trinium hull. From a deep wound extending halfway through the upper bulkhead of the ship, globules of molten metal sloshed out and hardened instantly on the freezing trinium hull. An orange light shone from the veritable lake of molten metal inside the solar furnace, one of the few still-active systems on the ship; that and the Anti-Matter Generators. The generators had their own shielded bulkhead, for their protection and that of the crew. This had protected them from the force that ripped through the ship, and saved the ship from annihilation.

A scar of twisted metal and sparking transmission lines ran down the keel of the ship; blow apart by some huge focused explosion; there had been an explosion of that size. The Fold Drive had malfunctioned, and released enough energy, seconds before exiting Transit, to blast through it's protective shielding and sweep across the ship. The ship was mainly reverse-engineered from an acquired Trantorian design, but the fold drive was a Technocracy Propulsion Study M934-3; the power coupling had note agreed well with the drive, so the two went kaput! It just went to show, that reverse-engineering had it's flaws.

The dim engines of the ship fluttered as they struggled along, barely moving the ship through space. The KKT Stalin had exited from Transit into the Baliente Sector roughly 34 AU from it's large blue sun, close enough to be noticed by advanced life out there. It was also spewing massive amounts of exotic radiation and heat from the drive couplings and furnace. This enough to make it appear as a bright star in the sky of any local planets.

The Bridge of the KKT Stalin

The bridge of the KKT Stalin was in total disarray. It was situated within the same cylindrical trinium bulkhead as the Fold Drive, so the explosion had a massive effect on it. The internal shielding around the bridge was strong, strong enough to resistant most armor-penetrating weapons; and strong enough to resist the full effects of the blast. There were some sparks here, and some shrapnel there, but the bridge came out okay.

Captain Roman looked around from behind his sparking command console, and then stood up. The damage wasn't that bad to him; a few crewman had been knocked from their fighter-pilot style chairs, but the majority came out fine. Then he saw the flicker holographic status display. The entire ship was highlighted in varying shades of red and yellow, and the keel was a somber crimson. He cursed under his breath, "Fekov"

The ship was falling apart. The Ansible drives were down, and the engines were barely functioning. And the external sensors were down, making him effectively blind to whatever lay outside. He could only hope.

So, he set up a repeating distress call, and waited. It was in Russian, and in USNC(Universe Standard Maritime Code) "This is the 'KKT Stalin', requesting assistance. We are disabled and losing life support."

The distant ship was not missed by the scanners of the Al'Azen bases. Especially considering that it was roughly as bright as a solar flare, both literally and on the various detection equipment. The distress signal came in soon during the mobilization effort; a language that the inhabitants were surprised to find mimicked, if not matched perfectly, one of the common languages of their home world. So it was that several ships, equipped with anti-hazard hulls and crew, were sent toward the large vessel.

Trailing behind the tear shaped ships of various blue shades, was a larger vessel; by no means a capital ship, and not equipped with much weaponry save several missile tubes and heavy laser emplacements, it was primarily covered in shielded ports which housed fighter craft, some of which patrolled along the side of the ship.

After a few moments of attempting frequencies, the ship opened a broad-range signal to nearby ships, hopefully including the downed vessel. The voice emitted from the speakers of nearby ships was hearty, with something of an accent resembling old Irishmen. "This is tha' Hornet class carrier, Munition. Hailin' tha' KKT Stalin', respond. Repeat..." The voice continued, as the forward vessels reached the ship to await orders for entry.

"This is tha' Hornet class carrier, Munition. Hailin' tha' KKT Stalin', respond. Repeat..."

Captain Roman listened gratefully to the distinctly Adrenian voice; He had heard something like this before, during a tour of the Arden Capital Gardens. But right now, Roman had more important things to attend to. He opened a live wide-band communications channel with the surrounding ships, and replied.

"This is the KKT Stalin, over. Who is this? And how bad is the damage to my ship?"

Roman was sure of the damage that explosion caused, but with no way to see outside the ship, he would have to rely on whoever these people were; Just in case, Roman gave an order for all marines to get ready, weather they would be helping repair the ship or repelling invaders.

"Ach, this's Cap'n Mechalin o' tha' Balienten Republic. Looks pre'y bad from where I'm sittin', Stalin. "The captain responds gravely. "If yeh'd give me a proper name likewise, then?" He adds, making a more detailed diagnostic of the damage to what of the hull he could see. "Then I could offer yeh some aid."

Changing frequencies temporarily, the captain speaks to his men. "Ai, Al'Kaera Squad. Yeh hear me Shine?" He asks over the intercom. An image appears up on a panel in front of him, showing a man in a flight mask nodding. "Yeah, sir. What's the word?"
"Keep an eye out, but don' work attack formations yet. We got 'em in a weak spot either way."
"Roger." Was the simple response as the line was cut, and the Captain returned to the broad-band frequency.

The captain replied "We need all the aid we could get!"

As that happened, several bulkhead doors, reactions delayed by the explosion, slid into position over the ship. The rescuers would have a whole new set of problems, cutting through several inches of neutronium to reach the next corridor; and so would the Technocracy repair crews.

EDIT :: That should be 'bulkhead'

Mechalin nods to that which he could not see, giving the squads and crews under his command orders. The dropships moved forward, attaching to the hull and beginning to cut through; some of them found spots recently vacated by metal and proceeded to land there. Those that found their way in easier soon opened, atmosphere flooding out of them as the armored figures within stepped slowly out into the ship, some of which were armed with various weaponry.

It was a mixed OCER/M Regiment, with figures wearing heavy power-armor and others in single man space construction suits. They appeared rather bulky, and the weapons they bore were mixed heavy and medium rifles, with a few having chosen shotgun type weapons. The leading figure of one such dropship was wearing the same armor as the other marine troops, but with a pair of wings on his helmet, gold and blue, and markings on his shoulderpads indicating his rank as Sergeant. After a quick scan of the vacant corridor, the marines moved through the ship with Engineers in tow, pausing when needed due to the lengthy process of cutting through bulkheads.

"Sir," One voice spoke over the military channel. "Oh-Car-Em teams are running into closed bulkheads on the ship. See if you can't get 'em open for us." Captain Mechalin nods, rubbing his expansive beard and opening the channel to the other vessel. "Stalin', yeh copy? Yeh've got bulk'eads closed on yer ship. Mind openin' 'em for me boys?"

Captain Roza got on the comm, trying to make out what the repair crews here saying. To him, it was static filled and pretty damn hard to understand with their accents.

"I'll try -- *Static*" His communications array cut at the that second, serving the last, and only, line of contact between Roza and Marines outside. And even worse, those bulkheads were going to stay closed.

---------------

Several Marines with a plasma torch were slicing through one of the doors... quite near the repair crews. [Feh.]

Captain Mechalin frowned as the line was cut off with static, though the 'I'll try' he was given sounded somewhat promising. "Stalin' says 'ell work on it." He reported to his crews. There was an assortment of retaliatory jests and complaints, though Mechalin merely shrugged it off. "Yeh still got torches. Keep an eye ta yer weapons though lads, this coul' be a trap."

The marked sergeant of one of the squads had, after his short barrage of curses towards both his Captain and the aliens, returned his attention to the work of cutting through the thick doors before him. His weapon was left for the time being hanging at his side, and he tested the atmosphere before flipping back his visor and lighting a long held cigar. "Keep it up, boys. We'll be through in no time." He offered helpfully to the Engineers, who seemed not overly joyed with their work.

But a few moments after his words left his mouth, the squad was met by the sound of metal grinding, as the cut-out part of the door began to slide away from the rest. The engineers quickly dropped their torches, drawing small shot-gun type weapons from their sides and backing towards the Marines, who in turn were bringing weapons to bear in case whatever was on the other side, if anything, proved hostile. The Sergeant lowered his visor again, his view soon obscured by a thick smoke as his helmet was filled by the cigar.

Blah Blah Blah Blah! Aderas, I just wanted to get to the diplomacy part.

Epilouge

After several incidents within the interns of the KKT Stalin, the ship's bridge was reached. A joint crew of Technocracy Marines, Technicians, and several foreign OCER/M regiments had cut their way through several hundred meters of corridor, jammed doors, and collapsed bulkheads, in a little under five hours since the KKT Stalin entered the system. When they reached the bridge, the Captain had managed to get along with Technocracy High Command, and was requesting a Naval Construction unit -- the message had been sent just before the repair crews made it to the bridge. The Captain explained the situation to his crew and their rescuers, before launching into a rant about the fold drive with lead engineer, and finnally got to work on whatever it was they were supposed to be doing.

After a bit of rewiring, the Captain managed to bring the internal damage control systems and AI back online, eliminating the need for human repair crews in the dangerous parts of the ship. Several of the closed bulkhead doors slid back open once the AI was back online, freeing a large portion of the crew, who had been trapped (they were sleeping when it happened) in the upper stern of the craft. The AI also sealed off several unoccupied sections of the craft, so that the ventilation systems could be rerouted through them -- a good idea considering what came next.

There were a few fires across the ship, and an entire armory had exploded, taking various sections of the lower deck with it. To combat this, one of the Naval Engineers came up with an ingenious solution. Several tons of solidified Halon, a common fire retardant, was dumped into the central furnace of the forge, and vented throughout the damaged areas of the ship. The sealed off sections were used to bypass running the torrent of Halon through the occupied sections, and suffocating anyone not wearing a breath mask.

Internal functioning of the vessel was now nearing a hundred percent, and hordes of quickly produced repair units swarmed across the superstructure of the ship, patching up the holes with excess metal and scrap. The forge was shut down after this round of production had been finished, and it's metal ejected through the emergency matter ventilation system (built solely for that purpose) in long thin sheets, for used by the repair units.

The foreign OCER/M Brigade was escorted out of the ship, and given a quick tour along the way. They passed through the central trunk (a large Zero-G corridor spanning the length of the ship) on their way out, and then were escorted through a long trench in the superstructure of the KKT Stalin, just to get to the airlock they entered through. A Senior Colonel from Marine Garrison showed them off, and thanked them for helping to bring their ship back online. Each one was legally (there were no physical medals onboard) given the civilian Order of Boltzmann, First Class (for foreign citizens aiding a downed technocratic ship) as they passed through the airlock on their way out.

18.000 KM In Orbit Around Yaz

The cruisers KKT Zaraysk (Nokiv-Class), KKT Tomsk (Nokiv-Class), and KKT Vasyugan (Monomakh-Class) emerged from hyperspace in an three-point arrow formation, with the KKT Vasyugan taking the lead point while the KKT Zaraysk and KKT Tomsk took left and right points. The KKT Vasyugan sent a transmission detailing the call for help and scrambling of the formation to Yaz Base in a Narrow Beam Radio-Wave form, and waited for a reply.

After the five hour immersion into another culture, the OCER/M crews were escorted off the ship, back to their own vessels. The dropships disembarked back to the carrier, the commanding officers reporting to Mechalin.

Meanwhile, as the Technocracy ships came into orbit around Al'Yaz and the transmission was beamed to the planet, the operators of the orbiting stations directed the small fleet to where the Stalin was floating in space, with the Munition and various fighter craft stationed nearby.

The cruisers KKT Zaraysk and KKT Tomsk escorted the limping (still) KKT Stalin to the edge of the Baliente system, and then jumped into transit. A wake of radiation, that would quickly scatter, was left in behind in the jump zone.

The KKT Vasyugan moved into orbit over the planet of Yaz, and sent down a smaller military-diplomatic shuttle to talk with the local power. The incident with the KKT Stalin required a bit of a cleanup; and some diplomacy never hurt anyone, did it?

The shuttle docked at a small landing pad situated several thousand kilometers below the KKT Vasyugan; and three officers, flanked by ornately dressed honor-guards stepped out. They were dressed in baggy crimson-and-gold uniforms, and carried overly long assault rifles with trinium bayonets.

The officers were at the center of the group, waiting. (they were dressed in the normal black-and-white-and-gold baggy clothing and peak caps of naval officers, and carrier thigh-holsters pistols and cavalry sabers.)

As the three cruisers moved to the edge of the system, the Munition headed back towards the Al'Yaz planet to see the fourth in orbit over it. Scanners indicated a dropship or shuttle of some kind headed towards the surface. Hailing command, there had apparently been some sort of diplomatic meeting arranged planetside...


The area the shuttle had been designated to land was a small pad in a comparatively large installation, where the ranking officers of the planet were stationed. As the foreign diplomat and his guard were landing, ten of the station guard wearing blue and yellow uniforms lined up on either side of the walkway. They were of various sizes, some being over six feet tall, others being under five. For many of the core races were chosen to be in this guard; to witness the first open contact with an alien species. Elves, Dwarves, and Humans of different ethnicities were arrayed along the edges of the path. Three more figures, two male, Dwarf and Elf, and one human female, were standing at the end of this assembly, dressed in varying clothing.

The Elf was dressed in long robes, as was often worn amongst his kind, of the national colors; Dark blue with gold linings here and there. There were also green markings mingled and mixed with the blue, and he bore an emblem of a green and gold tree over a red mountain on his shoulder, and over his right breast. He was lean and tall, and his face seemed young, and his eyes were a faint orange. He also had dirty blond hair, which extended past his shoulders. The smaller man, the Dwarf, was dressed more akin to his own people as well, most of which was thick, and colored in rich browns, golds, and reds. He too bore an insignia of a mountain, however his, rather than made of cloth, was of some form of metal, thin and nearly transparent, of a brown mountain with many rivers around it, and a tree in the distance to the right. His face appeared older than his taller companions, however quite jovial and at ease. His flowing beard was a dark earthy red, and seemed to extend up his face and to his scalp, to fall down his back a ways. His eyes however were a deep blue, and his cheeks were rosy from excitement. The final of the trio was not dressed in traditional garments, being the commander of the station. She wore her Admiral's dress suit, with a long flowing cloak down her back. While the suit was primarily black, there was light blue and gold in places here or there, and there was a fair compliment of medals adorning her suit as well. She was not overly beautiful, but she was attractive under certain views. Her hair was likewise long, though not as long as either dignitary, ending at her shoulders. Her face was likewise unmarred, and here eyes were brown, and easily the most plain of the three.

As the ship landed before them and the foreigners approached, the assembly of troops turned as one towards them, saluting. The three emissaries walked forward boldly, heartened by the fact these aliens were, or at least appeared to be, some form of human. The Elf was the first to speak.
"Ailniasiabne, loranore untalbiarien, ye yel Al'Yaz a Baliente." He said flawlessly in his own tongue. The human of the group smiled, and all three bowed low. "Welcome," She began, "To Baliente." As she finished her words, as if on cue, a wing of fighters flew overhead, leaving a temporary trail of blue and gold.