Response to the Azerian Empire

Kronos · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Kronos** on Tue Aug 11, 2009 9:35 pm

Yuri Nikolaou appeared on screen, dressed in his normal finery. “And in other news, our glorious Premier has issued a memorandum to the Azerian Empire.”

“Mikhail, you’re on,” a new voice cut into Yuri’s voiceover. The seal of the Red Technocracy appeared on screen followed by footage of the Premier and his office. Premier Mikhail Belikov stood in front of a crimson and gold flag, hands folded in front of him. Like every person to hold the position, he was a rugged man. Mikhail was surprisingly short, but he compensated by possessing a considerable amount of musculature. He wore a matte black speedsuit which happened to match his cropped black hair and emerald green eyes,

Mikhail glared intently at the camera. He pointed towards the camera, as if he was personally addressing the Azerian Empire, and began orating, “Consider this a warning. Many nations have tried and failed to conquer our worlds. You will be no different. Regardless of what your propaganda machine says, you will crash upon the metaphorical rocks of the Technocracy and the Coalition and Trantor. We, the great three, will ensure that nothing comes of your efforts.” The Premier calmed himself, gave the open-palm salute, and smiled to the camera. “Mikhail, over and out.”

It then cut to an advertisement for the Technocratic Ground Forces, complete with thunderous music and heroic imagery.

Zavior · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Zavior** on Tue Aug 11, 2009 9:56 pm

The screen shuffles between static and darkness, the sound of alien voices could be heard in the background. They are unrecognizable and distorted.

Then the static 'snow' clears up, revealing the same alien that sent the previous video-message.
His voice seemed tense now, rather than calm like he was in the first message.
"Maybe you misunderstand our motives..."
His voice changed to a robotic message, almost like some kind of robot as he repeated his recipient's name.
"...Mikhail..."
"We mean no harm to your species, but if you insist war, we will bring you war."
He paused as a 'glitch' occurred across the screen showing a gigantic ship, over 1-kilometer long, and apparently ready for battle.
"We do not want war. We do not want peace. We only want unity."
The screen switched back to the alien.
"Your race is primitive and barbaric, hence you must be eliminated."

After those last words the screen cut out, blank, nothing. The fuels of war are ready to burn, the greatest battle this galaxy has ever seen is about to begin.

*The ship you witnessed is a DN-144 Executor-Model Dreadnought. To learn more visit the The Azerian Empire's page, here.

Kronos · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Kronos** on Tue Aug 11, 2009 11:30 pm

There was no fiery response from the Technocracy's premier this time around; Mikhail Belikov wasn't going to waste time or effort addressing these pathetic attempts at galactic conquerors.

Instead, a black screen with centered white block letters appeared; it simply stated:

To consider oneself above all others is an act of barbarism unmatched by anything,
To decry a race's action and call for their desctruction is tantamount to endless hypocritical evil.

The Technocratic Emblem - a golden rocket blazing away from a golden hemispherical cog - appeared on screen for three seconds, as a brief ditty played with the accompanying lyrics "and technocracy will never falter."

The news reappeared. Yuri Nikolaou was sitting behind his chrome desk, clutching a ceremonial stack of white papers. He was impeccably dressed like always, with tousled gray hair, vibrant gray beard, dull hazel eyes, and his signature three-piece white suit. His spectacles were absent tonight.

Yuri reached upwards with his right hand and pantomimed dragging an image into view. The holographic image - several technocratic battlegroups zooming away from Antongrad in formation - settled above his right shoulder. It expanded, merging seamlessly into a video clip of said battlegroups.

Yuri's voice cut across the soundless video, assuredly stating, "In response to the threat issued by this Azerian Empire, Premier Mikhail has ordered the activation of fifteen battle-groups as rapid-response fleets. Should an attack occur, these rapid-response fleets would promptly arrive on the scene. The Premier has also ordered the border stations and sensor nets to operate at all full capacity - a command last used during the escalation with Trantor. Fear not, people."

OOC: Attempt to attack one of my border stations, Zavior.

Zavior · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Zavior** on Wed Aug 12, 2009 12:01 am

The IA Kaparatunan (Cap-err-rat-tune-an) burst out of warp-speed and into Technocracy Space. It's white armor gleamed in the light of a nearby star as it's engines pulsed a light blue. This was the third largest ship in the Imperial Arm, and one of only two Executor-Model Dreadnoughts in service.
"Prepare engines to 129k and stall at 14k!"
"Yes my superior!"
The Kaparatunan slowed and started to gain altitude. It's turret's red beacons started to glow blue and the missile-bays flew open.
"Set up a short range transmission to the enemies 's station."
The navigator pushed a few buttons of the holographic interface located on the bridge and a small screen appeared in the center of the room. Commander Akule could clearly see the enemy commander, and him Akule.
"This is Commander Akule-Asamada of the Imperial Arm's Fifth Fleet."
His voice was low pitched, but quite intimidating. His large black black eyes stared at his opponent with interest.
"You shall be eliminated by the hand of Korin, you shall fall at the sight of our Superior weaponry, and you shall lose this meaningless war."
He cut the transmission short to give commands to the bridge control.
"Target all weapons at the enemy station and prepare to fire! Activate the Mass Accelerator Cannon when the enemy reveals their pathetic ships."

Ryand-Smith · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Ryand-Smith** on Wed Aug 12, 2009 7:54 am

News Now, live from Eagle News!

In news, the Radical Fascist Space Imperialist Empire Azerian declares war on All of Space, under a False Pretext of Unification! They wish to become our Grey Overlords. This is Glam Rex, and I for one say no! We should all make sure the Azerian Space Fascists all suffer, they are Evil, and Grey! Their Fascist Space Empire will try to Take Over Space and make us all Grey and loose our Country! After all, fellow Spacers, we are here after many an Empire tried to Invade Our Country in Space!

Will you Stand for It? Will you Deal with it? I say we all should support the Reds and urge other Galactiv Powers to Defeat the Grey Menace!

This has been Eagle News with Glam Rex reporting.

.:LoveisBlind:. · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **.:LoveisBlind:.** on Wed Aug 12, 2009 8:14 am

"In the early hours of this morning there was a peace treaty signed between the Solmarians and the Hixerias, The two races have warred for over six millennia and now the final Peace treaty has been signed, But there is a problem, The Leader of the Solmarians, Leksiar The ninth, was supposedly on her deathbead when she signed the treaty" The reporter is all of a sudden shot and a large gang of Red and silver Aliens stormed the studio, these aliens are the Hixerias, there is a few unintellegible noises and then the translator kicks in. "...In our ways of persuasion we have decided to decline the peace treaty from the Solmarians and continue the war that has been raging on for six millennia we have come to the decision that any neighbouring planets are to be ordered to attack the Solmarians."

Will This be the end of an Era? Or just the beginning of an old war?

Zavior · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Zavior** on Wed Aug 12, 2009 9:32 am

The screen was black and dark, the voice of an unknown alien race could be heard in the background.
The Azerian.

Then, all of a sudden the screen glitched, static and frequency waves soon cleared up to show a Azerian sentinel.
"This is the Imperial Arm."
He continued with a grim look on his face.
"It seems from past... 'incidents' that you think we want total control over this galaxy. No, we do not want control or war, nor do we want peace. We just want to live amongst the other civilizations, to learn, to interact. We are the Azerian, not warmongers like the Technocracy. We are the Imperial Arm of the Third Azerian Empire. Your galaxy will be united, whether that be voluntarily... or by force."

The screen hissed and turned black again.
Was this an act of peace... or an act of war?

Skallagrim · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Skallagrim** on Wed Aug 12, 2009 11:24 am

Deep in the gloom of the great castle where the eternal dreamer rested, the Xindhi shuddered as they felt the anger rising along the holon memories as the sleeping queen registered the Azerian empires words to the multiverse.

The Xindhi, embroiled in a looming war against an ages old enemy, scarcely noticed the ongoings of the younger races unless there is new experiences to understand and embrace. In the throes of intense dreams the dark queen gnashed her teeth and howled in her slumber, causing the others who experienced the dreams to shift in their sarcophagi at the outbursts.

Far in the hidden recesses of the great castle a gauntlet emerged and gripped the cold stone, slowly a Xindhi rose from the well in which it slept, judging by the clothing it wore the colors of a Cughtagh. As the tall being stood, a wash of brilliant white light filled the area casting weird shadows through the room. A voice long lost to memory creaked and vibrated the air around it as it replied, “I hear great dreamer and I answer your call...” Turning and gathering the two handed sword and the dual axes the being known as Skume turned and began the long trek towards the dreaming gates into the multiverse.

Slowly as the Cughtagh known as Skume trudged onwards a steady sound of heavy footfalls swirled and carried around him from the deeper gloom of the castle. At an intersection near the nightmare gates a flash of light pierced the darkness. Slowly the light grew until a skeletal war horse appeared the dazzling white light from the eyes and swirling around the hooves illuminated the area. Waiting for the creature, Skume reached up and mounted the great beast. With an urging they proceeded towards the great gate.

The massive being known only as the Horned God turned the immense wheel to open the gate in which all places and all times swirled and moved, where the dreaming queen surfed the possibilities of life experiences, seeking to know all that occurred and all that is or to be. As the white energies swirled and danced chaotically around the skeletal visage, Skume thrummed the resonance and found the the thread that the queen felt. Focusing his prana on it he urged the beast into the stream and began riding hard, passing as a dream, a shadow, a thought fleeting upon the surface of those who dreamed of weird and strange things. The scared and profane of many civilizations fell before the thundering hooves of the Cughtagh, science and technology, mystical arts, esoteric powers all swept away with each stride taken by the great skeletal horse.

Slowly the resonance became stronger and thrummed, hissing slowly Skume eased the beast until a swimming energy surrounded them both when with a subtle pop they emerged into known space, emerged on the deck of a small outpost station near Al-Hazred, a station owned and manned by the Red Technocracy.

Dismounting the horse, Skume turned and said in a wicked rasp. “I have come to obverse the Azerian Empire for the dreaming queen. I have come to lend the strength of the Xindhi to a friend of the eternal sleepers, I am Skume the Cughtagh.”

Those who knew any lore or history of the Xindhi were fully aware of the twin champions of the great queen the Aeryn and the Cughtagh. The skill at which they are rumored to manipulate the darshan and prana was far beyond the average Xindhi, whose powers are considerable.

“I await the honor of being appointed a place where I may observe the Azerian Empire and their actions.”

With that the Xindhi merely stood, as a great skeleton, unmoving and still. The great sword secure on his back, the dual axes on his belt, the miasma of light dimmed to pin points of energy.

Zavior · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Zavior** on Wed Aug 12, 2009 1:57 pm

'The War of Tranquility - Purification'

Giana - The Imperial Fortress
Scelrus 16, 3909 - 19:09 Hours (Azerian Calander)

General Gatahana walked down the vast halls of the Imperial Fortress. The was lined with Azerian guards, Fortress Guards. Their rail-guns were at the ready, prepared to strike down anyone who opposes them. They are the most elite of the elite, gods in the eyes of their enemy.
"My-superior!"
One of them saluted while punching a code on his data-pad. The door behind him soon unlatched, reviling a tall Azerian, dressed in a black jumpsuit and decorated with all kinds of medals and insignias.
"My-superior, General Alakamaha!"
Gatahana saluted.
"What is it?"
The Azerian spoke is a calming, but intimidating voice.
"The prisoner is ready."
"Excellent."

Giana - The Platform
Scelrus 16, 3909 - 19:69 Hours (Azerian Calander)

The intercom roared over the thousands of Azerian's cries of anger and entertainment. The large metal platform spanned 55-meters in length, it's silver texture shined in the sun of Giana. A single star, a single dying star.
"This galaxy will be united under one rule!"
The two generals walked across the platform, at the en of which was a prisoner. A single Technocracy officer, held in place by a beam of bright blue light. A stasis-field. The crowed cheered as the two of them approached the beaten and humiliated soldier. His face drew blood, he was unconscious, but still aware.
"There is no peace, and no war!"
Gatahana was holding a single max-accelerator pistol, which he handed to Alakamaha. The tall warrior took it with pride.
"There is no famine, no chaos, no zealous wars...!"
"With pride."
"With honor."
"...no death, no civilization, no barbarism!"
Alakamaha pointed the weapon at the disgruntled prisoner. He waited for the signal to purify this barbarian and justify this meaningless war.
"There is only unity!"
'BANG!'

Zavior · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Zavior** on Wed Aug 12, 2009 2:43 pm

Giana - The Platform
Scelrus 16, 3909 - 19:69 Hours (Azerian Calander)

The intercom roared over the thousands of Azerian's cries of anger and entertainment. The large metal platform spanned 55-meters in length, it's silver texture shined in the sun of Giana. A single star, a single dying star.
"This galaxy will be united under one rule!"
The two generals walked across the platform, at the en of which was a prisoner. A single Technocracy officer, held in place by a beam of bright blue light. A stasis-field. The crowed cheered as the two of them approached the beaten and humiliated soldier. His face drew blood, he was unconscious, but still aware.
"There is no peace, and no war!"
Gatahana was holding a single max-accelerator pistol, which he handed to Alakamaha. The tall warrior took it with pride.
"There is no famine, no chaos, no zealous wars...!"
"With pride."
"With honor."
"...no death, no civilization, no barbarism!"
Alakamaha pointed the weapon at the disgruntled prisoner. He waited for the signal to purify this barbarian and justify this meaningless war.
"There is only unity!"
'BANG!'

OOC: This is the second half of the post. To see the first half, which was not recorded on video, click the link below.
Entire Post

Script · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Script** on Wed Aug 12, 2009 5:23 pm

Auraya Terra Moranis, High Seat of the Ahrian Empire, sat in her council chamber, the council members who were present gathered around a circular table.

"We are but fledglings in the galaxy compared to some of these empires! We could easily be swallowed up in the destruction!" High Lord Roran Gordas protested, "We cannot become involved!"

"Would you have us sit back in neutrality until this race swallows us whole? No! We must fight now, and show goodwill toward our new contacts, they have declared war upon these Azerians, and we must join them!" High Lady Cailwyn Paeval argued "We will have to fight at some point Roran, you know that."

"Enough."

The command from the High Seat ended the debate; she had not spoken throughout, the purpose of a council meeting was for one side to persuade the High Seat that their point of view was the wisest, even if her view was different.

"We will donate some of our forces to the aid of the Technocracy. But first we will enlist the aid of the Voidkeepers."

A shocked silence followed, until Cailwyn spoke up "You mean to request their aid in this war? I cannot imagine they would-" she began, but Auraya cut her off.

"I have already spoken to one of their number, they will aid us."

"A...as you say, High Seat. I will inform the military." High Lord Aramis Ter'Morvid said, bowing before standing and leaving the room. The other councillors soon made their excuses and departed also.

"You can come out now." Auraya said, raising one hand lazily from her seat. From the shadows behind her, a robed figure emerged. Or at least on first glance it would appear to be a robed figure, in actuality the robe was empty, except for an unnatural darkness that made up the essence of the Voidwalker

"You show excellent command over your subjects, High Seat. You can be assured the promised aid will be delivered." the Voidwalker spoke into Auraya's mind.

The High Seat sighed "I am counting on it." she replied simply, before standing and leaving to make the necessary preparations. The Voidwalker remained for a while, pondering on the war to come. When it had finished, it vanished from the room, leaving no trace of its presence more than the slight oddity in the floating dust around where it had hovered.

Kronos · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Kronos** on Wed Aug 12, 2009 5:57 pm

...So what you're saying is? Yeah, my point in a nutshell is that the Azerians are a bunch of hypocritical morons...

The Technocratic Media had decried the simulated execution of a military officer; although the enemy had no way of capturing a military officer, the poignant imagery and context remained, further illustrating that, "the Azerians are a bunch of hypocritical morons..."

Noralisk Station hung in the void. Discounting its Commander's quaint personality, it was nothing special. No secret weapons or systems resided inside its cylindrical hull. The station's construction, following the generic MS-1S template, was straightforward with no space for frivolities. The cylindrical spoke began with a rounded cap, bulged abruptly outwards in the center, and tapered into a spindly mast of communications arrays. Twin three-fourths complete rings, connected by cable moorings, rotated in counterpoint around the upper and low sections of the station; each ring sprouted four stubby crenelations. All in all, the station measured half a kilometer high and two-hundred meters wide at its equator. The rings measured thirty meters in diameter, and they extended four-hundred meters outwards from the station.

Skume found himself standing in the center of Noralisk Station's azure-lit bridge. It extended across the width of the station's penultimate deck and radiated an opulence rarely found in technocratic installations.

The architecturally minded Commander Duke had installed rows of ornamented ionic columns, hiding unsightly electrical and coolant lines; he also placed a row of blast-shielded panoramic windows across the station's rotationally locked "planet" side, giving himself a stunning view of the Al-Hazred System from his command holo-tank.

Technocratic Gendarmes- soldiers clad in matte black gel-suits, sporting maroon berets, and carrying rail rifles- swung from their attentive stances behind the control room's colonnade and squatted, training their weapons the currently mysterious being. Staccato comm-link mutterings echoed across the room, "Hold fire... negative ID... wait until it makes a move."

"Cease fire!" bellowed Commander Duke, rising from his swivel-chair with an extended open right palm. The well-learned Commander recognized the Xindhi before it spoke, and he had acted accordingly. The Gendarmes snapped upright and saluted their Commander, chanting in unison, "Sorry sir!"

"My friend, Skall, err, Skume, what brings you here?" he quizzed, ushering the Xindhi towards the door to his private office. He slid the door open, and as he stepped inside, he mindfully added, "Watch your head."

Warning sirens blared and blast shutters slammed shut across the bridge's panoramic windows. "Sunova, this is a very bad time, Skume!" shouted Duke, as he hopped over his desk and engaged the intercom, "Red alert! All crew to battle stations!"

Noralisk station was far from being unarmed despite its small size; the ferocity of combat predicted during the Trantor-Technocracy Escalation had sparked a series of modernization and armament programs, some aimed at small outposts. Noralisk Station was going to give these programs their first field test.

The station's deflector screens were the first thing that activated. They shimmered into being; it was clearly visible that they were comprised of hundreds of layered hexagon panels, separated into three distinct tiers of defense. A further, invisible magnetic current surrounded the station.

The missile pods came second. They were tethered two-apiece to the ring crenelations, and they each held twenty-two ACS missiles, making for a staggering total of three-hundred-fifty-two missiles. A K-3 telemetry platform was tethered to each crenelation.

And finally, point-defense systems engaged along the perimeter of the station; their phased DE arrays stood ready to blast anything out of the sky.

The Azerian ships had a long way to travel before they reached the station, but the station's munitions didn't to reach them.

Zavior · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Zavior** on Wed Aug 12, 2009 6:29 pm

The IA Kaparatunan slowed to a mere 12k. With it's weapons at the ready the crew was waiting for the final command to eliminate the Technocracy.
"Ha! It seems there weapons are online!"
Chuckled the captain, still in his command-pod.
"Sir?"
"Fire missile bays three, six, and eight!"
"Yes my-superior!"
This salute was muffled out by sirens and alarms as the missiles began loading into the hatches. With each at least 12-meters long this will surely take down anything the enemy can throw at them.
"Fire!"
With a few flicks of the switch all 30 missiles launched out of the ship and into the void of space. Searing at incredible speeds the missiles hit the border station head-on in a brilliant explosion of light and atomic energy.
"Direct hit, missiles depleted!"
"What's the damage estimate?"
"At least 76% sir, that station is barely standing!"
"Good, charge the Mass-Accelerator Cannon and prepare for their next move!"
"Yes my-superior!"
"Commander."
The weapons officer yelled across the bridge.
"The MAC will be ready in 145k!"
"Good. Stall the ship and halt the thrusters!"

Kronos · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Kronos** on Wed Aug 12, 2009 8:12 pm

Missiles. They were using missiles. The Trident-XXIII mentality controlling the station's defense mechanically chuckled.

Interceptor systems had advanced alongside their sensor counterparts. Superluminal sensors detected the launches and relayed the trajectory of these "dumb" weapons to the targeting systems.

Technology in general had advanced since the Terran Cold War of antiquity. Close-in point-defense systems in this day and age swung into action and fired milliseconds rather than seconds; ten directed energy weapons fired three-second bursts of pinpoint accurate phased electron beams into the thirty missiles' flight paths. Each missile would be hit with enough to destroy its warhead and superstructure; the delicate inner workings of atomic bombs were surprisingly susceptible to damage.

Two missiles launched alongside this, detonated directly ahead the incoming barrage in a shower of RKVs from one and MIRV'd neutron-flux warheads in the other; if the RKVs and point-defense didn't it, the ionizing radiation from the warheads would literally strip away the missile's protective casing.

"Skume, pay close attention here," said Duke. He tapped another command into his office's holo-tank, causing the image to expand and show the incoming missiles, nothing more than minuscule streaks at this distance. Duke reclined deep into his swivel chair, plopped his booted feet on the desk, and the he absently said, "This is footage from one of the upper ring's gun-cams. Just keep watching; you'll enjoy what comes next."

"I assume you know of terrestrial naval tactics?" Duke quizzed Skume, as the close-in point defense hit home.

Ninety missiles launched, leaving two-hundred-seventy left in their pods. They arced up and away from the station, dividing into three groups that would hit the Azerian cruiser from three different angles. The missiles jumped into transit for milliseconds, clearing the distance between themselves and the IA Kaparatunan in... seconds.

Their autonomous warheads decided weather to burst then or now; some carried conventional atomic weaponry, others carried dozens of baseball sized RKVs weighing a kilogram each. About ten missiles from each group didn't decel', allowing shaped charges in their frames to blow hundreds of baseball sized kinetic kill vehicles towards the enemy ship. Each kilogram kinetic kill vehicles packed nearly twenty-two gigatons of force; an obscene yield for an obscene fight, and something far greater than any nuclear weapon.

The remaining twenty exploded into MIRV'd warheads at 10,000 kilometers, each missile producing three neutron-dense nuclear weapons that acting as jamming of sorts. Two out of three of these warheads would detonate at 500 kilometers from the enemy ship, blinding its sensors in an impenetrable cloud of radiation flux.

Zavior · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Zavior** on Wed Aug 12, 2009 8:42 pm

The missiles exploded in front of the IA Kaparatunan, sending a cloud of radioactive dust into the void and jamming all sensors aboard Azerian ship.
"Bastards."
Commander Akule cussed under hiss breath.
"I can't see a thing?"
"My-superior!"
"What is it?"
"All sensors are jammed, missiles are off target, and the turrets can't pinpoint the enemy ships!"
"What!?"
"We are completely blind."
Akule grunted.
'How could this be? Are these barbarians more intelligent than we thought?'
"My-superior?"
There was a long pause of silence, no one dared say a word.
"The Mass-Accelerator Cannon, is it ready?"
"We still have 100k left."
"Damn."
Another pause.
"'Send in fighter teams A-1 through A-4!"
"Yes My-superior!"

Just then the side docks of the IA Kaparatunan opened. Two hatches on each side with its own personal stasis-field protecting it from the void.
"Clear the docks!"
Just then the stasis-field shut off and 20 ASF-132 Aerospace Fighter launched out of the bays. Their armor was gray in color, like all Azerian technology. The teams split up into four groups of five, passing through the radioactive cloud and towards the enemy. Due to the clouds rays the shields of the ships were momentarily disabled, but they soon restored.

"The cannon!?"
95k!"

Ryand-Smith · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Ryand-Smith** on Wed Aug 12, 2009 10:08 pm

On GTube, leaked footage of a brutal exuition has hit the airwaves.

We here at the Trantor Cheif Board feel this is unethical, and immoral.

However, with past actions, we are forced to embargo the territories of the Azerian peoples.

Any ship trading, entering, or near Azerian space will be boarded, and searched for weapons, fuel, and all possible war making materials. This will be our official action. If we are fired upon, we will respond. That is all.

Ryand-Smith · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Ryand-Smith** on Wed Aug 12, 2009 10:12 pm

Trantor vessels of all sizes and shapes headed to the general border regions of the Azerian Empire, loaded with massive Hyperspace Jammers, Wave Cargo Disrupters, and a prototype Slipstream Jammer, although this last invention was quite unstable, and based mostly on observation of Slipstream drives. They were planting self replicating mine fields, as part of their blockade. Medium ships, armed battle mechs, and long term carriers and cruisers were preparing their objective, the complete and total blockade of the Azerian forces. This race needed to be contained, lest they spread out like some sort of Galactic Virus, infecting planets and Solar Systems.

"Status on Operation?" an AI leader asked the human commander. "Less than 1%, but we hopefully should either lure em out and then we use IT or we force them to fight a two front war. Either way, they can't win just yet, and with the other races, we should be able to contain them. For Great Profit," the man said, "For Great Profit," the AI responded.

Zavior · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Zavior** on Wed Aug 12, 2009 10:30 pm

The screen was filled with static, it hissed as the white 'snow' raged on.
Voices, Azerian voices could be heard in the background, distorted and untranslatable.
Finally the screen cleared up, revealing a surprisingly tall Azerian, at least 7'6. His bug eyes and slender build were not his main features like the others, but the markings on his head were. A 'painted' blue eye on his cranium glared at the screen, it seems to be moving, but it was not positive. He wore a black robe with a velvet lining.
This was Kapahamatu, leader of the Azerian Empire. Giver of unity.
He spoke in a calm, but thick voice. Soothing and freighting at the same time.
"I am Kapahamatu, I am unity."
The screen hissed, a small assortment of symbols and icons flooded the video. As soon as they appeared, they were gone.
"You are weak, hopeless without us!"
His arms raised to his side, they seemed to be pulsing.
"You do not understand our role in the formation of your galaxy. We were there from the beginning and we will be there until the end!"
His arms pulsed more now, shaking violently. Then, all of a sudden, they split. Blood splattered the screen, but soon was vaporized by its ionic-waves. Kapahamatu's arms were split in half, revealing a second pair. With three fingers on one and two on the other, this is the Azerian's true form. His head now bore spines, he looked more like a lizard than a Grey now. His eyes glowed blue, he was a monster now.
"Every technological innovation, every breakthrough in science, every cure for every disease, all thanks to us!"
His voice was wicked and grotesque.
"We helped your people survive, grow, evolve! We are your protectors, your guardian angels!"
His voice started getting calmer again as he changed back into his old form. His arms fused together and his spines reclined.
"Yet, you treat us like your enemies, like we did nothing to help you, only to spite."
He paused.
"You do not accept us, you do not want unity, thus you must be eliminated."
The screen shut down, static, then darkness.

Zavior · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Zavior** on Wed Aug 12, 2009 10:37 pm

The screen was filled with static, it hissed as the white 'snow' raged on.
Voices, Azerian voices could be heard in the background, distorted and untranslatable.
Finally the screen cleared up, revealing a surprisingly tall Azerian, at least 7'6. His bug eyes and slender build were not his main features like the others, but the markings on his head were. A 'painted' blue eye on his cranium glared at the screen, it seems to be moving, but it was not positive. He wore a black robe with a velvet lining.
This was Kapahamatu, leader of the Azerian Empire. Giver of unity.
He spoke in a calm, but thick voice. Soothing and freighting at the same time.
"I am Kapahamatu, I am unity."
The screen hissed, a small assortment of symbols and icons flooded the video. As soon as they appeared, they were gone.
"You are weak, hopeless without us!"
His arms raised to his side, they seemed to be pulsing.
"You do not understand our role in the formation of your galaxy. We were there from the beginning and we will be there until the end!"
His arms pulsed more now, shaking violently. Then, all of a sudden, they split. Blood splattered the screen, but soon was vaporized by its ionic-waves. Kapahamatu's arms were split in half, revealing a second pair. With three fingers on one and two on the other, this is the Azerian's true form. His head now bore spines, he looked more like a lizard than a Grey now. His eyes glowed blue, he was a monster now.
"Every technological innovation, every breakthrough in science, every cure for every disease, all thanks to us!"
His voice was wicked and grotesque.
"We helped your people survive, grow, evolve! We are your protectors, your guardian angels!"
His voice started getting calmer again as he changed back into his old form. His arms fused together and his spines reclined.
"Yet, you treat us like your enemies, like we did nothing to help you, only to spite."
He paused.
"You do not accept us, you do not want unity, thus you must be eliminated."
The screen shut down, static, then darkness.

Why?

Ryand-Smith · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Ryand-Smith** on Wed Aug 12, 2009 11:00 pm

Trantor researchers laughed, as they responded on the televison. "We aren't even from this Galaxy," their nanite storms expanding, eating, as the Self Replicating Weapons went on, coverign 2% of the space of the Azerian Empire, the network eating the hydrogen in space, converting it to other elements for their expansion. "If you claim to be some sort of First Race," a captain remarked, "Then it is time to take out the old crap, it is stinking up the galaxy..."

With that, Trantor waited, their network progress unblocked, as the Self Replicating Network went on, preparing to trap the so called First Race inside its own space, forever. It would expand at a doubling rate if not countered, taking 4% at its next rate. Trantor scientists had prepared something like this in case the STMC returned, but using it on another race was almost unthinkable, but their threat to become Genocidatrons was not something they wanted to deal with.

"So, we shall call this, Operation Counter Spiral," the AI leader remarked, "How ironic, we become the antispirals of Legend..."

Response to the Azerian Empire

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